"That slave boy was executed the other day, wasn't he?" a third person asked. "I think he died."
Ahead of me, Nic chuckled softly. "I came back."
I wrapped my arm even tighter around his waist. "Yes, you did."
Caela didn't fly as quickly as she usually did, but neither of us were in any hurry. The longer we flew, the stronger Nic became. After an hour, he began describing what he remembered from the previous night. It wasn't much, and I found he was asking more questions than he could answer of mine.
"The Mistress -- I really broke the curse? Did that happen?"
"It happened. Atroxia thanked you. The vestalis promised to take care of her."
"I don't hear her in my head anymore," he said. "I think when the curse broke, that ended our connection. Or maybe we'd still be connected, if I had any magic."
He seemed sad every time he mentioned his lost magic. But his hand was holding mine and it remained just as firm, so maybe he was beginning to accept what he'd lost.
"You did more than give Atroxia her life back," I said. "The empire forgave her because of you. That's an even greater gift."
He nodded and went silent for a long time. I noticed his knuckles dig into Caela's back, but only in the most loving of ways.
After another hour of flying, he was sitting up without needing my support. Sometime during that hour, his fingers had become intertwined with mine. I liked that.
"I need to find honest work in Britannia," he said. "The only thing I really know about is mining, but I won't do that anymore, even as a free person. I do like the idea of working with my hands."
"Crispus wants to design buildings," I said. "Maybe you can build from his designs."
"That's a good idea." He seemed to mean it, or at least, his voice sounded a little happier. "I've destroyed so many buildings. It might be nice to create them instead."
We talked about that for a long time, and about our hopes and dreams for what Britannia might be like, becoming so involved in our plans that it scarcely occurred to us Caela was flying lower than before. The air around us was clear and the morning sun was bright and crisp.
Crispus had described Hadrian's Wall to me before, as the current boundaries of the empire. I saw it when we passed overhead, a gray brick wall winding up and down through autumn grasses, and with occasional groups of Roman soldiers as sentries. They pointed us out, but Nic didn't notice so I didn't tell him. I only said a few minutes later, "We're out of the empire."
"I thought so," he mumbled. "Despite everything, I'm sad to think I'll never see Rome again."
"At least Rome will still exist, thanks to you. And who knows, perhaps one day we'll go back."
His hand tightened around mine again. "Yes, we'll go together, one day."
One day, and every day from now on, we'd be together.
Gradually, a home rose up in the distance, more square than the villas of Rome, but elegant nonetheless. Smoke rose from a chimney, and farm animals roamed within its fences.
The front door opened upon our approach, and a very pretty girl exited with a basket in her arms, perhaps to gather eggs or to feed the animals. Her curly blond hair was pulled up in a bun, and she was speaking to someone still inside the home. I knew her, and when Nic recognized her too, he tapped my arm, just in case I hadn't yet seen.
Then Livia heard the flap of Caela's wings and looked up to see us. Her cry of joy was so loud we could hear it from as high up as we still were, but every second brought us closer.
By the time Caela had landed, Livia was right beside us. She hugged Nic, even as he was sliding off Caela's back. Then, from almost nowhere, Nic's mother appeared. She wore an apron with flour handprints on it. Did that mean there was fresh baked bread nearby? My stomach ached with hunger, and Nic must be worse. He hadn't eaten much lately.
"I never allowed myself to hope for this moment," Nic's mother said as tears welled in her eyes.
"What are those marks on your arms and legs?" Livia asked.
Nic probably hadn't even noticed them until now. Or at least, he looked at his arms when she mentioned that and seemed genuinely confused.
"They're evidence of his victory," I quickly said.
"It was a victory, then?" Nic's mother whispered. "How did you survive it?"
Nic eyed me sideways, warning me not to answer. Instead, he asked, "Has Crispus arrived yet?"
"We received word from an advance rider," Livia said. "He and his mother will be here soon. Perhaps by the end of the week." And no one looked more excited about that than her.
"Nic?"
He turned. Radulf stood in the doorway of the home, balanced on a cane, but otherwise much healthier and stronger than when I'd last seen him.
When Nic stepped forward, Radulf walked to meet him, and the two stared at each other for a while. Radulf's eyes flitted from Nic's chest to his wrist, checking for both of the amulets.
"You destroyed them?"
Nic's hand brushed up to his chest, where the bulla used to be. Finding nothing there, it only fell to his side again, and even if he didn't say it, I knew it made him sad, like remembering a lost friend. "They're all gone."
"Ah." Radulf walked around Nic, surveying him. "You'll need a new tunic."
"I hope it's the last one I'll need for a while." Nic drew in a sharp breath. "My magic is gone. Not gone, in the way that it's been empty before, but truly gone. I destroyed everything."
"And yet you heard my voice in your head this morning. Interesting." Radulf smiled at that.
I stepped forward. "How? If neither of you has magic anymore --"
A twinkle sparkled in Radulf's eyes. "As I said, that's very interesting. Nothing more." He clapped Nic on the back, just below his right shoulder. When he did, I was sure I saw him flinch, maybe just a little.
Nic smiled back, a real smile, and the most natural smile I'd seen from him since we met. He held out his hand for me, which I gladly took. "Yes," he said. "Whatever comes for us now, it will be ... interesting."
The close of any series is difficult. By the time I write the final chapter, I've gone on quite a journey with these characters, not only following their ups and downs in the books, but also in events that never make it into the pages. It takes several bumps, bruises, and scars for Nic and his family and friends to reach the ending of this series, but they are all stronger for it. Maybe the same is true for each of us. Life is a series of ups and downs, and if we get a few scars of our own, then it proves we can heal.
There are several people who have walked this journey with me, my family most closely of all. Jeff, I could not do this without you, nor would I want to. Here's to the day you came to me. To my three kids, you bring joy to my life beyond what you can imagine. Each of you amazes me.
I am also infinitely grateful to the Scholastic family for your countless hours of hard work, much of which doesn't get appreciated as it should. I thank you for all you do. To my editor, Lisa Sandell, you are everything a brilliant editor should be and a wonderful friend beyond that. I am so lucky to work with you and look forward to many more exciting years together.
It is also an honor to work with a talented agent such as Ammi-Joan Paquette. Seriously, if I heard a rumor that you could spin gold, I wouldn't even bat an eye.
There are many more writing projects still to come -- please watch for upcoming titles! And there are dozens more ideas in my head with characters fighting for my attention. I can't wait to share all of them with you!
Read on for a sneak peek at Jennifer A. Nielsen's chilling fantasy, The Scourge!
Few things were worth the risk to my life, but the juicy vinefruit was one of them. Even more so today because I was long past hungry. If I didn't eat something soon, my life was in danger anyway.
Not immediate danger. Mama had poor man's bread at home and, indeed, was expecting me back soon for supper. But I couldn't stand the thought of gnawing on those thick crusts for yet another meal. Especially not now, not after spotting a vinefruit this
close, in perfect ripeness.
Getting it would be simple.
Well, not simple in the traditional definition of the word. But simple, meaning that I intended to get that fruit if it was the last thing I ever did.
It required a climb up a tall tree with thorns that tore at the only good dress I still owned. I also had to avoid the sticky vines that loved to tangle my arms and legs, leaving behind a terrible rash wherever they touched skin. So far, so good. All I had left was to shinny across a thin branch, avoiding the hecklebird that nested there. Hecklebirds were mean, with long narrow beaks that pecked mercilessly at whoever disturbed their eggs. Well, I didn't want the eggs; they were disgusting anyway. I only wanted the vinefruit next to the nest.
So out onto the limb I went, patiently inching my way forward, listening for the hecklebird's ugly caw. I got about halfway out and then heard a crack.
The limb snapped in half, and I clawed for anything that could keep me from falling. My hand found the vinefruit, which actually might've helped save me if it had not been so perfectly ripe. Instead, it came with me as I fell.
I went down headfirst, crashing into another hecklebird nest, which sent a particularly foul-smelling bird fluttering into the air in anger. It'd be back. Then a vine caught my leg in a tangle, leaving me suspended in midair about twelve feet above the ground.
I caught a yelp in my throat, reminding myself I was not the type of girl who panicked over ordinary near-death experiences. I was, however, a girl whose heart was racing far too quickly. I needed to breathe, to think. But mostly, I needed to not fall any farther.
Granted, this had not turned out as well as I'd hoped. But my best friend, Weevil, had said he'd meet me here today. If necessary, he could help. It wouldn't be his first time saving me from my own stupidity. This wasn't even the worst mess he'd have caught me in.
Blood rushed into my head, and everything around me turned upside down. My skirts threatened to tumble over my head as well until I bunched them between my knees. At least I still had the vinefruit. I had originally intended to bring it home whole to my parents, but it had crushed in my hand and would never last. Thick red juice ran in lines up my arm. Better that I eat the vinefruit alone than let it go to waste.
That's what I told myself to pretend I wasn't being selfish. I knew my parents were every bit as hungry as I was. But I'd have to drop the vinefruit before unwrapping my leg from the vine, and that'd ruin it.
The longer the vine stayed on my skin, the worse the rash would be, but I didn't care. My hunger now was worse than a little itching later. Despite the awkward angle, I ate the fruit, trying not to let the red juice stain my mouth the way it had stained my arm.
I finished the fruit, letting the pit fall somewhere into the underbrush, when I heard the crunch of leaves beneath me. I swung my body around, expecting my friend. Then I immediately went still.
"It figures we have to come get the grubs," one man said. "There're men younger than us who should be doing this work."
These were wardens. Their cocked woolen hats gave them away. I prayed they wouldn't look up and see me. The wardens and my people weren't exactly friends.
"Grubs" was a reference to those of us who lived up in the river country of Keldan. The term wasn't much worse than our description of the townsfolk below as "pinchworms," but they started the name-calling first, so we felt justified. Besides, pinchworms were known to eat grubs, so the nickname was accurate.
"Governor Felling is punishing us for what happened last week," his companion said. "Punishing you and made me come along for protection."
Protection? My people were peaceful. Well, we had been peaceful so far. If the wardens were here, then that might change. It all depended on what they wanted.
Governor Nerysa Felling wasn't a popular leader. Compared to our neighboring country, Dulan, most of Keldan was poor, and everything the governor tried only increased the burdens already weighing heavily upon the people. Whispers of overthrowing her power grew louder, and increasing numbers of challengers stepped forward each year. Everyone knew Dulan looked at our borders with hungry eyes. It was only a matter of time before they attacked.
Governor Felling was even more disliked by the River People, whom she loved to blame for the troubles in Keldan. Each year, she pushed us back, farther from the towns and higher into the hills, where food was more scarce. About a year and a half ago, she forcibly recruited several men, many of them River People, for an exploration north to find new resources. Weevil's father was taken amongst them. But the Scuttle Sea is famed for its terrible storms, something Governor Felling certainly should have known. The ship was lost. There were no survivors.
There was only one reason Governor Felling still remained in power and perhaps only one reason why Dulan had not yet brought us a war.
The Scourge.
The disease first appeared three hundred years ago. It swept through our country and cut our population by a third. Fear of its spread shattered our economy, isolated us from neighboring countries, and created outcasts of my people, who were accused of originating the disease. The scars it caused within Keldan were still apparent today.
After four long years, the terrible sickness went away, and the people of Keldan were free to breathe again in peace. The worst tragedy in our history was over.
Or so we thought.
Last year, the Scourge returned.
This time, it started in the prisons on Attic Island, cleaning them out entirely before it moved into the general population. It was a disease without mercy. Highly contagious, but with no clear sign of how it was transmitted. Symptoms were nearly impossible to detect until it was too late, and there was no treatment. The Scourge always ended in death. Always.
The one good thing Governor Felling had done was hire physicians who determined that if the disease was caught in its earliest stages, even before symptoms appeared, then it was less contagious. They used the old records to develop an early test to identify and isolate Scourge victims, which seemed to keep the disease from spreading as quickly. But for those who did test positive, Attic Island was transformed into a Scourge Colony, where victims were sent to live out the rest of their short lives. It was the governor's way of hoping to contain the disease. Fear of the disease spreading over its own borders had also kept Dulan at bay. For as long as the sickness reigned, Dulan would not cross Attic Island's waters.
The disease wasn't Governor Felling's fault, obviously. Inheriting that problem was just her bad luck. But she was the River People's bad luck. Proof of that was in the wardens' presence below me.
I craned my head enough to see the two men. The first warden, the stockier one, had requested a break to remove a rock from his boot and was taking his time about it. "Governor Felling ordered us to take five grubs for testing." The shaking of his voice betrayed his worry about being here. "If she only sent two of us to get them, how does she think that'll go?"
Five of us, to test for the Scourge? Since we were isolated from the towns, so far the Scourge had not touched my people. We never mixed with the pinchworms except on the rare occasions when we needed supplies, and in those cases, we never went to towns where the Scourge had appeared.
So why was the governor sending wardens to test us for the Scourge?
"It may sound like a hefty punishment, but it's deserved," the second warden said. "Grubs always cause the worst uprisings."
What was he talking about? There was no uprising. The last trouble we'd caused happened when those men were taken for the exploration, and even that was minor. There'd been nothing close to an uprising since then.
A caw sounded off to my right. An angry, nasty caw that only could have come from the hecklebird. The hateful thing was back, but why now?
No doubt it smelled the vinefruit juice that had dried on my arm. It knew I'd disturbed its nest. It wanted revenge and would get it now, better than the bird could've ever expected.
That bird would expose me to the wardens below.
> JENNIFER A. NIELSEN is the acclaimed author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Ascendance Trilogy: The False Prince, The Runaway King, and The Shadow Throne. She also wrote the Mark of the Thief trilogy: Mark of the Thief, Rise of the Wolf, and Wrath of the Storm; the historical thriller A Night Divided; the fantasy adventure The Scourge; and the sixth book of the Infinity Ring series, Behind Enemy Lines.
Jennifer collects old books, loves good theater, and thinks that a quiet afternoon in the mountains makes for a nearly perfect moment. She lives in northern Utah with her husband, their three children, and a perpetually muddy dog. You can visit her at www.jennielsen.com.
ALSO BY
JENNIFER A. NIELSEN
MARK OF THE THIEF TRILOGY
Mark of the Thief
Rise of the Wolf
Wrath of the Storm
THE ASCENDANCE TRILOGY
The False Prince
The Runaway King
The Shadow Throne
A Night Divided
The Scourge
Behind Enemy Lines, Book Six in the
Infinity Ring series
Copyright (c) 2017 Jennifer A. Nielsen
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Nielsen, Jennifer A., author. | Nielsen, Jennifer A. Mark of the thief ; bk 3.
Title: Wrath of the storm / Jennifer A. Nielsen.
Description: First edition. | New York : Scholastic Press, 2017. | Series: Mark of the thief ; book 3 | Summary: Nicolas Calva has Caesar's magic bulla, the Malice of Mars, and he has hidden the dangerous Jupiter Stone, but he still has to find a way to defeat The Mistress, a dragon who contains the soul of the vestalis Atroxia, and who hates Rome, and save his mother and friends, and maybe even the Empire itself--and he is troubled by his sneaking sympathy for Atroxia, who was unjustly condemned.
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