THE MARK Page 7

  Hannah looked skeptical, but at least her fists uncurled. She slowly seemed to unwind, bit by bit.

  “You think she’ll have a plan?” she asked, looking back over at the wagon. The man was no longer at the window.

  “Maybe. She’s pretty good at figuring things out.”

  Hannah looked like she was about to say something else, but the door to the keep groaned open and light flooded the square. Megland strode to where they stood, stopping inches from Hannah’s face but addressing them both.

  “People can hear you two,” she said. She was angrier than Chris had ever seen her. Megland glanced over at the wagon then her eyes snapped back to the girls in front of her. “Come inside. We’ll discuss this after dinner.”

  “But—” Hannah began.

  Megland didn’t have to say anything. She looked like she was capable of murder in that moment. She spun on her heel and tramped back to the hall, her footfalls heavy and fast. Chris turned to make sure Hannah was going to follow. She muttered something in the wagon’s direction before brushing past Chris and disappearing into the hall’s torchlight.

  * * *

  Dinner was different that night. Karniv was very late, so he sent word ahead for everyone to start without him. When he finally did appear, his belly was noticeably distended, and Chris could see a dark spot of blood on his right fang. They needed to get out of there, all of them, and fast.

  She tried to eat, but she kept thinking about the holding cells and the people in them. The torches stunk like strong incense, their flames bathing everyone’s faces in weak light. The people around her looked like sad clowns, except they didn’t need the makeup. Karniv was in a fine mood, though. He raised a glass, toasting the capture of a Marked.

  “One less louse to sully the kingdom’s crown!” he said.

  All of those at the table raised their glasses but none of her own group did it with any real gusto. It was like raising their flags to half-staff, their lack of enthusiasm tribute to the man waiting to be carted to his demise. Chris wondered where all the righteous anger from the courtyard had gone. Just how much of what had happened was actually an act of self-preservation by the people that lived there?

  There was no dancing after that night’s meal. Most people just walked away, mumbling their goodnights while others opted to remain silent. Chris’s group took a passage to the castle’s exterior then trekked their way through the late summer weeds to a nearby orchard.

  High-stepping through the grass, Chris considered what Hannah had said in the courtyard, her ideas about humans being treated like animals. She hadn’t really thought about it that way before, but the way the northern kingdom’s economy was set up made the comparison seem about right. They were expendable. And now that she thought about it, so was everyone—other than the king, the mercenaries, and Swampers. Everyone other than them just kept the cycle going: lose a loved one, a marked one, and pretend it never happened. That is, until it comes time to buy their doll. Then everyone looks the other way. Come to think of it, that seemed to be at the very heart of the problem.

  Chris was so busy ruminating that she didn’t see the ghost until the last second. It stood in the middle of the orchard, moonlight glinting off its pale form. Megland was walking straight toward it. Chris yelled out a warning, “Watch out!” but Megland only glanced back at her and kept going. Maybe she didn’t see it. Chris ran to catch up with her, and she could finally see the ghost for what it was: Digs.

  Part of Chris wanted to run to him, give him a big hug. Even though they had spent little time together, he already felt like a warm part of her past. After all, he did lead her and Micah out of the cavern’s depths and back into the light. She felt a surge of happiness just seeing his face. But when she got close enough to make out his expression she knew something was wrong.

  Digs looked awful. His skin wasn’t the perfect, smooth white it had been when she last saw him. It looked raw, the palest of pinks. His eyes were red-rimmed like he had been crying. Worst of all, his posture was sunken. He had the caved-in look of defeat.

  “I’m so so sorry,” he said to Megland. His voice cracked on the last word. He was so distraught that Chris didn’t even know if he knew that the rest of them were there.

  “Just tell me what happened,” Megland said.

  “He showed up outside the tunnels last night. I told him to take the trail to Polaris, but he must have run. He had to have panicked or something because when I tried to catch up with him I couldn’t find him. He had to have veered off, maybe looking for a shortcut. I heard he was caught on the coast this morning.”

  There might have been more, but he buried his face in his hands, and Megland pulled him in for a hug. She held him there for a while, long enough that Chris felt the need to look away. Hannah was busy tearing a stack of leaves into strips, her jaw clenched.

  Finally, Megland and Digs broke their embrace. She held him out at arm’s length while he wiped his face dry. “I know you tried,” she said. “I know you would never let something like this happen. It was out of your control. Okay?”

  He nodded then took a deep, steadying breath. “When I found out he’d been taken I ran after them. I don’t know what I was hoping to do if I caught up with them, but I ran anyway.”

  “During the day?” Megland asked in disbelief.

  He nodded.

  That explained the sunburn.

  Megland looked at Digs like a proud parent before getting back to business. “We need to discuss how best to handle this. Hannah, Micah, and I’m guessing Chris, all have reservations about remaining neutral.”

  Digs looked around for the first time. He seemed surprised that the rest of them were there. His lips formed a half-smile when he saw Chris.

  “Hi, Digs,” she said, trying to sound comforting.

  He raised a sunburned hand in greeting.

  “Good to see you made it, man,” Micah said.

  When Hannah spoke up it sliced through the moment. “How do we get him out?”

  “We don’t,” Megland said.

  “He’s just sitting in the square. Nobody’s guarding him. All we need to do is break the lock and he’s free.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Digs said.

  Hannah rounded on him. “Why the hell not?”

  “What if your plan works? What if he does get freed? He can’t stay at Polaris. Everybody already knows he’s marked. He can try running again, but mercenaries constantly patrol every region outside the castle’s walls. He’ll just be captured again.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said.

  “True. It is possible for The Marked to live outside of the castle, perhaps. But they aren’t the majority. It is rare for a marked one to avoid detection. He wouldn’t have much of a chance.”

  She stepped forward. “But at least he would have a chance!”

  “She’s right,” Chris said.

  They all looked surprised when she spoke. Did they not expect her to have an opinion on the matter?

  Megland crossed her arms and Chris felt her stomach turn.

  “See?” Hannah said. “Even Chris thinks we should save him and she’s scared of everything!”

  Chris staggered back a couple of steps. She couldn’t believe that was what Hannah really thought of her.

  Megland stepped in. “She has every right to be afraid. She and Micah are not from the northern kingdom like we are. This is all new to them.”

  Hannah scoffed.

  “Listen to Meg. She knows what she’s talking about,” Digs said.

  Megland thanked him and continued. “If any of us were to get caught trying to free that man everything would be at risk. Our entire group would become suspect. Do you understand that, Hannah? If one of us were to get caught we would all die.”

  Hannah didn’t respond. If anything, her jaw clenched tighter. Megland waited for her to say something and when she didn’t Megland turned her attention back to her brother. They talked more about what had happened and
the growing unrest in the south. None of them saw the moment when Hannah sneaked away.

  CHAPTER 10

  Later, when Chris would think back on that night, she would think that their biggest mistake was not taking Hannah seriously enough. They should have kept her in sight. When the screaming started Chris had the terrible feeling that she knew exactly what was happening. And judging by the looks on her friends’ faces, they knew too.

  The four of them tore through the dewy weeds, soaking their clothes, snagging on burrs. Wordlessly, they ran through the tunnels that led to the heart of the castle and back out again into the courtyard where Hannah was screaming and straining against her restraints.

  She had been spotted by the mercenary when she tried to free his prisoner and now her wrists were bound by shackles.

  Chris had often thought about what a mercenary might look like. In her mind, they were wart-faced and gargoyle-like. Demons risen from the underworld, harvesters of souls, a blight to young and old alike. But the creature holding Hannah captive was nothing like that. He was worse.

  She could recognize his shape anywhere. She and Hannah had watched him for hours from their spot on the wall. This was the mysterious doll vendor. Except now he was uncloaked. He must have seen Hannah trying to free the man in the wagon and ran out to intercept her before he was fully dressed. He wore just pants and boots. His top half was massive, hunched and scaled like a dinosaur. Every tooth protruded from his lips like fangs, and his eyes were little black beads.

  “No!” Hannah yelled, struggling to get loose from the mercenary’s grip. He held one of her arms and easily controlled her. “You can’t do this to us! We’re people! We’re people!”

  Chris’s feet were moving of their own volition. She was getting closer to the fray until she felt a hand clamp down on her wrist. She ignored it and tried to keep walking. Hannah was no more than a child. She needed somebody to take up for her.

  The crowd was yelling and spitting at Hannah. It was like they were angrier at her for helping than they had been at the prisoner earlier. Chris knew she had to make them stop, but the hand on her wrist kept impeding her progress. It was Megland. She gravely shook her head. Too late, she seemed to say.

  Chris turned back around to look at Hannah just in time to see the blood welling from her neck. The mercenary held a knife in his free hand. Moonlight glinted off the steel. The edge looked to Chris like it had been dipped in red paint, like he had forgotten to bring his brush and was trying to paint the wagon behind him with a knife. She stared at the blade, not looking at the blood rushing down the front of Hannah’s dress or the way her body limply collapsed to the ground as if she were just another doll in the courtyard.

  The crowd was silent. There were a few gasps, a sharp intake of breath here and there, but after a few beats the yelling started again in earnest. It was feverish, passionate, almost gleeful in tone. A light caught Chris’s attention. The door to the keep had opened and standing in it was Karniv.

  Megland tugged on Chris’s wrist. Her face was ashen as she mouthed the words, “We need to leave.” But Chris couldn’t. Hannah was hurt. The mercenary easily lifted the girl’s body and shoved it in the door at the back of the wagon. The crowd actually cheered.

  Chris growled, struggling against Megland and the vice-like grip that pulled Chris away from the scene. She tried to gain momentum to break free but then Micah was helping to pull her away too and she only succeeded in a cartoonish backward run. Hannah was getting farther and farther away.

  “No!” she yelled, but it was drowned out by the frenzied shouting all around her.

  Finally, reluctantly, she followed Megland through the castle’s passages and unfamiliar corridors. Megland still kept a good grip on her arm as if she thought Chris might run back, but Chris no longer fought.

  They slowed down in one of the darkened hallways and Megland guided them to where it ended. They stood in front of a large tapestry thick with dust. Megland checked to make sure that they weren’t being followed before pushing it aside. Her other hand disappeared into her pocket then reemerged with a skeleton key. After unlocking the door, she held back the tapestry so they could all step through.

  It was a small, empty room, bare and plain except for the stone wall on the far side that wobbled and emanated a blue glow.

  “Hold hands,” Megland said.

  “But Hannah—” Chris said.

  “We need to go.” Megland’s tone was no-nonsense but her voice was shaking. “They’ll be looking for us by now.”

  As if on cue, footsteps thudded down the hall. Orders were being shouted.

  “Whatever you do, hold on,” Megland said.

  And then they were running toward the stone wall. One of the king’s guards forced the door open just as they met the light. Then he disappeared in a world of blue.

  * * *

  Chris didn’t want to open her eyes. She could tell that she was lying on her back, could hear the gentle lapping of water, and she thought I’m on vacation somewhere with Mom. If that was true, then Polaris wasn’t real. And if Polaris wasn’t real then Hannah wasn’t gone. She lay there and kept her eyes closed, if just to hold that peace for a moment longer.

  Something shook her, and at first, she thought it was the wind. She could hear the rustle of leaves nearby. But then the shaking grew, and she felt pressure on her arm. Something had found her. She squeezed her eyes tighter. She couldn’t face whatever was out there.

  “Chris, wake the hell up.”

  She knew that voice. Chris opened her eyes to see Micah’s concerned face hovering over hers.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing her hand and helping her sit up. Blood rushed to her head followed by an immediate, pulsing thudding. It was all real.

  “I think so,” she said.

  They were on a pebbled beach at the edge of a calm lake. A dense forest ringed the area. Something was different about the lake and forest, though, something about it wasn’t quite normal. Looking up, Chris saw the tattered clouds that cloaked the moon.

  Megland leaned against a tree, bent from the waist, hands on her knees. Chris wondered if she was trying not to puke. Her dress was black. It had been dark green when they’d stepped through the wall, though. Digs looked the same as he usually did: a palate of white. But when Chris looked around—really looked around—she realized why the lake and forest looked so strange. There was no color. Anywhere.

  “Why is everything black and white?” she asked, determined to keep her voice steady.

  Megland took a deep breath, walked over and helped her to stand. “It’s not,” she said. “It’s gray.”

  “It looks like a black and white movie to me,” Micah said. He picked up a sword off the ground and slid it in its sheath at his waist. Chris didn’t realize he had brought one with him. He must have stolen it from the armory.

  She looked around, trying to get her bearings, but all she could see was water and trees. “Are we still on Kellet?”

  Digs spoke up. “We are. I’ve been in this area before, once, when we were looking for new veins to tap. It’s one of the only places where the light’s weak enough that I can travel in daylight.”

  Then Micah asked the question they all should have been asking, “Where did that portal come from?”

  Megland sighed. “Me.”

  “I thought only Swampers could do that,” Chris said.

  “And those with strong enough magic,” Megland said, steadying herself by laying a hand on Digs’ arm. “I was gathering supplies for us to leave, but I was also conjuring that portal.”

  “But won’t they just follow us through it?” Micah asked.

  Megland shook her head then doubled over and heaved. Digs rubbed her back.

  “It’s hard on her to use her gifts,” he said. “And they can’t use the portal. It was just for us.”

  Megland wiped her mouth then rinsed her hands in the lake. “Our mother practiced magic, as Digs told you. I can only assume that some
of her gifts passed on to me. She’s the reason I went to work at Polaris. I wanted to find out what happened to her. Her doll was never sold. I checked every cart that came into the courtyard, looked at the face of every doll, but she was never there. That’s why I think she never made it to the Swampers.

  “Then,” she said reluctantly, turning to Digs, “I overheard a conversation about a month ago between The Last Resort and one of the guards. They were talking about how a mercenary, years ago, didn’t make a delivery. He was transporting a prisoner from a raid on a mining village when the cart overturned and the prisoner escaped.”

  “You knew this for a month and didn’t tell me?” Digs said.

  “I wanted to make sure. I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I was certain.”

  “Where was this? Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Digs threw his hands up and started to walk away.

  “They didn’t say!” she called to him, pleading for him to understand. “It’s not like I could ask them!”

  “You could have found a way,” he said, turning back to face her.

  “I think she went south,” she said. “I think she would have gone south.”

  “No,” Digs said, striding back and getting in her face. “She wouldn’t have done that. She would have come back for us.”

  “She would have been caught.”

  “She wouldn’t have left me!” he yelled. He seemed to startle himself.

  “She had no choice,” Megland said softly.

  The clouds above them cleared and Chris saw the black dot that appeared on Digs’ face. He absentmindedly swiped at it. Then it flew to land on Chris’s shoulder and she was about to do the same thing when she looked at it and it winked at her. She stared in wonder. She had never thought she’d see The Fly again.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Who are you talking to?” Micah asked.

  She held out her hand with her index finger extended and The Fly buzzed over to land on it like a bird. Micah walked over, squinting, and said, “It’s a fly.”