Power (Dark Scions Book 3) Read online

  No. The world should not work like this.

  “So you don’t believe the myths about Marked Ones like me,” I whisper as one of the Midrian soldiers draws his broad sword. “You don’t think I’m Lok’s chosen.”

  “You’re just a savage with a strange birthmark,” Trise hisses.

  “So… if I’m just a savage, why were you always so afraid to touch me? Why lash me to the outside of the ship? Why are you even bothering to keep me alive?”

  “Emperor Krogen owns you,” he hisses. “He’ll have his revenge soon enough, and it will be laid bare for all the world to see. Quiet now. Reap what your meddling has sown.” He nods at his soldiers. One of them flashes him a cold smile, as if relishing what he’s about to do.

  Despicable bastards.

  What would Kaim do if he were here right now?

  He’d kill these Midrians, probably. The decks would run crimson with their blood.

  I don’t possess Kaim’s powers, but at least I still have my wits and my mouth, and as far as I know, they aren’t allowed to kill me. I have to do something. There are no guarantees that it will work, but...

  “I think you’re afraid of me, Trise,” I hiss as one of the Midrian soldiers drags his fingers through Iyen’s tousled hair and yanks his head back, exposing his neck. “Your actions make that quite obvious.”

  “Quiet,” Trise snaps.

  I ignore him. “Otherwise, you would punish me and not the boy. I was the one who tricked him. I was the one who put the fear of the gods into the sailors. It wasn’t hard. You Midrians are gullible fools.”

  “Quiet, or I’ll whip you to within an inch of your life.”

  “You’re afraid of me, commander,” I repeat, raising my voice so all the sailors can hear. “If you weren’t, you’d punish me, not him.”

  To my surprise Iyen looks up and glares at Trise. A savage grin spreads across his face. “Go on, get it over with then, you miserable, motherless, fat fucking bastard.” Finding a sudden burst of strength, he straightens up and beats his chest with his fist, glaring at the Midrian soldiers. His expression is wild. He’s a completely different person to the quiet, timid youth I encountered in my cell.“Kill me, then. I’m not afraid to face Lok, but you should be. Are you thick in the head, old man? Is the Anskell bastard stupid? She’s his chosen one, and we’re all going to get our recko—”

  “What are you waiting for?” Trise roars. “Kill the little bastard.”

  The Midrian soldiers move so fast they almost become a blur. One pulls Iyen’s head backwards. The other draws his sword across the sailor’s neck.

  Blood sprays across the deck.

  The sailors finally erupt into dissent; they shout and moan and yell out in fear and anger.

  A cracked howl escapes my lips. “No!” I scream, bringing my elbow up into Trise’s face. I connect with his jaw. The Midrian growls and delivers a stinging slap to my cheek, sending stars through my vision. Then he tightens his thick arms around me as I fight back, my arms and legs flailing.

  What else can I do?

  They just killed a man for no reason at all.

  Just like they always do.

  “You didn’t have to do that!” I scream as a cold blast of air rushes down from the cliffs.

  I kick and punch, trying to hit Trise, but he’s much bigger than me, and despite his girth, he has the strength of a seasoned fighter.

  I look down and see Iyen’s slender, lifeless body slumped on the wooden deck. Sightless blue eyes stare up at the misty cliffs.

  Poor, poor Iyen.

  But maybe he doesn’t want me to feel sorry for him.

  The expression he wears, even in death, is strangely triumphant.

  Perhaps he really has gone to the afterlife.

  Perhaps Lok will reward him.

  I can only pray.

  Pray that there’s life after death, and that justice exists.

  Pray that Kaim has defeated his enemies.

  Kaim, my love. Where are you? I need you.

  Be patient, my love.

  I can only cling to the memory of his words, and hope everything I believe in is truth and not lies.

  Trise squeezes tightly, almost crushing my ribs. I fight until I can stand it no longer; until the pain becomes so bad I nearly black out.

  Finally, the strength drains from my body. I go limp in Trise’s arms. Still, he doesn’t loosen his cursed arms. I fear he might squeeze me to death.

  If only I were inhumanly strong, like Kaim.

  “Tie her to the post and whip her until she bleeds,” Trise barks. “Krogen wants her alive, but he didn’t say anything about leaving her unmarked.”

  His words barely register above the haze of pain and grief. I stare up through the mist, at the cold, inhospitable cliffs. Suddenly, everything feels claustrophobic. I can’t see the grey sky anymore. Trise’s sickening scent overpowers me. The mist and the rocky cliffs are bearing down upon me, closing in on me, making my world feel dark and cold and small.

  Right here, right now, in this strange, unfamiliar landscape, with enemies all around me and Iyen’s blood pooling at my feet, it would be so easy for me to just close my eyes and give up.

  For a moment, it feels like that’s all I can do.

  But then I think of what Kaim is going to do to Trise and my despair evaporates like mist before the sun.

  A loud rumble fills the air, and suddenly the land beyond the shoreline begins to shake.

  There’s a great tremor. The rumble becomes deafening. Part of the grey cliff below the waterfall shears off and falls into the ocean, into the seething, roiling waters below, leaving a fresh jagged stone wound on the cliff.

  The waterfall changes course, fanning out across the broken rock, forming a dozen tiny rivulets that join back into a single stream, which drops lazily into the ocean below.

  What was that just now?

  It felt like the world just shifted a little.

  Something changed.

  A gust of wind swirls in from the ocean, catching the tail of the waterfall. The stream of water dances in the cold light, throwing glittering droplets into the air.

  For a moment, its breathtaking beauty takes away my fear and grief and anger…

  And then my ugly reality comes crashing back, and I remember that I’m being held down by Trise’s brutal hands.

  I glance across the bloodstained decks.

  The sailors are all staring at me as if they’ve seen a thousand ghosts.

  “Get up, Tieglander,” Trise grunts. “You asked for punishment? I’ll give it to you myself.”

  He hauls me across the deck.

  This time, I don’t stop him.

  Instead, I laugh.

  The deranged, chilling sound that comes out of my mouth doesn’t sound like me at all. “Are you sure you want to test the patience of the gods? Try it, Trise, and see what happens.”

  As I meet the soldier’s gaze, his hard expression cracks, just a little. He fights to contain it, but I saw it just now.

  Fear.

  Doubt.

  Good.

  “He’s coming for you, Trise. You and your silly little emperor. This power you think you have? It’s nothing.”

  Trise’s jaw tightens. “Lash her to the mast,” he barks. Several soldiers rush forward to take me out of Trise’s hands. “I don’t know where you get your delusional confidence from, Tieglander, but by the time I deliver you to our glorious emperor, you won’t worship any other god but him.”

  I bare my teeth, stopping just short of spitting in his face. “I highly doubt that.”

  “Enough!” Trise snaps as the soldiers drag me away.

  Thick ropes appear in their hands.

  They start to bind me.

  Not again. I stifle a groan. Really, this is starting to get tiresome. When Kaim comes for me, he’s probably going to chastise me for inciting these Midrians, but I can’t help it.

  They make me angry.

  They just killed a good m
an.

  Vile beasts that they are.

  The sailors look on in horror.

  Wincing in pain, I tense as they tie me firmly to the ship’s central mast, wrapping my arms around the smooth wood.

  The freezing wind whips at my hair.

  Clouds scud across the gloomy grey sky.

  Someone slips a blade beneath my vest and cuts it open, exposing my back to the cold air.

  I crane my neck to one side, staring at the stark, majestic cliffs, watching the broken waterfall as it grows smaller and smaller in the distance.

  What is this place?

  It’s so beautiful.

  Heavy footsteps echo behind me. Trise’s.

  “Give me the whip,” he says coldly.

  I close my eyes.

  Unbidden, a tear slips down my cheek.

  It isn’t fear, it’s grief.

  Grief for a lad I barely knew; the only one on this forsaken ship who had the guts to be a decent human being.

  I hope the Lord of the Afterlife treats him well.

  Twenty-Four

  Kaim

  I pull the coldness and the shadows and the familiar strands of time around me, flowing into the darkness as I slide off the stone altar.

  There’s just enough light to allow me to see, thanks to the faint torchlight that filters in from the outside passageway.

  The Ven disciples exchange startled looks. Hardened features turn pale. They can’t hide their fear.

  Khelion Rel spins around, trying to find me in the darkness. His disfigured eyes narrow in anger. “Where is he? Where is Lok?”

  My cold smile widens. “Are you sure you weren’t just imagining things, Khelion?”

  “He’s gone? What did you do, demon?”

  “I’m no demon,” I say quietly. “And the Order of the Ven is no longer yours. This ends now.”

  “Are you mad?” He backs away as I rise to my full height, stalking after him. The deadly Ven standing beside me don’t do a thing as I move closer and closer to their Grand Master. “There are eight full Ven here and only one of you. You don’t even have your ha—”

  The assassins stare at my hands.

  So do I.

  I lift them up, studying my palms in the darkness. I turn them over, looking at the backs of my hands; at my hard, glittering obsidian nails.

  At hands that are perfectly black.

  “What in the hells?” someone mutters.

  “He really is a demon.”

  I’m not a demon. I smile in the darkness as the cold power courses through me.

  Khelion draws his twin swords. I slow my footsteps, exercising caution. He might be old and half-blind, but he was a blisteringly fast swordsman in his prime. “Don’t waste time with this nonsense. I don’t care what he is. Kill him at all costs, do you hear me?”

  “It’s too late for that now,” I say softly. “You had your chances.”

  Khelion lunges, his deadly blades flashing in the darkness.

  I dance backwards, evading his blades as two of his disciples attack me from behind with their swords, one aiming for my neck, the other angling for my knees.

  The ease with which I evade them both surprises even me.

  I feel lighter.

  Faster.

  As I retreat, I take the cold swirls of time that I’ve been toying with and pull them tight, as if they were two ends of a rope with a knot in the center.

  Time itself feels more tangible than ever. This feels easy compared to before.

  Khelion and his attacking Ven slow to a near-standstill. They’re still moving, but painstakingly slowly. They can’t see me anymore.

  I pull the strands of time tighter and tighter, trying to freeze the world the way my father did, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to make it stop completely.

  Hm.

  So I can slow time, but only death himself can stop it.

  This is enough, though.

  It’s more than enough.

  With detached fascination, I walk amongst the black-clad Ven, studying their determined faces.

  Men, women, some with years of experience lining their features, others fresh-faced and eager to prove themselves.

  I was one of them, once.

  Do they even know that Khelion is sending them to their deaths?

  Probably. But they don’t fear death. The Ven believe in reincarnation. A heroic deed carried out in this life means one will be reborn into a higher position in the next.

  Do I still believe in reincarnation?

  I don’t know.

  I will have to ask the old man about it.

  I walk forward, my bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. It is easy enough to remove Khelion’s swords from his callused hands and drop them to the ground.

  In slowed-down time, the heavy steel blades drift lazily downwards, defying gravity.

  I wrap my black hand around Khelion’s neck and place my forearm across his chest. Then I push him backward with great force, lifting his feet off the ground. Black robes flutter slowly in the dead air. I carry him across the vast cavern, away from my death-altar, away from his protective ring of disciples. The sleeves of his robes slowly slide back, revealing a full set of Ven tattoos.

  A bitter laugh escapes me, echoing hollowly off the cold walls. “You don’t deserve to wear the full Oraka,” I whisper. At least the last Grand Master, Temekin, was fair, even if he was harsh. Under Khelion, the ancient order has lost its way.

  But maybe that was because I pulled the solid earth out from right beneath their cursed silent feet.

  I push Khelion backwards, through the curved stone entrance that leads to this cavernous chamber, past glittering stalactites and iron sconces that hold sputtering torches.

  Away from his little army of Ven.

  I push him against the hard stone wall, bringing my forearm up against his windpipe, pinning him there as I steal a dagger from a sheath at his waist.

  Then I release time, and the world around us snaps back into reality.

  Khelion stares back at me, his tumor-damaged eyes widening in fear. “Wh-what did you do?”

  Even the Grand Master of the Ven isn’t immune to fear. Suddenly, he’s just an ordinary human, like everyone else.

  Consumed by fear and self-hatred and an insatiable desire for power, he did a stupid, stupid thing.

  “If I am truly the son of the almighty Death God that you all worship, then shouldn’t you be groveling at my feet, Grand Master?” I laugh at his twisted logic. “If Lok’s blood is the secret to immortality, then wouldn’t mine have the same effect?”

  “Your blood does not work like that. The magic isn’t the same. You are not a god!” Fury twists Khelion’s features. “You were just a sniveling brat when I started training you. You couldn’t even hold a wooden sword properly between your weak, pathetic little hands. If not for Temekin’s bloody insistence, I should have beaten you to death when I had the chance.”

  “You certainly tried,” I agree, applying a little more pressure, cutting off his ability to speak.

  He chokes and splutters.

  I get it. Khelion can’t see past the boy that I was; the despised child of the woman he raped and killed without a second thought.

  Once, he held absolute power over me.

  He can't understand that boys grow into men, and we all change.

  “Your actions have taken me away from something that is more vital to me than life itself,” I hiss. Behind me, the Ven start to emerge from the cave. In the back of my consciousness, I become aware of their creeping footsteps. “You have caused harm to those who are very important to me.”

  Both now, and before I was old enough to even be aware.

  “I can’t forgive you for that, Khelion. I don’t know what the afterlife is like, but I can assure you, it will not be a pleasant place for you.”

  The Grand Master’s disfigured face grows pale. He claws at my arm, drawing blood as he tries to break my grip.

  I could s
o easily kill him right now.

  Too easily.

  My anger threatens to spill over and consume both of us.

  This man gave Amali’s position away to the Midrians.

  He harnessed a dragon’s power to trap me, and he gave her away. And for what? To curry favor with the new emperor?

  The air around me grows cold.

  The flames in the wall-lanterns flicker.

  The Ven behind me stop dead in their tracks.

  A strange feeling rises up inside me, turning my anger cold. It’s the realization that I hold absolute power over these Ven. Right now, I could slow time and kill them all in an instant.

  My hand trembles.

  I raise Khelion’s dagger, turning it toward him. “You killed my mother, Khelion Rel.”

  Somehow, my voice has changed, turning deep and resonant. I barely recognize myself.

  I press my arm harder against his neck, compressing his windpipe.

  The light in his eyes starts to fade…

  And then I sense a presence at the far end of the corridor, running furiously toward us.

  Bare feet slap upon the cold stone floor.

  “No, Kaimeniel, stop. Do not kill him yet!” A woman’s voice rings out, only it isn’t quite a woman’s voice. It’s deep and resonant and slightly metallic, and it resembles a voice I’ve heard before… in my head.

  “Vyloren.” I pull time to a standstill again, knowing very well that she is immune to my powers.

  With Khelion frozen in front of me, I turn to face her.

  Instantly, I recognize her.

  A dragon in human form. I don’t know how it is possible, but I just know it’s her.

  She’s shifted. It makes sense. Her dragon form wouldn’t fit in these narrow corridors.

  Golden skin, long golden hair, golden eyes… well, golden eye. Her left eye, the one I stabbed, is a sightless white globe.

  Her human form is tall and lithe muscular, burnished with reptilian gold.

  Upon first glance, she certainly looks human enough, but the slightly metallic sheen to her skin and the reptilian slit of her working golden eye gives her away.

  She’s naked and barefoot.

  Her body is covered in bleeding wounds. Even in her human form, she bleeds dragonish purple. Stab wounds, arrow wounds, even a great sword slash across her midriff.