Page 173 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

Marcus huffed out a disgusted breath. “Not if you want me to respond.”

Felix laughed. “Fair enough, fair enough.” Then his amusement fell away.

“Marcus, if we go back, we need to silence Cassius before he says anything about this. Breaking the child tithe law is not something that will be forgiven—not by the Senate, not by the people, not even by the legions themselves. If it gets out, they’ll execute you. ”

Unease seethed from his friend, and Marcus slung an arm around his shoulder to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Felix. Cassius’s crimes are great and his days are numbered.”

Felix left to check on the camp, but Marcus continued on.

He reached the circle of towers, which were large by most standards, if those standards didn’t include those that had once stood over Revat.

Yet where Revat’s towers had had presence, these felt like lifeless stone.

Marcus wondered whether it was because the focus of the gods was elsewhere, or whether something had been lost here.

Whether it could be brought back, or whether the damage was as permanent as that he’d wrought upon Revat.

Hegeria’s tower was the largest in width of the seven, but as Marcus opened the doors of the entrance, a wave of rot passed over him and he quickly took a step back. A massacre had occurred here, and he closed the doors again, for this place, at least, truly was a tomb.

Servius approached. “I’ve bad news.”

Marcus’s stomach tightened.

“Someone stole your horse.”

His tension evaporated. “Really? That’s unfortunate.”

“Is it though? Did you really need to be riding a horse that looked like she was carved out of a block of gold?”

“That mare saved my life.” Marcus shrugged. “But perhaps it’s for the best.”

Racker approached. “I’ve a name to add to the list. Miki has died, I’m sorry to report. Tragic. You’ll want to update your ledger.”

“A true loss to our ranks,” Marcus murmured, but his surgeon was already heading back to camp. “Felix, ready the men for the crossing. Double time; I don’t want to lose the advantage of darkness in Celendrial.”

Then he started toward the palace.

Servius fell in lock step. “Before he took off, Quintus said the terminus is within sight of Celendrial, though barely. It’s hidden in a slough below water level, which is likely why it’s never been found. He says the water isn’t deep enough to be of concern.”

“And Celendrial?”

“Tense. Hostus might be dead, but the Twenty-Ninth is keeping to their legacy. There are civilian bodies in the streets. Signs of fire. So much graffiti that you can barely see the walls, all of it espousing hate for our dear Dictator.”

“The people are rising.”

“And being struck down with an iron fist.” Servius was quiet. “We put this man in power, Marcus. This is on us just as much as it is on him.”

“Yes, it is. But we cannot undo the past, so the only avenue left to us is to empower those who will see Celendor toward a better future.”

“Do such individuals truly exist?”

Marcus thought about Lydia and her companions fighting against the undead. Against the power of a god. “I think so.”

As they reached the palace gates, Marcus glanced back to see the legions were on the move into the city, marching with speed that had more to do with eagerness than training.

“I’ll need my best hundred to go first,” he said.

“The rest of the Thirty-Seventh will hold the rear to ensure no one lingers behind.”

A runner disappeared to enact the order. “Centurion Qian would make a good primus,” Felix said. “You do need to choose someone.”

“I trust your judgment.”

Felix shot him a sideways look of concern that Marcus pretended not to notice as he entered the palace. Taking up a fresh torch, he motioned for his bodyguard to walk behind as he again followed the tunnels down to the xenthier stem.

“Centurion Qian should be here soon,” Felix said. “We’ll give them a bit of time to establish the perimeter, then begin moving through. It’s going to take hours, though, so—”

Marcus reached out and took hold of the stem, his friend’s exclamation of alarm cut off as the world turned white, casting him into a void for an eternity and less than a heartbeat.

Darkness abruptly fell over him as he stepped out into night air, and Marcus stumbled through knee-deep water, mud sucking at his sandals. He nearly landed on his ass in the murk, but then a cursing Felix appeared, crashing into him and knocking him onto the muddy bank.

“We shouldn’t both be here,” Marcus told him reprovingly as he kicked mud off his sandal.

Felix only shoved him, snarling, “You’re not supposed to go first. You’re never supposed to go first.”

“I’ll never do it again,” Marcus said. “I promise.”

Felix only huffed, then hauled on Marcus’s arm, dragging him up the slope, the brilliant glow of Celendrial visible against the midnight horizon.

“I always forget how big she is,” Felix said, their elbows bumping together as they stood staring at the city of their birth. The city that ruled an Empire.

A city that had, for a moment, tried to rule all of Reath.

They stood without speaking, the only sound the drone of insects and the distant clamor of the city, for Celendrial never slept.

Then there was a splash of water, and Qian moved silently up the slope behind them, his men arriving in rapid succession. “Sir,” he said, saluting. “Orders?”

“The moment we are spotted, those who have the most cause to fear our wrath will try to flee,” Marcus said. “Get into the city, and when the time is right, lock down access to the docks.”

“How will I know when the time is right?”

“You’ll know.”

“Yes, sir.” Qian hesitated, then said, “There are two legions in the city, though, sir. I might need a handful more men.”

“Don’t worry,” Marcus replied. “You’ll be the least of their concerns, and I trust you’ll be creative in discouraging escape. Remember, we are here to liberate Celendrial from its tyrant, not to spill more civilian blood.”

“We’ll see it done, sir.” Qian saluted, then he and his men disappeared on silent feet into the night.

The men began pouring through the stem, first by the hundreds and then by the thousands. They all quietly saluted Marcus as he and Felix deployed the legions in a perimeter around Celendrial, every man under orders to maintain utter silence until the moment was right.

“I can’t believe no one has noticed yet,” Felix muttered after the second hour. “Aren’t they scouting around the city?”

“I doubt it,” Marcus answered. “Celendrial hasn’t been attacked in over twelve hundred years, and its hubris has caused it to grow complacent. For who would dare to attack Mother Empire at her heart?”

“Teriana.”

Marcus smiled. “She taught a painful lesson, but it seems they have not yet learned.”

More hours passed. The first glow of dawn appeared in the east, reflecting off the branch of the River Savio that flowed before them, but men were still passing through the stem from Mudaire.

Finally, the familiar voices of the Thirty-Seventh reached his ears, and Amarin came up between Marcus and Felix.

“You didn’t eat before you left,” his servant said with reproach. “You will not have a clear head if your stomach is empty.”

He held out an apple to Marcus, but instead of taking the fruit, Marcus leaned closer. “Thank you,” he said to the older man. “For everything.”

Amarin inclined his head. “Don’t thank me yet, sir. I’ve yet to discover whether my efforts were worth it.”

The corner of Marcus’s mouth turned up, and he said, “Accidents happen during these sorts of moments, my friend. Hearts give out. I anticipate being informed of your untimely demise in a few hours.” Reaching into his belt pouch, he extracted what coin was in there and handed it to Amarin.

“I hear that the weather in Sibal is lovely this time of year.”

The older man pocketed the coins. “If you don’t mind, sir, my heart would like to see this through before it gives out.”

“Understandable.”

Amarin shoved the apple into Marcus’s hand, and then disappeared back through the ranks.

“We’re running out of time,” Felix murmured. “Hubris or no, there are men guarding those walls, and they aren’t blind. We’ve got minutes until they see that the whole bloody city is surrounded and raise the alarm.”

“Let them raise the alarm,” Marcus replied. “They’re not going anywhere.”

Leaving Felix to manage the influx of Thirty-Seventh, Marcus walked a hundred paces closer to the city, listening to his men form up behind him even as the light grew.

And the legionnaires guarding the city walls finally spotted the threat.

Marcus tilted his head, watching as first they stared, dumbfounded, then burst into action. Alarm bells rang, the noise spilling across the city as the sun crested the horizon. At last, Servius joined Marcus at his other elbow.

“Everyone is here?”

“To the man,” Servius answered. “Thanks for waiting. I didn’t want to miss the party.”

“We’re just getting started.” Marcus took a breath, the first flutter of fear for what was to come filling his stomach.

Vaguely, he heard, “It’s the commandant,” muttered through the lines behind him, followed by curses, because, apparently, Wex wasn’t alone.

The commandant of Lescendor rode through the Thirty-Seventh leading a white horse. The ground behind Marcus’s lines was no longer empty but filled with the thousands of boys being trained at Lescendor.

“Have you forgotten to watch your rear, boy?” Commandant Wex said, drawing his mount to a halt.

“I didn’t think anyone had noticed we were here.”

Wex snorted. “Lescendor scouts even if Celendrial does not. You’re becoming forgetful.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“Cocky, then.” Wex tossed him the reins of the other horse. “You sure about this, Legatus? Once you cross the Savio, the law will cease to be on your side. It will be seen as an act of war against the Empire, and you will be branded a traitor.”

“I know the laws of the Empire, Commandant. But today, the law will bend its knee to me.”

“You always were my brightest star,” Wex said. “But it is the brightest that burn out the quickest. I note the Fifty-First are not with you. I’d hoped…” The commandant trailed off with a sigh.

Marcus shook his head. “They were lost. But they will not be forgotten.” Then he called out, “Remember the Fifty-First!”

The Thirty-Seventh echoed the shout, and it repeated through the legions surrounding Celendrial, announcing to the city the reason why they were here.

Not for vengeance, but for justice.

Marcus mounted the horse, taking the Thirty-Seventh’s standard from Servius and turning to face the city. “Proceed.”

A horn bellowed, long and low, answered by the same note played by a hornist in each legion, then the men began to march. Drums sounded an ominous beat, the noise of tens of thousands of men loud as thunder.

They reached the branch of the Savio, which was low at this time of year, the water barely passing his horse’s knees as Marcus rode into it. His men splashed through without losing stride.

“This might cost you everything and yield nothing,” Wex said from where he rode next to him. “Are you certain?”

Marcus heeled his horse out of the water, his eyes fixed on the golden dragon that loomed over the closed gate. “I’ve already thrown the dice. All that remains to be seen is how they will fall.”