Chapter 15
The snow came down in thick miniature clouds, settling on the streets of Lureaux in steadily growing drifts. The braziers many properties lit outside their businesses had kept the worst of it clear of the neatly paved streets. The last of the day’s workers hurried home to be with their families, red faces straining against the biting wind that slowly began to pick up. Through this throng, entirely isolated by her strange attire, Mara pushed. She was not sure where she was going, only that she did not want to be found. The tears that she’d only recently stopped shedding clung to her cheeks and, even though the mask protected her from the wind, they stung. She briefly stood before a temple to Sirona, watching the welcoming clergy usher the common people inside for services. By the sounds of it, they intended to carouse and sing the night away.
Mara turned her back on the joyful festivities, preferring instead to skulk towards the harbour and the dark tiled warehouses that offered myriad hiding places. She knew it was absurd, childish even, to escape the high-strung emotion of the gardens. Even as she thought that Mara had to admit to herself that the quiet was quite a welcome relief. After so many years of Armin’s incessant observation and critique, Renaud’s belittling encouragement and Solvi’s perennial line-crossing, Mara revelled in the solace of her thoughts.
She eventually arrived at a fenced in warehouse with a conveniently skewed plank she could slip through with ease. Her small form had some benefits, after all. As she crossed the yard filled with the skeletal frames of half-built or repaired ships, Mara found the quaint offices of the harbour master. He’d clearly lavished care and attention on every element of his workplace, as Mara looked through the window. A sturdy, large desk which even now was strewn with papers. A portrait of him and his family was a very nice touch. The moustache was more his pride and joy than anything else, given the hair care shrine tucked away in the corner. But there was what Mara had truly desired! A long, comfortable looking leather sofa upon which to spend the night.
Mara noted the padlock on the door with a dissatisfied cluck of the tongue. She noticed the cold now, as the night started to close in more earnestly. She set about opening the door, searching the yard for tools that would benefit her. A hammer and chisel were no task to find on a shipyard and within minutes she had a pair. She lacked the strength to break the lock in one hit so called upon her magic, heating the metal to a dull red glow which pleasingly fought off the cold snow gathering about her. Checking for witnesses, Mara quickly set the chisel to the lock and swung the hammer as hard as she could.
With a sharp clink of metal on metal, the body of the lock dropped to the floor and Mara scurried inside. She did however remember to push the warm lock into a hissing snow pile before entering. Mara then closed the curtains as swiftly as she could. Taking the chisel, the mage lodged it under the hinge and hoped that would be sufficient to fool any nosy do-gooders or marauding party members. Satisfied with her criminal activity for the evening, Mara settled herself on the sofa and closed her eyes with a restful smile. Now all she needed was the embrace of sleep.
“You know burglary is punishable by a dip in the harbour, right?” Maddie’s voice pierced the darkness. Immediately, Mara fell off the sofa and snapped her fingers, magical light revealing the voice’s owner reclining in the harbour master’s chair. She squinted at the sudden light, waving a hand at the candle sat in a dish on the vanity desk nearby. Mara apologized, getting herself off the floor and extinguishing her magic. “I’m not sure how durable that strange body of yours is but I promise you it will still hurt.” Maddie added with a sly removal of a hip flask from her shirt.
“Are all punishments in Idhara so unnecessarily corporal?” Mara grunted, fixing her sleeve which had lodged itself in her glove during the fall. She sat herself back down on the sofa, legs crossed in the picture of etiquette taught to her by Renaud.
“In Blackspire they have great facilities for the criminal element. Here, my sister thinks of pain as being the greater instructional force. The Council rarely deigns to overrule her.” Maddie explained with a casual air, as if the brutalizing of prisoners were something common the world over. “If one is a particularly egregious murderer or similar reprobate, she has been known to strip you to the buff and have you swim across the harbour. If you make it to the other side your sentence is commuted to Transportation. If not, well, the bissups will have their way.” The vampire continued with a somewhat wistful expression, as if the countess’ sentences were more comical than deranged. Mara tried not to condemn their way of doing things as she thought of the bissup. A nasty creature with shredding jaws and four great fins that propelled it powerfully through the water. She’d seen the skeletons of these creatures hanging in the university museum and shuddered, remembering that each was the size of a horse.
“Best not to commit any murders in Idhara then!” Mara jested, skin crawling as her mind involuntarily imagined the indistinct shapes of the bissup writhing through dark waters.
“Mhm. But you did commit a crime.” Maddie asserted with a devious grin that Mara deeply distrusted. She subconsciously leaned towards the door, though running away would do little when the pursuer was a vampire. Their unnatural speed and flight could run down most mortals easily. “And, staggeringly, after seeing that I can turn into a bat none of you bothered checking for my presence before having an apocalyptic tiff.” Maddie observed, rummaging through the harbour master’s desk before a joyous noise of discovery escaped her. Pulling a tin of biscuits from within the drawer next to her, Maddie stole a tangy treat. “Excellent technique on the illusion by the way.” She opined through a mouthful of biscuit, taking a sip of her hip flask before pushing the biscuits towards Mara.
“Renaud’s lessons mainly focused on how to get out of social situations.” Mara admitted with an air of discomfort, not entirely pleased that Maddie had heard her confessions regarding Annun. “We both don’t do well with confrontation. He’d often sneak out of parties. Wouldn’t see him until the following morning.” Mara chuckled lightly, recalling how prone to disappearance the good professor was. Maddie’s response was an expression of studied neutrality, of one struggling with their true opinion. After a few moments of contemplative biscuit chewing, Maddie seemed to remember the conversation was happening.
“Ah so you left before Armin and Solvi traded blows. Verbally of course.” Maddie commented innocently, to Mara’s confused nod. She had not anticipated that the two of them would detest each other so. They were very alike. “If I were a morally dubious person, I could hold this over your head for the next century and a half to extort favours.” Maddie counselled as she contemplated her second biscuit of the evening. Mara, frozen with sudden terror at the potential blackmail, could laughably only note that vampires could eat the food of the living. What a lovely feature the Ir had given them. “I’m more interested in your help than the milquetoast offerings you could currently provide me.” She added the addendum with a cheerful smile and bright eyes, almost sarcastic in her exuberance.
“So, I’m not powerful enough for real favours. Instead, you’ll use me as a toady.” Mara commented sardonically, arms crossing as she looked once more towards the door. “Why is it that every great mage either treats me as a curiosity or an invalid?”
“Because your main value to them is as a curiosity or a sympathetic tragedy!” Maddie replied with definitive sarcasm to her positivity. Mara, aware it was probably a joke, still felt her words sting regardless. She was hardly the most impressive mage of modernity. Even if she flouted the law and became a necromancer proper rather than a mere meddler, she would be average at best. Perhaps it was her ego speaking, but Mara could not abide average. “Far be it for me to advise you, I’ve made many mistakes in my long life. But if you’re willing to accept a word from an old codger, I’d advise you stop trying to be Renaud.”
“It is probably unhealthy I compare myself to him. He’s a genius and I’m not.” Mara acknowledged with a halting, sad voice. Maddie raised an eyebrow at the comment yet passed no verbal judgement. Mara, sensing the mood of the room change, laughed a little awkwardly. “He’s foppish and a little rough around the edges but Renaud is a kind man and brilliant. Sometimes I think the potential he sees in me is just his own traits reflected back at him.” The masked mage sighed, remembering well his speech on the roof. How he’d worried only for the staff because he had such faith in her survival. Mara felt the weight of her people on her shoulders, placed there by her sora.
“Self-deprecation is not true humility. Remember that.” Maddie spoke with sudden seriousness, contrasted to her sarcastic jovial mood. Mara was briefly taken aback by this change in tone, watching as the flippant Maddie returned. “You’ll need your best conceited persona for the job I have for you!” She announced. The reminder of their deal caused Mara to groan. “None of that it’ll be fun. I would like you to go to the Army meeting a day from now and find any vampires you can. Note their names down and bring them to me.” Maddie instructed, much to Mara’s surprise. She hadn’t anticipated something so compliant with her own itinerary. Mara reached into her robe and pulled from it the pamphlet the elvish youth had given her, sliding it across the table to the vampire. She took it and gave Mara a look somewhere between quizzical and concerned.
“I was going there anyway. Solvi and I crashed one of their meetings and found missing people. Moreover, that was the second time we’d done it. So, when rallies started popping up in places other than Gard, we wondered if it might be an exclusively Gardish phenomenon.” Mara explained plaintively, much to Maddie’s visible concern. She slid the pamphlet back to Mara and took a long drink of her hip flask. Mara was somewhat put out by the reaction until the other woman pulled from her trouser pocket a slim leather book. She flipped through it and sighed openly, turning its pages to the mage. There, written in flowing Elysian, were listings of rallies and missing persons.
“The problem is greater than you realise. I wrote this in a dead language, in case a noble should happen upon it.” Maddie began, placing her finger atop the first rally recorded, which seemed to be held in Blackspire. “Initially when these rallies began, they were harmless. But they received money from somewhere. Now they’re massive. At the same time as the Army’s ascendency, a few months past, Idharans began to go missing. There were no commonalities save for the fact that none were elves, and all were poor.” Maddie then closed the book, reattaching its leather lock and slipping it into her pocket once more.
Mara was at once disturbed by the information, Maddie’s seeming shift in persona as well as how she’d come to know of it. Her mind raced with one ludicrous proposition after the next, up to Maddie being the spymaster of Idhara. If she had simply been doing this as a hobby, it was impressive commitment. Mara inhaled deeply, steadying both herself and her thoughts. Armin was not here to save her if she made the wrong move.
“How many have been taken?” Mara asked with seeming solemnity, hoping to pass her reaction off as empathy for the victims. Something she felt, but not as keenly as the danger this airy vampire had become.
“Difficult to say. Comparing reports from a year ago to now, I’d say about seventy?” Maddie reckoned with frightening ease. Her casual demeanour set Mara on edge. Her breath caught in her throat. But the number concerned her more than anything. How had such a thing gone unnoticed for so long? How had nobody made the connection to the Army? “The strangest part is that they don’t leave by air or by sea. Either they are secretly frog marched from the country without a soul seeing anything or teleportation magic is involved. Without a site, I can’t detect the intended destination.” Maddie shrugged as she pontificated on the stumbling block she had encountered. Mara then understood the implication.
“You’re worried that vampires are smuggling them.” Mara breathed, realising with startling clarity what Maddie meant. It was the simplest explanation after all. Who else had the power and resources to make entire streets of people vanish?
“Just so. And as my own personal necromancer on tap, you can see into the very soul of a creature to determine whether it is undead.” Maddie smiled brightly, seemingly pleased that her summary had elicited the correct response. Mara had precisely the opposite reaction, shrinking back from the vampire with a noise of embarrassment squeaking from within the mask. Maddie’s expression shifted immediately to annoyance.
“I can’t do that. Not yet at least!” Mara offered with a hopeful tone. The vampire simply rolled her eyes.
“Seriously? I find two necromancers in my sister’s chateau and neither of them can cast spells worth a damn?” Maddie sighed, rubbing her temples. The problems were mounting for her it seemed as she turned the conundrum over in her mind. Mara didn’t dare disturb her thoughts until Maddie perked up once more, a determined look in her eyes. “You’re right. Not yet. I’m going to do what that imbecile Renaud failed to do and make you a proper mage.” Maddie grunted as she stood and made her way to the door. After removing the chisel, she opened the door to searing cold and a steadily growing mound of snow. Looking back, Maddie regarded Mara with a remorseless icy stare that caused the mage to cower. For many during the war, the cold eyes of a vampire were the last thing they saw.
“Prepare yourself and meet me at the chateau tomorrow. Disabuse yourself of any notion that this will be easy. So, sleep well. You have an early start.” Maddie proclaimed, closing the door behind her with an awfully final click.
Mara felt vertigo from the assorted absurdities she’d been forced to endure these past few minutes. The revelations concerning the Army had been more than her share of bad news for the day. Of all the blunt truths delivered to her ear that night, Maddie’s words concerning humility still rattled inside her mind. They demanded her thoughts, as if some small part of herself knew their truth. Were they true? Mara had held herself accountable many times! Some small part of herself rebelled at the notion, reminding her that she now sat in a cold office with a half-eaten biscuit because she’d run from her own misguided lies.
Even as she contemplated the truth of her actions, Mara’s mind surged towards Renaud. She could not bear the thought that he’d failed as her teacher. She was to blame. His other students had flourished, become notable even! All the while, she languished without even her Magisterial accreditation. She was a mage in the same vein that a child with a paintbrush was a painter. The great feats she’d accomplished were nothing but the hands of Armin borrowing her body. Her mind travelled down that vein towards the dark places she’d been earlier that night. The dismal depths of her most painful memories. Lyra and Edmund’s voices came accusingly from that darkness, filled with malice and disdain. Lost in the crushing depths, Mara could not breathe. She felt her heart rebelling against the confines of her chest as she saw once again with dreadful clarity the caves near Ruran. The haunted caves Lyra and Edmund had followed her into.
She clung to the memories of Armin and Renaud. Mara lay on the sofa fighting against the sobs escaping her. Desperately, she crawled from the memories of the cave and regained control of herself, if only barely. Gritting her teeth, she rolled onto her hands.
“Memories aren’t real. They can’t hurt you.” Mara snarled at her clenched fists. “Get a grip. Your body’s broken not your mind. Not yet.” She argued with the empty air, staggering towards the door of the office with ragged breaths still escaping her. With every inch of control, she could muster, Mara lurched into the cold of the Idharan night.
Mara arrived at the chateau a while after, ignoring the guard on duty as he attempted to inform her of the party’s search. Nothing mattered save getting to Solvi. She clutched the banisters of the stone steps that led to the manor’s doors, a gasp of pain escaping her. The panic, though it had subsided somewhat, had sapped her body of energy. The cold, in all its mercilessness, had taken the rest. Only fumes of determination remained to push Mara into the warmth of the entrance hall. She sat next to the fire once more, making only performative acknowledgements of the vampires that surrounded her. She scanned the room for her tall roommate, her body beginning to shiver in earnest. A good sign, Mara vaguely noted. Many of her patients had stopped shivering shortly before their end after braving the winter offensive.
Spotting no sign of Solvi, Mara pushed through the throng of vampires and their human attendants to the less populous drawing room. Fred was busy recuperating near the fireplace, rubbing his furred arms with expletives aplenty for the Idharan weather. Arthur sat beside him, rosy-cheeked and combing snowflakes from his beard. Fred perked up immediately upon seeing her, waving her down. Mara, seemingly unaware of the people around her, sat slowly in the stately chairs that had been laid around the fire. Fred wasted no time, whiskers twitching as he battled with his temper.
“You got a death wish or somethin’? Out there in that bloody cold like it ain’t gonna do you in too!” Fred admonished, taking a cup of warm tea from a waitress with surprising cordiality before resuming his angry rant. “Now I like avoidin’ a tellin’ off like the next man but makin’ us search? Shoulda just popped down the pub.” Fred sipped his tea as he suppressed his shouting voice that the vampires couldn’t overhear too much. Mara didn’t so much as move a muscle, which attracted a look of concern from Arthur. He shifted to his bedside manner almost instinctively, only to be warded off by a noncommittal handwave from Mara.
“Where’s Solvi?” The mage asked in a deadened voice. Both the skitti and human shared a look before Fred cleared his throat. Arthur, it seemed, thought better than letting a man like Fred deliver the news.
“She went to her room a while ago with the guard. Julie, I believe her name was. She seemed to be kind.” He explained with a warning look at Fred, who from his expression had clearly been intending to deliver a more unabridged version of events. Once again, the masked mage did not show any discernible emotions. Arthur’s expression only grew more concerned as he watched Mara get out of her seat and begin tracing her steps to the entrance hall, where the countess was holding court.
Marie was not keen on being disturbed by the mage and so gave her the key to her room with minimal fuss and tact. Several of the vampires ceased their discussion to ask her variations on what her adventure in Annun had been like, only to receive no answer. Mara noted however that several within that circle were discussing the imminent rally. She briefly eavesdropped, hoping to receive pertinent information. None was forthcoming, save for some braggarts expounding on their elvish heritage. One claimed to have been saved from the purges of Yan.
Ascending the stairs to the east wing of the house, Mara followed the long corridor to the room the countess had picked out for her. She then walked past it, approaching a door on the opposite side. Several rapping knocks later, a stirring could be heard from within. Julie opened the door, inclining her head slightly to meet the masked eyes that now looked up to her. Solvi’s voice came from within, inquiring whether they’d found her.
“It is Mara! Hello.” Julie called over her shoulder, offering the mage a bright smile. A smile that soon began to slip as a cold silence grew between them. The unsettling passive neutrality of Mara’s mask often made people uncomfortable, making it the perfect tool under the right circumstances.
“I would like to speak to Solvi please.” Mara requested with a flat tone once the silence had done its work. Julie looked somewhat uncomfortable as she agreed and slipped into the room once more, closing the door behind her. The wait was perhaps longer than it should have been. Solvi was no doubt weighing up whether Mara deserved punishment or not, she thought. Regardless, the mage remained still even as Armin poked his head from within her bedroom, calling to her with a voice only she could perceive. Perhaps Solvi too, given earlier evidence.
“Calm down, did you?” Solvi asked, cutting through Mara’s thoughts as she leaned against the doorframe. From her expression, Solvi had not yet calmed down herself. Mara looked up to her, tilting her head slightly. Solvi’s face wore naked confusion, clearly expecting something else.
“I wanted to apologize for the lies. And running away.” Mara spoke in that same deadened tone she’d used for Fred and Arthur, surprising Solvi. The warrior reached out a hand as Mara turned, only to find the mage retreating from her grasp. Mara nodded, indicating behind the taller woman. Solvi smiled, a red colour coming to her cheeks. “Does she make you happy?” Mara asked, a trickle of emotion coming back to her though Solvi could not identify what exactly it was.
“It’s a bit early to be saying that.” Solvi laughed somewhat weakly, scratching the back of her neck. “First impressions are that yes, she does.” She continued. Mara nodded in acknowledgement, turning to leave Solvi’s presence without a word. Even as she walked with some difficulty towards Armin’s floating presence, Solvi stopped her with a word. “Are you alright, Mara?” She asked, her eyes concealed from the petite mage’s view yet filled with worry regardless.
“No.” Mara answered simply, her voice shaking. “I don’t think I’ve been alright for a long time.”
The mage ignored further attempts to placate her, even going so far as to prise Solvi’s hand from her shoulder.
“Please let me be. No more games. I need to think.” Mara whispered. Solvi wore a look of indecision, turning from Mara to her room as if automatically. She was grateful, turning to Armin and glowering at him through the mask. The spectre took it for the silent warning it was and faded from view. He would not be bothering her for the remainder of the night, Mara hoped.
She entered the room assigned to her with some trepidation, given the vampire’s known penchant for excess. What greeted her was instead a surprisingly restrained room of dark wooden walls and floors, expansive soft-seeming bed and vanity mirror. Through a small door set beside the bed, a bathroom was waiting for the evening’s bathing. Mara ignored that calling, instead preferring to shrug her cloak from her shoulders and seat herself on the bed. Since the confrontation and Maddie’s pressganging offer, Mara had not been afforded time to process reality. It impacted with the force of a ship against a rock.
Mara was almost thankful for the distraction as, without knocking, Twitcher entered her room with an excited air. They held in their hands a large green leather tome stamped with the hammer and scales of the Yandite Empire. They had donned Idharan clothing, sporting a waistcoat and high black boots with a broad-brimmed hat set at a jaunty angle. Mara straightened from her misery, shock taking the place of dark thoughts as the metal Elysian laid the book on the bed with a triumphant exclamation. Without pause, they turned the pages with dutiful care for the book’s age, arriving at a section entitled ‘The Black Rebellion’. Mara was about to ask what the meaning of this all was before the words froze in her throat. There, upon the page before her, was a beautifully rendered drawing of Armin.
“I found ghost while reading for more words.” Twitcher explained, pointing to the illustration with an exuberant finger. “Was Armin Van Brenin, deposed lord. Took elves to forest, kept them safe. Was court advisor, necromancer. Disappeared few years before fall of Yan.” They added, running their finger along the archaic Gardish that comprised the tome’s prose. Mara leant over, scanning the entire section with dissatisfaction. No explanation of his death nor who he was personally, only a dry recounting of his battle with Lucinius Yan, the first emperor. How he later saved Lucinius’ descendants from vampire incursions. Shortly thereafter, in the reign of Darius II, he vanished from all records. Many historians assumed that Darius, known for his capriciousness and fickle nature, had simply killed the elf out of spite.
“These Yandites. They hate elves?” Twitcher asked with a grip of their chin. Mara supposed it was difficult for the Elysian to adjust to the long and complex history that had unfolded in their absence. Perhaps thinking Yan hated elves was an easier explanation than reality. Still, Mara shook her head to the question. She wasn’t letting that underhanded lie lodge itself in her impressionable friend’s mind.
“This book may make it seem that way, but it was written by a man with a story to sell.” Mara squirmed, wishing that Twitcher had chosen Elysian rather than their adopted tongue to talk to her. She supposed Twitcher was proud of how quickly they’d learned. “Lucinius Yan didn’t hate elves. He had quite a few in his rebellion. Elves owned a lot of things and sold it piecemeal to humans. They treated humans like defective elves. When he rose up, a lot of his prescriptions named elvish nobility.” Mara explained as best she could, trying to be as even-handed as she could. Thankfully, she did not descend from Gardish or Renoran elves. She was of Spardali extraction, which was somehow worse to the average Gardish citizen. The mage breathed an internal sigh of relief that so few could see her heritage.
“Why did Armin rebel, then?” Twitcher asked with a perplexed expression in their synthetic eyes.
“You can’t convince everyone with pretty platitudes. Sometimes, hatred possesses the hearts of even good people. I’m sure Armin was doing what he thought was right.” Mara concluded lamely, hoping against hope that as she recounted this history it was true. Armin did not want to be the villain and Mara, if she were being honest with herself, didn’t want him to be either. Twitcher seemed to internalize that thought. For a moment, they were silent and looking downward. Mara cursed the designer of the body for forgetting a more expressive face.
“She was possessed by hatred.” Twitcher sighed, drawing a rolled-up paper from within their waistcoat. Unrolling it, they revealed their drawing of Mira. “Not people. The not-justice. Mira was a slave. Spent her life angry at her slavers. Fearful of the chains.” Twitcher struggled before switching to their mother tongue. She added that Mira only created necromancy for fear of those chains and a return to them. The mage squeaked in surprise at that revelation, almost recoiling from it. Twitcher regarded her with confusion.
“I was always taught that necromancy had no creator. That mages simply learned from nature.” Mara explained, pondering to herself at the implications of this realisation. Undead were a natural part of Aurythian life. The dead had to be placated and assisted in their acceptance of death, lest their souls animate the flesh they once called their own. In the briefest moment between death and life, the spirit could still cast spells. And the Arcane, sensing their desire to live, would act on that desire as best it could.
“Mira did not create walking dead. She create techniques to make walking dead. And spirit.” Twitcher replied, splitting hairs by Mara’s estimation. She was not going to contradict the Elysian, knowing well how proud they had been. “Rich men buy armies. Nobles have armies. Mira wanted force, to change the empire. End slavery, achieve great things. But even powerful mages must bend to many people.” Twitcher defended Mira with such passion that Mara felt there was more than a passing historical fancy between the two. Perhaps Twitcher had known the Ir personally. Perhaps they loved her. Though Mira had no recorded lovers in her staggeringly long life.
“You must have really admired her.” Mara acknowledged in a soft voice, answered by a firm shake of Twitcher’s head. Mara cocked her own head to the side, thinking Twitcher must not have understood Gardish. Yet even when the observation was repeated in Elysian, she disagreed. “What did you think of her?”
“Mira was powerful. I respect her as mage.” Twitcher began with a solemn tone. “But she did bad things. Not forgivable things. Perhaps she was right to free all. But she had to restore it. She tried to free them again. Killed many to do so. She spent the rest of her life in fortress-tower, trusting few. Ruled through fear. When they did not fear her, she died. I failed her.” Twitcher concluded. Their voice was suffused with such sorrow that Mara felt moved even adrift from that time.
“Do not let that pain control you.” Twitcher spoke finally, with a meaningful look towards Solvi’s door through the wall. “I have seen it break good mages. Good people.” Twitcher then bade Mara goodnight, leaving the dumbstruck mage to stare at her metal companion in disbelief. The audacity!
Chapter 15
The snow came down in thick miniature clouds, settling on the streets of Lureaux in steadily growing drifts. The braziers many properties lit outside their businesses had kept the worst of it clear of the neatly paved streets. The last of the day’s workers hurried home to be with their families, red faces straining against the biting wind that slowly began to pick up. Through this throng, entirely isolated by her strange attire, Mara pushed. She was not sure where she was going, only that she did not want to be found. The tears that she’d only recently stopped shedding clung to her cheeks and, even though the mask protected her from the wind, they stung. She briefly stood before a temple to Sirona, watching the welcoming clergy usher the common people inside for services. By the sounds of it, they intended to carouse and sing the night away.
Mara turned her back on the joyful festivities, preferring instead to skulk towards the harbour and the dark tiled warehouses that offered myriad hiding places. She knew it was absurd, childish even, to escape the high-strung emotion of the gardens. Even as she thought that Mara had to admit to herself that the quiet was quite a welcome relief. After so many years of Armin’s incessant observation and critique, Renaud’s belittling encouragement and Solvi’s perennial line-crossing, Mara revelled in the solace of her thoughts.
She eventually arrived at a fenced in warehouse with a conveniently skewed plank she could slip through with ease. Her small form had some benefits, after all. As she crossed the yard filled with the skeletal frames of half-built or repaired ships, Mara found the quaint offices of the harbour master. He’d clearly lavished care and attention on every element of his workplace, as Mara looked through the window. A sturdy, large desk which even now was strewn with papers. A portrait of him and his family was a very nice touch. The moustache was more his pride and joy than anything else, given the hair care shrine tucked away in the corner. But there was what Mara had truly desired! A long, comfortable looking leather sofa upon which to spend the night.
Mara noted the padlock on the door with a dissatisfied cluck of the tongue. She noticed the cold now, as the night started to close in more earnestly. She set about opening the door, searching the yard for tools that would benefit her. A hammer and chisel were no task to find on a shipyard and within minutes she had a pair. She lacked the strength to break the lock in one hit so called upon her magic, heating the metal to a dull red glow which pleasingly fought off the cold snow gathering about her. Checking for witnesses, Mara quickly set the chisel to the lock and swung the hammer as hard as she could.
With a sharp clink of metal on metal, the body of the lock dropped to the floor and Mara scurried inside. She did however remember to push the warm lock into a hissing snow pile before entering. Mara then closed the curtains as swiftly as she could. Taking the chisel, the mage lodged it under the hinge and hoped that would be sufficient to fool any nosy do-gooders or marauding party members. Satisfied with her criminal activity for the evening, Mara settled herself on the sofa and closed her eyes with a restful smile. Now all she needed was the embrace of sleep.
“You know burglary is punishable by a dip in the harbour, right?” Maddie’s voice pierced the darkness. Immediately, Mara fell off the sofa and snapped her fingers, magical light revealing the voice’s owner reclining in the harbour master’s chair. She squinted at the sudden light, waving a hand at the candle sat in a dish on the vanity desk nearby. Mara apologized, getting herself off the floor and extinguishing her magic. “I’m not sure how durable that strange body of yours is but I promise you it will still hurt.” Maddie added with a sly removal of a hip flask from her shirt.
“Are all punishments in Idhara so unnecessarily corporal?” Mara grunted, fixing her sleeve which had lodged itself in her glove during the fall. She sat herself back down on the sofa, legs crossed in the picture of etiquette taught to her by Renaud.
“In Blackspire they have great facilities for the criminal element. Here, my sister thinks of pain as being the greater instructional force. The Council rarely deigns to overrule her.” Maddie explained with a casual air, as if the brutalizing of prisoners were something common the world over. “If one is a particularly egregious murderer or similar reprobate, she has been known to strip you to the buff and have you swim across the harbour. If you make it to the other side your sentence is commuted to Transportation. If not, well, the bissups will have their way.” The vampire continued with a somewhat wistful expression, as if the countess’ sentences were more comical than deranged. Mara tried not to condemn their way of doing things as she thought of the bissup. A nasty creature with shredding jaws and four great fins that propelled it powerfully through the water. She’d seen the skeletons of these creatures hanging in the university museum and shuddered, remembering that each was the size of a horse.
“Best not to commit any murders in Idhara then!” Mara jested, skin crawling as her mind involuntarily imagined the indistinct shapes of the bissup writhing through dark waters.
“Mhm. But you did commit a crime.” Maddie asserted with a devious grin that Mara deeply distrusted. She subconsciously leaned towards the door, though running away would do little when the pursuer was a vampire. Their unnatural speed and flight could run down most mortals easily. “And, staggeringly, after seeing that I can turn into a bat none of you bothered checking for my presence before having an apocalyptic tiff.” Maddie observed, rummaging through the harbour master’s desk before a joyous noise of discovery escaped her. Pulling a tin of biscuits from within the drawer next to her, Maddie stole a tangy treat. “Excellent technique on the illusion by the way.” She opined through a mouthful of biscuit, taking a sip of her hip flask before pushing the biscuits towards Mara.
“Renaud’s lessons mainly focused on how to get out of social situations.” Mara admitted with an air of discomfort, not entirely pleased that Maddie had heard her confessions regarding Annun. “We both don’t do well with confrontation. He’d often sneak out of parties. Wouldn’t see him until the following morning.” Mara chuckled lightly, recalling how prone to disappearance the good professor was. Maddie’s response was an expression of studied neutrality, of one struggling with their true opinion. After a few moments of contemplative biscuit chewing, Maddie seemed to remember the conversation was happening.
“Ah so you left before Armin and Solvi traded blows. Verbally of course.” Maddie commented innocently, to Mara’s confused nod. She had not anticipated that the two of them would detest each other so. They were very alike. “If I were a morally dubious person, I could hold this over your head for the next century and a half to extort favours.” Maddie counselled as she contemplated her second biscuit of the evening. Mara, frozen with sudden terror at the potential blackmail, could laughably only note that vampires could eat the food of the living. What a lovely feature the Ir had given them. “I’m more interested in your help than the milquetoast offerings you could currently provide me.” She added the addendum with a cheerful smile and bright eyes, almost sarcastic in her exuberance.
“So, I’m not powerful enough for real favours. Instead, you’ll use me as a toady.” Mara commented sardonically, arms crossing as she looked once more towards the door. “Why is it that every great mage either treats me as a curiosity or an invalid?”
“Because your main value to them is as a curiosity or a sympathetic tragedy!” Maddie replied with definitive sarcasm to her positivity. Mara, aware it was probably a joke, still felt her words sting regardless. She was hardly the most impressive mage of modernity. Even if she flouted the law and became a necromancer proper rather than a mere meddler, she would be average at best. Perhaps it was her ego speaking, but Mara could not abide average. “Far be it for me to advise you, I’ve made many mistakes in my long life. But if you’re willing to accept a word from an old codger, I’d advise you stop trying to be Renaud.”
“It is probably unhealthy I compare myself to him. He’s a genius and I’m not.” Mara acknowledged with a halting, sad voice. Maddie raised an eyebrow at the comment yet passed no verbal judgement. Mara, sensing the mood of the room change, laughed a little awkwardly. “He’s foppish and a little rough around the edges but Renaud is a kind man and brilliant. Sometimes I think the potential he sees in me is just his own traits reflected back at him.” The masked mage sighed, remembering well his speech on the roof. How he’d worried only for the staff because he had such faith in her survival. Mara felt the weight of her people on her shoulders, placed there by her sora.
“Self-deprecation is not true humility. Remember that.” Maddie spoke with sudden seriousness, contrasted to her sarcastic jovial mood. Mara was briefly taken aback by this change in tone, watching as the flippant Maddie returned. “You’ll need your best conceited persona for the job I have for you!” She announced. The reminder of their deal caused Mara to groan. “None of that it’ll be fun. I would like you to go to the Army meeting a day from now and find any vampires you can. Note their names down and bring them to me.” Maddie instructed, much to Mara’s surprise. She hadn’t anticipated something so compliant with her own itinerary. Mara reached into her robe and pulled from it the pamphlet the elvish youth had given her, sliding it across the table to the vampire. She took it and gave Mara a look somewhere between quizzical and concerned.
“I was going there anyway. Solvi and I crashed one of their meetings and found missing people. Moreover, that was the second time we’d done it. So, when rallies started popping up in places other than Gard, we wondered if it might be an exclusively Gardish phenomenon.” Mara explained plaintively, much to Maddie’s visible concern. She slid the pamphlet back to Mara and took a long drink of her hip flask. Mara was somewhat put out by the reaction until the other woman pulled from her trouser pocket a slim leather book. She flipped through it and sighed openly, turning its pages to the mage. There, written in flowing Elysian, were listings of rallies and missing persons.
“The problem is greater than you realise. I wrote this in a dead language, in case a noble should happen upon it.” Maddie began, placing her finger atop the first rally recorded, which seemed to be held in Blackspire. “Initially when these rallies began, they were harmless. But they received money from somewhere. Now they’re massive. At the same time as the Army’s ascendency, a few months past, Idharans began to go missing. There were no commonalities save for the fact that none were elves, and all were poor.” Maddie then closed the book, reattaching its leather lock and slipping it into her pocket once more.
Mara was at once disturbed by the information, Maddie’s seeming shift in persona as well as how she’d come to know of it. Her mind raced with one ludicrous proposition after the next, up to Maddie being the spymaster of Idhara. If she had simply been doing this as a hobby, it was impressive commitment. Mara inhaled deeply, steadying both herself and her thoughts. Armin was not here to save her if she made the wrong move.
“How many have been taken?” Mara asked with seeming solemnity, hoping to pass her reaction off as empathy for the victims. Something she felt, but not as keenly as the danger this airy vampire had become.
“Difficult to say. Comparing reports from a year ago to now, I’d say about seventy?” Maddie reckoned with frightening ease. Her casual demeanour set Mara on edge. Her breath caught in her throat. But the number concerned her more than anything. How had such a thing gone unnoticed for so long? How had nobody made the connection to the Army? “The strangest part is that they don’t leave by air or by sea. Either they are secretly frog marched from the country without a soul seeing anything or teleportation magic is involved. Without a site, I can’t detect the intended destination.” Maddie shrugged as she pontificated on the stumbling block she had encountered. Mara then understood the implication.
“You’re worried that vampires are smuggling them.” Mara breathed, realising with startling clarity what Maddie meant. It was the simplest explanation after all. Who else had the power and resources to make entire streets of people vanish?
“Just so. And as my own personal necromancer on tap, you can see into the very soul of a creature to determine whether it is undead.” Maddie smiled brightly, seemingly pleased that her summary had elicited the correct response. Mara had precisely the opposite reaction, shrinking back from the vampire with a noise of embarrassment squeaking from within the mask. Maddie’s expression shifted immediately to annoyance.
“I can’t do that. Not yet at least!” Mara offered with a hopeful tone. The vampire simply rolled her eyes.
“Seriously? I find two necromancers in my sister’s chateau and neither of them can cast spells worth a damn?” Maddie sighed, rubbing her temples. The problems were mounting for her it seemed as she turned the conundrum over in her mind. Mara didn’t dare disturb her thoughts until Maddie perked up once more, a determined look in her eyes. “You’re right. Not yet. I’m going to do what that imbecile Renaud failed to do and make you a proper mage.” Maddie grunted as she stood and made her way to the door. After removing the chisel, she opened the door to searing cold and a steadily growing mound of snow. Looking back, Maddie regarded Mara with a remorseless icy stare that caused the mage to cower. For many during the war, the cold eyes of a vampire were the last thing they saw.
“Prepare yourself and meet me at the chateau tomorrow. Disabuse yourself of any notion that this will be easy. So, sleep well. You have an early start.” Maddie proclaimed, closing the door behind her with an awfully final click.
Mara felt vertigo from the assorted absurdities she’d been forced to endure these past few minutes. The revelations concerning the Army had been more than her share of bad news for the day. Of all the blunt truths delivered to her ear that night, Maddie’s words concerning humility still rattled inside her mind. They demanded her thoughts, as if some small part of herself knew their truth. Were they true? Mara had held herself accountable many times! Some small part of herself rebelled at the notion, reminding her that she now sat in a cold office with a half-eaten biscuit because she’d run from her own misguided lies.
Even as she contemplated the truth of her actions, Mara’s mind surged towards Renaud. She could not bear the thought that he’d failed as her teacher. She was to blame. His other students had flourished, become notable even! All the while, she languished without even her Magisterial accreditation. She was a mage in the same vein that a child with a paintbrush was a painter. The great feats she’d accomplished were nothing but the hands of Armin borrowing her body. Her mind travelled down that vein towards the dark places she’d been earlier that night. The dismal depths of her most painful memories. Lyra and Edmund’s voices came accusingly from that darkness, filled with malice and disdain. Lost in the crushing depths, Mara could not breathe. She felt her heart rebelling against the confines of her chest as she saw once again with dreadful clarity the caves near Ruran. The haunted caves Lyra and Edmund had followed her into.
She clung to the memories of Armin and Renaud. Mara lay on the sofa fighting against the sobs escaping her. Desperately, she crawled from the memories of the cave and regained control of herself, if only barely. Gritting her teeth, she rolled onto her hands.
“Memories aren’t real. They can’t hurt you.” Mara snarled at her clenched fists. “Get a grip. Your body’s broken not your mind. Not yet.” She argued with the empty air, staggering towards the door of the office with ragged breaths still escaping her. With every inch of control, she could muster, Mara lurched into the cold of the Idharan night.
Mara arrived at the chateau a while after, ignoring the guard on duty as he attempted to inform her of the party’s search. Nothing mattered save getting to Solvi. She clutched the banisters of the stone steps that led to the manor’s doors, a gasp of pain escaping her. The panic, though it had subsided somewhat, had sapped her body of energy. The cold, in all its mercilessness, had taken the rest. Only fumes of determination remained to push Mara into the warmth of the entrance hall. She sat next to the fire once more, making only performative acknowledgements of the vampires that surrounded her. She scanned the room for her tall roommate, her body beginning to shiver in earnest. A good sign, Mara vaguely noted. Many of her patients had stopped shivering shortly before their end after braving the winter offensive.
Spotting no sign of Solvi, Mara pushed through the throng of vampires and their human attendants to the less populous drawing room. Fred was busy recuperating near the fireplace, rubbing his furred arms with expletives aplenty for the Idharan weather. Arthur sat beside him, rosy-cheeked and combing snowflakes from his beard. Fred perked up immediately upon seeing her, waving her down. Mara, seemingly unaware of the people around her, sat slowly in the stately chairs that had been laid around the fire. Fred wasted no time, whiskers twitching as he battled with his temper.
“You got a death wish or somethin’? Out there in that bloody cold like it ain’t gonna do you in too!” Fred admonished, taking a cup of warm tea from a waitress with surprising cordiality before resuming his angry rant. “Now I like avoidin’ a tellin’ off like the next man but makin’ us search? Shoulda just popped down the pub.” Fred sipped his tea as he suppressed his shouting voice that the vampires couldn’t overhear too much. Mara didn’t so much as move a muscle, which attracted a look of concern from Arthur. He shifted to his bedside manner almost instinctively, only to be warded off by a noncommittal handwave from Mara.
“Where’s Solvi?” The mage asked in a deadened voice. Both the skitti and human shared a look before Fred cleared his throat. Arthur, it seemed, thought better than letting a man like Fred deliver the news.
“She went to her room a while ago with the guard. Julie, I believe her name was. She seemed to be kind.” He explained with a warning look at Fred, who from his expression had clearly been intending to deliver a more unabridged version of events. Once again, the masked mage did not show any discernible emotions. Arthur’s expression only grew more concerned as he watched Mara get out of her seat and begin tracing her steps to the entrance hall, where the countess was holding court.
Marie was not keen on being disturbed by the mage and so gave her the key to her room with minimal fuss and tact. Several of the vampires ceased their discussion to ask her variations on what her adventure in Annun had been like, only to receive no answer. Mara noted however that several within that circle were discussing the imminent rally. She briefly eavesdropped, hoping to receive pertinent information. None was forthcoming, save for some braggarts expounding on their elvish heritage. One claimed to have been saved from the purges of Yan.
Ascending the stairs to the east wing of the house, Mara followed the long corridor to the room the countess had picked out for her. She then walked past it, approaching a door on the opposite side. Several rapping knocks later, a stirring could be heard from within. Julie opened the door, inclining her head slightly to meet the masked eyes that now looked up to her. Solvi’s voice came from within, inquiring whether they’d found her.
“It is Mara! Hello.” Julie called over her shoulder, offering the mage a bright smile. A smile that soon began to slip as a cold silence grew between them. The unsettling passive neutrality of Mara’s mask often made people uncomfortable, making it the perfect tool under the right circumstances.
“I would like to speak to Solvi please.” Mara requested with a flat tone once the silence had done its work. Julie looked somewhat uncomfortable as she agreed and slipped into the room once more, closing the door behind her. The wait was perhaps longer than it should have been. Solvi was no doubt weighing up whether Mara deserved punishment or not, she thought. Regardless, the mage remained still even as Armin poked his head from within her bedroom, calling to her with a voice only she could perceive. Perhaps Solvi too, given earlier evidence.
“Calm down, did you?” Solvi asked, cutting through Mara’s thoughts as she leaned against the doorframe. From her expression, Solvi had not yet calmed down herself. Mara looked up to her, tilting her head slightly. Solvi’s face wore naked confusion, clearly expecting something else.
“I wanted to apologize for the lies. And running away.” Mara spoke in that same deadened tone she’d used for Fred and Arthur, surprising Solvi. The warrior reached out a hand as Mara turned, only to find the mage retreating from her grasp. Mara nodded, indicating behind the taller woman. Solvi smiled, a red colour coming to her cheeks. “Does she make you happy?” Mara asked, a trickle of emotion coming back to her though Solvi could not identify what exactly it was.
“It’s a bit early to be saying that.” Solvi laughed somewhat weakly, scratching the back of her neck. “First impressions are that yes, she does.” She continued. Mara nodded in acknowledgement, turning to leave Solvi’s presence without a word. Even as she walked with some difficulty towards Armin’s floating presence, Solvi stopped her with a word. “Are you alright, Mara?” She asked, her eyes concealed from the petite mage’s view yet filled with worry regardless.
“No.” Mara answered simply, her voice shaking. “I don’t think I’ve been alright for a long time.”
The mage ignored further attempts to placate her, even going so far as to prise Solvi’s hand from her shoulder.
“Please let me be. No more games. I need to think.” Mara whispered. Solvi wore a look of indecision, turning from Mara to her room as if automatically. She was grateful, turning to Armin and glowering at him through the mask. The spectre took it for the silent warning it was and faded from view. He would not be bothering her for the remainder of the night, Mara hoped.
She entered the room assigned to her with some trepidation, given the vampire’s known penchant for excess. What greeted her was instead a surprisingly restrained room of dark wooden walls and floors, expansive soft-seeming bed and vanity mirror. Through a small door set beside the bed, a bathroom was waiting for the evening’s bathing. Mara ignored that calling, instead preferring to shrug her cloak from her shoulders and seat herself on the bed. Since the confrontation and Maddie’s pressganging offer, Mara had not been afforded time to process reality. It impacted with the force of a ship against a rock.
Mara was almost thankful for the distraction as, without knocking, Twitcher entered her room with an excited air. They held in their hands a large green leather tome stamped with the hammer and scales of the Yandite Empire. They had donned Idharan clothing, sporting a waistcoat and high black boots with a broad-brimmed hat set at a jaunty angle. Mara straightened from her misery, shock taking the place of dark thoughts as the metal Elysian laid the book on the bed with a triumphant exclamation. Without pause, they turned the pages with dutiful care for the book’s age, arriving at a section entitled ‘The Black Rebellion’. Mara was about to ask what the meaning of this all was before the words froze in her throat. There, upon the page before her, was a beautifully rendered drawing of Armin.
“I found ghost while reading for more words.” Twitcher explained, pointing to the illustration with an exuberant finger. “Was Armin Van Brenin, deposed lord. Took elves to forest, kept them safe. Was court advisor, necromancer. Disappeared few years before fall of Yan.” They added, running their finger along the archaic Gardish that comprised the tome’s prose. Mara leant over, scanning the entire section with dissatisfaction. No explanation of his death nor who he was personally, only a dry recounting of his battle with Lucinius Yan, the first emperor. How he later saved Lucinius’ descendants from vampire incursions. Shortly thereafter, in the reign of Darius II, he vanished from all records. Many historians assumed that Darius, known for his capriciousness and fickle nature, had simply killed the elf out of spite.
“These Yandites. They hate elves?” Twitcher asked with a grip of their chin. Mara supposed it was difficult for the Elysian to adjust to the long and complex history that had unfolded in their absence. Perhaps thinking Yan hated elves was an easier explanation than reality. Still, Mara shook her head to the question. She wasn’t letting that underhanded lie lodge itself in her impressionable friend’s mind.
“This book may make it seem that way, but it was written by a man with a story to sell.” Mara squirmed, wishing that Twitcher had chosen Elysian rather than their adopted tongue to talk to her. She supposed Twitcher was proud of how quickly they’d learned. “Lucinius Yan didn’t hate elves. He had quite a few in his rebellion. Elves owned a lot of things and sold it piecemeal to humans. They treated humans like defective elves. When he rose up, a lot of his prescriptions named elvish nobility.” Mara explained as best she could, trying to be as even-handed as she could. Thankfully, she did not descend from Gardish or Renoran elves. She was of Spardali extraction, which was somehow worse to the average Gardish citizen. The mage breathed an internal sigh of relief that so few could see her heritage.
“Why did Armin rebel, then?” Twitcher asked with a perplexed expression in their synthetic eyes.
“You can’t convince everyone with pretty platitudes. Sometimes, hatred possesses the hearts of even good people. I’m sure Armin was doing what he thought was right.” Mara concluded lamely, hoping against hope that as she recounted this history it was true. Armin did not want to be the villain and Mara, if she were being honest with herself, didn’t want him to be either. Twitcher seemed to internalize that thought. For a moment, they were silent and looking downward. Mara cursed the designer of the body for forgetting a more expressive face.
“She was possessed by hatred.” Twitcher sighed, drawing a rolled-up paper from within their waistcoat. Unrolling it, they revealed their drawing of Mira. “Not people. The not-justice. Mira was a slave. Spent her life angry at her slavers. Fearful of the chains.” Twitcher struggled before switching to their mother tongue. She added that Mira only created necromancy for fear of those chains and a return to them. The mage squeaked in surprise at that revelation, almost recoiling from it. Twitcher regarded her with confusion.
“I was always taught that necromancy had no creator. That mages simply learned from nature.” Mara explained, pondering to herself at the implications of this realisation. Undead were a natural part of Aurythian life. The dead had to be placated and assisted in their acceptance of death, lest their souls animate the flesh they once called their own. In the briefest moment between death and life, the spirit could still cast spells. And the Arcane, sensing their desire to live, would act on that desire as best it could.
“Mira did not create walking dead. She create techniques to make walking dead. And spirit.” Twitcher replied, splitting hairs by Mara’s estimation. She was not going to contradict the Elysian, knowing well how proud they had been. “Rich men buy armies. Nobles have armies. Mira wanted force, to change the empire. End slavery, achieve great things. But even powerful mages must bend to many people.” Twitcher defended Mira with such passion that Mara felt there was more than a passing historical fancy between the two. Perhaps Twitcher had known the Ir personally. Perhaps they loved her. Though Mira had no recorded lovers in her staggeringly long life.
“You must have really admired her.” Mara acknowledged in a soft voice, answered by a firm shake of Twitcher’s head. Mara cocked her own head to the side, thinking Twitcher must not have understood Gardish. Yet even when the observation was repeated in Elysian, she disagreed. “What did you think of her?”
“Mira was powerful. I respect her as mage.” Twitcher began with a solemn tone. “But she did bad things. Not forgivable things. Perhaps she was right to free all. But she had to restore it. She tried to free them again. Killed many to do so. She spent the rest of her life in fortress-tower, trusting few. Ruled through fear. When they did not fear her, she died. I failed her.” Twitcher concluded. Their voice was suffused with such sorrow that Mara felt moved even adrift from that time.
“Do not let that pain control you.” Twitcher spoke finally, with a meaningful look towards Solvi’s door through the wall. “I have seen it break good mages. Good people.” Twitcher then bade Mara goodnight, leaving the dumbstruck mage to stare at her metal companion in disbelief. The audacity!
