Octavian gave him a wolfish smile. "Well, Sir Callum. It appears that some blackhearted villains destroyed the vord's food storehouse at Riva, then proceeded to burn out the croach that was supposed to be their supply line."
Another rumble of laughter went around the group.
"As a result, there are more than a million vord thirty miles east of here, at the site of an old steadholt called Aricholt. They're completely motionless - asleep, in some kind of hibernation."
"How do you know this?" Varg asked.
"Sorcery."
Varg eyed Octavian, an expression far more intimidating on a Cane's face than an Aleran's, then flicked his ears in acknowledgment.
Marok let out a thoughtful growl. "Some of my monastic brethren once pursued similar disciplines. If the vord can do that, they will not need as much food to survive."
Octavian nodded. "I think they must be the vord reserves. And I think the vord Queen will be nearby." He looked around the circle. "Gentlemen, we are going to come down on them in force and annihilate them."
Silence fell on the circle.
"Sir," Sir Callum said slowly. "Attack a million with... sir, that's... the odds are..."
"Twenty-five to one," Varg said quietly.
"Shall we wait for them to wake up and come to us?" Octavian asked, his mouth spread in a wide, confident grin. "No, Sir Callum. The time for being cautious is long past."
"What if they wake up?" Callum asked.
"What if they don't?" Octavian countered. "What if the vord never need them? What if we do nothing while the vord at Garrision overwhelm the Legions?"
Callum frowned and bowed his head. Then he nodded.
"We're going to hit them as fast and as hard as we can," Octavian continued. "And we're going to inflict a crowbegotten lot of harm on them. While that's happening, I will lead a strike team after the Queen. As the most experienced Aleran present, Valiar Marcus will be in command once I am gone."
Fidelias felt his stomach drop out. He began to say something, but Octavian shot him a level look, and he subsided.
"Varg will be his second," Octavian continued. "Our objective is to eliminate the vord reserves at Aricholt, then fortify our position. Questions?"
No one spoke.
"All right, then, gentlemen," Octavian said, smiling. "Let's get to work. Oh, Master Marok. Would you be willing to speak with me privately for a moment? Thank you."
Fidelias watched the assembly break up as the captain moved over to one side, speaking quietly with Marok. The Cane listened and made short replies. He nodded once, then he and the captain exchanged bows.
The captain strode over to him after speaking to Marok. "Marcus," he said.
"That's me."
Octavian's mouth tugged up at the corner. "With any luck," he said, "I'll be busy elsewhere once the music starts."
"I heard," Fidelias said.
"I'm not going to ask you if you can handle it. I'm telling you that you bloody well will handle it."
"Yes, sir."
Octavian nodded, and said, "We're going all out. Maximum damage to the enemy. Everyone, everyone, including me, is to be considered expendable." He looked back down the column. Hundreds of men and Canim were visible even within the ritualists' concealing mist. There was pain in his eyes. "We can't let the Queen escape us. And we can't allow those reserves to be used against Garrison. No matter the cost."
"I understand, Captain," Fidelias said quietly. "I'll get it done."
Tavi rode at the head of the column the rest of the way to the engagement. Moving down the causeway, it took them a little more than an hour to make the trip, and his mouth was dry the whole time, no matter how many times he drank from his water flask. Scouts and outriders reported infrequent contact with the enemy. They wouldn't have been able to see much - the host was still riding veiled beneath Master Marok's misty cloud. Of course, the reverse also held true. It was difficult for the host to see out. They had to rely heavily upon their scouts to be their eyes and ears.
They turned off the causeway to cover the last three or four miles to Aricholt upon a nonfurycrafted road. In the darkness, the ride was an eerie one. Vord cries drifted up and down the valley. Garrison was only another half an hour or so away upon the causeway, but that was plenty of distance to muffle all but the most piercing cries of the vord, who must have been laying siege to the place. The distant crackles and