"We don't have to do that," Amara said. "All we really need to do is destroy the croach. If our guess is right, that will smother them all, sooner or later."
"If you're right," Bernard said, "then they will fight like mad to protect it."
Amara nodded. "Then we need to know what we're likely to face there. These wax spiders. What kind of threat are they?"
"Poison bite," Doroga said. "About the size of a small wolf. Bad enough, but nothing like these things." He nudged the shattered, flattened shell of a crushed vord with his foot.
"Do you think an armored legionare would be able to handle one?" Amara asked.
Doroga nodded. "Metal skin would stop Keeper fangs. Without the bite, they aren't much."
"That leaves the warriors," Amara said. She glanced around the courtyard. "Which are slightly more formidable."
"Not if we have the initiative," Bernard said. "Giraldi's century stood them off pretty well, working together."
"Yes," Doroga said, nodding. "Impressive. You people must get bored stupid practicing for that kind of fight, close together."
Bernard grinned. "Yes. But it's worth it."
"I saw," Doroga said. "We should think about going in at night. Keepers were always slowest then. Maybe the other vord are the same way."
"Night attacks," Bernard said. "Dangerous business. A lot can go wrong."
"What about their queen?" Amara asked. "Doroga, did you fight the queen at the nest you destroyed?"
Doroga nodded. "Queen was holed up under a big tangle of fallen trees with two queen whelps. Too many warriors guarding her for us to go in. So Hashat fired the trees and we killed everything as it came out. Queen whelps went down easy. The queen came last, vord around her. Hard to get a good look at her. Smaller than the vord, but faster. She killed two of my men and their gargants. All smoke and fire, couldn't see anything. But Hashat rode into it, called to me where to strike. Walker stomped on the queen. Wasn't much left."
"Could he do it again?" Amara asked.
Doroga shrugged. "His feet look fine."
"Then maybe we have a plan. We can handle the spiders, the vord, the queen," Amara said. "We move in and use the legionares to shield our Knights Ignus. They put fire to the croach. Once that is done, we can fall back and let the vord drown."
Doroga shook his head. "You are forgetting something."
"What?"
"The taken," Doroga said. The Marat leaned back against the wall, as far into the shadows of the wall as he could get, and glanced apologetically up at the sky. "The taken. They belong to the vord now. We'll have to kill them."
"You've talked about your folk being taken several times," Amara said. "What do you mean by it, exactly?"
"Taken," Doroga said. He seemed at a loss for a moment, searching for words. "The body is there. But the person is not. You look into their eyes and see nothing. They are dead. But the vord have partaken of their strength."
"They're under the vord's control?" Amara asked.
"Hardly seems possible," Bernard said, frowning.
"Not at all," Amara said. "Have you ever seen what discipline collars can do to slaves, when taken to extremes? Enough of it will make anyone easy to control."
"This is more than that," Doroga said. "There is nothing left on the inside. Just the shell. And the shell is fast, strong. Feels no pain. Has no fear. Does not speak. Only the outside is the same."
Amara's stomach did a slow twist of sickened horror. "Then… the holders here. Everyone who is missing…"
Doroga nodded. "Not just the men. Females. The old. Any children taken. They will kill until they are killed." He closed his eyes for a moment. "That was what made our losses so heavy. Hard to fight things like that. Saw a lot of good warriors hesitate. Just for an instant. They died for it."
The three of them were silent for a moment. "Doroga," she said quietly, "why did you call them shapeshifters, earlier?"
"Because they change," Doroga said. "In the stories, my people have met the vord three times. Each time, they looked different. Different weapons. But they acted the same. Tried to take everyone."
"How is the taking accomplished?" Amara pressed. "Is it some kind of furycrafting?"
Doroga grunted and shook his head. "Not sure what it is," he said. "Some stories, the vord just look at you. Control you like some kind of stupid beast."
Walker made the ground shake with a basso rumble ending in a snort, and bumped Doroga with one thick-furred leg.
"Shut up, beast," Doroga said absently, recovering his balance and leaning against the gargant. "Other stories, they poison the water. Sometimes they send something to crawl inside you." He shrugged. "Haven't seen it happening. Just saw the results. Whole hunting tribes all gone together. Doubt they knew it was happening until it was over."
They were all silent for a long moment.
"I hate to say it," Bernard said quietly. "But what if the holders who were taken… what if the vord can use their furies?"
A slow sliver of apprehension pierced Amara's spine. "Doroga?" she asked.
The Marat shook his head. "Don't know. Furies are not my world."
"That could change everything," Bernard said. "Our Knights' furies are our decisive advantage. Some of those holders are strongly gifted. You have to be, this far from the rest of the Realm."
Amara nodded slowly. "Assuming the vord do have access to furycraft," she said. "Does it change anything about our duty?"
Bernard shook his head. "No."
"Then we have to plan for the worst," Amara said. "Hold our Knights in reserve to counter their furycraft, until we are sure one way or another. If they do have it, the Knights may be able to counter them, at least long enough for the Knights Ignus to burn off the croach. Can we do it?"
Bernard frowned for a moment, then nodded slowly. "If our reasoning is sound," he said. "What do you think, Doroga?"
Doroga grunted. "I think we got too many ifs and maybes. Don't like it."
"Neither do I," Amara said. "But it's what we have."
Bernard nodded. "Then we'll move out. We'll take the Knights and Giraldi's century. I'll leave Felix's here to guard the wounded."
Amara nodded, and her stomach growled. She lifted the forgotten cup of soup and drank. It tasted too salty but was pleasant going down. "Very well. And we'll need to establish passwords, Bernard. If taken Alerans can't speak, it will let us sort out friend from foe if there is any confusion. We can't assume we're any more immune to it than the holders were."
"Good idea," Bernard said. He looked around the courtyard, his eyes bleak. "Great furies, but this doesn't sit well on my stomach. Everything ran from those things. Except for the crows and us here, there isn't an animal stirring for half a mile. No birds. Not even a crows-begotten rat."
Amara finished the soup, then looked sharply at Bernard. "What?"
"It's got me spooked," he said. "That's all."
"What do you mean, there aren't any rats?" she demanded, and she heard her voice shaking.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Just thinking out loud."
Terror made the fingers in her hand go numb, and the tin cup fell to the ground. The tactile memory of something small creeping over her feet as she woke flooded through her thoughts in bright scarlet realization and fear.
Sometimes they send something to crawl inside you.
"Oh no," Amara breathed, whirling toward the darkened great hall, where weary knights, legionares and holders lay wounded, resting, sleeping. "Oh no, no, no."
Chapter 26