The Mark of the Legend: Book One of the Mark Trilogy Read online

  Jacosa’s skin went pale and a whisper escaped her lips. “The Dark Creatures…”

  “You know about them?” Amani asked quietly as if excitement would destroy this crucial information.

  “They destroyed my home when I was a child.” Jacosa explained.

  Amani stared at Jacosa in disbelief. “We’ve never found anyone that encountered them and lived; especially not a child.”

  “I wasn’t alone.”

  Amani smiled. “You can help us defeat them. The Dark Creatures, as you call them, have forced the Forest Clan to flee deeper into the forest. They wait with the hope that we can resist the growing evil together. We arrived yesterday, seeking an audience with your parents. When we learned what happened, we brought our plea to the council. We were arrested and brought here. We overheard the council’s plans to cooperate with Calamity. They intend to invite his armies here. If that happens, Calamity will spread throughout the south unchallenged. If you are Sakina, then our plea goes to you. Please, unite with us. Fight beside us.”

  Sakina’s nostrils flared, and her chest rose slowly with deep breaths. “You don’t need to plead with me. The Wyvern attack was more than enough to show me that we can’t run anymore. I would have the Southern people stand, but first I must show myself.”

  “If we can get you to the village center, you can rally the people,” Jacosa said.

  Amani smiled wide. “We’ll get you there, somehow. Thank you, Sakina. You may have just saved Terrene.”

  While Amani and her company discussed escape, Jacosa gazed at the top of the post she was bound to. She struggled to her feet and pulled the chain tight against the splintered wood. She leaned towards the ground, braced her feet against the post, and let the tension support her. She slid the chain slowly up the wood and walked backwards up the post.

  The impressed onlookers silently cheered her on.

  She reached the top, lifted her chain off the post, and leaped back to the ground. Jacosa found a large rock and hacked at Sakina’s rusted shackles until she was free.

  The two of them freed the thirteen other prisoners.

  Two of the soldiers rushed to help their battered Captain, but he waved them off and plodded into the Key Village on his own.

  Everyone else followed him.

  They looped around the outskirts of the village, keeping a safe distance from the council’s meeting tent, and approached from the west.

  Sakina thought about what she would say when they reached the square as the company moved slowly through the crumbling streets of the village. She would be standing before crowds of people gazing at her scarred face, and that terrified her. She shuddered, but there was no going back. She had to claim her birthright.

  Captain Conall grabbed Sakina and pulled her behind a pile of rubble. They had reached the town center, and what they saw from behind the rubble destroyed any courage or conviction.

  No villagers or peddlers bustled around the square. It was filled with cold, muscled soldiers with gray, smokey eyes. Steaming masses of tar spewed hot fumes around them. At the heart of the Fallen horde stood their leader. He was tall and adorned with layers of forged steel. He was speaking with the men of the New Council who were there to welcome the Fallen to their new home.

  Sakina trembled. “We’re too late.” She stepped back and the rubble beneath her shifted.

  A Fallen soldier stiffened and turned to leer at the company’s hiding place.

  Captain Conall snapped into action. “Go now. Back the way we came!”

  The soldiers surrounded Sakina, Amani, and the other ambassador and urged them back into the streets.

  Bellows and howls filled the air as the Fallen horde scrambled after them.

  The company tore through the village, but the Fallen were all around them. They were cut off. There was no escape.

  Jacosa turned.

  The first Fallen warrior reached her.

  Time slowed. She scrambled back, but he had her. She kicked and fought as hard as she could as the man drug her away. “This is it.” She thought.

  A mighty shout echoed in Jacosa’s ears as Captain Conall lifted the Fallen man off her. His muscles bulged and his eyes were bright and wild as he flung the man into the oncoming sea of Fallen soldiers. The front lines collapsed.

  Captain Conall pulled Jacosa to her feet.

  She looked into his eyes and saw a decision. He wasn’t leaving this place.

  Conall shouted over her head. “Sakina, you must take back the Southern Villages; find a way! Unite with the Forest Clan and save Terrene!” Conall turned to his men. “Protect them with your lives. They must survive.”

  Captain Conall turned and barred the narrow city street as the Fallen recovered. He strode forward without hesitation or fear, but he was not excited or eager. He gazed into his end, unruffled and ready. Conall stooped and picked up the broken remnant of a wooden beam. He gripped it in both hands and charged. The Fallen were so close he could see the malice and bloodlust behind their gray eyes. With a powerful swing, Conall sent the first warrior to reach him careening backward. He left the jagged beam in the unfortunate Fallen that reached him next. Then he fought with his bare hands.

  Jacosa ran hard. Her mind raced as their small company fled the village. Captain Conall had stayed behind. He was sacrificing himself so they could escape. Jacosa risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Conall beating back the Fallen with fists stained with black blood. Jacosa snapped her head back forward.

  They were almost out of the village. The company sprinted past the outermost huts.

  Jacosa stopped and looked back to see if Captain Conall had made it out of the fray. He hadn’t. Tears ran down her face as he disappeared beneath the swarming Fallen. She would never be able to thank the man she hardly knew. The man who gave his life for hers.

  Chapter Eight

  The Shadow Lands

  Alistair and his followers marched towards the Shadow Lands. They ate only what they brought with them, and they rested only when the night became too black to travel any further. It had been several days since they left the Forest Clan and Alistair was growing impatient. As his eagerness grew, he drove his company harder. That evening, after traveling across harsh wildlands all day at an exhausting pace, Alistair’s followers were prepared to rest. But Alistair pushed them on despite the dangers of traveling in darkness. His body was as weary as theirs, but his need to face his enemy, the thrill of what new foe would attempt to stand against him drove him. So, they pressed on.

  Finally, Wybert spoke to him. “Alistair, we have to stop. Everyone’s exhausted. We can’t even see where we’re going. Let’s make camp and continue at first light.”

  “We’re almost there,” Alistair insisted. “We must be.”

  Wybert placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “They need to rest.”

  Alistair turned on Wybert. His anger boiled.

  Wybert held his gaze, unthreatening, but unwavering before shouting the order. “That’s enough for tonight. Get some fires going and get some sleep. We’ll continue at daybreak.”

  While the rest of the soldiers rested by warm fires, Alistair sulked in the shadows.

  Wybert sat beside him. “What’s going on, Alistair? Why are you pushing them so hard?”

  Alistair stared ahead. “This is taking too long. We need to get there…”

  “What’s your rush? Why do you want to get to the Shadow Lands so badly?”

  “Because I want to fight!” Alistair blurted.

  Wybert looked at Alistair, surprised and confused by his response. “You mean so we can go back home. So, we don’t have to leave the colony, right?”

  Alistair didn’t respond.

  Wybert stood. “We’ll be there soon enough, and you’ll have your fight.” Wybert walked back to the nearest fire to rest for the night. He was worried about his friend. Alistair was too willing to take on this venture when it all started, and he was far too eager to get to the Shadow Lands now.

>   The next morning brought a discouraging sight to everyone but Alistair. After resuming their march at the first traces of light, his company reached the Shadow Lands. By best guess, it was mid-day, but the sun had become nearly impossible to track across the sky. Its light and warmth reached an ultimate low at the unending death stretched out before them. Few of the company had ever seen the Shadow Lands for themselves, and they were more horrible than anything they had imagined.

  The march halted along a distinct line where the green grass, patches of snow, and sturdy trees stopped. Beyond the line, only poisoned earth remained where grass once grew. Where trees once stood tall, and strong, withered shards jutted from the earth as if they’d melted and re-hardened in grotesque shapes. In riverbeds where clear water once flowed, stagnate sludge oozed.

  Alistair’s company remained rooted along the border between life and death. No one wished to cross into the void. The sight sucked the air from their lungs and the courage from their hearts.

  Alistair did not attempt to calm their fears. He called Wybert, Ahian, Anujah, and Serilda to him. “Tell your recruits to wait. I’m going on alone.”

  “What?” Wybert replied. “You are our leader. You shouldn’t be scouting at all, especially not alone. Let me take a scouting party instead.”

  Alistair’s mind was made up. “I’m going Wybert.”

  Wybert knew there would be no changing Alistair’s decision, so he conceded. “Fine. But you can’t go alone. I’m going with you.”

  Alistair glared at Wybert for a moment. “Don’t slow me down.”

  Alistair and Wybert stepped across the line between hope and despair while Serilda and the twins informed the others of Alistair’s decision.

  Alistair and Wybert ran straight through the Shadow Lands. Normally, scouts would rely on stealth and cover to move around unseen, but in the Shadow Lands, there was nowhere to hide.

  As Alistair ran, his heart raced and his secret hope that they would encounter enemies filled his mind. He felt so alive. His attention was so fixed on his longing, that he didn’t hear Wybert’s words when they came.

  “Alistair, stop!”

  Alistair felt a powerful tug on the shield across his back as Wybert yanked him off his feet. There was a huge precipice right in front of him. Alistair ignored Wybert’s concerned look and crawled to the edge of the cliff.

  Below them, a massive basin had been carved from Terrene as if a spade a mile wide had dug out its heart. In the basin, Alistair and Wybert discovered a dreadful creation.

  Enormous tiers of twisted, sharp metal rose from the pit. Jagged layers of fortification were stacked on top of each other to form the massive fortress of Malum.

  Alistair and Wybert were speechless. They looked on in awe and horror at the thousands of Fallen behind the thick metal gates that barred the basin’s only entrance. They flattened themselves against the ground at the distant, screeching roars of Wyverns swooping towards the fortress in the pit. Many of the Fallen brandished whips and chains, forcing countless men, women, and children to work. The sounds of their labor filled the air as they slaved to build this evil fortress at the heart of Calamity’s black kingdom.

  He was preparing his final domination of Terrene. Inside Malum, he would build overwhelming armies and breed unimagined terrors. From this fortress, he would unleash fury, and malice upon the entire world. No one would be able to stand against him and he would enslave all.

  A strange sound filled the air. The far-off sound of creaking metal, like a great hammer dragging across a rusty anvil, echoed from Malum. Columns of acrid, black smoke followed the sound. The smoke shot up from the ground in huge, torrential billows all around the Fallen and their slaves in the pit.

  The Fallen abandoned their posts and ran to the pillars. They fell to their knees, buried their faces in the toxic gas, and breathed it in.

  The slaves ran from the smoke. They huddled together and buried their faces in the tattered rags they wore, desperately trying not to breathe the fumes. Soon, the rising billows began to settle.

  The gas spread throughout the basin and enveloped everyone until Alistair and Wybert could see nothing but the jagged peaks of Malum rising through a thick, dark fog.

  Alistair remembered gas like this in the Valley of Plenty the day his home was destroyed, and his mother was murdered. He remembered the Fallen feeding off its tortured energy and forcing terrified captives to choose between the fumes and death. He remembered watching their eyes turn gray and hazy as if they would never see clearly again.

  The sound of grinding metal returned, much louder this time. The dirt beneath Alistair and Wybert shifted. They dove away as a giant, metal trapdoor opened there. Many more trapdoors opened around them with the same abrasive, grinding sound. They leaped to their feet and sprinted back the way they came. As they tore back across the black, dead ground, a trapdoor opened directly in Alistair’s path.

  There was no time to avoid it, so Alistair vaulted over it. He stared past his airborne feet at tendrils of black smoke reaching out from a deep, metal duct. He reached the other side of the wide, metal hatch, and hit the ground running. A swirling twister exploded from the trapdoor behind him.

  Alistair and Wybert sprinted on as pillars erupted all around them. Then the metal trapdoors snapped shut, each with a resounding clang. The swirling pillars of smoke collapsed.

  The gas spread out and surrounded Alistair and Wybert. They coughed violently as hazy fingers of gas rushed into their lungs. Their muscles ached as they sprinted towards the clearing in front of them. The thick fog was now well over their heads. They staggered on.

  Alistair’s eyes began to darken. Terror gripped his heart as his vision blurred. He was more afraid than he had been in a very long time. He felt like the fear inside him would leave him to die in this wretched place. But then cool, fresh air touched Alistair’s face. He collapsed, gasping and begging the air to enter his lungs faster. His vision cleared, his breathing slowed, and powerful terror gave way to the steely resolve he’d created for himself. Alistair turned to face a thick wall of smoke behind him. The gas had stopped along an invisible boundary and Alistair lay just beyond its reach.

  “Alistair!” Wybert shouted. “Alistair! Where are you?!”

  “I’m over here.”

  “We have to go.” Wybert insisted. “The fumes are staying in that zone, but this one could be next.”

  Alistair reluctantly followed Wybert back to the Forest Clan soldiers waiting for them.

  Alistair and Wybert stumbled back across the border of the Shadow Lands and the Forest Clan host looked to them for instruction. Alistair slumped onto a nearby log and Wybert dropped to the ground beside him.

  Ahian, Anujah, and Serilda joined them, and for a moment, Alistair and his loyal friends sat in silence.

  While the twins and Serilda were eager for information, they had learned that Alistair would only share with them when he decided to.

  Finally, Alistair broke the silence. “We’re going to wait here until tonight. Once we have the cover of darkness, we move on. That’s all you need to know.” Alistair looked at Ahian, Anujah, and then Serilda, daring them to question him further. But each of them seemed willing to accept his minimal report and follow him further without question. Then Alistair’s eyes met Wybert’s.

  “What are you doing?” Wybert asked. “They have the right to know what’s out there. Tell them what we found, or I will.”

  Alistair’s heart darkened with hatred for Wybert, and he refused to speak.

  “There’s nowhere to hide out there,” Wybert explained to the small ring of friends. “If we continue this way, we’ll be completely exposed. We didn’t find anything until we got to the fortress.” Wybert described Malum and told them about the Wyverns, the scores of Fallen and the slaves building Calamity’s capitol.

  “Did you find anything else?” Ahian asked.

  Wybert paused.

  Alistair stared at him, silently dissuading him from the t
ruth.

  “Yes,” Wybert finally answered. “There’s more. Thick, black gas gets released throughout the Shadow Lands that fuels the Fallen and causes terror in everyone else. We barely escaped it.”

  Alistair jumped to his feet. “We can handle the fumes! We can see them coming, and you don’t even know that they’re dangerous!” Alistair’s mind flashed back to the young woman that chose the fumes over death the day Alvah and his Fallen army destroyed his home. He saw her eyes darken and a wicked sneer spread across her face. He kept his memory to himself. “Wybert and I were in the fumes, and we’re fine.”

  “We were only in it for a few seconds,” Wybert argued, “and I felt more afraid than I’ve ever felt. My eyes darkened. I couldn’t see or breathe. Do you want to lead them into that? We came to see if the Shadow Lands were as bad as our scouts said, and they are. We should go back and regroup in the Western Woods like my father ordered.”

  Alistair felt his control slipping. Deep down, he knew Wybert was right, but he needed this. The thrill of war was so near he could practically taste it. He couldn’t let them go back. So, he turned to the others. They hadn’t seen what Wybert had. Maybe he could convince them. “We don’t need to turn back.” He said earnestly. “We’ve come this far. Remember why we’re here. We came to fight for our home and our people. Don’t give up. Ahian, Anujah, Serilda, have I ever led you wrong?”

  Around the circle, Alistair’s friends shook their heads. They could not deny that Alistair’s lead, while aggressive, had always worked out for them.

  Ahian was the first to speak. “Alistair, we trust you. I will follow you wherever you lead. But the soldiers we rallied for you deserve to know the risks of continuing.”

  Anujah spoke after her brother. “Ahian’s right. If you feel that we should do this, then we are with you. However, many of the soldiers here have families. I will not hold it against them if they choose to go back.”