Truthmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 2)

by David Estes

  He was a slave, no different from the other slaves except for the strange fact that he didn’t bear the slave mark. Emperor Hoza had tried again and again to enslave him using his powers, but every time, Jai’s justicemark had flared on his heel, somehow protecting him from being marked.

  Instead, Jai dragged a heavy ball of iron everywhere he went, chained to his ankles, which were chained to each other. His hands were free, but only so he could work. At night the mine masters cuffed his arms together and then into a bolt hammered deep into the stone. Escape was futile.

  Because of Shanti and her fireroot, it had taken Jai and the other slaves a fortnight to dig out Garadia, but eventually they’d succeeded. Now diamonds were flowing the same way they always did.

  Shanti. Just thinking her name was a dagger to his heart. He didn’t know where she was, or even if she was alive. The other captured Black Tears had been enslaved and sent to Garadia, too. He saw Sonika and the others from time to time, but like any other slave they had black eyes that seemed to stare right through him. For all their efforts to save slaves, they couldn’t even save themselves.

  Shanti hadn’t been brought to Garadia, for obvious reasons. She was an escaped slave; somehow, like her father had, she’d broken the mark she’d been given as a child. The emperor wouldn’t risk her escaping again.

  You can’t command them to be free.

  Her words from that star-speckled night on the cliffs came to him often these days. At the time, he hadn’t taken much notice of them, but now they were a truth that haunted him. In the end, all he’d been to his people was another, kinder master.

  What if he’d never commanded them to be free? he wondered. What if he’d never met the slaves of Garadia? Would more of them be alive? Had his very presence in their lives been a death sentence? Was that what Shanti was trying to tell him?

  Jai shook his head, willing her face from his mind. He raised his pick, glancing around. Hundreds of black-eyed slaves worked, chipping away at the stone, searching for the next diamond. Some were familiar, faces he’d known for the last few years, faces he’d failed—Jig and Viola and Marella and even Joaquin, who had warned him about Axa; and others were new, replacements for the thousands of his people who had been killed trying to reach the Southron Gates.

  What was it all for? Jai had always believed that a great sacrifice could save his people. By them. By him. Perhaps he would have to die for them, but as long as his death bought their freedom, he was a willing sacrifice.

  This was supposed to be my destiny…

  Instead, so many had died and he had lived.

  He had failed.

  Gritting his teeth, Jai hammered his pick into the rocks, over and over, until the impact was like a distant memory, fading into the background of the mine, a dull noise lost amongst the cacophony of his thoughts.

  Why? was one of the unanswerable questions that kept popping up. He hated that question, because it was like asking the gods why they allowed evil in the world, or why they created a monstrous creature like a red pyzon, or why storms blew across the sea, swallowing ships whole.

  How? was the other question, and Jai believed he had a pretty good handle on that one. He’d been tricked by the emperor. When he’d been “given” Axa as a new slave, the emperor had already enslaved him, had already commanded the former master to pretend to be Jai’s slave, when really he was a spy the entire time. But why hadn’t his justicemark warned him? He is not the enemy. Not anymore. Those were the words that filled his mind as his mark pulsed.

  I’ve been a fool. Jai had thought he was doing the right thing, giving the man a second chance. Instead he’d played right into the emperor’s hands.

  The mirror trick was harder to understand. Clearly it was enchanted, though Jai had never heard of such magic. Certainly it wasn’t of the gods. Perhaps the emperor had a dark sorcerer in his employ, specializing in magical mirrors. Whatever the case, it had given Hoza the power to follow Jai and the slaves as they fled Phanes.

  He smashed the pick into the rocks so hard the impact vibrated into his bare chest.

  “Why did you wait until we were through the Gates?” Jai said aloud. The question for the emperor had churned through him for days on end. And though the answer was obvious, he kept on asking it, until it was all he could think of. Emperor Hoza had made an example of Jai, of his people. He let them get close enough to taste the fresh air of freedom on their tongues, only to snatch it away at the last second. “Bastard.”

  None of the other slaves seemed to hear him, their focus entirely on their work. The hardest part of this Void he was in was being surrounded by people he loved and having them not know him from a spider on the wall.

  Crack! His pick hit the wall hard enough to break free several large chunks. A few of the slave children scrambled to pick them up, setting them on a flat stone and using smaller, more precise tools to break them to pieces.

  Jig was one of them.

  “Jig,” Jai said.

  The boy chiseled at the stone, as if Jai didn’t exist. His scalp was bald, his long hair hacked away after he was recaptured, as was the hair of all the men.

  “Jig,’ Jai said, louder. “It’s me, Jai Jiroux.” Jai wondered if he was going mad. The fact that he continued to try to speak to those he once knew seemed to suggest it. As if they would magically recognize him, offering a wink and a “Hullo Jai!”

  A whip cracked and Jai flinched, arching his back as the sting of the blow crackled down his spine. He felt the warmth of blood rising to the surface of his skin. “Back to work, slave,” the master growled, his powdered face giving him a ghostly pallor in the dim lighting.

  Jai fired a scathing look at the master, a man named Carvin, brought over from one of the other mines. Word was he’d coveted a spot in Garadia for a long time.

  “Ease off him,” another voice said.

  Jai stared at the wall. He didn’t want to see the face of his failure. His weakness.

  Mine Master Axa spoke again: “Carvin, back off. We need him unbroken if we’re going to meet our quota.”

  Carvin reluctantly moved down the line, off to harass other slaves. Jai raised his pick once more, but a strong hand caught it on the backswing.

  He froze, still refusing to look back.

  “Jai,” Axa said.

  Jai said nothing.

  A sigh, heavy, like a thick blanket.

  “Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” Axa asked.

  The man had asked the question a dozen times, but Jai had yet to answer him, and today would be no different. He hated the question, because it reflected everything he longed to forget back at him.

  I was trying to do the right thing.

  I promised to leave no living slave behind.

  I thought I was being noble, giving you a second chance.

  I should’ve killed you. Maybe then I wouldn’t have failed.

  Despite that last thought, Jai knew that if he had the chance to do it all over again, he still wouldn’t have been able to kill Axa.

  Jai longed to hate him, but he couldn’t manage even that. After all, the man had acted on Emperor Hoza’s command, as a slave. He’d had no choice in the things he’d done, regardless of how awful they were. Jai couldn’t fault him for that.

  And ever since…he’d been a different man. Though Emperor Hoza had returned Axa’s freedom and given him Garadia, he didn’t act like a master anymore. He wouldn’t give the slaves their free will back, as Jai had once done, but he treated them with respect and often protected them from the whips of the other mine masters. He didn’t even powder his face any more, not while in Garadia at least, a detail that was not lost on Jai.

  Typically, when Jai ignored Axa, the mine master would move on. But not today. This time Axa leaned closer, until Jai could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. “I have a plan,” Axa whispered in his ear.

  Jai didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t speak.

  “Ever since I was�
��since I felt what it was like to be controlled, to be owned, I can’t get the memories out of my head. They’re like waking nightmares. I can remember everything, and yet it’s like it was happening to a different person, some stranger.”

  Jai said nothing.

  “I will save you,” Axa said.

  Finally, Jai spoke. “I don’t want to be saved.” I don’t deserve to be saved. I deserve to be here, slaving for the rest of my days, until I die. “Save the rest of them if you want your conscience to be clean.”

  Axa backed up a step and Jai felt like he could breathe again. “My conscience will never be clean. But I will do this thing. I will do what I can for the slaves in Garadia.”

  Jai raised his pick and swung it as hard as he could.

  Forty-Five

  The Northern Kingdom, Castle Hill

  Annise Gäric

  One month after retaking the castle

  The decision had been made a fortnight earlier, and now finally it was the eve before their journey north, into the unexplored Hinterlands, chasing after a legend.

  Annise felt alive, ready, and she was sorely tempted to leave immediately, in the dark of night. Of course, she wouldn’t, for, with no sunlight, the cold alone would do them in within a few hours.

  Castle Hill would be left under the rule of Queen Regent Zelda, who had Annise’s full authority. She knew the kingdom was in good hands. Annise only hoped her aunt wouldn’t be forced to face an invasion in her absence. Though Sir Dietrich, Sir Metz, and Sir Jonius had begun a soldier training academy, the soldiers-in-training, most of whom had never held more than a spatula or hammer before, were still eons away from being battle ready. The number of volunteers, however, was staggering, especially since Annise had allowed women to enroll. Only a tenth of the trainees were women thus far, but she was certain the proportion would rise.

  Annise thought of Tarin often, especially at night, when she huddled under the covers trying to stay warm. Sometimes she imagined him tucked against her, his lips close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. Sometimes her heart ached so much she thought for certain it would shatter, closing off her airways. But it never did. And when she awoke each morning, she cast the memories away along with her quilt. Her love for him was still as bright as a flame, but she wouldn’t let it consume her to the point where it would hurt her ability to rule, to care for her people.

  Tarin, as he’d promised in his letter, had not returned, and Annise suspected he never would. She couldn’t hate him for leaving her, not when his reasons were so pure, so full of love for her. He’d sacrificed as much as she had. If anything, they were both martyrs.

  Besides his goodbye message, she’d found a stack of parchment hidden in the chamber. On it was written stories in Tarin’s handwriting. Stories about his life, from the point after his parents had faked his death. Just as he’d promised.

  Annise had them tucked away in a box under her bed. She had yet to read any of them. She wasn’t certain when she would be able to do so without shattering.

  Now, Annise rose from her bed and shuffled across the cold stone floor to where Archer slept peacefully, a candle lit by his bedside, slowly melting down to just a nub. As she’d commanded, one of the castle maids would come by to replace the candle before it was completely gone. Although the ritual sometimes made her feel silly and superstitious, she refused to abandon it, not while her brother remained alive, as if he would pass into the night the moment his candle went out.

  For a while, Annise watched Arch breathe, his face so calm, so undisturbed. She wondered whether it was better that he’d slept through all the bad that had happened. At least she could protect him from the pain.

  He stirred in his sleep, as he often did. Annise used to feel a leap in her chest, but not anymore. Now she just watched as his lips twitched, his eyelids fluttered. She reached down and held his hand. “Brother, tomorrow I’ll be leaving. I don’t know if I shall ever return. But you will be safe, I promise. Aunt Zelda will care for you.”

  She paused as his face went still and peaceful once more. “Archer, I love you.”

  His hand squeezed hers and she froze for a moment before letting out a breathy laugh. He’d never done that before, and for a second she thought he might—

  His eyelids fluttered opened. He blinked. His lips opened. “I love you, too, Annise,” he murmured. And then his eyes closed and his chest rose and fell as if he’d never awoken in the first place.

  Forty-Six

  The Southern Empire, Calypso

  Raven Sandes

  Four days after the battle at the Southron Gates

  Raven had ridden Heiron all the way back to Calypso, stopping only twice for the dragon to rest and eat. Now, as she watched Whisper emerge from her quarters, Raven almost wished she’d taken more time, delaying this reunion so she could think more about what to say.

  She’s so beautiful, Raven thought. So pure. Whisper wore a pink, ankle-length dress with a silky red lumia flower stitched into the shoulder. She doesn’t deserve so much heartache in her life.

  The moment her sister’s eyes rose from her feet and she saw Raven approaching, Whisper raced across the courtyard, flinging herself into Raven’s arms. Raven held her to her chest, squeezing as hard as she dared. Breathing. Crying. Kissing her cheeks.

  Whisper was crying, too, and yet she said, “You’re crying.” Raven had never cried in front of her before. The youngest Sandes’ head craned to look past Raven. “Where is Fire? Couldn’t she have met me at the same time?”

  Raven bit her lip.

  Whisper’s eyes darted back to meet hers. “Raven?”

  “I’m so sorry. I did everything I could to—”

  Whisper squirmed out of her sister’s arms, backing away, her eyes wild. “I knew it. I knew it from the moment you left.” There was the sharp bite of anger in her voice, which also trembled with sadness. “And when the tree burned down…” She whirled around and raced back to her quarters, flinging herself through the door of hanging bones.

  Raven started after her, but stopped when the last thing her sister said came into focus. What about the tree? Her eyes darted left, to where the Unburning Tree should’ve been. “No,” she breathed.

  The tree was gone, like Fire, burned to ash.

  One month later

  As Raven sat upon the dragon throne, streams continued to arrive from the northern edges of Dragon Bay, as well as from the northeastern dunes of the Scarra.

  None of the reports were good. The eastern army was killing and pillaging Calypsian nomads at will. Twice Raven had sent platoons of peacekeepers, but none had returned thus far.

  Raven was empress now. As before, Whisper had not challenged her, content to pass her days reading stories of faeries and sprites written on parchment bound into books, painted with bright, gay images on their leather covers. Whisper had paid a fortune to have them written just for her by a famous Dreadnoughter storyteller. Though Raven had encouraged her to come to court on numerous occasions, her sister had yet to stray far from her room. Nightly, Whisper awoke screaming, terrified by the nightmares that now plagued her. Raven had taken to sleeping in her bed to provide as much comfort as possible, but she knew it wasn’t sustainable, not forever.

  “Empress?” Goggin said, snapping her away from her thoughts.

  “How far into the desert have the easterners sallied?”

  “Half a league. Perhaps a little further. Not far enough to be of concern just yet. But they grow bolder by the day.”

  “Ships?”

  Goggin shook his large head. “None that we have seen thus far. They seem determined to wage this war on foot.”

  Raven soaked the information in. This kind of news was bad for everyone. If she did nothing, she would appear weak, and her people might lose confidence in her. Then again, Fire had chosen to be aggressive, and where had that gotten her?

  She bit the side of her mouth, using pain to chase the memory away. Though a month had passed since h
er sister’s death, the sting was still there. Sometimes the pain was as distant as a star, and other times as near and hot as a flame pressed to her skin. Fire had been a lot of things, but forgettable was not one of them.

  Lately, however, she’d fought the sadness with anger, rage, letting it coil inside her like a snake. Why can’t the easterners just leave us alone? Why can’t Calyp remain an island, cut off from the rest of the Four Kingdoms, living in peace?

  “We must strike back,” Raven said.

  Goggin nodded. “I agree. My only concern is that the new guanero are not yet trained.”

  “Double the training hours. Dawn until dusk until they are ready.”

  Goggin blinked, but then said, “As you command.”

  “And the dragons?” Raven asked.

  The dragon master, Rider, stepped forward. “None will be mature until next year.”

  “But can they fight?”

  Rider’s eyebrows dipped. “Empress?”

  “You heard me.” Raven couldn’t believe that a month ago she had been on the opposite end of this argument, siding with Rider against her sister. Now she finally understood how hard a decision it had been for Fire to leave the dragons in Calypso while they rode to war. If you hadn’t listened to me, sister, would you still be alive?

  It was thoughts like that that made her want to scream and throw things.

  “Yes. They can fight,” Rider said. “But I would advise wait—”

  “Good,” Raven said, cutting her off. “I will attend dragon training on the morrow, and make a final decision by sundown.”

  Raven couldn’t meet Rider’s eyes, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in them. “As you command,” she said, spinning on her heel and leaving the court. Goggin had already left. None remained but the ghosts of Raven’s past.

  A noise made her turn. Whisper stood in the shadows of the curtain blocking the exit into the courtyard. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “You’re going to leave me, too, aren’t you?” she said. Though her eyes sparkled, the predominant emotion in her tone was anger, much to Raven’s surprise.