First Lords Fury Page 0,103

defeated lizard fury rushed toward the tree. As steam gushed forth, Gaius Attis jerked his arm toward him again in that same, beckoning gesture, and the steam and fire both rushed back toward him, swirling around him, and again he screamed.

It hit Amara with a sudden shock - Gaius Attis was claiming new furies.

She dared not approach him, not in that seething cauldron of raw power. Even if Cirrus hadn't been loath to go near, she wouldn't have tried it. Claiming furies was a dangerous business. Claiming furies of such size was... was practically lunacy. The energies unleashed by a struggling fury could bake a man to bones, rip him to shreds, and Amara did not have Gaius Attis's formidable array of talents with which to insulate herself from harm.

Instead, she landed on a nearby rooftop, gathered Cirrus to her, and sent him forth in a farspeaking crafting. They only functioned in a direct line of sight, and she didn't know how badly the discharge of energies below would garble her message, but she could think of nothing else.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice urgent, "we've lost control of the local skies. Former Citizens are attacking the Citizens still attempting to aid the evacuation. It is imperative that you leave immediately."

Attis lifted his eyes and scanned the nearby rooftops until he spotted Amara. He grimaced and answered in a voice cut thin with strain. "A few moments more. I cannot permit these beings to run loose, Cursor. They'll leave this entire region uninhabitable for a thousand years."

"Don't be a bloody fool, Your Highness," Amara snarled back. "Without you, there might not be anyone left to inhabit it."

Attis snarled, his dark eyes smoldering for a moment with quite literal fire. "One doesn't just drop everything and walk away from a business like this, Countess. You may note the eleven rather large and irate furies trying to kill me at the moment."

"How long will it take you to disengage?"

Aquitaine gave a twitching shake of his head, then extended a hand toward the bull-shaped wood fury and ground his teeth. "Unknown," he said, his voice strained. "Not long. If there are any survivors out here when they are freed, they won't have a chance. If you would kindly cease jogging my elbow with this farspeaking..."

Amara grimaced and recalled Cirrus and sensed the presence coming at her back as a ribbon of ice laid over her spine. She didn't waste time looking back. She flung herself forward, off the five-story roof, and dropped like a rock.

The stone edging of the roof behind her exploded into a cloud of gravel. One stone struck her hard in the back, another in the thigh. She grimly focused through the pain, calling upon Cirrus to cushion her fall, spun her body in midair, and, supported by the fury, landed in a catlike crouch. She leapt forward into a rolling dive, and an instant later a heavy boot slammed down onto the surface of the plaza with enough force to send cracks through the stone for ten feet in every direction.

Amara drew her sword even as she came to her feet and raised it to a high guard position. She found Cantus Macio staring at her with blank eyes.

"Macio," she said, her voice shaking. "Hello. Do you remember me? From the Academy? Amara?"

He tilted his head, watching her.

Then he lifted his hand, and fire rushed at her in a swirling vortex.

Amara called to Cirrus, raising a wall of wind to stop the onrushing fire, but Macio was simply far more powerful than she. The rush of wind shoved back against her with tremendous force as it tried to slow the onrushing firestorm, and Amara found herself tossed back like a leaf.

Rather than fighting the motion, she spun into it, calling out to Cirrus again to take to the air - only to see the shimmer of something moving behind a windcrafted veil, and to feel a shock of stunning pain as an unseen fist slammed into her jaw.

Amara staggered, her concentration upon maintaining flight shattered, and tumbled down. Fortunately, she'd had little time to gather altitude or speed, but even so, her landing upon the hard stone of the plaza was an acutely painful experience. Training let her turn her motion into a rolling one, but it still slammed her limbs brutally. Her weapon was knocked clear of her hand, and she counted herself lucky not to have wound up impaled on it.

She struggled to push herself up, panicked.

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