Free The Named by Marianne Curley Page A

where we come into it,’ I explain.
    ‘Yes,’ Arkarian says. ‘And very soon too, Ethan. So how goes your training of Isabel?’
    ‘Wonderful.’ I explain how adept and skilled Isabel is in the physical arts, and how we’ve recently made progress in developing her healing skills.
    ‘But I still can’t heal anything on call.’
    ‘Only when your passions are aroused,’ Arkarian correctly observes. ‘When you feel with your heart.’ He forms a fist over the centre of his chest. ‘That’s how it is at first.’
    Arkarian has Isabel completely enchanted. Her eyes gaze at him with a mixture of wonder and awe. I clear my throat to get her attention and to stop her staring so hard. Finally she flicks an embarrassed look towards me. ‘Hmm? What were you saying?’
    Her reaction amuses me, though I don’t really get it. ‘I wasn’t saying anything. Arkarian was.’
    She nods and swings her gaze back to Arkarian, her skin fast turning the colour of blood. That’s twice she’s blushed in the last ten minutes. What’s going on with her? Now she’s touching the hair around her face, tugging some behind her ears. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s right,’ she says. ‘Well the only times I’ve healed successfully was when I cut myself and unconsciously willed the wound to heal –’
    ‘And when your brother hit me and you felt responsible,’ I finish for her, glad to see her brain’s functioning normally again.
    ‘And what of your other skill?’ Arkarian asks softly. Isabel glances at me and I at her. What is Arkarian talking about? At our blank look he sighs.
    ‘Don’t pressure yourselves. It will evolve, with hard work and persistence.’
    He doesn’t say any more, but goes on to explain a little to Isabel about our positions as Guardians of Time. ‘It has always been thus,’ he begins. ‘For longer than I can remember, and I’ve been alive for six hundred years.’
    Isabel’s eyes nearly fall out of her head when he reveals this about himself. ‘How is that possible?’
    ‘It’s a skill. Like healing is yours. Mine is the ability to remain young, a kind of resistance to the aging process.’
    ‘Wow.’
    ‘Each of us that is Named has at least two skills, and sometimes, if we’re fortunate enough, we have three. At your initiation ceremony the Lords of the various Houses will endow you with a special gift. Sometimes these take time to develop – you have to work on them. But your skills are different: you were born with them.’
    He then goes on to explain about the purpose of those that are Named to be members of the Guard. And how the Order of Chaos devotes itself to changing certain aspects of history, attempting to create an altered present that will evolve into a future environment that suits their own requirements. ‘Chaos, as we call this opposing Order, feeds and grows on evil – death, destruction, war, plague, malice. The more they create, the larger their armies grow, and the smaller ours become.’ He leans forward in his seat. ‘So you see, Isabel, we have our work cut out. And now you are to be one of us. But before you agree, you must understand there is always the possibility something can go wrong in any mission.’
    Isabel’s eyes drop to the ground, giving herself aprivate moment to absorb Arkarian’s words. Finally she lifts her head. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but I think I’m missing something.’
    Arkarian shoots me a stare which shows just how impressed he is. Of course he knows Isabel’s thoughts, but he is not going to reveal this to her at this early stage in her career. Most people become instantly uncomfortable with that knowledge. It’s Arkarian’s other skill, the one he didn’t bring up earlier. ‘Go on.’
    ‘Well, why do we need these armies? Why do these people – this Order called Chaos – go to the trouble of stuffing up the past? What’s the point?’
    ‘The Goddess of Chaos wants the world at her feet. As head of her Order, she wants to