Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1)

by Frances Smith

  “'Swounds,” Michael said. “Amy? After all this time, here of all the places, Amy? Is that you? God under wave.”

  Amy laughed, a sweet sound like nectar from Turo to Michael’s soul. “It’s me, it’s been seven years but its me. I'm back.” Her smile faltered and she looked down at the dusty road for a moment before she said, “It’s good to see you again, Michael.”

  “Is that all you have to say? Seven years gone and 'It's good to see you again'!” Michael was shouting now, mock indignation failing to match genuine joy. “It's marvellous to see you, our Amy, come here!”

  Amy laughed as she hauled him to his feet with surprising strength, before Michael enfolded his arms about her and hugged her as close and tight as her armour would allow. After all these years, their girl had come home. Can you see this, our Felix? Our Amy's back!

  "This is absolutely wonderful," Michael said. "I never dreamt, I didn't dare to hope...I missed you, our Amy; I missed you so much."

  Amy placed her head upon his shoulder, "Not as much as I've missed you, you've no idea how much I missed both of you."

  "I wouldn't bet on that," Michael said. "Where have you been the last seven years, our Amy?"

  "You're making an unprecedented exhibition of yourself, Michael, may one ask the occasion?" Gideon's dry voice interrupted his childlike fit, recalling him to himself and to the dignity that becomes a man.

  Michael released Amy and came to something approaching attention as he faced Gideon, who was standing a few feet away, regarding Michael and Amy with great care. "My lord. I apologise that you had to witness such a display from your servant. If I had known-"

  "I do not regard passion as a weakness, Michael," Gideon said casually. "Nor do I abhor embarassing displays of emotion. I'm glad to see you still alive."

  "I am glad to live, my lord," Michael said, and was surprised to find that he actually meant it. Especially now that Amy had returned to him. He would not have wanted to die and missed their girl coming back to him.

  "Aren't you going to introduce me?" Gideon asked.

  "My apologies, my lord," Michael said, offering a quick bow. "My lord, allow me to present Amy Doraeus, my friend from back home of long standing. Amy, allow me to name Lord Gideon Commenae, First Sword of the Empire and my good master."

  "Charmed, my dear," Gideon smiled thinly. "Amy... a somewhat unusual name?"

  “Yes, well, if your name was..." Amy's cheeks went a bit red now as well, and she continued in a half whisper. "If your name was Amitiel Ameliora you'd want to shorten it as much as you could as well."

  “I should hope not, I despise shame in the name one’s parents gave you, though I will concede that Amitiel might have broken me,” Gideon said. “I take it, young lady, that it would not be unfair to say that you did not just happen to be in Davidheyr and come to our aid by chance.”

  Amy nodded. “Has Michael mentioned Silwa to you?”

  “So you are the old friend Lady Silwa mentioned,” Michael said. “Why didn't she tell me? I could have thought of something to say to you.”

  "Maybe she didn't want to spoil the surprise for you," Amy shrugged. "Anyway, I'm only part of the help. The other two will be catching us up soon. Silwa told me about Miranda. She asked me to help you out, and I said yes. She told me to meet you here; I was hoping to surprise you but the Crimson Rose spoiled that plan. Once I saw you were about to behave like a complete idiot I had to get out here as fast as I could."

  "I was doing what I had to," Michael said. "More would have died otherwise."

  Amy snorted. "You haven't changed a bit, except your language has gotten more pretentious."

  Michael frowned. "I think you were trying to insult me, our Amy."

  "And obviously I didn't, which just goes to show, really."

  Gideon cleared his throat. “Judging by the ludicrous behaviour which you have inspired in Michael I take it that you are of longstanding acquaintance?”

  “That’s right,” Amy said. “I've known Michael since he was nine and I was six.”

  Michael might have imagined it, but it seemed like Gideon was putting him under renewed scrutiny for an instant, piercing him with his all seeing gaze, “I see.”

  Michael said. “We were good friends until she disappeared."

  “It’s only disappearing if you don’t come back,” Amy said.

  “No it isn’t, it’s disappearing if nobody knows where you went,” Michael replied. “Some of us were worried sick about you.”

  “How about if I tell you where I went, then I won’t have disappeared.”

  “Yes you will, you’ll have disappeared, then come back and told me where you were.”

  “All right, Michael, so I disappeared. But now I’m back so isn’t everything okay?”

  “Ahem,” Gideon said. “If we might get on?”

  Michael looked down at his feet in embarrassment, “My apologies, my lord.”

  “So, Ameliora-“

  “Amy,” Amy said.

  “I don’t think so, somehow,” Gideon said. “So, Ameliora, you are already aware of our goal and mission?"

  Amy was silent for a moment, staring at Gideon even as he stared back at her, “Silwa told me about Quirian, about Miranda and what he plans to do to her. Everything else she said I could find out when I arrived."

  Gideon hesitated for a moment. “Of course; it appears that she retains her taste for secrecy and confusion. I assume, judging by your attire, that this is not your first taste of war?”

  Amy drew herself up, back straight and proud. "I will have you know that I am a knight of the Oceanhost, sworn to Seafire Peak and the Heir of Niccolo, who is sworn to God himself. And I squired for Ser Viola, Knight of Kraken's Lair, and rode with her against undine raiders on seven separate occasions."

  Gideon nodded. "I see. A knight...you are a propertied cavalryman, then?"

  "Sort of, but without the property... or the mount," Amy said. "You can't really get the sea horses up onto the land. Basically I know how to swing a sword, isn't that enough?"

  "Oh, yes indeed," Gideon murmured. "So it was this Ser Viola who promoted you to knight?"

  Amy hesitated, and did not quite meet Gideon's gaze as she said. "Yes, Ser Viola knighted me six moons past."

  Michael shook his head. "Turo under the waves, our Amy an honest to goodness knight. How? I mean...how?"

  Amy smiled out of one corner of her mouth. "It's a long story."

  "Perhaps one best told once we are within the safety of the walls," Gideon suggested. "In case the Crimson Rose should return."

  Amy nodded. "Probably for the best. Hey, Captain! We'll head back now."

  The captain bowed. "As you say, Ser."

  Gideon's eyebrows rose. "They obey you?"

  "Well they've got nobody else to give them orders, and I am a messenger from God after all," Amy said, tucking her helmet under her arm as she started back towards the town. Michael and Gideon kept pace with her, while the soldiers formed in ranks behind. By their equipment, and the designs upon their shields, they were most provincial limitanei, with a few of the proconsular comitatus amongst them. None of them were Imperial regulars but then, as Gideon had said, you rarely saw a legionary in this part of the world.

  "Perhaps you had better appraise us of the situation, Ameliora," Gideon said.

  Amy sniffed. "The Proconsul went to Lover's Rock for the Covenant celebrations, so they tell me, along with the Praetor, the Military Tribune and the High Priest. None of them came back."

  "They're dead," Gideon said. "The Crimson Rose made sure to kill them when they attacked the town."

  Michael frowned. He did not know if Amy was aware that Lover's Rock had been put to fire and sword, and there were gentler ways in which the news could have been broken. And we must break the news of her mother's passing, too. God give her courage to bear it. God give me courage to tell her. He had not been able to speak to her the last time, too crippled by fear. He was more afraid of Amy's grief than of all th
e swords of the Crimson Rose.

  "I assumed as much," Amy said. "Silwa told me that the old town was...she told me about mother."

  Michael's frown deepened. "Amy, I-"

  "It doesn't matter," Amy said, a sudden smile stretching across her face. "It wasn't as though I'd been seeing a lot of her, was it?"

  Michael's brow creased. "Amy," he began.

  "Anyway," Amy said quickly. "The governor's dead, and so is his deputy and the man responsible for the provincial forces. The Quaestor would be in charge, but he's run off to Deucalia where it's safe."

  "Cowardly little rodent," Gideon muttered.

  "That's kinder than anything I've thought about him," Amy said lightly. "Originally the prefect of the guards cohort took charge and called out the local militia."

  "Local?" Gideon asked. "Why didn't he raise the province?"

  "Because the Crimson Rose beat him to it," Amy said. "We've had people streaming in from Simon's Villa, Tola Bay and Gabrielheyr all singing the same song to a different rhythm: rebels in the night, fire and blood, burned homes and dead neighbours. When the prefect heard that Ameliorahem was beseiged he marched off to relieve it, taking most of the troops with him. A few survivors came back said they walked right into an ambush. The salted rebels are winning, damn them."

  "Winning?" Michael said. "How can a bunch of cutthroats and murderers be winning?"

  "Because it looks like they've been thinking about this for a while," Amy said.

  "How many men are left to defend Davidheyr?" Gideon demanded.

  "A hundred and twenty part time militia, what are they called...I keep forgetting the name..."

  "Limitanei?" Gideon suggested.

  "Yes, that's right, a hundred and twenty of them, and about thirty or so of the provincial guard, the ones who survived the ambush. There's another fifty or so Revenue men holed up in the Quaestor's counting house, but they're like lost sheep without him, they won't come out."

  "What about aid from Deucalia province, across the river?"

  Amy laughed darkly. "Not much chance of that. A unit of more limitanei arrived at the river bank yesterday, but not to help out, no. They came to close the bridge and stop anyone from getting across the river into their province. Said they were afraid of Crimson Rose saboteurs trying to cross. As if the Crimson Rose ever cared about Deucalia. There was a regular legion here, too, but two days ago they left."

  "Left?" Gideon repeated. "Where did they go?"

  "Ameliorahem," Amy said. "Their officers didn't want to talk to me, no, but the one I could get to say two words while he was looking down his nose at me said they were bored and wanted to get to grips with the enemy."

  "I see," Gideon muttered. "Can you recall which legion it was, by any chance?"

  Amy's brow creased with thought. "Thirty Fifth, I think."

  "Yes, that sounds about their style. Lots of courage, the Thirty Fifth, but no patience. No brains either, I'm sad to say, they seem to select only the greatest hot heads for their offices. Or perhaps the culture of the legion would make even the wisest man act rashly. No matter, it does seem that Davidheyr is in an unenviable position."

  "You haven't seen the half of it yet," Amy said darkly.

  Davidheyr had no proper gateway, instead it had a place where the earth walls ceased, bridged by a light wooden bright walled with wooden stakes overlooking a gate that was also made of wood. Together Michael, Gideon and Amy passed beneath the wooden arch and into Davidheyr. As they moved beyond the wall and down the main street they were forced to pause, if not by the shock then by the press, as they surveyed in astonishment the scene before them.

  Michael was not a stranger to crowds; every year Lover's Rock was crammed to the rafters with people come to celebrate the Sea Covenant festival. Each year the inns filled up and poorer pilgrims camped out on the outskirts of town. But he had never seen crowds quite like this. Davidheyr's street was filled with people, sitting or kneeling against the walls of the houses, sleeping slouched down in the gutters, surrounded by piles of meagre, damaged possessions. An old woman in a shawl huddled a little girl close to her, warming her within the folds of her black stole. A man with a greying beard stared absently at his hands, tears falling from his face. A mother breastfed her squalling baby as she sat in the doorway of someone else's house. A man cradled the stump of his severed hand. A bald man in a toga stained with dirt and night soil clasped his possessions tight as though they were children, while a young lady shivered in the remains of an elegant gown, her ruined hair still half held in ringlets that would have taken a slave hours to arrange. As Michael stared, these homeless who had overrun the road stared right back, their gazes a mixture of hostility and - even worse - a kind of hollow emptiness that suggested all hope had fled. Their faces were drawn, their eyes and cheeks sunken, half of the people here looked ready to die for lack of the will to live, the other half looked as though the chill of night would finish them.

  "Turo under the ocean," Michael murmured. "How can people be left to live like this?"

  "At least they are alive," Amy said. "As I said, people have been coming in from all over the province, seeking shelter and protection. Those with money have brought up every room in every inn. The Great Temple is full of the faithful whose homes have burned. They sleep in the old Barracks of the Firstborn and the Temple of the Knights of the Covenant. Every stable, every drinking hall, everywhere is full of people. People have even opened up their homes to strangers out of charity. It is not enough. There's no more room for them."

  "There must be something we can do," Michael murmured.

  "The only thing that will people now is defeating the Crimson Rose," Amy said.

  "Lord Gideon," Michael said. "There must be something."

  Gideon said. "Are they being fed."

  "A little," Amy said. "The granaries have been opened, and the storehouses too, what there is is getting doled out in small portions. I don't know how long it will last, but for now people's bellies aren't completely empty. I've known peasants manage on less."

  "Hmm," Gideon murmured. "In that case I don't really see that there is anything more to be done, Michael. Our concern must be to cross the river and continue on our way, we cannot squander time here in efforts that will avail the Empire little."

  "These people look to the Empire to protect them and so far it has failed, my lord," Michael said.

  "And that is tragic, yes, but not my concern," Gideon said. "I cannot put the fate of the Empire in the balance to save one town."

  "What is the Empire without its people, my lord?" Michael demanded. "There must be something you can do to ease their plight, anything. You are the First Sword of the Empire, a lord and a hero both."

  "What would you have me do?" Gideon asked calmly.

  "I..." Michael hesitated. He bowed his head. "I know not, my lord."

  Gideon shook his head. "I am afraid that I am very far from a hero, Michael." He put one hand on Michael's shoulder. "But I will do what I can, for you and for these children of the Empress. Come with me."

  Gideon led Michael and Amy through the cramped and crowded streets, stepping around and over people. The Square of Ameliora was even more crowded than the street, with a tent village growing up around the statue of the princess. Every inn they passed had its doors thrown open, and slumbering bodies spilled out of the common rooms and into the street. Some houses were all shut up, but at others Michael saw people coming out and tending as best they could to the poor people outside. It was kind of them, and they would be rewarded by Turo for their generosity, but it was not enough.

  These people have no hope, Michael thought, looking at the faces of those he passed. They have no hope because they have no one on their side. Who takes their part in all of this? Who fights in their name? The Empire's magistrates had abandoned them, her legion had marched away, her militia had perished in the field. They had nothing left but an earth wall, a naiad knight and less than two hundred men.

  Who will def
end these people should the Rose come? If it has not already. Michael remembered how they had entered Lover's Rock, half of these people might secretly be rebels, sharpening their knives all this while.

  Gideon led him to what looked like a large storehouse, with its doors securely locked.

  "This place does not appear to have opened its doors and its stores to the hungry masses," Gideon remarked.

  "No," Amy replied. "Clearly not."

  "Then why haven't you opened it?" Gideon asked.

  "Because it doesn't belong to me," Amy said. "I don't know who the owner is, or the tenant or whoever. It's private property, and you can't taking things that aren't yours. That's how you get bloodfeud."

  "I doubt some fat little merchant is going to threaten my life," Gideon said. "Open the door."

  Amy hesitated. "I'm not a thief. Do you take me for some wave-tossed undine raider, to steal manatees? I won't do it."

  "Not even for the people?" Gideon pressed.

  "The people will be even worse off if this becomes the sort of world where the strong take what they want because they can," Amy said. "Yes, we of noble blood have a duty to protect them, but that includes protecting them from our worst impulses, however good our intent."

  "This is a time of war," Gideon replied. "And, as First Sword of the Empire, I may requisition anything I deem necessary for the prosecution of the war. Michael."

  "Yes, my lord?"

  "Get this door open, if you would."

  Amy said, "You know perfectly well a man won't be able to force that; here, let me." She glanced at Michael. "I wouldn't want to see you get hurt trying to break it down. Just you remember what I do for you." She stepped up to the door, drew back her fist, and struck the entrance with a fierce blow that shattered the locks and splintered the wood into fragments with a great crack.