Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

Schultz gave him a weary salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Max,” Tavi said. “Go get our horses.”

Max lifted his eyebrows. “We going for a ride?”

“Mmmm. Bring one alae of cavalry. We’re going to follow the Canim withdrawal and make sure they want to keep moving away.”

“Yes, sir,” Max said, saluting. He gave a sharp whistle and a hand signal to someone on the wall and marched away.

“Sir Ehren, if you would, find Magnus and make sure he knows what has happened.”

“Right,” Ehren said. He nodded to Tavi and passed over his standard. “I don’t get along very well with horses, anyway.”

Tavi issued several more orders to other members of the Legion, but after that he found himself standing over Sari’s fallen form. The Cane looked far smaller now, broken like a toy at Tavi’s feet. His skinny body and mangy fur were only partly concealed by the scarlet armor, and his yellowed teeth were worn.

Tavi tried to find some sense of satisfaction that he had taken the life of an enemy of the Realm, of a murderous slive whose plans had nearly killed his friends and his patron at Wintersend, years ago. But he couldn’t. Sari had been a threat. Now he was dead. There was no rancor in that thought, for Tavi-nor pride. Nor shame. But perhaps a twinge of regret. Sari might have been a murdering traitor, but Tavi doubted that every Cane who had followed him was the same kind of monster. And his orders had slain thousands of them. They, too, had been dangerous, but not in the same, malicious way. Or not entirely in that way. Regardless, he’d had little choice. But he wished he could have found a way that didn’t involve so much blood. So much death.

He felt Kitai’s presence behind him and glanced over his shoulder at her. They were now alone upon the bridge, though the wall behind them was manned by legionares. Tavi wondered how long he’d been staring at the dead.

Kitai stepped up to stand beside him, also regarding the fallen.

“You had to,” she said quietly. “They would have killed you. Killed everyone.”

“I know,” Tavi said. “But…”

Kitai looked up and regarded him for a moment, a faint frown marring her brow. “You are mad, Aleran,” she said, her tone gentle. “You can be strong. Hard.” She laid her fingertips on Tavi’s breastplate. “But beneath that, you bleed for the fallen. Even those who are not your own folk.”

“I doubt there’s another Aleran alive who has spent more time talking to Canim than I,” Tavi said. “My people usually skip straight to the killing. So do theirs.”

“You think this wrong?”

“I think…” Tavi said, frowning. “I think that it’s been going on for so long, neither of us can consider the possibility of stopping it. There’s too much history. Too much blood.”

“In your place, they would not bleed for you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tavi said. “It isn’t about being fair and equal. It’s about the difference between right and wrong.” He stared out at the bloody Elinarch. “And this was wrong.” His vision blurred with sudden tears, but his voice stayed steady. “Necessary. And wrong.”

“You are mad, Aleran,” Kitai said quietly. But her fingers found his, and they stood with clasped hands for a time. Rolling storm clouds still lay overhead, but now they were in motion, restless, and between heavy showers, there were frequently breaks in the clouds to let more sunlight in.

Tavi suddenly snorted out a little laugh.

Kitai tilted her head and waited.

“My ludus game with Nasaug. I was giving him a warning. Showing him that he should fear us. Or trying to, at least. But the whole time, he was playing me like one of the pieces. Pushing me where he wished me to be.”

“In what way?” Kitai asked.

“He used me to kill Sari,” Tavi said. “He couldn’t abandon his countrymen with him. Nor could he permit Sari to lead them to disaster. Nor could he actually enlist my aid, the way Sari conspired with Kalarus. He saw me trying to call Sari out of their host, and he led that night assault and made sure that if Sari didn’t step in at once, Nasaug would carry the day. Then, instead of backing Sari up, he stood back and watched. And we killed Sari for him. Just like he wanted.”

Kitai shook her head. “The Canim are more like your people than mine, I think,” Kitai said. “Only the mad would handle things in such a manner. When my father disagreed with Atsurak leading my people, he challenged him and killed him. It was over in minutes.”

Tavi smiled. “Not all of us can be as wise as the Marat.” He felt the smile fade. “I did what he wanted. But I may have made a mistake, in the long term.”

Kitai nodded. “Nasaug may not have Sari’s powers, but he will lead his people much more ably than Sari ever could have.”

“Yes. Inspire loyalty. Courage. Nasaug is cut off from his home, from help. But he could turn every single Cane with him into the equals of his warriors. We dealt with the raiders fairly well, but we barely gave the warriors a bloody nose. Imagine if he’d had fifty thousand of them, instead of ten. He would have taken the bridge in a day.”

“I will imagine it when it is before me, ‘ Kitai said firmly. “You beg fate to make your fears into reality, Aleran. But for the moment, they are only fears. They may come. If so, then face them and overcome them. Until then, pay them no mind. You have enough to think on.”

Tavi took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re probably right. I’ll try.”

Behind him, Tavi heard the makeshift walls groan and squeal. He looked over his shoulder, to where the engineers were raising the opening in the walls so that horses could slip through. Moments later, Max and his cavalry rode toward them.

“You go to watch the Canim retreat?” Kitai asked.

“Yes. Nasaug might rally them and hit us again, before we can recover. I don’t think we could stop him, but as long as we keep them in sight, we can always take the bridge down before they reach it.”

“I will go with you,” Kitai said. Her tone brooked no dissent.

Tavi gave her part of a smile. “Once people have time to catch their breath, they’re going to realize that you aren’t Aleran.”

Kitai’s teeth flashed in a smile. “That will be interesting.”

Tavi felt like ten miles of bad road, but he and Kitai mounted up and rode forth with Max and the cavalry. They trailed the main body of the Canim host at a distance as they marched back to Founderport. Twice during the ride, they were attacked by wounded Canim, stragglers who had fallen behind the column. The attacks were swift, brutal, and ended quickly, and the cavalry advanced in a loose line, finishing off any Canim who could not keep pace with the retreat.

At the end of the day, Tavi watched, exhausted, as a team of eight horsemen entered the occupied ruins of a barn in one of the burned-out steadholts. Tavi followed behind as they swept the ruins, and snarls and the ringing chimes of weaponplay sang out into the dusk.

Tavi watched as a single large, shadowy form leapt a ruined wall and ran. The Cane was slower than most, its gait unsteady, and in its panic it fled directly toward the Aleran cavalry outside the ruins. A second team spurred forward to intercept the lone Cane.

Then Kitai let out a harsh, sudden breath from her horse, beside Tavi’s, and hissed, “Stop them. Do it now.”

Tavi blinked at her, but then immediately barked, “Second spear, halt!”

The horsemen hauled their mounts to a stop, looking over their shoulders in confusion.

“Come, Aleran,” Kitai said, and set out after the lone Cane.

“Wait here,” Tavi told Max. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

“Uh. Sir?” Max said.

Tavi ignored him and followed Kitai. She led him into the twilight, until they found the fleeing Cane, crouched in the feeble shelter offered by a half-collapsed earthen overhang beside a stream.