Soulmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 3)

by David Estes

  “Tell me what?”

  Shae opened her lips, closed them. Opened them again. “If we turn the key to the right, it won’t only be Bane who dies, but all the fatemarked.”

  For a moment, the truth didn’t register in Grey’s mind. So what? He didn’t know any of the fatemarked in all those distant lands, and they’d still be ridding the world of a madman, a merciless killer without a soul.

  But then it hit him:

  Erric was fatemarked.

  Shae was fatemarked.

  They would die, too.

  “You’re not turning the key to the right,” Grey said, for the thousandth time.

  Though it was risky, they’d stayed another night on Pirate’s Peril. Everyone agreed that given the new information, they all needed to sleep on things and see what the morning would bring. Thankfully, the Drahma were apparently still licking their wounds, and hadn’t attacked again.

  For Grey, the morning was much the same as the day before, and it most definitely did not involve his baby sister committing suicide by fatemark.

  “It is our choice,” Shae said. Grey hated how she kept throwing around words like our and we and together when referring to she and Erric. Those were words that used to define them as siblings, not she and some random pirate king they’d just met.

  “The whole thing is ridiculous,” Grey said, biting down hard on a hard heel of rye bread. “Why would the Western Oracle give each of you half of a key—”

  “The halfmarks,” Shae interrupted. “That’s what they’re called.”

  “Whatever,” Grey said. “Why give you these halfmarks just so you can kill yourselves and all the other fatemarked?”

  “It’s a failsafe,” the king explained. Truth be told, the night of rest had done little for him—he had dark circles under his eyes. “The Oracle didn’t know exactly what would happen once she unleashed the fatemarked. She could only create us, not control us. Bane was a risk—she hoped he would kill the most violent of the rulers and leave the peaceful ones, but now he’s just killing everyone. And most of the other fatemarked aren’t helping matters either. Most of them are used in war, and either killing each other, or killing other people.”

  Grey scowled. “How do you know any of this?”

  Shae sighed. “We just do,” she said. “We saw things and we understood.”

  “Things you couldn’t know until you met a pirate king.” Grey knew he was being unfair, but he didn’t care. The whole thing was madness. “What pathetic sort of power is it to kill yourself? Godsdamn, I can even do that! Give me a high enough cliff and I’ll pretend to be a bird!”

  “We already did that on the Dead Isles, remember Grey?” Shae said. “Didn’t kill us, did it?”

  Though Grey was still frustrated and angry, he was impressed by her wit. “But why should a fourteen-year-old girl have to die? A pirate king, maybe, but a little girl?”

  “Grey…” the pirate king said.

  “You stay out of this,” Grey fired back.

  Shae’s teeth ground together. “I’ll have you know I’m a woman flowered, Grey Arris.”

  The last thing Grey wanted to hear about was the flowering of his little sister. “You’re a child.”

  “Grey…” Erric tried again.

  “Shut it,” Grey said, pointing a finger at the pirate.

  “If anyone is acting like a child, it is you!” Shae said. She stood, stomping from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Grey started to go after her, but Kyla grabbed his arm. “Wrath, you can be difficult sometimes. And stubborn.”

  “You forgot pig-headed,” Grey quipped.

  “And the countenance of a mule,” Erric added helpfully.

  Grey fired a scathing look his way and the king snapped his mouth shut.

  He looked back at Kyla. “We’re talking about my sister’s life here,” he said. “Not whether she wants to run away to sea and marry a sailor.”

  “And you would support her if she wanted to do the latter?” Kyla asked, hands on hips.

  “Well, no. But I would oppose it less vehemently.”

  “Ha!” Kyla said. “After you told me about your criminal past, you couldn’t stop going on about how you’d changed, how you were supporting your sister in her quest to find the meaning of her fatemark. But that was all a bundle of bollocks, wasn’t it? You haven’t changed a bit, not when it comes down to the meat of it.”

  Grey took a deep breath. Was she right? Was he still Grease Jolly, just going by a different name? Was that who he would always be? He remembered the pain of losing his hand, dwarfed only by the torment in his soul when he realized the furia had taken his sister to the Dead Isles. It was then he had decided to change, to be someone Shae could be proud of. He could still be that brother, that man. “No,” he said. “I am not that fool anymore.”

  “Then start listening before opening that big mouth of yours. Erric has been trying to speak for some time.”

  Grey looked at Erric, who smiled at him and waved. Grey sighed. Said, “I’m sorry. I was cruel. I was angry. Shae is the only family I have left.”

  Erric nodded, his mouth pulled into a tight line. “I understand. I never had a sibling, but when my father died…it took me months before I could pull my head from the sand and carry on his work.”

  “What were you trying to say?”

  “We already made our decision,” Erric said. “Last night, while you slept.”

  Heat rose inside Grey’s chest once more, but, determined not to blow up again, he tempered it. “And?”

  “And we’re leaving Pirate’s Peril. Today. Like you suggested.”

  Grey was dumbfounded. Why hadn’t Shae just said that? It dawned on him. From the moment he’d woken up, he’d hounded her about the foolishness of killing herself to kill Bane, about how he wouldn’t allow her to do it, how it wasn’t really her choice. He’d mocked and he’d berated and he’d acted like a child. Just like Shae had said. “I’m a fool,” he said.

  “Aye,” Kyla said. “A pig-headed, stubborn, mulish one. But I still love you all the same.”

  He found Shae near the edge of the cliffs, sitting on a rock.

  She must’ve seen him approach, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, clambering up and plopping down next to her.

  “Why?” she asked. She was tracing her palm with her finger. The mark, he realized. She knows exactly where it is, even when it can’t be seen.

  A revelation rippled through him, something he’d never really thought about: Shae’s had to live with her mark her entire life. How hard that must’ve been, especially not knowing what it meant. Grey, on the other hand, had preferred to pretend as if it didn’t exist, only worrying about the risk of it being discovered.

  “Because it was your choice. It still is. I shouldn’t have tried to bully you into my way of thinking.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger, pinning him in place. “You’re only saying that because we decided not to do it.”

  He shook his head, his lips beginning to tremble as the words took shape. Tears blurred his vision. “Shae, I love you more than anything. I know I don’t always know how to show it, and most of the time I say and do the wrong thing, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re my sister. I just want you to be happy. If you need to do this, if you need to use your mark to kill Bane and the rest of the fatemarked, then I’ll support you. But godsdamnit, Shae, I will miss you more than if the sun were to fall from the seventh heaven and crash into the sea.”

  Tears were dripping from his chin now, and Grey blinked to clear his vision only to find that Shae was crying too. She fell into him and he held her as she sobbed into his shoulder. “We could save lives, Grey,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “We could do good. But I’m too scared. I don’t want to die.”

  He remembered the fear she’d tried to hide the night before. The only reason she would’ve been scared was if she was seriously considering usi
ng her key, her halfmark, along with Erric. “I know, Shae,” Grey said now, holding her tight. “I know.”

  He held her for a long time, until she finally straightened up and looked at him. “There’s another way, you know. We can use our key another way.”

  Grey was beyond being surprised at this point. “How?”

  She spoke slowly, thoughtfully. “Our key can also strengthen the powers of the other fatemarked, if we’re close enough. We might be able to help the ones that are trying to do the right thing, who are on the right path.”

  Grey nodded. Something about this felt right. “How do you decide who to help?”

  She smiled. “We just know, Grey.”

  Captain Smithers was in mourning. Though he was still dreadfully ill from the Drahma poison, he managed to fight to his feet to make his last stand, begging the pirates to help repair The Jewel so it could sail with the rest of their fleet. According to one of the pirate carpenters, the fix would take months. Impossible, was the word he’d used.

  “You can stay here with her,” King Erric said, calling the old man’s bluff. “Or you can command this beauty instead.” He pointed at a medium-sized ship with crisp, white sails and fine, curving lines. In Grey’s estimation, it put The Jewel to shame. It was one of many ships without captains after the Drahma attack. Many of them were without crew as well, and would be left behind.

  Though Captain Smithers sniffed at the ship, and immediately began criticizing its ‘numerous deficiencies,’ he boarded it without question, allowing two of his crew to help him below decks to locate his new quarters.

  Kyla laughed and followed.

  Grey began to as well, but stopped when Erric said, “You’re welcome on my ship.” His ship was, of course, the largest in the fleet, the enormous monstrosity they’d seen when they first sailed in and sunk in the cavern harbor. He’d since learned she was called The Pirate Queen.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Grey said. “I belong with them. And we’ll be in close enough proximity, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Grey said, “I’m sorry. I know this place is your home. I’m sorry we ruined it for you.”

  Erric said, “Like your woman said, stop being sorry. I’m not. We’ve relied on this place for too long, and we were always in danger from the Drahma, even if we didn’t want to admit it. It’s high time we left and did more than steal from the rich and give to the poor. It’s time we fought for the abused, for the slaves of Phanes.”

  “Is that where we’re going?” Grey asked. “To Phanes?” He gestured across the ocean, to where a long smudge of red sat between water and sky. The blade still strapped to his wrist slashed the air to ribbons. He’d considered removing the knife from his stump after they’d passed the Drahma archway, but decided against it. Truth be told, he’d grown accustomed to having it.

  “Aye,” the king said.

  Grey nodded. “I’ve always wanted to see the red rocks close up. C’mon Shae.” He beckoned to his sister, who had been watching the exchange with interest.

  She shook her head. “I’ll be fine here.”

  Grey’s first instinct was to argue, to force her to join him on Smithers’s new ship, but he managed to bite his tongue, barely. “Good,” he said. “May the wind be at your back. I’ll see you on the high seas!”

  Shae broke into a smile, for once looking exactly like the fourteen-year-old girl that she was. She charged across the deck and crashed into him, squeezing him tight. He was very careful not to impale her with his blade-hand as he hugged her.

  There was only one obstacle left before they reached the open waters of the Burning Sea:

  The Drahma archway. It was especially dangerous because only one ship could fit through at a time, which meant they lost any semblance of strength in numbers. They’d taken every precaution, with all hands on deck, armed and ready, but if the creatures attacked in droves, they would most likely be overwhelmed.

  “Think they’ll come?” Grey whispered to Kyla.

  “They hate us now, Grey,” she said. “Hatred can drive even the noblest of creatures into irrational decisions.”

  He was hoping for a simple “no.” He gripped her hand, leaning his blade on the railing of Smithers’s new ship, which he’d renamed The Jewel II. His blade cut a thin, narrow path into the wood.

  Grey held his breath as the first ship, the king’s massive vessel, sailed through unmolested. Another ship passed beneath the arch, then another. It was their turn.

  Grey peered up at the carvings in the stone, trying to remember how it felt when he’d first seen them, what kind of man he was. Am I any different? he wondered. Does it even matter?

  And then they were past, headed out to sea, the cliffs of Pirate’s Peril growing smaller in their wake. Yes, he thought. It does matter and I am different. For what was the point of swimming to the darkest depths of the ocean if you couldn’t rise again and take a breath, see the sunlight shining down? I have to change, he thought. I have to be better, each and every day. We all do.

  He roped an arm around Kyla’s shoulders, pulling her close. She leaned back to look up at him, her lips parting slightly, temptingly.

  He eased forward and kissed her.

  “Get a cabin!” one of the crew shouted, the rest of them exploding into laughter.

  Ninety-Six

  The Southern Empire, Phanes, a remote part of Phanea

  Bane Gäric

  The slave army was spread before them like an ocean of human flesh, ten-thousand strong. They were primarily of Teran descent, their skin as red as the western cliffs, gleaming under the high noonday sun. They trained in battle leathers, practicing the art of phen ru, a martial art Bane was beginning to despise. Why waste so much energy on a series of acrobatic maneuvers when a simple slash to the throat would end an enemy’s life just as well?

  Still, they were a marvel to behold, as they moved together, perfectly coordinated, not getting in each other’s way as they flipped and spun and pretended to slash each other to ribbons. The spikes attached to their boots and the blades strapped to their wrists were dull, and wouldn’t do more than bruise. In a real battle, however, these men and women would devastate their foes, tearing through them like a spear thrust through wet paper.

  “Do you understand now why we have to do this?” Bane asked Chavos, who he was beginning to think of as his apprentice. He didn’t want this to turn out like the last time, when Chavos hesitated at the last moment and tried to kill himself rather than releasing his plague on the Phanecians.

  “Yes,” Chavos said. “Killing these slaves seems like a horrible thing to do, but if we don’t, they will kill hundreds of thousands on behalf of the emperor. We are saving lives, not ending them.” Though his friend spoke truly, Bane was disappointed that it sounded as if he were reading from a book. The words lacked his own conviction. Ah well, that will come with time, when he sees the fruits of his labors, he thought. At least he was here; at least he was trying. It was progress—a step forward.

  “Also, as the plague spreads, it will kill many of the slave masters,” Bane reminded him. “Maybe even the emperor!” The latter was a longshot, and Bane was more than capable of ending Falcon Hoza on his own, but he wanted Chavos to feel the power of what he was about to unleash.

  Chavos nodded. Murmured, “The emperor.” Began removing the two pairs of gloves he wore to protect the world from his touch.

  Bane knew his friend was somewhat naïve, but he didn’t feel bad about manipulating him. His cause was too important for regret. No cost was too great to achieve peace.

  “Are you ready?” Bane asked.

  “I think so.”

  “What?”

  “Yes,” Chavos said more firmly. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” Bane, as he had done so many times since he’d started this partnership with Chavos, reached across to grasp his arm. The only difference this time was that Chavos no longer wore his gloves.

  With the speed of a striking snake,
Chavos lifted his hand and touched Bane’s face.

  Ninety-Seven

  The Southern Empire, Phanes, a remote part of Phanea

  Bane Gäric

  Bane was rarely surprised anymore, but when Chavos touched him with his bare skin on Bane’s bare face, he was so stunned that for a moment he did nothing but stare at the man he’d called friend, brother. Companion.

  Chavos didn’t offer a gloating smile, or an angry snarl, or a bitter scowl. No, he just looked sad, even as Bane felt the plague ripple across his skin, sinking into his bloodstream, contaminating his body.

  “I’m sorry, Bane,” Chavos said, sounding utterly sincere. “It was the only way I knew how to stop you. I may not know much of the world, but I know what you’re doing isn’t right. Peace isn’t achieved through more killing. And I won’t infect the innocents below.”

  Bane was also surprised to find that he wasn’t angry at his friend. If anything, he was proud of him. For the first time, Chavos had done what he’d wanted to do. What he felt was right. And it didn’t involve killing himself.

  But that didn’t change what Bane needed to do next. Even a friend can be an enemy, he thought bitterly. This is the world we live in. Fatemarked killing fatemarked.

  In a flash, he drew his blade and shoved it into Chavos’s gut.

  Just as quickly, he roped his arms behind his friend’s head and back before he could fall, and laid him gently on the ground. Chavos’s mouth was open in a silent gasp, the blood beginning to trickle from one corner of his lips. He seemed to be trying to say something, but Bane said, “Shhh. It doesn’t matter anymore, friend. You go to meet your creator, wherever she is. The Oracle will see your heart, and know that it is true.”

  Chavos died. Bane wondered how long it would be before he followed him.

  Bane was still trying to figure things out. He wasn’t dead, so that was good. Though he could feel the plague inside him, sometimes burning, sometimes cold, it had little impact on his movements. Thus far, he’d seen few of the standard effects of the plague—no red bumps, no fever, no chills, no hallucinations. A little weakness perhaps, but none of the severe muscle deterioration so often seen in plague victims. All things considered, Bane was in good spirits.