Maturation of the Marked: A Ko-Jin Novella
The Marked Series
March McCarron
March McCarron Publishing
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Foreword
Map
Maturation of the Marked: Ko-Jin
Afterword
About the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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MATURATION OF THE MARKED:
A KO-JIN NOVELLA
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Copyright © 2016 by March McCarron
Smashwords Edition
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover art by March McCarron
Edited by Alexis Arendt
[email protected]
www.marchmccarron.com
This one’s for my readers. Yes, you.
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Thanks for reading, reviewing, facebooking, emailing, tweeting, and generally being awesome.
Foreword
This story takes place during the the ten year gap between the first and seconds parts in Division of the Marked. It follows just one character: Ko-Jin. The plot of this novella can stand alone; however, to better appreciate the significance of the events in this story and the world of the Chisanta, I recommend reading the first novel in The Marked Series first, Division of the Marked.
Maturation of the Marked: Ko-Jin
Sung Ko-Jin glanced up at a cloudless sky, at a sun that appeared perfectly innocent, despite its obvious desire to roast him alive.
He had only just sipped from his canteen, and yet his mouth was parchment-dry. He could hear his water supply sloshing near at hand, strapped to the donkey that lumbered beneath him. He fought the impulse to reach for it, however. To take a second draught after such a short interval would be to admit his Northern weakness. Ko-Jin would not give this foreign sun the satisfaction.
“Is it always like this?” he asked, wincing against the dust in the air.
He turned to his traveling companion; his guardian. Enton looked distinctly out of place amidst the throng of Adourran fishermen plodding from port to town. His black hair swung in a long braid, his traditional robes buttoned up to the collar, the hilt of a Chaskuan-style sword glinting at his hip. Not only out of place, but out of time as well. Ko-Jin had grown so accustomed to this archaic style of dress in his two years at Cape Cosanta, he’d forgotten how strange his people must look through the eyes of a common man.
“The heat?” Enton asked, grinning at him. His face always gave the impression of hostility, until the moment he smiled—and then a dimple blossomed in his right cheek and his whole demeanor warmed. Enton was half Chaskuan, so he and Ko-Jin shared the same dark eyes and hair, but where Ko-Jin’s face was more smoothly planed, Enton had the deep-set eyes and sharply bridged nose of a Dalishman. “It’s not noon, yet, brother. Enjoy this morning cool while it lasts.”
Ko-Jin snorted. “Cool?”
A hot wind slapped him full in the face, and he blinked against the grit.
La Pueva, Adourra. The place had sounded so exotic when Enton had proposed the trip. Thus far, however, Ko-Jin saw nothing but dusty road, parched grass on sloping hills, and some odd-looking trees. Not exactly worth the voyage, but he supposed he should be grateful anyway. As a sixteen-year-old, he was still two years shy of being at his liberty. He could not leave the Cape without a chaperone.
“Nearly there,” Enton said, pointing to a road sign. It was written in Adourran, so Ko-Jin could only read the word Elver, the name of the famed sword master who was to train him for the next month. “Should be in time for afternoon tea.”
Ko-Jin had, up until that moment, felt neither eagerness nor apprehension at the prospect of training the sword. But as they clomped closer to this martial training school, he experienced a sudden twinge of unease. He might be strong, now—his legs and back might be sturdy and straight, where before they had been ill-formed and feeble—but sometimes his mind could not recall this fact. Even after two years.
Enton, perhaps sensing the shift in his companion’s mood, said, “This will be good for you, Ko-Jin. Honestly. You’ve spent too much time without a purpose, since…” He cleared his throat. “It’s good to have a goal.”
Ko-Jin swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “A goal, sure,” he said, lightly as he could. “But why this? I could be anything, you know. A world-famous singer—”
Enton guffawed so loudly he spooked his mule. “You could be a great many things, that’s true enough,” he said in his gravelly voice, plainly amused. “But I’ve heard you sing, lad.”
Ko-Jin bowed his head, unperturbed. “You’ve seen me with a sword, too.”
“You’ve got natural talent,” Enton said. “It’s just hidden under bad habits and clumsy feet. Trust me.”
Not natural talent, Ko-Jin thought. Unnatural talent—totally unnatural. His legs weren’t really his legs, his back not really his back. But he held his tongue as they crested a slope in the road, revealing the grounds of the Elver training school below.
The compound sat hunkered in a slight valley beside a small lake, a series of minuscule cabins and one, more permanent, building—the master’s home, Ko-Jin supposed. It was in the Adourran style, with smooth plaster walls painted in bright blues and yellows, large windows left agape for circulation. At the far right of the complex, the fenced-off training yard snared Ko-Jin’s attention. More specifically, he regarded the figures assembled in a line at the center of it, their wooden swords spinning in purposeful circles.
“They look young,” he said.
Enton nodded. “Those’ll be his newest recruits. There will be older students as well, probably a few your age.”
Ko-Jin shrugged. Any friendship formed here had a one-month expiration date, so it mattered little.
The donkey hastened its pace, as if sensing the end of his journey. Enton led the way to the stables, and Ko-Jin hopped down to the dirt gratefully, his inner thighs a bit chafed from the ride. He took a discreet gulp of warm water from his canteen, slung his bag over his shoulder, and hustled after Enton.
His brother Cosanta paced with an unusual, almost frenetic energy. “They’ve added four new bunks,” he said, pointing to a cabin on their right as he advanced up the main pathway. Ko-Jin had to jog to keep up. “And he’s expanded the training yard.”
“How long were you here?” Ko-Jin asked.
“The better part of seven years,” Enton answered, his gaze roaming, his lips curled into an almost-smile. “Good years, at that.”
“Well, look what’s blown in on a northern wind,” a gruff voice exclaimed from behind them.
Enton spun at the sound, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Master Elver.”
The sword master strode towards them with a light-footedness at odds with his apparent age. He looked ancient to Ko-Jin. Withered. His dark face was as grooved as the bark of a tree, his hair stark white. Enton met the man on the road with a hearty slap on the back.
“You’ve gone and gotten old, lad,” the sword master said, searching his student’s face with sharp black eyes.
Enton gave a short, explosive laugh. “Me? I’m in my prime.”
The master chuckled wheezily as he turned to Ko-Jin. “And thi
s is my new Cosanta student?”
“Aye.” Enton extended a hand between them. “Master Hervenne Elver, Sung Ko-Jin.”
Ko-Jin offered a jerky bow, his braid flipping into his face.
“Humph,” the old man said, returning his attention to Enton. “You Chisanta make the worst students, you know.”
“A blatant falsehood,” Enton said, all good humor.
Ko-Jin switched his bag from one shoulder to the other, shifting his weight; an act that earned him a second inspection from the old man, whose gaze seemed to penetrate straight to the skeleton.
“You’ll be in that one,” Master Elver said, nodding to a cabin at the top of a nearby hill. “Why don’t you drop off your bag and meet us for lunch at the house in an hour. Give us a chance to catch up.”
A little time to himself sounded downright spiritly—he’d had none since leaving the comforts of the Cape. Ko-Jin bobbed his head in acquiescence and farewell, then began his solitary trudge up the hill. The weeks of travel, of poor sleep and rough conditions, seemed to catch up with him all at once. As he pressed upwards, his calves ached and the strap of his bag carved a groove into his shoulder.
He pushed into his temporary home heavily and let his bag thump to the ground.
“Oy, what you—”
Ko-Jin jumped at the sound of a loud, youthful voice. Two boys were playing cards on the cabin floor, looking as startled by his arrival as he was by their presence.
“Sorry, Mister Chisanta, you right surprised us,” the same boy said, hopping to his feet. “You bunkin’ wit me and Tev, then?”
The boy had curling red hair, a pale face spotted with fat freckles, and green eyes that didn’t quite seem to match. The second lad was Adourran, with an oddly beautiful face for a boy—high cheekbones and long eyelashes.
“It seems I am,” Ko-Jin said, masking his disappointment.
The cabin had room for two bunk beds and little else. It smelt like feet.
“I’m Colson and this here is Tevnne. Tev don’t speak much Dalish. Hey, mister, is a bottom bunk alright with you? Because I’ll give you mine if you’d prefer it, but I’ve always wanted to sleep up on a top bunk, ever since I was little, so I’d really rather keep it if it’s all the same to you.”
Ko-Jin couldn’t decide what was most remarkable about this speech: its length, pace, or volume. “I’m happy with the bottom,” he said.
The kid looked relieved. He tossed his hand of cards to the ground. “I never met a Chisanta before. Look, Tev, he’s got the mark and everything. See it there, on his neck? Man, that’s something. Is it true you all got special powers?”
The second boy said something in Adourran and Colson shook his head, setting his violent curls bouncing. “I ain’t gullible, it’s true! Ain’t it true? You’ve got special abilities.”
Ko-Jin slumped down onto his bunk and began working off his right boot. “It’s true. Though they’re usually not as flashy as you might think.”
“So what’s yours?” the boy asked, his eyes alight.
Amongst Chisanta, this would be deemed a highly invasive question, but Ko-Jin didn’t begrudge the kid his curiosity. Doubtless he’d have asked just the same question at that age.
Still, he didn’t much want to talk about his gift. He couldn’t tell them about his ability without also explaining his former physical handicap. He decided to try a favorite tactic of his friend Arlow Bowlerham: evasion.
“That’s not for you to know,” he said, endeavoring to sound older than his sixteen years. He climbed onto his bed. “I’m going to shut my eyes, could you be a good lad and wake me in half an hour?”
“Uh, sure, mister.”
Ko-Jin threw an arm over his face to block both the light and further conversation. His two bunkmates exchanged whispers so loudly they might as well have forgone the pretense and spoke at full volume. Ko-Jin grunted and rolled his back to them.
He pressed his eyes closed and began to mentally move through the steps of the Ada Chae, the Cosanta warrior forms. He envisioned his arms drifting up before him, his body weight shifting from his right foot to his left.
The familiarity put him at ease, and soon he slipped into a sweaty, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Ko-Jin found himself once again broiling beneath an Adourran sun. A rivulet of sweat snaked between his shoulder blades. His Cosanta robes clung damply to his chest, and strands of hair, worked loose from his braid, plastered themselves to his neck.
“Again.”
Ko-Jin gripped the waster in his slick palm and moved through the drill once more—the same drill he’d been practicing since dawn. His wooden blade sliced through the moistureless air as he shuffled forward and back, forward and back, pivot, turn, forward and back.
“Again.”
Ko-Jin puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. He could kick Enton for having made training sound so enjoyable. “Best years of my life,” he mimicked in his mind, and rolled his eyes. Yes, he’d give Enton a good, swift kick—if his guardian hadn’t already departed for Leonna, abandoning him for an entire month.
Ko-Jin glowered at the sword master. Hervenne Elver, his face as rough as a charred tree stump, lifted a single white brow. He bore Ko-Jin’s scowl as he bore the scorching sun overhead: coolly.
“Am I even doing it right?” Ko-Jin asked, wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his robe.
Distantly, he could hear the other students training together in the yard. He supposed this private tutelage was some sort of favor to Enton. Ko-Jin was tempted to tell the master he shouldn’t bother. Some things were simply not meant to be, no matter how you tried to force them.
“No.”
Ko-Jin’s shoulders fell. “Well, what am I doing wrong, then? I can’t correct my mistakes if you don’t tell me what they are.” He could hear the disrespect in his words, but he was so overheated it was difficult to care.
The old sword master crossed his arms before his chest and studied Ko-Jin, head tilted. He then jabbed a long finger in the direction of the nearest hill. “Have you noticed yon tree?”
Ko-Jin turned his gaze as directed over the dry, sharp-hilled grassland, and fixed on the curved form of an acacia tree. He nodded.
“And what, do you think, is wrong with it?”
Ko-Jin’s eyes traced the slender, bent trunk, and the corners of his mouth pulled down. “It’s twisted.”
“Incorrect.”
Ko-Jin sighed, too thirsty for riddles. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“Its trunk is bent because of the hill. Its shape gives it better exposure to the sun. There is nothing wrong with it. It adapted to its situation. In fact, if its trunk were to abruptly straighten, it would be made weaker.”
Ko-Jin’s brow furrowed. “Are you implying that I’ve been made weaker by my gift?”
“I mean to say that your trunk has been straightened, but you’ve lost the sun.”
Ko-Jin wiped the sweat from his brow again and wished that he had, in fact, lost the sun. Then perhaps it wouldn’t be so spirits-forsaken hot.
“I didn’t ask for it, you know,” Ko-Jin grumbled. But he felt immediately guilty, ungrateful.
Hervenne stood, taking up his weapon. He crossed the yard with the predatory grace of a Chaskuan tiger.
The grizzled Adourran assumed a ready stance, and Ko-Jin followed his example, perking up. Perhaps they had finished with drilling, at last. He sank into his knees and felt the metaphysical roots spring from his feet, grounding him.
Hervenne lunged and Ko-Jin parried, as he’d been taught. At once, however, his bottom thumped onto the dirt. He let out a surprised grunt.
He goggled up at the sword master. It shouldn’t be possible that this ancient, unmarked man not only bested him effortlessly, but uprooted him as well.
“Why did I prevail?” the master asked in his gruff, musical accent.
Ko-Jin hopped to his feet and brushed the dirt from his robes. “Because you are a sword master and I am not?”
&nbs
p; The corner of Hervenne’s mouth twitched. “That certainly is in my favor, but that is not the answer I seek.”
“It seems unfair to ask a question if you’ll only accept one answer.”
The master leveled him with a black-eyed glare. “Take my training seriously, Sung Ko-Jin, or depart.”
Ko-Jin made a conciliatory gesture with his hands and considered the matter. “Enton,” he began slowly, “always says I have bad habits because I used to be…”
“Crippled?” Hervenne supplied. His eyes held neither pity nor disparagement, but Ko-Jin still rankled at the word. It pulled forth a slew of painful childhood memories.
“Yes,” he said softly.
“Not ‘used to be,’” Hervenne pressed, “you are crippled. In your mind you are, and the mind is a powerful thing.”
Ko-Jin bit his tongue. He wanted dearly to point out the stupidity of this statement, but he couldn’t. It was likely true.
The old man appraised him for a long moment, lips pressed thin. “I believe,” he said at length, “that you will benefit more from my granddaughter’s attentions than my own.”
“Your granddaughter?” Ko-Jin asked, unaware the man had offspring.
“Yes, indeed,” Master Elver said. “Follow me.”
Ko-Jin, feeling rather baffled by this sudden change in plans, trailed after the sword master. They trod up the dirt path to the training yard, where the other students were working in pairs. The space resounded with the clacking of wooden blades and the scuffling of feet.
Master Elver paused and called out to one of the instructors. “Nevrre!”
Ko-Jin leaned against the wooden fence and watched his fellow trainees. He spotted his two new bunkmates, having at each other with tremendous energy if not finesse. Tev seemed to have the greater skill, his face serious with concentration.
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