Page 255 of Scorched Earth
“It will be far more than just one.” Felix’s tone was low and angry, and Marcus knew that some of the anger was at him for allying with Rufina and her creatures.
Sly’s eyes shifted, finally seeing the multitude of crossbow bolts leveled at him, Gibzen’s men sour-faced and watching intently. “Right. Well ease your mind—we’re all friends here.”
“No,” Felix retorted. “We are not.”
Ignoring the tension, Marcus asked, “Killian Calorian, DareenaFalorn, and Kitaryia Falorn are all with the Mudamorian front lines?”
Sly turned back to him. “Such was the last report we received. Malahi Rowenes and her…consortare also with them. They aim to get to Deadground in the north to attack the source of the blight and destroy it, so our focus has been on protecting our xenthier paths.”
“Who is her consort?” Marcus hadn’t failed to notice the man’s tone.
“A deserter.” Sly rolled his shoulders.
It wasn’t the whole truth of this consort’s identity, but Marcus had larger concerns than whoever was sharing some Mudamorian highborn’s bed. “Stay here.”
He left Sly cooling his heels while he walked a short distance away with Felix, his second’s crossbow remaining trained on the corrupted’s head.
“I don’t like this,” Felix muttered. “These are fair-weather allies, Marcus. The moment we give them what they want, they will turn on us. Theairstinks like death. This is poisoned ground, sure and true.”
The walls in Marcus’s mind had stood untested for long days, but he found himself feeling the same unease as Felix. “We are in and out. We secure the gold, then we put down the Mudamorian resistance and reclaim Cassius’s woman. If this takes us more than two days, something has gone wrong.”
“Lydia or Kitaryia or whatever her name is, isn’t going to come easily.” Felix’s tone was flat. “It was her on that beach, Marcus. It was Lydia Valerius who caused three hundred Thirty-Seventh deaths. She’s likehim.” He dipped the crossbow in Sly’s direction.
“Which is why the only thing we’ll collect is her corpse.” It was a struggle to keep his tone even, the anticipation Marcus felt at finally putting Lydia in the ground as heady as the strongest narcotic. “In and out, Felix. I don’t like it any better than you, but if we do this, we get Cassius off our backs and protect legion lives.”
“For how long?”
Marcus didn’t bother answering.
Legionnaires were coming through the xenthier stem by the dozens. The hundreds. The thousands. Interspersed between ranks came war machines, all moved out of the path of even more legionnaires with the well-trained efficiency of men who were used to the challenges of xenthier transport. The camp grew, spreading out over fields and around copses of trees as night deepened, but it was well past the midnight hour when Marcus heard the heavy flap of wings above.
The dark sky cloaked the strange flying beasts that Sly called deimos as they circled an open space Marcus’s men had surrounded with torches.
Thump.
A thick wooden chest exploded against the ground, spilling bars that glittered golden in the torchlight.
Thump.
Another chest fell from the sky and exploded more gold onto the ground.
Thump.
In rapid progression, the deimos discarded their loads into the clearing until the ground was carpeted with golden bars. When the air was free of wings, Marcus watched Servius step onto the golden ground. He picked up one bar and then another, testing the weight while other men melted apart a few bars with a forge. “Solid gold!” came the chorus of reports.
It was a fortune beyond reckoning, but Marcus felt nothing as he stared at it. The fortune that he sought was to the north. “Send it to Revat and arrange transport back to Celendor.”
“You are content, Legatus?” Sly asked, approaching. “There is more where this came from, I assure you. But there is a limit to what a deimos can carry.”
“It is as agreed,” Marcus answered. “Go tell your mistress that we will see our half of the bargain done.”
Sly shrugged, then lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled. Wings flapped, and one of the deimos landed, the corrupted climbing onto its saddle and then soaring away into the night to deliver the message.
The flow of legionnaires continued, numbers swelling into the tens of thousands. A show of force that would make this campaign as short and painless as possible, but also required every legion under his command to take equal risk on this deadly ground, no one legion allowed to hide back in the relative safety of Revat.
When the flow of men ceased, it swiftly switched to an equally valuable commodity. A stream of water from a well in Gamdesh, pumps and a system designed by Rastag ensuring that his men would have a steady supply of water with no fear of contamination. Water that could be paused for the delivery of food, all coming from Celendor to Emrant to Revat and then through to them here. Every step of the supply chain from Emrant to this place under heavy and vigilant guard, because this was their lifeline.
As dawn lit the sky in the east, it revealed an army greater than had ever been gathered in the known history of Reath. Mounting his golden mare, Marcus took hold of the Thirty-Seventh’s standard. His gaze was drawn north like iron to a lodestone as he rode through the lines of his men, his voice loud as he shouted, “Mudamora took the lives of three hundred of our brothers! Today, we will have blood in return! In the name of the Empire and vengeance, march!”
