Codex Alera 05 - Princeps' Fury Part 14

"How sure are you about estimating what your legionares legionares need for rations, Captain?" Durias replied, grinning. need for rations, Captain?" Durias replied, grinning.

"Point taken," Tavi said. "We pa.s.sed two maker settlements today closely enough to get a good look at them, and I didn't see a single male Cane among them."

"Nor I," Durias said. "I think your theory is sound, Captain. From all the signs, the Shuaran Canim are at war."

Tavi liked Durias. The young Free Aleran had met Tavi-rather forcefully-in Tavi's capacity as the Captain of the First Aleran Legion. The public revelation of his heritage, made since then, was something Durias found too uncomfortable to confront directly, and, as a result, the young man was one of the few people who still referred to Tavi in the same terms he had before before Tavi had revealed himself as a scion of the House of Gaius. Tavi had revealed himself as a scion of the House of Gaius.

"We were expecting something like it," Tavi said quietly, looking around as he finished the last saddle.

Kitai and Cra.s.sus arrived a moment later. Cra.s.sus took up conversation with Max, whose complaints only gathered in volume and capacity-and sincerity. Max really really couldn't stand the taurga. couldn't stand the taurga.

"Anag was polite and revealed very little," Kitai reported quietly. "But some of the other warriors nearby were less disciplined. They are excited that we are drawing near to the front. They are glad that they might be able to see action and prove themselves in battle."

"Remind me, Durias," Tavi said. "Isn't it Canim practice to place hotheaded young idiots in rear-area positions precisely to avoid having att.i.tudes like that near the actual fighting?"

"Aye, it's common enough," Durias said. "The theory is that they'll grow out of it. Someday." "Aye, it's common enough," Durias said. "The theory is that they'll grow out of it. Someday." "Then how do you explain Anag?" Kitai asked. "He seems sensible." "Then how do you explain Anag?" Kitai asked. "He seems sensible." Durias shrugged. "Maybe it took." Durias shrugged. "Maybe it took."

Tavi shook his head. "More likely, someone a.s.signed a young but competent subordinate to mitigate the sins of an incompetent senior officer." He squinted into the glowering winter sky, where occasional snowflakes were already starting to come down. "I'm getting a better picture now. Tarsh had somehow attained too much rank for his level of competence. In an actual war, he was going to get a lot of otherwise-decent soldiers killed-so Warmaster Lararl stuck him in a position where his incompetence wasn't going to get in the way of the war effort, in charge of a bunch of hotheads who needed time to season. He probably regretted losing a decent junior officer to ride herd on the lot of them, but he couldn't leave them entirely unattended."

"That would make sense if the post was in the middle of nowhere," Durias countered. "But it's still their only significant port, Captain."

"True," Tavi admitted. "Unless . . . unless Molvar has become become the middle of nowhere." the middle of nowhere."

Durias frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tavi held up his hand for silence as he followed that line of thought to several chilling conclusions.

Kitai's head snapped around to him, her eyes narrowed and intently focused. "Chala?" "Chala?"

Tavi shook his head. Tavi shook his head. Durias frowned and looked at the two of them. "What's wrong?" Durias frowned and looked at the two of them. "What's wrong?" "I hope I'm not right," Tavi said. "But if I am . . . we're in trouble." He looked up at Kitai. "I need to talk to Varg." "I hope I'm not right," Tavi said. "But if I am . . . we're in trouble." He looked up at Kitai. "I need to talk to Varg." She rose and padded away without a word. She rose and padded away without a word.

". . . and not even she she would do that with would do that with you you, no matter how how much money or how many burlap bags were involved!" Max bawled at the peacefully reclining Steaks and New Boots, and kicked the taurg in the side. He might have slammed his foot into a stone for all the reaction the animal showed. much money or how many burlap bags were involved!" Max bawled at the peacefully reclining Steaks and New Boots, and kicked the taurg in the side. He might have slammed his foot into a stone for all the reaction the animal showed.

Cra.s.sus put a hand on his seething brother's shoulder, and said, "Honestly, Maximus. You're really taking this way too personally. You need to look on the bright side."

"I've got blisters and muscle cramps in places not meant for the touch of anything but a beautiful woman," Max spat back sullenly. "I've bitten my tongue so many times in the past three days that I whistle in musical chords when I exhale. And the smell isn't ever going to come out of my armor, I just know it." He narrowed his eyes and glared at Steaks and New Boots. "Where, precisely, is the bright side?"

Cra.s.sus considered that gravely. Then he offered, "If nothing else, the crowbegotten beast has given you something legitimate to complain about."

Max's eyebrows lifted, and his expression became that of a man who is mulling over a new thought. Max's eyebrows lifted, and his expression became that of a man who is mulling over a new thought. Kitai returned with Varg a moment after that. Kitai returned with Varg a moment after that. "Aleran," Varg rumbled. "How do you like Shuar?" "Aleran," Varg rumbled. "How do you like Shuar?" "Cold and flat. And my men don't care for taurga," Tavi replied. "Cold and flat. And my men don't care for taurga," Tavi replied.

"Sane beings do not," Varg agreed, settling down on his haunches, the posture a casual one among the Canim. He tossed a waterskin to Durias, who caught it casually, opened it, and drank it Canim-fashion, squirting the water into his mouth without touching it to his lips. Durias tossed it back to the Cane with a nod of thanks.

"Varg," Tavi said, "from what I have seen of the maps of Shuar, the place is essentially a single enormous plateau. A natural fortress."

Varg drank from the waterskin and nodded. "Yes. Close enough to it. There are three pa.s.ses into the plateau, all of them heavily fortified. The Shuar's range has always been all but impregnable." He yawned, and flicked his ears dismissively. "Not that anyone wants it."

"That's what has made them strong," Tavi said.

"That and the mines in these mountains," Varg said. "They make arms, armor, and goods of acceptable quality here. Their warriors often make alliances with other battlepacks, lend aid and support in battle."

"I noticed that Molvar was built with impressive defenses."

Varg showed his teeth. "Shuarans are lords of the mountains. Narash rules the seas. Shuarans know that they cannot challenge us there. But if there is one thing their warriors know better than any other pack, it is fortifications."

There was an outcry from the other side of the ring of stones, as four of the young warriors evidently erupted into some kind of personal brawl. Weapons were drawn, and blood followed a moment later. It might have gotten more serious if Anag had not stepped in with a taurg-goad-essentially a long-handled, heavily weighted club with a sharp spur sticking out of one side. Anag knocked half of the brawling foursome unconscious with two efficient swings, dragged another to the ground by one ear, and bludgeoned the last into docility by sheer force of will.

Once order was restored, Tavi stared at Varg for a long moment. Then he said, "Tarsh. Defending Molvar. With this band of crack troops."

Varg fell silent and returned the stare for a moment. Then he said, his voice deep and barely audible, "You see well, Aleran." Varg fell silent and returned the stare for a moment. Then he said, his voice deep and barely audible, "You see well, Aleran." The Cane rose and stalked silently away. The Cane rose and stalked silently away. Durias stared after him, an expression very like shock on his face. Durias stared after him, an expression very like shock on his face. Max and Cra.s.sus watched Varg go. Max came back over to Tavi, and said, "What was that all about?" Max and Cra.s.sus watched Varg go. Max came back over to Tavi, and said, "What was that all about?" "He doesn't know," Durias said. He glanced at Tavi. "Varg isn't sure what's happening, is he?" "He doesn't know," Durias said. He glanced at Tavi. "Varg isn't sure what's happening, is he?" Tavi shook his head and said, "I don't think he's certain." Tavi shook his head and said, "I don't think he's certain." "But you are," Kitai said quietly. "But you are," Kitai said quietly. Tavi grimaced. "I'm certain we'll see for ourselves tomorrow." Tavi grimaced. "I'm certain we'll see for ourselves tomorrow."

They slept on the cold ground, bedrolls laid out close together for simple warmth. Though there were no wood-burning fires, as there would have been in a Legion camp, the Canim instead built fires in trenches that burned low, hot, and slow on some kind of thick bricks of springy moss. The fire trenches made the nights survivable, but just barely. Max and Cra.s.sus were both familiar with firecrafting techniques used along the Shieldwall for keeping oneself warm in the bitter cold, but they couldn't be done when sleeping, and their nights were as miserable as everyone else's.

The next day began with the bawling of hungry taurga waking everyone from their sleep. Max, who had begun bringing a stone to his bedroll with him specifically to hurl at the first taurg to begin bellowing near him, threw nothing more than a muttered oath, and the day got under way almost immediately. Canim camp procedure was elementary in the morning: feed the taurga and shovel their leavings out of the ring of stones and into the mound where they would be allowed to dry and used to supplement the fuel for the fire trenches. Then saddle the beasts and mount up. The warriors ate dried jerky from their own packs as they worked or as the morning's ride began.

As on the other days they'd spent on the road, they rode at the swaying, swift pace of the taurga's loping walk, following the road southwest, continuing farther inland, as they had for the previous three days, and stopping only once at midday, to feed and water the beasts. By the time evening approached, the wind had begun to rise, swift and cold, and pellets of stinging ice fell in irregular intervals with spats of chilling rain.

Kitai drew her beast up beside Tavi's. The taurga slammed their heads together, bawling and huffing at one another until they had settled which of them had herd precedence over the other-though Tavi had no idea which of them was the superior once it was done. They behaved exactly as they had before the ruckus.

"Aleran," Kitai said quietly, "do you smell it?" "Aleran," Kitai said quietly, "do you smell it?" Tavi looked at her sharply and shook his head. "Not yet." Tavi looked at her sharply and shook his head. "Not yet." The Marat woman grimaced at him and tugged at the guide straps, to haul her taurg back into line. "Keep your nose to the wind." The Marat woman grimaced at him and tugged at the guide straps, to haul her taurg back into line. "Keep your nose to the wind."

It took perhaps another half an hour for Tavi's less acute senses to pick up on the scent. But once he did, the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and flashes of hideous memories flickered through his mind.

From the line of taurga ahead of him came a sudden bellowing, then one of the beasts broke out of the line. Tavi looked up to see Varg employing his goad, jabbing his taurg from the routine comfort of the company of its herdmates, driving it into a pace that was less a run than it was a continual series of bounding leaps that covered ground at an astounding rate.

One of the young warriors in the column ripped a balest from the holster on his taurg's saddle, slapped a bolt home, and raised the weapon to his shoulder, but Anag flung his goad, sending it whirling end over end, and the club slammed into the warrior and sent him tumbling from the saddle before he could send a deadly missile into Varg's back.

"Stand down!" Anag roared, his voice carrying down the entire column. "Stand down, you fool, or I'll have your throat!" The young Cane glowered at Varg, then up and down the line. "Column halt! Dismount! Ready yourselves for inspection before we arrive at the fortifications!"

The command began to echo down the length of the column as it was relayed, but Anag did not dismount. Instead, he pulled his taurg out of line and rode back down the column until he drew even with Tavi. "Aleran," he growled. "I think you should bring your people."

Tavi frowned at Anag but nodded to him. He signaled to Kitai and the others with a hand, and they turned their mounts out of the column, to follow Anag. They rode in pursuit of Varg, though at a far more sedate pace.

The dark-furred Warmaster had ridden to the top of a low rise half a mile away and halted his mount. As they approached, Varg was nothing but a black shadow against a grey sky, an outline of silent menace atop the still-puffing form of the ma.s.sive taurg.

The wind grew stronger, and less chilly as they neared the crest. The rain, less frozen, grew into a steady, stinging shower that would shortly make outdoor travel all but unbearable.

And the scent grew stronger. And the scent grew stronger. They crested the little rise and looked down over the edge of the Shuaran plateau, onto the lands below. They crested the little rise and looked down over the edge of the Shuaran plateau, onto the lands below. Tavi had tried to prepare himself for what he knew was coming. Tavi had tried to prepare himself for what he knew was coming. Even so, his heart went sick with raw terror. Even so, his heart went sick with raw terror.

The rise upon which they stood thrust slightly out from the plateau, like the prow of some unimaginably large ship, offering a vista of the lands below that would have been spectacular if not for the dim veil of rain. Varg had not exaggerated when he said that their land was a fortress, and that the Shuarans knew how to defend it. Below them, the land dropped away into sheer cliffs and bluffs that fell hundreds, if not thousands, of feet to the plains below.

A few miles ahead of them, along the wall of the plateau, Tavi could dimly make out the dark slash of an opening in the rock, doubtless one of the pa.s.ses Varg had named. Even from there, Tavi could see the shapes of stone fortifications built into it, over it, around it, through it-a citadel the size of a city in its own right, every bit as complex and grand, in its fashion, as Alera's Shieldwall. More fortifications ran along the top of the plateau.

And they were filled with warrior Canim.

Tavi could see the banners, the blue-and-black steel of their armor, rank upon rank of them, manning the battlements, the parapets, the towers, the gates. Tavi remembered all too vividly the shock and terror of facing the a.s.sault of ten thousand warrior-caste Canim, during the desperate battle for the Elinarch. He remembered the terrifying precision of their onslaught, the speed, the aggression, the discipline that had carried them through one successful engagement after another.

Oh, certainly, Tavi had managed to contain the Canim invasion-but he had no illusions about how he had done so. When he had beaten Nasaug's troops in the field, he had pitted his legionares legionares against the Canim raiders, the equivalent of their militia. He had used his cavalry and the furycraft of his Knights to disrupt their communications and their supply lines. He had harried and danced with them, struck at them where they were weakest, and never left his forces standing still long enough to be hammered down by the foe. against the Canim raiders, the equivalent of their militia. He had used his cavalry and the furycraft of his Knights to disrupt their communications and their supply lines. He had harried and danced with them, struck at them where they were weakest, and never left his forces standing still long enough to be hammered down by the foe.

Had he done so, they would have been crushed in short order-by the warrior caste. Despite their successes, the First Aleran had never been able to claim anything more than a marginal victory in any conflict with Nasaug's ten thousand elite.

If Tavi was not mistaken in his estimate, Warmaster Lararl of the Range of Shuar had something like a quarter of a million of them.

And they they weren't what had frightened him. weren't what had frightened him.

The plains at the base of the plateau, all of them, all all of them, for as far as the eye could see . . . glowed softly green. of them, for as far as the eye could see . . . glowed softly green.

They were covered in the croach croach.

And the croach croach was covered in Vord. was covered in Vord.

There was no way for him to count them. Simply no way. There were too many. It was like staring down at an uprooted anthill. Black forms moved everywhere, seething over the landscape below, rushing and flowing in organized channels that reminded Tavi uncomfortably of a network of veins pulsing with dark blood. They spread from horizon to horizon, all moving forward, an inexorable pressure being exerted upon the ma.s.sive Shuaran fortifications.

The Canim fought. They had already piled chitinous black corpses into miniature mountains, but still the Vord came on.

And the world behind them was nothing but dark, alien shadows and eerie green light.

Varg stared down on the land below with an expression and posture Tavi had never seen on any Cane. His ears had simply slumped, falling limply in slightly different directions. The dark fur not covered by his armor almost seemed to go flat against his skin. He stared for long, silent moments before he finally said, in a whisper, "Tarsh in command of Molvar. Molvar, the mighty fortress. Built to defend Shuar against my people."

Max made a hissing sound of sympathetic pain. Max made a hissing sound of sympathetic pain. Tavi bowed his head. Tavi bowed his head. Varg turned flat, dull eyes to Anag. "When?" Varg turned flat, dull eyes to Anag. "When?"

"Almost two years ago," Anag said. He looked from the battle back to the rest of them. "Narash was only the first to fall, Warmaster. The other ranges are gone. They're all gone."

"Gone?" Varg said.

Anag looked back down to the battle, his manner weary. "Only Shuar remains."

CHAPTER 17

"Suddenly," Max said, "I feel very small. And as though I have been somewhat arrogant." "Suddenly," Max said, "I feel very small. And as though I have been somewhat arrogant." "Um," Cra.s.sus said. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Yes." "Um," Cra.s.sus said. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "Yes." Durias stared out at the sight below them, his craggy face bleak. Durias stared out at the sight below them, his craggy face bleak.

"Now we know why Sarl decided to abandon Canea and invade Alera," Tavi murmured, thinking aloud. "He must have seen it beginning and guessed where it would lead."

Kitai turned her green eyes toward Tavi and stared at him intently.

So did everyone else.

b.l.o.o.d.y crows, Tavi thought. Tavi thought. They're all looking at me. They're all looking at me.

Tavi surveyed the ma.s.sive struggle raging below once more, careful to keep his face calm and relaxed, nodded once as if it had told him something, though he had no idea at all-yet-what that might be, and turned to Anag. "I'd say that we have matters to discuss with your Warmaster. Let's waste no time."

Anag inclined his head slightly to one side and immediately turned his taurg and began riding back to rejoin his column.

Tavi and the others set out after him, but when Tavi noticed that Varg had not moved, Tavi drew his mount up short. He gestured for the others to keep going, and rode back to Varg's side.

The Cane stared down at the battle below with dull, unfocused eyes. The Cane stared down at the battle below with dull, unfocused eyes. "Varg," Tavi said. "Varg," Tavi said. The Cane did not respond. The Cane did not respond. "Varg," he said, louder. "Varg," he said, louder. There was no response. There was no response.

Tavi glanced after the others. The freezing rain had come on thicker, and combined with the dark they were out of sight, as was the battle below. He and the Cane were alone.

For the first time since mounting the beast, Tavi took his taurg prod from where it hung on its saddle hook. It weighed as much as a smith's hammer, at the end of a three-foot handle to boot. He debated reaching down through the taurg to the earth below for strength but decided against it. He had enough raw muscle, barely, to control the heavy tool.

Tavi whirled it once and slammed it as hard as he could into Varg's chest.

The ball of the prod thudded against the Cane's armored chest, and sent Varg sprawling back, nearly knocking him out of the taurg's saddle entirely. The taurga immediately bellowed at one another, b.u.t.ting heads and ramming shoulders for half a minute before they backed away, settling down again.

Varg stared at Tavi in shock, then bared his fangs and reached for his sword.

Tavi smiled at him, showing teeth, and put the prod back on its hook. "I have work to do. I have a duty to my people back at Molvar." He turned his mount back toward the column, adding, over his shoulder, "So do you."

Tavi wasn't sure how Varg was going to react to what he had just done. Physical violence among the Canim was . . . not what it was among Alerans. And while it was commonly employed as a disciplinary measure, it was also seen as something of an insult; it was how one dealt with an unruly puppy, not how one treated a respected subordinate. Certainly, that kind of action was not how one treated an equal. Then again, their concept of gadara gadara, respected enemy, put an entirely different light on that kind of interaction. Enemies were supposed supposed to hit you. to hit you.

All the same. It was entirely possible that he had just effectively offered Varg a challenge. Such things, among the Canim of Varg's status, were not confined to first blood.

Varg's mount came hurrying out of the chilling rain behind Tavi, and fell into pace beside his own beast. After the mounts settled, Tavi glanced aside, to find Varg watching him.

The big Cane's eyes were still dull. His fur was being plastered flat to his skull by the rain, making him seem, to Tavi, somehow smaller, more vulnerable, and more dangerous.

Varg inclined his head slightly to one side.

Tavi returned the gesture.

The Cane turned away, and they rejoined the troop. As the group of taurga took to the trail again, Varg rode slightly apart from everyone else.

"Shuar," Anag said, gesturing.

The road had led to the fortifications they had seen from the top of the bluffs. As a military camp, it would have to be enormous. With all the supporting folk needed to keep so many warriors in condition to fight, it had to be almost unimaginably large to hold them all-a city that easily outshone Alera Imperia in sheer scale and in grim splendor, all made of dark, bleak stone, with oddly shaped, too-narrow doors and windows. The Canim did not, it seemed, put much stock in building high towers. No building in sight was more elongated than a cube, though several of them were several stories tall. All told, it must have made for some truly cavernous architecture, with buildings capable of holding many more occupants than was customary in Alera.

Even this city, though, had been strained to its limits, Tavi could see. Dome-shaped tents stood in precise groups around the city's walls, stretching for thousands of yards over the open ground of the plateau, surrounded by simple earthworks patrolled lightly by warrior Canim in blue-and-black armor. Beyond them, cruder tents had been erected in a far-more-chaotic fashion. As they pa.s.sed through them, Tavi could see evidence of tanners, smiths, and all manner of other tradesmen necessary to support such a gathering of troops. Members of the maker caste, the tradesmen had evidently overflowed whatever quarters had been intended for their use in the city proper. The cold and the rain kept most of the occupants of the tents inside them, but a few laborers-notably smiths-were still hard at work under flimsy canopies, and wide-eyed Canim children came rushing to the flaps of the tents to watch as the taurga came huffing and swaying through the tent city.

"They're cute," Max commented idly. "The little ones." "They're cute," Max commented idly. "The little ones." Durias snorted. Durias snorted. Tavi glanced over his shoulder at the former slave and arched an eyebrow. "Not cute?" Tavi glanced over his shoulder at the former slave and arched an eyebrow. "Not cute?"

"They're adorable," Durias said. "But I once saw a slave owner who was being taken to his trial try to escape by taking one of them hostage. Little female, maybe five years old. He grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, picked her up, and put his arm around her throat. Held her like you might a child you had half a mind to strangle. Had a knife in his other hand."

Kitai, riding in front of Tavi, turned all the way around in her saddle, comfortably balanced in the rhythm of the walking taurg, her expression intently interested. "What happened?"