The Marked Son (Keepers of Life) (25 page)

Unequal

The taste of dried blood lingers on my lips, and I crack open my eyes to the nightmare I’ve fallen into. Darkness lies thick. The air is still, yet it weighs down my body in a way I can’t explain. It reeks like dead things.

My hands are firmly tied behind my back. I work up a bead of spit and swallow, and then gag on the taste of old blood. As I heave, pain spikes through my body. Ribs tender. Head sore. Arms numb.

Rumbling sounds in the distance. Voices. One rises in volume. “Bring him out.”

The door screams as it’s opened. Bright specks of light blind me, lift me, and the next thing I know, I’m shoved to the ground—more dropped, really—by the
pux
, and land face down near a pair of highly polished boots.

A foot lashes out and catches me in my ribs. I groan. “
This
is what the fuss is all about?” a deep voice asks. “Am I to be threatened by
this
?”

Forced chuckles echo in the room. With my eyes closed, I call out for strength. I strain at my bonds. Nothing happens. Somehow they’ve taken my powers.

A hand grabs my hair and yanks my head up. I struggle to my knees, twist my body around, and find myself staring into the heated eyes of Navar. Granel and a few others hover near the door. They don’t appear happy to be in this place and seem more than eager to leave.

Navar’s nostrils flare, and his eyes narrow with ruthless intent. He wedges the hilt of his riding crop under my chin, constricting my air flow. “This half-breed isn’t even worth my time. How could any of you think he’d threaten my position? He’s unequal to me in every way. It’s laughable.”

Blood pounds in my veins. My head feels heavy. My lungs hurt. My ears ring. My throat sticks and struggles to pull in air. I try to pull away. No one seems to notice.

Granel steps forward. “He had two of our swords, my lord.”

“A thief? I thought he’d be a man of worth, not some thieving weakling.”

He lets go, and my head sags to my chest. I gasp in air. I hear him, but his words flow past, as if my brain can’t catch them quickly enough. Why am I so weak?

“What do you want us to do with him?” someone asks.

“Kill him,” comes Navar’s emotionless reply.

The
pux
give a collective shout. By their chatter, it’s clear they wanted me for their own, but Navar isn’t in the mood to barter. Why should he? To him I’m no better than a bug—best squashed rather than kept alive for any other purpose. He sends the
pux
out, and everyone else is told to leave.

From his place in the doorway, Navar glances into a darkly shadowed corner. “Not too quickly, Sidon. We must make sure everyone understands the folly of challenging the law.”

A bone deep grunt is followed by the tang of death. The shadows shift, revealing a huge shape unfolding, stepping forward.

The door thuds shut, and I’m alone with my executioner.

Odd. I don’t seem to care. I manage to lean on the wall and rest my head against the cool stone. My willpower is gone. I only want to sleep. I fight the feeling and lazily watch Sidon lumber around the room. He’s not one of the
firsts
. I don’t know what he is. His face is broad, and his nose is a bulbous, tuber-shaped mass he constantly rubs into a chapped and red eyesore. His arms are thick and longer than his torso. On legs shorter than his arms, he moves ape-like about the chamber as he finishes his preparations. He’s as filthy as a mole, his expression as dead as a corpse. He was made to live in this dank and smelly place.

“Why can’t I move?”

He plunges a short, thin rod into a kettle sitting on a cushion of burning coals. I don’t know what’s in that kettle with its alien smell pluming into the air, but whatever it is, it sizzles and pops. Sidon pulls the rod out. It glistens with a shiny substance, and he grins, his mouth a gaping hole dotted with uneven, pointy teeth. “It’s the iron around your wrists. It pulls all the power from your kind.”

Behind me, my wrists burn within the iron shackles. When I try to use my power to wrestle free, the shackles glow eerily in the dim light. I pull and push at the shackles, pinching the skin around my wrists in my struggle to get free. When I glance up, Sidon is no longer hovering over the kettle.

He’s beside me.

Squatting, he stares at me like a doctor would his patient. It’s unnerving, thinking he’s searching for just the right spot to start his torture.

When he’s done with his inspection, he rips off my shirt sleeve. His thick fingers grab my arm and with a quick twist, he pulls me closer. “Now, this may hurt.”

The rod slowly moves toward my arm. Already the heat bites at my skin, and when it touches, I jerk back and fall. The bones of my body no longer support me.

I try and hold them in, but in the end, my screams echo off the high, cold walls, like I’m sure all the others have before me. Sidon’s annoyance grows. “Quiet,” he hisses.

My feet kick spasmodically against the pain.

I don’t see him stand and take his brand back to the bucket. I can only feel the heat of the fire rip at my skin. My cries decrease to short bursts as I gulp in air. The stench of burnt flesh permeates the chamber.

When my mind begins to think past the pain, I glance at what he’s done to me. A silver brand mars my bicep. The design is simple, a circle with a wicked-looking nail splitting it in half, and three horizontal lines running asymmetrically through it. It’s the same mark that marred the tree above the dead lamb, and it’s as beautiful as it is horrible.

“Why?” I rasp. “If you’re going to kill me, why brand me?”

“It’s the mark of the tainted. Those who see it will know why you were killed.”

Sidon turns away and begins laying an array of blades on a table. He’s going to torture me, kill me, and
then
put my broken body on display?

The medieval slant to my impending death nearly brings me to hysterics. My mind races with all the
should-have-dones
and
wish-I’d-knowns
until I drown in regret and hopelessness. I’m beaten. I tried and I failed. That is the worst wound of all.

When Sidon is ready, he lifts me into his brawny arms and carries me to the table. He unshackles my wrists and then ties me to the table with three, thickly-made iron straps. The coldness burns and weakens me further. I can’t even talk. My mind is trapped in a body that can’t move, can’t defend itself.

Kera. I think on her, on how lucky I’ve been to know her. When I’m gone, I won’t be able to protect her, because when I’m gone, they
will
find out what she is. It’s inevitable.

A worse thought tumbles into my head. Will Kera meet Sidon? My mind shudders at the possibility, and I push it away, burying it deep.

I close my eyes, unable to keep them open. The sound of Sidon sharpening the blade has a lulling effect. My time on earth is nearly over. I fantasize that I will be missed. Remembered.

The stropping suddenly stops. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I’m not ready to die, but when have I ever been given a choice?

No Way Out

The laces on her corset were pulled so tightly, Kera feared she’d pass out. The women in attendance scurried around like nervous mice fearing the swat of a cat’s paw. When Kera’s ceremonial gown was fitted and hooked, the women stopped what they were doing and stared.

“A queen fit for a king.”

“Lovely.”

“You make us proud.”

Gazing at herself in the mirror, not one word of appreciation for their efforts came to Kera’s lips. She was decorated in the most extravagant manner, yet she took no pleasure in the beauty staring back at her.

Her maids soon left, and only her father stood watch. He stayed at the window, peering into the late evening sky, avoiding her as much as she was him, so it came as a shock when he spoke. “I have been thinking, Kera. There’s a gift I wish to give you.”

The only gift she wanted from him was her freedom. She didn’t try to hide the sneer in her voice. “Is it to celebrate this grand occasion?”

“No. It’s a gift I’ve never given you. It’s one I gave your mother when she desperately needed it.”

Her curiosity was piqued.

“It helped her save your life.”

He turned and faced her, and the love she saw in his eyes took her breath away.

His voice grew hushed. “A parent will sacrifice anything to see his child safe.”

Could she trust him? Kera wanted to, more than ever. “What is it?”

He motioned her closer. “You’ll know once you have it, though it’ll only last a short time. Don’t hesitate to use it, Kera. I can’t give it to you again until my powers revive. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Was he offering her the gift of his power? Not a portion, but all of it?

He turned back to the setting sun, now more brilliant than the brightest fire. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she said on a choked whisper.

He closed his eyes and allowed the bulk of his power to surge into her. She gasped at the intensity, reveling in the energy like she had Dylan’s. When she opened her eyes, her father was on the floor, collapsed in a heap.

She bent and kissed his forehead. “Thank you, Father.”

He weakly grabbed her wrist in an effort to keep her by him, his vow to Navar still strong even in his weakened state, but she easily pulled away. Gathering her skirts, she leapt onto the window sill and jumped to the ground. The fall would have seriously injured her before, but now it barely registered. She ran toward the woods, her speed twice that of normal.

She would find Dylan. They’d leave and never come back. Her father had given her freedom at his expense. She wouldn’t waste this chance.

Just as she reached the woods, Faldon appeared. “What are you doing out here? Are you looking for me?” His gaze skimmed her finery. His hands grasped her shoulders and he frowned, no doubt feeling the surge of power that hummed beneath her skin. “Where’s your father?”

“Is Dylan safe? Please, Faldon, tell me he’s safe.”

A tingling sensation grew where his hands rested, and just as quickly as her father’s power appeared, it left. She felt exhausted. Drained.

Faldon inhaled deeply, then dropped his hands. “He’s gone.”

“Gone?” The word wouldn’t stick. She couldn’t have heard correctly. “What do you mean he’s gone? Where?”

A distressed look crossed Faldon’s face. “He had questions. I couldn’t lie. He knows about Navar.”

Kera took a wobbly step back. “But I don’t love Navar. Did you not try and stop him?”

“Neither I nor Bodog could. He felt betrayed. Can you blame him? You said nothing of your betrothal.”

“I wanted to tell him, but the time was never ripe.”

“I hesitate to say, but in our search, we found one of Navar’s hounds. There was blood on its quills. I don’t wish to think harm came to Dylan, but he’s the only one missing.” Faldon easily turned her toward the keep and laid a comforting arm around her. “You don’t look well. I’m sorry. Truly I am. Contemplating death is never easy. Whatever happened to Dylan, he deserved better.”

“You think he’s dead?” The thought turned her cold.

“All the evidence points that way.” Faldon hugged her, and whispered roughly, “I know the sting of lost love. Hold it close.”

Her shock quickly gave way to devastating sorrow.

After a moment, he pulled away. “But now you’re free to give to your people what they truly need. A good queen. Can you accept your fate? To do anything less will risk a series of consequences that will plunge Teag into chaos.”

Did Faldon really believe Dylan was dead? Killed by one of Navar’s hounds? He must. He knew her heart and how deeply it would hurt to hear of Dylan’s death. He wouldn’t be so cruel.

The world closed in, pressing down on her lungs. Faldon steered her back to the manor. Any hope of freedom died, leaving her empty and alone. Why had she allowed herself to love Dylan? Now she faced the pain of eternal separation. “It would’ve been better to have never met.”

Faldon patted her arm, his support the only thing keeping her walking.

When they came to the front of the manor, the yard overflowed with people. The time for the ceremony had arrived. Torches smoked, casting shadows on the ground, and Faldon urged Kera forward. No one seemed to notice her father’s absence, nor did they think it strange that Faldon attended her. Everyone seemed lost in the moment.

Cheers went up when a woman presented Kera with a heavily jeweled cloak. At one time, she would’ve delighted in its richness. Now, she wanted nothing to do with it.

Faldon offered her his hand, and escorted her to the ceremonial mount, a large gryphon, its white and gold feathers gleaming in the torch light. Its talons clacked against the cobbles impatiently. All too soon, Kera was settled onto an elaborate saddle.

The journey that would change her life forever had begun.

The cleansing ceremony would see her on a path, once taken, she couldn’t stray. What did she care what happened now? Without Dylan, nothing mattered.