Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (47 page)

"I know that," Michael said sharply. "Felix is dead and it's my fault, and there's nothing on this earth which can undo that. But that doesn't mean I have to revel in it. Those were better days, our Amy, and I'll not apologise for thinking so."

Amy looked up at the night sky, at the moon shining full above them. "Hey, you remember that time on the first night of the Covenant festival, when I was nine, when we all sat outside on the beach all night hoping to see a naiad?"

Michael smiled. "Felix was perishing cold, and I told him to go inside but he wouldn't, so I wrapped him up in my cloak - in this cloak here that I'm wearing now - and hugged him close like a bear with its cub. And then you both fell asleep."

"Let us off, we were only little," Amy said. "And then the next morning you told us you'd seen a naiad just to make us jealous."

"No I didn't, I really saw one," Michael said. He grinned. "Turns out I saw two all along."

Amy laughed. "Yes, I suppose you did. God under wave, Felix..." she tailed off, letting her memories of that sweet boy carry her off. Of his nervousness, of the way he would smile a little before saying something important, of the way his face would light up from a compliment. Memories of how dear he was, how gentle, how trusting, how innocent. "Do you ever wonder what he'd have turned out to be, if it wasn't...?"

"I don't need to wonder, I know," Michael said. "He'd have been the best of all of us."

"Probably." Amy was quiet for a moment. "He'd have been ashamed to know me today, wouldn't he?"

"No," Michael said. "He loved you."

"More fool him," Amy said. "I'm ashamed to know me today. I'm sorry, Michael. You've got a rare opportunity here, and all I could see was the reflection of my own frustration. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise to me for nothing, our Amy, you know that," Michael said. "We're like family. We are family."

"Even if you do forgive me, I still had to say it." Amy lifted up Magnus Alba and pointed it at Michael. "Now, let's fight."

"What?"

"Come on, we haven't sparred once since I came back, it'll be fun. I've got a blunt tourney blade in my pack I can use instead of this if you'd rather."

"If you wouldn't mind," Michael said. "But... I couldn't stand it if I hurt you Amy."

"Don't worry, I've got enough armour on to stop a spike from a man-of-war, and those things can puncture Leviathan scales," Amy said as she retrieved the tourney blade of whalebone from her pack and raised it up. "Now, even though we're friends I want you to go all out with me, Michael; I'll know if you're holding back."

"Don't worry," Michael drew his swords and settled into one of the guards Amy had seen Gideon teaching him. "I wouldn't insult you with anything but my best."

Michael sprang at her, his swords streaking through the night, but Amy ignored them as she charged towards Michael. Perhaps two swords would confuse some opponents, but she had trained to fight octopi and squid both and well understood how to fight someone with more weapons than you. She would trust to her armour to keep her safe from Michael's blows, while she closed in for the kill.

Michael's spatha glanced off the pauldron of her left shoulder. Amy smiled, and only just in time remembered that her war-cry would wake the others. She swung the tourney blade in a wide arc. Michael parried the blow with Duty, but Amy's strength bore him back and knocked him to the ground. He was on his feet at once. Amy swung again, but Michael ducked beneath her guard. Amy stumbled back, but Michael was relentless. He thrust Duty for her neck, and his eyes widened in surprise when it glanced harmlessly off her gorget.

"What did I tell you?" Amy said as she raised the tourney blade. "Naiad armour doesn't have any weaknesses!"

She brought the blade down. Michael raised his arm and caught the blow on his manica. Amy's strength forced him to his knees, his armoured plates groaning in protest. Michael looked up at her, and didn't move.

Amy raised her sword again, and brought it down. Michael took the blow with Duty this time, and shuddered but did not move. Amy raised her sword and brought it down a third time, and Michael took it again. Amy raised her sword the fourth time-

"Got you," and Michael snatched up his spatha with amazing speed and thrust it straight for Amy's armpit, where the armour was weakest and now exposed by her raising her sword above her head.

Damn!
Amy tried to lower her arms protectively but it was too late, Michael had jammed his sword into her armpit, only for his blade to be stopped by the bone-mail she wore beneath her shell.

Amy was unable to suppress a laugh as she trapped Michael's sword beneath the weight of her arm, and prepared to bring the match to a close by cracking him gently across the head.

"Stop!" Gideon's voice echoed through the night. "Oh dear, Michael, surely you could have devised a less risky strategy?"

"Amy is so well protected that I could not defeat her any more swiftly," Michael said. "I had to get her to expose herself."

"Not by acting the rock while she pounds upon you," Gideon said in an aggrieved voice. "You're faster than she is, use your mobility against her; have I taught you nothing?"

"It was just a sparring match," Amy said.

"If something is worth doing it is worth doing properly," Gideon said. "And as it happens, this is worth doing. Michael, you need to learn how to fight an armoured opponent, and Ameliora, you need to learn how to fight more nimble foes. Now, stand away and take up your guard."

"We aren't going to be getting much sleep tonight, are we?" Amy said.

Gideon chuckled dryly as he began to instruct them.

Jason was wakened the next morning by the sounds of fighting, to see Amy and Michael hard at it under Gideon's direction. Michael was darting nimbly in all directions, constantly getting behind Amy, but Amy herself seemed to be playing tortoise quite successfully inside her armour, relying on it to stop any assaults getting through while she waited for Michael to tire. Mind you, both of them looked rather fatigued from where Jason stood. Sweat was pouring down Michael's face, and he could hear Amy's wheezing from here.

"They were like this when I woke up," Tullia said. "It has been going on all night, I think."

"They woke me up very early," Wyrrin said, though he did not sound too unhappy about it. "I've been watching them. It is an entertaining display."

"I'll have to take your word for that," Jason said. "So, they've been fighting all night? I wonder that they are still standing, not to mention able to march today," Jason said.

"A night's missed sleep will not present too great a difficultly, though perhaps a period of rest would not be unwise at this stage," Gideon said. "Stop now, both of you, you've done extremely well. Michael, we'll forgo our usual training this morning in favour of you getting some rest."

Michael shook his head. "I could go on like this all day Gideon, truly, in faith."

"I couldn't," Amy said, leaning on the hilt of her sword and taking deep, gasping breaths.

"I've no doubt you would continue if I asked it, Michael, but we'll save that for when it becomes necessary," Gideon said. "Rest now."

"I don't need telling twice," Amy said, flopping onto the ground and curling up. Within a few moments she had started to snore.

Michael sat down. "I still need to make breakfast."

"I'll do that," Gideon said. "It may not be up to your standards, but it will serve."

Tullia said, "It is good to see that you have reconciled with Amy."

Michael smiled. "Everything is settled now."

"Good," Tullia said. "I am glad, truly."

While Gideon started to prepare the food, Jason got up and walked a few feet away from the others, with his staff in one hand and his wand in the other. He was conscious of the eyes of Michael and Gideon following him as he did so, though Tullia and Wyrrin were not so curious. He preferred doing this while they were occupied with their swordplay, but he needed practice in his own discipline as much as they did in theirs and so there was no help for it. Today, he must do this in the sight of all.

He began with his wand, holding it before him at face level, gripped between forefinger and thumb, pointing slightly upwards.

"Stratos, Lord of Lightning, bring forth thy light," Jason incanted. As he spoke, some of the characters carved into his wand began to glow with an orange light, and the tip of his wand lit up. In the glare of the sun it seemed a small, pathetic glow, but in darkness it was a most welcome companion.

"Let it be ended," Jason said, and the light was extinguished.

For his next spell, Jason looked around for a suitable target, finding a large rock about six feet from him. He pointed his wand at it. "Arus, God of Fire, spark your wrath!"

There was a bang from the tip of Jason's wand, and the stone leapt upwards into the air before falling down to earth with a heavy thump. The ground on which it had sat was smoking slightly. Jason took a deep, heavy breath before proceeding with the last of his wand spells.

"Thanates, Mistress of the Air, let your cudgel fall," Jason declared, and the stone was hurled a dozen feet backwards away from him as the letters on Jason's wand flared for a moment, then went out.

Jason lowered his wand. They were the first three spells he had learnt, carved upon the first instrument of sorcery he had made for himself. Now it was time to move on to the more taxing spells he had learnt upon his second conduit.

Jason put his wand back in his belt, and gripped his shepherd's staff tightly with both hands. Quietly, he prayed not to embarrass himself with failure.

"Tullia," he said. "Would you come here? It is time."

Tullia came, her lips pursed with disapproval. He knew that she disliked what he was about to ask her to do, but it was the only way to test the efficacy of the shield, and if she would play his servant then surely she should get used to following his orders. She squared up against him, at about ten yards distance.

"You know what to do," Jason said, raising his staff so that the tip was pointed at her. "Thanates, Mistress of the Air, and Lightning Lord Stratos, ward me with thy shield."

As he spoke, Tullia raised her hand and lightning shot from her fingers, spinning and snapping towards him like angry dogs, before striking the shield that had sprung up before Jason. For a few moments they writhed and scratched at the shield, hunting for a way through but finding none, before Tullia let go her magic and Jason ended the spell.

"I wish there was another way to test your powers, Your Highness," Tullia said. "If I hurt you I could not abide it."

Jason did not answer, turning away to point his staff upwards into the sky, "Stratos, Lord of Lightning; Thanates, Mistress of the Air, combine your strength and empower me to strike: thirteen arrows of light!"

The words upon his staff burned bright as thirteen magical white arrows shot from the tip and into the air, exploding harmlessly above his head in a shower of sparks and crackles.

Gideon clapped mildly as Jason walked back to the campfire, where breakfast was almost ready, "An impressive display."

"I'll say, Your Highness," Michael said, his excitement robbing him of his most portentous and affected mannerisms. "That was marvellous. I mean..." he coughed in embarrassment. "Your Highness, that display was of a nature both pleasing and heart-lifting."

Jason laughed. "I am still only a novice, in the elder days any half trained sorcerer could perform feats ten times as great. I was very fortunate that none of my spells misfired this morning, the dreams of the gods must be acute today," Jason wished that he could some way to get them to stop calling him Your Highness. He liked Michael, in his rather old fashioned way, and knew that it was genuine respect and not sycophancy that prompted his behaviour, but that did not make it much better. If only these people could be persuaded to see him as an equal, could be persuaded to see all men as equals. But he feared it was beyond his talents to drag these men of the past into a future that did not yet exist save in the hearts of a few visionaries.

Gideon handed out the breakfast; Jason bit into a burnt kipper, and immediately regretted that Michael was not cooking this morning. Still, he needed to regain his strength. Sorcery was powered by a fusion of bodily strength and willpower, should either of them give out his powers would be useless.

They let Amy sleep a little longer while they ate, then woke her up and fed her before continuing on their way. Michael led the way with Amy following close behind. Jason was behind her, with Tullia trailing in his footsteps and Wyrrin coming after her. Gideon now took station at the rear of their small column, though his gaze seemed to be everywhere, front, flank and rear.

Jason did not find Deucalia province much different than Corona. It was just as hot here, the sun was just as bright, both were annoyingly humid in a way that made him miss the airy summers of Eternal Pantheia. It was only Elyn, supposedly the real heat did not start until the following month of Dalry, and yet Jason felt as though it was the height of summer already. He was surprised that Michael looked so comfortable in his woollen tunic, and as for Amy he was amazed she had not boiled inside that armour, when he himself was suffering enough in fine linens.