Elevation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 2) (37 page)

The notes,
he managed to think.
Can’t let Quade…

With the last of his energy, he swung his sack from his shoulder towards the flames. His face thunked against the dirt, but before darkness consumed him, he saw the canvas of his bag alight.

Thank the Spirits…

Ko-Jin glided through the forms of the
Ada Chae
, bare feet tracing patterns in the damp sand,
Taking Flight
shifting fluidly into
Graze Leg
. To his left, the ocean lapped at the shore. At his back, the ruin of a foundered ship poked forlornly from the sand, stark and solemn as a tombstone, a thing he did not like to look at. Overhead, the sun shone hot and bright, as if to compensate for its infrequent presence of late.
Slow Lash
transitioned into
Wafting Arms.
His tension eased.
 

The
Aeght a Seve
beckoned him—a call he rarely answered. There was bodily vulnerability in seeking mental retreat.
Fist through Sand
,
Lover’s Quarrel.
The hush and peace of the beach was so preferable to the cottage, he was tempted to pitch a tent. Anything to be away from the quarreling, the clanging and heat—Dedrre was hard at work on some new invention, a firearm of some kind. Ko-Jin hadn’t realized how noisy such work could be.
Foreigner’s Negation, Warm Hands Over Fire.
He supposed tinkering was to Dedrre what calisthenics were to him, necessary for the preservation of sanity. He only wished Dedrre’s sanity would not come at the expense of everyone else’s.
 

Ko-Jin turned, beginning the forms once again, but dropped his arms when he saw a figure approaching: Chae-Na, plain skirts tugging in the wind.
 

Ko-Jin pulled his shirt back over his head. “Anything wrong?”
 

“No,” she called back, picking up her pace. Then, when she’d reached him, “I merely had an aching head, so I came for a walk.”
 

He snorted. “Understandable. Jo-Kwan?”

“Reading, still.”

Ko-Jin nodded and offered his arm to her. She smiled and slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow, and they began to stroll up the shore. “Quite the scholar, isn’t he? Could almost out-read Yarrow.”

The princess sighed. “He tends to become rather…immersed, once he has a notion. Those books, he would never have had access to them before. His tutors would never permit anything that questions the monarchy.”
 

“You sound like you don’t approve.”

She bit her lip. “Jo-Kwan is an idealist. He wants everything to be
right
, just. Only, his sympathies could prevent him from thinking macroscopically. Sometimes the right thing is not, perforce, the best thing. Peace and order come at a cost.”

Ko-Jin frowned. “And if that cost is too great?”

“Then something is broken, and there must be a change.” She shielded her eyes from the glare and looked up at him. “But there is always some sacrifice; nothing good in this life comes without a price.” Ko-Jin answered this with a grunt and she squeezed his arm. “You disagree?”

They were making their way nearer the wreckage. Ko-Jin turned his head towards the horizon. “Not necessarily, no. But I’d rather have someone like Jo-Kwan at the helm than someone like you. Like my step-da always said: if you think things won’t turn out, you’re right.”

Chae-Na paused, her dark eyes directed towards the foundered ship. “Shall we look inside?”

“No,” he said. She glanced up at him with raised brows, taken aback by his curtness, no doubt. “I’d, ah, rather not. We should probably turn back anyways. It’s getting late.”

“Very well,” she said slowly, a question still in her voice, but she meandered back up the beach with him. They remained silent for several minutes before she asked, “Is it ghosts?”

“Hm?”

“Do you fear ghosts? Is that why you are afraid of that wreckage?”

“No, of course not.” He laughed. “And I’m not
afraid.”

“
Oh?”

“No.” He swallowed. “It’s just, well, a ship that size—a lot of men died just doing their jobs, there. It doesn’t seem right, to tromp all over their final resting place. Disrespectful.”

“Ah, I see.” She darted a quick look in his direction. He had the feeling his discomfort was plainly evident on his face, that her keen gaze could easily perceive all of his soft spots. A none-too-cheering thought.

They wended their way back up the slope, towards home. Roldon and Trevva had gone into town for supplies; Ko-Jin hoped they’d be back soon, with food. His stomach rumbled as he ducked through the trees and into the backyard of the cottage.

Dedrre was still at it, bent over a makeshift table in the yard. He wore a pair of goggles beneath his unruly, snowy eyebrows, along with a long apron and a pair of thick gloves. Ko-Jin smiled at the sight. He looked exactly like a mad scientist.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

Dedrre jumped, plainly not having heard their approach. “Oh, well,” he said, waving dismissively at the jumble of metal bits at his work station. “Sometimes you must learn how
not
to build a thing first.”
 

Ko-Jin picked up a metal disk that held six smaller rings. He closed an eye and peered through one of the narrow tubes, totally mystified how such a piece could fit into a pistol. He dropped it. “Is Roldon back yet?”

“Not to my knowledge, lad,” Dedrre said without looking up, attention plainly returned to his work.
 

Ko-Jin entered the cottage. It was a quiet scene within—Jo-Kwan hunched over a volume on the sofa. Beside him, Fernie had a book opened, but to look at him, he was merely staring at the page, not reading. Yu-Sol sat at the kitchen table, knitting. The clicking of her knitting sticks seemed loud against the otherwise hushed atmosphere.
 

Ko-Jin searched the kitchen for food. He knew there wasn’t any, but he checked again anyway. He reentered the living room empty-handed.

“Here they come now,” Chae-Na said, peering out the front window.

Ko-Jin’s stomach responded with a loud grumble, as if to say ‘good.’
 

The front door flew open and Roldon rushed inside, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “Ko-Jin,” he shouted.
 

Ko-Jin’s stomach plummeted. “What’s wrong?”

The others in the room stood, waiting.

Roldon panted and ran a hand through his curly hair. “It’s—we have to—I just don’t know how he could—this,
this
, is the last—”

Ko-Jin gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Slow down and explain.”

Rather than speaking, Roldon brandished a newspaper. Ko-Jin snagged it from his grip and jerked the front page straight.
 

His heart hiccupped in his chest. “No,” he said, softly.
 

“What is it?” Jo-Kwan’s voice rung distantly. He must have moved to look for himself when no answer was offered, as when he uttered a grim “Great Spirits,” he spoke just by Ko-Jin’s ear.
 

Ko-Jin ripped through the paper, seeking the accompanying article, a list. His eyes darted through column after column of names, seeking the ‘S’s. When his gaze at last latched onto the name he sought, the name he dreaded finding, he felt a strange calm settle upon him, a deadly stillness.
 

“Sung Yu-Na,” the king said, his tone cautious. “Is that your…?”

“Mother,” Ko-Jin said, surprised at the softness in his voice.
 

“My parents, too,” Roldon said.

Yu-Sol tore the paper from Ko-Jin’s grasp, frantically flipping with shaking hands. She swore in their native tongue, her eyes flashing and mouth reduced to an angry slash.

“We have to go,” Roldon said. “Now. We have to go now.”

“But,” Chae-Na said, tentative. “Is it not obvious that this is what he wants? Clearly, he is trying to draw you out of hiding.”

Roldon turned on her with a glower. Ko-Jin had never seen such an intense expression on his friend’s typically amiable face.
 

“She’s right,” Ko-Jin said. Roldon rounded on him, looking angry enough to take a swing. Ko-Jin held up his hands. “We’re going anyway, of course, but she’s right. Yet again, Quade plots and we react.” His hands balled into fists. “For once, it would be just swimming if we were the ones with the plan.”

“Then we need a plan,” Jo-Kwan said, with false brightness. “Quade may have presented us with an opportunity. There will be a massive crowd assembled for something like this, most of Accord I’d wager. Would that not be a good moment for me to reveal myself? If they see their king with their own eyes, even Quade’s persuasion should be of little effect.”

“Unless he persuades them you’re an impostor,” Roldon pointed out.
 

“It’s an idea,” Ko-Jin said. “We should leave for Accord immediately. We’ll have over a week of travel to discuss strategy.”

He hoped some genius scheme would occur to him—in that moment, his mind summoned nothing but wordless panic.

If his mother had so much as a bruise—he cracked a knuckle—by all the Spirits, Quade would pay.

Bray chuckled to herself, a mug of piping tea cradled in her hands, her eyes trained on the beach below. Peer, bare back gleaming in the afternoon sun, practiced the
Tearre
, sand flying as he kicked and struck an unseen opponent. What caused her to laugh was the audience his exercise had amassed. Awed children, steadily emboldened by Peer’s inattention, crept closer. A Chaskuan boy with shoulder-length, glossy black hair began imitating Peer’s one-sided combat, to the squealing laugher of his fellows.

Peer stopped, chest heaving with exertion, and grinned at his spectators. He said something Bray could not hear and beckoned with his hand. As a unit, the twelve students ran at Peer, piling on him with shrieks. Bray covered her mouth as her brother disappeared beneath the mob of children, she heard his muffled voice call, “I yield, I yield!”

Her heart swelled, the smile lingering on her lips as the salty wind tugged at her hair. Despite fall nearing its end, the day was warm, the sky an idyllic cloud-spotted blue. She sipped her tea and tucked her legs up to her chest, wiggling her toes to shake off the sand. If she ever had a home, she hoped it was like this one. Or, at least, that it
felt
like this one—like a sanctuary, safely apart from the darkness of mankind.

She’d bring Yarrow here, she decided, when all of this was over. He’d like it. They could visit her newly found family, soak in some sun, eat lots of fresh fish. Perhaps he would be interested in the art taught at the school. Yarrow was an artist, too, she remembered—he’d sketched those figures of the
Ada Chae
. Drawn them for her, though she’d been acting like a real brat at the time.
 

Bray closed her eyes and pictured him standing behind an easel in the sunshine. She imagined his hands—the long, deft fingers, stained with ink—lean forearms, the bald spot in the dark arm hair just at the bony bump of his wrist.
Wonder what that bump is called
.
He would probably know.

Longing hit her like a crashing wave, an oppressive desire to be near him, to hear the tenor of his voice, look into those gray eyes, have his smell in her nose. Her lungs tightened, the missing him was so strong.
Easy, there
, she counseled herself.
He’ll know what I’m feeling and be worried. It won’t be too long, a few weeks at most and we’ll be back in Cagsglow.
 

“Are you alright?” Su-Hwan’s deadpan voice inquired.
 

“Yes, I’m fine.”
 

Su-Hwan took a seat beside Bray on the bench. Her gaze moved down to the beach, where Peer appeared to be giving six simultaneous piggy-back rides. “The children took to him quickly.”

“Kids always like Peer. Not sure what it is about him…”

“He’s open.” The corner of Su-Hwan’s lip twitched. “If people were houses, most of us would be boarded up. But not a Peer house; the windows and doors would never be shut.” She fixed Bray with a serious gaze. “He would be full of squirrels.”

“How metaphorical,” Bray said with a laugh. “What kind of house would I be, then?”