Mawar

I coughed, my body rattling as blood streamed down my chin. Pain lanced through my stomach, but it was somehow distant. I pulled myself against the wall, the cold snow underneath me biting through my tattered dress.

I groaned slightly, my mind trying to catch up with what was happening.

I felt the overwhelming urge to run. I wasn’t the predator anymore. I should be, but this monster in front of me watched with the calculating eyes of a bird of prey. They burned me with every tracing movement over my skin.

“I’m not going to ask again,” the mage said, crouching in front of me. “What do you know of Mardeth?”

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” I forced out, trying to appear strong. My Scythe, Melzri, had told me over and over again that the only way I could be strong was to break those that broke me first. “You’ll have to–”

“Do to you what you threatened to me?” the man asked, cocking his head. He seemed eerily calm; something that only made me shudder more. I found myself wishing I hadn’t ripped his mask off. Somehow, the hard angles of his face seemed more terrifying than the old vicar’s mask. There was a scar stretching over one of his brows, and runes burned under his eyes like hot coals. “That’s how Mardeth operates, you know. By torture.”

I lowered my eyes, wincing as I exhaled. “Do what you will,” I hissed.

He plodded forward, loping like a brimstain lion. I froze as he neared, and not from the cold. Eventually, he stood not a foot from my crumpled form. I closed my eyes shut, waiting for the end.

They’ll try and hurt you, daughter, Melzri’s voice bounced around in my head. They think you are weak. They think you are unworthy of your position.

I am unworthy, I thought, fighting back a stray tear as death loomed closer. I failed.

“My mask,” a voice said from over me. “Give it to me.”

My eyes fluttered open in incomprehension. His mask?

I wheezed stupidly for a few seconds, before the dark, riveted metal mask in my hands suddenly alit with a white outline. It yanked itself out of my hands, leaving my fingers grasping for something; anything to anchor me

The mask settled back into the man’s hands. The straps around the back were torn away, so he was unable to put it back on. The front had been damaged irreparably by my decaying magic. He stowed it away in a dimension ring with a scoff.

“You said Mardeth had a base along the Redwater?” the man’s even timbre said.

I tried to force mana along my limbs to ward away the cold. It moved like molasses, my core stuttering painfully. That punch had rattled my nexus of power more than I’d ever experienced.

“He… he has a new base near the headwaters. At the base of Mount Coreshen, along the western bank,” I responded hazily. “He went there after something happened in Fiachra a week ago or so. Something about Scythe Seris intervening and Scythe Dragoth offering asylum.”

The runes faded from the man’s cheeks. The glowing chains, which superimposed themselves over his sleek, dark tunic, shimmered away in turn. The pressure, which I hadn’t even realized had suffused the air, dispersed like mist under the sun. Suddenly, each breath felt less painful.

“That strain on your core will wear off after a while,” the mage said. Under the moonlight, I was able to see that his hair–which was tied off into a short tail–was a strawberry-blonde color. There was a little streak of some other color in there, too. Was that red? “But you won’t be able to use your mana at maximum efficiency for a little while.”

He turned away from me, seemingly putting me out of his thoughts. I felt a primal urge to lash out at his back; to carve it away and reap my vengeance.

“You might still be able to save the mages in that cave,” he said, his voice sounding tired. “Don’t let them die. Like Mardeth would.”

Shame crept up on me like some sort of plague, cloying at my chest like a ragged claw.

“Wait,” I called out, trying to push myself to my feet. I stumbled, my gut trembling as bones shifted. “Wait!”

The mage paused but didn’t look back.

“You said you fought Mardeth,” I said. “How– how powerful was he? How strong do I need to be to kill him?”

The man looked back, those burning orange eyes staring straight into my soul. “Let me tell you something, Mawar,” he said, his voice low. “You might think you have a claim on that man. That he owes you his life. But make no mistake. He is mine to kill. That vicar hurt people very, very close to me. And for that, I’m going to break him before the effigies of his gods. So they can watch and sneer. Do you understand?”

I swallowed, the killing intent wafting off the man making my already weakened body tremble. “You won’t get to kill him,” I hissed. “His life belongs to me!” I said, my voice raw.

The man scoffed, then hopped off the roof.

I stumbled over to where he’d leapt, trying to find a trace of him, but he was gone. The only remaining proof of our fight was the lingering footprints and creaking timbers of the massive temple.

As I numbly stared at the bare evidence of our clash, I belatedly realized I had never demanded his name.

—

I carefully let myself down back into the temple, each movement jostling my ribs. A few were definitely broken, and they’d take a week or so to heal with my level of core refinement. I groaned as I reached the ground, falling to my knees.

My hands clenched around the dust on the ground, anger surging through me. That strange, red-haired mage had ruined everything. Maybe he was opposed to Mardeth, but all he’d done was spring the trap I’d laid months in advance.

Why couldn’t he have just let himself die? I thought, a weak whine in my internal voice.

Again, Melzri’s advice echoed back. They’ll all try and fight you; those stupid peasants. They don’t understand what they face. You’re part of our family now, daughter. And that means you’re above them. They need to understand that.

My Scythe had a strange habit of treating every person in the upper echelons of Alacryan society as if they were part of a giant family. At first, it had unnerved me. Scared me. But the woman tried, in her own strange way, to actually treat me like a mother. Or what she thought a mother should be. She peppered me with gifts. Tried to teach me what she knew. Tried to spend time with me; doing things as simple as eating breakfast together.

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But I had a feeling she was wrong about us, now. I’d never heard of the man who’d pummeled me so thoroughly. How was I above him?

And if he is weaker than Mardeth, a traitorous voice whispered, What would that mean about your chances? How can you ever prove yourself worthy to be Melzri’s retainer? She calls you daughter. But you aren’t. Not really.

I staggered toward the collapsed stairwell. With an effort of will, I engaged my regalia, Dread Siren’s Grasp. A few tendrils of solidified void wind stretched from my body, wrapping themselves around the massive chunks of rock and withering them away or tossing them to the side. The monotony of the work helped bury those traitorous thoughts even deeper in my skull.

In a few seconds, I’d made a small tunnel for myself. I slowly stumbled down the steps, surveying the wreckage of my fight with that irritatingly nimble mage.

I wasn’t running, the sharp-jawed mage’s voice said in my mind. I remembered how his eyes had flared with determination. I was changing the battlefield.

I could see it now as I moved through this confined space. That man had toyed with me, pulling on my emotions to make me reckless. To draw me into a place where he had the advantage. He was nimble like a rat; bounding around as if he could fly. He wasn’t flying; of that I was certain.

My further thoughts cut off as I realized something was wrong. When I’d chased my foe out of this room, at least two of the mages Melzri had assigned to me were still alive. They’d been wounded, true, but alive.

I couldn’t sense their mana signatures anymore.

I burst into the massive cavern, my eyes searching for threats. Mana thrummed weakly along my channels, my mind ready for a fight.

Instead, my hands drooped in uncomprehension. The bodies of all five mages who had accompanied me were splashed with blood, deep cuts along their necks illuminating how they’d been assassinated. Their eyes stared up unblinkingly in the empty air.

During my fight with the fire-wielding mage, someone had snuck in here and stolen the object I’d invested so much time in guarding. The massive, heart-shaped chunk of basilisk blood no longer rested in the chamber.

Toren Daen

My clothes fluttered around me as I fell from the top of the temple. With a barest telekinetic push, I softened my fall. I raised a hand to my forearm as I called on my lifeforce, slowly healing the damage Mawar had done to my body. I felt the fatigue setting in.

I wasn’t in danger of using up my excess lifeforce quite yet, but drawing on that reserve always made me feel a strange sort of tiredness. Aurora, now freed from the necessity of stabilizing my Acquire Phase, took control of the feathered relic once more.

The clockwork bird fought its way out of my tunic, and then perched on my shoulder.

“You conducted yourself well,” Aurora complimented. The bird made no noise besides its stereotypical whirrs. “You kept your cool and maneuvered that confrontation expertly. Though you may have gotten more information had you pressed your advantage.”

She was barely a girl, I thought tiredly. Torturing her is not a line I’m willing to cross. I can’t become what I seek to destroy.

“You make a fair point,” my bond allowed. “Though I worry what sort of consequences this will have for you in the future.”

Perhaps it would have been wiser to simply kill Mawar, but that came with its own troubles. Murdering a retainer in their home city would only bring Scythe Melzri’s retribution. I hoped the worst I’d have to deal with would only be Mawar’s attention, and not anyone higher up.

It’s a lose lose situation, I thought. The best outcome would’ve been escaping, or perhaps avoiding being caught in the first place. But I need to work with what I have.

It was inevitable that I’d run into those higher on the totem pole as I tried to track someone as powerful as Mardeth. This was the kind of price I had to be willing to pay.

The bird on my shoulder looked to the side. “Are you aware of these watching eyes?”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. Yeah, I replied internally. I just wanted to put it off as long as possible.

“Xander,” I said aloud, looking directly where I felt the watching presence, “There might not be any canals here for me to throw your corpse into, but I’m sure I can find something creative,” I said, referencing the threat I’d always used on him. “Mount Nishan isn’t that far away. How does a bath in lava sound?”

Hesitantly, the mossy-haired mage stepped from the shadows. His eyes were wide and slightly disbelieving as he looked me up and down. Lady Shorn’s ever-persistent spy had managed to find me in Nirmala at last. It seemed Renea wasn’t so ready to let me kill myself as she let on.

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You won,” he said stupidly. “Against a Retainer. I only saw the end, but on the top of that temple, it was clear. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“I told your boss that I was far stronger than I let on,” I said, sweeping past the spy. He stood straight as a rod for several seconds, clearly debating what to do next, before finally trailing after me like a whipped dog begging for food. “Considering she sent you after me, should I assume she still wants me alive?”

“Well, uh,” the poor man said uncertainly, “Yes?”

“That’s good,” I replied, plodding toward the central teleportation gate. They didn’t operate this late in the night, so I’d have to wait for the morning to pay the fee to return to Fiachra. “So, why are you still following me?”

The hesitant mage hurried to keep up with me. He wasn’t scared, exactly, which was worth the credit. “While you were… Interrogating Retainer Mawar,” the man said, seeming to be baffled he was even saying the words, “Another mage infiltrated that underground base. I considered giving chase, but it wasn’t in my mission.”

I ground my teeth, thinking of what Mawar had said. She expected someone to come back for Mardeth’s experiments, but I’d interrupted that process. Had someone from Mardeth’s close circle capitalized on my distraction?

“Where did they go?” I asked, knowing it was likely a lost cause. “Which direction?”

Xander pointed to the west hesitantly. “I saw them disappear into the buildings that way. But it was several minutes ago. They might be too far gone.”

Aurora’s clockwork bird left my shoulder with a shrill chirp, soaring up into the sky. “Allow me, Toren,” my bond said over our mental tether. “A bird’s eye view may give you the clues you need.”

We both knew she was unlikely to spot anything. I suspected Aurora was trying to spare me any more energy tonight; giving me a chance to rest instead of immediately taking up pursuit.

Okay, I responded tiredly as the bird zipped off westward. Xander watched it go with a curious frown on his face.

Well, I know where I need to investigate next, I thought, mentally cataloging everything I’d learned. Mardeth was using basilisk blood to invigorate his drugs somehow and had been for a long time. That felt important, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. And I’ll have to find the time to investigate that base Mawar told me about.

I felt the flash of mana as mages started to rush toward my current location. I sighed.

“It was about time someone came to investigate the disturbance Retainer Mawar and I made,” I said, simultaneously withdrawing my mana into myself. Granted, nobody wanted to get in the way of that kind of fight, but the response time had been extremely late. Probably because we’d clashed in the middle of a less-populated area, as well as it being well past midnight. Xander quickly activated whatever cloaking spellform he had, shrouding himself in obscurity. He looked at me uncertainly.

“I’m leaving,” I said, sighing slightly. “You should get back to your boss.”

Before I bounded up into the rooftops, I spared a quick glance behind me. The decrepit temple–already weathered and beaten by the unrelenting fist of time–seemed to droop. The magnitude of the fight within had crippled a surprising number of the remaining support beams, and I was surprised it was still standing tall.

I remembered Hofal describing it to me way back in Fiachra. He’d said it was beautiful on the outside.

I tried to see it. For that smallest fraction of time, I tried to envision this aged structure as something wonderful. Those tall, stretching buttresses. The intricate crenelations, all emblazoned with imagery of basilisks and serpents. The stained glass; no longer pristine.

I couldn’t see the wonder any longer.

I scoffed, turning back to the road. Then I leapt up into the rooftops, watching as half a dozen battlemages converged on the temple.