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

by T. D. Steitz

  Wybert flinched at the sharp sound of a horse rearing behind him. Wybert looked into the eyes of its rider; his father, Wymond.

  Wymond sat strong and powerful on the horse, glaring down at Wybert. “You!” Wymond’s voice boomed. “Look at what you’ve done! You are a failure! You are not fit to rule, and you are not fit to be my son! Look around! This is your legacy!”

  Wymond disappeared, but his words rang in Wybert’s ears.

  The gravestones behind Wybert crumbled, and three decaying bodies crawled out of the dust: Serilda, Ahian, and Anujah.

  Ahian’s corpse spoke with a ghostly whisper that chilled Wybert to the bone. “Why did you let us die, Wybert? How could you let us die? We were your friends. You said you loved us. We loved you… and look where it got us…”

  “Ahian please,” Wybert begged. “Please, believe me. I never meant for any of this…”

  He was cut off by Serilda’s eerie voice. “How dare you justify yourself?! Are you not the one who led us?”

  Anujah’s corpse spoke next. “You knew the danger, Wybert. Still, you lead us there. We trusted you, to our end. Now, it’s your turn.”

  The corpses let out gruesome screams and descended on Wybert. Their skeletal hands tightened around his neck.

  Wybert couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t fight them. “I deserve this,” he thought. But, in the hell of his mind, he could not die. Wybert looked up at his friends. He couldn’t bear the shame in their lifeless eyes any longer. He shouted, ripped himself from their grasp, and ran blindly into the forest.

  He didn’t care where he went, but he had to escape them. He could hear them crashing through the brush after him, screaming at him.

  “You can’t escape what you’ve done, Wybert! We are dead because of you! You’re a murderer! Murderer!”

  Wybert wept bitterly as the trees rushing past him became stony and lifeless. Wybert wasn’t running through a forest anymore but through a vast hall of stone pillars.

  Wybert thought the corpses were gone, but he didn’t dare stop running.

  Thick chains lunged from the shadows and wrapped around him. The chains slammed him against one of the stone columns. They encircled him and the column, like the coils of a snake, squeezing him tighter, and tighter.

  Wybert felt his life leaving him; not his physical life, he would not be allowed to die here, but his spirit; his will to fight. He thought back to the words Calamity had spoken to him. “I own you and I want you broken. So, you will break.” Wybert knew Calamity was right. There was no resisting him. Wybert was beaten. He was broken. His body went limp, supported only by the chains around him. Fear and pain flowed out of him. There was nothing left to do but wait for the Harvesters to strip him down to nothing. It was over.

  Time faded away. Wybert's head slumped against the cold steel around his chest, and he felt nothing. He was the tortured husk of a man, condemned to exist.

  Then, amid his endless stupor, Wybert felt something. To feel anything had become foreign, so when warmth reached his face, he hardly recognized it. Wybert groaned and lifted his head. The warmth came from a torch, mounted on a nearby pillar. Wybert closed his eyes. The flame was rejuvenating. He had been trapped in a world of deceit for so long, that he wasn’t sure he should trust the sincerity he found in the torch. As it burned, Wybert felt clarity in his mind, and hope in his heart. He longed to be closer to the torch. He struggled against his chains. He thrashed and fought their grip. But, even with his strength returned, he could not break himself free.

  As Wybert struggled, the fire from the torch grew. It started popping and swirling like a living thing. Wybert wasn’t afraid. The sense of the living flame was strangely encouraging. Something came over him, and Wybert spoke to the fire. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” he said, “but, if you can, I need your help. I… I can’t do this anymore. If you’re there, I need you.”

  Nothing happened.

  Wybert looked away, annoyed at himself for entertaining the sliver of hope.

  Then, the torch exploded into a firestorm. The chains around Wybert started glowing. They were red-hot, but the heat didn’t burn him. It warmed his soul. The chains glowed brighter and hotter. They began to shake until they were ripped apart. Wybert was free.

  He fell forward and caught himself, just above the ground. He crawled over the shards of his shattered chains to bathe in the warmth of the blazing torch. Life returned to his body. Wybert heard a scratching sound behind him and turned to see chips of rock falling from the pillar he had just been chained to as if it were being carved by an invisible chisel. Words began to form. Remember who you are. Wybert didn’t understand.

  A dazzling light appeared behind him. Wybert turned and shielded his eyes from the blinding light shining high above him. His eyes adjusted, and he found himself at the base of a tall staircase. The steps were made of marble, and a large, golden throne sat at the top. The light was shining from the throne. Wybert couldn’t see anyone sitting there, but he knew the ornate throne must belong to a mighty King. Wybert wondered who the King might be. Then he heard a voice.

  “Wybert, I am so proud of you.”

  Wybert spun around as a man walked towards him. The man was dressed simply and walked with tender confidence. He was still being harvested, so Wybert’s initial reaction was fear. However, as he drew closer, the man’s presence calmed Wybert’s fear and filled him with hope instead.

  The man carried a bucket of water over his shoulder. He reached Wybert, dipped a wooden ladle into the water, and offered it to him.

  Wybert gratefully accepted, and when the clear water passed his lips, it satisfied his thirst and refreshed his spirit.

  “You have done so well.” The man said.

  Wybert wiped the water from his lips. “Who are you?”

  The man smiled. “Let me show you.”

  The man looked past Wybert, and Wybert followed his gaze to see a little girl singing and twirling towards them.

  One of the girl’s pigtails had come undone, but the other was still tied up in a pink ribbon.

  Wybert reached into his pocket and pulled out the dusty ribbon he had kept safe. “Here,” he said, offering her the ribbon, “you dropped this.”

  The girl smiled at Wybert. “Thank you.” She took the ribbon and skipped away.

  Wybert turned back to the man. “You saved her… How?”

  The man just smiled.

  Slowly, more people stepped into the light. First, came a ruler, then a wanderer. A young woman, poet, and gardener followed. Finally, a warrior and a little boy stepped forward. They each smiled at Wybert. He couldn’t believe it.

  “But I watched them die. All of them. How is this possible?” He asked.

  “I made every piece of you.” The man replied. “And though Calamity would tear my creation apart, I would see it restored.”

  All the people gathered there turned into beams of bright, warm light and rushed back into Wybert. He felt whole again.

  Wybert smiled and breathed deep as he began to understand who this man was. “Ardent?”

  The man laughed and nodded.

  “Why are you here?” Wybert asked.

  “I’m here because I love you, and you needed me,” Ardent replied.

  Tears came to Wybert’s eyes. “I… I’m so tired.”

  “I know.” Ardent pulled Wybert into a tight embrace.

  Wybert felt safe and warm, like a child in his arms. He sobbed into Ardent’s chest as all the pain, and all the fear melted away.

  “Don’t worry. I’m right here.” Ardent whispered. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

  Wybert rested in Ardent’s embrace. “Thank you.”

  Wybert glanced back towards the pillar he was chained to and saw again the words carved into stone. Remember who you are. “Ardent, what does it mean?”

  Ardent put his hands on Wybert’s shoulders and stared deep into his eyes. “Wybert, do you know who you are?” He asked.

  Wybert
paused. “The people from before, the poet, the warrior, the boy; they’re who I am. Right?”

  “In part,” Ardent replied. “But you are also something more.” Ardent’s eyes burned bright. “You are mine.”

  Wybert rose at the words and stood tall with his head held high. He felt the courage of a lion beating in his chest, and the joy of a slave set free coursing through his veins.

  “Listen, Wybert,” Ardent said. “I have a job for you.”

  “Whatever you ask of me,” Wybert replied, “I will do.”

  “I need you to go back,” Ardent said. “Tell them about me. Tell them I’m coming to save them. Help them remember.”

  “Who?” Wybert asked.

  “Everyone. I want every person on Terrene to remember so that when I come, they will know me.”

  Wybert smiled. “I’ll tell them. Thank you, Ardent.”

  Ardent wrapped Wybert in his arms again. “Go,” he said, “and remember who you are.”

  Wybert opened his eyes. He was back in the harvest chamber, floating with tubes hooked into his body. But this time, he was fearless. The Harvesters scrambled past.

  “Shut it down! Shut it down!” One shouted. “Get him out of there now!”

  Wybert’s feet hit the floor and he stood tall and strong. The Harvesters removed his tubes and ushered him back to his cell. The steel cell door clanged shut, and Wybert heard them speaking urgently to each other as they walked away.

  “We should get Alvah. He’ll know what to do.” One said.

  “Alvah?” The other exclaimed, “he’ll blame us!”

  “We won’t be able to hide it from him. He’ll find out, and then it will be worse!”

  “Fine! You tell him, then!” The Harvesters were too far away now for Wybert to hear. So, he waited calmly for whatever came next.

  A few minutes later, Wybert heard Alvah’s heavy footfalls storming towards his cell. Wybert stood and faced the cell door as Alvah reached it, dragging the frightened Harvester behind him.

  “Say it again!” Alvah screamed at the cowering Harvester.

  “H… He… halted the harvesting process,” the Harvester stammered. “It seems that he ca- cannot be harvested.”

  “That’s not possible!” Alvah shouted.

  “F- Forgive me, Captain. It- It’s never happened before.”

  “WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!” Alvah screamed.

  “It means,” Wybert answered slowly, “that the days of fear and death ruling are numbered. It means Ardent is on his way.” Wybert leaned in close to Alvah. “You would be right to be afraid.”

  Alvah screamed furiously and slammed his fist into the cell bars, but Wybert didn’t flinch. “Throw this stupid boy back into the chambers!” He ordered the Harvester.

  “We- We can’t, your greatness.” The Harvester stammered in reply. “Y- You see, he has no fear. If we attempt to harvest him, he could destroy the entire system.”

  Alvah turned back to Wybert with an evil sneer etched across his face. “Well then, if he cannot be harvested, it would seem there is only one thing left to do. I will make an example of him.”

  The Harvester scampered away while Alvah focused on Wybert.

  “There is still one way you can serve your King.” Alvah’s voice dripped with hate. “Your death can serve as a warning to his slaves.”

  “Calamity is not my King,” Wybert said defiantly. “But, beware, Alvah. My King is coming!”

  Alvah sneered. “Your execution will be public, and it will be soon. The Harvesters say you are without pain or fear. I will put that to the test!” Alvah turned and stormed back down the stone corridor.

  Wybert shouted after him, with triumph in his heart. “Long live the King! Long live the King!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Taking Back the Key Village

  Jacosa screamed and shoved her spear into a Fallen soldier as she and the Tusk Clan hunters drove into the Fallen ranks. The hunter within her emerged to face the chaos of battle. Jacosa fought her way to what remained of the Key Village walls. Six severed heads were displayed on top of the rubble, the New Council. Their use must have been spent. This was their reward for submission.

  Caine’s, and Pallaton’s troops reached Chief Hatha’s. The Fallen were surrounded, but this only made them fight with greater fury.

  Jacosa spurred Sitara towards the fray and her eyes met the wispy gaze of the Fallen leader. She recognized him from the day Captain Conall saved her life.

  The Fallen leader was disturbingly calm. He stared at Jacosa with a sneer on his face. The battle raging around her receded into the background of her mind as he raised his head back and roared over the armies.

  The remaining Fallen cheered, and nightmares sprang up all around the Tusk Clan.

  The sky went dark, and waves of blood-thirsty Wyverns appeared. Vile beasts materialized from the black clouds.

  Jacosa felt every trace of hope sucked from her body at the sight of them. She hardly recognized her hoarse whisper. “The Dark Creatures are here.”

  The provisional army spun to face their new attackers. Caine and Pallaton led their forces into the chaos. Their screams filled the air as the Dark Creatures tore into them with ravenous hunger, driven by blind evil. They could not be stopped. Caine’s and Pallaton’s forces were trapped between the demonic Dark Creatures and what remained of the Fallen.

  Jacosa shouted to Chief Hatha. “We can’t fight them! We have to retreat!”

  Hatha nodded and drove his men forward to create a lane for Caine and Pallaton’s retreat. They gave the order and followed their men out of the fray.

  The Fallen and the Dark Creatures closed in behind them as they pushed their mounts harder. The Fallen leader leaped in front of Caine’s horse.

  Caine fought back until his horse collapsed beneath him and he fell into a sea of gray, smoky eyes, and wicked sneers. Caine stared up at an enemy soldier and the wooden shaft that appeared in his chest.

  Pallaton barreled through the fight and pulled Caine onto the back of his camel. “Hyah!” The camel bolted and carried them out of the fray. Caine ducked a spear swung madly at him. Pallaton saw it only as it knocked him to the ground.

  Caine reared the camel to stop. “Pallaton!”

  “Go! Go!” Pallaton shouted, waving Caine on. He turned to face the Fallen and raised his sword. He killed three before two twisted blades pierced his chest. His eyes darkened, and he slumped to the ground.

  “Thank you,” Caine whispered and pulled himself away.

  The wounded remnants of the Tusk Clan army fled the Key Village.

  The Fallen regrouped, the Dark Creatures massed in the bleak sky, until their next summons. The Wyverns descended and feasted on the dead.

  The survivors gathered where Sakina, Amani, and their Forest Clan protectors waited. The hunters mourned their slain loved ones.

  Caine approached the Forest Clan soldiers and told them how Pallaton had saved his life.

  “Seize her!” Chief Hatha shouted, pointing his ivory spear at Jacosa.

  Jacosa was startled and confused as Hatha’s men pulled her from her horse and forced her before him.

  “You. You tricked me.” Hatha accused. “I don’t know how you did it, but you tricked me, back in the ancient temple. You made me think we could win this fight. The blood of all those men is on your hands, and you will pay for it.”

  “Let her go!” Sakina demanded.

  Hatha’s guards didn’t respond.

  “I am your Yetta, and you will let her go.” There was warning in Sakina’s voice.

  Chief Hatha nodded and his men released Jacosa.

  “Don’t be a fool, Hatha! You were there!” Jacosa yelled. “You saw what I saw. You heard the same voice I heard. I don’t know what happened back there, but what we saw in the temple was real! Don’t forget what he was like. I’m leaving; alone. I will try to hear his voice again. Wait here.”

  Chief Hatha didn’t respond.

  Jacosa mounted Sitara and
galloped out of sight.

  Once she was far away from the others, Jacosa dismounted and walked. As she did, the conviction she showed Chief Hatha gave way to her underlying doubt and bewilderment. “I don’t know what to say.” Jacosa sighed to the empty air. “Where were you?” Her question went unanswered. She looked down at the spear in her hand, caked with blood and felt sick. She wiped her cheek. It was smeared with the same black blood. She slammed her spear into the ground and wiped frantically at the blood on her face. “Where were you?!” She demanded. “You said you would be here!”

  “Jacosa, that’s enough!”

  Jacosa jumped at the voice and the silhouette of a man walking towards her. Blinding white light shone from within and around him. Jacosa knew him. She had only ever heard his voice or felt his presence in dreams, but she knew him. Jacosa searched the bright figure and was surprised by the complex emotions she found.

  His shining jaw was set, showing his anger. But he hurried towards her like a father running towards his daughter, showing vast love. The drooping of his shoulders showed that he also carried a heavy sadness. He reached Jacosa.

  She felt incredibly small and vulnerable in his presence.

  “Jacosa, why didn’t you wait for me?” He asked.

  Jacosa suddenly remembered the voice’s final instruction. “I want you to ride to the Key Village, and when you get there, wait for me. I will show you what to do next.” Her heart caught in her throat. “No… this was my fault?!” All the emotions in the man began to make sense.

  He was angry at the situation that had developed from her failure to heed his words, he was saddened by the consequences, and he loved her despite it all.

  “I’m so sorry!” Jacosa cried. “You told me to wait for you, and I didn’t listen!” She fell to her knees before the man. “All that death… because of me!” Jacosa cried harder and tried to slow her breathing as she stared into the cracked, dry dirt. She was so overcome with grief, that she couldn’t lift her head. Then she felt the man’s warm hand under her chin. He was kneeling beside her. He raised her head and in his dazzling face, she saw something new, forgiveness.