“Eighty-three,” Crassus replied. His voice was very distant and dim, as if coming down a long tunnel. “All of them, sire—and their beasts and livestock, too.”

The captain barked out a short laugh. “You had fliers enough for that?”

“It seemed a good statement to make to the enemy, sire,” Crassus replied, one corner of his mouth turning up in a small smirk. “We had to drop them off within a few hours, but at least they won’t go to feeding the croach anytime soon.”

Tavi nodded. “Casualties?”

Crassus’s expression sobered. “Two so far.”

Marcus saw steely tension stiffen Octavian’s shoulders. “So far?”

“You were right. The vord had defensive measures in place—this kind of hornet thing. They came flying up out of the croach like balest bolts when your image appeared in the pool.” Crassus’s expression remained calm, but his voice sounded ragged. “They had stingers that could drive right through leather or mail. We were able to stiffen the plates of the lorica with battlecrafting, enough to keep the little bastards from punching through. If we hadn’t been able to prepare for it... crows, sire, I don’t want to think about it. We did well enough, but their stingers were poisoned, and wherever they hit flesh instead of steel, our folk got hurt. I lost two men last night, and another dozen who were hit are getting sicker.”

“Have you tried watercrafting?”

Crassus shook his head. “Hasn’t been time. We had a sky full of vordknights to worry about. I’m nearly certain that some of the windcrafters the vord turned are spooking around on our back trail. We had to stay ahead of them.”

Octavian frowned. “You’re out of occupied territory?”

“For now.”

“Do you have time to make the attempt at a healing?”

Crassus shook his head. “I doubt it. The vord are still trying to find us. I think the best chance for the wounded is to get them back to the Legion healers.”

Marcus saw the captain debating with himself. A commander was always tempted to involve himself too much in whatever mission was under way. But to lead, one had to maintain a rational perspective. Octavian couldn’t assess the men’s condition himself or the disposition or skills of the enemy. Yet he did not want more of his men’s lives to be needlessly lost. The temptation to override the judgment of a field commander had to have been very strong.

The captain sighed. “I’ll have the healers ready for you the moment you land.”

Crassus’s image nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“That much pursuit,” the captain mused. “The vord Queen was upset?”

Crassus shuddered. “Sir... we were at least ten miles away from her hive, and we heard her screaming. Believe me, I didn’t have any trouble convincing the men to fly all night without resting.”