Page 7

“Careful, there.” Eavus kept his voice low. No one signed up, not really, but Sev knew better than to be heard complaining.

“Your orders.” The commander was as mild as if they were on break in the city. It was a trained skill, the ability to be full of rage one moment and perfectly calm the next—one Eavus was grateful to have learned. He hadn’t understood, when he was first conscripted, how it would be possible—to kill a man, and then all get together for breakfast after. The family that owned him had trained him to be strong, to fight, but the army taught him how to turn off his mind.

“A half-day patrol,” the commander went on. “We’re looking into a temple of sorts, near the cliffs. We’ve sent a half division in advance, but they haven’t returned. Your little party—” He indicated the eighth. “—will take point, and I’ll follow with the sixth. The third is going to head south, see if they can approach from another direction.”

“Are we expecting activity, sir?” Tadeus was the only one among them who had served almost his whole twelve years already. Somehow, he was still a legionary, which Eavus thought was the absolute height of laziness. But it meant he was the only one ranked enough to ask questions.

“We’re not expecting to be met with complimentary whores, if that’s what you're asking.” The commander flashed a wine-stained grin. “We’re clearing the way, soldier. Those Dinaeii we buried didn’t all commit suicide.”

“Dinaeii, sir?” Sev asked. “Why would the Dinaeii be on this side of the river?”

Eavus didn’t even have time to hold in another groan before the commander was back in Sev’s space.

“Do I look like their fucking mother, soldier?!” Eavus’ ears rang. “Your job is to march in that direction—” The commander pointed down a trail. “—and hold your line. If you run into someone who wants to stab you, you stab him back. Is that clear?!”

“Yes, sir!” They knew enough to answer in unison.

The commander relaxed again, clapping Tadeus on the shoulder as he passed. “Sixes and eights, Legionary. I don’t expect anything, but I want you ready just in case. Oh, one more thing, my little porcupines.” He turned to flash a half-smile. “You find that temple and meet up with us before sunset, it’s Meat Mete.”

“Hara!”

Eavus joined in. The prospect of a good meal made everything better. Maener, of course, couldn’t resist:

“Gonna need a lion tamer if we don’t make that deadline.”

Eavus didn’t bother replying. It was always the same—Eavus had swallowed a lion, Eavus had swallowed a bear, Eavus had swallowed a wolf. It wasn’t his fault his stomach had loud opinions.

They moved out, all forty-eight right-left as set by Tadeus, but the jangle of armor set the pace almost as predictably as Tadeus’ barking, and both faded into the background. The path wasn’t Aleterian made—probably a natural break that locals had hard-packed into something usable—but when it thinned, Eavus marched closer to Costae without losing step, and when it widened again they spread out. Eavus’ cape dragged at his shoulders. He hated when the commander did these performative displays. Either send them into battle properly—fully equipped with a second spear and a full cuirass—or send them on parade. This half-assed combination—decorative breastplate, cape, and helmet, but a battle shield and javelin, a supply belt with half the essentials left behind—was a little of everything and not enough of anything. It made no sense, except to intimidate the locals. But the commander couldn’t be bothered to break into the heavier armory wagons unless blatantly necessary, and frankly, intimidating the locals was likely more than half the point of their existence, so here they were.

The sun climbed in the sky. It was better than the rain, he supposed.

“Halt!”

Eavus stretched out his wrists and finally, blissfully, managed to crack his back. Oddly, this was the part of soldiering he liked best—the low murmurs, the clink of weapons and creak of leather as people readjusted, the passing of a waterskin, the fixing of an errant clasp. All the connections of brotherhood, without the hard parts that came in between.

Maener tried to goad Eavus again, but everyone ignored him. It was one thing for soldiers to tease amongst each other, but if anyone in charge heard complaints, it was an insult to the emperor. As if implying he didn’t keep his troops properly fed. They’d been traveling for over two months, scouting ridgelines and clearing the way for the road builders behind them, and the whole division was tired of Maener’s predictability. Tired in general. Eavus’ mind drifted to the baths at Lordinius. Now that was a proper city. Or at least, the closest that Eavus had seen in his five-and-a-half years of service. It had walls and suitable temples and markets selling food from all over the empire, but the best it had to offer was the hot baths. They welled up from natural springs and there was nothing like it for easing five years of road-building through military occupation, for taking the nauseating lurching of a rough channel crossing out of his belly, for banishing, for once and for good, the permanent ice that lingered in his fingertips and toes in this gods-forsaken country. It had been the first time he’d been properly warm since leaving the Continent, and it had been bliss. When they got back to Lordinius—if they got back to Lordinius—the first thing Marceas Eavus was going to do was take a bath.

Sunlight glinted off Titeni’s polished helmet in front of him, and Eavus squinted. He could do without the midges, too. He sniffed hard, scattering a small swarm away from his nose, only then realizing just how terribly the air around here stank. No wonder they’d paused. Eavus took a good look around. The path they’d started on had long since disappeared—they’d continued on through grass fields, the landscape undulating—but he hadn’t really noticed until now that there didn’t seem to be a good way forward. The ground had been getting softer as they went, but ahead of them it became sodden—more puddle than land. They’d marched themselves right into a low area for good measure, like they’d gone straight down a natural funnel that led to the stinking wetland in front of them. There was shady forest up the hill to their right that would be much nicer for marching in this increasing heat—except it veered off away from the coast.

“We’re not going through that, are we, Tad?”

“Shut up, Sev.”

Tadeus had only taken a step in front of the line for his rest, barely even relaxing his stance. He turned his head like it was on a swivel, giving Eavus alternating glimpses of the tip of his nose.

“Eighth!” Tadeus decided. “Lef⁠—!”

But his voice was drowned out in a sudden horrible screaming. Eavus’ first instinct was to shout, “Shush!” because he couldn’t hear Tadeus, but the roaring only got louder. His spine went cold.

“Form the line!” Tadeus shouted, just as the shrieking creatures crested the hill. Wolves, Eavus thought at first, because of their furs and their markings, but it was paint, or mud, and he couldn’t think of anything else because his ears were ringing and he was suddenly jostled into position, staring at the back of Titeni’s neck.

“Line!” Tadeus shouted again, and the men in front moved their shields to a wall that Eavus could barely see over, but what he did see was a wild beard, so red he thought it might be on fire, shining white teeth and eyes. Titeni had barely gotten into his crouch, his spear ready, but then there was a thunk as the top of an ax came down over Titeni’s shield, then a wash of light as the shield was ripped away. Titeni moved, thrust, but there was a flash of brightness, like the sunlight that had bounced off his helmet, blood dulling Titeni’s shiny armor. Then Titeni fell.

Fill the hole! Eavus didn’t need to wait for some unknown command. He was already doing it, punching his shield forward, his feet tangling over Titeni’s legs only for a moment. He jutted his spear forward, feeling its crack against an object more than hearing it, pulled it back just in time to shift behind his shield. Again, punch, thrust. The bodies tightened next to him, the wall holding solid. Eavus crouched, almost too low, his heart pounding. He adjusted his grip, took a stab over the top, barely registered the resistance until he had to pull harder to yank it out. The tip came back trailing hair. The bodies on the other side were a chaotic mess of limbs and screams and axes, thunks of wood and metal and splintering bone. Someone screamed to his right, a girlish, frightened sound. Was that one of theirs or one of his? Eavus’ vision narrowed to the three feet in front of him. You live here now! There is no right, there is no left. Years of training resounded in his ears. This is your home now. Defend it!

“Hold!” Was that Tad? It didn’t sound like him. Eavus held.

Savages. Snarling, growling. An odd, metallic thump echoed to his left, and Eavus had the strange realization that an ax on someone’s helmet made a different noise than a sword. The things you learn, he vaguely thought, before an ax blade danced in his direction, so over-large he almost laughed. But the ax suddenly dropped from his vision, and he sent up a quick prayer of gratitude for Costae to his right, honed his focus instead on the green dragon painted on the shield powering towards him. The thundering in Eavus’ ears muffled everything. A face—a woman, he noted with a blink—and then an ax coming down. Eavus waited until the last moment, tilted his shield up, taking the blow and catching the bottom lip of her painted shield, heaving it out of the way. Thrust. Blood. Wall. His biceps burned, but in a good way, like they finally remembered what they were for. A new face appeared, a broken nose that had healed badly. Eavus punched his shield forward and heard a crunch and a shout. Broken again.