Mara's Beginnings

By: Jaqal Posted on: December 23, 2005

A scream resonates through the small village of Kamleikan. At first, all is silent. The snow continues to fall gently to the ground and the night still shrouds the icy waters in mist. Then, the village awakens. The women peer from their snowed in doorsteps and windows as all of the men leave their cozy huts to investigate. They can still hear the sobbing and moans through the night. They follow them to the shore where their kayaks had been frozen where they sat. All of a sudden, halfway to the shore, a woman came screaming at them from over a ridge.

"She's dead! She's dead!" she wailed into the night.

Before they could stop her and ask what in the world she was wailing about and who was dead she ran into the group of concerned villagers and collapsed. A man carried her back to the nearest house for care whilst the others went warily towards the shoreline where the woman had came from. They could see nothing of concern. The clouds in the sky kept their vision to a minimum and they could hear nothing but the churring of sleeping penguins on the floes. Then, almost as if through the will of the divine, the clouds rippled outwards, away from the moon. Light blared out and onto the snow, illuminating the horror of the village people as they saw the frozen body. The snow all around it was trampled from the remorseful writhings of the village woman. The body itself was untouched, alone and kneeling in the snow. It sat there, partially concealed in a drift which had developed around it. The villagers went very quiet. They had, through their horror, suddenly recognized the figure. It was Mala. She had been sick ever since she had her child. The village healers knew that she was too weak to fight it off and Mala had known for a few weeks now that she was condemned to die a slow and painful death. So, there she sat, the sorrow of a dying woman frozen for eternity on the frail face of Mala. The future of Mara, her daughter, had taken a turn of uncertainty.

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Seventeen years later

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Beads tinkled as they hit the walls of the hut. A lone sickly cough resounds through the house. The afternoon sun blares brightly through the two windows, revealing the rather large amount of incense smoke wafting through the air. A young girl sat in one of the squares of sunlight murmuring incantations as she sprinkled ingredients into a crystalline bowl in front of her. Her jet-black hair, which had never been cut, now sat around her waist as she murmured. She wore a simple parka over her shirt of seal skin and her pants were decorated with a variety of ivory beads. Her narrow face frowned in concentration as she attempted to remember the incantation. Her concoction would be about as useful as peanut butter to a fish if she couldn't remember it. Unfortunately, she waited to long, and the mixture of herbs and oil exploded in a flash of orange-green fire.

An old voice croaked through an open door to the back "What are you blowing up Mara?".

Frustrated, Mara replied "Nothing master, just dropped a vial."

"Try to be more careful won't you? I have an old mixture of Voyria in one of those bottles and I wouldn't want you to find it." croaked the voice.

Mara had been apprenticed to the village shaman ever since she could remember. At first, he only taught her the stories and the mundane parts of shamanery. He had hoped that he could manage to convince one of the village boys to become his apprentice and carry on the tradition of male shamans. Unfortunately, a plague had spread through the village some years back and all the available boys were forced to replace their fathers on the whaling boats. So, he was left with Mara, who, proved to be a more absorbent pupil than he had ever imagined. Still, she was a girl, prone to mistakes he thought, so he drilled her harder than he would ever have done. Soon, Mara could not only recite the tale of the North Wind's birth, but could also brew up a restoration salve with her butt cheeks if necessary. Just recently, however, he had gotten sick.

"Just as well," he thought "I've taught Mara all I know, there is nothing else for me in this world."

Mara felt quite differently though. Not about her master, but about herself. She dreamed of leaving this godforsaken village and travelling to one of the great cities such as Shallam, or walking through the mist before Mhaldor. That is why, whenever the master was too sick to get out of bed she would sort through his bookcases, reading everything she could find on the outer world. She was not allowed out of the house, however, so when outsiders came to Kamleikan she could only watch from her window. She dreamed of meeting a Naga or receiving a blessing from a priest. Anything but this constant toil for a sexist village where your toes turn blue if you open a window.

Mara, disgusted at her lack of discipline, got up and placed the bowl upon a shelf. Bored, Mara was about to go sifting through her master's ancient books again, when she heard a peculiar sound outside. She hurried to the window, hoping she hadn't missed anything exciting.

Out in the centre of the frozen village stood a group of four Mhun men, all yelling for the attention of the villagers. Mara, ignoring her master's old warning of outsiders, flew out the door and ran into the now massive congregation around the four travellers.

"People of Kamleikan," one of the men started, "A war has begun, that, unfortunately, has pitted us all against an unlikely adversary. Whether you like it or not, you are a part of it, so we beg you to suit up, and come with us."

The final words rang in the mind of the Kamleikans. Confused, one man asked what the were all thinking, "What the hell are you talking about? What war and with whom are we to go with?" Astonished, one of the travellers said "So you haven't heard!? Talk about secluded."

After several cries of indignation were silenced, the man continued with his explanation, "Approximately one year ago, a meteor fell on the mainland of Sapience, right on top of Forest Watch to be exact. At first, we thought, big whoop, another meteor. Unbeknownst to us, however, the meteor had opened a huge gash upon the earth, deeper than anyone had ever imagined possible. At first, the hole was quiet, but we soon noticed a rather disturbing development. Lava was beginning to flow out of it, and soon, we had a lake of searing hot lava. Everyone in Hashan died of the poisonous fumes, and so, it was deserted. I am sure that everyone west of Forest Watch would be dead, if it were not for the forestals. They contained the fumes, sacrificing, unfortunately, the health of Ithmia. However, the fumes were not our main concern. Rumours were flying about fiery beings that had been seen, floating over the bubbling lake. At first, we dispelled them as efreetis or the fiery beings of Minia. This was our downfall. The first city to sound the Alarm was Ashtan. From their high steeples they could clearly see a huge mass of fire descending into the looted remains of Hashan. We thought this first to, just be the lava moving, but upon closer inspection by a Delosian Jester, we discovered our eminent doom. The fire was thousands upon thousands of flame engulfed beings. They resemble efreetis only in the way that fire consumes them. They stand on two legs, upright and proper, some of them have been rumoured to have wings as large as a basilisk is long, and worst of all, they are unegotiable. No one has ever heard them speak a single syllable, in fact, the only noise one can hear during their raids is the consuming sound of a crackling fire, or a roar as they engulf some new victim. At first, we thought we could contain them ourselves but after losing both Hashan and Ta'Surke completely to the Flighters we have admitted to the fact that we need the help of all the people of Achaea." at this moment, the four of them shouted proudly, as if they expected the whole of Kamleikan to join them "Achaea, United!!".

The silence seemed to permeate the very souls of the travellers. "That...uh... that is our motto you see...um, you were supposed to shout it with us." explained one of the extremely abashed men.

A lone seal barked in the wind, no one spoke, or moved.

"This is not our fight." began the Chief, "you Achaeans have, for years, forsaken Kamleikan and its citizens. Where were you during the great plague? Where were you when we lost twelve of our men on a hunting expedition? I'll tell you where, in your sweet, warm little cities. On a nice cushy chair no doubt. The "Flighters" as you call them, don't stand a chance of crossing the river, or even making a dent upon the tundra. Kamleikan hereby rejects your offer of allying, and furthermore, we hereby banish you and your people from Kamleikan forever! Effective tomorrow."

At this, the congregation dispersed and only Mara was left with the stunned travellers. They stood there, blankly. Apparently, they had not expected such a cold refusal, if a refusal at all. Mara, however, was stunned with delight.

"Finally!" she thought, "A chance to make myself useful!"

"Travellers," she said aloud, "I accept your offer, though it means my own banishment."

"Well, not that we're not delighted with your acceptance, but, aren't you a little small to be heading out into a war? I think it would be best if you stay here, where at least you'll be safe for a while longer."

As they walk out the exit of Kamleikan, Mara stood, shocked. How could they refuse her? They were desperate enough. Infuriated, Mara ran back to her Master's house and gathered her things.

Her master, now up and about asked her "Where were you? And where the heck do you think you're going? You need to practice your stories again." His angered voice seemed to spark a childhood fear within Mara, "I am going with the outsiders, I'm tired of sitting in here waiting for you to die so I can make myself useful!" she said rather harshly.

"Fool's talk! You will stay here and heal the people of Kamleikan!" he croaked again.

His feeble though commanding voice was too much for Mara. She had to take her chance while she could, so she ran out the door with her things in her pack and her hair flaring up behind her. Her Master, unable to run after her, yelled as loudly as he could from his doorway. To no effect of course, Mara was already gone.

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It was dark now. No moon shone to light her way. Instead, she had to go by starlight, following the tracks of the travellers. She caught up with them quickly, for she, unlike them, wore snowshoes instead of their thin leather boots. However, she remained hidden, following a few metres behind.

"Bloody natives!" exclaimed one as his foot, once again, got stuck in a huge snow drift.

"Came all this way for blood frigging nothing!"

"Well, that's not true, there was that girl."

"That small little squeaky thing? I would hardly classify her as worthwhile to come out here into this hellhole - this is worse than Hashan!"

Mara grew enraged by these cursings and mutterings and, without her noticing, she quickened her pace and soon came right up to their sides.

"Good evening." she said from on top of the 4ft snow.

Now up to their waist, the travellers were making very slow progress, and were desperate for any form of help. Mara took out her spare snowshoes and threw them to the four Mhuns, now practically wallowing in the snow. After about half an hour of trying to scramble to the surface of the snow, Mara threw an elevation potion at them and they were able to get out of the treacherous holes that were their paths.

"Thank you!" one of them panted as he kneeled upon the surface of the snow.

The others were too busy trying to catch their breath to say anything though Mara's smug little smirk was probably not very inviting of thanks.

"I have made my choice, and even have proven my worth to you, I will come and help." Mara said resolutely as she stood over the exhausted men.

Getting up, one said "Very well, but we nor anyone else will claim responsibility for you. If you get lost, it is your fault, if you die, we hold no responsibility to reclaim your body from the Flighters."

"Reasonable enough," Mara admitted, "My name, by the way, is Mara."

"I am Viho of Ashtan, he is Ato, also of Ashtan, and the other two are Mhaldorians; Quila and Heora." said the man, pointing to each of the respective Mhuns.

After an extra ten minutes of waiting around, Viho lost his temper and kicked the other three to their feet. Once the mutinous mutterings were silenced, rather forcefully by the way, they continued their journey southwards, aided by Mara. They passed through the tundra without further event, and took a detour around Northreach as the Mhaldorians were known enemies of Oakstone. After being chased by a rabid squirrel of Darkenwood they finally came out onto the Dardanic Grasslands. Here, they rested and removed their snowshoes. To fend of the morning cold, the mhuns had built a fire and soon were deeply engrossed in old war stories, or politics.

"BorrrrING!" thought Mara.

Instead of joining in, or at least listening to their tales, she ventured out into the brisk morning. She could hear birds twittering at the edges of Northreach, while groundhogs were popping up on the plains. Mara ate some berries and drank some water from a stream. All was bright and cheery. That is, until, Mara walked up to the nearest of the Granite Hills. Panting, Mara reached the top, and far from having a rush of joy and accomplishment, her face fell as she examined the land. Far to the east, a dark cloud of smoke blighted out the morning sun. Instead an ember light burned from below and illuminated the dark billowing mass that had become the sky. To the East she saw Ashtan, under siege. Even from here Mara could clearly see the monstrous Gates closing the way and the small fiery beings hurling themselves at them in unmerciful waves. Mara seemed to have caught them at an exciting time. People on hawks and winged horses flew overhead dropping buckets of water. Magi stood on the walls casting water about everywhere until, drained, they collapsed and fell out of view. Every now and then a dragon would swoop out of the dark clouds and smash a huge gaping hole in the ranks of the Flighters. Their wings, however, with some spanning half a mile, fanned the flames and the Flighters often consumed the dragons. Mara could almost hear the screams of agony as the dragons reverted back to their human counterparts and were torn to shreds.

"Now you see what we have to live with on a daily basis."

Mara jumped four feet in the air. She had been so intent on watching this gruesome battle that she hadn't noticed that her rather unwilling escort had packed up and was ready to go. As they filed past her one could be heard to say under his breath "Twitchy little thing."

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The Granite Hills passed without further incident and Mara spent most of her time craning her neck at the bottoms of hills in order to maintain her view of Ashtan. After a while, once Mara had developed an awful crick in her neck, they hit the highway between Minia and Ashtan.

"This is where we go our different ways." said Viho, the Mhun leader.

Ato, who was standing behind him let out a shrill whistle, which, in Mara's opinion, wasn't very smart since the highway should've been full of Flighters. No one appeared however, except a lone mule. Rather decrepit, it swaggered out of some bushes, flies still buzzing around it's face.

"Your transportation has arrived madam." chortled the man.

Obviously not in on the joke, Mara thought that there was nothing weird about riding a donkey.

"Thanks!" she said with awe as she clamoured up into the saddle. The Mhun's smiles faded a little, and without a word, they walked off and across the bridge leading to Thera.

"Well mule, move along now, you know where to go." said Mara rather uncertainly.

The donkey, after a few moments thought, decided that the best place to go...was no where. Now, horribly impatient, Mara swore at the donkey and ended up whacking its bottom to get it to move and after a short and rather forlorn boost of speed, the donkey slowed to a trot along the highway, away from Ashtan.

"Jolly good what what!" Mara said proudly as she surveyed the lands, "Nothing like a good ride with your trusty companion! Speaking of which, what is your name smellything?"

The donkey, of course, gave no discernable reply except a rather odoriferous fart.

"Weeellll, that's not a very good name." Mara replied in a thoughtful, though disgusted voice, "I think I'll call yooooouuu....Widget."

Again, the donkey gave no reply. He kept his slow drawling pace. Mara, who was delighted with her new found companion, had a rather hard time keeping in the saddle. She was always twisting around or turning her head to view some great or interesting piece.

Not a moment went by without a comment such as "My what a beautiful bridge!" or "I can't believe that woman would go out in public wearing that thing." After about an hour of this one-sided conversation, the donkey slowed to a halt just inside the Shallamese Gates. Once the donkey had regained his bearings, he proceeded to relieve himself right in front of Periclese. A Djinn gave the donkey such a reproachful look that it moved considerably faster once it had finished.

Mara, however, had noticed none of this. She was too intent

watching...well... Shallam. The mud brick housing shone in the afternoon sun and smoke rose from the chimneys, spreading a most appetising smell of bread, or stew, or fish. Mara closed her eyes and simply followed her nose. She looked rather crazy to the Shallamites, swaying from side to side, eyes closed, nose flared, and a rather insane smile upon her face. Unfortunately for her, her parade of smells came to a sudden ceasing halt as her trusty mule, Widget, let fly another odoriferous fart. Face grimaced in disgust, her eyes flew open, and she found herself outside a quaint little house. Young people, all around her age, bustled in and out of this rather uniform building. Some were smiling with blissful expressions of assurance, whereas others left with a rather alarming dark shroud surrounding them. Evidently, her trusty companion, the donkey, wanted her to enter, as he had picked this particular house out of the hundreds along the lane to stop in front of. Mara clumsily dismounted and entered through the ever open door.

Inside was a bustle of activity. Young people were all yelling for the attention of one very tired looking Certimene. A sign read at the back of the room "Temporarily Relocated Administrative Office of Houses and Classes". To be fair, this sign took up half the wall. Mara tried to comprehend what the heck the office was about, when, through the clamour of shouting newbies, a thunderous voice roared.

"ENOUGH!" cried the now hysterical and broken Certimene.

"You no longer get to choose your professions!" he yelled...with amazing volume for a man his age.

He then began to walk through the crowd poking people's heads and saying things like "Druid, druid, sylvan, occultist, necromancer, priest -" at this he was broken off by a cry of indignation.

"Priest?! But I want to evil for god's sake!" yelled the youngster priest. With a glare that could send a goblin blushing Certimene whispered "If you do not like what you get, I will kindly leave you with NOTHING! Or strip you and leave you for the Flighters!"

The rest of the crowd remained silent as they were assigned their classes, and some, their houses.

She waited for hours, but when it finally came to Mara's turn, Certimene prodded her noggin and said "Monk".

So, with a little monosyllabic word she was destined to greatness. Unbeknownst to her future however, Mara was a little more concerned with oxygen as she grew to know the skills of the Monk, Kaido, Tekura, and Telepathy. Almost blown off her feet by the last ability, Mara stumbled and walked out the door in hopes of a less crowded environment. Outside, only her trusty Widget remained and with a last gasp for air, Mara collapsed.

Down she fell, swirling in the eternity of darkness. Her inner mind broiled and fizzled. Colours flashed, scenes screamed past her, and sounds echoed as she dreamt. Suddenly, she was floating before the gates to Ashtan. The Flighters had just broken through, and were now spreading and flowing along the streets and pouring into the houses. People screamed in agony and terror, their wails lost in the inferno that pursued them. A few managed to portal out and evacuate their families before the wave hit them. All the atavians and people with winged mounts immediately ascended to the sky. The Flighters could only fling themselves into the air with catapults in hopes of hitting them. This tactic was usually a complete failure for the Flighters, but this time it was not. Mara could see a Mhun riding a great hawk above the city. He sat proudly, swearing insults and threats to the Flighters below. When she heard his voice she realised that it was Viho, the Mhun leader who had accompanied her to the highway. With a sudden sweep of horror she realised that one of the airborne Flighters was heading right towards him. With a sickening thump, they collided, and Viho was thrown from his now fiery mount. Mara could hear his screams as he fell into the raging fire below him, his soul forever captured within the blaze. Mara's vision began to fade, and all she could hear was the dim noise of the crackling fire, consuming the bodies of the innocent. Soon, that too faded, and Mara was once again left in the darkness of her mind. She was left with her thoughts.

"Is there hope?" she asked herself.

"Perhaps," a dark and warped voice answered.

"Shallam still stands, soldiers still rally to the cause. This does not mean that your path is an easy one by any means. Follow the codex found in the Basilica in northwest Shallam, and your fate will be protected. There will be those who will try to stop you. Some, disguised as friends, others, unintentionally, but as long as your heart holds true and your spirit never falters, you will survive. You will survive, and perhaps, should you complete the mission thusly assigned to you, Sapience will survive the fires as well. Should you fail, we shall all be consumed...the flames will spare no one, not even the Divine."

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{To be continued}