Captain's Fury

Chapter 13

"Are you quite sure they must come off?" asked the First Lord. "It really seems that it would be more comfortable to leave them on."

They had stopped beside an old and seldom-used trail to take a drink from a convenient spring-and Amara had noted that Gaius had been concealing a limp while the small party's steps had quickened over the last few yards. Now, the First Lord sat on a camp stool Bernard had assembled, and the big woodsman knelt before the most powerful man in Alera, unlacing the man's boots.

"I'm certain, sire," Bernard rumbled. "Sore feet are nothing to take lightly- especially not with so much ground still to cover."

"This is somewhat embarrassing, I confess," Gaius said. "I have even increased the amount of walking I have done over the past several months, to prepare for this."

"Walking up stairs and over paving stones is a far cry from a cross-country march, sire," Bernard rumbled. His nostrils flared, and he shook his head. "I'm going to slide the boot off now. I can smell some blood, so the stocking might stick. Point your toe, sire, and I'll have it off as quick as I can."

The First Lord grimaced and nodded. "Aye, let's have it done."

Without being asked, Amara moved to stand behind Gaius and brace her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. It was a somewhat startling feeling. Though the First Lord was as hale a man for his years as could be found in Alera, and though he looked like a man in his forties gone to early silver, the flesh of his shoulders felt thin and somehow frail. Amara felt her touch grow cautious. The last thing the Realm needed was for her to accidentally dislocate Gaius's shoulders while Bernard attempted to put his feet right.

The boot stuck, and it was only after a few moments of effort, some careful twisting, and a hiss of pain from Gaius that Bernard was able to get the boot off his foot. As he had predicted, the pale stocking beneath was dark with blood.

Bernard took a deep breath and frowned thoughtfully. Then he looked up at Amara, and said, "Get the cooking pot and fill it with water, if you would, Countess."

There was something tense about the way he held his head, Amara could tell. She paused for a moment and frowned at him, her own expression questioning.

"The water, Countess," Bernard repeated, his voice steady. "I'll need to wet the stockings before I can take them off and see how bad it is."

She gave him a frown, but fetched the pot and headed for the stream as he had bid her. It took him another quarter of an hour to have both of Gaius's feet bare and wiped clean with a cloth, and to inspect the damage. He sat back a moment later, frowning.

"How bad?" Gaius asked.

Bernard looked steadily at him for a moment, before he said, "I've seen worse. But they're blistered badly. How long have they been paining you, sire?"

"At my age, you hardly notice one pain amidst all the rest," Gaius replied. "The first day wasn't too bad. They weren't comfortable last night, but they didn't get bad until this morning."

Bernard nodded. "The real concern is infection. If we're early enough to stop that, we should be able to handle the rest easily enough."

"Quite embarrassing," Gaius muttered, staring down at his swollen ankles. "Sore feet. This is hardly dignified."

"Travel sores are no respecters of persons, sire," Bernard said. "First thing, let's get you on the ground with your feet up. It will help reduce the swelling and some of the discomfort."

"That would be most appreciated, Count Bernard." Gaius sighed. With the woodsman's help, the First Lord settled himself on the ground, his feet propped up on the stool, where he frowned at them in disapproval while gnawing an apple.

Bernard dumped out the water and went to the spring to refill it, and Amara went with him.

"How bad?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. "I've seen worse-once. On a Legion runner who had enough metalcrafting to ignore the pain and not enough sense to know he shouldn't. He took infection so badly even my sister couldn't help him. He lost the foot, and the fever burned out most of his wits."

Amara bit her lip and brushed her hair back from her forehead. "That bad?"

Bernard grimaced. "We got to the First Lord more quickly-though great furies know what might have happened if you hadn't spotted him limping."

"Quickly enough?"

"Amara…" He sighed. "I don't know."

Amara took a deep breath and nodded. "What can we do?"

"We can have him craft the wounds closed," Bernard said.

Amara shook her head. "No. He can't. Any of his crafting at all will give our position away and make the mission a failure."

Bernard gave her a direct look. "So will his maiming or death, love."

Amara glared at him for a moment, but looked away and shook her head. "Is he in any immediate danger?"

Bernard stood up with the pot full. "He's not going to pitch over dead any moment now, no. If he does take fever, it will take some time to kill him. Days, probably, maybe longer."

"Then we have some time," Amara said.

"We might," Bernard said, "but then again, we might not. An infection could be taking hold while we stand here talking." Bernard folded his arms. "This is a humble little wound. But it doesn't care who he is. It's capable of killing him if he doesn't receive proper medical attention."

Amara folded her arms close to her belly and frowned down at the stream.

"Let me put it this way," Bernard said slowly. He turned to face Amara full on, planting his feet at shoulder's width. "It is beyond foolishness to risk the First Lord's life on something this trivial. I won't allow it."

Amara stared at her husband's face for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"I won't allow it," he repeated, his tone gentle and immovable. "I'll give away our presence myself if I must."

Amara forced herself to keep a hot answer from flying from her lips. "Bernard," she said quietly, "that's treason."

"Not the way I see it," he said. "I'm sworn to protect the Crown. The oath never said anything about protecting the Crown from anyone except himself. You swore a similar oath, I believe."

"You can't make a decision like this," Amara sputtered.

"I already have," he replied. "It's been a long time since Gaius was on campaign, and you've never been on one. You've never seen men die of infection." He looked down and away. "It robs them of everything, Amara. All dignity. All strength. They waste away, so fast you can almost see it happening." He shuddered. "The Realm is barely holding together as it is. Should anything happen to Gaius, should he die like that…"

She bit her lip and touched his shoulder. "He knows that there are risks, love. He has chosen to face them."

"He is responsible for more lives than his own," Bernard responded. "What is so important that it warrants risking his life?"

"I don't know," Amara replied quietly. "He didn't tell me."

Bernard shot her an incredulous look. "You don't even know why we're doing this?"

She shook her head.

"Then bloody crows, Amara, why are you opposing me?"

"Because I trust his judgment," Amara said quietly. "Because I swore an oath." She paused briefly, and added, "Just as you did."

Bernard grunted, as if to acknowledge the touch.

Amara leaned in close against him, and he slid an arm quietly around her. She laid her cheek against his chest. "If he didn't tell you, either, why are you here?"

Bernard's voice rumbled in his chest, a pleasant buzzing sensation in her ear. "He said he needed a skilled woodsman and scout, someone he could trust." He breathed out a little through his nose, a wisp of a laugh. "And he said you'd be there. I suppose he knew it would be reason enough for me."

Amara lifted her head suddenly to stare intently into her husband's face. "Just as he knew that once we were back together, I would be too distracted by you to ask too many questions." She felt a wry smile twist her mouth. "Until it was too late to change our minds, I suppose."

Bernard frowned, and squinted back toward where Gaius sat, and said, "We're not going a step farther until I know exactly what we're walking into."

Amara frowned in thought for a moment, and spoke slowly. "I suppose my duty would be to oppose you putting an end to this mission. Strictly speaking."

"You did that once before," Bernard replied, his eyes brightening with brief amusement. "You'll recall how it worked out." His expression grew more serious. "You couldn't stop me from compromising us, Amara. And without using furycraft, I doubt he could do it, either. Even if he could walk right now."

Amara nodded slowly, "Just as well, perhaps."

"Oh?"

"It gives us a lever to use on him." She glanced back at the First Lord. "He keeps secrets purely as a reflex action, these days. I can't serve or protect him if I'm kept blind and wandering in the dark. But…"

Bernard found her hand with his, and squeezed gently. "But what?"

She felt her lips tighten. "It just doesn't feel right. So many have turned against him. Fidelias…"

Tears filled her eyes in approximate tempo with a surge of heated anger, as she thought of her treacherous mentor, and it became impossible to speak.

"It isn't the same, love," he told her quietly. "You're trying to protect him and using your best judgment. It isn't the same thing at all."

"I hope you're right," she said quietly. She shook her head, blinking the tears away before they could fall. Then she nodded once, composed herself, and strode back over to Gaius, Bernard in step beside her.

The First Lord looked back and forth between their expressions, then said, "Ah."

Amara came to a stop before him, and knelt down to put her eyes more or less on level with his own. "Sire, Count Calderon…"

He lifted a hand with a little, impatient wave, and glanced at Bernard. "We're not walking another mile until you know what we're getting into? Something like that?"

Bernard snorted through his nose. "Not another step, actually, sire."

Gaius winced, shifting one of his legs. "Is it that bad?"

Bernard approached as well, kneeling down and brushing away a layer of forest detritus with one hand, revealing a number of small white-and-pink crystals. He dropped them into the pan and began swirling the water as he spoke. "Without proper watercrafting? It has the potential to be very bad, sire, yes."

Gaius made a disgusted noise. "I suppose I'd be a fool to bring along an expert woodsman only to ignore his advice."

Bernard's mouth quirked up at one corner. "I'd never say that, sire."

Gaius's teeth flashed white for a moment. "Not in so many words, anyway, eh?" He studied his own raw and bloodied feet. "Your recommendation involves my crafting the injuries away, I take it."

"Or flying to someone who can," Bernard said.

"What are my chances if I don't?"

"If we're in time to prevent any infection, I can probably take care of it on my own. If we're too late…" He shrugged. "You'll sicken, take a fever, and eventually die. Our best hope is that you will retain the ability to rectify the problem on your own before the fever takes you too far to sustain such a crafting."

"Which would compromise our mission," Gaius said quietly. "Rendering it an unacceptable option."

"Sire," Amara said. "Your untimely death would be no more acceptable."

The First Lord glanced at her. "Untimely? Yes. But that seems rather unavoidable at this point." He wiggled the toes of one foot and winced. "No infection has set in as yet. I believe our best option is to maintain a positive frame of mind and proceed."

"It's a very real risk, sire," Bernard said, and there was nothing subservient in his voice. "What could possibly be so important that it warrants such a risk to yourself and to the Realm?"

Gaius frowned at Bernard. Then he tilted his head, brow furrowed. "Well, this is an interesting iteration of the ludus board. A Steadholder with more power than a paired Cursor and First Lord. I can't stop you from acting without revealing myself, and I am not at all certain that Amara could do it, either."

Bernard nodded. "I've got you by the balls, sire."

Gaius, now leaning up on his elbows, let his head fall back with a brief, tense laugh. "So it would seem. Very well. We will speak of my purpose-after which, we will proceed at our best pace."

Bernard frowned. "I can't promise that."

"We will," Gaius said, and there was a cold flicker at the back of his eyes. "This is necessary, Count. It will be done." His voice went quiet. "And as formidable as you are in your current position-yet do I advise you not to test me."

Bernard's hands froze for a moment, as he crumbled some kind of herb into the salted water in the pot. It was the only sign of his discomfort. "I can only promise that I will act on my conscience."

"Well enough," Gaius replied. With Bernard's help, he returned to his seat upon the camp stool and slipped his battered feet into the pot. He let out a hiss of pain and shuddered a few times, but then his breathing steadied. A moment later, he opened his eyes, and Amara pressed a cup of bitter willow tea into his hands. He nodded his thanks to her. "This touches upon your last visit to Kalare, actually."

Amara lifted an eyebrow. "In what way? Not for familiarity, I am sure. We only covered the last few miles on the ground."

"Similar motivation," the First Lord said. "You remember the necessity for bringing Lady Placida back whole and unharmed?"

Amara nodded. "There are several dangerous furies back in her lands that are held in check by her will. Had she died, they would have been loosed on her people."

"Precisely," Gaius said. "And Kalarus, whom I will never fault for lack of ambition, has done something almost as brilliant as it is insane-he's intentionally stirred up furies of terrible power of his own and bound them to his will in the same way."

Amara took in a deep breath. "He hopes to preserve his life?"

"Not at all," Gaius said in a sober tone. "He's too proud to suffer through imprisonment, and he knows that we could assume control of those furies once he was taken away and we had time to work. His goal is much simpler, Countess. He hopes to drag as many lives as possible into the underworld with him- preferably including my own."

Bernard scratched at his beard, frowning. "Sire… what kind of furies are you talking about here?"

Gaius took a slow breath, and said, "One of the Great Furies, Count."

Amara frowned. "Great furies… what… I mean, there are actually…?"

Gaius's mouth gained an edge of grim amusement. "You think we swear by them simply for show? No. They exist, the Great Furies. A dozen or so that I'm aware of. Creatures so old and vast that our entire existence upon this world, a thousand years of growth and strife, is less than the span of an eyeblink to them."

Bernard's frown deepened as he took a clean cloth and began washing the First Lord's feet as gently as he could. "And Kalarus can control this thing?"

"Not even remotely," Gaius said. "But he can annoy it, arousing its wrath- and he can delay its response for a time. When he ceases to do so, Kalus will spend his wrath upon anyone it meets."

"Kalus?" Amara asked. "Like Mount Kalus?"

"For which Kalare itself is named," Gaius said, nodding. "Though it is not only a mountain, but an ancient fire-mountain. It has not spoken in Aleran memory, but Kalarus has stirred it up. When he dies, Kalus will burst free of the mountain and bathe the land in fire." He leaned forward, meeting Bernard's eyes, then Amara's, in turn. "If I let the Legions besiege Kalare, it will mean more deaths fighting on the approach. It will mean that all of Kalarus's forces will have fallen back to the city. It means that an entire campaign's worth of refugees will have fallen back with them."

"Bloody crows," Bernard breathed. "He means to make a bier of allies, enemies, and subjects alike. Of the city itself."

"I can intercede," Gaius said, "but only if I can physically approach to within a few miles and clear sight of Mount Kalus." He took a deep breath. "If I don't intervene, it will mean more lives senselessly lost to Kalarus's spite." His eyes glittered, cold and hard. "I won't have it. Not in my Realm."

"So," Amara said quietly. "The plan is to get you in close enough to deprive Kalarus of his funeral pyre?"

The First Lord nodded. "I never truly understood how horrible life was in Kalare, how he had transformed his lands into a nightmare of slaves and fear. I failed his people. Now he threatens to burn them all alive. I will not allow them to die at the will of that madman."

Bernard looked up at the First Lord, his eyes steady.

"Count Calderon," Gaius said calmly. "Please believe me when I say that I will proceed. Either with you-or through you."

Bernard regarded him without blinking. Then he said, "Your feet are swollen, and those boots aren't going to fit. We'll need to let you rest for a day or so, and I'll try to make your footwear a little more comfortable before we move again." He turned to Amara. "Can you find us a spot to camp, out of sight of the trail? There's no sense loitering here until someone stumbles into us."

Amara rose and went to Bernard's side. She touched his shoulder briefly, and said, "Thank you."

Gaius exhaled slowly, and bowed his head gently to the Count of Calderon. "Aye, Bernard. Thank you."

Bernard glanced from Gaius to Amara, frowning. But he said nothing.