“What is that Mark for?”
He sets the pen down and turns to me. “That is to protect against the touch of death that some of Lysara’s Undying have. A single touch will rend your soul from your body, and you will die. It’s a rare gift, but Nyxthos’s trials will be filled with the strongest of the Godforged. You won’t be fighting Mindless there. You’ll be fighting the Undying, warriors rather than wild creatures. Do notlet anyone connected to Lysara touch you because a single brushing glance from them can end you. It only works if they touch you with their skin, but even this armor won’t stop it completely. And it will destroy the armor.”
He holds up the tiny vial full of the dark silver pieces next to his face, and I realize his Serpent is made from the same thing. “You could give me Immortality with that, couldn’t you?”
He shakes his head. “Not any longer. There’s not enough left. And I don’t know that we’ll ever have another object touched by Lysara. She stays far from Nyth, especially now she’s been told a god will die.”
“All the god-touched objects I’ve found over the years were for Marks,” I finally say.
My father’s expression is unreadable, a solemn mask built of facts rather than emotions. “I found many before you were born, but yes, your unique ability to find god-touched objects has been instrumental in expanding the Order and allowing them to progress on the path.”
He’d always told me that finding these objects was incredibly valuable, but I’d never understood just how important it was. I’d just known my father needed me to do it, so I found them.
I’m quiet as he hands me the armor. I can feel it now. It’sdifferent. I don’t know how to explain it, but it has a weight to it that hasn’t been there before. When I look at him, he’s holding two vials and the pen in his other hand. One vial holds the dark silver of Lysara, and the other… The other holds a strange mix of gray and gold.
“You’ve undertaken the next step in your path rather explosively. It’s time you received the Mark of the Coin.”
I hadn’t ever truly expected to receive that particular Mark. It signifies that you’ve accepted that not everything is in your control, that sometimes, you must roll the dice and hope for the best outcome.
Its power, the cruelest of all the Marks, is something nearly indefinable. It isn’t the destructiveness of the Spear or the ability to move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. No, when activated, one of two things happens. Either someone becomes extraordinarily lucky or they become almost certainly fatally unlucky. Crossbow bolts shatter on the bowstring when fired at them, or they find the singular chink in their armor. A root will trip them or their enemy, both of whom are as surefooted as mountain goats.
It’s a Mark only activated when the choice is between death and the chance of death.I cast the coin, and fate decides.It’s the first line in the Sixth Book of the Priest; the last one I received. It’s supposed to prepare me to learn the lessons to earn that particular Mark. I’ve never believed in fate doing anything for me, instead relying on my own skills and things within my control.
“What’s the other for? You already said that you couldn’t give me Immortality.”
In as emotionless a tone as I’ve ever heard from him, he says, “It’s the opposite. Immortality takes an incredible amount of power constantly. But to die? That takes very little. No matter if someone were to bind your hands and feet, to gag you, or even to paralyzeyou, you can always activate this Mark. I have given this to a handful of spies who have left Sylvantia to use in a worst-case scenario. I hate that I’m giving this to you, but there are few gifts as sweet as death to the ones who are facing unending torment. This is the Mark of Peace.I have failed my task, but I have not failed my first duty.”
It shocks me for a moment, but then I nod. “Thank you,” I whisper, and I take it for exactly what it is. Rhaskar Thorne is my father, but he’s also the leader of the most important group of humans in the world. Rhaskar needs to know his secrets will die with me. But my father wants to make sure I never have to endure the torture that’s possible when dealing with the gods.
It’s a gift and a responsibility.
“Let’s go somewhere a little more private. The last time we sat in this room, we were rudely interrupted. I think you’d prefer no one walking in on me giving you these specific Marks.”
At that, I smile a little. I don’t know where Peace will go, but the Coin wraps around my right hip, and that’d be a little awkward for someone to walk in on.
Chapter 7
Before the gods, there were four Great Houses of Fae that ruled Nyth. A dragon gave each of these bloodlines their powers. Shadows, Flames, Steel, and Earth. These powers were controlled through the use of emotions, just as the dragons control their own powers. Joy and sadness ruled Flames, pride and fear ruled Steel, desire and revulsion ruled Shadows, and peace and anger ruled Earth. It was thought that no one could use all four. The Prince of Bones is proof we were wrong.
~King Rhion Rahn, The Future of Magic and Dragons
Fiona
I can’t stop feeling the soft throb of pain from the new Marks as the sun begins its slow rise over the horizon. Even as I sit across from Cedric at his desk, the same place I’ve sat each morning for as long as I can remember, they have my emotions in a whirlwind.
He’s a Priest of the Ninth Degree, one of a dozen men still living who’s achieved this. He’s been my tutor since I was five years old, a time when I had to stack books on this chair to see over his desk.
Time hasn’t been kind to him, though. The thick gray hair on his head and his short beard are the least of his worries. His ornate silverwood cane and half-moon glasses have become as much a part of his daily equipment as the armor I wear. Yet, he still sits up straight and proud. More than anything, though, age has not reduced his mental faculties in the least. Still, he’s the cleverest man I’ve ever met, and even my father rarely argues with him.
“You’re about to walk into the viper’s nest. What are you expecting to face?” he asks as he slides the half-moon glasses up higher on his nose. “What have you heard about these so-called trials?” My emotions regarding my new Marks fade into the background as Cedric gets right to the heart of why I need him.
It’s a question I knew he’d ask, and I lean back in the chair. “Not enough. Darian and Rhion explained that the first couple will be to sort the wheat from the chaff. There was another set of trials fifty years ago when Draeven’s champion died, so there is some precedent for them. The issue is that Draeven’s trials became a tournament as he wanted the strongest warrior. They don’t think Nyxthos will be as interested in that style of trials.”
Cedric pushes his glasses further up his nose as if he’s going to become even more serious. “Exactly. Do you know the trials Draeven set forth?”
“There was something about choosing a sword in the first and then some kind of obstacle course in the second. After that, there was a group melee and then a tournament for the group that won.”
“When you consider Draeven, that makes sense. Throughout the entire war, he has focused solely on martial combat. The culture of the Kingdom of Ironvale revolves around it now. Slaves mine and farm while anyone consideredof uselearns to support the Chained in the wars.”
