Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (62 page)

 "Where is she now?"

 "Kidnapped," Michael said. "Or, not exactly but, taken at the least. I suppose I'd better start from the beginning..."

 He told her everything he knew, and when he was finished Cati nodded and said, "So, that's why you came here. You think that you can find ruined Aureliana."

"Gideon believes I can," Michael said. "And I will not let him down."

 Cati said. "Defeat Meinir and you will have all the access you desire. Good luck, elder brother; Dala be with you and follow you in the whispering of the leaves."

 "And Turo watch over the realm of Eena, through the ripples in the water," Michael said.

Michael pulled his cloak about him that night, as the five companions and the dryad princess sat together, huddled in the nook of a vast tree. A pile of dead wood, gathered before they were told that a fire would be prohibited, lay between them. Michael shivered, and shivered all the more at the inviting sight of all that wood.

He was not the only one who looked to be feeling the cold. Jason was shaking visibly, and Amy's lips looked to be turning blue.

"Sorry about this," Fiannuala said, not looking cold in the least bit. "I'm sure you can understand why we don't have fires very often."

"I can understand," Amy said through chattering teeth. "What I don't understand is how you don't freeze to death. I mean we didn't have fires underwater but we did have warm currents."

Fiannuala said, "We just don't feel the cold I suppose."

"Good for you," Amy grumbled. The Eenan diet, it transpired, contained no meat or fish of any kind. Dryads did not farm, but lived entirely by gathering up the forest's bounty. A meal entirely of fruit and vegetables had left Amy in a bad mood even before the sun set and the temperature fell like a stone.

Michael tried to massage some heat into his arms. It was of little use.

"So, apparently you've become a mercenary company while I wasn't looking."

Michael leapt to his feet, the cold falling away from him as he spied Gideon, leaning upon a stick of hickory, walking slowly towards them. "Gideon! You're back!"

Gideon smiled softly. "Alas, I am not recovered. I regret that I will not be well enough to accompany you tomorrow."

"I am sure we shall regret your absence more, Gideon," Michael said. "But, in truth, merely to see you on the road to recovery it...it lightens my heart. I was afraid..."

"I have no intention of dying yet, Michael, certainly not of such minor injuries," Gideon said.

"I rejoice to hear that, too," Michael replied. "As to tomorrow-"

"You did the right thing," Gideon said, forestalling him. "I would have made the same choice." Gideon winced a little as he sat down, slowly and stiffly, crossing his legs beneath him. "Have you given any thought as to how you might accomplish your task?"

"I have divided the company into two sections," Michael said, also sitting. "I will lead one: myself, Wyrrin and Fiannuala. Amy will lead the other: herself, Tullia and His Highness. Amy's party will use His Highness sorcery to blast a way to Meinir, then hold their position while my party exploits the breach and makes the assault on Meinir's hold, killing her in the process."

"A fast assault party and a slow, defensive one," Gideon murmured, nodding his head. "Simple, but effective, not inflexible. Nine out of ten for a first effort Michael. The missing point...I notice that you have placed yourself in charge of they whose behaviour and conduct is uncertain." Gideon's green eyes flickered to Fiannuala.

"I trust Princess Fiannuala," Michael said. "And if I am proven a fool, better that I should stand in peril of my own mistake than put others at risk."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Fiannuala said. "You have no idea how much I want this."

Gideon did not seem to really notice her response. Instead, he looked into Michael's eyes. "I should be going with you."

"You saved my life, Gideon, at risk to your own," Michael said. "You have earned a respite."

"I am the First Sword of the Empire, my rest will come in death and not before," Gideon said firmly. "And yet it seems that I will be sitting this dance out." A thin smile played across his lips. "The fledgling leaves the nest earlier than I expected. You will do very well, Michael. You will all do well, I'm sure." He held out his hand. "Empress grace go with you. I take it you have no objection to me spending the night with you before I must wave you off to battle like a soldier's wife?"

Michael reached out and clasped Gideon's hand firmly. "Thank you, Gideon, and of course you are right welcome here with us, if it will be no detriment to your health." He noticed that Gideon's hand was not perishing cold, as his felt. "Lord Gideon, how is that this cold does not bite your bones?"

"My devotion to the Empire keeps me warm, as it did in Oretar," Gideon said. "Cold, heat, thirst, hunger, a devoted spirit can ignore all such things and treat them with the contempt with which distractions deserve to be treated."

"Are you sure you're human?" Amy said.

Gideon smiled. "Very much so, to my sorrow."

"I take it that doesn't work for the rest of you then?" Fiannuala said.

"No, it does not," Amy snapped.

Fiannuala frowned, and looked around her. They were quite alone. No other dryads wanted anything to do with the humans over whom a penalty of death still hung. They had been given a wide berth.

Fiannuala stood up, clapped her hands twice, and began to chitter excitedly at something up in the trees. Judging by what he could see, Michael thought it was a squirrel. It squeaked back at her excitedly, and scampered off, leaping from branch to branch.

"You can talk to animals?" Michael said as she sat down. "Can you understand their speech?"

"And some birds, too. It isn't like they've got a lot to say most of the time, but yes," Fiannuala said. "They're useful for carrying messages."

Michael's eyebrows rose. "Now I understand why you do not partake of meat."

"You didn't have any idea that we could do that?" Fiannuala said in disbelief. "Can't naiads talk to fish?"

"I should think not," Amy said. "We've got better things to do than waste time on such nonsense." She hunched down low, trying to embrace herself for warmth.

A few minutes later there was a rasping croak, and a little green lizard wandered up to join them. He had a frilled crest upon his head, and his scales were mottled with red and yellow stripes. His tail was tipped with spines, and waved behind him as he moved along with surprising speed.

"Char!" Fiannuala exclaimed. "There you are, pal; where have you for the last week?"

Char croaked in response.

Fiannuala laughed, and made a harsh noise with the back of her throat. Char croaked again and breathed fire upon the dead wood, transforming it in an instant into a warming yellow blaze.

"Turo be praised," Amy said, shuffling closer to the fire.

"As long as nobody sees, we should be okay this once," Fiannuala said.

"Much obliged, your highness," Michael said.

"Indeed," Jason said, seeming too cold to be bothered criticising Michael's manners on this occasion.

As Amy warmed her hands, Char skittered over to her and stared up with his big, yellow eyes. As Amy stared back, Char's face tilted a little sideways like a confused bird. Then, with a short croak, he gave Amy's hand a playful bite.

"He likes you," Fiannuala said with a grin.

"What does he do to people he doesn't like?" Amy asked, rubbing her hand where she had been nipped. "What is he?"

"He's a lesser salamander; he's only a baby, but he's very clever," Fiannuala said. "Even though salamanders are fire elementals, there have been a few in the forest for as long as men have ruled outside the woods. I found Char alone in the woods after a male killed his mother and all his brothers and sisters. I raised him, didn't I pal, eh?"

Char croaked, and began sucking Fiannuala's little finger.

"He doesn't live on fruit, does he?" Amy said. "Look at those teeth."

"No, he doesn't. When he was really little I used to stun sparrows with a sling to get them on the ground for him to hunt. I felt sick doing it, but he wasn't strong enough to hunt without a mother and you can't expect an animal to behave like a dryad."

"But he hunts now?" Amy said, a gleam in her eye.

"Just about. Only small things, because he's still young."

There was a moments pause before Amy said, "Would he get me something?"

Fiannuala stared at her, saw she was serious, and turned to say something to Char, who darted off into the darkness.

"Don't worry," Fiannuala said. "Once you prove yourselves tomorrow, everything will get better. Then you'll see our real hospitality."

There was a sound of scuffling, a squeak of fear, and Char returned with a pair of mice held in his mouth.

"Tell him he's brilliant," Amy said, snatching both of them. "I mean, he's no hunting porpoise but..." She ate both the mice. "That alone has made improved your hospitality no end in my eyes."

"You ate them raw, really?" Jason said.

"There's hardly enough meat on them to be worth cooking, is there?" Amy said.

"Clearly you need to go to more of the right kind of parties," Gideon remarked. "And now, considering that we will have to fight a battle in the morning, I suggest that we all get an early night's sleep."

No other dryad could be seen as they began their march the next day, bidding farewell to Gideon and striking eastward towards the lair of the regicide Meinir. Fiannuala led the way eastward, through tracks only she knew. Wyrrin went next, sniffing for hidden foes with his reptilian nose. Michael came next, with His Highness and Tullia behind so that Jason could be protected if they were attacked from front or rear. Amy brought up the rearguard, heavy footed in her knightly raiment, snapping twigs and crushing logs beneath her tread. Michael had to confess that stealth was not their ally in this.

Char was perched on Fia's shoulder, his head darting this way and that, but he made no sound. It was as though he understood the seriousness of the situation, and was doing his best not to hinder their progress. Strange to think of an animal being so intelligent.

They trailed eastward through the wooded paths as the sun rose up in the sky to burn away the morning mist. They wandered as the birds awoke around them, and as the beasts began to move through the trees on either side. Twice Fiannuala stopped, fitting arrow to bow string, only for it to have turn out to be a fox and a rabbit respectively.

"Are they so stealthy, these followers of Meinir?" Michael asked.

"Vicious," Fiannuala said. "More warlike than most, that's why they follow a murderer. They've been pushing the Forest Watch hard."

They soon saw evidence of that viciousness as they pressed on: several dryad bodies strung up from the high branches of trees, dead, a warning to trespassers. Other bodies had been left on the ground, carefully arranged, mutilated after death. Their faces had been ruined, their bodies violated, some of them looked as though they had been tortured. One, in particular, had been skinned alive and then tied to a tree stump. His Highness began to wretch at the sight and even Michael, who had seen much bloodshed and reduced many men to an awful sight, felt his stomach churn a little at the brutality on display.

Truly it is a noble thing we do. God grant us victory.

I wish Gideon were here.

"This is a human thing," Wyrrin spat. "Have Dala's children lost their way so completely?"

"Don't fool yourself, sin is universal," Amy said. "We are as prone to it as men or elves, and only the most blind and vain amongst us denies it. The more we claim we are better than men the more we show we're nothing of the sort."

"We should keep moving," Fiannuala said, her blustering manner fading into seriousness. "We are at the boundary of Meinir's territory. It won't be long now."

She led them on again - they tried to be more quiet from here on in - until they came to a lattice of towering trees, all of them stripped of leaves and fruit, barren and black, their branches reaching out like sinister claws aiming to devour the sun itself, wound together in a copice, with ladders leading up to the branches and bowers built among the high places.

In the centre, at the hub of all the walkways, suspended above the hollow centre of the copice, was what could only be described as a palace made of wood. It was as though a tree had been lifted up into the air, contorted into a ball, then crafted while still living into a home. Michael found there was a strange beauty in the living quality of the hold, all tangled roots and twisted limbs, but there was cruelty too in the sharp points, the claws, the dead bodies dangling from the walls as examples. Surely that was where Meinir lurked, planning her campaign against the honest folk of Eena.

Dryad sentries with bows and spears patrolled the walkways between the trees, while some more stood guard upon the ground, along with human warriors wearing the unmistakable armbands of the Crimson Rose.

"Will we never be free of these wretches?" Michael muttered.