Dark Shores

by Danielle L. Jensen

  Whatever it takes to save her.

  “This is Teriana we’re talking about,” Titus said. “You’ve got to do something. You can’t just let them cut her up.”

  Marcus flinched. Was that what they’d do?

  “We’ll delay the attack,” Titus said, leaning over the table, bits of spit flying with the intensity of his words. “It’s the only way to save her. Then we’ll find her and make them pay.”

  “Shut up, Titus.” Felix shoved the younger soldier aside. “Marcus, listen. I know you’re angry with me, but you have to see reason. If we withdraw, do you think they’re just going to hand Teriana over to us unharmed? There’d be nothing to stop us from attacking them, and they’d have lost the only leverage they have against us. No matter what we do, we’re not going to get her back alive.”

  His chest ached. “What are you suggesting?”

  Felix licked his split lip, then looked away. “I know you’re fond of her, but … but this is the Thirty-Seventh. We do not negotiate. And we do not fall back.”

  “How shocking that his advice is to let her die!” Titus snarled. “Don’t listen to him, Marcus. We can find her; all we need to do is buy some time. The men will understand why.”

  “What they’ll understand is that their commander is making decisions based on his feelings for a girl,” Felix retorted. “Never mind what the clan imperators will think about this. They’re in position, too.”

  “I’m not listening to this.” Titus kicked a stool. “I’m going to find out whether the trackers have had any luck.” Motioning for his men to follow, he stormed out of the tent, leaving Marcus alone with Servius and Felix.

  “How much time do we have?”

  Servius cleared his throat. “The boy didn’t know much, but from what I gathered before I sent him off with a medic, we have less than an hour to comply or they—”

  “Cut her up,” Marcus finished, his mind filling with that horror. Of having to see her perfect body reduced to parts, her beautiful eyes still and unseeing. Her voice silenced. And it would be his fault.

  “Yeah.” Servius’s voice was thick with emotion. “That’s the threat.”

  “Sir—”

  Marcus cut him off. “I know, Felix. I know everything that you’re going to say, and you’re right. We should attack, because we are the Thirty-Seventh and we do not fall back.”

  Felix straightened in surprise.

  “I know what my orders should be.” Marcus swallowed hard, knowing that nothing would be the same after this. “Only I don’t think I can live with myself if I give them.”

  Silence.

  “Just how much do you care about this girl?”

  Marcus didn’t answer, only met his friend’s gaze. Too much.

  Felix looked away first. “Right. Well, the decision is yours, sir.” He saluted sharply. “If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”

  Tick, tock. The second hand of the clock made a slow progression around the face.

  “You need to make a decision,” Servius finally said. “Whatever your orders are, you need to give them.”

  Marcus shook his head once, never taking his eyes from the clock. He felt paralyzed, unable to make a decision. “I don’t know what to do, Servius.”

  “Recall them or march the rest into position, but you have to do something. We have men in the field and we can’t leave them hanging.”

  Tick, tock.

  He knew what he had to do.

  “Marcus, we’re running out of time.”

  It was only a matter of finding the courage to do it.

  “Give the rutting order!”

  The second hand hit the hour, and he swallowed the stickiness in his throat. “I—”

  “Wait!” Gibzen flew into the tent, nearly knocking into the table as he slammed his palm down against the surface. Lifting his hand, he revealed a tiny golden hair ornament that Marcus would’ve recognized anywhere.

  Gibzen’s grin was vicious. “We’ve found their trail.”

  43

  TERIANA

  You have to escape. You have to escape. You have to escape. Teriana kept the chant going in her head as the sunlight filtering through the open door faded into dusk. Except the three guards in the building never left her alone and try as she might, she couldn’t think of a way to subdue all three without making a racket. She was a good fighter, and she’d picked up her fair share during her time with the legions. But she wasn’t that good.

  And time was running out.

  A laughing Ashok had told her that the legions and the allied clans were withdrawing from their positions, which she could scarcely believe. Yet the proof was that she remained alive, not quartered pieces in a sack on its way to be delivered to a man she’d convinced herself didn’t care whether she lived or died.

  It made her furious that Titus had seen the truth when she had not, and played her like a fiddle. And now look at the mess she was in. If only she hadn’t let Titus bait her. If only she hadn’t jumped to conclusions. If only she hadn’t said those things, the legions and the allied clans would be on the verge of defeating Urcon and pulling him from power.

  Because it was past time she stopped denying that was what she wanted. There would be long-reaching consequences to such a victory, but if it meant the Arinoquians being free of Urcon, they were worth it. At least she hoped they’d be worth it. Prayed they would be …

  But if she didn’t get free to warn Marcus, it wouldn’t matter what she prayed for. He and his men would be dead, and Urcon would seek revenge against all the Arinoquians who’d fought against him. And if Cassius and his ilk learned she was dead, her people would be the next to suffer and die. She couldn’t let that happen.

  Fiddling with the handle of the blade tucked beneath her bottom, Teriana eyed her guards. They weren’t corrupted, so if she could get one of them close enough for her to put a knife to his throat, maybe she could negotiate her way out with him as a hostage. Or maybe bribery would work.

  “You know,” she said, “the Cel have chests of gold in their camp. More than you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They’d pay to get me back alive.”

  All three lifted their heads.

  “We sell you back, what’s to stop them from resuming their attack on Aracam?” the big one asked.

  “Nothing.” She lifted one shoulder. “But you’ll be rich as princes, so what would you care? You could go anywhere you liked.”

  The men eyed one another, wheels turning in their minds as they considered her proposal.

  “We’ll get all that gold when we defeat them,” the big one eventually said. “No need to turn traitor to get it.”

  “Urcon will get it,” she corrected. “You’ll be lucky to see a handful of copper.”

  All three glared at her.

  “You’ve got to know that,” she said. “That’s what he does, isn’t it? Takes and takes and takes…” Trailing off, she gave them a weighted look. “Doesn’t have to be that way. You could be the ones doing the taking. You want proof, look in my pockets. Unless you’ve taken what was in there already.”

  The big one shrugged at his comrades. “Might as well. She’s not going to need it.”

  Teriana schooled her breath, her fingers tightening and loosening around the blade handle. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been any of the others? Only she didn’t have time for another ploy. It had to be this one, and she had to make it count.

  When he reaches in, get the knife on his throat, she told herself. If he fights back, slit it. Break the bars. They’re flimsy. It won’t be hard. Take his sword and fight your way out. Then run.

  It was an awful plan, but it was all she had. Already it was full dark, and who knew how long it would take for her to find her way back? She had to warn Marcus. Had to tell him that in trying to save her he’d put everything at risk.

  “Which pocket?”

  “Left trouser,” she said, easing the blade out from under her bottom. He crouched down, and was r
eaching through the bars when the ground shuddered. A second later, she heard a distant boom. Then another and another.

  The big man turned away from her cage, and she swore, pulling out the blade and swiping at his retreating back.

  She missed.

  But it didn’t matter, because a second later the night filled with screams.

  The men pulled their blades, but it did them little good as a knife whistled through the air, catching the short one in the chest. He stumbled back and fell unmoving, and then a legionnaire stormed through the entrance, gladius flashing.

  He engaged the young one, their blades clashing once, then twice, before the boy fell screaming, one hand clutching at the guts spilling from his stomach.

  There was a flash of motion outside, and as the legionnaire turned to fight, the moonlight reflected off his face.

  Marcus.

  He cut down two more men in quick succession, but that was when the big man decided to make his move.

  “Marcus!” Teriana screamed, slamming her heels against the bars of her cage, the wood snapping. “Behind you!”

  He twisted, raising his weapon.

  It was too late.

  44

  MARCUS

  Marcus whirled at the sound of his name, lifting his blade to meet that of the giant man who’d been lurking next to Teriana’s cage. The angle was awkward, and the force of the impact knocked the weapon from his hand.

  Swearing, he pulled a knife and lunged before the beast of a man could regain his balance. It slid between a pair of ribs and into a lung, and the serrated edge ensured the wound was mortal as Marcus jerked it out.

  He might as well have stuck the man with a pin.

  Roaring with fury, the man lunged, and all the air rushed from Marcus’s lungs as his back slammed against the ground. Gasping for breath, he stabbed the man in the kidney but lost his grip as his opponent reared, pulling Marcus with him by the front of his armor.

  And threw him against the ground.

  The impact rattled Marcus’s teeth, but he caught hold of the knife strapped to his leg. As the man slammed him down again, he embedded the weapon between another pair of ribs.

  And it was as if he’d done nothing.

  The man choked and frothed blood, but his strength didn’t diminish as he beat Marcus against the ground like a rag doll, not even seeming to feel his injuries.

  “Die, you stupid bastard,” Marcus croaked, smashing the bridge of his helmet against the man’s nose, breaking it. Blood rained down in a torrent onto his face, but the only effect was the berserk bull of a man let go of Marcus’s armor and took hold of his throat.

  He could not breathe.

  Marcus struggled, employing every dirty trick he knew, his grip on the man’s fingers the only thing keeping his throat from being crushed. They were both dying. It was just a matter of who’d get there first.

  His vision darkened. He could feel his strength fading. Then a hot flood of liquid spurted into his face, and the beast’s grip slackened as he toppled sideways, landing with a thud.

  Gasping for breath, Marcus wiped a hand across his face, trying to clear the blood from his eyes as he pushed onto one elbow, reaching blindly for his weapons.

  “Never thought I’d need to show you how to kill a man.” Teriana’s voice was shaky, but her grip on the knife she’d used to slit the man’s throat was steady.

  “Don’t get used to it.” His voice was hoarse. “Are you all right?” She wasn’t; he could see that. Her face was swollen and bruised, her lip split, and the cut on her hairline needed stitching. But she was standing, and talking, and not dead.

  “Better than you.” She dropped to her knees, wiping blood from his face with her sleeve. Her hand was icy cold, and he caught it with his, needing that small reassurance that she was alive. That he hadn’t been too late.

  A shudder ran through her, twin tears cutting through the blood and dirt on her face. “You came for me. I didn’t think … I wasn’t sure…”

  The disbelief in her voice hurt more than the beating he’d just taken. That he’d given her cause to think he’d abandon her without a fight. There were so many things he wanted to say, to make her understand how he felt. Only he’d spent so much of his life burying his emotions behind a wall that he had no idea how to put them into words.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For causing you to doubt that I would.”

  A strangled sob tore from her throat, and then her arms were around his neck. He held her close, her braids tangling in his fingers, and he knew he should be watching the door, be on his feet with weapon in hand. He didn’t care. Because he wanted this. Wanted her. And he needed her to know it. “Teriana—”

  A cough interrupted him, and he twisted on his knees, fumbling for the blade that still lay on the ground.

  It was only Gibzen.

  “How nice to see you are still alive, sir,” the primus said, cocking one eyebrow on his blood-splattered face. “Surprising too, given that you running in here like a madman wasn’t part of the plan you so clearly articulated to us.”

  It hadn’t been, but when he’d seen the enemy moving toward the shed where they were keeping her all he’d been able to think of was Teriana. How he refused to come so close to saving her only to lose her for the sake of caution toward his own life.

  “We have prisoners,” Gibzen said. “When you’re through with your little moment, you can decide what to do with them.”

  Those prisoners were the ones who’d taken Teriana. Who’d beaten her and put her in a cage. “Kill them.”

  Gibzen shrugged, but Teriana shouted, “No!”

  Pulling out of his grip, she shoved past Gibzen and out of the shed.

  “Teriana,” Marcus called after her, but he might as well have been shouting into the wind.

  “I get it,” Gibzen said, reaching down to haul Marcus to his feet. “I like Teriana, and if I were in your position, I’d do the same. But if you lose your edge because of her, it won’t go well.”

  “I know.” And this was always what would come between them. Because he was here to lead the army that would conquer this half of Reath in the name of the Empire, and no matter what there was between them, no matter what she felt, he knew she intended to stop him.

  Which made the sight of Teriana shaking and shouting at one of the prisoners all the more surprising. “Where are they?” she screamed. “What direction are they coming from? How many men?”

  The prisoner spit at her, and she slapped him hard before lifting the knife with obvious intent.

  “Teriana, no.” Marcus grabbed her arms, hauling her back.

  “I need to make him talk.”

  “You don’t need to do anything. We’ll deal with them.”

  “There’s another army,” she blurted out. “That was the point of capturing me. To delay your attack against the city so that you’d be caught between the two of them.”

  Marcus had known something like this would happen. Not the specifics, only that there’d been a better reason to take Teriana than a misguided belief that the Cel would abandon their campaign entirely just to save one girl. He’d hoped that the few hours of false retreat wouldn’t make a difference, that he’d get away with it.

  He’d been wrong.

  And now how many of his men, how many of his allies, would die because of a decision that he’d made? A mistake he’d made?

  Teriana is alive, and that is not a mistake, he told himself. It was cold comfort. If everything went to shit and he lost control, he’d no doubt his men would cut her down as soon as they were finished with him.

  “How much time do we have?” he asked.

  She grimaced. “What do you think I was trying to find out?”

  Over her shoulder, he met Gibzen’s eyes and nodded. Then to the three prisoners who were all that remained alive in a sea of dead, he said, “The first one to answer her questions lives.”

  One pissed himself, but none of them spoke.

  “Are
you so afraid of Urcon that you’d rather die by my hand than survive to face him?”

  “Not him,” Teriana whispered. “Ashok.”

  Fear rippled through them like a tide. “Who’s he?”

  Teriana licked her lips, wincing as her tongue passed over the split in her lower one. “He’s a … He’s in the employ of Urcon, but he’s more powerful. More dangerous.”

  Marcus eyed her, gauging her reaction and feeling his temper flare as he drew conclusions. “He’s the one who beat you.”

  She gave a short nod, and there were angry mutters among Gibzen’s men. “Aye. But it wasn’t the worst he could’ve done. Even if he’d beat me to death, it wouldn’t have been the worst he could’ve done.”

  There was something she wasn’t saying, but Marcus let it go.

  “He will take all the years of our lives and all of those of our families, if we betray him.”

  Marcus only caught a portion, but it was enough to understand the threat. “When we take Aracam, we will find this Ashok and hang him for what he has done.”

  Teriana translated, and before she finished, the man laughed. “You will not catch Ashok. Not him. And one who counts his life in centuries can take his time with revenge.”

  “You won’t catch him,” Teriana said. “He’s a slippery sort, but one more than willing to bide his time for revenge.”

  It was the first time Marcus had ever caught her mistranslating, but he didn’t think she’d do it without reason.

  He stared at the three for a moment, debating whether it was worth it to dig the information out of them. If there was an army coming, his men would be ready, no matter how many or which direction they came from. And regardless, now that he knew to look, his scouts would find that information soon enough. What mattered now was making it back to his legion.

  “Kill them.”

  Taking Teriana’s shoulders, he turned her so that she wouldn’t watch as their throats were slit.

  “I just killed a man in front of you. You don’t think I have the stomach for this?”

  “This is different,” he said. “This you don’t need to see.”