Page 249 of Scorched Earth

“We face extermination!” Killian shouted. “It is past time that we cease following those chosen by the most privileged among us. By those who have not gone hungry once during this ordeal. Instead, we should follow those who fight for our lives. Who fight for our freedom. Who are willing to lay down their own lives to save Reath from falling under the dominion of the Empire and the Seventh, for they are one and the same!”

Taking the crown from Lydia’s hand, he placed it on her head. “We ride north with our allies to bring the fight to Rufina and destroy the blight. We ride north to destroy that which threatens everything we hold dear. Will you ride with us, or will you remain here to protect the likes of these two,” he pointed at Helene and Pitolt, “while they host parties and laugh as your children starve outside their gates?”

“To war!” someone shouted. “We march to war!”

The Mudamorian soldiers erupted in shouts for war. Shouts declaring in Lydia’s name. Shouts for Mudamora and all of Reath. The Anuk and the giants all added roars of favor, lifting their weapons in the air, but as he and Lydia led the mass of them northward, Killian’s skin began to crawl and he cast his eyes back to the glittering strait and the fleeing ship.

A battle won.

But the war was far from over.

95MARCUS

“The Dictator and the Senate are running out of patience.” Drusus tossed the latest letter from Cassius down on the table. “We need to start making the motions of readying to sail to Mudamora to satisfy his spies or there are going to be consequences.”

“He’s not going to punish us for moving slowly.” Felix picked up the letter, scanning the contents. “We’re negotiating to get what he wants to avoid marching onto poisoned ground. He has to understand that we’re being cautious in order to avoid high casualties.”

Drusus scoffed. “He understands the whys just fine—he just doesn’t give a fuck if half of us die as long as he gets his gold.”

The other legatus rested his elbows on the table, head in his hands,and it struck Marcus that the Eleventh’s legatus looked old. Old far beyond his years.

“We were supposed to be done,” Drusus muttered. “We were supposed to retire at the end of this year. Paid out and given land and a chance at life. Now it looks as though half of my legion will die puking on foreign soil, poisoned by rotten ground, so that the other half might have a chance at what we are owed. All so that Cassius can get the gold he so desperately needs for his quest to control all of Reath.”

Marcus took the letter from Felix, again reading Cassius’s orders to move to take control of Mudamora. There was a hint of desperation in the prose, obvious only because it was so uncharacteristic, and it spoke to the truth of Drusus’s words. This campaign had been costly beyond measure, and threats and machinations would only work so long to keep Cassius in power if the coffers ran dry.

War cost money, and this war was like nothing the Empire had ever waged.

“That’s the deal he made you, then?” he asked Drusus. “Get him the Rotahn gold mines and the Eleventh can retire?”

“Yes.” Drusus lifted his face from his hands, meeting Marcus’s gaze. “We were supposed to be done. And now we face either life in service or stepping onto poisoned ground. Death either fucking way.” He barked out a laugh. “Likely because he can’t afford to pay us out, and he doesn’t want the legions surrounding him to know his coffers are empty. Because they might start to question his ability to paythem.”

Yet more proof of Cassius’s growing desperation. Desperation often made men weak and foolish, but in this instance, it only made the Dictator more dangerous.

“My men will be back today,” Marcus said by way of answer to Drusus’s concerns. “With luck, we’ll have an agreement signed by Queen Helene, as well as the bride whom Cassius misplaced. The Eleventh will have its retirement, and Cassius will have the gold to fund his obligations. A happy ending.”

“We don’t get happy endings.” Drusus’s eyes sharpened. “The Dictator has lit a fire under the ass of every legatus under your command, Marcus. Some with threats. Some with rewards. Consensus is that he doesn’t trust you to give him what he wants, which doesn’t make sense given you alone seem to have voluntarily cast your eyes north.” His head tilted. “Unless even the prodigy has skeletons in his closet that might be used against him.”

Marcus didn’t answer, only traced the rim of his glass.

“Right.” Drusus gave a soft snort, then shook his head. “You just like the challenge.”

Gibzen entered the room, sandals clacking against the tiles as he approached. “One of our ships has been sighted.”

Marcus’s skin prickled. “Just one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t think luck is in our favor,” Drusus muttered. “Nor that this will be a happy ending.”

Marcus didn’t answer him, only said to Gibzen. “I want an immediate report and the…assetbrought here.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was a struggle not to pace the room. A struggle not to abandon the room entirely and race down to the harbor to finally put an end to the woman who had caused him so much trouble. Instead, Marcus went to the window and gazed up at the black tower, the tension it seethed infecting him as legion officers filtered into the room, all of the men speculating in low voices as to whether the gambit had worked.

Then everyone fell silent. Marcus slowly turned, anticipation choking him.

Centurion Qian stood with Gibzen. Of Lydia, there was no sign.