The Named

by Marianne Curley

  The second I say these words, dust shimmers in the air in front of me, and Dad lands flat on his feet, his eyes looking straight in my direction.

  ‘Dad! I didn’t mean—’

  ‘You call me a coward because you have no idea just how much courage it took to withdraw from the Guard.’ He doesn’t wait for me to respond. ‘I wanted only to stop the bloodshed. You were just a tiny child. He would have come after you too.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just, all my life you’ve been …’

  ‘A coward? Because I chose peace instead of war?’

  Arkarian lays a hand on Dad’s shoulder. ‘By withdrawing, not dealing with the situation, you have in fact created more bloodshed.’

  He looks outraged. ‘How so?’

  Arkarian glances briefly at Isabel. ‘Marduke almost killed Isabel, possibly to lure you out, as she is someone your son cares for. He has also turned one of our Named ones into a traitor.’

  This latter part is terrible news. I wonder who he means and whether I know him.

  ‘Marduke is restless. He won’t wait for ever, Shaun. He’ll come after your loved ones, and all those they care for, the circle ever widening.’

  Dad looks at Arkarian with pleading eyes. ‘I don’t want my son in danger. I just want him to live a normal life.’

  ‘Like yours, Dad? Is that what you’re doing? ’Cause I don’t want that. It’s not living.’

  Dad’s eyes narrow and he seems to withdraw. ‘Ethan, you’re my son. I don’t want you to be a part of this dangerous game.’ And to Arkarian he says with bitterness in his voice, ‘I thought you were my friend, but you tricked my son and used his innocence to further your own quests.’

  ‘He needed our help, Shaun. He was four and had witnessed a horrible death. He was floundering on the edge of insanity.’

  ‘No! I would have—’ Dad pauses suddenly, realising that he couldn’t help me then, as he’s still unable to now. He gives Arkarian a hostile stare. ‘Whether I could help my son or not, you and the Tribunal had no right to steal his childhood and youth. You should all be ashamed!’

  Arkarian sighs. ‘It’s difficult to be ashamed, Shaun, when we’re so proud of what Ethan’s become.’

  Dad looks suspiciously at me. ‘I’ll not let him make the same mistakes I did, Arkarian, no matter how twisted you’ve made his thoughts against me.’

  ‘You’re judging me unfairly.’

  ‘Am I? I don’t think so.’

  ‘I admit, we did at first have a plan, a simple plan. We thought if you knew Ethan was training, you would come back, want to be a part of that. You were meant to be his Trainer, after all.’

  ‘Ethan is Named?’

  ‘Yes. But as you had withdrawn, training was granted to me. I’ve been honoured. Ethan has developed higher than all our expectations.’

  ‘Are you lying to me, Arkarian? I don’t trust you.’

  ‘Of course Ethan is Named. We couldn’t reveal the secrets of the Guard to him otherwise.’

  Dad’s eyes grow wild for a second. Finally he calms. ‘If what you say is true, then what are Ethan’s skills?’

  Arkarian glances at me, lifting one eyebrow. Quickly I think, what illusion could best make Dad realise how much he is needed now, more than ever before? I think of Sera, and of the way she looked at that moment, so close to death, when she told me to remember Marduke’s name. She was making sure I could identify her murderer, so that I could tell Dad and her death could be avenged. I could show this scene to Dad, play it out just as it happened, but decide against it. That event is still too raw, even after all these years. Dad hasn’t dealt with his grief; it would only make things worse. He might withdraw completely. Sharing my thoughts, Arkarian agrees with me with a barely noticeable shake of his head.

  I have another quick think. There is of course nothing stopping me from reminding Dad of the source of our problems – Marduke. Didn’t he tell Isabel on that mountain top that I could reach him through my illusions? That if I called him he would come? What better way to prove my skills to dad than to bring Marduke physically into this room, while remaining within the safety net of my illusion. So now I know exactly what to do. Closing my eyes, I concentrate for a few seconds. Moments before he appears within a green light, the scent of evil fills the octagonal room. Isabel sucks in an audible breath, lunging backwards until she hits machinery behind her. Jimmy plucks a knife from his boot. Arkarian waves Jimmy’s hand away. The creature in our centre casts a look around the room with interest, stopping when he sees Dad. Then he straightens to his full enormous height, raises his arms and roars.

  ‘Marduke,’ Dad whispers hoarsely as if seeing a ghost.

  Marduke lowers his arms, locking eyes with Dad. ‘You have grown old.’

  ‘And you are even uglier than I remember.’

  Dad’s spirit almost makes me laugh out loud, knowing full well how vain Marduke is. But, instead, tears well up in my eyes as I glimpse a fragment of the man Dad once was.

  Marduke’s yellow eye blazes as bright as a flame at the insult. ‘Count your hours with your loved ones,’ he says in his guttural voice. ‘You have only a few left. Finally, we will settle this argument. And of course I will win.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure!’

  Marduke scoffs and spittle flies through the air, some of it landing on Dad’s face and chest and arms. But Dad doesn’t flinch one bit.

  ‘Name the place,’ Dad volunteers.

  Marduke laughs, but I don’t get why, and by the puzzled look on Dad’s face, he doesn’t either. But then Marduke makes himself clear. ‘We meet in the woods of the Ardennes forest. You know the place.’

  ‘But that’s …’ Dad glances at Arkarian. ‘The site of our last mission together. In France where we duelled.’

  ‘This time we will finish it.’

  Arkarian brings up a valid point. ‘You can’t go back to the exact time.’

  Marduke lifts one heavy shoulder slightly. ‘We will meet a year to the day later.’

  Dad stays silent.

  Marduke swings back to him, grinning. ‘If you don’t show up, I will go on a rampage the like of which you’ve never witnessed before.’

  ‘That attitude is bound to get you into trouble,’ Arkarian says. ‘Even the Order has rules.’

  Marduke laughs outright this time. ‘I have my goddess’s blessings in whatever I do. I am,’ he adds slowly and with mocking humour, ‘her favourite after all. She worships me.’

  Dad snorts loudly. ‘You always were the ladies’ man.’

  Dad’s sarcastic words obviously hit a sore point. Marduke seems to grow larger before our eyes, his one eye swelling. ‘Bring three with you,’ he spits out; and with these words he disappears, leaving behind a lingering foul smell.

  Arkarian looks to Dad. ‘He plans to bring five of his best.’

  Dad remains silent, and nobody says another word. They’re giving him time to think, to work through whatever demons still pound through him. Finally, Dad looks to me. ‘That was amazing, Ethan. You have the power to bring reality into an illusion. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.’

  ‘Your son is incredibly gifted,’ Arkarian adds. ‘He has other talents too. You should get him to show you when we’re not so busy. He makes us all proud.’

  As I listen to Arkarian’s words, I try not to think about how I disgraced my position by revealing a skill in public, and how the Tribunal refuses to award me the power of flight because of my immaturity.

  ‘Tell us, Shaun, what is your decision? Will you rejoin us?’

  Dad inhales sharply. ‘There’s only one thing for me to do.’ He sighs heavily, his shoulders drooping. For a second I think this means Dad has decided to leave, but then he crosses his arms in front of him. ‘As usual you’ve boxed me into a corner, Arkarian. I’d better fulfil this mission, then finish with Marduke, if only to reduce the number of dangerous and distasteful creatures that surround my son.’

  Arkarian smiles in relief and sh
akes Dad’s hand heartily. Jimmy thumps Dad on the back. ‘Glad to have you back, Shaun!’

  Dad turns to Arkarian. ‘It’s been a while, but how is my friend John of Gaunt?’

  ‘Dead,’ Arkarian replies drily. ‘And his son Henry rots in exile.’

  ‘Quickly, Arkarian, give me my instructions.’

  As Arkarian explains, he proceeds with the ritual of reigniting Dad’s skills.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Isabel

  As Ethan and I have already met King Richard II, but were never properly introduced, we’re to use the familiar aliases of the cousins Hugo Monteblain and Lady Madeline of Dartmouth, although only the names remain the same. It’s expected that the king will not be too unfriendly towards us, as our lord is known to be a strong supporter of the king, who is fast losing allies in a world quite hostile to his asserting his regal power in his own right. He has exiled many important earls and nobles recently, John of Gaunt’s popular son Henry among them.

  Ethan’s father – Shaun, as he has asked me to call him – will assume the identity of a distant relative of the king’s own grandfather, King Edward III, and has his job cut out in earning the king’s trust in the short time he has with him. But claiming he has lived most of his life in France – a country Richard longs to control should help.

  Jimmy is to be the fictitious Lord Hamersley’s page William. They go on ahead of us, arriving a few days in advance. After they’ve left, Arkarian explains to Ethan and me that we’re to let go of any former impulse to aid King Richard II. ‘Your mission to protect him is over,’ he emphasises. ‘Any lingering feelings must be put firmly to the side. Remember, your mission tonight is not to protect the king, but to make sure history runs its true course.’

  ‘Then what are we to do?’ Ethan asks.

  ‘Your father and Jimmy may need you, just as Isabel needed you on your last mission. Marduke may add a surprise element. Be careful, watch your father’s back, and Jimmy’s too. Remember, Marduke is roaming where he shouldn’t – in the past. It’s bad enough that the Order of Chaos interferes with history, but Marduke’s appearance is completely unwarranted.’

  I understand what Arkarian is saying. ‘He’s using the Order to satisfy his own desire for revenge.’

  ‘And apparently the Goddess is OK with this,’ Ethan adds.

  Arkarian runs a hand through his blue hair. ‘So he says. She is apparently taken in by his charm.’ The very thought sends shivers darting through me. ‘Still,’ Arkarian continues, ‘you mustn’t think about that now. You have your mission to complete. Upon your return, you will come back here for a strategic meeting. Then we’ll face Marduke and his supporters.’

  Arkarian pulls me aside for a moment, explaining in hushed tones how the Tribunal are thinking that if all goes well tonight, Ethan could be awarded his wings as a reward. I nearly scream out with excitement.

  Ethan comes over. ‘What are you two whispering about?’

  ‘Can I tell him?’

  ‘Later,’ Arkarian says. Now the two of you go. And be careful.’

  With this final warning he bids us farewell, sending us on to the Citadel, where Ethan and I soon find ourselves clothed in elegant garments. My hair this time is transformed into a rich burgundy colour, most of which is piled high atop my head with a few ringlets dropping down. My skin has been made fair with an abundance of freckles, while Ethan’s skin is deep olive, his hair black and thick to his shoulders.

  We glance in the mirrors provided, impressed and slightly amused. I run my hand down over the full emerald-green skirt, luxuriating in the rich silky feel, then bunch the skirt between my fingers to check out my feet. They are encased in soft brown leather boots.

  Ethan looks at me and gives a low whistle. ‘Not bad!’ I whack his shoulder, but wonder silently whether there’s anything behind the compliment. It seems all I do lately, especially since my last mission, is try to second-guess what Ethan really feels about me – beyond being my Trainer, beyond the fun we have together. After he saved my life I felt so close to him but so far he hasn’t changed how he acts around me. He hasn’t even once tried to kiss me for real. I’m starting to think we’re destined to only ever be friends, and that maybe he still has feelings for Rochelle. Strangely the thought of only ever being friends has a comfortable feel about it, for I have come to value Ethan’s friendship above anything else, and, well, when I close my eyes at night these days, it’s not Ethan’s face that swims into my dreams. But one whose eyes are a deep violet.

  ‘Come on!’ Ethan tugs me to the door, where the stairway meets us and leads us to a room on a higher level.

  From this room we jump, side by side, and land in a corner of the Great Hall of Westminster Palace. There is a bustle of activity but no one is looking in our direction.

  I land well, keeping my arms tucked neatly by my sides this time. Ethan grins at me. ‘Well done!’

  Excitement at achieving a proper landing at last, as well as the euphoria of being in the past again, has me slightly in a whirl. I can’t help telling him what he has longed to hear, ‘You know when Arkarian and I were whispering together earlier?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘He was telling me that if this mission goes well, the Tribunal is thinking of giving you your wings as a reward.’

  My words take him completely by surprise. He grabs my shoulders, holding me out from him, and stares for a second, his mouth gaping open. ‘I can’t believe this,’ he calls out. ‘I might get my wings after all! Yes, yes, yes!’ He picks me up and whirls me around.

  I thump his shoulder repeatedly, realising that my timing was slightly off. A private moment would have been far more sensible. ‘Put me down! Everyone’s looking at us.’

  He lowers me to the floor, still grinning his head off, then realises what I’m on about as he notices that we have aroused the attention of everyone around us. He nudges me with his elbow and nods towards the front of the hall. I gasp in awe as King Richard II himself, whose attention we must also have inadvertently attracted, starts walking towards us. The crowd parts to allow him passage.

  ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ I whisper.

  ‘I’ve done! If you hadn’t told me that fantastic news about my wings …’

  ‘How should I know you were going to pick me up and—’

  The king stops directly in front of us. Ethan bows wide and low. I drop a deep curtsy at his side.

  The king waves us up. And after staring at us for a few long moments, his head tilts to one side. ‘I know you pair. We’ve met before.’

  Ethan and I exchange brief worried glances. How on earth could the King recognise us? Only our eyes have remained the same.

  ‘I don’t believe so, Your Majesty,’ Ethan says. ‘Let me introduce myself—’

  But he doesn’t get a chance, King Richard shuts him up with his raised hand. ‘Don’t bother. I do hope you’re feeling better today. It took the servants a whole day to clean the mess you left behind in my bedroom the last time you visited.’

  Ethan and I exchange stricken looks.

  ‘I knew we’d meet again,’ King Richard says with a slight nod of his royal head.

  The king turns his back on us, leaving us to stand there staring at his velvet garments. But then he gives a slight wave with a raised hand, indicating that we should follow.

  We walk through the crowd that parts to make way for us. Shaun and Jimmy must be among them, but we can’t look too searchingly. We are invited to sit at the main table on a raised platform on either side of the king and his very young wife – a mere child of nine – who shares my name, but, as I recall, spells it slightly differently.

  I soon learn Queen Isabella doesn’t speak anything but French. She hardly eats her meal at all, and barely sips her wine. As I’m sitting next to the young queen I try to make conversation with her, but my mind is on the king and Ethan, at how well they’re getting along, mostly laughing together and drinking lots of wine.

  The meal pass
es smoothly. Between courses, jesters come to entertain the party. But something doesn’t feel right. I sense that someone is keeping their eye on the king and Ethan. As the evening wears on, this feeling grows so strong that I can’t stop looking around to see if I can spot who it is, glancing into the shadows behind me and around the hall.

  A man comes up beside me, speaks briefly to the young queen in her native tongue, making her giggle, then whispers to me, ‘There are two of them here, one who acts as a servant.’ Startled, I look into his eyes. This must be Shaun. He returns my smile but continues his warning. ‘She has already passed you twice. Once she tipped poison from her ring into your wine goblet.’

  ‘What? Did I drink it?’

  ‘William replaced it while you were talking to the queen.’

  ‘Oh. Remind me to thank him. And the other one? You said there were two?’

  ‘The other one is a man. This would be his mission, I suspect, the woman his assistant. William informs me that he’s also Marduke’s right arm. He’s disguised as the king’s chief adviser, Lord Whitby. He just left the hall to arrange a meeting with the king and his council. He’s the one with the heavy growth of facial hair.’

  ‘I take it this Lord Whitby will be giving his advice to the king this evening?’

  ‘Certainly. He’s wormed his way into the king’s favour; not an easy task these days. The king trusts few. I’ve been lucky so far; he believes my ties to his grandfather.’

  ‘What should Hugo and I do tonight while you’re in this meeting?’

  Shaun glances wryly across at where the king and Ethan are chatting amicably together and raises his eyebrows. ‘Watching, I think. When did you two become such close friends with the king?’

  ‘When Richard was ten and we saved him from attempted murder.’

  ‘He saw and remembered you?’

  ‘The mission didn’t turn out as planned. You were trying to wake Ethan at the time.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  The king sees Shaun and waves him over, introducing him to Ethan. They talk for a few minutes until King Richard announces to the crowd that he’s withdrawing to a meeting with his advisers. As he steps back, he asks Ethan to join him, then speaks with his young wife in French. She looks relieved that she’s not needed any more tonight. But before she runs off, he suggests she play the hostess a little longer, taking me for a walk around the palace, showing me the gardens and yards.