Chapter 17
The day of the infiltration dawned much as the previous days had. Frightfully late and dreary. Mara found herself alone most of the time, mostly by choice since leaving Maddie’s training session. Idly reading through the history of Yan from its namesake’s exploits during the revolution to the eventual downfall of his descendant at the hands of Boros Northgard and the vampire clans that would one day become Idhara. The elves who assisted them both were mentioned in passing and even the full text of the book had distressingly little to say on Armin. Or Ardan or any of the many other elvish revolutionaries starting with A. All names she noted down in case they came up later or were somehow still alive to give testimony on Armin’s life.
Maddie through means unbeknownst to Mara had somehow wrangled Solvi and Fred into the infiltration. Arthur had agreed purely from an altruistic perspective. No sense in his friends dying without him there. The pencil snapped in Mara’s hand. Julie was coming too.
She had no contempt for Julie, she told herself as she got another pencil from the tin. Their party had a good dynamic without her. She would only get in the way, being a clueless human. Perhaps she was being unfair in that estimation. She was a Chevalier after all. And it wouldn’t hurt to have another layer to the melee fighters between her and danger. And what was she going to do in a fight? Freeze up and demand Armin save her again? The voices of yesterday had needled her constantly. Not audible, thankfully. But no less puissant for that fact. Her hand shook, lending the notes a disfigured appearance, as she remembered the images of Lyra lying on the bed. Edmund would have had such a promising career were it not for her.
“Stop it. That’s not helpful.” Mara berated herself out loud, taking a steadying breath. “Stupid old woman, addling your wits like this.”
“Madeline really took a toffee hammer to that already fragile psyche of yours, didn’t she?” Armin observed from the corner, looking up from the book he was assigned to study. Pilfered from the countess’ personal library, it held within its pages a retelling of all the famous necromancers of Phasia’s history. “I can tell because I’ve been reading the same page for half an hour. I could, in fact still can, read. And at a good pace too!” The ghost teased as Mara walked over to turn the page of his book. Sometimes, Mara forgot quite how infirm he was without a warm body to interact with the world for him.
“I’m just nervous about tonight.” Mara snapped, returning to her desk with an irate air. Armin pulled a face behind Mara’s back before settling down to really internalize these pages over the next hour.
“Not sure why. They’re the same idiots they’ve always been. Blathering on about a glorious Elysian past and elvish ancestors who were every bit as corrupt and cruel as the humans that followed them when it was their turn with the pointy stick.” Armin sniffed contemptuously as he glanced over the apprentices Mira had trained during her lifetime. Those same apprentices that would go on to imprison their mistress in Annun. Armin was almost impressed by their thoroughness in dispatching their Ir. “If I had my body, I’d bury them under so many bones we could call it a catacomb.” Armin wistfully imagined. Oh, he’d been fearsome in those days. Able to deflate a man’s ego with but a glance.
“I would have thought you more receptive to their views, being a victim of Yan yourself.” Mara commented pithily, skipping over yet another tiresome retelling of the story of the Solve Macht and their creation of the Avon Soram. Mara had long admired the gilded ranks of the Solve Macht which, translated, meant the Secret Lords or more accurately The Lords of Secrets. Mages of such superlative talent and power that they were given special leave, answerable only to the Ir. What those archmages of eld could have taught boggled her mind.
“Their ‘views’ as you generously call them, are revisionist nonsense that make a mockery of my struggle. I wasn’t fighting for the elvish people I was fighting for myself. Those who followed me like lost lambs were the lucky beneficiaries of my personal crusade.” Armin dismissed with a snort of derision. Mara turned to face the man with a cocked head, which he usually took to be a curious look. “What other reason would I have to take that cad’s deal? At that point I still had cards to play. Would that I’d stacked the deck a little more….” Armin trailed off, making a noise of disgust in no particular direction before returning to his notes.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not unless you feel like talking about what’s really bothering you, no. Elsewise, let’s just continue lying to each other.” Armin smiled sardonically up at Mara, who scoffed and returned to her work. Armin made a nose of affirmation before returning to his own task, an elongated silence falling between them. Mara enjoyed Armin for this quality. His ability to sit in silence with her and simply be there was invaluable. Not that she’d ever inflate his ego further by insinuating she needed the cynical old necromancer.
The silence was eventually broken not by either party but by Solvi appearing at her doorway with a knock. She took in the messy bed, Armin’s stare drilling a hole into Mara’s back and the anxiously fidgeting mage before clearing her throat. Mara started, pencil dropping to the ground as she turned to see who visited. She bent under the desk to retrieve it, only to knock her mask out of position as she got up. She cursed and began fiddling with the straps, Solvi trying and failing to resist the snort of laughter escaping her.
“Quite enough of that! I designed this thing with three straps, why does it keep moving?!” Mara grumbled, her hands fumbling with the clasps underneath her hood. That dampened Solvi’s levity somewhat. She still wouldn’t even lower her hood in her presence. Even Armin’s presence, who’d she’d known longer than her. Mara noticed Solvi staring at Armin and took Frigg’s sickle from her belt, holding it out towards the spectre. Dutifully, the ghost dissipated to black mist and swirled about the sickle before vanishing into it. Solvi’s expression flickered for a moment before settling on mild annoyance.
“What is that for? Doesn’t he live in your head?” Solvi demanded with irritation colouring her tone. Mara shrugged up at her companion, running a gloved hand along its curved length.
“Ever since my second trip to Annun, Armin has been unstable. Something is meddling with the binding. So, I had to bind him to a new object with a new spell. One that accounts for the aforementioned meddling.” Mara explained in as much detail as she dared. It was a fine line between honouring her commitment not to lie to Solvi and not bore her to tears with the jargon. “If left unchecked, this instability might have caused personality disruptions. And I like him the way he is. As a curmudgeonly old alleg.” She smiled as she relayed the information. Solvi could always tell when her companion smiled. It was so rare that it changed the tenor of her voice. She sounded warmer, softer even. Solvi couldn’t help but smile back, the anger of the previous few days waning.
“That explains why a skeleton was randomly appearing around you, at least.” Solvi nodded as if she understood a wit what a binding spell was even for. Mara doubtless had a convoluted explanation, but Solvi decided it was probably for keeping the vexatious little git in his place. “More’s the pity. I was hoping we could use him to scare the Army into buggering off before they do anything consequential.” Solvi jested, attracting an enthusiastic precursor to a demonstration that Solvi immediately halted with a hand and urgent denial. She didn’t want the house exploding like the ammunition cache.
“Well, as far as consequential actions go, stealing random people is definitely among them.” Mara challenged, hooking the sickle through her belt. She hoped Armin enjoyed his new digs in the ruby. She’d worked a great deal to implant some measure of comfort for the ghost even if he couldn’t really feel any of it. A few poems, some light history and magical theory. Things he could still enjoy without a stomach or sense of touch.
“Not random. They avoid elves and anyone with resources. Preying on the weak like cowards.” Solvi responded darkly, hand resting on her dagger as she contemplated the many and varied things, she’d like to do to them. “And Maddie would have us make nice with them. Earn their trust. For my part all they’ve earned is a knife in the gizzard.” Solvi curled a lip as she remembered the orsan names on the list of the missing. But she wasn’t so cold as to not spare a thought for the others who’d been plucked from their homes.
“We can’t kill people because of their opinions. Kidnapping is definitely something they should be in prison for.” Mara placated with a brave attempt at diplomacy, only for Solvi to shake her head. Mara was unsure whether it was due to her companion thinking she was naïve or because she’d acknowledged the point. “Just promise me you won’t go stabbing random people. They might just be curious. Not everyone there will be lost to reason.” Mara added, a stern tone echoing through the mask. It attracted a disbelieving look from Solvi, who pinched her nose briefly.
“Do you think so little of me that I don’t know what infiltration is? I was just questioning the approach.” Solvi spoke through a weak laugh, as if she were desperately trying to lighten the mood. “We both know what happens when people start thinking that somewhere is theirs because their ancestors stood on it one time.” Solvi pointed out, recalling the orsan occupation of much of North Phasia. Renora and Gard had both fallen in part, only to be reconquered later by the Idharan and rebellion forces.
“Hopefully we’re not at that stage yet.” Mara shrugged, crossing her legs and turning bodily to face Solvi with the last of her notes in her lap. “Now, what can I do for you?” Mara inquired pointedly. The large woman rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, rolling her scarred shoulder with an uncomfortable frown. Mara tilted her head backwards slightly, as if expecting this of her companion.
“You seemed very upset the day before. And yesterday, you came back from the mountain considerably shaken.” Solvi began, fidgeting with an evasive look. Eventually, she seemed to steel herself against her doubts and press on. “I wanted to know if you’re alright to do this mission. I might be able to convince Maddie to let you off. She seemed disappointed.” Solvi suggested with low confidence, unable to quite believe the suggestion herself.
“It’s just lying to idiots. I’ll just channel Renaud all night.” Mara spoke soothingly. She did not like Maddie’s conclusions but conceded as Solvi brought them up that perhaps they had merit. It was not just one eccentric vampire who saw that in her. Solvi did also. It was a blow to her already flagging confidence. The dissonance of who she was and what she could achieve had been humiliating. “What does it matter if I can’t blow up a building? I have other talents.” Mara nodded firmly, putting on a great show of bravado for Solvi.
The tall woman didn’t seem convinced, wearing a neutral expression before nodding to herself and bidding Mara a good day and to prepare well. Mara took her own spell book from its clasps and simply stared at it. A thick tome gilt in fancy leather which, upon opening, showed but a few pages of spells then nothing. She was this book, Mara thought. A fine and interesting cover. Barely a mote of wisdom within.
When Mara appeared to the group that evening ready for her mission, she wore her spell book more as a prop than a tool. She took Armin’s sickle to hear his voice and reassurance. Gathered in the parlour of the countess’ manor, Fred, Arthur, Solvi and Julie had convened long before her. Her tardiness was noted by Maddie who looked up from a mess of documents and maps strewn about the table. Twitcher had commandeered the games table for their work on what appeared to be Fred’s rifle. Apparently, it was an inefficient design, with terrible accuracy. They were fixing it. The mage left them to their devices and sat herself on the floor next to the three armchairs that were occupied by her comrades, trying her best to look calm.
“To reiterate; Mara will be coasting in on her Tuil relationship alone whilst the rest of you I will enshroud in illusions to make you look like elves. Solvi, Arthur, as the biggest you will be her bodyguards. Fred, you’ll be her accountant. Julie will be her date.” Maddie smiled to all and sundry, extracting a mild noise of complaint from Mara. Maddie gave her an aggressively serene look before the mage held her hands up in surrender. Fred, meanwhile, seemed positively glowing at his assignment and quickly began to gather elements of his disguise from the room around him. He even managed to find a scorekeeper’s book and doodle in sufficient numbers to be a convincing ledger to the untrained eye. “You seem fairly enthusiastic for a man so thoroughly uninvolved.” Maddie observed with a curious expression.
“Between enforcers an’ elf dandies, they’re all the same rich nobs. I’ll put ‘em in their place wherever they are.” Fred spoke over his shoulder as he pulled a pair of wire-framed glasses fitted for a humanoid face from his overalls. “Love a scrap. And some folks have faces good for a bashin’.” He added wryly as he drew a bat from the oddly cavernous overalls. Maddie’s face turned to the resigned face of a woman minding unruly children before she turned to the dour chevalier standing behind Solvi’s chair.
“Julie, I expect you to make sure they stay on task. We cannot afford distractions.” Maddie sighed, using a strangely authoritative voice for one so informal. Mara had no idea how the vague and arcane interconnections of nobility worked within Idhara. She must have had some authority to be even ordering this.
“What will possibly distract us? This isn’t the first time I’ve heard hatred from elves.” Arthur grunted, looking up from his mace which he’d been dutifully polishing. With access to endless funds, it seemed that Arthur had bought himself some expensive weapon oil. Mara could practically feel the magic radiating from it.
“Mara’s distant cousin will be there. All the leaders will be. Albrecht Van Tuil, I believe you’ve met?” Maddie inquired with feigned politeness, which attracted a stiffening from Mara’s spine. Every eye save perhaps Twitcher’s slid to Mara, who returned their gaze challengingly.
“Azra Van Tuil is Albrecht’s grandmother. She is also sister to my grandmother. I am eighth in line to the house’s seat after my mother.” Mara explained defiantly, as if daring the group to question her loyalty. Solvi scratched her chin, appearing to mull this new information in her mind. “Take any two people and the likelihood they share ancestry becomes closer to one as you go back in generations. This is especially true for smaller populations like Enclave Families.” Mara expounded, hoping to assuage herself of any potential guilt by association. The looks of confusion from those not of Phasia’s mainland caused the elf to make a noise of frustration and take a loose scrap of paper from the table. With a pencil, she drew two circles. “Elves come in two cultural lineages. There are the descendants of the original eight provinces of the Empire. Then there are those in the outer provinces that became countries. These are the Diasporic elves. The original eight provinces are home to those who named themselves Enclave elves. My ancestors dedicated themselves to preserving our culture and language while the Diasporic elves melded into the larger cultures over time. The end result was Spardale being a miniature empire while the rest of the continent isn’t obsessed with blood purity.” Mara then looked up to see that Arthur had returned to shining his mace. “Pay attention! There will be a test. That being the mission you’re going on. Albrecht and I hale from Enclave ancestry. That means as a direct descendant of Elysian nobility, he gets the respect. If you treat him as anything less than royalty, you’re doing it wrong.” Mara warned, her pencil having sketched out the relative hierarchy that her culture enforced. As a secondary branch, she was well chosen by Maddie for this task. The bluer the blood the better where elvish nationalists were concerned.
“Elves expecting me to kiss their feet will be nothing new.” Arthur replied cynically, testing the heft of his mace with a few practice swings. Solvi then raised her hand, to which Maddie gratefully called upon her.
“I’m a bit tall. Fred’s short and furry. Illusions aren’t going to hide that fact.” Solvi cocked an eyebrow, resting the Guillotine on her lap. Mara briefly considered reminding her that it was an orsan weapon but there likely wasn’t any convincing her.
“All transmutations are to some degree illusory. Fred I can handle with a little tactile dampening. I was going to shrink you before I heard that Thora Van Cairn was going to be there.” Maddie shrugged, naming one of the most famous war heroes of Spardale. Mara had only heard family stories about this giant elvish noble. “I figured it would make her think twice about starting something if Mara’s bodyguard was also a very large elf.”
The clock then began to softly chime. Maddie looked over and nodded. The appointed hour had come and so she took a box from under her chair. She opened it to reveal several bangles etched with arcanography cleverly disguised as crawling vine motifs. Julie took one without balking, slipping it over her hand with a resolute look. Her ears immediately sharpened and lengthened, taking the appearance of a pretty blonde elf woman tattooed with traditional markings. Arthur took his own, sighing with disappointment as his beard vanished. Mara stifled a laugh at the poor man’s elvish form. He looked much like himself save for the pointed ears and emerald eyes. Solvi felt her ears experimentally. She even shook her head trying to make her ears flop about with a childish smile.
“How do you sleep with these?” She asked incredulously, feeling the tips with curious fingers.
“They don’t usually extend to the back of our head. You’re very fortunate. Longer ears are a sign of long life!” Mara cheerfully encouraged.
“How the bugger do y’breathe through this thing?” Fred demanded, attracting the attention of all those in the room. Before them stood a squat little elf man, barely up to Arthur’s shoulder. His ears were more rotund than pointy, and his face had a decidedly rodent-like bent to it as he fumbled his own nose which stuck up like an alleg’s beak. He’d managed to wear the glasses and, with a waistcoat he’d pilfered from Geoffrey, looked every bit like the stuffy accountant he was meant to be. “Feels like I’m breathin’ through a frost giant’s arse!” Fred colourfully grumbled before suddenly finding a new rifle pressed into his hands. Heavily modified, the firearm now possessed aulind rifling that gave the barrel a rather beautiful spiralling pattern Mara thought. Its stock had also been changed from the beaten-up old wood to what Mara guessed was segaris wood. A dark wooded tree that was exceptional for the magical poison it shed. As a result, the wood could conduct magical energies better than conventional wood and was quite expensive to harvest. Mara looked over to Twitcher with a nod of approval while Fred regarded his new weapon with breathless enthusiasm.
“Made more fire-stones too.” Twitcher grunted, pressing a box of ammunition into Fred’s hands. As he peeked into the box, he exhaled a whistle of admiration. “More types than fire. Like my old rifle. Prefer swords now though.” Twitcher explained, taking their picture of Mira in hand and stroking it with their thumb. Fred noted this and eyed the length of the barrel to check the sights. Looking over to Twitcher, he gripped the Elysian’s arm approvingly.
“Don’ know much ‘bout Mira ‘cept what you an’ Mara said. But I reckon she’d be proud of you. Both of you.” Fred looked between the two elves, Twitcher clasping his hand between their own firmly. They placed the picture in his hands, synthetic eyes burning with more compassion Mara had ever seen in Albrecht’s.
“You keep her close. For luck.” Twitcher instructed solemnly. Fred seemed taken aback for a moment before looking down at the picture with a mixture of emotions. “Mira was a friend to Skitti. I believe she still is.” The automaton then stood upright and looked them all in the eye, checking their arm blades for a moment. “Maddie does not want me close. Says Army is a bad influence. I wait outside to protect.” Twitcher said the last word with such emphasis that Mara suspected a double meaning. Maddie’s disapproving look clinched the assumption. The two had an understanding that Twitcher would not be keeping to.
“My sister has ordered the chevaliers be on duty tonight. All of them. If things get out of hand, they are instructed to get you to safety. The safe word is bissup.” Maddie informed them with a tired expression, sparks passing between her hands as she rubbed them with anticipation. “Twitcher and I will be on standby to create a large distraction in the event you’re all discovered. So, try not to be discovered.” Maddie then walked briskly over to the exit and held it open for Twitcher, who pinched Arthur’s weapon oil while they were sure Maddie wasn’t looking. “Good luck. Don’t get converted!” Maddie cheerfully commanded before leaving to engage with whatever shenanigans she’d prepared for the evening.
The party shortly departed the manor once Mara had asked Geoffrey where the venue was. Happily, for Mara, the Army had chosen to set up their gathering within the old elvish cemetery that lay just outside the city’s walls. The courtyard touted a raised dais and statue of Zareth Van Farden, the genius architect. Mara sometimes wondered whether elves had done anything of note in the intervening four thousand years. Then again, he was highly influential in philosophy. Mara rolled her eyes at the memory of Renaud’s lectures about the man. Her parents had taught her to be a good person. Renaud taught her to be a good elf. No wonder she’d failed at both.
As the party traversed the city in their splendour, other elves were busy walking to the gathering place with whispers and excited chatter. The other peoples of Lureaux cast disparaging glances at the throng while several elves, particularly elderly ones who remembered the founding of Idhara, shouted abuses in their mother tongue. Mara doubted many in the crowd understood them, if the meeting at Yanhelm was any indication. Several members of the Army had taken to standing along the main street, weapons freshly polished and flag resting in the crook of their arm. Mara pulled her family’s amulet from within her robes, making sure all who looked upon her could see it. She called to her aid Renaud’s confident stride and mustered what little charisma she had into her confidence. The party about her did their best to run the gauntlet between frightening warrior to demure heiress. Fred seemed to be enjoying himself greatly as he continued to scribble in his book, checking his watch every so often.
As the impromptu procession of elves and curious onlookers left the city, they could see the lanterns of the cemetery. A huge pavilion had been erected for the night’s festivities, akin to a large circus tent or great fair. The Army’s stragglers became far thicker as they approached the gates, many of them wielding traditional elvish weaponry like the sabre or bow. Mara self-consciously moved her spell book to a more prominent position, hoping to project a Magisterial might she did not feel. Arthur, noticing this, tapped his armlet to glow slightly with Sirona’s power. Among the elves, magic was the assumption not a talent.
The gates to the cemetery were predictably barred by several burly elves who wore the dress uniforms of the Circle of Serenar, a secretive group older than the Army by far. Similar beliefs, concerned with waging a crusade to reclaim the elvish homeland. They stood next to a smaller tent erected with an ingratiating young man checking those who entered. Before the party, a gaggle of human and coblini teenagers dared try to enter. It took less than a few seconds for them to be dragged by the ear from the line. Mara looked to Solvi for reassurance and received an encouraging nod in return. The elf harnessed her talkative nature and every smarmy memory of her mentor she could muster.
“Good even- You’re Mara Ver Fatuil. Sorry, but you’re on the blacklist for previous activities.” The young man politely informed the troupe. Mara inhaled deeply as if annoyed, pondering what Renaud would do.
“As you can see, I’ve had a change of heart. Cousin Albrecht was very persuasive when we were working together.” Mara retorted with a relatively calm voice. Inside her anxiety shrieked that this would not end well, that the guards were about to draw weapons. She stomped on it desperately. These men had never so much as drawn a weapon let alone wielded one.
“Unfortunately, without Van Tuil’s presence I cannot confirm that. Step out of line please.” The young man soothed, his demeanour the picture of implacable bureaucrat. Mara was thankful for her mask as a look of terror overtook her. In the time between heartbeats, the mage’s eyes flicked for some desperate hint from her comrades or chance encounter with Albrecht. Instead, her eyes fell upon a spectre that had not kept to the Ephemeral Lands. Lyra’s dead, white eyes bored into her own. She started, regaining control over herself in time to pass it off as an aggressive twitch.
“Are you going to let a glorified bag holder for these cretins deny you?” Lyra taunted in her ear as Mara made her apologies for seeming to lose her temper. Yet that charade was quickly crumbling to its genuine self in the face of the ghost’s taunting. Unable to reply, she had to endure it. “I remember when you used to have a personality. Some backbone. Come on. Let’s see some of that fake Tuil fire.”
“I am a Tuil!” Mara spat at the spectre, seeming to lose her temper at thin air. She then turned to the clerk, who shrank back in his seat at the sudden snapping rage. “My grandmother was Sira Van Tuil and she sits at the high council. I speak the language of my forebears and know their history and heroes as my own family. Can you say the same, Diasporic child?” Mara sneered, filling herself with all the condescension and arrogant hatred she’d been repressing. It felt like a geyser, frothing from deep within her after remaining hidden so long. She tapped the table in genuine attempt to calm herself, walking in small circles. Julie intervened, placating the man with a soothing attempt at diplomacy.
“Forgive her, she is not used to being denied. And she was looking forward to seeing the great man speak!” Julie smiled at the now-quivering young man, who nodded. He attempted to stutter out that he understood yet would deny them. He was stopped from doing so by an elf Mara did not recognize. He was average height, wearing his white-blonde hair in a topknot. His lavender eyes, which were uncommon even for elves, affixed themselves on Mara with amusement. The opulent robes he wore and spell book at his hip seemed to place him at high station, though even he had to wear the flame tongue broach the rest of his cadre wore.
“Well, hear me now.” He smiled in a smooth, charismatic voice. The party drew a collective breath as they realised the identity of their saviour. “Please, come with me. It wouldn’t do to have such an esteemed guest dally around outside in the cold.” He offered the crook of his arm to Mara, who took it automatically. As if keen to sell the act, Julie hooked her arm possessively about Mara’s other arm and together, they marched Mara into the cemetery. Her party followed behind, Fred making a great show of how poorly this would go for their itinerary. Suppressing a hysterical laugh, Mara had to admire his accent.
Chapter 17
The day of the infiltration dawned much as the previous days had. Frightfully late and dreary. Mara found herself alone most of the time, mostly by choice since leaving Maddie’s training session. Idly reading through the history of Yan from its namesake’s exploits during the revolution to the eventual downfall of his descendant at the hands of Boros Northgard and the vampire clans that would one day become Idhara. The elves who assisted them both were mentioned in passing and even the full text of the book had distressingly little to say on Armin. Or Ardan or any of the many other elvish revolutionaries starting with A. All names she noted down in case they came up later or were somehow still alive to give testimony on Armin’s life.
Maddie through means unbeknownst to Mara had somehow wrangled Solvi and Fred into the infiltration. Arthur had agreed purely from an altruistic perspective. No sense in his friends dying without him there. The pencil snapped in Mara’s hand. Julie was coming too.
She had no contempt for Julie, she told herself as she got another pencil from the tin. Their party had a good dynamic without her. She would only get in the way, being a clueless human. Perhaps she was being unfair in that estimation. She was a Chevalier after all. And it wouldn’t hurt to have another layer to the melee fighters between her and danger. And what was she going to do in a fight? Freeze up and demand Armin save her again? The voices of yesterday had needled her constantly. Not audible, thankfully. But no less puissant for that fact. Her hand shook, lending the notes a disfigured appearance, as she remembered the images of Lyra lying on the bed. Edmund would have had such a promising career were it not for her.
“Stop it. That’s not helpful.” Mara berated herself out loud, taking a steadying breath. “Stupid old woman, addling your wits like this.”
“Madeline really took a toffee hammer to that already fragile psyche of yours, didn’t she?” Armin observed from the corner, looking up from the book he was assigned to study. Pilfered from the countess’ personal library, it held within its pages a retelling of all the famous necromancers of Phasia’s history. “I can tell because I’ve been reading the same page for half an hour. I could, in fact still can, read. And at a good pace too!” The ghost teased as Mara walked over to turn the page of his book. Sometimes, Mara forgot quite how infirm he was without a warm body to interact with the world for him.
“I’m just nervous about tonight.” Mara snapped, returning to her desk with an irate air. Armin pulled a face behind Mara’s back before settling down to really internalize these pages over the next hour.
“Not sure why. They’re the same idiots they’ve always been. Blathering on about a glorious Elysian past and elvish ancestors who were every bit as corrupt and cruel as the humans that followed them when it was their turn with the pointy stick.” Armin sniffed contemptuously as he glanced over the apprentices Mira had trained during her lifetime. Those same apprentices that would go on to imprison their mistress in Annun. Armin was almost impressed by their thoroughness in dispatching their Ir. “If I had my body, I’d bury them under so many bones we could call it a catacomb.” Armin wistfully imagined. Oh, he’d been fearsome in those days. Able to deflate a man’s ego with but a glance.
“I would have thought you more receptive to their views, being a victim of Yan yourself.” Mara commented pithily, skipping over yet another tiresome retelling of the story of the Solve Macht and their creation of the Avon Soram. Mara had long admired the gilded ranks of the Solve Macht which, translated, meant the Secret Lords or more accurately The Lords of Secrets. Mages of such superlative talent and power that they were given special leave, answerable only to the Ir. What those archmages of eld could have taught boggled her mind.
“Their ‘views’ as you generously call them, are revisionist nonsense that make a mockery of my struggle. I wasn’t fighting for the elvish people I was fighting for myself. Those who followed me like lost lambs were the lucky beneficiaries of my personal crusade.” Armin dismissed with a snort of derision. Mara turned to face the man with a cocked head, which he usually took to be a curious look. “What other reason would I have to take that cad’s deal? At that point I still had cards to play. Would that I’d stacked the deck a little more….” Armin trailed off, making a noise of disgust in no particular direction before returning to his notes.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not unless you feel like talking about what’s really bothering you, no. Elsewise, let’s just continue lying to each other.” Armin smiled sardonically up at Mara, who scoffed and returned to her work. Armin made a nose of affirmation before returning to his own task, an elongated silence falling between them. Mara enjoyed Armin for this quality. His ability to sit in silence with her and simply be there was invaluable. Not that she’d ever inflate his ego further by insinuating she needed the cynical old necromancer.
The silence was eventually broken not by either party but by Solvi appearing at her doorway with a knock. She took in the messy bed, Armin’s stare drilling a hole into Mara’s back and the anxiously fidgeting mage before clearing her throat. Mara started, pencil dropping to the ground as she turned to see who visited. She bent under the desk to retrieve it, only to knock her mask out of position as she got up. She cursed and began fiddling with the straps, Solvi trying and failing to resist the snort of laughter escaping her.
“Quite enough of that! I designed this thing with three straps, why does it keep moving?!” Mara grumbled, her hands fumbling with the clasps underneath her hood. That dampened Solvi’s levity somewhat. She still wouldn’t even lower her hood in her presence. Even Armin’s presence, who’d she’d known longer than her. Mara noticed Solvi staring at Armin and took Frigg’s sickle from her belt, holding it out towards the spectre. Dutifully, the ghost dissipated to black mist and swirled about the sickle before vanishing into it. Solvi’s expression flickered for a moment before settling on mild annoyance.
“What is that for? Doesn’t he live in your head?” Solvi demanded with irritation colouring her tone. Mara shrugged up at her companion, running a gloved hand along its curved length.
“Ever since my second trip to Annun, Armin has been unstable. Something is meddling with the binding. So, I had to bind him to a new object with a new spell. One that accounts for the aforementioned meddling.” Mara explained in as much detail as she dared. It was a fine line between honouring her commitment not to lie to Solvi and not bore her to tears with the jargon. “If left unchecked, this instability might have caused personality disruptions. And I like him the way he is. As a curmudgeonly old alleg.” She smiled as she relayed the information. Solvi could always tell when her companion smiled. It was so rare that it changed the tenor of her voice. She sounded warmer, softer even. Solvi couldn’t help but smile back, the anger of the previous few days waning.
“That explains why a skeleton was randomly appearing around you, at least.” Solvi nodded as if she understood a wit what a binding spell was even for. Mara doubtless had a convoluted explanation, but Solvi decided it was probably for keeping the vexatious little git in his place. “More’s the pity. I was hoping we could use him to scare the Army into buggering off before they do anything consequential.” Solvi jested, attracting an enthusiastic precursor to a demonstration that Solvi immediately halted with a hand and urgent denial. She didn’t want the house exploding like the ammunition cache.
“Well, as far as consequential actions go, stealing random people is definitely among them.” Mara challenged, hooking the sickle through her belt. She hoped Armin enjoyed his new digs in the ruby. She’d worked a great deal to implant some measure of comfort for the ghost even if he couldn’t really feel any of it. A few poems, some light history and magical theory. Things he could still enjoy without a stomach or sense of touch.
“Not random. They avoid elves and anyone with resources. Preying on the weak like cowards.” Solvi responded darkly, hand resting on her dagger as she contemplated the many and varied things, she’d like to do to them. “And Maddie would have us make nice with them. Earn their trust. For my part all they’ve earned is a knife in the gizzard.” Solvi curled a lip as she remembered the orsan names on the list of the missing. But she wasn’t so cold as to not spare a thought for the others who’d been plucked from their homes.
“We can’t kill people because of their opinions. Kidnapping is definitely something they should be in prison for.” Mara placated with a brave attempt at diplomacy, only for Solvi to shake her head. Mara was unsure whether it was due to her companion thinking she was naïve or because she’d acknowledged the point. “Just promise me you won’t go stabbing random people. They might just be curious. Not everyone there will be lost to reason.” Mara added, a stern tone echoing through the mask. It attracted a disbelieving look from Solvi, who pinched her nose briefly.
“Do you think so little of me that I don’t know what infiltration is? I was just questioning the approach.” Solvi spoke through a weak laugh, as if she were desperately trying to lighten the mood. “We both know what happens when people start thinking that somewhere is theirs because their ancestors stood on it one time.” Solvi pointed out, recalling the orsan occupation of much of North Phasia. Renora and Gard had both fallen in part, only to be reconquered later by the Idharan and rebellion forces.
“Hopefully we’re not at that stage yet.” Mara shrugged, crossing her legs and turning bodily to face Solvi with the last of her notes in her lap. “Now, what can I do for you?” Mara inquired pointedly. The large woman rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, rolling her scarred shoulder with an uncomfortable frown. Mara tilted her head backwards slightly, as if expecting this of her companion.
“You seemed very upset the day before. And yesterday, you came back from the mountain considerably shaken.” Solvi began, fidgeting with an evasive look. Eventually, she seemed to steel herself against her doubts and press on. “I wanted to know if you’re alright to do this mission. I might be able to convince Maddie to let you off. She seemed disappointed.” Solvi suggested with low confidence, unable to quite believe the suggestion herself.
“It’s just lying to idiots. I’ll just channel Renaud all night.” Mara spoke soothingly. She did not like Maddie’s conclusions but conceded as Solvi brought them up that perhaps they had merit. It was not just one eccentric vampire who saw that in her. Solvi did also. It was a blow to her already flagging confidence. The dissonance of who she was and what she could achieve had been humiliating. “What does it matter if I can’t blow up a building? I have other talents.” Mara nodded firmly, putting on a great show of bravado for Solvi.
The tall woman didn’t seem convinced, wearing a neutral expression before nodding to herself and bidding Mara a good day and to prepare well. Mara took her own spell book from its clasps and simply stared at it. A thick tome gilt in fancy leather which, upon opening, showed but a few pages of spells then nothing. She was this book, Mara thought. A fine and interesting cover. Barely a mote of wisdom within.
When Mara appeared to the group that evening ready for her mission, she wore her spell book more as a prop than a tool. She took Armin’s sickle to hear his voice and reassurance. Gathered in the parlour of the countess’ manor, Fred, Arthur, Solvi and Julie had convened long before her. Her tardiness was noted by Maddie who looked up from a mess of documents and maps strewn about the table. Twitcher had commandeered the games table for their work on what appeared to be Fred’s rifle. Apparently, it was an inefficient design, with terrible accuracy. They were fixing it. The mage left them to their devices and sat herself on the floor next to the three armchairs that were occupied by her comrades, trying her best to look calm.
“To reiterate; Mara will be coasting in on her Tuil relationship alone whilst the rest of you I will enshroud in illusions to make you look like elves. Solvi, Arthur, as the biggest you will be her bodyguards. Fred, you’ll be her accountant. Julie will be her date.” Maddie smiled to all and sundry, extracting a mild noise of complaint from Mara. Maddie gave her an aggressively serene look before the mage held her hands up in surrender. Fred, meanwhile, seemed positively glowing at his assignment and quickly began to gather elements of his disguise from the room around him. He even managed to find a scorekeeper’s book and doodle in sufficient numbers to be a convincing ledger to the untrained eye. “You seem fairly enthusiastic for a man so thoroughly uninvolved.” Maddie observed with a curious expression.
“Between enforcers an’ elf dandies, they’re all the same rich nobs. I’ll put ‘em in their place wherever they are.” Fred spoke over his shoulder as he pulled a pair of wire-framed glasses fitted for a humanoid face from his overalls. “Love a scrap. And some folks have faces good for a bashin’.” He added wryly as he drew a bat from the oddly cavernous overalls. Maddie’s face turned to the resigned face of a woman minding unruly children before she turned to the dour chevalier standing behind Solvi’s chair.
“Julie, I expect you to make sure they stay on task. We cannot afford distractions.” Maddie sighed, using a strangely authoritative voice for one so informal. Mara had no idea how the vague and arcane interconnections of nobility worked within Idhara. She must have had some authority to be even ordering this.
“What will possibly distract us? This isn’t the first time I’ve heard hatred from elves.” Arthur grunted, looking up from his mace which he’d been dutifully polishing. With access to endless funds, it seemed that Arthur had bought himself some expensive weapon oil. Mara could practically feel the magic radiating from it.
“Mara’s distant cousin will be there. All the leaders will be. Albrecht Van Tuil, I believe you’ve met?” Maddie inquired with feigned politeness, which attracted a stiffening from Mara’s spine. Every eye save perhaps Twitcher’s slid to Mara, who returned their gaze challengingly.
“Azra Van Tuil is Albrecht’s grandmother. She is also sister to my grandmother. I am eighth in line to the house’s seat after my mother.” Mara explained defiantly, as if daring the group to question her loyalty. Solvi scratched her chin, appearing to mull this new information in her mind. “Take any two people and the likelihood they share ancestry becomes closer to one as you go back in generations. This is especially true for smaller populations like Enclave Families.” Mara expounded, hoping to assuage herself of any potential guilt by association. The looks of confusion from those not of Phasia’s mainland caused the elf to make a noise of frustration and take a loose scrap of paper from the table. With a pencil, she drew two circles. “Elves come in two cultural lineages. There are the descendants of the original eight provinces of the Empire. Then there are those in the outer provinces that became countries. These are the Diasporic elves. The original eight provinces are home to those who named themselves Enclave elves. My ancestors dedicated themselves to preserving our culture and language while the Diasporic elves melded into the larger cultures over time. The end result was Spardale being a miniature empire while the rest of the continent isn’t obsessed with blood purity.” Mara then looked up to see that Arthur had returned to shining his mace. “Pay attention! There will be a test. That being the mission you’re going on. Albrecht and I hale from Enclave ancestry. That means as a direct descendant of Elysian nobility, he gets the respect. If you treat him as anything less than royalty, you’re doing it wrong.” Mara warned, her pencil having sketched out the relative hierarchy that her culture enforced. As a secondary branch, she was well chosen by Maddie for this task. The bluer the blood the better where elvish nationalists were concerned.
“Elves expecting me to kiss their feet will be nothing new.” Arthur replied cynically, testing the heft of his mace with a few practice swings. Solvi then raised her hand, to which Maddie gratefully called upon her.
“I’m a bit tall. Fred’s short and furry. Illusions aren’t going to hide that fact.” Solvi cocked an eyebrow, resting the Guillotine on her lap. Mara briefly considered reminding her that it was an orsan weapon but there likely wasn’t any convincing her.
“All transmutations are to some degree illusory. Fred I can handle with a little tactile dampening. I was going to shrink you before I heard that Thora Van Cairn was going to be there.” Maddie shrugged, naming one of the most famous war heroes of Spardale. Mara had only heard family stories about this giant elvish noble. “I figured it would make her think twice about starting something if Mara’s bodyguard was also a very large elf.”
The clock then began to softly chime. Maddie looked over and nodded. The appointed hour had come and so she took a box from under her chair. She opened it to reveal several bangles etched with arcanography cleverly disguised as crawling vine motifs. Julie took one without balking, slipping it over her hand with a resolute look. Her ears immediately sharpened and lengthened, taking the appearance of a pretty blonde elf woman tattooed with traditional markings. Arthur took his own, sighing with disappointment as his beard vanished. Mara stifled a laugh at the poor man’s elvish form. He looked much like himself save for the pointed ears and emerald eyes. Solvi felt her ears experimentally. She even shook her head trying to make her ears flop about with a childish smile.
“How do you sleep with these?” She asked incredulously, feeling the tips with curious fingers.
“They don’t usually extend to the back of our head. You’re very fortunate. Longer ears are a sign of long life!” Mara cheerfully encouraged.
“How the bugger do y’breathe through this thing?” Fred demanded, attracting the attention of all those in the room. Before them stood a squat little elf man, barely up to Arthur’s shoulder. His ears were more rotund than pointy, and his face had a decidedly rodent-like bent to it as he fumbled his own nose which stuck up like an alleg’s beak. He’d managed to wear the glasses and, with a waistcoat he’d pilfered from Geoffrey, looked every bit like the stuffy accountant he was meant to be. “Feels like I’m breathin’ through a frost giant’s arse!” Fred colourfully grumbled before suddenly finding a new rifle pressed into his hands. Heavily modified, the firearm now possessed aulind rifling that gave the barrel a rather beautiful spiralling pattern Mara thought. Its stock had also been changed from the beaten-up old wood to what Mara guessed was segaris wood. A dark wooded tree that was exceptional for the magical poison it shed. As a result, the wood could conduct magical energies better than conventional wood and was quite expensive to harvest. Mara looked over to Twitcher with a nod of approval while Fred regarded his new weapon with breathless enthusiasm.
“Made more fire-stones too.” Twitcher grunted, pressing a box of ammunition into Fred’s hands. As he peeked into the box, he exhaled a whistle of admiration. “More types than fire. Like my old rifle. Prefer swords now though.” Twitcher explained, taking their picture of Mira in hand and stroking it with their thumb. Fred noted this and eyed the length of the barrel to check the sights. Looking over to Twitcher, he gripped the Elysian’s arm approvingly.
“Don’ know much ‘bout Mira ‘cept what you an’ Mara said. But I reckon she’d be proud of you. Both of you.” Fred looked between the two elves, Twitcher clasping his hand between their own firmly. They placed the picture in his hands, synthetic eyes burning with more compassion Mara had ever seen in Albrecht’s.
“You keep her close. For luck.” Twitcher instructed solemnly. Fred seemed taken aback for a moment before looking down at the picture with a mixture of emotions. “Mira was a friend to Skitti. I believe she still is.” The automaton then stood upright and looked them all in the eye, checking their arm blades for a moment. “Maddie does not want me close. Says Army is a bad influence. I wait outside to protect.” Twitcher said the last word with such emphasis that Mara suspected a double meaning. Maddie’s disapproving look clinched the assumption. The two had an understanding that Twitcher would not be keeping to.
“My sister has ordered the chevaliers be on duty tonight. All of them. If things get out of hand, they are instructed to get you to safety. The safe word is bissup.” Maddie informed them with a tired expression, sparks passing between her hands as she rubbed them with anticipation. “Twitcher and I will be on standby to create a large distraction in the event you’re all discovered. So, try not to be discovered.” Maddie then walked briskly over to the exit and held it open for Twitcher, who pinched Arthur’s weapon oil while they were sure Maddie wasn’t looking. “Good luck. Don’t get converted!” Maddie cheerfully commanded before leaving to engage with whatever shenanigans she’d prepared for the evening.
The party shortly departed the manor once Mara had asked Geoffrey where the venue was. Happily, for Mara, the Army had chosen to set up their gathering within the old elvish cemetery that lay just outside the city’s walls. The courtyard touted a raised dais and statue of Zareth Van Farden, the genius architect. Mara sometimes wondered whether elves had done anything of note in the intervening four thousand years. Then again, he was highly influential in philosophy. Mara rolled her eyes at the memory of Renaud’s lectures about the man. Her parents had taught her to be a good person. Renaud taught her to be a good elf. No wonder she’d failed at both.
As the party traversed the city in their splendour, other elves were busy walking to the gathering place with whispers and excited chatter. The other peoples of Lureaux cast disparaging glances at the throng while several elves, particularly elderly ones who remembered the founding of Idhara, shouted abuses in their mother tongue. Mara doubted many in the crowd understood them, if the meeting at Yanhelm was any indication. Several members of the Army had taken to standing along the main street, weapons freshly polished and flag resting in the crook of their arm. Mara pulled her family’s amulet from within her robes, making sure all who looked upon her could see it. She called to her aid Renaud’s confident stride and mustered what little charisma she had into her confidence. The party about her did their best to run the gauntlet between frightening warrior to demure heiress. Fred seemed to be enjoying himself greatly as he continued to scribble in his book, checking his watch every so often.
As the impromptu procession of elves and curious onlookers left the city, they could see the lanterns of the cemetery. A huge pavilion had been erected for the night’s festivities, akin to a large circus tent or great fair. The Army’s stragglers became far thicker as they approached the gates, many of them wielding traditional elvish weaponry like the sabre or bow. Mara self-consciously moved her spell book to a more prominent position, hoping to project a Magisterial might she did not feel. Arthur, noticing this, tapped his armlet to glow slightly with Sirona’s power. Among the elves, magic was the assumption not a talent.
The gates to the cemetery were predictably barred by several burly elves who wore the dress uniforms of the Circle of Serenar, a secretive group older than the Army by far. Similar beliefs, concerned with waging a crusade to reclaim the elvish homeland. They stood next to a smaller tent erected with an ingratiating young man checking those who entered. Before the party, a gaggle of human and coblini teenagers dared try to enter. It took less than a few seconds for them to be dragged by the ear from the line. Mara looked to Solvi for reassurance and received an encouraging nod in return. The elf harnessed her talkative nature and every smarmy memory of her mentor she could muster.
“Good even- You’re Mara Ver Fatuil. Sorry, but you’re on the blacklist for previous activities.” The young man politely informed the troupe. Mara inhaled deeply as if annoyed, pondering what Renaud would do.
“As you can see, I’ve had a change of heart. Cousin Albrecht was very persuasive when we were working together.” Mara retorted with a relatively calm voice. Inside her anxiety shrieked that this would not end well, that the guards were about to draw weapons. She stomped on it desperately. These men had never so much as drawn a weapon let alone wielded one.
“Unfortunately, without Van Tuil’s presence I cannot confirm that. Step out of line please.” The young man soothed, his demeanour the picture of implacable bureaucrat. Mara was thankful for her mask as a look of terror overtook her. In the time between heartbeats, the mage’s eyes flicked for some desperate hint from her comrades or chance encounter with Albrecht. Instead, her eyes fell upon a spectre that had not kept to the Ephemeral Lands. Lyra’s dead, white eyes bored into her own. She started, regaining control over herself in time to pass it off as an aggressive twitch.
“Are you going to let a glorified bag holder for these cretins deny you?” Lyra taunted in her ear as Mara made her apologies for seeming to lose her temper. Yet that charade was quickly crumbling to its genuine self in the face of the ghost’s taunting. Unable to reply, she had to endure it. “I remember when you used to have a personality. Some backbone. Come on. Let’s see some of that fake Tuil fire.”
“I am a Tuil!” Mara spat at the spectre, seeming to lose her temper at thin air. She then turned to the clerk, who shrank back in his seat at the sudden snapping rage. “My grandmother was Sira Van Tuil and she sits at the high council. I speak the language of my forebears and know their history and heroes as my own family. Can you say the same, Diasporic child?” Mara sneered, filling herself with all the condescension and arrogant hatred she’d been repressing. It felt like a geyser, frothing from deep within her after remaining hidden so long. She tapped the table in genuine attempt to calm herself, walking in small circles. Julie intervened, placating the man with a soothing attempt at diplomacy.
“Forgive her, she is not used to being denied. And she was looking forward to seeing the great man speak!” Julie smiled at the now-quivering young man, who nodded. He attempted to stutter out that he understood yet would deny them. He was stopped from doing so by an elf Mara did not recognize. He was average height, wearing his white-blonde hair in a topknot. His lavender eyes, which were uncommon even for elves, affixed themselves on Mara with amusement. The opulent robes he wore and spell book at his hip seemed to place him at high station, though even he had to wear the flame tongue broach the rest of his cadre wore.
“Well, hear me now.” He smiled in a smooth, charismatic voice. The party drew a collective breath as they realised the identity of their saviour. “Please, come with me. It wouldn’t do to have such an esteemed guest dally around outside in the cold.” He offered the crook of his arm to Mara, who took it automatically. As if keen to sell the act, Julie hooked her arm possessively about Mara’s other arm and together, they marched Mara into the cemetery. Her party followed behind, Fred making a great show of how poorly this would go for their itinerary. Suppressing a hysterical laugh, Mara had to admire his accent.
