Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

Tavi let it go on for five or ten minutes. Then he signaled Crassus with a wave of one hand, and the Knight Tribune and his Knights Aeris sagged in relief, ceasing their efforts. There was a long silence on the walls, broken only by the low roar of flames, and the occasional shriek of tortured wood as burning buildings fell in upon themselves.

Tavi closed his eyes. He could, quite faintly, make out another sound beneath the fire-the long, mournful, angry howls of grieving Canim.

“At ease, people,” Tavi said to no one in particular. “Maximus, Crassus, get yourselves and your people some food and some rest. It will be a couple of hours before those fires die down enough to let them through. But when they come, they’re going to be angry.”

Crassus frowned at Tavi, and his voice sounded heavy. “You don’t think this will convince them to go somewhere else?”

“We cost them plenty,” Tavi said. “But not from their best. They can afford it.”

Crassus frowned and nodded. “What’s next, then?”

“Next, you get some food and rest. We’ve still got a bridge to defend. Send something up for the prime cohort, too.”

“Yes, sir,” Crassus said. He saluted, then began giving orders to his men, and they descended from the wall. Moments later, several fish arrived carrying pots of spiced tea and fresh bread, and at a nod from Tavi, the veterans on the walls went to collect food and drink. Tavi took advantage of the moment to walk down to the far end of the wall. He slipped up onto the wall itself, hung his feet over the side, and sat with his head leaning against a merlon.

Tavi heard Max’s footsteps approach.

“You all right?” Max asked.

“Go get some food,” Tavi said.

“Balls. Talk to me.”

Tavi was quiet for a second, then said, “Can’t. Not yet. “

“Calderon…”

Tavi shook his head. “Let it be, Max. We still have work to do.”

Maximus grunted. “When we re done, we’ll go get drunk. Talk then.”

Tavi made an effort to smile. “Only if you’re buying. I know how much you can drink. Max.”

His friend snorted, then made his way from the wall, leaving Tavi alone with this thoughts.

Tavi’s stratagem had lured maybe half a Legion of Canim to their deaths in the inferno, but the burning buildings lit up the countryside beyond the walls and the enormous numbers of Canim moving toward the river. He couldn’t tell, at a glance, that the enemy had taken any losses at all.

The cold, leaden reality of mathematics pressed relentlessly into his thoughts. He’d known that the Canim army outnumbered the Alerans, but numbers mentioned on paper, on a tactical map, or in a planning session were entirely different than numbers applied to a real, physical, murderous enemy you could see marching toward you. Looking out at thousands of Canim, all in view and moving for the first time, Tavi gained an entirely new perspective on the magnitude of the task they faced.

It made him feel bitterly, poisonously weary.

At least he’d gained a few hours of respite for the men. For whatever it was worth. Except for those who had already died, of course. They now had all the time in the world to rest.

He sat for a moment, watching half of the town he was defending burn. He wondered how many homes and businesses he’d just destroyed. How many hard-earned generations of wealth and knowledge he’d sacrificed. How many irreplaceable family heirlooms and artifacts he’d burned to ashes.

He wasn’t sure precisely when he fell asleep, but something cold on his face woke him. He jerked his head upright, wincing as he found his neck had stiffened as he leaned it against the adobe merlon, and muscles tied themselves into knots. He rubbed at his neck with one hand, blinked his eyes a few times, and heard a little plinking sound. Then again. Cold water struck one cheek.

Raindrops.

Tavi looked up at the sullen clouds, and more rain began to fall-first lightly, but it rapidly built up to a torrent, a storm that brought the pent-up rain from the clouds in sheets so thick that Tavi had to spit water from his mouth every few breaths. His heart lurched in panic, and he hurried to rise to his feet.

“To arms!” he bellowed. “All cohorts to their positions!”

The sheeting rain hammered down onto the burning town and began strangling the flames. Clouds of steam and smoke billowed up, and, together with the rain, they hid the view of the enemy entirely.

Once more, the Canim horns began to blare.

Shouts sounded through the downpour, muffled by the rain. Boots thudded on stone. Tavi ground his teeth and slammed his fist against the merlon. The veterans on the wall snapped into motion, strapping on shields, stringing bows that would be rendered largely ineffective by the rain. As the fires died, the forms of the men on the wall grew murky.

“Lights!” Tavi shouted down at the men on the bridge below. “Get some lights up here, quick!”

One of the legionares on the wall shouted, and Tavi spun to see black-armored forms, almost invisible against the darkness, rushing forward with incredible speed. Tavi turned to order more men into the makeshift “gate” in the wall, a simple arch barely wide enough for two men to walk through upright-and a tiny fit indeed for a Cane. As he did, he bumped into a veteran hurrying into position with his bow, and both men slipped on the water-slicked adobe battlements.

Otherwise, they would have died with the others.

Even as legionares moved to battle positions, there was a humming sound and then a series of miniature thunderclaps. A spray of blood erupted from a veteran three feet from Tavi, and the man dropped without a sound. Down the wall, the same happened to others. Something slammed through a shield and killed the veteran behind it. One of the archers jerked, then collapsed. Another’s head snapped back so sharply that Tavi clearly heard his neck break. The corpse fell near him, head lolling to one side, eyes open and unblinking. A vaned metal shaft as thick as the circle of Tavi’s thumb and forefinger protruded from the helmet. As Tavi stared, a thin trickle of blood slithered down over one of the legionares sightless eyes, and was almost instantly thinned and washed away by the rain.

Seconds later, Tavi heard that humming, thrumming sound again, and there were screams from the bridge below. Then a horrible bellowing roar, and Nasaug burst through the tiny opening with terrifying ease and agility, curved war sword in his hand. The Cane Battlemaster killed three legionares before any of them had time to react, the massive sword shattering bone even through steel armor, and slicing through exposed flesh with terrible efficiency. He parried another legionares thrusting sword, seized the rim of the man’s shield with one paw, and with a simple, clean motion threw the man twenty feet through the air, over the side of the bridge, to fall screaming to the river below.

Nasaug batted another pair of legionares aside, then shattered the fury-lamps being brought up to the wall with several swift kicks, plunging the entire area into darkness. By the increasingly frequent bursts of red lightning, Tavi saw more Canim enter behind Nasaug, their long, lean bodies almost seeming to fold in upon themselves as they came through the opening.

The veteran beside Tavi rose and lifted his bow to aim at Nasaug.

“No!” Tavi shouted. “Stay down!”

A buzzing thrum sounded, and another steel bolt ripped through the le-gionare’s lower back, straight through his armor, until an inch of the bolt’s tip showed through the veteran’s breastplate. The man gasped and fell-and a second later screamed in pure, feeble terror as the savage snarling of Canim rose from the darkness. Legionares fought warriors in the nightmarish murk, broken by flashes of bloody light. Men and Canim screamed in rage, defiance, terror, and pain.