Deathmarked (The Fatemarked Epic Book 4) Read online

  As soon as Jai returned to Phanea, he vowed to lead a force to Kirev to free the slaves.

  He realized Shanti was answering Sonika’s question. “…small explosions, if thrown precisely enough, might cause a flesh wound or blindness. But I don’t see the purpose on a larger scale. Perhaps they’re just experimenting.”

  Jai frowned. Shanti was an expert on fireroot. It made him uncomfortable that she didn’t have a certain answer.

  Sonika said, “The first bastard I capture is going to eat one.”

  Jai said, “Sonika.”

  “What? You think I’m going to show mercy now? I already agreed that we can’t just kill all the previous slave owners—although it would make things easier”—she raised an eyebrow pointedly—“but that doesn’t mean I’m going to hold back against trained soldiers out to kill us.”

  “You were talking about torture.”

  “I was talking about victory.”

  Jai sighed. He knew many others shared her mentality. Why show mercy to those who had tortured and controlled the Terans, Dreadnoughters, and others for so many years? Because I must believe people can change their thinking. Because I must believe I was given this mark for a reason other than controlling a ten-thousand strong slave army.

  Shanti said, “There’s movement in the city.”

  Her tone made it clear she wasn’t talking about normal movement, training and relocations and supply chariots. Jai turned away from his argument with Sonika to watch. Sure enough, a hundred odd soldiers on horseback had broken away from the city and were riding hard for the Red Rocks.

  “They know we’re here,” Sonika said.

  Jai squinted against the bright noonday sunlight. From a distance, it looked like she was right, but as he followed their angle of approach… “No. They’re making for the canyons.” Not a mile along the edge of the rocklands was a wide gap, before the red spires of rocks continued.

  The Bloody Canyons, he thought. It was said the rocks were once white, but after half a dozen bloody battles had been fought between their flanks, they were now stained with death.

  It wasn’t true, but that didn’t change the fact that death seemed to permeate the very air hanging around the area.

  Any army that made it through the Bloody Canyons would be able to ride unhindered all the way to Phanea.

  “We can’t let them pass,” Jai said.

  “No, we cannot,” Sonika said with a harsh grin, already turning away to gather her Tears.

  Jai glanced at Shanti, and she nodded once in his direction. You know what you must do, and it’s all right, the gesture seemed to say. He nodded back, and then turned to where the five-hundred soldiers stood at attention amongst the rocks, all eyes trained on him.

  His justicemark pulsed softly, telling him this was right. Necessary.

  “March on the canyons,” he said. “Kill any Phanecians who refuse to lay down their arms.”

  There was no hesitation, no questioning of orders, no shuffling or hemming and hawing. Only action. Even along the uneven, twisting paths of the rocklands, the army marched in perfect formation, their blades attached to their wrists and ankles. They were trained masters of phen ru, all of them. A force of five-hundred would wipe out a company of one-hundred, regardless of the horses they rode.

  Jai fell in amongst them, Shanti by his side.

  Something felt off as Jai watched the Phanecians approach. The riders stopped abruptly at the entrance to the canyons. There was no order to their formation, a ragged spread of soldiers meant to confuse and disorient their enemy.

  But that wasn’t what was bothering him.

  “What are those?” he asked aloud.

  “I’ve never seen such weapons,” Sonika said.

  Shanti shook her head in agreement.

  The soldiers held long implements, one end—almost certainly metal—gleaming in the sunlight, and the other end dull and brown. Wood, Jai thought.

  One of the soldiers wheeled his horse around to face the others, raising his arm and lifting the strange object. He shouted something and the rest of the riders turned their steeds to face the same direction. They pointed the tips of their weapons toward—

  Us, Jai thought.

  He glanced about him to verify that his soldiers were still well-hidden. They were. And yet, it couldn’t be a coincidence…

  There was an odd sound and a gasp, and then a distant crack, like a small thunderclap.

  Nearby, a body fell, rolling from behind the rock where the young soldier had been partially hidden. Blood soaked through the leather panel strapped across his chest. His lips moved without sound, blood bubbling over them. His eyes stared at Jai for a moment before life left them.

  What the Void?

  “Jai?” Shanti said, staring at the body. “What the Void just happened?”

  Those weapons…

  “Retreat!” he shouted. More small thunderclaps filled the air, which seemed to whine around them. Chunks of rocks broke loose, falling on their shoulders like hail as they fled. Another of the young soldiers fell and Jai almost trampled him underfoot. He stumbled, trying to haul the soldier to his feet—because surely he just tripped—only to find half his head missing.

  Horrified, he released the body, which slumped to the ground, and kept running. His legs felt weak, his stomach filled with bile. More soldiers fell, spots of blood appearing as if by sorcery. One of the Tears fell, a strong Dreadnoughter, and both Jai and Shanti had to haul Sonika away from the body as she tried to carry it on her shoulders.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only a matter of several moments, the last of the cracks faded. The sound of retreating horse hooves filled the void, and then silence. A lone vulzure wheeled overhead. Then another.

  Soon there were dozens.

  Forty-Seven

  The Southern Empire, Phanea

  Falcon Hoza

  When he heard footsteps in the corridor, Falcon shoved the book under his pillow and closed his eyes, lying perfectly still.

  The bedsores were becoming painful, but he ignored them. The alternative—getting up—was far worse.

  The jade hemlock his brother, Fang, had used to poison him had worn off a few days earlier, but he hadn’t told anyone, pretending to still be paralyzed. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t fake it forever; that was a problem for another day.

  He squinted, watching as the door opened and a man entered. He was a Teran, and used to be one of the palace slaves. Now, a free man, he continued to toil like nothing had changed. Of course, he was paid for his work, and could quit at any time, but still, it seemed odd.

  We are what we know, Falcon thought, wondering whether he could be someone different now. For years, he’d pretended to be a cruel and heartless Hoza, powdering his face and sewing jewels into his scalp and where his eyebrows used to be.

  Now I’m a damn coward, he thought, focusing on not moving as the man moved about him, removing his blankets, changing his soiled cloth, neatly folding a new blanket over him. He did it all with the practiced precision of a slave.

  He left, and Falcon released the breath he’d been holding. He reached under his pillow to retrieve the book, but frantically shoved it back under and slumped down when the door began to open once more. Before he could see who’d entered, he jammed his eyes closed.

  A close call, he thought, his heart hammering. If they find out I can move…

  What? What did they expect him to do? He was no miracle worker—wasn’t even an emperor anymore, at least not in his own mind. I am nothing.

  “I know you’re awake,” her voice said, and he instantly felt several degrees warmer.

  He opened his eyes, painting on a casual smile.

  Shanti looked at him with those bright blue eyes that rivalled the color of the sky on a clear, sunny day. She’s taken, he reminded himself. That doesn’t mean she can’t be my friend. In truth, he looked forward to her daily visits more than he’d ever enjoyed anything before. She would rea
d to him, making every word, every phrase, every sentence, seem like…more…than they might’ve been spoken by someone else. She’d been gone for almost a week on a scouting expedition with Jai and the Black Tears, and as each day passed he felt more and more like a ghost, fading away into obscurity.

  She didn’t return his smile, which was unusual. His own smile fell away. “What happened?” he asked.

  Shanti’s eyes never left his. “How is your recovery coming?”

  She knows, he thought, even as he chided himself for being paranoid. He forced frustration into his voice. “I thought I felt feeling returning a day ago. The tip of my finger quivered. But I still can’t move it. Maybe tomorrow.” Maybe never.

  She nodded, and he realized she’d cleverly changed the subject, forcing it back to him. “Tell me,” he said. “What did you see beyond the Bloody Canyons?”

  “Why do you care?” The words came out sharply, a tone she’d used on him many times…before. Before his world had been turned upside down; before the sun had failed to rise and fall; before his brothers had died and the slaves had revolted and he’d decided to stay in this bed until the day he died.

  “I…I don’t know,” he replied lamely, hating the weakness in his own voice.

  “Not good enough.” She reached over to a tray resting on a table. It held a collection of fruit—guava, pineapple, apples, bananas, purple jumas. He rarely ate any of it, and yet they continued to bring it every day.

  Shanti grasped a green apple, shining it on her leather chest plate, which still held the dust of a long journey. Did she come here first thing after returning to Phanea? he wondered. As he was considering the question, she threw the apple at his face.

  Instincts took over and he raised a hand, catching the apple an inch before it smacked him in the nose. He froze.

  Shanti glared at him.

  “I—how did you know?”

  “Wrong question.”

  Silence descended. And then Shanti turned and strode for the door, whipping it open angrily.

  “Shanti, wait,” Falcon said. “I can explain.”

  She stopped but didn’t look at him. “The Phanecian armies have a new weapon, long metal tubes stuffed with fireroot powder. They shoot these…” She held up a small metal ball between thumb and forefinger. She still didn’t look at him. “They killed a dozen of our soldiers before we even knew what was happening. Then they retreated. Why would they do that?”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Think!” She whirled on him, her blue eyes darkening.

  “I—a warning,” he said. “They are trying to scare us into surrendering.”

  Her expression softened slightly as she nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

  She started to turn away again. “Wait,” he said. “Where are you going?”

  “To prepare our defenses. When we don’t surrender, the Phanecians will come.” She tossed him the metal ball and he caught it with the opposite hand. He felt strange holding it alongside the apple. “You should come too.”

  And then she was gone, slipping out the door and closing it quietly behind her.

  Falcon lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in his life, he knew he had a choice. He could get his book out and read all day, all night, escaping between the pages like he always used to. No one would force him to get up.

  But Shanti would be disappointed in him, and that he could not bear.

  If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for her.

  Somehow, that felt worse, but it was enough to make him sit up. He stretched, yawned, and kicked his legs over the side of the bed. The movement caused the bedsores to chafe, sending fire through his body. He groaned and considered lying down again.

  I am still emperor, he thought. Or so Jai and Shanti say. I could call for someone to come and rub oils on my skin, wrap me in cool bandages…

  “And then I could bathe in a pool of diamonds,” he said, thinking of how his father had lived, how Falcon had felt nothing when he’d learned of his father’s death.

  He didn’t want to be like that.

  Painfully, he pushed to his feet, holding the sheets around him in case someone walked in. His legs felt numb and weak, and for a moment he just stood in place, swaying slightly from side to side. Gingerly, he took a step. Then another. When his right foot shuffled forward his knee buckled and he started to fall. One of his arms dropped to the bed to steady himself and he lost his grip on the sheet, which tumbled to his feet.

  Oh gods, he thought, rushing to the door, falling once, trying to get back to his feet as the room spun—is the doorknob turning?

  He crawled forward, shoving his feet against the door just as it started to open. “Look, Falcon, I’m sorry—” Shanti’s voice said, stopping when the door moved no further than a crack. “Falcon?”

  His cheeks were flushed, his naked skin pressed against the cool tile floor he used to sleep on. “I’m out of bed. I’m coming. Eventually.”

  “Are you all right? You sound…strange. I can call for someone to help you dress.”

  She thinks me an invalid, he thought, just as quickly reminding himself that that’s exactly what he’d been for the last few weeks—perhaps his entire life.

  “No, I can do it. Tell the others I will join you soon.”

  She hesitated, but then said, “I will. We are in the council room.” She closed the door and Falcon hurried to lock it. Now what? Clothes.

  He pushed to his feet, his legs feeling slightly stronger now though every movement was painful. Approaching his dresser, he reached for one of the drawers but froze when he caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked like a…a shadow, dark circles under his eyes, his long, dark hair falling over his face. He took a deep breath, ignoring the stranger watching him, and then began to dress.

  The walk to the council room felt longer than he remembered.

  Along the way, he passed several slaves—no, employees—of the palace, who nodded to him deferentially. Three of them were soldiers, their eyes scraping past him without really seeing him. It really felt like nothing had changed, which felt wrong.

  The door to the chamber was open.

  Two of the Black Tears guarded it, but didn’t move to stop him as he passed. He tried to stand a little taller by straightening his back and legs as he entered, blinking back tears as the inferno of pain swarmed across his skin.

  A heated conversation was in progress amongst the room’s five occupants—Jai Jiroux, Sonika Vaid, a leather-garbed soldier, a Teran woman Falcon didn’t recognize, and Shanti, who immediately cut off all talk with a raised hand when she noticed him.

  No one sat in the plush throne Falcon had always hated.

  Jai Jiroux said, “Emperor. It’s good to see you back on your feet.”

  He nodded. “Thank y—”

  “What are you wearing?” Shanti interrupted, her gaze travelling down to his feet and then back up.

  He grimaced. I must be mad. At first he’d donned a silken shirt, jeweled vest, and fine trousers. But when he’d looked at himself in the mirror, he’d seen a fool. Worse, the same fool he’d been before he met Shanti. He didn’t want to be that man anymore—never again.

  “Battle leathers,” he said, forcing command into his voice, like he’d practiced so often. “This is a rebellion, no?”

  Shanti said, “Yes. But you are in no condition to fight.”

  “But I will be. I won’t allow others to fight for me. That was my father’s way.” The words felt false leaving his mouth. You cannot be something you are not. You were born a Hoza and that is how you will die.

  If Jai noticed his self-doubt, he didn’t show it. “And that is why you need to remain emperor,” he said. “Show the people another way.”

  It was an impossible dream, Falcon knew, but he didn’t say it. This was their rebellion, and he would help however he could. “Shanti told me what happened near Hemptown. She told me about the new weapon.” He held up the metal ball.
r />   Jai nodded. “Propelled by fireroot powder, a miniature explosion.”

  “Can we replicate it?”

  Shanti said, “Given time, yes. But we don’t have time. As soon as the Phanecians realize we aren’t going to surrender, they will attack. They could hit Phanea in less than a week.”

  “Stop calling them ‘the Phanecians’,” Falcon said. Shanti frowned, but he went on. “You want to unite the slavers to our cause, correct? Then we must recognize that we live in Phanes, all of us. Regardless of where we were born, or where we came from…we are all Phanecians. Call them the enemy, if you must have a title for them.”

  “Good,” Jai said. “I agree.”

  The Falcon he’d left back in the room would’ve flushed at the subtle compliment. But here, in this room, he was Emperor Hoza.

  Sonika Vaid, her dark eyes filled with intensity. “We can call them whatever we want, it won’t change the fact that they have us beat if they bring those…fire weapons.”

  Falcon spoke up again. “Not if we have allies. Long have my mother and sisters desired to end slavery in Phanes. My mother has passed into the Void, as has Fire, but Raven now rules Calyp. I will send her a stream, requesting aid. Her guanero are a mighty fighting force. And she might even be able to bring dragons. I don’t care what new weapons the enemy has, it will be nothing against—”

  “Falcon,” Shanti said, stopping him cold in that way that only she had ever been able to.

  He looked at her, then at Jai and Sonika, who were all staring at him. “What?”

  Shanti said, “Much has happened over the last fortnight, and not just in Phanes.” She told him about the attack by the Calypsians on Ferria, the great victory the easterners had won. How it was uncertain as to Raven’s and Whisper’s whereabouts.

  “Then who is ruling Calyp?” Falcon asked.

  “Your aunt.”

  Windy? No, his eccentric scholar aunt didn’t have the will or desire to sit the dragon throne. “Viper.”