In many ways Elys was a contradiction of disappointment and elation. It had the splendour promised by the ancient sources with its advanced infrastructure of underground trains and lights to rival the stars themselves. It also had a degree of squalor once one travelled beyond the miniature peninsula that comprised the central and expensive portions of the city. The wealthy of Elys had determined that reaching to the sky was not the goal, as Idhara’s capital had done. The goal was instead to own as much of that sacred spit of land before the Star Palace. If Garet was to be believed, apartments within the Star Palace itself were on offer to the most powerful and wealthy of Elys’ citizenry. This villa was something of a second home where discretion was more readily available than in the darkened cobweb of halls of the Palace.
Discretion seemed to be the watchword for Garet’s actions. He pattered about his villa with conspiratorial looks over his shoulder. He would magically dampen the sounds beyond any room his most furtive conversations took place in. Livia, his most trusted servant, was not permitted within the house during these meetings. So naturally, Garet paid some shady characters to retrieve Mara’s friends from the portal rather than the more officious welcome he’d promised. They arrived at the villa in various states of disarray. Ranva seemed to have calmly followed their quintet of escorts while Fred sported a dark splotchy bruise forming on his pink nose. It was only once the weapons had been stowed and Garet had explained himself in that grating condescending tone of his that they filed up the spiral staircase to the room that had been assigned to them, just above the gleaming red tiles of fired clay that made up the complex’s roof. There, making calculations and plans with a fervent muttering, Mara sat.
Twitcher, perhaps understandably, checked out of the conversation relatively quickly once an opportunity to behold their beloved home city had come. Mara looked up and saw this, a gleam of mirth coming to her eye at the automaton’s enthusiasm. The rest of the troupe milled about tasting the food Livia’s staff had painstakingly prepared.
“I had anticipated Solvi being with you.” Ranva observed neutrally, seating herself on one of the curving x-shaped chairs that seemed to be in vogue. Mara’s eyes took on a powerfully anxious sheen at the mention of Solvi, returning to her furious planning.
“She and Albrecht almost killed each other. They’re both at the Elysian Infirmary now.” The mage grunted as she drew various signs and diagrams on a map procured for her by Garet. “I’ve spent the intervening hours taking readings from around the city to determine if any magical disturbances have been reported. Crook-shaped disturbances. No such luck. Our host tells me that the Army are encamped in a cove beneath the Lonely Rock, at the pleasure of the ruling council.” Mara reported as she took her pocketbook out and began to record her measurements on the map itself. Perhaps a larger perspective could explain the unusual readings she’d received during her sojourn.
“Wha’ do a buncha stuffy ol’ corpses need with the Army?” Fred grunted as he applied some much-needed ice to his nose with a hiss of pain. Arthur, who’d been using the ice for its intended purpose of cooling the wine, looked at his comrade sternly. Fred, with a smug twitching of his ear, placed the ice back in the bucket.
“Never mind the Army. Where can I find this infirmary?” Julie cut across the potential answer, surprising Mara somewhat. She then relented. It wasn’t surprising at all, really. And sad all the same for that fact. Mara relayed the directions, using her annotations for aiding Julie’s navigation. No sooner had she been furnished with these directions than she bolted through the villa and out the door. Garet called after her, something concerning dinner.
“To answer your question Fred, the Army arrived under the Marshal some years ago. They told the Council that they could excavate an ancient bunker built by Mira. And they’d do it cheaply.” Mara relayed, finishing her final few markings on the map before her and turning it for the others to see. “At first, I thought they were trying to spin a Bullion. Then I actually did a little spying and found our abductees. Mining.” The mage continued grimly as she recalled the sight of Army soldiers standing around, caning anyone who dared to stop for even a moment’s reprieve. Their beliefs being as they were, Mara doubted the poor souls would ever be permitted to rest.
“They ‘ave ‘em minin’ without pay?!” Fred demanded, a livid spark igniting in his eye as he reached for his rifle. “Gonna go do some bloody pest control.” The skitti growled as he turned to leave, rifle slung over his shoulder. Arthur grabbed his friend, reminding the diminutive revolutionary that the Army were likely to far outnumber him even if they went with him. “You’d be surprised ‘ow dangerous a pickaxe is in the ‘ands of a determined worker.” The skitti shot back.
“I do not doubt it, but it would be poor compensation of our patron’s trust if we just start killing people in the city.” Arthur berated empathetically, pacing about as he considered their next course.
“Actually, it would play directly into my hands.” Garet remarked pithily as he guided a train of living servants to lay out dishes aplenty. Citrusy fruits, candied sweets and a haunch of unknown meat sat simmering in its own juices. Its pot had a magical fire placed under it to keep it warm. Before even being invited, Mara abandoned her maps and began to slice herself a slab of meat with greedy abandon. Eager not to be left out, Arthur began to stack his plate hungrily. Fred, meanwhile, turned his anger towards the skeletal host before them.
“Oh aye? You wan’ the Army booted out. You wan’ us to hurt ‘em. Not a fan of their type?” Fred grunted suspiciously. Mara thought, between mouthfuls of what tasted like a bird of some kind, that Fred had probably had his fill of the upper crust and wished to return to his natural habitat.
“I’m something of an isolationist.” Garet responded with a modest shrug, watching the others eat with what seemed to be an envious air. Fred’s hackles raised, eliciting a noncommittal wave of the hand from Garet. “Elysian nobles. They sit on the council. They want trade, visitation, to reach out to their fellows and descendants. They entertain the fantasy that we are their kin. But the truth of the matter is that those who look upon us see possessed bones for the grave. The world has become a cruel and unjust place. Here in Elys, we find sanctuary. The lost, the broken and the dispossessed all come to us. They do not deserve the cruelty that drove them from their homes before now.”
“So, you wan’ us to pick a fight an’ prove you were right.” Fred chuckled cynically as he propped his rifle against the table to join his fellows in their meal.
“I cannot be overtly hostile towards our guests. So, I invite their enemies to evict them for me. Did you think it coincidence that I happened upon the fight before any of my fellows?” Garet snorted as if the insinuation he would be so petty had offended him. He took up a seat of his own and laid back within it, fingerbones clicking as they interlaced. Fred had trouble concealing his discomfort at their skeletal host’s body. “Why yes, I am being open and honest with you. Maybe you’ll stop questioning my motives. Thank you.” The councillor said with such heavy sarcasm that Mara snorted with laughter into her wine cup.
“With your dislike for outsiders, would that include us?” Arthur asked with feigned politeness.
“I do not know you but would prefer you not holiday here. Live here or do not. But take the Army out of my lands. We have quite enough violence with the intrusions from the Lost.” Garet replied coolly, referring to the undead who were not so fortunate as those who’d been in the city. These were the true walking corpses that roamed the countryside, unable to sate their hunger for life. A pamphlet Garet had provided to Mara had detailed fascinating tales of undead attempting to devour each other for the smallest spark of sustenance.
The rest of the meal continued without incident, Arthur having the good sense not to press the councillor on his beliefs. Mara ended her own feasting with a few rudimentary tests. She could not fathom why her body demanded more meat than usual. Her medical woes paled into insignificance as she reminded herself of Solvi’s plight. Briefly, her mind turned from worry to the darker aspects of her nature. What would happen if Albrecht’s blade had hit an artery. What would happen if, even now, Julie wept for the loss of her companion. She wasn’t certain what she’d do, that was the worst thing. If she’d resolved to murder in revenge, that would at least be catharsis. The indecisive mage looked across the table. Garet’s input might be valuable.
What she saw behind the skeletal aristocrat evaporated all thoughts. With a hand on his chair, she stared with eyes so filled with hatred that Mara jumped to her feet, hand going to her sickle. Her eyes were wild, ferocious and demanding. They met the cold, virulently vengeful glare of Lyra and Edmund.
“Lady have mercy! Are you alright?” Arthur shouted as he attempted to save his plate of candied zitra fruit. The mage strained against the captivating stare, meeting the cleric’s with trepidation. She attempted to get a grip on herself, especially as Fred gave her a quizzical look.
“Fine. Just an old war wound acting up.” Mara replied stiffly before walking briskly towards the stairwell. “I just need some air!” She called over her shoulder, scurrying past Livia as she brought the bed linens for their stay. The elf found herself out of the house so quickly that breathing became difficult. It became more difficult as she seated herself on a low bench in the garden, the balmy night air of Elys doing little to comfort her. The familiar dark rings began to form around her vision, heart pounding in her ears as she groped blindly for something solid nearby. It found the wand of segaris wood, sitting comfortably against her spell book.
There she sat, eyes closed and wrestling every gasp. Every inquisitive glance to the outside world yielded those accusatory eyes, the writhing panic reasserting itself with every questing look. What was she even doing here? Here in the boneyard of her people’s greatest follies, she attempted to rescue a man doomed to lionize them. As the spectre’s presence reminded her, he was all she had left of her old life. A constant reminder of how cruel the world could be outside the protections of one good man. What were they doing to him, and what did her dalliance cost? An idea began to form in her mind. She could save them all without further bloodshed. It would only take a moment’s courage.
“They have returned, yes?” Twitcher’s voice cut through her thoughts like a wotling through snow. Mara started and looked up to her friend, glowing irises flitting in their sockets between visible and invisible faces. Twitcher followed her gaze with a knowing nod, seating themselves next to the masked mage. “Mine are with me too. In here.” Twitcher said, tapping their temple contemplatively as they eyed the rod of segaris wood suspiciously. “Sometimes, they are mean. Others, they give good advice. Not like undead Garet.” The automaton sniffed dismissively. Mara turned to stare at her friend with a curious gaze. “He wants us to kill Army guards at the bunker entrance. Garet with his skin on was smarter. More polite. He also knew about maintenance shafts.” Twitcher explained their discontent with such ease that Mara had to arch an eyebrow. Although, the idea of not fighting the Army directly was enticing.
“There are more ways into the bunker?” Mara asked in disbelief, mind reeling with the possibilities. Of course, a former mage of the Solve Macht would know about Miran-era bunkers! They’d probably built a few of them. Which made Mara all the more suspicious of their host.
“Oh yes. Air ducts, environment, maintenance tunnels, the actual secret passages hidden in the palace…” Twitcher rattled off, counting each individual weak point on their fingers before those fingers came to rest on their owner’s chin. “The main node should still be accessible from the Ir’s bedroom.” The old Elysian pondered, gazing towards the flying buttresses that acted as bridges between the main palace and its minarets. Mara’s excitement mounted as she realised their stroke of luck. She’d never lamented saving Twitcher from Annun, but that act of kindness may just have saved Renaud. Her excitement soon dampened once she realised who the former and current residents of the Star Palace were.
“Any secret ways in? I’d rather do this without getting involved in politics.” Mara nudged. Her voice was still thickened in the back of her throat by the anxiety that refused to lessen its grip. Exhaustion plagued her, but she could not find sleep. Action only bred more disquiet, more racing thoughts.
“I was always invited.” Twitcher asserted with a huff. To be expected, but no less frustrating as a result of it. Perhaps they would need Garet’s help after all, Mara thought as she paced before the automaton. Twitcher eventually took the neurotic mage by the hand and patted it reassuringly. “I’m sure old friends are around here somewhere. We ask them, they will let us see Mira’s bed chambers.” They reassured before a strange expression passed over their robotic eyes. The mage couldn’t help but smile at the unintended joke. A smile that soon gave way to a small snort of laughter. Twitcher didn’t appear to appreciate the mirth but stood once more as if preparing to leave.
“See what you can do. Go to the palace, ask about old friends.” Mara instructed urgently. Twitcher gave her a credulous look that seemed to indicate this was always their plan. “I need to check on Solvi before I drive myself barmy.” The mage added with a breath, moving down the garden path towards the large steel gates. She made sure to sheath the wand, lest her hosts think she intended them harm. A city run by intelligent undead working together with the living. What a strange place. No wonder they didn’t trust outsiders.
The streets were curiously rambunctious for the evening. Rather than sit in their parlours and listen to the radio, it seemed that the denizens of Elys would gather around in bundles of neighbours. Tables would be placed under awnings, beverages laid out and pipes smoked. Undead were conversing with their great grandchildren, laughing with their spouses or plying trades. As she descended the high road that led to the Road of Irs, she saw a skeletal figure painting a beautiful vista of the harbour and coastline beyond. Life had endured even in this most inhospitable of places. Ancient stone immaculately maintained had blended with designs and decoration from all across the planet. The sterile white marble had been painted with a rainbow of colours. Some of the apartment buildings Mara passed had been painted with murals of seas, forests, vines and elvish figures. It was as if the druids had left their forests and stone hovels to take residence in a forest of brick and mortar. Yet the forest had never left them. Mara reminded herself with a sliver of sadness that Renaud would truly love this place.
The infirmary seemed to be the repurposed remains of some kind of magical school used by the Solve Macht if the eye wreathed in Miran flames was true. Their symbols and colours hung from every edifice, carved into the very pillars Mara passed after asking for Solvi. The halls she travelled were immaculately cleaned by the tiloben. They scudded along the ground with their hard shells, questing antennae and segmented bodies. Artificial creatures that had been created specifically to devour waste. She’d only heard of them from the more mundane sources. With a mischievous light in her eyes, she briefly attempted to see what their undersides looked like. It screeched loudly before she could see properly.
“Should you be toying with that?” Ranva interjected, causing Mara’s fright to skyrocket as she dropped the screeching creature. The younger elf whipped about to see a rather more airily robed Ranva adjusting her spell book. After making sure the cute arthropod wasn’t harmed, the mage rounded on her pursuer with an irritated stare. Irritation that vanished upon seeing Ranva’s uncovered face. “Something the matter?” She asked pointedly, tongue visibly working through her jaw. The younger elf couldn’t help but follow the line of scar tissue down her neck, across her chest and further to her fingers. The medic within her was staggered that Ranva had survived such injuries. She followed Mara’s gaze with a half-smile, holding her scarred fingers up before wiggling the remaining third of her middle finger. “The truly tragic thing is that I shall never give the two-finger salute again.” The maimed woman commented with mirth. Mara could only manage a weak laugh, eyes glued to the burn scars on Ranva’s neck.
“What happened?” Mara eventually gasped.
“I don’t think we know each other well enough for that tale.” Ranva rebuffed with a disapproving stare. Mara returned one in defiance, something which gave the white-haired woman pause. An unspoken understanding passed between them. The masked mage had not been disgusted. Quite the contrary; she was awed. “Eventually the pain of implicit disgust will overrun you. I bear my injuries with pride. The weak fear reminders of their own frailty.” Ranva opined before indicating the hall behind Mara, who turned to continue her journey to Solvi’s room.
“What are you even doing here? Planning to kill Albrecht in his sleep?” Mara asked pointedly as she started up what she hoped were the correct stairs. Ranva continued along with her, seemingly enjoying the company. She seemed like a far cry from the callous warrior who’d nearly decapitated her cousin.
“Aside from the obvious, we are much alike. You remind me of my younger self.” The white-haired mage commented as her eyes slid down the hallway, deftly dodging the rushing hospital personnel. “Would that I’d had an elder to reign in my rashness.” Ranva spoke with heavy regret. The story she was not prepared to share, by Mara’s reckoning.
The pair were at odds with their surroundings. As they walked through the halls of their ancestors, both became acutely aware of how little they resembled those around them. Even the living elves bore completely different fashions, preferring billowing clothes that kept them cool in the warm climate. They had kept a more unisex tradition than those who lived outside the peninsula. Even those without a drop of elvish blood were conducting the business of an infirmary at all levels. With a twinge of schadenfreude, Mara imagined how angry Albrecht would be to be confronted by these walking refutations. The Gardish mage hoped that they’d outlawed slavery, at least.
Solvi’s room was private as much for security as her comfort. Two ominous, armoured figures stood outside her room. They placed hands to their weapons before seeming to recognize Mara. She supposed that with the mask she cut an unusual figure. Within the Orsan woman’s room, it was surprisingly homely. A grand wardrobe stood in one corner. There were walls painted to convey the impression of a forest or calming greenery of some other sort. Tables and chairs had been arranged that meals could be taken while talking to the patient. It was at one of these tables that Mara sat, across from a gently snoozing Julie. Ranva settled for leaning against the double doors that led to a balcony overlooking the gardens of the infirmary.
“Wend your way to me, eh?” Solvi asked weakly, propped up by a mountain of pillows and a clever mechanism that sat the bed at an angle. She looked wan, her blonde hair seeming to carry more grey hairs than usual. Mara looked upon her companion with sadness, noting the extensive bandaging of her midriff and bruises aplenty. Armour may have stopped the death blows, but they did not stop the pain entirely.
“I was going to come earlier but they said you were in surgery. I didn’t think they’d have surgery.” Mara replied with a confused air. That a sizeable chunk of the population being undead would probably preclude surgeons. The topsy-turvy nature of their society was giving Mara migraines. Solvi didn’t seem to have much to say in response, instead placing a hand on her stomach with a saddened expression. The recovery of such surgery was likely to be painful and prolonged. The fact that she still breathed was enough for Mara. Her eyes must have betrayed her, for as Solvi’s met her roommate’s, the warrior woman managed a cheeky smile.
“The great medic war hero, destroyer of her own munitions, thought I’d be lying at Ankou’s mercy in Elys?” Solvi teased with a wince as she attempted to move. The mage was too concerned to respond to the teasing, fussing over her companion’s medications and the tightness of her bandages. The large woman waved her off, prodding her in the stomach when she refused. “I’m fine, stop mithering. Might not be going anywhere but neither is Albrecht. If he walks again, it’ll be with a hell of a limp.” The Orsan winked over to her dagger, which hung over the corner of the wardrobe. “Only let me keep it because I told ‘em it was my mother’s.” She indicated with a nod of her head, Ranva following her gaze. The older elf inspected it at range, nodding approvingly.
“I thought I gave it to you one Worldsmeet.” Mara noted, running her eyes over the dagger with a look of confusion. Ranva’s eyes slid to meet Solvi’s with a knowing look. The two of them seemed to acknowledge a shared past before the Espali excused herself, feigning some issue with her jaw.
Alone with Solvi save the sleeping Julie, Mara stood beside her companion’s bed with a growing befuddlement. The Orsan woman seemed to be gathering her thoughts. The mage prepared herself for some manner of dressing down. Despite being just shy of double Solvi’s age, Mara often felt like the junior in their relationship. Regardless, she tried to invest her eyes with some modicum of understanding as she ran her fingers over the bed railing.
“You did. The first one we spent together.” Solvi eventually began, eyes attempting to meet Mara’s. “Ever since then, I’ve always been confused by what we are. I care for you, defend you, endure Renaud for you. And you appreciate me. When I am in danger, you become a completely different person.” Solvi observed in a halting voice, one that sent Mara’s disquiet to sonorous new heights. Her heart pounded, the familiar anxiety more comfort than curse in this moment. “Julie and I are happy. If we’re to continue, I want to know what goes on in that impossible head of yours. I couldn’t rest easy in her arms knowing you were alone.”
Mara writhed and paced, fingers knotting together. So, it had come to this. She wanted to deny it, to say Armin was the architect of every moment of salvation. To assert that they were friends and friends alone. But the truth had been laid so plainly between them. Mara more than appreciated Solvi. She adored her. Her constant teasing, her sardonic observations, her unshakable will through even the darkest times. And that through all these traits, a good heart was guiding not just her actions towards her, but towards all around her. She could not bring herself to kill the most hateful enemy. And here, at the very frayed end of mortality, she thought only of her. Mara returned to the bedside, clinging to the railing with both hands as if she stood on a tempest-tossed ship.
“I meant what I said that night. I think after being stricken by such horror you deserve a life of rest and contentment.” Mara affirmed in a voice that sounded as if it were stuck in her throat. The leather of her gloves creaked against the rails, her body seeming to resist curling up. “There is something like love for you in my heart. A needful, selfish love. And it burns against what I’ve built myself into.” She continued with stony eyes as if fighting a bitter enemy rather than confessing affection. “When I see you in her arms, all I can think is how you have been saved. You should not have to endure the pain I bring into your life. But I cannot bear to let you go. And so, I kept you between two states never letting you find someone worthy of you.” The mage continued, seeming to get a better grip of her emotions. Her eyes, which Solvi had looked upon so rarely, were a battleground of memories and sensations stamped on. Now, given their day in the sun, Mara had to struggle anew to lock them away. “I can’t apologize enough.” Mara sighed.
Solvi grunted slightly with pain, half-rolling herself towards Mara and enfolding her in an embrace. A motion that shocked the elf, who stiffened against her. There they sat for a moment, the mage slowly easing into the embrace with one of her own. The roiling nervous waves of her thoughts quieted, and a hidden smile crept onto her face despite them.
“You were worthy of me. You always were.” Solvi whispered her hand tracing circles on Mara’s back. The words sent tremors through the elf, a shuddering gasp escaping her. “Mothers. You never thought that did you?” She added as she felt her companion’s reaction.
“Take your happiness in hand, Solvi. Keep her close and guard her well.” Mara whispered before breaking the embrace. She had a curious expression, difficult to read without the rest of her. Her eyes lay in the hinterland between resolve and fear. The Orsan’s brow fell with a frown. As the mage turned to retrieve Ranva from her distractions, Solvi’s hand gripped her wrist. Her stare was icy.
“What are you intending to do, Mara?” Solvi asked with dreadful urgency.
“Take some more readings with Ranva. There have been some suspicious power spikes I want to track.” The mage responded. Solvi prepared to press the issue but turned her head towards Julie at the last moment. Mara followed her gaze, nodding softly in reassurance. Their eyes met once more, denial sparking like lighting in the Orsan woman’s stare.
“If you’re going to do something stupid, I’d at least like to remember your face. Not the mask.” Solvi eventually sighed, a sting of resentment striking the mage as she prepared to leave. Mara inhaled deeply, as if preparing to challenge the request. It died on her lips as she met Solvi’s eyes.
“I’d rather you remember something real. Not this thing.” The mage waved a hand at her own face, seemingly stalling for time. Yet her companion agreed to her terms, without reservation. A firm, encouraging nod. An insistence she take this small step. Mara made a few gestures, the flesh under her mask appearing to transform. That done, the mage unclipped her mask and pulled down her hood in one smooth notion. Finally, Solvi looked upon her roommate’s original face.
She had curled, blonde hair strewn with silver flowers and delicate chains. Her green eyes reminded Solvi of the first leaves of spring. Her fair skin was freckled across her cheeks, full lips parted with a measure of relief as she saw her reflection in the bedside mirror. She ran her fingers over her ears. The piercings were perceptible to touch, but not to sight. Solvi saw her, the real her, as she once was. Mara approached the mirror, a giddy smile dimpling her cheeks. She turned to her companion with bright eyes, a satisfied breath escaping her.
“You’re beautiful.” The Orsan grinned in kind. Mara beamed, practically dizzy with elation.
“It’s the first time this illusion has worked.” She chuckled, once more returning to the mirror and running her fingers along her cheek. “What I wouldn’t give to have you back, Mara.” The mage ruefully spoke to her reflected self. It wasn’t merely a matter of beauty, though many would prefer the illusion to what lay beneath it. This was still her face, her stare, her smile. The creature that lurked beneath the façade, be it mask or magic, could never resemble her. Its hideous eyes, its horns and all the other accoutrement that followed in wake of Annun burned with every glance. This pale imitation of what could have been was all that she was permitted. An imitation that even now began to unravel as the green gave way to eerie white. With her smile vanishing, she replaced the mask as her hair began to darken.
“Renaud was always better at lies.” Solvi commented dryly, reaching out with a hand to grasp Mara’s comfortingly. The mage’s eyes once more welled with tears as the fantasy faded and reality in all its terrible weight crashed about her. “It was good to see you smile, though.” She added as she noticed Mara’s shift in in mood. The elf took a steadying breath and nodded to herself, grip tightening on Solvi’s hand.
“The most seductive lies are those we need to be true. For so long, I thought magic was the path to that Mara’s return. No matter what Lorana, Renaud or any of my mentors said. The fiction of her kept me going.” Mara explained with melancholy. She then shook her head, as if clearing away some intrusive thought. “Whatever happens next, know that that ceased to be the case in Bortun Base Camp. You saved me as much as I saved you. And I could never stop loving you for that.” The necromancer spoke not with a small voice, but with such conviction that Solvi was concerned for a brief moment. As Mara turned to leave however, the Orsan noticed that her companion walked with her shoulders drawn back, mask set forward against the world. In that moment, Solvi’s faith in Mara became unshakeable.
In many ways Elys was a contradiction of disappointment and elation. It had the splendour promised by the ancient sources with its advanced infrastructure of underground trains and lights to rival the stars themselves. It also had a degree of squalor once one travelled beyond the miniature peninsula that comprised the central and expensive portions of the city. The wealthy of Elys had determined that reaching to the sky was not the goal, as Idhara’s capital had done. The goal was instead to own as much of that sacred spit of land before the Star Palace. If Garet was to be believed, apartments within the Star Palace itself were on offer to the most powerful and wealthy of Elys’ citizenry. This villa was something of a second home where discretion was more readily available than in the darkened cobweb of halls of the Palace.
Discretion seemed to be the watchword for Garet’s actions. He pattered about his villa with conspiratorial looks over his shoulder. He would magically dampen the sounds beyond any room his most furtive conversations took place in. Livia, his most trusted servant, was not permitted within the house during these meetings. So naturally, Garet paid some shady characters to retrieve Mara’s friends from the portal rather than the more officious welcome he’d promised. They arrived at the villa in various states of disarray. Ranva seemed to have calmly followed their quintet of escorts while Fred sported a dark splotchy bruise forming on his pink nose. It was only once the weapons had been stowed and Garet had explained himself in that grating condescending tone of his that they filed up the spiral staircase to the room that had been assigned to them, just above the gleaming red tiles of fired clay that made up the complex’s roof. There, making calculations and plans with a fervent muttering, Mara sat.
Twitcher, perhaps understandably, checked out of the conversation relatively quickly once an opportunity to behold their beloved home city had come. Mara looked up and saw this, a gleam of mirth coming to her eye at the automaton’s enthusiasm. The rest of the troupe milled about tasting the food Livia’s staff had painstakingly prepared.
“I had anticipated Solvi being with you.” Ranva observed neutrally, seating herself on one of the curving x-shaped chairs that seemed to be in vogue. Mara’s eyes took on a powerfully anxious sheen at the mention of Solvi, returning to her furious planning.
“She and Albrecht almost killed each other. They’re both at the Elysian Infirmary now.” The mage grunted as she drew various signs and diagrams on a map procured for her by Garet. “I’ve spent the intervening hours taking readings from around the city to determine if any magical disturbances have been reported. Crook-shaped disturbances. No such luck. Our host tells me that the Army are encamped in a cove beneath the Lonely Rock, at the pleasure of the ruling council.” Mara reported as she took her pocketbook out and began to record her measurements on the map itself. Perhaps a larger perspective could explain the unusual readings she’d received during her sojourn.
“Wha’ do a buncha stuffy ol’ corpses need with the Army?” Fred grunted as he applied some much-needed ice to his nose with a hiss of pain. Arthur, who’d been using the ice for its intended purpose of cooling the wine, looked at his comrade sternly. Fred, with a smug twitching of his ear, placed the ice back in the bucket.
“Never mind the Army. Where can I find this infirmary?” Julie cut across the potential answer, surprising Mara somewhat. She then relented. It wasn’t surprising at all, really. And sad all the same for that fact. Mara relayed the directions, using her annotations for aiding Julie’s navigation. No sooner had she been furnished with these directions than she bolted through the villa and out the door. Garet called after her, something concerning dinner.
“To answer your question Fred, the Army arrived under the Marshal some years ago. They told the Council that they could excavate an ancient bunker built by Mira. And they’d do it cheaply.” Mara relayed, finishing her final few markings on the map before her and turning it for the others to see. “At first, I thought they were trying to spin a Bullion. Then I actually did a little spying and found our abductees. Mining.” The mage continued grimly as she recalled the sight of Army soldiers standing around, caning anyone who dared to stop for even a moment’s reprieve. Their beliefs being as they were, Mara doubted the poor souls would ever be permitted to rest.
“They ‘ave ‘em minin’ without pay?!” Fred demanded, a livid spark igniting in his eye as he reached for his rifle. “Gonna go do some bloody pest control.” The skitti growled as he turned to leave, rifle slung over his shoulder. Arthur grabbed his friend, reminding the diminutive revolutionary that the Army were likely to far outnumber him even if they went with him. “You’d be surprised ‘ow dangerous a pickaxe is in the ‘ands of a determined worker.” The skitti shot back.
“I do not doubt it, but it would be poor compensation of our patron’s trust if we just start killing people in the city.” Arthur berated empathetically, pacing about as he considered their next course.
“Actually, it would play directly into my hands.” Garet remarked pithily as he guided a train of living servants to lay out dishes aplenty. Citrusy fruits, candied sweets and a haunch of unknown meat sat simmering in its own juices. Its pot had a magical fire placed under it to keep it warm. Before even being invited, Mara abandoned her maps and began to slice herself a slab of meat with greedy abandon. Eager not to be left out, Arthur began to stack his plate hungrily. Fred, meanwhile, turned his anger towards the skeletal host before them.
“Oh aye? You wan’ the Army booted out. You wan’ us to hurt ‘em. Not a fan of their type?” Fred grunted suspiciously. Mara thought, between mouthfuls of what tasted like a bird of some kind, that Fred had probably had his fill of the upper crust and wished to return to his natural habitat.
“I’m something of an isolationist.” Garet responded with a modest shrug, watching the others eat with what seemed to be an envious air. Fred’s hackles raised, eliciting a noncommittal wave of the hand from Garet. “Elysian nobles. They sit on the council. They want trade, visitation, to reach out to their fellows and descendants. They entertain the fantasy that we are their kin. But the truth of the matter is that those who look upon us see possessed bones for the grave. The world has become a cruel and unjust place. Here in Elys, we find sanctuary. The lost, the broken and the dispossessed all come to us. They do not deserve the cruelty that drove them from their homes before now.”
“So, you wan’ us to pick a fight an’ prove you were right.” Fred chuckled cynically as he propped his rifle against the table to join his fellows in their meal.
“I cannot be overtly hostile towards our guests. So, I invite their enemies to evict them for me. Did you think it coincidence that I happened upon the fight before any of my fellows?” Garet snorted as if the insinuation he would be so petty had offended him. He took up a seat of his own and laid back within it, fingerbones clicking as they interlaced. Fred had trouble concealing his discomfort at their skeletal host’s body. “Why yes, I am being open and honest with you. Maybe you’ll stop questioning my motives. Thank you.” The councillor said with such heavy sarcasm that Mara snorted with laughter into her wine cup.
“With your dislike for outsiders, would that include us?” Arthur asked with feigned politeness.
“I do not know you but would prefer you not holiday here. Live here or do not. But take the Army out of my lands. We have quite enough violence with the intrusions from the Lost.” Garet replied coolly, referring to the undead who were not so fortunate as those who’d been in the city. These were the true walking corpses that roamed the countryside, unable to sate their hunger for life. A pamphlet Garet had provided to Mara had detailed fascinating tales of undead attempting to devour each other for the smallest spark of sustenance.
The rest of the meal continued without incident, Arthur having the good sense not to press the councillor on his beliefs. Mara ended her own feasting with a few rudimentary tests. She could not fathom why her body demanded more meat than usual. Her medical woes paled into insignificance as she reminded herself of Solvi’s plight. Briefly, her mind turned from worry to the darker aspects of her nature. What would happen if Albrecht’s blade had hit an artery. What would happen if, even now, Julie wept for the loss of her companion. She wasn’t certain what she’d do, that was the worst thing. If she’d resolved to murder in revenge, that would at least be catharsis. The indecisive mage looked across the table. Garet’s input might be valuable.
What she saw behind the skeletal aristocrat evaporated all thoughts. With a hand on his chair, she stared with eyes so filled with hatred that Mara jumped to her feet, hand going to her sickle. Her eyes were wild, ferocious and demanding. They met the cold, virulently vengeful glare of Lyra and Edmund.
“Lady have mercy! Are you alright?” Arthur shouted as he attempted to save his plate of candied zitra fruit. The mage strained against the captivating stare, meeting the cleric’s with trepidation. She attempted to get a grip on herself, especially as Fred gave her a quizzical look.
“Fine. Just an old war wound acting up.” Mara replied stiffly before walking briskly towards the stairwell. “I just need some air!” She called over her shoulder, scurrying past Livia as she brought the bed linens for their stay. The elf found herself out of the house so quickly that breathing became difficult. It became more difficult as she seated herself on a low bench in the garden, the balmy night air of Elys doing little to comfort her. The familiar dark rings began to form around her vision, heart pounding in her ears as she groped blindly for something solid nearby. It found the wand of segaris wood, sitting comfortably against her spell book.
There she sat, eyes closed and wrestling every gasp. Every inquisitive glance to the outside world yielded those accusatory eyes, the writhing panic reasserting itself with every questing look. What was she even doing here? Here in the boneyard of her people’s greatest follies, she attempted to rescue a man doomed to lionize them. As the spectre’s presence reminded her, he was all she had left of her old life. A constant reminder of how cruel the world could be outside the protections of one good man. What were they doing to him, and what did her dalliance cost? An idea began to form in her mind. She could save them all without further bloodshed. It would only take a moment’s courage.
“They have returned, yes?” Twitcher’s voice cut through her thoughts like a wotling through snow. Mara started and looked up to her friend, glowing irises flitting in their sockets between visible and invisible faces. Twitcher followed her gaze with a knowing nod, seating themselves next to the masked mage. “Mine are with me too. In here.” Twitcher said, tapping their temple contemplatively as they eyed the rod of segaris wood suspiciously. “Sometimes, they are mean. Others, they give good advice. Not like undead Garet.” The automaton sniffed dismissively. Mara turned to stare at her friend with a curious gaze. “He wants us to kill Army guards at the bunker entrance. Garet with his skin on was smarter. More polite. He also knew about maintenance shafts.” Twitcher explained their discontent with such ease that Mara had to arch an eyebrow. Although, the idea of not fighting the Army directly was enticing.
“There are more ways into the bunker?” Mara asked in disbelief, mind reeling with the possibilities. Of course, a former mage of the Solve Macht would know about Miran-era bunkers! They’d probably built a few of them. Which made Mara all the more suspicious of their host.
“Oh yes. Air ducts, environment, maintenance tunnels, the actual secret passages hidden in the palace…” Twitcher rattled off, counting each individual weak point on their fingers before those fingers came to rest on their owner’s chin. “The main node should still be accessible from the Ir’s bedroom.” The old Elysian pondered, gazing towards the flying buttresses that acted as bridges between the main palace and its minarets. Mara’s excitement mounted as she realised their stroke of luck. She’d never lamented saving Twitcher from Annun, but that act of kindness may just have saved Renaud. Her excitement soon dampened once she realised who the former and current residents of the Star Palace were.
“Any secret ways in? I’d rather do this without getting involved in politics.” Mara nudged. Her voice was still thickened in the back of her throat by the anxiety that refused to lessen its grip. Exhaustion plagued her, but she could not find sleep. Action only bred more disquiet, more racing thoughts.
“I was always invited.” Twitcher asserted with a huff. To be expected, but no less frustrating as a result of it. Perhaps they would need Garet’s help after all, Mara thought as she paced before the automaton. Twitcher eventually took the neurotic mage by the hand and patted it reassuringly. “I’m sure old friends are around here somewhere. We ask them, they will let us see Mira’s bed chambers.” They reassured before a strange expression passed over their robotic eyes. The mage couldn’t help but smile at the unintended joke. A smile that soon gave way to a small snort of laughter. Twitcher didn’t appear to appreciate the mirth but stood once more as if preparing to leave.
“See what you can do. Go to the palace, ask about old friends.” Mara instructed urgently. Twitcher gave her a credulous look that seemed to indicate this was always their plan. “I need to check on Solvi before I drive myself barmy.” The mage added with a breath, moving down the garden path towards the large steel gates. She made sure to sheath the wand, lest her hosts think she intended them harm. A city run by intelligent undead working together with the living. What a strange place. No wonder they didn’t trust outsiders.
The streets were curiously rambunctious for the evening. Rather than sit in their parlours and listen to the radio, it seemed that the denizens of Elys would gather around in bundles of neighbours. Tables would be placed under awnings, beverages laid out and pipes smoked. Undead were conversing with their great grandchildren, laughing with their spouses or plying trades. As she descended the high road that led to the Road of Irs, she saw a skeletal figure painting a beautiful vista of the harbour and coastline beyond. Life had endured even in this most inhospitable of places. Ancient stone immaculately maintained had blended with designs and decoration from all across the planet. The sterile white marble had been painted with a rainbow of colours. Some of the apartment buildings Mara passed had been painted with murals of seas, forests, vines and elvish figures. It was as if the druids had left their forests and stone hovels to take residence in a forest of brick and mortar. Yet the forest had never left them. Mara reminded herself with a sliver of sadness that Renaud would truly love this place.
The infirmary seemed to be the repurposed remains of some kind of magical school used by the Solve Macht if the eye wreathed in Miran flames was true. Their symbols and colours hung from every edifice, carved into the very pillars Mara passed after asking for Solvi. The halls she travelled were immaculately cleaned by the tiloben. They scudded along the ground with their hard shells, questing antennae and segmented bodies. Artificial creatures that had been created specifically to devour waste. She’d only heard of them from the more mundane sources. With a mischievous light in her eyes, she briefly attempted to see what their undersides looked like. It screeched loudly before she could see properly.
“Should you be toying with that?” Ranva interjected, causing Mara’s fright to skyrocket as she dropped the screeching creature. The younger elf whipped about to see a rather more airily robed Ranva adjusting her spell book. After making sure the cute arthropod wasn’t harmed, the mage rounded on her pursuer with an irritated stare. Irritation that vanished upon seeing Ranva’s uncovered face. “Something the matter?” She asked pointedly, tongue visibly working through her jaw. The younger elf couldn’t help but follow the line of scar tissue down her neck, across her chest and further to her fingers. The medic within her was staggered that Ranva had survived such injuries. She followed Mara’s gaze with a half-smile, holding her scarred fingers up before wiggling the remaining third of her middle finger. “The truly tragic thing is that I shall never give the two-finger salute again.” The maimed woman commented with mirth. Mara could only manage a weak laugh, eyes glued to the burn scars on Ranva’s neck.
“What happened?” Mara eventually gasped.
“I don’t think we know each other well enough for that tale.” Ranva rebuffed with a disapproving stare. Mara returned one in defiance, something which gave the white-haired woman pause. An unspoken understanding passed between them. The masked mage had not been disgusted. Quite the contrary; she was awed. “Eventually the pain of implicit disgust will overrun you. I bear my injuries with pride. The weak fear reminders of their own frailty.” Ranva opined before indicating the hall behind Mara, who turned to continue her journey to Solvi’s room.
“What are you even doing here? Planning to kill Albrecht in his sleep?” Mara asked pointedly as she started up what she hoped were the correct stairs. Ranva continued along with her, seemingly enjoying the company. She seemed like a far cry from the callous warrior who’d nearly decapitated her cousin.
“Aside from the obvious, we are much alike. You remind me of my younger self.” The white-haired mage commented as her eyes slid down the hallway, deftly dodging the rushing hospital personnel. “Would that I’d had an elder to reign in my rashness.” Ranva spoke with heavy regret. The story she was not prepared to share, by Mara’s reckoning.
The pair were at odds with their surroundings. As they walked through the halls of their ancestors, both became acutely aware of how little they resembled those around them. Even the living elves bore completely different fashions, preferring billowing clothes that kept them cool in the warm climate. They had kept a more unisex tradition than those who lived outside the peninsula. Even those without a drop of elvish blood were conducting the business of an infirmary at all levels. With a twinge of schadenfreude, Mara imagined how angry Albrecht would be to be confronted by these walking refutations. The Gardish mage hoped that they’d outlawed slavery, at least.
Solvi’s room was private as much for security as her comfort. Two ominous, armoured figures stood outside her room. They placed hands to their weapons before seeming to recognize Mara. She supposed that with the mask she cut an unusual figure. Within the Orsan woman’s room, it was surprisingly homely. A grand wardrobe stood in one corner. There were walls painted to convey the impression of a forest or calming greenery of some other sort. Tables and chairs had been arranged that meals could be taken while talking to the patient. It was at one of these tables that Mara sat, across from a gently snoozing Julie. Ranva settled for leaning against the double doors that led to a balcony overlooking the gardens of the infirmary.
“Wend your way to me, eh?” Solvi asked weakly, propped up by a mountain of pillows and a clever mechanism that sat the bed at an angle. She looked wan, her blonde hair seeming to carry more grey hairs than usual. Mara looked upon her companion with sadness, noting the extensive bandaging of her midriff and bruises aplenty. Armour may have stopped the death blows, but they did not stop the pain entirely.
“I was going to come earlier but they said you were in surgery. I didn’t think they’d have surgery.” Mara replied with a confused air. That a sizeable chunk of the population being undead would probably preclude surgeons. The topsy-turvy nature of their society was giving Mara migraines. Solvi didn’t seem to have much to say in response, instead placing a hand on her stomach with a saddened expression. The recovery of such surgery was likely to be painful and prolonged. The fact that she still breathed was enough for Mara. Her eyes must have betrayed her, for as Solvi’s met her roommate’s, the warrior woman managed a cheeky smile.
“The great medic war hero, destroyer of her own munitions, thought I’d be lying at Ankou’s mercy in Elys?” Solvi teased with a wince as she attempted to move. The mage was too concerned to respond to the teasing, fussing over her companion’s medications and the tightness of her bandages. The large woman waved her off, prodding her in the stomach when she refused. “I’m fine, stop mithering. Might not be going anywhere but neither is Albrecht. If he walks again, it’ll be with a hell of a limp.” The Orsan winked over to her dagger, which hung over the corner of the wardrobe. “Only let me keep it because I told ‘em it was my mother’s.” She indicated with a nod of her head, Ranva following her gaze. The older elf inspected it at range, nodding approvingly.
“I thought I gave it to you one Worldsmeet.” Mara noted, running her eyes over the dagger with a look of confusion. Ranva’s eyes slid to meet Solvi’s with a knowing look. The two of them seemed to acknowledge a shared past before the Espali excused herself, feigning some issue with her jaw.
Alone with Solvi save the sleeping Julie, Mara stood beside her companion’s bed with a growing befuddlement. The Orsan woman seemed to be gathering her thoughts. The mage prepared herself for some manner of dressing down. Despite being just shy of double Solvi’s age, Mara often felt like the junior in their relationship. Regardless, she tried to invest her eyes with some modicum of understanding as she ran her fingers over the bed railing.
“You did. The first one we spent together.” Solvi eventually began, eyes attempting to meet Mara’s. “Ever since then, I’ve always been confused by what we are. I care for you, defend you, endure Renaud for you. And you appreciate me. When I am in danger, you become a completely different person.” Solvi observed in a halting voice, one that sent Mara’s disquiet to sonorous new heights. Her heart pounded, the familiar anxiety more comfort than curse in this moment. “Julie and I are happy. If we’re to continue, I want to know what goes on in that impossible head of yours. I couldn’t rest easy in her arms knowing you were alone.”
Mara writhed and paced, fingers knotting together. So, it had come to this. She wanted to deny it, to say Armin was the architect of every moment of salvation. To assert that they were friends and friends alone. But the truth had been laid so plainly between them. Mara more than appreciated Solvi. She adored her. Her constant teasing, her sardonic observations, her unshakable will through even the darkest times. And that through all these traits, a good heart was guiding not just her actions towards her, but towards all around her. She could not bring herself to kill the most hateful enemy. And here, at the very frayed end of mortality, she thought only of her. Mara returned to the bedside, clinging to the railing with both hands as if she stood on a tempest-tossed ship.
“I meant what I said that night. I think after being stricken by such horror you deserve a life of rest and contentment.” Mara affirmed in a voice that sounded as if it were stuck in her throat. The leather of her gloves creaked against the rails, her body seeming to resist curling up. “There is something like love for you in my heart. A needful, selfish love. And it burns against what I’ve built myself into.” She continued with stony eyes as if fighting a bitter enemy rather than confessing affection. “When I see you in her arms, all I can think is how you have been saved. You should not have to endure the pain I bring into your life. But I cannot bear to let you go. And so, I kept you between two states never letting you find someone worthy of you.” The mage continued, seeming to get a better grip of her emotions. Her eyes, which Solvi had looked upon so rarely, were a battleground of memories and sensations stamped on. Now, given their day in the sun, Mara had to struggle anew to lock them away. “I can’t apologize enough.” Mara sighed.
Solvi grunted slightly with pain, half-rolling herself towards Mara and enfolding her in an embrace. A motion that shocked the elf, who stiffened against her. There they sat for a moment, the mage slowly easing into the embrace with one of her own. The roiling nervous waves of her thoughts quieted, and a hidden smile crept onto her face despite them.
“You were worthy of me. You always were.” Solvi whispered her hand tracing circles on Mara’s back. The words sent tremors through the elf, a shuddering gasp escaping her. “Mothers. You never thought that did you?” She added as she felt her companion’s reaction.
“Take your happiness in hand, Solvi. Keep her close and guard her well.” Mara whispered before breaking the embrace. She had a curious expression, difficult to read without the rest of her. Her eyes lay in the hinterland between resolve and fear. The Orsan’s brow fell with a frown. As the mage turned to retrieve Ranva from her distractions, Solvi’s hand gripped her wrist. Her stare was icy.
“What are you intending to do, Mara?” Solvi asked with dreadful urgency.
“Take some more readings with Ranva. There have been some suspicious power spikes I want to track.” The mage responded. Solvi prepared to press the issue but turned her head towards Julie at the last moment. Mara followed her gaze, nodding softly in reassurance. Their eyes met once more, denial sparking like lighting in the Orsan woman’s stare.
“If you’re going to do something stupid, I’d at least like to remember your face. Not the mask.” Solvi eventually sighed, a sting of resentment striking the mage as she prepared to leave. Mara inhaled deeply, as if preparing to challenge the request. It died on her lips as she met Solvi’s eyes.
“I’d rather you remember something real. Not this thing.” The mage waved a hand at her own face, seemingly stalling for time. Yet her companion agreed to her terms, without reservation. A firm, encouraging nod. An insistence she take this small step. Mara made a few gestures, the flesh under her mask appearing to transform. That done, the mage unclipped her mask and pulled down her hood in one smooth notion. Finally, Solvi looked upon her roommate’s original face.
She had curled, blonde hair strewn with silver flowers and delicate chains. Her green eyes reminded Solvi of the first leaves of spring. Her fair skin was freckled across her cheeks, full lips parted with a measure of relief as she saw her reflection in the bedside mirror. She ran her fingers over her ears. The piercings were perceptible to touch, but not to sight. Solvi saw her, the real her, as she once was. Mara approached the mirror, a giddy smile dimpling her cheeks. She turned to her companion with bright eyes, a satisfied breath escaping her.
“You’re beautiful.” The Orsan grinned in kind. Mara beamed, practically dizzy with elation.
“It’s the first time this illusion has worked.” She chuckled, once more returning to the mirror and running her fingers along her cheek. “What I wouldn’t give to have you back, Mara.” The mage ruefully spoke to her reflected self. It wasn’t merely a matter of beauty, though many would prefer the illusion to what lay beneath it. This was still her face, her stare, her smile. The creature that lurked beneath the façade, be it mask or magic, could never resemble her. Its hideous eyes, its horns and all the other accoutrement that followed in wake of Annun burned with every glance. This pale imitation of what could have been was all that she was permitted. An imitation that even now began to unravel as the green gave way to eerie white. With her smile vanishing, she replaced the mask as her hair began to darken.
“Renaud was always better at lies.” Solvi commented dryly, reaching out with a hand to grasp Mara’s comfortingly. The mage’s eyes once more welled with tears as the fantasy faded and reality in all its terrible weight crashed about her. “It was good to see you smile, though.” She added as she noticed Mara’s shift in in mood. The elf took a steadying breath and nodded to herself, grip tightening on Solvi’s hand.
“The most seductive lies are those we need to be true. For so long, I thought magic was the path to that Mara’s return. No matter what Lorana, Renaud or any of my mentors said. The fiction of her kept me going.” Mara explained with melancholy. She then shook her head, as if clearing away some intrusive thought. “Whatever happens next, know that that ceased to be the case in Bortun Base Camp. You saved me as much as I saved you. And I could never stop loving you for that.” The necromancer spoke not with a small voice, but with such conviction that Solvi was concerned for a brief moment. As Mara turned to leave however, the Orsan noticed that her companion walked with her shoulders drawn back, mask set forward against the world. In that moment, Solvi’s faith in Mara became unshakeable.
