Page 150 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

Revealing Bait, standing with his arms outstretched, Magnius’s massive form coiled around him protectively as he used Madoria’s mark to control the sea.

The water ceased withdrawing and instead rose upward to create a towering wall. On the crest of it sat her fleet, held by fingers formed of water. As though Madoria herself held the ships in place.

As the wall of water grew taller, Padria grew smaller below, and Teriana took in the totality of the newly expanded fortress built to protect the precious xenthier.

The town itself was farther inland, the streets mostly empty as people had fled inside to avoid the rain.

Beyond Padria, hills rose that would be salvation to any who started running now.

No one was running.

Finally, one of the legionnaires glanced out to sea and took notice of the towering wall of water beneath the circling black clouds. He pointed and shouted, his fellows turning their heads.

For a heartbeat, they all stared in horror at a scene that should be impossible. But then their training took over and they were running. Mouths moving in what she knew were shouts of warning to retreat inland. To get to higher ground.

“Proceed,” Teriana whispered to Magnius, and Bait’s hands moved forward.

Bringing the sea with them.

The tidal wave rolled, carrying her fleet with it at terrifying speed.

“Get ready!” she shouted, her crew racing to follow her order while the crews on the other ships did the same.

The legionnaires were sprinting inland, heading for the hills beyond.

None of them would make it.

Water slammed into the wagons full of supplies, shattering them, then it struck the wall of the fortress with a boom, spraying dozens of feet into the air.

Legionnaires clung to the upper level of the fortress even as the water swept past, flowing over the running men, their heads disappearing under the churning surface, armor dragging them down.

Breaking them.

Drowning them.

Killing them.

Tears mixed with the driving rain running down Teriana’s face. This is war, she told herself. In war, people die. “Get ready to disembark!”

The ships passed the beach, the wave carrying them closer and closer to the fortress. “That’s far enough,” she whispered to Magnius, then shouted, “Ready!”

The sea went entirely still, then began to flow backward while the hands formed of water held the ships in place high up the beach.

Abandoning the helm, Teriana moved to join the crew massing at the bow, Baird a towering pillar among them.

Polin stood with their singular cask of black powder strapped to his chest. Yedda had a storm lantern in her hand.

Standing with the rest of the crew, Teriana watched the water retreat, carrying both bodies and men clinging to debris.

Don’t look at their faces, she ordered herself. They are your enemy, nothing more.

Except in her mind’s eye, they were faces she knew. Thirty-Seventh faces.

It’s not them!

The fingers of water disappeared, and the ships settled onto the wet sand. Before her nerve could fail her, Teriana screamed, “Now!”

With a roar, her crew, and the crews of the other ships, threw ropes over the rails and slid down to the beach. Teriana went with them, not looking back as she broke into a run toward the fortress. Bait would hold the tide back. He had to.

The legionnaires who’d been in the upper level of the fortress were already moving, the familiar bark of a centurion giving orders promising that she wasn’t going to get to the stem without a fight.

“Don’t let them form lines!” she screamed. “We’ll never get past them!”

The Maarin around her put on a burst of speed, the front-runners slamming into the legionnaires beginning to form up at the entrance to the fortress, the heavy gate that had once barred the entrance dangling from its hinges.

Screams filled the air as her people were impaled on spears and blades. But they did not stop coming. Did not stop fighting, and the legion line began to fracture as legionnaires fell to Maarin blades. Then the lines broke entirely, the legionnaires fleeing into the fortress.

But with terrible cost.

“Go!” Baird shouted, batting at legionnaires with his enormous staff. “Run!”

Teriana screamed as she leapt over the bodies of the fallen and through the broken gates, the towering walls of heavy stone rising to either side of her.

Her people ran with her, meeting the legionnaires blow for blow as the Cel attempted to reform their lines.

As they attempted to prevent the Maarin from reaching the xenthier that they’d been tasked with defending.

The stone beneath her feet was slippery with seaweed and sand, the water still up to her knees where it hadn’t drained. Shouts from the fortress warned her more reinforcements were coming, but Teriana splashed onward down the wide path that led to a courtyard.

The space was empty, except for one thing.

The xenthier stem jutted out of raw earth, the crystal glittering in the dim light. Rain struck it only to disappear in an instant, and Teriana could only imagine the chaos in Emrant right now from the seawater that had come through it.

More casualties.

More collateral damage.

Her heart bled for the destruction she’d leave in her wake, yet Teriana didn’t hesitate. She raced toward the stem, Polin and Yedda flanking her.

Only for a centurion to step into their path.

His helmet was gone, revealing short red hair and a deep cut on his face. Teriana instantly recognized him as the man who’d terrorized the Sibernese village she and Marcus had stayed in. The one who’d brought his men to impose the Empire’s might upon a celebration.

He backhanded her aunt, sending Yedda staggering to the ground. The lantern she’d held smashed and put out by water.

No.

“I don’t think so, you little bitch,” the centurion hissed, lifting his blade. “I won’t make the same mistake as the Thirty-Seventh.”

“Auntie, get it lit!” Teriana lifted her weapon and moved between the centurion and her aunt. Then she gave him a feral grin. “Which mistake would that be? Teaching me how to fight?”

Teriana attacked, blades colliding as she drove him away from her aunt. The centurion was stronger. More skilled. But she had rage burning in her heart and desperation fueling her every swing, and that gave Teriana the edge she needed to drive him back. “Get it lit!”

Yedda was on her knees, striking a knife against a flint, sparks flying.

“Hurry!”

The centurion feinted, then punched Teriana in the face. She staggered backward, barely managing to get her blade up to keep him from running her through.

“Got it!” Yedda shouted. “It’s lit!”

Teriana smashed her blade against the centurion’s, and then lunged.

His fist struck her cheek, but then his eyes widened and he looked down to find her blade embedded in his throat.

As the centurion dropped, she saw Polin light the cask’s fuse.

She needed to get to him. Needed to take it out of his hands—

Except Polin was already striding toward the xenthier, the fuse on the cask burning bright.

She’d meant to do this part.

Meant to take this risk herself.

Because the timing required holding the cask until the second before it detonated, or the force of the explosion wouldn’t be drawn into the xenthier. “Polin, no!”

The man who had been like a father to her turned his head to grin—

And then everything turned white.

Teriana was flung across the open space, the impact driving the air from her chest. The ground bucked beneath her, the walls surrounding the courtyard collapsing as Reath herself writhed. As though the destruction of the xenthier had inflicted pain upon the land itself.

Catching hold of Yedda’s arms, Teriana dragged her aunt away from the falling blocks of stone.

By some miracle, Polin was alive, his hair singed off and his skin marked with burns, but breathing.

The three of them clung to each other as the ground shuddered and rippled, and then, after what felt like an eternity, fell still.

“The Six are merciful!” Polin gasped. “We did it!”

Because the xenthier was gone. Nothing remained but a gaping hole in the ground. The path between Padria and Emrant was destroyed.

“I thought you were dead, you great blundering idiot,” Yedda sobbed, clinging to Polin. “Thank the gods, you’re safe.”

No one was safe. A roar filled Teriana’s ears, and she had but a second to realize that Bait’s hold on the tide had been broken by the earthquake before water exploded over the rubble and slammed into her.

It flipped her over, spinning her around, debris, bodies, and other people swimming for their lives slamming into her.

Teriana clawed her way to the surface as the tidal wave dragged her inland, her body screaming in pain from the onslaught. It took her over the ruins of the town to the base of the hills.

And then it reversed course.

Teriana screamed, trying to swim against the current, but it was relentless.

Sucking her toward the storm-tossed sea and certain death.

Though she’d gone into this prepared to meet her end, Teriana did not want to die.

Did not want this to be her last fight. She howled, fighting the current and the pain.

Fighting against defeat.

And then the water went still.

Steady as a glass pane but for the ripples caused by her swimming crew around her. Teriana turned her head, and relief flooded her as she saw Bait sitting on Magnius’s back, Baird perched behind him. The Quincense sat in the water in the distance, the rest of the ships as well.

“Swim!” Bait shouted as Baird pulled Polin onto Magnius’s back. “Get back aboard! I can’t hold the waters like this for long.”

All around her, bodies floated on the still water. Legionnaires and civilians and Maarin alike, dead from battle, from debris, from drowning.

Casualties of war.

“Teriana!” Yedda swam toward her. “Are you all right?”

She’d never again be all right . But maybe that was as it should be.

“You did it, girl,” Yedda caught hold of her arms. “You did it! There is no chance they’ll try to expand their reach now—they’ll have to retrench!”

She’d done it, and that meant the legion that had never known defeat was about to discover its bitter taste.

Teriana waited for elation to fill her, but it did not come. She stared dully at the bodies of the innocent civilians of Padria that she’d sacrificed for this victory, their eyes glassy and lifeless.

Please let it be worth it.

Magnius’s voice filled her head. Lysander sends word. The legions have abandoned Revat.

They’ve retreated? she demanded, only for realization to strike like a blow to the gut.

It was too soon.

Word of the destruction of the xenthier paths would not have yet reached Marcus to drive him to retreat. This was something else.

No, they haven’t retreated, Magnius answered. They’ve invaded Mudamora.

She’d been too late. All of this… every life lost, and she’d been too late to save Lydia and her friends.

Despair drove away elation, making her want to scream. Making her want to weep.

Instead, Teriana said, “Magnius, instruct the fleet to regroup at our safe harbor. We need to make plans to sail to Mudamora’s aid.”