Academ's Fury (44 page)

They'd just been waiting for an order
, Amara thought.
Surely Captain Janus would have deduced that the evacuation order was intended for everyone
.

Another cot went by, and Amara almost didn't notice that the
mart
carrying the foot of the cot was Captain Janus. The captain's mouth started an irregular tic on one corner, and he glanced around until his eyes met Amara's.

She stared at him in shock. The man's eyes were… wrong. Simply wrong. Janus was an excellent, conscientious officer, whose mind was continually occupied with how best to lead and protect his men, attend to his duty, and serve the Realm. Even when he had been eating or at weapon's practice, whether relaxed or angry, there had always been a sense of reflection to his eyes, his expression, as his mind assessed, planned, and weighed advantages.

That reflection had vanished.

Time stopped. Janus's eyes were half-hooded, unblinking, his expression oddly slack. He met Amara's gaze and whatever it was that now looked at her, it was
not
Captain Janus.

Great furies
, Amara thought.
He's been taken
.

Something alien and mad flickered through the taken man's eyes in response to Amara's realization. He shifted his grip on the cot, then tore it bodily from the hands of the man at the other end. The wounded man in the cot screamed as he tumbled from it to the stone floor.

Janus swept the heavy cot in a two-handed swing that clipped Amara's shoulder and spun her to the floor. Then he turned, and with another swing of the cot shattered the skull of the cot-bearing man walking backward in line behind him. The man went down without making a sound. Janus hurled the heavy cot at the next man, and the missile hit hard, knocking down several more.

Janus turned back to the door and broke into a run, but as he went past Amara, she thrust out her foot and deftly caught it on the man's ankle, sending him into a sprawling trip that carried him out the door.

"Bernard!" Amara shouted, rising to her feet to follow him. "Giraldi! Janus has been taken!" She came outside to find Janus walking calmly in a straight line toward Harger. "Stop him!" she shouted. "Stop that man!"

A pair of
legionares
near Janus blinked at her, but then stepped into the man's path. One of the men held up a hand, and said, "Excuse me, sir. The Countess would like to—"

Janus reached for the
legionare's
upraised hand and with a single motion of casual, savage strength he crushed it to pulp and splintered bone. The
legionare
screamed and staggered as Janus released him. The second
legionare
stared for an instant, then his hand flashed toward the hilt of his sword.

Janus swept a fist at the
legionare's
head and struck with such force that Amara clearly heard the man's neck snap. He dropped to the ground in a boneless heap.

"He's heading for Harger!" Amara shouted. "Protect the healer! Get him out of here!" She drew her sword, called to Cirrus to lend to her of his swiftness, and rushed at Janus from behind.

Just before she closed to within reach of her blade, Janus spun to face her and threw a crushing fist at her head. Amara saw it as a lazy, slow swing rather than the pile-driving blow that she knew had to have lashed at her as swiftly as a slive's tongue. She altered her balance, her own movements sluggish and dreamlike, and let the blow slip past her head without landing. Then she slashed downward with the short, heavy
gladius
, and the blade bit deep into the muscle of Janus's right thigh.

From the reaction the taken captain showed, she might have struck him with a handful of down feathers. Without pausing, another blow swept at her head.

Amara let her legs go out from under her, diving to Janus's right, and hoped that the wound in his thigh would slow him down as she dropped into a forward roll and came back to her feet several paces away.

Janus stared at her for a blank second, then turned and walked toward Harger again. The exhausted healer, himself in a cot, had not awakened in the commotion. His face looked sunken, his iron grey beard shot through with white. Two more
legionares
bore him away while half a dozen others set themselves in a line of shields facing Janus, weapons in hand.

Janus lashed out with one boot in a stomping kick that landed in the middle of a
legionare's
shield. The blow hurled the man several yards backward, and he landed awkwardly on the stones. The
legionare
beside the stricken man laid open Janus's arm from shoulder to elbow with a hard slash, but the taken man ignored it, seized that
legionare's
shield in both hands, and threw him with bone-crushing force into the next man in the line.

And then Bernard appeared, facing Janus, his hands empty. Amara's heart leapt into her throat in sudden fear for him. Bernard growled a curse under his breath and swept his fist at Janus with the incredible fury-born strength Brutus gave him. The blow hit Janus like a battering ram and he arched up and landed on his back on the cobblestones. Bernard pointed at the taken man and called, "Brutus!"

The cobblestones heaved, then the jaws of the earthen hound emerged from them and clamped down hard on Janus's leg before the taken man could rise.

Janus's eyes widened, and his head snapped around to examine the stone hound that had him locked into place. His head tilted to one side, a slow and oddly rubbery movement. Then he looked back at Bernard and pushed the heel of his hand toward the Count.

The earth heaved and bucked up into a ripple a full two feet high. The stone wave leapt at Bernard with impossible speed, striking him hard on one leg and sending the Count to the ground.

Amara's heart leapt into her throat.

The taken could furycraft.

She dashed forward and drove her sword down at Janus's throat. The man turned as she approached, and her thrusting blade shot cleanly through Janus's upraised palm. He twisted his arm to one side in a half circle, and the blade, caught in the flesh and the bones of his hand, twisted from her grasp.

Amara darted to one side as Janus tried to seize her with his other hand.

"Amara!" Doroga bellowed.

She whipped her head around to see the Marat headman cast his heavy cudgel into the air from behind a crowd of confused
legionares
who blocked his way. The heavy end of the club hit the ground, and Amara seized the long club's grip as it bounded toward her. She could not afford to waste the momentum the cudgel provided, for it was far too heavy for her to wield with deliberate focus. Instead, she held on to the handle with both white-knuckled hands, spun in a full circle with the heavy, deadly weapon, and brought it down squarely on Captain Janus's head.

She felt the crackling, brittle fragility of the taken man's skull breaking under the incredible force the cudgel delivered in the blow. She staggered, the weight of the cudgel pulling her off-balance. The impact all but crushed Janus's skull down into his chest, and after several seconds of twisting, spasmodic motion, he slowly went still.

Amara heard other screams and cries. A
legionare
lay in the doorway to the great hall, shrieking in a horrible, high voice, a sound of agony and terror that could not have been recognized as coming from a human mouth. His left arm was missing from its socket and his blood became a spreading pool beneath him until his cries dwindled to silence seconds later. Amara head the ring of steel on steel, more shouts, and Giraldi's barking, confident voice of command.

She looked around the courtyard, panting. The action had lasted for only seconds, but she felt exhausted and weak. Harger, now surrounded by
legionares
, appeared to be unharmed. Amara hurried over to Bernard and knelt beside him. "Are you hurt?"

"Wind knocked out of me," Bernard replied, his voice soft. He sat up stiffly and rubbed groggily at his head. "See to the men."

Amara nodded once, and rose.

Doroga came over to them and frowned at Bernard. "You dying?"

Bernard winced, the heel of his hand against the back of his skull. "I almost wish I was."

Doroga snorted. He recovered his cudgel and studied the end of it, then showed it to Bernard. "Your head is better off than his."

One side of the cudgel's striking end was covered in scarlet and dark hairs that clung to the blood. Amara saw it, and it made her feel sickened. Janus. She'd known the man for two years. Liked him. Respected him. He had been unfailingly courteous and thoughtful, and she knew how much Bernard valued his experience and professionalism.

And she'd killed him. She'd crushed his skull.

Amara fought not to throw up.

Doroga regarded her steadily, and said, "He was taken. Nothing you could do."

"I know."

"He would have killed anyone he could have."

"I know that, too," Amara said. "It doesn't make it any easier."

Doroga shook his head. "You did not kill him. The vord did. Just like the men who died during the ambush."

Amara didn't answer him.

A moment later, Giraldi strode over and snapped one hand to his breastplate. "Countess. Count Bernard."

"What happened?" Bernard rumbled quietly. "I heard more fighting."

Giraldi nodded. "Three of the wounded men just… sat up and started killing people. They were all almost earthcrafter strong. We had to kill them—which took some doing." He took a deep breath, staring at Janus's corpse for a second. "And Sir Tyrus went mad, too. Started in on Sir Kerns. Killed him. He made a pretty fair run at Sir Jager, and cut his leg up pretty well. I had to kill Tyrus."

Bernard stared at Giraldi for a moment. "Crows."

Giraldi nodded grimly, looking around the crow infested courtyard with distaste. "Yes."

Doroga looked back and forth between them, frowning. "What does that mean?"

"We had three firecrafters with our Knights," Bernard said quietly. "They're our most powerful offensive assets. And now two of them are dead, one wounded. How mobile is he, Giraldi?"

Giraldi shook his head. "Lucky he's alive. There wasn't a watercrafter to handle the injury. I've got my best medic on him with needle and thread now. But he isn't going to be able to travel."

"Crows," Bernard said quietly.

"What happened?" Giraldi asked.

Amara listened as Bernard explained what they knew of vord takers. "So we think some of them must have been waiting inside the great hall, until some of our people went to sleep."

Footsteps thumped over the cobblestones and the young Knight, Frederic, came running from the great hall, holding a tin cup in his hands. "Sir!" Frederic said.

"A moment, Fred," Bernard said, turning back to Giraldi. "How did Tyrus kill Kerns?"

"Gladius," Giraldi said. "Right in the back."

Amara frowned. "Not firecrafting?"

"Thank the furies, no," Giraldi said. "Firecrafting in there would have killed everyone."

"What about the others who were taken?" Amara pressed.

"Bare hands," Giraldi said.

Amara stared at the centurion, then traded a puzzled glance with Bernard. "But Janus used an earthcrafting out here. Why didn't the taken inside the hall use furycraft?"

Bernard shook his head, baffled. "You think there's a reason for it?"

"Sir," Frederic said. His palm was pressed flat over the cup, and his expression was impatient or strained.

"Not now, please," Amara told Frederic. "It doesn't get us anywhere if we assume there was no logical reason for it," she told Bernard. "Something happened out here that was different than what happened inside. We need to discover what that was."

Bernard grunted. "Giraldi, what else can you tell me about the taken in the great hall?"

Giraldi shrugged. "Not much, sir. It was fast, bloody. Swords and knives. One of the men used the haft of his spear and broke one of the taken's necks with it."

"Weaponplay," Amara said. "Centurion, was there any crafting involved?"

Giraldi frowned. "Nothing overt, my lady. I've some metalcrafting, but it's never been something I actually
do
anything to use, if you follow me. One of the men maybe used some earthcraft to throw a trestle at one of the taken to slow it down when it went for one of the children."

Amara frowned. "But drawing upon a fury for strength is an internalized use of furycraft—just like your enhanced skills of swordplay. Or Bernard's archery." She glanced up at Bernard. "But you actually manifested Brutus to pin Janus down. It was after you did that he…" She frowned. "He almost seemed surprised when it happened, as if he could feel it, somehow. And then he loosed his own furycrafting against you, Bernard."

Bernard frowned. "But what does that mean?"

"I don't think he could have called upon any furycrafting when he first came outside," Amara said. "If he could have, I think he'd have turned it on Harger at once."

Bernard nodded slowly. "You think he couldn't have used it until… what? Until someone showed him how? Until someone else initiated a crafting?"

Amara shook her head. "Perhaps. I don't know."

Giraldi growled. "Janus was after our last healer? Crows."

Bernard nodded. "Our healers. Our firecrafters. These vord, whatever they are, are not stupid. They lured us into a trap, and they're striking deliberately at our strongest crafters. They've predicted several of our moves. Which means that they know us. They know us a lot better than we know them." Bernard grunted and hauled himself unsteadily to his feet. "That's bad news, people."

"Sir," Frederic said.

"Wait a moment," Bernard said, holding up a hand to Frederic. "Amara, you said you felt something brush your foot while you were sleeping?"

"Yes," she said.

Bernard nodded. "So. Let's assume that these takers are something very small—about the size of a mouse or a small rat. We all must sleep sooner or later. We're still vulnerable to them. We need to work out some kind of defense."

"Can't we just make sure the great hall is emptied of them?" Amara asked.