First Lord's Fury (Page 32)

And slashed at the captain’s throat.

Marcus felt his heart leap into his mouth. The captain was a capable opponent when he employed his metalcrafting, but that ability would do him no good against a stone weapon. Without the forewarning of his metalcrafting of the weapon’s approach, he would be forced to pit his raw physical ability against the Cane’s – and without furycraft to aid them, no Aleran could match the power of a Cane, and only the fastest could match their speed.

Octavian jerked his head back and the slash missed by a hair. He dropped back, taking a pair of spinning steps as he drew the dagger from his belt and flung it. The weapon tumbled one and a half times and sank into an unarmored portion of the Cane’s thigh. The Cane howled in sudden pain, stumbling.

"Sir!" Marcus shouted, drawing and lofting his gladius in a single motion. He didn’t stop to see if Octavian caught it. He charged the second Cane, who had produced a slender wooden tube. As Marcus approached, the Cane lifted the tube to his mouth and exhaled, and a little flash of color and steel flew out the end. Marcus ducked his head and felt the missile ping against the good Aleran steel of his helmet. Then he called out to his earth fury as he barreled into the would-be assassin.

The Cane was viciously strong, but inexperienced. The two of them went to the ground hard, and instead of immediately attempting to escape, the Cane started thrashing his limbs in a useless attempt to sink claws or fangs into Marcus. There was no time to capture the opponent. He had to remove the gold-furred Cane from the fight and go to Octavian’s aid. Marcus seized one of the Cane’s wrists in a bone-pulverizing grip, then slammed his other fist down onto the Cane’s head, shattering his foe’s skull with the power of the fury-enhanced strike.

Marcus looked back up to see the captain break the Cane’s crude stone blade with a swift move of his gladius and go on to deliver four lightning-fast slashes to the armored Cane. Any two of them would probably have been fatal, but the captain was nothing if not thorough. He struck until he was sure the attacker was completely incapacitated, and whirled toward Marcus and the second Cane, sword lifted in his hand to strike.

The two men faced one another as the armored Cane toppled slowly and limply to the ground behind the captain, and Marcus had a startling realization: Octavian’s reasoning had been identical to his own. He had struck to dispatch his opponent swiftly and immediately so that he could go to the other man’s aid.

Octavian’s eyes scanned Marcus and the Cane with the broken head. Then he turned back to his own dead opponent, scowling. "Crows," he growled. "Bloody crows."

The sentries burst in. Without hesitation, they both plunged swords into the Cane Marcus had downed. Like captain, like legionare, Marcus supposed. When they approached the second downed Cane, the captain waved a hand at them. "Finished." He looked up. "Marcus. Are you hurt?"

"I’ll manage," Marcus said, panting. He was in shape enough to keep pace with the Legion, but he had been on a ship for months, and there had been no real way to remain in proper Legion condition.

And face it. You’re getting old.

Octavian wiped Marcus’s gladius clean of blood on the dark fur of the dead Cane, then offered the weapon back to him, hilt first. Marcus nodded his thanks, inspected the weapon for stains or damage, found it serviceable, and slid it back into its sheath.

Octavian glanced at Marcus, and said, simply, "Thank you." Then he strode from the tent, rigid with anger, or perhaps in simple reaction to the attempt on his life.

The three legionares stared after him. "What happened?" asked one of the sentries. "I thought we were supposed to be allies."

Marcus grunted and sent them on their way to follow the captain with a slap on an armored shoulder. "So did I, soldier. So did I."

Chapter 8

"For goodness sake, my lady," Veradis said in a tranquil tone. "You must calm yourself."

Isana cast a mildly irritated glance over her shoulder at the younger woman as she paced back and forth across her quarters, the largest room in Riva’s finest inn. "How can I relax, knowing the kind of men I’m about to be dealing with?"

"Not every man in the Senate is some kind of masterful schemer, exerting all his energies to acquire more power and influence at the expense of all others."

"No," Isana agreed. "Some of them are incompetent schemers."

Veradis arched an eyebrow, her expression taking on a quality of mild disapproval.

Isana exhaled. She folded her hands before her and took a deep breath, making an effort to still her emotions. "I’m sorry. Now that we know my son is back, they’re going to push that much harder to take away his birthright. I shouldn’t be pushing that burden onto your thoughts, Veradis."

"Of course you should, my lady," Veradis replied. "That is one of the things an aide is for. That, and to suggest that you might take a different kerchief with you to the Senate hearing. You’ve all but shredded that one." The young woman rose and paced solemnly to stand before Isana, offering a folded white handkerchief. Isana took it with a faint smile.

"Only a man with a certain frame of mind does well as a Senator," Veradis told her quietly. "He has to be able to speak well. He has to be able to convince others to follow his point of view. He has to be willing to negotiate and make compromises. And most of all, he has to protect the Citizens who voted him into the office – his own interests. That before all. So long as his constituents are pleased, he is safe in his position." Veradis moved her shoulders in an elegant shrug. "Senators go to great lengths to protect the interests of those who voted for them. Some of them tiptoe along the boundaries between legitimate representation and criminal enterprise. Some of them dance gleefully back and forth over the line."

The young Cerean met Isana’s eyes, and said, "But in their own way, you can rely upon them more than almost any man in the Realm. They will act to protect their interests. Which means that they make enemies among their peers. You can rely upon them to settle up old debts or compound them, my lady."

Isana smiled faintly. "Senator Theoginus said almost the same thing."

Veradis smiled. "Uncle Theo is an incorrigible old horse trader. But he knows that room, my lady."

"Can he be trusted?" Isana asked.

Veradis considered that gravely. "Under the circumstances, I believe so. Valerius is from Aquitaine, after all – one of the cities most separated from the vord threat. Uncle was one of the men who most wanted action taken on Count Calderon’s warning about the vord, and Valerius all but crucified him for it. If Uncle Theo says he has strong support among the Senators of those areas most harmed by the vord, I’d say he’s almost certainly honest, and that it is highly probable that he is also correct."