Fatemarked Origins: Volume II (The Fatemarked Epic Book 2)

  “For what?”

  “Only Absence knows.”

  Even though Shanti had a million more questions, something about knowing Absence needed her made her feel warm inside. “What is my deepest desire?” Shanti asked.

  “That is for you to determine,” her father said.

  Shanti stared through the portal at the rolling sea, surprisingly thankful for the burst of fresh salty air that met her skin. Something caught her eye in the distance. Something new, different than water and clouds.

  Land.

  And, in that moment, she knew what her deepest desire was:

  Freedom.

  5: Viper Sandes

  The Southern Empire, Calypso- Circa 524

  Gods, how Viper despised her sister, Sun.

  From a safe distance atop the pyramid, the three sisters watched as Empress Riza Sandes’ plague-riddled corpse was burned, her ashes sent to the gods in a billowing cloud of black smoke. Viper pretended it was someone else—anyone but Mother—which was the only way she could keep from crying. She was the youngest, the Third Daughter, twenty-one name days old, but that was no excuse for weakness. The Three Daughters were Sandes, and had to maintain appearances, even on the worst day of their lives.

  The Second Daughter, Windy, two years older than she, barely seemed to notice the burning ceremony had begun, her nose stuck in a book. Windy’s medium-length black hair was a frizzy mess, her dress wrinkled beyond repair. She was even missing a shoe, though she probably wouldn’t have noticed if she was missing a foot, such was her concentration on the confounded pages of whatever topic she was currently obsessed with. Teran Beliefs Related to the Afterworld, the cover read. Viper had to stifle a yawn. Her scholarly sister annoyed her, but not nearly as much as their eldest sister.

  The First Daughter, Sun, was six years older than Viper, a fact she never failed to remind her of. She wore a long pale-blue dress, which served to accentuate the perfection of her smooth, dark skin. Her long black hair was pinned up, resembling a crown, which Viper was certain was no accident. Even while in mourning Sun managed to maintain her pretentious holier-than-thou air, her chin lifted high, her hand raised over her head as though she could feel something electric in the air.

  Viper had the urge to push her down the pyramid. In her mind, she relished the impact of each of the thousand stone steps on her sister’s body, breaking her bones one at a time.

  She never loved Mother the way I did. Neither of them did. Yes, Windy and Sun had always been respectful and devoted to their mother, but neither had cared for her as Viper had. Windy was more concerned with soaking in as much knowledge as she could, even if she’d probably never use any of it. She was a scholar without a purpose, the worst kind as far as Viper was concerned. But Sun…

  Sun coveted the empire. Though she’d never said as much aloud, Viper knew her eldest sister had longed for her mother’s death like a flower longs for sun and rain. A poisonous flower, the desert lumia perhaps. Viper had even once caught her sister sitting on the Empress’s dragon throne. The nerve!

  Worse, Sun had already produced offspring, three daughters, Raven, Fire, and Whisper, the middle of whom bore a tattooya, the firemark, though she was only a child of eight name days old. Not a threat.

  Yet.

  It didn’t even matter that her sister’s political marriage to the Phanecian emperor had gone up in smoke four years earlier, thrusting the empire into a civil war. If Sun wins the throne and one of her daughters eventually claims the empire, I’ll never get it back…

  That isn’t going to happen, Viper reminded herself.

  She’s in for a surprise, she thought. She knows Windy cares nothing for ruling and she thinks I’m too young…

  I’m coming, sister. I’m coming.

  All Three Daughters had made a claim on the throne, as was expected of them, though Windy had done so grudgingly. At the ceremony, Sun had worn a neutral expression, but Viper could see the fakeness behind it. The smile. She thinks she’s already won, Viper had thought.

  Now, in the giant arena nestled between the three pyramids, amidst the raucous shouts and applause of the Calypsian audience, Sun Sandes donned a new mask, a fierce snarl, which was clearly meant to intimidate her two younger sisters.

  Viper played along, backing away as if scared of her sister’s wrath.

  Windy had already been defeated by Sun, within moments of the contest’s start. She’d basically let Sun defeat her. The Second Daughter had left the arena in a hurry, probably off to return to studying some droll book with more pages than her sister had sense.

  Not me. I refuse to be intimidated.

  Sun closed in, her long, scythe-like weapon shining in the sunlight.

  Viper retreated until her back hit the wall. Weaponless, she held her hands over her head.

  Sun smiled a beautiful smile. “Do you submit to your new empress, sister?” she asked.

  Viper dug her toe into the sand, pretending to consider.

  “You have no weapon. You have no chance. Save your dignity and surrender to your better sister.”

  “I—I—”

  “Dragon got your tongue?”

  The crowd chanted Sun’s name—they were already naming her as the new empress.

  “You’re not the empress,” Viper growled, kicking her foot in the air, spraying hot sand into her sister’s face, into her eyes.

  Simultaneously, Viper lunged forward, slamming her shoulder into Sun’s abdomen, rocking her back. The scythe went flying while Sun scrubbed at the rough sand blinding her.

  Viper was blind too—with anger. All the pain, all the sadness, all the frustration seemed to pour out of her. She saw red and orange flames. She saw black smoke. She saw golden shards of light. Her fists were true to her name—the lightning-quick strikes of a deadly snake—landing blow after blow to her sister’s head, face, stomach…

  The crowd roared even louder, enthralled by the unexpected turn of events and the entertainment it provided. The only thing the Calypsians liked better than the crowning of a new empress was a street fight. Viper planned to give them one.

  Her sister’s face was bloody and one of her eyes was already puffy and closing up, and still Viper pummeled her.

  Ungh. Out of nowhere, Sun bucked backwards and kicked out, connecting solidly with Viper’s midsection, sending her head over heels into the air. She landed with a thud in the dirt, the wind gasping out of her. Gone were the flames, the smoke, the golden light. Gone was the pain, the sadness, the frustration.

  She felt nothing, a numbness settling into her bones.

  And then, as she blinked away stars, she felt sun-heated metal pressed against her throat. “I’ll do it,” Sun growled. “I’ll slice you open from ear to ear if you don’t submit to me.”

  Her sister’s face came into view. Gone was her beauty, her perfection, her face a mess of blood and bruising, her lips contorted into a snarl. It’s almost poetic, Viper thought. The outside finally reflects the inside.

  Do I want to die? Viper wondered.

  Yes, she answered herself.

  But then another thought struck her, something her mother had said to her years earlier, when Viper, just a young girl, came to her in tears after Sun had knocked her over and made her eat sand. Your trials will only make you stronger. And, as the youngest, you will have more trials than either of your sisters, which means you’ll be the strongest.

  Her mother wouldn’t want her to die. Her mother had loved her. She could be strong for her memory; she could be strong for herself.

  Viper did the hardest thing she’d ever had to do:

  “I submit,” she said. “My empress.”

  Viper left Calypso three days later. Now that the rule of the empire was decided, there was nothing chaining her to the city. She’d lasted longer than Windy, who had departed for Citadel two days earlier.

  Viper, as was her right, claimed three of the guanero, the royal guards, to accompany her. They would be her guards for the rest of her l
ife, or theirs, whichever was shorter. The four of them rode guanik, fierce reptilian steeds that performed far better than horses under the fiery Calypsian sun.

  As they rode out from the city, watched by throngs of silent Calypsians lining the streets, Viper replayed her final conversation with Sun in her mind.

  “You tried to disgrace me,” her sister had said, whilst sitting on the dragon throne. She wore a half-mask in the shape of a dragon’s face to hide the worst of the injuries inflicted upon her by Viper.

  “How dare I,” Viper said. She infused just enough mocking into her tone to get her sister’s attention. It was all part of her plan.

  “And now you would be so bold as to mock me, the Empress of Calyp, Empire of the Rising Sun, She Who Sits Upon the Dragon Throne?”

  Gods. The arrogance of her sister never failed to astound her. “Yes.”

  “I should have your tongue cut out.”

  “What would it look like to the people?” she said, dialing back the sarcasm a notch, reeling her sister in. “If you cannot maintain order amongst your own sisters, how can you be expected to maintain order in the empire?”

  Her sister fumed silently. Viper knew she’d gained a point. Now to seal the deal. “It is clear we cannot exist in the same city,” she said.

  Sun cocked her head to the side, narrowing her uncovered eye suspiciously. “You would leave Calypso, as Windy did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Don’t profess to care.” Viper pretended to sound hurt, like her previous bravado had been an act, and now she was revealing her true feelings. It wasn’t difficult.

  Her sister’s tone softened. “Sister, I don’t fault you for trying to defeat me. I know how you’ve always envied me.” The nerve of this woman! “And I’m sorry if you are melancholy by Mother’s death and my victory.” Melancholy? Mother’s death destroyed me, you vile scorpion!

  Viper managed to hold her tongue, hanging her head, maintaining the façade.

  Sun sighed. “What would you have me do, sister?”

  Viper looked up, letting her hair fall across her face to hide the twinkling she knew was now in her eyes. “Give me Zune.”

  The empress had not refused her. How could she? Not only would she be rid of Viper, but Sun would be relieved of responsibility for the city that had long been considered the thorn in Calyp’s proverbial side.

  What have I gotten myself into? Viper wondered now, as the city of her childhood grew smaller and smaller behind her.

  “Am I a scorpion-squashed fool?” she asked, turning toward one of her guanero. Cadon was his name, a brash, uncouth bruiser with a tendency toward violent outbursts. And those were his appealing attributes. Viper had carefully selected him, as she knew her sister wouldn’t put up a fight. She also knew she could manipulate the bland-faced man in more ways than one.

  “If you’re a fool, then I’m a guanik’s arse!” the man said, slapping his leg.

  Yes, Viper thought. Yes, you are. But you are my guanik’s arse to tan as I please.

  She didn’t know the other two as well, Nurge and Piston. Instead, she’d had Cadon select the other two to accompany them, assuming he’d choose others like him.

  Nurge was definitely in the oaf category, his hands like sledgehammers and almost always curled into fists, as if they were stuck that way. His steed seemed to sag in the center under his enormous weight.

  Piston, on the other hand, Viper wasn’t sure of. He was tall and lean, his skin exceptionally dark even for a Calypsian, and interspersed with pale scars of various sizes and shapes. There was a grace to him the other two guanero could never hope to emulate. He spoke little and didn’t laugh at his comrades’ crude japes.

  Viper was surprised to find herself staring at him. She would have to tread carefully around a man as handsome as he, lest she find herself smitten.

  I don’t have time for men, she thought. I have an empire to overthrow.

  Zune was a strange city. Most Calypsians would consider it a dirty, backward, violent place, and yet they traveled by the thousands each year to watch the fights.

  Most wouldn’t admit how much they enjoyed their time in the City of Blood.

  To Viper, however, Zune was interesting. The sprawling, crowded city was a place of second chances and power. Those who controlled the fighting pits had the power, the ability to entertain the empire and use some of the most violent characters in the realm to do so. The fighting pits also granted criminals, war prisoners, and deviants a second chance. A new life, one filled with cheering crowds, pain, and, for most of them, death.

  But not all. The strongest fought on, day after day, in the hopes of moving up and eventually fighting in the battle royale, the annual event that drew half of Calyp to the northeasternmost city.

  The winner won their freedom.

  Viper and her guanero moved through the city, past the shops selling various forms of simpre, a strong drink favored by most southerners, past half-naked children playing with sharp objects, running along streets littered with broken glass, past brothels and dark-eyed men and sharp-eyed women. They even passed an old man with a rag twisted atop his head who was attempting to charm a snake.

  Yes, to Viper the city of Zune was her second chance. And I will make it mine.

  Their first stop was at a tavern. Though they had plenty of provisions left, Viper wanted her presence to be felt amongst the common people. Cadon moved through the establishment, shouting orders to the proprietor, herding angry and confused customers out the door. Nurge was equally belligerent, while Piston worked silently.

  Viper ordered them to stop once half the space was cleared. The remaining customers could stay, watching as she dined like a commoner, on hard bread and sour soup, throwing back the hottest peppers available, something neither of her sisters had ever been able to so much as lick.

  The people would marvel at her, and eventually leave and spread rumors of the Third Daughter’s unexpected appearance in their city.

  It was for this exact reason that Viper hadn’t sent advance word of her arrival nor purpose.

  Zune wasn’t the kind of city where outsiders were welcomed. No, it was a city that understood only one thing: strength.

  I will conquer you, she thought as they left the tavern. In one hand she held a half-eaten pepper, and in the other a bottle of a cinnamon-spiced type of simpre, which she would drink as they rode on.

  The people stared at her as she rode. Some wore dumbfounded expressions, but they eventually morphed into smiles. The Third Daughter is eating peppers and drinking simpre! they whispered. Children ran behind her, laughing and showing off.

  They reached their next stop: the pits.

  The fighting pits took up half the city. Hidden behind a wall to prevent fighters from escaping and to ensure spectators were unable to watch without paying, the pits were nestled along the half of the city that hugged the sea. In the event that the prisoners somehow managed to fight their way out of the pits and past the pitmasters, and then climb the enormous stone wall, they would still be forced to swim, hoping none of the ocean’s dangerous predators mistook them for monk seals.

  Viper rode up to the gates, kicking her guanik’s ribs so it would snap its jaws and flash its rows of razor-sharp teeth.

  “Whoa!” one of the people at the gate said. He was a squat round-bellied man with jowls that shook when he talked. Or walked. Or did much of anything. Before Viper had left Calypso, she had asked one of the royal artists to paint her a picture of this very man so she would recognize him on site.

  Danube, she thought. Pitlord. For years he’d filled his belly off the blood of the fighters. It was common knowledge that the vile man skimmed profits from the very fighting pits he was charged with overseeing. Until now, no one cared, so long as the entertainment flowed as swiftly as the waters of the Spear.

  “Do you know who I am?” Viper asked without introduction.

  The man nodded, his mouth flopping open.
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  “Good. Do you always man the gates personally?”

  “I—you—what?” the man said, his face turning from pale to pink to red in short succession.

  “Do you have a hearing problem?”

  “I—no—I don’t think so. No.”

  “Good. Then you should listen to my next words very carefully, for they are for your ears. The empire appreciates your sixteen years of service in Zune.”

  The man’s eyebrows shot up. “I—well—thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now you are hereby relieved of your duties.”

  “I—excuse me?”

  “You’re certain your ability to hear is well?”

  Cadon sniggered.

  “I—I don’t understand.”

  “Ah, so it’s not your hearing that is the problem. It’s your wits. Let me explain in simpler terms.” She paused, pointing out into the city. “Go. Now. If I must repeat myself again I will do so with my guanik’s teeth wrapped around your fat skull.”

  With a yelp, the man scurried away, his long robes flapping around his bulbous body like a thick second skin.

  “That was easy,” Viper said. “Nurge, follow him. See that he doesn’t make off with any of his gold, if he has any left.”

  Cadon smirked. Nurge grinned, and then slipped away to follow the now-unemployed bulge of a man. Piston said, “Trust me, the hard part is yet to come.”

  Something about the way he said it made Viper think he spoke from experience.

  They left their mounts to be watered and fed. From there, they walked along the edges of the small outer pits, occasionally stopping to watch one of the fights. In one pit a young narrow-eyed Phanecian-looking girl was victorious when she clamped her teeth around the throat of an old man who could barely walk. In another pit a one-armed man used a staff with impressive skill to batter a much younger opponent until he bled out in the dirt. Each pit seemed to contain more violence than the last.

  People screamed from the stands, cheering on whichever fighter they’d bet on. Almost anyone could place a bet on these fights as the minimum wage was only a single wooden Scorpion, the lowest monetary denomination in all of Calyp.