Lifemarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 5)

  He didn’t answer, because he knew she knew.

  They sat for a long time, their fingers a hairsbreadth apart. Finally, he closed the gap, threading his fingers through hers. Warmth leeched through her skin, and she felt her own warmth rising to meet it. So familiar. So right.

  “We can’t do this,” she said.

  “I know,” Erric said. “But we will. We have to.”

  To save them all, he didn’t say, though she heard it as loud as his words. He also didn’t say anything about the cost, though she heard that part too.

  Fifty-Seven

  The Southern Empire, Calypso

  Gwendolyn Storm

  In the stunned silence, Whisper screamed.

  Gwen was frozen with indecision, torn between the need to rush into the arena to see if her friend could still be saved or to comfort her friend’s sister who had just lost so much.

  But Gwen did neither, because she recognized a greater need at this moment, remembering the promise she’d made to Raven.

  If I’m ever gone, care for Siri. She trusts you.

  Initially she’d scoffed at the notion, but finally she’d agreed. I will. I will. I swear it.

  So now, she leapt from the box and into the arena, pushing off hard as she ran, not toward her friend but toward the pyramid rising into the peerless blue sky.

  A sound obliterated all others, even the wail of a grieving sister.

  It was an inhuman shriek of pure agony.

  She knew the smart thing to do was turn around and run in the opposite direction, to keep running all the way to the east, to Ironwood where she belonged. Without Raven as her advocate, the Calypsians were as likely to string her up by her toes as invite her into their fold. And what did Gwen know about dragons? Less than nothing.

  She trusts you. Gwen didn’t know if it was the truth or not, but she wanted to believe it was the truth, which was sometimes more important. If there was any chance she could comfort or save the magnificent creature whose scream now seemed to shatter the very sanctity of the desert sky…she had to try. For Raven. For Siri. For herself.

  She ran on, her heromark providing strength when she grew tired, soothing her lungs when they burned.

  She didn’t stop until she reached the great iron gate into the pyramid. Another shriek lit up the silence, shaking the metal slab on its hinges.

  She didn’t hesitate. She pulled the crank to open the door.

  The door groaned opened, slamming against the inner wall. Silence. Silence. And then…

  A mournful cry, a lower rumble than the high-pitched shrieks from before. There was weariness in the sound. Exhausted pain.

  As Gwen moved forward down the short corridor leading into the cavernous space designed to harbor the entire dragonia, whispers slid through her mind:

  Soul, no, feel it, do you? No, feel nothing, hole, black, empty, longing, tearing, feeling, don’t want to feel, not anymore, don’t feel, stop feeling, just fall into it, that hole, that space of emptiness, the place is calling, must answer because that is where they all go and it feels right and it feels like

  Like home.

  The voice was Siri’s, as familiar to Gwen as any, and she remembered the first time she’d heard it, back in Ironwood when the dragon was a prisoner and she hated her for simply existing.

  But this voice, though familiar, held none of that wisdom, that agelessness that had taken Gwen by surprise when she’d first heard it. This voice sounded lost and confused, like it had awoken in a mist-shrouded world without recollection of how it had come to be there.

  “Siri,” Gwen said, her voice echoing through the empty space. “It’s Gwendolyn. I’m here.” Silence.

  Gwen passed through the stone archway into the main atrium, the walls rising on all sides, reaching a point a great distance above her. A dark shape rested at the opposite end of the space, unmoving. There was no telltale flick of a spiked tail, nor shifting of clawed paws. No sign that the dragon was alive, or that she was aware of Gwen’s presence.

  She tried to speak to her in a different way. Siri?

  No answer. Gwen moved closer, slowly, so as not to startle the mighty creature.

  When dragons lose their souls, they bridge the chasm that leads to madness. Raven’s words came back to Gwen, and she didn’t want to believe them, not when it meant this magnificent beast would be lost to her forever. She felt not a shred of hate for dragons, not anymore, only an undying love for their race, even if there were those who were unworthy of the title.

  Soul? Siri said suddenly, and Gwen saw her head lift from her paws, where it had been resting. She sniffed the air. Orange torchlight wavered across her. Something wasn’t right.

  Oh Ore, Gwen thought, taking in the color of her scales, which were now as dark as night, the crimson leeched from her body, leaving a black so complete it was indistinguishable from the purest of shadows.

  Not my soul, the black dragon hissed, its voice scathing now, cutting through Gwen’s mind like the knife that had killed Raven. Siri twisted around, shoving from her haunches, her wings snapping to each side as they extended, beating at the air. Gwen’s fatemark flared as the dragon slashed at her with its claws, a stream of superheated fire jetting from her dark lips.

  Gwen dove to the side, the claws scraping against her armored shoulder, heat washing around her. She rolled, already running for the nearest wall, sensing as the dragon turned to pursue her.

  More heat, nipping at her heels. She was close to the rock wall now, a shadow falling over her from behind, a fanged maw swooping in from the side…

  She leapt, driving her feet onto a small rock shelf, springing higher, grasping a handhold with one hand while swinging to the side just as the dragon’s head crashed into the inner pyramid, spraying stone shrapnel all around her.

  Gwen reversed course, launching herself backwards with reckless abandon, sighting her landing as she spun, narrowly avoiding the blade-like spikes on Siri’s back as she flopped onto the armor-like scales, which were as smooth as glass.

  The dragon roared, bucking its head as it tried to dislodge her, twisting around to try to bite at her. Using the spikes for balance, she scurried higher on Siri’s neck, staying out of reach of her deadly jaws. Siri, it’s Gwendolyn Storm. Remember me? You tried to kill me in Ironwood. You saved me in Zune. We fought together in Phanes. Remember?

  Stranger! the dragon hissed, throwing its body at the wall, scraping along it, several scales popping loose from the jarring impact. Gwen barely clambered to the other side of her neck, avoiding the worst of it. She knew she needed to find a way off the dragon, to run for the door and escape, for there was no hope for Siri, her mind shattered into a million pieces the moment Raven’s heart had ceased to beat.

  I’m sorry, Raven, I’ve failed you.

  The dragon froze at the name in Gwen’s mind. Raven, she said, speaking the word like a prayer.

  Yes, Gwen said, pouncing on the sudden change in mood like a kitten on a ball of string. I know Raven. She is my…my friend.

  I—I don’t, I can’t, the darkness is calling, it wants me and I want it and I can take you there with me, just step into my mouth and we can fall and keep falling and be at peace.

  The way the dragon spoke was almost hypnotic, like the chant of a crazed cult leader urging his followers to commit mass suicide. Siri, this is not you. You are mighty. You are powerful beyond belief. You are the strongest creature I know. And I am your friend. Your soul is gone, but I am not.

  Without warning, the dragon collapsed, and Gwen found herself tumbling from its neck, her shoulder slamming into the unforgiving ground, followed by her knee. Still, she managed to gather her senses and leap to her feet, turning sharply to find

  Siri.

  A hairsbreadth away, so near she could feel the heat of her breath from her nostrils. Her mouth was open, each fang glistening in the torchlight.

  But it wasn’t the closeness of certain death that caught Gwen’s attention, but something else as her
gaze tracked along the length of the dragon’s neck, all the way to her shoulder where—

  There!

  Oh no. Oh no. Oh, Siri.

  Unexpectedly, tears blurred her vision, but the truth was already painted behind them, the image startling in its clarity.

  A nub breaking through the scales.

  A new neck had begun to grow.

  “Siri!” Gwen shouted aloud. There was only one way she could help the dragon now. She had to do what she’d promised Raven she would. “Look at me!” The dragon’s eyes locked on hers, golden pupils narrowing to slits. “I am yours. All of me. My heart. My soul. And in return, all I ask is whatever you have left. It is enough. It has to be enough.”

  I am lost, the dragon purred, and so are you. Flames roiled from the dragon’s maw as she clamped her claws around Gwendolyn’s body.

  Fifty-Eight

  The Southern Empire, Calypso

  Whisper Sandes

  Her sister’s body was heavier than she expected it to be. Raven had been cleaned up, the blood washed away, and dressed in fresh leathers. Her eyes were dark with kohl, her hair held in place with guanik-bone combs carved in the shape of dragons. Her whip slapped against Whisper’s side as she carried her. The streets were lined with Calypsians, their heads bowed in deference. Some of them looked fearful, constantly glancing at the sky as if they expected the Last Mad Dragon—as Siri was being called, to fall upon them with claw and dragonfire at any moment.

  Once, Whisper wouldn’t have been able to do any of this. Once, she would’ve been inconsolable, silken sheets wrapped around her as she soaked them with her tears.

  Once, she had been weak.

  No more.

  Her arms were tired from the march from the palace into the city, but she knew she would not request assistance, as was her right. The carrying tradition had some flexibility, and no one expected the new empress to haul her sister’s body all the way from the palace to the pyramids.

  I will, she thought, her teeth grinding together. I will, as she would’ve done for me.

  If it came down to it, she would stop and rest, and then continue her march.

  But then Goggin was by her side, tucking one massive arm under Raven’s knees, his chin jutting out, his eyes fierce.

  “This is my burden to bear,” Whisper snapped. “As is the fate of the empire.”

  “By the gods, you are so much like her,” Goggin said, which took the very air from her lungs. “Fire too. All so stubborn. Your sisters thought every decision rested on their judgement. They thought every fight was theirs to lead and die in.”

  “Aren’t they?” Whisper said, blinking away tears. “Isn’t that the reality of ruling an empire?”

  “That is your choice to make,” he said, looking forward. “But I for one will help you bear this burden, even if you allow me no other.”

  Together they marched, sharing the weight of Raven’s body as the sun splashed behind the pyramids, casting them in shadow.

  When they reached the Pyramid of Dragons, a dozen or so soldiers greeted them. “Your Magnificence,” one of them said. “We have prepared a stone oven for the burning ceremony.”

  Whisper frowned. “She will be burned by dragonfire, as are all Calypsian empresses, save for my sister, Fire, who used her own undying fire to transition her body into the hereafter.”

  The soldier shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. “The Last Dragon is too unpredictable. As you commanded, we’ve tried several times to subdue her, but she only wreaths the atrium in dragonfire. Three of us have been badly burned already, and we won’t risk it again.”

  “She’s not asking you to,” Goggin interjected. “We will complete the ceremony ourselves.” Whisper had always thought Goggin to be naught but a bellowing caricature of a man, but now she realized she’d never given him a chance. There was more to him than simpre, singing and stories about his various wives.

  She nodded her thanks and he nodded back.

  “Empress, we really must advise against—”

  “Noted,” Whisper said as they entered the dark gate, torchlight illuminating the way before them. Beyond the corridor, a thick darkness awaited. Whisper felt her heart beat a little faster, but she ignored it.

  Instinctively, they stopped at the exact same moment on the cusp of the darkness. Whisper squinted, trying to find any evidence of the dragon’s position. She had never been interested in dragons the way Raven had, but she respected the raw power they wielded. They were not to be trifled with, especially not one that had just lost her soul.

  “There,” Goggin murmured, gesturing with his head toward a spot much higher than Whisper had been looking. She squinted, seeing nothing, but then…

  Whisper saw them: two gleaming eyes rimmed in gold. Flames glowed between daggerlike teeth.

  “Get out of here,” a voice said, echoing through the cavernous space. “Siri is unstable.”

  Was that… “Gwen?” Whisper said.

  “Yes. I made a promise to your sister to care for Siri if she died. I’m keeping that promise.”

  “Where are you?”

  A laugh, so out of place for the situation that it made Whisper feel as if she’d entered a dream world. If only it had all been a nightmare… “Siri’s got me in a pretty tight grip up here. Hoping it’s not permanent.” Silence fell for a few moments while Whisper tried to process what was happening. Siri must’ve gone mad when she felt Raven’s lifeblood stop flowing. Gwen went to her… She should be dead, she thought. She’s not even Calypsian. Then again, Siri knew Gwen, maybe even trusted her.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” Gwen said, her voice cutting through the darkness like an arrow set on fire. “She was a…good woman. A valiant warrior.”

  Anger coursed through Whisper. “You think I don’t know that?”

  Silence. And then… “You can be angry with me. It’s fine.”

  “You came to Calypso to kill us. To kill Raven. So don’t act self-righteous.”

  “You are hurting. I understand. So am I.”

  “You don’t understand anything!” Whisper said, her voice rising. Her words repeated themselves as they bounced around the cavern, only now they sounded different, as if they were spoken from the mouth of a goblin. “Siri has gone mad. That’s what happens. You can’t care for her—I don’t know why Raven would’ve asked you to do that. She will grow a second head, then a third. She will forget friend from foe. She will destroy everything if we don’t confine her.”

  “Perhaps,” Gwen said. “But I will try to delay it. She can still fight for us. We need her to fight, else the Horde will swarm over us.”

  Whisper had had enough. “You Orians think you’re superior to all other races, but shiny armor doesn’t mean anything in the deserts of Calypso. Here we live by the rule of fire. And fire is what we’ve come for. Don’t speak again. When Siri releases you, leave Calypso forever. Return to the east and do what you will, but bother us no more. We will handle the Last Dragon.”

  A voice rumbled through the pyramid, spoken with such power it somehow took physical shape though it was spoken only in their minds:

  MY SOUL!

  Fire roared from the dragon’s maw, not a thin, concentrated stream like Whisper had seen from Siri a hundred times during the dragonia testing, but a wide swath of flames that rolled like a red tide across the space toward them.

  “Put her down,” Goggin said, and then swiftly lowered Raven to the ground, backtracking into the tunnel.

  The flames stopped at the mouth of the corridor, but Whisper could still feel their heat, an inferno, hot enough to devour flesh and bone. Just when Whisper felt the wispy hairs on her arms begin to curl and burn away, the flames vanished.

  Where Raven had been was a thick layer of gray ash. Goodbye sister, Whisper thought, kissing her own fingertips. She moved forward, kneeling beside what was left of Raven. “Thank you. For everything,” she said.

  Just then, a mighty roar erupted from above and Siri’s huge,
dark form dove toward her, bathing the walls in fire and light, reflecting off of Gwen’s armor as she was carried past. Whisper didn’t move, not as the ash was buffeted by Siri’s powerful wings, coating everything in a fine, gray dust. The dragon swept past and then launched herself upward, wings beating, fire jetting into the inner apex of the pyramid.

  She’s going to—

  Whisper was unable to finish her thought as Siri crashed into the wall, the impact as powerful as crashing thunder, the walls shaking, the ground shifting under her feet. Goggin dragged her back as shattered stones rained down, the pyramid collapsing upon itself as the dragon, still gripping Gwendolyn Storm, soared out into the purple sky.

  Fifty-Nine

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Falcon Hoza

  Falcon had finally found her. Though his search had been thorough, it had been luck more than anything, an errant ray of light finding its way onto the canyon wall, drawing his attention. He’d seen her head poke from one of the caves high atop the cliffs before disappearing back inside. But there was no mistaking her coppery hair in that instant.

  In this part of the canyons, the steps leading to each cave were solid and included a carved stone railing. As Falcon started up them, something urged him to run. He almost knocked over a Phanecian man descending the steps, but didn’t stop, taking them two at a time, grabbing the railing and clambering up the ladder set at each of the switchbacks.

  Something was wrong—had been for days. Shanti wasn’t acting like herself. He knew what Jai Jiroux’s death had done to her, and he’d tried to be there for her, but she’d folded within herself.

  He feared she might hurt herself.

  So he flew upwards, his calves and thighs beginning to burn, his lungs heaving. When he reached the last switchback, he scraped his knee on one of the ladder rungs but ignored the flare of pain, clambering over the edge and galloping up to the final cave.

  It was empty.

  “Shanti?” he said, gulping down breaths.