The Named

by Marianne Curley

  ‘Are you all right?’ Ethan asks.

  I nod, still getting my breath back from the suddenness and the violence of that illusion gone insane. ‘We have to get out of here.’

  ‘Exactly.’ But just as he takes my hand and starts to call Arkarian, a large image starts generating before us. As it takes deeper form, a sense of evil fills the room with such intensity it grows suffocating. Even before his shape fully forms, I realise who our visitor is – Marduke.

  He raises his hands in the air and all the light in the room starts to swirl and form a spiralling rainbow drawn to his palms. He flexes his fingers and this swirling light quickly disappears, emptying into his hands, every last ray and beam.

  The room becomes completely dark except for Marduke’s one glowing yellow eye.

  Ethan looks stunned, hardly breathing. I start worrying about his health, realising with a deep sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, that this is the first time he has come face to face with his worst nightmare. And while he won’t see anything in this darkness, he can make out Marduke’s form from his glowing eye. ‘Ethan, are you OK?’

  He gathers his senses quickly. ‘I could do with some light.’ Keeping his eyes on the huge man before us, he feels his way to stand directly in front off me.

  Instinctively I lift my feet, hugging my knees, and try not to inhale too deeply. The smell now is nothing like the flowery scent Margaret left behind, but that of something rotting, something foul.

  Marduke’s hands begin to glow as he motions Ethan aside. ‘It’s not you I want. At least, not yet.’

  ‘What is it with you? What do you want with Isabel?’

  ‘She’s the first pawn to set my plan in motion.’

  ‘What plan?’

  ‘What do you think? I tire of these games you play. It’s time the score is finally settled.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Neither Isabel nor I have ever harmed you. We don’t know you, except in our dreams …’

  Marduke becomes irritated with Ethan’s questions. ‘You,’ he says, flexing his glowing fingers directly at Ethan, ‘I will deal with later.’ Blue streaks of lightning flash from Marduke’s fingertips as he motions them first at Ethan, then at the opposite wall. Instantly, the room fills with brilliant electric colour; and Ethan is catapulted horizontally through the air, crashing against the far wall.

  Marduke turns his head to look at me and smiles with half a mouth. ‘And now –’

  But Ethan interrupts him, staggering quickly to his feet, and screaming. It’s a cry meant to distract Marduke.

  It works.

  Marduke groans, annoyed. ‘You are either stupidly courageous or simply impatient for death.’

  ‘Impatient for death,’ Ethan replies in a hoarse voice, and, with his right hand held out, wills his dagger to his palm. ‘Yours.’

  Marduke lifts his massive hands once again, but this time Ethan is faster. He screams for a second time, a cry of rage, then hurls the shining blade across the room.

  The dagger slashes straight into Marduke’s shoulder, wounding him. Blood wells up and spreads down his left arm.

  Marduke roars. The sound ought to wake the entire house and surrounding neighbours, but Abigail doesn’t stir, and neither does the house. It must be under some sort of enchantment.

  Marduke yanks Ethan’s dagger out of his flesh. Blood spurts, sending Marduke into a frightening rage. He rampages like a crazed animal around the room, grabbing Ethan and crushing him inside his massive arm. For a second I fear Marduke may have broken Ethan’s back with the vicious jolt, but then Ethan jerks forward, trying to break free of this huge man’s hold. But Marduke is filled with a rage-induced strength that quickly reduces Ethan’s thrusts to mere pathetic twitches.

  ‘Watch,’ Marduke hisses, pointing the dagger straight at me, his glowing hands lighting a path like a torch. ‘Watch her die by your own blade.’

  The dagger shimmers in his hand a second before slicing through the air as Marduke flicks it straight in my direction. I see it coming, but can’t move to save myself. My exhaustion from the healing session is still affecting my limbs, and moreover I think Marduke has thrown a spell over me. My eyes remain fixed to the glistening, blood-soaked blade.

  The last thing I hear before the dagger hits, slicing deeply into the centre of my chest, is Ethan’s impassioned scream. ‘Arkarian!’

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Ethan

  Arkarian delivers us straight into the healing room in the Citadel, a room made entirely of brilliant shimmering crystal. With trembling arms he lays Isabel on a narrow table. ‘What happened?’

  She looks so pale, her hands clutched tightly around the dagger jutting out of her chest, blood soaking her white nightshirt from neck to waist. ‘What does it look like?’

  Arkarian loosens Isabel’s fingers, takes the dagger between his two hands, firmly but gently pulling it out and covering the wound with the palms of his hands. ‘Who did this?’

  ‘Marduke, of course! Didn’t you see?’

  ‘The room was black.’ Arkarian’s voice is flat.

  ‘You can heal her, can’t you Arkarian? This is the healing room, isn’t it?’

  He turns to me, tears coursing down his face, a sight that chills my spine. ‘Ethan,’ he says slowly, ‘Isabel has a blade in her heart. She is already dead.’

  ‘Nooo! Bring her back!’

  ‘If only I could!’ He shakes his head, staring fixedly at Isabel’s ashen face, as if in a daze. ‘But I’m not a healer, and even if I were, her soul is already gone.’

  ‘But her body is … still back in her room. She’s sleeping in her bed.’

  ‘For now. But her soul is not within it.’

  ‘Where is her soul?’

  ‘Lost.’

  ‘No! Where? Can I find it and bring it back?’

  His violet eyes pierce me. ‘Her soul would be wandering the middle world for as long as it takes for her to cross the bridge.’

  ‘And when she crosses this bridge, what then?’

  ‘Her mortal body will stop breathing, completing her death.’

  ‘Then there’s still a chance to save her. To find her in this place and bring her back before her mortal body stops breathing.’

  ‘It isn’t possible. Nobody’s ever done it before.’

  ‘I will do it. Just tell me how. Help me, Arkarian.’

  His hands fly up, then down again in a movement filled with panic. He spins around as if searching for something, then spins back, realising he doesn’t really know what it is. ‘Isabel has an affinity with the light, it’s part of her gift.’ He’s thinking fast. ‘Lady Arabella recognised it, that’s why she gave her the gift of sight by any kind of light. Isabel will be drawn to the light of this middle world.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘This light will show her the way to the bridge. Where others may take countless years searching, not really understanding what they’re looking for, or even why they are on this path, Isabel will be drawn straight to it.’

  ‘How long will her journey take?’

  ‘Hours perhaps at the most.’

  To me the choice is easy. ‘I will go.’

  ‘Ethan, this land is inhabited by all the middle creatures. Lost souls, souls that don’t belong or fit in our mortal world.’

  ‘I’m not afraid.’

  ‘There’s one more thing. Isabel must hear your voice or she won’t turn away from the light.’

  ‘I’ll call to her. I’ll scream if I have to.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ His voice is tight with a hysterical note I’ve never heard coming from him before. ‘She will only hear the voice of her soul-mate.’

  ‘What?’ Instantly it occurs to me, and I thump his chest with the palm of my hand. ‘Well that’s me, Arkarian!’

  His eyes shift to mine slowly. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Since we were little kids she’s had this huge crush on me. She doesn’t think I know. And, well
, when we were in John of Gaunt’s bedroom, we kissed.’

  ‘I know. I saw.’

  ‘So you see, I’m her soul-mate.’

  ‘All that shows me is that Isabel is in love with you. But what about you? Do you feel the same way about her?’

  I stop for a second, searching for the truth in my heart. How do I feel about Isabel? ‘I … Sure, I … I care for her. I think she’s great. We’re best friends.’

  ‘Do you love her?’

  ‘I, I don’t know exactly, but …’ My eyes move to Isabel’s still and colourless body draining of blood. If I’m her soul-mate, then I have a chance to save her life. So I just have to be. ‘I’m her soul-mate, Arkarian. I know this. Let me go. I have to try.’

  ‘All right, Ethan. But first there are some things that you must know.’

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Ethan

  This middle world is grey and dull, like a black and white video. Arkarian deposits me in the middle of a forest. The trees are differing shades of white and grey, the vines silver, stretching out around me like cobwebs. I pull the vines down out of my way, noting their dry texture, nothing like the silky moistness of a mortal forest.

  I see her immediately, way up ahead, a small white figure in the distance. I run in her direction, looking for the light that’s guiding her, but I can’t see anything in the low-hanging grey sky. I find my path blocked by a fallen tree so high and wide I can only just see over the top of it. I throw myself across, finding footholds where I can, scrambling to the top. Out of the corner of my eye I see a dark shadowy movement. Instinctively I cringe to the side, just in time, as a tarantula the size of a small dog scurries on eight hairy legs towards me, screeching in such a high-pitched tone that my ears begin to ache. It spots me and tilts its head to one side as if trying to figure out whether I’m friend or foe. Suddenly it lifts itself up on its hind legs and screeches again, preparing to jump. Adrenalin shoots through my bloodstream, giving me a strong burst of energy, and I take a flying leap to the other side.

  Running now as fast as I can, I remember Arkarian’s warning: ‘Your fears will be exaggerated. If you succumb to them, the creatures of your nightmares will become reality. Keep your thoughts pure and you will not be harmed. There is good and evil in that place, but mostly wandering lost souls, creatures unaware that they are even dead. They will inhabit the shapes of your fears.’

  I try to keep my mind focused on the white figure of Isabel speeding off ahead. I keep running until I finally find myself out of the forest and in a vast clearing that leads directly into a beautiful but grey valley, with a seemingly endless snow-capped mountain range to the distant right. It hits me just how vast and never-ending this place is. A movement from the valley floor catches my eye. A family of grey wolves, mother, father and five large pups, play and frolic in a field of lush grey grass. My heart leaps and I freeze to the spot, unable to take my eyes off these larger-than-life creatures. Is nothing small in this place?

  Reluctantly dragging my eyes off the family of wolves, I search for Isabel. Finally finding her slight figure darting away, heading directly into the valley below. The same valley the family of wolves have made their home. I’ve heard that wolves are very protective of their young. I stretch up on the rocky ridge-top and cup my hands around my mouth. ‘Isabel!’

  But she doesn’t hear me, even though my voice echoes deep into the valley. She must still be too far in front. Instead the wolves, all seven of them, turn their heads at the sound of my cry, sniffing the air through widened nostrils. And I realise with a sickening sensation in my stomach what I’ve done. The largest wolf climbs up on a boulder, lifts his head and howls. His mate joins him and also gives a lonesome howl. The sound of these howls draws others out. My heart thunders wildly at the sight that stretches out before me as literally hundreds of wolves gather from every direction. They start to move towards my ridge, picking up speed quickly, their long and lithe limbs pounding the cold grey earth. But the worst of it is the sight of Isabel, running on light footsteps, about halfway between the ridge and the mass of snarling and hissing wolves.

  ‘Isabel!’

  It’s no good, she keeps running, oblivious of the approaching wolves. How can I make her hear me? I run straight towards her, faster than I think possible, and then harder still; but now that I’m not standing on the ridge any more, I lose sight of her. All I can see is the pack of huge wolves.

  Now they’re upon me. Grey dust flings into my face as the wind from their rushing bodies sends me flying and I expect to feel teeth ripping into my throat. But no – ‘keep your thoughts pure,’ Arkarian had said. They’re only playing. I try to tell myself. No harm … I glance up to see a wolf leap straight over me, then another. A small break in the pack and I sprint towards the only cover within sight, a boulder in the middle of their path. I scrunch up beneath it, making myself as small as possible, as they continue over the top and around both sides of my temporary hiding place, seemingly oblivious of my presence.

  And all I can think is that Isabel must surely be lying somewhere nearby, her body either smashed into the grey dirt or mauled to shreds.

  Eventually, the last of the wolf pack leaps over me, and the dust starts to settle. A last lonely wolf pup prances around my boulder playfully. It catches sight of me crouched in a tiny ball covered in dust, and looks at me as if it recognises something in my frightened eyes. With seeming reluctance it turns away, sniffs the air, then moves on after the rest of the pack.

  I get up and take a deep settling breath, scouring the countryside for any sign of Isabel, my mouth completely dry, expecting the worst. I see her, a slight figure in white, clambering up a series of boulders that border a river.

  Relief washes through me, making my legs feel like the liquid in that river, but then the thought hits me that Isabel is supposedly heading towards a bridge, and here we are now following a river. I scream at her once again. ‘Isabel!’

  But still she’s too far away.

  I start running again, ignoring the pain developing in my chest from trying to run while my lungs are still full of all that grey dust. ‘Isabel!’ I call again.

  For a second she pauses and I think at last she’s going to turn. Instead, she bends down and sniffs a grey flower. The image sparks a sharp memory.

  Instantly, a gust of wind like a mini-tornado descends over me, pinning me to the ground. And in a flash the wind disappears and a dark figure forms. I know straight away who it is; no one else is half as tall or evil or hideously deformed.

  This time I will not act unthinkingly. I urge myself to find an inner calm before facing this man. ‘Marduke, I didn’t know you were a lost soul.’

  He laughs, an uneven guttural sound. ‘You willed me here, you fool.’

  My memory, I realise. Now how do I get rid of him? He grins with half a mouth. ‘You can’t.’

  Hmm, he hears my thoughts too. I take a deep breath and try to see around him to Isabel up ahead. She’s started walking again, hugging the river’s edge. And this time I see something in the distance beyond her, something startlingly white. My God, I think it’s the bridge.

  When he speaks, his voice is teasing. ‘You won’t reach her, and even if you did, your voice is not the one that will make her turn.’

  ‘You’re lying.’ I remember Arkarian’s warning on how to dispel what isn’t real in this world. ‘You’re also not really here.’

  ‘But I am, Ethan. You created me in your thoughts.’

  ‘An image from my dreams, yes, I know. But now I call you what you really are at this moment – a figment of my imagination.’ I wave my hand at him. ‘Be gone!’ I walk straight towards him, my hands raised up, palms outwards, as if to shove him aside, while mentally pushing all doubts firmly away.

  I recall Arkarian’s advice: ‘If you believe with all your heart, the illusion created from your own mind will disappear.’

  Just as I’m about to crash into Marduke’s thick torso, he breaks up, leaving only spr
inkles of grey dust.

  ‘Yes!’ Now for Isabel. I glance up ahead and see her standing on the edge of a shimmering white bridge. ‘God, no, Isabel!’

  She doesn’t turn but seems to hesitate. I run, jumping over boulders in my way, ignoring the small animals scurrying across my path. ‘Isabel!’

  She steps on to the bridge, but finally I’m so close that she must surely hear me. ‘Isabel!’

  She takes another step. I reach the very edge where the bridge begins; Isabel is no more than a few paces away. But with her back to me she takes another step.

  ‘Isabel! It’s me, Ethan! Turn around and look at me!’

  She doesn’t turn and I realise that I have failed. Marduke was right when he said I’m not the one who will make her turn.

  I’m not her soul-mate.

  What do I do now? In three more steps she will reach the other side. ‘Isabel!’ But it’s useless. She takes two more steps. Two steps closer to death.

  Defeat hangs heavily inside me. There’s nothing left I can do.

  But suddenly a voice calls out from behind, one word whipping past my shoulder, not in any way spoken loudly, but filled with a vibrancy and deep passion all the same. ‘Isabel.’

  She stills, her right foot motionless in the air. I turn and see Arkarian. He comes up and stands beside me. ‘Isabel, turn around and come home.’

  She turns, and the three of us disappear, straight back to the healing room in the Citadel.

  And now Isabel is breathing again. The blood on her shirt is a stark reminder of what we’ve just experienced, but her wound is completely sealed.

  She opens her eyes. ‘What … what happened?’

  My eyes meet Arkarian’s across the top of her body. His expression warns me to stay quiet. He looks down at Isabel. ‘What can you remember?’

  She pulls herself to a sitting position and rubs the side of her head. ‘Marduke appeared in Abby’s room. He …’ She touches her bloodstained chest. ‘He threw a dagger and …’ Her eyes snap up and lock with mine. A tentative smile forms. ‘Did you save me, Ethan?’