Soulmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 3)

  King Erric had spoken truthfully. The battle raged for half the night, the Drahma attacking in waves, never all at once. Usually they came in threes, with one coming through the door or window first, the other two close behind. They lost another three seamen, bringing their total to six crew. Smithers was bitten three times, but he refused to move to the back—“Used to have a hound named Biter that’d chomp on me all the time,” he said several times. Kyla showed her mettle on at least three occasions, twice killing the creatures on her own, and once holding her foe at bay long enough for Grey to finish it off with a knife-hand to its heart.

  Grey received multiple claw wounds—to his arms, his legs, his chest, and his back—but avoided the fangs.

  Shae, with everyone working together to protect her, slept through the whole thing. That made Grey smile.

  And then, when no attacks came for more than two hours, he fell asleep on the floor beside her, dead to the world. He was dimly aware of Kyla’s warm body beside him, something he would’ve enjoyed immensely had sleep not pulled him under like a dark wave.

  When he awoke, the sun was streaming through the broken window, Kyla was bustling about humming a sailing tune, Shae was still unconscious beside him, and everyone else was eating breakfast and sipping hot tea.

  The king was nowhere to be seen.

  “Any news?” Grey rasped, his mouth as dry as sand.

  “Finally,” Kyla said with feigned exasperation. “You slept as if you’d fought ancient sea creatures all night.”

  He pointed at a plate of food she was carrying. “That,” he said, hoping it got his point across.

  “Pirates are so demanding,” she said. But she gave him the plate, which he immediately tucked into, using his fingers to push the food into his mouth. Scrambled eggs, pickled sardines, a thick slab of buttered toast—it was the best food he’d ever tasted. The warm tea, lemon with a hint of honeysuckle, washed it all down. Kyla watched him devour the plate with satisfaction. “Who said I can’t cook?”

  “I’m a lucky man,” Grey said, already feeling better, though his wounds were weeping blood and pus. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. She squealed with delight, which made the seamen applaud raucously.

  “Don’ git too frisky, lad,” Captain Smithers said from across the room. “Till ye wed her, she’s still me little girl.”

  Duly chastised, Grey released her with a smile, which she returned, and pulled himself to his feet. They crossed the room hand in hand, dodging diners until they reached the captain. The man was clearly in a bad way, propped up against several large cushions, his dark-skinned face practically turning green. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Kyla used a wet cloth to dab his skin, and he smiled gratefully.

  “Yer a good daughter,” he said. “Don’ deserve ye half the time.”

  “More like all the time,” she said, helping him take a sip of water. Most of it dribbled down his chin, forming drops in his beard. “And quit being so dramatic—you’re not dying. King Erric said you’ll have a fever, chills, and plenty of achiness for a few days, but then you’ll make a full recovery.”

  The captain winked at Grey. “Can’t even milk a little special treatment these days.”

  “When you’re not around, she speaks of you as if you hung the moons,” Grey advised.

  Kyla slapped him on the arm. “Stop giving away all my secrets.”

  The captain tried to laugh, but ended up clutching his sides in obvious pain. “Sleep, Da,” Kyla said. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

  Grey said, “We should find Erric.” Kyla nodded. Grey turned to the sailors, most of whom were onto their third or fourth helpings. “Keep an eye on the lass, will you, boys?” They nodded, their mouths full.

  They started down the winding staircase, which looked freshly scrubbed, still moist and glossy. To clean the blood, Grey thought. On the first floor, several pirates were working, cleaning blood—both pirate and Drahma—from the floors, fixing broken furniture, and scraping the shards of broken glass from the window frames. One of them nodded at Grey and another tipped his cap to Kyla, then went on working.

  Outside, things were even worse. Nearly every building had significant damage. Broken windows, scratched wood—where the Drahma had evidently clambered up the sides of buildings—shattered doors, and broken roofs. The streets were a mess of blood and ichor.

  And then there were the bodies. Some of the carts were laden with piles of sea creatures, their flesh already turning gray in the midday light, but most were piled with pirates. Grey stopped counting when he reached thirty, feeling suddenly ill, as if he, like Smithers, had been bitten. He doubled over, clutching his stomach. “I should’ve warned you,” Kyla said, rubbing his back.

  “It’s fine,” Grey said. He remembered Kyla’s words from the night before. This was not all his fault, was it? Yes, they’d broken the treaty, but it was by accident. And anyway, if the pirate king had known they were coming, why didn’t he meet them at sea, thus preventing such a grievous error? The realization hit Grey so hard he straightened up.

  At that same moment, he spotted Erric, who was conferring with several pirates about how best to reattach a door to its hinges.

  Grey shrugged Kyla off and stalked up, anger coursing through him.

  “Grey?” Kyla said.

  But Grey didn’t hear her, or didn’t want to. He grabbed the pirate king by the shirt with one hand, flung him up against the side of the building, and growled in his face, “You could’ve prevented this. You could’ve prevented all these deaths, and the ones before, the other men we lost.”

  For a moment, the king looked surprised, his face ashen, and Grey remembered he’d been bitten, too. This man was ill, and yet he was still out here helping his men and women.

  Strong hands grasped Grey’s arms from behind, and he went airborne, slamming into the ground on his back, the breath rushing out of him. Two burly pirates, the same two he’d first encountered the day before, stood over him. They looked ready to run him through if their king commanded it.

  “It’s fine,” Erric said, using the back of his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow. “I deserved that.” He walked over to Grey, looking down at him. “You think I don’t know I could’ve saved them?” he said. “It’s all I’ve thought about since you arrived ten men short. It’s all I’ve thought about since I awoke this morning to find half my pirates dead or seriously injured. I will have to live with this mistake for the rest of my life.”

  It was the last response Grey had expected to get, and it took all the fight out of him. Well, if he had any left after being slammed to the ground, that is. But he still didn’t understand. “Then why didn’t you sail out to meet us?” he asked.

  Erric sighed. “Because I thought I was losing my mind, for one,” he said. “My men and women thought I was sick, because sometimes I would get dizzy in the middle of doing something. I couldn’t tell them about the visions about some young girl I’d never met. They’d think me mad or perverted or worse. So I kept them to myself. It wasn’t until I received word of a lone ship sailing into Pirate’s Peril that I knew the dreams were real. I also couldn’t know when you would arrive, if ever. It might’ve been days, or months, or years, or never. Still, looking back, I should’ve trusted my instincts. If I had, none of this would’ve happened. Good men and women would be alive. Their blood soaks my soul and drowns my conscience.”

  Grey felt awful for what he’d said, the judgment he’d passed. As if he had any right. “I know the feeling,” he said. “Maybe we have more in common than either of us think.”

  The king extended a hand and Grey took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. “We have Shae,” Erric said. “I don’t know what that means exactly, not yet, but I will.”

  Grey nodded, wondering when Shae would wake up. Now that the battle was over and things had calmed down, his worry for her began to grow. What if she never woke up? He knew it was pointless to think like that, but the thoug
ht wouldn’t go away, like a rat gnawing at his insides. “We need to talk about something else,” he said to the king, trying to distract himself.

  Erric frowned. “What?”

  “Leaving.”

  His frown deepened. “No one is leaving.”

  The argument had been in full swing for the better part of an hour. The king had refused to discuss the future until after each and every one of their dead comrades had been given a proper burial at sea—which basically meant they were dropped off the cliffs with large stones tied to their ankles. Even the Drahma were treated this way, though from a different cliff, with the stones tied to their tails.

  Despite the brewing difference of opinion, Grey’s respect for the pirate king had continued to grow. Now, however, they sat on opposite ends of the large table, staring daggers at each other.

  “This is our home,” King Erric said. “My home. And my father’s before that. We’re not just going to leave.”

  They’d gone around and around in circles, but Grey wasn’t ready to back down. They couldn’t stay here. It was suicide. “Pirate’s Peril will never be a safe haven for you again,” he argued. “You may have won the battle, but the war is far from over.” Already several large splashes had been spotted by scouts. Although they hadn’t seen what had caused them, it was almost certainly Drahma. In Grey’s estimation, they would attack again, sooner rather than later.

  “I will talk to them, as my father did before me. I can explain what happened. The circumstances. We can forge a new treaty.” The determination on Erric’s face was like steel armor, so strong that it almost made Grey want to believe him. Almost.

  But he couldn’t take the risk, not with those he loved still in danger. “They’re not going to forget how many we killed.”

  “They attacked us!” Erric shouted, jumping to his feet.

  “And we broke the treaty!” Grey countered. It didn’t matter that it was ignorance that caused the breach, not anymore. Too much blood had been spilt.

  As the two men stared at each other, the rest of the pirates at the table glanced back and forth between them, probably placing silent wagers on who would blink first. Kyla had left the meeting half an hour earlier, calling them both “stubborn pig-headed mules.” Smithers, having been bitten thrice as many times as anyone else, was sleeping off his latest fever.

  And then:

  A voice from the seventh heaven:

  “Grey?”

  All heads turned to find Shae at the foot of the steps, her white purity dress wrinkled and creased, her eyes bright and focused. “I’m here, Shae,” Grey said, his own voice a whisper.

  Her eyes danced from person to person, making her way down the line, until they widened, settling on the pirate king. “It’s you,” she said with awe.

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Shae Arris. I am King Erric Clawborn.”

  Shae’s awakening had delayed the decision, at least for a while. Grey was ecstatic, picking Shae up in a bear hug and spinning her around. She squeezed back, her small arms tight against his neck.

  Erric ordered the other pirates to vacate the room, which they did, and offered Shae a seat by the hearth. Kyla had come down to watch, upon Shae’s request, squeezing in between Grey and his sister as they sat across from the king. “My dear,” he said, “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

  In the firelight, Shae’s eyes shone. “I’ve dreamed about this moment so often it feels as if I’m dreaming now,” she said. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” he said. “More than you can know. I can still hardly believe it.” He shook his head in wonderment. Grey had never seen the pirate king look so unsure of himself.

  “Can I see your mark?” Shae asked.

  “Of course.” He extended his hand toward the hearth. At first just the edges of the key appeared, but then, slowly, the entire mark burst to life, shining forth. Shae licked her lips and then mimicked his movements, until her half of the key appeared. Their hands moved closer, a mere hairsbreadth away.

  “The key,” Kyla murmured.

  Grey, for the first time, realized it was the king’s right hand, while it was Shae’s left that held her mark. Almost as if they were meant to be clasped together. He shook the thought away; it made him uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “We’re still not any closer to understanding what the key is meant to unlock,” he said.

  “Grey,” Shae said. “Thank you, for everything. Calm yourself. This is meant to be.”

  She grasped King Erric’s hand.

  Grey tried to pull her away, but it was too late, something was already happening. Clasped together, the light seemed to burn through their hands, revealing their bones, which looked like white, five-fingered trees. Shae’s eyes rolled back in her head, until only the whites were showing; Erric’s, too. Grey fought at their fingers, but they were locked tight. Their bodies were shaking, convulsing. Their lips moving, but not saying anything, as if they were engaged in a conversation only they could hear.

  “Shae!” Grey cried, still fighting her fingers, but she had the strength of a much larger person. Erric’s were equally powerful, clamped down like a metal vice.

  Kyla touched his shoulder and he flinched. “Help me!” he said.

  “Grey,” she said, “leave them be.”

  “Wha-what?” Grey turned to look at her. “He’s hurting her!”

  She shook her head. “Look at her face. It’s peaceful.”

  Grey did look, and he was surprised to find that despite the rolled back eyes, the rest of her face was as calm as the waters of a pond on a windless day.

  “She’s not in pain,” Kyla said gently, pulling him back. He let her, falling back into her arms, his breath coming in waves.

  “What is happening to them? Why are they like that?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyla said, hugging him from behind. “But it’s important. This is what needs to happen. I believe that now. Before, I wasn’t certain. But now…this all has to mean something.”

  Grey knew exactly what she meant. All those they’d lost, all the sacrifice, all the pain and broken hearts and sadness. The world might be a broken place, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fixed. Somehow. Watching his sister and the young pirate king holding hands made a shiver run through him.

  And then it was over. Shae gasped, her fingers tearing free of the king’s. The king fell from his chair, panting, his chest heaving. They were both staring at their palms, where their marks were slowly fading away, leaving only smooth skin behind.

  Grey was at Shae’s side in an instant, cradling her head against his chest. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Her eyes were wide with wonder and something else as she looked at him. Something she tried to hide, but was unable to from someone who’d known her as long as Grey had.

  And he knew:

  What she hid, was fear.

  Ninety-Five

  The Southern Empire, Pirate’s Peril

  Grey Arris

  “We saw them,” King Erric said, once he’d caught his breath.

  “Saw who?” Kyla asked. She was on her knees, sandwiched in between Grey and the king.

  “Others,” Shae said. “Ones like us.”

  “Marked?” Grey said.

  Shae nodded gravely.

  Erric said, “There are more than I think anyone knows. Two in Phanes. One in Calyp. There were two in the east, but then one died. A huge man—Beorn Stonesledge.”

  The easterner’s legend was known even in the west. “The ironmarked,” Grey said.

  Shae nodded, picking up the thread. “In the north there is only one, but she is powerful. A young girl, like me. But she is blind.”

  “Blind?” Kyla said. “But how could a blind girl have any sort of power?”

  “Those who see with more than their eyes, see more than any of us,” Shae said. The words sounded almost like a quote, but Grey didn’t know where from. She continued. “In the west there were none like us
.” She said the last part sadly, like she was part of a unique group of creatures slowly becoming extinct.

  “There were two others, too,” Erric said. “They stood together. One shone with the brightness of the sun; it poured from his chest. All around him were saved, their injuries and afflictions healed. The other was pure darkness, created from shadow and death.”

  “Kings’ Bane,” Grey said, remembering the bodies in Knight’s End. All the guards. The king, his throat opened up.

  Shae nodded. “Bane is threatening to undo everything the fatemarked have done.”

  Kyla said, “I don’t understand. What have the fatemarked done?”

  “Peace,” Shae and Erric said at the same time. They smiled at each other, but it reached neither of their eyes.

  Grey said, “There can be no peace. All four kingdoms are at war. Even the empires of the south are embroiled in a civil war. Peace is a fool’s errand.” He could hear the cynicism in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. What did any of this have to do with his sister anyway? Or this pirate king?

  “What does it all mean? What does your key do?” Kyla asked.

  Grey’s eyes snapped to hers; he’d forgotten about the key.

  Shae said, “We can use it to change things, if we choose.”

  Grey frowned. “Change things how?”

  Shae looked at Erric, as if afraid to meet her brother’s eyes. He could sense that fear again, armored by the determined set of her jaw.

  “We can kill Bane,” the king said. He raised a hand before either of them could ask another question. “Let me just get this all out before you ask any questions. If we choose to turn the key to the right, Bane will die. We could do it right now if we wanted to.”

  Grey couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “But that’s fantastic. Do it, I say. That murderer deserves whatever comes to him.”

  “Grey,” Shae said.

  His eyes darted between his sister and Erric. There was something they weren’t telling him. Erric opened his mouth to speak, but Shae beat him to it. “I’ll tell him. He’s my brother; it should be me.”