Page 18 of Scorched Earth

Hostus chuckled. “Or do.”

Fresh blood filled her mouth as she bit down on her cheeks again, but Teriana forced herself to proceed, touching the heads of two young girls, as well as that of their mother, whose arms held them to the ground. As the woman slowly rose, Teriana finally saw past the grime. It was her cousin, Elyanna. Her own gods-damned flesh and blood was imprisoned in this place and she hadn’t even known it.

“Get moving!” Hostus barked, and Elyanna jerked, eyes midnight storms of fear as she clutched her daughters against her and edged out of the cell, casting a terrified glance back at her husband. Though she hated to do it, Teriana moved past him to touch the head of a woman, who held a baby, then an elderly man, as well as the boy Nic’s age who clung to him tightly. Tears trickling down her face, she moved through the prone forms of her people, touching the hair of those younger than her, as well as one of their parents or grandparents.

“That’s forty-five,” Hostus said when she was through, his voice bored. “Pick up the pace, Teriana. I haven’t got all day.”

She stood frozen in place, eyes skipping from person to person, realizing that she was not only choosing who would live, she was also choosing who would die if she didn’t make her deadline. How could she pick one over the other? Did she choose the elderly, for they were least likely to survive, or did she choose the young, for they had their whole lives ahead of them? Panic made the world spin, and she started to reach for the second mate of one of the ships, only for the man to turn his head away from her.

She froze, realizing a second later that he was making the choice for her:not him.

All around her, the strong, both men and women, were turning their faces away from her, guiding her hand without whispering a word. She heard Hostus’s hiss of irritation that they were stealing the pleasure he took from watching her suffer. Teriana ignored him, instead walking among her people, taking their guidance. The elderly. The ill. The injured.

The god marked, of which there were three.

“You’re at ninety-six,” Nic said from where he stood next to a glowering Hostus. “The others have already begun to make their way to the harbor.”

Scanning the remaining men and women, she stepped toward a massive man with biceps as thick as her thigh. He recoiled, giving a slight shake of his head, but she said, “You will protect them.” In quick succession, she chose three more known to be fine fighters, giving them the same instructions.

“Finally,” Hostus muttered. “That was tedious. Get out of there, Teriana, I’m late for my midday meal.”

She didn’t want to leave.

Didn’t want to abandon her people in this miserable prison under the guard of Hostus’s men. Wanted instead to exchange herself for one of them, because if anyone deserved to be here, it was her.

But she doubted Cassius would let her off so easily.

“Stay strong,” she said. “I will free every last one of you, I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Hostus drawled. “Not even Marcus can do what you committed to do within six months, which means at least some of thesebraveandself-sacrificingsailors are destined for the gallows. Or the stadium.”

Her stomach filled with unease as every eye in the prison shot to her. Six months felt like an eternity to keep them imprisoned, but if Hostus said otherwise, then…

“It can be done,” she swore to her people as one of Hostus’s men caught her by the shoulders. “I can do it. It’s possible. I’ll get you out.”

Her words echoed hollowly down the hallways as the legionnaires dragged her away, but it was the ones inside her head that were the loudest.

What have I done?

9TERIANA

Austornic hadn’t waited for dawn, instead ordering the Fifty-First to break camp immediately after the Maarin ship full of her people had disappeared on the horizon. Whether it had been in anticipation of the mission or the desire to be away from Hostus, Teriana couldn’t have said, but she breathed more easily once they were gone from Celendrial. Easier still when they reached the first xenthier path from Celendor to Bardeen. The feeling of disorientation as she stepped out amongst the towering redwoods of the southern nation weighed more heavily upon her now that she knew what it meant.

“I know you’re supposed to forget everything about who you were before you went to Celendor, or at least never bring it up,” she said to Nic as they waited for the legion to pass through. “But—” She broke off, because Pullo and the rest of Nic’s bodyguard were all waving their hands at her to be silent. “Never mind.”

“I was a product of the legion’s early campaigns on the coast of Bardeen,” he responded, tone flat. “Whoever my mother was, she gave me over to be a ward of the state and I was raised in an orphanage. I’ve no notion of the identity of my father. When I turned seven, I went to Celendor with all the other male wards my age. The only Bardenese thing about me is the way I look, and the Fifty-First is the only family I’ve ever had. My loyalty is to them.”

His life had been one of hardship, and yet Nic had remained kind. It made her think there was more to his blood than just his looks, but she said nothing more.

A matter of hours brought them to Hydrilla. Teriana shivered, the chill air of Bardeen harsh in comparison to Celendrial, then glanced at the fortress atop the hill. The walls were decorated with crimson and gold banners, and patrolled by countless legionnaires, but some sixth sense confirmed what she’d been told about this place. It was not safe. Not secure. Not entirely under the control of the Empire, despite the Thirty-Seventh and the Twenty-Ninth having won a great victory here over four years ago.

“It’s a very famous siege,” Austornic told her as they passed in the fortress’s shadow, the long line of the marching Fifty-First stretchedout behind them. “Won as much by guile as force, in that only a few men, led by the Thirty-Seventh’s then primus, Agrippa, turned the tide. He’s the Thirty-Seventh’s only deserter, did you know that?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “Hostus was supposed to be in command of the siege, but in the final hours, he was replaced by Marcus. It’s considered Marcus’s first major victory, though it’s well-known at Lescendor that Hostus had been taking credit for his strategies long before that.”

He carried on with his explanation of events, but the world fell away as Teriana imagined what it had been like for the Bardenese to look down upon the camp of ten thousand men set on their destruction. What it had been like to starve with no way to escape. But it also gave her hope that her own strategies would not end in total calamity. For while the Bardenese had been conquered four years ago, every day since, their resistance had grown.

“The rebels are now led by agirl,” Nic grumbled, his opinion of that very fitting for a thirteen-year-old boy. “The spies haven’t been able to learn much about her, although it’s rumored that she fights with a gladius marked with the 37. Probably stolen from a casualty when they were here. At any rate, they raid and attack supply lines and merchants, necessitating everything and everyone to be under heavy guard at all times. It’s entirely disrupted trade and cost those in power a great deal of money, which has the entire Hill in a frenzy. Many calls to send in a few legions to purge the country, because the only thing they value in Bardeen is the lumber.”

“What is a bit of genocide in comparison to being deprived of redwood furniture?” She looked up at the towering sequoias that were sacred to the Bardenese.