Page 183 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)
MARCUS
He dragged a hand across his face to wipe away the tears as he left her, leading Felix and Servius down the corridor with long strides, because if he didn’t put distance between himself and Teriana, Marcus knew that he’d turn around.
That he’d go back to her. And that no power on Reath would pull him away from her again.
“I don’t want to hear any more arguments from you two,” he muttered. “Let’s just get this done.”
Neither of his friends answered, only followed him down the stairs and out into the city—
Where the entire Thirty-Seventh waited, neat ranks packing the streets in a long column that wove through Celendrial. But painfully fewer in number than they’d been when they had set out across the world. So many of his brothers lost, his hands stained with their blood.
“Last march,” Felix said quietly. “They’ll follow you to the end.”
Marcus’s chest tightened, emotion drowning him as he stared out over the men who’d followed him across the world and back.
Men who’d been his family. His brothers.
He no more wanted them to watch him die than he did Teriana, but neither would he deny them this.
“Then straighten up those ranks,” he ordered. “Everyone in Celendrial is watching.”
Backs straightened and chins lifted as he moved to the center of the column, Servius and Felix on either side of him, the Thirty-Seventh’s standard in Servius’s hand.
“Drums.”
The drummers began to strike their instruments, the same steady beat as they’d played when they marched on Celendrial. “To the Forum.”
The column began to move, the thud, thud, thud of thousands of feet stepping in time echoing off the walls of the building, the civilians moving onto their balconies to silently watch.
No one spoke, the men all silent and grim-faced, and Marcus kept his eyes forward even as beads of sweat rolled down his back.
You can do this.
Ahead, the Forum appeared, men of the Forty-First blocking the entrance.
They moved aside at the Thirty-Seventh’s approach, saluting Marcus as he passed.
At the far end of the space, gallows had been erected.
On them stood his father, his brother, and Cassius.
Nooses dangled, including the one that waited for him.
Marcus’s heart skittered, his nerve faltering.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the tiny metal ship dig into his chest.
You can do this.
The lead ranks of the Thirty-Seventh reached the end of the open space, forming neat lines with a pathway between them, allowing him a clear line to the rostra where Tiberius waited, Senator Valerius at his side.
On the steps leading to the Curia crowded the rest of the Senate, Cordelia among them, her chin high though her eyes were red.
“The prisoner,” Felix said coldly to Tiberius.
“Restrain him and bring him onto the gallows,” Tiberius said. “We do not intend to belabor this.”
You can do this.
Swallowing hard, Marcus turned to Servius and wrapped his arms around his friend. “It has been my honor and privilege to serve with you,” he said, “and to call you my friend.”
Tears dripped down Servius’s face, and he squeezed Marcus so hard his ribs groaned. “You as well, sir.”
Then Felix took his arm, leading him onto the platform.
“I have to bind your wrists,” Felix said quietly. “Protocol.”
“I know.” He pulled the string holding the hair ornament over his head, gripping the little metal ship in his fist as Felix wrapped his wrists with rope. “Take care of them, my friend. You’re the only one I trust to do it.”
Felix gave a tight nod, then slipped the noose over his head, his friend’s composure cracking as he tightened it. “I’m sorry,” he said, wiping away tears. “I can’t do this to you. I won’t.”
“You will,” Marcus said. “Last order.”
Felix was quiet, then he nodded and stepped back. “Yes, sir.”
The Forum was nearly silent, not a word spoken by his men, the senators on the steps, nor the civilians that had crowded in behind the Thirty-Seventh. The only sound was his brother’s loud weeping. Marcus kept his eyes forward, watching as his mother, dressed in a silk dress, was brought forward.
“You have been found guilty of treason,” Tiberius said to her, and Marcus heard the faint shake in his brother-in-law’s voice.
“In ac cordance with Celendor’s laws, you are to be stripped of titles and material possessions, and then made to walk the streets so that all you have wronged may see your shame. ”
His mother screamed, then dropped to her knees, looking up at Marcus. “Don’t let them do this,” she begged. “Please, stop this. I know you could stop this if you wanted. Please!”
You can do this. Marcus gripped the tiny ship tight, then looked forward, saying nothing.
The executioner stepped forward, and without hesitation, tore the dress off his mother, leaving her naked. She gasped, trying to cover herself, but the man shoved her in the back. “Walk.”
His mother took one stumbling step, then another, heading down the path created by his men, who all kept their eyes forward.
Slowly, she walked to the rear of the Forum, disappearing into the city.
Where there would usually be shouts of mockery, there was only silence.
His eyes flicked to Cordelia. She and his sisters were wed, which spared them from such a fate, but at best, the stain this had left upon them would result in ostracization for long years to come.
At worst, their husbands would cast them into the streets to be rid of them.
What remained of his family depended on the grace of Agrippa’s brother, and Marcus could only hope that Tiberius Egnatius was as good a man as he believed himself to be.
Then Tiberius said, “Gaius Domitius, you have been found guilty of treason. In accordance with the laws of Celendor, your punishment is the forfeiture of your life.”
Gaius shrieked and thrashed, then twisted to look at Marcus. “This is your fault!” he screamed. “You were supposed to die! Why didn’t you die?”
“Soon enough,” Marcus replied, the ship digging into his palm as the platform dropped.
Crack.
He flinched as his brother’s neck snapped, then the Forum was silent again.
“Gnaeus Domitius, you have been found guilty of treason. In accordance with the laws of Celendor, your punishment is the forfeiture of your life.”
His father looked at him, and said, “I’m sorry. I was a fool to have given you up.”
You can do this.
The platform dropped.
Crack.
“I told you.”
Cassius’s voice filled his ears, and Marcus turned to meet the man’s eyes, feeling a rush of cold as he stared into dark voids.
Vaguely, he heard Tiberius sentencing Cassius, the crowd no longer quiet but screaming for blood.
It all seemed distant as Cassius said, “I told you that if you crossed me, I’d take away everything you cared about. That I’d destroy everything you loved.”
Marcus stared back, blood trickling down his fingers as the metal cut his palm under the force of his grip. “You did not choose this. I did. ”
Cassius dropped.
Crack.
Marcus stared at the dangling corpse of the man who’d caused him such grief and pain. Cassius’s eyes were now blue and unseeing, and urine dripped from the Dictator’s sandaled foot to splatter the ground below.
It’s over. The worst is over. The rest will be quick and easy, and then you can rest.
“Legionnaire 37–1519, you have been found guilty of treason against the Empire. In accordance with the laws of Celendor, your punishment is the forfeiture of your life,” Tiberius said, then he looked to Valerius, who nodded once. “Do you have final words, Legatus?”
He didn’t want to speak, but as he looked out over his legion, Marcus knew that he owed it to them, so he cleared his throat.
You can do this.
The rope of the noose was rough against his throat as Marcus swallowed hard, taking in the legion standing before him.
The Thirty-Seventh. Men he’d led through countless battles, their expressions a mixture of grief and anger, but their eyes held loyalty that not even the shadow of his crimes could extinguish. “At ease.”
The Thirty-Seventh all relaxed their postures, many removing their helmets, and the senators watching on all shifted nervously as though it were just occurring to them that he still held the power here. And though that power would soon come to an end, it was by his decision, not theirs.
Marcus took a deep breath, then spoke, his voice carrying over the silent forum.
“It was nearly fourteen years ago that we were delivered to Campus Lescendor. Taken from the only families we had known and delivered into halls filled with strangers. Into a life of hardship and suffering and violence that many did not survive but which bound us into a brotherhood. They call us a legion, but what we are is a family that was forged with our blood, our sweat, and our tears, and it has been the greatest honor and privilege of my life to lead the Thirty-Seventh. You have all put your lives in my hands, followed my orders without question, and gifted me your loyalty. Even in the moments when I did not deserve it.”
His voice cracked on the last, and Marcus squeezed Teriana’s hair ornament tightly even as his composure wavered.
“The Senate has convicted me of treason against the Empire, and I will not deny my guilt. Yet it is not for breaking those laws that I choose to stand here with this noose around my neck, because those crimes are paltry in comparison to the crimes I have committed against Reath.”
He paused, running his thumb over the Quincense’s sails.
“From the moment we left Lescendor, we have been conquerors. Subjugators. Killers. From Bardeen to Chersome. From Arinoquia to Gamdesh to Mudamora, we have left misery and ruin in our wake all in the name of the Empire. All so the men on those steps”—he jerked his chin to the Curia—“could grow their power and fill their coffers.”
The Thirty-Seventh shifted restlessly, and on the steps of the Curia, the senators all wore scowls. But from the corner of his eye, Marcus saw his sister give a sad smile.
“We say we do their bidding because we must. Because we have no choice but to obey. But that is a lie: the reason is not that we have no choice but that the choice to resist, the choice to say ‘I will not do this,’ carries with it a cost higher than we wished to pay. Higher than what I wished to pay, and I descended so deeply into the belief that there was no other path for me that I became no better than these Senators. Worse, in many ways, because the blood of all who have fallen beneath the Empire’s heels is on my hands.
Too much blood to ever atone for, so all I have left is to accept the punishment for what I have done so that Reath may at least have justice. ”
He drew in a steadying breath. “I will be held to account for what I have done, but so, too, must the Empire herself be held to account for what it has done. And the Empire is not the patricians on the Hill that looms above us, it is the people. It is you !” he shouted, allowing his eyes to drift over the civilians watching on, his words repeated back through the thousands upon thousands who massed in the streets.
“You are all accountable for what the Empire has done in your name, and it is past time to risk the consequences that come with saying enough. The Empire’s war machine is not faceless men birthed from a golden dragon but your sons.
The sons of every province—the sons of Celendor herself.
You do not get to give them up and then wash your hands of them, nor do you get to wash your hands of what the Empire uses them for. You are culpable.”
The noose again scratched at his neck as Marcus turned his head, scanning the crowd. A visceral reminder of what was to come.
“You, the people, are what will prevent bloody conquest from happening again. You, the people, are what will prevent men like Lucius Cassius from rising again. You, the people, are who will tear down this institution of tyranny, and from its ashes, raise up a nation that is worth these legions fighting for!”
A roar of legion voices filled the Forum to be taken up by the civilians in the streets until it felt as though all of Celendrial had lifted their voices. Marcus stood until it fell silent before turning his gaze back to his legion.
“It has been my honor to serve with you, brothers,” he said, then turned his head to look at Felix. “I leave you in the best of hands.”
The Thirty-Seventh slammed their fists to their chest in salute, but as the noise faded, it was replaced with the sound of boots hitting paving stones. Someone running. Then a female voice screaming, “Marcus!”
No no no!
Teriana shouldered her way through the crowd, then sprinted down the lane to slide to a stop before the gallows. Her beautiful face was slick with tears as she looked up at him. “I love you,” she said. “I needed to be sure you knew it.”
He squeezed the ship tighter. You can—
stop this.
You can take control.
You can be with her.
You can—
Marcus looked at the executioner and nodded once.
Then he was falling.
Except instead of a long fall, he only dropped a few feet, the noose jerking tight around his throat, cutting off his breath.
No. Not like this.
The pain around his neck was incredible but nothing compared to the need to breathe. He gripped the tiny ship tighter.
The world was spinning, Teriana sliding in and out of his line of sight. She was on her knees. Servius was restraining her.
And he needed to breathe.
Needed air.
I curse you to die gasping for breath that will not come.
Panic rose with the memory of Kaira’s dying words, then terror, because he needed air. Needed one last breath.
Darkness was rising.
His grip was slackening.
You can do this.
He couldn’t feel his hands.
You can do this.
You can