Princeps' Fury (Codex Alera 5)

The Canim had not died easily. Corpses of Vord attackers were heavily mingled with the fallen wolf-people, and in places it seemed that larger groups had managed to fend off their attackers. In others, what had probably been mounted patrols from the fortification had attacked the Vord, pursuing them off the roads, leaving trails of crushed chitinous forms into the rolling landscape. All the same, the previous few days had been a nightmare of blood and death for the Shuarans.

Without the steady reinforcements from the Vord's tunnel or the coldly logical will of the Vord queen to guide them to where they were needed, the roads had become less deadly. The Vord still lurked across the countryside, but they were fewer in number, their movements random and unfocused-if no less deadly for anyone caught outnumbered in the open or by surprise. Of course, if the second Vord queen commanding the enemy forces at the Shuaran fortifications changed position, the Vord's lack of coordination could change in an instant. Tavi's group raced along the roads, pressing the taurgs to their best pace.

Twice, they were attacked by small groups of wandering Vord, but Max's firecrafting and Varg's and Anag's balests shattered the armor and wills of the Vord before they could close to combat, and once they had traveled far enough from the site of the Vord emergence, encounters with the enemy and their handiwork declined abruptly.

They rode for the night and the rest of the day, stopping only occasionally to water the taurga. An hour or so before sundown, they came across a small stream where perhaps two hundred Canim had stopped to rest and drink. None of them wore armor, though many carried the sickle-swords that were, for them, simple harvest tools. Several of the makers were wounded, some badly so. Though Canim were never a particularly noisy people, the silence that fell on the group as they came riding up was tangible. Tavi could acutely feel the weight of their stares.

He wondered, for an amused moment, if they found the Alerans as strange and intimidating as he had found Varg and the guards of the Canim embassy in the Citadel, the first time he had encountered them.

"Let me speak to them," Anag said. The golden-furred Cane slipped off his taurg, and it spoke of the weariness of the beast that it didn't make even a desultory effort to bite or gore him as he dismounted. Anag strode over to the refugees, heading for a tall, grey-and-golden furred Cane who seemed to be their leader.

Tavi got his taurg down to the water and led Max's beast as well. The big Antillan, weary from the intensive crafting and fighting he'd done at the hive, simply flung himself down on the ground and slept.

Tavi found himself alone at the side of the stream, except for several taurga too tired and thirsty to cause trouble, and the lone Hunter who had survived the attack on the Vord queen.

"Thank you," Tavi told him quietly. "You and your people saved my life."

The Hunter looked up at him, ears quivering in surprise that he quickly suppressed. He bowed his head, Aleran-style.

"What were their names?" Tavi asked.

"Nef," growled the Hunter. "And Koh."

"And yours?"

"Sha."

"Sha," Tavi said. "I am sorry for their loss."

The Hunter became very still for a long moment, staring down at the stream.

"It is the way of your people to sing over the fallen," Tavi said quietly. "I've heard it before. Is there anyone to sing for Nef and Koh?"

Sha moved one paw-hand in a negative gesture. "Their kin sang their blood song long ago. When they became Hunters."

Tavi frowned and tilted his head.

"We are as the dead," Sha said. "Our purpose is to dedicate our lives to the service of our lord. And, when it is necessary, to surrender those lives. When we become what we are, we lose our lives-our names, our family, our homes, and our honor. All that remains is our lord."

"But their sacrifice may have saved thousands," Tavi said. "Is it the way of your kind to let such courage go unmourned?"

Sha studied him in silence for a long moment.

Tavi thought about the Cane's words, then nodded slowly, understanding. "They served well, and they died well and with meaning," he said. "What is there to mourn?"

Sha bowed his head again, more deeply this time. "You understand." The Cane's eyes gleamed as he looked at Tavi. "You were ready to die in that place as well, Tavar. We Hunters know what it looks like."

"I hadn't intended it to work out that way," Tavi said. "But I knew it was a possibility. Yes."

"Why?"

Tavi blinked at him. "What?"

"Why lay down your life?" Sha said. He gestured at the makers. "Varg is not your lord. These are not your people. They will not serve as soldiers if your plan to use our warriors against the Vord comes to pass."

Tavi thought about his answer for a moment before giving it. "It is my purpose to defend those who cannot defend themselves," he said finally.

"Even if they are your enemy."

Tavi smiled at Sha, showing his teeth. The Hunter had used the Aleran word, not one of the many Canim variants on the term. "Perhaps I wish your people to be gadara to mine. Perhaps I wished to tell you so in such a way that would leave no doubts as to my sincerity."

Sha's ears quivered with surprise again, and he stared hard at Tavi, his head tilted to one side. "That is... not a thought I have heard given voice before."

"His mind is strange," came Varg's rumbling voice, "but capable." The dark-furred Canim Warmaster had approached in silence. He checked the straps on his mount's saddle. "There is news on the roads. Couriers have passed by."

Tavi straightened. "And?"

"The fortifications have fallen," Varg said. "When Lararl sent a portion of his strength back to attack the Vord in the interior, the heaviest assault he had yet seen fell on the fortress."

Tavi frowned. "Then the pressure that had been put on the fortress for the past weeks-it was a ruse."

Varg nodded. "Convincing Lararl of the strength of his defenses. Causing him to send away more troops than he would have were he not confident that those remaining could hold. They waited for him to weaken himself, then..." Varg smacked his paw-hands together.

Tavi shook his head. It had cost the Vord untold numbers of their creatures to maintain the charade-but then, they had had bodies enough to spare. Mathematics had decided the war, probably months before the attack on Shuar began. "How bad?" Tavi asked.

"Lararl sent out couriers to spread the warning and dug in to hold the Vord for as long as possible. But the last couriers to leave saw the Vord entering the city at the top of the cliffs. What warriors escaped are fighting to slow the enemy-but a queen commands them."