by Sandell Wall
Sir Trent and the Legion officers laughed at the joke.
“The Delgrath garrison is commanded by Centurion Lot,” Sir Lorent said. “He was probably drunk off his arse and saw a barbarian horde in the forest shadows.”
Brax held his tongue. Aventine grinded her teeth. Brax had decided that they should play along and follow orders. But there was a limit to her patience.
Sir Trent nodded to one of the officers. “Centurion Immers, take your men and make contact with Centurion Lot. Send a runner back with a report.”
“Yes, sir!” the centurion said, offering a crisp salute before turning to join his men.
“The Rune Guard is welcome to accompany Centurion Immers,” Sir Lorent said. He looked at Brax with raised eyebrows.
“No, we’ll stay,” Brax said. He glanced at Aventine and jerked his head back towards town, indicating that it was time to leave.
Aventine fell into step beside Brax as they left the group. Their rude departure did not go unnoticed. She could feel the scowls of disapproval and annoyance on her back.
“Shouldn’t we go to the border?” she said when they were out of earshot of the officers.
“Yes, we should,” Brax said. “But Sir Lorent is loitering in Delgrath for a reason, and we need to find out what that is. And he’s not wrong. If Delgrath was under threat, we would already know.”
Brax seemed to notice the nearby academy for the first time. “Follow me, I want to show you something,” he said as he diverted his path towards the building.
She followed him inside, noting the rune-light shining from the second-story windows. Brax explored the first floor until he found the stairs. When they reached the second floor, he made straight for the casting room. Inside were two weary-looking rune casters. Numbed to the world, lost in the runestones, they did not react to Aventine’s and Brax’s arrival.
“Over here,” Brax said, leading Aventine into a far corner. He frowned. “This should be behind lock and key.”
On a plain marble pedestal separated from the rest of the stones was a cloth-covered runestone. Brax removed the cloth to reveal a dark, ruby red gem the size of an apple. The stone was so dark that it was impossible to make out the rune suspended inside.
“This is the Guard’s early warning system,” Brax said. “Only key members of the Guard, and the governor of the province, know why it’s here. If you activate this, the province of Delgrath on the map in the floor of the emperor’s throne room will light up. An attendant monitors the map night and day and alerts the Guard if one of these stones is activated.”
“Impossible,” Aventine said. “The palace is hundreds of miles away.”
Brax shrugged. “We don’t know how the runestones work. But these seem to be attuned to that map, and will work from any distance. Every province has one of these stones. This is the last line of defence. If this stone is activated, it means the province is about to be overrun or something terrible has happened. The Guard will send every soldier it has available to the source.”
He replaced the cloth, hiding the stone from view. “I hope you’ll never need to use one.” Brax looked out the large windows of the casting room. With Centurion Immers’s century dispatched, the Legion was marching back through town. The soldiers could not destroy the farmland around the academy, so they had to march back the way they had come to make camp on the other side of the city.
“Come on,” Brax said. “They never set my tent up right if I’m not there to oversee it.”
On their way through the town, Aventine saw a young man approach a Legion veteran. As she walked past she overheard a snippet of their conversation. The young man was asking how to join the Legion. But instead of listening to the veteran’s advice, the young man snapped at the soldier and demanded different answers.
What arrogance. The Legion will chew him up and spit him out.
——
Aventine felt out of place in the camp. Every soldier had an assignment, even the lowly page boys. The expedition was now five hundred people with one task, to turn a dirt field into a defensible position. As a member of the Rune Guard she was not expected to help, but she did not feel right standing and watching others work. Frustrated, unable to rest as Brax had suggested, she decided to go find her mentor. He had been gone for at least an hour. When she had last seen him he had been heading towards the blacksmith’s tent.
She could not shake a sense of unease as she walked through the throng of working soldiers. At the start of the expedition the Legion veterans had been open and welcoming, but now they were guarded. It was near imperceptible, but men and women avoided her gaze, or looked through her as if she were not there. It was eerie to walk through a crowd of familiar faces and never find the opportunity to speak to anyone.
What’s going on? What have I done to upset these people?
Without interruptions she reached the blacksmith’s tent sooner than she had anticipated. She stepped inside, but went unnoticed by the smith who had his back to the door. The man was working on something that demanded intense concentration. She turned to leave, but then paused, captured by an odd curiosity. Perhaps it was because the smith seemed secretive, but she wanted to see what he was focused so intently on. With quick, quiet steps she moved to an angle from which she could see the smith’s hands. He was using an engraver and a hammer to etch a pattern into a blade.
By the emperor, he’s carving runes!
“You’re no rune carver,” she said. The smith jerked so hard that he staggered back from the table, dropping his tools with a clatter.
“By the teat of the emperor’s mistress, ye scared two years off me life!” the smith said. “What in the deepest hells are ye doing here? Get out!”
Aventine crossed her arms. “You will not profane the emperor in my presence, and you’ve no authority over me. Now tell me, what are you doing?”
“What does it bleedin’ look like I’m doin’?”
“It looks like you’re breaking military law.”
“Oh, does it now? Ye might want to talk to Sir Lorent about that.”
“He authorized this?”
The smith snorted. “They’re his runes!”
Incredulous, Aventine moved to look at the blade. “You’re carving Lomish runes on Legion blades? You have no casters. Sir Lorent will control you!”
Anger flared in the blacksmith’s eyes. “Ye best watch yourself. If Sir Lorent thinks it prudent to equip this expedition with runes from Lome, we do so. He commands, not ye.”
“The emperor has good reasons for not equipping his Legions with combat runes.”
“The emperor also put Sir Lorent in command. He warned us you might object. If you have a problem with his orders, take it up with him, not me.” The smith shouldered past her and returned to his work.
She tracked the smith with her eyes. For an instant she wanted to strike the man. Instead, she left the tent to continue her search for Brax. He needed to know about this. Again, the soldiers avoided her, but now their behavior seemed ominous.
Are they already loyal to Lorent?
Brax was waiting for her at his tent. “Where have you been?” he said.
“I was looking for you at the smithy. I discovered the smith carving Lomish runes onto a sword.”
He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “You’re absolutely sure of that?”
“Yes, I’m sure. He told me that Lorent authorized it.”
He stood and stared into space while he processed what she had told him. “I’m a fool,” he finally said. “It hadn’t crossed my mind that the Legion could be corrupted. It’s easy to forget they’re people and not just a tool. But they’re men and women with beliefs, desires, and family ties. Of course they can be corrupted.”
“You think the entire Legion is corrupt?”
“Not all of it, I hope. But Lorent is working hard at turning the soldiers under his command against the emperor. If he supplied the Legion combat runes from House Lome, it’s only a matt
er of time before he’ll be in control. The influence and power that comes with those runes will tempt even the most loyal centurion. But the Legion has no casters, so to use those runes will make them beholden to Lorent.”
“So arrest Lorent and take command of the expedition.”
“No.” Brax shook his head in frustration. “I think that’s exactly what he wants me to try. He’s not going to submit without a fight, and if I were to attack him, it would start a war.”
Aventine snorted. “A war between what armies? You’re assuming a great deal.”
Brax glared at her. “A war between loyalist and traitor. Since the very start of the expedition Lorent has been painting the two of us as villains. He’s pointing to us as examples of everything that’s wrong with the emperor. Don’t tell me you haven't noticed a change in attitude towards us. Were we to arrest him and seize command most of the soldiers would turn on us. And while he’s been tearing us down, he’s been wooing the Legion with promises of power and demonstrations of strength. I was wrong about that ridiculous march into Delgrath. It wasn’t to impress the city, it was for the soldiers of the Legion.”
“So what do you intend to do?”
“We need to gather what allies we can and keep Lorent in check until we return to the palace. I refuse to believe that the Gladstone Century is turning traitor. I know Centurion Durost. He’s as loyal to the emperor as any Guardsman.” He nodded at the tents behind Aventine. “That’s the Gladstone section. We’ll find Centurion Durost within.”
She followed Brax to the Gladstone Century command tent. The Gladstone camp abutted the outskirts of Delgrath. At the edge of the camp, she could see a recruitment station set up with a long line of Legion hopefuls waiting to be processed. She wondered if the young hothead she had seen in town was waiting his turn.
Brax strode into the command tent not caring what he interrupted. A young centurion was in conference with his lieutenants. After one glance at the hulking Guardsman, the centurion dismissed his junior officers.
Brax waited until the other officers were gone before he spoke. “Centurion Durost, we need to talk.”
“Aye, you're damn right we do,” Durost said. “I’ve been trying to contact you. You took your sweet time in getting here.”
“I received no summons. Did you send it by a soldier you trust?”
“I thought I did.” The centurion’s eyes narrowed. “But I’ve not seen him since. I’ll deal with that later. Right now, you need to stop Sir Lorent. He’s destroying my command.”
“By the abyss, man! How can he destroy an entire century?”
“There is a winnowing happening within the expedition. Lorent is rearranging the centuries by loyalty. Any soldiers who are loyal to the emperor are finding themselves shuffled into mine or Centurion Immers’s ranks. And we are losing men, sometimes entire squads, to the other centuries.”
“And you just let this happen?”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t even speak to Lorent. He sends his toady, Trent, to deal with me. Trent wrings his hands and admits the reorganizing is inconvenient, but he assures me it's only temporary and we can sort it out when we get back to the palace.”
“Do you believe it’s temporary?”
Centurion Durost did not respond right away. Instead, he gave Brax a long, calculated look, making sure he understood correctly that Brax was asking him to call Sir Lorent a traitor.
“No, I don’t believe it’s temporary.”
“Nor do I. I think Lorent is making a power play that House Lome has been planning for years.”
Brax motioned for Aventine to come close so that they could talk in hushed voices.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Brax said. “We cannot openly defy Lorent because we’ll play right into his hands. We can’t stand up to the combined strength of the warriors of both Cinder and Lome. All he needs is an excuse to crush us without looking like the aggressor. But as long as we stay united, he can’t ignore us. You said Centurion Immers is loyal to the emperor?”
Centurion Durost nodded.
“Good. Two loyal centuries is more than enough to keep Lorent’s ambitions in check. I’ll insist that we march to the fort, and once we make contact with Centurion Immers we won’t allow ourselves to be split again.”
Durost opened his mouth to respond, but at the same instant they heard a commotion outside. The unmistakable sound of an armored body crashing to the ground was followed by a shout and a string of curses. Brax was the first out of the tent; Aventine and Durost followed close behind.
Outside the tent, a duel between recruit and instructor had spilled out of the training area. In fact, Aventine realized, the instructor had been knocked clear of the skirmish circle. Centurion Durost was not amused.
Before Durost could reprimand the instructor, Brax said, “Ho, Markus, you letting the recruits win?”
“He’s bleedin’ fast,” Markus said, on his knees in the dirt.
Aventine turned her attention to the recruit. With a jolt of surprise, she found him already looking her in the eye. The recruit repulsed her. He was too thin, hideously ugly, and he twitched. On top of that, she found his listless demeanor offensive. He had just tossed one of his instructors in the dirt and did not seem to care. And he was staring at her like he was deranged.
Who does he think he is?
“I’ll show him fast,” she said, stepping forward and reaching for her sword.
Chapter 11
REMUS COULD FEEL HIMSELF starting to unravel. He had been so sure, so determined. After walking out on Holmgrim there should have been no more limits. He was free. He just had to work hard, prove himself, and succeed. But finding a job had proven almost impossible. And now he was running, scared for his life. Where did he go wrong? Mixed with the fear and confusion in his soul, a hot thread of anger grew in intensity with each passing day. He did not nurture it, but it grew anyway.
Idiot. The world owes you nothing. Without strength and will, intelligence and ability are just tools to be exploited by others.
His feet beat out a steady cadence as he jogged down the dusty road. Lost in his inner turmoil, he covered the miles to Delgrath without realizing it. As he approached the city, despair welled up inside him; he could see no other option but to go back to work in the smithy. If he could find any other path, he would take it without hesitation.
No longer alone on the road, he started to pass people who were walking into the city.
That’s odd, where are all these people going?
The locals avoided the city unless it was harvest time. With Delgrath in sight he slowed to a walk and paid more attention to his surroundings. Not only were there travelers walking alongside him, heading into town, but the city itself was crawling with people. He could see sunlight winking off of metal armor as distant figures moved through the streets. It took him a few more steps to remember.
The Legion! The Legion has arrived.
Only a few heartbeats after that realization, the way out he needed hit him like a thunderbolt.
If Holmgrim was right, I can join the Legion!
Reinvigorated by new hope, Remus entered the town with purpose. Soldiers were everywhere. Every business, from the tavern to the smithy, was packed full of eager customers. Armored soldiers hungry from the road, and curious to discover what entertainment could be found, roamed from building to building.
They must have just arrived; otherwise they would know there’s nothing to find.
He stopped the first soldier in the street that he encountered. “Excuse me, sir!”
“Yes, what is it?” The soldier, a grizzled veteran, looked annoyed at having been addressed.
“How can I join the Legion?” Remus said, doing his best to not sound desperate.
The soldier looked him up and down with a critical eye. “Listen, son, the Legion is not a bad place to be. But you really don’t want to join an expedition on campaign. It can be brutal.”
“I’ve been told.�
�� Remus squared his shoulders. “I still want to join.”
“You running from something?” The soldier gave Remus a hard look. “That’s never the right reason to do anything.”
“Spare me the lecture,” Remus snapped. “Just tell me how to join.”
“If you fight everyone who tries to help you, you’re bound for pain in the Legion, son,” the soldier said. “But if your mind’s made up, the quartermaster set up on the far side of town, back that way.” The soldier turned and pointed in the direction of Holmgrim’s smithy at the far end of town.
“Thanks,” Remus said, leaving the soldier standing there shaking his head. It was only a few blocks to Holmgrim’s smithy, and as he passed by he felt an overpowering sense of wrongness. He felt like a stranger looking in on his own life.
That’s my place; that’s where I’m supposed to be. What in the blazes am I doing?
The smithy was busier than Remus had ever seen it, and he knew Holmgrim and Axid were inside hard at work. They would be forced to labor twice as hard without him. He could imagine the heat of the forge on his skin, the friendly weight of the hammer in his hand. His heart longed to return to the comfort and security of the familiar, but he resisted, forcing himself to walk past the crowded building. He knew where that path led: frustration and insignificance. Joining the Legion might be foolish, but at least it was a leap into the unknown where he might make his own destiny.
Beyond Holmgrim’s bustling workshop lay the fringe of the Legion’s camp. Remus had never seen so many people in one place. Soldiers swarmed over the countryside, caught up in the organized chaos of building a fortified encampment. Not sure where to go, he paused and watched the frenetic activity. Neat rows of tents were being erected. He could see men digging latrines in the distance. To his right, he noticed a line of men in front of a table. They looked like farmers. As he watched, the first man in line was questioned by a soldier sitting behind the table. Never raising his head, the soldier jotted down a few quick notations in his ledger and then jerked his hand over his shoulder, indicating another line behind him.