Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (60 page)

"We elder races call it the Field of Shattered Hopes," Wyrrin said. "For on that day hope died, and our ancestors knew that all was lost." 

"Not all the elder races were driven from their homes," Cati said. "The dryads of Eena swore they would not abandon their homes, and though the battle was lost sufficient dryads remained to fight on against the men of Deucalia. And so for hundreds of years we resisted attempts by Deucalia, Turma and Antigenea to claim the forest, though the woods we were defending grew ever smaller.

"The Aurelians put a stop to the constant fighting when they founded their city along our northern border, and sheltered us under their protection. Then the Empire destroyed Aureliana. And once more we were at the mercy of mankind, yet no less determined to fight for what was ours than we had been in the days of our ancestors."

 "But the Empire didn't want to fight. They preferred to trade for some of our timber. And so we have a treaty, renewed by each new King or Queen, that we dryads will not leave the forest, nor will any men of the Empire enter it without the king's leave, on pain of death."

"And yet you have not killed us," Michael observed.

"Very astutely noted," Cati replied. "I'm keeping you alive because I have a use for you. My father will explain."

 Cati led the company and the wayward princess along with them through paths in the trees that, though they looked as overgrown and obstacle-strewn as every way through the woods at first, once their feet were actually upon them turned out to be easy ways. Michael guessed that the dryads could tell the proper paths easily, and that it would be a hard task for any invader to slog through the woods while being constantly outmanoeuvred by the enemy. Doubtless that was how they had been able to resist so many foes for so long.

 "What do you think they want from us?" Jason asked.

"I would hazard a guess that they wish some service from us they cannot do themselves," Tullia murmured. "The most obvious assumption would be some feat of strength. You saw the look in Cati's eyes when Fiannuala praised our fighting prowess."

"Some great beast to be slain, perhaps," Wyrrin said.

"All of you quiet down," Cati snapped. "We're almost there."

 Their destination turned out to be a large clearing in the middle of the forest, where sunlight passed through a gap in the tree canopy to light a golden circle in the midst of the woodland. Ferns and bushes dotted the clearing, but they looked as arranged as they would have in any garden, not as though they had just sprung up wild. In fact, even in the absence of any stonework or cut wood, it was hard for Michael to shake the impression of a courtyard in grass and plants. Dryads ringed the circle and the company, pointing at them and speaking in hushed whispers.

 They were hustled into the centre of the golden circle and turned to face the west. Before them, seated on a low hillock on which stood a chair that seemed to have grown out of the tree, sat an old dryad with skin a deep reddish hue and hair of white, his face wrinkled with the care of years and hooded eyes so that they seemed half closed. On his forehead he wore a wooden crown set with a single blazing emerald. In one hand he held a golden apple, and in the other the branch of a silver tree served him for a sceptre.

 "You stand before Gerallt ap Cadwal, King of Eena and Protector of the Sacred Groves," Cati said. "Fall to your knees."

 Michael, Jason and Tullia all bowed, but Amy and Wyrrin remained standing. Amy folded her arms across her chest.

"Amy?" Michael murmured.

Amy took a deep breath. "Naiads do not bow to dryads."

"And nor do fire drakes," Wyrrin said, though there was less confidence in his refusal, as though he might well bow if he were pushed to do so.

"Can't you just bend your bloody knees and get it over with," Jason groaned.

"Turo is older than Dala, or any of the other gods save only the Eldest himself," Amy said. "Therefore naiads take precedence over all other races. First naiad, then fire drake, then dryad, troll, aestival, tharil."

 King Gerallt raised his head a little at that, his hands trembling even as his voice shook. "Not since the naiads abandoned us and the fire drakes led us to disaster on the Field of Shattered Hopes have we acknowledged the divine precedence. The ancient customs are dead."

 "Perhaps," Michael said as he stood up. "But it is a terrible thing for a people to turn their backs upon tradition, do you not agree?"

"Now you refuse to kneel?" Cati cried.

Michael smiled. "I would prefer that we live or die as a company than be cut down in our dribs and drabs. And I certainly will not kneel idly by while you punish our Amy for some presumed transgression."

"You will defy the king?"

"For the sake of friendship, without a moment's thought," Michael said.

 "Silence," Gerallt said. He sounded tired, weary beyond belief to Michael's ears. "Fiannuala, Gwawr, come forward."

 Gwawr stepped nervously out of the crowds amongst which she had been trying to hide to stand by the side of Fiannuala, who had been dragged forward by Cati. Gwawr looked down at her feet, while Fiannuala faced her father proudly, her eyes matching with his own.

 "In the past, I have allowed myself to be blind to your wildness and misdeeds," Gerallt said wearily, while Cati smirked triumphant. "I know well how the wounds of your mother's passing refuse to heal, for many times I have woken in the night to feel my own heart bleeding. But now your actions go too far for me to ignore."

 "Is mercy a crime?" Fiannuala said. "Michael had been poisoned, he would have died without aid. Gideon was badly hurt too. They needed help and there was no one else to give it."

 "They might have lived had you left well enough alone," Cati said.

 "I was talking to the king, not you," Fiannuala snapped. "You aren't the queen of Eena yet, however you like to act."

 Cati gave a wordless snarl before she said, "I support our father because I am a dutiful daughter and I care for him and if you -"

 "If you cared about our father you wouldn't be so eager to snatch the crown off his head," Fiannuala yelled. 

"While I live and wear this crown I expect you both to act like sisters," Gerallt said, his voice containing a rumble of anger.

 Cati bowed. "I'm sorry, father."

 Fiannuala pouted and looked away.

 "Please, father," Gwawr said, her voice trembling. "Please, don't kill them. It wasn't their idea to come here, it was ours, mine and Fia's. They shouldn't be punished for our mistake."

 Cati did not reply, but bent down to whisper in her father's ear.

 The king listened, hesitated, then nodded his head wearily. "We are within our rights to take your lives. But instead, we shall spare them. We shall care for your wounded. We shall even allow you to pass through our forests on our way to the ruins of Aureliana. But first you must do us a service, comparable to what we offer you."

"First I wish to see Gideon," Michael said.

"You will see him after you agreed to my proposal," Cati replied.

"I will see him first," Michael barked. "And when I have seen with mine own eyes that you are indeed caring for him then I will hear you out. And then I will consult with my lord again before I give you my answer."

Cati's eyes narrowed. "Who are you to-"

"I am Michael Sebastian Callistus Dolabella ban Ezekiel," Michael shouted. "I am the Last Firstborn of Old Corona. I am the servant of Gideon Commenae. More than any of that I am the man from whom you wish a service. Filia Tullia believes this favour you are so keen to extract our word upon is something desperate and dangerous; I am minded to agree. Therefore I will see my good lord before I leave, and hear his opinion on what you ask. You will forgive me if I do not depart for battle uncertain of his condition, trusting to the honour of those who have shown themselves without nobility."

"How dare you-"

"You could have brought us to my lord at once, shown him to me under your ministrations and then, in a courteous vein, asked us to repay your kindnesses," Michael snarled. "Instead you chose to threaten my companions with death and then demand awed gratitude for your mercy. Shame upon the royal line of Eena!"

Cati glared at him for a moment, then looked away. "Very well," she muttered. "Bring forth the injured human!"

Four dryads bore Gideon forth upon a bier garlanded with flowers, placing him down in the centre of the grass courtyard. He was covered with a blanket, but he nearly threw it off as he tossed and turned this way and that, his mouth opening and closing as he muttered something Michael could not hear.

Michael rushed to his side, Jason not far behind him, and knelt by the bedside of his good lord.

"Gideon," Michael whispered. "Gideon, can you hear me?"

Gideon moaned, "...Bardas..."

Bardas. That was his brother's name, the one murdered by Quirian.
He must have a fever.
"No, Gideon. No, I am Michael. Bardas...your brother...it is Michael, Gideon. Do you know me?"

"Bardas," Gideon whispered feverishly. "Bardas, you fool!"

"Your brother is not here," Jason said loudly. "Bardas Commenae is ten years dead. Dead at your hand, if the tales be true."

"Your Highness," Michael hissed.

"If it is not the truth, then it will not hurt him," Jason replied with a shrug.

"Bardas, you have stood in my way too often, for too long," Gideon ranted, seeing gods alone knew what before his eyes as he twisted and turned in his fever dream. "Not this time, I will not suffer it; do you hear me, I will not."

Michael frowned. "Gideon, please come back to us. I need you, your wisdom, your strength. Please fight, you must awaken."

"Don't you take that patronising tone with me, I am the First Sword of the Empire by Aegea's grace and I will not be talked down to like some damned provincial tribune," Gideon snarled.

"All my life you have stood in my way, mocking me, humiliating me, denying me my due. I was in the right in Oretar, my strategy was proven correct, the war was won due to my efforts; but you clung to your precious honour and you ground me into the dirt so that you could stand spotless atop my shoulders! You don't have one iota of the strength or courage needed to keep this country safe, so long as you hold to your damned honour you will never be able to do the things that I do!

"So you know about Quirian then, how very clever of you."

Michael frowned.
Gideon's brother discovered the truth? Is that why Quirian had him killed?

Gideon let out a great scream of anger, pain and misery combined, and thrashed wildly where he lay for a moment, before subsiding into stillness and subdued moaning.

"Our sorcerers and herbalists are doing everything they can for him," Cati said. "Do you still wish to consult with him in this condition?"

Michael stood up. "Do not be glib with me in this matter." Yet she was right, and Michael felt the weight that Gideon might have borne for him descending on his shoulders. "Say what you will, unless there any objections to hearing the princess' proposal?"

Amy shook her head, as did Tullia. Jason shrugged once more.

Michael nodded. "Say on, Princess."

 "I was not born to this crown or throne," Gerallt said, his voice barely higher than a whisper. "I wed the queen, and we lived together for many years, until her sister, Meinir, jealous and ambitious for the throne, murdered my wife and sought to rule the forest realm."

"Meinir was defeated, and driven into the east of the forest, where she remains with her followers," Cati explained. "We wish you to storm her hold and kill her. Make an end to the tormentor of my soul, and we will spare your lives, tend to your lord, and give you leave to pass through Eena to Aureliana."

 "My daughter Fiannuala will accompany you to observe your faithfulness and atone for her actions," Gerallt said. "If you prove false, she will kill you all."

 "Was this your plan all along," Fiannuala demanded. "To have someone to deal with Meinir?"

 "I couldn't possibly say," Cati said.

 "Dala's breath," Fiannuala said. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you?"

 "Fiannuala!" Gerallt said. "Men of the Empire, do you accept these terms?"

 Michael turned his back upon the king and the princess, walking back towards where Tullia and Amy waited.

"What does everyone think?" Michael asked.

"I don't see that we have much choice," Jason said. "Not unless you want to abandon Gideon." He smiled to show he spoke in jest, but Michael bristled a little nonetheless.

"There is something they are not telling us," Tullia said. "It must be harder than it seems or they would have done it themselves."

"Not necessarily," Amy said. "They don't look a very warlike folk, do they? They can't have had a war since the Empire came. Any one of us probably knows more of fighting than the whole forest, so it doesn't shock me they can't even punish a murderer."

"If she is a murderer," Jason said. "They have no reason to be truthful with us."

"Whether she is or not, I don't see it really matters," Amy replied. "Like you said, we don't have a lot of choice. So let's pretend she is a murderer even if she isn't, swallow our qualms and get on with it. Hopefully she'll give us a good fight."