Branded

By Eric Smith

In Inked, Caenum discovered his destiny.
Now, in Branded, he must fight for it.
As the final battle approaches, Caenum must choose his own path one last time . . . or it will be decided for him.

After narrowly escaping the soldiers of the Citadel six months ago, farmboy-turned-rebel Caenum is now at the head of the rebel army. He and his fellow Conduits, practitioners of an ancient, forbidden magic, have spread across the Realm, freeing city after city from the Citadel's tyrannical grip. But in the midst of their rebellion, a traitor lurks. And when their safe haven is destroyed, Caenum and his friends must flee deeper into the wilds than ever before. Because he has something the Citadel wants--a weapon that could change everything…a weapon he must protect at all costs.

In this thrilling new sequel to Inked, Eric Smith delivers a heart-pounding conclusion to the battle between magic and free will.

PRAISE FOR INKED:

"Inked is an action-packed read with a hero I could root for, magic I wanted to have, and a vivid fantasy world to back it all up. Smith's prose had me turning pages way past my bedtime." --Susan Dennard, New York Times bestselling author Truthwitch

"A fast-paced page-turner from Eric Smith filled with magic, mystery and mayhem." --Kristi Helvig, author of Burn Out

"With a lively cast of characters and a captivating idea, Inked draws its readers into a world where magic lives on every page." --Kat Zhang, author of The Hybrid Chronicles series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
• Release date: May 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781681193212

Eric Smith

ERIC SMITH is an author and literary agent from Elizabeth, New Jersey. When he isn't working on other people's books, sometimes he tries to write his own. He enjoys pop punk, video games, and crying during every movie. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife and best friend, Nena, and their son, Langston. WWW.ERICSMITHROCKS.COM

Book preview

Author

Chapter 1

Kenzi swung the severed mechanical arm over his shoulder.

I really wish you would have left that at the last town. Or the town before that. Or the town before that, I grumbled, dodging the thing as he walked next to me, the bits of brass and machinery jangling about as he strolled along, taking wide, proud strides. "You’ve been dragging it around for days. I mean, really, do we need to take home trophies?"

We sure don’t, Kenzi said as he turned to grin at me. But come on, this! He shook the arm and I flinched away as it swung dangerously close to my face. This will seriously raise morale. Just think about it. We could hang it up in the square; maybe on one of the storefronts. He let out a faux gasp. Maybe on your house! Right over the front door.

Ha! I scoffed. Dreya would absolutely love that.

My heart sunk the second I mentioned her name, and I glanced up at Kenzi, willing him to say anything else.

Speaking of— Kenzi started.

Gods damn it, I grumbled.

He looked back at me, his steel-blue eyes full of warmth, and he was totally not getting my let’s-not-talk-about-it body language.

Have you had any word from her this week, at least? he asked. At all?

And just like that, the emptiness that had been gnawing away inside of me, from my chest down to my stomach, comes raging back full force. It’d been months since her last letter. Months. And we had messengers meeting our militia on the road regularly. They shepherded notes back and forth from the Conduits that fought with us in our rebellion, delivering updates to their family and friends back home. And when they weren’t doing that, they were sending information to Tabor and his people in Spiritrend or requesting supplies.

I shook my head.

"And I thought you had a way with words. I know we’ve been over this, but come on. What could you have possibly said in that last letter that made her so angry? The one before she stopped writing back? Have you thought about it anymore?" Kenzi asked, playfully kicking some dirt at me. I scowled at him and waved my hand at a nearby tree, a flash of warmth surging through me, channeling the Magic through the earth. The tree’s branch lowered down toward the road, bending to my will, and Kenzi ducked to avoid it.

Very funny, he said, bouncing back up, the mechanical arm squeaking as it swayed about. But I’ll have you know, my reflexes are in tune with whatever you might—

Alongside the road, the wind rustled through the trees that lined the long dirt path. I could feel them, how their branches stretched toward the sky, their roots digging deep into the earth, running beneath our feet, tangling into one another in a handshake that spanned the length of whole towns. I exhaled, and one of the roots peeked up through the dirt.

Kenzi’s foot bumped against the root, and I felt the pressure as the weight of his body pushed forward against it and he tumbled onto the ground. The brass arm hit the hard soil with an angry clang and clattered a few feet away from him.

Damn it, Caenum! Kenzi laughed, rolling over onto his back. He got to his feet, brushing the dirt from his tunic. He glanced up at me, his blue eyes mischievous, and pointed a finger at the root.

Don’t— I started.

He blasted it away with a burst of electricity, the lightning shooting from his finger with a loud and angry snap, instantly obliterating the root. The pain seared through me, but just as quickly as he shocked the plant, the pain was gone. I grit my teeth and shook my head, and several of the Conduits in our militia ran forward, joining the two of us, their eyes searching wide, voices harried, weapons drawn and Magic igniting, bits of flame and frost and wind at the ready.

What’s going on?

Kenzi, are we under attack?

We’re not even that close to the town yet!

Calm down, calm down, Kenzi muttered, smiling at the Conduits who had stormed forward. We’re just messing around a little. They grumbled to one another and turned back, joining the rest of the crew behind us. It was bad enough so many were in a sour mood after all this time on the road.

Come on, you know we can’t joke around like that, I said, giving him a look.

We even now? Kenzi grinned and grabbed the severed mechanical arm. I shook my head and turned to watch the Conduits in our militia walking back to join the others. We’d begun our campaign of rebellion with far more than we were ending with, several leaving, deserting us in liberated towns or making their way home, a handful perishing at the hands of Citadel Guards in battle.

A rush of anxiety washed over me, wondering whom we’d lose next, when a figure slammed against me, pushing hard against my leather armor. I jolted back, irritated, but smiled when I saw who it was.

At least this was going to be fun.

Kenzi, what in the Realms do you think you’re doing?! Ryst shouted, bounding up to him, breaking away from her position in the marching militia, which had entirely stopped. We were hardly an army to begin with, a little under two dozen of us, but we still had some organization. Different Conduits walking alongside the right pairings, someone with healing powers never too far from anyone else. In the event we were ambushed, we could split up, divided but still strong. Capable of supporting one another.

Relax, Ryst, we were just— Kenzi started, hefting the arm over his shoulder.

Just what? How many times do I have to bring this up? Get. Rid. Of. That. Thing! Ryst pushed the mechanical arm off Kenzi’s shoulder, and it hit the ground again, hard and loud, this time sending up a plume of dust. Kenzi sucked at his teeth and moved to pick it up.

The two of you are determined to break this thing before we get home to—

Ryst pushed past Kenzi, grabbed the arm, and started to drag it away, the metal making a loud, scratching sound as it was pulled across the dirt and pebbles covering the road, a couple of pieces of brass scattering in its wake.

Hey! Kenzi shouted. What are you doing—

Just stop. Stop. We are hours, if that, away from a town that our information tells us is heavily fortified by the Citadel, Ryst said as she heaved the arm into the woods on the side of the road, the glimmering metal disappearing into the brush. She walked back toward Kenzi, closing in on him until the two of them were face-to-face, barely an inch in between them, noses practically touching. And you would risk revealing our location, our approach, on our very last mission before we go home—

She looked over at me, and her eyes flared, a bright orange-red that was only rivaled by the flames she was able to control. Her lip piercing pulsed an angry red with it, the cool steel heating up like a sword being tempered in a fire.

I gulped as she turned back to Kenzi, who flashed me a pleading look. I shrugged. He was on his own.

For what? Ryst continued, face-to-face with Kenzi again. Some games? She turned back to me. You should know better than to encourage him. The last thing he needs is an enabler. She looked at Kenzi again, her eyes hard and red, her lip piercing flaring.

Won’t happen again, Kenzi said, his mouth a thin line.

See that is doesn’t, Ryst snapped back. I’d hate to see you punished. They looked at each other, the silence from the milita and the surrounding woods feeling all too loud.

Got it, Kenzi said, nodding softly.

And with that, Ryst turned on her heel, walking back . . . and stopped. She turned back around, ducked into the shrubs, and gave the mechanical arm a far more intense, deliberate kick. Pieces of metal and parts from the thing clinked and tinkered through the trees, bouncing off limbs and trunks, with a few bits settling back onto the road.

I hate that thing, She said, stepping out of the woods. She spat at the arm, looked up at me and Kenzi with a glare, and then walked away.

As Ryst wrangled the militia back into order, I turned back to Kenzi, trying with every fiber of my being not to grin at him. He was bent over, picking up pieces of the arm and tossing the largest bits back into the woods while pocketing a few of the smaller pieces. A gear here, a piece of tubing there. I looked at him quizzically, trying to figure out what he was doing. He looked up and caught me staring.

What? Kenzi asked.

I lowered my head and gave him a look.

What?! Kenzi practically shouted.

Nothing. I shrugged, turning back to the road. Nothing at all.

Good, Kenzi scoffed. Pieces everywhere; look at this, I can’t believe . . .

Kenzi continued to grumble as he kicked larger pieces off to the side of the road and scooped up the littler ones. But I had seen it. That beat of silence between him and Ryst during that heated argument, while the world had quieted around them. A quick smile, not wiped away nearly quick enough, and a speedy wink they probably thought was too fast for me to catch.

Something was changing.

Chapter 2

Is that it? Kenzi nodded.

Looks like it, I said, and peered around the thick trunk of an ancient tree. I pressed my hand against the bark, felt the roots that traveled under the surface of the ground, along through the small town that waited up ahead. The tree was old, here long before this town was, her roots digging deep. She was here before, and she’d be here long after we were all gone. I closed my eyes, breathing in deliberately, slowly. Focusing.

How many? Kenzi asked, a whisper.

Hard to say, I muttered back, trying to feel everything up ahead. The militia had stayed behind, a solid mile or so down the road, as the two of us scouted forward; the usual routine. Move up, figure out how many people were around, and engage any surprise enemies, if need be. Well, Kenzi would. The fact that he was Inked and a powerful Conduit, made him a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, and the perfect partner in scouting. He wasn’t like me, or like a lot of the other Conduits with us, without Ink and bearing gifts. No, his were enhanced, thanks to the Ink from another Conduit, pressed onto his skin through the magical tattoos so many in the Realm carried.

He was unbelievably powerful, and the Citadel knew. Gods, we’d seen enough Wanted signs in the different villages we’d come across.

He was popular.

Definitely a lot of people, but the usual press of boots, the weight of their armor and the weapons . . . I shook my head and opened my eyes. I can’t be sure. It’s not there.

Unoccupied, maybe? That information was a few months old. Sure would be nice if the messengers returned with something better, Kenzi suggested. "Or, you know, anything at this point."

Tell me about it. I shrugged. Could be empty. Feels weird though. Something isn’t right.

He nodded off to the side. I agreed and moved with him away from the town and back down the road, cutting through the dense brush before hopping out to see the rest of the militia. Ryst was waiting up toward the front, her eyes hard, her lip piercing burning with that powerful red fury. The second her eyes caught us, the rage vanished, the bit of metal clasped around her bottom lip fading to a cold silver-blue.

I glanced up at Kenzi, who smiled softly, and fought the urge to roll my eyes.

This secret was getting old and was hardly a secret.

When are you going to talk to me about this? I whispered, speaking out the side of my mouth.

Why, what ever do you mean? he whispered back, his eyes looking straight ahead, the hint of a grin pulling at his cheeks.

And? Ryst asked, nodding at the two of us.

Feels unoccupied. The heavy boots, the armor . . . nothing. It’s quiet, I said, looking back toward the militia. A few were sharpening swords and practicing with their gifts, summoning up flames and frost with their hands. I spotted two of our Healers working on minor scars and scratches while the rest milled about, their expressions disinterested.

Growing restless, Ryst said. It’ll be fine. I’ve got it under control.

Good, good. I nodded. So the town. Plenty of people home, couldn’t say how many Citadel forces are there though. Could be hiding in the buildings or out on the road. Maybe napping, maybe no one. I shrugged.

In addition to their leather armor and billowing capes, the Citadel Guard wore telltale boots, with thick soles and cleats on the bottom that tore at the earth when they walked, supporting them in the soil and grass. It was smart, really. In battle, their footwear sometimes made them difficult to knock down, a worthwhile compromise to the fact that they slowed them down. But this supposed strength was also one of the biggest giveaways. Forget how it made them easy to run from; it also made it easy to detect them through the roots of trees, as I channeled Magic outward.

It particularly helped us avoid situations where we’d have to run in the first place.

What do you think? Ryst asked Schmidt, one of the Conduits with us. He ran his hand through his beard, and glanced back at the militia, then back to Ryst, his green eyes hinting of worry.

I think we’re fine, going in, at least, Schmidt said, before closing his mouth, the narrow slit disappearing back into his thick beard. He opened it again, but then shut it, shaking his head.

What is it? Ryst asked. Out with it.

Some of the people are talking, Schmidt said, his voice barely a whisper. We’ve been away for far too long. Six months is a long time, Ryst.

Ryst cleared her throat and Schmidt stammered.

Er, General, he continued, and Ryst smiled. They don’t see us making any real dent in this rebellion. The letters are getting fewer and fewer; people are worried about their families. We’re still hearing stories of Conduits being harvested, citizens being Inked, in every town we get to. By the Realms, there are still Scribes on the road, making their annual pilgrimage to Ink more people.

He looked up at Kenzi and then turned away, back to the militia.

My heart wrenched in its chest. Kenzi hated those looks. He was a Scribe when he first came to us. One of them, one of the Citadel’s unknowing agents. And here he was, Inked. His tattoos layered upon Magic. A former Scribe. So much of what everyone was fighting against, lumped together in a single person. The fight to not be Inked by the ruling Citadel, to not be forced into a way of life. To have to deal with Scribes in the first place. It wasn’t fair.

There’s talk of leaving, Schmidt said, his voice wavering as he stepped away. I’m not one for that, but a few of the others . . .

He turned back and gave Ryst a knowing look. Her expression darkened. She looked over at Kenzi, and he scowled, as if reading her thoughts.

What? I asked, and glanced between the two of them and up at Schmidt. What is it? What about the others?

He lowered his head and took a step back.

It’s not my place to say, but some still believe in— He looked back up and his eyes went wide as he reached for something at his side. A blast of wind picked up around him as he channeled his Magic up from the earth. Get down!

A dagger was suddenly in his hands and then, just as quickly, hurtling through the air, slicing through the wind with an audible whoosh, before hitting an unseen target with a sickening wet thud.

I spun around.

There, in the middle of the road, stood a Citadel Guard, his hand still notching an arrow to a thick, black bow. He glanced down at the dagger in his chest and back up at us, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief, before falling to his knees and crumbling onto the soft earth. His burgundy cape lined with gold billowed down onto his body as he fell. The bow fell out of his grasp and hit the ground without a sound. And that gave me pause.

I was still channeling the roots under the earth, feeling the pressure of people against the soil in the town, and all around us. And the bow. It was as if it hadn’t weighed anything.

I sucked in a breath as a sudden impact thundered all around us.

The enraged screams burst from all sides of the woods as Citadel soldiers crashed through the trees, charging in a mad fury from all directions.

Caenum! Ryst shouted. What in the—

They must have crept up on us! I exclaimed.

A flash of energy coursed through me, and I heard the audible snap of Kenzi’s lightning as he summoned forth his gifts. A burst of warmth blossomed from my side as Ryst cast two fireballs in her hands, and the crackling and roaring sounds of other Conduits bringing their Magic into the world, pouring it up through the earth, echoed all around us.

I thought of closing my eyes, of focusing on the ground, on the trees around us, on the plants that could aid us. But before I could, I focused on one thing.

One odd, strange, almost ridiculous little detail.

Sandals.

Prepare yourselves! Ryst shouted over the roar of the approaching soldiers.

The Citadel Guard were wearing sandals. Leathery-looking things, thin and almost threadbare.

I felt the earth shake, and pushed outward, my mind feeling for the trees lining the roads. Their branches lowered quickly, forming a wall along our sides, blocking out a few of the soldiers that had managed to flank us by the road. If they wanted us, they’d have to face us head-on, through a walled-in tunnel that offered little escape. I winced, feeling angry blows against the wood, swords and hatchets and daggers taking out chunks of the living barrier I had willed to grow. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I pushed them to go higher, the vines and brambles stretching up toward the sky.

The Citadel had adapted.

The footwear was different. Even their uniforms looked thinner, fewer bits of decoration. Their burgundy capes flapped about like worn sheets hung out to dry in the wind.

And the weapons.

Swords were snapping, bows were getting discarded quickly. Everything was weaker, lighter, shoddier. They’d discarded the strength of their weapons in order to ambush us.

Kenzi hurled a bolt of lighting ahead of us, and several of the Citadel’s people dove out of the way. Ryst joined in, her flames connecting with the lightning, balls of fire and energy exploding, cutting down the oncoming threat. Schmidt took a step forward, sending his daggers hurtling forward at an impossible pace, the winds his to control.

A scream echoed in back of us, and I spun around to catch a glimpse of one of our own falling to the earth, holding the handle of a sword buried in him. I squinted, trying to see who it was, and I looked around for one of the Healers. Another Conduit, Quirno, spun around to face the Guard, and in one swift motion he pulled the sword from the body and thrust it through the attacker.

They had figured us out.

But how?

I roared and reached out my arm, my fingers outstretched, as a vine burst out from the wall of brambles, extending off a nearby tree, thickening and whirling into a mad coil, wrapping around the Guard. I fought against the urge to close my eyes as the sickening crunch of his body shook from inside the thick tendrils and released him, his body crumbling to the ground like a child’s rag doll, and focused my attention on the oncoming army.

They knew how we were finding them.

A heartbreaking thought crashed through me.

Maybe someone told them we were coming.

Ryst charged forward, heat bursting off her as she ran past. I winced and stepped away, the smell of my own burned hair in the air, singed by her Magic. She looked back, her eyes illuminated, the piercing on her lip heated to a menacing shade of bright red, pulsing with the intensity of a sword being tempered by a blacksmith.

Two balls of flame exploded from her fists, lighting them up like small suns.

Do you really want me to hold your hand right now? she asked with a smirk. Everyone! she shouted over the soldiers’ roars as they stampeded toward us. We’re going to push them back!

Ryst, you should know, I— Kenzi started.

Gods damn it, not— she ducked to the side as an arrow whisked by her, and she threw out her hand, a burst of flame exploding forward, knocking two soldiers with bows backward onto the ground. I felt them hitting the earth with a thump. Not now!

Kenzi crackled, his skin snapping with electricity.

Fine, he muttered, the hollow, echo-filled sound of his voice rumbling in his throat, the way it always did when he channeled up his gifts. But if we don’t make it—

I said— Ryst started.

You know how I feel, he said. He glanced over at her and then past her at me. Happy now?

Kind of, I said with a shrug.

Boys, Ryst grumbled. I’ve got no time to think about love when the world is ending. Get ready.

The Citadel soldiers grew closer, their screaming loud and intense. The new weapons had a dull luster as they rushed, catching bits of light streaming in through the tree canopies lining the mostly covered road.

They changed their armor. The weapons. Everything, I said, my heartbeat quickening