Captain's Fury

Chapter 8

It never occurred to Amara that she might have trouble keeping up with anyone when it came to flying. After all, no one she'd ever seen, not even High Lady Aquitaine, had been more swift or nimble than she in the air. Amara had won race after race during her days at the Academy. She'd never been overmatched in aerial battle.

But then, she had never tried her skills against the First Lord of Alera.

Within the first few minutes, Gaius had surged steadily ahead of her, even as a cold north wind began propelling them southward with mounting speed. Gaius had swiftly ascended to above the cloud cover, and it was as well he did. Within an hour, she could barely keep sight of the First Lord, even with Cirrus to help her.

Amara poured on all the speed she could, and for a time she closed the distance inch by inch-but only for a time. Then she rapidly made headway on the First Lord, until she was keeping pace only a dozen yards behind him. Amara felt gratified at her ability to keep up with him. It was only then that she realized that Cirrus's strength was being bolstered by that of dozens of smaller wind furies she could just barely sense. By the time the sun had passed its zenith, she had come to the grudging realization that in this particular kind of travel, at least, Gaius's raw power quite simply trumped all of her innate talent for flight and her hard-won skill.

He never flagged, either, but kept the pace with grim determination. Only a few times did Amara get a glimpse of the ground below, and each time she did, it was sliding by much more rapidly than it should have, especially at their altitude. The wind at their backs only grew swifter, and Amara realized that Gaius had summoned forth one of the great wind furies of the far north to speed their way-with what could only be unpleasant consequences for the northernmost cities and towns of Alera, who must have received a fresh blast of arctic cold just as winter began to loosen its grip.

Amara had no way to judge where they were-especially given that she had no idea precisely where they were going, beyond "south." She rarely got a chance to look for any landmarks that might tell her where they were headed. The First Lord, however, seemed to have no such trouble finding his way, and his flight was smooth and relentless.

By the time the sun set, Amara had no more energy to spare for such thoughts. It was all she could do to maintain the focus she needed to stay aloft. Still, Gaius flew on, never wavering, never slowing, as if he had become some implacable extension of the North Wind itself.

Night fell, and Amara had no idea how she managed to stay in the air. She remembered being terribly cold, hungry beyond words, and weary to the point of pain.

At last, the dark shadow of the First Lord, now only a black shape against the stars, began to descend. Somehow, Amara managed to keep up with him as they plunged into more cloud cover and came out the bottom of it into a fine, cold, misty rain. They slowed as he banked around some rolling feature of terrain, and then she saw a dim light beneath them, among thick trees hung with long, long streamers of some kind of green-yellow moss.

Amara remembered setting down among those trees, near a fire that had burned down to a bed of red-orange coals and tiny flickers of flame, giving off the absolute minimum amount of light. She remembered her legs almost buckling from beneath her as she touched down.

Gaius turned to find her standing behind him, if barely, and a look of concern crossed his face. Then he took her arm and guided her to the fire. There was a bedroll there, placed not far from the fire, with a large stone propped up behind the blankets to catch the heat and reflect it back, and Amara nearly whimpered in relief at the sudden warmth.

Then someone pressed a tin mug of hot soup into her hand, and she gulped it down as quickly as she could without burning herself. After that, she remembered thinking how heavenly the bedroll felt beneath her, and merciful dark closed on her.

She woke sometime later. It was morning. Golden sunlight flickered down through a white haze overhead, only occasionally letting a shaft of glowing morning sweep over the ground. There was green all around, so much green, in so many^shades, that she wondered why on earth anyone thought a simple word like "green" could adequately describe them all.

It took her a moment to focus her eyes and sort out her surroundings. Forest. Thick, thick forest. Some of the trees were ancient giants whose trunks were broader than she was tall. Many were smaller, clawing for space and sunlight in the shadows of their larger neighbors. Thick brush grew up everywhere, largely soft-looking fronds and ferns. Hanging moss draped off of everything more than a few feet above the forest floor. She had never seen anyplace quite like it, and yet she had the sense that there was something very familiar about it.

Birds sang, but few of them sounded like those she knew. She lay quietly for a moment, taking in the details. A few insects buzzed here and there. She saw a motion in a nearby tree, and saw a shadowy, nebulous form-a wild wood fury, doubtless-vanish among the branches.

She pushed herself up to find Gaius sitting on a stone beside the fire. He had discarded his usual silks of scarlet and blue for a woodsman's tunic and breeches, and he looked surprisingly comfortable in them. He sat with a mug in his hands, his eyes closed, his head tilted up.

"Good morning, Countess," he murmured.

"Sire," she said. "I apologize for last night. I should not have collapsed on you like that."

"On the contrary," Gaius said. "That's the first time anyone's kept any kind of pace with me since I took Septimus to-" He broke off suddenly, eyes blinking open, and stared up at the sky. "I had expected to carry you the last few hours."

"You did have to help me," Amara said.

He shrugged a shoulder. "I was helping myself, Countess. You simply stayed close enough on your own merits to take advantage of it. We made better time than I dared to hope."

She rose and stretched. "Where are we?"

"The western reaches of the Weeping Hills."

Amara frowned. "That's… that's in Kalare's territory, isn't it?"

"At its fringes, yes," Gaius said. "Though very few folk live in this area, and the land between where we stand and the sea is all wilderness. In fact, I doubt that there are any living souls, excepting ourselves, within forty or fifty miles, if that. We are some three hundred miles southwest of the city of Kalare itself. Tea?"

"Please." Amara accepted the mug he poured for her from a tin pot hung beside the fire. It felt good beneath her chilled fingers, and she sipped at it very slowly. "Three hundred miles?"

"Yes. And, I'm afraid, we walk from here."

Amara felt her eyebrows go up. "Sire?"

"It's the only way." Gaius gestured at the fire beside him. "Sit, sit. I'll explain."

Amara settled down by the fire and took stock of the camp. There was evidence of a small but complete amount of field gear-bedrolls, cooking utensils, a small set of tools, and what looked like an emergency tent. Gaius must have had it waiting here for them.

"We're going to Kalare," Gaius said.

"Sire?" Amara frowned down at her tea. "I don't understand. The Legions in the field are going there, too."

Gaius shook his head. "They're fighting a campaign to get there. This isn't the same thing at all. I don't need to fight for the territory. I simply need to be there."

"Why not just fly in?"

Gaius shook his head. "Kalarus has been clever. He must have been planning for this since he first succeeded to the title. His network of watch furies is extensive to the point of insanity."

Amara frowned. "Watch furies… I don't understand."

"Furies tasked to react to a particular presence-in this case, my own. If I come within three hundred miles of Kalare in the air, he'll know it."

"Can't you just remove them?"

"Of course," Gaius said. "But their sudden silence would warn him of my presence very nearly as effectively as if they started screaming about me. I can only imagine that maintaining such a network is a constant irritant. Likely it's a reflection of his personality. Paranoid, damnably paranoid. Obsessive. Formidable."

Amara nodded. "I don't understand then, what we're doing here."

"There's a flaw in Kalarus's planning," Gaius said. "He'll see any approach from the air-but on the ground, all of his furies are geared to keep watch for me by means of being on the lookout for my furies. My power." Gaius glanced up at her. "So I'm borrowing a page from our young captain. I'm walking in. No crafting. Kalarus will not expect that. He would never do such a thing, not in a thousand years, and he is blind to anything that isn't himself."

Amara began to speak, then frowned and sipped at her tea instead, thinking over her words. "Sire," she said after a moment. "That's a long walk. A very long walk. Particularly for… for…"

"A man my age?" the First Lord said, his rich voice amused. "Yes. I'm aware." He glanced back at the low fire, and his smile faded. "But it must be done."

Amara shook her head. "But why, sire? What do you hope to accomplish?"

"I'm going to break Kalarus's power, Countess. I'm going to end his ability to continue his rebellion."

"How?"

He shook his head. "That is something I'm keeping to myself for now. Suffice to say that there are greater and subtler matters of furycraft than those such as Kalarus and I prefer not to make widely known. This touches upon such a matter."

"But-"

"Countess," Gaius said quietly. "Are you with me? Or not?"

She grimaced, and glared at the fire. "Of course I am."

"Good. Your only concern is to help me get to Kalare. I won't be able to use any of my own furycraft without alerting Kalarus to my presence-which is to be avoided. I'm going to be relying upon you, Amara, to handle any problems that arise."

Amara felt both her eyebrows go up. "Sire, I'm not incompetent in the field, but it is hardly my forte. I'm not at all sure that I'm the best person for this kind of job."

"I trust you," the First Lord said simply.

She felt a flush of pride and pleasure at the words, but she shook her head. "Then you should trust my advice, sire. I'm not the one you should have with you."

"I should attempt it alone?"

"No," she said, at once, somewhat alarmed. "No, sire. I don't see why you should be trying to do this at all, but if you must do it, there are those better qualified to help you."

"The larger our party is, the more attention it is going to attract."

There was no arguing with that. "But sire…"

"Enough," Gaius said. "Countess, there are very few people in this world who are worthy of trust. Of those who are, not nearly enough of them are on my side. You're one of those few. I trust your loyalty. I trust your skill. I trust your judgment. In my eyes, that makes you one of the only people even remotely qualified for such a task."

"But there's only me, sire," she said. "And I'm not sure I'll be nearly enough. I can only be in one place at one time, have my eyes on one problem at a time. And my crafting skills are not the most advantageous when it comes to this kind of travel."

Gaius set his mug aside and rose. "Ah, now there is a point upon which there can be no argument. But I'm afraid I had very little selection in the matter. There was you-and perhaps one other." The First Lord gave her a brief, sunbeam flicker of a smile, and said, "I'll stretch my legs a bit. We have a little time."

Amara stared after him for a moment, before she suddenly recognized what had felt so familiar about this place. She rose and paced over to the bedroll where she had slept and bent down, lifting the blankets to her nose and inhaling.

The brush rustled gently behind her, and Amara's heart started beating very quickly.

"Good morning," a deep voice rumbled from behind her. "Nice day for a walk."

Amara turned.

A tall, broad-shouldered man came out of the thick forest bearing a pair of freshly caught fish. He was dressed in a forester's brown-green cloak, stone grey tunic, and brown leather breeches. He carried a hunting bow in his left hand, and Amara could see the handle of an axe hanging from a strap over one shoulder. He smiled, teeth flashing, and tossed the bow to one side.

"Bernard," she said, and went to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down to her, and kissed him soundly on the mouth. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her hard against him, returning the kiss with single-minded intensity.

The kiss was so sweetly delicious that it seemed to blind Amara, as her fingers slid through his dark hair, and as her body suddenly caught fire at the touch of his hands, his mouth.

"Thought you'd appreciate a big breakfast after a long flight," he murmured against her mouth. "I'll cook these for you, if you're hungry."

Amara drew slowly back from him, and met his eyes. "I'm starving," she said quietly. "You can cook the crowbegotten fish after."

Sudden hot fire danced in the back of his eyes, but he affected a puzzled tone. "After what?"

She snarled at him, though she knew her own smile would give it the lie, knocked the string with the fish out of his hand with one of hers, then twined her fists in his tunic. She stepped into him as she put a leg behind his own, pushing.

He was too quick for her, turning her motion against her, and she let herself fall, his body coming down to pin hers against the earth. His mouth found hers again, and she felt herself arch up against him, hips rolling, her body demanding more.

He broke the kiss, his breath broken into rough gasps. "Oh," he growled quietly. "After that."

Amara let out a wicked little laugh that broke off as her husband kissed her again, and she returned it with breathless ardor.