Marks of the Past - 11

Chapter 11

I didn’t have to be told twice; my legs immediately began to run without me even thinking about it. 

My heart hammered in my chest as I ran down the hill as fast as possibly could, James yelling unintelligibly behind me. At first I didn’t think he would actually try to kill us, but then I heard the crack of gunfire and forced myself to run faster. 

Chelsea and Rave stumbled along beside me as we fled to the cover of the fog. Wind whipped at my face as I ran, forming tears in my eyes. 

“Ignore Nik’s … plan …,” huffed Chelsea. “Split up.”

At her orders, Rave and I turned opposite directions so that I was running more towards the right side of the docks. 

We arrived at the bottom of the hill mere moments later, the fog swallowing us up whole. The wood from the docks bobbed beneath my feet and the smell of salt filled my nose. I’d never smelled the ocean before, and it was a peculiar scent. 

With the fog wrapped around me, I felt confident enough to slow my pace slightly. My lungs burned from the cold air. 

I couldn’t go much further without giving myself away with my loud breathing, so I ducked behind one of the many cargo crates lined the edges of the docks. Only a few minutes, now, or you’ll be late to the boat. 

A small part of me wished that Mark was here to offer me guidance or maybe cover me while I regained my breath, but he made no appearance. 

Just as I was about to step out from behind the boxes, I heard footsteps and immediately froze, shivering from a combination of the air and fear. Voices quickly followed, deep and rough. 

“She has to be here somewhere,” one man said. “I saw her come this way. She’s the pale one with the dark hair, right?”

“Yes,” came a sharper voice that I recognized as James’s. “Do you think she’s on the boat by now?” 

There was a silence followed by, “she’s probably hiding around here somewhere. I saw her split off from the other two girls, but there’s no way she would’ve made it to the ends of the dock yet without stopping for a break.”

Another silence. Then James again. “Check everywhere.” 

The footsteps started again and I wondered if I could make a break for it. James and what seemed like his hired patrolmen were closer than I’d expected, which meant escape was near impossible. 

“Wait,” James called out again. The footsteps stopped. “Use the dust - they won’t see it through the fog. If we’re lucky, we can catch all of them - but remember, don’t harm the girl or you don’t get paid.”

There were a few grunts that I assumed were agreements before there was a loud thwack and something heavy hit the ground. 

If you’re going to escape, you have to go now while they’re distracted. 

I had a vague idea of the “dust” James was referring to, although I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten some. A few years ago there’d been a project to find the most effective sedative for transporting prisoners from the prison to the Redemption site. Somehow, a bunch of alchemists had discovered some weird dust that floated through the air - almost invisible - and was effective within five minutes of release. My mother had worked at the factories producing it. 

Sucking in a breath, I darted out from behind the boxes and around the corner. At this point, the fog was so thick I could barely see a few feet in front of me. 

“There’s someone over there!” 

I forced another burst of speed, feeling like I was actually tearing away from the attackers. C’mon, a little further… 

The air somehow was getting thicker and I realized the dust had been released. I had five minutes to get to the boat before I would collapse and James would find me. Please, I’m so close… 

My lungs burned - this time from the dust - as I wheezed in a desperate attempt to suck in as much air as possible. Dizziness came over me in a wave, knocking me to the ground where I continued crawling lopsided across the wood. It was becoming almost impossible to breathe now, like the air had been replaced with a brick wall. 

Something sharp struck my side and I rolled over, curling in on myself as the pain followed. 

“It’s her. Go get the boy.”

My muscles seized as I tried to move again, only earned another kick to the ribs. It felt like my body had been encased in ice, frozen to the core. Only my thoughts and my heartbeat were fluid. My vision blurred. 

I couldn’t tell how much time passed before someone pressed something that felt like cool metal against my mouth and nose. The air took on a cool freshness and the pressure lifted off of my lungs as I inhaled deeply. 

“Shh,” came the whisper and I tried to pull away from it, but James had wrapped a firm hand around my back, holding me still. 

I guessed it was some kind of mask that allowed me to breathe easier, and that meant it would be easier to run given the chance so I reluctantly let James slide the strap around my head, securing the nosepiece. 

“Don’t try to run or cry for help,” James mumbled. “Or I’ll let your new friends a present. Did you know that bombs are really cheap to come by?”

He let the threat hang in the air, though there wasn’t much I could do anyway. My limbs were numb and heavy - even lifting my head took more effort than it’d taken to sprint down here. 

I realized that someone had propped me up against a stack of crates. My hands were bound tightly with harsh rope and I could feel the pressure of James’s dagger at my throat. He was crouched right in front of me, all the warmth gone from his eyes. They were dark like empty pits. 

“You’re going to come quietly and no one is going to get hurt,” he whispered, though his voice was harsh. 

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere, struggling through the mist for a plan of escape. Maybe I could dive into the water and somehow swim …

“I know what you’re thinking,” James hissed. “Leila, I may need you, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be unharmed. So I think it would be better for both of us if you just stood up.”

I opened my mouth to respond but only a small squeak came out. James rolled his eyes, and he brought his dagger up to my face, tracing my scar with gentle grace. 

A shudder rolled through my body and I lifted my arm, trying to push his hand away. 

Faster than a serpent, James’s knife was stuck in my thigh. The wound wasn’t deep but the pain flashed through me like lightning and a small scream escaped my lips. He clamped his other hand over my mouth and brought his own face closer. 

“What did I say about screaming?” His voice was low and dark, something I’d never heard from him before. 

Warm blood trickled down the side of my leg and he tip of the blade out slowly. 

All I could feel was the fire in my leg but I forced myself not to scream. He removed his hand from my face. Shivers racked my body and I finally managed to open my mouth. 

“You stabbed me.” Even to me, I sounded weak and afraid, pathetic. 

James blinked once, maybe realizing that now I definitely wouldn’t be able to walk. Another emotion took form on his face, but I didn’t know what it was. 

Then his hand was back at my head, pulling the mask off my face. I weakly grabbed for his hand, panic flooding through me. I couldn’t fall unconscious or all hope of escape would be lost, but my adrenaline was fading quickly and James easily brushed my hand away. 

The dust-filled air was thick and immediately it slammed into my lungs. I started choking and I grabbed for James again. 

Something that looked kind of like remorse flitted across his face and as my head grew light, he cupped his hand under my chin. I tried to wiggle away, but my head sank as my vision flickered.

No, no, no… 

The world drifted slowly away and I could barely make out a loud crash in the background. Then there were strong arms underneath me, pulling me upwards. 

Voices drifted overhead, too high for me to reach or understand. 

Another mask was pressed to my face and I heaved in lungfuls of air, gathering my strength in case the person holding me was an enemy. 

“Leila, stop wriggling or I’m going to drop you,” someone hissed in my ear. My mind was still moving too slow to figure out exactly who it was, but I relaxed enough not to be a hindrance. At this point, I had to hope it was one of the Shadows. 

With my limbs still numb, there wasn’t much I could do, though my brain was slowly returning to reality. 

As my vision cleared, I recognized the face as Nik’s. 

“Here,” he said when he saw me looking. “Can you wrap your arms a little tighter around my neck? Yes, there, now I can carry you easier.”

Honestly, I hadn’t done much to change my position but I think Nik didn’t want me to see how scared he was. He had every right to be too - it was my fault James had ambushed this place, even though I was unsure of how he knew we’d be here. 

Nik didn’t get far, though. I wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but suddenly I was rolling on the ground. 

The edge of the dock rushed at me and I wondered if I would die by plummeting into the freezing waters. Just as my feet hit the edge, someone grabbed my wrist. It wasn’t much of a protection, but my momentum stopped. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Nik wrestling with one of what had to be James’s soldiers. So who had grabbed me? There was no one else in sight. 

Actually, that was a lie. 

The second I was on my hands and knees again, I spotted James and several of his rounding the corner. My vision dipped again as I pushed myself to my feet and I saw the blurry shape of James pointing at me. 

The wound on my leg gave a throb, knocking me down again. A strangled cry escaped my lips and James rushed towards me. 

I’m not sure what happened next. There was a mixture of fear and anger and betrayal and pain festering inside of my chest like a boiling pot. Then all of it exploded at once and the world flashed with a blinding silver light that disappeared as quickly as it had come. 

At some point in time, I must’ve been picked up because I fell back to the docks, landing on my bad leg. I could just barely see the unconscious form of James strewn across the wood next to me, his head lolled to the side and eyes shut like he was sleeping. Pain shot up my side, a bit delayed, distracting me. 

Then darkness washed over me and I was gone. 

I’m standing in the middle of the street, alone as the wind whips around me, tearing at my hair and clothing. There’s a circle painted crudely on the stone beneath my feet and I realized my arms are chained to the ground with heavy links. 

I cry out but no sound escapes my lips. There’s something growing inside of me, I can feel it pulsing inside of my chest. 

Then comes the sound of rushing, if rushing had a sound. I realize that the circle is not a circle but a hexagon. The six corners point directly to six identical streets, a lone figure advancing from each side. For some reason, I know that each one possesses a different type of magic. I see one figure with flames pouring from their arms, one with a wave trailing behind them like a lost dog. There’s a figure floating on air; a figure with plants popping up with every step. The other two must be the mental and physical magicians. 

They advance on me, steps in perfect sync. Their faces are covered by dark hoods, but I can sense that they dislike me. 

Please, I try to call out. What do you want with me?

No answer, only grim silence. My mother’s voice echoes in my mind as a response instead. There is no such thing as the Hidden Arts. Then comes Mark. Magic over death. The voices are everywhere now, hissing and spitting things about death magic and curses. 

I cry out, covering my hands with my ears. 

The thing that was festering inside of me bursts forth like a monster, pulling itself forward on four legs. I scramble backwards as far as the chains allow. The monster lunges for one of the magicians and there is a terrible sound, drowned out by my screams. A voice shatters all other sounds. A magic to end all magic.

The scene shifts, and I’m standing on the docks. The ocean beneath me is red, the smell of blood wafting off of it and overwhelming me. 

In the water I can see the faces. I see James’s mother, I see Anton, I see Kyle. All of them are begging for me, their mouths forming silent screams over and over again. I want to look away but suddenly the dock is gone and I’m sinking in the sea, it’s pulling me under and holding me there, the water pulling and pushing and tearing and holding. My mouth is filled with the horrible taste of blood. Just when it seems like I won’t be able to breathe anymore, I’m dumped into another scene. 

This time, I’m standing at the top of a flight of steps that appears to lead to a temple. The stone building overlooks an older looking village. 

I raise my arms, calling the power to me. Just a little longer. 

Life floods into me, forcing me to stumble back as I feel my fingers stop trembling and the ache in my chest disappear. Then comes the screams and the roar of water. 

I turn tail and run, higher into the temple where the river will dare not touch. 

The water is rising only it isn’t water, it’s blood. I can smell its metallic scent, taste its bitter flavor on my tongue as if I were drinking it. 

Higher and higher the water rises, staining the stones red. Inside the temple, the scrolls of supposed “prophecies” are destroyed. I can hear the sounds of the villagers as the river takes them too, only making me grow stronger. 

Suddenly, the temple begins to rumble and shake and then I’m at the top of the Court building. 

My hands are outstretched and there is a blurry figure at my side. I can feel my limbs begin to support my weight and breathe a sigh of relief. I can hear the screams, I can hear the roar of the river, I can hear the voices warning me not to do this. A magic to end all magic. 

The scar on my face feels like it's on fire, like I’m about to crack open and fracture into a million tiny pieces. 

I’m taking in all of the energy now, holding it close and using it to support myself. My breathing steadies and my heartrate falls back to normal. Beside me, I feel the comforting presence of the blurry figure grow as they too are strengthened. 

The scenes pick up speed, like they’re broken. There’s another person with a crossbow pointed at my chest. They shoot and the shaft of the arrow shatters as it collides with my chest. 

The word monster bounces around my head. A magic to end all magic. 

And I realize that this is just a dream, and I try to reassure myself that this will all be over soon, and my body is racked with sobs. 

Because I realize what has happened. They always said I would end up just like him. I used to be scared of that - that one day I would wake up and my hands would be stained with blood. Now I’m not scared; I’m terrified. 

This … this is the reason that the Hidden Arts are considered a forbidden magic. This is the reason why my scar is a reminder of Mark and what he has done.

This is what happens when a person like me is given power they don’t deserve - just as James said. He was right when he said I was a monster, but he also forgot something. 

The Court building rumbles beneath my feet and collapses into the river of blood. 

I am a bringer of destruction - and there’s no way to stop me now.

“Oh, ghosts, somebody grab the bucket. I think she’s gonna throw up again,” someone cried out in disgust. “She’s feverish!”

“On it!” 

“Hold on, she might be waking up. Is Nik still in the bathroom, because we could use him now.”

“I’m right here. What do you need?”

“Make sure Leila doesn’t choke on her own vomit. I need to get Basti.”

“Got it.” 

There was a familiar pressure at my shoulders, trying to counterattack my shaking. My whole body was trembling, whether from shivers of cold or fear, I was not sure. 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Nik whispered to me. He brushed a strand of hair off of my face. I wanted to be embarrassed, but at that point the only thing I could focus on was the stabbing pain in my leg. 

“Rave, can you grab a cup of water - preferably one that isn’t from the barrels below deck?”

A few minutes later, a cool glass was pressed to my lips. Someone tipped the contents down my throat. I gratefully drank, the cold water soothing my throat. They took the glass back but I didn’t protest. 

I tried to lift my arm, to reach for whoever was standing over me. My eyes fluttered open just as Nik gently pushed my arm down, and I closed them again. “Wait for Chelsea.”

The movement reminded me of James and the expression on his face as he plunged his dagger into my leg. I wanted to vomit but that meant losing my precious water, so I held it back. We’ll deal with that later. 

A door slammed and footsteps approached me. A few jumbled voices and I caught, “hold on, she’s weird about touch. I’ll do it.”

Then warm hands were on my arms, calluses rubbing against my skin as someone propped me up against the wall. I hoped with all of my heart that they were not magical, but I was pretty sure it was Nik. 

“Leila, I need you to try to wake up. Please.”

I nodded to the best of my ability, afraid of what would happen if I couldn’t wake up. What if it had broken me? 

“Make her drink this,” came the voice that I assumed had to belong to Basti. 

Nik pressed another cup to my mouth, pouring the contents down my throat. I shuddered as a jolt passed through me, waking the deadness in my limbs. The world took on a new vibrancy and I felt awakened. 

We had to be in the bottom of the little white boat - which was admittedly a lot less little up close. There were hammocks strung up around the room, and I was in the single bed. Barrels and crates were stacked against the sides and a soft purr rumbled through the wood like the presence of the ocean had a sound. 

Nik and Chelsea were standing right in front of me, odd looks plastered on their faces. Between them was a man I assumed was Basti, with a thick mustache and rather large frame. He may have been the biggest man I’d ever seen. 

I began to push myself off the bed, hoping to explore a little more when a bolt of pain shot through my head. 

“Don’t get up yet,” Nik warned. 

“Couldn’t have told me that a few minutes sooner?” I grumbled, leaning back against the wall as the boat rocked underneath me. The good news was that I didn’t seem to be getting seasick. 

“Uh, Basti, could you give us a minute?” Chelsea asked politely, forcing a smile. 

The large man mumbled something about being disregarded and used before strolling away into the depths of the ship. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Nik asked the second Basti was out the hatch. 

“I’m not dead,” I retorted. “But I feel like I should be.” My whole body ached with old pains, but none of it felt like I would be of immediate threat. “How long was I out?”

“Three days,” Chelsea answered as Nik hesitated. 

Three days. Nik had told us that the journey to Miryir would take about a week, which meant we were already halfway there. 

“How…” I began, but Nik was already shaking his head. He plopped himself down on the edge of the bed and sent a look at Chelsea. She gave him an eye roll before scurrying away, hopefully to find me some food.

“Leila,” Nik said at last. “Before I answer anything about what exactly happened, I want to ask you one thing: why didn’t you tell us you had the Hidden Arts?”

Author's Note

Have fun with this one.