by David Estes
Something moved from behind a boulder. “You shouldn’t have come here,” Shanti said, stepping from the shadows. In one hand, she held a torch. In the other, a string, dripping moisture.
“I was worried,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Worried?” she said, and there was a hollowness in her tone he’d never heard before. “You shouldn’t be worried about one person, not when your empire is at risk.”
“I care not for empires. For its people, yes, but not for power. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. But that doesn’t change the fact that the empire will fall. Its people are lost, as we all are.”
The defeat in her tone bruised his heart. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do. I watched my father’s murder. My sister’s too. You told me my mother was raped and murdered by your own father. The Black Tears gave me a purpose, a chance for revenge. And Jai…” She clenched her teeth and shook her head. “Jai was something else. He was hope. But then they took him too, the purest soul of them all. Where is the justice in that?”
Falcon had no answer, because there was none. “I don’t know what to say, except I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. I am too. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve seen too much. I am not naïve enough to hope for a better world anymore.”
“Hope is never naïve,” Falcon said.
“Maybe in the world you come from, but not in mine.”
“We can still save the rest of them,” Falcon said. “Your people, the Terans. My people, the Phanecians. The other kingdoms too. Roan Loren is lifemarked. So long as he is alive, there is a chance.”
“You’re right,” Shanti said, and Falcon felt a sprig of life. “We can save our people. We can save them from being cannibalized by the Horde. With this.” She held up the string, and Falcon realized what it was, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to him earlier.
A fuse, soaked in oil.
Oh gods. The flames were so close to it now that the string was smoking.
How long had he been looking for Shanti? More than a day. How many charges could she have set in that time? “Wait,” he said, aware of the panic in his voice.
“For what? You can’t change my mind. This isn’t about me. It’s about the horrors these people will experience if I don’t collapse these canyons around them. Women, children, soldiers…I will give them a swift death. And then I will throw myself from these very cliffs.” She brought the torch closer to the fuse.
“Shanti, I love you.”
Her hand froze. Her lips quivered. “You think that changes anything? I already know that. I’ve known for a long time. And if I hadn’t met Jai, maybe I could’ve loved you too. But you’re weak—you’ve always been weak. I thought I could change you, but I couldn’t. So I used you. I used your love for me so you would help us free the slaves. I played you, Falcon Hoza.”
Even though Falcon knew she chose each word to hurt him, he couldn’t help the sting of them. But this wasn’t the woman he knew, so strong, so confident, so clever. This was a woman twisted by the horrors his father had committed, jaded beyond repair.
No, he thought, refusing to let himself sink into despair. No one is beyond repair.
“I won’t let you do this,” he said.
“You don’t have a choice in the matter.” The flames brushed the edge of the string, the smoke turning black.
“I love you, Shanti Parthena Laude. I will love you until the end of my days, whether it is today or a hundred years hence. I will never give up on you. Not ever.”
She stared at him, and he could see the indecision in her eyes.
And then she lit the fuse.
Roan
Ever since Bane had visited Roan with the news, sleep had eluded him. Two more rulers dead. The timing was no coincidence, almost exactly after Rhea had revealed her daughter’s fatemark, followed by Windy’s information regarding the Fall of All Things. For all he knew, Gareth was dead. Or his cousin, Annise, who he’d never even met, except for the glimpse of her across a snowy battlefield. Raven Sandes was another possibility. The Calypsian empress was Gwen’s friend, and though Roan didn’t know her well, she seemed like a good leader. The kind who could help usher in a new world.
Roan needed council. He needed to gather the fatemarked again. Time felt like sand running through his fingers. They could no longer count on any of the other kingdoms to join with them in the fight against the Horde. Even if they could, communication was difficult. Bane had offered to use his powers to visit with the other leaders, but Roan wasn’t certain he would be the best ambassador to send to build an alliance. He would, however, find out which rulers had passed into the Void, information that might prove useful.
As Roan approached the room Shae and Erric had been staying in, his mind was troubled. How could he balance all the decisions on the edge of a sword without having some fall off? How could he allow the free will of others if their decisions were contrary to the good of the Four Kingdoms? Finally, he understood how Bane felt. But he couldn’t be like that, could he? Forcing the lands into a peace they didn’t want?
In particular, Rhea and her daughter weighed on his mind. His niece’s markings still glowed in his memory, and he could feel their power, which could very well be the key to peace. The key he’d been seeking his entire life.
So close, and yet Rhea would never let him explore it. She would defend her child to the death. He couldn’t blame her, could he?
Why did you make this so hard? he asked the Western Oracle. Why did you make the road so twisted? He didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one, save for the indistinguishable murmur of low voices behind the next door.
He would normally knock, but…
Silence fell, and a burst of light flashed beneath the door, spilling out into the corridor.
He twisted the knob, but it was locked, the door rattling slightly. And he knew…
He knew…
The halfmarked were about to unleash their final power.
Shae
Power coursed through her, joining with Erric’s, a rippling tide of unfathomable energy, tearing at the fabric of space and time, seeking them, finding them.
The fatemarked.
They’d agonized over the decision for two long days, going back and forth, answering every question over and over until they were both convinced there was only one way forward—one choice that would guarantee the safety of the peoples of the Four Kingdoms. Leaderless, the Horde would revert back to their traditional habits, fighting amongst themselves, seeking the solace of the mountains. They could be hunted down and exterminated. The kingdoms would still have to work together, could still forge alliances and make peace.
Couldn’t they?
Even after all the discussion, all the consideration, Shae didn’t know—not for certain. But there was no going back now, even as their power touched the first of the fatemarked, one who was close, right outside their door.
Roan Loren, the lifemarked, had come to stop them.
Roan
He could feel it inside him, like he had before in the Bloody Canyons when the halfmarked had strengthened him. Except this time it felt different, malicious, a strong hand clamped around his heart, squeezing.
No, he thought, not because he feared death, but because he was now convinced this failsafe was never meant to be used, that to use it would doom the Four Kingdoms.
His chest tightened and he slammed his shoulder into the door, wishing for the first time in his life that he had a power that could be used to destroy rather than heal. The door held.
He dropped to one knee as the fist clamped down harder.
His lifemark flared, trying to push back against the force inside him. The fingers loosened for an instant, just long enough for him to regain his feet and slam into the door once more. This time, he felt it give, though it didn’t burst open. The fist squeezed once more but he managed to kick at the doorknob with his heel and it c
racked open.
He dove into the room, scrabbling on all fours as he gasped, taking in the scene with eyes that stung with pain, seeing their hands clasped together, bursting with light.
He lunged at them, a shockwave hitting him as he gripped their fingers, trying to tear them apart.
Their eyes remained closed, but he could feel them fighting against him; lifting each finger was like hefting a boulder. One by one, Roan dragged them free, until none were left.
The light vanished and they collapsed, one on each side. Roan fell between them.
That’s when he felt a great explosion.
Falcon
Shanti dropped the string, flames roaring along the line, leaving only ash in their wake.
Falcon dove forward, trying to grab it, prepared to throw his own body on the flames if necessary, but they were already curling around the boulder, toward where she had surely hidden a packet stuffed with fireroot powder.
He threw himself over the boulder, dropping down awkwardly on the other side where the flames were nearly to the packet. He reached for the string…
Shanti stepped on the flame, snuffing it out, her eyes wide.
Falcon stared at her, seeing the fear in her eyes. It wasn’t fear of death. It was fear of herself—what she was capable of. What she had almost done.
And something else.
Oh gods. “There are others?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ve already lit one, with a longer fuse.”
“Where?”
“I’ll show you.”
They ran, bursting from the cave, slamming into the railing, rebounding and skirting the edge of the cliff to another empty cave further down the line. There was no fuse, just a dark trail of ash leading behind another boulder.
Falcon charged for it but was hit by an invisible hand that stole the breath from his lungs, the ground from under his feet. He was thrown into Shanti and they tumbled backwards, assaulted by fiery air and rock shrapnel that bruised and bloodied them.
Shanti hit the railing first but Falcon wasn’t far behind. Stunned from the explosion, he barely had the presence of mind to grab the stone with one hand while reaching back with the other, his fingers clamping around Shanti’s arm.
She swung beneath him as they were both pelted by rocks. The railing juddered, a crack running along its base. Oh gods, it’s going to break, Falcon thought.
He looked back at Shanti, who was looking down. “Shanti,” he said. She twisted to look at him, and he could see the longing. To end the pain. To end everything. “I’m going to pull you up.”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “Just let go.”
“No.”
“If you hadn’t showed up, I would’ve done it. I would’ve killed them all.”
“I did show up.”
“Doesn’t change anything.”
A crack sounded and further along the cliff a portion of the railing broke free and fell into the canyon far below. “It does,” Falcon said. “Once, you saved me. Now it’s my turn.”
“What if I don’t want to be saved?”
“Neither did I, but it’s my choice now, not yours.”
Shanti’s eyes were wet, her face smudged with dirt and ash, blood streaming from a gash under her left eye. “Pull,” she said.
And Falcon did. He pulled.
Shanti
What have I done? The question repeated itself in her mind, even as Falcon hauled her upwards through the air, his muscles bulging through his skin, his veins popping, his face turning a bright shade of red that almost made him look Teran if not for his narrow eyes.
Shanti managed to grab one of the pillars holding the railing aloft, feeling it shift under her weight. She looked back to find Falcon trying to swing himself up, but he missed, rocks skittering around him. His eyes met hers and she could see the moment of resignation, his fingers sliding away.
He came for me. He cared enough to look for me.
She flung her leg downwards and he grabbed her foot, first with one hand and then both, while she clung to the pillar. “Climb me,” she said between gritted teeth.
Above her, spidery cracks worked their way along the pillar. Smoke billowed out from the cave, stinging her eyes and obscuring her vision. She closed her eyes and held on, feeling Falcon’s tight grip as he worked his way up her legs to her torso, eventually planting his feet on her shoulders. His weight vanished and then hers was gone too, his hands sliding beneath her arms to lift her up and over the railing. She spilled atop him just as, with a final crack, the railing broke away, tumbling out of sight.
The smoke was beginning to clear, but, Shanti knew, the danger was not. She had placed each fireroot charge in such a way that the very stability of the cliffs would be impacted. As if reading her mind, the walkway beneath them begun to fall away, crumbling like hard cheese crushed by a fist.
Roan
Roan knew it was a risk leaving the two halfmarked behind, but he suspected the danger was gone, that they wouldn’t try to unleash their power again, at least not on this day.
So he ran, not away from the explosion, but toward it. The ground had finally stopped rumbling and he was able to run without stumbling. A steady stream of people moved in the opposite direction, fear in their eyes. Some were covered in dust and ash. Several bore bloody gashes on their faces and bodies.
Roan didn’t know what to think. The Horde couldn’t possibly have reached Phanea already, and as far as he knew the other kingdoms were dealing with their own issues. What could’ve caused so much destruction?
The canyons stretched high above him on either side. On the left, however, something was different. Smoke roiled from one of the caves, only it wasn’t a cave anymore but a shattered crevice, its very roof blown off, the railing and walkway in front of it having cracked and fallen away.
Roan’s eyes darted down to where large stones and parts of the railing lay shattered on the canyon floor. If anyone had been hit by them…
He shook away the thought, searching for casualties. Thankfully, he couldn’t see any bodies in the canyon. He scanned the cliff, following the path of the stone steps, which were in ruin, assaulted by the falling debris from the explosion.
He spotted movement, two figures running along the uppermost walkway, even as it cracked and buckled around them, collapsing right on their heels.
Roan released a cry and started to run once more.
Shanti
Shanti no longer wanted to die—maybe she never did.
That, of course, didn’t change the fact that she would. All she could hope was that she could save Falcon so he didn’t have to pay for her mistakes. The narrow shelf crumbled with each step, the railing collapsing to the side, and she shoved Falcon as hard as she could just as the pathway he’d been standing on a moment earlier vanished under his feet.
She saw him tumble headfirst but then lost sight of him as she fell amidst a hailstorm of rubble, lancing her skin. She glanced off one of the stone steps leading to the next switchback, her ankle screaming in pain as it twisted. She scrabbled for something to hang onto, but there was nothing, her body tumbling over the next precipice, no other barrrier left to arrest her fall.
She twisted awkwardly, the world a spinning kaleidoscope of sky and rock and shadow and then—
She stopped.
I’m dead, she thought. She hadn’t felt the impact, but there was no other answer. Perhaps this would be her punishment, to spend the eternities in the very place where she’d done the most horrific thing she could ever imagine. She wondered what Jai would think of her now—whether he would still love her.
Wait. She’d thought she was frozen, but no, she was still moving downward, albeit slowly. Her feet touched the ground and she stopped. She looked about her, trying to understand. Someone stood nearby, light pouring from his chest, surrounding her. Bit by bit, the light ebbed away, returning to him. Returning to Roan Loren.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes flicking upward.
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She didn’t answer, for all she cared about in this moment was the life of another.
“Falcon!” she screamed, searching the uppermost walkway. A head appeared over the edge of the portion of the railing that was still intact, much further along the cliff face.
“Shanti?” he cried. “By the gods…”
No, she knew. It hadn’t been the gods. It had been Falcon and Roan. They’d saved her, though she didn’t deserve to be saved.
Sixty
The Western Kingdom, the Western Road
Helmuth Gäric
He could still feel it:
That fist, tightening around his heart, squeezing. It had happened midstride, stopping him in his tracks, bringing him to his knees.
He’d felt weak and helpless, his Horde stopping to watch, their heads cocked to the side curiously. He could almost see the hunger in their eyes. Is that what I am to them? Fresh meat? If he didn’t hold the power of pain in his hands, would they kill and eat him just like all the others?
It didn’t matter. Because I do hold the power of pain. I will lord it over my enemies, those who made me what I am, all these pathetic humans who think a boy born with useless legs is a thing to be mocked and spat upon and abused.
The clamping in his chest had passed, and now he felt much the same as before. Strong. Confident. They’d destroyed and plundered several small villages along this road already, and he’d been surprised to find them full to bursting, having not evacuated. Arrogant fools, he thought. Their ignorance shall be their undoing.
They marched onward toward the next village. From there, he would make for the Spear, burning and destroying everything in his path. Then he would decide whether to travel toward Ferria next, or head south across the Forbidden Plains. Either option would suit him just fine.
Sixty-One
The Southern Empire, Calypso
Gwendolyn Storm
If Siri heard Gwen, she gave no indication, the dragon soaring higher and higher until the pressure building in Gwen’s ears became so painful she started to groan. There was something other than’s Siri’s claws squeezing Gwen’s chest, like icy hands squashing her heart. Doesn’t’ matter, Gwen thought. All that matters is her.
