He died there, his expression that of a man with few regrets.

Amara bowed her head, and wept a few silent tears for the man Gaius Aquitainus Attis had become in his last weeks, for all the lives she had seen lost, the pain she had seen in his last days.

Then she dashed the tears from her face with one fist and turned to leave the chamber. This night would see the most important mission of her life. There would be time for weeping soon, she told herself.

Soon.

* * *

Durias, First Spear of the Free Aleran, rode beside Fidelias, looking back over his shoulder at Octavian’s forces. They had stopped for water, the first such rest in six hours, beside a small, swift-flowing river. Thousands of men and Canim, taurga and horses, drank thirstily.

“This is mad,” Durias said, after a moment. “Absolutely mad.”

“And it’s working,” Fidelias pointed out.

“You can’t think that anyone is pleased with it, Marcus,” Durias pointed out. “The men are puking their guts out.”

“As long as they don’t do it where everyone is drinking.”

Durias smiled and shook his head. “The Canim resent it, you know.”

Fidelias smiled. “They’ll resent it a lot less when Legion shieldwalls and Legion Knights are holding their flanks.”

Durias grunted. “You think we can win this fight?”

“No,” Fidelias said. “But I think we can survive it. In the long term, it’s probably the same thing.”

Durias frowned thoughtfully and eyed him. “How are you feeling? Word is your heart started acting up.”

“Better now,” Fidelias told him. “I feel like a new man.”

“That’s because you’re sandbagging it, slacker,” Durias said. “You’re going to miss that armor tomorrow morning.”

Fidelias grinned easily. “That’s a long time from now. Besides, I don’t see you walking and letting some poor legionare have a turn on horseback.”

Durias sniffed. “Rank has its privileges,” he said piously. “I go letting some random legionare ride while the First Spear takes his place, I’m upsetting the natural order of the Legion. Bad for morale. Totally irresponsible.”

“Good, kid,” Fidelias said. “You’ll make officer yet.”

Durias grinned. “Take that back.”

A Tribune of the Free Aleran rode up to them and threw Durias a salute. His armor, though standard Legion lorica, was old and worn, if obviously currently in good maintenance, and scoured free of any insignia whatsoever. “First Spear.”

“Tribune,” Durias said, returning the salute. “Report.”

“Four more contacts with the enemy, all of them with the wax spiders. We also burned out another half a dozen patches of the croach. They like to start it around the edges of a pond whenever they can. They’re getting easier to find.”

“That means that the well-hidden patches will be that much more difficult to spot,” Durias said. “Don’t ease up on them.”