Tavi lifted his eyebrows. “Most Legions would kill to have that many Knights Aeris, sir.”
“Yes.” Cyril sighed. “If they could fly.”
“They can’t?” Tavi asked. “I thought that was what you had to be able to do to be one of those, sir.”
“Oh, they can get into the air, for the most part. Getting down again in one piece has proven something of a problem. If Tribune Fantus and young Antillus hadn’t been there to lessen the impacts, and Lady Antillus hadn’t come down with her son, we’d have had fatalities already.”
Tavi frowned, then said, “Perhaps Maximus could help them out? Instructing them, I mean.”
The captain broke out into a single bark of laughter. “It would be inappropriate. And I need him where he is. But even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near the Knights Pisces. Have you seen him^y?”
Tavi frowned for a moment and thought about it. “No, sir.”
“He doesn’t fly so much as make these great, bounding hops. He can land on his feet sometimes. Other times, he hits something. We pulled him out of a peat bog once. I can’t tell you how many times he’s broken his legs.”
Tavi frowned. “That… hardly sounds like Max, sir.”
“I would imagine he doesn’t talk about it much. He never got it down, but I didn’t think he’d ever give up trying. Then I saw him ride in here. Damn shame. But it happens like that sometimes.”
“Yes, sir,” Tavi said, unsure what to say.
“Scipio,” the captain went on. “I haven’t asked you for your oath to the Legion yet.”
“No, sir. I figured that’s what this was about.”
“It is,” Cyril said. He narrowed his eyes. “I’m no fool, lad. A lot of men are here for their own reasons. And some are here for someone else’s reasons.”
Tavi looked out over the practice field and remained silent, unsure what to say.
“I’ll only ask you this one question. Can you swear your loyalty to this Legion, to these men, and mean it beyond any doubt, any question?”
“Sir…” Tavi began.
“It’s important,” the captain said. “We all need to know that we can rely upon one another. That we will serve the Crown and the Realm regardless of the hazard or difficulty. That we will not leave a brother behind, nor hesitate to give our lives for one another. Otherwise, this is no Legion. Just a mob of men with weapons.” He faced Tavi, and said, “Can you look me in the eyes and swear that, young man?”
Tavi looked up and met Cyril’s eyes. “I am here to serve the Crown, sir. Yes.”
“Then I have your oath?”
“You do.”
The captain stared at Tavi for a moment, then nodded once, sharply, and offered his hand. Tavi blinked for a second and traded grips with Cyril. “I work my people hard, Subtribune. But I suspect we’ll get along. Dismissed.”
Tavi saluted, and the captain returned it. Tavi turned to the ladder, but paused when a wave of shouts rose up from below. He looked up to see a small mob of recruits in their brown tunics rushing for the infirmary, bearing an injured man. Blood stained them, and the grass behind them as they passed.
“Help!” one of them shouted, voice high with panic. “Healer!”
They grew closer, and Tavi could see more blood, pale flesh, and a sopping, bloody cloth pressed against the throat of a limp man whose skin was a shade of grey. A healer appeared from one of the large tents, and Tavi saw the man’s expression flash with alarm. He started barking orders at once.
The recruits shifted their grip on him to let the healer get close, and the injured man’s head lolled limply toward Tavi, eyes glassy and sightless.
Tavi’s heart stopped in his chest.
It was Max.
Chapter 7
Amara frowned down from her seat in the gallery of one of the large lecture halls of the Collegia Tactica, one of the great prides of the city of Ceres and the largest military academy in Alera. She was one of only a handful of women present in the hall, among perhaps five hundred men, most of them wearing Legion tunics and armor. The gallery above the floor seats had been filled to overflowing with curious young nobles and other students of the Collegia, and she sat between a pair of young men who seemed uncertain of how to address a young woman who bore a faint dueling scar on one cheek and a sword upon her hip.
The hall’s presentation platform was the size of a small theater stage, and was also crowded with people. A half circle of chairs lined the back of the platform. Several older men sat in the chairs, most of them experienced military commanders, retired and now serving as Maestros for the Collegia. In the next to last chair sat Centurion Giraldi, arguably the most heavily decorated noncommissioned officer in Alera, now that he bore not simply one but double scarlet stripes of the Order of the Lion down the outside seams of his uniform trousers. The grizzled, stocky old soldier had walked with a limp ever since sustaining injuries in battle with the monstrous creatures called the “vord.” Giraldi’s grey hair was cut in a legionare’s short brush, his armor bore the nicks and dents of a lifetime of battle, and he looked intensely uncomfortable sitting before such a large audience.
Beside Giraldi sat Senator Guntus Arnos, Consul General of the Collegia. He was a short man, barely more than five feet tall, dressed in the formal, deep blue robes of the Senate. His grey hair was oiled and drawn back into a tail, his hands were steepled in front of his face, and he wore an expression of sober, somber judgment. He probably practiced it in front of a mirror, Amara thought.
Bernard wore his colors of green and brown, his sturdy and sensible tunic a marked contrast to Senator Arnos’s rich robes. He stood at the podium at the platform’s center, facing those present in the hall with a demeanor of calm, competent composure.
“In short,” he said, “I believe that these vord are far and away the deadliest threat this Realm has ever known.” His voice carried clearly through the hall thanks to the windcraftings built into the place to make sure speakers could be clearly heard. The windcrafted acoustics were necessary. The hall was filled with a continual low buzz of whispers and quiet speech.
“That single vord queen entered my holdings,” Bernard continued. “Within a month, the vord had become a force that destroyed two-thirds of my command, including a half century of Knights, and the entire population of a frontier steadholt. Their use of tactical judgment, as Centurion Giraldi and I have enumerated it to you today, proves that these creatures are more than mere beasts. They are an intelligent, coordinated threat to all of mankind. If we do not exercise the highest levels of caution, immediately stamping out an infestation, that threat may well grow too swiftly to be stopped.” Bernard exhaled, and Amara could see a bit of relief on her husband’s face, though few others would have. Bernard was glad to be finished. “At this time, I will open the floor to questions.”
Several dozen hands went up at once, but then faltered and lowered again as Senator Arnos calmly raised his own hand.
Bernard frowned at the hall for a moment, until Giraldi nudged Bernard’s leg with his cane. Bernard glanced at him, then to Arnos.
“Of course, Senator,” he said. “Please.”
Arnos rose and faced the hall. “Count Bernard,” he said. “I have heard several tales of what happened out in Calderon, and each seemed less plausible than the last. I confess that, upon the surface, your own tale sounds more fantastical than the others.”
A low, rumbling round of chuckles rolled through the hall.
Bernard’s eyes narrowed a bit, and Amara recognized the first sign of his irritation. “Be that as it may, honored Senator,” he replied, “I fear that I have nothing to offer you except the truth.”