Princeps’ Fury

“Durias,” Tavi called.

Durias nudged his weary taurg forward. “Highness?”

“Ride ahead and let the Legion know we’re coming,” Tavi said. “I’ll need to speak to Marcus, Nasaug, and Magnus immediately. See if Crassus can be there as well. Oh, and Demos.”

Durias saluted and kicked his mount into a lumbering trot.

“Did you see that, Maximus?” Kitai asked. “He just helped, without whining or indulging in foolish questions. Perhaps when you grow up, you will be more like Durias.”

Max glowered at Kitai, then saluted Tavi, and said, “I think I’ll just go help him now.” He nudged Steaks into a trot and caught up with Durias. Tavi heard him muttering darkly under his breath as he went.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Tavi said quietly, once Max had gone.

Kitai sighed. “You weren’t looking at him when you spoke to Durias. He’s so tired he was about to fall off his taurg. Now he’s grumpy enough to get back to camp while awake-and more quickly.”

Tavi let himself lean back against Kitai, feeling the weight of his own fatigue. “Thank you.”

“I know how important he is to you,” she said quietly. “And I love him, too, chala.”

Tavi nudged his own mount into a walk. “So you manipulated him into doing what you thought was in his best interests.”

“I did what was necessary to protect him. Yes.”

Tavi glanced over his shoulder and met her intent green eyes. “You deceived me.”

She didn’t even blink. “You lied to me, Aleran. When you promised me we would be together. You knew you were about to go out on your own. That you could die.”

“This is about more than you and me. You shouldn’t have decided to kill the queen without talking to me about it.”

“Only speed and surprise could enable us to succeed. If you had known-”

“That isn’t the point, and you know it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The Vord are not to be reasoned with. They are to be killed.”

“You didn’t know that for certain. We couldn’t, until we made the attempt.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Aleran. You are a good man. But in some ways, you are a fool.”

“Swords and fire don’t solve every problem.”

“And some can be solved no other way,” she replied, her voice fierce. “The Vord all but destroyed my people in the past. They are gutting the corpse of what is left of the Canim now. Open your eyes.”

“I did,” Tavi said, and suddenly he felt so weary that it was hardly worth speaking. He turned back to the front, and his head felt too heavy to hold up. “And I feel like I’m the only one who can see the truth.”

Kitai was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was more gentle. “What do you mean?”

“Chala,” he said quietly. “Look at what the Vord have done to the Canim. If the only option we have is to fight… I don’t think Alera could do any better. How am I supposed to lead people into a fight I know they can’t win? Ask them to die in vain? Watch them d-”

His vision blurred for a moment, and his throat felt tight.

Kitai’s arms tightened around him, and he suddenly became intensely aware of her love for him, her faith, her trust, wrapping around him as tangibly as her embrace. “Oh, chala,” she said quietly.

Several moments passed before he could speak. “What do I do?”

Her hand touched his face. “I know that you feel as if you need to find some clever alternative. Some way to overcome the Vord, to save lives, to avoid bloodshed. But this is not an enemy who might live with you in peace for a time. The Vord want nothing but to destroy. And they will destroy you if they can. They will use your desire for peace against you.”

She gently turned his head until he could meet her eyes again. “If you truly want peace, if you truly wish to save lives, you must fight them. Fight them with everything you have. Fight them with everything you are. Fight until there is not a breath left in your body.” She lifted her chin. “And I will fight beside you.”

She was right, of course. He knew that. When the Vord finished with the Canim, they would come for Alera. The advantage of numbers they had was formidable, but it wasn’t impossible. Not if all of Alera worked together.

That was the problem. There were too many divisive elements in play at home. Oh, certainly, once Alerans at large realized the danger, they would respond together-but by the time they did, it might already be too late. His uncle had been trying in vain to warn Alera about the Vord for years. Many Alerans regarded the Canim as little more than animals with weapons. His countrymen would never believe that the Canim civilization had been so large, so developed, and consequently its destruction would lack credibility as a warning of the danger to come.

Worse, he himself represented another enormous element of division. Many Citizens had tacitly refused to recognize his legitimacy as heir to the Crown. He had escorted Varg’s people back to Canea precisely because his presence was such a potent disruption. Crows, he’d felt fortunate to avoid any encounters with assassins before he left.

Gaius was wise and powerful, but he was also aging. Fighting a campaign of the scale of this one would be would be taxing even on a young man-and it was the kind of fight the old First Lord was not suited to in the first place. He was a master of politics, of manipulation, of the critical strike delivered at precisely the right instant with precisely the force needed. He was used to being thoroughly in control.

But war wasn’t like that. You never thought of all the possibilities. Something always happened to throw off your plans. Supplies could be delayed or lost. Soldiers could encounter sickness, bad terrain, parasites, faulty gear, hostile weather, and a million other factors that would prevent them from performing as expected. Meanwhile, the enemy was doing everything in his power to kill you. No one could control that kind of chaos. All you could hope to do was keep your eyes open, make sure everyone was working together, and stay a couple of steps ahead of disaster.

A united Alera would have a chance. Probably not a good chance, but if led correctly, they could make a fight of it. Oh, certainly Gaius had the training, but the study of books and the stories of old generals and models on a sand table were a far cry from war’s horrible reality. Could Tavi’s aging grandfather change his thinking as quickly and drastically as this war would demand?

The first step, Tavi supposed, was to believe. Believe that victory was possible. Believe that he could make it happen. Then bring that same belief to others. Because sure as crows on a corpse, anyone who fought believing they would lose had lost already. He had to trust in his grandfather, the single most formidable person Tavi had ever known, to guide the Realm through this storm. And if he was to trust and serve the First Lord, then he had to give the fight everything he had.

There would be no surrender.

“All right,” he said quietly. He looked up at the earthworks and nodded. “Let’s get inside. There’s a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it in.”

Kitai’s arms tightened hard on him, and he felt her fierce pride and exultation as if it were his own.

Tavi rode toward the last defenses of a dying land to do everything in his power to take a host of deadly allies to the man who was Alera’s only hope.