“That would be stupid,” Isabella said. “One of the less-experienced units would make more sense.” I opened my mouth in fury and she cut me off. “But, if you did send us, we would go because that's a strategy that makes sense.”
“I won't use my people that way,” I said.
Vitale arrived with the tea and we all paused to sip and glower at each other.
“We should split up the army,” Giovanni said. “Divide it up into its units and have each one make its own way to Cuore. If we keep the Lupi together, one bad skirmish could wipe out the entire army.”
“The whole purpose of this,” I said through clenched teeth, “is to get them to divide their forces. You want us to make the same mistake?”
“Our strength is in numbers?” Giovanni taunted.
“Don't compare me to Beneto,” I said. “If anyone here is acting like Beneto, it's you. He viewed our lives as worthless, and you're acting as if you see them the same way.”
“That's not true and you know it,” Giovanni said. “You act as if you don't trust your own seconds.”
I ducked my head to take a sip of tea, and Giovanni slammed his own tea down. “That's it, isn't it? You don't trust your seconds to lead the units up to Cuore without you.”
My face was hot; I wished Isabella, at least, were somewhere else. “Half of the commanders can't even divide up the undesirable chores without a brawl erupting.”
“But most of their fights are with other units,” Giovanni said. “They get on well within each unit.”
I glanced toward Felice, who hurriedly set down his tea. “I agree with Eliana,” he said.
“About what, exactly?” Giovanni said.
“I think we should keep the Lupi together,” Felice said. “As for Pluma—maybe it would help if we had some additional intelligence. The best information we've gotten in months was in those letters Demetrio had in his study. We need to know where the winds are blowing now—whether the residents of Pluma will support us or fight against us, whether people view our cause as just or cursed.” Felice picked his tea back up. “Send Camilla, me, and maybe Tomas up to Pluma. I can talk to the reformers there and we can bring back some current information. If we ride, we could be there and back in less than two weeks; the food will hold out that long. Meanwhile, you can move the Lupi toward the center of Verdia, where you can strike out toward Pluma if you decide that's best.”
I looked around the tent. Giovanni reluctantly nodded. “More information might help us.”
Isabella was still glaring at me. “It won't change the fact that it's a bad idea to keep the Lupi together.”
“We'll send Felice, Camilla, and Tomas,” I said. “We can discuss this again when they get back.” I turned to Felice. “You'll leave at dawn.”
∗ ∗ ∗
We moved the Lupi, along with our newest recruits from that last camp, to the edge of the wasteland while our scouts were gone. They returned well fed but not terribly well rested. Camilla brought back a small sack of apples, which I shared out among all of us as she gave her report. They were crisp and sweet; I savored my portion and licked the last of the juice from my fingers.
“They're singing your songs,” Camilla said with a wry grin. “Tomas and I went around to different taverns, trying to get a sense of how people felt about the Lupi. They're singing Lia's ballads everywhere.”
“During the war with Vesuvia, there was a battle outside Pluma,” Tomas said. “Things don't grow well there; in a sense, they're in their own little wasteland. They definitely know about the Circle's secret now, and they're angry.”
“And they like you,” Camilla said.
“That's good news,” I said. At least it was good news for me; Giovanni didn't look quite so pleased.
“What did you learn from the reformers?” Giovanni asked Felice.
“Apparently the Circle has almost entirely withdrawn to Cuore,” Felice said. “The reformers believe that the Circle is planning to sit tight and wait to see just what the Lupi do. If you want to strike at a large target like Pluma, there's no better time.”
Giovanni scowled. “What did Cilo think?”
“Cilo agrees that the timing is right for the Lupi to strike out of the wasteland.”
“I don't believe it,” Giovanni said. “Cilo never thinks it's the right time to act.”
Felice gave him a sheepish grin. “Well, I was doing a little interpretation, because you're right, of course. But he sounded more positive about action than I've ever heard before—and coming from Cilo, that's really something.”
Giovanni sighed deeply, out of arguments.
“What about those letters?” Isabella asked. “Last we heard, the Circle was planning to pounce on us as soon as we left the wasteland, because they couldn't hit us while we stayed down here. What happened to that plan?”
“I couldn't tell you,” Felice said. “I don't think the reformers know. But for now at least, they've pulled back to Cuore.”
“We leave the day after tomorrow,” I said.
∗ ∗ ∗
It didn't quite happen that way. The next morning, there was an outbreak of dysentery among the Lupi. It had started with the weakened refugees from that last camp. Many of them were already ill when we freed them. The morning after Felice, Camilla, and Tomas returned, scores more fell sick, and by morning on the day we'd planned to ride out, half my army was seriously ill. There isn't much you can do for dysentery but wait it out. Most of the Lupi were reasonably healthy after a summer of constant travel and reasonable rations, so I expected most to pull through, but an army that's up to its knees in runny shit is not exactly a fit fighting force. We'd have to wait until the worst of the illness was past.
I was not among the ones taken ill; I've always had a stomach of cast iron. Giovanni apparently did too, as he also stayed healthy. Lucia was struck down, though, and I spent a few days nursing her, giving her sips of cooled tea in between bullying the healthy Lupi into digging fresh latrines and covering over the filthy ones. We lost about two weeks to the illness. I'd have waited longer, but I'd seen our food stores and knew that we were almost out of time.
Still, as a concession to Giovanni's fears, as well as to the weakness of some of the Lupi who were only just beginning to recover, I left a detachment behind in the wasteland, under Tomas's leadership. This made an excellent excuse to keep Vitale, the youngest of the Lupi, out of danger. I decided that Felice could stay there, too. Though he had been a surprisingly patient teacher, and useful in councils, he had yet to make himself useful during an actual battle. And he'd had a particularly bad case of dysentery. The wasteland detachment could join us in Pluma once we'd secured the town, and at Giovanni's insistence, I agreed that we'd discuss dividing our army at that point. I wanted my troops to have a real victory under their belt, a real accomplishment. After two weeks shitting in the mud, we needed something to lift morale.
As we rode north, the land came back to life even as the plants were dying for the winter. The weeds were brown, the flowers gone to seed; we could let the horses forage now, which eased the burden on our food stores a great deal. The Lupi stared open-mouthed at the climbing weeds, the thistles, the last of the autumn wildflowers. I told myself that I remembered what grass and flowers looked like, but I couldn't help staring at the creeping bug that startled me, crawling up my leg during dinner.
The first night we slept in a meadow again, Lucia celebrated a special Mass, leading us all in the dance to celebrate the fertility of the land. It was danced in the spring planting season, she said, and at the harvest. It seemed appropriate. I thought about asking her for a dance to ask God to hold off the coming of real winter; I desperately hoped we could be done with what we were doing by the time winter came, although I was doubtful about our chances. Camping in our flimsy tents on bitter winter nights could easily kill half our army without the Circle Guard ever taking a shot at us. If we needed to, we could send people off to the resettled towns, but I feared that the Circle w
ould hunt us down over the winter months—and if they didn't, people would grow comfortable, reluctant to leave their new homes and families in the spring.
We moved a little slowly the first full day back in green Verdia, staring at the trees and the bugs and the sparrows. We let our horses forage, and cut some real tent poles. I called a halt early in the day to let people relax a little, and sat down under a tree to practice my violin, with Michel standing watch nearby. Just as I started to unlace the ties of my violin case, I heard hooves crashing through the brush. I looked up to see Vitale throw himself off the horse.
“Generale Eliana,” Vitale gasped. “Tomas sent me.” He struggled for breath to speak.
I put my hand on his shoulder, glancing past him. “Get Giovanni and Lucia,” I ordered one of my soldiers, but only Giovanni appeared in time to hear Vitale's message.
“Felice. Is he here? Have you seen him?”
I shook my head. “No. I haven't seen him. He was supposed to stay with Tomas.”
“He's gone. He took a horse and disappeared.”
It took a moment for this to sink in. “Why? Did he have a fight with someone?” I asked, but that was ridiculous. Except for that first day, Felice got along with pretty much everybody.
“No. No one. He spoke to no one—took the fastest horse—” Vitale was white, staring at our faces. “Don't you get it? Tomas said—he said—he's gone to the Circle. He must have gone to the Circle. Once he knew our plans—”
“Impossible,” Giovanni said, but his face had gone pale. “Felice knew the password; he'd met Cilo—”
“Your bloody password! Giovanni, if he was a spy, what could he know, what could he tell them …”
“We have to retreat,” he said. “Get back to the wasteland now. Eliana. Trust me on this one—”
And I would have, but that was when the fires came down.
I grabbed for my whistle, blew retreat, retreat, retreat. The first wave had not hit the area nearest me, but I could see flames rising from farther in the woods. White sparks streamed toward the sky like fleeing stars and I heard screams of agony. “Oh my God,” I said. “Lucia. Lucia.”
Giovanni took off at a run—I didn't see to where, but I stood frozen for a moment next to the still-gasping Vitale, looking around uselessly. I turned, and in the twilight, I could see a handful of figures on the hill behind us, clasping hands, silhouetted against the darkening sky and the bright burning forest. I counted. Five mages—that was all it took. Five of them. As I watched, they turned toward us, scanning the field we'd camped in. Michel grabbed me, whirling me so that he stood between me and the mages, as if he meant to shelter me with his own body if he could.
Over my head, I saw the fire spring into life like a billowing gold cloud. The color darkened to red, and the cloud slowly unrolled. As the edge of the cloud touched the tops of the trees, they burst into bright white flames. The cloud of fire paused for a moment, and I could almost feel the mages taking a collective deep breath. Then the flames flashed down toward me and I closed my eyes tightly, knowing that in an instant I would feel my flesh burning around me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I heard a child's cry of agony and opened my eyes to see Vitale consumed in flames. “No,” I screamed, and tried to move toward him, but Michel was still holding me, more out of fear than protection. I stared down at his hands and mine, whole and unburned. Vitale's scream ended as his body crumbled into ash.
The woods were flaming around me; the very air seemed to have turned to pulsing fire. Yet even the grass I stood on was untouched. I turned, dragging Michel around after me, and stared at the hill. At first I could see nothing but the fire, but as it burned everything there was to consume, I saw that one mage stood with arms outstretched to the sky—in summoning, not in supplication. Even with the flames to provide light, the face was shadowed, but I knew with cold certainty who it was. She was protecting me. Even as she killed everyone around me. Killed Vitale. Killed Lucia. My hands moved to cross myself. Oh, God, spare Lucia.
Michel still stood with his arms around me, protected by my nearness. At least I could save Michel. As the flames died down to rolling waves at our feet and then faded to nothing, I dragged him through the blackened field with me. Remembering my whistle, I blew retreat again and again, though the Lupi in the outer ring that had not been blasted in the first attack were already fleeing as fast as they could.
Five mages. How many mages sat in the Circle? Nearly two hundred? Yet our entire army fell to five. Yes, it was an ambush, but five mages. What were we thinking? What was I thinking? I knew what mages could do. Of all the people here, I should have known what mages could do. How could I possibly have thought we could face them?
God wants us to win, so we will. Somehow. Lucia's words rang in my ears. I had held on to those words through all these months, letting the easy victories against isolated, demoralized soldiers fool me into thinking we could win this war. All those people dead. Vitale, dead. And it was my fault; I had led them here, and because of me, they had died.
I should have never trusted Felice, or the information he brought back from Pluma. I should have taken Giovanni's advice and split up the army. It was my fault. Michel sobbed into my shoulder as we walked. If I'd reached for Vitale, if I'd tried to protect him as Michel had tried to protect me, he would have lived as well.
It wasn't until we had almost reached the wasteland that I realized the one other thing I had brought with me, still slung over my shoulder: my violin.
And so we returned to the wasteland, defeated, to take stock of who was left.
Giovanni, of course, had survived. Somehow I had expected to see him greet me at the edge of the campsite, grim and bitter and still pale with fear. He blamed himself for trusting Felice, and he blamed me for refusing to divide the army. Michel had survived with me shielding his body. Isabella had come through untouched as well, and had brought two of her own out with her.
Rafi, who had urged me to disband the Lupi because I had no way to fight magefire, was dead. Camilla the scout leader—dead. Martido and Fiora, the irritating couple that had quarreled over the bracelet—both dead. Perhaps half of those who had been in the woods that night survived, and I was amazed that it was that many.
My grief over the people we'd lost, and my fear for Lucia who was still missing, alternated with bitter, gut-twisting anger. How could she, I thought, again and again, as I sat alone at the north end of our makeshift camp, watching the road to see who returned. All these months, though I knew Mira was with the Circle, I had thought of her as their slave, as the Lupi had been their slaves. They had forced her to do magery; they had dragged her back to Cuore. Surely—I had thought— surely, she would never truly serve them again. But I knew that Mira had been the focus that night. She was the only reason I was still alive.
Lucia. Please, God, I prayed. Bring Lucia back to me.
It took two days for the survivors to straggle back to our makeshift camp. Some of them greeted me as they arrived; others wouldn't look me in the eye. I hardly cared. I'll do anything you want, God, I prayed, again and again. I knelt and whispered the words out loud, when no one was nearby. Anything. Just let Lucia return alive. She's the only one I have left.
At the very end of the second day, I saw one person straggling down the road, limping and alone. I shaded my eyes, then started walking toward her, then running.
Lucia caught me in a tight hug. “You're alive,” I said into her hair as I pressed my face against her shoulder.
“Yes,” she said, and embraced me for a long moment. Finally she whispered, “Eliana, I have a message for you. I think it's God's will that you relinquish control of the Lupi to Giovanni.”
I went from relief to anger. “Because I was wrong about dividing the Lupi?”
“No,” Lucia said. “Because what you want, more than anything, is to protect your people. But we can't fight this war that way. Giovanni understands that. You do, too, but you can't do it without destroy
ing yourself.” She stared into my face, her eyes bearing into mine. “Eliana. You have to give the army to Giovanni.”
“What am I going to do if I'm not leading?” Not that I really knew what to do now; how could I rally the troops, tell them we could fight and win, when I no longer believed it myself?
“There will be something,” Lucia said. “Please, believe me. I know. There will be something. Trust in God.”
I had made a promise. I'll do anything, God, just let Lucia return alive. Was this the price? “All right,” I said. “I'll go tell Giovanni that he's in charge.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Giovanni didn't gloat; in fact, he looked almost shattered, but he quickly agreed that I was probably right. I went to tell each of the surviving seconds that they would report to Giovanni now. We had always theoretically been equals, but everyone knew who was really in charge. I didn't find Isabella right away; Michel had seen her leave the camp, walking into the wasteland. I followed in the direction he pointed, and saw her as I came around the edge of a hill. She didn't see me; her eyes were closed as she knelt, her arms upraised. I had never been quite sure of Isabella's beliefs, but this was the posture to pray to the Lady. I held back a moment and watched.
Isabella was speaking, but too quietly for me to hear. I could see tears glint on her cheeks. Then she pulled a small sachet from a string around her neck. My mother wore one of those; it held a lock of hair cut from each of her children, even the two who had died. All mothers kept them, to bless and pray for their children when they were distant. It was one of the oldest traditions given by the Lady to Gaius.
As I watched, Isabella unlaced the pouch, took out a lock of dark, soft hair, and laid it on a rock. With a flint and steel and a bit of tinder, she set fire to the hair. I smelled the acrid smoke from where I stood, and choked back a cough. Isabella watched the smoldering ash for a moment.
“Now,” she said. “Now you are truly dead to me.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. Then she crossed herself, and I heard her mutter, “God forgive me.”
I should not have seen this. I would talk to her later, I decided, and slipped away.
Turning the Storm Page 5