Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

  He was far younger than his actions had suggested, but otherwise he could’ve been the model for one of the many statues of famous legionnaires scattered throughout Celendrial. Even in the dim light, she could tell he was fair of eyes and hair, his skin a golden tan. His chiseled features were strong and not at all marred by the faded scar across one cheek. There were four deep scratches on his neck, and unlike the scar, they were fresh. She hoped they were courtesy of her fallen people.

  “While that was an impressive display of temper, Legatus, I’m not sure it was entirely productive,” Cassius said, not moving from the chair in which he seemed permanently ensconced.

  The legionnaire ignored him, and Teriana’s heart beat faster, tears running down her face as he knelt before her. “What does she fear so much?” he asked, one hand gesturing to her mother.

  Despite what Cassius had called a display of temper, there was no anger on the young man’s face. There was nothing: no empathy, no curiosity, no distaste. Nothing.

  “Why do you think she fears anything?”

  “Because bravery and willpower have their limits,” he said. “Fear does not. And there are worse things than pain.”

  “A godless dog like you wouldn’t understand,” she choked out between sobs, realizing her error the second the words passed her lips.

  One of his eyebrows rose. “I suppose this is when I should slap you and call you a pagan fool?”

  Teriana cringed away from him, waiting for the impact.

  Instead, a calloused hand grasped her wrist, and she heard the click of a lock turning, felt the shackles fall away from her skin.

  “It’s only recently come to light that the Maarin worship gods,” he said. “Makes one wonder how many other secrets you harbor.”

  He pulled Teriana to her feet, then pushed her into one of the chairs. Turning, he poured a glass of water, then dragged another chair over to face her, sitting before he handed her the glass.

  “If you think being kind will get me to talk, you’re sorely mistaken.” She drained the glass, hoping the gesture looked suitably defiant.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  She jerked her chin at the 37 on his armor. “Everyone knows you,” she replied in Chersomian.

  “Then do you really expect kindness from me?”

  “I expect to burn alive,” she said, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

  She was disappointed.

  “It’s hard to get answers from ashes.” Turning his attention to her mother, he asked, “She fears punishment from your god should she reveal Maarin secrets?”

  After a lifetime of keeping the Cel from learning about the gods, it was hard to speak of them. But given what Lydia knew, Teriana supposed that ship had sailed.

  “Goddess.” A hot tear rolled down her cheek. “And no. She fears the goddess will not claim her immortal soul when she dies, and that she will be taken by the Seventh god into the underworld to burn for all eternity.”

  “I see,” the legatus said. “I don’t believe the questioner realized he was competing with eternity.”

  Teriana scowled and looked away.

  “And all for telling a secret,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “Tell me, do you fear the same?”

  “Course I do. You’ll not meet any Maarin who doesn’t.”

  “Since you are clear on the consequences of helping us, I’ll clarify the stakes of hindering us,” he said. “If you don’t tell us how the Maarin move so quickly between here and the Dark Shores, your mother and your crew will be executed and buried in the deepest hole my men can dig.”

  She stared at him, horror tying her tongue into knots.

  “However,” he said, straightening in his chair, “if you tell us your way to the Dark Shores, I will personally guarantee the lives of you, your mother, and all of your crew. I will also guarantee that none of them are ever in a room with the questioner again.” He frowned, as though thinking. “I’ll even have it ratified by the Senate.”

  “Blast you, Marcus!” Cassius hauled himself out of his chair. “What are you thinking?”

  “Sit down, Consul. I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

  She was damned if she told him, that much was certain. But was her eternal damnation worth the lives of her mother and crew? More than just their lives, their souls? If he buried them in the earth, their souls would be stuck in limbo until the sands of time reshaped the earth and revealed their bones.

  “Why should I believe you?” she asked.

  “Because I always keep my word.”

  Teriana looked to her mum, hoping she’d snapped out of her trance and would give her some sort of guidance, but her eyes were still closed, lips still repeating the same prayer. She stretched out her mind, hoping to feel the touch of Magnius upon it, but they were too distant from the water. If he was even listening. She was on her own.

  “Choose carefully, Teriana,” Cassius crooned. “You know who the man sitting before you is. You know what he’s capable of. And I promise, if you don’t agree to these terms, it will be him whom I deliver your people to for their execution. Have you ever seen someone burned alive?”

  The legatus was right. There were far worse things than pain.

  Teriana’s willpower fractured like glass, and she choked out one word: “Xenthier.”

  Legatus Marcus leaned toward her. Cassius did the same. The Senate controlled countless shorter xenthier pathways. The crystal was what had allowed them to conquer the East, as it could transport anything—and anyone—it touched from genesis to terminus in a matter of a heartbeat. But the ocean veins crossed the world, and that made them a far greater prize. A prize her people were sworn to protect …

  “Where is the stem located?” Legatus Marcus asked.

  “You got a map?”

  “Yes.” He rose swiftly from his chair. Picking up a lamp, he revealed one of her mum’s maps of Reath.

  “The genesis of one of the great ocean veins lies here.” She pointed to the spot on the map where the stem was hidden, leaving a bloody fingerprint. “And it takes you here.” She pointed to the terminus at the midpoint of the southern continent.

  “That’s in the middle of the Sea of the Dead,” Cassius snapped.

  “Aye,” she replied. “Under it, in fact.”

  “She’s lying.” Cassius’s face reddened with anger. “The Sea of the Dead’s doldrums make it impassable for sailing ships.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “But I’m not lying.” It was a struggle to keep a smile off her face. They had the knowledge, but it would do them no good. “Me and mine will be leaving now,” she said, taking the keys that sat on the table and starting toward her mother. “That is, if you are actually a man of your word, Legatus.”

  “I am,” he said, “but I don’t recall agreeing to you leaving.”

  Teriana froze.

  “I said you would live, unmolested by the questioners. I don’t believe your freedom was part of the bargain.”

  “I called you godless, but I must be wrong,” she hissed, fury rising instead of fear. “Because of a surety, you are a minion of the Seventh.”

  “I’m just a man, much like any other.”

  “No,” she said. “You are far, far worse than any other.” But nothing she could say would make an impact on the heartless creature before her.

  “I’ll offer you a new bargain,” he said. “You agree to take the Thirty-Seventh and Forty-First Legions safely through the Sea of the Dead to this xenthier stem and land us on the Dark Shores. Your mother and the crews of the other Maarin vessels we captured will remain here and kept in comfort as hostages. You will travel with me as my advisor until we discover land-based xenthier paths to and from the Empire. Once we have done so, I will allow you to return and retrieve your mother. Then both of you can go free to do as you will, as can the crews of the other ships.”

  “And if we never find routes?” Teriana demanded. “What then?”

  “Then your mother will be kept a
comfortable prisoner to the end of her days, at which point she will be buried at sea.”

  Teriana looked down at her mum. The damned bastard knew exactly what to say. The only life on the line would be hers. The only soul in jeopardy was hers.

  “We know the Dark Shores exist,” he said. “It is only a matter of time until we find our way there. And I can tell you with certainty that Cassius will not hesitate to destroy your entire people in the pursuit of his goal. You can save them by agreeing to help us now.”

  And damn the other half of the world in doing so, she thought. The Celendor Empire had conquered the entire Eastern Hemisphere—did she dare open the West to them? How many would die if this man and his armies were unleashed across the sea?

  But how many of her people would be saved?

  “If I bring you there and help you, you’ll swear the Maarin will be left alone?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked at Cassius. “Do you?”

  A sweat had broken out on the man’s already-greasy brow. He hesitated a long while, beady eyes shifting between her and Marcus. “Fine.”

  “I want the Senate to agree to it as well. All our terms, in writing. And I want a signed copy.”

  Cassius’s face darkened, but he nodded.

  “And I’ll only do it once,” she said, not even sure if once was going to be possible. She needed Magnius to open the path, which he might very well refuse to do. “It’s a very difficult thing to do, especially given the number of ships you’ll need to bring through. So don’t think you can run a supply line from here to there.”

  Marcus’s brow creased.

  “Once there, and if you still have the ships you need, I’ll open the other ocean path to get you back,” she amended. “I suppose it’s only fair to give you an avenue of escape.”

  Marcus tilted his head. “It makes me nervous how easily you’re agreeing to this.”

  “You should be afraid of what you’re getting yourself into. These aren’t helpless people you’ll be fighting, but kingdoms with trained warriors and armies.” And powers you’ve never even dreamed of. “And I haven’t agreed yet.”

  “What else do you want?” he asked quickly. Too quickly, in her opinion. She’d expected her words to bring a touch of fear to his expression, but what she saw was excitement. He wanted the Dark Shores to be a challenge, and she was certain he’d agree to just about anything to get there.

  “I entirely expect that you will be defeated,” she said. “And I don’t want to pay the price for your over-ambition. I want your guarantee that you won’t withhold our freedom out of spite. That if I get whatever remains of your army back to Celendor, you’ll consider our bargain fulfilled.”

  “I don’t have any intention of coming back,” Marcus said, and even in the dim light Teriana could see his cheeks were flushed.

  “Then you won’t mind agreeing to it.”

  “All right. As long as I don’t deem my retreat the result of some act of sabotage on your part, I’ll deem our contract fulfilled.”

  This was the moment of reckoning. The moment she needed to make a decision. She meant what she had said: the Cel legions weren’t setting sail to fight powerless nations. They would be fighting lands under the dominion of the Six, and defeating them would be no easy task. She was gambling everything, but it was the only way she could save the people who mattered to her most. And if everything went according to the plan growing in her mind, Legatus Marcus’s overconfidence would see him defeated and her mum freed in one fell swoop.

  Teriana spit on her bloody hand and held it out. “I think we have an accord, Legatus.”

  His smile grew and he replicated her gesture, grasping her hand. “We have an accord.”

  12

  MARCUS

  “When do you suppose we’ll leave?” Servius asked, kicking a rock and sending it tumbling down the road ahead of them.

  “When we’re ready,” Marcus replied. “This campaign will be different. Once we’re across the seas, we’ll be entirely on our own. We need to make sure we’re prepared. And the Maarin must finish repairing their ship.”

  “So…” Servius picked up a pebble and threw it into the trees.

  “A week. Maybe less.” Marcus hoped it was less—the sooner they were away from Celendrial, the sooner he could forget about everything that had happened today. Unconsciously, he reached up to touch the scratches scored across his neck.

  “Looks like one of the Maarin got a piece of you,” Servius said, picking up another rock. “The girl? Teriana?”

  “Not her.”

  “Ah. I thought it would’ve been. She’s a fierce one—looks more likely to stick a knife in your gut than kiss you.”

  “She is likely to stick a knife in your gut if you try to kiss her,” Marcus replied, giving his friend a dark look. “So don’t even think of trying.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Servius held up his hands in mock defense, his laugh echoing through the hills. “Though it would be nice. She’s good to look at, but those Maarin eyes … Looking at them too long made me seasick.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Marcus muttered, though he didn’t entirely disagree. The girl had been good to look at. More than good. And that had been despite the fact that she’d been filthy, battered, and bloody. He’d been to nearly every corner of the Empire, met individuals of every single nation and race, but the Maarin were distinct with their eyes that rippled like the waves of the seas they lived upon, shifting color with their moods. Beautiful as the girl was with those rounded cheekbones, full lips, and that flawless dark skin, Marcus thought her eyes were the best part of her. They were honest. After the way she’d been treated, he was certain he’d never see them another color than that of inky pools of hate and fear. But after all the politics, lies, and deception he’d waded through of late, he liked the idea of being around someone whose feelings were clear, even if they were negative.

  “Will be strange taking a girl along, don’t you think?” Servius chucked the rock at a tree. “She’ll have a lot of eyes on her.”

  Too many. A good portion of his men preferred the companionship of each other, but the rest of them had to content themselves with paid company. Relationships outside the legion were forbidden for a myriad of reasons, and he had no doubt his men would be falling over themselves to make the Maarin girl’s acquaintance. “She’ll be along to advise me and to translate, not to entertain soldiers.”

  “I heard you the first time, Marcus, but as you said, we’re going to be on our own out there.”

  Marcus skidded to a stop, dust flying in clouds around his knees. “Hear me the first time on this, Servius: if anyone touches her, I will personally strip the skin off the perpetrator’s back.”

  Servius didn’t respond straightaway, which was a sure sign Marcus had offended him. “Do you really think I’d do that to her?”

  He didn’t. Servius had left behind six sisters in Atlia when he was sent to the legions, and he had a soft spot in his heart for girls, personally doling out the punishment for transgressions against those the legion came in contact with. Even if Servius’s life was on the line, Marcus didn’t think his friend was capable of harming a woman—if they ever came against an army of them, the Thirty-Seventh might be forced into their first retreat based on Servius’s principles alone.

  But Marcus wasn’t in the mood to placate anyone today.

  Servius picked up yet another rock and threw it with impressive force, sending it sailing far out of sight. “I’ll make sure to spread the word. Sir.”

  “Do.” They were at the edge of the camp, and though Marcus could smell food cooking, the thought of eating turned his stomach. “Cassius will be sworn in as consul tomorrow morning. Afterwards, the Senate will deal with the Maarin and with us. Be ready to leave for the city at dawn.” He started walking. “I’m going for a swim.”

  Marcus discarded his armor in his tent and walked down to the beach in only a tunic and sandals. The sun had long since set, bu
t the moon had risen and he could see as well as he needed to. Dumping his clothes on a rock with his belt knife sitting on top, he waded into the surf, letting the cold water strip the day’s grime from his body.

  If only it could wash away the invisible filth coating his soul.

  He’d stood silently while the Maarin sailors were tortured and killed in front of him, but though their eyes had joined the ranks of those who haunted him, it wasn’t their screams that echoed in his head. Wasn’t scratches from their fingers that stung the skin of his neck. Wasn’t strands of their long black hair that he still felt tangled around his fingers, the sensation lingering no matter how often he checked to ensure his hands were clean.

  Murderer.

  He ducked his head under the waves, trying to drown out the sound of Lydia Valerius’s voice as she’d begged for her life, but it grew louder with every wave.

  Murderer.

  He could have saved her. Could’ve smuggled her out of the city and arranged to have her taken somewhere no one would ever find her. The idea had been heavy on his mind while Cassius had subjected her to that dreadful speech. If Marcus hadn’t had such a recent reminder that secrets never stay buried, he probably would have done it. Except Cassius would not be kind if he discovered he’d been betrayed. Marcus had had no choice. The only way to keep his family safe from the Empire’s executioners had been to kill the girl.

  Murderer.

  “What else could I have done?” he asked the ocean, but the waves only splashed him in the face and repeated their accusation.

  Something else. Anything else. Which was why at the last moment he’d hesitated. But the fierce current they’d been standing in had finished the job for him, ripping the girl out of his grip and pulling her underground, drowning her, leaving little chance of her body ever being discovered.

  Marcus’s nausea rose and fell with every swell. Stumbling back onto the beach, he sat naked in the damp sand with his eyes squeezed shut, but visions of all the Maarin who’d fallen to the inquisition marched across his mind. Everything that could be done to inflict pain had been done to them, but not one screamed.