Soulmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 3)

by David Estes

  “You misunderstand me,” Erric said, a look of disgust crossing his face. “I feel drawn to her like a brother to a sister. I feel the need to protect her the same way I suspect you do.”

  “But you don’t even know her,” Grey pointed out.

  The pirate said, “I can’t explain it, but I do. I knew the moment she collapsed on the deck of the ship. Before that, I felt the pain as she was tortured by the furia, on that windforsaken island. I saw through her eyes. It was as though I was in the throes of a waking dream, but I knew it was real.”

  It all sounded strange to Grey, but then again, most of what Shae had told him in the last fortnight had been hard to believe. The truth was here in front of him, in the marking on this man’s hand.

  “King,” the pirate captain said to Erric. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but all this talk is wasting time.”

  The king’s eyes snapped to his captain’s. “You’re right,” he said. “We will explore my connection to this girl, but after.”

  “After what?” Smithers blurted out.

  “The Drahma,” the king said. “They are coming to kill us all.”

  As they were being untied, King Erric Clawborn explained things. “The Drahma—which translates to ‘Vipers of the Sea’—made an agreement with my father long ago. They would allow us shelter on this island so long as we paid their blood tax. Each time a ship passes through their archway, they claim two, the weakest of mind.”

  Grey remembered the way the vicious sea creatures had dragged the bodies from the ship. “The…Drahma…took ten of our men.”

  “Because you fought them. You broke the treaty, so they feasted.”

  “So if we hadn’t done anything, they would’ve only killed two of us?”

  The king nodded. “Correct, but they wouldn’t have killed them. The Drahma are ancient creatures, as old as the dragons if they’re a day. They recognize a good deal when they see one. Before my father came along, they would’ve had to swim further and further to find their food. Now their food comes to them, an endless supply so long as my fleet flourishes. It’s our blood they want. And they always return the men, usually a day later, though they are pale and on the brink of death. We have experience nursing them back to health, and we rarely lose a man.”

  “Why do you come here?” Grey blurted out, trying to understand.

  The king looked bemused. “A fair question. It’s because of the Drahma, I suppose. My father was the first pirate king. He attacked only Phanecian ships, as do I. The Hoza empire would love to catch me, but they dare not approach Pirate’s Peril because of the Drahma. We steal from the rich. We keep only enough to live a reasonable life. The rest we give to those who have been devastated by the Phanecians. Much of it goes to Teragon—or what’s left of it.”

  “You give away the gold?” Grey said.

  The king laughed. “Aye. It’s more than we could spend in a thousand years anyway.”

  “But it paves your streets. Your people are covered in wealth.”

  “It’s more of a recruiting tool than anything. When we bring new pirate blood to this island, their desire for wealth without measure usually convinces them to join our cause.”

  “And when they realize the wealth is given away?”

  “Some leave, but most stay. The wealth beneath their very feet lowers its value, so they don’t miss the gold we give away. And here we live a safe, easy life. We have plenty of food, shelter, clothing…it’s more than most nations can boast for the entirety of their people. There is no poverty here. No classes. We are all equals.”

  The message tugged at something inside Grey, an ideal he never knew he longed for. Just as quickly, he smashed it with his fist. “Except you. The king.”

  The king shrugged. “Someone has to lead.”

  Grey said, “This is our fault. If we hadn’t come, hadn’t fought the Drahma, they wouldn’t attack you.” Inadvertently, he’d put his sister in the greatest danger imaginable. He knew what he needed to do. It would be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. “I’ll leave,” he said. “I’ll pay the blood price. I’ll sate their hunger myself.”

  “No,” Kyla said, but Grey refused to meet her eyes. He hated to hurt her like this, but the alternative was far worse.

  “I will go,” Smithers said, surprising Grey by breaking his silence. “My daughter needs you, but I’m an old man. I will pay the price.”

  “And I will follow my captain,” one of the seamen said. Others echoed his words, nodding in Smithers’s direction. The captain shook his head, but didn’t say anything. For only the second time since Grey had met the man, his emotions seemed to overwhelm him into silence.

  Grey said, “I don’t know what to say. I can’t let you make this sacrifice for us.”

  “You can and you will,” Smithers said. “You are my son now, just as Kyla is my daughter. All I ask is that you care for her.”

  The king, who had been watching the exchange with thin-lipped interest, finally interrupted. “Your loyalty and willing sacrifice moves me,” he said. “But it doesn’t change anything. The Drahma believe the treaty has been broken by pirates. You dressed the part, you acted the part. Giving your lives to them will not satisfy them. They will still attack. They won’t stop until there is no man or woman left on this island.”

  “King,” the pirate captain urged once more. The man was practically shaking with anticipation. Or was it fear? “The day has wings. They will likely attack at nightfall. We need to prepare.”

  King Erric glanced at Shae longingly. Then he said, “Sound the alarm.” Turning back to Grey, he said, “You and your companions, come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” Grey asked.

  “You are the only living souls to have fought the Drahma in this generation. We need to know what to expect. And you may not be able to sail away to protect us, but you will fight. We all will.”

  More than three hundred pirates gathered before them, bearing beautiful weapons of fine workmanship. Sprinkled amongst them were the non-pirates who lived on Pirate’s Peril, too. Cooks, merchants, even the women from the pleasure houses—now covered up and grim-faced—stood ready to fight. Grey’s head was still spinning from his conversation with the king. Was there really such a thing as a good pirate?

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter; not now. All that mattered was the impending attack. If they lost…

  Grey shuddered to think what would become of Kyla and Shae. At his side, Kyla linked her smallest finger in his. He squeezed back, relishing the closeness he felt to her. Their shared trust and the strength they borrowed from each other.

  Shae had been left behind in the king’s quarters, guarded by the two burly pirates. Though Grey had only just met King Erric Clawborn, he trusted him with his sister. They bore two halves of the same mark, after all. Like it or not, they were connected by a power greater than any of them.

  As succinctly as possible, Grey and his companions related the attack they’d faced from the Drahma, fielding questions from the pirates. They wanted to know every detail—how they moved as they attacked, whether they struck in pairs or in bunches or one at a time. Whether they went for a killing bite first, or tried to incapacitate. These were men and women experienced in the art of battle, having defeated dozens—maybe hundreds—of ships over their collective lifetimes.

  Erric seemed content to listen, though at times Grey had the impression his mind had wandered elsewhere.

  After every question had been asked, the pirates dispersed, their orders to be provided by their pirate captains. Blades of sunlight still managed to sneak over the high cliffs, but they were swiftly decreasing in number and intensity as the day charged toward twilight. Grey said to Erric, “What now?”

  “Now we wait,” the king said.

  They waited in the king’s quarters, where Shae continued to sleep, oblivious to the danger she was in. That they were all in.

  The king sat near her, his eyes focused on her face, occasionally darting
to her hand, which lay palm up. Her skin was clear and smooth, her mark hidden, as was his.

  “I recognize you,” he said, though his head didn’t turn.

  Instinctively, Grey knew he meant him. “You saw me through her eyes on the Dead Isles?”

  “Aye. And on the ship. But I couldn’t hear anything. I didn’t know you were her brother. I only saw flashes, the experiences she had that were the most intense.”

  Grey nodded. It made sense. If Shae dreamed of him, of course he would’ve known of her, too. “She spoke of you often,” Grey admitted. “She believed meeting you was her destiny. Her purpose. Her responsibility.”

  Erric finally turned to meet Grey’s eyes. “I’ve felt the same way in the last few months. Shame our meeting had to come under such dangerous circumstances.”

  “I’m sorry this happened,” Grey said, though the king had already looked away, his gaze returning to Shae’s sleeping form.

  Silence fell, save for the crackling of the hearth fire and the whispers of Smithers’s men. They were all untied and had been lent fine weapons. They would be the last line of defense against the Drahma. Grey still felt they should be the front line, but the king had insisted they stay with him and Shae.

  Kyla stood up from where she’d been sitting with her father. She sat down next to Grey, their legs touching. “Seems your time as a fearsome pirate captain was short-lived,” she said.

  He smiled, thankful for the brief respite from the seriousness of the situation. “And your time as a pirate wench even shorter.”

  “And yet I’m still dressed as one,” she said, pursing her lips seductively.

  “If we survive this,” Grey said, “I request you keep these clothes.”

  “I never knew you had a pirate fetish,” she said, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

  “Me either.” The moment of levity had run its course and Grey could no longer maintain the façade. He sighed, feeling exhausted.

  Shae cupped his chin. “We are with you. You’re not alone.”

  “I know,” Grey said. “That only makes things worse. Aren’t you scared?”

  Kyla, staring into his eyes with an intensity that made him want to kiss her, seemed to consider the question. “When you face the loss of loved ones, you can either curl up in a ball and hide, or you can take it on the chin. With my mother, I chose the ball approach. My father did too. It served neither of us well. Hell, it almost killed us both. I thought it would, but guess what? It didn’t. If anything, we’re stronger now, because we got through it. Because we’re still together, still fighting.” A fierce look crossed her face. “With my Myree…” She pointed to her chin. “I hate that I lost Myree. I hate that I spent so much time with her inside me and didn’t get to meet her. Sometimes I curse any and every god I can think of for taking her from me. But I’m not going to be the ball again. Not. Ever. Again.”

  Grey loved the determination radiating from her words, from the way she stuck out her chin stubbornly. But it didn’t change the fact that he’d brought them all here. It was on him.

  Kyla seemed to read his mind. “You feel like you let everyone down,” she said. Not a question. A statement, and an accurate one.

  Grey nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

  “First, Rhea Loren, your first love.”

  Grey’s heart pounded as he tried to read her tone, her expression.

  She continued. “Then, Shae, who was taken from you.”

  Yes yes yes.

  “And now me, my father, his men. Hell, Grey, do you think you’ve failed this entire rutting island of people, too?”

  He was taken aback by her words. Not because of the exasperation in her tone, but because the answer was a resounding yes. He nodded.

  “Wrath, Grey. You’re not that important a person.” She shoved him in the chest. Not hard, but enough to make him rock back slightly. Her response and the gesture forced a ragged breath from his lips.

  “I know I’m not,” Grey said.

  “Then why in Wrath’s name do you think the entire world revolves around you?”

  “I don’t think that.” Do I?

  “Everything you’ve told me—all the awful things that have happened to you and your sister—were not caused by the mistakes you made.”

  Grey gaped. “Of course they were. I got tangled up with Rhea Loren. I crossed her. I lost Shae.”

  “You rescued her, you dolt. And from the sounds of Rhea Loren, she is the one who made a mistake in capturing you and your sister, and in the end she regretted it. Whatever attacked the palace, this Kings’ Bane guy, started this, not you. Yes, you are a man I care about greatly, a good man most of the time, but you are not the master of all things, Grey Arris. You are just a man getting pushed by the winds of fate, just as we all are. And, by my estimation, you are doing your damn best to protect those you care about, which is exactly why I love you.”

  Grey didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Had he misheard her? “I—I—don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you love me too, you rutting fool.”

  “I love you too.” She kissed him hard on the lips and then stood, returning to her father’s side, where the old man was laughing his head off.

  “You have a good woman there,” King Erric said, apparently having overheard the entire conversation.

  Grey, still stunned, said nothing.

  A moment later, the alarm bells began clanking violently. The Drahma had arrived to claim their blood price.

  Ninety-Four

  The Southern Empire, Pirate’s Peril

  Grey Arris

  The first screams announced the Drahma’s arrival a moment after the alarm bells. They came in two forms: the ear-shattering shrieks of the sea creatures as they attacked; and the pained cries of pirates as they died. Together, they were a grim closing symphony on a brutally long day.

  Grey knew tonight the ancient creatures weren’t here just for blood—they wanted to end their lives. All of them.

  Not on my watch. His conversation with Kyla had left him thrumming with energy and courage. She loved him and he loved her. Add Shae, Captain Smithers and his mates to the mix and he had plenty of compelling reasons to fight on this night.

  The pirate king had not moved from Shae’s side, and Grey got the impression he would die to protect her, their bond from the dream world as strong as anything that could’ve been forged in reality. That makes two of us, Grey thought.

  Smithers was at the window, half his men huddled around him, while the other half guarded the door. Down below, there were also a dozen pirates protecting the front door.

  Kyla grabbed Grey’s hand and said, “Take it on the chin, and we’ll emerge stronger than ever.” The fervor in her tone was such that he couldn’t not believe her.

  Smithers said, “There are dozens…” There was a note of excitement in his voice, as if this was the best night of his life. He looked back, grinning. He’s lost his damn mind, Grey thought.

  “Incoming!” one of the sailors announced.

  The group began backing away from the window, while Smithers took one large step back, brandishing his scimitar with a flourish. “Let ’em come,” he growled.

  For a frozen moment, there was near-silence, time seeming to crawl forward as the fire popped, as hearts beat, as breaths slid in and out of lungs…

  The window exploded inward as if punched by a large stone, spraying glass shrapnel into Smithers’ face and across the wooden floorboards. The Drahma shrieked through the ragged opening, claws flashing like a dozen knives in the orange light. Smithers ducked at the last moment, flipping the creature over his shoulder. It crashed into two of his men, writhing and squirming. One sailor’s throat was slit open while another got a bath of sea slime in his face. The rest of the men dove atop the Drahma and began stabbing. Soon it was dead, but only just in time for them to face the next foe. Two slipped through the window with incredible speed considering their lack of feet, landing on tails and hands with a
dull thump-thump. Somewhere down below, the sounds of a fight rose through the floorboards, while all around, the night was full of the cries of battle as the streets became killing fields.

  One of the Drahma hissed at Smithers, who only said, “Whoa, girl. I don’ wanna carve ye, but I will.”

  She swept her dark-green seaweed hair away from her face with a flick of her claws, revealing her scaled breasts and firm abdomen. Her partner shrieked a war cry and, as one, they attacked.

  Not Smithers, who was ready for it, but King Erric, who was crouched by Shae, blocking her face from view. They launched themselves like thrown spears, using their strong tails to propel their powerful bodies up and over two chairs and a chest. Though clearly taken by surprise, Erric pushed to his feet, sword already drawn. He slashed, and Drahma blood sprayed as he opened her throat. The second one, however, had come in lower, driving its head into his midsection, slamming him back against the wall. Like a snake, she wriggled her way up and sank her fangs into the king’s neck.

  Grey sprang into action, the creature too close to where Shae slept for comfort. He felt Kyla right behind him. He leapt atop the Drahma’s back, reaching around her head as she bucked and shrieked, sliding his blade-hand across her neck. She slammed back and forth violently several times before going still, slumping to the floor.

  Erric stared at him with wide eyes. “You saved my life.”

  “I did it for Shae,” Grey admitted. “But yes.”

  “Regardless of your reasons, I am in your debt.”

  “I’ll call you on that if we survive the night.”

  The king offered a wry smile. “The bitch bit me.”

  “Will it kill you?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be ill for a few days because of the venom, but that’s all. She only got a gulp or two before you arrived.”

  Grey nodded, turning his head to listen. A few shrieks pierced the night, but compared to before it was quieter. “Is it almost over?”

  The king laughed. “Captain Jolly, it’s just beginning.”