The Frozen Moon: Book Two of The Living Curse series + BONUS Full Version of Book Three! (16 page)

They found the others in a cluster, already assembled back to back within a ring of attackers who were slowly closing in.  As
Talar and Nameh parted the ring with metal and teeth, it was already closing in again, there would be no way out, she concluded.  This would be it, the final stand.  The friends silently acknowledged each other, and Nameh felt a weight lift from her chest.  They were all accounted for, and none had yet been lost.  None were in good condition, however.

She took a place between Mira and Seth, their arms lightly brushing as they grunted through battle.  She savored the feeling of human touch when she felt that she was at such a distance from the world.  It was hard to feel real anymore.  Blood spattered across their skin and faces and clothes, creating a gruesome scene.  Her mind blurred with exhaustion, but she fought on, plunged on.  They were making headway, fewer and fewer were closing in until they stopped coming altogether.  There were roughly thirty or forty still about them, but hope was sparking within her chest that she could not deny.  With a second wind and new found energy, she flung a disc from the pouch at her waist and it gracefully slid through the neck of one nearby. 

“That’s why I told you not to touch those.” Her voice held a lightness that she had not felt since the beginning of the battle.  She spoke for the first time since it had begun; she needed to hear the sound of her friend’s voice beside her.

“Thanks for the warning.”  She could hear the smile in Mira’s voice. 
Wyd stood in the center of the circle, protected by those battling, spinning defense spells and god only knew what else.  Through his work, she imagined, the group felt something cool slide across their skin, like water hardening into ice around them.  Nameh looked down to see that a thin armor now covered her body, where torn and stained leather had been failing.  He was probably absorbing magic from those fallen around them, because now she could even sense a thin shield around the entire group, a difficult task.  Cutting through her moment of reprieve was a piercing shriek that could not be mistaken.  It sent chills down her spine and shivers down the nape of her neck at the realization of what was coming.  Before she could find words of warning, Cal’s voice cut through the air with a ferocity and fear.

“Harpies!” was the single word he uttered, and all that needed to be said.  They were upon the cluster as the word had scarcely been comprehended, their dark bodies melding with the falling night.  Her body reacted before her mind did, lashing out at the creature headed directly for her.  The familiar black blood oozed from its stomach where she had wounded it, pouring onto her face and body as the monster withered to the ground.  She wiped it from her eyes barely in time to see the next Harpy crashing into her, claws extended.  They ripped through her stomach and shoulder, piercing skin even through the metal plating, drawing blood and knocking her body to the ground.  Her breath was stolen by the impact with the cold and hard ground as the claws sank even deeper into her flesh.  She gasped for air and tried to roll the creature off with no success.  Its blank eyes contained only rage as they stared down at her helpless figure.  She turned her head to the side to see that at least a dozen Harpies had her friends in similar situations, save
Talar who was ripping through one that could not pin him down.  For a moment her mind went blank with pain, she had no thoughts, no connection to the razor claws that were sinking into her body, and no knowledge of her consciousness slipping away.  It was at that moment that she was able to give up, give in, and end it all.

She had been right, she laughed in her mind at a last thought.  Death was easy.

             
The kind of softness that came from giving up was difficult to shake, or rather, difficult to find the will to shake.  The relenting was not entirely of her decision; her body was scarcely responding to her directions as it was.  But as difficult as this sometimes is, there is often a specific trigger, one thing that can push one over the edge back into the land of the living.

             
Daniel had reappeared.  He wielded the same sword she had always known him to, strapped to his back.  But much worse, he wore the same smug grin she had always known him to.  Only now it was directed at her.  He saw her pinned down beneath the monster’s grasp and delighted in it.  His condescending glance was all she needed to carry her back to the battlefield where she had left her broken body.  Her blurry vision focused, her senses sharpened, and the adrenaline pulsed through her veins.  She used her free arm to slash at the creature perched on her stomach.  It fell, broken, to the side from the force of her blow, which surprised even her as she dragged herself to her feet.  Her mark burned with a sense of renewal, it had not given up either.  Her healing spell was still working, but it was no comparison to what Cal could do.  Six Harpies lay in crumpled heaps about the group, leaving five standing.  She slashed at the nearest, tearing through Mira, again and again.  The vengeance which filled her was unprecedented, renewing her body and her energy.  She cut down two more without a thought and ran toward Mira, falling at her side.  She was stirring, alive, but barely. 

             
“Cal!” she called, but she saw that he was fighting off one of the Harpies.  “Hold on Mira,” she said helplessly, “he’s coming.”   She brushed a piece of hair from her face, plastered to the skin from sweat, blood, and dirt.  She was lying with her eyes closed and her breathing shallow, almost peaceful.  Like a child even.  She ripped her eyes away from the unbearable sight of her suffering friend and ran toward the opponent Cal was facing.  She transferred all of her momentum from running into the creature, and sank the sword up to the hilt in flesh.  She twisted it abruptly and snuffed out the monster.  Her hands were covered with the sickening black oil along with the metal as she pulled it out again.

             
“Thanks,” breathed Cal.  He had been wearing down, that she could see.  She was now beginning to feel her own body’s protests against her persistence.  She could feel blood seeping from the deep wounds on her stomach.  The claws had pierced nearly clean through, and she wouldn’t last long in this state. 

             
“Forget it.”  Her mind was already elsewhere.  “Mira,” she began, “she’s in really bad shape.”  He knelt slowly, she could see that he was in pain, and absorbed the magic from the fallen Harpy.  She did the same absently, and could immediately feel it replenishing her energy.  The change was visible in Cal, his shoulders straightened and eyes brightened.  He then hurried over to where Mira lay a few feet away, and she moved on to the remaining Harpies.  Seth had killed another in the meantime, and Max and Wyd were fighting another.  Again, her body led as her mind was struggling to function from fatigue.  She absorbed again, and felt the power and healing fill her pleasantly like a hot drink.

             
The last Harpy fell and an eerie quiet fell over the scene.  She realized that there had been constant noise since the battle had begun, and it was strange to hear nothing except the sound of heavy breathing.  She suddenly realized what had brought her back into reality only moments ago: Daniel.  Had she imagined him?  She didn’t think so, she whirled about to see a disheartening sight.  Daniel stood, unscathed, surrounded by a group of his followers, who had apparently retreated when the Harpies had come.  They had come so far, and yet a small army still remained against them, it seemed impossible.  Cal was pulling Mira to her feet, the color returning to her face.  Relief washed over her at the sight, but did not bring her any more hope.  It seemed that they had drawn this war out as far as they could.  It was seven against roughly six times that many, and the seven were losing their grips on life already.  She put her arm around Mira, and pulled her into one final embrace.  She turned to face the others and managed a smile of closure, which was weakly returned.  To her surprise, it was Max who pulled the whole group into a battered embrace.  In it, she felt dirt and sweat and blood and love.  She felt at peace with them, and finally accepted loving them.  She supposed love had to be lost once it was learned to be retained, though she did not know why.  But she had never known anything else, and never expected anything else.  At least, she thought, she would always have these last weeks, this day, this moment. 

             
She tried to picture what they looked like, human clothes hanging ragged in shreds and scraps under Wyd’s armor, mud, dirt and blood streaked over sweat glistening skin.  She turned and raised her eyes to meet Daniel’s; she had always thought those green eyes would be her downfall.  Only one side could win, and good doesn’t always prevail, she knew too well.  Daniel, at last, stepped forward, emerging from his group of followers.  She resented the fact that he hadn’t even partaken in the battle, but allowed others to fight for him, this was the final piece of evidence that no trace of his former self remained; Daniel
always
fought his own battles.  But this was not Daniel, she reminded herself.  He spoke again, as he had before the battle, with no traces of fatigue.

             
“I’m impressed,” he began, “I didn’t think you’d last that long.”  His voice was dripping with honey as always, with the undertones of acid.  She was tired of dealing with him, tired of going on in this endless game of cat and mouse.  He’d been after her for years, ever since she left, and she knew he would not relent even if they escaped now. 

             
“No more games Daniel.”  Her voice was rigid and cold, and it took great effort to keep it from shaking from fatigue, but she accomplished her final goal.  No traces of formality remained, only the spite she felt toward him and all that he stood for.  “End it now.”  She wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t lie down and die, but didn’t want to delay it any longer.

             
“You didn’t really think you could win, did you?”  His voice took on a more serious tone now.  “What you just faced wasn’t even half of what I have.  And once I have the amulet, I’ll be utterly unstoppable.”  He paused, seeming to consider something, though she knew he already had his speech planned out.  “I might spare you, you know.  For old times’ sake.  All you need to do is hand over the amulet, it could all be over, all be easier.”  His words were tempting, her tired mind longed to succumb to the timbre of his voice, to curl up and sleep this pain away.

             
“You’ve known me long enough to know that will never happen.”  Her voice was still cold, but now it seemed empty, as though her very vocal chords knew nothing mattered much at this point.

             
“We’re called fighters for a reason.”  It was Mira’s voice that surprised Nameh from behind her.  She smiled in spite of it all for a moment at how much her friend had changed, how much stronger she had become.  Had she changed?  One could rarely tell this of oneself.  She certainly felt different; for one, she now had those she loved, but what good had this wrought?

             
“If the end is what you want, I would be happy to oblige, though I still think you should reconsider my offer.  You would make excellent additions to my army, and with some dark magic, you could be useful.”  As he spoke, he picked at something underneath his fingernail, his eyes averted, though she suspected there was nothing there.  Now, he playfully raised his eyes without changing the angle of his head, in this manner he looked as devious as he ever had.  “But then, you were always opposed to the practice of dark magic, weren’t you?  Too bad.”  His voice held the casual air that made Nameh think of a person selecting which chicken to slaughter for a Sunday dinner.  Soon, she thought, it would be their blood dripping across the wooden slat floor.  It didn’t seem to matter to him whether they lived or died, and she suspected as much.  Even now, he meant more to her than that, at the very least, he was a simple human life.  Not that she wouldn’t kill him if she got half a chance, which she didn’t anticipate.

             
“Then with that, I suggest you at least admire the awe-inspiring spectacle of dark magic at its finest hour.”  A grin spread across his face as he prepared his spell, the spell that would end them.  He raised his hands as an eerie greenish light began to glow in his palms.  But the world was already fading around the edges; she was bleeding out too quickly.  She suspected as much of the others, as they slipped toward the ground.  She knew the magic had not yet begun working, and that they may be dead before it was complete.  Her hands felt for others, and she grasped them with what energy she had left, which was very little.  She didn’t know whose they were, but it didn’t matter.  They were crusted with dirt and blood, both their own and others. 

             
As she was thinking her last thoughts, an idea, rather an inkling pushed itself into the back of her mind.  It was as though a small voice was whispering into her ear with great vigor, much like the first time she had Listened, something she needed to hear.  All at once, it hit her.  She again became aware of the cool metal hanging about her neck.  The graceful curves forged from Moon Faerie magic spoke to her, assembled themselves in her mind to form a word she could read, understand.  It was this that was whispering into her ear with such force.

             
She could feel the magic rising from Daniel, whichever spell he was spinning was certainly powerful, but it was taking him time.  Nameh struggled through her few words, likely her last, drawing every drop of energy from her broken and bleeding body.  They tumbled from her dry lips like weary travelers, but somehow she knew they had served their purpose.  When they had scarcely been uttered, her vision softened into darkness, and she was surrounded by a feeling that was both pleasantly warm and cool.  All she knew was that she was far away from the tormenting scene at the memorial.  It was a comfort that made her want to linger forever, and perhaps she would.  Was this what death is like?