Lifemarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 5)

by David Estes

  We know this, but cannot ask. Must protect our soul.

  As I must protect you. I will search for you whether you tell me or not.

  There was no response, and Gwen thought her dragon might’ve slipped away once more. But no…she could still feel her mighty presence. Please, Gwen said. Tell me.

  When we fled the battle…

  The Fall of All Things, you mean? When the Horde attacked us?

  Yes. That man…so much pain. His touch, it changed us.

  I know. I know. But he is gone now. Dead. We are not. What happened after you left the battle?

  We flew east, toward the forest of iron.

  Gwen’s breath hitched. Are you here now? she breathed, daring to hope.

  No. We passed the forest. The sea was full of mist. Felt safe there. The land beyond was barren. We flew further. There are lush forests nestled in valleys here. Very beautiful. We can hunt in peace. There is plenty of food. We have lived for many years in this place.

  Who is hunting you?

  They have no name. They are as tall as trees, almost as tall as we are. They don’t hunt for food, but for sport. When they discover our home, they won’t ever give up. Not until they find us and kill us.

  I won’t let that happen, Gwen said, feeling the bite of tears. I’m coming. Fly as far from them as you can and hide.

  Damaged my wing. Can’t fly. They are searching the mountains. Smashing the rocks. We are deep, but they will find us—me—eventually.

  I will find you first. Hide. Don’t give up.

  My soul?

  Yes, my soul. I’m here.

  I miss you.

  “I miss you too,” Gwendolyn said aloud, for Siri was already gone.

  And then she raced from the hovel.

  These are not waves, Gwen thought, watching as a mountain of water swept toward her tiny sea vessel. She paddled as hard as she could, her heromark lending her strength and speed as she climbed the watery cliff. It was beginning to curl now, preparing to come crashing down upon her head.

  She growled through her teeth from the effort, shoving the water behind her with the oar as she shot over the wave’s precipice, going airborne for an exuberant moment before crashing down with a jarring slap.

  The wave was past now, sliding smoothly across the night sea, which was sheened in green and red by the dueling moons. The next wave was bigger than the last.

  For hours and hours she toiled, until the power of her heromark began to wane. The moment her cheek cooled, her energy flagged. The next wave was her undoing, flipping the front of her boat even as she continued to fight her way up its face.

  She came crashing down into the water on her back, the boat landing atop her. For several fearful seconds, all she saw was darkness.

  And then the powerful wave knocked the boat past and she cut through the watery cliff, emerging on the opposite side where it was—

  Calm. It was almost eerie after the rough ocean she’d already faced. The water was flat and serene, quiet and empty. The blue-green surface vanished in the distance, where a thick fog had descended.

  What new devilry is this? Gwen thought. She twisted around to look for her boat, but it was gone. And that mist seemed to be getting closer…

  She glanced up at the night sky, thankful it was clear enough to make out the right stars to navigate by. She regained her bearings and looked toward the east. Her path would take her right into the fog. And then what? She could swim in circles for the rest of her life without finding her way out.

  Siri, she thought. It wasn’t an effort to communicate with the dragon, who’d been silent since her last plea for help, but an attempt to rekindle her own strength. It worked to some degree. Though her heromark needed time to rest, adrenaline flared through her and she began to swim.

  Her Orian armor, which was remarkably light and buoyant, wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was the oreforsaken fog. It clung to Gwen as she swam. When she breathed it in, her throat and lungs seemed to turn to ice. She was shivering.

  And the more she swam, the thicker the fog seemed to get. She was certain she was no longer moving in a straight line, but there was no way to tell. Even when she waved her own hand in front of her face she couldn’t see her fingers.

  Her own mind began to betray her, conjuring up images of great, fanged sea creatures rising from the depths, homing in on her kicking feet, their jaws opening wide…

  “Siri,” she said through chattering teeth. “Siri, I’m coming.” The mantra was beginning to lose its effect, but not entirely. Not yet. Soon, however, even thoughts of her soul wouldn’t be enough to sustain her.

  After all these years of searching, is this how it will end? she thought. So close, and yet impossibly far, with each of us alone, our enemies circling…

  She bit down on the thought and swam on into the mist.

  Sleep coiled chains around her ankles, trying to drag her down into the depths. Weariness. Exhaustion. Hunger. Thirst. These were words she’d thought she knew the meaning of, words she’d, on occasion, used to describe how she felt.

  Gwen had never truly understood them until now. Her lips were parched, her stomach gnawing, her very bones tired from the constant movement required to stay afloat.

  It would be so easy to stop. So simple. Just exist as she sank into the watery depths. She didn’t owe Siri anything, just as the mighty dragon didn’t owe her. Yes, she wanted to help her. Yes, she wanted to see her again. The world doesn’t always give you what you want, does it? she thought. That was a lesson she’d learned a hundred times over.

  Still, she’d learned something else:

  I can give myself what I want.

  “Screw you, world,” she said, kicking harder, thrusting her hands through the water to propel herself forward.

  Her heromark flared once more, having recovered from overuse.

  When the sun broke through the mist, Gwen might’ve cried if she wasn’t so utterly spent. Instead, she flipped onto her back and floated for a while, relishing the warmth and the sight of the beautiful blue sky.

  She closed her eyes…

  What felt like a second later she woke up spluttering, her mouth filled with saltwater. She spat it out, coughing, gagging, and then retching what had already slid down her throat. “Uhh,” was the only word she could manage. Is that even a word? she wondered to herself. And if so, does that mean ‘er’, ‘erm’ and ‘argh’ are words too? She laughed at her own foolishness, wishing Gareth were here to discuss the matter with. It was a random conversation she knew he would appreciate.

  The mist was gone, as if it had never been in the first place. And—

  Land! She couldn’t believe she didn’t spot it sooner, but her entire focus had been on that cerulean sunlit sky. She squinted, trying to judge the distance. It was still far away, but she thought she could reach it.

  No, I will reach it. Nothing would deny her now.

  As she swam, taking long, slow strokes, she observed the land. It wasn’t much to look at, rocky and rough, but the thought of walking on it made her want to scream with joy. She didn’t think she’d ever want to swim again.

  The day passed by, and she began to wish for nightfall and the escape from the heat it would bring. As it turned out, she reached land sooner than expected, just before dusk. As soon as it was shallow enough, she tried to wade the rest of the way but ended up half-stumbling, half-crawling, finally flopping onto the rocky beach, water bubbling around her feet.

  She fell asleep instantly, her dreams empty.

  My soul?

  This was a beautiful dream. Siri’s voice was a deep rumble. Calming. Soothing.

  We can feel you, Siri said. You are closer.

  Gwen jolted upright, her head swimming. It was no longer gray, but pink, the rising sun splashing colors over the harsh landscape. She groaned, her head pounding, her joints aching. Siri? she managed to reply.

  You are hurt.

  Yes. But I’m all right. And yes, I’m closer. I cross
ed the sea.

  The hunters are near. We must fight them.

  No! Gwen said. Keep hiding. Go deeper if you must. I’m coming. Wait for me.

  We…we will try.

  Good. That is good.

  If the dragon heard the last thing Gwen said, she gave no reply.

  Gwen gritted her teeth and shoved to her feet. She looked at the water, surprised at how far it had receded while she slept. Low tide. She tried to take a step, but her legs felt like rubber, and she almost fell. Sharp stones pierced her hand as she steadied herself. She blinked, shocked that she’d slept on this bed of knives. If not for her armor, she’d have been sliced to ribbons.

  She rose again, more slowly this time, and took a deep breath. One step at a time. The first was weak and unsteady, but she managed to remain upright. The second was better; the third better still. More confident now, she picked her way across the stony beach and then clambered up an embankment, searching for something to eat or drink.

  Her stomach dropped when she saw what lay beyond:

  A vast plain, cracked and dry and devoid of any foliage save gnarled, thorny plants that grew from the tiniest fissures in the rocks. In the far distance, she could just make out towering cliffs shrouded in shadow. Siri, is that where you are?

  No answer.

  There was nothing for it. Famished and dehydrated, Gwen set out across the plains.

  Gwen was learning how to survive in this place. The first time she came within range of one of the tiny watering holes, she almost missed it. They were small, about the size of a fist, but deep, the water cool and clean and refreshing. The liquid was the most delicious thing Gwen had ever tasted. She drank from a cupped hand, splashing the water on her face. Her stomach roiled and she reminded herself to slow down. Little sips were better than big gulps until she grew used to drinking again.

  From then on, spotting the sources of water became easier. Tiny green plants grew around their edges. Filling her stomach with water only seemed to remind her gut of how empty it was. She was so ravenous now that she broke off several leaves from one of the tiny plants, sniffed them, and then shoved them in her mouth, chewing heavily. They were bitter-tasting, and for a moment she worried they would make her sick or worse. But then she noticed several of them were half-bitten, as if an animal had tasted them. If the animals were eating them, perhaps they were all right for her to eat. She ended up eating a dozen of them before the bitterness became too much.

  Afterwards, to her surprise, she felt reenergized. She wished she had her flint to make fire, but it had been lost with most of her other belongings—save her weapons, which were tucked in secret places within her armor—when the sea took her boat. With fire, she could boil the leaves into a tea. Chewing them would have to suffice for now.

  It was in this way that she continued her journey, stopping whenever she located a water pocket, as she had named them, drinking and breaking off a few more leaves to chew as she walked.

  The cliffs grew ever closer, but still so far off she knew she’d be forced to make camp—she chuckled at the word, as her camp would consist of a rock for a pillow and bitter leaves for a blanket—on the open plains.

  Darkness fell and still she soldiered on, unwilling to stop until she’d gained as much distance as possible. For all she knew, Siri might be discovered on this very night.

  Eventually, however, she was forced to halt, else she sleep the next day away. Just a few hours, she promised herself, lying on the unforgiving ground, which had grown quite cold now that the sun had sunk below the horizon.

  The next day, she increased her speed, feeling stronger. Several times she tried to communicate with Siri, but the dragon didn’t respond. Please be safe, she thought. Please please please…

  The cliffs loomed closer, a towering wall that, from this distance, seemed impenetrable, without crack nor door.

  As the day wore on, however, she spotted several breaches in the rock fortress, narrow crevices that might offer a way through. Or they might be deadends, she thought. If so, she could waste countless hours attempting each one. Going around could take months, for she could not make out the end of the cliff wall to either side. There was another option, but she feared she hadn’t recovered enough to attempt it.

  I could climb.

  The next several hours gave her time to consider the choice, but when she finally arrived in the shadow of the cliffs she still hadn’t reached a decision, which might be the difference in saving Siri or not.

  The weight of failure pressed down on her shoulders, but she straightened them anyway. I will not be denied, she thought. I shall climb.

  She approached the wall, craning her neck back to look up its face. Had it been a smaller wall, she might’ve called upon her heromark and run right up it. But this cliff was immense, and even her heromark would fail her partway to the top. But not if she took it slow, drawing upon her own strength first, only relying on her heromark when absolutely necessary.

  Before she started the ascent, she drank plenty of water and tucked a plentiful supply of bitter leaves into her armor. She also rolled up several and stuffed them inside her bottom lip. She found she could make them last longer if she slowly leached energy from them in such a way rather than chewing them directly.

  The early parts of the climb were relatively easy, the handholds frequent and deep. As she reached the middle section, however, she suddenly found nothing but a sheet of flat rock. She stopped to catch her breath, spitting out the old leaves from her mouth and replacing them with new ones. The wind was fiercer here, buffeting her sides, trying to rip her from her perch. She glanced left and then right, hoping against hope that she would find a better way to continue her climb.

  Her heart plummeted to the earth below. All along the cliff face was the same. The wind had chiseled away any imperfections, leaving the surface as smooth as glass.

  Stop exaggerating, she thought, for there were divots in the surface, though they were small and a great distance from each other. Impossible to climb.

  For an unmarked human, she thought. But for a heromarked Orian? Maybe not.

  Maybe would have to be good enough.

  She breathed, feeling the dull throb of the marking on her cheek, which had been waiting patiently for its opportunity to help.

  She dug her toes into the crack and flexed each of her hands in turn.

  And then she bent her knees and launched herself skywards.

  Too far, she thought, even as she refused to stop moving, flinging herself from impossible handhold to impossible handhold, her fingers aching, her toes bruised from stuffing themselves into the tiniest cracks and crevices. Again and again she pushed higher, but the top of the cliff never seemed to get any closer.

  Her heromark was on fire, and she was almost glad she didn’t have a free hand to check whether it had burned a hole through her cheek.

  She growled as she lunged once more, extending her arm to its breaking point, her fingers finding a miniscule fissure, somehow dragging her body behind her, contorting in such a way that her toes could replace her fingers so she could kick off and launch herself higher yet again.

  Then, suddenly and surprisingly, her progress became apparent. The edge of the cliff came into view. For one fatal moment, Gwen lost her concentration as she fixated on her goal. She missed a handhold, her body slamming into the rock, her feet kicking at the stone as she searched for something to arrest her fall, her fingers clawing as they slid along the surface, her rough, chipped fingernails breaking off completely.

  She stopped, her toes finding purchase. Her bleeding fingers dug into crevices of their own. Gwen didn’t dare to breathe, afraid the force of exhalation would be too much.

  She twisted her head to look down, where the ground was but a distant place blanketed in shadow.

  Help! Siri shouted, and the force of the dragon’s plea made Gwen flinch, her fingers nearly slipping from the crack. She managed to regain her concentration, ignoring Siri’s next two shouts as
she fought higher and higher, scrambling over the edge, her toes cramping, her fingers burning and bleeding, and then…

  She sighed. The sight before her might’ve been a dream world if she wasn’t so acutely aware of her own state of consciousness.

  It was just as Siri had described it—a lush, green valley, descending deep between the shoulders of the mountains that flanked it. Birds swooped above the trees, landing on branches and singing. Several thin, narrow waterfalls cascaded from the cliffs, sprinkling the foliage.

  Gwen noticed something else—something that didn’t belong:

  A roiling cloud of black smoke wafting up from the trees, deep within the valley. Someone was burning the beauty to the ground.

  Siri screamed.

  Not in Gwen’s head, not anymore, the sound cutting across the valley and directly into Gwen’s ears.

  Gwendolyn Storm ran downslope, recklessly springing over boulders and ducking beneath the tree branches that tried to remove her head from her shoulders. At one point the landscape dropped beneath her feet and she went airborne over a cliff, managing to grab an interwined group of vines that swung away when she hit them. Like a pendulum, they reversed course, gaining speed and ratcheting against the cliffside, her armor clanking. She opened her fingers slightly and slid down the rough rope, dropping to the ground far below.

  She ran on, spurred by another scream from Siri, closer now.

  I’m coming. I’m coming I’m coming I’m com—

  She emerged from the trees onto a battlefield. Dozens of massive forms—giants, just as Siri had said—were scattered about. Their features were blunter than those of humans and Orians. Their hair was long and shaggy and grew from all parts of their body. They appeared to be both male and female, though it was hard to tell. More importantly, their focus was trained in the same direction.

  My soul, Gwen thought. The words were like a streak of lightning in her head, the moment so surreal because it was something she had dreamed about for years, decades, both when waking and asleep, but not like this. Never like this.