Page 247 of Scorched Earth

“I…” Helene took an unsteady step backward, colliding with the table. “What is happening here? I thought we had an agreement that this would be conducted peacefully?”

Killian caught sight of movement in the water. A stirring in the depths.

“I do not think your motivations here are peaceful,” the centurion said. “Either prove me wrong by signing or get on with whatever you have planned.”

“We haven’t planned anything.” Tears of fear ran down Helene’s face, and she reached up to touch the crown on her head. “If we could just sit and have a glass of wine and discuss this reasonably…”

The movement in the water drew closer to the Cel ship, and one of the centurion’s men spotted it. Said something in Cel.

A bead of sweat ran down the centurion’s golden cheek, and he slammed his helmet down on his head. Making ready to fight becauseone did not live and breathe war as these men did and not know when a fight was upon you.

Hurry, Bercola.

“Sign, you foolish woman!” the centurion barked at Helene, but his eyes were on Killian. “Or get on with it.”

“No.” Helene lifted her chin. “I don’t think I will.”

The centurion snarled what was undoubtedly profanity, then caught hold of Lydia’s wrist. He dragged her away from the table even as six spears were leveled at Killian’s throat. “That’s a lot of steel,” Killian said to them. “What are you so afraid of?”

They tensed but held their position as the centurion dragged Lydia across the sand, surrounded by the rest of his men.

Killian felt theshift.A change in air and breath, and then the water around the ship began to churn. Hooks burst out of the depths to catch hold of the Cel ship’s rails, and then giants were climbing the ropes.

Just as Xadrian and his warriors exploded from the sand beneath the legionnaire’s feet.

Helene screamed and Killian flung himself sideways, feeling one of the spears score his cheek. He barely felt the pain as he rolled across the sand to rip his sword from its depths.

Killian lifted it in time to slash away a downward strike, the spear sinking into the sand next to his face. Grabbing a handful, he rolled to his feet and threw it.

The sand struck two of the legionnaires in the eyes, and they stumbled into the others.

But Killian knew he’d only bought himself seconds, and he bolted toward the battle.

A spear shot past him and another sliced deep along his shoulder, but he only gritted his teeth and snatched up one of the spears from the sand, his eyes all for Lydia.

Agrippa had not exaggerated about the Thirty-Seventh’s skill.

For all they were outnumbered five to one, their route of retreat being rapidly destroyed by giants, and many of their number dying in the sand, the legionnaires held their ground with grim determination.

They’d moved into a circular formation around the centurion and Lydia, shields tight together and spears bristling outward as they moved toward the longboats.

Xadrian circled them, face splattered with blood and sword slicked with gore, searching for a weakness in their ranks and finding none. To attack would cost them.

The centurion shouted something, and Killian heard the men behind him break off their chase. Heard them run in the other direction, likely to signal reinforcements.

Whirling, Killian flung one of the spears. It soared through the air and punched through the neck of one of the legionnaires. Snatching up another fallen spear, he launched it at the sprinting men. It sank into the lower leg of one of them. He went down, ripped it out, then staggered on.

“Hunt them down!” Killian roared at Pitolt’s men, who flung themselves onto horseback and galloped in pursuit. Then fixed his eyes on the centurion who now held a blade to Lydia’s throat.

“You’re a fool for this,” the centurion spat. “What do you think that killing us gains you? We’re a drop in the ocean of men camped in Revat. All this will do is anger the legatus.”

“Did you really think I was going to let you take my queen?” Killian asked, circling one direction while Xadrian circled the other, the Prince murmuring orders to his warriors as he walked.

Yet as the Anuk archers lifted their weapons, the centurion uttered a single word and the masses of men shifted, their shields no longer forming a wall but a dome.

“Impressive!” Xadrian shouted. “Hiding behind your wall of steel like an armadillo.”

“More like a porcupine,” Killian said as they crossed paths, circling, and Xadrian shrugged.