Roses of the Arena | ONGOING

04

"Lieutenant?"

The blazing sun rippled in the tide pool of the sky, soaking my skin with warmth until it nearly seared my face despite the chilled air. We marched down a well-worn road with the sound of one hundred men, horses, and wagons pressing on behind me like an ever-beating drum. I squinted against the bright light, trying to ignore the soldier calling for my attention. Far ahead of us, a lone rider trotted. Our fearless leader, Centurion Atticus Proctor. We had been traveling through the mountains of eastern Westramore for three days, stopping only when we needed rest. Couldn't a man get a little peace?

"Lieutenant Lucius?"

My eye twitched. Eyebrows lifting, I turned to look at the man riding next to me, his knobby-kneed horse loping next to mine. "What is it?"

The young man was a few years younger than me, possibly no more than eighteen years old. The flag-bearer grinned at me, eyes bright with excitement and his movements jittery. "Is this truly the last stop before we head home?"

A year away from home did a lot to a man, worse still with soldiers. I set my gaze ahead of us, watching the incoming forest grow ever larger and more oppressive as we marched on. Atticus spun his horse around, heading back for us. "It is. Westramore is all but fallen to the Empire. Soldiers are being called home. Rest easy. We'll soon be back among our kin."

Content with my answer, he took to surveying the landscape. "It looks so different from home."

Valkor, save me. "What part of Jadhull are you from?"

"I'm from the northwest," he said, hugging the flagpole to his side. "Small town called Ruthorham. It's flat out there. Rolling golden hills of wheat, shrubs, and plateaus. Nothing like this. I don't think I've ever seen so many trees before. What kind are they? Do you know?"

"Pine, I think."

Atticus approached, slowing his horse down. Dark eyes flicked between us before he guided his horse to walk next to mine. "If the map is right, we're not too far from Bramblewood. Should be there by the afternoon."

The flag-bearer fell silent, cowed by the centurion's presence. I didn't blame him. Atticus carried a brooding sense of danger with him anywhere he went.

I jerked my chin toward the forest. "Anything interesting up ahead?"

Atticus's eyes narrowed. "Nothing of importance. When we reach the tree line, I will send the scouts ahead of us. Too many places in forests for people to lie in wait."

A hum of agreeance rumbled in my throat. "I'm assuming our mission is similar to the last few towns. Capture the townsfolk, plunder any loot, and restock our supplies."

"Correct." Atticus leaned back in his saddle, jaw set. "Almost home. I can practically taste the food already."

My mouth watered with the idea of home-cooked food. Honeycakes, roasted boar, and the spiced ale from the Silver Stag. By Valkor's shield, how I missed that old tavern. So many late nights had been spent there among good friends before the war.

Atticus urged his steed ahead, creating a gap between him and the rest of the men. He wasn't a tall man by any means, but how he carried himself set him apart. Never had I seen such a ruthless man in battle.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get home, Lieutenant?" the flag-bearer asked once he deemed it was safe.

I glanced down at him, half amused. "What's your name, kid?"

"Corbin."

"Well, Corbin. The first thing I'm going to do is visit my mother." Valkor, bless that woman. Her patience and kindness knew no end. "She's going to have a meal ready for me. My favorite, of course. What about you, kid?"

His eyes filled with warmth, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm going to get drunk."

A laugh yanked itself out of me. "Drunk! Now that's a fine idea. Drunk. Do you even know where you go to get drunk? You barely look old enough to be out here with us."

Corbin frowned so deeply I wondered if his eyebrows would be permanently stitched together. "I may not have bloodied my blade beside you yet, but I've earned my place among you. I'm not that young to have not seen things!"

"Easy, there, kid." I placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "I meant no offense. You'll soon have your taste of war, I'm sure."

"Quiet!" Atticus's horse turned quickly, pawing at the ground as he steadied it. "We're about to enter the woods."

I glanced up...and then up, up, up. The trees shot like ancient pillars into the sky, a reminder of a bygone era when nature ruled the world and men were but floundering witless beings. A chill crawled up my spine, sharpened tendrils poking along the bones before it latched itself to the nape of my neck.

There were no forests such as these in Jadhull. No dark places for creatures to lurk and misshapen with time. The horror stories other soldiers told of their time in woods such as these began to echo in my mind as we trekked farther in. Dragons that had taken on aspects of the wood, blending with the very bark of the trees they called home. Deer so tall their horns scraped the canopy. Dark shapes always present, always watching, following troops as they marched. Men who disappeared, never to be heard from again.

All sense of time was lost. If not for the compasses and scouts, we might have wandered forever. Trees began to all look alike. Paths winded alongside and then merged with ours every so often. Not a single creature stirred. An eerie quiet enhanced every creak and groan of limbs scraping against each other.

Atticus lifted a fist into the air as he came to a stop.

One by one, we came to a standstill, waiting with bated breath as he scanned the area slowly. He clicked his tongue, and two scouts hurried forward. Bending down, he whispered something to them. They darted off into the woods, vanishing out of sight almost immediately.

No one moved a muscle. Minutes dragged by like cold honey. There was movement between the trees, flicking through the undergrowth. The scouts returned, crowding toward Atticus as they shared their discoveries.

My horse shifted underneath me, restless.

Nodding, Atticus dismounted his horse in one smooth motion. "Bramblewood sits just beyond the edge of the forest. We camp here. Eat. Gather your strength. We've marched long and hard. When the sun falls, we'll make our strike. May Valkor bless us this day."