Soulmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 3)

  He saw the moment the light of understanding entered Raven’s eyes. “The castle itself will attack us?”

  Roan nodded.

  “Give me an example.”

  The blade from the wall trick was nothing. He needed to come up with something better. An idea struck him. “The walls rearrange themselves into iron knights as tall as trees. They will knock your dragons from the sky. Your ground forces will be crushed under their trod. Within the bounds of the forest, they are invincible.”

  A twitch of Raven’s lips. Though she tried to hide it, his revelation had struck a chord. “Dragonfire is the hottest substance known to humans. We will melt them into iron puddles.”

  Roan didn’t know if that was true or possible, but he had an answer. “They will reform instantly. They are not alive—not in the ways of men—so they can’t be killed. Their god, Orion, holds great power within Ironwood.”

  She looked away, her eyes meeting those of each person, before returning to Roan. “Thank you. This is a matter for the war council,” she said.

  “But you will recommend patience?” Roan said.

  Goggin snorted, the first sound he’d made since he arrived. When he’d heard the news of his guaneros’ deaths in the Scarra, he’d bit his lip but said nothing. “You might be from Calypso, but you are not Calypsian,” he said.

  Windy slipped from the room, as if the truth had chased her away.

  Rider said, “I’ll tell Shanolin to prepare the dragons,” and left as well.

  Roan was missing something.

  Raven said, “No, Roan Loren. Patience is the last thing I will be recommending.”

  No. Everything was happening too quickly. He’d barely arrived in Citadel, barely scratched the surface of the mysteries to be found here, and yet the world was crumbling around him. Once again, his fate seemed set before his feet, a path he had to follow to its bitter end. “I’m going with you to Calypso,” he said.

  “As you wish,” Raven replied. “But it will not change anything.”

  Eighty-Two

  The Southern Empire, Pirate’s Peril

  Grey Arris

  As the anchor was hauled up from the depths and the sails were unfurled, Grey pulled Shae aside. “We need to discuss something,” he said. His head was still buzzing from his conversation with Kyla, how well she’d taken his affair with Rhea, and the plan she’d come up with, which was so insane it just might work.

  Shae nodded, though her eyes didn’t meet his. They were locked on the sunlit rocks of Pirate’s Peril, her head cocked slightly to the side, almost as if she were listening to some great call only she could hear.

  The last words uttered by Grey’s father drummed out a steady beat in his head. Protect your sister above all else…all else…all else… Thus far, he’d done a shite job of it, and sailing into a pirate’s lair didn’t seem to be any better. Then again, for the first time since their parents’ deaths, he was letting Shae make the choice on where to go.

  “Are you certain you want to do this?” Grey asked. “You’ve been through so much already—we both have. There’s no reason we can’t tell Captain Smithers we’ve changed our minds, that we want to stay on as members of the crew. We could have a good life, Shae. No more running. No more schemes.”

  He couldn’t tell if she’d heard him, her expression as unchangeable as the face of the sun. After a few moments of silence, she said, “It’s hard to explain, Grey. These dreams…”

  “Tell me,” Grey said.

  She shook her head. “It’s not the dreams themselves, but the feeling after them, when they’ve ended and I’m awake, aware of the piece of me that’s missing.”

  “This pirate?” he said. There was a slash of frustration in his tone, and he instantly regretted it. Shae, however, didn’t seem to notice.

  “Not the pirate, not exactly, but the power locked inside him. His mark completes mine, and mine his.”

  “The key,” Grey murmured.

  She nodded.

  “But what does it unlock? What is its purpose?”

  Shae sighed. “That’s what I must know. When I’m awake, I feel like a heavy weight is pushing on my chest and I can’t breathe. The only way to remove the weight is to meet this pirate.”

  “Why him? Why you?” Grey knew these were questions Shae had probably battled with ever since the dreams started, but they forced their way out of his mouth, refusing to be silenced.

  But Shae, to his surprise, answered, her eyes finally locking on his. “We’ve been chosen.” Her gaze was like steel armor, impenetrable.

  “For what?”

  “We will soon know, Grey. It is all becoming clearer. My path, my purpose. Yours too. You’re a part of this now, as is Captain Smithers and Kyla and the crew. That’s why they’re doing this—because they can feel it here.” She pointed to her chest.

  More than anything, Grey wanted to protect his sister from evil, from a dangerous world that could chew you up, swallow you, and then vomit you back up to be chewed and eaten again. However, it seemed he would have to go with the second best option, which was to follow her into danger and do whatever it took for her to emerge alive and unscathed on the other side.

  “Alright,” he said.

  She nodded, and the ship lurched back into motion, pushed by a stiff, warm wind. She turned her head back to the ocean, to the approaching isles.

  “Shae?” Grey said.

  “Mmm?” she murmured.

  “I don’t tell you enough, but I love you.”

  The shadow of a smile. “I know, Grey. I know.”

  The cliffs of Pirate’s Peril cast long shadows across the green sea, darkening The Jewel’s sails.

  Even in Knight’s End, stories of the pirate-infested island were popular. How the island had gotten its name was a matter of constant debate. Some said it was because any pirate who stepped onto its shores risked being murdered by another pirate who wanted their ship and all its spoils. Others believed it was the island itself that was perilous, the powerful currents snatching even the most seaworthy vessels and smashing them onto the rocks. Of course, as stories generally went, there were darker versions, too. Whirlpools, sea monsters, ghosts…

  Grey knew most of the stories were probably worth about the same as the contents of a chamber pot, but he wasn’t so foolish as to ignore them. Staring at the cliffs that now towered over them, he was strung tightly, prepared for anything.

  This close to the rocks, the sails had been lowered and tied. Each of the two-armed members of the crew—which included everyone but Grey—manned the oars, attempting to navigate the treacherous waters, which had, so far, included sudden shallows, unpredictable currents, and rocks that seemed to spring from the sea at a moment’s notice. They’d hit one so far, a glancing blow, but it was only a scratch, almost indistinguishable amongst the hundreds of other similar markings on the prow.

  By Grey’s estimation, they were moving too fast by half, but the captain seemed to be in full control, standing on the foredeck, spinning the wheel back and forth while barking orders to his men.

  Something thumped the bottom of the boat, and its progress stalled for a moment. “Halt!” Smithers shouted.

  “What is it?” Grey asked aloud, to no one in particular.

  “It’s as if someone dropped the anchor,” Kyla said, frowning.

  The anchor, however, was resting in its berth, the chains coiled around the spool.

  “We’re stuck on something,” Grey said. “Some coral?”

  A sailor was sent below to check for leaks or other damage, but returned without any new information. Then, as swiftly as they’d stopped, the ship eased forward of its own volition. The Jewel moved slowly, drifting with a light current that was pulling them toward a channel between the main island and a nearby rock outcropping that, to Grey, resembled a human skull. Connecting the “skull” to the island was a long stone archway that might’ve been a spine. He groaned inwardly at his own imagination.

  “Are we g
oing to clear that?” Grey asked no one in particular. From this distance, it was hard to compare the height of the arch to top of the ship’s mast.

  Smithers leaned on the railing, his scimitar sheathed, though his hand had a habit of resting on the hilt, as if he might draw the blade at any moment. “I don’ like this,” he muttered under his breath. He spat a wad of tobacco juice into the water.

  Grey understood what the captain meant. Something about the entire situation felt eerie, almost like they were being pulled by the island itself. He had the distinct feeling of being watched, though as he scanned the rocks he saw nothing, not even a bird.

  From somewhere nearby, there was a sudden splash.

  Grey turned his head to look, but whatever had caused it was gone, leaving behind only whitewater and ripples.

  “Anyone see what that was?” the captain asked. No one had. “Prolly just a big fish,” Smithers concluded, though it was clear from his tone he wasn’t convinced himself.

  They were almost to the archway, which, Grey could now see, was carved with images of strange creatures: half-women, half-fish, their fins and long tails giving way to slender human bodies. The depictions were so well done that clearly the stone had been chiseled away by an expert stoneworker. Grey wondered who would be mad enough to clamber up the narrow archway and hang over the side in order to carve the stone.

  It’s going to be close, he thought. If they cleared it, it would be by the barest of margins.

  Another splash drew everyone’s attention to the opposite side of the vessel. Again, there was no sign of what sort of creature had made it.

  A third splash, then a fourth and fifth, resounded in short succession. Grey tried to follow the sounds, but every time he looked in one direction, the next splash came from the opposite side. The others were clearly having the same problem—panicked shouts and cries of alarm began popping up.

  And then he heard it: the cry. It was somewhere between a child’s wail and a piercing melodic note. Had there been glass, it surely would’ve shattered. Everyone on deck immediately covered their ears with both hands, but Grey was only able to cover one. Had he used his new blade-hand, he would’ve stabbed himself in the brain, which, in some ways, would’ve been better than the pain he felt in his skull as a result of the horrific sound.

  The shriek seemed to come from all around them at once, impossible to pinpoint, but then someone shouted, “There!” and soon everyone was pointing to the rocks. Grey was certain they’d been empty a moment earlier, but not anymore. A woman sat on the edge, her legs and feet invisible beneath the green water, which lapped against her stomach. She was naked, at least as far as they could see, though her long hair covered all but a small portion of her breasts. In fact, “hair” didn’t seem like the correct term, for it was different than human hair, thick, wet tendrils dangling with seaweed.

  Her mouth was open—the source of the ear-shattering cry.

  And then, abruptly, she cut it off. Slowly, one by one, the sailors uncovered their ears, staring in disbelief as she blew them a kiss.

  There was something about those eyes…which glimmered, seeming to change color with the sea…

  The attack came from behind, while everyone was focused on the single woman, who leapt into the water with a familiar splash. Instead of feet, it was a long, purple tail that burst from the water.

  One sailor was hauled, screaming, from the deck and into the water, vanishing. No one had even seen what took him. But then they were all around, bursting from the water, landing on deck with wet thumps.

  “To arms!” Smithers shouted.

  They were like the woman on the rocks, except, up close, more horrifying than Grey could describe. Their hair was indeed formed of seaweed, saltwater clinging to it like dewdrops on grass. Their eyes were a moving target, swirling white and turquoise and green. Their breasts, Grey couldn’t help but notice, were the closest resemblance to human, but even they flashed with scales, as did their firm bellies and backs. Below the waist were the long, finned tails depicted by the images on the archway. Their tails came in many different colors—green, purple, blue, yellow. Without legs, it should’ve given the humans an advantage on ship, but the fish-women moved far quicker than one could imagine, using their strong arms and clawed hands to haul themselves across deck, sliding on their tails.

  Yet, none of that was as horrifying as the moment they began to open their mouths. Not only did their screams consume all other sound, but their fangs appeared, long sharp incisors protruding past their bottom lips. Their tongues were inhumanly long, flicking from their mouths, reaching a barbed point at the end.

  Grey watched, dumbfounded, as one of the creatures leapt atop a sailor, ripping open his chest with a single swipe of her claws. Her fangs sank into his neck and he saw her tongue burrow its way into his skin. She seemed to sigh in satisfaction, her back arching in relief.

  They’re hungry, Grey thought. Or, rather, thirsty. It’s our blood they want.

  “Get behind me,” he said to Shae and Kyla, a strange calm filling him. This was his purpose: to protect these two beautiful souls, and he was willing to die for them if necessary.

  Captain Smithers appeared beside him, a grim look on his face. “With me!” he cried, leaping forward, scimitar raised.

  A creature launched herself at him, knocking him to the deck with her tail. He did, however, manage to slash at her—one of her fins came free, flopping across the wood and over the side. She hissed at him, rearing up like a snake, preparing to attack.

  Grey didn’t think—only acted—throwing himself forward, trying to block the captain’s body with his own. He was thinking of Kyla, of how much she’d already lost, how he couldn’t let her lose anything more…

  There was a sucking sound as the woman—fish—thing, landed atop him, her fangs so close to his face he could see the saliva glistening on their enamel. Her barbed tongue shot out, probing, slashing his cheek, but then went limp, as did her body. Grey was covered in something gray and wet and sticky.

  As hard as he could—she was rutting heavy and he had only one arm to do the job—he shoved her away from him. Her skin was rough against his hand, even the portion that looked like normal skin. Again, there was that sucking sound and his blade came free, having been impaled in her stomach. She flopped onto the deck and lay still, her sticky, gray blood gushing from the wound, pooling around her.

  Nearby, two other creatures lay dead, cut down by other sword-bearing sailors. Grey whirled to find Shae, who had drawn her knife and looked ready to use it, unharmed. Kyla, on the other hand, was straddling one of the creatures, her blade sunk into its neck. She was breathing hard, but appeared uninjured. With her hair askew and her lean, strong arms gripping the blade, Grey never thought she’d looked more beautiful.

  The rest of the attackers crawled-slid across the deck, throwing themselves over the sides. Several of them were carrying the bodies of Smithers’ seamen, while the rest hauled their own dead away.

  Grey pushed himself to his feet, helping the captain up beside him. They stood, side by side, at the ready. The other sailors, white-faced and breathing heavily, had drifted toward them, until they were gathered in a knot in the center of the deck, forming a protective circle around Shae and Kyla, though Grey was beginning to wonder whether it was the women who should be protecting the men.

  They stood like that for a long time, just breathing, waiting, anticipating.

  The stone archway faded away as they drifted toward an inlet. As it turned out, clearing the barrier had been the least of their problems.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Smithers said, “I think it’s over.”

  At final count, they’d lost ten men, almost half the crew. Twelve remained, not including the captain, Grey, Shae, and Kyla.

  Once again, the stories hadn’t done justice to the horrific realities.

  Grey felt sick to his stomach. This is my fault, he thought, staring at the mismatched patches of human and s
ea-creature blood. He felt compelled to begin scrubbing, though he didn’t. He felt even worse because of the relief knowing that Shae and Kyla had survived. He would’ve sacrificed each and every man on the ship, himself included, if it meant they were safe.

  Kyla said, “I know what you’re thinking.” Her tight-fitting clothes were, like Grey’s, slick with gore.

  “That’s because it’s true.”

  “It’s not. Each of the men knew this would be dangerous, but they agreed anyway. There was no pressure. Da even said he’d drop them off somewhere if they wanted him to.” She roped an arm around him.

  “You were incredible,” Grey said, motioning toward her blade.

  She picked it up nonchalantly, wiped it on the front of her shirt, and slipped it back inside her corset. Shrugged. “You learn a thing or two sailing with scoundrels.”

  If those men hadn’t died, he might’ve laughed. But as it was, he could only thank the gods that some of them had made it through.

  They made their way over to where Shae stood beside the captain. Smithers was back at the helm, steering them into the rock-walled inlet.

  Shae was staring ahead, where the walls became shadows, gray at first and then as black as a starless, moonless night. “I feel it,” she said.

  “Shae,” Grey said, touching her shoulder gently. “What do you feel?”

  “The other half of the key,” she said, wrinkling her brow. “I don’t understand what it means, but things are clarifying. It’s so warm.” She looked down at her palm, which was bursting with light.

  Her mark was shining, the back half of a golden key that could only be completed by a pirate.

  Kyla stared at it in amazement. In fact, most of the crewmembers were doing the same. The captain, his voice barely above a whisper, said, “The darndest thing I ever seen.”

  The light began to fade, before disappearing completely, along with the marking. “So tired,” Shae said. Her eyes rolled back and she fainted.

  Grey barely managed to catch her with one arm before she hit the deck.