by David Estes
“Not before, but now,” Zur said. “I was a fool. I didn’t see. But now I do. Now I do. And you can too. Open your minds as you sleep on this night. And she will show you what she has shown me.”
They shook their heads. Some departed swiftly, while others watched him for a while, their stares darkening with each passing second. Eventually, however, they went too, leaving only Crone in his company.
“Will it work?” he asked her.
“Perhaps,” she said. “But either way, I will march with you. And I will fight.”
Seventy
The Eastern Kingdom, Portage
Bane Gäric
Bane clenched his fists tight and concentrated, pushing every thought into his scalp, into his deathmark, straining to bring it to life. If he could generate a single spark of heat, perhaps he could escape to that place between shadows…
Breath exploded from his lips and his fists opened. He slumped over, exhausted. It wasn’t the first time he’d failed, and he would try again as soon as he had the energy. But something about this fog…
It was unnatural.
The gray mist seemed to come from the large man with the legs of yew and iron. The leader of the Horde. The very man Bane had come to kill. Through his shirt, a mark pulsed, radiating light that darkled around the edges. Bane still remembered the agony that had coursed through him when the man had touched him.
“Release me,” Bane said now.
The man ignored him, watching his Horde as they pillaged and burned the village. Based on the large silver body of water to the west, which he suspected was Hyro Lake, Bane was fairly certain they were somewhere in the east now, though he couldn’t be certain. The first couple days of his captivity were still a smudge in his memory, a blurring mix of nightmares, fog, and pain beyond comprehension.
The leader spoke: “How is your mind still yours?” he asked, not looking at him.
Bane didn’t understand the question, not exactly. “My mind? Whose should it be?”
“You continue to resist me.”
“I won’t stop unless you kill me.”
He wasn’t trying to goad the man, but realized too late that was how it had come out. The Horde leader spun, his face clenching in anger, striding over, reaching down…
He grabbed Bane’s arm.
The world exploded in bright spots of pain, his body convulsing, a roar erupting from his lips.
Bane almost blacked out—was tempted to give in to the sweet darkness—but managed to cling to awareness, accepting every shredding blade of pain, his teeth chattering together, his fingernails digging into his palms, accepting the agony for what it was:
My penance.
Only once had he truly doubted his purpose in this world, that noble goal of peace. But he would doubt no more. For he was the deathmarked, and he would help bring peace.
He could hold out no longer, the pain swamping his mind with an alternating mixture of bright white light and looming darkness.
In the end, darkness won, obliterating all else.
Seventy-One
The Southern Empire, Phanea
Rhea Loren
“You can hold her if you want,” Rhea said, nodding toward Noura, who was kicking her feet with unabashed glee, giggling as Leo made faces at her.
Leo. Rhea could hardly believe he was here. Ennis was surprise enough, but Leo? She hadn’t asked her youngest brother about what had happened to he and Ennis, and she refused to let anyone else ask. Roan had honored her wishes thus far, but also made it clear that they would need information soon.
And Ennis wasn’t talking, his tongue having been cut out of his very mouth. Oh Ennis... He was alive, but barely. He had sustained heavy injuries, and had only managed to sip water in several spare moments of consciousness.
Leo, however, appeared untouched. He had been hungry and dehydrated, but he was also full of youthful strength, bouncing back after a couple flasks of water and a hearty meal.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Leo said, making another silly face.
“You won’t. I can show you.”
It was strange how a new life could bring people back together. Leo had betrayed her—though she knew she deserved it—and now he was back with her like nothing had ever come between them. She knew her sins hadn’t been washed away, only covered by a cloth, but still…it was a nice reprieve.
Rhea lifted Noura into her arms, settling her into the crook of one arm while supporting her tiny head with the opposite hand. She gently patted her back and she burped. “Good girl,” she said.
Leo giggled again. “Flatulence is good?”
“The best,” Rhea said, smiling. “Ready to try?”
“I—yes. Like this?”
“That’s right. I’ll hand her to you. Cradle her in your arms and support her head. Exactly like that. Good. Very good.”
The innocent joy on Leo’s face as he held Noura brought tears to Rhea’s eyes. “I’m your uncle,” he said, and she cooed happily. “I’m going to be the best uncle you could ask for.”
Rhea had to look away to hide her sob. Bea should be here too. She was confident Noura could’ve helped repair the rift that had widened between them too. Noura was peacemarked, after all. I ruined it. I ruined everything.
“Rhea? Are you all right?” Leo asked.
Not everything, she thought, chiding herself. Not Noura. Not Grey. And maybe, not Leo. Cherish them in the name of Bea. Do not hide from her memory…
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just so happy you’re here.”
Leo’s smiled dropped. “Rhea, I’m—I’m sorry for what I did. I was just so angry.”
Rhea laughed. Actually laughed. She understood anger and the things it could make one do all too well. “I don’t blame you for any of it,” she said.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“I still see her sometimes. Bea. I wake up and I think she’s at my side, playing a prank, like dripping water on my face or something. I think if I open the door to her room she’ll be there, trying on womanly dresses and pretending to be a lady at court.”
“Oh Leo.” More tears. Rhea couldn’t believe what a blubbering mess she’d become. “If I could do it all over again, I would.”
“I know. Me too.”
He’s just a child, Rhea thought. Then again, so was she. Children shouldn’t have to face such impossible choices.
“I love you,” she said.
“I—you too.”
She took Noura back from him, and said, “Time for her breakfast.”
Leo screwed up his face and said, “I’m going to check on Ennis.”
He bolted for the door, but before he could open it, Rhea said, “Leo?”
He turned back, his expression full of vitality and vigor. It gave her hope. “Yes?”
“You can talk to me, you know. You can always talk to me.”
“I will,” Leo promised. “For now, just know that Ennis saved me.”
Rhea nodded. She had suspected as much. “He saved me too.”
Seventy-Two
The Southern Empire, Phanea
Roan Loren
Ennis’s eyes were finally open, but Roan could tell the man wasn’t seeing the things around him. He had a distant look, his eyes twitching, his face too. Occasionally he’d lift his hands and swat at the air, as though assaulted by tiny, invisible enemies.
In truth, he looked unraveled.
At least he’s awake, Roan thought. At least he’s not going to die. The healer had given Roan the good news an hour or so ago, saying there was nothing seriously wrong with Ennis in a physical sense. He’d implied that mentally might be a different story.
Though they’d prepared a soft, comfortable bed for him to recover in, as soon as Ennis had awoken he’d clambered off, crabbing into the corner where he was now.
“Ennis,” Roan said, but the man didn’t respond to his name, his eyes wild, flitting from side to side. “Ennis, you’re safe now. You’re ba
ck in Phanea. You made it. You saved the boy.”
His head shot up at that and for a frozen moment his eyes met Roan’s. “Zeo?” The name came out slurred in his tongueless mouth.
“He’s safe,” Roan confirmed. Ennis’s chin dipped and he began fiddling furiously with his fingers.
“Shutched me. Shutched me. Ooda kelled a boy, but he hid. Za goo’ boy hid.”
“That’s good,” Roan said soothingly, slowly translating the garbled words. “What happened to Knight’s End? Who touched you?”
A shiver ran through Ennis, though the room was warm. “Pain. Pain. Hurs. Hurs everywhere. Bu’ mos’y in here.” He raised a fisted hand and thumped it into his left breast, right over his heart. “In here,” he said again, thumping harder. “Here!” Thump! “Here!” Thump! “Here!” Thump!
“Ennis, please,” Roan said. “Stop that.”
“Here!” Thump!
“Ennis!” Roan said, more sharply this time, trying to get his attention.
“Here!” Thump!
Roan strode to him, tried to grab his arm, grappling with him. Ennis was a strong man in his prime, but malnourished and travel weary he was no match. Roan subdued his straining arms, crossing them over his chest and holding them there.
Ennis stopped struggling, his countenance suddenly growing calm. He glanced down at the positioning of his arms. “Dead,” he said. His head slumped back and he passed out, asleep again at last.
“What’s wrong with him?” Leo asked, sitting beside Roan. After Ennis’s last episode, the boy had silently entered the room.
“I don’t know,” Roan said. “He saw things…”
“Bad things?”
Roan nodded. He didn’t want to try to conjure up what had happened in Knight’s End, though he was fairly certain it was worse than what his imagination could create. “He said you hid.”
“Aye. My sister and I used to play hide and seek in the castle. My father had put in a hidey-hole for emergencies. We used to hide in it all the time when we played. I…” His voice faltered, and Roan put a comforting arm around him. Leo took a deep breath and continued. “I pretended I was playing a game with my sister.”
“Rhea?”
Leo closed his eyes. “Bea.” They said nothing for a few moments. “Are you really our brother?”
Roan managed a smile. “I am.”
Leo smiled back. Despite everything, he smiled back. “I’m glad. I always wanted a brother.”
“I’m glad too,” Roan said. “And I’m glad it’s you. You’ve been strong through all this. You’re acting more a man than a boy.”
His words seemed to bring Leo’s very expression to life. “I’m thirteen now, practically a man grown. I’ve trained in the sword and shield. Father used to say I would make a good general one day.”
“You would,” Roan said. “I’m certain of it.”
For some reason, this compliment made Leo’s shoulders sag. “A man wouldn’t have hidden in the hidey-hole. Nor a general. They would’ve fought. I should’ve fought.”
“Leo…” Roan said. “There is no shame in hiding. Otherwise you’d be dead too, and then what good would you be to anyone?”
Leo’s face was tight, all his boyish enthusiasm washed away by a world of memories no child should have to endure. “Ennis told me to close my eyes as we passed through the city,” Leo said. “But I peeked.”
It didn’t surprise Roan in the least. It was human nature to be drawn to that which should scare them. “You can tell me what you saw, if you feel you need to. Talking sometimes helps. But it’s your choice. No one is forcing you.”
“I know,” Leo said. “I want to tell.”
Roan listened as the boy told him of the bodies. Leo’s descriptions were full of precision, as if he’d committed every detail to memory. The angle of the torn limbs. The size and shape of the pools of blood. The identities of any of the guardsmen and castle staff he’d recognized. He spoke every detail without emotion, like he was reciting from a history book.
“Thank you for telling me,” Roan said, when he finished. His mouth tasted bitter. He wasn’t angry at the injustice of what had happened to so many innocent people. He was sad. Sad that their world had come to this—that the Western Oracle had believed the only way to bring about peace was to unleash such horrors on the Four Kingdoms.
“I think there was something else I didn’t see. Ennis took a strange route through the city.”
“A shortcut?”
Leo shook his head. “No, it took longer than if we’d gone directly through the market.”
Roan had a feeling he knew what Ennis had tried to avoid. More specifically, who. If his guess was right, Sai and Wheaton were dead, which meant the western throne, or what was left of it, belonged to either Rhea, Gaia, or him.
He also suspected whoever claimed it would be the next ruler to die, by the Oracle’s own prophecy.
He couldn’t bear to lose anyone else close to him. Which meant that, at long last, it was time for Roan Loren, Peacemaker of prophecy and legend, he who bore the lifemark, to accept his birthright.
I am the king, Roan thought.
Seventy-Three
The Eastern Kingdom, approaching Ironwood
Annise Gäric
True to Gareth Ironclad’s word, eastern hospitality had been a far cry better than that of the Horde.
“They better stop looking at me like that,” Tarin growled. Several legionnaires cast furtive glares his way. They’d been doing that ever since Annise and her refugees spilled from the mountain.
“At least they haven’t tried to kill us yet,” Annise pointed out, trying to stay positive. “There’s that.”
“Not yet,” Tarin grunted. “The day is still young.”
After Gareth had come to their rescue and declared them guests of the east, they’d been shepherded like a flock of sheep and led to an area in the foothills of the mountain near the famed city of Crow’s Nest, which, if Annise was being honest, looked more like a roughshod village than any kind of a city. Still, they were treated well. Tents and bedrolls were brought, along with barrels of water and a variety of food, from hearty loaves of fresh-baked bread so warm it stuck to the roof of her mouth to smoked fish and braised leg of lamb. They ate until they were overly full, a good strategy whenever you didn’t know where your next meal would come from.
They’d slept only one night in the shadow of the mountain. Annise would’ve preferred to rest for a week, but she couldn’t disagree with Gareth when he suggested they move on. “We don’t yet know the position of the Horde. The sooner we get you to the safety of Ironwood, the better,” he’d said.
“Why are you doing this?” Annise had asked. “Why are you helping us?”
Gareth had smiled. The king was so different than she had expected an Ironclad ruler to be. History told her they were rough-and-tumble men who drank and cursed, telling bawdy jokes one minute and slitting your throat the next. But this young ruler was quick to laugh and jape and had not threatened them even once. He also didn’t lord their desperation and reliance on his generosity over them like he might have. “Shall I send you back through the mountain?” he’d said, still smiling.
“I’m only asking because I’m grateful,” Annise had said.
“They say you wrestled an ice bear and emerged victorious,” Gareth had said.
Annise had frowned. “How do you know th—”
“So it’s true?”
“It didn’t exactly happen like—”
Tarin had interjected. “Aye, I was there. She kicked it in the snowballs, twisted its arm behind its back and made it cry frozen tears. Then she ran it off with naught but her fists.”
Gareth laughed. “I feel as though at least half of that might be true. Maybe all. I’ve met women like you, Your Highness.”
“And?”
“And I’ve learned never to underestimate them.”
“Perhaps you’re wiser than you look,” Tarin said.
A
t that, Gareth had laughed loudly, slapping his knee. “Frozen hell—that’s the expression northerners use, right?—I don’t know why I didn’t invite your lot over the border sooner. This is proving to be immensely amusing.”
“I’m glad we can entertain you,” Annise said drily.
“Look,” Gareth said. “I know your cousin.”
The abrupt change in subject had surprised Annise. “Rhea?”
Gareth had snorted. “Well, yes, I know Rhea, but that’s not who I meant. Your other cousin, Roan Loren. I don’t think you’ve met him because he was ‘stolen’ away as just a child. I hope you get to meet him someday, he’s a good man. He would want me to help you. That’s why I’m doing this.”
Annise hadn’t known what to say to that. She’d heard rumors, of course, about the return of Roan Loren, firstborn son and heir to the western throne, once believed to be dead. She’d also heard rumors that he was fatemarked. But she also knew you didn’t cast a gift into the fire until you knew what was in it. “Thank you,” she’d said.
Gareth had nodded and they’d left it at that.
Now they’d finally reached Ironwood, the shine of the infamous iron forest sparkling on the horizon, and Annise felt the first sprig of hope sprout in her chest. Everything is going to be all right, she thought, regardless of the way the legionnaires still looked at them. Gareth wouldn’t bring us here just to kill us.
All around her, the refugees were laughing and pointing, their mouths open in ohs of amazement. Tarin said, “Well I’ll be damned…”
“What do you think?” Gareth said, steering his horse toward them.
“I’ll tell you when we get there,” Annise hedged. The forest might look beautiful from afar, but she also knew steel could cut deeply. Steel could kill.
“I will admit, not everyone in the east agrees with my decision,” Gareth said.
Tarin’s next several steps were heavier than those previous. Annise thought maybe hers were too. “How will you ensure our safety then?” Annise asked. She wasn’t about to let her gratitude come before those she’d sworn to protect.
