Page 146 of Scorched Earth
The officers stopped their horses on the ridge, Gibzen’s men forming neat ranks around them while the rest of the army kept marching onward. Teriana held her breath as Quintus guided his horse tostand at Nic’s left. Sliding off the side of the animal, she stared at the scene before her.
It was all she could do not to fall to her knees.
Emrant sat on the edge of the azure sea, the towers of the seven gods rising from the center of the city. The tops of the city’s high walls were elbow to elbow with men and women. Before the walls stretched ranks and ranks of Gamdeshian soldiers, their armor glistening in the sunlight, banners flapping on the breeze. Teriana’s eyes went unerringly to the armored figure mounted on a black horse at the center, the Gamdeshian royal crest embossed in gold on her breastplate. Kaira wore no helmet, and as Teriana lifted her spyglass, it revealed the princess’s dark hair fluttering in the wind, lovely face grim and unyielding in the face of the thousands of Empire legionnaires marching toward her.
On the water, the ten Katamarcan vessels with decks filled of legionnaires blocked the harbor.
But where were the Cel ships? Where was the Forty-First?
The question vanished from her head as Marcus said, “A bit of noise, if you would.”
Gibzen chuckled and said, “Put the fear of the Empire in their hearts.”
If Marcus answered, Teriana didn’t hear, because a second after a horn blew a series of notes, the marching men began to beat their weapons against their shields in the same rhythm, the voices rising in unified shouts.
It was wordless and terrifying, fifteen thousand voices promising death.
Row after row of them, and though she knew the legionnaires were flesh and blood, they looked to her inhuman. Like some many-headed beast that had come across the seas not in search of power and gold, but ofblood.
And Kaira’s army seemed child-sized standing before it. Insignificant and pitiful.
Teriana’s heartbeat was a riot in her chest, a scream rising in her throat because she’d fought for this moment. This was the battle that would see her people freed but would be her damnation. She could not watch Marcus slaughter this city and then go on breathing. Go onliving.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The horns blasted, the sound echoing like a god screaming his wrath.
The legions stopped marching as one.
And they fell silent.
The only sound was the whistle of the wind and the rustle of banners, the whole world seeming to hold its breath.
Then Marcus’s horse started down the slope, the Thirty-Seventh’s standard braced in his stirrup.
The legions parted ranks to allow him to pass, the golden mare walking sedately downward, Marcus’s crimson and gold cloak billowing out behind him.
“Shit,” Quintus muttered. “I haven’t seen him do this since Hydrilla.” From Servius’s muttered curses, Gibzen’s open-mouthed gape, and Nic’s expression of horror,noneof them had expected this, either.
“What is he doing?” she demanded.
“Offering her the chance to surrender without a fight, is my guess,” Quintus said under his breath. “But he’s not supposed to do it himself. He’s supposed to send someone we can afford to lose. He’s… he’s also supposed to do that under a white flag.”
Teriana’s head snapped sideways at her friend’s tone, and she saw Quintus’s face was drained of color under his helmet. His blue eyes met hers. “If she tries to kill him, no one is close enough to stop her.”
53MARCUS
After days of smoke and ash, the scent of the sea breeze was a welcome change, and Marcus inhaled deeply as he walked the golden mare down the slope toward the Gamdeshian army, a fresh dose of Gibzen’s narcotics flooding his veins, making colors brighter. Sounds louder, most especially the thundering beat of his heart.
The Thirty-Seventh parted to make a path for him, and though he could feel their anxiety over his choice to step out from the safety of their ranks, he paid them no mind. His eyes were all for the army before him. The ranks and ranks of men and women who’d fight him to the death to protect a city full of those they loved.
They’d fight harder than his men would.
Would press through terror and pain and embrace death, because the consequences of giving up were so much worse in their eyes than falling beneath legion blades.
