Page 281 of Scorched Earth

“It’s fine, sir,” Nic answered. “I shouldn’t have questioned you.”

Marcus needed to be the heartless commander that Rufina expected because she was able to see through Nic’s eyes. Able to hear through his ears.

Yet he also remembered what Lydia had told him. That while Nic was not in control of his body, he could see. Could hear.

Could feel.

It made Marcus want to fall to his knees and beg the boy’s forgiveness. To tell Nic that sending him away had been one of the greatest mistakes of his life.

Instead, he said, “No time for questions now. We’ve allied with the Queen of Derin, and her army is on the march. Within the hour, I want the Mudamorian army and their allies either dead or offering surrender.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ignoring the stink and the crushing ache in his chest, Marcus slung an arm around Nic’s shoulders and led him forward. “This is the plan.”

106KILLIAN

“They’re dead,” Lydia whispered, watching the new ranks of child legionnaires merge with the rest of the Cel army. Marcus walked with his arm slung around one boy’s shoulders, their heads together. “He does realize that, doesn’t he? He believed me?”

“I don’t know.” Killian clenched his teeth, his mark screamingdanger, but he couldn’t tell whether the threat was the dead legion or the very much alive ones.

Or something else entirely.

Panicked horns sounded from behind him, and a heartbeat later, Astara landed, already shifted before her feet hit the ground. “Rufina’s army has attacked,” she said. “Dareena and Xadrian are engaged, but they’re outnumbered five to one!”

“Shit!” His horse pawed the ground beneath him, sensing his agitation. The plan was falling apart before his very eyes, because even if Marcus hadn’t double-crossed them, his strategy wouldn’t work. Not with five thousand of his ranks under Rufina’s control.

“What do we do?” Malahi said. “How do we get through?”

I don’t know.“I’m thinking. Agrippa, can you tell what he’s planning?”

The Cel horns bellowed, the ranks beginning their slow press forward.

Agrippa lowered his spyglass, his face pale as he shook his head. “I can’t tell. He put the Fifty-First behind the Thirty-Seventh. I… I can’t imagine that he’d risk putting the walking dead at his own legion’s back if he’s sticking with our plan. I don’t know. I… don’t know.”

All eyes turned to Killian. Expecting him to have answers.

Lydia’s hand closed on his, and she said, “What does your gut say?”

Killian looked out over the approaching army, seeing the catapults being pulled into place, faces of the men so uniformly grim and resolute that there was no doubt that they, at least, believed this was real.

Then, across the field, his eyes locked with Marcus’s, the other man’s mouth moving in a single word.

And though Killian spoke not a word of Cel, he knewthatorder when he saw it.

Slamming the visor down on his helmet, Killian shouted, “Today we fight for the liberty of all of Reath! Follow my lead, and charge!”

Nodding once at Bercola, Killian dug in his heels and his horse leapt into a gallop.

With a roar, five hundred mounted soldiers and two thousand giants hurtled down the slope toward the army countless times their number, the thunder of feet and hooves rivaling the worst of Gespurn’s storms.

Horns blew and the legion’s march paused, the front ranks dropping to one knee, shields in front of them, the next row interweaving their shields above, then next row a level higher. A wall of steel out of which thousands of spears jutted forth.

A wall of death.

Toward which galloped tens of thousands of pounds of horseflesh followed by giants carrying weapons as large as Killian was tall.

This was a test of wills.