The Caste Marked

by Mariah Esterly

  “You are proud for a Dryad.”

  “I am a princess of the Dryads, I have a right to be proud.”

  Where their fingers touched began to grow warm to Sylvan’s touch and Valeria sighed. “Yes, you will do nicely.”

  Sylvan felt her power draining into the mage. It started slowly at first, so slowly that she hardly noticed it. Then her power flowed from her with such rapidity that Sylvan began to get worried. She tried to pull away, but her fingers remained glued to Valeria’s. Her heart was beating fast and her head began to feel light, as though she might pass out at any moment.

  “Don’t struggle. I need to do this to break the spell.”

  Sylvan didn’t have the strength to struggle. She hardly had the strength to stand up. She wanted to lay her head down and sleep. Her head was dropping to her chest when Valeria began to speak.

  “Come to me, my love. Come to me. I will show you the way. Come to me and we shall be together again. Follow. Follow.”

  There was a loud bang, causing the air in the cave to swirl, making the leaves of the plants rustle violently. At the sound of the bang Sylvan fell to the floor. Mikhail rushed to her side, helped her to sit.

  A groaning came from behind them. With great difficulty, Sylvan turned her head to see what had caused the noise. What she saw made her blood run cold.

  Standing in the middle of the field of glowing flowers was a death muxin.

  Chapter 42

  SERRA

  Serra followed Valaine into the bathing chamber. A large dark blue tiled pool was set into the floor, filled with steaming water. Potted plants surrounded the edge, creating a private place to bathe.

  “Climb in, little shifter, and wash the stink of the caves from you. I want you to be fresh for the feast. I will bring in a clean dress for you, and clean towels. Would you like something to eat? Probably not. Your stomach’s probably more in knots then mine is.”

  Serra stood there in the steamy room, wishing the witch would just leave. It seemed as though Valaine had grown near manic about the prospect of eating a shifter. She had not stopped talking the entire way from the cavern. And Serra just wanted her to shut up.

  Valaine looked at her expectantly. “Well, go on, climb in. I won’t have you stinking up the feast.”

  Serra crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not getting in until you leave.”

  “Modest, are you, little shifter? It’s not as though at this time tomorrow I will have your body myself. I won’t be near so modest with it. Perhaps I’ll show it to the Thief Lord. I bet he’d like that.”

  Serra shuddered. She wished there was some way she could warn Reks, that she could warn all of them. But she had agreed to not fight or to rebel to save everyone else. That was all she could do.

  When Serra didn’t begin to undress, Valaine cackled. “Very well my dear, very well. I will leave you. But hurry. I am ever so hungry.”

  When Valaine had gone, Serra pulled off the silver gown and the dark blue shift, once so pretty, now covered in mud and muck from the floor of the caves. She stepped into the steaming water and plunged her head under, submerging herself entirely.

  She took her time washing, stretching it for as long as she could. She was in no hurry to die. Alida had told them that Valaine’s jealousy would be her downfall. Serra had hoped that just by interacting with her, Valaine’s jealousy would grow. But it appeared to not have worked. She wasn’t sure what more she could do.

  She floated on the surface of the pool until the water was suddenly freezing. Valaine’s not so subtle reminder that the feast was near. Serra left the pool quickly and toweled off. She went to the adjoining dressing room and found a new dress laid out for her. All white with tiny silver flowers embroidered along the neck and hems. She put on the dress and matching shoes, then brushed out her hair and braided the still damp tendrils.

  Almost as soon as she had finished the door slid open and Valaine appeared. The witch had changed from her grey robes to a dress that matched Serra’s exactly. “Well, don’t you look lovely? And won’t I look lovely too!” She cackled, louder than Serra had heard her cackle before, throwing back her head.

  Serra did not share the witch’s amusement. Instead, she fingered the silk of the dress wishing she were back in leather breeches and vest, then she would at least feel prepared for what she had to face. The silk felt far too flimsy to protect her from anything.

  Valaine stopped laughing and peered at Serra. “What’s this? What’s this?” she reached out and pulled the pendant Melita Tiana had given her from under her shift. “Trying to hide this from me, were you? Perhaps you thought that your friends would know me for a fake without it?”

  Serra shook her head. “I honestly didn’t think about it.”

  “Well, give it over. I’ll be needing it.” She held her hand out, palm up eagerly.

  Serra pulled the chain from around her neck and gave the black stone pendant over to Valaine, who looped it over her own scrawny neck and tucked it under her gown. “Shall we go to the Feast?”

  Serra’s stomach clenched and she could only give a jerky nod. It was time, soon she would cease to exist and this twisted old woman would take her place.

  She followed the mage out of the dressing chamber and into the hall. Stone figures lined the walls staring ahead sightlessly. Serra felt like one of them, moving along with jerky movements, as though her muscles were made of stone, heavy and uncooperative. But she forced herself to keep moving, to keep up with woman in front of her.

  They entered the great hall where Serra had witnessed the demise of Sirius. Valaine’s death muxins filled the hall. Serra gasped at the amount. How many graves had Valaine disturbed to get this number of death muxins? The number had to be in the hundreds... maybe over a thousand.

  Her heart dropped. There was no way her friends could save her. They couldn’t possibly take on so many death muxins and survive. Serra hadn’t even realized she’d been holding out hope for this until she saw and smelled the overwhelming number of the walking dead.

  Despite the crowd there was a clear path from the door to the large stone table. Valaine swept up the path, moving faster now that she was so close to eating. Serra followed her, a bit slower, but still moving with forward momentum, a small boat caught in the wake of a larger ship. Before she was ready, the table was in front of Serra, its leather straps waiting to hold her down. On one side a series of holes and divots had been carved into the grey stone, now stained a dark reddish brown.

  The altar behind the table had fresh herbs on it as well as more red and black candles then had been there before. Serra could see things more clearly up as close as she was. She saw belladonna, eyebright and foxglove, as well as some plants she couldn’t name. The stone statue was of a four armed woman with the tail of a scorpion and the head of a bird. An item was balanced on each hand, although she couldn’t quite see three of them, one was a human skull.

  Valaine turned to face the table and Serra, “Well, go on little shifter. You must lie down to save the children.”

  Serra didn’t respond. She sat in the center of the table and lay down, positioning her arms within reach of the leather straps. She could all but feel all the souls who had perished on this slab of stone before her. She wished she had been able to avenge their deaths.

  The witch smiled. “Good girl.” Valaine turned to look over her shoulder. “William, if you would be so kind as to tie her down.” Nothing happened. Serra waited. Valaine waited.

  “William?” Valaine looked around. “Where has he gotten to?”

  “Maybe he had more important things to do?” Serra suggested.

  Valaine’s hand shot out, and Serra’s cheek stung as her palm made contact. “Shut your mouth.” She considered the crowd and pointed to a death muxin at random. “You there, tie her down.”

  The death muxin shuffled forward and did as he was told. Every muscle in Serra told her to fight, to hit the abomination in the head as hard as she could and just start runnin
g, but she forced herself to think of all the children in the cave. Of Luc, Eva and Mharie. They would all live if she did this one thing... and that was worth it.

  When the death muxin shuffled back to the crowd, Valaine picked up the bronze bowl and the knife. She placed the bowl under the table, positioned under the holes, and then pulled the blade from its leather sheath. The steel of the knife glinted red. Not that it was stained, but the metal it had been forged from was red. How had Serra not noticed that before?

  “This will hurt a bit, shifter.” Valaine eagerly bent down and, using the tip of the blade, cut a symbol into the unblemished skin of Serra’s left arm while Serra tried her hardest not to cry out from the sharp pain. Her blood began to flow, and Valaine watched it excitedly.

  A shout at the back of the hall drew her attention. Serra tried to look, but the strap around her head only allowed her a view of the high stone ceiling. The sounds of swords striking swords and the thump of daggers against the dead flesh of the death muxins reached her ears. Her name rang through the hall.

  They put up a fight, her would be rescuers, but they didn’t stand a chance against the number of walking dead in the hall. Moments later, they were overwhelmed and dragged to the base of the stairs that led up to the large platform where Serra lay. She looked as far out of the corner of her eye as she could and saw Reks, Vaughn, Rian and a handful of Sylphs. No Sylvan or Mikhail. Fear for them stabbed at her heart, maybe they had perished in the scuffle.

  Why did they have to come now? If only fifteen more minutes had passed it would have been fine, the children would be safe and her friends as well.

  Valaine glared down at Serra. “Well, there goes our plan, little shifter. I suppose I will have to eat you, your friends and the children now.”

  Serra shook her head as best she could. “No, they still don’t know. Please. I kept my end of the bargain. Send them away, to the caves with the children.” She kept her voice low, so that it would not carry in the echoing halls. “They will be none the wiser. Please.”

  Valaine regarded Serra’s friends, her eyes hungry. Not for their essence, but for their acceptance. For the first time, Serra realized that this creature in front of her was truly lonely. She wanted a group of friends, a family, to belong somewhere. She had been alone for far too long.

  Valaine looked down at Serra’s friends. “It’s very rude of you to interrupt my ritual.”

  “Let her go!” Reks spat.

  “Now, now. No need to be even more rude. Serra has agreed to this. Haven’t you, little shifter?” Valaine’s fingers stroked Serra’s dark brown hair. “Go on, tell them.”

  “I-I agreed to this.” Her voice sounded unsure to her own ears. She took a deep breath and spoke with more certainty. “She let half of the children go, though I’m not sure where they went.”

  Serra heard Rian’s voice. “We found them. They’re safe.”

  Valaine smiled. “See? I kept my word, now you must allow Serra to keep hers.”

  Serra heard someone step forward. “Over my dead body.” Reks, of course. Rage registered on Valaine’s face and Serra began to panic.

  “Please, Reks, stop! Just stop.” She looked up at the ceiling, frustrated. “You can’t save everyone. I made this deal knowing what would happen. I saved everyone but me, and that’s okay. All of the children get to go home when this is over. Not just the ones you found. All of them. That means Eva and Mhairie and Luc. So, please, just trust me that this is the right thing to do. Please.”

  She wanted to look at them so badly, to see their faces one last time. It would have given her courage to face what she knew would happen next. But instead she stared at the vaulted ceiling and fought back tears.

  “You see how prettily she pleads with you?” Valaine said. “Would you deny her the satisfaction of saving all the lives of the children?” No one made a sound. Serra could imagine them standing there, their hands clenched as they fought the urge to rescue her.

  “Please. Trust me.” She whispered.

  “Take them to the caves. I think it’s time for the prince to see his little brother.” There came the sound of shuffling and boots on stone and then they were gone. Serra’s heart went with them. Their grief would be short lived. After the ritual Valaine would rush to the cave and explain how she had defeated the mage, how she had saved the children and destroyed the death muxins.

  They would welcome her back with open arms, never questioning the truth of her statements.

  And Serra would be dead.

  Valaine went back to the matter at hand. She pulled the bronze bowl from under the draining holes. “Oops, I might have taken a bit too much blood, what with the excitement of having your friends show up. I do so look forward to giving you back to them.”

  Valaine turned to the altar and began adding the herbs to the bowl, mumbling words under her breath. Serra’s head started to feel light and fuzzy. Her blood continued to flow, dripping onto the stone floor under the table. It was all she could do to stay focused. Perhaps it would be better if she passed out.

  Flames blazed in the bowl, momentarily catching Serra’s attention. Valaine raised the bronze to her lips and drank deep.

  Serra felt her blood slide down the throat of the witch. She felt her power begin to rise to the surface of her skin and saw the vapor begin to form over her body, a dark shimmering purple vapor.

  Valaine set the bowl on the table and turned to Serra, her mouth already gaping. She let out a small gasp when she saw the richness of the color that hovered above her. “That is the darkest magic I’ve ever seen.” She licked her lips, eagerly, and leaned over Serra, opening her mouth.

  Serra felt her magic pull out of her and into the mouth of the witch above her. It hurt to be parted from it as Valaine swallowed, but Serra bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from crying out. She would not give Valaine the satisfaction.

  The pain intensified with every swoop of Valaine’s mouth. Serra bit harder, tasting blood.

  The woman above her began to grow younger. Her wrinkled skin smoothed. Her grey hair darkened and began to grow thicker and longer. Her bent body began to straighten, become more lithe and supple. Serra watched as the woman who had held her prisoner transformed into her.

  The statue on the altar behind Valaine began to move. Her four arms raising and lowering in a pattern Serra’s mind couldn’t quite follow. The scorpion tail lashed back and forth. Or maybe it wasn’t moving, maybe it was Serra’s blurry vision that only made it look as though it was moving.

  The pain of having her power ripped from her grew in intensity until Serra could bear it no longer. She could feel her body aging, the muscles shrinking and shriveling, her bones becoming brittle, her skin sagging. She could feel every last bit of her power leave her body and suddenly someone was screaming.

  Vaguely, she thought it must be herself. That she was dying. But she looked up at Valaine with bleary eyes and realized that it was the witch herself that was shrieking. A strange bright purple glow was emanating from the Valaine, so bright it hurt Serra’s eyes to look directly at her.

  As though with great difficulty, Valaine leaned away from the table, breaking her connection with the power that hovered above it. Serra felt a small portion of her power return to her body, and breathed a sigh of relief, feeling instantly better.

  Valaine braced herself on the altar, her breathing labored. “You have so much magic, little shifter.” The voice that came out of the witch was Serra’s own. “It’s all I can do to hold it.” With every breath, Serra saw a little puff of purple vapor leave Valaine’s body to hover over the table and Serra. It was almost as though her magic wanted to return to her.

  “Don’t fret, little shifter. I will hold up my end of the bargain. I will have all the power that I need.” Valaine took a deep breath and leaned over Serra again. This time she appeared to be trying to swallow the magic as quickly as she could, tears of pain streaming down her face.

  Serra didn’t try to stop from screaming
. The torment was too much. It felt as though her body was on fire, the hairs singeing off her skin while her flesh melted.

  Valaine was screaming too, screaming through large gulps of Serra’s power. Her body began to shift again, no longer resembling Serra, but little Sirius Cornwell, and then shifting again to another child and another. Valaine shifted so fast that Serra couldn’t keep track. She was fluid, moving from one form to the next with such rapidity that Serra would have been envious had the mage been making the changes intentionally.

  After what felt like an eternity, Valaine fell back from the table. An old woman once again.

  Serra felt her magic rush back into her body. Not just part of it, but all of it, every drop Valaine had consumed. The leather straps that had held her down were gone, turned to ashes by the burning that had consumed Serra’s body. Serra’s flesh appeared unharmed, though not unmarked.

  On her left hand a Caste Mark swirled in dark purple, like her magic. Serra watched it for a moment, but it didn’t fade.

  Slowly, Valaine sank to the ground, her legs unable to support her weight.

  Serra sat up, placed her feet on the stones of the platform and stood up. She circled around the table to where Valaine cowered, her hair once again gray, her body small and bent. Serra stared down at her. The death muxin’s watched in silence.

  Serra opened her mouth to speak but was startled into silence by a bright green light appearing in the center of the room accompanied by a loud boom. The death muxin’s around the light shot back, as though pushed by a great force.

  When the light cleared four figures stood in the center of the crowd. Serra let out a cry when she recognized two of them and rushed down the stairs to throw her arms around Sylvan, who returned her embrace. Thistle flew to hug Serra’s neck. Mikhail’s hand rested awkwardly on her shoulder.

  The other two Serra did not know. A handsome man with dark brown hair and a chain around his neck with a simple gold ring on it, dressed in molding rags and a red haired girl of about eighteen missing the ring finger of her left hand.