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

by T. D. Steitz

  Ardent paused for a moment, then responded plainly. “I want you to see something.”

  Alistair’s stomach dropped. His staff flew from his grasp as he was rocketed into the sky. He looked down to see Terrene rushing away from him until he burst through a sea of blue into the night sky. Stars surrounded him. Alistair rushed past enormous, burning spheres, and swirling galaxies. It was breathtaking.

  “Look!” Ardent’s booming voice commanded. “I made it all!”

  Alistair hurtled back to Terrene. He flew toward the ground and stopped in the air. Terrene in all its splendor lay below him; oceans, and land; mountains, desserts, and unending forests. Birds soared beneath him; antelope ran across the plains. Whales and dolphins leaped from the waves.

  “Who do you think tells the sun when to rise?” Ardent asked. “Who taught the birds to fly and the fish to swim?”

  Alistair fell again. He stopped moments before hitting the ground and came to rest gently on the soft grass.

  Ardent was standing beside him again. He grabbed Alistair's hand and pressed it against his chest.

  Alistair felt the strong beating of his heart.

  “Now, look at what a marvel you are.” Ardent urged. “Who do you think molded your beating heart? Who do you think placed each hair on your head? It was me, Alistair. All of creation obeys me. Why do you doubt me?”

  Alistair’s lips quivered. “Please,” he begged. “Please send someone else.”

  Ardent’s voice softened. “Alistair, I have loved you since before time began. Am I not greater than your fears? I will be with you when you go to the Shadow Lands. I will be your comfort and your strength.” Ardent put his arms around Alistair and held him tight. “You do not need to be afraid.”

  Ardent’s embrace subsided, and when Alistair looked up, he was gone. Alistair knelt to pick up his staff. As he did, he noticed something beneath the fallen leaves, a small trail through the forest. He wasn't sure where this path led, but he knew he should follow it. Fear and courage battled in his heart. He lifted his staff and again saw the words carved into it. Even when you do not know where you are, you are not lost. With those words in his mind and Ardent’s power in his heart, Alistair took his first steps back to the Shadow Lands.

  Alistair followed the small trail through the woods for three weeks, never doubting it and never straying from it. Then, it disappeared.

  Alistair dropped to his knees; frantic. Where had it gone?! Alistair spun around. The brilliant, colored trees of the vibrant forest had been steadily giving way to twisted, diseased ones. Night was falling. It was so dark. A flurry of wings startled him. He leaned into the darkness, trying to make out the faint forms beyond him.

  Slowly, one, two, three, sets of red eyes appeared in the dark. Then, dozens more joined them.

  Alistair struggled to coax a small, flickering light from his staff as he fought to keep the fear creeping into his heart at bay. In the weak light, he could see dozens of blackbirds clinging to the trees around him. Alistair had seen animals like these before; animals with Calamity’s darkness within them; snakes, wolves, and now, birds.

  The birds squawked back and forth.

  Alistair’s pulse quickened. They were communicating. He turned to Ardent in his fear and asked to be filled with light. As he did, his eyes began to glow bright, and the light from his staff illuminated everything around him.

  The birds squawked and leaped into the air with a mad flutter of wings at the revelation of Alistair’s mark, and they disappeared into the night.

  A horrible thought entered Alistair’s mind. “They’ll return to Calamity,” he whispered.

  “Yes, they will,” an evil voice sneered behind him.

  Alistair whirled around to see an emaciated man he knew from his nightmares. This could only be one man. There was only one who could ignite this much fear in Alistair’s heart and send despair writhing through his belly. Calamity had come. Alistair surged with rage. He shouted and sent a powerful blast of white fire hurling from his staff towards Calamity, but Calamity vanished into fumes before the fire found its mark.

  “Try again,” he taunted.

  Alistair spun and attacked again, and again Calamity disappeared only to reappear elsewhere.

  Calamity laughed.

  Alistair shot another white blast and Calamity eluded him.

  “So much anger. Such rage.” Calamity’s voice made Alistair’s head spin. “Why do you hate me, Alistair? I don’t hate you. I want for you what I want for everyone. I want you to be free to find your way. Does freedom sound so bad, Alistair?”

  Alistair leaped forward and swung his staff at Calamity’s head. “You took everything from me!”

  Calamity casually blocked the blow that would have decimated anyone else and sent Alistair sprawling on his back. “What have I taken from you?”

  Alistair stood up and sent another jet of fire at Calamity. “You killed my mother! You killed my friends! You ripped me from my home! You took everything!”

  Calamity sneered, reveling in Alistair’s pain. “If I have taken everything from you, then you must realize that you will never beat me. So, why not join me? Partake in all that I offer you. Find the freedom that others have found; the freedom to control your destiny. Why fight me any longer?”

  Alistair grew weary. His arms trembled, and he could hardly lift his staff. “I have seen what others have forgotten,” Alistair said between deep breaths. “I won’t forget him.”

  Calamity’s mouth parted in a wicked smile, and he chuckled. “Ardent?” He asked mockingly. “Are you talking about Ardent?! Hahaha! Look around you boy! You’re in my world! The darkness, the shadows. Every bird, every beast. The air you breathe! What can Ardent do here?”

  Alistair shuddered.

  Calamity stepped forward. “You can feel it… can’t you? That’s right. Breathe it in.”

  Alistair could feel the darkness penetrating him and covering him like a shroud. He dropped to his knees and the horn hanging at his side caught his eye. “It’s not just the people. You’ve forgotten something too.” Alistair spoke with growing confidence as he rose to his feet. “He made you a promise; long ago. This is not your world. Let me remind you.” Alistair grabbed the horn and raised it to his lips. He blew a powerful note that rang out through the trees. The night lightened, and Alistair felt the shroud of darkness falling away.

  Calamity did not flinch, but his grin was gone as he spoke with a whisper more abrasive than a shout. “You are wrong, Alistair. I have not taken everything from you. There is so much more I will tear away. Your wife: one day you will find her, and you will love her and watch her waste away and decay until she finally succumbs to my death. And your children! They will bring joy to you like you have never known, but they will be born into my world!” Calamity spread his arms. “A world of pain, sickness, terror, and as hard as you try, you will never be able to save them from me! In time, even your blessed hope, Ardent will kneel at my feet! Only when your entire world, everything you believe in, lies crumbled around you can you say that I took everything from you! Wait, Marked One, and you will know what it means to have everything you love torn away.” Calamity disappeared in a whirlwind of black fume.

  Alistair’s heart hammered in his chest. This was not over. He looked around and felt utterly alone; more than he had ever felt. Then, a towering wall appeared. It ran as far as he could see in either direction. The wall was pure gold. It sparkled and shined and lit up the black woods. The gold was so entrancing that Alistair couldn’t look away or didn’t want to. The gold seemed to whisper to him, beckoning him closer, and the closer he got, the better he felt. He was under a welcomed spell. A shining doorway appeared in the wall, and Alistair stepped through it. More walls ran alongside him, leading to various turns and endless hallways that he happily, dreamily walked.

  Alistair lost himself in the labyrinth of golden halls. He ran his hand along the smooth wall, and a small flake of gold chipped away in his hand. A tiny voice in
the deepest parts of his mind screamed at him. Something was wrong. He should stop, but he pushed the voice aside. He smothered it in the pleasure he felt. He did not want to leave. He walked further and further; up and down twisted, shiny aisles. Through the corners of his eyes, he watched more flakes of gold fall off the walls. The chunks of gold grew, releasing patches of black, wispy gas where they fell. Alistair started to panic. The voice he ignored grew stronger. “This isn’t right. This isn’t right. Get out. Get out. Run!”

  Alistair ran. He tore up and down the hallways of crumbling gold. He couldn’t find the way out. He was lost. The last remnants of gold were falling away. Alistair was trapped in an endless maze with walls of black, tumultuous gas.

  The gas to his right formed a hand that sprang out and grabbed his face. He had no choice but to breathe in the fumes. Alistair’s head spun. Fear tore through his heart, his mind, and his soul. He couldn't control it; he couldn't stop it. He looked down at the staff in his hands. It turned to dust. He grabbed for his horn. It was gone. He was helpless.

  Alistair turned and his heart threatened to beat itself out of his chest. Someone had joined him in the maze. He was not alone anymore, but he wished that he was.

  “Good. You remember me,” Alvah the breaker sneered.

  Alistair struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. “How can he be here?” He wondered. “How did he find me?” Alvah was shrouded in a strange haze that blurred his figure. He was like something in a nightmare, but Alistair couldn’t deny the hammering in his heart or the cold sweat on his brow. This was real.

  “Do you want to leave Marked One?” Alvah asked. “I know how to get out of here. I can show you the way. Would you like that?”

  Alistair nodded silently.

  “Good. I will. But first, I need you to do something for me.”

  A man appeared on his knees beside Alvah. His arms were bound behind his back, and he had a bag over his head. The prisoner had the same blurred outline as Alvah.

  Alvah shoved the prisoner face-first into the dirt at Alistair's feet and dropped a coiled whip beside him. “For each whip, I will give you a direction.”

  Alistair backed away. “No!” He cried. “No, I won’t torture for you!” Alistair darted to his left, down a long, narrow path. He turned a corner and skidded to a halt in front of Alvah, sneering wickedly, the same way as before. “What? How?” Alistair sprinted back. Alvah was still there. This time he ran down the path to his right, turned another corner, and was greeted again by Alvah and his prisoner.

  “There is no escaping this!” Alvah shouted as Alistair fled again. Alvah laughed. “Why do you keep running?”

  Alistair rounded another corner, and another, meeting Alvah every time. Alistair tried every combination of turns and aisles, but Alvah was always there. Finally, he stopped. “Why are you doing this to me?!” Alistair panted.

  Alvah feigned shock. “What? I… I’m not doing anything to you. Don’t you see it? I want to help you.” Alvah’s tone darkened. “But first, you’re going to help me.” He nodded at the whip on the ground. “Pick it up. Whip him. He deserves it. It’s the only way you’re ever going to escape this place.”

  Alistair trembled as he bent over and picked up the whip. It was heavy, a wretched burden in his hand.

  “Now!” shouted Alvah. “Do it now! You have no choice!”

  Alistair’s voice shuddered. “I… I am so sorry,” he whispered to the prisoner as he circled behind him. He lifted the whip and brought it down across the prisoner's back with a loud crack.

  The man arched his back and let out a muffled moan.

  Alistair turned to Alvah. He was beaming.

  “Turn left.”

  Alistair dropped the whip; horrified by what he’d done and ran down the path to his left.

  Alistair was not surprised to find Alvah and the prisoner waiting for him, but his heart sank, nonetheless.

  “Again,” Alvah demanded.

  “Please…” Alistair begged, but there was no point. So again, he lifted the heavy whip, and again he brought it crashing down on his helpless victim. The prisoner’s skin split beneath the whip.

  Alvah did not attempt to hide the glee from his face. “Straight,” he said.

  Alistair ran straight until Alvah reappeared. Whip.

  “Right.”

  Alistair ran. Whip.

  “Left.”

  Alistair ran. Again, and again until Alistair’s body ached. Finally, he came to a fork in the path. He could see it over Alvah’s shoulder.

  “This is it, Alistair,” Alvah said. “Behind me are two paths. One will lead you out, and the other will lead you back into the heart of the maze.”

  Alistair lifted the whip again, numb to the ache in his heart.

  “Wait,” Alvah ordered. “This time, you’re going to look at him.” Alvah stepped forward and ripped the shroud off the prisoner.

  Alistair fell to his knees and wretched in the dirt. The prisoner was Wybert.

  Alistair’s mind reeled. He couldn’t lift his gaze. “No, no, no,” he whispered to himself as tears rolled off his nose and turned the dirt to mud. “No, no, no.” Alistair glanced at Wybert, just for a moment, before looking back at the dirt. “How could it be him?” He whispered to the ground. Alistair forced himself to look at Wybert’s face when he spoke.

  “It’s ok Alistair,” Wybert said. “It will all be ok.”

  Alistair stood shakily and let the whip uncoil beside him.

  Wybert lowered his head, exposing his back and showing Alistair the bleeding gashes he had inflicted.

  Alistair felt like he was watching himself perform the last beating from somewhere else. He hardly realized he had done it until it was over.

  Alvah’s laughter echoed through the labyrinth. He stared at Alistair while he casually lifted his sword, and with one swing, chopped off Wybert’s head.

  “NOOOOO!!!” The scream tore itself from Alistair’s throat like a great scab being ripped away. Time slowed as Wybert’s headless body slumped to the ground.

  Alvah strode calmly to Alistair and whispered in his ear. “Left.”

  Wybert’s head came to rest at Alistair’s feet.

  Alistair sobbed. He couldn’t move, but he couldn’t stay there. He had to get Wybert out. He had to take him home. He took off his shirt, wrapped up Wybert’s head and cradled it in his arms, weeping bitterly. He knelt beside Wybert’s body. He grabbed Wybert’s arms and dragged him down the corridor to the left. He kept his eyes fixed forward; searching for an opening; a doorway to freedom, but instead he came to a dead end. “No… No!” Alistair screamed. He let go of Wybert and ran back to the fork in the path. He ran down the right side but came to another dead end. Alistair’s heart dropped. He ran back to Wybert’s body, but it was gone. Alistair spoke frantically to no one. “No. What do I do? What do I do?!” Alistair fell to his knees and laid down in the dirt. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wept.

  “Alistair, I know it’s hard. It’s so hard, but I’m right here.”

  Alistair didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t need to. “Ardent, please. Don’t make me go on. I can’t do this. This isn’t the way you said it would be. You said I’d be a part of taking back the world.”

  “Yes, I did,” Ardent replied softly, “and you are, but I didn’t say it would be easy. In a world this broken, where fear and death rule unchallenged, my path is never easy. But, I told you I would be with you, and that will always be true.”

  Alistair sighed and wiped his eyes. “I don’t think I can continue. I don't know how. What do I do?”

  “Alistair, open your eyes,” Ardent spoke with love and patience.

  Alistair obeyed and forced his eyes open. “I don’t see anything,” he said.

  “Then look harder,” Ardent replied. “Look through the haze, and the confusion. Look deep. Search for what’s true.”

  Alistair tried to focus, but the air around him still blurred his vision. He shook his head, trying to clear
his mind. Everything around him felt wrong. He tried to see through it. He searched with all his might for something real behind the fog. He felt something in his hands and looked down. He was holding his staff.

  Alistair reached to his side. His horn was still there. “How?” He wondered.

  “You saw what he wanted you to see,” Ardent explained. “Calamity is no fool, Alistair. He knows my power. He fears it, and now that you wield it, you are a danger to him. That is why he has gone to such lengths to eliminate those I’ve marked. But he also knows that if he can make you feel powerless; if he can separate you from me and make you doubt me, then you will no longer be a threat.”

  “So, this was all a lie?”

  “Yes,” Ardent replied.

  “Why didn’t he just kill me?”

  Ardent’s eyes narrowed. “He doesn’t want to kill you yet. First, he wants to see if he can own you. If he can poison your heart, you would be a powerful weapon for him. Even without my mark, your influence would rally many to him.”

  Alistair started to understand. “What about Wybert? Is Wybert still alive?”

  “Yes,” Ardent said encouragingly. “Wybert was never here. He’s a prisoner in the Shadow Lands like so many others. That is why you must keep going, Alistair. You are my answer to their cries. You can do it. You are enough. You just need to get up. Get up, Alistair. Get up.”

  Ardent’s voice drifted away.

  Alistair stood shakily, squared his shoulders, and faced the swirling wall of gas in front of him. He stretched his arm forward. His staff split as power burst through it. Alistair’s shining eyes lit up the dark gas as he called upon Ardent’s power, and in his name, commanded the gas to move. The fumes began to dissipate. The gas resisted Alistair’s influence but was ultimately compelled to obey. Soon, daylight shone through the wall and created a doorway. Alistair walked through. He was back in the forest.

  He looked back, and the maze was gone. He was alone again. Alistair was overjoyed to be free of the horrors of the maze, but he was alone; again.

  Ardent’s voice returned. “I know it’s a difficult truth to hold onto Alistair, but you are never alone. I’m going to send you a friend. This companion will help you remember.”