The Frozen Moon: Book Two of The Living Curse series + BONUS Full Version of Book Three!

by Swinn, J. D.

  A white pedestal lay before them, veined with the same gold as the walls, but it was not the pedestal that had mesmerized the group. Resting on the white platform was a breathtaking sight. It gave one the impression of some slumbering dragon, possessing infinite power tucked away in the folds of unconsciousness. The Amulet was as beautiful as any story he had ever heard about it. Illustrations in ancient texts were the closest anyone was known to have come to actually seeing it. The sketches and oil paintings dismally failed to capture what even a photograph could not, he thought. Nameh urged him forward, as he probably knew the most about Markbearer history. The stories, fables, and legends of times long-passed fascinated him.

  On the wall behind the pedestal, he now noticed, there hung a looming golden emblem. In the center of it, there was the Shask, a universal symbol of brotherhood among Markbearers. Surrounding it, there were five other symbols; their meanings were a mystery to him. However, there was one in particular that stood out to him, as if he had seen it before. He began to develop the feeling that if he stared long enough at the image, he would know what secrets it held.

  From the corner of his eye, he could see Nameh approaching another of the surrounding symbols; perhaps she had the same notion about that one. Soon, Cal and Talar had joined them as well, Talar was focused on the same symbol as he was, while Cal had chosen a third symbol. This left only Seth, Mira, and Wyd standing behind, observing the entire crest. They did not appear to be spoken to by any of the symbols. Like a speeding train, the thought floored into him all at once, flooding his mind.

  “Talents,” he said simply, delighting in his deduction. Puzzles were one of his greatest joys, and little made him happier than solving a difficult one. “This one here,” he began, running his hands along the curving lines before him, “means ‘Sense’, that’s why Talar and I were drawn to it. That one there,” he said, indicating Nameh’s, “would be ‘Listen’, and that one where Cal is would be ‘Heal’.” This, of course, left two remaining symbols, he thought. Those would stand for ‘See’ and ‘Whisper’, but which was which would remain unsolved until a person of either talent saw them.

  “These must be ancient,” mused Talar quietly, “they aren’t included even in the original texts of the Great Warlock.” The group stood in awe at the aged metal, and Max’s mind traced the story of each line and curve and angle. Who had created them, and why? What power did they hold? These questions would have to be answered later, he realized, the Guild was closing in. He was becoming painfully more and more aware of their waning distance and growing power. Each moment that passed brought more pain to his Shask, and each time he thought it could not get worse, it did.

  He approached the Relic with a sense of unworthiness hanging taut about him. His hands seemed to act of their own accord, against his will, but with the tenderness of one caring for the wounds of an injured comrade. His fingers scooped under the emerald set in shimmering gold, ornate lines sweeping this way and that. Each shining tendril seemed to whisper of temptation and lust and power beyond simple comprehension. It was at this moment that he felt a kinship toward Adam and Eve; he began to experience what it was like to have knowledge laying before you, untouched. Only one other had possessed it, and now the prospect sat before them.

  He was almost surprised at how simple the process had been; there were no tests or trials, just the simple act of want. In fact, once they had decided they wanted to find the Relic, it had been easy to get it. He wondered if it had been more difficult for the Guild because their judgment had been clouded by impure intentions, or only because they didn’t possess the same knowledge and texts that they did. The group gathered in admiration, but Wyd was already spinning the necessary spell. None of them wanted to leave, though they knew there may only be seconds until the Guild was upon them. They all took one last forlorn look around the perfect place, and wished that they could linger, especially knowing what waited for them back in their world. Max uttered a small warning, he didn’t want to worry his friends, but they had to know what might be waiting for them.

  “If I never get to say this,” he heard Nameh begin, “thank you. And goodbye.” No one responded to her simple words, but they all felt a mutual kinship, broken only by the thin blue smoke forming about them. Their arrival would be painfully close to that of the Guild, he thought; conflict was likely.

  She plummeted and fell toward the earth, with no more control over her body than the leaves falling around her. The second transport that day had been much more difficult than the first, she imagined it was due to Wyd’s drained power, as well as her body’s protests to this repeated thrashing. The thud of bodies hitting cold soil was sickening at best, but paled in sensory comparison to the feeling.

  The only comfort she felt was the warmth of her clinging jeans, thick, black coat, and the rich smell of earth that once again greeted her. Slowly, she exhaled and assessed the damage, not good, she concluded. She raised her head and saw that everyone was in the same position, excepting Wyd, of course. He stood with his head slightly cocked, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, and wearing a look of apologetic shyness. Seeing Nameh stirring, he spoke in his soft voice.

  “Sorry, I’m tired. Should have tried to keep it lighter.” She pulled her feet underneath her laboriously and stood up, silencing the screams her muscles produced. Rubbing the sore spots, she saw that the others were doing the same. As her own realization grew, she voiced the thought crossing everyone’s mind.

  “We did it,” she said simply, a faint smile crossing her face. Up until now, she had been doubtful at best toward the chance of their success. Slowly, the smile spread like oil on water, reaching them all at the finish. It seemed surreal that the goal they had striven for during these last weeks, lived for these last weeks, had been reached. Could it really all be over? That dreaded feeling rose again inside her, that blasted sense and hope of an impending happily ever after. She tried to choke it out, twist it inside her chest to starve it out like a flame without oxygen, but this time it persisted. The knowledge that her emotions might be getting the best of her was maddening.

  Nameh urged them all along; if they were going to have a chance at making it somewhere safe before the Guild found them, they would have to leave immediately. Everyone was on their feet, and for a moment she felt that they had a chance.

  She did not dwell on the thought any longer, however, for the feeling was replaced by an entirely new one within seconds. Her thoughts were ripped through, clawed through, her reality torn to pieces as though by some great and terrible bird of prey. The bird offered forth its blood stained claws and raised its dark, satisfied beak.

  Its eyes were green. Shocking and horrible green.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: TIME LOST

  The shadow closed in around them, leaving no hope of escape. The darkened faces of those surrounding Nameh held no sign of emotion, only callous and purpose. But it was not they who drew her attention. The ink black hair that framed his deep skin and emerald eyes was unchanged, the hard set of his smooth features, the stance of his broad shoulders, the piercing stare of his expression, were unchanged. It was the ghost of a memory standing before her, a perfect image of what she had known, clung to for far too long. The only thing changed, she knew now, was her. She no longer tried to see the hint of Daniel in his eyes, no longer tried to create fantasy that was not there, because she knew it was not.

  In his eyes, she could see only spite and the façade of his former self that he tried, even now, to wear. This brought no sorrow to her, however; she had shed her last tear for Daniel long ago. Now she cried for no one. The only remorse she had, when she stood face to face with him after all these years, was that not one of her friends knew her history with the one before them. To all of them, he was just a nameless adversary, and they didn’t know what he was capable of. She decided to take the plunge all at once, like jumping into a frigid pool of water, and speak, though it would come as a surprise to her friends. They had encountered worse t
hings, she thought.

  “Daniel,” she said simply. It was a courtesy that, coming from Nameh’s tight mouth, sounded as sweet as tradition dictated, but held all the hidden thorns of the reddest of roses. Roses, she mused, blood red as the day they lived. She felt, rather than saw, the surprise in her comrades at the sound of the strange man’s name. She felt uneasy, knowing that an explanation was due, but this was certainly no time to give one. Daniel would surely attend to that in his toying ways.

  “Nameh,” he said in that damned smooth voice, “it’s been a while.” Those in the black ring around him seemed not to hear the conversation’s advances; their faces betrayed no emotion. Completely consumed by dark magic, they must have been, and trained into submission by their valiant leader. She imagined that there wasn’t an individual thought among them.

  “It certainly has.” she replied in her cool, even tones. She had always prided herself in her ability to maintain calm. “Still running with the wrong crowd, I see.” A smug smile slid across his features; he had clearly grown used to it. The expression fit him like a worn glove, settling easily into place.

  “As usual, that depends on your view of the word ‘wrong’. What you seem to perceive as wrong has given me more power than you could ever have hoped for.”

  “And what have you gained from it?” she asked. “Some followers, a name for yourself? If only I could ask the Daniel I once knew if it was worth it. I know it wasn’t.” The words were a release of feelings enclosed for years, what she had always wanted to say to him. It was as though she were reliving the dream that had plagued her for so long, and everything was coming out in an explosion of renewal. Her friends were frozen behind her, sensing that nothing could be done verbally. She wanted to give them a signal, a glance, a hand gesture, but she knew that as soon as she broke eye contact with Daniel, the fragile membrane holding back battle would tear, and hell would break loose. No, not the battle, she corrected herself, the war. The war to end all wars. The war for the earth.

  She knew she had to find a way to communicate with them, tell them something-anything. They needed to know who he was and what they were dealing with. She was furious with herself for not telling them earlier, but she hadn’t thought it would prove this important. A voice cut through her thoughts, an answer to her silent plea. Who is he? The voice was pleading, begging for an answer. At first, she waited. Had she imagined it, was it said aloud? She didn’t think so. Daniel she thought with mental pronunciation, the loudest thought she could muster, in a way. The presence in her mind seemed to be surprised. So whoever was speaking to her hadn’t been aware of it. Nameh had experienced this only once before, with a new Whisperer. Sometimes, she knew, if their emotions were strong enough, they could unwillingly whisper into someone’s thoughts. Generally, they would develop more control as time went on, but this was not an initial skill. That had to be what was happening now, she thought. Nameh? Thought the voice. This time, she recognized the deep timbre she had not before. Seth! You’re a whisperer? She steeled herself against Daniel’s stare; he thought he was breaking down her resolve with this battle of wills they were engaged in. Neither moved, or dared move, neither broke eye contact. Hope swam inside of her as she had not known in ages. What an opportune time to find that out, if you ask me, joked Seth’s voice. Definitely, she replied, But that’s how it usually works. Now listen carefully…

  His mind pulsed with thoughts, each now felt as though it was trying to escape the confines of his brain. He prepared to whisper the information into the others’ thoughts, but had begun to worry. There were countless secrets enclosed within the mental folds of his brain that he didn’t wish to share with anyone, how could he know he would not betray himself? He gathered his composure, knowing he was wasting precious seconds.

  Seth built a figurative wall in his mind, surrounding all of his thoughts. The only thing he left outside his walled city of will was the information about Daniel that Nameh had passed to him. He went through it once more: Daniel, an old friend of Nameh’s who had turned to the Guild and dark magic. She has no attachment to him now, so you must hurt him if you are given the opportunity. He will not hesitate to reciprocate.

  Nameh’s voice resounded through his mind, he recalled the intensity. She had stressed to him, several times in fact, that the group must not be fooled by his deceit, he is a master of manipulation. Apparently she had shared this dark realm of her past with no one, not even Mira. He got a strange sense of pride in knowing that he was the first one she told, even though he was the only one she physically could. He liked Nameh; she was not like most of the annoying girls he had known back home. He had found nearly all of them endlessly irksome, just one more reason why he left, but not the main reason, of course. He tried not to think of his parents, the dreadful row, his mother in tears. The tears meant nothing, she cried so often. He despised the thought; it sickened him to think of her fake emotions. Who were they to determine his whole life? It was inconsequential to them anyway. These he drew into the careful safe haven he had built and locked them away along with thoughts of his long-gone best friend. He didn’t want the others knowing where he had come from. It didn’t matter now anyway, he was never going back.

  He shifted his eyes slightly, Daniel wouldn’t notice for his eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Nameh, and a few trivial words were being exchanged. His glance fell to rest on Cal, who was to his close left. He gathered all the necessary thoughts and will, holding all else back with his entire self. It welled inside of him as he took one last breath, and pushed it all forward through him. The first words: Don’t move…

  Cal had been surprised to hear Seth’s voice, though he had not recognized it as such immediately. It had taken a great amount of control to keep his face expressionless, but he knew that he mustn’t give him away. He found the story curious; this strange figure from Nameh’s past suddenly appearing in the present gave him an eerie feeling. He didn’t like it; the man seemed too powerful, too evil, too lost. It was as though he were a hollow shell, and if you peered into his eyes all you would see was darkness, without a glimmer of hope. He had never encountered someone like that before; his life had always been filled with such bright people, full of life and vibrancy.

  Even his mother, whom he had not always gotten along with, had been a lively woman. He now wished he had appreciated it more when faced with the demon-like men that had been so prevalent in his recent life.

  He would go back, he concluded. If he lived through this, that is. At least for a while, tell his parents that he loved them, as he hadn’t in too long. He had never planned on leaving forever, and sooner sounded better than later at the moment, when he felt as though his last few hours, minutes, seconds, were slipping through his fingers. He had never thought much about death. If only you could stop time, he thought. This could be it. This could be over.

  Wyd had never been whispered too, strange as it seemed. He had simply encountered few, and those he had didn’t find it necessary to employ their talent. He supposed it was much more useful in times of dire need like this, and not as much in everyday life. Not that it wasn’t a godsend, especially now. He supposed it was rather like having a sub machine gun. It wasn’t terribly practical for grocery shopping, but when it came down to war, it would save your life. He had never been one for war.

  In fact, that’s why he had joined the Vine, to escape from war. Warlocks were seldom asked to fight in the front lines; they were usually employed for defensive spells on buildings and groups of people. There were few things a Warlock could do these days; it mostly came down to joining the Vine or living in Rome. Rome was where most of the ancient Warlocks lived, those that were still remaining, mostly from the generation after the Great Warlock. It was a beautiful and nostalgic place, because all warlock memories could be passed down from generation to generation, and this place was the oldest of warlock dwellings. In spite of this, the enchanting land was plagued with battle and war almost constantly. Different families fought over land ri
ghts, and when one conflict had barely ended, the next had already begun. He had chosen this more peaceful path, though hardly so. He couldn’t see why all Warlocks didn’t follow in the footsteps of the Great Warlock, but some had chosen otherwise, to serve their families and themselves.

  His thoughts ventured back to the present situation, though he had only been absent for a moment. It was hard to divert one’s thoughts from such tension. He tried not to think about what little experience he had in hand to hand combat. Though he had tried to convince himself otherwise, he finally came to terms with himself. He was not ready to die. This was not going to be easy, he thought.

  But nothing worthwhile ever is.

  Talar’s mind swam with eagerness; Seth’s words had invoked in him an even greater sense of impending battle. His blood was already boiling, his teeth lengthening and hardening, his fingertips sharpening. He reigned in his desire; he knew that he must hold it back for another moment. Still, even when so eager for the chance at blood, he couldn’t help but have apprehension. They all knew what they were getting into, and what they might not come out of. He was certain the same thoughts were running through everyone’s head. What did I do with my life? What have I wasted?

  These questions were not applicable for Talar. He already knew the answers, had long known the answers. He had lost the only one who had ever meant anything to him. He had lost her. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t think of her shining eyes, her smiling face, her gentle curve. There was not a day that passed when he didn’t think of how he failed her, how they had taken her from just beyond his grasp. This was something he would never-could never tell the others. It was simply too painful.