Fatemarked Origins (The Fatemarked Epic Book 4) Read online

  The man said he was not, raising an eyebrow as he took in the Beggar’s odd appearance. Wait. He can see me. He can really see me. Not like the others.

  The realization seemed to validate his purpose for being here. He knew what to do.

  He extended his hand to help him up.

  After a brief pause, the man accepted his assistance and allowed the Beggar to pull him to his feet. There was a brief and awkward exchange of pointless pleasantries in which the Beggar refused to give his name, and then the man said:

  “I’m Roan.”

  “You can see me?” Please please please…

  Roan squinted, and it was clear he thought he was dealing with someone who’d lost their mind. But that didn’t matter, didn’t matter, didn’t matter, because— “Yes. I can see you.”

  The faintest streak of light zipped from Roan’s chest, and the Beggar smiled beneath his hood.

  I’m not alone, he thought.

  9: Heinrich Gäric

  Somewhere north of the Mournful Mountains- Circa 10

  When, after three long years at sea, Captain Heinrich Gäric had arrived on the shores of this new land a decade earlier, he’d been full of excitement and anticipation. That day had been warm and sunny, the salty breeze blowing gentle waves against the rocky embankment. A new world to explore!

  Now he felt nothing but cold. Not the cold of an icy winter in northern Crimea—he’d experienced several of those—but a cold that seemed to burrow into his bones, taking up residence. On this frozen tundra next to an enormous ice-sheathed body of water they’d appropriately named Frozen Lake, Heinrich wondered whether he’d ever feel warm again.

  “We should turn back,” Ousted said, staring out into the blizzard from the large command tent they’d erected just before the storm had moved in. Ousted was a grizzled veteran explorer with pockmarked cheeks and perpetually chapped lips. He was also Heinrich’s right hand man whose advice he didn’t take lightly. Over more than thirty years of expeditions together, they’d seen things other men could only dream of, places that were untouched by human feet, unseen by human eyes. This was, possibly, one of those very places.

  And Heinrich was not the kind of man to give up easily.

  No, he was the appointed royal explorer for King Peter Streit, ruler of Crimea and Conquerer of the World. Heinrich had a duty to uphold and a reputation to maintain. “Gather the men,” he said. “I have an announcement to make.”

  After Heinrich’s decision had been announced, he lounged in his tent, trying to sleep. A rustle outside drew his attention, just as his eyes were closing. “I’m awake,” he growled, so the visitor wouldn’t feel uncomfortable having to wake him.

  “It’s me,” a voice said. It was the voice of his only son, Tomas, a strong lad and solid seaman of eighteen. Over the last decade and the three years at sea preceding it, Tomas had grown up, while his mother had died of scurvy during the voyage. Though it had been a difficult time for both of them, it hadn’t doused the fire for adventure that always seemed to glow inside the boy. He’s too much like me, Heinrich often mused.

  “Come in.”

  The thick, triple-skinned tent flap fluttered and then pushed inward, releasing a torrent of icy air and a flurry of snowflakes inside. Tomas dove in and fought the tent for a moment before resealing it, cutting off the cold air. He turned to his father, holding a lantern to the side, careful not to shine it in the expedition leader’s eyes. “I won’t leave,” the boy said.

  Heinrich sighed. He had expected this. “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Because you’re my father?”

  “No, because I’m your commander, appointed by the king himself.”

  Tomas set the lantern down and waved his hands from side to side. “What king? I don’t see any king in these lands. All I see is you, the true leader of the colonies. You delivered us here. You conquered these lands. The king might as well be somewhere on one of the moons.”

  Heinrich tried not to laugh, despite the treasonous tone to his son’s words. This side of him came from his mother, and he’d heard her speak similar words on a dozen other expeditions over the years. She’d wanted him to settle down somewhere and start a family, forget about the king and his lust for land and war. They’d compromised and he’d given her a son while discovering a chain of uninhabited tropical islands in the southern Crimean Sea. That was eighteen years ago, however, a lifetime ago. And this was now, and he needed to stop this kind of talk before it got his son into trouble. Rather than a stiff rebuke, he chose humor as his sword of rebuttal.

  “I’ll send a message to the king informing him of your position.”

  His son was not amused, his broad Gäric jaw stiffening. “It’s not funny, Father.”

  “You’re right. Talk of treason is in no way funny.”

  “It’s not treason; it’s reality.”

  “You want to claim independence from the crown?”

  “Not today. But someday. Yes. This land is too large to be governed from across the sea. King Streit must be made to understand that.”

  Heinrich closed his eyes. Opened them. “You know I don’t care about any of that. All I want is to explore.”

  “But not with me,” Tomas said, sulking now. It was a stark reminder that though his son had the rugged build of a man grown now, he still had a lot of maturing to do.

  The truth was, Heinrich had been willing to drag his family with him on a lot of dangerous voyages because it was simply too hard to be away from them so much of the time. His own selfishness had cost him his wife, the mother of his son, the love of his life. His love for exploration had taken precedence over the safety of his own family.

  Not anymore. Continuing north through the blizzard was simply too dangerous, and he wouldn’t risk his son’s life. But he couldn’t tell him that. Not only would it only make Tomas more adamant about staying with the expedition, but it would make him feel like a child, something he wasn’t willing to do, not when his son had proven his mettle time and time again over the last few years.

  No, a different tact would be necessary to convince his son to leave and return to the first city they’d established in these lands, the burgeoning colony known as Knight’s End.

  “You are my only heir, Tomas,” he said. “If you are serious about one day seeking independence for the colonies, then at least one of us must survive, and it needs to be you. My heart is simply not in it the way yours is.”

  Tomas raised his eyebrows, surprised. It was clearly not the response he had expected. And though it wasn’t a lie, exactly, it also wasn’t the full truth. I have to protect you from my own stupidity.

  “Fine. I’ll lead half of the exploration party back to Knight’s End, as you commanded, Father. But I won’t wait for you there. New ships bearing colonists arrive every fortnight, and we need to push southward and build new colonies to accommodate them all. With your blessing and authority, I will lead them.”

  “You have my authority,” Heinrich said. At least it will be warmer there. “Tell them we’ve gone to explore the northern Hinterlands.”

  “I will.” They clasped hands, and then Tomas slipped away, back into the cold, dark night.

  Tomas and his men left early the next day, before Heinrich had awoken.

  Till we meet again, he thought.

  The remaining company pushed northward, along the western edge of Frozen Lake, the going getting slower and slower as the drifts of snow grew thicker and thicker. Snow fell like torrential rain, whipping against their faces, blinding them. The cold seeped through scarf and cloak, soaking them to the skin. If they didn’t die from exhaustion, they would almost certainly die from exposure if the storm didn’t abate. Still, Heinrich dared not adjust his path to the ice-covered body of water, though a number of his men continued to eye the lake hungrily.

  “This is madness,” Ousted eventually said, when they were forced to halt completely. The snow was up to their waists now, and pushing through it was nearly impossible.
“I have followed you through gnarled jungles and across vast oceans. Together, we have conquered burnt deserts and scaled steep cliffs. Never have I questioned your judgment. But now I must, for this place isn’t meant for exploration. What do you hope to discover? There is nothing here but ice and snow. It is a frozen hell we find ourselves in, and I fear if we continue there shall be no return.”

  “Thank you for your counsel,” Heinrich said.

  “But you won’t turn back.”

  “No.”

  Ousted shook his head. The rest of the men were digging furrows in the snow, trying to make space to erect their tents and escape the daggers of wind slashing in from all sides.

  “Will you defy my command?” Heinrich said. “I am your captain.”

  “I’m not speaking to my captain right now,” Ousted said, squinting as blustery snow pelted his face.

  Heinrich frowned, not understanding.

  “I’m speaking to my friend,” Ousted said, explaining. “No, Captain, I won’t defy your command, even if it means my death and yours. But I will never fail to speak my mind.” With that, he turned away, disappearing into the snowy whiteness, joining the rest of the men in setting up camp.

  Heinrich was no dictator. Yes, he expected his orders to be followed, but only because anything else would incite mutiny. But he’d listened to counsel in the past, even when he wasn’t certain he agreed with it. Plus, Ousted, his closest friend and ally, had made good points. Logical points. What do I hope to discover in this frozen wasteland?

  He tried to consider the situation without emotion, without his lust for discovery, his insatiable need to go where no man had ever set foot before. Tucked in the relative warmth of his tent, safe from the wind and snow, which now provided a reasonable measure of insulation, Heinrich’s head felt clearer.

  South of Frozen Lake the land was inhabitable, there was no questioning that. They could set up several large colonies, including one nestled just below the lake, pumping an endless supply of fresh water from beneath the icy surface.

  But here, this far north…no one could survive…could they? And even if they could, what kind of life would they live? A cold one, Heinrich mused.

  But still…there must be something worth finding to the north, right? Something of value? Gold perhaps? Heinrich didn’t care for riches—he wasn’t a treasure hunter by any stretch of the imagination—but at least discovering gold or other precious metals would justify this expedition, as well as keep the king happy.

  The king, he thought. Was his son right? Was it inevitable that this enormous land sever itself from Crimea’s influence? King Streit was an arrogant man who believed the entirety of the world, both land and sea, was his to be conquered, ruled by his iron fist. He wouldn’t bow to a bunch of revolutionaries, not without a fight. Not without bloodshed. Once Heinrich returned to Knight’s End, he would have to try to convince Tomas that they needed the resources and support of the Crimean crown. The last thing Heinrich wanted was a drawn out war. He was no soldier, after all. Nor visionary. Thus far, this decade-long endeavor had been largely uncontested, though scouts had returned to the west with news of strange-looking natives inhabiting both the east and south. Barbarians, they called them. Heathens. Heinrich didn’t like such labels. Just because people are different doesn’t make them the enemy. He’d learned that too many times before.

  His thoughts were diverging from the matter at hand, he realized, and he steered them back to the decision he had to make. Keep going in search of the great unknown or admit defeat and turn back?

  He drifted off to sleep, hoping the right answer would reveal itself in the morning.

  Heinrich stretched and yawned, awakening to the sound of men laughing and talking. It was a familiar sound, and yet one that was completely unexpected. There was no howling wind. No flapping canvas.

  He poked his head into a morning that was cold, but not nearly as cold as the days previous. Smoke from several cook fires curled lazily into the sky, wisps of gray against an otherwise white backdrop. The wind had abated, the storm moving on to torment another part of the land. White, powdery drifts were piled up against empty tents. Pockets of men sat around the fires, which were crackling merrily. The whole setup had a surreal feel to it, as if Heinrich was still asleep in some dream world.

  This is my answer, he thought. Not because the way had suddenly gotten easier, but because this was something new, something he’d never experienced before. Something to excite him.

  He scooted out of the tent and rose. Heads turned his way, watching his approach. Cut in half, his company looked small, only forty men remaining. The toughest of the tough, those he’d known the longest.

  Ousted’s steely eyes met his, and his friend nodded. He thinks I’m going to announce our retreat, he thought. He cleared his throat. “The way forward is a risk, I’d be lying if I said otherwise,” he started. “And I won’t force any man to accompany me from this point onward. But I am also not broken, not defeated, not content to leave the mysteries of our world unsolved. This is what I do, explore, and if I stop now I might as well let you plant me in the ground. Who is with me?”

  A moment of silence ensued, and Heinrich noticed several eyes flick to Ousted, as if looking for a cue from him. He has the ears of the men, Heinrich thought. He could mutiny if he wants to.

  But then Ousted said, “I am. But I’m not trudging through anymore of this hell-frozen snow!”

  Heinrich couldn’t hold back his laugh, and neither could the other men, who merrily agreed to continue north.

  “Good,” Heinrich said. “Because this won’t mean the same thing without my friends by my side. And there won’t be any more trudging, if we’re going to risk our lives, we might as well do so sliding across the ice.”

  Ousted nodded and handed Heinrich a tin plate loaded with charred meat and boiled potatoes. “Plan of attack?”

  Any small amount of awkwardness there might have been between them vanished in an instant as they settled into their typical roles of captain and advisor. “The lightest of foot will proceed ahead of the rest of the company, testing the ice.”

  “Aye,” Ousted agreed. “And we stick to the eastern edge of the lake, where the ice will have formed the earliest and the thickest.”

  “Any sign of breakage and we make haste for the shore, no questions asked. Then we vote again.”

  As it turned out, the precautions were hardly necessary—even at its thinnest point, the ice was as thick as the wingspan of the tallest man in the company, and there was little chance of breaking through so long as they remained spread out.

  The company’s spirits rose as they made good progress across the lake, which was as vast as an ocean, stretching all the way to the horizon, where the frozen waters seemed to drop off the face of the earth.

  As they traveled further north, into the Hinterlands, copses of trees began to spring up on the edges of the lake. The trees were similar to those they’d see bordering the Mournful Mountains, some form of pine, but growing closer together, almost intertwining, as if huddling beside each other for warmth. Their nettles were different, too, longer and silver rather than green, as if they’d been painted that color by centuries of never ending snowfall. Their branches were also thicker than those of a normal pine, made to withstand the weight of the snow and ice piled atop them without bending or breaking. During a rest one day, Heinrich and a few of his more curious men wandered off the ice to inspect them. “No cones,” Heinrich said, squinting up at the branches. It was true, these pines were just trunk, branches and nettles, nothing hanging from their boughs.

  “I wonder how they spread their seed,” Horris said. He was the company transcriber, writing tales of all their adventures.

  Heinrich enjoyed this aspect of exploring. Learning about new places, new plants, new animals—so long as they didn’t try to eat him, of course, which unfortunately happened more frequently than he’d like—but now wasn’t the time. “Once we’ve found the end of this fors
aken lake we’ll have plenty of time to inspect the flora and fauna,” he said.

  Grudgingly, they moved back onto the endless sheet of ice and continued their march.

  At night, they camped right on the ice. Cook fires were built parallel to the camp, on the snowy shore. Several of the more enterprising men would usually move away from camp and find a spot to drill a hole big enough to fish through. And each night they would return with dozens of large spotted fish with surprisingly white meat that flaked away when cooked.

  Heinrich relished every moment as they marched for a fortnight across the ice. Then a second fortnight, with still no end in sight.

  Until the ice ended.

  “What do you make of it?” Ousted asked, as they stared at the reality spread out before them.

  They stood on shore, having left the ice and—despite Heinrich’s previous promise—trudged along the edge of the lake until they reached the point where the ice was melting, becoming a wide swathe of slush before giving way to white-capped water once more.

  “It’s odd,” Heinrich said. If anything, the air had continued to get colder the further north they’d traveled. If anything, the ice should’ve been even thicker here, not melting.

  Narrowing his eyes, Heinrich carefully picked his way down the rocks to the water’s edge. He squatted, eyeing the sludgy water. Peeled off a glove and rolled his three thick layers of clothing up to his elbow. Dipped his hand in the water.

  The cold was a shock to his skin, but he bit his lip and shoved his hand in further, past the melting ice, until half his arm was beneath the surface. Where it was—