“Whatever’s coming up,” Cade growled, “it’s more dangerous than those Grays.”

He stared into the darkness as the battle below intensified. Metal rang on metal, and the garbled screams of the dying set his teeth on edge.

Minutes ticked by. The black shadow of the staircase loomed.

Then, as the noise of battle petered out, a figure shuffled out of the gloom, shrouded in shadow. A man holding a shield stepped into the light.

His mouth opened, eyes flashing in recognition. He choked a single word.

“Quintus?”

CHAPTER

13

A Roman.

Cade could hardly believe it, yet there he stood. A legionary in rusted armor, square shield and gladius clutched in bloodied hands.

Quintus’s face was suddenly split by a broad grin, and he rushed forward to hug the man.

“Marius!” a voice called from below, followed by a string of Latin too fast for Cade to follow. Marius called back in reply.

“Translate,” Cade hissed, and the Codex, suddenly invisible, whispered in his ear as it had done so many times before.

“… the last of them! But you won’t believe who they were attacking.”

“Bring them to us,” the voice called back. “We have wounded.”

Marius beckoned for them to follow, then stumbled down the stairs.

“Quintus?” Cade asked, but the young Roman was already leaping down the stairs after Marius.

Cade followed, ignoring the clamor of questioning from the others behind.

The staircase was carnage, with massacred Grays splayed across the stairway like toys across a nursery floor. The walls were slick with blue and red blood, yet Cade could not help but lean against them as he navigated the butchered and broken bodies. Quintus didn’t stop, no matter how loud Cade called for him. Cade could only follow, until he emerged into the large, central room of the gatehouse.

An unbelievable sight greeted him.

Legionaries, arrayed in formation, blue blood still dripping from their weapons. Nearby, a handful of injured soldiers lay on the ground, with a man in a red tunic rushing between them with needle and thread.

Cade counted as many as a hundred men standing to attention. The first man—Marius—stood among them, while another in an elaborate helmet stood at their head.

It was strange to see the men stood in such neat rows, even as some clutched wounds or held others up. Stranger still for their leader to ignore their obvious pain.

Only when Quintus touched the second man’s shoulder did he turn, and Cade was shocked to find a sneer of disdain across the leader’s face. He had a cruel look about him, with an aquiline nose and pinched mouth beneath raven hair.

“So,” the man snorted. “The gods have sent you to help us.”

He spat, then looked above Quintus’s head, as if searching for something.

“Do you have the Codex?”

Quintus kept his lips pursed.

“Dumb donkey,” the man snarled, barging past Quintus and facing Cade. His face was beet red.

“You,” the man growled, stabbing a finger at Cade. “Where is the Codex?”