Marked for Death: The Lost Mark, Book 1

by Forbeck, Matt

  “What is it?” Deothen asked.

  Kandler patted Esprë on the back, and she scurried off to hide in her room, then he stood up and walked toward the door. “We’ve got company,” he said.

  Kandler peered around the right corner of his front porch, back toward the town square. The knights lined up in the doorway behind Deothen, each of them peering over their leader’s back as he kept a respectful distance from the justicar.

  “Who is it?” Deothen asked.

  “Stay here,” Kandler said. “Don’t leave.”

  The knights filed out onto the porch as Kandler leaped down and waited for Mardak and his followers to reach him. The mayor walked at the front of the pack of men, with Rislinto striding along next to him, arguing every step of the way. Behind them, they had a score of armed men.

  The men chattered among themselves, their gait scattered and offbeat, nothing like the confident march of soldiers. Kandler had led each of them into battle before and knew them all like brothers. Pradak, the mayor’s son, dogged his father’s heels, his face a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Temmah, the only dwarf in town, brought up the rear. Puffing along hard to keep up with the others, his long beard swayed before him, bouncing off the handle of the battleaxe he carried in both of his wide, meaty hands.

  Kandler could hear the blacksmith growling at Mardak. “Stop this madness,” Rislinto said. “The justicar is not our foe.”

  “We are at war here,” Mardak said. His eyes darted from Rislinto to the men following them. He spoke as much to them as to the blacksmith. “An army requires a strong chain of command. He refused a direct order.”

  Rislinto put his hand on Mardak’s shoulder. “This isn’t an army. It’s our home.”

  “All the more reason to protect it.” Mardak shrugged off Rislinto’s hand as they entered Kandler’s yard. “We are being picked off one by one. Any of us could be next.”

  The hawk-faced man strode up to the justicar and said, “Kandler, you are under arrest.”

  A wry smile found its way to Kandler’s lips. “What are the charges?” he asked. He looked into the faces of the others as he spoke. Only Rislinto dared to meet his gaze, puffing with indignity as he did. The rest bowed their heads sheepishly.

  Mardak stabbed a finger at the justicar as he spoke and used it to punctuate his sentences. “You failed to protect us. You sided with these outsiders. You disobeyed me. This cannot be tolerated!”

  With each word, Mardak’s anger grew. By the end of his pronouncement, he was spitting out each word like bolts from a crossbow. It was then that a real bolt appeared between his feet.

  Kandler cursed under his breath.

  Mardak and his men looked up as one to see Burch perched on the edge of Kandler’s roof, his crossbow in hand. He was already reloading.

  “Archers!” Mardak said. A half-dozen townspeople broke off from the mob. In a handful of heartbeats, they each nocked an arrow, stretched their bowstrings, and took aim at the shifter. Burch ignored them and drew a bead on Mardak’s heart.

  “Stand down!” Rislinto said. “We’ve had enough mayhem today.”

  The archers hesitated for a moment. Two of them lowered their bows.

  “There will be more if anyone disobeys another order,” said Mardak. “Temmah! Take Kandler into custody!”

  The crowd parted around the dwarf, who stood near the rear of the pack, thumbing the blade of his battleaxe. He noticed all eyes on him, and he cursed in the thick tongue of his people. “This is a hard vein of rock,” he said, his face flushed red.

  Temmah looked at Kandler. “Will you come peacefully, justicar?” His eyes pleaded with his friend to make this easy.

  Before Kandler could answer, the knights stepped into the circle formed around Kandler, their swords drawn and ready. “He’s not going anywhere,” Deothen said.

  Kandler shook his head in exasperation. He understood why Burch had loosed a bolt without waiting for a signal. Despite the shifter’s laconic façade, he always stood ready for a good fight. Kandler had thought Deothen and the knights would have been better disciplined though. “Can’t anyone around here do what I tell them?” he asked.

  “By Dol Arrah’s sacred sword,” said Mardak, a dark vein pulsing in his forehead as he spoke to the knights, “this is an internal matter. It has nothing to do with you. I’ll thank you to stay out of this.”

  “Don’t do me any favors,” Kandler said to Deothen. He tried to sound as confident about it as he wanted to be. “I can handle this.”

  “Really?” said Sallah. “You could take on a few score of battle-hardened veterans yourself? I’d like to see that.”

  “Step back, and you might get a chance,” Mardak said, his voice dripping with desperate menace.

  “Are you out of your mind?” called a strong feminine voice. Kandler turned back around to see Mardak’s wife Priscinta smack him in the back of the head. He hadn’t seen her march up with the others. She must have followed Mardak from the square and watched from a distance until she figured out what he and his people were up to.

  Enraged, Mardak turned to slap his wife, but she snatched his arm before he could land the blow. “This is Kandler,” she said, “not some wandering beggar worshiping some upstart god!”

  Sallah started to object, but Priscinta kept talking. “Kandler founded Mardakine with you, and he’s saved our little settlement more times than I care to count. Who slew that carcass crab when it came crawling out of the Mournland looking for a meal?”

  Mardak opened his mouth to say something, but Priscinta kept rolling. “And Burch,” she said as she pointed up to the shifter’s rooftop perch, “he brought down three of that flight of harpies before these archers of yours even unslung their bows. I think they’ve earned their place with us.”

  Mardak took advantage of the fact his wife was looking away to slap her to the ground. Everyone gasped. Mardak looked down at his hand as if it had just come to life on its own. His face, red with anger only moments before, blanched pale as a skeleton left out in the desert sun.

  Priscinta sat on the ash-coated crater floor, her hand covering the red mark Mardak’s blow had placed on her ivory skin. She stood with painstaking care and brushed the ash from her skirts. Then she turned to her husband and spat blood from her mouth on the ground before him. Where it landed, it turned the ash black.

  Without a word, Priscinta launched herself at Mardak. Before she could reach him, Rislinto stepped between them and held her at bay. “Don’t!” he said. “He’s not worth it!”

  “He’s not worth my blood, but he’s already had some of that!” Priscinta said. “I was a warrior-maiden!” she said as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks. “I gave that up to bear your children, you spiteful bastard!”

  “That’s right,” Rislinto said. “Your children. Like Pradak, who’s standing right there!”

  Priscinta turned to see her eldest son gaping at his parents. The fight fled from her. With that, Rislinto wrapped his thick arms around Priscinta, and she collapsed against his barrel chest. She pressed hard against him, muffling her sobs.

  Mardak stared at his wife for a moment. Kandler could see the tears welling up in the man, but he knew that Mardak would never allow them to flow, never admit that he was wrong in front of so many other people. Mardak’s eyes went to his son, and his face burned with shame.

  “None of that matters right now,” Mardak said, more to himself than anyone else, then louder he said, “We are under siege by forces unknown. If we are to survive, everyone must follow orders. No one is exempt.” He turned to Kandler. The justicar could see that all of his old friend’s shame and fear was now hammered into a red-hot blade of righteous rage, its new-forged tip pointed straight at him. “Not even our finest.”

  Kandler let loose a hard laugh. “So,” he said, “what are you saying exactly?”

  “You’re not that dumb, justicar.”

  “Pretend I am.”

  Mardak sighed. “You and Burch s
hall surrender yourselves into my custody now.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “Not even you two can stand against so many of us. You may manage to kill many who have called you friend, but we will bring you down.”

  Kandler scanned the faces arrayed against him. Many of them, like Temmah, refused to meet his eyes. They stood tall, though, with their hands on the hilts of their weapons. He had fought alongside many of them, and since the founding of the town he had trained with them all. He had worked to instill in them a sense of duty to their town, to each other. He had never guessed that this would be used against him.

  How many of them could he bear to kill? If he tried to run, the archers would bring him down before he reached the crater’s wall. If he stood and fought, he would be forced to murder his friends or die at their hands. Once such a fight began, there would be no turning back.

  “Priscinta is right,” Kandler said. “You are a bastard.” He glared at the mayor, measuring the distance between the two. He knew he could draw his blade and slice through Mardak’s throat before the man could even raise his sword. He considered it. The thought felt good.

  “Sticks and stones, Brelander,” said Mardak. “What will it be?”

  You did a good thing,” Sallah said through the barred window in the door of the jail. Her words echoed off the walls of the room dug deep into the stone beneath the town hall, and they sounded hollow in Kandler’s ears.

  The justicar sat up from where he’d been lying on the smooth, gray stone floor. The same material made up the walls, which were featureless but for two things—the anchors to which Temmah and Rislinto had attached the prisoners’ manacles and the pair of cold fire torches that burned without smoke or heat, their flickering light lending a bit of illusory warmth that did nothing to push back the room’s gravelike chill. Kandler’s chains clinked as he stood up and stretched as far as the links would let him.

  Across the room, Burch remained seated in his iron chains, the pupils of his yellow eyes gleaming in the torchlight. Still as a statue, he glared at the window in the door, the only window in the room, just as he had since he first heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. Kandler could feel the frustration radiating from his friend, as silent and cold as the unnatural torches.

  “Temmah,” Kandler said. “Is it our custom to let strangers visit with prisoners?”

  “No,” the dwarf called up at the window from the other side of the door, too short to speak directly through the aperture. “Well, actually, I don’t really know. You two are the first prisoners we’ve ever had.”

  “Do you think I’d approve?” Kandler arched an eyebrow at the door. He thought he saw Sallah smiling at him through the bars. She turned away, though, before he could be sure.

  Kandler could almost hear the dwarf pull at his beard as he puzzled over the question. “Normally, no,” he said, “but these circumstances aren’t particularly normal.”

  Kandler nodded, even though he knew Temmah couldn’t see him. “You’re one smart dwarf, Temmah,” he said. “When your world changes, you change with it.”

  “I wish we could say as much of our town’s leader.”

  Kandler and Burch both laughed at that. The echoes reminded them of where they were, and the sound trailed off fast. Kandler sat thinking for a moment. He wasn’t sure just how he’d gotten himself into this mess, but he knew he needed to get out.

  “How long we here for, Temmah?” Burch asked.

  The dwarf hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Well, that all depends. We’ve never imprisoned any of our own before—or anyone else for that matter. You’re our inaugural guests.”

  “Some honor,” said Burch. Kandler knew the shifter would have preferred to fight, but once the justicar gave himself up, Burch followed his lead. They hadn’t talked much since Mardak had thrown them in chains.

  Kandler got up and started to pace the floor as far as his chains would let him. He could only go about three steps before he had to turn around. “This is a fine jail you built, Temmah,” he said.

  The dwarf laughed, a low merry rumble. “With all respect, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Compared to even the humble bolt hole in the Mror Holds where I was whelped, this is little more than an outhouse.”

  Kandler nodded. “It’s better than any of the rest of us could have managed.” He stopped pacing to turn to the door and ask, “What are the plans for us?”

  Kandler saw Sallah look down at Temmah. When she looked back up, she passed along the dwarf’s shrug.

  “Any ideas at all?” Kandler said.

  Sallah spoke, her voice calm and even. “Your leader doesn’t seem to think there’s any need for a trial.”

  Kandler smiled and wiped a hand across his brow. “Priscinta and Rislinto finally got him to calm down? That’s a relief.”

  “Ah, no,” Temmah called up through the window. “I’m afraid it’s worse than that.”

  “Worse?” Burch asked. He leaped to his feet, his chains jangling around him. “What’s worse than cooking to death?”

  Temmah cleared his throat but no words came out.

  “Temmah?” said Kandler. The dwarf’s silence unnerved him, but he wanted an answer to Burch’s question.

  Sallah spoke up. “Mardak says your actions were treasonous. Everyone in town saw you, so there’s no need for a trial.”

  “No cookfire for us, at least,” Burch said.

  Without taking his eyes from Sallah’s, Kandler put up his hand to silence his friend. “What’s the penalty for treason?” he asked.

  The lady knight looked down at the ground, away from Temmah. “You’re to be executed,” she said.

  Burch jumped back, rattling his chains. “That’s a joke, right?”

  “Sorry, lad,” said Temmah. “They’re dead—uh, I mean, they’re entirely serious. At least Mardak is.”

  “Won’t this Mardak see reason once he calms down?” asked Sallah.

  A chill ran through Kandler’s guts. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. He’s had a bad few weeks, and today was the worst. We embarrassed him in front of the town.”

  “He hit Priscinta,” Burch said.

  “He’ll pay for that for a while,” Kandler said with a rueful smile. “Priscinta will get her pound of flesh from him a painful ounce at a time. But he knows that, and it won’t improve his mood.”

  “He was wrong about us,” Sallah said.

  Kandler could hear in her voice that she knew how little comfort that would be to him. “Has he admitted that yet?”

  “He’s having dinner with Sir Deothen right now.” Sallah gazed through the bars at Kandler. He noticed how green her eyes were in the light from the cold fire torch in the sconce outside the door.

  “You weren’t invited?”

  Sallah smirked. “I was. I declined.”

  Kandler smiled and peered out at the knight’s earnest face framed in the barred window. “So what are you doing here?”

  “She wanted to say thanks,” Temmah called up through the window.

  Kandler thought he could see Sallah blush. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “As Knights of the Silver Flame, we’re usually the ones who come to the rescue.”

  “Happy to oblige.” Kandler tried to keep the irony from his voice.

  “You saved the lives of many of your friends.”

  “I—” Kandler stopped. “Yeah, I suppose we did.”

  “We will not permit you to be executed for our sake, of course.”

  The shifter perked his ears at this idea. “How will you stop it?” Burch asked.

  “As we speak, Sir Deothen is arguing for your lives.”

  The dwarf standing next to Sallah snorted. She glared down at him as if he was a beetle she wanted to stomp beneath her boot.

  Kandler shook his head. “Temmah?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you think of that?”

  “Permission to speak freely?”

  “Go ahead.”

&nbs
p; “That jackass needs someone to pay for his mistakes. You and Burch, you’re at the top of his list.”

  “You don’t think Deothen is going to hold any sway with him?” Kandler knew the answer, but he wanted Sallah to hear it.

  The dwarf scoffed. “I’m surprised he didn’t throw the whole lot of those armored pansies down here to rot with you. Begging your pardon, miss,” Temmah said to Sallah, “but if Priscinta hadn’t had Mardak scared enough to nearly wet himself, that’s just what would have happened.”

  “That’s appalling,” Sallah said. “What about the Code of Justice?”

  “You’re a long way from civilization out here,” Kandler said. He’d lived by the code of justice for most of his life, and he’d spent the last two years here enforcing it here. It pained him to see people he’d once trusted throw it aside so casually. “They don’t hold trials by fire in Sharn.”

  “Nor in Flamekeep,” said Sallah. “You are the justicar here. Do you not hold any sway over this place?”

  “You’re asking me that question through a set of bars.”

  “Rislinto,” Burch said. “He’ll stop Mardak. For sure.” He started to pace the floor, just as Kandler had done before. The sound of his chains dragging back and forth on the stone floor seemed to soothe him.

  For Kandler, the noise sounded horribly close to that of an executioner whetting his blade.

  Temmah?” Kandler said, trying to keep any hint of cunning from his voice.

  “Yes?”

  “How late is it?”

  “The sun was setting as we came in.”

  “You’d better start your patrol.”

  The dwarf gulped. “By myself?”

  “I don’t think Burch and I can join you tonight.”

  “All—all right.”

  Kandler heard the dwarf turn to go, leaving Sallah still standing at the door. The justicar waited for a moment, then said, “Temmah?”

  “Yes?” The dwarf dashed back down the few steps he’d taken up toward the town hall proper.

  Temmah was a good dwarf, but he wasn’t the brightest star in the sky. Kandler feared that he’d really try to manage the patrol alone. “You’re the justicar now. You can deputize some help.”