Princeps' Fury (Codex Alera 5)

That being the case, it seemed wise to leave the city. The vordknights, it was thought, could not match Aleran fliers in terms of sheer speed, except in short bursts of effort. Surely, the First Lord would summon his coach, and they would fall back to the next fortified position before much more time had passed. He couldn't remember the name of the position at the moment-a large town about fifty miles to the northeast on the causeway leading toward Alera Imperia.

They all lead to Alera Imperia, genius, Ehren said to himself. He put the last of his knives away, shook his head, and suddenly realized what they needed, at the moment, more than anything else. It was obvious, and the First Lord would likely have realized it already, but at least Ehren's brain was in motion again. He turned to go back up the stairs, and paused at the sound of voices on the roof of the tower.

"... beside the point," Gaius's mellow baritone murmured. "It must be done."

A woman's voice, one Ehren had never heard before, answered him. "There will be lasting repercussions."

"Worse than the instability already unleashed, and what is likely to be added to it if you do not do as I ask?"

"That depends upon one's point of view, child," replied the woman's voice, amused.

Ehren blinked. Child? Child? Who could speak to the First Lord like that?

Gaius replied with wry amusement in his own voice. "Behold my own."

"Mmmm," she murmured, a pensive sound. "Some of your folk are among them."

"Nonetheless."

"I have no preference," she said. "Not of my own accord. Though I admit that I have grown... accustomed to you and yours, child."

"I ask for no exemptions," Gaius responded. "Only prevailing conditions."

She laughed, a gently mocking sound. "You, child? Seeking to prevail? Surely not."

"Time presses," Gaius said, his tone polite, but thick with an underlying urgency.

"With you and yours, it seldom does otherwise." She paused for a moment, then said, "It is entirely possible that we may never speak again."

"I have made my wishes known."

"Your father would be... what is the phrase?"

"Rolling in his grave," Gaius supplied.

"Yes. Were such a thing possible."

"But you will honor them?"

Ehren blinked again, not so much at the words the First Lord had used as at the intonation.

It had been a question. Not a command.

To whom would the First Lord speak like that?

"It has never before been done this way. But I believe so."

The First Lord's voice dropped to a lower register, relief evident in it. "Thank you."

"Gratitude?" the woman asked, her tone quietly merry. "What is the world coming to?"

Ehren, burning with curiosity, eased up the last few stairs and opened the door as silently as he possibly could, peering around it.

Gaius stood where he had before. A woman stood beside him, facing him, his equal in height. Her skin was a deep bronze, her hair silver, threaded with rare strands of scarlet and gold, though her face was younger than Ehren's own, strong and beautiful in a way he had never seen before. She wore a simple gown and shawl of what Ehren first thought was homespun, but at a startled second glance he realized that the clothing was made purely of what looked like opaque grey mist, as thick and swirling as any storm cloud, but holding its solid shape as if it were cloth.

The woman turned her head abruptly to one side, her eyes flicking toward him. They were brilliant gold. As Ehren watched, they flickered to silver-metallic silver, not simply grey-and a heartbeat later became sky blue, then green and faceted, like a masterfully cut emerald, then dark and glossy as obsidian.

Gaius turned as well, and the woman was abruptly gone. There was no flicker of a veil coming up, no blur of motion as of a windcrafter's drawing upon a fury for additional speed, nothing. One instant she was standing, regarding Ehren calmly, and the next she was simply... not.

Which was clearly impossible.

"Cursor," Gaius said, nodding calmly. "Something to report?"

"Sire?" Ehren blinked and recovered himself. "Ah. Yes, sire. Pardon me, I did not mean to interrupt."

Gaius lifted both eyebrows and asked, a hard little edge on his words, "Interrupt?"

"Your conversation..."

Gaius narrowed his eyes. "Conversation?"

Ehren coughed. "I was thinking, sire, that the vordknights depend upon wings for flight. Like birds. Birds depend upon using the air. They won't fly in a storm."

"I'd been thinking the same thing," Gaius replied with an approving nod. "What else?"

"I would also advise cutting the causeway behind us periodically as we retreat. Every mile or so should be sufficient to ensure that the enemy can't use it."

Gaius winced, but blew out a sigh. "Yes. I suppose that would be for the best."

A cold wind suddenly washed across the tower from the north, a chill blast that felt as if it must have begun at the Shieldwall and come to Ceres without crossing the intervening space between. The First Lord turned into the wind and closed his eyes for a moment, stretching out his hand with his fingers spread. Ehren saw him murmur something under his breath, then nod once. Ehren went to the tower's edge beside the First Lord, and saw the wind as it crossed the city below, and spread out into the fields beyond. Almost at once, it seemed, fog began to rise from streams and ponds.

In the air above the fields, Ehren saw that the disastrous rout had somehow been arrested, and it did not take long to see why. A second bright star of light, the glowing blade of a High Lord, had risen into the skies, and around that brilliant core of light, the battered Aleran forces had rallied. The bright scarlet of the star identified the High Lord of Aquitaine, and he had gathered what fliers remained into a cohesive force that had moved together in close formation, the sheer power of its combined windstreams sending vordknights scattering wildly through the air-a Legion shieldwall, taken to the skies.

Scarlet lightning flashed through the night, raking Vord from the air and slowing the advance of the oncoming tide. The fleeing cavalry began to emerge from beneath the shadow of the Vord, running for their lives, and only the courage and power of the few men who remained aloft and fighting the Vord sheltered them from being destroyed en masse.

The First Lord lifted his face to the evening sky and closed his eyes. He did not speak or move, but his expression became strained.

The vordknights began to reach the walls of the city, mostly the strays who had been blown that way by the disrupting gale of the Aleran aerial rear guard. The Legions defending Ceres had moved back into position after the first massive salvo of furycraft had taken them from the walls. Knights Flora and Ignus began hammering the Vord from the air with fire and arrow.