Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (90 page)

BOOK: Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1)
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Quirian's eye narrowed. "Indeed? And who told you that?"

"I did," Abigail said. "Though you needn't be so modest, Quirian, after all it was you who sent Metella to tend is to his injuries, and those of his companions."

"Metella has... cared for him," Quirian murmured. "Well, I didn't want you to get your hopes up unnecessarily, Filia, but it seems that you are not the only woman in my household who can work miracles."

"So it is true," Miranda said. "Michael is alive."

"So it would seem," Quirian said.

"Praise God," Felix breathed.

"Praise Turo indeed," Quirian replied. He sighed. "If that is all, Filia, I have had a long journey and I am very tired, so perhaps-"

"It is not all," Miranda yelled. "I am glad that Michael lives. Overjoyed. But that does not excuse the fact that you have had Felix for the last five years. Why didn't you bring him home? Why didn't you tell me my brother was alive when I came to work for you?"

"I did not think you would be interested," Quirian said. "By his own account, you never cared for him when he was alive."

"Felix?" Miranda turned to give her little brother an arch look.

Felix smiled nervously. "I was ten years old, I didn't understand. And you did shout at me a lot."

"And one must remember that at that time my gallant captain did not even realise he was your brother," Quirian continued. "As for the first point, I did not take him home because I did not consider him to be safe there. Three children living together, bereft of a parent’s loving care, hardly what I would call a good home. I thought I could raise him much better myself and I produced a fine man as I am sure you will agree. Would you and Michael have done so well?"

"I think we might have," Miranda said. "And we might have averted many of the troubles that befell our family besides. Felix, do you realise how much your death hurt both of us?"

"Ah, so we are concerned not with Felix himself but with your own happiness and convenience?" Quirian said.

"No, of course not, I just meant," Miranda growled. "Never mind. I do not have to explain myself to you, and there is nothing you could say to me will make me forgive you this is. It is inexcusable, and I will not forget it."

Quirian smiled. "I would be disappointed in you if you did, Filia. Is there anything else?"

Miranda hesitated. "Do you want me to see if I can repair your eye?"

"I doubt you could, Filia," Quirian said. "After all, I do not have the original orb with me. And the pain is nearly gone by now. And I have ways of mitigating the hindrance." He laid one hand upon the gilded hilt of the sword that lay upon his lap, and rose to his feet, towering over Miranda and everyone else, casting a shadow across the room as he drew forth a shining blade, greater than three feet in length, glimmering in his hands like white gold, shining upon him like the sun. His ruined eye snapped open, and both orbs shone a brighter blue than ever before. "The powers of the sword enable me to see even though the eye be damaged. My enemies will gain little joy from my injury."

"That sword is quite a weapon it seems," Miranda said.

"Semper Fidelis, the sword of Cupas himself," Quirian said, staring at the sword as the light played up and down his face. "If I were to impale you upon this blade then all your power would be absorbed into it, and so long as I held the sword so would I hold the power. In essence, Filia, I could kill you and take all your magic."

Miranda raised one eyebrow. "Should I be worried?" she asked dryly.

Quirian chuckled. "I mean no harm to come to you, Filia, have no fear. I took this sword not to use it, but to keep it out of the grasp of those who would."

"Gideon Commenae?"

"The very same," Quirian replied. "Though...now that the blade is in my hand, I feel some use for it coming to mind. Abigail, would you mind stepping forward."

Abigail smiled, and as Miranda stared at her she... changed. The facade of the old woman fell away completely, the grey hairs, the wrinkled face, the bent back, the crooked fingers. Everything but the eyes, those grey eyes that had been so impenetrable, they alone remained, set in a different face. A younger face, ageless and flawless, with hair as black as midnight falling to her waist.

"Hello again, Quirian," she said. "I suppose the blade recognised me?"

"That, and you revealed yourself by showing off your knowledge," Quirian said. "That was always a flaw of yours."

"As your flaw was that you always believed you knew better," Abigail replied.

"You... who are you?" Miranda demanded.

"You should be honoured, Filia," Quirian said calmly. "The goddess Silwa has been your handmaiden these past weeks."

"Goddess?"

Silwa smiled. "I would like to thank you, dear, both for you kindness and for your willingness to share your thoughts. It has been very enlightening."

"Catulla," Miranda said. "She said... you didn't die because..."

"If a god could be killed by having their throat cut there wouldn't be many of us left, would there?" Silwa asked.

"You can be killed by this blade," Quirian said. He advanced upon her warily, sword held out and ready. "You did me a kindness once, my lady, but that was many years ago and the debt is all paid up now. You are mistaken if you think that I will let you leave here."

"You are mistaken if you think that you can stop me, even with my brother's sword in your hand," Silwa replied.

"You are unarmed," Quirian said.

Silwa smiled. "I am a goddess, dear; I am never unarmed." Her whole body began to glow with an ethereal light, glowing like a star, glowing like the sun. Miranda turned away, closing her eyes and shielding them against the brightness. The light burned through her eyelids, as patterns of green and pink swirled before her eyes.

She heard a tearing sound, like Lysimachus ripping apart the fabric of the world to travel through the spirit realm. Quirian howled in outrage. And then the light was gone, and so was Silwa.

"She escaped?" Miranda asked.

Quirian's face was contorted into a scowl. "She fled into the spirit realm. I could pursue her there, but... I confess, Filia, I fear that place. If only Metella were here."

"You would match her against a god?"

"I would have her do what she could," Quirian said.

Miranda nodded. "Thank you, my lord, for sending her to look after Michael. It cannot have been an easy decision for you."

Quirian laughed sourly. "Indeed not, Filia, and now look what it has cost me." He sat back down again, his long dark hair falling across his face. "I bid you leave me now, Filia. I am, as I told, very weary." Semper Fidelis dropped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a loud clatter as Quirian's eye became once more sealed up by the injury done to him.

Miranda accepted the dismissal. Remaining was pointless anyway. Coming here had, in its own way, been equally pointless. The only things she had accomplished were confirming Abigail's words - though neither she nor Quirian had attempted to explain how Michael had managed the astonishing feat of raising himself from the dead - and blowing off her anger about being lied to. The latter especially had been rather unproductive.

She turned to go, followed by Felix, Octavia and Abigail. Once they had left the solar, and the doors had closed behind them, Felix began to stammer. "I… I don't know what to say. I never imagined that he might...isn't it wonderful?"

Miranda looked at him carefully. "Yes. It is. But it does not absolve you."

"I know," Felix murmured.

Miranda sighed. "I know we deserve to have a long talk, you and I. I think that we may even need it. But for now, I need time to think. You'll have to excuse me."

"Of course," Felix looked grateful for the excuse to get away from her, a sentiment so obvious on his face that Miranda felt ashamed of her behaviour. "'Randa, you don't think too badly of me do you?"

"That depends on what you do next," Miranda said, and she turned away and headed back to her room.

On the way, Octavia leaned close and asked, "Are you alright? Really?"

Miranda smiled fondly. "Of course. Both my brothers are alive. What do I have to be upset about?"

Of course, if that were true then why do I feel so uneasy?

 

Also By Frances Smith:

 

The Chain and the Unicorn
(short story collection)

 

The Last Giant
(standalone short story)

Appendix: Gods and Immortals of Pelarius

 

The Eldar, the old gods

 

Riate, Eldest and Highest, King of Heaven and Conqueror of demons; creator of ogres, cyclopes, harpies and woodwights; maker of the first sun and the first moon, now known as the Eldest's Lantern and the Eldest's Mirror; creator of sorcery; currently imprisoned in the Black Abyss alongside his demon host. His name is rarely spoken, he is instead referred to as 'The Eldest' or 'Eldest One'. The demons acknowledge him as their king, and the races he created, known collectively as the Riatian races, revere him as their god. He is worshipped by some Eldar-worshippers as part of the pantheon of the old gods, though other Eldar-worshippers refuse to acknowledge him as part of said pantheon. The Novar Church claims that use of sorcery will release Riate from his imprisonment, and proscribes sorcery on pain of death upon that basis.

 

Turo, Lord of the Oceans and creator of the naiad race; originator of water magic; currently believed to reside in Ocean's Heart as King of the Seas. As lord of the oceans is worshipped singly by naiads, caedans, merfolk, henta'i. Eldar-worshippers revere him as part of the pantheon of the old gods, but he is also honoured alone by the Coronim, and by some other communities of humans long the south coast of Pelarius. These worshippers, along with Turo's ocean subjects, are known collectively as the Turonim.

 

Arus, Master of Fire and creator of the fire drake race; originator of fire magic; currently wounded and comatose in the care of his brother Turo. He is worshipped singly by fire drakes, who sometimes call themselves the Arunim, and by human Eldar-worshippers as part of the pantheon of the old gods.

 

Kinos, Queen of Spirits; originator of spirit magic; slain in battle. She is part of the pantheon of the old gods, but receives little worship even from Eldar-worshippers.

 

Dala, Lady of the Woods and creator of the dryad race; originator of wood magic; currently wounded and comatose in the care of her brother Turo. She is worshipped singly by dryads, who sometimes call themselves the Dalrim, and by human Eldar-worshippers as part of the pantheon of the old gods.

 

Mithrok, Lord of the Earth and creator of the troll race; originator of earth magic; currently wounded and comatose in the care of his brother Turo. He is worshipped singly by trolls and by human Eldar-worshippers as part of the pantheon of the old gods.

 

Thanates, Mistress of the Skies and creator of the aestival race; originator of air magic; currently wounded and comatose in the care of his brother Turo. She is worshipped singly by aestivals and by human Eldar-worshippers as part of the pantheon of the old gods.

 

Stratos, Lord of Lightning and creator of the tharil race; originator of lightning magic; slain in battle. He is worshipped singly by tharils and by human Eldar-worshippers as part of the pantheon of the old gods.

 

The Novar, the new gods

 

Bael, son of Riate and Dala; possessor of wood magic; King in Heavenvault and highest of the Novar.

 

Silwa, daughter of Riate and Thanates; possessor of air magic; goddess of victory and wisdom. A noted meddler in the affairs of mortals, she was the old Novar god who did not retire to the Heavenvault after the defeat of the old gods, but continues to live amongst mortal men. As goddess of victory, she enjoys some worship amongst the ranks of the army, but not as much as her half-brother Beltor.

 

Cupas, son of Stratos and Thanates; possessor of air and lightning magic.

 

Culis, daughter of Stratos and Thanates; possessor of air and lightning magic.

 

Tanuk, son of Kinos and Arus; possessor of fire magic; god of death and lord of

the shadowlands.

 

Alectar, daughter of Riate and Dala; possessor of wood magic.

 

Lenwar, son of Dala and Mithrok; possessor of wood and earth magic.

 

Pen, son of Riate and Kinos; possessor of no natural magics.

 

Cuuinthan, son of Riate and Dala; possessor of wood magic.

 

Beltor, son of Mithrok and Thanates; possessor of earth and air magic. As God of War, Beltor is particularly beloved by soldiers, and Beltorian cults flourish amongst the ranks of the legions. To be initiated into such a cult is a great honour, accorded only to the most gallant of the Empire's soldiers.

 

Syltri, daughter of Mithrok and Thanates; possessor of earth and air magic

 

Milcar, son of Kinos and Mithrok; possessor of earth magic.

 

Nis, son of Kinos and Mithrok; possessor of earth magic.

 

Elyo, daughter of Dala and Mithrok; possessor of wood and earth magic.

 

Aulo, daughter of Arus and Thanates; possessor of fire and air magic; goddess of medicine, her temples are sanctuaries for the sick across the empire, and her devotees maintain hospitals in many of the major cities.

 

Ro, daughter of Kinos and Arus; possessor of fire magic; the goddess with the veiled face, she is the protector of the crippled and disfigured.

 

Sera, daughter of Dala and Arus; possessor of wood and fire magic; goddess of fertility.

 

Ubis, son of Arus and Thanates; possessor of fire and wood magic.

 

Working together, the old and new gods combined created the orc race. The Novar working alone created the race of man, and thus it is from men that they draw their worshippers, who are known as Novarians.

 

Other Gods

 

Aegea the Great, Who Did Not Die but Rose Again, Divine Empress of All Pelarius, Lavissar, Triazica and All the Lands that Lie Between or May be Found Beyond, Mother to the Legions and the Minotaurs, Protector of the Empire and All Her People. For the first three hundred years following her death, the worship of Aegea was the state and sole permissible religion throughout the Empire. Religious liberty was granted in 326 FFE (From the Founding of the Empire) by Prince Imperial Romanus III following the ending of the Turonim Rebellion. In 360 FFE the Princess Imperial Thetis denounced the Faith of Aegea, proclaimed herself Empress and was received into the communion of the Novar Church. The Faith of Aegea was proscribed on pain of death, but following the Mother's March the minotaurs won the right to continue worship. Although the proscription was lifted generally in 476, but the minotaur race remains the chief source of Aegea worship throughout the Empire. Amongst humans, the faith is now mainly in army cults such as the Sons of Aegea or the Wolf Brotherhood.

 

The Furies, oldest of all immortals; older than the Eldar, the origins of the furies are inscrutable to any save themselves, but their mission is clear: to punish wrongdoing and avenge the weak and helpless upon the strong and powerful. For many centuries they roamed the mortal world, until Aurelia banished them to the shadowlands, where their only prey are ghosts and those few unfortunate mortals who fall into the cracks between the worlds. They have no worshippers and are despised by all other gods, though desperate folk of all races may cry out to them for justice when they have no other recourse left.

 

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