Gilded Serpent, page 15
“What a bloody mess this is.” Gibzen gave a sharp shake of his head, then swiveled to look at her, eyes full of condemnation. “Happy?”
Not even a little bit. And neither were all the men in the surrounding camp who’d stopped what they were doing to watch. To listen as their two highest-ranking officers shouted at each other about her. Every one of them thought she was to blame for this, unaware that Marcus’s grievance with Felix was because of betrayal. Because of treason. “Someone needs to intervene.”
“Yeah, but not you.” Taking a breath, Gibzen strode between the guards and into the tent. More terse words emanated, but they were too quiet for her to make out.
“Maybe we should—” Whatever Quintus was about to say was cut off by Felix striding out of the tent.
“Fuck!” he shouted, then flung his helmet, the metal slamming against a tent post with a loud clang. No one in the camp said a word, everyone watching in silence as he stormed across the open space surrounding the command tent. Then he slid to a stop, eyes fixing on Teriana.
She held her breath as he stalked toward them, jaw tight and eyes red. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Quintus stepped in front of her. “Legatus’s orders, sir. She’s next to useless in a fight.”
If she hadn’t been sick with terror, Teriana would have taken offense.
“Then why aren’t you following them?” Felix asked. “His orders were to teach her, but all I see is you drowning her in the mud for the entertainment of idle bastards whose time is better used doing something useful.” He roared the last, and all the men standing around watching the exchange swiftly departed in opposite directions.
Pulling off his sodden cloak, Felix tossed it at one of the guards. Then he turned his back on Quintus, his eyes on Teriana. “Watch.”
Behind him, Quintus shifted uneasily. Teriana didn’t blame him.
“Get on with it, Quintus,” Felix snapped. “And don’t hold back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quintus eased forward, making no sound, the stick he’d been using in lieu of a knife held in his right hand.
Then he lunged, his left arm wrapping around Felix’s torso, hand clamping down on Felix’s wrist.
Yet it seemed Felix hadn’t gained his position in the Thirty-Seventh just because of Marcus. In a blur of motion, he twisted his left arm up, hand closing over Quintus’s where it grasped the stick. Then he jerked Quintus’s arm down, holding the blade tight against his breastplate before slamming his head back against Quintus’s nose.
Blood splattered, and Quintus swore, recoiling. He kept his grip on Felix’s wrist, but his balance was off and Felix took advantage, twisting to face Quintus and using his momentum to shove the stick away from his chest and toward Quintus’s unarmored chest.
Where it came to a stop, the tip resting right below Quintus’s sternum. “Dead.”
Glowering, Quintus pulled away, spitting blood into the mud.
Wiping at the mud that had splattered his face, Felix retrieved his cloak. As he fastened it, his eyes flicked to Teriana. “You can live without your fingers but not your jugular. Sacrifice the former to buy yourself opportunity to save the latter. Understood?”
“Yes.” The word came out as a croak.
Felix’s gaze moved to Quintus. “You will fall to command or it will be me you answer to, understood?”
Blood ran from Quintus’s nose, was smeared across his cheeks and chin, but Teriana could have sworn he blanched.
“Everyone in the Thirty-Seventh is waiting for you to desert, Quintus,” Felix said softly. “No one wants you at their back. Except for her.” He jabbed a finger in Teriana’s direction and she jumped. “No one trusts you. Except for her.”
Silence.
“Prove yourself worthy of that trust,” Felix finally said. “Or see yourself drowned in the latrines as others have suggested.”
“Yes, sir.” Quintus’s voice was shaky. “Understood, sir.”
Felix moved to walk away, but Teriana caught his arm. “Felix.”
His jaw tightened as though drowning himself in the latrines might be preferable to listening to anything she might say. “Make it quick, Teriana. I’ve a thousand men waiting on the field for me and I’d not waste their time. Or my own.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For everything.”
He stared at the ground between them for a long moment, then lifted his face to meet her gaze. The grief in them hollowed out her stomach even as she wondered what Marcus had said to him.
“I’d cut my own throat before doing anything to hurt him, including hurting you,” he said. “He doesn’t seem to believe that, but I hope you do.”
Then he jerked his arm out of her grip and strode away through camp.
“I, for one,” Gibzen said from behind her, “am looking forward to some time away from this camp. I’m sure you are, too, Teriana.”
Whirling around, she stared at him, wondering if Felix wasn’t the only one Marcus intended to evict from his life. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve found the stem,” Gibzen answered. “Get your gear ready. Legatus wants to head inland to see it within the hour.”
27
KILLIAN
Cresting a ridge, Killian pulled Seahawk to a stop to survey the dry, rocky plains before him.
And the fortress rising up from them like a mirage in the distance.
“Rotahn?”
Sonia had stopped her own mount next to him, one hand shading her eyes from the sun as she peered over the plain. Her clothes were travel-stained and her face shadowed with exhaustion, as were the faces of the five hundred men of the Royal Army that he’d brought with him. He’d pushed them and their mounts to the brink in order to reach the Rowenes stronghold as soon as possible.
Not out of eagerness to deal with the Anuk threat, but rather because the sooner he put an end to the raiding, the sooner he’d be able to rejoin the rest of the Royal Army in Mudaire.
Where Lydia was training at Hegeria’s temple.
“Is that it? It’s small.”
The disappointment in Finn’s voice was palpable as he stood up in the stirrups, the orphan, and former ruler of Mudaire’s sewers, seeming untouched by the days in the saddle and nights sleeping in the dirt.
Pointing toward the low, brown mountains, Killian said, “Most of the people in these parts live in camps in the hills at the base of those mountains. For dozens of leagues north to south, those hills are full of gold. Sometimes you find bits of it lying around on the ground.”
“Truly?” Finn’s eyes widened, as Killian had known they would. “For the taking?”
Killian snorted. “Hardly. It’s the King’s land. Get caught taking his gold, you lose a hand.”
Finn rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Sonia reached over to give him a shove. “Don’t even think about it, Finn. You’re the squire to a lord now. You can’t be thieving.”
“I’ve never stolen anything in my life,” Finn protested. “Who spreads these rumors about me?”
Given Killian had needed to steal his own coin back from his squire in order to pay for supplies in the last town they’d passed through, Sonia was right to be concerned about Finn’s light fingers. Especially given the amount of wealth he was sure to come across in the Rowenes palace. “You’re not going to have time for digging around in the dirt, Finn. Not with Anuk raiders taking advantage of Mudamora’s distraction.”
Gesturing west again, he said, “Anukastre is on the far side of those mountains. During the dry season, they come through the passes and raid, and the Rowenes family has been known to reciprocate. The terrain is treacherous—narrow, rocky paths that are prone to slides—which keeps both in check. And in the rainy season, flash floods make travel through even more dangerous.”
“Doesn’t look like it ever rains here. Everything is dead.”
“Most of the time, it doesn’t. But when the midwinter storms come up from the southeast, they break against the mountains and dump rain like you’ve never seen. The ground can’t absorb it, so dry streambeds turn to raging rivers in a matter of minutes, and the front of the floods is more debris than water. They’re deadly.”
But until it started to rain, the Anuk would be a problem. The challenge was predicting which route they’d come through, because the distance was too great for every possible path through the mountains to be guarded. It was like trying to plug a leaking dam. Just when you thought you’d done it, another leak sprang up. “Hopefully our presence dissuades any further raids.”
“Sounds easy enough.” Finn thumped his heels against his horse’s sides. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”
“Your stomach is a bottomless pit,” Sonia muttered, but she cantered after him, not liking the boy to be out of sight.
Turning his horse, Killian said to his men, “Another hour and you’ll have water, food, beds, and a night of leisure. Move out.”
Cheers rang through the air, the soldiers moving past him and onto the dusty road heading toward Rotahn.
But Killian didn’t follow. Instead, he remained facing north and east, nearly all of Mudamora resting between him and Mudaire. Between him and Lydia.
You don’t deserve to be with her, his guilt whispered. Your duty is to Mudamora, not to Lydia.
“Why not both?” he asked softly, imagining he could see across the distance. That he could see her.
You might ask Malahi how well you serve with your loyalties divided, his guilt answered. Though it’s hard to question the dead.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Killian gave a tight nod, then wheeled Seahawk around and broke into a gallop toward Rotahn.
28
TERIANA
The legions had never pressed particularly far inland, their focus on the coastal region of Arinoquia, where the majority of the people lived. The inland areas were wild and uncharted jungle that was rumored to be populated by the original inhabitants of the area, though none of the legion scouts had ever seen them.
The camp they’d made for the night was nothing more than tarps strung between trees to keep off the rain, which meant no chance to talk to Marcus about what had happened between him and Felix without the men surrounding them overhearing. Marcus hadn’t even slept near her, leaving her to lay out her bedroll next to Quintus. He’d roused everyone before dawn to continue the march toward the xenthier stem.
Now, it was close to midday, and she was exhausted and drenched with sweat and rain, the waterskin Amarin had given her nearly empty and her concern for Marcus vanquishing any other thoughts. His eyes were bloodshot from too many days with too little sleep, but it was the hollowness in them that worried her. As though despite the significance of what they were going to see, it paled in comparison to his conflict with Felix.
Dodging around the men walking between them on the narrow game trail they followed, she fell in next to him. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m tired.”
“Marcus—”
But before she could press him, Gibzen appeared, pushing back down the trail toward them. “It’s just over the ridge here.”
Curiosity briefly outweighing her concern, Teriana followed them to the edge of the ridge, a small gasp pulling from her lips at what she saw.
Below stretched a stone city that was slowly being consumed by the jungle. Vines wrapped around buildings and towers, trees burst through roofs, and foliage consumed the streets. At the center rose the seven towers of the god circle, the stone so eroded that the faces that had once been depicted were nearly vanished to time. And yet it still seemed they were watching—that the gods themselves stood in the center of this ancient city, observing the intruders.
“Any sign of life?” Marcus asked.
“None. Our best guess is that it’s been abandoned for close to a decade.”
Marcus started down the narrow trail, and Teriana followed at his heels, pausing at what once must have been the gates to this place, the only thing left an arch over the gap in the crumbling wall. There was writing on it, faded from endless rain, and Teriana rose on her tiptoes, squinting at it.
“Can you read the language?” Marcus asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “My aunt Yedda might be able to do so, but these people were driven inland by the invading clans when I was just a child.”
They ventured into the city, the soldiers flanking them alert, eyes searching the shadows between buildings and watching for movement in the treetops.
Marcus cut left, ducking inside one of the buildings that hadn’t crumbled.
“Be careful, sir!” A soldier scurried after him. “Many of these buildings are on the verge of collapse.”
Ignoring the warnings, Teriana followed Marcus in, Quintus on her heels with a torch in hand.
Inside, the floor was covered with debris, but Teriana found her eyes leaping to the signs of the people who’d once lived here. A table and chairs gone green with moss. A child’s ball in the corner. The remains of woven tapestries too rotten to see the images they’d depicted. The walls had once been painted bright red, but it had mostly flaked away to be replaced by green slime from the endless moisture.
They walked to the rear space, which had once been a kitchen, with an oven set into the wall. Kneeling, Teriana peered through, seeing that it opened into a private yard. It was overgrown with ferns, but in the midst of all that wildness, a bush with large white flowers grew, their perfume filling her nose.
They ventured back out into the street, Marcus saying nothing as he explored, his brow furrowed. They reached the god circle, at the center of which there was a large stone dais. Marcus climbed the stone steps to stand on top of it, but Teriana headed toward Madoria’s temple, stepping across the heavy metal door that had broken off its hinges.
“Let me go first,” Quintus said, moving carefully across the floor. Both his eyes were blackened and his nose slightly swollen from Felix’s demonstration. Yet though there was still a hollowness to his gaze, he’d been more himself since they’d left camp. It was tempting to say his grief had eased, but Teriana’s gut told her that it had more to do with what Felix had said to Quintus, though which part had made an impact, she wasn’t sure.
“Seems okay.” He jumped up and down a few times on the floor.
“Clearly you missed your calling as an engineer.” She eyed the dust and bits of stone that rained down from above. The high ceiling had partially collapsed, leaving the structure open to the elements. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the walls were painted in highly detailed images of the sea, vessels filled with brown-skinned men and women drawing up nets full of fish while a great sea serpent swam beneath them. On another wall, there were images of ships with blue sails, and beneath them, a woman with black skin and hair made of seaweed held her hands up to them.
Walking to the table at the center, Teriana pulled a gold coin from her pocket and placed it on top, murmuring a prayer that her goddess continue to protect her people. Glancing at Quintus, who was poking at the artwork, she added another coin, then silently whispered, “Let him find his way back to Miki. They deserve a chance.”
Leaving the temple, she blinked in the bright light, noting that most of the soldiers were clustered around Tremon’s temple. Frowning, she pushed her way inside and found Marcus examining the artwork, which depicted great battlefields, warriors dressed in leather and bronze, curved metal weapons resembling scythes held in their hands. Many of them rode scaled lizard creatures native to the far side of the Southern Continent. The beasts wore saddles like horses, but Teriana knew for fact that they were known for eating their riders.
At the front lines of the armies rode men and women who wore elaborate masks and who seemed larger than the others. Commanders, for certain, but also likely to represent those marked by Tremon. As she glanced at Marcus, she wondered if any of them still fought for the inlanders, or if they’d all been lost in the war with the Arinoquians.
“I’ve seen enough,” Marcus said, his voice echoing through the temple. “Take me to see the terminus stem.”
29
KILLIAN
Thanks to the scouts he’d sent ahead, the Rowenes clan was prepared for their arrival. Soldiers belonging to the fortress garrison took charge of his men and their horses as they came through the gate. Only Killian, in the company of Sonia and Finn, headed on to the palace.
“You sure there’s gold to be found on the ground?” Finn muttered as they passed the manned gates of the inner wall. “Because it looks like they used every ounce of it to build their palace.”
The boy wasn’t wrong. While the building itself was built from sandstone, very little of the rock was visible beneath all the gold leaf, gold plate, and gold paint, the centerpiece a massive central dome that gleamed yellow in the sunlight. And having been here before, Killian knew the interior gleamed just as bright. A testament to Rowenes wealth, but he’d never liked it. Had always preferred his family’s home on the coast. Though equally as large, Teradale was built as much from wood as it was from stone, all balconies and open windows that allowed in breeze from the sea it overlooked. Surrounded by horse pastures and orchards full of fruit, Teradale seemed to breathe, whereas the only life to Rotahn was the people living in it.
Many of whom stood on the steps waiting, seemingly unfazed by the relentless heat of the sun overhead, and all of them related in some way to the King. None of them made a move or said a word until several servants approached with bowls of water and toweling. Killian wished he could dump the basin over his head but settled on washing the travel from his hands.
As he passed off the towel he’d used, the dark-haired woman at the head of the group said, “Lord Calorian, we are most pleased to welcome you and your soldiers,” then she walked gracefully down the steps toward him.
Lady Ria Rowenes was King Serrick’s niece and ruled Rotahn in his absence. Perhaps in her midtwenties, she was small and pretty, her eyes the same amber hue as Malahi’s. The similarity sent a jolt of pain into Killian’s chest as he looked into them. “We are grateful for your hospitality, my lady.”
