Princeps’ Fury

ground, then went up the stairs with Varg and Anag.

They passed the second floor, evidently quarters for whoever had lived there. They were as silent and as empty as the lower floor had been. The stairs continued on up to the building’s roof.

Even that space was practical. Long stone troughs were filled with rich, dark earth. A great many vegetables could be planted there during what was sure to be a short summer, to take maximum advantage of the sunshine. A winch-and-pulley rig beside a large bucket at the roof’s edge indicated that irrigating the rooftop gardens would be taxing, but not impossible.

It wasn’t the same as an Aleran steadholt, but the practical, conservative thought behind its design was no different. Tavi felt oddly comfortable there.

Anag and Varg walked to the western edge of the roof and stood staring out for a time. Tavi followed, hopping up onto one of the stone planting troughs to put his head on a level with theirs.

Perhaps two miles to the west, as the ground rose gently, the green glow of growing croach was visible through the sparse trees.

Anag snarled in pure, quiet hate.

Varg glanced aside at Tavi. “How fast does it grow?”

“From what I read in Lararl’s study, it depends on several things-temperature, weather, how much plant cover is on the ground, as well as how large it already is.” Tavi shook his head. “Maybe other things we don’t know about. And the bloody wax spiders spread it when they want to cover a new area, too.”

“Not far,” Anag growled quietly. “It was not growing until the Vord emerged.”

“He’s right,” Tavi said. “A mile, two at the most. We’re near their hole. Though I’ll wager that we probably passed dozens of smaller patches today in the daylight, without seeing them. They set them up like outposts.”

“More like spreading seeds,” Varg rumbled.

Tavi gave the big Cane a sharp glance and nodded.

“Then it is possible that we have been observed,” Anag said.

“Probable,” Varg corrected him.

“If so, then why have they not attacked us?”

“Because they don’t care,” Tavi said, smiling slightly. “We’re fewer than a dozen, after all. What threat could we be? We’re not in a position to hurt them from here-and if we approach closely enough to do something that might inconvenience them, we’ll have to cross the croach to do it. That will warn them in plenty of time to act.”

Anag’s tail thrashed left and right. “Then how shall we find and kill this queen creature? We can’t even be sure where she is.”

Varg tapped his skull.

“Warmaster?”

The older Cane growled, the sound amused. “Explain it to him, please, Tavar.”

“Unlike Lararl,” Tavi said, “the Vord queen doesn’t have a trusted subordinate she can leave to secure vital rear areas-like the mouth of that tunnel. Without her to control them, the Vord aren’t nearly as effective-but as long as the tunnel back to the area they already control stays open, she can throw away as many unguided troops as your warriors can kill. She’ll always have more to draw upon. If the tunnel is shut, the Vord are cut off from reinforcements and supplies.”

“She must protect it at all costs,” Varg rumbled, ears flicking in agreement. “We will find her there.”

“She will be strongly guarded,” Anag said. “And she will seek to avoid us.”

“Without question,” Varg said.

“And more Vord will be pouring in through the hole in a constant stream.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Anag nodded. “Then we must fight through her guard, and all those nearby Vord, and any others she can call to her once we reach the edge of the croach and alert them of our presence. We are few. Can it be done?”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Tavi said, “let’s not find out.”

* * *

They waited for three hours, until night was fully on the land. While the Hunters kept watch, the others took what rest they could, until the evening was mature, and the half-frozen rain that had fallen every other evening had begun to speckle the night. Then the group set out on foot through the sleet and darkness toward the glowing beacon of the croach.

“I’m going to catch a cold,” Max muttered. “These cloaks soak up water like towels.”

“That’s because they are towels, Max,” Tavi answered in a low voice. “The Vord sense the heat of our bodies at night. These cloaks are going to hold cold water, help hide us from them.”

Max gave Tavi a sour look. “I’m going to have rusty armor. Are you sure this works?”

“I’ve done it,” Tavi said with perfect confidence.

“But does it work?”

One of the Hunters turned to them and bared his teeth in pure threat.

Max muttered something under his breath, about someone smelling like wet dog, but subsided into silence.

They reached the edge of the croach, and Tavi shivered. The tall, dark forms of the Canim were just as threatening as the eerie landscape. The croach looked just as it had before, a coating like the drippings from an unimaginable number of candles, covering ground and stones and trees with a faintly luminous green sheathing. It spread out before them, nightmarishly beautiful, unsettling, and alien.

Nothing moved within-but that meant little. The Vord could hide dozens of their number virtually in plain sight upon the croach, and have them go as undetected as anything hidden by a windcrafter’s veil.

Tavi signaled Kitai with a motion of his hand, and the two of them moved up to the edge of the croach. Tavi crouched close to the ground to examine it, frowning. He beckoned Kitai, who ghosted over to his side, her green eyes shadowed inside her damp cloak, watching the spectral-lit forest steadily.

“Look,” Tavi whispered. “The croach. It’s thicker here than it was in the Wax Forest.”

She bent down and examined it quickly before returning to watching the forest before them. “You’re right. But why?”

Tavi pursed his lips, and frowned. “The Vord here have modeled themselves after the Canim. Each one is larger, and much heavier, but not quite as big as a Cane. The croach is growing thicker, maybe so that it won’t break under the weight of the Vord-just under that of a Cane.” He looked up at Kitai. “That’s one of the things the croach is designed for. It’s a kind of watchman. The Vord can alter their forms. They must alter the croach to be able to better serve their needs.”

Kitai regarded him steadily. Then she nodded, and said, “Then let us test it.”

Before Tavi could protest, she had prowled out onto the surface of the croach.

Tavi held his breath.

Kitai’s feet did not break the surface, though it sank slightly beneath her weight, and slowly restored itself to its original shape after she had passed. She took a dozen steps, body crouched, her bright eyes watching the forest, and returned to Tavi’s side.

“Your turn,” she whispered.

Tavi eyed her. But then he rose and tested the surface of the croach beneath his shoes, glad that he had opted for the lighter pair rather than his heavy, hob-nailed infantry boots. The surface of the croach had a bit of give to it, and almost seemed to push up against his feet as he stepped away from it, something like a furycrafted causeway did, if far more weakly. Tavi signaled Max and Durias to come forward, and the two men did. Max, like Tavi, had worn lighter riding boots, but Durias had nothing but his infantry footwear. He grimaced and began taking them off, and stepped out onto the croach in his bare feet a moment later.