The Mask of Mara - Chapter 3

The morning of the adventure Professor Renaud had planned for the group was a decidedly dreary affair. Sheets of rain blanketed the valley from an overcast, grey sky that rumbled with distant thunder. The tunnels which less than a week ago the party had crawled through now spewed forth brackish water onto the homes of Yanhelm’s poorest. It was in the tiny apartment that Solvi and Mara shared that their journey truly began as the pair argued over, of all things, a wardrobe. Or rather, what was inside the wardrobe.

“Imagine the message it sends! I’m not about to wear something so profane in the presence of your countrymen.” Solvi stressed, toying with the leather string that held the key to this wardrobe. She was garbed in a loose-fitting shirt, her baggy trousers and thick black leather boots. Mara couldn’t help but think that being dismissed from the guard had been healthy for Solvi’s fashion sense, at least. “It probably doesn’t even fit. We’re lucky to even have it, given what happened to other PoWs.” Her continuation forced Mara to consider objection for a moment before she shook her head defiantly.

“We don’t have time or money to craft an entirely new set for you. Give it to me and I’ll scratch the insignias off.” Mara held out a gloved hand, staff held across her shoulder. For her part, the mage had no armour to speak of. She’d been a medic and hardly expected to be taking fire. If the Orsan forces overran the medical tents, then something had gone wrong long before that.

“Absolutely not! It’s an antique! The heritage of my ancestors is held within this metal.” Solvi scolded. Her face was aghast at the mere suggestion. Though she did seem to realise something before sighing at her smaller companion. “It was my mother’s. It bears our house crest.” Solvi shifted her feet, refusing to meet Mara’s concerned gaze. She swallowed her grief, lips parting dryly before she dared to continue. “I don’t want to see it. But I can’t throw it away.” Solvi explained through a pained expression, as if reliving some horrific episode of her past self.

“It wasn’t the war that dealt the worst blows to you, was it?” Mara spoke softly, a hand reaching out to grasp Solvi’s shoulder. For her question she only received a shake of the head. When their eyes finally met, Solvi’s eyes were bloodshot with tears that she dared not shed. Mara knew a little of Solvi’s culture, when she was drunk enough to share it. A matriarchal culture, the orsan placed a heavy burden upon their daughters. According to Solvi, she had never measured up to those standards. Mara supposed the armour was a reminder of that fact. “When I found you. You never told me how you sustained that injury.” Mara prodded gently, motioning with her head towards the taller woman’s shoulder. Mara had managed to fix the muscular damage but even now, Solvi still experienced the pain of that wound.

“And I shan’t. We’re not there yet.” Solvi spoke with a choked, breathless voice before she took the key from within her shirt and gazed upon it as if it were a bomb. No, not a bomb. Solvi could deal with dying well enough. Mara had only seen this look when they first met. When a masked mage emerged ominously from the fog with a single lantern to light her way. Mara supposed she was quite fearsome on her bad days. And that day had been one of the worst for them both.

“We both keep secrets. That doesn’t mean we have to carry them alone.” Mara spoke solemnly, placing her hand on Solvi’s. The reassurance seemed to reinforce Solvi’s resolve, causing her to jam the key into the wardrobe like a dagger into a hated enemy. She flung the doors apart as if they were on fire, heaving a breath as she laid eyes upon the arms of her mother.

Within the wardrobe, kept upon a mannequin Mara had bought no less than twenty years prior, a spectacularly made breastplate sat. The heavy grieves, gauntlets and fur cloak were embellished with the crest of the Benti tribe, the highest of the orsan tribes. A closed helm carved into the shape of an impassive woman’s gaze, stared back at Solvi. It was adorned with metallic antlers which scraped the top of the wardrobe as Solvi removed it and looked upon it. Her face was a conflagration of emotions from pride to sorrow to hatred. Passing the helm to Mara, Solvi silently moved her breastplate out of the wardrobe to reveal the most feared item in her possession.

Within was a halberd of such prodigious size it did not fit within its confinement neatly. With a scrape of metal on wood, Solvi removed it and inspected the sacred carvings etched into the axe head and its hammer. Not only were they magical but they were beautifully carved into the shape of a wolf’s head, the axe’s blade protruding from its mouth. From the ancient wooden stave, many charms and rings hung. Mara, who was stood a goodly distance away should Solvi choose to test its heft, could feel the magical power of this item. It was intense enough to bring her goosebumps to her flesh.

“What does that thing do?” Mara asked, her voice small and halting as she raked her gaze along its length. Solvi ran her hand along the length of the haft, sparks of blue energy dancing along with her motion. She gave a few practice swings with it before turning to Mara with a morose expression.

“Cernunnos’ Guillotine, as it’s so cheerfully called, has been in my family for centuries. I have only stories but apparently its blade can fell any creature be they spirit, fey or mortal. My grandmother told of my ancestors using it to summon the spirits of beasts. It allowed them to leap great distances or hear the footsteps of insects.” Solvi spoke with reverence, before her expression shifted to one of frustration or perhaps disappointment. She handed the halberd to Mara for inspection, who held a glowing hand over it. “Of course, I was reminded at every turn that only a worthy member of our house could unlock its true potential. And worthiness usually correlated to doing what my mother said.” Solvi scoffed, taking the armour from its resting place. She began to put it on yet, as she held a gauntlet in her hand, she paused. “I forsook combat. Promising never to harm another person, I locked it away. But for the glint of coin, it would have remained so.”

“With any luck you won’t have to hurt anyone.” Mara tried to sound reassuring, but the foreboding weather had placed a pall of uncertainty over her. Something didn’t feel quite right to her. Something burning at the back of her mind yet refusing to take concrete shape. Solvi, who did not need to see Mara’s face to know her mind, looked up from strapping her grieves to her boots to ask why the mage was being so unusually quiet.

“Something feels wrong about this venture.” Mara wrung her hands together, mask once again hiding the concerned expression the mage had been wearing. Solvi resumed arming herself, pulling her gambeson over her shirt before she began to struggle with the leather straps of the breastplate. Mara rushed over to help her. Her gloved hands were surprisingly dextrous. Years of experience, Solvi surmised.

“We’re being paid a ridiculous sum that could pay my guard salary for a year. All to spend a week or two in some crumbled old ruin killing off looters and wildlife. You, I suppose, will be making sure they don’t slow roast themselves toying with magic they do not understand.” Solvi recited, as if such an arrangement were mundane to her. She then fixed Mara with a flat look. “Your sora is a crooked old bat paying us off because he’s roped us into some shady nonsense. We take our pay. We do our job and ask no questions. When the job is done, we leave Renaud and his idiocy behind.” Solvi said with such firmness that Mara almost complied automatically with her orders. Stomping on her training, Mara reared to her full height and met Solvi’s gaze.

“Gaius is a good man. Yes, he’s eccentric and domineering and more than somewhat arrogant. But when I was at my worst point, he was there for me. As were you.” Mara tried to muster her most authoritative voice yet only managed to sound like the teacher she was rather than the drill sergeant she had been aiming for. “Gaius wants the best for us. He knew you were wasted as a guard and offered you something more!” She tried to reinforce her case but, as Solvi’s eyebrows sank, knew that the battle had been lost on that front.

“Renaud didn’t even ask our permission. He simply decided that you would accompany him on this journey. Remember that the next time he decides you deserve better.” Solvi reprimanded. Her tone was final as she pulled a warm cape about her shoulders. She then took the halberd from the wall Mara had leaned it against and held her cape open. Mara’s head nodded slowly, looking incredulously over Solvi’s posture.

“You can’t be serious.” She objected, leaning on her staff and pointing to her hood. “I’m not a child in need of protection from the rain.”

“Really? You have the stature and petulance of one.” Solvi replied mockingly, dragging Mara under her cloak with much protesting. Once underneath the warm furs however the protestations stopped. Mara’s hand emerged from the cloak to snap her fingers, extinguishing the lanterns. A few moments later the lock of the door clicked and the two began their journey in earnest.

The pouring rain bounced off Solvi’s armour with a tinny repercussion as they walked. People parted before the strange pair with their cloaks and hats pulled low over their faces. As the two reached the outer walls of the city where they had arranged to meet the caravan that would take them to the dig site, stares turned to actions as several people shouted at Solvi. One or two rocks were thrown her way, most likely by drunkards given the quality of their aim. Mara and Solvi, both used to this treatment at various points in their lives, simply ignored them. The elf knew better than to question whether Solvi was alright, as they quickly ducked into the stables that housed the caravan. She wasn’t. There was no softening the blows when her own internal shame had harangued her for decades. Mara always caught glimpses of it when Solvi assumed nobody was looking.

As the two entered the landing rooms, as they were commonly called, they were accosted by exuberant shouts from Professor Renaud. Arthur and Fred waved them over as well. Arthur had dressed for adventure, as he had when they’d previously met. Fred wore workman’s boots that were propped upon the table and durable trousers. He’d procured a breastplate that appeared to be hammered out of an old furnace door. Renaud had dressed himself in the garb of an everyday civilian with suspenders, jacket and trousers over a shirt he must have borrowed from a human colleague. Mara smiled at that, remembering his little rants about how uncomfortable human clothing was. No room to breathe, far too claustrophobic. “What was wrong with a good robe?”, and so forth. Solvi and Mara quickly arranged themselves around the table, attracting a strange look from Renaud. He wore a bemused expression in Solvi’s general direction.

“Traditional garb, is it? Very good. You’ll need that armour come the morrow, according to the dig team.” Renaud smiled, seeming to be in good spirits as he sipped from a mug of mead he’d probably been nursing for several hours. Solvi gave him a flat look that was thankfully obscured by her helmet. She removed it shortly after, taking a swig of Renaud’s mead with a challenging grin in his direction. He held up his hands before clapping them together industriously. Pulling a roll of paper from his jacket, he unfolded a surprisingly large map and weighed it down with the thick glasses and steins Fred and Arthur had been sharing with their eccentric colleague.

“Dig team nothin’. My boys were scouting ‘round the site lookin’ for any signs of trouble. What did they find? Bleedin’ Ankou’s Beggars! A whole damn fort of ‘em!” Fred huffed, taking a dagger from his belt and stabbing the map where, Mara presumed, the bandit fortress was positioned. Solvi sucked in a breath as they collectively realised the premium their services had been bought for. Ankou’s Beggars were a nasty, almost legendary group. Famed for their brutality and discipline, they were former soldiers for the most part and dealt solely in profit. Mara could feel the daggers being stared in her direction without even turning her head.

“Well, what nefarious purpose would they serve attacking hapless archaeologists?” Renaud placated with a reassuring pat on Fred’ shoulder, who glowered at him. Arthur, perhaps wisely, remained stony silent and would make his thimble of mead last the night if he had to. Solvi, for her part, leaned imposingly towards Renaud.

“Not bein’ funny Renaud but I dealt in this stuff for most of me childhood. Ancient Elysian tatt? Old rocks? Fresco of some elvish girl with ‘er- “

“Yes, thank you I see your point, Fred.” Renaud interjected with a placating hand. He reached within his bottomless pockets once again and fished out his diary. From this consequential yet oddly slim tome, Renaud produced a few calculations which he laid before those assembled. “For the purposes of this I have hired additional security. Unfortunately, that results in a small pay reduction. You’ll find the new total here!” Renaud smiled, tapping the slip of paper which bore the considerably smaller sum on its surface. Solvi smirked and promptly shook her head whilst Fred leaned back and lit his pipe.

“Fair’s fair. Though I’m sure you’ll be understandin’ that me and my boys won’t be workin’ if you can’t pay what you said you were goin’ to.” Fred said with a bargaining tone, attracting a nod of approval from Solvi who sounded her agreement. Pointedly, she included Mara in that threat. The mage herself shrank back in Solvi’s furs, slipping her decanter under her mask and taking a sip.

Arthur, possibly digging a hole in the bottom of his mug to find more libations, finally laid down his cup and gave Renaud a stern look. Mara watched with amazement as the diplomatic smile that had been plastered on Renaud’s face since he moved to Yanhelm slip with momentary annoyance. That barely disguised hint of disapproval forced a clearing of the throat from Mara who poked her head from the masses of furs to address Renaud directly.

“Sora, it’s very bad form to change a bargain once struck. Remember what Senarus Farden once said! An elf’s word is bound with the wisdom of their years, the clarity of their name and the sincerity of their understanding.” Mara spoke in a surprisingly empathetic tone, drawing upon one of Renaud’s favourite Elysian philosophers to make her point. The smile soon returned to Gaius’ face as he gazed upon his sora. The warmth in his eyes, Mara felt, was probably genuine and thanked her past self for memorizing those ponderous, self-important tomes of history Gaius enjoyed. Mara preferred primary sources to the rosy ramblings of those a century thereafter.

“A slight misquotation which I feel was intentional, but I am glad to know my lessons weren’t entirely wasted.” Renaud chided, taking out his pipe and stuffing it with his favoured form of ‘herbal remedy’ as he called it. He lifted the paper with the new sum on it and grinned around the stem of his pipe. “If only to get you out of that stuffy apartment and into a house worthy of you, I shall find the funds.” Renaud conceded, igniting the paper with magic before lighting his pipe with it. He then got to his feet and stretched. “I shall leave you all to your ministrations concerning the bandits and look forward to hearing your solutions. Come along Mara. I shall show you to our caravan.”

The entire table took a darker feel in that moment and Mara could perceive the shift in mood almost as a cooling of the room. Renaud, ever perceptive, turned to face the table with a confused expression.

“Mara will be staying in my caravan. After all, I have lived with her for the last five years.” Solvi said icily, the grip on her halberd tightening. Arthur stood from his seat, reaching a hand over to grip Solvi’s shoulder. A preventative measure, should it be needed.

“In your…? Is this some human convention I’m unclear on?” Renaud asked with his confusion deepening, it seemed.

“Though to other elves you are my father, to humans you are merely a mentor. I think it would be best if we didn’t invite unfavourable opinions from other people.” Mara spoke softly, but firmly. She empathised with him on some level. His culture had been stripped from him and he was now desperately trying to live in accordance with what he saw as elvish life. He had forgotten, Mara thought, that sora typically had many students rather than just one. Solvi, on the other hand, had half-risen from her seat with her fist clenched. Mara had never been punched by an orsan woman before, but she had seen many who had been. The recovery times for elves were truly staggering.

“As always, sana you are right where humans are concerned. They cannot conceive of any attachments that aren’t parental or romantic.” Renaud replied with a glare at Solvi that threatened to spill over into outright rage. Solvi, for her part, had already met him on that road and seemed ready to drag him to its destination. Possibly with a dislocated jaw. “Please, by all means take good care of my sana. Though do try to avoid forming any attachments, parental or otherwise.” Renaud added before turning his back on a lunging Solvi held barely in check by a struggling Arthur. No small man, it was impressive he could do anything to stop an angry woman of Solvi’s size in her tracks.

“Absolute snake! He knew what he was doing!” Solvi shouted, slamming herself back into her seat with her arms folded tightly enough to make diamonds. Mara, for her part, returned to her decanter and sighed after a sip. Arthur waved down one of the staff, keen to get another round in before he had to use some of that godly magic of his to restore someone’s nose. Fred sat silently smirking to himself as he lit his own pipe and puffed a smoke ring from his rodent-like face. Whiskers twitching, he leaned forward.

“So, you two are a thing, eh? Reyes, you owe me 15 bullions.” Fred grunted, holding one of his paw-like hands out to Arthur who grumbled and began rummaging in his pockets. Solvi grabbed Arthur’s wrist as it was about to place a note in Fred’s palm. The pair looked over quizzically at the strong reaction.

“We are not, as everyone seems to imply, romantically inclined.” Mara spoke icily, sitting herself up as Solvi released the man’s arm. He grumbled and rubbed his forearm at the iron grasp Solvi had locked his arm into. The large orsan woman mumbled something under her breath before Mara’s head whipped to the left. “Something to add Solvi? I’m sure we’ve had this conversation.” Came the surprisingly vicious question, regretted moments later before Mara apologized, rubbing her temples. The mask made it difficult to ease the headache. Made it difficult to do a lot of things, really. Yet, the mask persisted in being a necessity.

“Call it a sensitive subject and none of your damn business, Fred.” Solvi snarled, taking one of the mead mugs as a waitress served another round to the table. Arthur handed his betting money to the woman with a broad smile before taking his first grateful sip of what was hopefully a night of being unable to remember this awkwardness. Mara, it seemed, surprised everyone by placing a straw in her mug and, in one long breath, draining it.

“She doesn’t get drunk. I wagered a day’s wage on her drinking a bottle of spirits. Made it back when the whole inn bet against her.” Solvi observed with grudging respect, remembering well her slim companion who weighed less than the average blampie draining several bottles of liquor then walking down the street on her hands. Their two companions looked sceptical before Mara finished her drink with a small hiccough.

“I don’t become inebriated as fast as other people. My body simply doesn’t absorb it as fast. Sometimes, I don’t absorb it at all. Fortunately, I don’t need to eat all that much either. A neat party trick to be sure but the trade-off is perpetually stunted growth.” Mara explained over her mead, cracking her neck before returning to a relaxed position in her chair.

The evening continued with the quartet finding their ease around each other once more. Fred and Solvi remembered their shared time as bouncers at Yanhelm’s many up market establishments. Arthur and Mara talked of his grandfather and their shared love of magic. He was especially content to relay his travels to Mara which had included the sweltering jungles of Khal, the continent immediately to their south. He’d encountered wondrous creatures, fascinating people and a tree larger than any building he’d ever seen. And when all reminiscing was done and their friendships broadened to include two more people, with the last of Fred’s bawdy jokes told to a wheezing Mara, the group retired from the table with lighter hearts. Mara and Solvi left the landing rooms into the stormy night with their cloaks held tightly, their gait hunched. Their boots splashed through the muddy ground as three carriages awaited them. One already had lights in its frosted chequered windows, which was most likely Renaud performing his nightly ritual of reading the evening paper. Mara cursed herself for forgetting to get her old sora away from those rags and their salacious stories. If anyone were a philanderer in a relationship with the truth, it was them.

The next carriage over was a surprisingly large, comfortable affair with a door and steps set into its side. The kind of carriage retired people would use to visit the countryside. It had thick, low-slung wheels and an arched roof that had a small metal chimney flue poking out of its hide-covered tiles. Mara spied a wet note wedged into the door and opened it to reveal Renaud’s writing. Rather than test Solvi’s good mood, Mara scrunched the paper in her hands and opened the door to the dark interior of the carriage.

Whoever was paying Renata’s expedition had spared no expense. The same spells that gave Renaud’s pockets implausible depth now allowed both women to enjoy a sizeable bunk bed, small kitchen, bookshelves and expansive front windows that had steps to the driver’s carriage. In one corner sat a small stove that had a kettle sat on top of it, as if Renaud’s people had anticipated Mara’s first thought. The diminutive mage’s excitement was palpable as she flitted from the beds to the bookshelves to the magical lighting fixtures. With a flick of her wrist, she illuminated the entire interior with soft yellow-orange light.

“They created a sustained demiplane within the frame of the carriage and stabilized it using third generation formulation!” Mara gushed breathlessly, opening one of the homey wooden walls to reveal a lattice of orange metal that whirred and sparked at her. Strangely, Mara apologized for disturbing it and promptly shut the tiny wooden door. “It doesn’t matter what happens to the carriage outside! We’ll always stay perfectly still as if we were in the apartment.” Mara bounced in place, scurrying up the ladder of the bunk bed and claiming the top bunk. She defiantly laid her staff there, running her fingers over the star map above her head with a contented gasp.

“How old are you?” Solvi asked with a gruff expression, eyeing the wall Mara had opened with suspicion. Mara hummed a jolly tune to herself briefly before tossing her cloak onto a nearby hook. It dried before it even hit the peg.

“I’m ninety-two years of age and unlike a human haven’t lost my zest for the novel and miraculous!” Mara teased, rolling over the wooden guard rail of her bunk and landing before Solvi on her feet with an exaggerated gymnast’s pose. “Tea? Or have you had your fill of beverages tonight?” Mara asked in a saccharine voice as she lit the stove. Though not visible, her eyes widened to dinner plates when she discovered the carriage had running water of its own. She would need to take this apart after the expedition and learn its mysteries. Creating water was a very difficult spell and to do it casually in a moderated fashion was genius.

Solvi sat herself on the lower bunk, smiling to herself as she watched the mage dart from feature to feature to determine how excited she should be. The answer, of course, was very. In every instance. With her friend occupied making tea and cooing with delight every few moments as she discovered some tiny convenience, Solvi began to unbuckle her armour. The expression on her face may as well have said it had weighed as much as the city itself. When the intimidating pile of metal lay before her, Solvi took her tea without complaint and sat herself at the small table.

“If nothing else, I’m happy that I won’t be dragging my nose along the carpets.” Solvi motioned to the roof, which comfortably accommodated even her prodigious height. Mara nodded enthusiastically, lifting her mask to take a sip of her tea. Solvi’s expression shifted to one that Mara did not recognize before she moodily returned to her tea, watching the lighting flashing outside and the rain lash their window.

“Do you not trust me, Mara?” Solvi asked, a pointed tone in her voice that suggested an ulterior motive. Mara clutched her cup with a sigh, pondering her words for a few moments before looking her companion in the eyes.

“I’m not sure what you mean. It could be any number of things. If you mean us-.” Mara began before Solvi held up a hand, shaking her head. They both sat in silence for a heartbeat before realisation dawned on Mara, who touched her fingers to her mask. A nod of confirmation from Solvi sank her heart even more. “The mask isn’t for you. Or Renaud. Or anyone else really. Sometimes it’s easier to tell myself that I wear it for my own protection. But the fact is I’m more comfortable wearing the mask because it’s more comfortable. And because I’m scared of seeing myself after….” Mara made a pained noise before sliding the cup beneath her mask once more. She placed it back in the saucer with a resolute clink and knotted her fingers together. “I have memories of who I was before the war, before the accident. If it were just an injury or disfigurement, I could live with that. But I chose to do this to myself. I chose to put myself at risk.” Mara continued, pulling at the fingers of her gloves and averting her eyes. Solvi’s expression shifted from concern to amazement as the gloves began to slide free of the hand beneath. “I fear that if I look myself in the mirror, the memories of my old self will vanish. All that remains will be this.” Mara swallowed her nerves, eyes shut beneath the mask as her glove slid free. Solvi could finally see at least some of her friend’s true appearance.

Her hand was humanoid at least. Yet the flesh was an unnatural porcelain white, shot with grey veins and patches across the knuckles. Her fingertips, rather than having traditional nails, seemed to have claws that protruded from her flesh.

Solvi took the hand in her own, allowing Mara to feel some small measure of contact with the world. The mage made a noise of surprise, extracting a smirk from Solvi as she curled her fingers through the other woman’s. Mara made a noise somewhere between confusion and a sob before withdrawing her hand suddenly. Solvi let it go, allowing her companion to whip the glove over her fingers once more. She was breathing heavily, Solvi noticed. Panic, perhaps? Solvi shook her head, suppressing a bitter laugh. She had her answer, then.

“From what you’ve shown me, you don’t need to be afraid of that.” Solvi attempted to reassure Mara, only to see her stand and straighten her robes. As with the apartment, she vanished into the bathroom with the bag that contained her nightgown and closed the door behind her. Solvi hung her head, hands clasped before her. Perhaps she had pushed too soon. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pushed at all. Her mother’s words returned to her, as clearly as if the Beast of Karkun were sitting where Mara had been moments before. ‘We who are born to power are not given the luxuries others are entitled to. We know only duty and honour. Satisfy yourself with this or live forever unfinished.’

The two retired to bed without speaking that night, Mara wordlessly dimming the lights to nothing from a curled-up position on the top bunk. Only when Solvi heard her soft, restful breathing did she allow herself a moment to stare at the wolf head of the halberd. Yes, not hers. She didn’t own it while its true owner still breathed. A horrible, garish thing in the dark of the night. Its bloodthirsty snarl, cold eyes and jagged teeth were more fearsome to her than any enemy before her. Between herself and Mara, Solvi was sure that the more fearsome enemy always lay behind you. Breathing on your neck, speaking with the voice of artillery barrages and the screams of dying men. It attacked with claws made of nightmares and hallucinations, dragging her back to her younger self. A naïve girl deluded enough to believe her mother.

The morning of the adventure Professor Renaud had planned for the group was a decidedly dreary affair. Sheets of rain blanketed the valley from an overcast, grey sky that rumbled with distant thunder. The tunnels which less than a week ago the party had crawled through now spewed forth brackish water onto the homes of Yanhelm's poorest. It was in the tiny apartment that Solvi and Mara shared that their journey truly began as the pair argued over, of all things, a wardrobe. Or rather, what was inside the wardrobe. Imagine the message it sends! I'm not about to wear something so profane in the presence of your countrymen. Solvi stressed, toying with the leather string that held the key to this wardrobe. She was garbed in a loose-fitting shirt, her baggy trousers and thick black leather boots. Mara couldn't help but think that being dismissed from the guard had been healthy for Solvi's fashion sense, at least. It probably doesn't even fit. We're lucky to even have it, given what happened to other PoWs. Her continuation forced Mara to consider objection for a moment before she shook her head defiantly. We don't have time or money to craft an entirely new set for you. Give it to me and I'll scratch the insignias off. Mara held out a gloved hand, staff held across her shoulder. For her part, the mage had no armour to speak of. She'd been a medic and hardly expected to be taking fire. If the Orsan forces overran the medical tents, then something had gone wrong long before that. Absolutely not! It's an antique! The heritage of my ancestors is held within this metal. Solvi scolded. Her face was aghast at the mere suggestion. Though she did seem to realise something before sighing at her smaller companion. It was my mother's. It bears our house crest. Solvi shifted her feet, refusing to meet Mara's concerned gaze. She swallowed her grief, lips parting dryly before she dared to continue. I don't want to see it. But I can't throw it away. Solvi explained through a pained expression, as if reliving some horrific episode of her past self. It wasn't the war that dealt the worst blows to you, was it? Mara spoke softly, a hand reaching out to grasp Solvi's shoulder. For her question she only received a shake of the head. When their eyes finally met, Solvi's eyes were bloodshot with tears that she dared not shed. Mara knew a little of Solvi's culture, when she was drunk enough to share it. A matriarchal culture, the orsan placed a heavy burden upon their daughters. According to Solvi, she had never measured up to those standards. Mara supposed the armour was a reminder of that fact. When I found you. You never told me how you sustained that injury. Mara prodded gently, motioning with her head towards the taller woman's shoulder. Mara had managed to fix the muscular damage but even now, Solvi still experienced the pain of that wound. And I shan't. We're not there yet. Solvi spoke with a choked, breathless voice before she took the key from within her shirt and gazed upon it as if it were a bomb. No, not a bomb. Solvi could deal with dying well enough. Mara had only seen this look when they first met. When a masked mage emerged ominously from the fog with a single lantern to light her way. Mara supposed she was quite fearsome on her bad days. And that day had been one of the worst for them both. We both keep secrets. That doesn't mean we have to carry them alone. Mara spoke solemnly, placing her hand on Solvi's. The reassurance seemed to reinforce Solvi's resolve, causing her to jam the key into the wardrobe like a dagger into a hated enemy. She flung the doors apart as if they were on fire, heaving a breath as she laid eyes upon the arms of her mother. Within the wardrobe, kept upon a mannequin Mara had bought no less than twenty years prior, a spectacularly made breastplate sat. The heavy grieves, gauntlets and fur cloak were embellished with the crest of the Benti tribe, the highest of the orsan tribes. A closed helm carved into the shape of an impassive woman's gaze, stared back at Solvi. It was adorned with metallic antlers which scraped the top of the wardrobe as Solvi removed it and looked upon it. Her face was a conflagration of emotions from pride to sorrow to hatred. Passing the helm to Mara, Solvi silently moved her breastplate out of the wardrobe to reveal the most feared item in her possession. Within was a halberd of such prodigious size it did not fit within its confinement neatly. With a scrape of metal on wood, Solvi removed it and inspected the sacred carvings etched into the axe head and its hammer. Not only were they magical but they were beautifully carved into the shape of a wolf's head, the axe's blade protruding from its mouth. From the ancient wooden stave, many charms and rings hung. Mara, who was stood a goodly distance away should Solvi choose to test its heft, could feel the magical power of this item. It was intense enough to bring her goosebumps to her flesh. What does that thing do? Mara asked, her voice small and halting as she raked her gaze along its length. Solvi ran her hand along the length of the haft, sparks of blue energy dancing along with her motion. She gave a few practice swings with it before turning to Mara with a morose expression. Cernunnos' Guillotine, as it's so cheerfully called, has been in my family for centuries. I have only stories but apparently its blade can fell any creature be they spirit, fey or mortal. My grandmother told of my ancestors using it to summon the spirits of beasts. It allowed them to leap great distances or hear the footsteps of insects. Solvi spoke with reverence, before her expression shifted to one of frustration or perhaps disappointment. She handed the halberd to Mara for inspection, who held a glowing hand over it. Of course, I was reminded at every turn that only a worthy member of our house could unlock its true potential. And worthiness usually correlated to doing what my mother said. Solvi scoffed, taking the armour from its resting place. She began to put it on yet, as she held a gauntlet in her hand, she paused. I forsook combat. Promising never to harm another person, I locked it away. But for the glint of coin, it would have remained so. With any luck you won't have to hurt anyone. Mara tried to sound reassuring, but the foreboding weather had placed a pall of uncertainty over her. Something didn't feel quite right to her. Something burning at the back of her mind yet refusing to take concrete shape. Solvi, who did not need to see Mara's face to know her mind, looked up from strapping her grieves to her boots to ask why the mage was being so unusually quiet. Something feels wrong about this venture. Mara wrung her hands together, mask once again hiding the concerned expression the mage had been wearing. Solvi resumed arming herself, pulling her gambeson over her shirt before she began to struggle with the leather straps of the breastplate. Mara rushed over to help her. Her gloved hands were surprisingly dextrous. Years of experience, Solvi surmised. We're being paid a ridiculous sum that could pay my guard salary for a year. All to spend a week or two in some crumbled old ruin killing off looters and wildlife. You, I suppose, will be making sure they don't slow roast themselves toying with magic they do not understand. Solvi recited, as if such an arrangement were mundane to her. She then fixed Mara with a flat look. Your sora is a crooked old bat paying us off because he's roped us into some shady nonsense. We take our pay. We do our job and ask no questions. When the job is done, we leave Renaud and his idiocy behind. Solvi said with such firmness that Mara almost complied automatically with her orders. Stomping on her training, Mara reared to her full height and met Solvi's gaze. Gaius is a good man. Yes, he's eccentric and domineering and more than somewhat arrogant. But when I was at my worst point, he was there for me. As were you. Mara tried to muster her most authoritative voice yet only managed to sound like the teacher she was rather than the drill sergeant she had been aiming for. Gaius wants the best for us. He knew you were wasted as a guard and offered you something more! She tried to reinforce her case but, as Solvi's eyebrows sank, knew that the battle had been lost on that front. Renaud didn't even ask our permission. He simply decided that you would accompany him on this journey. Remember that the next time he decides you deserve better. Solvi reprimanded. Her tone was final as she pulled a warm cape about her shoulders. She then took the halberd from the wall Mara had leaned it against and held her cape open. Mara's head nodded slowly, looking incredulously over Solvi's posture. You can't be serious. She objected, leaning on her staff and pointing to her hood. I'm not a child in need of protection from the rain. Really? You have the stature and petulance of one. Solvi replied mockingly, dragging Mara under her cloak with much protesting. Once underneath the warm furs however the protestations stopped. Mara's hand emerged from the cloak to snap her fingers, extinguishing the lanterns. A few moments later the lock of the door clicked and the two began their journey in earnest. The pouring rain bounced off Solvi's armour with a tinny repercussion as they walked. People parted before the strange pair with their cloaks and hats pulled low over their faces. As the two reached the outer walls of the city where they had arranged to meet the caravan that would take them to the dig site, stares turned to actions as several people shouted at Solvi. One or two rocks were thrown her way, most likely by drunkards given the quality of their aim. Mara and Solvi, both used to this treatment at various points in their lives, simply ignored them. The elf knew better than to question whether Solvi was alright, as they quickly ducked into the stables that housed the caravan. She wasn't. There was no softening the blows when her own internal shame had harangued her for decades. Mara always caught glimpses of it when Solvi assumed nobody was looking. As the two entered the landing rooms, as they were commonly called, they were accosted by exuberant shouts from Professor Renaud. Arthur and Fred waved them over as well. Arthur had dressed for adventure, as he had when they'd previously met. Fred wore workman's boots that were propped upon the table and durable trousers. He'd procured a breastplate that appeared to be hammered out of an old furnace door. Renaud had dressed himself in the garb of an everyday civilian with suspenders, jacket and trousers over a shirt he must have borrowed from a human colleague. Mara smiled at that, remembering his little rants about how uncomfortable human clothing was. No room to breathe, far too claustrophobic. What was wrong with a good robe?, and so forth. Solvi and Mara quickly arranged themselves around the table, attracting a strange look from Renaud. He wore a bemused expression in Solvi's general direction. Traditional garb, is it? Very good. You'll need that armour come the morrow, according to the dig team. Renaud smiled, seeming to be in good spirits as he sipped from a mug of mead he'd probably been nursing for several hours. Solvi gave him a flat look that was thankfully obscured by her helmet. She removed it shortly after, taking a swig of Renaud's mead with a challenging grin in his direction. He held up his hands before clapping them together industriously. Pulling a roll of paper from his jacket, he unfolded a surprisingly large map and weighed it down with the thick glasses and steins Fred and Arthur had been sharing with their eccentric colleague. Dig team nothin'. My boys were scouting round the site lookin' for any signs of trouble. What did they find? Bleedin' Ankou's Beggars! A whole damn fort of em! Fred huffed, taking a dagger from his belt and stabbing the map where, Mara presumed, the bandit fortress was positioned. Solvi sucked in a breath as they collectively realised the premium their services had been bought for. Ankou's Beggars were a nasty, almost legendary group. Famed for their brutality and discipline, they were former soldiers for the most part and dealt solely in profit. Mara could feel the daggers being stared in her direction without even turning her head. Well, what nefarious purpose would they serve attacking hapless archaeologists? Renaud placated with a reassuring pat on Fred' shoulder, who glowered at him. Arthur, perhaps wisely, remained stony silent and would make his thimble of mead last the night if he had to. Solvi, for her part, leaned imposingly towards Renaud. Not bein' funny Renaud but I dealt in this stuff for most of me childhood. Ancient Elysian tatt? Old rocks? Fresco of some elvish girl with er- Yes, thank you I see your point, Fred. Renaud interjected with a placating hand. He reached within his bottomless pockets once again and fished out his diary. From this consequential yet oddly slim tome, Renaud produced a few calculations which he laid before those assembled. For the purposes of this I have hired additional security. Unfortunately, that results in a small pay reduction. You'll find the new total here! Renaud smiled, tapping the slip of paper which bore the considerably smaller sum on its surface. Solvi smirked and promptly shook her head whilst Fred leaned back and lit his pipe. Fair's fair. Though I'm sure you'll be understandin' that me and my boys won't be workin' if you can't pay what you said you were goin' to. Fred said with a bargaining tone, attracting a nod of approval from Solvi who sounded her agreement. Pointedly, she included Mara in that threat. The mage herself shrank back in Solvi's furs, slipping her decanter under her mask and taking a sip. Arthur, possibly digging a hole in the bottom of his mug to find more libations, finally laid down his cup and gave Renaud a stern look. Mara watched with amazement as the diplomatic smile that had been plastered on Renaud's face since he moved to Yanhelm slip with momentary annoyance. That barely disguised hint of disapproval forced a clearing of the throat from Mara who poked her head from the masses of furs to address Renaud directly. Sora, it's very bad form to change a bargain once struck. Remember what Senarus Farden once said! An elf's word is bound with the wisdom of their years, the clarity of their name and the sincerity of their understanding. Mara spoke in a surprisingly empathetic tone, drawing upon one of Renaud's favourite Elysian philosophers to make her point. The smile soon returned to Gaius' face as he gazed upon his sora. The warmth in his eyes, Mara felt, was probably genuine and thanked her past self for memorizing those ponderous, self-important tomes of history Gaius enjoyed. Mara preferred primary sources to the rosy ramblings of those a century thereafter. A slight misquotation which I feel was intentional, but I am glad to know my lessons weren't entirely wasted. Renaud chided, taking out his pipe and stuffing it with his favoured form of herbal remedy' as he called it. He lifted the paper with the new sum on it and grinned around the stem of his pipe. If only to get you out of that stuffy apartment and into a house worthy of you, I shall find the funds. Renaud conceded, igniting the paper with magic before lighting his pipe with it. He then got to his feet and stretched. I shall leave you all to your ministrations concerning the bandits and look forward to hearing your solutions. Come along Mara. I shall show you to our caravan. The entire table took a darker feel in that moment and Mara could perceive the shift in mood almost as a cooling of the room. Renaud, ever perceptive, turned to face the table with a confused expression. Mara will be staying in my caravan. After all, I have lived with her for the last five years. Solvi said icily, the grip on her halberd tightening. Arthur stood from his seat, reaching a hand over to grip Solvi's shoulder. A preventative measure, should it be needed. In your? Is this some human convention I'm unclear on? Renaud asked with his confusion deepening, it seemed. Though to other elves you are my father, to humans you are merely a mentor. I think it would be best if we didn't invite unfavourable opinions from other people. Mara spoke softly, but firmly. She empathised with him on some level. His culture had been stripped from him and he was now desperately trying to live in accordance with what he saw as elvish life. He had forgotten, Mara thought, that sora typically had many students rather than just one. Solvi, on the other hand, had half-risen from her seat with her fist clenched. Mara had never been punched by an orsan woman before, but she had seen many who had been. The recovery times for elves were truly staggering. As always, sana you are right where humans are concerned. They cannot conceive of any attachments that aren't parental or romantic. Renaud replied with a glare at Solvi that threatened to spill over into outright rage. Solvi, for her part, had already met him on that road and seemed ready to drag him to its destination. Possibly with a dislocated jaw. Please, by all means take good care of my sana. Though do try to avoid forming any attachments, parental or otherwise. Renaud added before turning his back on a lunging Solvi held barely in check by a struggling Arthur. No small man, it was impressive he could do anything to stop an angry woman of Solvi's size in her tracks. Absolute snake! He knew what he was doing! Solvi shouted, slamming herself back into her seat with her arms folded tightly enough to make diamonds. Mara, for her part, returned to her decanter and sighed after a sip. Arthur waved down one of the staff, keen to get another round in before he had to use some of that godly magic of his to restore someone's nose. Fred sat silently smirking to himself as he lit his own pipe and puffed a smoke ring from his rodent-like face. Whiskers twitching, he leaned forward. So, you two are a thing, eh? Reyes, you owe me 15 bullions. Fred grunted, holding one of his paw-like hands out to Arthur who grumbled and began rummaging in his pockets. Solvi grabbed Arthur's wrist as it was about to place a note in Fred's palm. The pair looked over quizzically at the strong reaction. We are not, as everyone seems to imply, romantically inclined. Mara spoke icily, sitting herself up as Solvi released the man's arm. He grumbled and rubbed his forearm at the iron grasp Solvi had locked his arm into. The large orsan woman mumbled something under her breath before Mara's head whipped to the left. Something to add Solvi? I'm sure we've had this conversation. Came the surprisingly vicious question, regretted moments later before Mara apologized, rubbing her temples. The mask made it difficult to ease the headache. Made it difficult to do a lot of things, really. Yet, the mask persisted in being a necessity. Call it a sensitive subject and none of your damn business, Fred. Solvi snarled, taking one of the mead mugs as a waitress served another round to the table. Arthur handed his betting money to the woman with a broad smile before taking his first grateful sip of what was hopefully a night of being unable to remember this awkwardness. Mara, it seemed, surprised everyone by placing a straw in her mug and, in one long breath, draining it. She doesn't get drunk. I wagered a day's wage on her drinking a bottle of spirits. Made it back when the whole inn bet against her. Solvi observed with grudging respect, remembering well her slim companion who weighed less than the average blampie draining several bottles of liquor then walking down the street on her hands. Their two companions looked sceptical before Mara finished her drink with a small hiccough. I don't become inebriated as fast as other people. My body simply doesn't absorb it as fast. Sometimes, I don't absorb it at all. Fortunately, I don't need to eat all that much either. A neat party trick to be sure but the trade-off is perpetually stunted growth. Mara explained over her mead, cracking her neck before returning to a relaxed position in her chair. The evening continued with the quartet finding their ease around each other once more. Fred and Solvi remembered their shared time as bouncers at Yanhelm's many up market establishments. Arthur and Mara talked of his grandfather and their shared love of magic. He was especially content to relay his travels to Mara which had included the sweltering jungles of Khal, the continent immediately to their south. He'd encountered wondrous creatures, fascinating people and a tree larger than any building he'd ever seen. And when all reminiscing was done and their friendships broadened to include two more people, with the last of Fred's bawdy jokes told to a wheezing Mara, the group retired from the table with lighter hearts. Mara and Solvi left the landing rooms into the stormy night with their cloaks held tightly, their gait hunched. Their boots splashed through the muddy ground as three carriages awaited them. One already had lights in its frosted chequered windows, which was most likely Renaud performing his nightly ritual of reading the evening paper. Mara cursed herself for forgetting to get her old sora away from those rags and their salacious stories. If anyone were a philanderer in a relationship with the truth, it was them. The next carriage over was a surprisingly large, comfortable affair with a door and steps set into its side. The kind of carriage retired people would use to visit the countryside. It had thick, low-slung wheels and an arched roof that had a small metal chimney flue poking out of its hide-covered tiles. Mara spied a wet note wedged into the door and opened it to reveal Renaud's writing. Rather than test Solvi's good mood, Mara scrunched the paper in her hands and opened the door to the dark interior of the carriage. Whoever was paying Renata's expedition had spared no expense. The same spells that gave Renaud's pockets implausible depth now allowed both women to enjoy a sizeable bunk bed, small kitchen, bookshelves and expansive front windows that had steps to the driver's carriage. In one corner sat a small stove that had a kettle sat on top of it, as if Renaud's people had anticipated Mara's first thought. The diminutive mage's excitement was palpable as she flitted from the beds to the bookshelves to the magical lighting fixtures. With a flick of her wrist, she illuminated the entire interior with soft yellow-orange light. They created a sustained demiplane within the frame of the carriage and stabilized it using third generation formulation! Mara gushed breathlessly, opening one of the homey wooden walls to reveal a lattice of orange metal that whirred and sparked at her. Strangely, Mara apologized for disturbing it and promptly shut the tiny wooden door. It doesn't matter what happens to the carriage outside! We'll always stay perfectly still as if we were in the apartment. Mara bounced in place, scurrying up the ladder of the bunk bed and claiming the top bunk. She defiantly laid her staff there, running her fingers over the star map above her head with a contented gasp. How old are you? Solvi asked with a gruff expression, eyeing the wall Mara had opened with suspicion. Mara hummed a jolly tune to herself briefly before tossing her cloak onto a nearby hook. It dried before it even hit the peg. I'm ninety-two years of age and unlike a human haven't lost my zest for the novel and miraculous! Mara teased, rolling over the wooden guard rail of her bunk and landing before Solvi on her feet with an exaggerated gymnast's pose. Tea? Or have you had your fill of beverages tonight? Mara asked in a saccharine voice as she lit the stove. Though not visible, her eyes widened to dinner plates when she discovered the carriage had running water of its own. She would need to take this apart after the expedition and learn its mysteries. Creating water was a very difficult spell and to do it casually in a moderated fashion was genius. Solvi sat herself on the lower bunk, smiling to herself as she watched the mage dart from feature to feature to determine how excited she should be. The answer, of course, was very. In every instance. With her friend occupied making tea and cooing with delight every few moments as she discovered some tiny convenience, Solvi began to unbuckle her armour. The expression on her face may as well have said it had weighed as much as the city itself. When the intimidating pile of metal lay before her, Solvi took her tea without complaint and sat herself at the small table. If nothing else, I'm happy that I won't be dragging my nose along the carpets. Solvi motioned to the roof, which comfortably accommodated even her prodigious height. Mara nodded enthusiastically, lifting her mask to take a sip of her tea. Solvi's expression shifted to one that Mara did not recognize before she moodily returned to her tea, watching the lighting flashing outside and the rain lash their window. Do you not trust me, Mara? Solvi asked, a pointed tone in her voice that suggested an ulterior motive. Mara clutched her cup with a sigh, pondering her words for a few moments before looking her companion in the eyes. I'm not sure what you mean. It could be any number of things. If you mean us-. Mara began before Solvi held up a hand, shaking her head. They both sat in silence for a heartbeat before realisation dawned on Mara, who touched her fingers to her mask. A nod of confirmation from Solvi sank her heart even more. The mask isn't for you. Or Renaud. Or anyone else really. Sometimes it's easier to tell myself that I wear it for my own protection. But the fact is I'm more comfortable wearing the mask because it's more comfortable. And because I'm scared of seeing myself after. Mara made a pained noise before sliding the cup beneath her mask once more. She placed it back in the saucer with a resolute clink and knotted her fingers together. I have memories of who I was before the war, before the accident. If it were just an injury or disfigurement, I could live with that. But I chose to do this to myself. I chose to put myself at risk. Mara continued, pulling at the fingers of her gloves and averting her eyes. Solvi's expression shifted from concern to amazement as the gloves began to slide free of the hand beneath. I fear that if I look myself in the mirror, the memories of my old self will vanish. All that remains will be this. Mara swallowed her nerves, eyes shut beneath the mask as her glove slid free. Solvi could finally see at least some of her friend's true appearance. Her hand was humanoid at least. Yet the flesh was an unnatural porcelain white, shot with grey veins and patches across the knuckles. Her fingertips, rather than having traditional nails, seemed to have claws that protruded from her flesh. Solvi took the hand in her own, allowing Mara to feel some small measure of contact with the world. The mage made a noise of surprise, extracting a smirk from Solvi as she curled her fingers through the other woman's. Mara made a noise somewhere between confusion and a sob before withdrawing her hand suddenly. Solvi let it go, allowing her companion to whip the glove over her fingers once more. She was breathing heavily, Solvi noticed. Panic, perhaps? Solvi shook her head, suppressing a bitter laugh. She had her answer, then. From what you've shown me, you don't need to be afraid of that. Solvi attempted to reassure Mara, only to see her stand and straighten her robes. As with the apartment, she vanished into the bathroom with the bag that contained her nightgown and closed the door behind her. Solvi hung her head, hands clasped before her. Perhaps she had pushed too soon. Perhaps she shouldn't have pushed at all. Her mother's words returned to her, as clearly as if the Beast of Karkun were sitting where Mara had been moments before. We who are born to power are not given the luxuries others are entitled to. We know only duty and honour. Satisfy yourself with this or live forever unfinished.' The two retired to bed without speaking that night, Mara wordlessly dimming the lights to nothing from a curled-up position on the top bunk. Only when Solvi heard her soft, restful breathing did she allow herself a moment to stare at the wolf head of the halberd. Yes, not hers. She didn't own it while its true owner still breathed. A horrible, garish thing in the dark of the night. Its bloodthirsty snarl, cold eyes and jagged teeth were more fearsome to her than any enemy before her. Between herself and Mara, Solvi was sure that the more fearsome enemy always lay behind you. Breathing on your neck, speaking with the voice of artillery barrages and the screams of dying men. It attacked with claws made of nightmares and hallucinations, dragging her back to her younger self. A nave girl deluded enough to believe her mother.