Lamentation of the Marked (The Marked Series Book 3)

by March McCarron

  But this was unfair—Peer knew so immediately. He could never make such a sacrifice himself.

  “Yarrow…” he began again. “Haven’t you given enough? No one’s expectin’ this of you.” He wished the man would stop smiling. It was disconcerting.

  “That was my first reaction, as well. To think that I’ve given enough. But it’s strange, you know. These sacrifices, they seem by design to steadily detach you from life, one by one. It sounds as if each sacrifice is more difficult than the last, but in reality each makes the next easier. You travel so far down this path, it seems almost a relief to come to the end of it, to reach the destination. At this point, it isn’t truly giving. It’s more self-seeking than that. It’s acceptance—I cannot alter my course, and I am weary from this journey.”

  Yarrow braced himself on the arms of his chair and pushed to his feet. His expression was one of unshakeable resolve, and yet still there was such sadness in his eyes.

  “Yarrow, don’t.”

  Peer watched as the man took that familiar first stance. His hands drifted up from his hips until his palms were parallel with the floor. Peer knew the move well—Warm Hands over Fire. He knew it, because Yarrow himself had taught them—him, Bray, and Adearre—in what seemed another lifetime.

  His hips swiveled and his arm swept forward—Brush the Dragonfly. Peer’s appreciation for the Ada Chae had changed over the past year. He had thought it a foolish dance, and then a useful tool. Only now did he recognize its mournful beauty. These slow, sweeping movements were the beckoning of death.

  Peer studied Yarrow’s face. He could not decide if he should stop the man, as he knew Bray would if she were here. He could tackle Yarrow, knock him out cold. But he hesitated. If Yarrow were determined, he would find the opportunity to do this thing. And if he were going to do it anyway, hadn’t he better do it now—before the next attack?

  Yarrow balanced a ball of air in his hands; Turn the Sphere. His palms extended out from his chest; Gracious Offering.

  Peer clenched his jaw, uncertain, watchful. He saw a tear slip from beneath Yarrow’s closed eyelid. The man’s brow furrowed in concentration, as he moved into Slow Lash. Peer imagined he must be mounting that last, towering step.

  And Peer could still do it—he could still stop him. It would take little effort to simply push the man to the ground, and wrench him from the Aeght a Seve.

  But he did not. He admitted to himself that, if he had meant to prevent Yarrow from making this terrible choice, he would’ve done so already. He went on watching, determined to bear witness at the very least.

  A wail ripped from Yarrow’s throat, as if he had been struck in the chest. Pain flitted across his features.

  And then, all at once, Yarrow ceased gliding through the forms. His knees buckled, and he hit the hardwood floor heavily, like a corpse. Peer shoved around the desk. He watched as Yarrow’s eyelids fluttered, revealing blank gray eyes.

  I should have stopped him, Peer thought to himself, too late.

  The man who had been Yarrow Lamhart, but who was now a Fifth, opened his mouth.

  “Brentis Dormitory, University of Accord,” he intoned, in a dead, emotionless voice. “Brentis Dormitory, University of Accord. Brentis Dormitory, University of Accord.”

  The chant was eerie. Peer had the strong desire to run from the room. However, it seemed wrong to leave Yarrow sprawled on the floor in this way. He would not want Bray to find him in this state.

  Peer bent down and hauled the man onto his shoulder. His dead weight was difficult to lift, but Peer managed. He walked him around the desk. All the while Yarrow kept repeating, “Brentis Dormitory, University of Accord.”

  Peer set the man down into his own chair. Yarrow’s head lolled lifelessly to the side. Peer averted his gaze.

  There was no going back now. And he had a promise to keep. He turned his back on the man and sprinted out into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ko-Jin folded his arms. His gaze swept over the palace grounds, where hundreds of pairs sparred beneath a storm-darkened sky. The recruits now alternated between training, duty on the walls, and rest. With Quade’s army camped within sight, most had begun to take their practice sessions more seriously.

  Chae-Na, at his side, consulted the watch she had taken to wearing. She did not offer an update on the number of hours remaining. Instead, she gazed out over the field. “How do they look?” she asked. “Ready?”

  Ko-Jin knew that Zarra was standing near enough to hear his response. Her head turned a fraction.

  “They’ve made remarkable progress given the short weeks of training,” Ko-Jin answered. “One-on-one with a Chisanta, they’ll be outmatched, but against all of those untrained militiamen Quade has swept into service…” Ko-Jin nodded his head. “They should do well. Thanks to Master Elver.”

  His former instructor smiled archly at him. “Well, they weren’t nearly as slow-witted as a certain adolescent Chisanta I once knew.”

  Ko-Jin laughed. “You must have finally learnt to teach properly, then. I have it on good authority I was something of a prodigy.”

  “Ha! A prodigy at tripping over your own feet, maybe.”

  Ko-Jin chuckled. He let his gaze drift back over his civilian forces, and his mouth turned down. Quade’s army, marshaled just beyond their perimeter, was likely quadruple his own.

  They need only maintain the wall, he reminded himself. Long enough for us to eliminate Quade.

  “There you are!”

  Ko-Jin spun to find Bray, looking out of breath and annoyed, loping his way. “Could’ve said where you were. I’ve been all over the palace looking for you.”

  She smiled at Chae-Na and jogged to his side.

  “Uh…sorry?” Ko-Jin said. “You need me for something?”

  She frowned. “Yarrow said you wanted to see me.”

  “Huh,” he said with a shrug. “That’s odd. I haven’t even seen Yarrow since this morning. Though, as you’re here, I do have the beginnings of a plan that you might help me with. Walk inside with us?”

  Before they had moved several paces, another figure came tearing around the side of the building. A young Chisanta shouted out to them incomprehensibly.

  “It’s Mick, isn’t it?” Bray asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He braced his hands on his knees, wheezing. His skin was so flushed that the deep red mark on his neck blended into his complexion.

  “Peer needs you at the university right away,” he huffed. “He knows where Quade’s next attack will be.”

  “What?” Bray asked, her eyes lighting up. “Did he and Yarrow figure it out?”

  The lad shrugged. “Don’t know. But we should hurry.”

  Ko-Jin glanced at his watch. It was still two hours before the next blast—plenty of time, hopefully, to prevent it. He swiveled a questioning look on Chae-Na.

  “Go,” she said.

  “But—”

  “I’ll be safe. I shall stay with Master Elver.”

  Ko-Jin’s lips thinned. His gaze flicked to the Elevated lad. “You stay here. Protect the queen.”

  The boy, Mick, straightened, seeming to take this assignment with all proper seriousness. Ko-Jin hoped he was worthy of the office. “Aye, General.”

  Bray had already inched away. She glared back at him with impatience in her green eyes. Ko-Jin turned to Chae-Na one last time. “I’ll send more Chisanta.” Then he sprinted up the garden path. He cursed to himself when he remembered the stables had been destroyed. Riding would have been much faster than running.

  “This way,” Bray said, beckoning. “I rode here.” She guided him around to the palace entrance where a valet was waiting with a saddled black gelding.

  Ko-Jin pierced the manservant with an intense look. “I need you to find Britt, or any other Chisanta in the palace, and tell them to guard the queen.” When the man did not leap into motion, he added, “Now!”

  He swung up into the saddle and held out a hand to hoist Bray up after
him. In a moment they were galloping down the parkway. To the east, lightning pulsed in the blackening sky. Ko-Jin sent up a plea that the rain might hold off a bit longer.

  The streets between the palace gates and the university were not as empty as they had been of late. He noticed several groups of people pacing up the streets in different directions, and realized they were civilian patrols. He said a silent thank-you to Mae and the Pauper’s people.

  As they thundered up to the main gates of the university, Ko-Jin realized he had not asked where on the grounds Peer and Yarrow would be. The library?

  But this contemplation was rendered moot when he spied Peer Gelson himself, along with his partner Whythe, waiting for them just within the gates. Ko-Jin reined in the gelding which slowed to a dancing halt. Bray bounded to the ground and Ko-Jin hauled himself from the saddle after her.

  “You found the explosives?” Bray asked in a rush.

  “No,” Peer said. “There aren’t any there yet; we’ve checked. But we know where Quade’s meaning to hit us—the Brentis Dormitory.”

  “Excellent,” Ko-Jin said. “Then we can lie in wait for Quade’s men. Whythe, you can take a teleporter’s gift away, right?”

  The sandy-haired man grinned. “Yes, I can. Not a problem.”

  “The dorm…” Bray said softly, to herself.

  Many of the Chisanta had been sleeping in that building, including Bray and Yarrow. Ko-Jin felt a momentary rush of relief, and of gratitude for Yarrow and his bizarre love of prophecy.

  “So, we should take places around the dormitory. Keep your ears peeled for the sound of someone arriving. Whoever he’s sent to do his bidding, we’ll just need to get them to quarantine. Fernie might be able to have them in their right minds soon enough.”

  Whythe looked down at his feet. “And if it’s Quade himself?”

  “Strip him of his ability, and we’ll take him down.” Ko-Jin thought it unlikely that Quade would see to such a task personally, but he hoped he was wrong. If Asher came here now, while they were ready for him, then this war could be stopped before it began.

  A cool raindrop hit the back of his hand, and then a rumble of thunder sounded. The hairs on Ko-Jin’s arms stood on end.

  “Should we clear the dormitory?” Bray asked. “Or might that tip him off?”

  “I already had the building emptied,” Peer said. “Didn’t want to risk it. We don’t know how he’s initiating these explosions.”

  “A good call,” Ko-Jin said.

  Peer hefted a satchel that had been sitting at his feet. “I’ve brought rope for binding, and earplugs, in case they get chatty.”

  Glancing at his timepiece, Ko-Jin clicked his tongue. “Little over an hour to go. We should move into place.”

  They dashed up the university green, towards the dormitory in question. The approaching storm had plunged them into a darkness that made it seem much later in the evening. They marched past a group of fellow Cosanta practicing the Ada Chae.

  “Where’s Yarrow?” he heard Bray ask Peer.

  “Ah, he’s back at the library still. He…ah, well, after this I’ll tell you about it.”

  Ko-Jin snorted. Here, there was a chance that they might finally put an end to the most evil man in modern history, and Yarrow Lamhart could not pull himself from his books.

  The building in question sat at the far edge of the campus, flush against a wooded park. The south side of the building backed a large, steep hill. A poor place to arrive if one aspired to remain unseen. It seemed most likely that Quade’s men would teleport into the wood, to make use of its cover.

  “Whythe, you and I in the tree line. Peer, you take the west side of the building. Bray, the north.”

  They split off, as the rain escalated from a light mist to something more substantial. Lightning illuminated the side of the building.

  Ko-Jin ran within the copse, then stepped off the path. He lowered to a crouch, bracing his fingertips on the soil, and he set to listen.

  Around him, rain drummed against the leaves, and branches creaked in the wind. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness, so that he could distinguish the trees around him. His breathing and heartbeat sounded unusually loud, and he willed himself to remain calm and quiet.

  But he could not shake the notion that it was possible—though, he thought, still improbable—that Quade Asher might suddenly appear in these woods. He pictured himself marching back into the palace with Quade’s body slung over his shoulder, and throwing the bastard’s corpse at her feet.

  Thunder cracked, and he started. He thought he detected motion on the pathway. He heard a whispered voice. And then he spotted them—two forms creeping between the trees.

  “Blight!” one of them called. Ko-Jin grinned. It was not a pleasant sensation, having one’s gift forcefully ripped away.

  He sprang to his feet, greenery whipping him in the face as he charged. Immediately, he knew that neither figure was Quade—one was too slim, the other too short—and he experienced a pang of disappointment.

  “Get us outta here, Kelarre,” the shorter man barked. He was carrying two large bags.

  “I can’t, you moron.”

  Ko-Jin stormed towards the one who was not carrying explosives. The lad, an Adourran, was in the midst of pulling a knife from his belt when Ko-Jin collided with him. As they fell, the young man’s knee caught Ko-Jin in the groin. The pain seemed to shoot like an electric shock, straight to his toes. He hissed, momentarily incapacitated. Stupid, he chided himself.

  The boy, Kelarre, pulled his blade free while Ko-Jin endeavored to overcome the pain. He heard more movement in the trees—his companions coming to his aid, he hoped.

  Kelarre reared his dagger, aiming to drive it into Ko-Jin’s neck. Sheer instinct brought his feet up to catch the lad full in the chest and kick him away. The knife fell from the lad’s hand, and the teleporter scrambled for it, making the foolish mistake of showing his back.

  Ko-Jin sprang forward, and hooked his arm behind the boy’s elbows, so that his upper arms were pulled awkwardly behind his back. Ko-Jin pressed his knee into the boy’s ribcage while he tied his hands behind him.

  “Ko-Jin!” Bray shouted. She sprinted from the north side of the building, pointing. Ko-Jin followed her gaze, and found the second man had knocked Whythe down, and was in the process of lighting a fuse. The lit match glowed bright in the darkness.

  “Blight!” Ko-Jin sprung to his feet and charged at the man. He was older, with singed eyebrows and a bug-eyed look that gave him the appearance of madness.

  The man hopped to his feet, and the lit fuse sizzled beneath him. “For Quade!” he bellowed, and made no move to run from the giant bag of explosives. Plainly he meant to go down with his ship. “For Quade, who will bring us—”

  Ko-Jin punched the man squarely in the nose. Blood shot from his nostrils, and he teetered for a moment, stupefied, before collapsing backwards.

  Ko-Jin dived to the ground, slapping at the fuse. It was as if his reflexes were heightened—he was certain he had never moved so fast in all his life. Nevertheless, the light rushed past him, and his heart slammed against his chest. If he failed to extinguish this flame, there would be nothing left of him to bury.

  He lunged forward, his teeth gritted. His hand flew out and clasped the fuse where it was lit.

  “Blight it,” he swore, as he gripped the cord in his hand. He felt the flame sear his palm. He held his breath, waiting, but the fire did not spread beyond his fist. He inhaled mightily and sagged forward.

  Bray, and Peer just behind her, reached him a moment later. “Thank the Spirits,” she said, dropping to her knees next to him, a hand on her heart.

  Peer had run to Whythe, who was wincing as he probed a black eye. “I’m fine. My mistake, Ko-Jin.”

  Ko-Jin laughed, feeling a bit punch-drunk. “Don’t sweat it.”

  He slumped backwards. A chuckle burbled up from his belly. Bray, beside him, began to laugh as well, a slightly crazed sound. Then she let
out a great shuddering sigh. “For a minute there, I thought we were done for.”

  “We?” Peer asked. “You’d have been just fine. The three of us would have been bits in the wind.”

  She nodded, and then her smile slipped a little. “So, why did Yarrow skip out on this particular adventure? You said he’s in the library?”

  Peer’s expression changed completely in a moment, and Ko-Jin stiffened in anticipation.

  “Peer?” Bray asked, her voice betraying the beginnings of concern. Lightning flashed overhead.

  “Don’t hate me for waitin’ to…” he said. He was staring into his own lap. He licked his lip. “It’s—well, it’s bad, Bray. I’m sorry. He…” Peer compressed his lips and shook his head.

  She shot to her feet. “No,” she said, her eyes shining. The rain picked up. It found its way through the branches above, and pelted them where they stood. Ko-Jin shivered.

  “No,” Bray repeated. “I don’t believe—he didn’t. He wouldn’t.”

  And with that, she bolted away.

  “Bray!” Peer hollered at her back.

  He pushed himself to his feet, and looked to Ko-Jin. “I’ve gotta go after her.”

  “Peer, wait!” Ko-Jin yelled. It came out far louder than he had intended. Reluctantly, the man stopped. “Yarrow. He—he made the final sacrifice, right? That’s how you knew where…”

  Peer gave one, doleful nod. Then he charged after Bray.

  Ko-Jin knelt in the dirt, rain spattering against his skull. He felt hollow enough to float away.

  “We ought to tie these two up and get them to quarantine,” Whythe said, wincing. He opened Peer’s bag and withdrew a length of rope.

  Ko-Jin nodded, but didn’t move. He pressed his thumb to the burn on his palm.

  Yarrow was a Fifth. Which meant that everything he was—everything that made him himself—was gone.

  Ko-Jin’s face crumpled, and he bowed his head forward.