Princeps’ Fury

“Tavar,” Varg said quietly, “there is no winning a battle against the Vord on this ground. And there is not room on the ships for a tenth of those who will wish to flee Shuar. To do other than reach the ships and sail away is death.”

Tavi stared at Varg, smiling.

Varg looked up from his saddle. “You meant it when you told Lararl you could get his people away?”

“How many times have I lied to you?” Tavi asked.

“I have never taken you prisoner,” Varg replied, his tone pensive. “Lararl had. And some of your folk are truthful only in preparation for the day when they need one critical lie to be believed.”

“If that is the case,” Tavi said, “then that day has not yet come.” He nodded at the camp of miserable-looking makers. Maximus had risen from his near stupor on the ground and was standing with Anag over one of the worst-looking of the wounded, supervising moving the injured Cane into the stream for a watercrafting. “We’re getting them away from here.”

Varg looked at Tavi, then at the makers. “Tavar, I sometimes think you are insane.”

“Are you coming with me?”

Varg glanced at him, and Tavi swore he could see something offended in the big Cane’s body language. “Of course.”

Tavi showed him his teeth again. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

* * *

By a few hours after midnight, they had reached the Aleran defenses.

A rising moon, nearly full, and the mercurial nature of Canean weather had swept the sky clean of clouds and bathed the land in silver light. A line of hills west of Molvar had been transformed by several days of furious labor on the part of the Narashan Canim and both Legions, aided by Aleran furycraft. Where there had been only gently rolling land, the combined forces had erected an earthworks twenty feet high, faced by freshly cut stakes of pine, in front of a trench very nearly as deep as the wall was high. Only a few narrow passages had been left through the defenses, which arched in a line nearly five miles long around Molvar. Refugees from the invaded territory had flooded the area inside, and the interior of the hastily erected, enormous fortress was already filling with Canim.

Even with all of Nasaug’s troops and both Aleran Legions, the defenses around the town were spread thin, though it was clear that the Shuarans had thrown what forces they had into the same effort. More were arriving at every moment, as well-stragglers, Tavi supposed, who had been separated from their battlepacks, and what looked like the occasional wayward company who had been cut off from the larger portion of their command and had found themselves nearby. The wounded, too, were pouring in, as were the Shuaran taurg cavalry, whose riders came and went in constant activity.

Max brought his mount up beside Tavi’s as they approached the earthworks, and whistled. “There’s a lot of work. That’s what the Legion’s been up to?”

Tavi nodded. “We need a defensible position. It’s going to take time to move this many Canim and all the supplies onto the transports.”

“Transports?” Max asked. “What transports?”

Tavi shook his head.

Max sighed wearily. “Tavi, I’m tired. We know there were only two queens on the whole continent. You and Varg diced one of them, and the other one is busy leading an army toward us. We don’t need to worry about anyone’s mind being picked over. So talk.”

“Max,” Kitai said from behind Tavi on their shared taurg. “What we do not know is the location of those two queens’ mother.”

“Oh.” Max was quiet for a moment. Then he grunted, and said, “Good point. Shut up, Calderon.”

“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.”