Copyright © 2018 Rina S. Mamoon.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photo-copying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior permission of the publisher or author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the address below.
Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, companies, locations, or places is purely coincidental.
Contact by email: [email protected]
Author Website: rinasmamoon.ca
Chapter One
Waking Nightmare
The sun was setting as Mara Ashwood walked home on a cold and snowy December afternoon. Not many people were around, which was odd because the city was often lively during the Winter Festival. The street lights illuminating her path were decorated with wreaths and holly.
A sheet of ice covered the ground; not even a fresh layer of snow helped. She took extra care with each step. Mara frowned, cursing not just the weather. The recent agreement to not celebrate her birthday put her in a foul mood, and she had a right to be sour because it was her twenty-fifth. With the wedding fast approaching, there was no time to throw a small celebration. Even the grand ceremony she kept hearing about didn’t alleviate her disappointment. As she reached her home, a very ornate carriage strolled by and stopped before her. She glanced over, recognizing the wooden carriage decorated in gold. She knew its owners.
“Miss Ashwood,” a man’s voice called from within the transport. He sounded familiar. Peering inside, Mara could identify the short and round man by his greying hair and bright blue eyes. He also had a matching beard and moustache. Mr. White was once her professor in History at the College of Ardana. He didn’t wear his usual attire for the college was closed during the Winter Festival. He wore a thick dark coat over his suit and tie. The extra layer made him appear rounder than usual.
Gazing at the other occupant, she recognized the handsome young man in an instant. Her fiancé, Karl White, was three years older than her. He also wore a matching coat over his black suit, but kept his fit physique. His shiny brown hair was parted on the left side with most of it combed to the right. Karl owned a fairly thin face with a proportioned nose. His upper lip was thinner than the bottom. His narrow chin possessed some stubble, as well as a tuft of hair under the bottom lip. Her fiancé’s eyebrows were groomed to be on the thin side. His pale skin had nary a blemish and his eyes were bright green.
Every time Mara saw Karl, she couldn’t help but think of him as a prince. He was perfect in every way, and he was also very rich and powerful. According to Mom, the Whites were reputable nobles throughout the land. Mara sometimes wondered why he chose her because she was a mere commoner. Karl could’ve chosen any other woman within his social class.
Karl gazed in her direction, his eyes drawing her in. She began to approach the carriage.
“What’s going on?” Mara asked.
“There is a ceremony we must perform prior to the wedding,” Mr. White replied. “It is custom to the Faith.”
“A ceremony?”
The two men nodded.
“It’s like a test.” Mr. White gestured to his ward. “We’ll summon the Goddess, Kallisto. If Karl truly loves you, he can resist her beauty. She will bless your marriage, and grant you two a long and happy life.”
Mara took a step forward, but stopped. She looked back at the wooden house—her family home. “I should let Mom and Dad know.”
“We must leave immediately,” Mr. White insisted. “We’ll let your parents know once the ceremony is complete.”
Mara grew uncertain. She never heard of this ceremony before. What if Karl failed? Kallisto was said to be so beautiful, she could enchant any man who glimpsed at her. How could Mara compete? What if the wedding was cancelled? Mom would be upset, though Dad might be thrilled by the news. He never liked Karl, let alone trusted him or his father. Mom was always in favour of the wedding since she introduced the two.
Even Allen and James Moen, the twin brothers she met in college, were wary of her relationship with Karl. Allen disliked the nobleman because he made their lives miserable. Though Mara chose to forgive Karl, and the two grew closer much to the brothers’ disappointment. If the wedding was cancelled, Allen would jump for joy. No, she shouldn’t be thinking this way. She loved Karl. After Mara entered the carriage, the three departed for Golden Mountain.
While leaving the City of Mirahyll, Mara remained unsure about doing this behind the backs of her family and friends. She gazed at Karl. He looked out the window with a blank expression on his face. It was hard to tell if he was worried. Never once did he look at her. She switched her attention to Mr. White. The older man frowned as he gazed out the window on his side. The looks on their faces confused her. One appeared indifferent while the other was full of dread. Maybe they knew this ceremony would end in misery, but none had the heart to tell her.
***
The carriage finally reached the Temple of Kallisto, located on the mountain. Once the transport stopped, the three got out. The snowy path was lit up by gold and ivory pillars of fire. According to history, this temple was once part of the grand palace the gods ruled from until the cataclysm one thousand years ago. It was also the last place Kallisto was seen before she left this world.
Mara stared up at the temple and froze. Deep down, she didn’t want to do this ceremony. None of her family and friends would be there to comfort her if it failed. She was alone. Her unwillingness to move caught the attention of her two companions. Her fiancé stepped before her and gave a reassuring look.
“It’ll be okay,” Karl said softly.
Seeing his green eyes made her fears melt away. She had to believe in him because he loved her. He turned around and walked up the path. Both Mara and Mr. White followed him up to the temple.
Entering the gold and ivory building, she saw a large group of people also attending the ceremony. They all watched her in scrutiny, making her feel nervous. Not many approved of their relationship—a noble and a commoner. It was as if their love was some unholy union. She ignored them and watched the priestess at the top of the stairs.
High Priestess Alena, the hierarch of the Faith in Ardana, sat on her golden throne. Mara couldn’t see her face for the woman was hidden behind a veil. From head to toe, Alena was dressed in white and gold with many jewels adorning her. She gripped the arm rests before rising to her feet. The priestess descended the stairs and came closer to them.
“No, I will not allow this,” the woman said with a strong and booming voice.
Alena removed her veil, unleashing a bright flash of light which filled the room. The light soon faded, allowing Mara to see the priestess’ true face. She was beyond beautiful with flawless pale skin and long blond hair. Her nose and lips were thin on a heart-shaped face. The woman owned perfect proportions on her feminine frame, being a little more on the slender side. Her golden eyes were familiar to Mara. It was Kallisto.
Everyone sank to their knees while gazing at her. Kallisto’s radiant beauty had completely enthralled the attendants. Only Mara remained unaffected. She saw Karl on his knees, gazing at the goddess’ loveliness. Kallisto approached him with fluid and grace. She reached out and stroked the side of his face. Karl closed his eyes as her hand caressed him.
“Come,” Kallisto commanded.
Karl opened his eyes. He kept looking at the goddess as he rose to his feet. The more he watched her, the more Kallisto’s intoxicating beauty drugged his senses.
&
nbsp; Mara watched as he went to the goddess’ side. She reached out her hand and called to him.
“Karl! No!”
Her cries fell on deaf ears. Kallisto had bewitched him, making him blind to his fiancé’s existence. The goddess continued to hypnotize him, pulling him deeper under her spell. Kallisto leaned in, pressing her lips to his own. Mara grew horrified. Her prince wasn’t pulling away. Instead, he deepened in the kiss while holding the goddess in his embrace. She needed to do something or she would lose him.
“Leave him alone—”
All of a sudden, Mara was struck down by a powerful force. She hit the ground. Every inch of her body throbbed in pain. Looking at her hand, she saw her flesh turn grey. Her nails turned into sharp black claws. Decay spread throughout her body as black scars formed on her face. Her heart pounded out of fear and dread. What was happening to her? Lifting her gaze, Mara noticed the dark stares of the followers. Even the goddess and Karl gave a malicious glare. Seeing her fiancé’s face made her feel something wasn’t right. It was as if he became a different person.
“I had slain you thirty years ago,” Kallisto addressed her, “because you dared to stand in-between our love!”
Remembering what happened, intense rage began to fill Mara. She clenched her teeth as she glared at her murderer. Her canines elongated. Looking back at her claws, she wanted to tear Kallisto apart. She lifted her gaze to the goddess again, revealing glowing yellow eyes. Mara suddenly dashed at her. She wanted to kill Kallisto, but was stopped.
Karl stood before Mara. She froze upon seeing his cold eyes. A sharp pain in her stomach made her look down. A well-crafted sword had impaled her. The black and red grip with strips of gold was familiar. The golden pommel possessed a ruby gemstone. Black blood ran down the steel and silver double-edged blade, flowing towards the gold and silver cross-guard. Even the ruby gem on the guard became stained with her blood. Mara identified the sword as the Hand of Kratés.
Mara looked up at Karl again, but no longer did she see her prince. Commander White stood in his place, gripping the sword that penetrated her abdomen. He wore his commander’s garb which consisted of a dark grey over coat, and golden plates on the left shoulder and bicep. A red cape, cascading the right side of his body, was held together by a brown leather shoulder pad. Brown leather gloves with blue fingers covered his forearms, with the left adorned in the same metal plating. He also wore white pants with brown knee high boots. His thighs were protected by brown leather armour while his knees were covered by golden plates.
She stared into his eyes, wondering why he would do this. Mara opened her mouth to speak, but only blood poured out. He pulled the blade out of her body. She cried out in pain as she hit the ground with a thud. No one moved a muscle to help her. Nobody cared. She watched as the commander rejoined Kallisto and held her in his embrace. The goddess caressed his face and kissed him. Mara tried to get up, but the sword sliced through some vital organs and arteries, making her bleed internally. She was drowning in her own blood. Everything faded to black. The last thing she saw was the goddess and the commander.
***
Mara jolted awake to a cold late-fall morning. Even though it was just a dream, she checked the area where she was stabbed. The wound already healed, yet a notable slice in her black Silver Thorn armour remained.
Gazing at the morning light, Mara felt the warm sun on her face. At least a day passed since escaping from her captors. The frozen air killed off the remaining embers from the campfire she made last night. The tattered black cape she used as a blanket didn’t offer much warmth. Mara groaned as she sat up. Her body ached from laying on the icy ground. She wished she was home, sleeping in a warm bed.
She found herself alone in the wilderness of Terra. The snow covering the trees and ground silenced her surroundings. Mara wondered if the Holy Blades were searching for her; they had to be aware of her escape by now. The stolen long sword remained in her possession, though its durability was wearing down. It wasn’t as good as the sword Talon forged for her. She needed to see the blacksmith as soon as she arrived in Mirahyll. She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. Home was less than a day’s travel, but the growls of her stomach put her mind on other things. She couldn’t recall the last time she ate. At least she knew how to make snares with mere tree branches, thanks to Dad. Mara made some last night, and it was time to check them.
On the way, she found a small body of water which remained unfrozen. She approached it. Looking at her reflection, she pulled down her dark brown mask to reveal a gaunt face. Her greyish skin was decorated with black vertical scars. Her lips were a darker grey colour and her eyes had dark scleras. Only her irises appeared normal until they glowed yellow. This was the face of an undying—a victim cursed with immortality, yet not invincible. Dreadful emotions plagued her mind as she remembered how she became cursed. All of her efforts to regain her human form were undone in an instant. The healing stone from Khan could restore her, but she only had one, and now wasn’t the time to use it. At least her black hood concealed her inhuman visage. She pulled her mask back up and moved away from her reflection.
Approaching the snare, she discovered a hare. The adorable critter was struggling to break free, though it was no match for the huntress’ trap. Mara felt guilty, but her growling stomach demanded sustenance. She approached the rabbit with glowing eyes. The huntress kneeled down and grabbed the animal with her right hand. Even the creature’s cries would not make her think twice. In one smooth motion, she took the creature by the neck and picked it up. With her other hand, she pressed her palm against the creature’s chin and pushed its head back. She took a deep breath and kept pushing until the animal’s neck broke. The creature stopped struggling and went still. Mara looked at the rabbit’s limp body before lowering it and returning to her campfire.
She took some fresh wood and restarted the fire. The flames grew stronger while she turned her attention to the animal. The huntress needed to prepare it for cooking. She used the sword to make a cut along the underbelly. Putting down the blade, she began to pull the hide off. As Mara skinned the rabbit, her navy blue gloves became stained in blood. Once she removed all of the fur, she cooked it over the flame. Mara took the time to clean her gloves while waiting. She rubbed some snow on them. The blood came out, revealing the pale blue fur and feathers lining them. Even the brown leather straps with gold buckles became like new. She glanced back at her cooking. It had to be ready by now. Mara never ate rabbit before, yet didn’t have much of a choice. She pulled down her mask and took a piece. Her fangs pierced the meat, tearing off pieces and swallowing. Thanks to her dulled sense of taste, it wasn’t too bad. As an undying, she could only taste meat. If Mara was restored, she could appreciate the taste of milk, cheese, bread, and vegetables. Once she finished her meal, she put out the campfire, then left for Mirahyll.
Mara needed to be cautious because she remained within enemy territory. She glanced up at the gold and ivory temple sitting on the higher elevation of Golden Mountain. The huntress hoped she didn’t have to return anytime soon. At least it appeared quiet. Ozin Village was also nearby, in which she made a habit to avoid. She promised herself to never go near that village again after what happened to her and Saskia. With the Holy Blades swarming the place, she would do best to keep a distance.
Drawing closer to home, Mara spotted the large tree she used to sit under while taking a break in her travels. All the leaves had fallen to the ground, leaving the branches bare. Regardless of the season, she felt drawn to this tree. Some small birds took residence, flitting from one branch to another. Mara identified them as black-capped chickadees. The little birds took notice of her presence, warning the others before they all flew off. She watched as they left her alone. The air became cold. She saw her breath while a single snowflake fell. Mara wasn’t aware of snow today. At least the roads were quiet. She wrapped her cape around her body as she took the northern road to the city.
***
Much of the d
ay had passed by the time Mara reached Mirahyll. Unlike her dream, the city was much more lively. Although the street lights had no decorations on them. That often signified the Winter Festival, which spanned from December 21 to the end of the month. It was either very early or the event was cancelled. Many people walked the streets, taking notice of her raggedy appearance. They kept a distance from her. Mara figured it was from her rough appearance or the fact she smelled. The last couple of skirmishes had taken a toll on her attire.
As long as the hood casted a shadow and her mask concealed her face, she didn’t draw much attention. The snow increased. The snowy city reminded Mara of her travels to Hemal with its similar gothic architecture. Heading to her parent’s home, she noticed a crowd gathering before a gold and ivory cathedral. The Grand Cathedral was dedicated to the Faith of Kallikratés, an ancient theocratic order—the very same order responsible for her predicament. She was unsure about investigating, but something was going on. Most of the people in the front were dressed in fancy attire. Nobles from the upper quarters came to attend the meeting. Not too far from the cathedral were the towering houses they inhabited. The manors could be mistaken for castles. Mara remained inconspicuous by staying in the back with the middle and lower class citizens. They didn’t seem to mind her presence.
Before the podium stood a priest in gold and ivory robes. Mara had seen the middle-aged man before, although she never cared to take notice of his features. The priest appeared to be overweight with fair skin. Some greying strands of hair was present under his cap. His eyes were blue. The look on his face was dismissive and arrogant. The huntress knew what the man was like based on her previous interaction with him.
“The time of the Dark One’s awakening is nigh,” Father Vernon announced. “The prophecy looms, but our salvation has arrived. The Great Lord Kratés has been reborn!” He gestured to a figure next to him.
Mara glanced over to the man beside the priest and froze. Commander White approached the podium as Father Vernon stepped aside. He looked exactly as he appeared in her dream. The commander stood proud with his hands behind his back, giving a stoic expression. Only he showed up. Her murderer likely remained in her temple in Golden Mountain. At least he hadn’t noticed her. Seeing his frozen face reminded Mara of the ill-fated attempt to slay the goddess. She reached for the spot where he stabbed her. Even though the wound was gone, the pain of betrayal remained.
The Cursed Herald Page 1