Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

Lord Cereus stepped down from the bench with a visible expression of relief.

Amara bowed her head to Cereus, took a small coin from her pocket, and dropped it into the pool, murmuring, “Amaranth waters, hasten word to thy master.”

The water’s surface rippled around the vanished coin, then began to stir. Then an extrusion of water rippled forth and resolved itself into the form of a tall, slender man in his late prime, colors slowly seeping into the shape of his tunic and breeches, forming into the blue and scarlet of the House of Gaius. Similarly, his hair became a seemingly premature grey-white, though he had seen nearly fourscore years.

Amara bowed her head. “My lord, we are ready.”

The First Lord’s image turned to face Amara and nodded. “Go ahead. Lords Atticus and Placidus”-he made a gesture as two more watery forms began to take shape on either side of his own-“will be joining us as well.”

Amara nodded and turned to face the others in the garden. “My lords and ladies, I know that the past few hours have been confusing and frightening. The First Lord has instructed to me to share what information we have about recent events.

“We do not yet know the background and particulars of the attackers who struck last evening,” Amara said. “But we do know that they attacked almost every member of the Dianic League, as well as the faculty and staff of the Collegia Tactica, the captain and Tribunes of the First Ceresian, and a number of visiting military officers who were attending a symposium at the Collegia.

“The assassins proved deadly and efficient. High Lady Rhodes was slain, as was High Lady Phrygius, Senator Parmos, and seventy-six other Citizens who had been targeted by the assassins. Several more citizens, including Lady Placidus, are missing.” She reached into a pouch at her side and drew out the hinged metallic ring of a discipline collar, a slaver’s device used to control troublesome slaves. “What we know is that each of the attackers wore a discipline collar, like this one. Each of them bears an engraving that reads: Immortalis. Each of the men involved in the attack appeared to be twenty years of age or younger. Each of them displayed an almost superhuman ability to withstand pain, and they were apparently acting without fear or regard for their own lives.

“We are fairly certain that these Immortals, for lack of a better term, are slaves trained, conditioned, and collar-disciplined from childhood to be soldiers. Simply put, they are highly proficient madmen with no conscience, no doubt, no aversion to pain, and a perfect willingness to sacrifice their own lives to accomplish their mission. Fewer than one target in four survived the attacks.”

Quiet comments went around the little garden. A large, heavily built man with dark hair and an iron grey beard, wearing Legion armor, rumbled, “We all have some idea what they can do. But do you know who sent them?”

Amara took a deep breath and said, “Full, legal corroboration should be complete in a few days, but the given the timing of events, I am confident of what we will find. Last night, apparently simultaneously with the attacks here, Lord Kalarus mobilized his Legions.”

Several people drew in sharp breaths. Low mutters ran through the garden again, voices quicker, nervous.

“One of Kalarus’s Legions assaulted the western foothills of Parcia and diverted the Gaul through the floodplain. The Third Parcian Legion was forced to abandon the stronghold at Whiteharrow, and Kalarus’s Legions now control the passes down out of the Blackhills.

“At the same time,” Amara continued, “two more Legions assaulted the camp of Second Ceres, taking them completely by surprise. The attackers offered no quarter. There were fewer than a hundred survivors.”

Lord Cereus’s face became even more pale, and he bowed his head.

“Those Legions,” Amara said, “are already marching on the city. Their Knights Aeris and other advance elements are already in the area, and we anticipate that the main body of troops will arrive within half a day.”

“Pah,” scoffed a voice from the edge of the garden. “That’s ridiculous.”

Amara turned to the speaker, Senator Arnos, dressed in the formal scholar’s robes of the Collegia Tactica and wearing a haughty expression. “Sir?” she inquired politely.

“Kalarus is ambitious, but he is no fool. You would have us believe that he would make open war upon the whole of the Realm and leave his own city unprotected?”

“Unprotected, sir?” Amara asked mildly.

“Three Legions,” Lord Arnos said. “Each High Lord has three Legions at his command. That is the law.”

Amara blinked slowly at Arnos, then said, “Law-abiding High Lords do not make war upon the whole of the Realm and send fanatic madmen to assassinate their fellow Citizens. Generally speaking.” She turned back to the others present, and said, “In addition to the forces already mentioned, two more of Kalare’s Legions have already seized the bridges over the Gaul at Hector and Vondus. Intelligence suggests that another Legion will join the two on their way here, and that he holds at least one Legion in mobile reserve.” She glanced back at the Senator. “If it makes you feel any better, sir, Kalarus also has a Legion stationed at Kalare to secure his city.”

“Seven,” muttered the grey-bearded soldier. “Seven bloody Legions. Where the crows did he hide four entire Legions, Countess?”

“For the time being, that is of secondary importance,” Amara said. “What matters is that he has them, and he’s using them.” She took a deep breath and looked around the room. “If Kalarus’s forces take Ceres, there will be nothing to stand between them and the capital.”

This time there were no mutterings-only silence.

The First Lord’s rich, smooth voice, murmured, “Thank you, Countess. Lord Cereus, what is the status of your defenses?”

Cereus grimaced and shook his head. “We aren’t ready for something like this, sire,” he said, his tone frank. “With Second Legion destroyed, I have only First Legion and the civic legion to man the walls-and we’re going to be spread thin. Against three entire Legions and their Knights, we’ll not hold for long. If Kalarus himself is with them…”

“I remember a young soldier,” Gaius said, “who once told me that the more desperate and hopeless the battle, the more he wanted to face it and take the field. That he lived for such challenge.”

“That soldier grew up, Gaius,” Cereus said in a tired voice, without looking up. “He wed. Had children. Grandchildren. He got old.”

Gaius regarded Cereus for a time, then simply nodded. “First Imperian must hold the northern pass from the Blackhills while Second Imperian secures the capital. I’m dispatching Third Imperian to your aid, but they cannot reach you before Kalare’s forces. The Crown Legion, however, was on maneuvers south of the capital, and I ordered them to your aid within an hour of the first attack. They’ve been force-marching through the night, and Sir Miles should be arriving with his men within hours.”

Cereus exhaled, evidently relieved. “Good, good. Thank you, old friend.”

Gaius nodded, his stern features softening for a moment. Then he said, “There’s no denying that you’re still outnumbered, but all you need do is stand fast. I have already asked High Lords Placidus and Atticus to send relief forces to link up with Third Imperian. Aquitaine, Rhodes, and Parcia will be joining forces to retake the bridges over the Gaul.”

Cereus nodded. “Once they do, you’ll have Kalarus’s Legions cut off from retreat or reinforcement.”

Gaius’s image nodded. “You have only to hold out, Macius. Don’t risk your people on anything heroic.”