Mara's Tale

Date begun: September 11, 2007
Title: Mara’s Tale (working title)
Author: SpiritOfBeyond
Disclaimer: This is my original work, please do not reproduce it.

I don't know where this story is going at all, and I welcome criticisms and suggestions. R&R too please. Thanks :)


Chapter 1

I was going to die. I could feel it in my bones; today the Goddess would claim me home. I was not afraid, nor nervous, simply resigned. After all, my life was nothing but one long battle with no pleasurable reward.

From beyond the gates, cheers erupted from the circular arena. The previous fight was over: one of the fighters had died or surrendered.

“Battle 413,” a clear voice announced, “Opposing Mara and Ilar.”

I stood up, checking that my daggers were comfortably strapped to the inside of my forearms: I could flick them into my hands at an instant. Pushing my braid of black hair over my shoulder, I jumped a few times, stretching, and rolled my neck, before grabbing my small shield and going to stand behind the gate. The sun beat down fiercely on the ground of beaten earth. Droplets of blood peppered it darkly.

“Enter, and bow before the Emperor,” came the voice again. The gate was pulled upwards and I proudly walked to the center of the arena, meeting Ilar, before we turned right and faced the stands covered with a light blue awning. The Emperor sat regally, his two wives on either side of him. Ilar and I bowed.

“For your crimes, you are to fight to the death. May the Goddess turn her back on you.”

“We fight for you, and you alone, Your Majesty,” we shouted.

“May the Goddess have mercy,” I whispered.

We faced each other and backed away, until we were about five meters apart. Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I found my balance, and brought my shield in front of me. I had no helmet, nor any other weapon besides my wits and daggers. The sun beat down furiously, and sweat beaded my temples.

A gong rang out. The air shifted, tensing. Ilar and I began to circle each other. Foot over, foot under, over and under… I kept my eyes on hers, her brilliant golden hair reflecting the sun. With a hoarse cry, we lunged at each other, meeting halfway, shield against shield. I flicked my right arm, and the dagger slid smoothly into my hand. Inching the shields aside, I thrust sharply, and caught on the inside of her arm. She yelled, and sprang back, pulling her dagger free from her belt. Holding it above her head, she ran at me. I dodged and cut her across her shoulder. She whirled faster than I thought, and a burst of light fire streaked across my cheekbone. Stickiness trickled down my cheek.

We backed up and circled again.

“Is that the best you can do?” I yelled, goading her. She remained silent. Suddenly, I rammed straight into her, forcing her to the ground, and pinned her there, while I struggled to reach her gut. A deep wound there would render her near incapacitation. Ilar thrust me off, and in the struggle for the upper hand, we both lost our shields. I scrambled backwards and she ran at me, hoarsely yelling. We both flicked our arms, and the second daggers flashed in the sun. I was plastered to the wall. Pushing off, I ran at Ilar, daggers out. They met with a screech of metal. Rapidly, I attacked, and parried. The sound of the two edges sliding across each other tore across the arena and sent a shiver through the crowd. The metal flashed, before we locked, hilt to hilt. Wrenching, Ilar lost her dagger and slammed the heel of her hand under my chin, snapping my head backwards. I cried out and pursued her, both my daggers firmly in my hands. Ilar parried my attacks, then caught my right wrist, rendering that dagger useless. I fought back, twisting my wrist, and slashing towards her abdomen. She flinched out of my grasp. I kneed her, knocking her to the ground. As I fell towards her, she rolled out of the way, scratching her remaining dagger diagonally across my back. I yelled and flipped myself upright. Blind with pain, I ran at her, and she dodged, flicking another cut on my shoulder. I whirled and slashed – a thick crimson line appeared at the top of her leather chest covering. She gasped in pain, and danced out of my reach. Our fight had a rhythm, it danced with passion and a will to survive. We met again, and she managed to knock both my daggers out of my hands and beyond reach. Whaa—? Instinct kicked in and I lashed out with my hands and feet. I punched her gut, winding her, and gaining a few precious seconds. I kicked her feet out from under her, and she fell flat on her back. As I dropped t other flip her around, she rolled out of my grasp and fell on top of me. Bucking wildly, I tried to throw her off. She slashed her dagger on my shoulder and over my hip. I rolled, pining her under me. Her arm streaked over me, cutting a long path across my stomach. I rolled over again, holding on to her arm and stood, dragging her with me. Somehow, I managed to keep a hold on her dagger arm, and kept it away from my flesh. Twisting it out of her grasp, I let go of her wrist and she scrambled away, picking up a fallen dagger on the way.

We stood face to face again. The crowd cheered for such a display, goading us. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, before we threw ourselves at each other again. The parries threw shocks up my arm, jarring the wound at my shoulder. We fought in silence, intent on our dance with death. Another line of fire streaked across my stomach, while blood burst from her thigh.

Back and forth we fought, neither of us gaining the upper hand. A low thumping sound began as the crowd, excited by the sight of blood, began to stamp their feet. The air thrummed with tension. I glanced at the Imperial stands.

Big mistake.

Ilar slammed into my side, knocking us both to the ground. I felt the cold metal of her dagger scraping across my skin. I writhed, hoping that in the tangle of our limbs, Ilar wouldn’t dare strike, out of fear of injuring herself.

Wrong again. Her dagger plunged deep in my calf, and I let out a muffled yell. Pain and anger colored my vision red. I twisted, my dagger preceding my body. I watched the motion slowly, as it sank into Ilar’s chest, through her leather covering, sliding between her ribs. Her breath hitched; sound became nonexistent.

“My Goddess, I am coming,” she whispered, her eyes wide and unbelieving, “Thank you Mara.” A bubble of blood burst at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes rolled back, and she fell on me.

Shock still reverberating, I pushed her body off of me, taking care to shut her eyes. I wearily stood, pulling my bloodied dagger free, and faced the Imperial stands, the dagger raised. Deafening yells and cheers suddenly came into hearing. The Emperor waved his hand – I was dismissed. The gates opened once more, and two guards came out to remove my dagger from me. I limped towards them, giving myself up without a struggle. I handed my dagger to one; the other helped me limp back to under the stands: back to my prison.

I did not die today. Perhaps the Goddess has other plans for me.

* * *

I painfully limped across the courtyard to where the water trough stood. I grimaced as I peered in: weeds, mud, and other garbage floated on the surface. Pushing it aside, I scooped some semi-clear water and washed away the caked blood around my wounds. I hissed as the shoulder one reopened. I couldn’t reach my back at all. I grimaced again as I drank some water – the stale metallic taste made me want to retch.

It was as I turned to regain my courtyard corner that I first glimpsed her. Coiled hair, riding clothes, and an indefinable aura shimmered around her, as she stood in the midst of the other prisoners. I shook my head and blinked: she was gone.

I huddled by the stone wall, trying not to lean against it and infect my wound. Who was she? A Daughter of the Goddess? Why was she here, in this Goddessless city where the Emperor is worshiped as a deity?

I leaned forwards until my forehead rested on the cold wall, and fell asleep, as a last question filtered into my mind: Why did it seem like only I could see her?


I woke the next morning with cramps across my legs and back, the latter of which exploded into pain as I struggled to stand. Sleeping bodies littered the courtyard in indefinite shapes. I picked up an abandoned blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders – it would keep the worst of the cold. Stiffness cramping me, I slogged to the water trough once more. I drank a little, and returned to my corner. As I turned to face the courtyard, two distinct figures made their way across it, circumspecting the fallen bodies. I blinked several times but they did not disappear.

There was a man and a woman. The woman was the same one I’d glimpsed yesterday. Braids circled her head, and at her waist hung a sword. Her golden hair was brilliant against her dark skin. The man had the same strange aura about him. His medium-length hair was braided or pony-tailed down his back. As dark as his companion was, he radiated with paleness; which his onyx hair contrasted magnificently. Slung across his back, over his riding tunic, was a quiver; his bow was loosely handheld.

Squinting slightly, I called out to them, “Who… who are you?”

The woman’s eyes locked with mine. Even at such a distance, about ten meters, I could see that they sparkled golden. Her companion glanced at me, then turned to her and whispered something. She answered, before addressing me again, “You are Mara?”

“How do you know my name?” an inkling of fear began to invade me.

“That is of no importance,” she replied. They were less than two meters away now. I huddled deeper in my corner.

“Who are you? What do you want?” My voice involuntary rose. A couple sleepers rustled and shifted. My eyes darted to them: I half wanted them to wake up, and half wanted them to keep sleeping.

“I am named Shanor,” she crouched in front of me, “And my travelling companion is Cinnad.” He nodded at me. His eyes were the color of ice.

“We are here to take you home,” Shanor said as she stood and held out her hand. I eyed it warily.

“Why should I trust you?” I asked, not budging, “This is the only kind of home I have ever known.”

Cinnad started, but Shanor silenced him with a wave of her hand.

“You’re right to be distrustful,” she began, “It is useful to not blindly trust anyone and everyone. But there are times when you do not or cannot have all the information needed; in that case, you can only trust yourself and your own judgement. Look inside yourself Mara, do you feel threatened? Is there an evil aura that you receive from us?”

“No,” I murmured, “But auras can be deceiving.”

“Look deeper, turn to your basic instincts,” she continued, her golden eyes locked with mine.

I delved into my gut feelings: there was nothing potentially harming in the aura I could feel from her or her companion. All I felt was a sense of equilibrium, justice, and good.

I slowly stood myself up, using the wall for support. She was slightly taller, but I didn’t break our gaze.

“I do not trust you,” I said slowly, “But I am willing to believe that you can deliver me from my lifelong bond here.” The blanket slipped, uncovering my wounds. Cinnad’s eyes widened with shock and anger as I clenched my teeth, and Shanor cupped my elbow to steady me. Cinnad turned and led the way towards the doorway they had come through; Shanor fell into step behind me. A feeble voice protested in my mind. Much as I tried to quell it, it only faded to a distant buzzing. What could possibly be worse than what my life had been here? Goddessless, imprisoned, forced to fight battles for the sport of others… My own instincts dimly told me this was no way to live. But it was the only way I knew. The fight within me continued as I followed Cinnad.

The doorway led to a dark corridor. There were no torches. Instead, Cinnad held his hand behind him for me to grasp, while Shanor took my other hand. He led us carefully and slowly. I turned to glimpse a last view of what had been my home for my entire life, but utter darkness had swallowed it. I felt blind and resentful that I had no choice but to trust Cinnad and his path through the dark. Did they trick me into trusting them? I almost began to fight, when I realized that I would never find my way out if I broke free.

A tug on my hand and a small push from behind urged me to keep moving. I hadn’t realized I had stopped. I stumbled and caught myself. Cinnad muttered under his breath, but it was too low for me to hear. We kept moving in the dark, seemingly following a path.

Quit suddenly, there was a light ahead. It was not bright, but steady, and pale blue. As we came closer, I saw that it was akin to a small round ornament, floating above a stone pedestal of sorts. Very little was illuminated beyond the small circle of light, and that darkness seemed even more impenetrable. As we drew close, Shanor stepped by me, and walked up to the pedestal. She put her hands on it, lightly skimming it as though tracing runes or letters. She muttered too.

“Do you want—” Cinnad began, but Shanor cut him short.

“No”

I was still wary, but curiosity crept upon me. I cautiously walked up to where Shanor was standing, and discreetly looked over her shoulder. I was right: Runes covered the pedestal, where a stone book seemed to have been carved.

I frowned. The runes twisted before my eyes, and next thing I knew, I said out loud: “Somi ayan xila Tary’nim, Elsar, Dehram, ÿn Siniro?”. “Are we to Nary’nim, Elsar, Dehram, or Siniro?”

Shanor turned her head so quickly it nearly collided with mine. Cinnad stared at me open-mouthed.