Sable Shadowmark's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Oryn traced the finished glyph on the page and shook his head. "I know the letters. I don't know the tongue." He set the sketchbook down. "This is old fae script, from a court that isn't mine. I can't say it. But I know a man who might." He led Sable across the frontier to a squat garrison house, its plain walls studded with iron. A man sat inside on the floor, back against the stone. Red scars crossed his face. His chest rose in short, hard pulls, as if each breath cost him. Brands covered his arms, dark and knotted, nothing like Sable's silver lines. Sable stopped in the doorway. His marks flared bright at once, warm and sharp, warning him of the magic in the room. "Aldric Thornwright," Oryn said. "He wears marks too. He took his by choice." Aldric looked up. His eyes moved to Sable's glowing arms. "Show me," he said. No greeting. Sable did not move. "You first. What did yours do to you." "They're killing me." Aldric said it flat, the way another man might name the weather. "A cult burned them in. Promised me I'd never lose a fight. They didn't lie. But the brands steer my body now. They drain my sleep. Soon my breath." He pulled a cord from his neck. A pale round lens hung from it, smooth and glowing faint. "This reads mark-script. I use it to hunt the words that bind me. Give me your arm." Sable weighed him. A dying man had no reason to trick a stranger. He rolled his sleeve back and knelt. Aldric raised the lens to Sable's skin. Through the pale stone the shifting lines held still. Aldric's lips moved as he read. He lowered the lens. "It's a name. A binder's name." He paused. "Vaelith." Sable said the word aloud. "Vaelith." It meant nothing to him. No face rose in his memory. But his marks pulsed once, hard, as if the name had touched them. Aldric watched the light move under Sable's skin. "You feel that? The mark answers to its maker's name. Mine does the same." He tapped his own branded arm. "Say a binder's name near their work and the work stirs. That's not a signature, elf. It's a leash. Whoever this Vaelith is, they can still reach you through it." Sable's stomach dropped. He had come for a name to hunt. Instead he learned the name could hunt him. "Can it be broken?" Sable asked. "I don't know yet." Aldric coughed, wet and deep. "When I learn, you'll be the second to know." Sable stood. He had his answer now. The one who marked him was named Vaelith, and that name was not a clue left behind. It was a hook still set in his skin. He pulled his sleeve down over the faint silver glow and turned toward the door.