As soon as they came within sight of the fort, Calix drew Nox to a walk, holding out a hand to signal that Tullus should do the same. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a panic by charging up to the gate and demanding the other generals be gathered.

This needed to be kept quiet.

As they hailed the guards and rode through the gate, Calix cast a sideways look at Tullus. The young soldier had a troubled frown on his face and seemed determined to look at anything but Calix. They rode in silence back toward the stables and dismounted.

Tullus started to lead his horse over to the messengers' remuda, but Calix said, "A moment."

The soldier hesitated, then turned back toward him, staring hard at the frosted ground. Calix let a sigh stream from his nose, considering how he wanted to say this. It was of utmost importance that he impress upon Tullus the need for silence on this matter.

"When I tell you that you'll get your chance at blood, do you believe me?" Calix asked, stroking a hand down Nox's neck.

For a long time, Tullus stared down at the ground. Then, he gave a small shrug.

That wasn't good enough for Calix. He could see the resentment beginning to stir in the younger man and knew it needed to be salved. He closed his eyes briefly, grinding his teeth together. When he opened his eyes, he pinned an icy glare on the soldier.

"Look at me, Tullus. Now!" he snapped, startling the guard into staring at him. He'd rarely if ever raised his voice at individual soldiers. Keeping his voice low but harsh, he said, "If I hear a single word about what we saw in the forest come from any soldier other than you, I'll have you beaten within an inch of your life. Do you understand me?"

Now Tullus was staring at him, eyes wide. In the past month, Calix had only ever resorted to corporal punishment three times, and only when the offenses were so outstanding they couldn't be overlooked. Calix licked his cold-chapped lips, making sure to keep his expression severe.

"Yes, sir," Tullus finally said, his response crisp.

Calix held the soldier's gaze until the other man looked down again. Then, he laid a hand on his shoulder. "This is important, Tullus. This is something I'm trusting you with. I meant what I said if you don't keep your mouth shut, but I said it to impress upon you the gravity of this situation."

After a second, Tullus nodded, meeting Calix's gaze again. His throat bobbed and he whispered, "Did you really mean it, sir? That we'll be hunting them?"

"Yes," Calix said gravely. "And I can swear that you will be a part of it if you so choose." He eyed the younger man. "Unless you would prefer I made other arrangements?"

The fury and betrayal on Tullus' face warmed Calix's heart. It would seem his instincts had been right concerning this one.

"No!" Tullus nearly shouted, then paled and looked around. When he realized no attention had been drawn by his outburst, he let out a small sigh and let his gaze flick back to Calix. "I mean..." he cleared his throat nervously, "no, sir. I would not prefer that."

Calix nodded before turning toward the stables. "Wait near my tent, Tullus. I need to meet with the other generals, but after that plans will be put into action. I'll keep my word, legionary, but only if you do the same."

Tullus bobbed his head.

"Not even the other guards," Calix warned. Inevitably he would need to tell them, but it was his prerogative concerning when that would happen and how. 

"Yes, sir," Tullus managed before Calix led Nox into the stables.

He untacked the horse and gave him a quick rubdown, ordering one of the attendants to give him a hot bran mash. Then he stalked back out into the cold, making for Arcturus' tent. He knew that Catallus would want to send Calix's men out immediately. He would need Arcturus' seasoned, steady voice of reason to make sure that didn't happen, but Arcturus would need to know that Calix had a plan before he approved such a delay.

His mentor knew he was working on a way to defeat the death-maidens, but Calix had been keeping his plans to himself, in case they fell through.

He ground his teeth, scowling fiercely as he made his way through the bustling camp. He'd yet to so much as lay eyes on the men Martialis and his centurions had selected, much less begin training them. How did you go about training men to defeat magical women, anyway?

Ultimately, he had nothing to work with yet. Or, at least, next to nothing. Just a few stories and one sighting that hadn't told him anything useful.

Or... Calix's frown deepened, making soldiers scurry out of his way as he continued through the camp. There's always something to learn by watching. This was something Arcturus had told him dozens of times. The eye sees more than the mind can comprehend. Pay attention. It will keep you alive.

He had stood and watched the death-maiden for what had felt like hours. What had he seen? What—if anything—had he managed to learn.

A frozen wind blew through the camp, chaffing his skin and pulling at his coat. Calix tugged the wolf fur farther up around his ears, hoping for just a scrap of warmth.

Warmth. Calix stopped dead, nearly causing someone to run into him. Ignoring the man's apologies, he began jogging, cutting through rows of tents as he made his way to Arcturus. 

The woman had been sitting in a frozen stream, splashing in it like it was a heated bath. Her skin had been snow white. The sharp rocks of the stream's shore hadn't bothered her. She hadn't seemed to feel anything. Not even the bitter cold. Cold that would have killed any man within minutes.

He cast his mind back further, scrambling for any bit of information that would make the wild theory beginning to form in his mind seem less mad. Tarquin had said they only wore thin robes into battle. 

And their eyes. Not silver, he realized, thinking back to the woman he had seen this morning and the carving he had seen upon the standing stones. White. They had been white.

He startled one of Arcturus' guards from a light doze, the man's shout echoing behind him as he tore through the tent flaps. "I think they might already be dead!" he shouted. 

He flung himself backwards out of the tent as a startled Bellos lunged to his feet and sprang at Calix, jaws snapping. Losing his footing, Calix stumbled into the guard he had run by, sending the both of them crashing to the frozen ground. A heavy weight slammed onto his chest, making all the air gush from Calix's lungs. His wide eyes caught a flash of silvered fur and shining white teeth as hot canine breath fogged over the skin of his cheek.

A sharp whistle split the air, making everyone freeze. 

Bellos flattened his ears and growled one last time for good measure before he leapt lightly from his perch on Calix's chest. He lay in the frozen mud for a moment, gulping in a breath as he tried to convince his body that his throat was still intact. The guard he'd knocked to the ground struggled to his feet, then offered Calix a hand.

Upon gaining his feet, he found Arcturus standing in the tent's entrance, arms crossed over his chest, a bemused eyebrow the only indication that he found all of this hilarious. Tarquin was peering over the general's shoulder, not bothering to fight against the grin plastered over his face. Calix brushed the dirt from his coat and scowled at the half-wolf, who had returned to its master's side, tongue lolling in a canine grin. 

"How many times have I told you that you should leash that thing?" Calix asked, rubbing a hand over his throat.

Arcturus didn't grace that with a reply, instead turning to Tarquin. "I suppose you'll want to stay?"

"If that's all right with you, General?" Tarquin said, still grinning. 

All that earned the both of them was an eye-roll. The general instructed his guards not to let anyone interrupt them and gestured the two younger men back into his tent. Calix edged toward the table, keeping a wary eye on Bellos. Arcturus ruffled the mutt's ears as he walked past, gesturing Tarquin and Calix to take a seat as he settled into his own chair.

Calix scowled as Bellos lay down at Tarquin's feet, nudging the soldier's hand with his nose. The beast didn't care for anyone save his master, but he had always liked Tarquin better than Calix.

Arcturus stirred up the coals in a nearby brazier, then turned a piercing stare on Calix. "Now," he said. "What do you mean, you think they're dead. Who's dead?"

For a moment, Calix hesitated, knowing how utterly mad he was about to sound. Then he shook his head, smiling grimly. If anyone was going to believe him, it would be Arcturus. He could feel Tarquin's eyes on him as well.

"The death-maidens," he began slowly, "have either of you actually seen them for yourselves?"

Both Tarquin and Arcturus shook their heads. "What's this about, boy?" Arcturus asked, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on the table.

Calix licked his lips, then decided it would be best to just plow ahead. "I went riding this morning, heading north, scouting the land."

"You what?" Tarquin asked sharply.

"I had one of my guards with me this time—"

"This time?" Tarquin's glare could have started a fire, but he subsided when Arcturus lifted a hand.

"I've been trying to decide the safest route north," he admitted, glancing at the map currently spread over the table between himself and Arcturus. "But that's not...all I found this morning."

Silence descended, neither of the other men pushing him to speak, knowing he would need a moment to gather and arrange his thoughts. Finally, Calix blew out a short breath. "We were riding along a stream when I heard...singing."

Both Tarquin and Arcturus frowned.

"I ordered Tullus to stay put and went forward to see what it was." Calix looked down to find his fingers had somehow knotted themselves together in his lap. With a conscious effort, he forced his hands to relax. "It was a woman."

He felt more than saw as the other two exchanged a perplexed glance.

"She was...bathing in the stream."

Another silence fell, heavier than the previous one. Then Tarquin shifted in his seat, turning more fully toward Calix. "That would kill someone, mindra. It's—"

"Freezing," Calix interrupted. "I know. I'm only telling you what I saw. She was sitting in one of the pools, completely at ease. She—" He cut himself off, staring blankly at the wall of the tent. He lifted a hand to his mouth, remembering how he'd been afraid that the vapor from his breath would betray his presence. "I couldn't see her breath," he whispered, half to himself.

Arcturus sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his mouth. When he shook his head, Calix shot to his feet, his thoughts whirling so badly he stumbled over the starts of several sentences before finally closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

With his eyes still closed, he said, "Think of what you know, what you've heard about these women."

"They wear no armor," Tarquin immediately supplied. "They wear nothing but robes during battle. Because they don't fear death?"

"But they don't venture into the battlefield," Arcturus countered, fingers tapping on the table. "Perhaps it has less to do with fearing death, and more to do with the fact that they don't believe themselves to be in danger."

"If so, that's foolhardy," Calix said, crossing his arms. "Even if they don't stand in the front lines, that doesn't make them invulnerable. A stray arrow or well-thrown javelin could just as easily kill them as a sword."

Arcturus tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Calix sat back down, running a hand through his hair. "I know this seems impossible," he said. "Mad, even. But this entire situation is already mad! These women wield the power of death. Does it not stand to reason that perhaps what gives them the ability to do so is the fact that they themselves are dead?"

He met first Tarquin's gaze then Arcturus', searching for some sign that they believed what he was saying. Relief bloomed in his chest when Arcturus nodded slowly, his face thoughtful.

"It's troubling to think one of these creatures is so near," the older general said, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. He raised an eyebrow. "You came to me for a reason, Calix. Was it just to share these theories?"

The look on Arcturus' face told Calix that he already knew the answer to his question

Calix licked his lips, retaking his seat. His fingers knotted together again, the knuckles turning white. "I've been charged with finding and destroying these women." Tarquin gave a low hiss at that, but Calix ignored him. "And I can't keep this information to myself. Not when it could endanger so many others."

He stared down at the map between them, eyes darting over the tractless swath of land to the north of Thuria. Swallowing hard, he said, "I need you to help me convince Lord Catallus that the best thing to do is to stay here. For now. To allow me to train my century as well as I'm able. After that..." Calix swallowed against his dry throat. "I will take them north. We will begin our hunt."

"And the rest of your legion?" Tarquin snapped, making Calix flinch and Bellos clamber back to his feet, big ears cocked uncertainly. Tarquin's dark eyes flashed as he stared at Calix. "Your century," he repeated. "You're only taking a hundred men? What of the others?"

"I..." Calix bit into the side of his cheek, beginning to doubt his plan.

"Because it worked so brilliantly last time?" Tarquin continued to press. "If what you're saying is true, these women are a thousand times more dangerous than the Mortanians. You'll need every ounce of manpower you can get and—"

"I can't control that many!" Calix burst out, surging to his feet again. Agitated, he began pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair. His inadequacy mounted like a tidal wave in his chest, threatening to smother him. "I can't—It's impossible to—All of this is just—"

"Calix, stop." Arcturus' voice cut through the maelstrom in his head, drawing him to a halt. He rocked slightly from foot to foot, but his attention was riveted on the general. Arcturus got to his feet, planting his hands on the table as he leaned forward to peer at his protégé. "The king asked you to hunt these women down?"

"Yes," he all but gasped out, the simple question like an offered lifeline.

"He gave you the legion to do that."

Calix shook his head, his stomach clenching. "No. We learned of the women after my commission was gifted to me." Tarquin nodded in support, now looking vaguely ill.

"He told you that you were to begin this mission as soon as you arrived."

His mouth now dry as an Emulsian desert, he nodded.

"But when you arrived, you found no actionable intelligence concerning these women. This made it impossible to set out, especially with untrained troops."

Calix knew it was more a rhetorical question, seeing as how Arcturus had shared that news himself. Still, he nodded.

Arcturus heaved a sigh, then stared down at the map. He traced out a route north, his lips puckering into a frown as he considered everything that had just been said and more. Calix began rocking from foot to foot again, unable to stay completely still.

"Why a hundred men?" Tarquin finally asked quietly, casting a cautious look at Arcturus. But the general just looked up, curiosity etched in his face.

Voice raw, Calix said, "They gave me green recruits. Men who have never seen battle, much less...something like this. I can't—" he heaved a breath. "I can't be everywhere at once. I can't make sure five thousand men stay in line, only attacking these women. I can't move them across land without every clan for a thousand miles knowing what I'm doing."

"And you think they won't notice a single century?" Arcturus asked, skeptical.

Calix shrugged. "I know they will. But one hundred men can move faster than five thousand. And if that hundred also happen to be the best of what I've been offered, so much the better."

"A culling," Arcturus said, his eyebrows raising. "Picked by you?"

"Picked by my centurions, seeing as they'll know their men better than me by now. Approved by me." He glanced down. "That was my plan for today, before..."

"Before you saw the woman." Arcturus scratched at the skin beneath his eyepatch. "You're absolutely sure she was one of these death-maidens?"

He opened his mouth to blurt out an answer, then shut it. He needed to be sure. That's what Arcturus was telling him. Calix compared the woman to the carving he'd seen on the standing stone. He remembered her uncanny eyes and strange voice—how he'd been unable to recognize the language she spoke in. The cold that had seemed to wrap itself around his heart and lungs.

"I'm sure," he said, a shiver lifting painful gooseflesh on his skin.

Arcturus sat back in his chair, eye shadowed with thought and maybe even a little fear. "Even one of these whores can devastate a legion, Calix. And until the snow clears, we're stuck here like rats in a trap."

"I know that," Calix rasped. "I know. But I just... Please, Arcturus. I just need a...a month. Give me one more month to train my men. To try and find some way to fight these creatures without getting everyone killed."

Arcturus stared at him for a long time, thumb rubbing across his lower lip as he considered this. Then he sighed. "We have to let Catallus know. His men are in just as much danger."

Calix nodded, suddenly feeling as nervous as he had the first time he'd met the general.

"I will...impress upon him the need to prepare your men. Catallus may be a posh bastard, but he does understand the need for properly trained men." Arcturus gave a grim smile as Calix's head snapped up. "I can give you a month, Calix, but in the meantime, you need to be seen doing something more than just training."

Calix's eyebrows drew together in confusion. What else was he supposed to be doing. Unless...

"I can start sending out more scouting parties," he said, that explosive energy that had grabbed a hold of him suddenly draining away. "I can have them patrol the area, looking for signs of these women."

Arcturus nodded encouragingly, his expression softening somewhat. He stood and came around the table, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I know it's hard, boy. Those kinds of deaths always feel useless, but we need to know. And I won't let you send raw recruits out alone. That won't help anything."

Relief so strong it was almost painful rushed through Calix. "You have my thanks," he whispered, the relief suddenly overtaken by embarrassment. What kind of general was he when he continued to lean so heavily on Arcturus' guidance?

"Sir?" Tarquin asked quietly.

Calix looked up in time to watch Arcturus nod, the older man suddenly looking more tired than he had ever seen before. "Aye," the general sighed. "You'd best tell him why you were here."

Looking back and forth between his mentor and his soul-brother, Calix's brows furrowed. Tarquin looked excited but guilty. Arcturus continued to just look weary. Tarquin took a deep breath, then said, "I'd like permission to transfer to your legion, mindra."

"I...what?" Calix sat back in his chair. "But..." He cast an uncertain look at Arcturus. "I thought—"

"In light of this new situation, I think you need him more than I do, Calix," Arcturus said. "I've received a missive telling me that Lord Plaetorius will be sending an additional seven hundred men. It won't put the Second at full strength, but it'll be enough to patch the holes. I'm sure I can find a few decent centurions among the men."

"Besides," Tarquin said with a charming smile that didn't quite hide his nerves. "I hear you'll be needing a new centurion."

"Presumptuous of you," Calix managed a moment before an enormous grin split his face. "You would be most welcome, Tarquin."

Tarquin nodded, then looked down, trying to hide his pleased expression. Calix thanked Arcturus once more, just to be waved off as the general got to his feet. He scowled down at Calix. "On with you then. I'll talk to Catallus. I'd like an update on your century by tonight if possible."

"Yes sir," Calix responded as both he and Tarquin stood up. He could see by the look on Tarquin's face that he felt just as guilty as Calix did, leaving the old man alone.

Like he could sense what they were thinking, Arcturus snorted and snapped his fingers at Bellos. "I've been fighting in the legion since before you pups could walk. I can get along just fine without you." Grumbling, he added, "Probably better seeing as how I won't have to worry about yanking your sorry asses out of the stocks every other week."

That earned him identical grins from the younger two.

"Thank you, Arcturus," Calix said again, the words feeling dreadfully inadequate.

Arcturus just waved a hand and moved toward the tent's entrance. He left without a word, Bellos on his heels. Tarquin and Calix exchanged another grin before leaving the tent as well. They watched as Arcturus cut a path through the camp, legionaries springing out of his way, wary eyes on the wolf at his side.

"You didn't have to do this," Calix said as they turned and began making their way toward the Seventh's encampment.

Tarquin snorted, but didn't otherwise reply. They continued on in silence until they were nearly to his tent. Calix could see Tullus seated before the entrance and began to mull over what he wanted to do with the guard. His train of thought was interrupted when Tarquin said, "How do you plan to start training men to fight something that can kill them from a mile away?"

"I'm working on that," he muttered.

"Which just means you don't know." Now that they were among the men of the Seventh, Tarquin was careful to keep his voice low.

"What it means, is that we need to find out more about these women." Calix nodded at Tullus, gesturing for him to join Tarquin and himself within the tent. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the two men exchanged curious glances.

He crossed to his desk and began riffling through the newest stack of papers, making sure everything could wait until later tonight. His fingers slowed as an idea occurred to him. Papers still in hand, he turned to Tarquin. "Could you get your hands on the after-action reports from the battle with the Wolfclaws?"

Tarquin frowned, crossing his arms. "Possibly."

"Do what you can." Calix turned to Tullus. "How are your tracking skills?"

Tullus grimaced. "Fair enough, sir. But...Petran is better. He worked as a trapper in the Alorens before he joined the legions."

"Very well." Calix set the papers back down and turned toward his dressing room. "I'll speak with him on his shift. For now, Tullus, you shall accompany Centurion Vestarin and myself."

He extracted his red general's cloak, throwing it on over his coat.

"May I ask where we'll be going, sir?" Tullus sounded wary. Perhaps he thought Calix wanted to venture into the forest again.

He emerged into the tent's main room and gave both men a grim smile. "Let's see what sort of hunting party we can gather."