Page 54 of Shield Sworn

Now what? The fatigue of defeat sunk into Eavus like it had been a true battle. Even if there was a cohort left here—which he doubted, or they would have been on corpse duty or making repairs or at least guarding the walls—they obviously were going to have grander concerns than one lone soldier with a captive and a story. If Aleteria had indeed lost—a suggestion that would have been unfathomable if he wasn’t witnessing the remains himself—he was in real danger.

But where else could they go? Night would come soon, and he didn’t think he could take another evening in the woods, bitten by midges, always half-awake, the tension in his shoulders never dissipating. In Colcium, there might be food. And a bed.

And armor.

That settled it. He wasn’t a deserter, dammit. Wherever he headed to next, he needed to at least look the part.

Revni continued warily next to him. The burnt-out walls resembled pilings on a pier, all different heights, black-crusted instead of barnacled. That’s what Colcium reminded him of—a flooded city. Peaks of buildings poked up splintered heads, like whispers of a past. Only it wasn’t past. The smell of fresh dead grew stronger, stinging his nose as badly as the smoke stung his eyes. He kept his eyes forward as they approached, and so did she, avoiding that small hill to their left, covered with birds. The buzz of flies overpowered the squawking crows.

Colcium had started as the Isfolj settlement of Gülm, the southernmost seat of their Councils and market days. It had never grown large enough to be called a city, but it had expanded its original boundaries until it was a chimera of a town: local roundhuts squat like tumors between Isfolj halls and longhouses, newer wooden homes squeezed in between like tall books propped on the wrong shelf, then the cold regularity of Aleterian buildings, all right angles poking everything’s edges. Twisted alleyways that had originally been for pigs and refuse became main thoroughfares by convenience, and wider lanes that could fit carts or wagons became dumping grounds for chamber pots, effluence running down the ditches. Colcium had too many limbs, and no head. Aleteria had never really conquered it; they’d marched in one day with a regiment, cordoned off training grounds, built themselves stables and barracks and outbuildings in the Aleterian style of stone and clay, and declared the name of the town Colcium, with an Aleterian governor in charge. Eavus’ limited knowledge barely encompassed that the governor had been short and balding, unclear or unwilling to enforce Aleterian law beyond what the people who lived there already practiced. So life in Colcium largely continued as it had when it was Gülm. Animals were raised and slaughtered, markets were held, feast days were celebrated, and whether the altars were dedicated to Hirene and Viduus and Cyreade, or to goddesses of earth and wind and shield, likely only those who prayed before them knew. Colcium was a backwater, an Aleterian embarrassment. It was poorly-placed strategically, at the bottom of a small valley, and if it had not had the audacity to continue to exist within a few days’ journey of Aleterian forts, it would have been ignored completely.

So why would anyone burn it to the ground? As Eavus and Revni passed through the splintered remains of the gate, the mystery only deepened. Had the inhabitants revolted? The statue in the central square was a shattered plinth. Eavus didn’t know who it was—could have been the emperor, or the governor, or simply an Aleterian hero—because the stone head lying in the dirt had been smashed in, the nose broken off, a large crack scarring his cheek. Had the Isfolj fought to claim their city back? Had it been a fight among locals? Catavarrus against Creonus, perhaps, or two other clans whose dispute got out of hand? But this didn’t appear to have been the site of a battle, only a razing of anything that resembled civilization. Eavus chose a street at random, moving quietly and staying close to whatever walls were left standing, but every building seemed damaged, roofs torn off, skeletons where wooden structures had been, even the stone black with soot. Eavus couldn’t help the chilling feeling that there had been no purpose beyond pure revenge.

Colcium had been wiped from the map.

Only of course it hadn’t completely. Eavus knew as well as anyone that complete annihilation was almost impossible, no matter how red-faced your commander got, spittle flying out with his orders. People hid, and scattered, and went underground like rats—sometimes literally—and when the smoke cleared, they clawed and scuttled and scratched their ways back to the surface, looking for food, for shelter, for the strength to rebuild. It was hard to tell what lurked or clattered around a hidden edge. Everything seemed especially dark, like the only color left in Colcium was grays and blacks, before a rain drop plunked onto Eavus’ scalp and he realized that clouds had rolled in. But it only made it more evident how abandoned the city was—in any fort, any encampment, the darkening sky would have been immediately met with torches lighting up at every doorway, tents and homes glowing with friendly fires.

Colcium stayed dark.

“I need to find armor.” And food. And a place to sleep. And someone to ask what in the nine temples of Viduus happened. Eavus’ empty stomach dropped. What was his next move supposed to be now?

“I suppose this is no longer necessary.” Revni held up her tied wrists. She sounded oddly chipper.

Eavus attempted to ignore the low twist in his gut. There might still be Isfolj here, but he did still have her ring. It sat on his pinkie like a little manacle, a dull reminder every time he flexed his hand.

Eavus untied her. Revni tilted her chin to a low building that appeared undamaged. “What does that say?”

“Bath.”

Revni’s whole face brightened. “You have baths?”

She hurried over, letting Eavus gather up the rope as she trailed it, but when she pushed the door open, they both reared from the smell.

“Uch.” Revni stepped in, but Eavus waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. “What is that?”

“Spoiled milk.” He gestured to the overturned amphora near the wall, the spilled sponges now dried out black husks on the floor. “Mold, too. Smells like it hasn’t been cleaned.”

The bathhouse barely deserved the name. Eavus longed for the massive baths at Lordinius, with their anterooms with neat, squat shelves for clothes, the heated floors of the steam room, the cool, clean plunge of the pool. Even as a slave, Eavus had been entitled to a free visit to the baths whenever the regiment returned. It helped decrease disease, helped decrease the terrible smell of thousands of sweaty soldiers fresh off campaigns and construction. This desperate building only proved how pathetic Colcium must have been. He couldn’t believe he’d put his hopes on this city being his salvation. There was only one long bench, for seating or storage it wasn’t clear—probably both—and one small, brackish pool. The roofline extended around the edges, but was open in the center, and raindrops plinked into the green water.