Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(150)

Crassus nodded, and they started walking.

They hadn't gone twenty paces when the brightest dance of scarlet fire Tavi had yet seen in the glowering overcast rushed from one horizon to the other and back again, rippling back and forth like some vast and unthinkably swift wave.

"Crows," Tavi said softly, staring up at the display.

And then the night was torn with blinding white light and a wall of thunder that smashed against Tavi in a sonic tsunami, staggering him, almost robbing him of his balance. He managed to steady Crassus when the young man began to fall. It lasted for a bare heartbeat, then the thunderous sound vanished into a high-pitched ringing tone in his ears, while the flashing streak of light remained burned into his blinded eyes, shifting colors slowly against the blackness.

It took several moments for his eyes to readjust to the night, and even longer for his ears to stop ringing. His instincts screaming, he hurried forward as fast as he could, to return to the town and the legion's fortification there. Sir Crassus, his expression somewhat dazed, followed along.

Fires burned in the fortifications. Tavi could hear the screams of wounded men and terrified horses. There were shouts and cries all around them, and confusion ran rampant.

Tavi reached the captain's command tent and stopped in his tracks, stunned.

Where Cyril's command had been, there was now a great, gaping hole torn in the blackened earth. Fires burned in patches all around it. Bodies-and pieces of bodies-lay scattered in the ruins.

Overhead, the thunder from the unnatural storm rumbled in what sounded to Tavi like hungry anticipation.

"Scipio!" shouted a frantic voice, and Tavi turned to find Max running forward through the chaos.

"What happened?" Tavi asked, his voice shocked.

"Lightning." Max panted. He had lost half of one eyebrow, singed away by the head, and there were blisters on the skin of his forehead and along one cheekbone. "A crowbegotten wall of lightning. Came down like a hammer, not twenty feet away." Max stared at the ruins. "Right on top of the captain's meeting."

"Great furies," Tavi breathed.

"Foss and the healers are with some survivors, but it doesn't look good for them." He swallowed. "As far as we can tell, you're the only officer able to serve."

Tavi stared at Max. "What do you mean?"

Max looked at the results of the lightning strike grimly and said, "I mean that you are now in command of the First Aleran, Captain Scipio.'

Tavi threw down his bedroll and his regulation trunk in the smoldering ruins where Captain Cyril's command tent had been. "All right," he said to Foss, sitting down on the trunk. "Let's hear it."

"Captain's alive," Foss said. The veteran healer looked exhausted, and the grey in his hair and beard stood out more sharply than they had the day before. "Barely. Don't know if he'll ever wake up. Don't know how much use he's gonna have of his legs if he does."

Tavi grunted and worked on keeping his expression calm and remote. He wasn't sure how well he was doing it. Telling a lie to his aunt wasn't the same thing as pretending to be competent and confident when all he really wanted to do was run screaming and hide somewhere.

Around him, the Legion continued preparing to fight.

Screaming and hiding was not an option.

"First Spear should be on his feet in an hour or two," Foss continued. "Old Marcus got lucky. He was out getting more mugs for tea when it came down. Maximus was able to get to him, pull him out of the fire. He's got a few more scars from it."