Free The Living Curse: Book One of The Living Curse series by J.D. Swinn Page B

resembled suede, but looked much tougher.  She had never seen such a cloth.  Max seemed very pleased at what his friend had brought, and thumbed through the pages briefly.  Catching her questioning look, he responded.
                  “It’s a Markbearer book, one of the original that the Great Warlock gave to his followers.” He paused, furrowing his brow.  “Actually, this one’s so old; I don’t think it’s even taught anymore.  Few people can understand magic this ancient.  Fortunately, we have a warlock with us.” He grinned.
                  “So, basically what you’re telling us is that we’re going to have to learn the great magical arts from a couple of first year students and a book that you can’t really read?” she paused, reading his face.  She found only excitement there, and little fear.  “Awesome.” She finished sarcastically.  Mira tried to hold back a laugh at the comment, but didn’t entirely succeed.
                  “We may as well get started,” said Talar passively.  He pulled himself up onto his elbows to survey the book, and then reached forward to take it.  He laid it down on the bed before him, and gingerly opened the black cover.  He read leading with his finger, as a child just learning to read.  He scanned a few lines silently and then conveyed the information. 
                  “Damn, this is going to be harder than I’d hoped.  I can read it, but it’s not going to be perfect.  It says here that this is actually the first magic book written by the Warlock, and contains everywhere from very easy to very difficult spells.” He said.  Max interrupted with a thought that seemed to have been simmering in his mind for quite some time.
                  “Wyd, you were born a warlock, you have more magical blood in you than any of us here.  You should be able to do all the spells in that book, right?”  His friend only nodded cautiously.  “Then, can’t you at least use a spell that will allow us to understand it?” he asked.
                  “It’s not that simple, most of my magic isn’t effective on Markbearers.” He said, and then added as an afterthought, “You knew that.”
                  “Of course I knew that, I just didn’t know if there was a spell that would help, that could also be used on us.” He said defensively.
                  “Wait,” Mira said questioningly, “Wyd isn’t a Markbearer?”
                  “No.” said Max incredulously, “Warlocks don’t bear marks; they don’t need them.  The mark you have just gives you the same potential that he has.  Or that’s what they tell you at the Vine, but there’s no substitute for a born Warlock.  We just provide the muscle behind the magic.”
                  “Guys,” interrupted Talar, “Check this out.”  He was pointing to a parchment page in the book.  On it was a black ink illustration of a Shask: The perfect black swirl, representing magic.  Above and to the right of the swirl, there were three dots, representing defensive magic.  Below and to the left of the swirl, there were three triangles pointing outward, representing offensive magic.
                  Under the illustration, there were words in a text that was foreign to Nameh, and by the look on her face, Mira as well.  Apparently, throughout their short training at the Vine, Talar and Wyd had learned to read these ancient scripts.  Talar continued to translate aloud.
                  “It’s sort of a list…” he began, “It says everything that the Shask can do.  Offense, defense, strength, courage, silence, fearlessness, transparency ,” he read.
                  “There are legends that tell of Markbearers of ancient times who were once able to do much more than we can today.  They could have wings like half-harpies when they so