...
The journey to Greece took many days.
They crossed the dry plains first, then the mountains, then the coast, and finally the sea. Cyclone complained about the wind, which was an odd thing for him to complain about. Alexzander said very little. At night, he sat apart from the fire with his axe across his knees and thought about the boy with the golden light. He thought about the girl who stepped in front of him and about the Egyptian General who had pulled his own recruit out of the fight. Most of all he thought about the word authority, and how none of the recruits seemed to know what it meant.
When the Greek coastline finally rose out of the water, Cyclone leaned on the ship's railing and grinned. "Home."
"Don't get comfortable," Alexzander said. "We aren't staying."
The imperial palace stood at the top of a long road lined with white columns. Guards in bronze armor and crimson cloaks straightened as the two soldiers passed, and doors opened before they reached them. Alexzander and Cyclone walked through a series of halls, each one larger than the last, until they came to a room with a ceiling so high that the sound of their footsteps disappeared before it reached the top.
At the far end, a great window let in a bright wash of light. In front of it, on a raised throne, someone sat completely still.
Neither of them could see his face. The light behind him turned him into an outline, a shape cut out of the sun. A golden laurel crown rested on his head, and he wore layered robes that hung straight and heavy over what looked like armor. Something hung against his chest and caught the light as he breathed, a small hourglass whose sand seemed to drift more slowly than it should. The only thing that showed any color at all was his eyes, two calm points of green in the dark.
Alexzander and Cyclone knelt.
"You've returned early," the Emperor said. His voice was deep, steady, and completely unhurried. It carried through the whole hall without being raised. "That means you have something to say."
"Yes, my Emperor," Alexzander answered.
"Then say it."
Alexzander told him everything. He described the two routes and the two attacks. He told him about the recruits, the golden boy who had torn through rocks with nothing but speed and fury, and the swordsman who had awakened in the middle of a fight. He described the General with the glove and the nickname the Egyptians gave him. He explained that he and Cyclone had held back on purpose, and that even so, the recruits had survived. The silhouette didn't move once. When Alexzander finished, the hall was silent for several seconds.
"They survived," the Emperor said.
"Yes."
"And they lack authority."
"They have contracts," Alexzander said. "But they don't understand what those contracts mean. Not yet."
"Not yet," the Emperor repeated. The sand in the hourglass drifted slowly. "Egypt lost its god and found something to replace him. I would like to know exactly what." The green eyes shifted toward Alexzander. "What do you ask of me?"
Alexzander lifted his head. "A small force. Enough to test the Egyptians properly. Not to conquer Babylon, only to see how the recruits stand when the pressure is real."
Cyclone added, "And to see whether the boy changes again."
"A test," the Emperor said quietly.
"Yes."
The silhouette was silent for a long moment. Cyclone shifted uncomfortably, but Alexzander stayed still. Then the Emperor spoke again.
"You will have four hundred soldiers. Not one more." His voice never rose. "This is not a war. It is a measurement. You will learn what the Egyptians have built, how far they will go to protect it, and how quickly they adapt. Then you will return and tell me."
"As you command," Alexzander said.
"There is one more condition." The Emperor leaned back slightly. "You will take the young man from the forest with you."
Cyclone blinked. Alexzander frowned. "The hunter? He dislikes cities, my Emperor. And orders."
"He dislikes needless killing," the Emperor corrected. "That is why I want him there." He rested one hand on the arm of the throne. "I want to see how he stands beside you. And I want to see how Egypt's recruits stand against someone who isn't bound by our rules."
Alexzander bowed his head. "It will be done."
"Go." The Emperor looked out the window, and the light swallowed his shape again. "And keep your soldiers in order. I do not enjoy surprises."
•••
They found him outside the palace walls, at the edge of the gardens where the cultivated hedges gave way to a stand of old olive trees.
Cyclone was talking loudly about the army, and about how impressed Egypt would be with four hundred soldiers. Halfway through a sentence, he stopped. "Did you hear that?"
"No," Alexzander said.
"Neither did I," said a voice from above them.
Cyclone jumped. Sitting on a low branch about ten feet above the ground was a young man who had clearly been there for a while. He had a lean, athletic build made for endurance rather than strength, and his deeply tanned skin looked like it had spent most of its life under open sky. His wild, dark brown hair fell to his shoulders, tied loosely behind his head with strips of leather. His golden eyes were sharp and alert, like a wolf's, and a faint scar crossed the bridge of his nose. Dozens of smaller scars marked his arms. He wore layered leather reinforced with enchanted animal hide, and a dark green cloak that blended so well with the leaves that Cyclone had walked right past it. An ancient longbow carved from sacred olive wood rested across his back with a quiver of celestial bronze arrows, and a curved hunting knife hung at his waist.
The young man dropped from the branch without making a sound. "You're loud," he said to Cyclone.
"I'm usually told I'm charming," Cyclone muttered.
"Not by anyone who hunts."
Alexzander stepped forward. "The Emperor has ordered you to join us. We're going to Babylon."
The young man looked at him for a moment. "Why?"
"To test the Egyptian recruits."
"Recruits." The word seemed to bother him. "Soldiers?"
"Children, mostly. Some younger than you by many years."
The young man's expression darkened slightly. "I won't kill children."
"That isn't the purpose," Alexzander said. "It's a test, not a slaughter."
The young man studied him a little longer, then glanced up at the olive trees as if asking them for advice. "Do I have to enter the city?"
"No."
"Then I'll come." He adjusted the bow across his back. "But I'll decide where I stand."
Alexzander nodded. "That's fair."
Cyclone watched the young man walk toward the road without making a single sound. "I don't like him," he said quietly. "He's unsettling."
"He's exactly what we need," Alexzander answered.
•••
The soldiers assembled the next morning.
Four hundred Greek warriors stood in perfect rows in the palace courtyard, their bronze armor gleaming and their crimson cloaks stirring in the sea wind. They were not the empire's greatest army, only a small and disciplined fraction of it, but they were enough to make the ground tremble when they marched. Alexzander addressed them briefly. He told them where they were going and what to expect. He didn't tell them why.
They sailed across the sea and marched through the mountains. The soldiers kept formation without complaint, and Cyclone ran ahead and fell back again whenever he got bored. The young man walked apart from everyone, usually at the edge of the column where the land turned wild. Wherever he went, birds seemed to follow him. Two hawks circled above the army for the entire journey, and at night, more than once, soldiers swore they saw eyes shining in the dark, watching from beyond the firelight. Nobody asked about it.
The days passed, the sun rose and set over strange land, and the army drew closer to the plains outside Babylon.
At dawn on the last day, Alexzander climbed a ridge and looked ahead. The enormous walls of Babylon rose against the pale sky, and the lanterns along the canals were still glowing faintly from the night. He saw the guards on the towers, the soldiers on the road, and the Egyptian banners fluttering above the palace. Somewhere inside that city, a boy might be awake, and the recruits might be stronger than before. He wanted to know how much.
Cyclone climbed up beside him and whistled quietly. "They look calm."
"They don't know yet."
Behind them, four hundred soldiers formed their ranks on the dry ground, and the sound of armor and boots filled the air. The young man stood a short distance away on a rocky outcrop, his cloak pulled close, studying the city without a word. He lifted one hand and a hawk landed on his arm and took off again toward the walls.
Alexzander watched it go. Then he lifted his axe from his shoulder and rested it against the ground.
"They're expecting us tomorrow," Cyclone said, grinning.
"Then we'll be early."
A guard on the wall finally noticed the dust rising in the distance. For a moment he didn't move. Then he turned and shouted, and a bell began to ring across Babylon.
Alexzander raised his axe above his head. "Let's see how they've grown."
Four hundred soldiers began to march.
…
The bell echoed across the hospital courtyard, and Squad One looked up at the same moment.
They had finished their morning drill with Samira an hour earlier and had been sitting in the shade, waiting for the healers to let them see Magnolia. The healers had allowed only short visits since he woke up, because his body was still recovering and Saijew had ordered him to stay in bed. Valentina was in the middle of retying her boots when the second ring came, sharp and urgent. She stood up so fast that she nearly knocked Matthew off the bench.
"Captain!"
She was already running. Kibo, Matthew, and Amelia scrambled after her, and the four of them tore through the hospital doors and down the long corridor toward the room where Magnolia had been resting. Valentina was fast, but when she turned the last corner, she saw that the door was already open. A faint swirl of dust was still settling on the floor.
Emma had gotten there first. She had been sitting at the far end of the courtyard when the bell rang, and she hadn't said a word to anyone. A gust of wind was all that remained where she had been.
Inside the room, Magnolia had heard the bell too. He had pushed off the blanket and stood up, bracing one hand against the bed, when the door burst open. Emma stood in the doorway with her blond hair blown completely out of place and her chest rising and falling. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
"Emma?" Magnolia said.
"You're, um…" She stopped, and her cheeks turned red. "You're standing."
"I heard the bell."
"I know. I mean, I heard it too." Emma looked down at the floor, then back up at him. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
Magnolia smiled. "I'm okay."
Before Emma could answer, the rest of the squad arrived in a rush of footsteps.
Valentina stopped in the doorway, staring at him as if she needed to see him standing with her own eyes. Her voice came out softer than she meant it to. "Captain."
"Valentina."
Kibo barged past her and clapped Magnolia on the shoulder, hard enough to nearly knock him over. "You slept through everything! Do you know how bored we were?"
"You weren't bored," Matthew said, rubbing his chin. "You complained about the training every day."
"That's different."
Amelia stepped forward and studied Magnolia carefully, checking his color and his breathing the way a healer would. After a few seconds, her shoulders relaxed. "You look better than I expected."
"I feel better," Magnolia said. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, and the squad gathered around him. "Tell me what happened. Everything I missed."
Valentina took a breath. "You don't remember the fight?"
"I remember some of it." Magnolia looked down at his hands. "I remember the axe. I remember the woman. I remember I couldn't move." He swallowed. "After that, it's mostly fire. I don't know how I got to Babylon."
"Emma carried us the last part," Valentina said. "You collapsed after you beat that Greek. Amelia insisted we bring her with us, and Matthew and I took turns carrying you the rest of the way. Squad Two was already here, and they called the healers."
"Squad Two made it?"
"Barely. Ren fought the other Greek by himself on the eastern road. He nearly died." Valentina's expression tightened. "He awakened. Saijew pulled him out."
Magnolia blinked. "Ren awakened?"
"White and blue light. He's been unbearable about it." Kibo grinned. "Naram-Sin knocked him flat three times, though, so it evens out."
Magnolia laughed, and then his expression turned serious again. "And the woman?"
The squad glanced at each other, and Amelia answered quietly. "She woke up and walked out of the hospital on her own. Samira found her and let her go." She hesitated. "I think she's fine. I hope she is."
Magnolia nodded slowly. He was quiet for a moment. "I lost control," he said. "On the battlefield. I wasn't thinking. I could have hurt you all." He looked up, and his silver eyes were steady. "I don't want that to happen again. I'm going to learn how to hold it back."
Valentina studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "We'll help."
"We trained while you were out," Matthew added. "Samira's been teaching us formation and movement. Valentina figured out something about her style." He glanced at Valentina, who looked away. "She's been making all of us better."
Magnolia opened his mouth to answer, but the sound of boots in the corridor made everyone turn. The door swung open again, and General Saijew walked in with the six members of Squad Two behind him. Samira and Naram-Sin came in last, and the small hospital room suddenly felt very crowded.
Saijew looked around once and shook his head. "It's too crowded in here. Follow me."
No one argued. The recruits filed out of the room and followed him down the corridor toward the middle hall of the hospital, a wide space with tall windows and almost no furniture. Naram-Sin walked at the General's side, and his expression had changed. He was calm, as always, but his grip on Mashkan was firmer than usual.
When they reached the middle of the hall, Naram-Sin stopped and turned to Saijew. "There is an ambush on the southern wall."
"Southern?" Saijew said instantly.
"Yes."
Saijew's eyes narrowed. "They're already spreading out."
Abraham's face went pale. "The Greeks…"
Before he could finish, Naram-Sin and Samira moved. Neither of them said a word to the recruits. They simply turned and ran, crossing the hall at a speed that made Kibo blink, and disappeared through the doors in the direction of the palace.
The recruits stared at the empty doorway. Saijew watched them go with his arms crossed. "It's surprising they don't possess a contract," he said.
Poison frowned. "They don't?"
"None of the Babylonian soldiers possess contracts."
The room fell silent. Valentina stared. Luna's eyes widened, and Matthew looked toward the doorway as if he expected the two guards to come back and explain themselves. Ren hadn't moved. He stood perfectly still, his jaw tight, and his hand slowly curled into a fist at his side. He had spent days being thrown across a training yard, being corrected and humbled and knocked down, and every bit of it had been done by people who had no divine power at all.
Not an ounce of it.
"That's…" Ren started, then stopped. His ego was bruised, and he knew it. "That's not possible."
"It's very possible," Saijew said. "That's what makes them dangerous."
•••
In the throne room, Belshazzar was standing before his throne when Samira and Naram- Sin burst through the doors. A messenger in dusty clothes was kneeling at the foot of the steps, still breathing hard, and the King's expression was grim.
"Report," Belshazzar said.
Naram-Sin bowed. "The southern wall. The guards say there is a Greek force approaching from the plains."
"How many?"
The messenger looked up. "Roughly four hundred, my King. Their first soldiers have already reached the wall. They're not attacking directly. They're spreading along the base, and my captain thinks they're looking for weak points."
"It's a probe," Samira said quickly. "They want to see how we respond."
"Or they want us to think so." Belshazzar turned his amber eyes toward Naram-Sin. "Ashur holds the wall?"
"Ashur is already on his way."
"Good." The King looked at both of them. "I want the Egyptian recruits brought to the palace. All twelve. They've fought these soldiers before, and nobody in this city has, but I don't want them scattered through the streets in the middle of a battle." He turned to Naram-Sin. "Gather the children and bring them here. Tell them it's by my order."
"It will be done."
"Samira." The King's voice sharpened. "Gather the rest of the guards. Every one that can be spared from the walls."
"Yes, my King."
Samira ran. Naram-Sin turned and left a moment later, his long strides carrying him back toward the hospital faster than most men could run.
•••
Naram-Sin found Saijew and the recruits exactly where he had left them, still standing in the middle hall. Squad One and Squad Two had broken into small groups, whispering uneasily. They stopped as soon as he entered.
"By order of King Belshazzar," Naram-Sin said, "all of you are to report to the palace. Immediately."
Saijew nodded. "Understood. Everyone, move."
They left the hospital in two lines, the recruits glancing nervously at the sky as they walked through the streets of Babylon. The bell was still ringing, and the city was in motion. Merchants were closing their shops and pulling their children indoors, and guards ran past in groups, shouting orders. The canal water was still, but the air felt tense.
Saijew walked next to Naram-Sin at the front of the group. For several minutes neither of them spoke. Then Saijew asked quietly, "How has the training gone?"
Naram-Sin was quiet for a moment, then answered in his low, steady voice. "Better than I expected."
"Be specific."
"The boy with the poison decides faster. The girl with the vines protects herself before she protects the others. The one with the glasses hits harder than he did, though not hard enough." Naram-Sin glanced back over his shoulder at Ren, who was walking in silence with his arms folded. "The swordsman has started asking questions."
Saijew's eyes followed his. "That's progress."
"It is the beginning of it." Naram-Sin faced forward again. "Samira says Squad One has learned to fight as a unit instead of as individuals. They spread out when they should, and they stopped chasing."
"And what about Magnolia, their captian?"
"I don't know much of him. I can't tell you." Naram-Sin paused. "But Samira says he has something the others don't. She calls it hunger. I would call it gilt."
Saijew didn't answer, even though he already had his response.
"They are not ready," Naram-Sin said. "But they are better than they were."
"That will have to be enough," Saijew said.
The palace gates rose in front of them, and the two guards on duty stepped aside without a word.
•••
On the other side of the city, Samira was moving fast.
She leaped from a rooftop to a balcony and then to the street, shouting orders at every guard she passed. She didn't slow down until she reached the barracks courtyard at the edge of the royal district, where two figures were already waiting for her.
The first was impossible to miss. Ashur stood well over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and an immense frame that made him look more like a building than a man. His bronze skin was crossed with scars from decades of guarding Babylon's borders, and his thick black hair was braided tightly behind his head. A full beard framed a weathered face with a broken nose that had never healed properly. He wore heavy blue- and-bronze lamellar armor engraved with protective cuneiform, and across his back hung an enormous tower shield called Etemenanki, nearly as tall as he was. At his hip was a broad, khopesh-like greatsword forged from Babylonian steel.
Next to him stood a woman who looked almost small by comparison, though she wasn't. Tallia was 5'10", with a lean, exceptionally defined frame and almost no scars on her bronze skin. Her dark brown hair was tied into a long braid reaching the middle of her back, and her hazel eyes seemed to follow every movement around her, even when she stood perfectly still. She wore cream-colored martial robes and a deep blue sash embroidered with Babylonian geometric patterns, and no armor of any kind. Her hands were wrapped in faded linen bandages, and a string of polished stone beads hung from her belt.
"You're late," Ashur said, in a voice like falling stone.
"I ran as fast as I could."
"You always run as fast as you can. It's not usually enough."
Samira ignored him. "The King wants every guard we can spare in the throne room. Greek force, about four hundred, already at the southern wall."
Tallia's fingers moved over her beads as if she were counting. "The same Greeks the Egyptians fought?"
"Maybe not the same, but the same army." Samira looked at both of them. "The recruits are being brought to the palace. The King wants all of us there too."
Ashur frowned. "The wall?"
"Other captains are covering it." Samira lifted her chin. "The King wants us in the room when he decides what to do."
Ashur grunted and shifted his shield on his back. "Then we go."
Tallia tucked her beads into her sash and fell into step beside Samira without another word. Behind them, soldiers poured out of the barracks in disciplined lines, their armor flashing in the sunlight. Samira led them toward the palace at a steady run, and the sound of marching feet filled the streets.
•••
The throne room was packed by the time everyone had gathered.
Belshazzar sat on his throne in his royal blue robes, the Hanging Gardens mantle resting across his shoulders. On his left side stood Saijew and the twelve Egyptian recruits, the two squads grouped close together. Magnolia stood near the front with Valentina beside him, and Ren stood a few steps away with his arms crossed. Poison scanned the room, Luna kept close to Emma, and Abraham stared at the high windows as if he were measuring them.
On the King's right side stood Samira, Naram-Sin, Ashur, Tallia, and the rest of Babylon's guards, arranged in disciplined rows. Their armor gleamed in the torchlight, and not one of them carried a trace of divine power. They had been standing between Babylon and its enemies for years without it.
The doors closed behind the last of them. Outside, the bell was still ringing, but in the throne room, everything was quiet.
Belshazzar looked slowly from one side of the room to the other, at the Egyptians and at the Babylonians, and then at the empty space between them. For the first time since Saijew had met him, the King of Babylon looked worried.
"Greece has come to my city," he said. "Listen carefully."