The Frozen Moon

chapter TWENTY-TWO: THE BEGINNING





This time, Max was able to land on his feet as they spun into the hall. His ankles cracked beneath the force as his knees yielded expertly. He began drinking in the beauty of the sights immediately; his dreams had become realized in a single moment. Even before becoming a part of the Vine, he had heard stories of the legend of Alantra for years. He had been told it was the most perfect place a mortal may ever lay eyes on, and he could see now that these statements had not been exaggerations. Though the hall must have been thousands of years old, perhaps more, it showed not a single sign of wear or aging. The white of the walls was the purest he had ever seen, something too clean and perfect to be made by man. The gold lines tracing along the white glittered as though a light came from within them, not just reflecting off of the surface. It appeared as though the long room was lit with bright sunlight, though there were no windows or light sources in sight. The rich blues were more vivid in person than they had been through the ring’s image, deep and fathomless. One could get lost in wonder wandering the lengths of this hall, he thought, with its seemingly endless stretch.

The group walked for what felt like miles before they reached the great hall’s end. Each step was compelled by the prospect of new glories lying just ahead, and each step was rewarded with such. Tapestries and portraits lined nearly all parts of the walls now, depicting great battles and triumphs of times long forgotten. The fabled Mancer war of old stretched across a massive section of wall in an awe-inspiring display. The necromancers of the west and the aeromancers of the east had warred for long months, the westerners atop the backs of fierce dragons, and the easterners atop the swells of great tsunamis, with hurricanes at their backs. He could think of few struggles more worthy of a place in Alantra than the dragon riders and the weather callers. He heard Cal draw a quick breath just ahead of him, and fixed his eyes forward, letting them rest on what he had seen.

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.