DeathWatch No. 113 – But Summus

This is Issue #113 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

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* * *

She was awake. Suddenly. The bed creaked with the additional weight of someone kneeling over her. She stiffened, opening her eyes wide in the dark. A hand went over her mouth and nose, and something hot and stinging touched her throat. The burning came on hard and fast, and when the hand pulled away from her mouth, she struggled to breathe, to scream.

A lantern came on beside her, and Nixus’s hands and face came into view. She was covered in blood, and her eyes were wide and pained.

“You chose her instead of me, Coryfrater,” she hissed. “This is what you get. I’ve found a new family now. Vivat Tenebrae.”

Jules sat up, gagging, an awful whistling noise pounding in her ears. She couldn’t catch her breath, and all she could do was try to cough, but the front of her was drenched, soaked, she looked down at her hands as she felt a chill settle against her bones, sudden and freezing, and then all the world went dark.

* * *

“Commander. Commander!” Legatus Aecus’s voice was concerned.

Jules opened her eyes, frowning. “What?” She realized she was being hovered over by Coryphaeus, and she squirmed out from beneath him, distressed. Dizziness overwhelmed her, but she stood up, stepped back and sat on the edge of a footlocker, panting.

“Are you well?” he asked, concern on his features. “You fainted.”

For a moment, Jules was caught in how his eyes watched her, in how they seemed truly worried for her. “I slipped,” Jules corrected, looking around.

“There was nothing on th–”

“–the visions. The prophecy. Kieron calls it slipping. Where’s the Captain?” Jules wondered, still looking around, running her hands over her body, looking for gunshot wounds.

Navarchus,” Coryphaeus said. “He missed. Couldn’t focus because of his head injury. He’s been removed. I’ve taken temporary command of the ship while his primus has put him in the infirmary. You had another vision?”

“Nixus, again, Legatus,” Jules said, putting a hand to her neck, closing her eyes. She tried to rid herself of the feeling of her own steaming blood pouring over her hands, her chest, the bedsheets, but succeeded only in making herself nauseated. “She kills you because you believe me,” Jules explained.

“She’s out on the field. I’m more interested in why the navarchus tried to shoot you,” Coryphaeus sighed.

“I’ve been on this ship once already. I fell out of my ship, onto this ship, got captured, broke free, strangled the capt–navarchus–and jumped off this ship. Hit the ground, killed a small troop of Ilonans, ran for the hills, got captured by your troop, here we are,” Jules said tiredly.

“I fear the only reason I may need you to keep me alive is because I will be forever in danger if I attempt to keep you alive,” Coryphaeus muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Faith’n’fuckall,” Jules sighed, exhausted. “Don’t seem like y’wrong, that’s f’sure.”

* * *

“But Summus — the Guardian’s orders were explicit. They must be brought to the capital to face judgment at once.”

Nixus leveled a sword at the runner, baring her teeth. “They want them at once? Fine. Commandeer the Tropaeum.”

“But Summus — the Tropaeum has already been commandeered. Legatus Aecus–”

“Damn him,” Nixus snarled under her breath. “Get another ship. We’ll bring back the prisoners, the legios, and–”

“But Summus— It was declared the soldiers would march back through each village, to assist the remaining villagers in reparations and to ready all defenses for other possible attacks before returning.”

“…You will gather the legionibus,” Nixus began, and when the runner opened his mouth again, she turned and looked at him with such fury, he closed his lips. She leaned in and shouted in his face, “If you ‘But Summus‘ me again, dromus, I will gut you from mouth to muttus, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Summus.”

“Now get out of my face. I’ll summon my own legio, and we shall march back toward Ilona, and when we return, the gates will open before us, returning heroes and re-builders of the nation,” Nixus hissed.

“Yes, Summus!”

* * *

“You’ve commandeered the ship,” Jules said, looking thoughtful.

“True,” Coryphaeus murmured.

“Have you given thought to my offer?” she wondered.

“I have.”

Jules looked to the Legatus, hopeful, almost wringing her hands.

Aecus began. “Commander, please understand, I–”

She interrupted him, when she saw he wasn’t complying. “I dinnae want to have to do this, Legatus, but you’re not leavin me with much of a choice now, are ye?” Jules said, lifting her chin and crossing her arms over her chest. “Agree to my offer, or I’ll have to tell your secret to whatever Ilonan will listen. And while they’re busy figuring out what to do with you, I and my crew will make a break for it. Once they know, no one will follow your orders, and you know it.”

Coryphaeus looked confused, for a moment, and his expression was half-pained, half bewildered.

“I was in your body, Legatus. I know you,” she said darkly. “All of you. And you’re Ilonan, that’s true, but it’s also true that we are more alike than I had ever imagined.”

Legatus Coryphaeus Aecus drew himself up sharply, and squared his jaw. Tears stung his eyes. He stared at Jules for long enough that she quailed and looked uncomfortable. “I had thought we had found common ground,” Aecus says softly. “I had believed us quite alike,” he said, swallowing roughly. “But now… I think you are more like my sister.” He turned away and went to the door.

Jules reeled as if slapped, and then her cheeks flushed red. “Legatus!” she called. “Wait — please, I–” Thoroughly embarassed, she gave chase.

He got his hand on the door when Jules was at his side, one hand at his shoulder. He shrugged it away, whirling around, passionate fury on his face. “How dare you,” he hissed, “use such a thing against me. You pretended to be civilized. Honorable.”

“Coryphaeus,” Jules pled. “You don’t understand–”

“What don’t I understand, Commander? What is it you think is so foreign to me that I cannot both comprehend it and yet deny you, according to my duty?” he wondered of her, his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry–” Jules choked. “I just–” She panicked as he stared her down, unmoved.

Legatus Aecus shook his head, beyond hurt, and pulled open the door. He grabbed Jules, and hauled her through the portal, handing her over to another soldier. “Caliga — see this one is put in the hold with the others. Gag her and bind her,” he said, stalking away. “We lift off when the rest are in chains.”

Jules could see the white of his teeth bared in fury, and the pink rim of his eyelid, black lashes blacker, wet with disappointment as he refused to look at her until his last words, where her gut was twisted with chill.

“…And find me Summus Nixus.”

* * *

NEXT

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DeathWatch No. 112 – Call Me Jules

This is Issue #112 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

The Ilonan officer looked stunned at Jules’s offer. He drank directly from the flask, emptying it, and then screwed the top back on and tucked it away, watching Jules drink what she’d been given. “You would use this gift of prophecy to keep me alive?” he wondered of her directly.

“Yes,” Jules said, without hesitation. “But only if you free every one of my crew.”

It took a long time for Coryphaeus to answer, but when he did, he said, “I can’t.” When Jules’s expression began to darken, he stammered, “Please, you must understand, it isn’t that I spurn the offer — I admire you for what is clearly a great sacrifice. You would give up your own life for that of your crew. It is honorable. It is precisely something too many of my fellow soldiers do not believe you capable of.”

“And so, what, I’ll never disabuse them of the notion, thanks to you,” Jules growled.

“I cannot freely let so many enemy agents go. The Prince will wish to make these decisions himself. It is not up to me,” he said, looking pained.

“It could be,” Jules said, shifting her posture, reaching to put a hand on Aecus’s knee.

He stiffened, his eyes widening, and he reached to lay his hand on hers. “Commander–”

“I offered it already — you took me instead of Hana, and you asked me what I could bargain with, and I didn’t think I had anything, but I’ve got that,” Jules said confidently. She leaned in, moving to slide her hand further up the Ilonan’s leg, toward his inner thigh. “I think you’ll find, Coryphaeus, I can be remarkably persuasive.”

“Commander–” Aecus tried again, sliding his hand up to her wrist and tightening his grip.

“Call me Jules–” she said, and with that, she put her mouth on his.

The kiss didn’t last long — Aecus closed his eyes and pulled back, a distinctly uncomfortable look on his face.

Jules froze, but then pulled back, and moved to pull her hand away, uncertain.

Aecus released her wrist, and cleared his throat, saying, “Commander, I never had any intention of abusing you in such a fashion. I cannot release your crew. I can, however, petition the Prince. I will bring my word that you were not involved in the destruction of the valley, and instead attempted to halt what had happened. You must understand… thousands upon thousands of Ilonan civilians died. The Prince will not desire peace as much as he will desire revenge for such a blatantly evil act, and all your machinations, overt or delicate as they may be–”

Jules swallowed roughly, her cheeks flaming scarlet.

“–cannot make me go against my duty. I have a purpose as a soldier, and I will not stray,” Coryphaeus said quietly. “Tempting as it is.”

Jules barked a low, angry laugh. “Of course I would be at the tender mercies of the singular Ilonan that would not accept the currency the rest of them demand!” she hissed, shoving the mug back at Aecus.

“I beg your pardon, Commander, but the Ilonan martial forces are not simply a collection of thugs and murderers as you seem to–”

Yebat sebya they aren’t!” Jules snapped. “They’re that and worse. Skrimsli. Naudgari. What,” she panted, her hands curling into whiteknuckled fists. “You can’t understand that language? Let me put it into your tongue. Perhaps it will taste better that way. Belua. Raptorem–”

“NO!” Aecus said, horrified. “The actions of a few–”

“It was an entire legio!” Jules raged, her face pale save for two spots of high color, her ringlets tangled and come loose in a dizzied halo of copper. “They all wore the same uniform,” she hissed. “They all had the same crest — the black serpent surrounding the golden sun of Ilona. Ilonan soldiers. Legio 909.” She felt a tightening in her throat, and tried to calm her breathing. Dizziness slowly crept up.

Aecus stared at her for a long moment, comprehension and disgust dawning on his features. “Tenebrae,” he said. “It is the House of Tenebrae. The same soldiers you are telling me my sister has allied with? The only House that vies for control over the capital, to take the lands closest to the Luminora.”

“I don’t care who they are to you,” Jules said darkly. “I’m telling you what they did.” She clenched her fists even tighter, and struggled to keep the world from spinning. It felt like blood was rushing in her ears again; she could nearly hear the ocean.

“And still you were willing to–”

“Let. Them. Go,” Jules said. “All of them. last one, Legatus, please. I will die for them. I will stay for them. I will give you anything you desire. I just want hi–” her voice broke, and she shook her head, coughing. She bowed her head, recovering her breath, keeping her gaze away from the Ilonan. “I just want them to get home,” she said after she recovered.

Aecus’s expression softened further. The tiniest of slips, and he bowed his head, undone. “I will do everything within my power, Commander. Including seek reparations for what was done to you by–”

“No–” Jules said quickly, lifting her head. The world spun and throbbed. “Absolutely not. That will not come up. Ever.”

“Commander O’Malley, I do not understand why y–”

“Maybe it’s been too long for you, you ignorant prick,” Jules hissed, clenching her teeth. “I would rather burn in aetheric fire than have it be public.”

Taken aback, Aecus swallowed roughly, and said, “As you like it, Commander. I will not pretend to understand, but I know enough to let it lie.”

“Have we an agreement, then?” Jules wondered of him airily, her eyes alternately hard and vulnerable. “I will remain here. With you. I will do everything I can to keep you alive. You will find a way to let my crew get home.” She held herself as straight as she could, even as she felt herself tipping, even as she knew in only a moment or two, she would fall over. Again? Already? she wondered.

Aecus closed his eyes again, pained, and said, “I–”

The door banged open, then, and the navarchus of the Tropaeum barged in, a bandage over part of his forehead, a ring of raw bruising around his throat, and a glassy, desperate look on his face.

Jules’s eyes widened in recognition; caught up in the aching throb of her swimming head, she couldn’t move fast enough to plead her case.

The navarchus pulled a pistol from his belt, leveled it at Jules, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

NEXT

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Affairs

Your letters read
of how you want
to taste my wine-stained lips,
how I am
your lovely girl,
how you cannot wait
until the next time
she is off, abroad,
and you can visit me
without shame,
without worry.

They are a flutter
of butterfly wings,
fragile and transparent,
real and true,
but all the same,
ephemeral,
made of smoke and mirrors,
constructed in the wake
of a glassine ego.

You who never correct my grammar,
you who touch me with reverence,
you who, if I but breathed it,
would leave her,
leave everything,
and walk away with me
to begin anew.

You don’t offer it,
knowing I am the one who is timid,
and unwilling to make a leap,
wine-stained lips
and all my loveliness
aside.

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DeathWatch No. 111 – What Did You See?

This is Issue #111 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

“Your cadet is still unconscious,” Aecus said quietly, sitting down across from Jules. “How is your head?” he asked, handing her a mug of something that smelled distinctly like engine degreaser and a lightning storm.

“Better?” Jules said. “This smells like rancid aetheris.”

“It is thinned. Most Westlanders can’t stomach the full-strength liquor,” Aecus said. “Your cadet–”

“–Brody–” Jules supplied.

“–Brody,” Aecus said, nodding, “mentioned the aetheric field generated by the engine was what eased the symptoms of your, ah–”

Jules left the man hanging, on that one, staring at him over the mug.

“–condition? The aetheris… it should help in the same way, I believe.”

Jules shrugged. “You got me, Legatus. I haven’t been this way long. When the Maxima blew — this happened,” she explained. “Kieron’s been dealing with it his whole life.”

“There are others, in Ilona, who bear witness to Prophecy. Mortem vigiliae,” Aecus said. “The Death Watchers. Some only think them mad. Others think they are touched by the divine.”

“What do you think?” Jules wondered.

Aecus evaded. “What did you see?”

“…your sister. Stabbing you. Only I didn’t see it. I felt it. I was you. She was angry with you for siding with me. Believing me. She put her sword through me and lifted me up, on my toes, like she would slice me in half from the middle outwards,” Jules said softly, putting one hand at her belly. “It burned like the sun, and you died,” she explained.

“Where were we?” he wondered, looking pale.

“Somewhere in the city proper, I’m guessing,” Jules said. “Dusty street, bright sunlight. Busy. Surrounded by people. Just off a market square, maybe? Are you — do you believe me?”

“I do not know,” Aecus said, looking down at his own mug, frowning. “Are you sure it was Nixus?”

“As sure as I am that you’re you. Are you, you? I mean, I can’t tell,” Jules didn’t mean to be smug, but she was tired and aching, and the answer came out more joking than she meant it.

Aecus’s wrath was sudden. He slammed his hand on the table and leaned in, raising his voice, fury in his eyes like when he called her Liar. “I do not have time for games! You are leveling serious accusations regarding an officer of the Ilonan Martial Forces! You are an enemy spy and soldier, and you are claiming knowledge of things that make no sense! Why would Nixus–”

“Shadows!” Jules said, her eyes lighting up with the sudden remembrance. “She said something about… shadows,” Jules said. “That’s it — when you died, she said long live the shadows–”

“I am losing patience with the charade. If you have played the long game, Centralite, to get your friend aboard this ship, you will not see it set in Ilona. I will tie the both of you to a sandbag and have you thrown overboard after cutting your throat for good measure,” he said, pulling a thin dagger from his belt.

Vivat Tenebrae,” Jules said, setting down her mug. “I swear, she–”

Aecus looked startled and then leaned ever closer, baring his teeth. “My sister,” he raged, “would have nothing to do with those honorless thugs. Enough of this!” He reached for Jules and brought the knife to her throat. “Have you any last words, Commander?”

Non effundatur sanguis meus es, Coryfrater!” Jules cried out, closing her eyes. She opened them again, when the strike did not come.

Aecus was staring at her, as though she’d managed to stab him. He held her, still, his eyes locked to hers, barely inches away. “What did you say?”

“She said it. She said it. She said ‘You’re… not my blood’,” Jules translated, panting, her eyes wide, watchful.

“The last word. What was the last word,” Aecus whispered.

Coryfrater?” she said. “Something about you being her brother?”

“How could you know?” he wondered, looking baffled, absently setting the knife aside. “She hasn’t called me that… for decades. How could you possibly–”

“I swear — I saw it. I was there. I was you. She was furious with you that you believed me. You were caught up in finding out the truth of something, and she told you to drop it, and you wouldn’t, and she killed you for it,” Jules said, panting, still eyeing the knife. “Looked almost happy to do it, too,” she blurted.

Aecus released Jules, and rolled his eyes, sneering his displeasure. “I appreciate your candor.”

“You’re welcome,” Jules retorted.

The fire in Aecus’s gaze made her close her mouth and sit down.

The silence between them rolled on for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, he looked to her, determination on his face. “I want you to tell me what you saw. Exactly what you saw. What you heard. What you smelled. Everything.”

Jules related it, as well as she could remember it, grimacing when she described the pain of the wound, trying to give him every detail.

When she was done, Aecus said, “Again.”

Cocking her head to the side, Jules frowned, trying to ascertain if she heard him correctly.

Aecus said softly, “Again, Commander. Tell me again.”

She nodded, and repeated the tale, word for word, how they were alone, but not, in the midst of the busy, chaotic street, all full of dust and people and bright sunlight.

The fifth time he asked her to repeat herself, she finally drank what was in the mug to soothe her throat. Her eyes watered, and she felt like she could breathe fire, but she sighed when it was down, nodding to herself, and asked, “Why again?”

“You are telling me that at some point within the next day or two, my older sister stabs me to death in the streets of my homeland,” Aecus murmured. “I aim to cheat that future, Commander. And I shall need your help to do it.”

“…what makes you think I would help you survive?” Jules wondered, setting down the mug she’d been holding.

Aecus pulled a flask from a uniform pocket, and refilled it, carefully watching how much he poured in.

Jules could tell, this time, from the luminescence of the drink that it was a pure draught. She picked up the mug, but didn’t yet drink.

“I believe you,” Aecus said quietly. “That you tried to stop the man responsible for the destruction of the valley. I also believe you cared for that man, but knew what he was doing was a terrible thing. I believe you are a soldier, Commander. Not a monster. Because of this, in exchange for your help, I will petition the Prince that you should be spared.”

She knocked back the swallow of aetheris she’d been given, gasping to feel it burn behind her eyes. “No,” she murmured. “Spare my crew. I’ll help you, to whatever end please you, but set them free. Send then home. Every last one.”

“You’re asking for the impossible. What could you possibly give in return?”

Jules tapped the mug, and Aecus raised a brow. “Are you going to kill your sister?” she wondered.

He drank from the flask without flinching, and poured her another swallow more. “No,” he growled. “And neither will you.”

“Then you’ll need me,” Jules said, raising the mug and toasting him before she drank it. “Let every single one of my crew go, and I’ll keep you alive.”

“And how will you do that?”

Mortem vigilia. I’ll watch death for you.”

* * *

NEXT

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DeathWatch No. 110 – I’m Not Who You Think I Am

This is Issue #110 of DeathWatch, an ongoing Serial. Click that link to go find ‘A Beginning’ and read from there, if you need to catch up.

Happy Reading!

PREVIOUS

* * *

Chaos.

Bright, dusty streets full of motion, full of life.

Jules felt the heat of the sun on her face, and she turned, lifting her hand to shield her eyes.

She had no idea where she was, or why. For a moment, she thought perhaps she’d died. One moment, she was listening to that insufferable Ilonan talk about how Abramov was a monster, and the next…

“What’s going on?” her voice didn’t sound like her own. She coughed, and heard a snort of derisive laughter.

Her heart was pounding; she turned back, panting, and looked full into the face of Summus Nixus, whose expression was merciless. “I told you,” the woman crooned in her musical Ilonan. “I told you to leave it alone, brother–”

Brother. She thinks I’m the Ilonan? Jules’s heart and mind raced. Oh. Oh fuck, no. Not again. Not this again. She tried hard not to panic, but slipping was disorienting at best, and dying again and again was painful and terrifying. She knew what was coming. She didn’t want to have to go through it without Kieron — at least he could tell her it would be all right; he’d been doing this for years.

“–But you just had to put your nose in where it didn’t belong. You had to push push push, and now look what’s happened?” Nixus was still talking, baring her teeth.

“I’m not who you think I am,” Jules said, taking a step back.

“You believed that wormskin over me, your own sister! You’re everything that’s wrong with this regime. Of course you’re not who I think you are,” she hissed, stepping forward. “You’re a sympathizer. You’re a traitor. You’re not my blood!”

“Please–” Jules said, looking around wildly, feeling a sick panic well up in her belly. His belly. She lifted her hands up, and one was still holding a sword; Nixus batted it away with the one she was holding.

Coryfrater,” she said, shaking her head. “You reveal yourself to be so much weaker than everyone believes. Such a simpleton. I could’ve forgiven you, if you hadn’t spared that canicula’s life.” Nixus held a sword at her, leveled it to her chest.

Him. His chest. Jules dropped the sword in his hands, and held them out. “I’m not your enemy,” she said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. She felt like she would be sick at any moment. “I’m not — you have to believe me.”

She looked down at the one she was holding, and shook her head. She lowered the point, and Jules began to breathe a sigh of relief.

Nixus moved quickly, and Jules felt a sharp, hot agony as a blade was driven in through her belly — his belly — and lifted up. She’s fucking strong–Jules managed to think, but then blood filled her mouth. She sagged against Nixus, who jerked the blade up, and up, pulling Jules onto her toes as the blade dug into ribs. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe.

“Goodbye, Brother. Say hello to that redheaded Westlander, when I send her to Death, after you,” Nixus purred. “Long. Live. Tenebrae.”

When the black came to swallow her, Jules had hoped for relief from the pain, but somehow, it simply seemed to become worse, rising to consume her, overwhelming her, filling her eyes and ears with white-hot agony and terror, drowning her.

* * *

The scream that cut through the camp woke nearly everyone. The inhuman howl that rose from Legatus Aecus’s tent ripped through the night, pulling even the soundest sleepers from their dreams.

Three that woke knew, without a doubt, who’d made the cry…

…one of them knew exactly why.

* * *

Kieron snapped awake, feeling a chill grip him, the sweat at the nape of his neck gone clammy. He sat up and looked around, panting, and found himself staring down the pistol of an Ilonan.

The soldier said, quietly but firmly, “You get down. Now.” He didn’t seem bothered by the scream.

“I can’t,” Kieron said, determined. “That woman. That scream. She’s sick. I need to get to her. You need to let me see her.”

“Down, Centralite. Down now, or I put you down,” the soldier growled.

“Please,” Kieron begged. “She has visions. You have to let me go to her.”

The shriek continued, as though independent of breathing or sanity, and as the wail carried on, the Ilonan looked more and more uncertain.

“Please.” Kieron’s expression was worried; he kept wringing his hands, looking lost. “You don’t understand how much it hurts. How terrifying it is. Please. Please let me go.”

* * *

Stunned, Aecus clapped a hand over Jules’s mouth, laying her to the ground. He straddled her and covered her lips, his eyes wide, panicked. He struggled with her, trying to quiet her screams and calm her flailing, but nothing would make it stop.

Outside his guards shouted, asking for reassurance.

“Call for a medic!” he shouted back. He stared at Jules helplessly — the pain she seemed to suffer was more than he could imagine. He thought of Westlanders as an unseen enemy — as a people who did not truly exist save beyond the Luminora. Monsters from children’s stories. But here was one, and it suffered. It suffered more than he could comprehend.

Legatus!” one shouted back. “One of the prisoners claims to know what is wrong with her!”

Aecus watched Jules’s face begin to darken; he pulled back, to let her breathe, and quickly turned her to the side as he felt her body spasm and retch.

“Bring him to me!” Aecus tried not to let his voice show his desperation as blood ran from Jules’s mouth.

* * *

The cry carried down the line; Kieron was summoned, and found himself dragged into the tent. “No, I don’t need to– you just need to get her to the– stop pushing m–” He fell on his knees and scrambled to keep himself from landing face first in front of Aecus. He spat dirt and blood from his own teeth, sitting back on his heels, glancing at Jules. “Get her on a ship,” he wheezed. “Do you understand me? Get her on a ship. Immediately. An aether engine ship. Put her in the hold. Anything. The engines — it helps the visions. She–”

Aecus watched Kieron’s eyes begin to roll back, and he grabbed hold of the boy and gave him a rough shake, sharp enough that Kieron’s teeth clacked together, and his eyes refocused. “Is this a sickness, boy? Have you poisoned us?”

Soldiers leveled their guns and sabers toward Kieron, ready to end him in that instant.

“No–M’sorry,” Kieron slurred, lifting his empty hands up as if to show his harmlessness. “Can’t help it. Need a ship.” He gritted his teeth and took long, slow deep breaths, panting. A wave of nausea passed, and he looked to Aecus, blinking back stinging tears. “I don’t have time to explain well. We see things. Prophecy. She’s new at it, and it hurts, and the only thing I’ve ever seen make it calm down is being in a ship. We’re not in our ship, so this is what happens when you haven’t been seeing the visions for long. Her body isn’t used to it.”

“Prophecy.” Aecus repeated the word in Kieron’s own tongue, nodding. He stepped back and began shouting orders in Ilonan; he picked up Jules and marched out past his soldiers. She lay in his arms like a ragdoll, bloodied. “Come with me,” he said to Kieron as he passed. “There are ships. We will go.” To another soldier, he shouted, “If that boy falls, pick him up and carry him. Follow me. If this is a trick, we will kill them.”

Through the easing rain, the soldiers took Kieron and Jules, and when Kieron stumbled, he was simply lifted up, hauled away like a tired child. He relaxed when he saw Jules lift her head, looking around glassily.

As they approached the ship, a rider stopped them, calling out. Kieron tried to keep himself calm and still, willed the soldier holding him to walk closer to the ship. He didn’t know how close he had to be before the aether engine could soothe his aching head, but he hoped perhaps even being this much closer made a difference. Everyone shouting at one another sounded more and more like gibberish; he passed out, in the arms of the Ilonan soldier carrying him, hoping for unconsciousness, rather than slipping.

* * *

Jules closed her eyes again, dizzy, feeling her stomach roll. She tried to hold still, laid her head against the soldier carrying her, and waited. She wasn’t sure where they were going — or where she was, but she knew the vision itself was over. She was alive.

She wasn’t sure that was too wonderful, but she decided to wait, before doing anything rash.

Summus Nixus,” Aecus said. “I need to get aboard the Tropaeum, we–”

“I have already spoken with the navarchus, Legatus. Your redheaded wormskin was the Quartermaster for the Maxima. The ship that burned the valley,” Nixus hissed. “She doesn’t deserve to go before the Prince. She should receive justice here. On the field.”

“We are not the monsters they think us,” Aecus said tiredly. “You may have the field, Summus, but I still have command of my own men. I do not wish to provoke further bloodshed by killing a soldier out of hand.”

“Do as you are ordered, Legatus,” Nixus hissed.

“You are not my commanding officer, Soror,” Aecus snapped, and promptly went around her. “I am within my rights to follow my own orders.”

Summus!” Nixus snarled, infuriated with his naming of her. “Your impudence will be the death of your career.”

Aecus and his men walked away, without looking back, heading for the airships that had touched down southeast of the wreckage and carnage of the battlezone. His expression was grim as he held Jules in his arms, his jaw tight.

Jules lifted her head, saying, “She killed you. I saw it.”

“Prophecy or no, Commander,” Aecus said, laying the gentlest touch to her cheek, only once meeting her eyes, and even then, looking shaken, “Seruate.”

* * *

NEXT

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