Cursors's Fury

“We’ve not seen any Canim until we got here,” Tavi replied. “You should be all right-but you need to hurry. If the incursion is as large as we suspect, we’ll need every legionare defending the town of Elinarch’s walls. Once the gates close, anyone on this side might not get in.”

“I understand, milord,” the holder said. “Don’t you worry, sir. We’ll manage.”

Tavi nodded and saluted him again, then rode back to the column. Max rode out to meet him and tossed Tavi a water flask.

Tavi caught it, nodded his thanks to Max. “Well?” Tavi asked, then drank deeply from the flask.

“This was as close to ideal as we could ever expect. Caught them on flat, open ground between two forces,” Max said quietly. “Fifty-three dead Canim. Two Aleran dead, three wounded, all of them fish. We lost two horses.”

Tavi nodded. “Pass the spare mounts off to those holders. They’ll make better speed if they can put some of their little ones on the horses’ backs. See if they have room in the wagon for our wounded. Speak to a holder named Vernick.”

Max grimaced and nodded. “Yes, sir. You mind if I ask our next step?”

“For now, we keep moving down the valley. We kill Canim and help refugees and see if we can spot their main force. I want to send word to the alae in the hills to concentrate again. I don’t want bands of eight taking runs at any Canim bat-tlepacks.”

Tavi found himself staring at two riderless horses in his own formation, and he fell silent.

“I’ll see to it,” Max said. He took a breath, and asked, very quietly, “You all right?”

Tavi felt like screaming. Or running and hiding. Or sleeping. Or possibly a combination of the first several, followed by the last. He was not a trained leader of legionares. He had never asked to be in a position of command such as this, never sought to be. That it had happened to him was a simple and enormous fact that was so stunning that he still had not come to grips with its implications. He was accustomed to taking chances-but here, he would take them with lives other than his own. Young men would die-already had died-based upon his decisions.

He felt disoriented, lost somehow, and he almost welcomed the desperation and haste the situation had forced on them, because it gave him something clear and immediate to sink his energy into. Reorganize the command. Decide on a strategy. Deal with a threat. If he kept going forward through the problems without slowing down, he could keep his head on his shoulders. He wouldn’t have to think about the pain and death it was his duty, as captain of the Legion, to prevent.

He did not want to pretend that nothing was wrong and project an aura of authority and calm to the young legionares around them. But their confidence and steadiness was critical to their ability to fight and would ultimately improve their chances of survival. So he ignored the parts of himself that wanted to scream in bewildered frustration and focused on the most immediate crisis.

“I’m fine,” he told Max, his voice steady. “I don’t want to push things too far. If we move too far down the valley and the horses play out, the Canim will run us down before we can get back to Elinarch. But we’ve got to do everything we can for the holders who are still alive.”

Max nodded. “Agreed.”

“Max. I’ll need you to tell me when you think we’re hitting our limits,” Tavi said quietly. “And I don’t want you pulling any craftings if you don’t absolutely need to. You’re my hole card, if it comes to that. And you’re the closest thing we have to a real healer.”

“Got it,” Max said, just as quietly. He gave Tavi half a smile. “I’ve seen officers on their third hitch that didn’t handle themselves that well in action. You’re a natural.”

Tavi grimaced. “Tell that to the two who aren’t coming back.”

“This is a Legion,” Max said quietly. “We’re going to lose more before the day’s out. They knew that there were risks when they volunteered.”

“They volunteered to be trained to handle themselves and led by experienced officers,” Tavi said quietly. “Not for this.”

“Life isn’t certain or fair. That isn’t anyone’s fault. Even yours. “

Tavi glanced at Max and nodded grudgingly. He turned his horse, staring farther down the valley, where more helpless holders tried to run for safety. It felt like the day must have been nearly over, but the cloud-veiled sun couldn’t have been halfway to its peak. “What were their names, Max? The men who died.”

“I don’t know,” Max confessed. “There hasn’t been time.”

“Find out for me?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Tavi squared his shoulders and nodded to himself. “I’m going to speak to our wounded before they go, but more holders will need our help. I want to be moving again in five minutes, Tribune. “

Max met Tavi’s eyes when he saluted, and said, quietly, fiercely, “Yes, Captain.”

Chapter 32

“Bloody crows,” Tavi swore, frustrated. “It doesn’t make any crowbegotten sense, Max.”