48. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Finish packing, then head to the north gate,” Atticus bellowed over the campfire.
The Sixth Legion was setting out west to the Green Mountains Tribe’s hillfort to besiege them and thwart any potential attack. Two more legions were on their way as well. The order had been given two days after the night attack on the camp, once the wounded were strong enough to travel. Pinaria, however, remained unconscious in the healer’s tent.
The morning sun, already beating down on their heads, hardened the mud beneath their sandals into caked soil. Katell grabbed her few belongings and rolled her blanket, securing it to her horse’s saddle. How the Rasennan soldiers managed to carry all their belongings on foot in the summer heat, she would never understand.
“I guess you missed the training on how to pack.” Grimacing, Arnza surveyed the linen bags strung to the horse’s saddle with a grimace. Since the Westerners’ attack, they’d spent most of their time together beside Pinaria, and as a result, his attitude towards her had noticeably improved. “Why hasn’t Tia helped you?” He untied the largest bag, grumbling about the Southern Beauty being a spoiled, selfish girl under his breath.
Katell glanced across the campsite. Her female companion sat on a low tree stump with her shoulders curved inwards. Ever since the prisoners’ interrogation, Tia had looked unusually pale. Dark rings circled her eyes, and she’d kept her distance from everyone.
A glint caught Katell’s attention. Arnza’s black signet ring shone from his finger as he helped rearrange her belongings. Dorias wore the same one, while Pinaria and Tia wore theirs on chains around their necks.
Soon, Katell would swear an oath to Dorias and receive a ring of her own, too. Although the thought no longer filled her with dread, her decision to join the legion still gnawed at her conscience, keeping her up at night.
Had she been too impulsive?
A young soldier arrived, saluting them both with a fist to his chest. “New recruit.”
Arnza returned the gesture. They both looked at Katell, who crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s Katell.”
Face dripping with sweat, the soldier delivered his message. “New recruit Katell, Praefect Dalmatius has asked for you at once.”
She kept a blank face, hiding the unease coiling in her gut. The oath needed to be sworn before they departed.
“Also, Black Helmet Pinaria is awake. You may go see her if you wish.” The soldier saluted once more and left.
In his wake, Arnza’s face lit up with a broad smile. “Sorry, Kat, I’ll help you next time.” He rushed off towards the healer’s tent, leaving a mess of bags at her feet.
“Arnza!” She was going to wring his neck next time.
“Need a hand?”
She jumped at the voice. Despite keeping a constant awareness of her surroundings since the arena—an instinct she’d picked up to survive and couldn’t shake off—the legion camp was crowded, often catching her off guard.
Cinto stood at her back, nodding at the bags. She smiled and passed him the leather satchel she’d been given to store food rations.
He took it and went to work tying it to the saddle. “Tia mentioned you had trouble sleeping.” His voice held no judgement, yet she was uneasy that he knew something so personal. Tia must have picked up on her nightmares in their shared tent. Katell ground her teeth, wishing Tia had spoken with her rather than tell Cinto. Who else had she blabbed to?
“I know a thing or two about nightmares.” Cinto circled the horse to adjust the rolled blanket behind its saddle. “Thocero has potions that can help you sleep.”
She mulled over his words. “You need them yourself?”
“My Gift allows me to project nightmares on the enemy in battle. It paralyses them and makes them easier to kill, but it can affect me, too, at night.”
His words drew Katell’s attention to the black Mark on the side of Cinto’s neck. It gleamed in the morning sunlight: a skull wearing a Rasennan helmet.
“Magic of the mind takes its toll on the Gifted as well.” He tilted his head at Tia, still sitting by herself. “She isn’t so terrible. She simply craves comfort from a man who can’t give it to her.”
Dorias.
Katell suppressed a smile. So the Southern Beauty had failed to capture the praefect’s interest and was behaving like a jealous brat instead. Or had something already happened between them in the past?
Cinto cast her a knowing look. “Our leader has eyes on someone else.”
“It isn’t like that.” Katell’s answer came a little too quickly.
With a sly raise of his eyebrow, he quipped, “If you say so.”
Coming around her side, he took in the leather bag she’d attached to one of the saddle’s horns and sighed. “Why don’t you go find Praefect Dalmatius? I’ll finish here and meet you at the north gate.”
It felt wrong to leave all the work to him, but Dorias was waiting, so she accepted. “At least let me thank you later with some spices or extra candles.”
He chuckled, patting the horse’s rump. “Spar with me while we’re on the road and we’ll call it even. I’m tired of facing Larth.”
She promised him and left. Soldiers scurried about like a swarm of ants, dismantling tents and loading bags and carts.
When the praefect’s tent came into view, a towering figure slipped out through the flaps. The huge man with brutish features and wearing a black fur coat nodded at the guards. Two more men flanked him, shouldering crossbows. Their clothes and weapons reminded Katell of hunters.
She couldn’t tear her gaze away as the three newcomers marched down the central camp aisle, soldiers hurrying out of their way. Rather than Rasennan soldiers,
The man in the fur coat locked eyes with her from afar. The silver lines of a Mark shimmered around his left eye. Stopping in his tracks, he sniffed in her direction like a wild animal and flashed her a cruel smile.
Katell lay a hand on the hilt of her sword at her hip. Who were they, and what did they want with Dorias?
After a tense moment, the hulking man walked away, his companions following behind.
She entered Dorias’ tent and found him at the back, hunched over a large map of the Empire, and dressed in full armour. His fingers tapped the wooden surface of his desk.
“Who was that man in the black fur?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
He glanced up with a frown. “He’s a tracker. He came looking for information about one of the Emperor’s enemies. Why? Did something happen?” His gaze coasted over her face and arms.
“No. I was just curious.”
His lips thinned. “He’s dangerous, more beast than human. Best to stay away.”
She agreed. She never wanted to cross paths with the tracker again.
“I needed to speak with you before we depart.” Dorias grabbed a scroll from the pile on his desk and handed it to her. “I sent word to Kisra regarding your intention to join the legion and the Black Helmets. This is your official letter declaring you belong to the Sixth, with your name and rank. The pay should cover everything you need.”
Katell skimmed over the parchment unable to read the Rhaetic writing.
“I can translate it for you if you wish,” Dorias added in a gentler tone.
“Maybe later.” She rolled it up again, exhaling a deep breath.
She’d thought of every alternative a dozen times in her mind: leaving the Rasennan camp to search for Alena by herself, travelling back to Bruna even if Dorias’ soldiers hadn’t found any trace of her… But if her sister had never made it to Bruna… where would she go then?
Katell wasn’t a Rasennan citizen and had no protection. Whatever she owned had been supplied by Dorias. And travelling on the roads by herself, even with her Gift, was foolish. She gnawed on her bottom lip, lost in her thoughts.
Dorias rounded his desk and approached her, his gaze unwavering. “You’re a Black Helmet now, and we take care of our own. If you ever find your sister again, she’ll be safe.”
She placed her trust in his words. Once the Sixth had dealt with the Green Mountains Tribe, she’d come up with a plan to find Alena. Perhaps she could even secure the aid of trackers if she saved enough coins.
Releasing a breath, Dorias ran his thumb across the light scruff of his jaw. “There’s still the matter of the oath—”
“I won’t swear loyalty to the Emperor. Not after the fighting pits.” Her voice came out sharper than intended, but the pain of the arena was still too raw. “I refuse to swear my life to that man—”
Dorias held up his hand, and she bit back the rest of her words. “I understand.”
Taking the parchment from her, he tossed it back on his desk. “You don’t need to swear anything to the Emperor yet, but you will meet him eventually in the capital. All Black Helmets Gifted by Laran do. And if you do well in battle, he’ll invite you to Laran’s temple in Kisra. The priests say it’s the god’s main residence, where he grants Gifts to the Empire’s warriors.”
“Is that how you gained control over fire?” Katell couldn’t help but ask. “You went to the temple?”
Patron Gifts were a great honour, Sinope had once said, and Dorias had received two—his golden breastplate and his fire magic.
“I was sent to the temple after my first great victory against the Eluvites. I stayed there three nights and on the last one, the priests gave me a potion. That night, Laran came to me in my dreams, holding a flame.”
He stretched out his right hand, and a single flame lit up his palm, illuminating the planes of his face. “He said it was my reward for all the strength and courage I had shown on the battlefield fighting for the Empire.”
The flame danced on his palm, beckoning her closer. Remembering Dorias’ formidable magic tearing through the air in the heat of battle, her heartbeat quickened. “What was it like, meeting a god?”
The fiery light shone in Dorias’ eyes, casting his gaze in molten gold.
“Indescribable.” The rich timbre of his voice sent a shiver racing down her back. “What I felt that night was unlike anything I’d ever imagined. Endless raw power that lit up all my senses, as if I were immortal myself.”
Katell remembered the thrill of her own magic rushing all at once through her body during the attack. For a brief moment, she had seemed invincible, too.
Dorias snuffed out the flame and brought his hand to her face, tilting her chin. His touch was firm yet tender, drawing her to him.
“You have great power inside of you, Katell, more than I’ve ever seen. Laran will reward you as well, someday, and you’ll be free to decide how you wish to use it. I decided to help other Gifted warriors like yourself, but you—you could change the Empire itself if you wished for it.”
The fervour in his words made her heart race.
Ever since her Gifts had appeared, she’d been afraid. Afraid of what they meant and of harming others.
But Dorias hadn’t doubted. He’d believed in her from the first day they’d met.
Laran will reward you.
The Rasennan god had already given her strength and healing magic. What more could he offer?
“I understand that you won’t swear an oath to the Emperor, but will you swear it to me?” Dorias went on, his presence filling the space around her and carrying the alluring scent of smoke and spices. “There’s no need to kneel, you can simply say the words.”
He held out a black signet ring, the same one that circled his finger and that the other Black Helmets wore.
Katell thought once more of Alena, then of Sinope, now dead, and finally of Nik, still a fighting slave in the Pit. She couldn’t save them but she could help protect so many more by joining the legion. It was time for her to embrace her new place in the world and repay her debt to Dorias.
The praefect had breathed new life into her existence, his training reigniting her confidence and improving her skills. Joining the Sixth Legion might not have been her initial choice, but at least in the army, she was a free woman. One who was valued and respected. The Black Helmets gave her purpose again, bound by a shared goal of protecting each other and their loved ones.
Alena would have understood.
So, she accepted and repeated the oath after him, swearing her loyalty to Dorias and the Black Helmets, to never desert the legion, and to fight with courage at all times. Her gaze never once wavered from his face.
When she was done and Dorias spoke again, his voice was a shade darker. “Will you help me in our upcoming battle against the Westerners? Will you help me destroy Volcos and his army and fight by my side no matter the odds?”
“Yes, always.” The words slipped from her lips without a second thought.
He took her hand in his and pressed the ring into her palm. “Then welcome to the Black Helmets.”
Katell slipped the ring onto her thumb until she could find a chain for it. Gazing upon the cool metal, a newfound sense of belonging enveloped her.
“Thank you, Dorias.”
A small smile pulled on his lips. “Come, I have another gift for you.”
In the far corner of his tent, Dorias pushed aside a curtain, revealing a shelf lined with black-plumed helmets beside two more leather breastplates displayed on wooden stands. On the other side, an altar rested on a chest, adorned with a dark wooden statue. She’d seen enough statues of naked warriors around camp to know it represented Laran. The altar was surrounded by candles and bundles of burning herbs releasing a sweet aroma in the air.
“Over the years, Emperor Tarquinius assured me many times that Laran always cares for his most loyal followers. I never understood it until I received his flame along with this.”
He picked up a small, blue-stained glass vial lying beside the statue and held it up for her. Inside, she spotted tiny, black pebbles.
“What are they?”
Dorias tipped some stones into his hand and passed one to her. “They’re called Laran’s Tears.”
The tiny stone caught the light, flickering like fire despite its dark colour. They reminded Katell of the unnatural glimmer of Sinope’s silver eyes.
“Laran’s Tears are given as a reward to our bravest warriors. They can increase your magic temporarily and allow your mortal body to harness and unleash its full potential without harm.”
It was difficult to imagine how such a small stone could hold such power, but she didn’t doubt his words.
“Try it.” He poured a cup of water from a jug and handed it to her.
She stared at him, then back at the black pebble. “Is it safe?”
“One Tear will allow you to experience its power without any danger. When in battle, it’s best to take three.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she took the cup and swallowed the stone with water.
Dorias guided her back to the centre of the tent. “Now close your eyes and let Laran’s magic course through your body.”
She didn’t feel any different, but with him in such close proximity, it was hard to ignore his presence circling her, powerful and enticing. Then gradually, a heat grew within her belly, and a torrent of magic flooded her limbs, bringing a flush to her cheeks.
Dorias’ low voice whispered in her ear, “Can you sense it now?”
She turned to face him, relishing the sudden rush that coursed through her blood. “It’s—it’s incredible.”
She longed to test her strength, but the possibility of unintentionally wrecking his tent held her back.
“It’s not only your Gift that is affected, but your body as well. Your energy, stamina, agility—all of them are improved.” With a click of his fingers, a flame ignited within his palm.
Yearning to touch it, Katell reached out on instinct. Her fingers brushed his callused hand, expecting the flame’s heat to burn her, but it didn’t. Glancing up, she faltered when she caught Dorias’ steel gaze roaming over her face, and a palpable tension charged the air between them. He raised his hand, laying his palm flat against hers, and the fire grew, entwining around them.
Flames danced along her skin without heat or pain, and she stared, lips parted. When she pulled away, the flames parted with her, bending one way and another to her will until she gathered them back to her palm again and smothered them in her fist.
As soon as the flames were out, an incredulous laugh burst from her throat.
Dorias’ eyes gleamed as he studied her hand. He made no comment, but she got the distinct feeling that he was pleased.
“Dorias.” She smiled at him, euphoria sweeping over her. “That was—that was—”
“Magnificent.” His burning stare met hers, and his hand came to rest on her waist. “You are magnificent.”
He dragged his thumb across her lips, igniting a different kind of fire within her. Heat spread beneath her skin, and in the next breath, he kissed her.
When she felt his fingers slide through her hair, Katell gave up any pretence and melted into him, sliding her arms around his cloaked shoulders.
His lips were warm against hers, coaxing. A groan rumbled in his chest, and his grip tightened around her waist. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth, and a moan climbed up her throat.
Her blood sizzled for this man who had given her back her life, pushed her every day, and never flinched at the bloodlust and violence within her.
In that instant, she knew she’d made the right choice, swearing her loyalty to him.
A throat cleared outside the tent flap, and Dorias drew back but didn’t let go of her waist.
“What is it?” he asked in his commander’s voice.
“Praefect Dalmatius, we must start packing up your tent,” one of his guards answered. “The legion has almost finished breaking camp.”
“I’ll be out soon.”
He rested his forehead against hers, a hint of amusement tugging on his lips. “The legion’s plans stop for no one. Not even the Undefeated.”
She returned his smile, her stomach tightening as his thumb skimmed across her cheek. “I’ll sneak out the back.”
He nodded and pressed his lips to hers once more before she pulled away.