The Frozen Moon: Book Two of The Living Curse series + BONUS Full Version of Book Three! (2 page)

             
Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and life all but fell away.  It was only her, her sword, and the seemingly endless supply of foes.  She had heard only one pixie speak throughout the battle, when he had challenged her.  His voice had been shrill and unpleasant, like dragging a knife over glass.  She wondered why the faeries, who were not much different than the pixies, seemed so much more civil, more
human
.  She cut down another pixie, and another, drawing on the excitement of destroying evil.  The pixies weren’t exactly evil, she thought, but they were more so than the faeries with whom she was fighting.  But who even knew where the line between good and evil rested anymore?  She supposed nearly everyone seemed good in their own mind, and those that stood in their way appeared evil.  The best anyone could do was fight for what they believed in.

             
She was dragged from her thoughts when an arrow embedded itself in her back, penetrating the Guardian battle clothes she was wearing just below the shoulder blade.  She reached back and ripped the arrow from her skin, grimacing against the pain.  Had she not been wearing the Guardian clothes, it would have killed her.  The arrow tip was soaked with her blood, crimson against the steel.  She whirled about to see a pixie standing twenty feet away, his bowstring still quivering.  She was upon him instantly, much to his surprise; he had likely expected her death.  Her body was fully in shock, and she felt almost nothing after the initial blow.  She drew no dagger, no sword, but brandished only his arrow.  With her shoulder and the speed she had gathered, she struck him square the chest, knocking him backward onto the ground.  She stared into his eyes with her own intense glare, “Don’t you know it’s dishonorable to strike from behind?” she nearly growled.  A smile now spread across her face, a look of terror across his.  She stabbed the arrow through his heart, and the delicious irony not wasted on either of them. 

             
As blood poured out of his chest, it mixed with her own that had covered the arrow.  The result was a ghastly black streaked with a deep crimson,
the blood of a human and the blood of a monster so mix
, she thought.  Where did she know those words from?  She didn’t have a chance to search her mind for the answer; her vision was suddenly blurred out in a flash of white light.  All around her, the sounds of battle ceased and were replaced by an unearthly quiet.  She wondered if the arrow had sunk deeper into her torso than she had originally thought, she might have been bleeding out into the late summer earth without even realizing.  Breaking the silence, weapons clattered to the ground in a thunder.

             
The brightness faded, and her eyes adjusted as the light returned to the normal nighttime glow.  So she wasn’t dead.  All around her faeries stood, confused, with weapons still drawn.  She looked down at the pixie she had killed with the arrow.  The blood which had, only a moment ago, covered his body was now gone, leaving behind no traces.  She blinked, trying to put the pieces together in her mind.  A figure jogged over to her from across the lawn, but she was nearly too overwhelmed to recognize Max. 

             
“What did you do?” he asked breathlessly.  She stared at him for a moment, his words seeming to bounce off of her shocked mind.  Finally, they sank in and she responded.

             
“It wasn’t me,” she said.  “I was just fighting, and then…” she trailed off, not sure how to continue; she wasn’t sure what had happened next. 

             
“It was you, I sensed a huge burst of magic coming from you, and then all the pixies were dead.” He said, not hiding his excitement well.  “What was the last thing you did?”

             
“I had just stabbed this pixie with an arrow.” She said, indicating the fallen creature at her feet.

             
“But that’s a pixie arrow,” he started, “where did you get it from?”

             
“He shot me in the back with it,” she said lightly, brushing it off, “it wasn’t bad so I stabbed him with it.” She finished with a smile.  At this, he couldn’t help but laugh.  It had been childish she thought, and it sounded much worse when verbalized, but Max seemed to appreciate this.  He bent and pulled the arrow from the pixie’s chest and examined it.  He seemed to draw his conclusion quickly enough, and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

             
“That’s what I thought,” he began, extending his arm so that she could better see the arrow, “there’s no blood on it.”

             
“There was, it was covered in blood before.” She said, furrowing her brow.

             
“Remember from the book? 
The blood of a human and the blood of a monster so mix, and aid will come to the Markbearer. 
When a Markbearer kills a Child of the Spark who has drawn their blood, and the blood of both mix, a blood vengeance spell becomes possible.”

             
“I didn’t recite the spell – I don’t even know the spell!” she said with frustration.

             
“I assumed that you didn’t, but you struck me as a Listener the first time I met you.”

             
“A what?”  The mystery he was speaking with was growing tiring to Nameh, she was confused and wanted answers.

             
“When you receive the Shask, you are given one of many talents.  Some people are Healers or Sensers, others are Seers or Whisperers, and a few are Listeners.  Listeners are those who can hear magic; basically, they say that when a Listener is in need, the magic that the Great Warlock left behind speaks to them.  That’s why you could use the blood vengeance spell; you saw the blood mixing and knew the potential.”

             
“So, because I killed this pixie with a bloody arrow,
all
the pixies died?” she asked.  Her mind raced with skepticism; she couldn’t possibly have been responsible.

             
“Not all the pixies,” boomed a deep voice.  Nameh turned to face the source of the voice, the general Aksid.  “All the pixies that were battling are now dead, but there are still a small number that would have been guarding the Queen.  It seems that our wars are now over, for the time being.” He said with a gentle smile.  It occurred to her that he was an especially calm Moon faerie, based on Max’s description.  “The pixies will return, after rebuilding their numbers and receiving reinforcements from surrounding tribes.  But for now, you have brought us peace,’ he said with a small bow.

             
“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.