Cursors's Fury

Tavi saw the first Cane, an enormous, stringy beast with mange in its dun-colored fur and an axe grasped in one pawlike hand. The Cane whipped the axe at him in an odd, underhand throw, and red metal glinted as it spun toward him.

Tavi never made a conscious choice of what to do. His arm moved, his sword struck something, and something slammed against his armored chest, barely registering on his senses. He leaned to the right, sword sweeping back, and as his horse thundered past the lead Cane, he struck in the smooth, graceful, effortless strike of a mounted swordsman, focused on precision and letting the weight of the charging horse give the blow both power and speed. His sword flew true and struck with a vicious force that surged up his arm in a tingling wave.

There was no time to see the results. Tavi’s horse was still running, and he recovered his weapon, flicking another strike to a Cane on the left side of his path. There was a flash of bloody Canim teeth in the corner of one eye, and his horse screamed. A spear thrust at his face, and he swatted it aside with his sword. Something else slammed into his helmet, and then he was plunging past Aleran cavalry surging in the opposite direction-Maximus and his men.

Tavi led his men clear, while they maintained only a very ragged line. They wheeled about, never slowing, and once again swept forward into the now-scattered Canim on the road. This time, he seemed to be thinking more clearly. He struck down a Cane attempting to throw a spear at one of Max’s men, guided the plunging hooves of his horse into the back of another cane, and leaned far down to deliver a finishing blow to a wounded Cane struggling to rise. Then he swept past elements of Max’s group, and clear once more.

Only a handful of Canim were still capable of fighting, and they threw themselves forward with mad, almost frenzied howls of rage.

Tavi found himself answering their howls with his own, and kicked his horse forward until he could slip aside from the blow of a sickle-sword and drive his own blade in a straight, heavy thrust through the neck of the Cane who had swung at him. The Cane wrenched and contorted viciously as Tavi’s blade struck, tearing it from his hand.

Tavi let the horse take him by, and drew his short sword, though it was a weapon ill suited to mounted use, and turned, looking for more of the foe.

But it was over.

The Aleran cavalry had taken the Canim by surprise, and not one had escaped the swift mounts and blades of the First Aleran. Even as Tavi watched, the last living Cane, the one he had left his sword in, clutched at the weapon, spat out a blood-flecked snarl of defiance, and collapsed to the earth.

Tavi dismounted and walked across the bloodied ground amidst a sudden and total silence. He reached down and took the hilt of his sword, planted a boot on the chest of the Cane, and heaved the weapon free. Then he turned to sweep his gaze around the young cavalrymen and lifted his weapon to them in a salute.

The legionares broke out into cheers that shook the earth, while horses danced nervously. Tavi recovered his mount, while spear leaders and centurions bellowed their men back into position.

Tavi was back on his horse for all of ten seconds before a wave of exhaustion hit like a physical blow. His arm and shoulder ached horribly, and his throat burned with thirst. One of his wrists had blood on it, where it looked like it had trickled out from the torn knuckles beneath his gauntlets. There was a dent as deep as the first joint of his finger in his breastplate, and what looked like the score marks of teeth on one boot that Tavi did not remember ever feeling.

He wanted to sit down somewhere and sleep. But there was work to do. He rode over to the refugees, and was met by a grizzled old holder who still had the general bearing of the military-perhaps a retired career legionare himself. He saluted Tavi, and said, “My name’s Vernick, milord.” He squinted at the insignia on Tavi’s armor. “You aren’t one of Lord Cereus’s Legions.”

“Captain Scipio Rufus,” Tavi replied, returning the salute. “First Aleran Legion.”

Vernick grunted in surprise and peered at Tavi’s face for a moment. “Whoever you are, we’re mighty glad to see you, Captain. ‘

Tavi could all but hear the old man’s thoughts. Looks too young for his rank. Must be a strong crofter from the upper ranks of the Citizenry. Tavi felt no need to disabuse him of the notion-not when the truth was considerably more frightening. “I wish I could give you better news, sir, but we’re preparing to defend the Elinarch. You’ll have to get your people behind the town walls to make them safe.”

Vernick heaved out a tired sigh, but nodded. “Aye, milord. I figured it was the most defensible spot hereabouts.”