Page 275 of Scorched Earth

“I’ve risked my men enough. It’s time for me to get them out of danger. This isn’t my fight.”

Agrippa spit into the dirt, and Lydia looked to Killian, warninghim to interfere if Agrippa lashed out. But Killian only sheathed his weapon and crossed his arms.

“A hollow excuse given all you’ve ever done is fight other people’s fights!” Agrippa snarled. “Maybe it’s time you actually pick one you believe in!”

“Maybe,” Marcus answered. “But this isn’t it. Move so I can get my men on the march and leave you to your business.”

As he spoke, Dareena stepped inside, a scowl on her face. “He’s lying. Scouts have reported that a Cel legion has joined Rufina’s ranks to bolster her defenses around that stem. This is a strategy.”

“Bullshit,” Marcus snapped, then stepped back as Dareena’s sword came to rest an inch from his neck. “All my men are in my camp.”

“Astara saw them.” Dareena’s blade edged closer to Marcus’s jugular, but he stood his ground. “A full legion ofchildren.Sent her the most expendable ones, didn’t you?”

Anger pooled in Lydia’s chest. Rage that burned hotter and hotter even as darkness rose. “Your soul is rotten to the core.”

Dareena’s sword started to slide toward his neck, but Marcus caught the blade, blood running down his hand. “Which legion? What number do they have on their armor? What symbol?”

“Kill him,” Lydia hissed, furious that after everything, he would still stab them in the back. “Reath is better off without him in it.”

But Killian caught hold of Dareena’s wrist. “Answer his question.”

Scowling, Dareena dragged her foot in the dirt, making the Cel symbol for 51.

Marcus drew in a sharp breath. “Not possible. They are in Celendor. I sent them back myself when we were in Emrant.”

“Well, they are here now.”

His throat moved as he swallowed, his face draining of color, and unease began to cool Lydia’s wrath. Because whatever was going on was not Marcus’s plan.

“From what direction did they arrive?” he asked, staring at the mark in the dirt.

“North.” Dareena’s tone was biting. “No doubt from ships you sent behind our lines, because I don’t believe your lies.”

“No ships. The stem beneath Celendrial.” Marcus’s voice was barely audible, as though he were struggling to come to grips with this information. “Bait told me about the path Lydia took from Celendrial to Mudaire. I kept the information from Cassius because revealing it would mean revealing Lydia lived, which came with inevitable consequences. A short-lived deception, for while I was inRevat, I received a letter from Cassius indicating he’d learned Lydia was alive. But for the Fifty-First to have marched so far, they’d have to have traveled to Mudaire almost immediately after I sent them back to Celendor. Which means Cassius has known that Lydia was alive, and about the xenthier, since right after I captured Emrant. Someone must have heard my conversation with Bait and sent the information to Cassius.”

His jaw tightened, and Lydia suspected he had an idea who the source of the information was.

“But I didn’t keep information about the blight from Cassius. He knew Mudaire was overrun. Knew it wasn’t a viable path. Yet he sent Fifty-First anyway. The only explanation for them joining Rufina is that he sent them with separate orders, and Nic’s pissed off enough at me that he might have agreed just for spite.” Marcus scrubbed a hand over his hair, and it seemed to Lydia that he was talking to himself more than he was to them. “The Fifty-First are just boys. They’re only thirteen.”

“And that’s the oldest they’ll ever be,” a voice said.

Lydia’s eyes went to the front of the tent to find that Astara had entered, the shifter’s face drawn with exhaustion. “Those boys are all blighters. Every last one.”

Marcus didn’t move. Didn’t seem to even breathe, the only sound the dripping blood falling from his injured hand. Then he said softly, “They’re dead, then.”

“Yes,” Astara replied, even as Lydia said, “It’s possible to bring them back.”

Blue-grey eyes locked on hers. “How?”

Marcus had been her enemy for so long that telling him anything should seem like a mistake, but Lydia could feel the weight of his grief over the death of this legion. A grief that was fueling a wrath that dwarfed anything she’d ever felt, making her want to step back from the silent ferocity of it. “I am able to bring those lost to the blight back by pulling out the death in them and replacing it with life, but it’s impossible to do on the scale we need.”

She grimaced and then added, “Their souls are still bound to their corpses, so they are aware of all that their bodies are being made to do. They can see everything, hear everything, but have no power over themselves.”

His eyes darkened with a mixture of anger and horror.

“The source of the blight is in the north,” Lydia continued. “In a place called Deadground. We aim to destroy the heart of the blight.I don’t know if doing so will bring back all of the fallen, but there is hope.”

“You could save the Fifty-First? You could bring them back to life?”