The Named

by Marianne Curley

  I lower my arm and try not to squint. ‘I’m just tired, OK? Now what’s eating you? Why did you come into my room in the first place?’

  He plonks down in the green plastic chair, making an annoying squeaky sound. ‘I want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Nothing. I was just in a deep sleep, that’s all.’

  He looks at me with half-closed eyes and a puzzled frown. ‘I meant what’s with you and Ethan?’

  ‘Oh.’ I have to relax before I make him suspicious for no other reason than my own stupidity. ‘Well, it’s still the same answer – nothing. Nothing is going on.’

  ‘You can’t spend as much time with someone as you do with Ethan, almost every day, and it not mean anything.’

  After what just happened, with Ethan saving my life – though I’m not real clear on the details ’cause my head’s in a bit of a mess right now – I think our relationship is finally taking off. The time we spend training in the hills around the lake is incredible, the most fun I’ve had in a long time. As for our trips into the past, nothing can surpass those adventures. Even getting stabbed in the chest doesn’t deter me. Instinctively, I run my hand over the place Ethan’s dagger recently pierced. Matt misreads the action.

  ‘When are you going to admit the truth, Isabel?’

  I glance up at him and he says, ‘Look at yourself. You’re worse than a love-sick puppy.’

  Withdrawing my hand, I tug the quilt up around my knees and chest, and take the moment to form the words necessary to get Matt off my back. ‘Look, Matt, Ethan and I are just friends working on a project together. That’s the truth.’ Well, part of it, that is. A project so huge that I hope we’ll be working together for a long time. But that’s not what Matt needs to hear. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Matt. I really like Ethan. He’s fun and not at all the weird person you make him out to be.’

  He starts to object. I hold my hand up and cut him off, crossing the fingers of my other hand beneath the quilt. ‘But I realise now my obsession with Ethan was just a childhood crush.’

  Matt nods, seemingly content I’m telling the truth. I sigh, finally relaxing, and decide to get Matt right off the subject before he drills me with more questions. ‘I looked for you earlier. Were you with Rochelle tonight?’

  ‘I was for a while, but she said she was tired and wanted to go to bed early, so I went over to Dillon’s. I thought he might know something about you and Ethan.’

  ‘Why would you ask Dillon about me and Ethan?’

  ‘That’s simple: you’re not telling me anything. And oddly enough, Dillon has kept being friends with Ethan, and friends talk.’

  ‘And what did Dillon tell you?’

  He shrugs dejectedly. ‘Nothing really.’

  My head shakes. My brother is obsessed – with suffocating me. But I don’t want to encourage this line of conversation. ‘You’re way too serious for someone your age, Matt. You gotta get a better life.’

  ‘You could be right,’ he sighs. Pulling himself out of the chair, he leans over me. ‘I’m sorry I scared you earlier. I shouldn’t have tried to wake you. It’s just the words in that notebook kind of gave me a creepy feeling I couldn’t shake.’

  He sounds so melancholy, and to get his mind off the notebook, I wrap my arms around him for a reassuring hug. ‘That’s OK. It was waking to the sight of your face that scared me half to death.’

  He hugs me back, a rare sibling moment we haven’t shared in years. ‘Well thanks. How nice of you to say.’

  As he draws away, a familiar scent hits me, sending a chill through my entire body. ‘What’s that smell?’

  As he straightens, he sniffs the air. ‘What? Do you mean that flowery scent?’

  I nod but don’t speak; my tongue feels as if it’s doubled in size. The whiff of that flowery aroma reminds me too much of the scent left behind by the assassin in Abigail Smith’s bedroom. I work some moisture into my mouth and try to swallow. ‘Yeah, that perfume. Why do you smell of it?’

  He shrugs and moves to the door. ‘It’s not perfume. But if you like it, I’ll try to get you some. It’s Rochelle’s eye drops, for her allergy. She swears by it, says it works like a miracle on tired eyes. It does too, I tried some myself today.’

  I force myself to breathe. ‘Oh, really?’

  ’Yeah, she has it specially made by some out-of-town herbalist.’

  I watch, speechless, as his jaw slides right, then left, a nervous gesture he’s perfected over the years. And then he says, ‘It’s made from some sort of unique flower. A giant iris, I think.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Ethan

  This week I train Isabel harder than ever before. We even practise our landings.

  ‘We’re going back to see King Richard II.’

  ‘I thought you said we can’t go back to the same time twice?’

  ‘The exact same time. But Richard is thirty-two now.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah, and …’ I have to tell her about Dad and how the Tribunal want him to come back and finish his mission – and deal with Marduke. I tell her most of what Arkarian explained and how Dad has to make sure Richard goes on his planned trip to Ireland.

  ‘But we could do that, couldn’t we? Why drag your father into this, when he obviously doesn’t want to?’

  ‘Apparently he made a blood oath with John of Gaunt to protect his son Henry. And then there’s his unfinished business with Marduke. The Tribunal wants Dad to finish the duel. They say it’s time Marduke was put in his place, before any other innocent lives are destroyed.’

  She catches on quickly. ‘Like mine. They’re thinking of the threats he made, and his presence in Abigail’s bedroom when he tried to kill me.’ She shivers all over as if wild horses suddenly trample her grave. ‘There’s something really creepy about all this.’

  I hope it’s her sixth sense and not a flashback. Arkarian says it would be bad for Isabel to remember the grey world and how close she came to death, that it could kill her adventurous spirit.

  ‘So when do we leave?’ she asks.

  ‘Tonight. But don’t be surprised when you don’t go straight to the Citadel. Arkarian is having us all meet together in his chambers first.’

  ‘And your father, will he be coming too?’

  ‘He doesn’t know anything – yet. I’m supposed to be the bait to lure him to Arkarian.’

  ‘And just how are you going to do that?’

  I don’t tell her, ’cause I’m not so sure myself. ‘I have to come up with something to stun him into realising the truth about me, but in a way that will make him angry enough to either want to protect me or want to kill Arkarian. Either will suffice. All he has to do is call Arkarian’s name to get into his chambers.’

  ‘That’s all he has to do?’

  ‘Well, he has to do it with feeling. That way Arkarian will hear him.’

  She frowns deeply, like she’s recalling a troublesome thought. I’m about to ask what that look means, but she waves me away, lifting her sword with two hands, raising it into position. It’s still difficult for her, but she’s making heaps of progress since we’ve been working her upper arms with weights. ‘I get the feeling I’m going to need this skill before long.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘When we fight Marduke.’

  She stuns me into silence for a moment. ‘But … you won’t be fighting him. The duel is between Marduke and my father. There are rules about this sort of thing, rules even Marduke must follow.’

  She stares at me as if deciding whether to say anything or not. I get the prickly sensation she’s keeping something from me. ‘He may want to kill your father, Ethan, but he tried to kill me. I say that gives me grounds to enter the duelling arena.’

  I grab her wrist while it’s still in the air. ‘You’re not going anywhere near Marduke again!’

  ‘If only that were true! I’m not that naive, Ethan, and neither should you be. Wake up. Marduke brought me into this duel when he tried
to murder me. And because he did it to get at you, you’re connected now too. It’s like Marduke is trying to draw as many of the Guard out as he can. Perhaps his thinking is to eliminate us while we’re vulnerable. Your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘Well, the Tribunal sure is in a desperate hurry to deal with Marduke.’

  ‘Why do you think that is?’ She goes on to answer herself. ‘Because the situation is growing out of hand, that’s why, and the Tribunal knows it. How many others has Marduke linked to this duel? Hmm? If he can weaken the Guards here, at the site of the ancient city, then he and the Goddess are way out in front. He’s doing her a favour by pursuing his quest for revenge.’

  She drops these thoughts on me like a bomb, but apparently there’s more to what she’s been thinking about. ‘Tell me, how well do you know Rochelle?’

  The question surprises me and I stare at her for a second. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Don’t go getting all defensive,’ she says.

  ‘I’m not. Why would I be?’

  ‘Just forget it.’

  I grab her arm, stopping her from lifting her sword again. ‘What are you talking about? And why did you ask about Rochelle? You know I can’t stand that girl.’

  She stays quiet for a minute, looking at me like she’s seeing through to my soul or something. Her face suddenly goes a subtle red colour like she’s been out in the sun a little too long. ‘I think she might be … I think she could work for Marduke.’

  The words penetrate, but I can’t believe she said them. ‘That’s rubbish!’

  She lunges for my arm as I turn away. ‘Ethan, think about it. Remember the scent that lingered around Abigail Smith’s assassin, and how we both recognised it, but couldn’t place it?’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong, Isabel. Perfume can’t transfer with the soul.’

  ‘I know that! But Rochelle uses some sort of eye drops.’ She waves a hand in my face. ‘Eye drops, Ethan, that are made from flowers.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Matt told me.’

  Something inside me starts to boil up like a pressure cooker with the lid on so tight no steam can escape. Why can’t everybody leave Rochelle alone? First the Tribunal jumped to conclusions because of Rochelle’s rough childhood, now Isabel is making huge leaps because of some stupid scent we picked up in the past. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just leave the girl alone, OK?’

  She stares at me, and for a second I swear her eyes begin to swell with glistening moisture. But before I can make any sense of this, she turns away and starts acting like we never had this conversation. She lifts her sword easily this time with her two small hands, mumbling at me, ‘Let’s get on with this training.’

  And so we train the rest of the afternoon, but cloaked in a tension-filled silence. By the time we call it a night and head home, I’m weary with exhaustion, unable to stop thinking of Isabel’s accusations about Rochelle and Marduke. And now I have to prepare myself to confront Dad.

  The walk from Isabel’s house to mine takes longer than usual tonight as my feet feel as if they’re weighted with lead. I take the time rehearsing some ideas. The one thing I don’t want is to cause Dad any further pain. I’ve seen what effect losing Sera had on his life. But when I finally arrive home and find Dad staring fixedly at the television, all the subtle plans I’d been forming fly out of my head.

  This is his life now – no life at all.

  Is that a way for a member of the Guard, or even an ordinary man, to spend his days, as if living in slow motion?

  I always wanted a father I could look up to. Other boys had them. Apparently I did once. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be that man – the man my father was supposed to be. And as I stare at his motionless form, a shiver darts through me: could this be my life one day – stationary and gripped in fear? It’s this image that makes me say the words, ‘Sera was murdered by Marduke, and now he plans to kill Isabel. Only you can stop him.’

  His shoulders jerk. He slowly turns, looking like a corpse dead three days, his face drained completely of colour. ‘What did you say?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘I know all about you, Dad, and your otherworldly life. The fact is, you have to finish your mission, then confront Marduke, and get this whole extraneous war with him over with before innocent lives are lost.’

  He climbs half out of his easy chair, turning to get a better view of me. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

  ‘Denial, Dad? I wish I could find that unbelievable. But you know, it’s just so like who you’ve become. I thought fathers were supposed to set examples. It’s not that I want you to fight, Dad, I just want you to be who you really are. Live to the fullest of your potential. You know what to do – the choice is yours.’ I turn, go to my room, flop down on my bed, stare at the ceiling and wait. I wait to hear his footsteps come down the hallway to confront me, demand answers, or at least to admit the truth about himself and who he was – who he is, ’cause I realise now that being in the Guard is not a choice thing. It’s what we are. What Dad’s done is cop out.

  I wait so long without hearing a sound that I inadvertently fall asleep.

  I wake and land in Arkarian’s octagonal central chamber. Arkarian is not alone. Carter is sitting on a stool examining his fingernails. He glances at me and gives a small acknowledging nod. Jimmy is here too, and takes my hand in a strong shake. A puff of shimmering dust ignites the air in front of me and Isabel lands, squarely on two feet, her hands extended for added balance. She straightens and gasps in delight.

  Her successful landing gets a round of applause from Jimmy and Carter and a big grin from Arkarian. He points to each of us in turn, ticking off his fingertips. ‘One, two, three, four, and me five … Yes, we’re gathering.’

  ‘How many are we supposed to be?’ I ask, catching his excitement.

  ‘Eventually nine.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Isabel says. ‘That number’s mentioned in the Prophecy. So who else is yet to join us?’

  I think about this, coming up with the first missing member. ‘Well, there’s my father – the warrior who must return. That would make six.’

  ‘Don’t forget the warrior who can’t be trusted.’ Carter also knows the Prophecy.

  Arkarian throws him a troubled look. ‘I don’t think it quite goes that way.’

  Carter simply shrugs.

  Jimmy remembers another line. ‘The other seeded of evil.’

  ‘And a leader pure of heart,’ Arkarian says with reverence.

  Suddenly, Isabel doubles over, stumbling forward a step. Jimmy is quick to catch her around the waist. Arkarian runs to her side. ‘What is it, Isabel?’

  ‘I – I don’t know. My head is weird, my stomach …’ She groans, then heaves. ‘Get back!’ With this warning she starts to vomit.

  Arkarian looks over her head to Jimmy, his eyes asking questions.

  ‘Matt went out hours ago. He hadn’t returned by the time I went to bed. I thought it was safe.’

  His words startle me. ‘What do you mean, safe? Safe from Matt? Is he suspicious or something?’

  ‘He’s been watching Isabel sleep,’ Jimmy says.

  ‘No way! But he couldn’t know.’

  Isabel, clutching her stomach, whispers hoarsely, ‘He read the Prophecy.’ She glances up at Arkarian. ‘I’m sorry. It was an accident.’

  ‘I know,’ he says softly. ‘Jimmy told me.’

  ‘Ark-ar-ian!’

  The word, screamed with undeniable emotion, echoes through the chamber. I recognise the voice; it’s Matt’s. ‘Oh no, he’s mad! How much do you think he knows about us?’

  Isabel straightens a little and takes a deep gagging breath, her face distorted as she stares in distaste at the puddle of vomit before her. ‘Um, there’s something you should know.’ We all wait nervously. ‘I inadvertently called Arkarian’s name the other night, and Matt heard.’ Her eyes lock with Arkarian’s. Neither of them speaks. They could be the only two people in
the entire universe. Jimmy shares with me a tolerant smile.

  ‘Ark-ar-ian! Whatever you are, why does my sister not respond?’

  Isabel groans again, almost passing out this time. ‘He’s shaking me.’

  Carter gets off his seat. ‘The Prophecy would make no sense to anyone who doesn’t know about the Guard. Matt’s just hit the jackpot with the name. I’ll go and pay him a visit. I’m sure I can stall him long enough for you to get to King Richard and back.’

  Arkarian grips his shoulder, then lifts his hand to the front of Carter’s face with a circular motion. ‘Good man! Now go, and hurry.’

  Instantly, Carter disappears, leaving behind only a fragment of shimmering dust drifting to the floor. And for the first time I actually find myself liking the man. But it seems to take forever for Carter to get over to Matt’s house. ‘Where does he live?’ I call out as Isabel’s pain worsens and she vomits again. ‘Doesn’t he have wings?’

  Jimmy rubs my arm. ‘No, he doesn’t, and remember, he has to wake in his mortal body first, then drive over to Matt’s house. But don’t worry, Carter drives like a demon possessed with the speed of light.’

  I try to laugh. I try to relax. But it’s hard with Isabel doubled over in pain. I know what this feels like. Her breathing has already started to become laboured. Arkarian, though not a healer, has nurtured many qualities over the centuries, and among other things, he has learned the skill of bringing comfort to the bereaved and pained. He’s with Isabel now, and his touch is helping to keep her calm.

  We can tell when she suddenly relaxes that Matt must be distracted, probably to answer the door.

  ‘We can’t wait much longer,’ Arkarian says, and everybody knows who he’s talking about, who we’re hanging around waiting for – my father. While Isabel gets her breath back, Arkarian and Jimmy start clearing away Isabel’s mess.

  ‘We’re wasting our time, he won’t show,’ I tell them. The thought that my father has chosen to ignore the struggle and hide in his shell makes me so mad that my blood boils. ‘He’s a coward!’