Marcus Valorian's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

The wounded boys breathed easy now, but Marcus watched the rest of the camp fall apart. Two nights after the swamp run, he walked the wall at dusk and saw it plain. Men sat slumped against the stone. Spears lay in the mud. Nobody drilled. Nobody sharpened. One boy stared at the breach where the beasts had marked the wall, and his hands would not stop shaking. Chen fell in beside him. Since the first attack, Chen followed Marcus without question, but tonight even his jaw was tight. "Six of them talked at the fire," Chen said low. "They mean to slip out the breach before the pack comes back. Tonight, maybe." He met Marcus's eyes. "I won't cut them down for it. They're just tired." Marcus knew orders would not hold them. Fear had eaten the last of their spirit. He needed to give them something to stand for. He turned toward the sturdy bear-carved building at the camp's heart, where Rose ran the kitchen. He found her hauling a kettle off the fire, sleeves shoved up, red hair tied back with a rag. "They're breaking," Marcus told her. "I need every scrap of food you've got. Now." Rose did not ask why. She wiped her hands and grinned. "Took you long enough to think of it." They carried it out together. Rose ladled hot stew into every bowl in the camp. Marcus called the men in from the wall, all twenty-three, and made them sit shoulder to shoulder inside the bear-carved hall. For the first time in days they ate warm food. Rose moved down the benches, filling bowls, calling each boy by name, shaming the quiet ones into eating more. Marcus stood before them. He did not talk about the empire or the wall. He unbuckled his own battered steel breastplate, the plates scarred from a dozen fights. He set it on the table where all could see. "I gave this armor to one of you when he was afraid," Marcus said. "He held the line. We all did. Not because we're brave. Because we didn't leave each other." He looked at the six who had talked of running. "You want to walk out that breach alone, into the mist, into the pack. Or you stay, and no beast pulls us apart." The hall stayed quiet. Then Chen stood and set his spear across the table beside the breastplate. One by one, the others followed. Even the boy with shaking hands laid his weapon down among the rest. The pile grew. Rose watched from the kettle and said nothing, but her eyes were wet. Nobody ran that night. By morning the men were back on the wall, drilling, sharpening, standing close. The camp held. But Margaret Holloway found Marcus at first light. Her face was grim. Fresh tracks ringed the wall, thick around the breach. The pack had returned in full, and this time they had not come to test the defenses. They had come to break through.