The Frozen Moon: Book Two of The Living Curse series + BONUS Full Version of Book Three! (12 page)

She turned her attention to match the others’, facing the great marble statue in front of them.  The figure was a great and pure white angel, made of all smooth lines and soft curves.  In one outstretched arm, it held a perfect ring balanced on its palm.  She recalled a line of text Max had quoted earlier, “The ring is thought to be a symbol of eternity, never-ending and perfect.”  The other arm of the angel was drawn about in an elegant pose in front of its chest, as though it mimicked a ballerina, creating a half circle.  Looking at the monument was like being at the beginning of the world, when the spark had created all of the
Upperworlders:  the birthing of the vampires and harpies and warlocks, faeries and pixies and dryads, griffins and dragons and phoenixes.  Not even the Guardians or the Vine knew exactly how many races of Upperworlders existed anymore.  Some had surely died out, while others live isolated in the earth’s far reaches.  Others still might never have been discovered, like the Unseen spirits of dark magic which are thought to feed on souls in exchange for power. 

Creatures of all kinds had been created.  The light and the dark, equal and opposite, perfectly balanced.  Good and evil, black and white, life and death.  It was all the same, it seemed to her now.  The colors swam together into a gray cloud across her thoughts.  For a moment, they could only stare, breathless. 

The beauty of the image was striking in design and purity, but these did not help them to draw the conclusions they hoped to.  They had spoken few words since arriving at the memorial, for all had been deep in thought, considering the carefully cryptic words inscribed at the pristine angel’s feet. 
In the light’s embrace, all shadows are lifted. 
These were, of course, translated from the Warlock’s ancient language through the aid of Wyd’s learning spell several nights before.

             
Finally, after battling the urge for too long, Nameh reached out a gentle hand and laid it on the smooth marble.  Few things she did were gentle, but the awe and respect inspired in her at the sight of the ancient stone compelled her.  Despite the cold air, the marble held a surprising warmth, as though deep inside it, an inextinguishable flame burned.  For a moment, she could see before her the faces of a thousand Markbearers, hear the whispers of a thousand spells spun, taste the dew of a thousand sunrises, feel the caress of a thousand winds brushing past, and smell the deep and heavy scent of passing time.  She snapped out of her sensory dream as she drew her slender fingers back from the statue.

             
“Alright,” Mira began.  She was twisting her fingers as she often did when in thought.  “So we know that the inscription might be of significance-”

             
“Or it could be nothing,” added Cal as a consideration.

             
“Right,” she continued.  Her brow furrowed slightly, and she bit softly at the side of her lip.  “In the light’s embrace…” she trailed off.  A pensive silence grew over them like consuming moss, isolating and focusing their thoughts.

             
“Well, remember the old Markbearer texts.”  Talar raised his eyes to draw their attention.  “Almost everything it said was metaphorical.  Maybe if we think that way, we’ll be able to figure it out.”  His voice was even and smooth; he was a good and convincing speaker.

             
“That’s true, but there are a lot of things that have to do with light.” Nameh pointed out.

             
“Purity, goodness, heaven…” Cal listed off.  Max’s thoughts had traveled in another direction.

             
“It could have something to do with sun or moonlight too.  A lot of ancient magic revolved around those two because they were natural sources of energy.”

             
“In the light’s embrace?  The statue is always in the sun or moonlight.” Talar seemed to disagree with the theory.

             
“Heaven,” Seth repeated softly.  “The angel?” he indicated the statue before them.  The group was silent as they weighed his words.

             
“That makes sense,” said Wyd, his voice increasing in pitch as it did when he was trying to be sincere.

             
“So, if you think of the angel’s embrace, instead of the light’s embrace, it could have something to do with the statue’s positioning?”  Nameh ended her words with a question, leaving it open for speculation.

             
“And the shadows being lifted.  Is it talking about happiness?”  Mira was growing more and more excited with each step forward, though she tried to contain it, Nameh could see it clearly in her eyes.

             
“I don’t think so,” Cal began, “it’s either about defeating evil, or maybe the shadow of doubt?”

             
“In the angel’s embrace, doubts will be lifted?” Talar’s voice questioned.  “Doubts of what?”

             
“Hopefully we’ll find out.” Seth replied.

             
“Then go,” said Max simply to Nameh.

             
“Go where?”

             
“Into the angel’s embrace, of course.”  She had not taken this statement quite as literally as he had, but she could see by the way he motioned at the stone that he meant for her to step into its left arm.  This was the arm curled loosely about its body, the one she had assumed was simply an elegant pose.  Now it did seem as though the angel was inviting one to step into its embrace.

             
“Guys, doesn’t this seem ridiculous?  As if no one has ever tried standing with it?”  Her words were heavily annunciated. 

             
“If everyone thought that way, then no one ever would have.”  Talar had an amused tone in his voice; he loved a challenge.  She sighed and stepped forward, not sure what to expect.  The autumn breeze cooled the sweat on her palms, and she rubbed them lightly against the sides of her jeans.  Her hair was tucked back into a bun, but a few escaping pieces were brushing against her cheeks. 

             
The stares burning with anticipation made her a little uncomfortable, and she felt rather foolish to begin with.  A deep breath cleared her head and slowed her heart as she stepped onto the raised platform on which the angel was perched.  She watched its face, half expecting it to turn its eyes toward the intruder, but that was ridiculous, she thought.  She ducked beneath the arm and half-flinched in expectance.  To her relief and dismay, nothing seemed to happen.  She looked at the others, who were still looking on just as intently. 

             
“Nothing?” asked Seth with a disappointed tone.

             
“No, I think that-” she stopped short as she turned to look at the angel’s other hand.  Through the small white ring, the scene seemed to change.  She imagined by the others’ reaction that her face had gone slack and pale.  It was as though the ring had been transformed into a telescope of sorts, though what she could see through it must have been far more distant that any man made telescope could have perceived.

The hall she saw was as lavish as any she had ever seen.  Rich blue carpets adorned the marble floors, and thick pillars curved into arched ceilings.  Adornments traced each curve and corner of the room, like veins carrying golden blood to an unseen heart.  The walls were lined of portraits of men and women, likely long dead.  Some portraits were of people seeming to walk away, but glancing over their shoulder.  She then noticed that those walking away were lifting their right foot, as to step, revealing the
Shask that was emblazoned there.  The elegance and poise of each Markbearer was unlike any she had ever seen; admiration swelled inside of her at the sight of those she knew nothing about.  It was then that her thoughts wandered to the Great Warlock.  If he had any of the poise of his followers, which she imagined he did, it was easy to see why one would have devotion to him.

             
As the image burned itself into her mind, she became aware of a hand on her elbow.  Mira was gently shaking her, trying to bring her attention back to this place.  She blinked once and tore herself away from the beautiful and impossible sight.  It took her a moment to realize the others were waiting for her to speak.

             
“I saw,” she paused, trying to determine what it was she had actually seen, “a place” she decided on simply.  “It was beautiful and full of tapestries and portraits, some great gold and marble hall.”  She was aware that she must be starry eyed, her longing to be a part of such a place would have shone in her face. 

             
“Alantra,” said Max with a sort of dazed and amused look.  His eyes were unfocused, as if recalling some memory from long ago.  He was certainly the most knowledgeable of Markbearer history, likely a consequence of his time spent in association with the Vine.  “The legend of the great hall.  They say that the Great Warlock used to speak of it toward the end of his life, but most just thought that his mental health was deteriorating.”  Wyd picked up where Max had trailed off.

             
“He was supposedly always speaking of some great place that no mortal could reach without his aid.  They say he thought he possessed something that would allow one to travel there, a place of supposed beauty and wealth.  Of course, no one ever found it.”

             
“You think what I just saw was Alantra?  Well, don’t just stand there, come look!”  With thoughts of faraway places dancing through her mind, she grew impatient to draw conclusions about the image within the ring.  Max stepped forward and they exchanged places.  The entire group held its breath as they waited for his verdict.  His face remained in a pensive expression, examining every inch of the image before him.

             
“It looks just as the texts always described,” he breathed.  “Shining white walls lined with gold, sapphire tapestries and carpets…” he trailed off, his thoughts appearing to Nameh to be swimming through his consciousness in such excitement.

             
“So the amulet is in Alantra?” questioned Cal.  “That’s impossible, legend tells that there’s no way to get there without the Warlock.”

             
“Not true.”  Seth’s voice cut through the conversation and was silent for a moment.  They all turned their attention to him, though he looked as though he had little intention to continue.  When he saw that all eyes were on him, he nearly laughed, and finished his thought; apparently, he hadn’t thought he would be taken so seriously.  “It simply states that the Warlock possessed some sort of ‘key’ or method of getting there, that doesn’t mean that it died with him.  Look at all the things he passed down through the years, there are thousands of possibilities.”  Nameh began to think that Seth was the type to keep such profound thoughts to himself if unprovoked, and mentally noted that she would no longer allow him to.  Her mind instantly clicked through all of the wonders she had learned from the Warlock, especially being a Listener. 

Spells ticked through her brain, along with the symbols for each of the groups of
Markbearers: Listeners, Seers, Sensers, Healers, and Whisperers.  The book had now taught her what each of them were capable of.  She already knew what Listeners and Sensers could do, but she now knew the others as well.  Healers were able to transfer magic from one being to another, either themselves or some outside source in much greater quantities than a normal magic absorption.  Seers were able to see fleeting glances of visions not their own.  When focused, this could mean seeing through the eyes of another, or seeing into the past and future for a brief time.  Whisperers had a talent that was not as exact as the others.  Put in simple terms, they could project their thoughts and feelings onto others, either intentionally or unintentionally depending on their discipline.  All these things the Warlock had given them, but which could possibly lead them to Alantra?

“Why not something simple, a spell that all warlocks would know?”
  Mira turned to Wyd at this statement, as if expecting him to magically produce the answer on command.  He remained pensive for a moment before he spoke.

“This may be over simplifying it, but what about the Warlock’s transportation spell?  We used it to get here, and to the Corner, quite frankly I use it often.  It was one of the first spells taught to others by the Warlock, but it was not as common of a spell then.  The only thing required for it is a clear picture of where one intends to go.”

“And that’s exactly what the Warlock gave us.”  Talar’s words were soft and definitive, an end to Wyd’s thoughts.

“So, is that really the plan then?  We’re going to try to make it to
Alantra?”  Nameh’s words held more excitement than she’d wanted them to, but she truly was in high anticipation.  The Great Warlock’s hidden hall, now with the added prospect of it containing the most powerful artifact in the world-the Relic itself-was enticing.

“We can hardly just go running off to some random place, having no idea what’s going to be waiting for us there.  Don’t you think we should do some planning, stocking up on supplies?”  Mira’s voice was, as usual, the voice of reason, that clear toned pitch that always held necessary truths. 
Nameh felt a familiar feeling well in the pit of her stomach; it climbed up her chest and grew in her mind until she felt as though she may explode if she did not release the pressure building.  A faint smile passed over her face, and her eyes shifted out of focus, glassy and distant.  Memories were resurfacing which had been in deep recesses for too long.  Some were painful: the night she left home those years ago, her first day at the Academy spent in total silence.  Some were memories of release and contentment: her first battle, the day she and Mira had become friends.  So much had come from the simple decision to become a Guardian, and it all came down to this moment.  She felt as though her life to this point had been some distant symphony, the notes fading in and out of her range of hearing.  It was only now that she could remember where accompaniments had threaded through, though she had been deaf to them at the time.  The music now swelled inside her, preparing for its greatest crescendo.  This was her moment.