The Strength of the Few by James Islington - 77

I PRESS PAINFULLY THROUGH FIRE and rubble and screams against a flow of bloodied, glassy-eyed Octavii so terrified that they barely even notice my growling alupi as we pass. Another explosion to my left causes me to shield my face as it shatters the warehouse there, massive stone chunks of façade landing dangerously close to Diago and me. More Will shells. Imbued, hollowed-out stone containers filled with an explosive mixture developed a hundred years ago by the Sytrecian University. Simply transported through the air by Will as far as desired, and then dropped. The smashing of the container releases the Will back to the imbuer, and the explosion kills anyone nearby.

A weapon not used in open conflict, to the best of my knowledge, since Birthright was established fifty years ago. They are brutal and indiscriminate and effective.

Especially for an enemy who is trying to draw attention.

The way ahead provides a clear view down to the burning harbour. The dark shadows of noiseless ships stream through the darkness, smaller silhouettes leaping off their decks and sprinting up wharves. Hundreds of them. Many will be Septimii, surely; I doubt Redivius will have committed too many Sextii to his distraction.

Still. The fighting in the streets is about to get bloody. A fifth of Laurentius’s legion has been secreted not far from the docks; the plan is to allow the initial response to appear feeble, ensure that Redivius believes his attack to be a surprise and that we will be rushing reinforcements here. And then—as his diversionary forces push farther in—to surround and crush them.

A plan which, it seems, also included not warning the men and women working through the late hours, loading and unloading goods in the harbour. I see a man walk past with an absent stare. Calm, almost distracted. His arm ends in a bleeding, blistered stump.

I don’t stop. There’s nothing I can do for him, for any of them. I check my sense of the armband I imbued for Baine and angle down a nearby alley, flinching again at another scream of torn masonry behind me. Eidhin is farther to the east. The edge of the assault, I think.

I hear the roars of attackers and the cries of those they cut down, but I slink along back ways, keeping to the shadows; Diago being here will help, but if I come up against a group of Sextii—or honestly, in my current condition, even just a couple—then I will be in trouble.

I push more Will into my legs. My fury has hardened into something colder now but I still use it, more than anything else, to embrace their aching discomfort. I’m getting better at adjusting the scaffolding that allows me to walk, more agile and moving with less thought. Kadmos’s tea continues to do its work and should until past dawn, numbing the grinding, digging pain of edged metal and broken bone.

The next half hour passes in a blur. Walking, jogging, hiding, fighting. The air buzzing with near-invisible projectiles imbued with Will, my only advantage that if I concentrate fiercely, I can sense them as tiny pulses in my head before they get too close.

At one point I see Octavii fleeing a half dozen Sextii and force myself to do nothing, watching from the shadows as they are cut down. Heart pounding. Drenched in sweat that feels icy against the night air. Silently watching the slaughter, and cursing myself for cowardice, and waiting until Redivius’s legionnaires have moved on before doing so myself.

Twice, I am forced to fight. Once to take down a single crazed Sextus who seems to have run far ahead of his comrades. Bloodlust lights his eyes, a fierce grin on his face as he chases terrified Octavii past the darkened alley where I hide. I almost let him go too, but can’t. My armour disintegrates into a cloud of spinning metal blades that I send at his back. His dying screams haunt me as I stumble on, ignoring the grateful shouts of the men and women I leave in my wake.

The second time, it is a dozen Septimii who sprint around a corner before I can conceal myself. They see me alone but approach smartly, cautiously, so that when my blades arrow toward them they are able to mostly absorb the attack, the triangles embedding in the wood of their shield wall.

It’s a good tactic; usually stone chips upon impact and the imbuing is lost. It’s especially true for Praetorians’ razors.

Unfortunately for them, metal has no such issues.

The Septimii realise they’re outmatched too late, their fear only exacerbated as Diago crashes into their line, snarling and knocking two of them over from the sheer force of his attack. One man’s throat is ripped clean out and as another goes to thrust his blade into my alupi’s side, I take him in the neck with a spinning shard. The remaining Septimii break, retreating. Diago kills another. I finish the rest.

It’s over in less than a minute. No time to consider. Bodies strewn. Blood coats the triangles as I bring them back to my chest. Bile in my stomach, but it was them or me.

I end the groans of the last surviving man, and press on.

I SEE SEVERAL MORE SKIRMISHES over the next fifteen minutes. Sharp, visceral sketches of violence and panic and desperation painted a fiery red, each one a vital delay in getting to my friend as I’m forced to skirt them. The horror of what I’m seeing, the ache of my legs, the agony of what happened to Aequa only a few hours ago—it all recedes into a dull, thumping constant, an oddly detached concern when compared to the need to stay alive and find Eidhin.

Some distant part of me recognises that the toll of it all will be heavy, when I am finally forced to confront it. But right now I keep forcing it back, and focus on the beacon of Will in my mind that draws closer, and closer, until finally it is only one street over.

Quieter, here. Fewer Octavii working, less resistance. Whether through design or fortune, Eidhin has chosen well.

I hug the shadows as voices drift to me. Low and urgent. I peer around a corner to see a half dozen men swiftly walking up the street.

My friend is with them. Marching grimly, black eyes scanning the surrounding buildings for any sign of danger.

I focus on the imbuing of his armband, and tug it toward me. He makes no outward sign of there being anything wrong, but after a few seconds he signals to the man next to him. “We should check these buildings are clear.”

“We need to hurry,” argues another immediately.

A fleeting discussion and then Eidhin is agreeing to stay with one other of his group, while the remaining four press on. Eidhin gestures his comrade to the other side of the street, then strides for my position. Eyes narrowed as he peers into the shadows.

When he sees me, he stops short. Touches the silver around his arm in confusion.

Shakes his head in disgust, then strides forward and embraces me in a crushing hug.

It’s a simple, heartfelt act, and suddenly the emotion of tonight, everything I’ve seen and been through, sweeps back and threatens to overwhelm the cold, furious determination that’s been driving me. Just for a second. I grip him back and swallow the lump in my throat. Shove it all back down. No time for grief. Not yet.

“You should not be here.” He growls it as he parts and pushes me back roughly, examining me with a frown. Ruffles the fur on Diago’s head absently as the alupi nudges him affectionately at the waist. “We need to get you to safety. They will know you are Catenicus and if they see you—”

“We need to get you to safety. Laurentius knows the plan, Eidhin. He knows this is a diversion. You’re walking into an ambush.”

He frowns. “Diversion?”

“Yes.” My turn to frown. “Your attack. The feint here, and then the real attack on the Forum…” My heart sinks. “No?”

“No.” He rubs his face. “Many are expected to die here, but we are just the auxiliaries. The first wave.” He leans forward. Urgent. “Redivius has a hundred more ships coming and they are filled with his legionnaires. We are only here to clear the shore defences. Hold back reinforcements long enough to ensure his main force lands safely.”

The same defences that Baine convinced me to reduce. I groan softly to myself, though I’m already wrung out enough that it hits more as frustration at the disaster than the gut-punch of it. “What about the Transvect?”

“They are going to drop Will shells from it. Thousands of them. After more of Redivius’s legion disembark here .”

Vek . Vek . “How long do we have?”

“Not long.”

I run my hands through my hair. Maybe Eidhin’s been lied to; it wouldn’t be the first time a general didn’t tell his troops the whole story. But if my friend is right…

I push it aside. Remember why I’m here, what I hope to do, and fill my tone with urgency. “It doesn’t matter. Not now. Come with me. I know Redivius is forcing you to fight, but I can get you out. You don’t have to give up your life for him.”

“It was never for him.” Apologetic and unswayed. “It is for my Septimii.”

“I know.”

He frowns. Anger in his eyes. “And you still ask? Would you do any different?”

“Would you not ask?” I reply quietly.

He’s silent at that. Grunts, then twists to peer over his shoulder. “We do not have long, Vis. Of course I do not wish to fight, but I will not hide so that others may die in my place. And I will not abandon my people. I hope you will believe me when I tell you that there is no choice.” He gazes at me ruefully. A gentle expression. “Will you stand in my way?”

I consider him. An ache in my chest as I shake my head slowly. “But there is a choice, Eidhin. It will be days before Redivius thinks you’ve defected. Time enough.” I put all my belief into the sentence. “We can rescue your people.”

“The two of us alone? We would not get within a thousand feet of them. No, Vis. I will not delay my death so that you can join me in it.”

I don’t pursue it. Exactly the reasoning I expected. “They won’t be free if you die. Your Septimii. Redivius will just force them to serve the next man, and the next, until finally they are tethered to one who lacks the honour that you have. Which I promise you, will not take long at all.”

A flicker in his eyes, at that. He knows the truth of it.

“You all believe in ddram cyfraith ,” I press. Intent. It’s hard, conveying the right emotion. Everything’s so taut in my head and though I want him to see how desperately I need him to listen, some part of me has to stay tight and cold and in control. Otherwise, I may yet break. Break and not be able to recover. “What would they say, Eidhin? Which is the better sacrifice? Their deaths for your freedom, or your death for their situation to become worse?”

There’s a twitch this time, and I see the argument hits home. Eidhin wavers.

Then he frowns. Touches the armband again. “How did you come to imbue this?” he asks suddenly.

I close my eyes. I could lie. It would be easier.

“Your father.”

“My father .” He spits it. Anger erasing whatever persuasion he had begun to feel. “Of course he said that. He told you this was a diversion, too, did he not? Used you? You should know how I feel about—”

“Of course I do. But just because he lied about the one, makes the other no less true.”

“It does, Vis! The man does nothing but manipulate.” He issues a stream of Cymrian invective. “I am sorry. Truly. But I must go before someone comes looking for me.” He wraps me in another embrace. Lingers in it, just for a moment. This one is to say farewell.

Then he is walking away.

“Eidhin.”

He pauses.

“I do understand.” Heart thudding. Sick to my stomach, even through everything else. I knew it would come to this, and perhaps it’s the wrong decision. Perhaps it won’t make a difference. But if I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself. I cannot lose him. Not him too. “I know what it’s like to be responsible for a people. To need to protect them above yourself. And I know what it’s like to feel like you have no choice but to do things you otherwise would never do.”

He frowns. Turns fully, now, to regard me curiously.

A heartbeat. Two. And I cautiously, cautiously let the tiniest shard of what has happened tonight back in. It hurts, far more than any of my physical pains. But I need him to hear this.

“My name is not Vis.” I’m almost light-headed at the words. “My name is Diago, son of Cristoval. I am—I was—a prince of Suus, before the Hierarchy invaded.” I limp back over to some rubble. Sit heavily. “They killed my family and they would have killed me too if I hadn’t escaped. I’ve hidden from them for nearly five years. And in that time, the only people who found out were the Anguis.”

I let the metal flow upward from my chest, until my mask settles in place. My arm forms from the supports of my legs, and I flex it for him.

“I let them use me.” My voice breaks from behind the iron. A desolate admission to myself as much as him, now. “I let them manipulate me because I was afraid—afraid for myself, afraid for those I cared for. They made me think I didn’t have a choice . They asked for more, and more, and I gave it to them.” I let the metal retreat again. Back to my legs. Back to the armour. “You’ll serve them until you break or die, Eidhin. And in the end, you won’t have done the right thing. You won’t have made a difference. You’ll just have mitigated one tiny part of their evil, by helping them advance another.” I shake my head slowly. Letting my weary grief infuse the words. “These decisions feel so impossible. I know. The consequences fill your vision. They know we value loyalty and family and friendship above all else. But my friend, they don’t, and there will always be people for them to hurt. To threaten us with. As long as we let ourselves be their prisoners, nothing will change.” I hesitate. “And in the end, they will destroy the ones we love anyway,” I whisper.

Eidhin sits. As stunned as I have ever seen him. He looks at me as if I am a stranger, and I cannot think of a glance that has hurt more, though I see no anger in it. Only lost, sad confusion.

Silence, and I stare at the ground miserably.

“You were forced to do this. To be… this .” He finally gestures. Says the words not as a question, but as a reassurance to himself. A desperation to believe it.

“No. I told myself I had no choice, but I did . That’s the point. I should have drawn my line long ago.” I take a deep breath. Lump in my throat, but then I’m crushing it down ruthlessly once again. Perhaps it is unfair to tell him this now. But he needs to know. “Eidhin, Aequa is dead. Decimus killed her in front of me today, because Iro died.” His face twists in unaffected pain but I press on, not letting the emotion stop me. “You once told me that death is meaningless if it does not change us. I can’t take back what I helped begin, can’t change any of this. But I can at least try to make it matter.”

He sits there. Horror painting his features. In shock, but he also knows the urgency of our situation, knows that whatever decision he makes must be made now.

“I have many, many questions. Most of them can wait. But I need you to answer me at least this one,” he says eventually. “These men—Redivius, Laurentius, Decimus—they are all the same. One monster with different faces. So what is your plan? Why should—”

“Breac?” The voice echoes in the abandoned alley. Only a moment’s notice and then the other man Eidhin was with appears, spear at the ready. Eyes widening as he spots me. My missing arm. “You’re Catenicus.”

“Siollan.” Eidhin puts up his spear, spreading his hands to indicate there’s no threat.

Siollan’s eyes flash to black.

It happens so fast. Eidhin steps between me and his comrade. Siollan’s face twists. Jumpy, or overeager, or just not willing to risk talking—it doesn’t matter. He’s angry, or scared, and his spear is in his hand. Arm cocked back. I send metal shards at him as he hurls, take him in the throat with a slashing, gurgling spray, but I’m too late. The spear is already airborne. Eidhin firmly in its path.

Then Diago is there, leaping.

The spear takes him in the throat.

There’s a heartbeat where I don’t believe it. A sharp howl of pain from the animal as it staggers back.

“ NO! ” I’m screaming the word. The alupi is on his side, twitching and yelping, the sound shrill. Siollan’s glassy eyes stare upward. Eidhin’s hands fall to his side in dismay and shock as I skid to my knees next to Diago; his teeth are bared and he almost looks like he’s going to snap at me, but I put a hand on his head and he just wheezes as I stroke him. Biting in occasional helplessness at the protruding haft.

“ Vek .” I don’t know what to do. There’s blood covering my hands, but somehow, not as much as there should be. Perhaps it has missed the artery? “Do we pull it out?”

Eidhin is on his knees by my side. Gestures helplessly. “Won’t that just make it worse?”

I groan, using my blade to slice through the haft. “You’ll be alright. You’ll be alright,” I murmur to the wolf, the desperation in my voice a prayer.

Diago is still snarling, but he staggers to his feet. Eyes red. Dribbling blood from his mouth.

“How is he still standing?” whispers Eidhin, patting him as if the act will somehow heal his wounds. I press my head gently against the animal’s. It seems to calm him, just enough.

“I don’t know.” Heart pounding with terror and hope. The alupi should be bleeding out but he seems merely injured. Seems . “Rotting gods. We need to get him back to Domus Telimus.”

Eidhin gazes at the dead soldier. Closes his eyes. “Siollan was here for his Septimii, too. No different to me.”

“He was different because he had no option. You do .”

“Do I?” Eidhin finally looks at me. “You want me to come with you? How would me fighting beneath someone like Decimus be any better than this?”

“It wouldn’t be. Which is why I’m not asking you to. Gods, I intend to make sure Decimus sees justice and there is only one way that can happen.” I leave no doubt how serious I am about the last, that seething ice in my stomach back and focusing me again. “Your father has taken care of my going back, anyway; the Senate will think I’m a traitor soon enough. He probably thought it would force me to go with you. But there is another path.”

Eidhin frowns. “Which is?”

“We let this battle run its course without us, and use the enemy of our enemy to try and end the war.” I exhale. Can barely believe I’m saying it aloud, but this is the only way. “I think this whole conflict was started to disrupt the plans of the Concurrence, somehow. Princeps Exesius was working with someone. Ceding to them, along with the other two Princeps. It had to have been the man Veridius told us about. Ka. Not some unknowable force, Eidhin. A person . And a person can be negotiated with.”

Eidhin looks at me. “A person who wants to cause another Cataclysm, and kill you,” he eventually says disbelievingly. Clearly choosing, at least for now, to disregard what I said about the Princeps’s ceding in favour of my more pressing madness.

“But who for some reason didn’t want this war.” It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that fits with everything I know. “And is now short a Princeps.”

Silence.

“I know it sounds insane, but think about it,” I urge grimly. “I have a combination of things that none of these Quartii have. A family with a long Military tradition. A name big enough within the Senate to legitimise a claim. Popular support from Octavii and Septimii. Strong ties to Governance. I’m young, yes, but the pretenders have already thrown out tradition in order to favour strength as the only qualification, so, gods—if I can really threaten them, there’s a good chance I can get at least some to fall in line without bloodshed! And given what we know about Ka, a real threat is something he might just be able to provide.” I lick my lips. “I know it’s desperate but we are desperate, Eidhin. Ka won’t trust me. Probably will still aim to kill me, once I’ve served his purpose. But if he truly needs a return to stability for some reason—and given everything I’ve learned, I have to believe that he does—then I may actually be his best option. And that makes him ours.”

Eidhin runs a hand through his hair. Looking lost. “So to be clear: you want to go to the man who intends to destroy the world. Strike a deal to help him. Free my people. Become Princeps of Military. Bring an end to the civil war.”

“It’s ambitious,” I allow.

He grunts. “And then we stop him?”

“No, then we let him kill everyone.”

He glares. “Just making certain,” he mutters to my sarcasm. “And if all this man wants is for the Cataclysm to occur, and you—perhaps our only hope of preventing it—present yourself to him for a nice easy killing?”

“Then the inevitable just happens sooner, because we’re all dying anyway right now. Dying because greedy men want more . If you go out there, you will die. If I stay near Decimus, I will die. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but soon. And it will be for nothing .” I clench my fist. “Redivius. Decimus. Religion, Governance, Military, the Anguis. They’re burning the world, Eidhin, and they’re not stopping. If we let them, if all the good people end up dead, what’s even left worth saving?”

Eidhin gazes at the body across from us. Diago whines in pain, but is still, somehow, standing.

“Alright. Alright,” he says softly. Disbelievingly. “If this works, we rescue my people. If it doesn’t, then… well. I suppose everyone dies and it does not matter. So how do we make contact with him?”

I sigh. Let the metal mask form again.

“I stop hiding.”