Page 282 of Scorched Earth
A test of nerve.
“Steady!” he shouted, seeing Marcus’s mouth move, no doubt saying the same. “Steady!”
A hundred paces.
Fifty.
Yet still no signal.
Doubt screamed through Killian’s veins, fear that he’d led everyone who mattered to him astray and that Mudamora’s only hope was about to die on Cel steel.
Thirty.
Twenty.
This isn’t going to work!his fear howled.Your cavalry is going to die on those spears. Bercola’s giants will die on those spears. Lydia will be captured. Rufina will have her victory.
But then his eyes locked with Marcus’s over the sea of shields and spears, and Killian’s gut said,steady.
The massive legionnaire on a horse next to Marcus lifted a horn and blew a series of notes.
With no hesitation, the legion ranks parted, creating a ruler-straight path through the thousands of men. At the back of his mind, Killian marveled at the training and discipline that allowed such a feat, but there was no time to dwell on it as he galloped toward the opening of shields and spears, shouting at his lines, “Follow me! They are not our enemy this day!”
Shock filled the faces of his soldiers, but they shifted track to follow him even as Bercola roared at the giants to do the same.
Killian didn’t risk another glance back to make sure that everyone was following, focusing on pure speed as he galloped down the lane the legions had made for him. In his periphery, he saw the tension in the legionnaires’ faces as they waited for the order to attack. It wasn’t lost on Killian that if Marcus wanted to kill him and his entire force now, it would be easy. Yet that wasn’t the fear that drove him to push Surly for more speed.
It was the dead legion at the rear.
The thousands of legionnaires who didn’t answer to Marcus but to Rufina.
They hadn’t reacted yet, all standing stock-still in a way that no one would ever perceive as human. But Killian saw the moment that Rufina realized Marcus’s betrayal, because the child legionnaires all collectively twitched.
As one, they broke ranks and began to sprint toward the lane the living legions had made for Killian’s forces.
He had less than a minute to get through.
Faster.
Horns blared, the living legionnaires shifting with unease and confusion at the actions of their younger comrades.
Hold,he silently pleaded even as he watched the dead legion raceto cut off his path. No part of how they moved was human—it appeared for all the world like a swarm of insects racing to a feast. If one fell, the others stormed overtop, grinding their fellow into the mud, their only care for blocking Killian’s path.
Faster.
He leaned over his warhorse’s neck, urging him on, counting down the lines of men left until he’d be in the open.
The horde of dead drew closer, the front-runners lifting their weapons.
Killian fought the urge to draw his sword, knowing it would only provoke the living around him.
Closer by the second, and Killian could see now how truly young the dead legion was. They’d never reach Finn’s age, and though there was nothing human in their eyes, he knew the souls of the boys they’d once been were still inside. Watching their bodies being used by the Corrupter and powerless to stop it.
Killian glanced over his shoulder. Lydia was right on his heels, as were Malahi and Agrippa. But their cavalry and Bercola’s giants were stretched in a long line behind them, and most wouldn’t make it before the dead legion attacked.
Not without help.
“They’re not alive!” he shouted at the legionnaires behind the walls of shields and spears to either side of him, all men with the 37 on their chests. “Those boys fell to the blight! The Fifty-First are dead!”
