The Living Curse: Book One of The Living Curse series (8 page)

             
She carefully knelt beside Mira, and placed a trembling hand on her back.  In a sensory experience that she thought must have been a fantasy; she thought she felt the pulsing of a beating heart, willing the body to live.  She drew a quick breath and lowered her turned ear toward her fallen friend.  The room was utterly silent, and the glorious sound of Mira’s beating heart, like a marching drum, was all that Nameh could hear, or wanted to hear.  She rolled her friend gently to the side, onto her back, and looked at her face.  Her cheeks, which had been flushed only a moment ago, were now drained of color, leaving her skin a papery white.  Her lips stood out against the powder white as a rose-pink, a beautiful color that seemed almost unnatural.  She recalled her own subtle transformation after receiving her mark: her hair had turned the startling silver white she was now known for, and her eyes had darkened from their previously caramel color, to a deep coffee brown that appeared nearly black in some lights.

             
Mira’s eyelids flickered as she regained consciousness, and Nameh felt her heart skip a beat, as if it recognized the near loss of a part of it.  As she slowly pulled herself back up into a sitting position, Nameh had to fight the urge to throw her arms around her, an urge that felt strange and unnatural; she had never been one for displays of affection. 

             
Now, Nameh noticed the full changes the Shask had brought Mira.  Her lips had become a vivid pink, full of life, and her skin now had a pink luster.  As her eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed what a vibrant green they had become, in contrast to the soft hazel they had been.  She looked at her friend for a moment longer, before uttering a simple sentence that encompassed all of the relief and love that had come from hundreds of battles together.

             
“I knew you were strong enough.” She said simply.

             
The black pavement still felt warm against her bare feet from the midday sun’s captured heat.  The wind blew a balmy breeze and tousled the hair that she had released from the knot.  She closed her eyes and embraced the gentle lullaby of the night, thinking of the hours just passed.  Mira was inside with the Marker and Max, regaining her strength after the trying experience.  After she had made completely certain that she would be alright, she had to get out, to feel the night air against her cheeks.  In the dark room, she hadn’t realized how much time had passed, or that it had become night.

             
She walked slowly down the alley with no purpose, watching the people in the distant street pass by the small window of view she had.  Some walked hurriedly, while others walked seemingly just for the action of walking.  Each person had a different story: where they were going and why, who they were going with or going to, how the steps she just witnessed could change their entire life.  She imagined tracing the path of each passerby with her mind, seeing where they would end up because of their actions now.  She imagined a young woman on her way to meet a lover, and saw the life they would build together, and the pain that would haunt her when he was gone.  She imagined an older man, hurrying by in a flurry, hoping he could catch the train before his son left for good.  They had a fight, and neither had been able to swallow their pride this time; the boy had left, and would never return if he wasn’t stopped now.  She saw the man catching his son’s sleeve with a pleading look in his eyes, as the son pulled out of his father’s grasp, and rolled away on the train.  The images she saw were so vivid that she wondered whether or not they
were
products of her imagination.

             
She turned back toward the building, and began to walk, still slowly.  They would be wondering where she had went.

             
All of her fantasies, or realities, that involved love seemed to end in pain and heartache.  She wondered, as she often did, why people even bothered; was it worth it?  She opened the heavy door to reenter the building and the heavy darkness greeted her.  She had long ago abandoned the girlish fairytale of charming princes and riding off into the sunset.  She would rather believe that she could slow the passage of time, keep all of the moments she would miss alongside her always.  Life flew past far too quickly for Nameh, at times, and she longed to slow its progress.  She might be more successful trying to capture the moonbeams that fell across the cold floor through the door that lay ajar for a moment.  She kicked at one with her toe as they laughed at her game, and its absurdity.

Chapter Nine: A Change of Plans

              Now, as they walked the corridors of the Academy, they didn’t bother to shield themselves; everyone was asleep.  Max had insisted on seeing the girls back to their room, on the grounds that he needed to ensure Mira’s well-being.  Nameh was still trying to get used to his gentleman like report, which was also mixed with an unusual onslaught of sarcastic remarks and playful games. 

             
She pulled the small key out of her belt pocket and shoved it into the lock.  As she did, her Shask began to burn, but not the burning of danger.  She paused for a moment, trying to sort out her thoughts.  To her surprise, the door opened before she even turned the key and flung inward.  Standing on the other side of the door was a boy.  He had jet black hair that swooped across his forehead just above his dark, slanted eyes.  His tan skin contrasted the unnaturally white walls of the room, and she guessed that he was Asian of descent.

             
“Finally.” He said, exasperated.  He was looking beyond Nameh, his eyes resting on Max.  “Where have you been?” throwing his hands up and not waiting for an answer, he continued, “Get inside.”  Max gave a small sigh and pushed passed her.

             
“Dude, you have to stop using predictability spells on me.  It’s starting to piss me off.”  Max responded casually, though he didn’t seem that upset.  She and Mira followed them into their room, and both sat on Mira’s bed, because Nameh’s was inhabited.  On it lounged yet another unidentified boy, with hair the same length as the other boy’s, but his falling straight down his forehead in a golden-brown color.  His eyes were almost as dark as the other boy’s, but his skin was much paler.  This boy was lean and muscular like Max, while the first was not either, but seemed softer.  The boy with the brown hair turned, unconcerned, toward the girls, and flashed them a smile.

             
“Hey” he said simply.  The girls only looked at him for a moment, still under shock of having strangers in their room.  Nameh regained composure first.

             
“So, you must be the werewolf, then.” She said, testing him.  She often asked forward questions to get a completely honest reaction from the person.  She wanted to know if he was really as laid back as he was trying to seem.

             
“Born and raised.  So, you must be the mystery Markbearer, then.” He said easily.  As he said this, he slightly raised his eyebrows, telling her that he was a little surprised she already knew he was a werewolf, but couldn’t have cared less that she did.  He even seemed to be impressed that she had already found this out, and looked on her with some respect.  He passed the test.  In fact, he passed the test better than anyone she had ever met.

             
Nameh was a person who drew her conclusions of people quickly, drawing on all of their subtleties.  Rarely did she immediately like a person, but this had happened now twice today, once with Max, and once with the werewolf.

             
“I am.” She responded.  “Or was, rather.” She corrected, referring to the fact that her identity had been found.  “Nameh”, she said, extending a hand toward him.  “What’s your name, werewolf?”  She tested him a second time, only to be sure.  She wasn’t one who particularly enjoyed games of the emotions, but was one who enjoyed finding more about who people really were without their realization.  Again, he flawlessly passed.

             
“Talar” he said without missing a beat, shaking her hand firmly.  Nameh returned the pressure with a tight grasp.  Handshakes had always been important to her; she rarely ever liked people with weak handshakes.  He silently acknowledged this in a glance.

             
“So, are you going to introduce yourself?” he questioned playfully to Mira.  She let out a small laugh before responding.

             
“Of course, I’m Mira.”  Throughout the character analysis of Talar, Nameh realized that she hadn’t been paying attention to the other two boys, who were still standing in the doorway.  They were conferring in hushed tones, and the Asian boy seemed to be frustrated with Max.  They had been waiting for his return, and he hadn’t come as soon as he would have liked.  Max noticed her looking at them, and led his friend over to the other three.  They stood at the foot of the beds, both wearing grim faces.  Max stared at the wall with narrow eyes for a moment before speaking.

             
“There’s been a change of plans.” he began, “We won’t be going to the Vine.” He finished with a sigh, anticipating the repercussions of his words.  “It seems as though there’s been another raid, and all of the Markbearers in training have been killed.” He said with some difficulty.  By the look on his face, Nameh suspected that he had some friends there, although he hadn’t been extremely attached.

             
“They’re
all
dead?” Mira questioned.

             
“Well, not technically all of them.” Talar responded, indicating himself and the other boy.  “Wyd knew they were coming, and so we got the hell out.” He said with a laugh.  “We tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t hear it.  They are protected by some pretty heavy magic, but not magic that the Guild hasn’t seen before.” He said, now taking on a more solemn tone.

             
“So it was the Guild…” Mira mused.  Nameh thought, immediately, of Daniel.  Had he been there?  As much as she wanted to believe that he would never kill innocent, untrained Markbearer children, she couldn’t.  She had to believe that she didn’t know him anymore, that there wasn’t a chance that he would join the right side and swear off dark magic forever.  It was a part of him now; she knew that, she just had trouble accepting it.

             
“But there are other training Academies all over the world, right?  Just like the Guardians have?” Nameh questioned.

             
“There isn’t time,” said the Asian boy softly.  He seemed uncomfortable and shy.

             
“Wyd, there’s got to be time!” shouted Max, not upset with the boy, but with the prospect he proposed.

             
“Look, Max, all I know is that the Guild is already closer than we are to finding the amulet.  You told them about it, right?” he questioned.

             
“Yeah.” He replied absently.

             
“I brought this.” He said weakly, pulling a large, leather bound book from inside his thick jacket.  The jacket was made a white material that resembled suede, but looked much tougher.  She had never seen such a cloth.  Max seemed very pleased at what his friend had brought, and thumbed through the pages briefly.  Catching her questioning look, he responded.

             
“It’s a Markbearer book, one of the original that the Great Warlock gave to his followers.” He paused, furrowing his brow.  “Actually, this one’s so old; I don’t think it’s even taught anymore.  Few people can understand magic this ancient.  Fortunately, we have a warlock with us.” He grinned.

             
“So, basically what you’re telling us is that we’re going to have to learn the great magical arts from a couple of first year students and a book that you can’t really read?” she paused, reading his face.  She found only excitement there, and little fear.  “Awesome.” She finished sarcastically.  Mira tried to hold back a laugh at the comment, but didn’t entirely succeed.

             
“We may as well get started,” said Talar passively.  He pulled himself up onto his elbows to survey the book, and then reached forward to take it.  He laid it down on the bed before him, and gingerly opened the black cover.  He read leading with his finger, as a child just learning to read.  He scanned a few lines silently and then conveyed the information. 

             
“Damn, this is going to be harder than I’d hoped.  I can read it, but it’s not going to be perfect.  It says here that this is actually the first magic book written by the Warlock, and contains everywhere from very easy to very difficult spells.” He said.  Max interrupted with a thought that seemed to have been simmering in his mind for quite some time.

             
“Wyd, you were born a warlock, you have more magical blood in you than any of us here.  You should be able to do all the spells in that book, right?”  His friend only nodded cautiously.  “Then, can’t you at least use a spell that will allow us to understand it?” he asked.

             
“It’s not that simple, most of my magic isn’t effective on Markbearers.” He said, and then added as an afterthought, “You knew that.”