Moving gingerly on her aching feet, Teriana climbed into the elevated town, wove across several bridges, and then knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Pushing inside, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, eventually catching sight of an older man grinding herbs in a stone bowl, Hegeria’s mark tattooed onto his forehead. His eyes immediately went to the bandages on her feet, a sympathetic noise passing his lips as he rose. “Come here, child, and let me see to those injuries.”
Teriana stepped back before he could touch her, knowing that was all it would take. “No. You can’t. If these men learn what your mark allows you to do, they’ll use you until you’re in your grave.”
If her words shocked him, it didn’t show. “Are you here to warn me, then?”
Shaking her head, Teriana said, “I need a favor.”
“I’m listening.”
She pulled two folded letters from deep in one of her pockets and passed them to him. “I need you to get these to the temples in Katamarca and Gamdesh, and for the Grand Masters to pass them on to the Queen and Sultan, respectively.”
His hands stilled. “What do they say?”
“They’re a warning,” she said, then swallowed hard. “And a request for aid on behalf of the Maarin people. My name’s Teriana. My mother is Tesya, captain of the Quincense and Triumvir of the Maarin Trade Consortium. The Cel aren’t here for peace. They’re here to conquer. It says all that in there”—she pointed at the letters—“but I have no way to get them delivered. But you do.”
Picking up his mortar and pestle, the old man went to the window and twitched aside the curtain, grinding the herbs as he looked out. “Is it a lie, then, that they plan to dispose of Urcon and allow us to govern ourselves?”
“Yes! No.” Teriana pressed a hand to her forehead. “It’s what they mean to do in the short term. But once they’ve found xenthier paths between here and the Empire, all this kindness? It will disappear. Cassius is just as bad as Urcon. Worse.”
His hands paused. “I believe you, Teriana. But I fear your warnings will fall on deaf ears among my people, especially if this Legatus Marcus continues as he has. My people know no other fear greater than Urcon, and many have lost faith in the Six, blaming them for abandoning us in our time of great need. They might welcome this regime from across the seas, not seeing the danger that lurks beneath the surface until it is too late.”
“You need to help me make them see it,” she said. “They need to fight back. They must!”
“I think you need to consider what will happen if they don’t.”
Teriana’s stomach had hollowed as he’d spoken, but now that space was filled with fear. She’d banked everything on the belief that the nations of the West would be able to fight back the Cel, to send them into retreat. But if what the healer said was true, then the Arinoquians might not just capitulate; they might welcome the Cel with open arms. And only once it was too late would they realize their mistake.
“Teriana!” Marcus’s voice echoed through the walls of the building. “Are you finished?”
The healer poured the contents of his pestle into a linen sack and handed it over. “To add credence to whatever excuse you gave to see me.”
Teriana lifted it to her nose and sniffed, instantly recognizing the scent. “I don’t want this,” she said, trying to return it.
“But you might need it,” he replied, pushing it back. “My name is Caradoc should you need help these men can’t give you.”
A knock sounded at the door, and a moment later it opened to reveal the face of the medic, who smiled and inclined his head respectfully. “Teriana,” he said, “the legatus said this man specializes in plants and herbs? A physician of sorts?”
Her chest tightened. “Why?”
“We’re well supplied, obviously,” he replied, eyes drifting over the shelves filled with jars. “But on the assumption we’ll eventually start to run short, I’d like to start working on understanding which local plants I might use as alternatives. Would you ask if he’s willing to talk?”
Relief flooded through her. “Please don’t tell me that Marcus is willing to sacrifice his fine-tuned schedule to discuss plants.”
“He is.” Marcus answered for himself, stepping inside the home and leaning against the wall. “If this man is willing to share his knowledge.”
Scowling, she asked Caradoc, who only shrugged and nodded, proceeding to answer the medic’s seemingly endless questions. Teriana translated, but her attention kept drifting to Marcus, it being impossible to focus with his eyes on her.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” she said to him. “Maybe go try to buy me some sandals or something so that I can walk. My ribs can’t take any more of your bony shoulders.”
He cracked his back. “It’s already taken care of.”
* * *
Taken care of turned out to be the purchase of a donkey that was nearly as round as he was tall. By the time they’d finished in the other towns and villages and were heading back to camp, Teriana’s ass hurt nearly as much as her feet.
“Every gods-damned minute with you is more miserable than the last,” she muttered, eyeing the setting sun. “I hate this. I hate being on land. I hate how hot it is. I hate all these mosquitos. I hate walking everywhere. I hate everything.”
“I hope you didn’t mean to include all of us in your little rant, Teriana,” Miki said from where he strode next to her right knee, the donkey so short the legionnaire was eye level with her. “Quintus’s feelings are easily hurt, and you and I are going to have words if you make him cry.”
To her left, Quintus pretended to weep into her donkey’s sweaty neck.
“Not you two lovebirds,” she said, shoving Quintus away with one bandaged foot. “Mostly,” she said, her voice growing louder with each word, despite Marcus walking next to the donkey’s head, “I hate the asses in our company who seem to be working together to rub the skin off my backside.”
A sharp series of whistles filled the air and the legionnaires were all moving in an instant.
Quintus pulled Teriana off the donkey and dragged her to the side of the path, pressing her against the ground. Over the rush of her fear, she heard Marcus snarling orders, but all she could see was Miki’s sandaled foot next to her face, the metal of Quintus’s breastplate digging into her back.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“Possible ambush,” Quintus replied. “We stay down until it’s safe.”
The ground was moist beneath her head. A twig or a root, she wasn’t sure which, dug into her ear. A spider scuttled toward her, but Quintus flicked it away before it could climb into her hair. Her breath came in fast little rasps that she was certain anyone who was hunting would be able to hear, because Quintus and Miki were silent. A tear squeezed its way out, dribbling down her face.
“It’s going to be all right,” Quintus said, easing off of her. “Legatus is coming this way now.”
“Help her up.”
“I can get up myself,” Teriana muttered, climbing to her feet. Only then did she realize that it hadn’t just been Quintus and Miki with her but ten other soldiers arrayed about her.
Marcus’s face was pale beneath his helmet, expression grim. “What happened?” she demanded, her gaze skipping to the other legionnaires who were with him. All the humor that had been on their faces moments ago was long gone.
“Can you tell me what this says?” he asked. Pulling a knife from his belt, he scratched out a series of words into the ground.
The Arinoquian language used different letters than Cel and some he’d formed badly, but the message was clear enough. “‘Those who ally with the dragon will pay the price.’”
Lifting her head, she asked, “This message was left on the path? As a warning to the Arinoquians?”
Pulling off his helmet, Marcus wiped sweat off his face. “A warning to us.” Turning to one of his men, he said, “Is there a way around?”
“No helping it, then.” Marcus jammed his helmet back on. “Your donkey bolted down the trail, Teriana. We’ll catch him for you on the other side.”
“Other side of what?”
“Can you walk for ten minutes?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“Yes, but—”
“Let’s go.”
The group started walking, the path cutting closer to the sea until it was skirting the edge of a cliff, sharp hills rising on the other side. She remembered the spot from when they’d passed through the prior morning—they weren’t that far from camp.
Marcus caught hold of her arm. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?” she demanded. “What’s there that you don’t want me to see?”
The muscles of his jaw flexed. “Close your eyes, Teriana, or I’ll blindfold you.”
She took a step back. “Whatever it is, I should see it.”
“No.”
“I will stand here and fight you on this all day,” she said, but her voice shook, because right then the wind gusted in their direction and she caught the tangy copper scent of blood.
“I’m not letting you see.” He moved, pinning her arms to her sides, his other hand clamping down over her eyes.
“Let me go!” she shouted, struggling against him, but he was stronger.
“Walk, or I will drag you.”
Her feet moved, but she kept fighting. Kept fighting even as her bandaged feet stepped in something warm. Something stickier than mud. It splattered against her legs, squished between her toes. “Let me see!” she shrieked. “Let me go!”
“No.” His voice was strained. “Hate me all you want, Teriana, I’m not letting you see this. Because if you do, you will never be able to unsee it. It will be burned into your mind, and you will see it every time you close your eyes.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do,” he said into her ear. “I care.”
“Not your choice.” His hand had slipped slightly in her struggles and, not caring about the consequences, she bit him. Hard.
Swearing, Marcus jerked his hand away from her face.
There were things in the world that shouldn’t happen. That shouldn’t be. This was one of them.
Blood. Blood, everywhere. And pieces … Logically she knew they formed bodies, but her mind couldn’t seem to fit them together. Couldn’t seem to turn them back into the people they’d been. As she watched, one of the men knelt, closing the eyelids of a young woman’s face, his hands shaking.
Twisting away, Teriana stumbled backward and away from the slaughter, but her foot slipped in the mud and she fell on her ass, jarring her spine. The pain barely registered as her eyes fixed on her feet. The once white bandages were brilliant crimson, entirely soaked through with blood.
Arinoquians. That’s who the dead were. Some of the townsfolk they’d spent the night with. It was the blood of the West that was coating her feet. And it was her fault. She’d brought the Cel here. She’d negotiated peace between the Arinoquians and the Cel. This was her fault. Her choice. Her doing.
“Get them off.” Her voice shook, sobs tearing from her lips even as she tore at the bandages, but they were sticky and tangled and there was blood on her hands. “Get them off! Get them off!”
Marcus dropped to his knees in front of her, unraveling the bandages and tossing them aside. But her feet were still covered in it. Her hands were covered in it.
Her whole body shook, her breath coming in fast little gasps. Her ears filled with a loud roar and the world seemed to shift around her, swimming. Darkening.
And then she was in the sea.
Waves washed over her, Marcus’s arms around her waist to keep her from drowning.
The sea surged up the white sand of the beach, and then down, taking the blood staining her skin with it. Calming her. Bringing her back to herself.
“Are you all right?” Marcus’s voice was low, only audible because his face was near her ear, one arm wrapped around her, one braced in the wet sand.
She nodded, and he let her go, standing next to her in the water. He pulled off his helmet, and though he was motionless, Teriana could feel a seething energy to him, like a geyser waiting to blow.
Teriana focused on the sting of her raw heels rather than the pain in her heart. “This is my fault.”
“This is not your fault, Teriana.” He swallowed hard. “It’s mine.”
“I brought you here.”
He didn’t respond, only stared out over the water as though his eyes could stretch all the way back to the Empire.
“Fuck!” he abruptly screamed, and in a violent motion threw the helmet at the waves, the metal bouncing once before sinking. He swore again and kicked the water before doubling over like he’d been punched in the gut.
Teriana watched him in silence. Watched as he slowly sank down to sit next to her, elbows resting on his knees, face in his hands. For a long time, he didn’t speak. Didn’t move. And though the weight of what she’d seen sat heavily on Teriana’s shoulders, she found herself transfixed by this uncharacteristic crack in composure.
Marcus finally straightened, droplets of water running down his face. But not all of it, Teriana thought, is from the sea.
“Thousands of hours of training,” he finally said. “Every book the Empire possesses on strategy and tactics and politics and negotiation crammed into my head. Campaign after campaign, and yet this is always where I fail.”
“You’ve never lost.” The words came out of her mouth as a whisper, barely audible over the waves.
But he heard.
“I’ve lost a hundred times,” he said, turning to her. His eyes were red. “A thousand times. Every time someone died because I failed to predict just how low men and women will stoop when pushed. Just how evil they can be if pressed.”
He looked away. “Cross the world, and it’s the same.” And then, so low Teriana barely heard it, he said, “It’s happening again.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, curious and fascinated and horrified, because that massacre on the pathway—that was part and parcel of his life.
But Marcus didn’t answer, only rested his face in his hands again, staring at the water between his knees. All the power of ten thousand soldiers behind him, an Empire behind him, and in that moment he looked like nothing more than a boy.
Go home, she silently whispered. Go back to the place that bred you. That made you. Don’t make me destroy you.
Abruptly he twisted onto his knees in front of her, gripping her forearms. “You know whose fault this is, Teriana? It’s the fault of the men who wielded the blades. And the fault of the man who ordered them to do it.”
“Urcon wouldn’t have given that order if I hadn’t brought you here,” she said. “They’d still be alive.”
“Would they?” His eyes bored into hers with an intensity unique to him, and she found herself deeply aware of where his skin touched hers. Where his knee pressed against the inside of her thigh. “Because from what we’ve been told, Urcon has killed plenty of Arinoquians with no more motivation than the desire to build his own power.”
Letting go of her with one hand, he pointed a finger up the slope in the direction of the gory scene. “Those people died because they traded with us for food. Because they hosted us for a night. Because they agreed to help feed us and guide us and perhaps one day to fight alongside us. And for that, Urcon had them cut into pieces and left as a gods-damned message on the trail.
“He did it to try to intimidate us,” he continued. “And as a way to intimidate his own people. To make them fear the consequences of rising against him. But mostly Urcon did this because he is afraid.”
Marcus’s hands slid down her arms to grip hers, and Teriana stared at their
interlaced fingers, unsure of why she didn’t recoil. Of why she gripped them back to try to stop his hands from shaking.
“Do you think Urcon should be allowed to remain in power?” he demanded, leaning forward. “Do you think he should be allowed to continue as he has?”
“Of course I don’t.” Her voice was hoarse.
“Then help me tear him down.” His face was inches from hers, his breath rapid and warm against her cheek. “Help me give him a taste of justice.”
It was more complicated than that. Deep down, she wasn’t sure it was Marcus’s right—or even her own—to bring Urcon to justice, but her battered mind couldn’t form the argument that she knew was there. Not with his eyes burning into hers, his fervor lighting her own blood on fire.
“The Arinoquians didn’t choose Urcon. They don’t want him, and he punishes them for it.” Marcus rose to his feet, pulling Teriana with him. “And it’s time his rule came to an end.”
32
TERIANA
If Urcon believed that his message would put fear into the hearts of Ereni’s clan or send Marcus and his legions running back to Celendor, he was mistaken. For the Arinoquians were no cowards, and the Thirty-Seventh had never fallen back for a reason.
Teriana didn’t know exactly what had happened, for Marcus had sent her back to camp under the watchful eye of Quintus and Miki, but Marcus had returned to see Ereni with Gibzen and several other hard-eyed legionnaires in tow. They didn’t return until late the next day, and Marcus would say nothing other than that justice had been delivered.
And his alliance with Ereni was sealed in blood.
Justice did nothing to ease Teriana’s guilt over her complicity in the slaughter on the road, her belief that those Arinoquians would be alive today if not for her choices, and the only thing that kept her anguish from drowning her in the bottom of a rum barrel was that the legion worked her harder than she’d ever worked in her life.
Teriana was constantly on the move, negotiating with towns and villages within Ereni’s sphere of influence to provide the legions with fish and supplies, for which she struck hard enough bargains that even her mother would’ve been proud. For two days, she was forced to ride that gods-damned donkey led by either Quintus or Miki until her feet had healed, but once they had, she marched along with the men, teaching them the rudiments of the language even as she joked and laughed with them, burying all her other emotions for a time when she could put them to better use.
Dark Shores Page 24
