The Caste Marked

by Mariah Esterly

  “You are by far the most disagreeable person I have ever met!” Sylvan shouted.

  “Even worse than Nalren?” Rian shouted back.

  Sylvan was saved from answering by the arrival of Meka, who after landing on Reks' shoulder clicked his beak disapprovingly at the two fighting individuals.

  “He says he could hear you two before he could see us.”

  Rian and Sylvan had the decency to look shamefaced. If only momentarily, their interest in what the bird had to say, broke up their argument. Reks listened to the hawk, his face growing grim.

  “What is it?” Serra asked, when Meka had finished.

  “Rian,” Reks' silver eyes bore into Rian’s blue ones. “Your little brother was taken from the palace two days ago.”

  “Luc?” Rian asked his face growing white.

  Reks nodded.

  Rian did not respond. Sylvan reached out and took his hand and he didn’t shake her off. Now, three of the party had a loved one taken from them. Serra’s heart went out to Rian.

  “While we were riding away from the city?” Serra asked.

  “Yes,” Reks answered, his face grim.

  “We were there,” Vaughn said. “We should have stopped it.”

  Rian still had not said anything, Sylvan was clutching at his arm, murmuring in his ear.

  She left Sylvan to comfort the prince and turned back to Reks. “Did he tell you anythi-” Her voice cut off, seeing the look on his face.

  Reks had frozen, all the blood drained from his cheeks, giving him a sickly pallor. Meka took to the air shrieking. Serra looked at Reks confused. Her gaze traveled to his shoulder where the tip of an arrow protruded from his flesh.

  “Vaughn!” Serra cried, her gaze flying to the plain behind Reks and seeing countless death muxins streaming toward them. There would be no way from them to fight them all, even with the aid of Master Gerard’s potions. “Help me get him up!”

  Vaughn was by her side in an instant. He looped Reks' arm around his neck and hoisted him to his feet. Reks’ mount sensing the danger fast approaching cantered over to his master and stayed still while Vaughn hoisted Reks into the saddle.

  Once on horseback Serra reached for the bow and arrow Sylvan had given her for her Maiden’s Day and twisted in the saddle to aim at the enemies fast approaching. She trusted Shadowdancer to follow the others. Reks and Rian led the way across the plains, leaving the three with bows to bring up the rear. Serra took aim at the nearest death muxin and let her arrow fly. The point of the arrow caught the creature in its shoulder and stayed. A second arrow joined it, fired by Vaughn with such force that the death muxin was thrown from its horse. Serra watched as the downed creature rose from the ground and began trotting after the rest of his companions.

  The earth shook and a few handful of the Muxins disintegrated before her eyes. Rian must have thrown one of Master Gerard’s potions. It was good to know that they worked.

  Serra fired arrow after arrow at the approaching horde, until her quiver was empty. “I’m out!” she shouted at Sylvan and Vaughn.

  “Check on Reks!” Vaughn shouted back and let loose another arrow. This one flew with deadly accuracy to hit a death muxin square in its forehead. It slumped forward on its horse then fell to the ground motionless.

  Serra waited for him to get up, but the corpse remained on the ground.

  “Shoot them in the head!” she shouted to Vaughn and Sylvan. “They don’t get up if you shoot them in the head.”

  After making sure that they had heard her, Serra slung her bow over her shoulder and urged Shadowdancer forward. Reks was slumped in his saddle, struggling to stay seated. At their breakneck speed, Rian had reached out to place a hand on his uninjured shoulder.

  Fear for them all embraced Serra, making her mouth go dry. She twisted in her saddle yet again to look behind her. The death muxins were gaining on them and at such a close range Serra could now see that their mounts were also dead rotting corpses, though she doubted that they held the same bloodthirsty intent of their riders.

  The smell of rotting flesh overwhelmed her as they drew nearer.

  Shadowdancer reared back suddenly and Serra tumbled backward off her saddle, landing on her arm. She screamed in pain, feeling the bone snap under the pressure, but was on her feet again instantly, looking for the source of Shadowdancer’s fright.

  While she had been concentrating on the enemies behind them, more death muxins had approached them from in front. They were now effectively penned in. The creatures stopped their pursuit, leaving a large circle of space around them.

  Serra ignored the pain in her arm and did a quick count. Upwards of thirty death muxins surrounded them. There would be no chance of escape. Even with the potions that Master Gerard had provided to them.

  Her companions remained on horseback and Serra faced their attackers on foot. She would be unable to pull herself into the saddle with her arm broken. Next to her Shadowdancer’s nostrils flared in alarm, taking in the scent of rotting flesh.

  The group stood with their backs to one another, each facing a section of death muxins. They waited for the creatures to make the first move, gripping their weapons, faces set. They started when one of the creatures spoke to them. “Give us the girl and you can go free.” The death muxin’s voice seemed to be strangely disconnected from its body, as though someone were speaking through him from a great distance off.

  It was Vaughn who answered. “What girl?”

  “The Shifter.”

  Serra heard a sharp intake of breath to her right and her gaze flicked in the direction. Reks was struggling to sit upright on his horse, his knife clutched in his hand. “Over my dead body.” The cold steel that Serra had all but forgotten had laced itself back into his voice.

  The death muxin turned his head to regard Reks. “Be careful what you say, little Thief Lord, I just might take you up on that.”

  “You’ll have to kill all of us to take Serra.” Rian said, his voice hard.

  “Very well.” The death muxins started forward. Serra looked around, fear for her friends blinding her to all else. She had already lost her best friend, would she now be forced to suffer the loss of her new friends? And all in the name of protecting her?

  “No!” She screamed.

  There was a loud clap, like thunder, followed by a bright flash of light and Serra found her breath caught in her throat as the world around her dissolved into darkness. Serra recognized the overwhelming feeling of pressure on her chest, the swirling darkness, and then a second flash of light.

  She was prepared for the fall to the ground and tried to land in such a way that would not hurt her shoulder.

  The sound of rushing water was the first thing that greeted Serra’s senses, followed quickly by the sound of huffing from a source above her. She opened her eyes to see Shadowdancer looking down at her, a questioning look in her eyes as if to say, “what are you doing down there?”

  Serra struggled to her feet, holding her arm close to her body and looked around.

  They had landed in a grassy field next to a river swollen with the recent rains. There was not a death muxin in sight. She turned her attention to her companions.

  The horses had fared better than their riders had and were contentedly munching grass, as though they had not just been magically transported to a new location. The little donkey and all their supplies had made it too, though Serra had not thought to look for it while they fled.

  Reks had landed on his back forcing the arrow further out of his flesh. He was clutching at it, trying to pull the shaft all the way through.

  Vaughn, Rian and Sylvan remained on the ground coughing violently as their breath returned to them. They had sustained minor injuries in the seconds before they had been transported away from the death muxins. How far away they had traveled Serra was uncertain. They had to keep moving.

  “Get up. We have to make Reks able to ride and we have to go. Now!”

  Sylvan was already on her way to Reks' si
de. “Rian bring me the bag.”

  Moments later she had applied a numbing poultice to the area around the wound. “Turn him for me.” Rian and Vaughn held Reks on his side while Sylvan broke the feathered end from the arrow. “Let him back down. Good. Hold him.”

  Vaughn place his hands on Reks' uninjured shoulder, while Rian held his hips. Serra knelt by Reks' side and clasped his free hand with hers. “Ready?” Sylvan asked him. He nodded. “I am going to count to three.” He nodded again. “One. Two.” Sylvan jerked the arrow out of Reks' shoulder, causing him to arch his back in pain, though he did not cry out.

  She watched as Sylvan sponged the blood off Reks' wound and applied the cleansing potion, before covering it with the thick, soothing salve and a clean bandage.

  Moments later they had Reks on his feet and back in his saddle.

  Not wanting to take the time to heal her own non-life threatening injury Serra, pulled herself onto Shadowdancer, gritting her teeth against the pain. Rian took up the lead on their pack mule.

  Vaughn was considering the river. “I think this is the Lynse. If we follow it up river we should be able to reach Hawksong Peak.”

  Without discussing it, they started forward, not knowing if they were heading toward the death muxins or away from them.

  They rode in silence, the possibilities of what could have happened if not for their timely magical escape, rolling within each of their heads.

  The sun still hung in the sky, almost mocking in its happy shine. Serra began to resent the bright rays which offered them no amount of concealment. Should they come upon the death muxins again, they would have no chance of hiding, or even of using the weather to their advantage.

  Serra kept Shadowdancer near Reks, keeping an eye on him as he swayed in his saddle, reaching out every so often to touch his arm. Every time she did, he would give her an imperceptible nod, letting her know he was doing okay. Each step Shadowdancer took was jarring to Serra, setting her arm aching, but she was determined not to slow them down.

  After a few hours of riding, Reks spoke up. “We need to stop.”

  The companions didn’t question it. Instead, they pulled on their reins and remained in the saddle while Sylvan placed her protection spells around them. This seemed, at least to Serra, to take an especially long time. Her arm was aching and the pain was making her lightheaded and short tempered. So, perhaps the length of time passing only seemed long to Serra. Or maybe Sylvan was taking extra precaution.

  When the Dryad nodded, the others dismounted. Serra stayed in her saddle, gaining the courage to swing herself down, knowing that the pain would be so overwhelming, she would most likely faint.

  Vaughn had gone to help Reks down, but he shook his head. “Help, Serra.” The guard turned toward her, a question on his face. “Her arm’s broken.” Reks said, clenching his jaw as he swung himself down.

  He collapsed on the ground a few feet from his horse as Vaughn allowed Serra to all but fall into his arms. He carried her to where Reks lay, despite her assertions that she could walk just fine, and went to fetch Sylvan.

  Laying on his back, Reks reached out and laced his gloved fingers with her uninjured hand. He gave them a gentle squeeze.

  Serra could tell that the Dryad wanted to scold her for not speaking up sooner, but she pursed her lips as she bent to examine Serra’s arm.

  Serra shook her head. “Check on Reks first. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Sylvan couldn’t argue that Serra was wrong. So instead she bent to Reks' shoulder and carefully pulled back the bandage. Serra watched as Sylvan placed a glowing hand over either side of his wound before applying more of the poultice and covered the wound again. “It should be almost healed in the morning after a good meal and a good night’s sleep. You, on the other hand,” She turned toward Serra, “will take a bit longer to heal.” She gave Serra a tonic to drink, which immediately eased the suffering of her arm, though that did not last long. She passed out when Sylvan reset the bone.

  When Serra woke, Sylvan had used two straight sticks as a splint and wrapped the whole arm in clean white linen. “You won’t be able to use it for a while. A week or two most likely. I used a bit of magic on it to help with the healing, but bone is harder to stitch back together than flesh.”

  They packed up camp early, and by midmorning, Serra could see the outlines of foothills through the drenching rain that pelted them from the sky.

  Now that Reks was not blinded by pain and loss of blood, he told them that they would reach the foothills of the mountains that afternoon.

  Rian looked at the map and did some quick calculating. “The pace that we’ve been traveling at shouldn’t have brought us this far. In fact, we should be about a day’s ride behind us.”

  “Well, frankly I am not going to complain. That was the second time that we got away from those creatures by the skin of our teeth.”

  “We still don’t know how it happened.” Serra said, shifting uncomfortably in her saddle.

  The rest of her companions regarded her with surprise. Sylvan’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

  “What?”

  “It’s you, Serra. You transport us to whatever location you feel is safest.”

  Serra shook her head, trying not to laugh. “No. That can’t be true.” She looked at the faces of her companions, wanting them to share in her laughter, but she found only expressions of the most serious nature.

  “You heard Mistress Vaneza. You are the most powerful mage in existence now.” Vaughn said quietly. “Your instincts are guiding you, whether you know it or not, you are protecting yourself and us from harm.”

  “But that’s absurd. If that were the case why can’t I do it anytime? Transport us to Brencis right now?”

  Reks shook his head. “Your instincts are protecting you. Your attitude right now, the disbelief in your abilities, is what is keeping you from being able to truly control your power.”

  Serra let the subject drop and the others seemed content to do the same, though her mind was whirling. Maybe they were right. Maybe if she willingly to just believe she would be able to access her powers on a greater level.

  But there were too many thoughts cluttering her mind, telling her to be realistic. If her father was indeed Malvern the God of Humanity, why had he not done something to check the mage who was wreaking such havoc on their country? And why had he not come to help her before?

  Why had she not experienced her powers before leaving Malvern’s Ward? And why was it that no one had known she was a mage before now?

  If she chose to believe in the supposed truth of her parentage, who knew what sort of things might happen? Would she even be able to control the power that Mistress Vaneza said she held?

  Serra rode in silence feeling that she might never find her answers.

  Chapter 22

  SERRA

  The weather took a turn for the worse as the companions traveled north toward their destination, sending cold rain with sleet slashing at their faces. On occasion hail would fall on them from the sky, raising welts on any skin that happened to be exposed when the hail storm hit.

  Serra was eternally grateful for the heavy coat Rian had given her for her birthday. The wool kept the moisture from soaking through to her skin and the fur lining made the hail feel like nothing more than heavy rain.

  The outer clothes purchased for the others in Carpius were equal in their ability to keep out the wet, though Reks still received a harsh dousing in his face thanks to a hood that did not entirely cover his face.

  After three days, they were deep in the mountains. They travelled along the floor of the ravines, not wanting to climb the sheer cliffs that surrounded them. Large pine trees towered over them, offering some protection from the elements, to not from the bitter cold. Each night the companions crowded close around the fire in an effort to melt the cold that had permeated their bones during the day.

  On the fourth day, a snow fell from the sky, with fat flakes that
blanketed the ground around them in moments. Serra drew deeper into her coat and shivered in the saddle.

  Up ahead Rian and Sylvan were once again arguing over the deviation of the death muxins from their pattern. Serra had noticed that they fought even more often now than they had in the past. In fact, hardly an hour passed where one did not say something meant to prick at the others soft spots.

  Sylvan commented. “It seems you have reverted to your old habits, Prince Rian. Should I fetch you a tankard of ale and rub your feet?”

  To which he replied. “I see that you’ve reverted back to your favorite pastime of being a pain in my ass.”

  Their companions soon discovered that it was best to leave the two to their arguments and stay out of it lest they should turn their venom toward them, as Reks had learned when upon trying to intervene on Sylvan’s behalf, the Dryad had snapped that he should turn his attention to where it was more welcome, like Serra.

  Serra was willing to give allowances for exhaustion and irritability due to too long a time spent traveling, but she was thankful that she was not often the subject of such arguments and she wished that they would stop. All of them were under tremendous amounts of pressure and the rest of them managed to not jump down each other’s throats at the slightest provocation.

  As Serra pulled her coat tighter around her and listened to Rian and Sylvan fight, Thistle let out a warning tinkle.

  “What is it?”

  The pixie flew to the air in front of Serra’s face and pointed to a ledge above them.

  Serra’s gaze followed the direction of her finger and caught her breath. High above them keeping pace with their horses stalked two arvels. They were both dark and slinky, moving along ledges that Serra would have difficulty traversing with ease.

  “Sentries.” Reks said, riding up next to her, placing himself between her and the large cats that followed them from above. “You can tell they’re not soldiers. They’re too thin.” He pointed to the other side of the wide river, where a pack of six arvels followed. These cats were bigger than Shadowdancer with long rangy muscles that bunched and released with every loping step they took.