"I cannot say," Michael said. "But I do not mean to see either of you lost. I am here to help you enter into paradise."
Tullia looked up at him. "A noble goal, but how do you propose to do it?"
"With my help," Silwa stepped out of the mist. "I am Silwa, but we have no time either for reverence from you, Tullia, nor hostility from you, Fiannuala. What must be done must be done quickly."
"Radiant Silwa," Tullia murmured, bowing her head. "Then it is all true after all. His Highness' dreams did not lie."
"They did not," Silwa said sternly. Then her expression softened. "You have prayed to me, Tullia, and so I will say now that worshippers such as yourself are the kind that gods delight in."
In this grey shadow-world it was hard to tell, but it looked as though Filia Tullia was blushing. "What will do you, Celestial Majesty?"
"Pardon your sins, for one," Silwa said. "I am a god, after all, and may bend the rules at my discretion. Fiannuala, I am afraid you will not like what you must do to save your soul: Heavenvault is barred to the Dalanim as it is to all the Eldarian worshippers. Therefore you must convert to the faith of the Novar; unorthodox I know, but as I said I can bend the rules."
Fiannuala straightened up, her golden eyes flashing. "No."
Michael's eyes widened, "But Your Highness-"
"I am a dryad of Eena," Fiannuala declared. "I will not give up the faith of my mother and father just to save my undead skin. Would you renounce Turo just for salvation?"
Michael hesitated, torn between the lie that would save Fiannuala and the truth their friendship demanded. "No."
"Turonim yet have their halls to go to," Silwa said. "You have seen what awaits you here. You will be devoured by shade of man or shade of monster, your soul ripped into shreds and made the meal of some mad brute. Either that or, if you live long enough, you will forget yourself completely. You have lasted remarkably well for the time you have been dead but without an afterlife in which to dwell you will fade and become nothing more than a ravenous shade. Either way you will last only until you are devoured or else become devourer. And then even your immortal soul will be gone."
"If that is the fate of the dryads then so be it," Fiannuala said. "I won't pretend I like the idea but I won't turn my back on what we are now. If this is what happened to my mother, if this is what waits for Cati and Gwawr, then I will bear it the way she did... the way they'll have to. Better that than be the only dryad in the Heavenvault."
"I will stay with you then," Tullia said.
"No, you have to go," Fiannuala said. "Wait in the Heavenvault for your little sister."
"I will not abandon you," Tullia said.
"Nor will I," Michael said. "I came here to save both of you, and I mean to do just that."
"You cannot save someone who does not want to be saved," Silwa said. "We must go now, before-"
A great chorus of moaning, groaning, hissing cries arose all about them.
"Too late," Silwa murmured.
The tribes of the dead in myriad hordes began to shamble out of the fog, their slack-jawed mouths hanging open, their appearance grey and desiccated, their hands reaching out for the still-vibrant souls of the two men and the dryad.
"Michael, Tullia, get out of here," Fiannuala said. "I'll hold them off."
"I think not, Highness," Michael stepped in front of the two ladies, spectral blades ready. "Being still alive, I think I am stronger than you are. Indeed I fancy myself I am once more in use of spirit magic. That being so, I will defend you best I can."
"To what end?" Silwa demanded.
"Fear not ma'am, at the last extreme a miracle will intervene to our protection," Michael replied glibly.
"What? What makes you think that?" Fiannuala said.
"Have we not earned one through our valiant exploits?" Michael asked, looking back with a smile. "Have you not earned reward through steadfastness to Dala? Such is the kind of thing which gods take note of. Guard my back, if you would, I will try to let as few pass as I may."
With a roar, the dead hurled themselves towards him, reaching for him and for Tullia and Fiannuala behind him.
"For Corona and the Empire!" Michael shouted, and threw himself upon them.
The dead, so long lost in this blasted waste that they recalled nothing of humanity, were such poor foes it would have been dishonourable to engage them in any cause but the defence of his friends. A pack of whipped curs would have been better foes. They had no weapons to match his heroic blades, no tactics to oppose him, no courage to match against his determination, no strength to pit against his might. All they had was numbers, and it was in great number that he cut them down like chaff. Michael's cloak blazed with fire as he fought, his soul aglow as he became a god of war laying low all who stood against him.
Not in virtue nor in fury were they equal to him, nor in courage nor skill at arms nor any quality of warriors. Only their numbers offered any threat.
But their numbers were very great.
It was not until he had laid low some two hundred damned souls that one slipped beneath his guard and buried his teeth in Michael's arm. Michael made no sound but to angrily roar as he destroyed the shade. They were all around him now, the sheer press of them making room to manoeuvre. Tullia and Fiannuala were both embattled now, both fighting for their own survival, but Michael would end as many of them as he could before they reached his friends, his family.
The Last Firstborn could do no less.
"Come now," he crowed as he laid Duty and Piety about him. "Do you not hunger for living flesh? Come, come, and fill your dry throats if you can?"
He cut down five more in as many moments, their bodies shattered at Duty's lightest touch, but one shade swifter than the rest place its hands round Michael's throat and brought its maw down on his neck.
There was a flash of brilliant light and the shade restraining Michael was obliterated, along with several dozen others of the creatures. Michael looked back to see Metella standing behind her, her palms ablaze with a near-holy light.
"Filia Metella," Michael said. "What brings you here?"
"I came to see what dreams disturbed your rest, and what I might do to ease them, since I have seen you walk in the spirit realm before. I did not think I would find you consorting with the dead."
"Who is this?" Tullia asked.
"Metella Kardia," Metella introduced herself as she sprang forward and eviscerated several more shades with what Michael now recognised as powerful spirit magic.
"She's a friend," Michael added.
"You replaced us already?" Fiannuala said.
Michael gave the fallen princess an old fashioned look.
"Probably not the time," Fiannuala said with a smirk. "Let's finish them off!"
She led Tullia into the press of the melee, and soon even the tribes of the dead in all their numbers and stupidity were edging away from the fury of the four.
Then a great roar split the atmosphere of the spirit realm and the unquiet dead began to cry out in fear as a chimera stalked through the mists. Its eyes were lit with fire that, unlike everything else in this world of greys and shadows, burned a bright red. When it opened its mouth to growl more flames were seen. The snake on its tale whipped too and fro, hissing madly. The goat regarded Michael with almost hatred in its gaze.
It snarled at Michael. Michael bared his teeth and snarled right back.
A second chimera emerged from the mists to his right.
"Michael, Metella, you should go while you still can," Silwa said.
"I will not leave till victory is ours," Michael said.
"This is not a story, a god is not going to come from the machine at the last moment and make everything all right," Silwa said.
Michael laughed. "I have descended into the underworld to the aid of my friends and met a monster there ma'am, in what world is this not a tale told round a fireside to frighten and amaze the children?"
"You don't have to stay," Tullia said. "You have work to
do in the land of the living, battles to fight there more important than this one."
"I will not let you down again!" Michael shouted. "I will not! Advance you wretched pussy-cats, unless you have no weapons but a fearsome visage." He had fought lions in the arena a few times, but never enjoyed it; there was no honour in fighting beasts because beasts had neither honour nor sense of chivalry. It lowered the tone of the whole enterprise in Michael's opinion.
"Filia Metella," Michael said quietly. "If you wish to leave I will not hold it against you."
"I will take my leave when you do," Metella replied, equally quietly.
"You do me honour, Filia," Michael said, and then charged the chimeras.
They were fast. In the waking world he would not have been able to keep up with such as they without spirit magic, none but Gideon could have done so. But in this world he was able to match the speed of the first chimera, dodging the swipe of its paw to rake Piety down its side. The lion roared, and the beast leaned towards him allowing the goat's head fused to the creature's back to try and strike at him. Michael leapt away before the growling of the second chimera alerted him to its presence. He avoided the snapping of its jaws by a hair's breadth, and only then felt the chill of a snake coiling around his neck.
Metella moved swift as wind as she placed a finger on the snake's extended body, destroying it in a brief flash of light. Both goat and lion roared in pain and anger and the beast swiped furiously at her with its claws. As the second chimera turned on her Tullia was reduced to punching the lion on the nose with her bare fist. It made a snarling sound as it retreated half a pace. Fiannuala pursued it, yelling furiously.
The first chimera retreated in the face of Metella's magic, and though she could not land a killing stroke upon it neither did it seem capable of striking at her, and she gave Michael a nod of approval to assail the second beast. Michael slashed Duty down its face, making it squeal, and followed up with another cut designed to blind its eyes. The monster recoiled; hunching low to the ground, then sprang up again with a mighty roar that carried it straight into Michael. Michael's stroke was mistimed. The blade did not bite home. The chimera bowled him over and raked its claws over his face. Michael cried out as the pain scorched at him.
Fiannuala and Tullia ran to his aid, but the goat's head butted Tullia, sending her flying backwards, while Fiannuala became entangled in the snake's tail. Metella, distracted by the sounds of their struggling, looked back; and in that moment of distraction the other chimera prepared to pounce upon her.
And then both chimeras disappeared from view.
Fiannuala looked wildly round for them, "What in Dala's name?"
"Precisely."
All around them, the mists were disappearing, replaced by rows and rows of shadowy trees. Grass sprang up beneath their feet and under Michael's prone form. As he got to his feet, it became clear that they had been transported to some sort of forest. A forest that had brought some degree of colour with it, the trees and grass were both green, though still shadowy and insubstantial. And through the trees, he could see dryads.
"Are we back in Eena?" he asked.
An elderly dryad, with skin red and hair white and a bow slung across his stumped back, stepped towards them with his hands wide and his mouth smiling, "No. This is no mortal forest you stand in now, but Dala's Woods. Welcome, daughter of the leaves."
"Dala's Woods," Fiannuala said. "I have never heard of them."
"Though our people are driven from the Heavenvault, and Dala sleeps near to death, she yet dreams, and even the dreams of a god may cause ripples in the world," the old dryad said. "She dreams of these woods and so they are: a refuge for the souls of dryads dead, if they can find it. Or better to say that the woods find them, if they are brave and resolute against the trials of this place. You may rest now, Fiannuala daughter of Cerys, for here is the final refuge of the leaves. And there is someone who is anxious to meet you."
A tall, red haired dryad woman with eyes of gold appeared at the old dryad's side. Atop her head she wore a crown of leaves; in one hand she bore a spear.
"Mother," Fiannuala breathed. "Mother!"
"Welcome, Fia," Queen Cerys smiled. "It's been too long; I've missed you so much." As she took her daughter by the hand she looked at Michael. "Thank you, for being such a good friend to my daughter."
Michael bowed. "It was my honour to know her, Majesty. Your highness, I take my leave of you now."
"Not forever," Fiannuala said. "Next time you get in a big fight, you'll see me."
"Then I shall look for you upon the field of honour," Michael said. "God be with you."
"And the Goddess watch over you," Fiannuala said. And then she, her mother, and all of Dala's woods faded from sight and they were in the shadowlands again, but now unthreatened by any shade or creature.
"As I said, ma'am," Michael smiled. "Miracles come to those who deserve them."
"Don't expect to deserve too many," Silwa said sharply. "Now that that business is settled, Tullia, come here."
Tullia meekly approached one of her gods, and said nothing as Silwa placed her hand on Tullia's forehead.
"Do you regret and repent of all your earthly sins?"
"I do."
"Then in the name of all the gods I wash you clean of all guilt and declare your soul cleansed," Silwa took her hand away. "Congratulations, you are now in a state of grace. Do you feel different?"
Tullia looked down and said meekly. "Not really, celestial majesty."
"I didn't expect you would; absurd system," Silwa muttered.
Michael frowned. "Is that really it, ma'am? I had thought there would be a little more flummery involved."
"Servants require ritual to mark their status, Michael, masters do as they please," Silwa replied. "Look at you and Gideon."
Michael though about it and suddenly found her explanation made a lot more sense.
There was a sound of trumpets blowing far off, and the singing of great choirs; a shining city appeared in the distance with a silver road leading towards it, with many lights flickering on either side of it and the sound of much merrymaking.
"That is the Pilgrim's Progress," Silwa said. "The last test of the faithful to enter into Heavenvault. All you must do is walk down the road and never turn away in spite of all distractions."
Tullia nodded and asked, in a small voice, "Must I walk the way alone?"
"No, though I will not go with you," Silwa said with a slight smile.
Tullia smiled as she held out her hand to him. "Will you come with me on one last journey?"
Michael smiled as he closed his hand around hers. "I should be delighted, Filia."
And so hand in hand they strolled down the Pilgrim's Progress and while they had one another they suffered no distractions from the temptations crying out to them from either side. While they were together the noises were mere mice squealing to their ears.
"You will take care of Lucilia, won't you?" Tullia asked.
"As a third sister she shall be to me," Michael said. "I give you my word she will want for nothing, suffer nothing, and she will know how brave you were and how much you loved her."
"You are a good man," Tullia said. "Do not forget that."
"Now that you have said so I will believe it, Filia," Michael replied. "Though, in faith, I hold myself but one man of a like to be found all over the Empire. You, Filia, are one in a thousand."
They came to the golden gates of the Heavenvault, which opened for her to another flourish of trumpets.
Tullia turned to face Michael, silhouetted against the bright light from inside the city. "It would appear that this is goodbye, in many ways. Though we will meet again, it will not be in leisured circumstances. I doubt there will be time for us to talk."
"So it would seem," Michael said. "But who can know the ways of magic?"
"Not I, not this kind, but still..." Tullia leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I have been glad to call you friend, Michael Callistus."
Michael raised her hand to his lips and brushed them gently against it, "It was a privilege to be your comrade, Filia, if only for a little while. Though I become First Sword of the Empire that honour shall seem less to me than the responsibilities you have placed upon my shoulders. I shall look forward to our next meeting. Goodbye... Tullia."
Tullia nodded, and her eyes shone with tears as she passed into the light of the city. The gates of Heavenvault closed shut in Michael's face, and then vanished.
Silwa and Metella were abruptly behind him.
"Is it done?" Metella asked.
Michael nodded. "Yes, it is. I wish to thank you, Lady Silwa, for your assistance. I could not have done this without you, and though my manner was sometimes boorish I hope it did not offend you overmuch."
"You did what you thought was right, I'll not fault you for that," Silwa said. "I may not have agreed with how you did this, but I am glad that you did it. Until next time."
"As you will, my lady," Michael said; and then he awoke to find Metella slumbering with her head upon his chest. When she in her turn awoke she leapt back with an almost squeak of surprise, a hint of blush penetrating her frost-coloured face.
"And thank you, Filia, also," Michael said. "You had no reason to help me, I am in your debt for the fourth time. How can I repay such mounting excess?"
"We will find a way," Metella said, with a hint of a smile.
Michael sat up, and then got off the stone bed to stand on his own two feet, "Filia Metella, may I ask you something delicate?"
Metella's expression was blank. "If you wish?"
"Why did you save me, save any of us?" Michael said. "I imagine that Lord Quirian would rather see us all dead."
Metella's eyes widened a fraction. "How long have you known?"
"I guessed after I woke up, you had been too close to the battle to have been a bystander. I oftentimes play the fool but I am not foolish, or not completely so."
Metella nodded. "Why have you waited until now to do something?"
"Do? I do not intend to do anything," Michael said. "You saved my life, three times now. You tended to Amy, Gideon and His Highness. I owe you much; I will not repay you with a blade.
Spirit of the Sword: Faith and Virtue (The First Sword Chronicles Book 2) Page 6
