by Stacey Filak
As if he were reading her thoughts, he took her hand and ran his fingertips over the mage mark on her forearm. It was a part of her now, unless Katya undid the mage work. Gemma would remain faster, stronger and with more cunning and stamina than anyone else she knew. She would grow old at a snail’s pace.
“I still can’t believe she marked you with my name. It’s so … I don’t know. It feels … wrong.”
Gemma shook her head. “It wasn’t wrong to Katy. You told her to help me, and the person she trusted most to do that was you. She wove all of your most endearing qualities into one mark.”
Even Hannai could not explain exactly what Katya had done when she’d marked Gemma. The older mage speculated that Katya had never learned the boundaries of her imagination. “If the child believes it can be done, then she can make a mark that makes it true. She believed in her father, and so it was with him that she marked you.”
Devery worried that it resembled some sort of mark of ownership, but Gemma didn’t see it that way. If anything, she saw the opposite. Katya had given her a piece of Devery to keep inside of her always. That, too, somehow felt right.
It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion, and she brushed away his discomfort with a kiss. “I don’t mind if you claim me just a little,” she said.
Gemma could feel the discord coming to Yigris. They weren’t out of the storm by a long shot. She knew that Isbit had plans. But here, on the porch of Guildhouse, she felt safe.
Devery kissed her once more, then went inside to collect his grandmother and aunts, just as Elam came out through the front door and stood beside her on the porch. His face was haggard and his eyes were sunken. Even Albatross Tears couldn’t seem to lift the fog he’d fallen into, and Gemma hoped that the trip to sea he had planned on the Heart’s Desire with Wince would help him find peace. But she was also acutely aware that some hurts could only be dulled, never healed. As they stared off into the distance, experiencing two very different emotions, Elam sighed beside her.
“Are you going to be all right?” she asked, squeezing his hand.
“Yes,” he whispered.
She didn’t call him on it.
They were of Under, and they lied the way most people pissed.
EPILOGUE
The air was musty and cold, and there was no light. Fear gripped his chest, and Tollan had to still himself to calmness. Deep breaths. His hands fumbled around him, but he felt nothing but a stone surface.
He sat up slowly and licked his parched lips. Deep breaths. It felt as if he couldn’t get enough air, as if his lungs would never be full again. He ran his hands across his face and down his chest. Something crinkled in his tunic pocket. Clumsily, he pulled it out.
Light flared before his eyes. A swirling silver mark. Mage work. He squinted against the sudden brightness, his heart pounding in his chest as he examined the single folded sheet of parchment. He unfolded it as his eyes adjusted to the light. A letter, written in an unfamiliar hand.
King Tollan,
I do not know if this experiment will work. Perhaps, far in the future, a Yigrisian grave robber will find this letter and wonder.
For more than one hundred fifty years, I was no more than an animal that your family kept as a pet, and that sort of thing is not forgiven lightly.
I do not forgive. However, in all my years within the Yigrisian Palace, only you took the time to learn my name, and so I hope that, perhaps, you are different from the others.
As the greater queen told your great-grandfather, gold absorbs magery, swallowing up the gifts that Aegos gave us. This was how House Daghan controlled me and my daughters for all those years. It is this secret that I hope has saved you as well.
When I placed the cursed mark of the King of Yigris upon your back, I used a gold-dusted blade. If I’m right, then the mage work that Elsha used against you will slowly be absorbed by the gold within your blood, and you will one day awaken as if from a great sleep.
I have given you our greatest secret. Do not prove my trust unwarranted, King Tollan. If I am right and you wake up, do not bring my wrath down upon your city. Use this chance to make Yigris a better place.
It is done now between us. Leave it as such.
Waking up from the dead wasn’t a comfortable experience, at least not so far as Tollan could see. The dim light from the mage-marked letter showed him the interior of the Daghan family crypt—stone and hard edges, much like his family. He was sitting upon a stone altar surrounded by the corpses of flowers and the ash of spent incense. Sighing, he ran his hand over the top of his head, then yanked it back in surprise. His head was shaved bald. His heart began to pound in his chest.
Of course I’ve been shaved. They buried me. They shaved my head and washed my body and sprinkled me with salt and herbs and laid me in the crypt.
He could almost picture his mother, carrying the braid of his hair, twisting it in her grief. The image did little to still his trembling breath.
Air came in gasps as he pushed himself to stand up. Pain ripped through him, fire tracing a line from his lower back down his left leg. He tried to stretch out his leg, hoping to ease the cramp, but even the barest movement sent sharp bolts of pain through his nerves.
Glancing around, he let out a slow moan that built into a sob. On the next altar lay his brother, his body marred by the scars of the mage marks that had killed him, his head shaved of every hair.
Fighting through the pain, Tollan stumbled to his brother’s side. Despite the chill of the underground crypt, time had begun to play havoc with Iven’s corpse. Tollan tried to ignore it, but his eyes were drawn to the dark spots at the corners of Iven’s eyes and mouth, his gaze lingering on the place where his younger brother’s cheek had begun to cave inward.
He choked back a wail as he wavered on his weakened legs. The smell of decay lingered near his brother like a courtesan’s perfume. Gagging, Tollan clutched at Iven’s swollen hand. “I’m sorry, Iven. I’m so sorry I didn’t save you. I failed you. I failed …” His voice betrayed him, and he lost his ability to form words or coherent thought.
His back and legs burned in agony, but he pushed himself to stay at his brother’s side until his tears ran dry. When he was reduced to sniffling and gagging, he released Iven’s hand and looked past him to the next stone bed.
His father’s body had fared even worse than Iven’s, but Tollan had no tears for King Abram. He felt nothing when he looked at the man—an absence of feeling that only intensified the physical pain. Abram Daghan, King of Above, had been laid to rest with every hair on his head left intact. His own wife had damned him to the Void without regret.
He stumbled away from them, clutching the lighted parchment in front of him like a beacon. Beyond his father lay the body of a woman, petite in stature, her head shorn. She was not shrouded in flowers and herbs, and no ashes lay beside her. Instead, in one hand she clutched a candle to light her way, and in the other, a foot-long dagger.
He silently paid his respects to Melnora before hobbling past her. Seeing her here gave him the briefest whisper of hope. The Queen of Under would not have been carried through the streets to the crypt. That was simply not their way. She’d have come through the tunnels.
He dragged himself to the wall of the crypt, his muscles trembling against the sheer force of the pain in his back and leg. Slowly, painfully, he ran his fingers from the top of the wall downward, moving inch by inch, searching for a hidden entrance to the underground tunnels that crisscrossed Yigris. Bending at all made him cry out, tears streaming down his face, but he forced himself onward, searching. He refused to walk out into the courtyard and face the guard who was undoubtedly outside. He refused to face his mother.
Let her remember him as a child, as the solemn, sad-faced boy she’d left behind. Let her live with her regrets just as he would have to live with his. He was no longer King Tollan the Innocent. Death and rebirth had burned the naivete out of him. He was only Tollan, and he was going to find the man
he loved and try to make a life with him.
His fingers slipped into a crevice, and he felt the pressure lever click beneath his touch. He pushed his way into the tunnels and drew in a deep breath.
Despite the pain, despite everything that had happened in the dark of Yigris, Tollan was free.
APPENDIX
The Four Winds: The small island continent that consists of Vaga, the Balklands, Ladia and Yigris. The eastern end of the island is surrounded by the Alabaster Sea and the western end is surrounded by the Hadriak Sea.
It is said that the island was first inhabited by four siblings—Vagal, Balkar, Elladia and Gris—the children of the goddess Aegos herself. The mother wished to grant her four children each a gift so they may create a community that thrived in their own corners of the Four Winds, so she asked them each what they would want most for their people.
Vaga: Vagal was a bright, quiet girl who loved stories, songs and knowledge above all else. When her mother offered her a gift, she simply asked for language—the language of magic—so her people would be able to write down everything that was important to them, so they would never forget their truths and their tales.
It is said that this is where the Vagan mage language came from, and that those who can wield its power are the direct descendants of Vagal herself.
Vaga has been, as a general rule, a peaceful nation throughout its history, but the mage women are known to be fiercely protective of their secrets as well as the land granted to them by Aegos. It was encroachment upon this land that led to the Mage War. Where the lands of the Four Winds were once divided fairly evenly, Vaga now controls its own lands as well as the majority of those that were once controlled by Yigris.
In addition, Vaga controls a small island off its eastern coast called Magehold. It is said that this island was formed completely by mage work and that all the mage women’s most important secrets are kept there.
Vaga is ruled by the Council of Queens—one greater queen and seven lesser queens, ranked in power. Socially, they practice polygamy, as one woman may marry several men. Sons of mage women are highly sought as breeding husbands.
The Balklands: Balkar was the eldest of Aegos’s children and the strongest. He was born of the mother’s tryst with Hadriak, God of the Seas. Like his father, he was smooth skinned and sharp toothed, but like his mother, he was curious and kind. When she offered him a gift for his people, he asked for knowledge of healing and herbs so that he and his people might help each other survive.
Thus was born the Balklander Medicants, who through their brews and herblore are said to be able to raise the dead, cure the incurable, incite love from hate, and bring swift, silent death.
While Balklanders may appear menacing, most are jolly and fun loving. They can be trained in the art of combat but are often more comfortable in more compassionate roles such as caregiver, physician or priest.
The people of the Balklands are ruled by a child ruler who gives up the throne when she or he comes of age. They are advised by a council of twelve, who are chosen at random from all walks of life and all areas of the country to serve for a period of five years. When a child ruler comes of age, she or he is replaced by another child chosen at random from all of those born seventy-two moons earlier.
Ladia: Elladia was Aegos’s youngest child, a shy, patient girl who enjoyed tending her gardens more than she enjoyed tending to her lessons. When the mother offered her a gift, Elladia knew immediately that what she wanted for her people was that they should always know peace and never grow hungry.
Her mother was quite proud of her requests, and so she granted her both gifts—the everlasting peace of neutrality and the magic to keep her people fed, no matter their hardships.
The Ladian elders are so secretive that almost nothing is known of their magic. However, the landscape is clear enough. There is sparse vegetation, but their large herds are famous even beyond the shores of the Four Winds. The lands are dry and rocky, yet every year, they supply the rest of the continent with grain, sugar and produce.
Ladians as a people are reclusive and isolationist. Their merchants do trade, but only within their harbors. The Ladian process of government is unknown.
Yigris: The last of Aegos’s children, Gris, was shrewd and clever, though selfish and unkind. He watched as his sisters and brother made their requests, and he found them all silly. He wished that his people would always have gold to make others do their bidding. He believed that gold was the solution to all of their needs, and he knew he could always count on his brother and sisters to help, should the need arise. His people would have gold to compensate them, so, of course, they would agree.
It is said that the sigh Aegos released upon hearing his request was loud enough to be heard on Far Coast, but she did as he asked and used her power to fill the earth under his lands with deep, plentiful veins of gold. In her kindness, and even though he had not asked her to, she even gave his people, known as Aurors, the power to draw magic from their gold.
Some time later, Gris grew lonely. He had hordes of gold but no one to share his great golden palace with. One day, he saw a pretty young woman in the street outside his palace selling flowers. He started to watch her every day. He became infatuated with her, but she spurned his advances.
The girl’s family was rather poor, despite the prosperity of Yigris, and Gris solved his loneliness by purchasing a marriage contract, against the girl’s will, from her father for a pile of gold.
It is said that Aegos was so angered by this that she wiped the memory of the Aurors’s magic from their minds, leaving Yigris with a finite amount of gold. In a rage, she turned her back on her selfish son.
The Secret Pact: The secret pact is the document that helped bring about the end of the Mage War by uniting the criminal aspects of Yigris underneath the city with the respectable nobles in the city above. One family, House Daghan, has held the remains of the city-state of Yigris in a peaceful stalemate for over one hundred and fifty years. The document was signed by Jenn Daghan and his sister, Olyn, and it gave her control over the thieves, whores, assassins, pirates and mercenaries of Yigris, while ensuring that Under would pay taxes to the King of Above. By uniting during the Mage War, the two groups were able to keep the Vagan mage women at a distance while they negotiated a cessation of aggressions.
Above: Above is the aboveground portions of Yigris that rise upon hills, leading upward to Palace Hill. It includes Brighthold, Merchant Row and Whitebeach. Unofficially, the term also refers to the noble and merchant class citizens of the city.
Socially, the people in this group are conservative. They do not mingle with other classes, and they follow a strict patriarchal rule.
Under: Under is the aboveground portions of Yigris that sit at sea level, including Dockside and Shadowtown, as well as the entirety of the underground tunnels beneath the city. Unofficially, the term also refers to the peasants and criminal elements within the city of Yigris.
Socially, the people in this group are much more liberal than those in Above. They do not generally wed, and they follow a loosely matriarchal society.
The Church: While most people of the Four Winds worship Aegos, the Yigrisian branch has taken on a more commerce-driven ideal. They cater to the noble and merchant class in Above, while often participating in the dealings of those of Under. Even the temple itself contains hidden depths used for the lesser-known workings of the Holy Aegosian Church.
The Dalinn: The Dalinn are a specially trained elite group of priests and priestesses in the Yigrisian church who serve the goddess through sex acts. They are highly respected and sought after, both for their prowess in the sexual arts and for their closeness to the goddess. A night with a Dalinn can cost a small fortune, and most who’ve experienced it will say that it was a fortune well spent.
The Ain: The Ain are an elite squadron of two hundred warriors who are trained and maintained by the Holy Aegosian Church. Housed within the depths of the Slit, they guard the secret banks of th
e church. The last time they were called into active battle was during the Mage War, when nearly two-thirds of their number died at the hands of only a handful of mage women.
The Shadow Guild: The Shadow Guild is the business aspect of Under, falling under the direction of the Queen of Under. It includes all business dealings of whores, thieves, mercenaries, pirates and assassins of Yigris. All those who fall under the Shadow Guild’s rule must pay their dues, but in return they are protected by the might of the Queen of Under, as well as given shelter, food and clothing. Those who provide for the queen are in turn provided for.
The Guild Council: The Guild Council consists of the public heads of the different factions of Under, which include the pirates, thieves, whores, sellswords, and assassins. They report directly to the Queen of Under.
Riquin Hawkbeard: Riquin is the head of pirates. Born the son of a Yigrisian merchant sailor, he joined the Guild when his father lost his ship to pay his gambling debts. Bright and brutal, Riquin climbed the ranks quickly and became captain of his own ship, the Amber Mew, by the time he was thirty.
Dalia One-Eye: Dalia is the leader of thieves. Dalia was raised in Under and was picking noblemen’s pockets by the time she was four. She lost an eye at eighteen, when she had the choice between saving her eye or stealing a diamond-studded bracelet. Though she is the leader of thieves and must spend most of her time with bureaucracy, she still occasionally goes out on the hunt, simply to keep up her skills. She is currently seventy-three years old.
