Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (45 page)

"But why?"

Gideon smiled enigmatically. "That you will discover in due course."

"Why can't we all discover now?" Amy growled. "Michael's right, if any of us is going to get this job it ought to me: I squired for Ser Viola, the Knight of Kraken's Lair, and was trained in the art of command by her and attended her councils. No offence, Michael, but you're just a gladiator and I know more about commanding than you possibly could."

"Is it that you have doubts about his ability or are you merely jealous that he was chosen instead of you?" Tullia asked. "I have not known Michael since childhood, but I am willing to serve under his command. Michael, my knives and magic and all my skills are yours."

"And my blades also," Wyrrin said. "Congratulations, Michael."

"You can do no worse than the Butcher of Oretar, I'm sure," Jason murmured.

"I was not actually asking anyone's permission, but your eager acquiescence is gratifying nonetheless," Gideon said. "Michael, we await your orders."

"Ahem," Michael felt his face burning with embarrassment, and his body sweating for reasons that had nothing to do with the heat of the day. He was acutely conscious of Amy's accusing gaze, and the fact that only Tullia and Wyrrin had backed him wholeheartedly... well to be honest it rankled just a bit. He knew that he was far from ready for this position, but it would have been more generous of his friends to have supported him at a juncture where he was surely in need of support.

"Line up, please, I would like to address you all before anything else happens," Michael said, and waited until they were all stood in a line before he began. "I did not seek this appointment. I did not expect it. I know that I am not what the mind would conjure when an ideal leader is pictured. But that is no matter. I do not need to be the ideal leader, or the ideal soldier or the ideal man. I need not be a paragon of anything because I have all of you, bearing me up with your support and redressing the balance of my flaws with your own virtues, even as I redress your own. When we defeat Quirian it will not be because I led you to it but because we fought together, united, the whole rendered more than the sum of its parts by our joint effort. That is how we have triumphed so far, and that is how we will continue to carry all before us.

"I did not ask to be made leader, but I do ask for your support, all of it. I ask that you continue to aid me with the same love and affection you have given me up till now. If any of you see me growing over proud, tell me and humility will reign once more. If you see me blunder, tell me how I may make good the error. If you are troubled, let me share your troubles that together we may make light of them.

"I know that if you are with me, there is nothing that we may not accomplish. But I also know that without you, there is nothing I can do.

"Gideon has named me leader and so, as leader, I humbly ask you all to follow."

Michael did not wait for a response, but turned to one side and said, "Let me see the map please, that I may know our course towards our aim and goal."

Gideon drew the map from his pack and presented it to Michael. He had to run his fingers over the words and speak them aloud to read them - his mother had done her best to teach her children their letters, even paying a shilling a week for her children to spend two mornings a week at a hedge school eight miles away in Villa Sapphira when she had the money, but Michael had never applied himself as hard as he ought to have, seeing little point - but he was able get the hang of it eventually. They were a little way east of Davidheyr on the Via Flavia, the main road along the coast, while they needed to reach the ruins of Aureliana, located in the north of a vast forest dominating northern Deucalia by the name of Eena.

"If we continue on the road until we reach this village here, Autolycus' Crossroads by name, then we should be able to cut through the forest from the south until we reach Aureliana," Michael said.

"I'm afraid not," Gideon said. "We will have to skirt the edges of the forest and approach from the north."

"But the journey is much longer that way," Michael said, frowning.

"I agree, and the delay is costly, but it is death to enter the forest of Eena, so I want to wait as long as possible before entering, and enter by the shortest possible route. That way I hope our presence may go unnoticed."

"Unnoticed by whom?" Jason said. "Or should that be unnoticed by what?"

Michael said, "Gideon, I do not know the lore of this land as I do my own, so you must tell me: what is it we should fear inside those woods? Is it a beast, that we may slay it and pass upon our way? Or is it some dark curse or evil spirit that will seek to corrupt us? Whatever the case I am confident that we are a match for it. I spoke before with perfect conviction: whatever should befall us, together we have the strength to overcome it, and even battle with a beast of darkness would delay us less than this circuitous passage."

"Not if it kills us," Jason said. "A short delay will be less costly than missing limbs. I am for caution."

"I agree with His Highness, better not to blunder into a situation we do not understand and cannot prepare for," Tullia said.

"No, Michael is right," Wyrrin said. "What lurks inside these forests, that we should prove cowards before it, and shame ourselves? If we cannot face whatever it is hiding behind the shelter of the trees, then how will we ever possess the strength or fortitude to face Quirian? I say we strike through the forest and test our mettle against whatever we find there. We defeated the Crimson Rose, we will defeat any other obstacles that lie before us."

"Amy?" Michael asked, but Amy said nothing; she did not even meet his eyes.

Michael sighed. "Very well then. As you suggest Gideon, we shall circle on the outskirts of the forest and not enter till the last possible moment. Now, let us march!"

So he spoke but, though it was time for him to lead his troops - his troops, the absurdity of it - his feet were turned to lumps of lead and he was rooted to the spot, his legs failing him.

For how can I command this company of heroes, when I am not captain of mine own heart? It ignores all my biddings to be calm and remains awash with fluttering nervousness.
That was a quote from
The Tale of the White
, and it rose unbidden to the forefront of Michael's mind. He would never claim to be an Aurelia, and he had the advantage that his Gabriel yet lived, but that did not quell his feelings of unease. It was all very well for Gideon to say, as blithely as to announce the floor was wet, that Michael was to lead the company for now. But it was Michael's shoulders that must now shoulder that burden which Gideon so idly cast aside, and upon Michael's head would fall the guilt of any error or misstep. If anyone were to be hurt by his mishandling, or God forbid if anyone should fall...Michael imagined Amy lying dead by his poor leadership and near fainted dead away from the horror of it.

A hand was placed firmly on Michael's shoulder, a hand that Michael saw belonged - as he turned to look - to Tullia, who affixed him with the calm gaze of her blue eyes.

"Michael Callistus," she said, her voice steady and serene. "What are you?"

Michael pushed back his shoulders. "I am a servant. Of God, of my lord Gideon, and of my sister."

"As I am a servant of the Prince and the Emperor," Tullia said. "Michael, do you know what oath the Emperor takes, upon ascending to the throne of his fathers?"

Michael shook his head.

"An oath of service," Tullia said. "To be a servant to the nation, till death release him. Some serve by following, others serve by leading, but service it remains. Lead or obey, all is duty." She cupped his cheek in one hand, and smiled encouragingly. "You are a good servant, an outstanding servant, this is not beyond you."

"But if-"

"Would it hurt you any less if harm came to us under the command of another?"

Michael imagined Tullia dead under his orders, and Tullia fallen under the command of Gideon. It cut him to the quick either way.

"You truly do not object to serving under my command?"

"I have faith in you," Tullia said, with complete certainty.

Michael stepped away from her, and essayed a half bow from the waist, "Then, m'lady, I shall not fail."

Michael turned back to the open road, and gestured forwards. "Forth now, brave hearts, with all convenient haste; for Miranda and for the Empire."

And this time his feet obeyed him, and he started forth upon the next stage of this grand tale which they were weaving. And the company followed after him.

The morning's delay, while Michael trained with Gideon, had allowed the mass of refugees fleeing out of Corona to get a head start upon them and so the Deucalia road was deserted as they moved down it. So, while the land was far more alive than it had been in war-ravaged Corona - fields all around teemed with slave gangs toiling beneath the sun, and figures on horseback rode up and down in the distance - they were still not so hemmed about with fellow travellers as to be disturbed. Of course, that also meant that there was no guarantee the enemy might not try an ambush, so Michael kept a weather eye open for signs of trouble.

He also kept one eye on Amy during that day's march, hoping that she might show signs of softening her attitude. She did not. Indeed she barely looked his way all day, and when she caught him glancing at her she pointedly put on her helmet so that he could no longer see her face. What Michael had seen gave him little reassurance: her look was sour, filled with bitter disappointment that came Michael knew not whereof. Yes, he had been chosen to command this stage of the journey and not she, but so unexpected was Gideon's decision that she could hardly have possessed any expectation of the leadership, so why was she acting as though a hope long cherished had been snatched from her? Michael tried to think back over his own conduct, to see if he had in any way offended her. If he had, the offence was beyond him.

"Sometimes the fault is not with us, and those whose wrath blasts at us do so out of faults that lie within themselves," Tullia whispered in his ear, too softly for Amy to overhear.

Michael considered this, but could not think what fault Amy might have within herself would make her angry at him. Perhaps he was simply too foolish to see that which had been rendered clear as day before Tullia's eyes.

"You are very wise, ma'am" Michael said.

Tullia shrugged. "All vices and virtues, all grandeurs and follies, all private obsessions and personal oddities, every facet of the soul of man is paraded through the court and through the great city that surrounds it. Moreso, I wager, than through a small provincial town. I would not say wisdom, more experience."

"I would say both, for experience is useless absent the wit to learn from it," Michael said sadly. "You should lead this company, not I."

"That is impossible," Tullia said. "I am but a servant."

"Some serve by leading," Michael reminded her.

"Some yes," Tullia replied. "But not I. I am a mage of the Black, and that is not our way."

Michael shook her head at her modesty. "Then you are wasted in such a place."

"Kind of you to say, but it is still my place, and I know it well," Tullia said.

"I thought I knew my place, but I still ended up here by some strange operation of magic," Michael said.

"Which goes to show," Tullia said.

"Show what, ma'am?"

"That you did not really know your place."

The fall of night saw Amy still sulking, unfortunately, and she ate her food quickly without comment. Leader though he now was, Michael had refused to give up his responsibility for preparing meals, partly because he would have felt rather useless not doing any work and partly because he was the only one who knew how to cook. Amy cleaned her plate, but did so with a permanent scowl upon her face, and she would not meet his eyes for any reason. When the meal was finished she looked away, staring off into the gathering dark of evening.

"I plan to take the first watch," Michael said. "Amy will take the second, and Gideon you the third tonight."

"I'll go first," Amy spoke, the first words she had spoken since Gideon had given Michael the command, and spoke in a brusque, curt tone devoid of warmth. And when she continued her voice acquired a note of bitterness. "With your permission, that is."

Michael had thought that Amy, having the best sight in the darkness, would be best employed in the darkest watch of the night, but he had no desire to pick a fight with her. "If that is what you wish, our Amy."

Amy got up. "With your permission, sir?"

Michael looked away, embarrassed by her venom. "You don't need my permission to do anything, our Amy."

He did not watch but rather heard her stomp away to take up her post. When he did look, nobody would meet his eyes. Michael was not sure that he wanted them too.

"Excuse me a moment," Gideon rose, and walked away into the night.

Michael stared into the fire, and the rest was silence.

As she sat upon the ground alone, with her hands around her knees and Magnus Alba propped up against her shoulder, Amy knew that she had behaved badly. Her best, her oldest friend and she had rejected him. When they were young he had defended her, watched over her, and she had repaid his kindness with dismissal. She knew that, had the lot fallen on her, Michael would have been nothing but overjoyed on her behalf, so why could she not extend him the same courtesy? What would Felix say, to see her now grown to the person they had hated in their childhood days?