The Lost & Cursed

by Rina S Mamoon

  Davis gaped at Harold and Mara. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he murmured.

  The doctor looked at the chancellor. “So, the Watcher was right,” he said, gazing back at them.

  Mara glanced at Boyd, his face remained white. He was exposed as a liar, but the knowledge of Saskia’s murderer remained a mystery.

  “Whoever killed Saskia knew about her weaknesses,” Harold said, “and they might be among us, here in this room.”

  Everyone gazed at Harold, some expressed astonishment.

  “Wait! You can’t be serious,” Heru said.

  “I’m afraid so.” Master Harold looked at Hema’s ruler. “Lady Isabella, you declared Saskia your enemy for the role she played in the slaughtering of your brethren. You also blamed her for losing many of your human subjects.”

  Isabella gaped at him, looking hurt and offended. “Master Harold, I’m appalled and very disheartened! How could I raise a hand to another possessor of the seals?”

  Mara looked puzzled. “Possessor of the seals?”

  Harold gazed at her. “After the Dark One’s defeat, seven seals were created to imprison it. The seals siphon its power, keeping it weakened. If all the seals fail, the Dark One will awaken.”

  “Saskia told me, but the seals are…?”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” Harold said. “The remaining are bound to Lady Isabella, Heru, Morgan, Anna, Khan, and myself. If one of us dies, then our seal will break. However, Khan hasn’t been seen in a thousand years. Anna is sealed away. Now Saskia is gone. We may be the only ones left.”

  Saskia’s death was more serious than expected. No wonder why Harold made haste when calling for the gathering. The real killer needed to be found as soon as possible.

  “As for the other suspects.” Harold casted his gaze onto High Priestess Alena and her two disciples. “Saskia was also an enemy of the Faith.”

  Everyone looked at the three uninvited guests. Alena shook her head while the commander stood up in defence.

  “How dare you accuse us?” Commander White snarled, glaring at Harold.

  “We committed no such crime. You have overstepped your boundaries,” Alena hissed. Mara watched the priestess in silence. The way she presented herself—this woman saw herself superior to others.

  “Does Kallikratés not seek the destruction of Godstruck?” Harold questioned. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re also familiar with magic siphoning weapons.”

  “That logic is flawed.” Commander White shook his head. “The heretics of the Outer Frontier should be suspected as well. They also possess such knowledge and their ancestors forged that weapon.” He glared at the blade.

  Mara noticed his stare and glanced back at Godstruck.

  “True,” Harold said, “but why would they want to slay Saskia? She’s not their enemy.”

  “We didn’t kill her,” the priestess insisted. “We’ve sought that sword’s destruction for a while because of how dangerous it is. However, we also knew her true role. The Faith would never harm such an individual.”

  Mara glanced at Harold, and then to the three members of the Faith.

  “What benefit is it to us if we kill her?” Commander White questioned. He sat down and folded his arms. The commander shot a glare at Lady Isabella. “She would have more reason to want her dead.”

  The vampire chuckled. “Oh yes, blame me when all evidence points at you!”

  Harold sighed.

  Davis gazed at him. “Maybe we need more time to deliberate on this matter. No need to jump to conclusions.”

  “Very well, at least we can clear the name of an innocent.” Harold gazed at Mara. “I apologize for your misfortune. To be accused and sentenced to death while the true murderer remains free. I’ll see to it that the real suspect is found.” He then beckoned the Silver Thorn to take Godstruck away. The commander eyed the blade and stood up.

  “I recommend the sword be handed over to Kallikratés,” Commander White said.

  The silver-haired man gazed at him. “Why should they hand the sword over to you?” Heru questioned.

  The young commander looked at him indifferently, holding his hands behind his back. “That sword is an affront to the gods. An abomination that should never exist.” He scowled at Heru. “Then again, what would an uneducated mutt know?” Heru’s face darkened and he released a low growl. Commander White ignored him and looked at Master Harold. “That sword is dangerous and is better off destroyed.”

  Harold shook his head. “No, we’ll do no such thing.”

  The commander’s face darkened. “You dare offend the gods?”

  “Consider this—what if the Dark One awakens and the gods do not return?” Master Harold gestured to the sword. “With Godstruck, there’s a glimmer of hope.”

  Chancellor Davis nodded. “Yes, I agree.” He looked to the three members of Kallikratés. “This sword may benefit Ardana, if that day ever comes.”

  The commander glared at the chancellor. “Oh, I see,” he addressed Davis in a cold tone, “and I thought Mirahyll was an ally to Kallikratés.”

  The meeting ended. The Silver Thorn took the blade away where it would remain hidden. The priestess and her two disciples were the first to leave. The chancellor and his two companions walked behind them, followed by the possessors of the remaining seals. As Mara followed them, she noticed the chancellor looking at her and talking to Boyd. It escalated to an altercation in which Boyd was left behind. Walking out, Mara stopped and stared. She felt relief and guilt-free. Master Harold approached her.

  “I’ll let you stay here and train, although the Silver Thorns are diminishing.” He changed the subject. “I now seek the true killer and wish to have your help. In exchange, I’ll help you with your curse.”

  After hearing of the deal, Mara sighed. She figured his help wasn’t free.

  “I suppose I can help.”

  “Any information found, you’ll report to me. I’ll also send a group to Ozin to investigate and Misty Valley to confirm the White Lady’s death.” He then nodded, “Good luck.”

  She gazed at him while he walked away.

  Mara entered the main hall where all the other guests were preparing to leave. Lady Isabella and Morgan approached her.

  “So, you’re now one of us?” Isabella asked in a snobbish tone.

  Mara glanced at her. “What?”

  “You don’t know?” Isabella became annoyed.

  “We’ve heard of your misfortune,” Morgan said, “and you’re an undying?”

  Mara looked at her and nodded. “That’s what I’ve been told. Killed the White Lady and absorbed her soul. I became human again, but not anymore…”

  Isabella and Morgan exchanged glances, before turning their astonished gazes on her. Morgan smiled. “Very unfortunate, though some of your humanity remains. How unusual…”

  The two women turned around and left. Mara watched them walk away.

  Another person approached her—the doctor from earlier. He walked up to her with a big grin on his face. “Hey, you’re the girl that got accused and all.”

  “Yes, I—” Mara tried to speak, but he interrupted.

  “Why do you wear that mask and hood?”

  “To hide my face. I was able to restore my humanity, but…”

  “Ah, no worries. You look like the Watcher.” The doctor held out his hand and smiled. “Doctor Moen, nice to meet you.”

  She lifted her hand to shake it. “My name is—”

  “Oh, I have to go. See you later.” With that, he left. She gawked in disbelief as he strode away to join the chancellor. For his age, he was very energetic and kind. He did put a smile on her face, although no one could see it.

  “I also wondered why you conceal your face,” a male voice addressed her. Mara felt a presence behind her. She turned around and saw Commander White. He looked back at her with a face scrunched up in scrutiny. “But now I know,” the commander said coldly.

  “Well, I… I…” Her inability to form a
sentence seemed to annoy him. Mara couldn’t understand his hostility. A faint scent of alcohol was noticeable again. It came from him.

  “So, what do they call you?” Commander White asked, looking at her with disdain. “The Raggedy One? How about hideous and ugly?” He turned around. “I think that’s most accurate.” Then he left, holding his hands behind his back.

  Mara felt hurt—he was no Prince Charming anymore. She admitted to looking bad, but it didn’t give him the right to treat her like garbage. Watching him walk away, another man approached her. He was the older man accompanying the commander and the priestess.

  “Miss, I must apologize.” He held out his hand and she shook it. While shaking hands, he introduced himself. “My name’s Arthur White, but you may call me Mr. White. Karl maybe cruel sometimes, but isn’t a bad person. The pressure of being the Commander of the Holy Blades often gets to him, as well as other problems. Please, forgive us.”

  Mara was astonished to hear he was the father of the commander. If he never mentioned this, she would have been none the wiser. The son and father were complete opposites. At least Mr. White appeared to be a nicer person.

  “Fine, I forgive,” Mara sighed, pulling her hand away.

  “Thank you!” He grabbed her hand and shook it again. Then he let go after realizing they shook hands before. He was a very awkward old man. Mr. White cleared his throat. “I see you’re with the Silver Thorns.”

  “I’m only helping Master Harold find Saskia’s killer,” she explained.

  “Well, I hope you find the one behind this terrible deed. No doubt you’ll be very reliable. Very good, very good indeed!” With that, Mr. White left. Mara watched him rejoin High Priestess Alena and Commander White. She then glanced down at her hand, which was shaken by Mr. White.

  “What have I got myself into?”

  Chapter Six

  An Invitation to Hema

  Greyward Hold became Mara’s home as she helped in the search for Saskia’s murderer. Despite learning of two possible suspects, she still didn’t know who did this, or why she was framed. Her search began in Saskia’s former bedchambers, now passed down to Mara.

  Standing before a mirror, Mara pulled down her mask and looked at her reflection. She sighed as she gazed at her undead image. Thanks to Boyd and that village, she had to find another way to restore herself. She pulled her mask back up and turned away.

  Rummaging through her bag, she spotted Saskia’s journal and picked it up. Mara reckoned it might be useful—a good thing she listened to the Watcher. Sitting on the bed, she opened the journal and began to read.

  “August 5, 749ED,” Mara read out loud. “Found Evelyn dead, her home set ablaze. She resurrected. Kept asking for her husband. He did this. She was stabbed in the abdomen with a double-edge longsword. The baby is gone. She saw the wound and lost it. Evelyn transformed. Had no choice but to end her. Removed the dead fetus and buried it near its mother. Hope Evelyn found peace.”

  She stared at the entry briefly before turning the page.

  “August 6, 759ED… I think I’ve made a botch of things. Evelyn returned, seeking her lost child. Now she seeks other children. If only I hadn’t removed the fetus. People of Ozin call her the White Lady. Took to sacrificing children, believing it will keep them safe. This has to stop. It’s my fault this is happening.”

  She turned the page again and found the following entry, written two days later.

  “Damn those Holy Blades to hell. They had to show up and ruin everything. To pacify Evelyn, I found her baby’s remains and reunited them. Seemed to work, but those bastards showed up and attacked her. Evelyn was set ablaze. She died again, but not before taking a few Holy Blades with her. The rest fled like cowards.”

  The entries further backed up Saskia’s claim that she wasn’t normal, as well as revealing her strong opinion towards the Faith of Kallikratés and the Holy Blades. Turning the page, Mara found the final entry.

  “I know Mara is an undying. I know how she ended up in that place. I intend to take her to Master Harold and away from here. It’s not safe—”

  The final entry was cut off abruptly. Mara figured this was written the moment Saskia was attacked. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the other entries. She found something else—a crucial clue to finding the killer. Mara glanced up, seeing Master Harold standing before her.

  “Did you find something?” Harold asked. Mara gawked at him. She never saw or heard him approaching, as if he came out of nowhere. After getting over her surprise, she glanced down at the journal and told him of her findings.

  “Not only did she know I’m an undying, she apparently knew how I ended up in the Dark Labyrinth. She wanted to bring me here,” Mara said. “She felt the village wasn’t safe.”

  Harold glanced down at the floor. “Hmm, it doesn’t give us much to go on.”

  “What about Boyd?” Mara questioned, gazing up at him. “He knew I’m an undying. Saskia was suspicious of him, and the alleged murder weapon was the same sword he tried to give to me earlier.”

  “The Silver Thorns will also search for him,” Harold said. “If you were human, you would have been taken to Mirahyll for judgement. Not many places will tolerate non-humans. Speaking of which, I’d keep a distance from that village, if possible.” He kept glancing at Mara. Then, “Anything else?”

  Mara looked down at the journal again. “According to this, she suspected Kallikratés responsible for Khan’s disappearance and was investigating them in secret.” She glanced up at him again.

  “It’s true,” he said, nodding his head. “We’ve been searching for the wandering monk. Despite not being able to find Khan, we know he’s alive.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Know the difference between knowing where one is and finding them.”

  Mara looked puzzled. “You know where he is?”

  “He was heading to Golden Mountain: home of the Faith of Kallikratés,” Harold explained. “We possessors can sense each other and when a seal fails. I admit I was aware before you arrived, but didn’t think it would be Saskia though.” He shook his head. “A thousand years ago, just before the cataclysm, Khan lost a loved one. He blamed the gods and their followers for his loss and the cataclysm. After the Dark One was sealed, he went to confront them, but this was the last we saw of him.” He took a step forward and gazed at her. “Kallikratés doesn’t take well to those critical of them or the gods and must not be trifled with. Becoming their enemy will be a grave mistake.”

  “Am I not already an enemy?” Mara reached for her mask and pulled it down.

  “It’s true. All supernatural are enemies of the Faith. Cross paths with the Holy Blades and they’ll show no mercy.” He paused briefly. “However, if you appeared human, they may be none the wiser. Are you familiar with moonstone?”

  Mara shook her head.

  “Moonstone was used long ago to neutralize the Dark One’s magic,” he told her. “They come in many forms, but a Healing Stone may prove useful. Filled with purified magic, it may ease your troubled spirit should you find yourself at an impasse.”

  “Where do I find one?”

  “We’ve found that monsters tend to possess them, possibly to ease their troubled minds. They are milky white in colour. However, they’re rare. They are also fragile and crumble away upon use.”

  Harold turned around and walked away. Mara watched him leave, contemplating his advice. She pulled up her mask and continued onto other businesses.

  ***

  Staying with the Silver Thorns was okay—Mara got to train with some of the guild members. Her skills improved beyond the simple sword-flailing, but she did notice a decline in numbers. Harold sent a group to investigate Misty Valley and Ozin Village. Despite a small group being sent away, it really made Greyward Hold more quiet. Even with their return, the guild grew more deserted.

  By November 14, around eight Silver Thorns left to pursue a better life elsewhere. Master Harold didn’
t object to their departure. Living on Grey Mountain was anything but pleasant.

  Still, the blacksmith remained as long as there were Silver Thorns in Greyward Hold. The old blacksmith forged weapons for the guild, specializing in a variety of weapons, as well as enhancing and repairing equipment.

  Mara walked by him, grabbing his attention.

  “Hey,” he said with a gruff voice. She looked at him. “Yes, you—come here…”

  Mara wasn’t sure what to think of him, being rough around the edges. Shrugging it off, she approached him.

  “Yes, what is it?” Mara asked, stopping before him.

  For an old man, he remained very muscular and in terrific shape. A few signs of his old age were the long greying beard, moustache, and the long grey hair tied back. The wrinkles on his face were hidden well by his bushy facial hair. The old blacksmith hammered away at his newest sword before looking up at her. He took note of her attire. “Ah, this garb found a new owner?”

  She looked down at her clothing, and then back at him. The old blacksmith gazed at her with dark eyes. “I remember Saskia bringing that to me long ago to modify it,” he told her. “But she never got to wear it.”

  Mara gazed down at her outfit again. “Oh,” she murmured.

  “At least it’s being put to use.” He introduced himself. “The name is Talon. I’ve been in Greyward Hold for the past two decades. I can forge your weapons. Without the services of a decent blacksmith, you won’t last long.” He laughed briefly. Then he reached for a wrapped object. “Master requested this for you. It’ll be more useful than that steel sword you brought.” He handed her the gift.

  She unwrapped it, revealing a Silver Thorn straight sword. Mara unsheathed it to find a basic steel and silver sword, albeit well-crafted. A part of the blade, closer to the hilt, was darker than the rest of the metal.

  “What do you think, lass?” Talon asked.

  She stared at the blade. “It’s really nice.”