by Swinn, J. D.
“General,” she began humbly, “I cannot claim the honor for this battle. It was by pure accident that I unleashed that spell.”
“It is not only for the spell that we wish to honor you for. You fought valiantly, you both did.” He added, turning for a moment to Max. “The Queen will see you now.” He finished. He turned and left the two, apparently knowing that Max could lead the two of them. She could see the surprise in Max’s eyes at this news.
“It’s quite an honor for any humans to be permitted to see the Queen,” he said. “There is a festival once a year where the court is opened, but only warriors can be in her presence on any other day.”
“Max, I don’t know if I should go,” she said with the uncertainty she felt, “I really didn’t’ do anything.”
“You did, trust me. The faeries would not invite you to see their queen if they didn’t know that you proved yourself. I saw you out there; you killed like twenty pixies besides the spell. Actually, I’m beginning to think you have issues,” he said with that boyish smirk that made her stomach knot. She sighed and relented, following him across the lush grass of the park; he had clearly been invited into the Queen’s presence before, and knew his way. He stopped in front of a cluster of trees, before her eyes, the trees separated as if to make way for them. The great trunks groaned as they slid apart, revealing a clearing in their wake. Peering into the dark, she could barely make out a few shadowy forms. Max entered the clearing first, motioning for her to follow.
When she crossed the threshold into the clearing, the scene changed dramatically, no longer shrouded in shadows, but bathed in sunlight. Within the clearing, there seemed to be a preserved daylight, as though night only existed outside this haven. She was standing before a small pool of ice, which seemed impossible to her in the late summer warmth. Beneath the surface of the ice pond, a silver liquid shone. She realized that the light filling the clearing was not sunlight at all, but moonlight trapped within the ice, shining as brightly as the sun. Across the ice, there was a beautiful faerie seated on an ornately carved throne of fine wood. She had the dark, slanted eyes of most faeries, but they seemed softer somehow. Her dark, luminescent hair fell down to her waist in curls, and it occurred to Nameh that she had never seen a faerie with curly hair before. Her skin was pale, but not the lifeless pale of a vampire, a shining pearl which reflected the moonlight filling the room. She was dressed in a silver-white gown of velvet which fell in long folds around her ankles. The Queen looked as though her very existence had been forged from the moon itself, and it became clear that they did draw all of their power from it.
The Queen spoke to Nameh in a voice that could be compared to nothing but a moonbeam, soft and sweet and dark all at once. “I see that you are admiring our moon pond,” she said with a smile, “moonlight captured in eternal ice, a gift from the Nature faeries. We are the faeries of war, and offer them protection; theirs is the craft of beauty, and they offer us that which we do not possess.” She puzzled over the Queen’s statement for a moment; the Moon faeries appeared as beautiful as any creatures she had ever seen. Then she realized that she was referring to their ways of life: the Nature faeries spent their lives creating art out of the world’s splendors, while the Moon faeries fought a constant war of spite. She wondered if it was an empty existence.
“It is very beautiful,” responded Nameh. Her eyes flitted about the clearing, studying her surroundings. Beyond the trees, she could see nothing; it was as if they were in a separate world. There were two guards on either side of the queen, having much of her beauty, but none of her fragility.
“Yes, but we are not here to speak of beauty. We are here to speak of battle,” the Queen said. In these words, Nameh could hear the carefully hidden tones of malice, laced with honey to mislead the listener. The faeries were not evil, but were not as pure as perceived, she thought. “You both fought nobly,” she said in a proud voice, “and your spell has brought us great victory and many days of peace,” she added to Nameh. “Maxim tah Solie, you have already earned my people’s title of warrior. Step forward.” Max complied, circling around the ice to stand before her throne. “I award you a mark of the tah to bring you the strength of all faerie kind. Although it is customary to receive this mark on one’s face, I will present it to you as a token.” She extended her hand, unfurling her slender fingers to drop something small and silvery in his hands. He hadn’t touched her fingers, and Nameh thought they may have shattered if he had. At this, Max stepped back, giving a small bow.
“Nameh, step forward.” Although she had never told the Queen her name, she was not surprised that she already knew. She approached the throne as Max had. “You have never before fought with us, but have proved yourself well,” she said in an amused tone. “I grant you the power of the tah warriors, and you will now be known in our domain as Nameh tah Seran.” The queen rolled the words off of her tongue with an inflection that she didn’t think she could replicate if she tried. The Queen offered her hand forward again, and Nameh cupped her hands beneath it. A cool and smooth object fell into her palms, and she bowed before her. “You, we will also offer a mark of the tah.” Nameh backed up to stand next to Max, and the Queen was still for a moment. “Leave this place now, and return only when you have understood the mark we have given each of you, and you are ready to fight beside us again.” She shut her eyes in closure of her encounter with them, looking deceitfully calm and innocent. She couldn’t help but imagine that beneath her papery eyelids, the placid and calm ocean waters could soon give way to a violent storm.
On her throne, she looked like a delicate silver flower, frail yet beautiful; a sort of art that one locks behind glass and protects from the slightest of wind. She wondered if the Moon faeries were so apt at war for the defense of their fragile queen. As they turned to exit the clearing, she could feel the stares of the guards boring into her back. They crossed the entranceway of the throne room, and night once again fell on them; severing the bond they had shared for a moment with the faerie kind. The night air felt surprisingly cool around them, as she hadn’t realized that it had grown so cold. The clearing had been a sort of bubble outside of reality where time and conditions of the mortal world had no bearing.
“See, I told you they were kind of intense,” laughed Max.
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me anything about their traditions. I’m not entirely sure what just happened.”
“To put it bluntly, you just got knighted,” he said. “They gave both of us a mark of the tah, which I don’t think has ever been done before – given to a human, I mean. We can’t actually bear the mark, because you can’t bear any other mark along with the Shask, so she gave us…whatever she gave us.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the token.
It was a pendant of sorts, crafted from the finest white-silver she had ever seen. All at once, the symbol was delicate and powerful: made of sweeping lines and sharp corners blended together. When she saw it, she couldn’t read it the way she could read the Warlock’s book; it was an ancient faerie language, she guessed.
She pulled her own token from the pocket of her belt. It was cool, as if it had been left in the snow and had only just been picked up again, though it had rested close to her skin for some time. The similarities between the two symbols was clear; they were both made of the same sweeping lines and corners, but hers seemed familiar, as though she had created the symbol herself or seen it in a dream. It seemed to call to her, as if it desperately wanted to tell her the message it cocooned within the metal, but she could not quite understand. She strung her talisman around her neck, instantly feeling that it had become a part of her. She watched Max do the same, fumbling with the intricate fastener. He looked up to see her watching him with an amused smile. He returned her smile embarrassedly, and for just a moment, she saw a glimmer of the Max she had seen earlier that night.
“So, what are you?” she asked as a sudden thought.
“What am I? Well, that’s kind of broad. Let’s see, 5�
��11’, blond hair, blue eyes, Protestant…shall I continue?”
“Hmm, Protestant; didn’t see that coming. I meant, what’s your talent? You said I was a Listener, what are you?”
“See, that’s more specific. I’m what they call a Senser, that basically means I can feel magic more exactly than other Markbearers. I can sense exactly how many Children of the Spark are in Central Park right now, for instance, or how many humans will be waiting for us when we return to the Academy. I can also sense how much magic is in the marks the Queen gave us: a hell of a lot if you were wondering. It’s hidden magic, though, most people won’t be able to sense it. Unfortunately, we can’t use it until we figure out what they mean; or, that’s how normal marks of the tah work.”
“Apparently, you’re not a very good Senser,” she said playfully.
“Why do you say that?” he asked almost defensively.
“Because, I tailed you for over a half an hour, and you couldn’t shake me, or determine who or what I was.”
“Sensing is not that exact.” He looked at her with a convincing glance.
“Why didn’t I know immediately that I was a Listener?”
“Most people take a while to figure out what they are; it usually presents itself in some situation of need. For example, Talar and I found out we were Sensers when we were on a training run. We were supposed to go out and find a nest of hobgoblins in some subway station. We wandered for a while, not realizing that they take well to hiding, if we hadn’t been able to sense them behind us, we may have been ripped to pieces.”
“I wonder what Mira is, then.” she mused. “I wonder if Wyd would be a Senser too, if he weren’t a warlock.”
“You certainly do a lot of wondering, don’t you?”
“I am a curious person, I suppose.”
“She’ll find out on her own someday, Mira I mean. Come on,” he said quickly, “let’s go. Dawn’s coming and the others will be waking up soon.” She followed him toward the edge of the park, the cold pendant around her neck the only reminder of what they left behind.
Even though several minutes had passed, Max still felt his heart pounding in his chest, aggravated by something other than battle. The scent she carried was nearly intoxicating, though she had no knowledge of it, and the breeze brushed it temptingly against him. She wandered on unknowingly, probably ignorant of how his breath was catching in his throat, he thought. Feelings were usually much easier to suppress, but he couldn’t choke these out, a frightening realization.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off how her fair skin and pure white hair caught the lingering moonlight. Her dark eyes seemed to perfectly mirror the night sky, and she was at peace in the night. They passed a small pond surrounded in lush grass, and Nameh immediately turned off toward it. He knew that dawn was coming fast, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull her away. He was sure that her stomach couldn’t be twisting as his was, that her heart couldn’t be screaming and taking her so off guard like his was. She couldn’t feel like he was feeling, his mind told him.
Nameh dragged a slender foot over the surface of the water, having removed her shoe, drawing gentle ripples in the pond. He saw the relief in her eyes at the cool water’s touch, and a soft smile crossed her features. Silently, he sat on the bank beside her and gazed off at the surroundings. He had always preferred being out at night, when the world seemed to sleep and problems of the day seemed to fade into silence for a time.
You know… he began, but was cut off by Nameh’s finger on his lips as she leaned toward him.
“Not now” she whispered, brushing a butterfly kiss on his lips, retreating just enough to look him straight in the eyes, intently watching his response.
After what felt like an eternity, he gently answered her kiss. For a moment, they were two people feeling completely at ease, not two Markbearers with dark futures and death likely awaiting them. He framed the moment in his mind, hoping to capture its essence indefinitely. The scene stretched on for a lifetime, and was over in a breath- he didn’t know or care. They lost themselves in the closeness of each other and the shadows plaguing their souls retreated for a time. They felt love. But dawn was approaching fast.
CHAPTER TWELVE: PREPARATIONS
Mira’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal a groggy world bathed in the early morning sunlight. She admired the golden beauty for a moment before stirring; it was going to be a good day, she thought. She sat up and brushed a curl from her face; she hadn’t put it up last night as she usually did, she had simply been too tired. The wretched book laid sprawled open next to her bed, the infernal thing had taken all of her energy in exchange for its knowledge. She had retained many of the spells and techniques from its pages, but not without great effort. She preferred making connections throughout history, repeated mistakes and successes.
At the thought of her friend, she glanced over to find Nameh’s bed empty. She sheets and blanket lay in a crumpled heap; she rarely bothered to make her bed. Mira stood and began to smooth her own covers into a neat arrangement, tucking the edges beneath the mattress. When she finished, she surveyed her work; order brought her calm, whereas Nameh thrived on chaos. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear her sleepy mind. Coffee, she thought, I need coffee. She began to think of the places that Nameh could have gone; she wouldn’t be in the cafeteria because they were avoiding questioning teachers; they hadn’t been attending classes. Max’s room? She wasn’t exactly in the mood to go knocking on his door, especially if her theory proved wrong, but she didn’t know where else to look.
When she reached his door, she hesitated, letting the invisibility spell drop from around her. What if he was still sleeping? Were Talar and Wyd sleeping here too? Maybe I should just go wait for her in our room. Before she could follow through on any of her thoughts, the door swung open, revealing Max standing behind it in a slightly wrinkled white t-shirt and blue pajama pants. “You know, when you use invisibility spells, you actually become more visible to other Markbearers.” His comment was confusing, but she was too tired, she would ask later. She surveyed him again: he had thin bags around his eyes, he hadn’t gotten quite enough sleep, and his short hair was rumpled. She had the urge to reach up and smooth down the pieces that went astray, but immediately thought better of it. She almost stammered, something she rarely did, but his cool blue eyes were so piercing and disarming that she was taken off guard.
“Uh,” she began, not sure if her question would seem absurd, “is Nameh here?”
“Tall girl, dark eyes, white-ish hair? Yeah, she’s here; I think she’s torturing Wyd right now, but if you’ll wait a moment…” He was quite witty, she thought. His presence and casual jokes were pleasant and refreshing. He turned back into the room as if to confirm his theory; he gave a small nod and let her pass. Nameh stood from where she had been seated on the bed and extended a mug to her. She peered into the contents and was overjoyed at the sight of the steaming brown liquid. It was just the way she liked it, lots of cream and sugar with a little foam.
“I annoyed Wyd into conjuring it.” She twisted her face into a thoughtful look, “I wasn’t sure how else to get coffee without going through the lobby, and it’s much too early for a teleportation spell.” The perk in her friend’s voice was surprising; she had always wondered how she managed to run on such little sleep.
“It’s also much too early for a conjuring spell, so you’re welcome,” Wyd half-muttered in a tone that had an attempt at displeasure, but failed entirely.
“Thank you,” Mira said with an apologetic look.
Talar was lounging on a bed that she was fairly confident hadn’t been there the day before. Guest beds, she assumed; likely Wyd’s handiwork.
“Now that everyone’s here, we may as well get down to business. We can’t very well stay here much longer, now that none of us are really Guardians anymore.” Talar’s words gave her a painful shock, she hadn’t thought of it in this way before. She felt as though she was abandoning a lifestyle, an oath. “But I know of a
place that takes in Upperworlders who don’t have anywhere else to go. There’s quite a…motley crew of creatures there.” He laughed a little at this thought. “Werewolves, vampires, faeries; I actually met a centaur there once.” He added his last thought with an absent minded interest. Mira’s curiosity heightened at the mention of a centaur; they didn’t frequent urban areas, but they had always fascinated her. Centaurs were one of the few remaining groups of Children of the Spark who were considered purists. They believed that their place was outside the realm of humans, and therefore mostly existed in their own cities in less inhabited parts of the world. She had dreamed, as a child, of visiting far off lands to see all of the distant and rarest magical creatures. There were dwindling numbers of banshees in the Himalayan and Appalachian mountains, and mermaids in all of the world’s oceans; there were centaurs in Central and South America, and phoenixes that bathed in the fire of Hawaii’s volcanoes. But most of all, she longed to watch the fierce and beautiful griffins fly over the skies of Nepal; it was one of the few places where they could live in peace. It was a sort of crazy dream, but one that she hadn’t entirely given up on.
“My vote is for leaving today,” Nameh’s voice cut in, “the sooner the better. We’re not getting any closer to finding the Relic just sitting here. That is still the plan, right?” The room was silent, leave it to Nameh to ask a perfectly simple question at just the right time, and leave everyone speechless. After a moment, Max broke the silence with a characteristically well thought out answer.
“I don’t see what else we can do. The local branch of the Vine is all but gone, and there isn’t time to locate and get to another one. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been sensing weird changes in the Guild’s magic; they’re getting closer, and we’re just treading water.”
“I still think it’s too dangerous, but if you’re in, I’m in,” Wyd said with an even tone. He was very level headed, Mira thought, and wasn’t as shy as he’d seemed at first.
