Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(221)

"Right," Tavi said. "Crows take this rain. Without it, they'd still be waiting for the town to burn down. Without it, we could build a massive fire on the bridge and let it hold them off until daylight."

Max grunted. "What I wouldn't give for twenty or thirty Knights Ignus right now, instead of all those Aeris. Thousands of Canim, all trapped on that narrow bridge. With a solid bunch of Knights Ignus, we could turn those dogs into kindling."

An idea hit Tavi, so hard that the bowl tumbled from his suddenly numb fingers and shattered on the stone of the bridge.

"Calderon?" Max asked.

Tavi held up a hand, thinking furiously, forcing his weary mind to quicken and consider the notion, the possibilities.

It could work.

By crows and thunder, it could work.

"He told me," Tavi heard himself say in amazement. "He bloody well told me exactly where to hit them."

"Who did?" Max asked.

"Nasaug," Tavi said. He felt a sudden, wide grin stretch across his mouth. "Max, I've got to speak to the men," he said. "I want you to get your brother and every Knight Aeris we have to meet me outside the town gates. They'll need time to practice."

Max blinked. "Practice what?"

Tavi glared up at the heavy storm clouds with their chilling rain and scarlet lightning, while Canim howls drifted toward him from the enemy positions on the Elinarch. "An old Romanic trick."

"Are you sure this will work, Steadholder?" Giraldi asked quietly. The centurion had hauled the room's bed over to the side of the healing tub, and Isana now lay on it, her hand still bound to Fade's. His sword lay in its sheath along the length of her body.

Isana tightened the fingers of her other hand on the sword's hilt. "Yes." "Furycrafting in your sleep," Giraldi said. He didn't sound happy. "Sounds dangerous."

"Fade was able to make contact with me when I was in a state of near sleep," she said. "If I am asleep, as he is, I might reach him again."

"He isn't taking a nap, Steadholder," Giraldi said. "He's dying."

"All the more reason to make the attempt."

"Even if you do it," Giraldi said, "is it going to make a difference now? Even if he decides he wants to live, there's only so much that it can do for him."

"You don't know him like I do, ' Isana replied quietly. "He has more will than any man I've ever known. Save one, perhaps. "

"And if his will is to die?" Giraldi pressed. "I can't let that happen to you, Isana."

Isana felt her voice crackle with sudden fire. "Neither can he. He simply needs to be reminded of the fact." She turned to the centurion. "No interruptions."

Giraldi clenched his jaw and nodded once. "Luck."

Isana laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes, all the while still focused upon the crafting. She held on to that focus as hard as she could. Her exhaustion made war upon her concentration, but only for a brief, dizzying moment. And then...

And then she was back at Calderon. Back twenty years. Back at that terrible night.

This time, though, the dream was not her own.

She saw her younger self, hurrying through the night, rounded with pregnancy, gasping with pain. Her little sister Alia walked beside her, holding one of Isana's arms to steady her as they stumbled through the night. Araris walked with them, first before, then beside, then behind, his eyes sharp and glittering and everywhere.

In the distance, flashes of light against the night sky painted the outline of trees and hills upon Isana's vision, darkly dazzling. From here, the roar of clashing armies sounded like the sea crashing upon the shore at high tide, back where the Crown Legion pitted itself against the Marat horde.