*
The screams in the distance blare on.
She is frightened, the dying man thinks. She must have been the one who brought in the snow.
It is in her direction he runs.
The only sounds are her scream of terror and his own overworked breathing. Must find her. Must…
The man falls into the snow in a heap, crying out as the pain becomes unbearable. The bleeding doesn’t stop, and he recognizes the empty feeling, though he has never experienced it before, as his spirit leaves the physical behind.
The screaming has finally succumbed. A smile plays at his lips at the irony as he, too, is now willing to succumb.
A gasp.
His eyes pop open to find the girl staring down fearfully at his crimson body. She couldn’t be more than fourteen, brown hair to the waist, primped in a summer dress and sandals despite her wintry surroundings. Her eyes are splotchy with tears but stare wide at his open chest.
She drops before him, knees buried in the snow. A hand reaches out for his wound but drops away. Whether out of fear or the realization that there is nothing she can do, he does not know.
“What happened to you?” she whispers simply.
But the man’s chest breaks out into spasms, breaths grow uneven. He doesn’t have much time. He must reach out for the girl. “I’m — sorry —” he says between gasps.
The girl jumps to her feet, with a sudden uncertainty in her brow. She notices it then: the cluster of dark scars patterned beneath the collar of his shirt. He lifts his hand, placing it on her thigh, and fire prickles her skin. Her scream resounds. A bright light flowing, his hand fuses to her leg, knitting the fibers of their skins together.
It is over as quickly as it began.
The man grabs her by the hips, using what little of his strength remains to lean forward and breathe the word “Run.”
She skids away from him, clutching her bleeding leg.
A series of black tree trunks blur past as she runs through the forest, putting as much distance between herself and the crazed man as she can. Snow falls heavily, obstructing her vision. She blinks away the cold, pressing on.
A whirl of black appears out of the corner of her eyes. The hooded figure runs parallel, watching her from the shadow of his cloak.
Out of nowhere, fire splits her jaw in two, and she is suddenly on the ground looking up at the slight woman. Her cheek throbs from the blow.
The hooded man runs into view with a ferocious expression.
“I warned you,” says the woman. “Did I not tell you to finish the Mark off?”
He says nothing in return.
“What a bother.” She raises her sword, the girl scurrying away. “I wonder if he accomplished what he set out to, prolonging his power for mere minutes. Oh well…”
“That’s enough.” A third cloaked figure approaches, a younger boy with a terrifying calm. “Always eager to kill, you two are.” He kneels before the girl to roughly wipe a smear of blood from her lips. He speaks to her now. “Well, it’s a shame for you. Wrong place at precisely the right time.”
“She must be killed,” the woman insists.
The girl splutters in response, which only causes the woman to cling tighter to her sword.
Standing coolly, the third says, “Unfortunately for you, she has landed herself in my region. The decision is now mine, and I choose to pass it along to her Majesty.”
The darker man growls. “Just barely in your region!”
“But my region, all the same. No objections, I presume?” He stares thoughtfully at the girl, though not in a kind way. It is as if he sees something tantalizing worth consuming. “Her energy level must be off the charts having completely fused with a New Mark. It’d be an utter waste to destroy her.
“I suggest you two scour the land for the Marked One’s remains.”
Jamyria: The Entering (Sample) Page 2