Daena's Armor

The pull of Tawar coming from the shrine was strong. Even from her vantage point on a hill overlooking Eriu, Dana felt the ancient magic call to her. Tawar tugged at Daena’s chest and quickened her blood. Unsettled, she turned her gaze to the snowy peaks overlooking the city. Wispy clouds clung to the hillsides and curled around the evergreens. The Aella shrine—a place she thought she’d never return, sat tucked against the hills, the wood structures blending in with the forest.

Daena patted the medallion nestled in a hidden pocket sewn into her jacket. The object radiated dubious energy—ancient Tawar like nothing she’d ever felt. A slight buzzing filled her mind and she tried to ignore it. She mentally checked the ward she’d put into place was still there. She couldn’t risk exposing this artifact to the largest order of mages on the continent. Not if she wanted to get paid. The shrine would snap it up in a second.

Rain fell in a curtain of mist, gilding Eriu in silver droplets. Daena navigated the city streets with ease, her muscle memory coming back at once. A few buildings were covered in scaffolding and the smell of sawdust permeated the air. More mages flooded the shrine each year, eager to learn the new ways of Tawar.

She tied the grey mare up at a hitching post near the central square.

“Be good.” Daena slipped her a wrinkled apple from her pocket, which the horse snapped up.

The mare nuzzled her velvety nose into Daena’s hands. Maybe she could purchase her once this job was done. She’d be in need of a reliable animal to help build her cabin. She looked to the shrine and Daena’s anxiety resurfaced as a bubbling cauldron of unease.

The shrine complex sat nestled against a rock face in the green hills. The structures were crafted from live wood—shaped and gently guided by the designs of the ancient mages who built it. A gentle hush of stream water accompanied birdsong. The familiarity of it all made Daena’s heart ache.

But, one didn’t simply walk into the shrine. There was a protocol.

Daena approached the towering gates cedar tree gates and stopped. A sentry stood guard. Dressed in a familiar silver-blue uniform with a saber slung across her back, the young woman regarded Daena with a faint smile.

“I seek an audience with Marin Brightstone.” Daena forced her tone to be indifferent, but speaking her former mentor’s name aloud made her voice go wobbly. Act normal.

The sentry nodded, as if an audience request with the highest Mage in the shrine was normal. Daena was practically a mage herself, although she didn’t have the gray robes to prove it. And around here, that was all that fucking mattered. So, she had to request permission to enter the shrine.

Daena’s last job for Harlan had afforded her some new clothes and she was glad for them now. Her jacket, although utilitarian in design, was sturdy and made of the finest wool available in Trent. She rubbed a finger across the delicate design stitched into the cuff.

“Where shall I instruct your invitation to be sent?” the sentry asked.

Daena thought for a moment. It had been, what, five years since she’d been to Eriu? She was 28 now, so that had to be right. It had been five years since she’d left Marin. Five years since she’d left her studies. Left the shrine. Her chest constricted with anticipation. She smiled at the sentry as she wracked her brain for a suitable inn.

“The Bracken Fern,” Daena said. The words came out as a question and she bit her lip.

Skies, since when was she so nervous? This job was big, or so Harlan had told her, and would cover the cost of her debt and then some. After this she could build her cabin up in the highlands. Her vision for a cozy library with a fireplace could come true. She just needed a linguist. Well, not any linguist. The best linguist.

She needed Marin.

The sentry nodded. “It shall be done.”

“Bashkat,” Daena said. The language of Eriu flowed off her tongue as if she’d spoken it every day for the past five years. But the words tasted foreign.

Daena turned towards a side street and paused. She glanced up at the nearest landmark, a statue of Yselle Zeynab—leader of the resistance. Daena tilted her head as she surveyed the many streets branching off from the square.

“Head down Ink Pot Alley,” the sentry said, pointing straight ahead.

“Right.” Idiot. Daena held a hand up in thanks as she strode away.

Now, she’d wait.

#

Unfortunately, she was halfway through a meal of delectable curry, lentils and flatbread when a sentry appeared at her table, crisp white envelope in hand. Daena wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that Marin had been so quick, but she was certainly disappointed to leave her meal behind. So much for a warm bath and a soft bed. Daena took one last gulp of tart cider and followed the sentry out into the streets.

The musical sounds of rain pattering against rooftops and cobblestones filled the air as they walked to the shrine. Daena rehearsed a hundred different conversations but, before she could settle on the best one, they arrived.

The sentry handed her off to a first year mage, a boy of about 20. Daena blew out a long cleansing breath as she stepped across the threshold of the shrine. Tawar shimmered at the edge of her mind and on instinct, Daena put up her mental shields. The young mage led Daena through the tree-lined courtyard and into the halls. Fountains bubbled and clusters of novices in their pale yellow robes chatted between sessions.

Memories flitted into her mind, unbidden, as they wound their way further into the complex. The entire area was blanketed in green. Ferns and moss clung to the sides of the onion dome buildings. Vine maples crowded in between towering cedar, pine and fir trees. They ducked inside a large atrium that led to the high mage’s quarters.

Daena’s escort stopped at an ornately-carved door and nodded, before retreating down the hall. Daena’s heart flip flopped as she pushed the door open and entered Marin’s study. The room was both cozy and tidy—a feat few people would dare try their hand at. Plush Darish rugs lined the floor, stitched in colorful desert patterns. A large desk covered in neat piles of books and scrolls sat off to one side. A fire crackled in the hearth, to ward off the early morning chill. Daena’s gaze snagged on her former mentor.

Marin Brightstone stood at the hearth with her back to the door. She was tall for a woman and always stood with her shoulders straight, as if she’d been instructed to do so her entire childhood and it just stuck. Long black hair laced with silver cascaded over one shoulder in an intricate braid. She wore a flowing robe of dusky purple with cuffs edged in gold—the symbol of a high mage. Despite preparing mentally for this meeting, nothing could have truly primed Daena for how she’d feel in real life. A sliver of heartache pounded behind her ribs as she froze, wondering if this was all a big mistake.

Daena wasn’t an Aldamir like Marin. She couldn’t actually read her mind. But Daena read her body language, her posture, her face. She watched as Marin turned, pressed her lips together, interlaced her fingers tightly and schooled her face into a polite smile. It was a smile reserved for foreign dignitaries. For city officials. But not for the woman who had been her ward and student.

Fine. Daena had forged, worn and seasoned her own emotional armor over the past few years. She shrugged it on and the weight of indifference fell across her heart.

“High Mage Brightstone.” Daena bowed her head in greeting. She kept her expression neutral. Hopefully. Her hands shook, so she pressed them against her thighs. She could feel her emotions taking over and her mental shield slipping. Daena forced it back into place. The last thing she needed was to lay her feelings bare to a mind-reading mage. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Daena, I…” Marin was almost never at a loss for words.

Daena remained silent, waiting for her former mentor to gather her thoughts. She had thought it might be satisfying to catch the woman off guard, but now she was here she simply longed for…a hug. Damn the skies. Marin took a hesitant step forward, her face a swirl of emotions—landing on curious. Daena spoke first, to avoid any conversations about the past. That’s not why she was here.

“I need a linguist familiar with Old Arulean.” Daena kept her voice calm but she knew she sounded wooden.

Marin’s face, which had held a spark of hope, crumpled. Daena wanted to crawl into a hole. She reminded herself that she was angry at the woman. What, did Marin think she would come back to resume her studies? That she wanted to earn the right to wear the gray robes? Daena had learned her lesson the first time. Trust didn’t come easily for her anymore.

But she needed this job. She pictured the cabin in her mind. All alone with fresh mountain air and nothing but books to keep her company. If she wanted the payout of this job, she needed Marin.

“I see.” Marin cleared her throat. She raised one eyebrow, a look that Daena knew meant disapproval. “For one of your side jobs? Are you still working with that,” she waved a hand. “Grifter?”

Daena gritted her teeth. How in the sacred stars did she think Daena earned coin? Yes, it had been hard at first. Daena had been young when she’d joined the shrine and when she’d left she was essentially homeless. But she had used her talents and her knowledge to scrape together a life for herself. It wasn’t pretty sometimes, but it was hers. She was beholden to no one.

Daena put a hand in her pocket and leaned against the stone fireplace mantle. She was fine. This was fine.

“Coin is coin. And yes I collaborate with Harlan. It’s how I make a living.”

“Daena Esharan, the relic hunter.”

Marin gave a slight shake of her head, disappointed. It was a feeling Daena was familiar with. Skies, would she never leave it alone—this hope that Daena would return? Marin had expressed her desires in her many letters after Daena had left. Marin couldn’t possibly understand the need for freedom. She was shackled to this place, this cause.

“I see.” Marin was always direct. It was one of her strong suits. But it also stung. “And you still have no interest in returning to your commitments.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement of disappointment. Daena stiffened as anger crackled through her veins. Would she live in shame for the rest of her days?

“That’s not why I’m here.” Daena forced herself to remain calm. Stay on task.

Silence fell on the room like granite.

They stood facing each for a few moments. Marin’s gaze broke off and went to the fire, the light flickering in her moss brown eyes. Maybe this was a mistake. Daena could search for another linguist. Somehow. She couldn’t think of anyone else with this kind of knowledge off hand, but there had to be someone. Then again, if she botched this job, she would have to start all over. Daena turned her gaze to her former mentor, silently pleading. With a sigh, Marin gestured to the plush chairs. A small win.

“Tell me, then, why have you come?” Marin sat. She poured tea. “And how might I be of help to you?”

#

Daena released some of the tension in her shoulders as she sat down. Up until this point, she hadn’t been entirely sure whether Marin would even hear her request. Not after what she’d done.

“I have something that needs translating.” Daena paused. She didn’t want to stroke Marin’s ego too much, but she did need her help. Perhaps a little buttering up would help her cause. “I need the best linguist.”

Marin nodded, never one to be humble. Daena placed the medallion on the table and released the ward. The crackle of ancient Tawar swept through the room. It was about half the size of Daena’s palm and made of a tarnished metal. Swirling designs of the moon and stars lined the edge, while multiple layers of runes ran across the middle. A large chunk of the artifact had broken off, leaving it incomplete.

“Where did you acquire this?” Marin reached a hand out but stopped short.

Daena had wanted to know where it came from as well, but Harlan had been uncharacteristically cagey. Maybe Daena should have asked more questions. She’d just been excited about the numbers Harlan had thrown out.

“Enough money to leave it all behind,” Harlan had said.

“Does it matter?” Daena asked, leveling a gaze at Marin. “All I need is for you to translate the runes along the edge.”

Marin’s hand began to tremble and she pressed it into her lap. She raised her gaze to meet Daena’s. Fear was etched around her eyes and Daena frowned. She’d known the medallion to be old, but she sensed there was more lurking below the surface. She didn’t even know the patron for whom they were working. Dread settled on Daena’s chest like iron.

“If that is what I think it is.” Marin shook her head to herself. Her eyes darted to the closed door and she lowered her voice. “Then you are dealing with something bigger than you know.”

Daena shifted, uneasy. She’d expected this reunion to be uncomfortable. Painful, even. But, for this to frighten Marin? Well this was another matter altogether. A wrinkle of apprehension formed in her mind.

If this artifact was important the payout would match. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something very interesting. The start of a new life.

“Marin, will you help me?” Daena pressed.

Marin sat back, her gaze locked on the ancient medallion on the table. Marin waved her hand and Daena sensed the ward shift back into place, shielding the artifact’s Tawar. Marin shook her head and stood. If she refused to help, then Daena would be back at square one.

Marin crossed the room and removed a decanter from her desk. She poured two glasses of clear liquor and handed one to Daena. The smell of juniper filled her nose. Daena watched in surprise as Marin drained her cup. The burn of alcohol hit Daena’s throat and warmed her belly as she drank hers.

“I must.” Marin loomed over Daena. Her tone was resolute as she sighed. But she leveled a soft gaze on Daena. “Because if I do not, you will be in grave danger.”

Her words found a tiny chink in Daena’s armor. Daena sagged back in her chair, all of her emotions swirling through her mind. But the one that stood out was gratitude. She’d returned to Eriu wreathed in shame, as much as she hated to admit it. She hadn’t been sure that Marin would even see her, much less help her. Not after what she’d done.

“Thank you,” Daena said.

Marin closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened the again, Daena was surprised to see the gleam of tears. Daena drew back. Had she said the wrong thing? Again?

“I would never let harm come to you, Daena.” Marin cleared her throat. She fidgeted with her gold cuff. “No matter what you might think.”

Daena wasn’t sure what she had thought. But the woman standing here defied any preconceived notions. For a few moments words evaded Daena. Finally, her mind found purchase.

“When can you start?” Daena asked.

In answer, Marin stood and strode across the room. She removed a heavy wool cloak from a peg near the door and flung it on. She grabbed a traveling satchel and shrugged it across her shoulder.

“Presently. We must travel to the Galbi Forest.” Marin marched into the hall.

There was something about Marin’s tone that rekindled a flame in Daena’s mind. She’d forgotten how it felt to be in her presence, to feel her immense Tawar. To learn from her and understand the world around them.

“But, that’s a weeks journey,” Daena sputtered. She trotted to keep up. “I don’t have that kind of time. I’ll need to report back to Harlan on my findings. The patron…”

“We’d better get going, then.” Marin smiled as she turned and walked away.

Daena shook her head in complete disbelief as her battered heart soared. Whatever past hurt lay between them could be repaired. With time.

If Marin was willing to help, then perhaps anything was possible.