"Speaking of which," Jason said. "It took Tullia and I over two months to reach Corona from Eternal Pantheia, almost three. By the time we all get back there will it not be too late?"
"Most probably, if we were to walk all the way," Gideon said. "That is why we shall be taking a shortcut."
"A shortcut?" Jason said. "What shortcut could meaningfully help us over such a distance?"
"There are ways known to the servants of the Empire," Gideon said. "A warrior endowed with the abilities of spirit magic may open a way to travel rapidly between destinations separated by great distance, and keep a passage open for a small group to follow. If I cannot teach Michael how to open such a path, then I will open it myself."
Jason's brow furrowed. "That would have been very useful earlier. Is there a reason you did not use this power?"
"For the same reason I did not use my magic on the battlefield save in direst need," Gideon said. "My grasp of spirit magic is frayed; I would have been taking a great risk for uncertain reward."
"Personally, I'm glad you didn't," Amy said. "I'd never have caught up with you if you were travelling like that. How does this thing work?"
"The spirit warrior tears open the veil dividing the dream realm from our own and then walks through the spirit plane to his destination," Gideon said.
"Hmm," Amy muttered. "That doesn't sound much fun, but I don't suppose we've much choice. The spirit realm... god under wave."
"If that is settled," Gideon said. "Our discussion is nearly concluded, but while we are here we must discuss one last pressing matter: Felix Callistus."
Michael repressed the shiver falling down his spine. "What about him?"
"I know you, Michael, I know what kind of man you are," Gideon said. "The qualities of loyalty, devotion, compassion you possess are why I think you could make an excellent First Sword if you wished to be. But even the best virtues can become vices when taken to extremes. You cannot spare your brother out of some misguided notion of filial piety."
"I was not aware that filial piety could ever be misguided, Gideon," Michael replied.
"When it gets you killed it is very misguided indeed," Gideon said. "Sometimes, hard though it may be, striking down your own brother is the only course of action consistent with one's duty to the state."
"I am not some historian of a morally debased age who, growing up ignorant of the meaning of liberty acclaims the most bloody, violent and unnatural acts done in its name," Michael deliberately kept his voice calm. He had no desire to fight with Gideon upon this point but nor was he willing to yield on the matter of Felix's life. "I had not counted you among such either."
"Nor am I," Gideon was equally calm. "I do not tell you it will be glorious, I do not tell you that you will not hate yourself; I only tell you that it must be done. When Timaeus seized power in Lycaonia, his younger brother Timon did his best to persuade him to lay down his tyrannical rule. But when Timaeus would not do so, Timon struck him down; the act horrified even Timon's staunchest partisans, estranged him from his mother for the rest of her life and haunted Timon until the day he died. But he struck anyway, because he knew what had to be done. I will not call him a hero for it, but I will call him a good man who understood the limits of personal devotion."
"I do not understand those limits, nor do I wish to," Michael said.
"I have to agree with Gideon in this," Jason said. "Suppose you fought your brother again, and died again for want of nerve to finish him. Is Felix's life really worth the lives of everyone in the Empire?"
"This isn't an either or choice," Amy said loudly. "Stop talking as though Felix has to die or Michael does."
"He showed a willingness to kill last time," Jason said.
"Because I forced his hand," Michael said. "The blame is mine, not his."
"So what do you want to do with him?" Jason asked.
"Save him," Amy said. "Bring him back to us."
"Bring him back? He is our enemy," Jason said. "He killed Michael!"
"And Michael's fine now, so no harm done," Amy said. "I know Felix, he's a good boy-"
"You knew the boy, the man is someone else entirely," Gideon said.
"I know him a darned sight better than you do," Amy shouted.
"I am sorry Gideon," Michael said softly. "But in this I cannot defer to your will. I cannot strike at my own brother, not at Felix, it goes against everything I am."
"If you cannot, then another might," Gideon said, matching the softness of Michael's voice with his own, though in Gideon's whisper there was more than a hint of steel buried beneath the quilted softness.
Michael spoke in a voice that was firm, calm and refusing to admit of compromise. "Gideon, I love you dear as life itself but I will not let you kill my brother. Upon my soul I will not."
"Be reasonable," Gideon shouted. "I had to watch him drive a blade through your gut, and now I must watch him walk away unpunished? He hurt you. He hurt you and he has to pay, for your sake and that of the Empire."
Michael smiled. "Your devotion shames me even as it warms my soul."
"We cannot risk everything on a possibility," Jason pressed.
"I won't let you hurt him," Amy said. Her face was paler, even paler than usual, and her body trembled. "Either of you. I won't allow it. Not my boy, not Felix. He needs help, not a sword through the ribs."
"If this were any other man we would not be having this conversation," Jason said.
"Maybe, but this isn't any other man, this is Felix," Amy yelled. "That makes all the difference."
"You have no proof he can be saved, or even that he wants to be," Jason countered.
"If acts of faith required proof then the word faith would have no meaning," Michael said, standing up. "I cannot ask you to trust in Felix's goodness, a person you do not know. I have no right to ask you to trust me, who so recently let you down. But I do ask it. I know, in my heart, that Amy and I we can save Felix, lead him to the light and out of the darkness in which he is mired. Gideon, you said you wanted me to succeed you as First Sword of the Empire, you said that you believed in me."
"And still do."
"Then believe in me, when I say that I can do this thing," Michael said. "Gideon, I appeal to you for trust."
Gideon was silent for a moment. "Then I suppose I must give you this chance, mustn't I?"
"What?" Jason snapped.
"We shall defer to the judgement of Michael and Ameliora," Gideon said breezily. "Let the Empress' will be done."
Gideon had refused to put Michael out of the top room for the sake of his dignity - clearly he was getting funny ideas from being too close to Jason - when Michael had broached the subject, so Michael stood in the centre of the tower room, looking out of the crumbling window at the moon above.
It was beautiful, this constant in a changing world. To think, that when this tower was new and another watcher had stood in this place, the commander of the tower and captain of warriors, he could have looked out of the window at that same moon. And one day, when Michael's bones were dust and this tower was even more a ruin, Raphael's light would shine down still upon the world. Not even the memory of the deeds of great heroes would outlast him.
A beautiful sight, that conjures dispiriting thoughts, Michael thought. And yet, if our tales are forgotten, then with good fortune it will be because our descendants have crafted new legends to displace our own. It is a hard thing for a creature of vanity to admit, but perhaps that is not such a bad thing. Certainly it is better that than that our progeny should be lesser folk than we ourselves, though that might be easier upon the ego.
Almighty God and Raphael, most valiant son, look upon us and on our quest with favour and compassion. Safeguard the lives of my brother and sister. And, if it be your will, let there be generations to follow us beyond count, and let the light of the moon shine down upon them as beautifully as it illuminates our night.
"Michael?"
Michael turned around. Gideon stood in the doorway.
&nb
sp; "May I join you?"
Michael nodded. "You are always welcome in my company Gideon; you should know that by now."
"Yet it is always polite to ask first." Gideon smiled a little as he came to stand by Michael's side. "A clear night tonight. The clouds are passed, the sky is clear."
"And yet the west wind will come again as sure as spring, soon or late," Michael said.
"Indeed," Gideon said. "Indeed. I wanted to tell you how impressed I was by you downstairs, at dinner. You kept remarkably calm considering the subject. I honestly didn't think you had it in you."
"You thought I would stamp my foot and throw a tantrum." Michael smiled. "In truth... I probably would have done before I died. I thought that I had matured after Eena, but the truth is I was even more childish than before. But now, after meeting Her Majesty, I feel...different, than I did before."
"The Empress has that effect on people," Gideon said with a touch of a laugh in his voice. "But I did not decide to give you your head in this matter because of a calm tone of voice."
Michael frowned. "I thought it was because you trusted me."
"And I do," Gideon said. "But I also did it because, while attempting to be calm, you had also revealed yourself. Ever since I assumed the office of First Sword, the first to hold the title for five hundred years, the question of my succession has been upon my thoughts. I have never wanted the office to die with me as it did with my ancestor in the Sabaean War. In my life I have picked out three successors including you. Both your predecessors defined themselves, demonstrated what kind of First Sword they would have been, in the course of their training. I did the same thing during my drive to become First Sword. I was single-mindedly driven in my pursuit of the office, to a degree some could and did call obsessed; as a result I am equally single minded and obsessed now that I am First Sword.
"Both your predecessors failed and betrayed me, and the seeds of that betrayal were obvious in both men from the start had I possessed the wit to see it. As you spoke, it struck me that you were also revealing yourself as they had, but praise the Empress you are doing so in a far better light.
"Lysimachus Castra, who serves Quirian now, was my first apprentice. He was a spirit warrior of formidable power, almost a match for me in my prime. Yet he did not love battle, for all his skill, and during the Oretine War he came to hate it. He came to feel more enmity for his own comrades than the enemy, thus he eventually betrayed the Empire for Quirian's service. A First Sword cannot surrender to such feelings, if he has them; the Empire will never know true peace, there will always be enemies at the gates, the First Sword must always be willing to meet them; with a light heart, if possible.
"Leonatus Dorieus was my second choice; a more callous and cold hearted man than Lysimachus, yet not without commitment to the causes that touched his heart. But, though I hoped that I might shape his devotion and commitment to the Empire's cause, he had no feeling for Aegea's grand mission of encompassing all peoples under the dominion of the purple. Instead, he was always relentlessly tribal, drawing a distinction between those who agreed with him and those who did not, those who shared his beliefs and those who did not. Those who followed the faith of the Novar Church and those who did not. The latter he counted friends, the former he called enemies. Eventually he even called me enemy, and left to serve the Novar Church directly as Shield of the Faith.
"Both of them would have failed as First Sword, had Aegea been so foolish as to anoint them; I was a fool not to realise that sooner than I did. Lysimachus would have been too weak to confront the Empire's enemies, Leonatus would have lain waste the Empire's friends simply for being his enemies.
"But you, Michael... I had caught flashes of you before; at Davidheyr particularly where you were so determined to fight for the people, but I saw you more strongly tonight, quietly determined to save your brother and allow no harm to come to him. A saving First Sword, a guardian, dare I say even a saviour. That is good, the Empire needs saving, but equally it needs a man who will not give up on it, will see its virtues through the accumulated filth of its flaws."
"His Highness would say I was risking the Empire to save Felix, and many innocent lives along with it."
"Not if you save both, as you have said you will," Gideon said. "But I am afraid that I must beg a boon of you in return."
"Anything."
"Twice before I thought I'd found the man to follow in my footsteps, and twice before I have been betrayed. Do not prove me a fool this third time, I beg of you."
"Never, Gideon," Michael said. "I shall stay beside you as your good servant while we live and the world stands; and with my small help shall all your golden dreams be realised."
Gideon smiled. "Indeed they shall. With your help. But not as my servant Michael, no more of that; as my friend."
"I would tell you that I'm glad you're alive, but I'm sure you're quite fed up of being told that by now." In the realm of shades and dreams, Silwa, goddess of victory and wisdom, stood before Michael clad in her shining warlike raiment, with her spear in her right hand and her shield grasped in her right. Her bright helm was pushed up on top of her head, making her fair face visible and allowing her grey eyes to twinkle at him unobstructed.
Michael knelt upon the ground in the spirit realm. "One can never grow tired of being told that one's continued existence is appreciated, ma'am."
"But one can get a swelled head from it," Silwa remarked.
"I am sure my lady will tell me if that happens," Michael replied.
"Oh, but of course," Silwa chuckled. "It may gladden you to know that Felix has revealed the truth of who he is to Miranda. With good fortune it may make her distrustful of Quirian."
"There are times, ma'am, when I fear we are all but puppets dancing to the movement of your hands; for you are never surprised, indeed all seems to happen in accordance with your designs," Michael said.
"Oh no, not puppets," Silwa said. "Game pieces would be a far more accurate description. Does it bother you, the thought that I may be manipulating you?"
"So long as my aims are met, what right have I to voice complaint?" Michael said.
"Wise boy, far too many people get upset by that sort of thing," Silwa said. "But enough of myself, you summoned me tonight; you must have something in mind."
"I was not aware that I could summon you, ma'am," Michael said. "I wished to speak with you certainly-"
"And I felt your desire and responded to it, so a summons or as good as," Silwa said. "What do you wish?"
Michael looked up, gazing at the goddess with imploring eyes. "This place is, from what I have seen of it, perilous if one is not under the protection of a god. The Black Abyss, I am certain, is far worse. Princess Fiannuala and Filia Tullia fought bravely for my cause, gave their lives in battle at my side, and aided me from beyond the grave. I cannot allow Princess Fiannuala to endure in this shadow-land until she is devoured by beasts or forgets herself and becomes ravenous in her turn. Nor can I allow Tullia to languish in the company of the Eldest One and his foul host. I must secure their entry into the afterlife that they deserve. I had hoped my lady might assist me in that regard."
Silwa regarded him curiously. "You do realise that, if Tullia entered the Heavenvault and a place was found for Fiannuala, they would be unable to assist you in battle again?"
"I did not ma'am."
"You will be weakening yourself by this course, are you prepared for that?"
Michael rose to his feet, back stiffening, bristling with injured pride. "I am not the sort of man who would condemn his friends and comrades to torment and suffering for the sake of an advantage in the field, ma'am. If I was, I hope that you would not rely upon me in this battle."
Silwa smiled. "Correct answer, Michael. As a matter of fact I lied to you just now, they quite possibly will fight at your side again, but if you had abandoned your scheme for your own sake I would have cut you loose and most likely so would they, and rightly so. As it happens there is something I can do, for Tulli
a certainly and possibly for Fiannuala as well.
"I am glad you asked me this Michael. I have known a great many heroes, and far too many of them would not have even considered what you are about to do. Either because they lack faith, or because they are obsessed with life, but so many people fail to consider what comes after, for good or ill. And what has come after for Tullia and Fiannuala is, as you say, quite undeserved.
"We shall go to Tullia first, she is in the greater danger; not that Fiannuala is safe, but, as you say, the Black Abyss is a foul place. The young lady should not have to bear its torments."
"I take it my lady knows the way," Michael said.
Silwa smiled. "The entrance to the Black Abyss, from this world anyway, is everywhere. It stands on a different plane to this place. It is only from the mortal world that a specific entrance is required. Give me just a moment."
Silwa banged her spearbutt on the ground with a resounding crash, and then spread her arms out wide as a great gate appeared in the air before her. It was a gate of bronze and iron, daubed black with tar and surrounded by a frame of black stone engraved with ancient letters.
"Here waits the Eldest One, who is king no longer," Silwa murmured. "He and all his hosts are condemned to this pit for all eternity in punishment for their crimes. Let neither gods nor mortals give him succour, and let all who pass beyond this point beware."
Michael shivered, an absurd gesture in this realm of thought, but he could not help it. Beyond that gate lay the Eldest One, greatest of the Eldar, the old gods who had once ruled Pelarius.
"Will we..." Michael's voice tailed off as he swallowed. "Will we encounter the Eldest One himself, my lady?"
"I should hope not," Silwa said. "Father wasn't pleased to see me at all the last time we met, and nothing has changed since but that he has had even longer to brood on his frustrations. And as for you, being a descendant of Aurelia would not protect you."
"I did not think it would, ma'am," Michael said. "In faith, I spoke not in eagerness but in trembling nerves."
Silwa laughed, the sound of her laughter like water rushing by. "And quite right too. And yet, right as you are to tremble, we must go in. Are you prepared?"
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 4
