Death Marked

by Leah Cypess

  Tellis snapped his eyes open and glared at him with an absolute hatred that reminded Sorin of Ileni.

  “We need her,” Sorin said, “and we need her alive. That’s why you’re here. To help her.”

  He drew a dagger, reached behind Tellis’s head, and cut the gag. It fell to the floor, stained with blood and spittle. Tellis’s mouth opened.

  “Kill me,” Sorin said, “and you fail her. Though I believe it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “You’re lying,” Tellis said. He was astonishingly handsome beneath his injuries—blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled face. Once he used magic to heal himself, he would be even more so. Not that it mattered.

  “No,” Sorin said, allowing nothing to show in his voice. “Nothing I’m about to tell you is a lie. In fact, all I’m going to do is tell you the truth. Then you can decide what to do with it.”

  Tellis drew in a breath. “Where is she?”

  Sorin inclined his head.

  “Sit down,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion. “This might take a while.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  By the time they reached the base of the mountain, up at least five staircases and four steep streets, Ileni’s calves were cramping painfully, and her upper arm burned where Karyn’s fingers were clenched around it.

  They were halfway up the mountain, on a path littered with white and purple wildflowers, when Karyn finally broke the silence. “It’s difficult to get lost if you’re headed for the Academy. You just go up.”

  Ileni gritted her teeth against the soreness in her legs. She didn’t want to waste the little power she had left, but as soon as she got close enough to draw on the lodestones, she could get rid of the pain . . . no. No, she couldn’t use the lodestones anymore. Could she?

  She had to. Even knowing where the power came from, even with the old man’s scream burned into her mind. She had to keep pretending. She had to pretend harder than ever, now that she knew what she was fighting against.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time.” Karyn’s fingernails gouged Ileni’s arm. Ileni hissed through her teeth and muttered the words of a spell, recently learned, that would send pain sizzling through Karyn’s hand. Karyn brushed the spell away with contemptuous ease and sent an arc of agony through Ileni’s body.

  Ileni cried out despite herself. Then she gritted her teeth and reached for more power. But she had almost none left, and the lodestones were still out of reach.

  “Be careful, Ileni,” Karyn said softly. “Do you want to go back to what you were? I can take the magic away in a second if I want to.”

  You should. Shame swept through Ileni. She knew now, without the possibility of doubt, where the magic came from. She had seen the people whose lives would be ripped away to fill the lodestones with power.

  And she still wanted it. Shame seared her.

  “I’m not sure why you’re angry,” she said, through her teeth. “You gave me permission.”

  “To accompany Evin. Not to wander alone in the city.” Karyn gave Ileni’s arm a shake. “What exactly were you looking for?”

  Careful. Karyn was only tolerating Ileni because she thought Ileni might be won over to the Empire’s side.

  But Ileni had to say something, and she didn’t think she could keep her revulsion out of her voice. Besides, she wanted to hear Karyn’s answer. Wanted to hear that this was, somehow, different from what it looked like. “I’ll tell you what I found: the people you steal your magic from.”

  Karyn stopped short, swinging Ileni around to face her. “We don’t steal it. It’s given freely.” Her lips were white, her eyes dark with fury and something else. Guilt? Fear?

  “Freely?” Ileni tried to laugh, but what emerged was a sob. “I saw you torture that man.”

  “He was already there,” Karyn snapped. “We don’t force anyone to enter Death’s Door, but if they do, they are agreeing to give us their power when they die. He made a promise, and he was refusing to keep it.”

  “Agreed? In exchange for what?”

  “Any number of things that people are willing to die for. Gold, sometimes, for people they love. More often, protection for their families, or a place for their children at the Sisters of the Black God. It’s worth it to them, and it’s their own choice.”

  It was time to start pretending to be convinced. Instead, Ileni said, “So that’s the basis of all your power. Helpless people whose lives you steal when they are too sick to resist and have nowhere else to turn. You could help them, but instead you offer them your choice.” Power stolen, power misused, power drawn from pain and death. “You think forcing them to kill themselves is somehow nobler than straight-out murdering them? Just because they’re old and sick and weak?”

  Karyn snapped her mouth shut. She blinked, and Ileni had the now-familiar sense that she had missed something, revealed her ignorance once again.

  “Most of them would die anyhow,” Karyn said finally. “While they live, they are weak and useless. We are giving them a way to be valuable, to serve the Empire.”

  “By harvesting their lives to add to your power!”

  “You can blame your assassin friends for that,” Karyn said. “We need more power for the coming war.”

  For the coming. . . .Ileni drew in her breath.

  Wouldn’t you rather it was our soldiers? Think how many lodestones would be in the training arena now.

  “You get power from war, too,” Ileni said. “Don’t you? From dying soldiers. They’re a source, too.”

  Karyn pressed her lips together. “Yes. We don’t waste lives.”

  “And because of that, their deaths don’t matter to you.” Lis had told her the truth, but she hadn’t understood: We win either way.

  It didn’t matter, to the Empire, if they won or lost a battle. If they won, their enemies died. And if they lost, they died, and their power was gathered into the lodestones. Dead soldiers became power sources for sorcerer-soldiers. Even defeats added to the Empire’s strength. No wonder it was unstoppable.

  “Why bother going through the motions of a fight?” Ileni snapped. “Why not just order them to kill themselves and give you their power?”

  Karyn stared at her. “Who would obey that order?”

  Ileni knew several hundred people who would obey but this was, clearly, not the time to bring that up. She had to back down before it was too late.

  Except she suspected it was already too late.

  Karyn’s eyes narrowed. “I think your viewpoint has been a little skewed by your time in the caves. We don’t murder people for no reason. We don’t send soldiers into battles to die. We prefer to win. But if we lose, we see no reason to waste their deaths.”

  Start acting convinced. But Ileni couldn’t think of how to do it—how to pretend she thought the murder of innocents could be justified. That the Empire could value life so little, and then hide behind speeches about necessity.

  “I . . .” she began, choking before she even knew what to say. And then, just in time, realized that she was going about this all wrong.

  Karyn didn’t expect Ileni to be convinced. She expected her to be tempted.

  “I could heal some of those people,” she said. “If I . . . if I had a lodestone bracelet of my own.”

  Karyn let out a tiny snort of victorious laughter. “Could you, indeed?”

  “Yes.” Deep breath. “If what you’re saying is true, if you would prefer that people not die, then give me a bracelet and let me serve as their healer.”

  “How noble of you.” Karyn let go of Ileni’s wrist, and Ileni forced herself not to rub the indentations left by the sorceress’s fingers. “I’ll consider it. Although you do realize that the lodestone on your bracelet will have cost a life. You’ll just be trading one life for another.”


  So Karyn, too, didn’t know how to stop arguing just because she had what she wanted. Ileni shrugged. “Renegai healing spells have been honed for centuries to require as little power as possible. Unless someone is actually dying, it shouldn’t drain a lodestone to cure them. I could cure dozens of people with the power of a single stone.”

  “I see,” Karyn said. “I’ll consider it.”

  And now they both had what they wanted. Ileni’s mouth tasted sour.

  Karyn let out a breath. “Well. Much as I would love to continue this discussion, I don’t have the time. The Oksain River is flooding again, and I need a dozen mid-level sorcerers to help me contain it.” She stepped back. “By keeping the river in its banks, we’ll save hundreds of lives and prevent a famine. But don’t let that interfere with your self-righteous horror.”

  Killing people to save other people’s lives. Ileni had heard that before. She bit her lip, hard enough to hurt, and said nothing.

  Karyn vanished. But right before she did, she gave Ileni a look of such triumph, such certainty, that Ileni’s entire body clenched.

  She ran the rest of the way up the mountain, racing past clustered spikes of grass and thorny bushes clinging to the rock. She pulled in power as soon as she was in range of the lodestones, healing muscles recklessly so she could keep up a breakneck pace. She slammed the door to her room, yanked open two of her desk drawers, and grabbed what she needed: a piece of a chalk and a stone paperweight in the shape of a tiny mountain. She didn’t bother to close the drawers. She dropped to her hands and knees and began to draw, so hard and fast that chalk dust sputtered up from the rock.

  It was a complicated pattern to work so quickly, and that helped; she had to focus on it entirely, her mind clear and cold, distractions like life and death and betrayal becoming misty and distant. When she was done, she sat cross-legged on the floor with a thump. Then, with slow deliberateness, she placed her fingers in the right places on the paperweight.

  She knew how to do this spell. She had run it through her mind a dozen times. And this time, she had to see him. Had to tell him that he was right, that she was ready to come back . . .

  Her fingers froze.

  Was she ready?

  This wasn’t about running away. She was a weapon. If she opened the portal, he would think it meant she was ready to be used.

  Was she?

  Was she ready to set the assassins loose on the Empire, just because people were dying a few days earlier than they would have died anyhow?

  The thought felt slick and ugly in her mind. No Renegai would ever think that way. All lives were worth saving. It was why healing was so central, the most important use of magic. Why they had left the Empire to begin with.

  But Ileni hadn’t been thinking like a Renegai for a long time now. The Renegai were a tiny group of outcasts, clinging to centuries-old ideals while hiding away in the mountains where those ideals were never confronted with reality. Nobody else in the entire world saw life as anything more than a bag of coins, to be counted and valued and, ultimately, traded in.

  She wished she still thought like a Renegai, confident in what was pure and good. Now she knew that nothing—nothing—was pure and good.

  Including her.

  Once, she had believed that she was a good person, that she would always choose right. That she would know what right meant. Now she was so tainted, so muddled, that she couldn’t even make a choice at all.

  She heard a sound, an ugly, gulping sob, and clamped her lips together before she could let out another one. Slowly, carefully, she began the finger patterns again, this time doing them backward. Unwinding the spell.

  When she was done, she rubbed the floor with her hands until there wasn’t a visible trace of chalk left, then kept scrubbing until no more tears fell onto the gray stone.

  Arxis was at breakfast the next morning, sitting next to Evin, the two of them laughing and jostling each other. Judging by Cyn’s irritated expression, Arxis’s presence was a breach of protocol and judging by Evin’s insouciant grin, it was one he didn’t care about. But when Ileni walked into the room, his brow furrowed.

  Arxis glanced at Ileni, too. Even the way he turned his head was taut and disciplined, and his eyes were opaque. She wondered how none of the others could see him for what he was. A hunter. A killer.

  Of course, they were all killers, here.

  That morning, Ileni had gotten ready without magic, so it had taken her twice as long as usual. She was only halfway through her breakfast when Cyn pushed away from the table and said, “Let’s go.”

  Fortunately, Ileni hadn’t had much appetite anyhow.

  When they stepped outside, the sky was so gray it melted into the mountain peaks, and mist drifted across Ileni’s skin. She trudged across the bridge while the others soared overhead, Evin towing Arxis along. Apparently they had cemented their friendship while she was watching a man be tortured.

  What should I do? She had her answer now, the truth she had come to find: The Empire deserved to end, and she was the only one who could end it. It drew its magic from murder. Torturing the helpless until they surrendered their lives, and their power . . .

  Except the old man at Death’s Door hadn’t surrendered anything. He was still alive, and Lis had walked away.

  But he wouldn’t be alive for long. You’ll get only one more chance, Karyn had threatened. This was, clearly, an isolated act of disobedience, and one that would soon be reversed. Did it really matter that Lis felt bad about what she was doing? She was doing it anyhow.

  When Ileni stepped onto the plateau, Evin and Cyn were already sparring, flinging balls of colored light at each other. Cyn’s balls were pure white, her strikes direct and dizzyingly fast. Evin’s were swirls of translucent color, more beautiful than dangerous. Even so, Evin was clearly winning. His movements were relaxed, almost lazy, while Cyn’s breath came in short, ragged bursts. On the other side of the plateau, Lis and Arxis were standing with their heads close together, sleek black and unruly red

  Evin snapped his head around when Ileni’s foot touched the plateau. He raised a hand, and a burst of power stopped all the glowing orbs in midair. The vast expenditure of magic almost knocked Ileni back over the edge. She swayed slightly.

  “Match over,” Evin said cheerfully. “Well, Ileni? Want to give it a try?”

  Ileni did want to, and the longing made her feel tight, about to explode.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t.”

  She said it without thinking, and didn’t hear the haughtiness in her voice until it was too late.

  Evin shrugged, but Cyn stiffened. “I thought,” she said, “that you’d given up the whole shocked-and-superior act. It’s getting boring.”

  “I’ll spar with you again—” Evin cut in.

  “No. I think I’d like Ileni to have a turn.” Cyn ran her fingers through her short hair. “She’s proven that she’s quite capable of being a challenge, when she can bring herself to forget that she’s a—what are your villagers called again?”

  “Renegai,” Ileni snapped. “And I don’t want to forget.”

  “Clearly. You have my deepest sympathies for that.”

  Her tone cut deep. The contempt was not just for Ileni, but for Ileni’s people, everything the Renegai had achieved and everything they had sacrificed.

  Cyn smiled—an ugly smile, the sort she usually aimed at Lis. “Angry now, Renegai girl? Does that mean you’re allowed to fight?” She flung out a hand, and a column of sand rose before her and whirled across the plateau at Ileni.

  Ileni drew in power from the lodestones and blasted the column apart. Then she raised a hand, and Cyn flew backward across the plateau, slamming into one of Evin’s frozen lights. It exploded in a graceful spray of color. Cyn, less gracefully, dropped to the ground and lay still.

  The plateau was suddenly, resoundingly silent. Ileni’s heart pounded in her chest, and air streamed into her throat, cold and sharp.

  Cyn lifted her head and whisper
ed a word.

  Pain tore through Ileni’s body. She screamed once, a short burst of agony, then sent a pain-numbing spell into her bones. She wrenched in a breath—and magic surged from Cyn again, turning Ileni’s body into her enemy, pain searing along her bones and her blood.

  She managed not to scream this time, but she wasn’t sure how. Another healing spell dulled the pain enough to let her feel the magic Cyn was pouring into the attack. She tried to raise a defense, and a sideways surge of power slapped her attempt aside.

  Cyn wasn’t even using the full strength of the spell. This was just a taste. If Cyn wanted, she could kill Ileni in a split second of agony. Or she could keep her alive and make her beg for death. This was what combat magic was, what the Academy strove for and the Renegai had rejected. Magic designed to do nothing but cause pain, to hurt a human being beyond endurance.

  Ileni crumpled to the floor, fighting the pain, keeping it almost—almost—at bay. She wouldn’t scream and she wouldn’t beg. Not . . . not yet.

  “Yield,” Cyn said. She was standing over Ileni. Ileni hadn’t seen her move.

  Ileni spat at her feet.

  Cyn’s murmured a word, and pain sliced along Ileni’s cheek. Blood trickled down her face.

  “Cyn,” Evin said.

  “It’s our match,” Cyn said coolly. “Don’t interfere. I’m not causing any permanent damage. She can use one of her cute little healing spells, and she won’t even have to waste a bandage.” She closed her fist, and Ileni couldn’t breathe. Air scraped painfully at her throat, and she gasped and floundered. Panic flooded through her, worse than pain.

  “No permanant damage yet,” Cyn added. “All you have to do is yield.”

  Ileni was slowly strangling, and she couldn’t quite manage defiance, but she squeezed her eyes shut and managed silence.

  “Stop it,” Evin snapped, and suddenly it was gone—the constriction in her throat, the agony, the terror. Ileni uncurled herself slowly, her muscles strange and loose with the absence of pain. The sharp thrust of Cyn’s spell was muted by the power of Evin’s blocking spell, a spell that made Ileni’s attempt at defense laughable by comparison.