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.
Crashing sounds came from inside the house. Then a wall exploded outward, and the Queen smashed her way into the cottage next door. Again came the sounds of furious destruction. Then the Queen smashed her way into the next cottage. And the next. And the next, moving so swiftly that there was no time for screams.
Invidia drew a deep breath. Then, deliberately, she forced herself to walk to the first house—the one with the little family they had visited weeks before. Invidia could have killed the Queen earlier that evening. If she had, those holders might not have died. The least she could do for them was force herself to look upon what she had wrought by her inaction.
Stones crunched beneath the chitin armoring her feet as she approached, smelling the woodsmoke of the makeshift family’s fire. She steeled herself for a moment against what she would see, then stepped through the front door.
The kitchen table was smashed. Pots were strewn everywhere. Broken dishes littered the floor. Two windows had been shattered.
And the little house was empty.
Invidia stared in incomprehension for a moment. Then, in dawning realization, she rushed back out the door and went to the next house.
As empty as the first.
She left the cottage and studied the ground. The stones that crunched beneath her feet were not stones. They were the bodies of hundreds of the vord hornets, their stingers still extended in death, shattered, bent, and twisted.
The vord Queen let out a furious wail, and redoubled sounds of destruction came from inside another home. Within seconds, the place simply collapsed in on itself, and the Queen emerged from it, her alien eyes strange in her furious features, tossing aside a crossbeam as thick as her thigh and several hundred pounds of stone with a flick of one arm.
“Tricked,” hissed the Queen. “Tricked. While I listened to his words, he took my steadholt away from me!”
Invidia said nothing. She fought to keep herself calm. She had never seen the vord Queen so angry. Not while she was disemboweling her traitorous child. Not when Gaius Sextus had all but annihilated her army at Alera Imperia. Never.
Invidia was well aware that she was one of the most dangerous human beings on the face of Carna. She also knew that the vord Queen would tear her apart without growing short of breath. She focused on being silent, calm, and part of the background. The raid had been flawless. Octavian had not only let his image stand there to give Alerans time to gather—he had used it to trigger any defenses around the little steadholt, revealing them to the raiders. Once aware of the vord hornets, his men had evidently been able to circumvent them.
She’d sensed the rescue attempt when it had begun. The surge of hope from the other side of the hill. And she’d assumed it was a result of his speech and actually spent effort blocking it out.
She thought it would be best not to mention that fact to the near-berserk Queen. Ever.
“He took the dogs,” the Queen snarled. “He took the cat. He took the livestock. He left me nothing!” She looked around her, at the empty shell of the steadholt, and with a gesture of one hand disintegrated a cottage in a sudden sphere of white-hot fire.
Pieces of molten stone flew everywhere. Some of it arched high enough to come raining down like falling stars, several seconds later.
Then the Queen went still again. She stayed that way for a moment and turned abruptly to begin stalking toward the nearest edge of the croach. She made a curt gesture to the Aleran woman as she went.
Invidia fell into step behind the Queen. “What will you do?”
The vord looked over her shoulder at Invidia, her fine white hair in wild disarray, her pale cheek smudged with soot and dust and earth. “He has taken from me,” she hissed, her voice quavering with alien rage. “He has hurt me. He has hurt me.” Her claws made that stretching-tearing sound again. “Now I will take from him.”
CHAPTER 7
Valiar Marcus entered the command tent and saluted. Octavian glanced back and nodded at him, beckoning Marcus to come in. The captain looked weary and ragged after the effort he’d expended to send forth the watercrafting he’d used to address all of Alera, but he had not slept since then. He’d spent the night in the command tent, reading reports and poring over maps and sand tables. A small pool, crafted into existence by Legion engineers, occupied one corner of the tent.