Page 110 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

MARCUS

They marched for less than half a day through the Gamdeshian countryside, those in the farms and villages they passed either fleeing or watching with worried eyes. A brave few turned to shouts and taunts, throwing rotten produce, but Marcus’s men raised their shields and ignored them.

Marcus took action only against those who offered violence, those fools left trussed on the side of the road to watch as thousands of legionnaires passed them by.

“Why are you letting them live?” Gibzen asked. “It pisses off the men.”

“Because,” Marcus answered, “if we engage with them, it makes them feel strong. Like they might make a difference if they choose to fight. Like they’ll be martyrs if they die on our blades. Whereas this proves the doubt rising in their hearts that they have any power at all.”

At midday, the front ranks met up with the scouts, who stood beside a copse of trees that men were working to clear.

Marcus reined his horse to where a xenthier stem jutted from the earth.

While he’d been waiting to move on Emrant, his spies had not been idle, digging up information on other stems within Gamdesh.

None crossed the world, but a goodly many crossed Gamdesh itself, and he had a map of the results.

“This is it,” said Atrio. The spy sat slouched and glowering on his horse.

Marcus gave him a long look. “You have something to say?”

Atrio’s jaw was tight, the spy making no effort to hide his anger. “If you wanted her caught, I could’ve done it. You didn’t need to shoot her out of the sky like that.”

“Racker said she’ll mend well enough.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

“That’s information above your rank, Atrio,” Gibzen snapped, but Marcus only raised one eyebrow.

“Grown soft on Astara, have we?”

Atrio squared his shoulders and didn’t answer. An uncharacteristic display of defiance that Marcus didn’t care for.

“She’s a high-value hostage,” Marcus finally said. “I’ll try to exchange her for their surrender.”

“They’ll let her die before surrendering. You and I both know that.”

“Then maybe we just stake her out for the crows!” Gibzen snarled. “See how watching her slowly die eats at their morale.”

Marcus shot his primus a dark look. “I’ve no interest in making a martyr out of Astara. If Kaira won’t deal, I’ll send her back to Celendrial to be kept in comfort as the Empire’s prisoner.”

“She won’t be able to shift if you send her East,” Atrio muttered. “She’d rather die than not be able to fly.”

“Then let’s hope Kaira deals.” Marcus waved a hand to dismiss him. “Go back to your duties.”

As Atrio departed, Marcus rode closer to the stem. Apprehension bit at his stomach because he remembered all too well how his last journey through the xenthier had affected him.

Before nerves could get the better of him, he allowed the horse to lower her head to sniff the stem. Her nose brushed it, and his heart lurched as the world went white.

There was no sound.

No sight.

Only the sense of being in a void beyond comprehension, and then his mare was stumbling across dirt. She gave a squeal and then a vicious buck that rattled Marcus’s spine before lowering her head to eat the thick grass beneath her hooves.

His men were coming through the xenthier, enraged that he had gone first. Marcus ignored them, his attention all for the seven towers in the distance that were so tall, they seemed to touch the clouds.

Revat.