"No," Bernard said. "You're going to see to her. Now."
Gaius's head snapped around. "Excuse me?"
"She's hurt," Bernard said. "She might be dying. Fix it."
"You have no idea," Gaius said from between clenched teeth. "No idea what is at stake."
Her husband faced the First Lord without flinching. "Yes, I do." His eyes hardened. "The life of a woman who was willing to sacrifice everything to get you here. You've planned enough pain for her already, Sextus. Or maybe you think it would be easier to let her die."
Wind whispered over the stones for several empty seconds.
Then Gaius was at her side. He leaned down and laid his hand on her forehead. His fingers were long, rough, and fever-hot. He murmured, quietly, "I'm sorry for what is to come, Amara."
Fire engulfed the entire right side of her body. She felt herself contort strangely, saw the shape of her abdomen alter, watched as her arm straightened, unwinding as it went, almost like a twisted cord. The pain was indescribable, but there was a sensation of silvery ecstasy mixed with it that left her unable to move or cry out. She could only weep, and the stars blurred upon her tears, mixing with the lights of the city below.
There was a roar of wind, the thrum of Bernard's bow, and a horrible, wet sound of impact.
Gaius lifted his hand away from her and rose. "Keep them off me, Count."
"Aye, my lord," Bernard growled, taking position standing over Amara, his bow in hand.
Amara could do nothing but watch as the First Lord stared at the distant fire-mountain and raised his hand.
There was another roaring sound, a windstream, and Bernard loosed another arrow, drawing a scream. Armor clattered against the stones as a Knight Aeris in full gear crashed to the mountainside and slid along it in a bone-breaking tumble, sparks leaping up in his wake where steel armor met stone.
She wasn't sure how long it went on, before the pain began to fade somewhat and she found herself able slowly to sit up-but her husband now stood with his last arrow against the string of his bow, staring up at the night sky with dull, exhausted eyes.
The First Lord let out a sudden sigh, closing his eyes. "Crows take you, Brencis. At least your son had wisdom enough to know when he was beaten. Crows take you and rip out your eyes for forcing me to this."
And then Gaius Sextus suddenly closed his reaching hand into a fist and jerked it back, as if snapping a particularly tough cord.
The night went red.
Blinding light flared from the distant mountain.
It took Amara several dull, thudding seconds to realize what she was seeing.
Fire erupted from the mountain, white-hot, lifting in a great geyser that rose miles into the air. That first rush of blinding liquid flame spattered out for what had to be miles and miles in every direction around the mountain and only then did the earth suddenly move, the mountain jumping as if it had been an old wagon hitting a pothole in a bad road. Rocks fell. Somewhere nearby, a cliff-side collapsed in a deafening roar.
Amara couldn't take her eyes from what was happening below. The mountain itself began to spew out a great cloud of what looked like grey powder, illuminated from within by scarlet light. The cloud billowed out in slow, graceful beauty-or so it looked from the distance. She watched as it rolled down over the valley of Kalare. It washed over the poinpoint lights of the little steadholts. It devoured the larger clusters of lights marking the little towns and villages around the valley.
And, within moments, it washed over the city of Kalare itself.
Amara could not help herself. She lifted her hands, tiredly willing Cirrus into a sight-crafting. The grey cloud was not simply ash, as she had at first thought. It was... as if fire had been made into one vast thunderhead. Whatever was caught in the path of that scarlet-limned grey flood was instantly incinerated by its touch. She saw, just barely, small moving shadows flying before the oncoming inferno, but if the cloud moved with lazy grace, those tiny figures-those Alerans, she realized-moved at a snail's pace. She herself, one of the fastest fliers in Alera, could not have outpaced that incendiary nebula. Those holders had no chance. None at all.
She stared at the valley below them in numb shock, as more jolts and tremors rattled the mountain beneath her. How many thousands-tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people had just died? How many families, sleeping in their beds, had just been reduced to ashes? How many children had just been burned alive? How many homes, how many stories, how many beloved faces and names had just been incinerated like so much useless garbage?
Amara knelt there beside her husband and witnessed the death of Kalare- of its city, its people, its lands, and its lord.
A vast cloud of steam rose as the watery valley surrendered to the embrace of the fire-mountain, and their view of that steam vanished as dust from the rockslides and tremors rose up around them, creating a thick shroud that blotted away the stars.
There was still light, though. Light from the blazing mountain and from the burning corpse of the city of Kalare painted everything in a surreal, scarlet twilight.
Only after their view of the valley had been obscured did Gaius Sextus turn away. His gaze slid past Bernard and found Amara. He walked over to her with slow, heavy steps, and faced her, his expression a mask, his eyes showing nothing.
"Had I waited for Kalarus to loose it, Countess," he said quietly, "it would have been worse. Refugees fleeing the front lines would have been forced into the city and doubled the numbers there. Our own legionares would have been there. Died there." He sought her eyes, and spoke very quietly. "It would have been worse."
Amara stared at the weary First Lord.
She pushed herself slowly to her feet.
She reached up and found the slender chain around her neck. She wore two ornaments upon it. The first was Bernard's Legion ring, worn there in secret testimony to their marriage.
The second was a simple silver bull, the most common coin in the Realm, marked with Gaius's profile on one side. It was the symbol and badge of office of a Cursor of the Realm.
Amara grasped the ring in one hand.
With the other, she tore the coin and chain from her throat, and cast them into Gaius's face.
The First Lord didn't flinch.
His eyes became more sunken.
Amara turned and walked away.
"Go with your wife, Count," Gaius said softly, somewhere behind her. "Take care of her for me."
Chapter 49
The Senator's thugs, Isana thought, lacked refinement. She had expected to be bound, of course, but they could at least have found a clean cloth with which to hood her.