Cursor's Fury (52 page)

Tavi felt like screaming. Or running and hiding. Or sleeping. Or possibly a combination of the first several, followed by the last. He was not a trained leader of legionares. He had never asked to be in a position of command such as this, never sought to be. That it had happened to him was a simple and enormous fact that was so stunning that he still had not come to grips with its implications. He was accustomed to taking chances—but here, he would take them with lives other than his own. Young men would die—already
had
died—based upon his decisions.

He felt disoriented, lost somehow, and he almost welcomed the desperation and haste the situation had forced on them, because it gave him something clear and immediate to sink his energy into. Reorganize the command. Decide on a strategy. Deal with a threat. If he kept going forward through the problems without slowing down, he could keep his head on his shoulders. He wouldn’t have to think about the pain and death it was his duty, as captain of the Legion, to prevent.

He did not want to pretend that nothing was wrong and project an aura of authority and calm to the young legionares around them. But their confidence and steadiness was critical to their ability to fight and would ultimately improve their chances of survival. So he ignored the parts of himself that wanted to scream in bewildered frustration and focused on the most immediate crisis.

_p. 254
“I’m fine,” he told Max, his voice steady. “I don’t want to push things too far. If we move too far down the valley and the horses play out, the Canim will run us down before we can get back to Elinarch. But we’ve got to do everything we can for the holders who are still alive.”

Max nodded. “Agreed.”

“Max. I’ll need you to tell me when you think we’re hitting our limits,” Tavi said quietly. “And I don’t want you pulling any craftings if you don’t absolutely need to. You’re my hole card, if it comes to that. And you’re the closest thing we have to a real healer.”

“Got it,” Max said, just as quietly. He gave Tavi half a smile. “I’ve seen officers on their third hitch that didn’t handle themselves that well in action. You’re a natural.”

Tavi grimaced. “Tell that to the two who aren’t coming back.”

“This is a Legion,” Max said quietly. “We’re going to lose more before the day’s out. They knew that there were risks when they volunteered.”

“They volunteered to be trained to handle themselves and led by experienced officers,” Tavi said quietly. “Not for this.”

“Life isn’t certain or fair. That isn’t anyone’s fault. Even yours.”

Tavi glanced at Max and nodded grudgingly. He turned his horse, staring farther down the valley, where more helpless holders tried to run for safety. It felt like the day must have been nearly over, but the cloud-veiled sun couldn’t have been halfway to its peak. “What were their names, Max? The men who died.”

“Thank you.” Tavi squared his shoulders and nodded to himself. “I’m going to speak to our wounded before they go, but more holders will need our help. I want to be moving again in five minutes, Tribune.”

Max met Tavi’s eyes when he saluted, and said, quietly, fiercely, “Yes, Captain.”

Chapter 32

_p. 255
“Bloody crows,” Tavi swore, frustrated. “It doesn’t make any crowbegotten
sense,
Max.”

The sun was vanishing beyond the horizon, and Tavi’s alae of cavalry had clashed with the Canim raiders in no less than six swift, bitter engagements that day, all against smaller packs than the first. Three more legionares died. Another nine were wounded in action, and one broke his arm when his weary horse stumbled on the trail and threw him from the saddle.

“You worry too much,” Max told him, and leaned idly against the trunk of a tree. The pair were the only two legionares standing, other than the half dozen men spread around the group, on watch. The rest lay on the ground in silent, hard sleep, exhausted after the day of marching and fighting. “Look, the Canim don’t always do things that make sense.”

“You’re wrong,” Tavi said, his tone firm. “It always makes sense to
them,
Max. They think differently than we do, but they aren’t insane or stupid.” He waved his hand at the countryside. “All those loose packs. No organization, no direction. No cohesive force. This is a major move. I’ve got to figure out what they’re doing.”

“Messengers are sort of funny about wanting to get where they’re going in one piece and breathing. This is hostile territory. Give him time.”

“We might not
have
time.”

“Yes,” Max drawled. “And worrying about it won’t get him here any faster.”
_p. 256
Max opened a sling bag and dug out a round, flat loaf of bread. He broke it in half and tossed one to Tavi. “Eat, while you have a chance. Sleep, if you like.”

Tavi frowned at the shadowed forms of recumbent soldiers. Even the sentries sagged wearily. “You aren’t sleeping,” Tavi pointed out.

“I’ve got the metalcraft to go without for days if I have to.”

Tavi grimaced at him.

“You’re missing my point. You aren’t sleeping, either,” Max said. “But you aren’t stumbling around. Your mouth is running faster than any horse in Alera.”

Tavi stopped chewing for a second, frowning. “You don’t mean that I’m using metalcraft?”

“You
aren’t
,” Max said. “I could tell. But you’re rolling along just fine.”

Tavi took a deep breath. Then he said, “Kitai.”

“Granted, she’d put a bounce in any man’s step,” Max said. “But I’m serious. Whatever herb you’re using . . .”

“No, Max,” Tavi said. “It’s . . . I can do without sleep a lot better than I used to. Since Kitai and I have been—”

“Plowing furrows in the mattress?”

It was dark enough for Max not to be able to see Tavi’s sudden blush, thank the great furies. “I was going to say
together.
You ass.”

Max chortled and swigged from a skin. He passed it to Tavi.

Tavi drank and grimaced at the weak, watered wine. “I haven’t needed as much sleep. Sometimes I think I can see more clearly. Hear better. I don’t know.”

“Bloody odd,” Max said, thoughtfully. “If handy.”

“I’d rather you didn’t talk about it, “ Tavi said quietly.

“Course,” Max said, taking the skin back. “Surprised the crows out of me, to see her here. Figured she’d stay in the palace. She liked the toys.”

_p. 257
“I don’t. I haven’t seen her since she led us into town last night. But I know her.” He shook his head. “She’s out here somewhere.”

“Captain!” called one of the sentries.

Tavi turned and found his sword in his hand, a split second after Max’s weapon leapt from its own sheath. They eased back as the sentry called an all’s-well signal, then they heard hooves approaching.

A battered-looking, gaunt legionare appeared from the darkness, his age marking him as a veteran. His helmet had a smear of what looked like dark red Canim blood on it. He swung down from his horse, gave Tavi a weary salute, and nodded to Max.

“Captain,” Maximus said. “This is Legionare Hagar. I served with him on the Wall.”

“Legionare,” Tavi said, nodding. “Good to see you. Report.”

“Sir,” Hagar said. “Centurion Flavis sends his compliments, and advises you that his alae has encountered and dispatched fifty-four Canim raiders. Seventy-four refugees were given what assistance he could, and he directed them to seek refuge in the town of Elinarch. Two legionares were slain and eight wounded. The wounded are en route back to Elinarch.”

Tavi frowned. “Did you encounter any enemy regulars?”

Hagar shook his head. “No, sir, but Centurion Flavis suffered both of his fatalities and the majority of his unit’s injuries fighting three Canim garbed and equipped differently than the standard raiders.”

“
Three
?” Max burst out.

Hagar grimaced. “It wasn’t long ago, Antillar, the light was starting to go grey on us. And these things . . . I’ve never seen anything that fast, and I saw Aldrick ex Gladius fight Araris Valerian when I was a boy.”

“They went down hard, eh?”

“Two of them didn’t go down at all. They got away, and Flavis let them go. It would have been suicide to send anyone out into the dark after them.”