Jim Butcher - First Lord's Fury

Invidia shivered. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of the things swarming out from innocuous lumps in the croach .

“Enough,” the Queen said, raising a hand, and the series of impacts came to an abrupt halt. The buzzing hums ceased, as did the trilling shrieks of the wax spiders, and silence fell. The surface of the pool rippled as thousands of larval takers came up to tear at the bodies of the stunned hornets.

The Queen stared at the image in silence. Minutes passed.

“He copies us,” the Queen hissed.

“He understands why we chose to appear this way,” Invidia replied. She looked down the shallow valley, focusing upon her windcrafting to magnify her sight of the next larval pool. An image of Octavian stood there as well. “He means to address all of Alera, as we did.”

“He is that strong?” the Queen demanded.

“So it would seem.”

“You told me his gifts were stunted.”

“It would appear that I was mistaken,” Invidia replied.

The Queen snarled and stared at the image.

A moment later, it finally spoke. Octavian’s voice was a resonant, mellow baritone, his expression calm, his posture confident and steady. “Greetings, Alerans, freemen and Citizens alike. I am Octavian, son of Septimus, son of Gaius Sextus, the First Lord of Alera. I am returned from my journey to Canea and have come to defend my home and my people.”

The vord Queen let out a rippling hiss, an utterly inhuman sound.

“The vord have come, and have dealt us a grievous wound,” Octavian continued. “We mourn for those who have already perished, for the cities that have been overrun, for the homes and lives that have been destroyed. By now, you know that the enemy has overrun Alera Imperia. You know that all of the great cities still standing face imminent attack if they are not besieged already. You know that the vord have cut off tens of thousands of Alerans from retreat to safety. You know that the croach is growing to devour all that we know and all that we are.”

Octavian’s eyes flashed with sudden fire. “But there are other things that you do not know. You do not know that the Legions of the Shield cities have united with those gathered from other cities into the largest, most experienced, battle-hardened force ever fielded in the history of our people. You do not know that every Knight and Citizen of the Realm has banded together to fight this menace, under the leadership of my brother, Gaius Aquitainus Attis. You do not know that not only is this war not over—it has not yet begun.

“For two thousand years, our people have worked and fought and bled and died to secure the safety of our homes and families. For two thousand years, we have persevered, survived, and conquered. For two thousand years, the Legions have stood as our sword and shield against those who would destroy us.”

Octavian threw back his head, his eyes harder than stone, his expression as calm and fixed as the granite of a mountain. “The Legions are still our sword! They are still our shield! And they will defend us from this threat as they have all the others. In a thousand years, when the histories are read, they will mark this season as the deadliest of our time. And in a thousand years, they will still know of our valor, our strength. They will know that the House of Gaius gave their lives and blood, fought with sword and fury against this foe, and that all of Alera stood with us! They will know that we are Alerans ! And that this land is ours !”

A surge of emotion rolled over Invidia, so intense that she staggered to one knee. It combined exaltation and hope and terror and rage, all bound together so inextricably that they could not be separated from one another. She fought to strengthen her metalcrafting, to blunt the impact of the emotions, and realized with some dull, dazed corner of her mind that the tide was flowing over her from the direction of the little captive steadholt.

Octavian continued, his voice harder and quieter than before. “Like you, I saw the face of the enemy. I saw her offer you peace. But be sure, my country-men, that all she offers is the peace of the grave; that she offers nothing less than the utter destruction of all of our kind, both those living today and those who have gone before us. She asks us to lie meekly upon the earth and wait for our throats to be cut, to bleed painlessly to the death of our entire race.”

His voice turned gentle. “I say to you this: The freemen of Alera are free. They are free to do as they think best. They are free to take what measures they wish to ensure the safety of their loved ones. Especially for those folk caught behind the lines, it is understandable that some of you may seek the safety of surrender. That is a choice you must make within your own hearts. When the vord are defeated, no recrimination will be levied, regardless of your decision.

“But as for you, Citizens of the Realm, who have for so long enjoyed the power and privilege of your station, the time for you to prove your worth has come. Act. Fight. Lead those who would stand beside you. Any Citizen who surrenders to the vord will, in the eyes of the Crown, be considered a traitor to the Realm.

“I can promise you only this: Those who fight will not fight alone. You are not forgotten. We will come for you. My grandfather fought the vord tooth and nail. He fought until he died to protect the lives of his people. Gaius Sextus set the standard by which our posterity will judge us all. I will not accept less from any other Citizen of the Realm. Not from you. Not from myself.

“Our foe is mighty but not invulnerable. Tell your friends and neighbors what you have heard here tonight. Stand. Fight. We will come for you. We will survive.” The image fell silent for a moment—and then, unnervingly, turned to stare directly at the vord Queen. “You.”

Invidia took a short breath and checked the other pools.

The water images had disappeared.

“That’s him,” Invidia hissed. “It is Octavian’s sending.”

“You,” Octavian said, staring at the vord Queen. “You killed my grandfather.”

The vord Queen lifted her chin. “Yes.”

“I offer you this chance,” Octavian said, and his voice was cold, calm, and all the more menacing for it. “Leave Alera. Flee back to Canea. Take with you any of your kind you wish to survive.”

The Queen smiled with the tiniest twitch of a single corner of her mouth. “Why should I do that?”

“Because I’m coming,” Octavian’s image said, very quietly, “for you.”

The Queen stood as unmoving as stone.

“When I’m finished,” Octavian promised, “nothing will be left of your kind but stories. I will burn your homes. I will bury your warriors.” His voice grew even softer. “I will blacken your sky with crows.”

Gaius Octavian’s image sank with perfect, controlled grace into the water.

And then he was gone.

The pool was very still.

The vord Queen lifted her hands and slowly drew up her hood. Then she resettled her cloak around her though Invidia knew perfectly well that she was all but unaffected by temperature. The vord didn’t move for several moments—then, abruptly, she let out a hiss and turned, bounding into the air and summoning up a gale of wind to bear her aloft, streaking toward the little steadholt.

Invidia called upon her furies to race after the Queen and caught up to her by the time they had reached the steadholt. They descended together, landing in the central yard. The Queen streaked toward one of the homes, smashed the door to splinters, and darted inside.

Invidia braced herself, her stomach twisting in agonized anticipation. She wished those poor holders no ill—but she could do nothing to save them from the Queen’s wrath.