Page 25 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

MARCUS

Marcus fixed his eyes on Austornic. The boy was yet another issue needing to be addressed, but he didn’t have the energy for it when all he wanted to do was collapse on a bedroll and sleep for a week.

“We’ll talk,” he said. “But I have to get this camp in order first. Have your men stay out of the way of trouble or they’ll have cause to regret it. ”

You sound like Hostus, his conscience whispered, and Marcus pressed fingers to his throbbing temples.

“Yes, sir. But—”

“It can wait.”

Rising to his feet, Marcus pulled off the filthy civilian clothes he still wore, but as he reached for the red tunic that Amarin had brought, Austornic said, “It can’t wait.

There’s more information about the attack on the terminus camp that you need to know.

I didn’t want to say anything about it with the others present, because Teriana indicated that aspects of what she told me were… confidential.”

Marcus went still, hand resting on the clean garment. “What information?”

“About the nature of the attack.” Austornic quickly described the scene as the Fifty-First had found it.

“Teriana believes the attack was perpetrated by one of the individuals known as the corrupted. I… Well, obviously it goes against all of my training and beliefs to accept the existence of gods, much less individuals who are granted special powers by them, but I can provide no other explanation for why we discovered men who appeared well into their eighties bearing the mark of the Forty-First tattooed on their chests. She also mentioned the name Ashok.”

Anger filled Marcus’s chest like cold fire.

Was Titus’s desire for power great enough that he’d make another deal with Ashok that included killing his own men to silence them? “She was certain?”

“Yes, though you can ask her yourself if you doubt me.”

Marcus wasn’t ready to talk to Teriana. Wasn’t ready to be in the same room with her. That was why he’d left her in Celendrial, and with every breath he took, Marcus was aware she was now in this very camp. “I don’t doubt you.”

“Did you see who took you from the terminus camp?”

“I remember coming through the stem. The next thing I knew, I was in Titus’s tent barely able to think from xenthier sickness.”

“How many jumps?”

“Six.” He shook his head. “No, seven.”

Austornic was staring at him, a peculiar expression on his face. Like he wasn’t entirely certain Marcus was quite real. “You should be dead.”

He should. Had been fairly certain that he’d been about to breathe his last. And yet… “Maybe it’s coming.”

Everything that had happened in those first days had been a blur, except for Zaide. The old man’s face was burned on his memory, his mind picking away at it, unable to let it go. Zaide, the Gamdeshian. Just as Ashok was Gamdeshian.

Not caring that he wore only undergarments, Marcus bolted across the room.

“Sir?”

Ignoring Austornic, he shoved open the doors.

Zaide’s ancient face dominated his mind’s eye, the old man’s dark eyes too clever by far.

Marcus had long suspected that Urcon, the tyrant who’d terrorized Arinoquia, had been nothing more than Ashok’s puppet.

But no one had seen someone of the corrupted’s description in Urcon’s company, which meant he’d used agents.

“Sir?” Austornic was calling after him, the guards who’d been outside the door following him, but Marcus paid them no mind.

The stone was cold beneath his bare feet as he stumbled down the hallway, his head throbbing.

Pushing open the fortress doors, he nearly fell down the steps as the bright sunlight stabbed into his eyes.

“Sir?” Hands caught his elbows, steadying him, but Marcus brushed them aside. “Where did Titus go?”

“Toward the mess tent, sir.”

Marcus broke into a run.

If Zaide was Ashok’s agent, it meant he was a witness to all of Titus’s dealings with the corrupted. A witness that Titus had a vested interest in silencing.

A commotion was coming from the mess tent, hundreds of men standing outside, the delineation between the two legions clearly visible.

As were the weapons in their hands.

It would seem that news of Titus’s apparent duplicity had spread.

Shoving into the tent full of shouting men, Marcus elbowed his way through the ranks to the front where food was served, mutters of his name rising on a swell. When he finally broke into the open space, he found Titus with his naked blade pressed to Zaide’s throat.

“Stand down.” Marcus injected force into his tone despite feeling ready to pass out. But he couldn’t allow Titus to kill this man.

This witness.

Titus ignored him. “Who are you working for?” he growled at the old man. “Who killed my men?”

“I work for you!” Zaide pleaded, the silver rings decorating his ears glittering in the light as he shook his head. “It was your own men who found him passed out in the brush, master. You know this, for it was they who carried him into Galinha.”

“Liar!”

Seeing Titus’s intent, Marcus lunged, catching hold of his arm and hauling him back before he could kill the one man who could bear witness to his crimes. The one man whose testimony would allow Marcus to put Titus on the gallows.

“This is not how we’re doing this, Titus,” he snapped. “Stand down, or I’ll have you restrained. Either way, I’m not allowing you to use him as your scapegoat.”

“Scapegoat?”

“You knew I came from Bardeen.”

“No, I did not.” Sweat was running down Titus’s forehead, his usually unflappable composure fracturing around the edges.

“Obviously I regret not taking you at your word, Marcus, but everyone thought you’d run off with Teriana.

Everyone. Every man here knows you’re a good liar, every man here knows that you can put on a show, and I thought that’s all it was.

That things had gone sour with Teriana, and you were doing whatever it took to get your old life back.

” His jaw worked back and forth, and he added, “I’ve worked hard to make progress on our mission, and I didn’t want all of it to go to waste.

Didn’t want to go back to setting up house in Arinoquia with no mind to achieving the goals set to us, which I knew would be what you’d do.

So if the Thirty-Seventh chose not to believe your bullshit and put an end to you, well…

I wasn’t going to shed any tears.” He squared his shoulders.

“But I didn’t lie. And I sure as shit didn’t kill my own men to cover that lie. My only fault is trusting this vermin.”

Wrenching out of Marcus’s grip, Titus leveled his gladius at Zaide. “I will have the truth from you.”

“I am but an old man,” the Gamdeshian pleaded, then reached out to catch hold of Marcus’s wrist as though he’d protect him. “I helped you, master. Nursed you back to health.”

Marcus tried to pull his arm free, but the man was shockingly strong; the bones of his wrist ground beneath the old Gamdeshian’s grip. “Get your hands off me.”

“Marcus.”

Teriana’s voice caught his attention and Marcus turned to find her standing next to Felix, eyes black-tossed seas of terror, her whole body shaking.

The tendons in his wrist screamed beneath Zaide’s grip, but Marcus couldn’t pull his eyes from Teriana’s terrified face, her chin quivering as she said in Bardenese, “Corrupted.”