The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,34

remember the old Markbearer texts.” Talar raised his eyes to draw their attention. “Almost everything it said was metaphorical. Maybe if we think that way, we’ll be able to figure it out.” His voice was even and smooth; he was a good and convincing speaker.

“That’s true, but there are a lot of things that have to do with light.” Nameh pointed out.

“Purity, goodness, heaven…” Cal listed off. Max’s thoughts had traveled in another direction.

“It could have something to do with sun or moonlight too. A lot of ancient magic revolved around those two because they were natural sources of energy.”

“In the light’s embrace? The statue is always in the sun or moonlight.” Talar seemed to disagree with the theory.

“Heaven,” Seth repeated softly. “The angel?” he indicated the statue before them. The group was silent as they weighed his words.

“That makes sense,” said Wyd, his voice increasing in pitch as it did when he was trying to be sincere.

“So, if you think of the angel’s embrace, instead of the light’s embrace, it could have something to do with the statue’s positioning?” Nameh ended her words with a question, leaving it open for speculation.

“And the shadows being lifted. Is it talking about happiness?” Mira was growing more and more excited with each step forward, though she tried to contain it, Nameh could see it clearly in her eyes.

“I don’t think so,” Cal began, “it’s either about defeating evil, or maybe the shadow of doubt?”

“In the angel’s embrace, doubts will be lifted?” Talar’s voice questioned. “Doubts of what?”

“Hopefully we’ll find out.” Seth replied.

“Then go,” said Max simply to Nameh.

“Go where?”

“Into the angel’s embrace, of course.” She had not taken this statement quite as literally as he had, but she could see by the way he motioned at the stone that he meant for her to step into its left arm. This was the arm curled loosely about its body, the one she had assumed was simply an elegant pose. Now it did seem as though the angel was inviting one to step into its embrace.

“Guys, doesn’t this seem ridiculous? As if no one has ever tried standing with it?” Her words were heavily annunciated.

“If everyone thought that way, then no one ever would have.” Talar had an amused tone in his voice; he loved a challenge. She sighed and stepped forward, not sure what to expect. The autumn breeze cooled the sweat on her palms, and she rubbed them lightly against the sides of her jeans. Her hair was tucked back into a bun, but a few escaping pieces were brushing against her cheeks.

The stares burning with anticipation made her a little uncomfortable, and she felt rather foolish to begin with. A deep breath cleared her head and slowed her heart as she stepped onto the raised platform on which the angel was perched. She watched its face, half expecting it to turn its eyes toward the intruder, but that was ridiculous, she thought. She ducked beneath the arm and half-flinched in expectance. To her relief and dismay, nothing seemed to happen. She looked at the others, who were still looking on just as intently.

“Nothing?” asked Seth with a disappointed tone.

“No, I think that-” she stopped short as she turned to look at the angel’s other hand. Through the small white ring, the scene seemed to change. She imagined by the others’ reaction that her face had gone slack and pale. It was as though the ring had been transformed into a telescope of sorts, though what she could see through it must have been far more distant that any man made telescope could have perceived.

The hall she saw was as lavish as any she had ever seen. Rich blue carpets adorned the marble floors, and thick pillars curved into arched ceilings. Adornments traced each curve and corner of the room, like veins carrying golden blood to an unseen heart. The walls were lined of portraits of men and women, likely long dead. Some portraits were of people seeming to walk away, but glancing over their shoulder. She then noticed that those walking away were lifting their right foot, as to step, revealing the Shask that was emblazoned there. The elegance and poise of each Markbearer was unlike any she had ever seen; admiration swelled inside of her at the sight of those she knew nothing about. It was then that her thoughts wandered to the Great Warlock. If he had any of the poise of his followers, which she imagined he did,