Gilded Serpent Danielle Jensen (i can read with my eyes shut .TXT) 📖

The path-hunter’s bleeding.

For there was no denying what this man was. He had golden Cel skin, which was marked with the tattooed code of the unmarked xenthier stem the Senate had paid him to venture through.

“He say anything useful?” Marcus moved to the man’s head. The path-hunter’s eyes were rolled back, but he was muttering under his breath. Bending low, Marcus listened. It seemed the man was asking for his wife. Possibly children.

“Not since I’ve had him.” Racker took a clamp from one of the medics assisting him, fixing it over a spurting artery. “He’s been mostly unconscious. The men who brought him in have his gear, though.”

Which would have all the information they needed, except where the stem had deposited him. With this rain, retracing his steps would be difficult, which meant potentially months of searching for the terminus stem. If they ever found it at all.

Let him die with the answer.

The thought reared in his head, but only for an instant. Then Felix stepped next to the table, along with Titus, who was rubbing his eyes as though he’d been woken from a heavy sleep. The other legatus grimaced at the sight of the path-hunter’s injuries. “That’s not the work of a blade.”

“Obviously,” Racker muttered, then he elbowed Titus aside. “If you’d make space, sir. It’s rather more important that I be able to see than for you to have the opportunity to gape.” Then his eyes flicked to Marcus. “Well?”

“Rouse him.”

The Thirty-Seventh’s surgeon said nothing, only reached out a hand, and one of the other medics handed him a needle, along with a vial. Without hesitation, he injected something into the path-hunter. “Get what you need from him quickly. You’ll only have a minute or so before he bleeds out.”

Then the path-hunter’s eyes snapped open, and he screamed. Bending over the table, Marcus caught hold of the man’s arms, meeting his panicked gaze. “Be easy. You are with your countrymen, and we will take care of you.”

The man’s chin gave a shuddering jerk.

“I’m Legatus Marcus of the Thirty-Seventh,” he said. “And you are in a legion camp located within the Dark Shores of the West.”

“I found you,” the man breathed. “I mapped a path across the world.”

“That you did,” Marcus kept his voice calm. Soothing. “What’s your name?”

“Nonus.”

“How long since you crossed?”

“Two days. I think. I lost count.”

Which meant Cassius hadn’t stopped with the first group he’d sent through the unmapped genesis stems. He’d sent more, and in all likelihood, it had been to their deaths.

The man shivered violently, only Marcus’s grip keeping him steady. “Did you travel the entire time?”

“Yes.” All the color was gone from the man’s face. “I ran until I reached the river. And then I swam. But it kept chasing. Relentless, it was.” He reached up to grip Marcus’s tunic. “And it wasn’t alone.”

Despite the heat, prickles of cold ran down Marcus’s spine. “What direction did you come from?”

“West.” The man’s grip tightened. “Deep in the jungle.”

“The stem was near a river?”

“Yes.” The path-hunter was shuddering, his skin icy beneath Marcus’s hands.

“Time’s almost up,” Racker said. “Thirty seconds, if that.”

“How wide a river?” Marcus pressed. “Were there falls?”

The path-hunter’s eyes rolled back in his head, then abruptly regained focus. “My girls. You’ll make sure they’re given the gold? That they’re taken care of?”

Marcus nodded, because it was the only comfort he could give. “You have my word.”

“Tell them I love them,” the man whispered, then he exhaled one last breath and went still.

Marcus stood staring at the man’s lifeless eyes. Dead before his time, and all for the sake of gold. All for the sake of giving his children a better life, never mind that his actions could well lead to the deaths of thousands. Of tens of thousands.

How many lives had been taken with love as the perpetrator’s defense?

“What was that?” Felix asked.

Realizing he’d spoken aloud, Marcus muttered, “Nothing.” Letting go of the path-hunter’s shoulders, he reached up and closed the man’s lids, then turned to find Felix holding a pencil and a scrap of paper. “Did you get that all down?”

“For all the good it will do us.” Frowning at the number tattooed on the dead man’s arm, Felix copied it on the paper. “This is going to be a nightmare to find. And obviously the wildlife is a threat.”

“But at least we know it’s there.” Titus’s voice was drenched in triumph, and he slapped the dead man’s shoulder like a comrade’s, jostling the body. “Somewhere, within a few days’ journey of our camp, is a xenthier path connecting us to the Empire. Which means we are halfway to having the reinforcements we need!”

The only thing they needed reinforcements for was conquest.

“It does us little good without a return path,” Marcus answered. “We have no way of even informing the Senate that one of their hunters was successful, so contain your enthusiasm.”

“But Teriana—”

“The Senate will not send us more men without land routes here and back again, Titus. Viable routes that don’t require whirlpools and boons from sea serpents.”

“But—”

“I’m not allowing our only route back to the Empire to sail away just to deliver a message. This is a large step for us, but our work is not done.”

Titus stared at him, brow furrowed and eyes seeing more than Marcus wanted, so he added, “Go spread the word. Open up casks for a third of the men and let them celebrate.”

“And to toast the fallen,” Racker said. “This man fought hard to reach us.”

Titus inclined his head. “To the fallen.” He saluted before exiting the tent, and a chorus of cheers rose a moment later.

“I’ll have a tracking party head out at dawn,” Felix said. “Not sure what sort of trail they’ll find with this rain, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe.”

“Meet you back at command?”

At Marcus’s nod, Felix saluted and strode out of the tent, leaving Marcus alone with Racker and the corpse.

“You know what did this?”

Racker’s