Codex Alera 01 - Furies Of Calderon Part 37

Amara abruptly remembered the men screaming, falling. She remembered the terror on their faces, though she hadn't taken much note of it at the time.

She closed her eyes. Her stomach turned over on itself. She closed her eyes. Her stomach turned over on itself. "If you have something to say, say it and have done. I have work to do." "If you have something to say, say it and have done. I have work to do." "I've heard dying can be quite the ch.o.r.e," Fidelias's voice noted. "I wanted to make you an offer." "I've heard dying can be quite the ch.o.r.e," Fidelias's voice noted. "I wanted to make you an offer." "No," Amara said. "Stop wasting my time. I won't take it." "No," Amara said. "Stop wasting my time. I won't take it."

"Yes you will," Fidelias said. "Because you don't want the women and children behind those walls to be murdered with the rest of you."

Amara stiffened. She felt suddenly cold.

"Leave," Fidelias said. "You. Lead the women and children away. I'll have my Knights see that the Marat are delayed long enough to give you a safe lead."

"No," she whispered. "You're lying. You can't control the Marat."

"Don't be so sure," Fidelias said. "Amara, I don't like what has to be done. But you can make a difference. You can save the lives of innocent people of the Realm. You lead them. If you don't, personally, then there's no deal." There was silence for a moment, before he said, weariness in his voice, "You don't know what you're doing, girl. I don't want to see you die for it. And if I can save the lives of some noncombatants while protecting you, so much the better."

Amara closed her eyes, her head spinning. The stench of the burned corpses, of the carrion the crows had torn into, came to her again. She was a Cursor, a skilled fencer, an agent of the Crown, a decorated heroine of the Realm-but she did not want to die. It terrified her. She had seen the men the Marat had killed, and none of them had gone pleasantly. She had joked before, lightly, that she would never want to end her life in less than a viciously b.l.o.o.d.y fashion, as alive as she could possibly be, but the reality of it was different. There wasn't any consideration in it, no abstract philosophy. Just glittering, animal eyes and terror and pain.

It made sense, she reasoned. Fidelias wasn't a monster. He was a man like any other. He had had cared about her, when they worked together. Almost more than her father had, in some ways. It was reasonable to a.s.sume that he did not want to see her die if he could avoid it. cared about her, when they worked together. Almost more than her father had, in some ways. It was reasonable to a.s.sume that he did not want to see her die if he could avoid it.

And if she could save some more people, if she could lead those who would surely die away from the coming struggle, surely it would be worth it. Surely there would be no shame for her in fleeing, no dishonor before the Crown.

Or before Bernard's memory. Or before Bernard's memory. It wouldn't be wrong. Fidelias was giving her a way out. An escape. It wouldn't be wrong. Fidelias was giving her a way out. An escape. "Amara," Fidelias's voice said, gently. "There isn't much time. You must go quickly, if you are to save them." "Amara," Fidelias's voice said, gently. "There isn't much time. You must go quickly, if you are to save them."

She abruptly saw the trap. Though she didn't understand it yet, though she wasn't sure exactly where it lay, she recognized what he had scattered out to blind her-raw emotions, fear, the desire to protect, the need to save her own pride. He had played on them, just as he had tried to put her into a raw, emotional state of terror and grief when he had betrayed her before.

"I must go quickly," she said, quietly. "I must go. Me. Or there's no deal." She took a breath and said, "Why would you want to make sure I was not a part of this battle, Fidelias? Why now, instead of an hour ago? Why did you make this offer only after you saw me observing the enemy?"

"Don't do this to yourself, Amara," he said. "Don't rationalize your way out of life. Don't let it kill kill those children." those children."

She swallowed. He was right, of course. Perhaps she was being manipulated. Perhaps accepting his offer would would mean that she had sacrificed some unknown advantage. But could she really argue against that statement? Could she make some attempt to play at maneuvers against him, here, now, when she would almost certainly die? And when it would cost the lives of mean that she had sacrificed some unknown advantage. But could she really argue against that statement? Could she make some attempt to play at maneuvers against him, here, now, when she would almost certainly die? And when it would cost the lives of children children.

Run. Save them. Grieve with the Crown over the Valley's loss.

"Your purpose as a Cursor is to save lives, Amara. Stay true to your purpose. And let me stay true to my choice."

The crows croaked and swooped all around her. She opened her mouth to agree.

But a sudden sound stopped her. Without warning, the ground began to rumble, low, hard, rhythmic. She staggered and had to crouch to keep her balance. She looked back at the walls of Garrison.

A shout went up from the legionares legionares, who immediately marched forward, away from the walls, breaking into ragged formation as the pitching of the earth made them stagger left and right. They came out to the same distance she stood at and turned to stare at the walls with her.

The walls of Garrison heaved and shuddered, like a sleeper stirring. They rippled, a slow wave rolling through the seamless grey stone. And then, with a screeching of breaking earth, they began to grow.

Amara stared at it in sudden wonder. She had never seen any such feat done on such a scale before. The walls rolled up, higher, like a wave approaching the sh.o.r.e. They ground forward several paces toward the enemy, until Amara realized that they were growing thicker at the base, to support the greater height. The walls grew, and the grim grey stone began to streak with ribbons of scarlet and azure, twined within the rock, the colors of Alera proper, and then with scarlet bound with gold, the colors of the Legion's home city of Riva. The battlements grew higher, and with an abrupt shriek of stone, spikes erupted at the summit of the battlements and then sprang out all along the walls themselves, long, slender daggers of some dark stone that gleamed in the growing light. The spikes spread, as though they were tendrils sprung from some deadly vines beneath the surface of the wall, and raced out over the ground before the walls as well, rippling into place like blades of gra.s.s growing all in an instant, their gleaming tips pointing out at the oncoming horde.

The crows, dismayed, flew into the sky in a sudden storm of black wings and raucous cawing, circling around the field of battle like wreathes of panicked smoke.

The rumbling eased. The walls of Garrison stood, thirty feet high and grim, and bristled with razor-edged daggers of the same black stone, Amara could now see, that the Marat used for their own weapons. The ground itself lay ready to impale any attackers.

And, in the stunned silence, she heard Fidelias's voice whisper, "b.l.o.o.d.y crows."

The legionares legionares beside her erupted into sudden cheers, and she was barely able to hold back the shout of defiance that came to her own throat. She snapped an order to the men, to send them back inside, and they began picking their way painfully across the field of spikes before the wall. One of the men slipped and cut his leg, drawing, of all things, a sudden and enthusiastic discussion about how sharp the spikes were and how well they'd cut him. The loudest voice of praise was from the injured man. More cheers rose up from inside the fortress, and as Amara watched, more beside her erupted into sudden cheers, and she was barely able to hold back the shout of defiance that came to her own throat. She snapped an order to the men, to send them back inside, and they began picking their way painfully across the field of spikes before the wall. One of the men slipped and cut his leg, drawing, of all things, a sudden and enthusiastic discussion about how sharp the spikes were and how well they'd cut him. The loudest voice of praise was from the injured man. More cheers rose up from inside the fortress, and as Amara watched, more legionares legionares crowded the wall, and someone raised the banners of the Legion and of Riva into position above the gates. Within, one of the musicians began to trumpet the call to arms, and the crowded the wall, and someone raised the banners of the Legion and of Riva into position above the gates. Within, one of the musicians began to trumpet the call to arms, and the legionares legionares, professional and holder alike, answered it in a sudden roar that shook the stone of the hills framing the fortress.

Amara spun back out to face the horde coming over the plains and hissed, "Fight for what you want, Fidelias, but it will not be handed to you. The future of these men and women, children and soldier alike, is not cast in stone. If you want the fortress, then come and take it."

There was a long and terrible silence before Fidelias responded, and when he did, his voice was calm, even. "Good-bye, Amara."

With the softest whisper of wind, the contact faded.

Amara turned and called to Cirrus. She stepped forward and leapt lightly over the field of spikes, thirty yards or more, landing in the gate ahead of the legionares legionares returning from outside. Her heart pounded in swift, hot defiance, determination. returning from outside. Her heart pounded in swift, hot defiance, determination.

She tried not to notice that it made her broken arm throb as well, with pain.

Amara moved quickly into the courtyard, and the shadows of the now-higher walls had changed the perspective of the entire place. It took her a moment to orient herself, but she spotted Bernard sitting at the base of the new wall with a group of jubilant-faced, panting men, talking. Shields and weaponry and breastplates lay near each man, and one of the women had brought water to them. As much seemed to have been tossed over their heads as down their throats, and their tunics were splotched with water, their breath turned to steam before smiling mouths. Pirellus stood nearby Bernard and nodded to her when he saw her.

"Interesting," Pirellus said, jerking his head back toward the wall. "It's going to force them to use their scaling poles and to try to take the gate. We'll be able to make a good fight of it, at least."

"Incredible," Amara said, grinning first at Pirellus and then at Bernard. "I've never seen anything like it." "Incredible," Amara said, grinning first at Pirellus and then at Bernard. "I've never seen anything like it." Bernard looked up with a tired smile of his own. "Always amazing what you can do when you must." Bernard looked up with a tired smile of his own. "Always amazing what you can do when you must." Pirellus asked, "Did you spot anything?" Pirellus asked, "Did you spot anything?"

"No," Amara said, "but I believe our opposition was afraid that I would." She told them, in brief, about the conversation with Fidelias.

Bernard frowned. "You know. Maybe we should should get as many people as we can into the wagons and get them on the road again. Can we hold long enough to let them get away?" get as many people as we can into the wagons and get them on the road again. Can we hold long enough to let them get away?"

Pirellus looked at the wall and then at the other side of the courtyard. "It's a risk worth taking. I'll see to it," he said, shortly. "There won't be enough room for everyone, but we could get the children out, at least."

"Thank you," Amara told him.

Pirellus nodded to her. "You were right last night," he said. "I was wrong." Then he headed out across the courtyard, steps steady despite his wounded leg.

Bernard whistled and said to Amara, "That cost him something, I think."

"Nothing he couldn't do without anyway," Amara said, her voice dry. "Bernard, those Knights are still out there, and they're going to be coming in on us again."

"I know," Bernard said. "But we don't have enough Knights Aeris to hold the sky. We don't know when or where they'll come."

Amara nodded to him. "But I think I have a good guess. Here's what I want you to do."

She laid out brief instructions for him, and he nodded, gathered up some more of the holders with him, and hurried off to carry out her plan. Amara checked in with Harger and then headed up onto the wall. The battlements were crowded with men, but she located Giraldi, standing soberly in position at the center of the wall, over the gate.

"Centurion," she greeted him. "Centurion," she greeted him. "Countess." "Countess." "How does it look?" "How does it look?"

He nodded out toward the oncoming Marat, hardly more than a mile away now. "They've stopped," he told her. "Out past our best bow range, even for these holder boys. They're waiting."

"For what?" "For what?" He shrugged. "Sunrise maybe. If they give it a few minutes, the sun will be in our eyes when it comes up." He shrugged. "Sunrise maybe. If they give it a few minutes, the sun will be in our eyes when it comes up." "Will it hurt us much?" "Will it hurt us much?" He shrugged. "It won't help." He shrugged. "It won't help." She nodded. "How long can we expect to hold them?" She nodded. "How long can we expect to hold them?" "No telling with these things. If we can keep them off the walls, out of the gates, a good long while." "No telling with these things. If we can keep them off the walls, out of the gates, a good long while." "Long enough to give a group of wagons a running start?" "Long enough to give a group of wagons a running start?" He glanced at her. "The holders' wagons?" He glanced at her. "The holders' wagons?" Amara nodded. "We're loading them with the women and children right now." Amara nodded. "We're loading them with the women and children right now."

Giraldi looked at her steadily for a moment, then nodded. "All right then. We'll hold them long enough. Excuse me." He turned and stepped back from the battlements to meet a panting legionare legionare who had made his way down the wall. Amara followed him. Giraldi frowned and asked, "Where are those canteens, man?" who had made his way down the wall. Amara followed him. Giraldi frowned and asked, "Where are those canteens, man?"

The legionare legionare saluted. "Sorry, sir. They're in the east warehouse, and it's already been secured." saluted. "Sorry, sir. They're in the east warehouse, and it's already been secured."

"Already been secured," Giraldi growled. "How do you know?" "Already been secured," Giraldi growled. "How do you know?" "Door was locked." "Door was locked." Giraldi frowned at the man. "Well, find Harger and get him to-what's that on your shoes?" Giraldi frowned at the man. "Well, find Harger and get him to-what's that on your shoes?" "Hay, sir." "Hay, sir."

"Where did you get hay in your boots, legionare legionare?"

"One of the holders threw it there, sir. They're tossing it all over the courtyard."

"What?"

Amara stepped in. "My orders, Centurion."

"Uh," Giraldi said. He swept off his helmet and rubbed at his short-cropped hair. "With all due respect, Your Ladyship, what kind of idiot order is that? If you put hay all over the courtyard, it'll make the prettiest fire you ever saw, and among our own, to boot. For all we know they're going to be shooting flame arrows over the wall."

"It's a calculated risk, Centurion, that I cannot explain here." "It's a calculated risk, Centurion, that I cannot explain here." "Lady," Giraldi began to protest. "Lady," Giraldi began to protest. From down the wall, someone shouted, "Sir!" From down the wall, someone shouted, "Sir!" Amara and Giraldi both turned to look down the wall. Amara and Giraldi both turned to look down the wall.

A pale-faced young legionare legionare jerked his chin out toward the plains beyond the fortress. "Here they come." jerked his chin out toward the plains beyond the fortress. "Here they come."

Chapter 40

Amara rushed back to the battlements with Giraldi beside her and watched as the Marat horde, beneath the droning yawls of huge, hollowed animal horns, began a determined advance, moving forward at a steady trot, with wolves and herd-bane loping along beside them.

"Crows," whispered one of the legionares legionares beside Amara. She saw the man reach for his spear, fumble it, and drop it. She flinched, hand flashing out and batting the falling weapon away from her Giraldi caught it in one scar-knuckled hand. "Steady," he growled, eyes on Amara. He pa.s.sed the spear back to the beside Amara. She saw the man reach for his spear, fumble it, and drop it. She flinched, hand flashing out and batting the falling weapon away from her Giraldi caught it in one scar-knuckled hand. "Steady," he growled, eyes on Amara. He pa.s.sed the spear back to the legionare. legionare. "Steady, lads." "Steady, lads."

The horde grew closer. The sounds of thousands of feet hitting the ground as they ran rose like far off thunder.

"Steady," Giraldi said. He looked up and down the line and barked, "Archers! Shields!"

The legionares legionares stepped up to the battlements In each crenellation stood a man with one of the huge Legion wall shields Behind each, another stepped up to the battlements In each crenellation stood a man with one of the huge Legion wall shields Behind each, another legionare legionare, armed with a bow and a thick war-quiver of arrows, strung his bow and took position. Most of the archers were holders from the Valley.

The Marat grew closer, the eerie droning of their horns growing louder, more unnerving. A restless shuffle went down the line of shieldmen.

"Steady," Giraldi commanded. He glanced at the young holder in borrowed armor beside him. "You sure you lads can shoot that far?"

The holder peeked around the edge of the shield of the burly legionare legionare in front of him. "Yes. They're in range." in front of him. "Yes. They're in range."

Giraldi nodded. "Archers!" he growled. "Fire at will!"

All up and down the line, archers set arrows to their bows, their tips pointing up at the sky, standing close to their shield man Amara watched the nearest young man half-draw his bow, then b.u.mp his partner with his hip The legionare legionare knelt, lowering the shield, and the archer drew as he lowered the bow, took quick aim, and loosed at the oncoming Marat. His partner stood up again swiftly, bringing his shield back into position. All along the wall, the archers began shooting. Each man loosed an arrow every five or six breaths, or even faster. knelt, lowering the shield, and the archer drew as he lowered the bow, took quick aim, and loosed at the oncoming Marat. His partner stood up again swiftly, bringing his shield back into position. All along the wall, the archers began shooting. Each man loosed an arrow every five or six breaths, or even faster.

Amara stood beside Giraldi in the one crenellation not occupied by a shieldman and watched the arrows slither through the air and into the oncoming Marat ranks. The deadly aim of the Aleran holders dropped Marat and beast alike with equal ferocity, littering the ground with fresh corpses, making the eager crows swoop and dive in a swarm over the charging horde. But still the horde came on.

The archers had begun shooting at close to six hundred yards-an incredible distance, Amara knew. They had to have been wood-crafters of nearly a Knight's skill to manage such a feat. For perhaps a minute, there was no sound but the grunt of archers drawing bows, legionares legionares kneeling and standing again, the droning blare of Marat horns, and the rumbling of thousands of feet. kneeling and standing again, the droning blare of Marat horns, and the rumbling of thousands of feet.

But when the Marat closed to charging range of the walls, the entire horde erupted in a sudden shout that hit Amara like a wall of cold water- chilling, terrifying in its sheer intensity. At the same moment, the war birds let out a shrill, piercing shriek, terrifying from one such beast, but from the thousands below, the sound almost seemed a living thing all its own. At the same moment, the sun broke the horizon across the distant plains, a sudden harsh light that swept over the top of the battlements first, and made archers flinch and squint as they attempted their next shot.

"Steady!" Giraldi bellowed, voice barely carrying over the din. "Spears!"

The shield-bearing centurions gripped their spears, faces set in a fighting grimace.

Below, the Marat charge hit the first razor-edged defensive spikes the holders had crafted out of the earth itself. Amara watched closely, her heart in her throat. The leaders in the Marat charge began to leap and skip among the spikes, looking for all the world like children playing at hopping games. Behind them leapt their animals. Amara saw some of the Marat, with heavy, knotted cudgels, begin to strike the spikes from the sides, shattering them.

"The ones with clubs," Amara said. "Tell the archers to aim for them. The longer we can keep the spikes in place, the harder it will be for them to pressure the gate."

Giraldi grunted and relayed her order up and down the walls, and the archers, instead of firing into the enemy at random, began to pick their targets.

Scaling poles and ropes with hooks fashioned of some kind of antlers or bone began to lift toward the wall. Legionares Legionares thrust at the poles with the crossguards of their spears, pushing them away, and some drew their swords to hack at ropes as they came up, while the archers continued to fire on the enemy. Arrows began to flicker up from the horde below, short, heavy arrows launched from oddly shaped bows. One of the archers beside Amara lingered in aiming his shot for too long, and an arrow struck him through both cheeks in a sudden welter of blood. The holder choked, dropping. thrust at the poles with the crossguards of their spears, pushing them away, and some drew their swords to hack at ropes as they came up, while the archers continued to fire on the enemy. Arrows began to flicker up from the horde below, short, heavy arrows launched from oddly shaped bows. One of the archers beside Amara lingered in aiming his shot for too long, and an arrow struck him through both cheeks in a sudden welter of blood. The holder choked, dropping.

"Surgeon!" Amara yelled, and a pair of men on the wall moved quickly to the fallen man, dragging him down before going to work on removing the arrow.

Amara stepped back to the battlements. She swept her gaze over the enemy below, but she couldn't see anything beyond a horde of Marat and their beasts, so many thousands of them that it was difficult to tell where one left off and the other began.

Giraldi abruptly seized her shoulder and dragged her back from the edge. "Not without a helmet," he growled.

"I can't tell what's happening," Amara panted. She had to shout to make herself heard. "There are too many of them."

Giraldi squinted out at the enemy, then drew his head prudently back. "About half of their force is here. They're holding the rest back, ready to bring them in when they get an opening."

"Are we holding them?"

"The walls are doing all right," Giraldi called back, "but the gate is our weak point. They attack the walls only to keep most of our men busy up here. There are too few men at the gate. They'll force the barricade sooner or later."

"Why didn't they craft the gate closed?"

"Can't," Giraldi reported. "Engineer told me. No foundation under it for extra wall, and the interior surface is lined with metal."

From below them there came a crunching sound and a sudden chorus of mixed Aleran war cries of, "Riva for Alera!" and. "Calderon for Alera!"

Giraldi glanced out over the field again. "They must have gotten part of the barricade down. The horde-master has ordered the rest of his troops in, and they're on the move. They'll try to put pressure on the gate until the defense breaks." Giraldi grimaced. "If they don't repel this first thrust, we're done for."

Amara nodded to him. "All right. Almost time, then. I'll be back up as soon as I can." She leaned out to look down into the courtyard below. She could just make out the forms of a couple of legionares legionares standing their ground almost within the gate itself, spears thrusting. There were shrieks and cries from below, and Amara's eyes caught a flash of motion, a dark blade seen for only a second as its wielder spun it out behind him. Pirellus was holding the gate once more. standing their ground almost within the gate itself, spears thrusting. There were shrieks and cries from below, and Amara's eyes caught a flash of motion, a dark blade seen for only a second as its wielder spun it out behind him. Pirellus was holding the gate once more.

Amara hurried to the nearest stairs and pelted down them to the courtyard, looking around wildly. Hay from the bales she had crashed through earlier that morning lay scattered everywhere over the courtyard. All but a few of the wounded had been pulled back to the west courtyard, and the last of them were being loaded onto stretchers. She started across the courtyard toward the stables. As she did, she saw Pluvus Pentius emerge from one of the barracks, white-faced and nervous, one hand wrapped around the hand of a little boy, whose hand stretched back behind to another child, and so on, until the truth-finder was leading half a dozen children across the courtyard.

Amara hurried to him. "Pluvus! What are these children still doing here?"

"H-hiding," Pluvus stuttered. "I found them hiding under their fathers' bunks in the barracks."

"Crows," Amara spat. "Get them to the west courtyard with the wounded. They're supposed to be fortifying one of the barracks to hold them. And hurry hurry."

"Yes, right," Pluvus said, his skinny shoulders tightening. "Come on, children. Hold hands, and stay together."

Amara dashed to the stables and found Bernard sitting with his back to the wall just inside one of the doors, his eyes half-closed. "Bernard," she called. "The gate is under attack. They'll be coming."

"We're ready," Bernard mumbled. "Just say when."