Death Mark: Episodes 1, 2, & 3: Death Mark

By Kelly Ferguson

This collection contains the first three episodes in the ongoing death Mark Serial.

Episode 1: Centuries ago in the depths of the thick forest, a murder leads to a dangerous, magical discovery.  A young boy learns the depths of his own dark secrets and discovers who he is truly meant to be.

Episode 2: Rowan Lightman considers himself a modern-day harvester of souls. Offering ancient ritual markings through his day job as a tattoo artist gives Rowan the power to work his necromancy.

Episode 3: A new player rises in this third episode of the ongoing Death Mark serial.  Presented with disturbing images of a terrifying old man and a certainty that her sister is in danger, Meredith needs to figure out what is happening before it's too late. 

Meanwhile, Rowan's meeting with his mostly-dead lover does not go as planned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kelly Ferguson
• Release date: Mar 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781497748279

Book preview

Episode I

My life began so many centuries ago that I have almost lost count.  I was brought into the world before cities, before developed civilizations.  A structure to sleep under was a luxury afforded only to certain important individuals, and our simple stone and wooden weapons were the height of our technology. 

Names and faces from the beginning of my life have long since left my memory.  But I remember clearly the night that it all changed, and I realized who I truly am. 

***

Heavy drumbeats thrum through the hot, dry air.  Taught skin stretched over empty barrels formed from wood and bone.  The sick thudding of my heart all but drowns out the drums, and I almost lose my place in the line of boys returning to our village. The sound of many feet slapping and twigs snapping helps me concentrate on something besides my pounding heartbeat.

We can't see anything but endless dark trees, growing darker every second.  The sun must be setting, but it is impossible to tell through the thick leaf canopies above us. 

The drums beat to welcome us home after our first ceremonial hunt out on our own, without the help of any of the more experienced men. 

Most of the boys walk proudly, bearing the weight of their kills on their broad backs with determination, if not ease.  Most carry boar; we had found a grouping of them not too far away from our village, but had spent most of our three days away trying to figure out the best way to get close enough to hunt them without being killed ourselves.

Some of the smaller boys have opted for fish from the river.  Not as glamorous, but a kill is a kill, food is food. 

My own kill feels heavy enough that I can hardly bear to carry him back.  His hands are tied around my neck to prop him upright, and I hold his legs above the bones of my hips, his feet dangling near my knees.  He weighs less than half of a boar, but it is my anxiety that weighs me down, not his bulk. 

It was an accident.  I didn't see him there as I readied my spear,