Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

  “Tried, but true. And you were going to climb?”

  She nodded reluctantly. It didn’t really matter now.

  “You might’ve done it,” he said, his face turning to the window. “I didn’t think it was possible, especially by two prisoners with injured hands, but you proved me wrong.”

  “Just because you can’t do something doesn’t make it impossible.”

  “You could try taking the compliment.” He dunked her hand in the water again to wash away the blood.

  “Doesn’t matter anyway. She wouldn’t go with me.”

  “Why not?” He carefully dried her hand, then smeared her fingers with a numbing salve.

  “Because I am forsaken.”

  “By your god? For helping us?”

  “Goddess.”

  “Sorry.” With surprising gentleness, he wrapped the bandage one finger at a time, cutting and pinning it so she could use her hand rather than having it reduced to a paw. “You didn’t get much choice in the matter.”

  “She believes I made the wrong one.”

  His hands hesitated in their motions. “How old are you, Teriana?”

  “Seventeen.” She answered honestly, surprised by the question.

  “I was sixteen when I made my first decision that cost men their lives.”

  “What did you do for your first four years of being in charge of your own legion?” she asked. “Delegate the hard decisions?”

  He grinned, his teeth white in the dim light. It was, she thought, the first time she’d seen him properly smile. It made him seem like a real person rather than a soulless bastard.

  “No,” he said. “During those years, we were under the guidance of older, more experienced legions, who were responsible for finishing our training. Their commanders made the tactical decisions, the hard decisions. It wasn’t until we were stationed in Bardeen that I had moved up enough in the Senate’s eyes to take command.” He moved on to her ring finger. “It was an easier campaign than any we’ve had since—quite clear what had to be done from a tactical standpoint, but I knew going in that we would have casualties. Everything went as planned, but we lost thirteen men. Men whom I’d known since we were children together. It was … difficult.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because if anyone deserves to have their soul burn for eternity, it’s someone like me. Not a girl trying to save the lives of the people she cares about.” He’d finished her little finger while he spoke, but she didn’t notice until he withdrew his hands from hers.

  “There’s something you should know, too,” he said. “The Quincense and the other vessels you likely saw in the harbor weren’t the only Maarin ships captured. The navy took several of them, and they’re being kept in various harbors throughout the Empire.”

  Her stomach plummeted. “How many?”

  “Over six hundred Maarin sailors are being kept captive.”

  Six hundred? Her eyes burned, and it was a struggle to keep her tears in check.

  “The deal you signed today protects them. If you follow through, they’ll be released. Even if Cassius isn’t happy about it, the Senate will hold him to his word. As will I. But you have to hold to your word in order for that to happen. It’s the only way.”

  Despite her best efforts, a tear dribbled down Teriana’s face.

  “I won’t go so far as to say that our goals are the same, Teriana, but when it comes to protecting your people, our interests are aligned.” Digging into the medical kit, he extracted something, then grew still. “The Maarin have done nothing to deserve persecution by the Empire, and the Empire has nothing to gain in the genocide of your people beyond putting a very bloody feather in Cassius’s cap. I’ll use the means at my disposal to ensure he doesn’t get the opportunity, but everything I do will be for naught if you don’t cooperate.”

  “Pretty words, Legatus,” she said, still reeling from the revelation of how many of her people had been taken. “But you are not my ally. You are my enemy.”

  He nodded slowly. “I am. But so is Cassius, and I assure you, he is a far greater threat to you and yours than I ever could be.”

  There was no right path. No good choice. No solution that would protect everyone.

  “If the Empire has nothing to gain from killing my people, then why do they support Cassius in doing so?” Teriana’s voice was thick, every word sticking in the intensity of her grief. “Why do your people hate mine?”

  “What you saw today were Cassius’s supporters. They do not represent all of the Empire.” He hesitated, as though uncertain of whether to continue, then added, “There are a good many who are protesting what Cassius has done to the Maarin, but he’s recalled two more legions to assist with policing the city, so there is only so much they can do without fear of consequence.”

  “A good many?” She laughed, but it felt like a sob. “There were thousands in that Forum screaming their support for Cassius. And for him to have won, it means thousands more feel the same. Why? Why do they take pleasure in seeing our downfall?”

  “Some resent your … freedom from the laws and taxes and obligations that come with being part of the Empire.”

  “They weren’t screaming that we should pay more taxes,” she choked out. “They were screaming for me to be beaten and slaughtered and—” She broke off, unable to repeat the words the crowd had thrown at her. “They were acting like I was their enemy.”

  Tension filled the space between them, cloaking the room in silence despite the noise filling the city streets.

  “When I was in the final years of my training, I once asked why the Empire glorifies conquest,” Marcus finally said. “One of my teachers reminded me of the history of Celendor. Reminded me that once we were a race of mighty warriors who all bled and fought in a world where conquest—and the defeat of our enemies—was a necessary part of survival. Reminded me that the blood of those men and women still flows in the veins of those born today.” His brow furrowed. “Except now my people toil in different ways to survive, and some—like those you saw today—find little satisfaction in their labors. They suffer a feeling of … impotence. Cassius knows this. He knows that when the Empire is victorious that these people see themselves as victorious. That it makes them, in the moment of the triumph, feel mighty again. And for some, that feeling is an addiction that can never be sated. But for there to be conquest, there must be something—or someone—to be conquered. There must be an enemy.”

  “Did your victories make you feel mighty?” She spat the word, furious because his answer was no relief to her pain. “Do you enjoy bringing your enemies low?”

  “No.” He exhaled a long breath. “When I win, I feel relief that I’ve survived. Grief over the fallen. But mostly I feel fear, because for me and my legion, the fight is never over.”

  Teriana closed her eyes, a tremor running through her. There was no way out of this, not for anyone.

  “Drink this.” Marcus pushed a small vial into her hand. “It will make you sleep.”

  She tried to give it back, remembering how heavily she’d slept the last time she had taken it, but he shook his head. “Your ship has been repaired, and the rest of the fleet will arrive through the night. We leave tomorrow with the tide, and I need you sharp and ready to sail the Quincense.”

  Reluctantly, she swallowed the contents of the vial. It might be the last time she ever slept easy. The drug took hold of her quickly, and she rested her head on the pillow. “If Cassius thinks he can torture more information out of my people, he’s wrong. Madoria will protect their minds. They won’t feel it.”

  “Why didn’t she do the same for you?”

  Through the fog of the narcotic, it struck her that he didn’t deny the existence of the gods like every other Cel person she’d met. So she answered him. “Because I’m forsaken. I’d already broken the mandate and spoken about the West to an easterner, and Madoria has turned her back on me as punishment.”

  Marcus paused in the process of p
acking the rest of the bandages. “The question you should ask yourself is this: If your goddess is so desperate to keep the ocean paths a secret, why did she silence her loyal followers and leave loose the lips of the girl she had most cause to doubt?”

  A good question, Teriana thought, her eyelids drifting lower. Marcus crossed the room and leaned against the window, looking out. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Someone needs to watch over you,” he said, not turning around. “And no one will do it better than me.”

  18

  TERIANA

  Marcus was gone when Teriana awoke, replaced by another, unfamiliar legionnaire. He had the markings of an officer and his Cel heritage was as apparent as his commander’s. He was not much taller than her and, courtesy of his shorn hair, his ears were unfortunately prominent. He was eating an apple that she suspected had come from the tray sitting next to her pallet.

  “You eating my breakfast?” she asked, slowly sitting up. Every muscle in her body ached with an ungodly fierceness, and her mouth tasted like a midden heap.

  He grinned, but his expression wasn’t friendly. “First to the fire gets the best pickings.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Picking up the tin cup of water sitting on the tray, she guzzled it down and then went to work on the food. “What’s your name?” The question came out around a mouthful of meaty stew.

  “I’m the tribunus of the Thirty-Seventh.”

  She rubbed her chin, eyeing him thoughtfully while she chewed. “Tribunus … Is that what they call the soldier who blows the horns?”

  He huffed out an annoyed breath. “It means I’m second-in-command. Which means you can call me sir.”

  Teriana raised one eyebrow. “I’m your prisoner, not your underling. Give me your name or I’ll come up with something worse.” She swallowed her mouthful of food. “With ears like that, it won’t be hard.”

  His face darkened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  She scraped her spoon along the bottom of the bowl and shoved the last bit of food into her mouth. “Try me, Sir Elephant Ears.”

  His fists clenched.

  “I did give you the choice,” she said, rising to her feet. “And since I’m under the protection of Legatus Marcus, who I believe you refer to as sir, there isn’t much you can do about it. Unless you give me your real name, that is.”

  He crossed his arms, his face almost the shade of plums.

  The door swung open and Marcus strode in. “Felix, is she ready to go?”

  “Sir Elephant Ears and I were just finishing breakfast.”

  “Pardon?” Marcus shook his head and sighed. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  They followed him into the hallway, where the waiting legionnaires fell in, front and behind. The room where they’d kept her mum was unguarded. Maybe she’s already waiting downstairs? Teriana’s shoulders were tense—would her mum even say good-bye to her?

  There was no one outside the building except more soldiers.

  “Where’s my mum?” she demanded, looking up and down the streets for any sign of Tesya. “You said I could see her before she left.”

  Marcus turned away from the man he’d been speaking to. “You did see her,” he said, his fingers tugging at a buckle on his armor.

  Teriana’s stomach sank. “I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

  He shrugged one shoulder, looking away. “Valerius and his people took her at dawn. Even if I knew where he was planning to keep her, I don’t have the time to take you there before the tide turns. I loaded over nine thousand men onto ships this morning, and I don’t relish the thought of unloading them for the sake of missed good-byes.”

  The tiny bit of goodwill he’d built up the prior night vanished in an instant. Teriana’s skin flushed, and she felt an almost uncontrollable urge to lash out. She should’ve known he’d find a way to punish her for trying to escape. Marcus turned his back on her and started walking down the street, but Elephant Ears shot her a smirk before following his commander.

  As they walked down the wharf, Teriana’s skin chilled despite the heat of the sun. Sweat slicked her palms, and she wiped them on her trousers, barely noticing the sting of her fingers. She could see her crew now—their bright-colored clothes standing out among the soldiers on the deck. What if they all turned their backs on her the way her mum had? What if every single person she’d tried to save abjured her for her actions? What if they would all rather be dead than take the Cel across the ocean paths? She’d be completely and utterly alone.

  Several of them caught sight of her at the same time, and she watched as word passed across the ship and they all came to the port side to watch her arrival. Their faces were expressionless, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Regardless of what they thought of her, they wouldn’t want the Cel involved.

  “I don’t have to worry about them trying to kill you, do I?” Marcus asked, frowning at her crew.

  “No. It’s not our way. If they’re done with me, they’ll turn their backs. Pretend I don’t exist. But they won’t kill me.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Elephant Ears said.

  “Then you clearly haven’t been listening to anything that comes out of your own mouth,” Teriana retorted. “Believe me, there’s some things that are worse than death. Like having to spend the rest of your life as a pariah to your people, and knowing at the end of it, your soul is destined to burn for eternity.”

  “You aren’t going to put up with her spouting this pagan drivel, are you, sir?”

  Annoyed, Teriana said, “It’s this pagan drivel that’s going to get you across the Endless Seas, Elephant Ears, so maybe you should shut your big mouth before any more stupidity comes gushing forth.”

  “That remains to be seen,” he snapped. “How do we know you aren’t planning to sail us around the ocean on a wild-goose chase?”

  “Maybe I am.” She winked at him, getting to enjoy the rising flush on his face for about a second before she collided with something hard. Stumbling back, she determined that the something hard was a very unamused Marcus.

  “Felix,” he said.

  “Sir?”

  “This is your ship.”

  Surprise drove the anger out of the legionnaire’s face. “What?”

  “This is the ship you’ll be sailing on,” Marcus said, pointing at the monstrous Cel creation bobbing next to the dock, onto which dockworkers were loading casks marked as Dangerous and Explosive. “It’s the biggest—has four hundred of our men on it. I want you with them.”

  “I thought I would be sailing with you.”

  Teriana blinked. The young man looked almost hurt.

  “It makes no sense for my second-in-command to be on the same ship as me,” Marcus said. “If something happens, I need someone I can trust to lead.”

  Elephant Ears’ face paled, and it occurred to Teriana that perhaps the sentiment between the two ran deeper than comradeship. Deeper, even, than friendship. “Maybe he’s tired of your conversation,” she said, knowing it was stupid to bait him but unable to resist.

  Felix’s hands balled into fists, and she readied herself to leap out of the way if he attacked. But he only said, “If anything happens to him, I’ll gut you like a pig. Is that clear?”

  Teriana held up her hands and smiled. Not that she doubted he was telling the truth. Or that he was capable of following through.

  Giving her one final scowl, he saluted Marcus and started toward the gangplank. When he was halfway up, Teriana shouted, “Good-bye, Elephant Ears! Maybe if the crew attaches you to the mainsail you might have a chance of keeping up.” Chuckling to herself, she started walking down the dock. She didn’t make it far before she found herself flying through the air and into the filthy harbor water.

  Kicking to the surface, she treaded water, trying to ignore the debris floating around her. “What was that for?”

  “For insulting one of my men.” The legatus stared down at her. “I
will ensure they respect you, and in turn, you will respect them. Am I clear?”

  Teriana wanted to argue with him, but nothing she said would carry much weight given there were turds bobbing next to her. “Clear.”

  He was already on her ship by the time she climbed a ladder back onto the docks and dumped the filthy water out of her boots. Not bothering to put them back on, she trudged up the gangplank and tossed them on a pile of ropes to dry. Then she started grimly in the direction of where her crew was assembled. None of their faces were readable, and the speech she’d rehearsed had disappeared from her head. “Lydia … She…” Swallowing hard, Teriana said, “The Cel know about the West.”

  Then there were arms around her. “Girl, we thought you were dead.” It was Yedda’s voice whispering in her ear. “You and your mother both. Wasn’t until this morning that we learned otherwise.”

  Teriana’s shoulders trembled and she buried her face against the old woman’s shoulder, feeling the hands of her crew patting her back and hearing their welcoming words. The ship’s cook, Polin, immediately began unraveling the soaked bandages on her hand, his enormous fingers gentle and familiar, having tending Teriana’s injuries since she was a child. “Thought you’d abjure me for what I’ve agreed to,” she said into Yedda’s shirt.

  “As if I could ever do such a thing to the girl I held as a wee babe.”

  “Mum has.”

  Yedda pushed her back, her wrinkled gaze searching Teriana’s face. “She may come to regret that. In her own way, your mother is as impetuous as you.” She pointed her finger to a distant dock. It was set up with gallows, and Teriana’s stomach lurched when she saw the decomposing corpses hanging from them.

  “That one—” She jerked her chin in Marcus’s direction. “He came and talked to us this morning. Said the only reason we hadn’t joined those poor souls was because of a bargain you made.” She frowned. “He took pains to make sure we understood the bargain was with you and not your mother.”

  “True tale,” Teriana admitted. “You know who he is?”

  “Aye. The one who supposedly set Chersome on fire.” The old woman smiled. “I didn’t expect him to be so pretty.”