Cursor's Fury (Codex Alera #3)(248)



"One cohort?" Marcus asked.

Tavi nodded. "If the plan works, one cohort will be enough. If it doesn't, we should be able to hold the Canim off long enough for the engineers to finish."

Marcus took a slow breath. The First Spear understood the implications.

"I'm going to ask for volunteers," Tavi said quietly.

"You'll get them," Marcus said. "But I don't see why we shouldn't hit them at first light, cut the bridge, and call it a day."

"If we lose the bridge, they'll be able to secure their entire northern front with just a few of their troops, and the rest of them will be free to kill Alerans elsewhere. As long as the bridge is up, we'll be able to put Legions into the territory south of the bridge, and they won't dare divide their forces." Tavi narrowed his eyes. "This is our job, Marcus. It isn't a pretty one, but I can't just hand it to someone else."

There was a quality of frustration to Marcus's grunt of acknowledgment.

"I'll hold the volunteers back to rest until we push. The rest of First Aleran is at your disposal, as are our Knights Flora."

"All six of them." Marcus sighed.

"Tell them to keep their heads down. If those marksmen start up again, they're going to be your only chance to counter them."

"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs, sir," Marcus muttered.

Tavi snorted and turned to the First Spear. "You've got to hold them, Marcus. At any cost."

Marcus let out a slow breath. "Yes, sir." He stared at the night for a moment before he said, "Offer you a suggestion, sir?"

"Go ahead," Tavi said.

"Don't split up a cohort when you get your volunteers. These men know each other. Trained together. It makes a difference."

Tavi frowned. "I won't take anyone with me who doesn't want to go."

"Then make sure men who are willing to die for you have every chance to survive. You owe them that."

Tavi arched an eyebrow. "Three hundred and twenty men, all volunteering together? How likely is that?"

Marcus gave him a sidelong look, and said, "Sir. It's the infantry."

Three cohorts volunteered to spearhead the attack.

Tavi had them draw lots. By the time the Canim renewed their assault, he stood at the north end of the Elinarch with the winners. Or, he thought, the losers. Depending on whether or not his idea worked.

His heart skipped a few beats, but he sternly ordered it back to work.

"Sir," Schultz said, "when Antillar Maximus was our centurion, he was senior centurion in this cohort, and his century was first century. But I'm only an acting centurion, sir. I don't have the seniority to command first century, much less the cohort."

Tavi glanced at the fish. "I've spoken to the other centurions. They agree that you know what you're doing, Schultz, and that your century is still the best disciplined. So you're senior centurion until I tell you you're not. Do you hear me, soldier?"

"Yes, sir," Schultz responded at once.

"Good," Tavi said.

A roar went up from the legionares on the last wall, and every man in the spearhead cohort looked suddenly tense. Canim horns blared, and heavy drums rolled, and the screaming roar of combat came down to the town as the rest of the Legion battled the Canim on the bridge.

Tavi listened for two minutes before seeing the signal on the wall, a blue banner lifted beside the Legion's standard.

"Good call, Captain," Max observed, his voice amused. He walked forward from the rear of the cohort, buckling on the much-longer sword preferred by duelists and mounted legionares. "They did what you thought they would. They're hitting us with their raiders."

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