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Magic vs. Might (Fates.Gamble & Touch Of Temperament)

Arawn could have easily disputed No’a’s hopes for a ‘better future.’ She was delusional if she thought the control of the Wardens would be wrested away within Jivin’s lifetime. Their power was too great, their influence too deeply ingrained within the system. Nothing short of another Tariq would be enough to crumble their order, and the boy’s future would certainly be nothing to look forward to if that came to pass. As far as Arawn was concerned, Jivin couldn’t have asked for a better future than the one they just gave him. No longer would he be dragged out of his phone and put to the sword should the wrong people find him. Arawn couldn’t fathom why she would risk that simply to restore a power that most people got on fine without. Regardless, they had bigger problems on their hands than debating the hypothetical.

His concerns hung on the air as No’a studied him, her hint of a smile masking whatever thoughts might truly be running through her head. He waited as patiently as he could, though in truth he was eager to move on from this place as quickly as possible. Thus far these mountains had provided him with nothing but dilemma and suffering, and the sooner he moved on from the site of his blasphemous actions, the better. A look of doubt crossed his face when she suggested Jivin remained a mystery to the group. She could very well have been right, but something told him these mages were more informed than she expected. Not only did they seem to know all about her, but they’d also known where and how to successfully ambush his party. But she at least seemed willing to cover her basis and accept the possibility they knew more than they let on.

Before he could articulate his thoughts on the matter, No’a changed the subject, jumping back to the mark on his chest. Arawn frowned, folding his arms tightly over his chest at the comment and suggestion. “I didn’t think you’d be so concerned about that. Trying to make sure we hunt the rest of your kind down with even more efficiency?” More interesting was her evident attempts to hide what she believed the tattoo truly was. She may have been careful to avoid calling it magic, but it was clear from her tone what she thought. And just like that, they’d moved on, back to the topic of the mages hunting them. The disagreement was clearly written across his face, though he waited until she was done speaking before he gave his piece.

“You’re a fool if you believe they’re all so unskilled,” he said at the end. “Why send seasoned veterans to ask after a healer? I’ve seen what at least some of them can do… No; the ones who attacked us were different. More highly trained than the rabble I dealt with. More than that, someone had to gather these cultists together. Do you truly think they’d follow someone without a proper knowledge of magic and what it can do?” Of course, the rest of her argument couldn’t be denied. There were few and less true masters these days, and after the purge of the Wardens it was unlikely anyone would ever attain the supremacy that Tariq and his predecessors had, but Arawn had seen prodigies before. No doubt there were a fair few others hiding out there as well.

No’a still seemed to think Jivin was more or less safe from them. Arawn cast a look of doubt at the boy while she doted over him, looking as thought a mother who was being forced to leave her child. Seeing how protective she was of the boy, he decided to say no more on the matter. This was her life, and he had no place interfering if she thought this was the best course of action. It was such an abstract concept to think that way. Here he was, forming an unlikely partnership with a mage… Asking her opinions, even fueling her magic with his own blood. It was more than a little unsettling, but a manner of relief passed over his face once she finally dismissed the power. The hum of energy drained away and Arawn was able to relax; as much as one could given the circumstances anyway.

Her next revelation snagged his attention, making him forget all the discomfort once he realized what she intended to do. Getting the mages to focus on her instead… it was a bold initiative. Her resolve was admirable, in fact. Despite the obvious fatigue, she’d already gone right back to work, tending to all her things as though she planned to blow through that door and get the chase on right away. Given how she’d managed to dupe both himself and one of the mages already he had no doubts she was fully capable of dodging the ones who would come. She’d made it this long before the Wardens ever caught wind of her… Not many could claim that feat. Her plan of action got Arawn thinking about his own, tangling him up in his thoughts. On one hand he was glad this whole affair with No’a was coming to the close. On the other he couldn’t stop worrying over the idea of her just running off into the vast nowhere. She knew too much about what he’d done, and while he was willing to let Jivin live on the condition he be stripped of his abilities, No’a was still a fully fledged mage. Whatever treason he committed here, he was still a Warden and she a mage.

“I’ve been considering that,” Arawn confessed as she faced him and made mention of their bargain. “Short of taking your own life, there is no favor I can ask of you that would not be sacrilege…” With a heavy sigh, Arawn shook his head and finally looked up to meet her gaze. “I have a sworn duty to uphold. You know I can’t just let you go… Not in good conscience.” He couldn’t help but utter a dry laugh at his own remark. As if his conscience had any hopes at this point. Not only was there a measure of guilt to the lives he’d already taken, now he had to suffer the secret of what he’d done to save a life as well. It took a long moment before he spoke again, and his voice was heavy with uncertainty once he did.

“But, I’ll be honest… You seem a good and genuine woman to me, No’a, no matter what power you’re cursed with. I do not want your death on my conscience either. But you know what I’ve done… what we’ve done. How can I trust that the truth would never come out?” Even if he swore her to secrecy, the Wardens could pull a song from the lips of any mage once they had them in their torturous clutches. “Can’t kill you. Can’t let you go…” The Warden looked positively frustrated with the situation, but something came to light in his eyes. “Perhaps there’s a third solution…” he fell quiet for another moment, weighing the pros and cons of the idea in his mind before finally suggesting it. “You could come with me to the capital. Place yourself at the mercy of the arbiters of the Wardens and beg their absolution. I will plead your case; tell them of how you saved my life and turned over the other mages without hesitation.”

Arawn wasn’t certain if his suggestion would go over very well with her. Not only was he asking her to place her life in the hands of the men who loathed everything she stood for, but also to publicly reveal herself as a supporter of the Wardens. Even if they did grant her mercy, she would inevitably be hated by both sides; the Wardens for what she was, and the mages for what she’d done. Arawn knew the chances of a favorable outcome were almost nonexistent, but at least it would give her a chance. More than that though, were his own selfish reasons for wanting to keep her nearby. Not only was it to safeguard his secret, but he knew these cultists were just as likely to hunt him down as they were her. If they traveled together that left his enemies only one direction to go: Right into his trap.
 
No'a stopped in her tracks as he revealed he didn't know what favour he might ask. It was unexpected. She'd thought he would already have a plan laid out. Why else agree to the bargain? It just showed she certainly wasn't able to read him. Slowly she set back down whatever she had in her hands, turning her body to face the Warden. They were back to the original dilemma, was there a way for him to stick to both his principles and his conscience? Even though she had considered the possibility that he might demand her life in return for his cooperation in the spell, she had begun to nurture the hope he wouldn't ask for that. Amber eyes regarded him warily. No'a hadn't seen Arawn this uncertain yet. It made him even more unpredictable.

Her arms crossed in front of her chest and she dipped her chin. Looking at him from under her eyelashes as he started, describing her as both good and genuine and cursed with power. Her eyes narrowed while she swallowed a bitter retort. The only curse was the Wardens and their xenophobic mission. In fact it was doing the right thing that seemed to have cursed her now. But saying any of that wouldn't help her right now. There was no sense in wallowing in regret. She had made her decisions and she would deal with the fall out. One thing was very clear to her. He didn't trust her, which was unsurprising. But apparently he didn't understand that she had to keep this secret as much as he did. To keep Jivin safe. To avoid drawing attention to herself. She would have hidden for the rest of her meagre life.

Her eyes lifted to the roof, trying to figure a way out. Back out from under the bargain? That would release him from the bargain as well and put Jivin back in danger. There was little chance she would have the element of surprise over him another time. She was too tired, worn out from all that had happened. Her brain just kept going in circles. Something else distracted from her thoughts. The inside of her arm throbbed. When she looked down at it, there was an angry red scar in the place where the cut had been. It had a peculiar shape, resembling a rune. The rune for bonds. Her body would always wear the mark, a connection to Jivin. Proof of what she had done. Magic exacting its price. It was just another mark she would have to hide from the world. Pulling her sleeve back down, she looked at the Warden again in time for him to share his third option. "What?" The words burst from her lips, her reaction completely unfiltered. Surprise and disbelief mixing with fear and apprehension. Her eyes flashed at him.

"You might as well put me to the sword now." She shook her head furiously, her hair tossing over her shoulder. "You've said it yourself. Any other Warden would have already killed me several times over. Why would your council of arbiters decide any differently now?" The capital. The only place that might actually have completely rid itself of its magic users. No one would be foolish enough to hide there. It was the base for the Wardens, and their seat of power. As it used to be for Tariq once. "You, are the fool if you think this might work. You can't truly believe there is any chance of them letting me live." Surely he wasn't that naive. There had been others, mages ready to die as a martyr for their cause, hoping to negotiate a peace. They all paid with their lives. Even if she hoped for a better future for people with magic, she was too realistic to think this would work towards that goal. Besides she had too much of a sense of self-preservation to become a martyr or a politician. That wasn't what he was proposing, though. He suggested she distance herself from other magic users, side openly with the Wardens. She'd become a pariah among her own. If she ever saw them again. Definitely wouldn't endear her any more to the rebels. Then again, they wouldn't get to her anymore. But none of that would matter because she would likely be dead.

"Even if they did allow me to live, what kind of life would I have? They wouldn't let me go live my life in peace, would they? So what purpose might I serve? Their pet mage, serving as an example to others? Surrender all my knowledge of magic so you can hunt the others better? Renounce my cursed magic publicly?" She was fuming. The whole idea grated on her, placing her life in another’s hands like that. Especially when the other didn’t think her life was worth all that much. Exhaling she turned away, rubbing her forehead as she tried to think. For a moment she stilled and then she walked out of the hut, without saying a word.

Heading for the treeline she pressed the palm of her hand against the bark of an old oak. Its branches reached out over her, still full of leaf so that as she looked up she only saw blotches of the sky. Right there, she took a few moments to calm herself down. Nature’s magic met her fingertips, connecting her to the world. There were no answers here. But it was a little easier to breathe, as if there was more air. And that would have to be enough.

Reluctantly she let go, moving back to the little hut. Pausing in the doorway, she raised her head and met his eyes. “Please just let me go. You wouldn’t have to think of me ever again. I will disappear. I wouldn’t ever utter a word about this to anyone. I need to keep this secret just as badly as you do.” Her voice was calm, defiant almost. She imagined he had heard variations of these words countless times. Even though pleading with him like this was jarring, she had to try.

If he decided that this would be her end of the bargain, would she do it? Probably. If he agreed to them drawing the rebels out. She still needed to distract them, lure them away from Jivin. In a sense they were both still bargaining. Both of them still strategizing to come out whole on the other side. Or perhaps she had outmanoeuvred herself from the moment she decided to heal him. He had stuck to his part of the bargain, even giving her his blood for the spell. Which had been a risk for him. It dawned on her now that he might have lied about whether he could feel Jivin still, but she didn’t think that was the case. So, she would go. The whole idea of going the capital made her stomach turn, surrendering herself to the mercy of those who had shown none in years, decades. Except perhaps for Arawn.

“If this is the favour you ask me, then say so and I will come. But I want to stick to my plan, and draw the rebels to us.”
 
No’a’s mannerisms made it very clear that she didn’t like where this was going; from the narrowing of her eyes to her pleading look at the ceiling as she considered her options, everything showed that his suggestion would not be an ideal one. Her temporary distraction had caught him as well, though. Arawn followed her gaze down to the cut on her arm, granting him the slightest glimpse of the rune-shaped scar before her sleeve came back down to spirit it out of view. It left Arawn feeling somewhat hesitant, serving to remind him yet again of the blasphemous act in which he’d taken place. Luckily, No’a’s reaction proved an even greater distraction from the fact. He might have expected such a sharp burst of fear and surprise, but he’d grown so used to No’a’s calm demeanor and levelheadedness that he hadn’t quite anticipated it.

He could hardly blame her for feeling the way she did. In the end it may have even been kinder to put her to the sword, but Arawn was loathe to follow this path. Sure, bringing her to the council could be as good as running her through himself, but at least it would not be his hands that had to carry out such a task. Does that really make me any less responsible? But that idea was quickly brushed away as he was left to argue his case to her. “Because no other Warden has ever stood for a mage,” he told her, sternly keeping her gaze. Perhaps he was a fool if he thought his testimony would ever sway them, but he couldn’t allow himself to believe it would fall on deaf ears. The Wardens were absolute in their resolution for the mages, but they were not evil men. They didn’t delight in wanton slaughter. “I put my trust in you; I helped you with something I had no faith would ever work. Now I’m asking you to do the same for me.”

Her next point was much harder to argue against. He could not deny that, even best case scenario, her life would be irrevocably changed upon the moment she stepped foot in that city. He averted his eyes for a moment as he considered the question, knowing that there were no easy answers. It was made all the more difficult for him as the heat of her anger came out, as well as the evident disgust over what mercy from the Wardens might actually mean for her. “Would it truly be worse than the existence you’re already forced to live?” He countered, meeting her appraisal once more. “Forced to run and hide… to linger on the edge of civilization, every day in fear that someone like me might happen upon you? How long do you think that will last? Look how far you’ve run, No’a. And still, we found you.”

Arawn sighed, as grated by their constant bickering and disagreements as she was over what he was demanding. “I understand your fears, even agree they might be warranted. But you’re not the only one affected by this, you know. The moment I speak in your defense, what do you think will become of me? At best I become an outcast; a joke among the Wardens who consider me too soft to carry out my duties. Worse yet, they may think me a sympathizer and take my head right along with yours.” Arawn tried not to think of the consequences, his attention turning towards Jivin who slept peacefully in his bed, oblivious to all the turmoil going on around him. For a long, bitter moment, Arawn couldn’t help but envy the boy’s innocence. “Neither of us gets off easy for what we’ve done,” he concluded, only for No’a to storm out of the hut on him.

Arawn made to move after her at first, hand dropping to the sword at his hip in the realization she might just run off instead. He thought better of it though, relaxing as he considered she possibly just needed a moment to mull over it all. It was hard not to feel a little guilty as the door closed in her wake, leaving Arawn alone with the unconscious boy, swept away into whatever reveries he might be having in his comatose state. Once again, Arawn turned towards Jivin, his melancholy spreading as he silently wished he’d never come across the pair of them. “I’m sorry for this…” he said softly. He spared the boy’s life, but he couldn’t help wondering just how much of him he was killing off by tearing away both his magic, and his mentor. If No’a did come with him, it was unlikely the two would ever meet again. Even if No’a’s hopes came true, and this world became safe for children like him, how could she keep her promise if she was dead, or locked away in some dungeon? He almost wondered if this wasn’t a crueler sort of fate…

Before he could decide, No’a had returned, startling him with her sudden arrival. The look she gave him as she pleaded for her freedom might have broken his heart had the Wardens not taught him to keep it hard as stone for all these years. How many times had a mage begged for their life before him? Most were far less calm about it. Somehow, that got to him even more than the hysterics and fear. Or maybe it was just the growing familiarity between them. That was perhaps the most dangerous thing of all. The more he got to know and understand her, the harder this decision would become. But Arawn was no stranger to hard decisions. “I’m sorry,” he said, truly meaning it, “But this is the only way for me. This is what I ask of you.” His relief couldn’t have been more evident when she finally agreed that she would go along, and a smile crept across his lips when she spoke of the terms to her acceptance. “Oh you’ve no need to worry there,” he said, somewhat amused she’d given voice to the idea that had already been running through his head, “That might just be the first thing we agree upon. I’m far from done with our masked interlopers. You have my word: We’ll their attention on us and as far away from Jivin as possible. He’s not just your responsibility anymore. I gave my blood to protect the boy… He’s every bit my responsibility now as he is yours. For better, or worse.”

Arawn took a moment to gather his thoughts, already trying to formulate what he might say to the arbiters to convince them on No’a’s character. It seemed a daunting prospect, and not something he would be working out any time soon. Luckily for him, it was quite the ride to their destination, with little to do but think along the road. Perhaps by the time they arrived he would be able to come up with a compelling argument. But for now they had more than enough to deal with, and he was more than ready to put this place behind him. “Well… if we’re to leave we’d best be quick about it,” he told her. “I think I’ve caused enough trouble here… The longer we tarry the better chance we have of attracting more.” His eyes jumped to her various belongings and the countless ingredients she used for her craft. The idea of traveling with a mage made him as uncomfortable as anything else, but after the lines he crossed for them, it hardly seemed worth fussing over. “I’d stick to the essentials if I were you… We’ve a long road ahead of us.”
 
He was right. It was time to leave. They had already lost enough time. His warning to stick to the essentials had been unnecessary. No'a had lived most of her life on the road, always moving and staying ahead of the Wardens. It had been the life in this house that had been the exception. She had never had many things and hadn't grown to collect any while living here. Ever so aware that she might have to up and leave at any point. In a sense it had been a blessing she had been in this little town for as long as she had. she knew it was always going to come to this. Sooner or later she would have had to run again.

As they trotted down the road through the forest, leaving the settlement behind them, silence descended upon them. No'a reflected on all that had happened the last day and a half. It was crazy to think this time she was travelling with a Warden now rather than running from him, headed to the heart of their power. There had been something about the way he’d asked her to trust him, to put her faith in him. Trust was such a delicate thing. Each one of them had made steps towards each other, little shows of faith now that she looked back at it. It was true what he had said. He had trusted her, trusted her with his blood, even when he knew of the atrocities a mage could perform with another’s blood. In return she realised she trusted his honesty, trusted he didn’t necessarily want to kill her, trusted he would do what he could to keep Jivin safe. That wasn’t to say she trusted him completely or trusted that he wouldn’t kill her if it came down to it. But there it was.. Small crumbs of trust, seeping like melted snow through the mountains of suspicion, prejudice and enmity between them, between what each of them represented.

And as he had pointed out the limited life she was leading now, the truth stung. Even now as she thought about it, it was painful to realise. Her life was a shadow life, always running, always hiding, always alone. Her magic a dirty secret, rather than a beautiful gift. She had stopped communing with the spirit world, afraid of which new faces greeted her next. The truth was there weren't a lot of people left she had a connection to. Not just because they were killed by Wardens, but also because she didn't know a lot of people, she never risked a connection. And while she wore her survival with pride, it hadn't been enough. He had found her.
He was risking a lot too, if not. Challenging the status quo, the way things simply were right now, meant both of them risked their lives. To her the most obvious option would still have been for the both of them to simply keep quiet and for her to disappear. But this had become the bargain. While she never risked a connection, she had made one with Jivin. And if it came down to this, then she would risk it to keep that boy safe. She would face the Wardens.

It hadn't taken her long to wrap up her business in the village. Jivin's mother had picked the boy up from the hut, carried him home. He would wake up surrounded by family. They all knew the secret they had to keep and they would protect him as best they could. Next was the last step in the protection she could offer him. She wove an illusion into the walls of her former home. Whoever came upon it, would find clues about her, about where she had gone, the suggestion to follow her. This kind of magic was one she had never been very good at, but seeing as they were already looking for her, that should help things along. She had dropped some the wards she had cast on herself. Now if someone would scry for her, or perform any other magic to find her, they would find her. There were a few other tricks she had up her sleeve, but she planned on using those once they had travelled a little further away. As she looked back on it, she wished she could have performed magic to make that little house go up in flames as soon as those rebel mages found it. That would have gotten their attention easily. And then no one would have take over that space that she had called home.

Most of what she brought along fit into her satchel, the rest was in the pack behind the saddle. A few of her concoctions she deemed useful, some magical ingredients, a waterskin, food, her grimoire and that silver athame. She had traded most of her stores for the horse she was riding now. A bay gelding called Abel that looked nowhere near as impressive as Farah. Even Abel seemed somewhat in awe of the Warden's dark mare. So far the bay appeared to be surefooted and sensible, which was really all she could ask for. Even though she had eaten before they left to replenish some of her reserves, she was still feeling the fatigue. She had not slept for over a day and performed intense magic. The scar on the inside of her arm still burned. Both physically and magically she needed to rest. Still she didn't ask Arawn for a break. They had a few more hours before nightfall. She could hold on a little longer They needed to put some distance between themselve and that little house.

Her thoughts turned to their destination again and she sucked in a breath. Her parents, her mentor, anyone she had known was now most likely rolling in their graves as she threw all caution to the wind. She could practically here the gravelly timbre of her mentor berating and admonishing her. Once he had done everything to protect her, paying with his life. Just as she had to protect Jivin. "How long is the journey to the capital?" She finally asked him, breaking the silence to distract herself. "What is it like? Tell me what to expect." No'a had never been there. The stories she heard growing up were most likely outdated and warped by the fear of the Wardens. It'd be interesting to hear his perspective on this city.
 
While No’a agreed to this bargain, Arawn’s unease over the situation only amplified as she set about to gathering her things in absolute silence. Their foundations of trust were built on shaky ground at best, and even though they’d each proven good on keeping their word so far, the Warden couldn’t help but silently wonder if she was plotting over a way out of this mess even as she prepared to leave. She’d proven resourceful with her sleeping powder once before, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to imagine other ways in which she might dupe him. Such thoughts became all the more tangible when he felt her reach for the magic within and begin laying the bread crumbs for their opposition. Witnessing the act left Arawn all too uncomfortable, causing him to exit the house and leave No’a to her devices while he saw to his own preparations.

The first thing he did was retrieve the discarded mask of near the body of his final kill. After scooping it up from the ground, he once more investigated the strange item, his thumb running across the carved planes of the face’s placid expression. He wasn’t sure how useful it would be, but decided to take it with him anyway. Perhaps if things did not turn out as planned or in the event that the fanatics chose not to pursue them, it could prove a helpful clue. He took the mask to Farah and carefully stowed it away in one of the saddlebags before granting some attention to the mare herself. She seemed both agitated and exhausted after their bouts of conflict and the hard run to the village, but calmed down quickly enough after a few soothing words and soft strokes through her bristly coat.

Once Farah was settled he went about checking that everything else was in order. The absence of his surcoat and the rest of his armor was sorely felt, and for a moment he thought about bringing the remnants with him, only to decide they were far too damaged to be worth the burden. Odds were nothing short of the selfsame magic that destroyed them would be capable of repairing them. He made sure everything else was accounted for before he was left to wait for No’a to wrap up her business. Arawn stood by idly, hazel eyes drinking in the scene while Jivin’s mother retrieved her son from the hut, and he couldn’t help but wonder what blame she might harbor. At least she’s carrying a sleeping boy, instead of a body, he thought to himself, shoving aside his reservations over the moment.

The silence between them was so palpable you could almost call it loud, once No’a finished trading away her goods and mounted up on her new gelding. She attended to things quickly enough but that left Arawn feeling no less impatient by the time they finally started out, leaving the small village behind. His mind was a torrent of disconcerting thoughts, occupying all of his attention as the horses clopped down the dusty trail canopied by the towering trees above them. He told No’a that this was the best course, but whether or not that was true rang chief among his concerns. In truth, he doubted his ability to sway the council, and he was all too painfully aware of what they might think upon hearing testimony. They might even believe she has me in her thrall, he reminded himself. Somewhere deep down, he secretly wondered this as well. A suspicious look was passed her way at the thought, though Arawn quickly dismissed it, casting his gaze elsewhere before she noticed his interest.

As the hours began to pass, Arawn had grown accustomed to the muteness that existed between them. What could they possibly have to talk about anyway? They came from two very different lives, each condemning the actions of the other. So far their interactions had been more argument than discussion, and he really didn’t feel the need to quarrel further. Besides, getting to know one another likely wouldn’t make things any easier, even if that meant a long, unbearably quiet journey. And yet, even as he began to settle into that idea, No’a finally broke the silence between them, nearly startling him with the abrupt sound of her voice when she posed the question. He had to frown some at the irony.

“A couple of weeks at best,” he told her, his voice flat and bored over the lengthy trip ahead of him. “And that’s assuming we don’t run into much trouble along the way…” An unlikely prospect, given they were literally inviting trouble by leaving a trail for a group of masked devils to follow. “You kept no small matter of distance between you and the capitol.” It was kind of ludicrous, thinking back on it now, how far he’d been sent to eliminate her. Had she been some powerful battle mage of ill repute perhaps he could understand; but making such a tiresome journey all for the sake of a healer woman hiding out in the woods? It might have begged suspicions, but No’a’s further inquiries distracted him from all of that.

Arawn dropped his gaze as he considered her question, wondering what he could possibly tell her. “I can’t imagine you’ve been to many cities?” he posed, glancing at her. Mages tended to avoid populated areas, it was simply safer that way. “Compared to this vast wilderness,” he went on, his eyes casting out at the wilds surrounding them, “Even the smallest city can feel… Claustrophobic. But the capitol is something else entirely. The edifices are so tall you could dizzy yourself just by staring up at them… As stout and imposing as the Wardens themselves, and there’s more people living there in that one place than you've probably seen over your lifetime. Few if any will be sympathetic to your cause. If I were you, I would expect anything but a warm welcome.” Not that he had to tell her that. No’a didn’t choose to live on the very edge of civilization for the love of it… Though in all honesty, Arawn sort of envied her that. Being out here in the wide, open world was something of a breath of fresh air. “In truth," he started to say, chewing over his words, "I believe, in some ways at least, that life is more genuine out here. There's no perfect planned layout, or bustling, crowded streets out in the wilds. No politics or laws to abide by. Both worlds are every bit as dangerous, but at least out here the concept of survival isn't nearly so complicated."

But that was his life now, for better or worse, and there was certainly no changing it. He had a duty to uphold, and no matter how frustrating the political world surrounding it could be at times, their cause was just and absolute. “And what of your home?” He asked her suddenly, trying to move away from the topic of their troubles to come, “Not these mountains… but where do you hail from originally?” It was something he had to admit he’d been curious over. While she may have blended in well enough there was no denying the fact she was not a local. And while he didn’t know her age, he knew she had to be old enough to have seen a semblance of Tariq’s reign; probably even remember it with some detail. Hardly anyone could look back on those days fondly, but there was at least a fair chance she lived some fraction of a life that didn’t involve constantly being on the run.
 
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A faint smile and amused expression played on her face as he mentioned the distance she had put between herself and the capital. Of course she had. These mountains were at the fringe of the nation, far from most kinds of civilization. Back then she had hoped the distance would prove too great for the Warden's scrutiny. Felt safe enough to settle even just a little bit. But then.. It was never going to last. Maybe she should have simply journeyed over the mountains, find whatever might be behind them. Once word of her reached them, the Wardens had invested the time to go after her. Or had they known about the rebel mages too? Even if it had been a surprise for Arawn and his brethren, that didn't mean no one did.. At least they were very consistent. No'a watched Arawn's face as he described cities to her. It seemed he sincerely enjoyed his journey into the wilderness over the bustle of cities. She hadn't been to many cities at all. Only as a child. Once Tariq's reign ended, the hiding started soon after. The only trip to a city as a young adult had ended in disaster. But she understood his point about cities. She had felt overwhelmed by the number of people and all the buildings so close together.

She gave a little snort of laughter after he warned her not to expect a warm welcome in the capital. People were distrusting of strangers, and hostile towards odds ones with magic. "I haven't had a warm welcome anywhere since I was a child, Arawn." With a wry smile, she shook her head. Even in the small village where she'd lived for almost a year, only Jivin had been the one happy to greet her. "I suppose you are right. The mountains are as they are. Deadly to those who don't know them, merely hazardous to those who do. And the people who made these mountains their home have no time to waste on politics or petty games. What you see is what you get.." Nodding a little, she ran a hand through Abel's mane. This time in this little town hadn't been a bad one. She was sad to leave it behind. "Surely as a Warden, city life is not about survival though?" She wondered aloud. She wouldn't know about politics or the social

Her reaction was almost startled when he asked about her past. Her home.. It had been a long time she had thought about that. Amber eyes watched him, hesitation passing over her face. What was the harm in telling him? The information couldn't be used to hurt anyone anymore. Inhaling deeply, she started. "My father was Bhavai, one of the nomadic tribes roaming the sand plains. I take after him, magically and.." With a little flourish she indicated her face. As she continued she was reminded of the stories the wise Elders would tell around the communal fires of the Bhavai. There was no desert sky above them, no fire warming their faces, no drums to set the pace. But the rhythm of the horses hooves on the path helped her fall into the cadence of a storyteller. As if this was a story she had told many times, if only to herself. "On one of his travels he met a firemage from Zhuttar. Her deepred locks and feisty manner turned his head and he fell desperately in love. For her, he ceased his endless wandering. During many moons they were happy, building a family in Zhuttar. But these were treacherous times for everyone, mages too. The Dark Wizard craved power above all else. The firemage was at risk too. She had fought in his armies, but her spirited personality had caused her trouble. It was safe no longer. Together with their family they left Zhuttar, joining the Bhavai to roam the plains. Until the times changed.." No'a had been gazing out into the forest during the whole story. Now she glanced at Arawn with a little grin as she finished up the tale. "The Dark Wizard fell and his vanquishers turned their gleaming swords on any with the spark of magic." Once she would have loved to become one of the storytellers at the fire. Now she had no idea what kind of tales were told amongst the Bhavai.

"So home has been on the road for a long time. Back when shamans were still welcome amongst the tribes of the sand plains. But I was born in Zhuttar." The trading city sat just at the edge of the sand plains. An important station for caravans and trade on its way to the capital. Only now, after telling him his story she felt the bittersweet joy of tapping into her ancestral heritage again and the old sting of homesickness. For the comfort of home, of her own people. The nightly fires with the stories, songs and dances. Of simpler times. Instinctively her hand reached up, rubbing the skin behind her ear where her hair hid her Master's Mark. The light was fading, soon they would have to make camp. Perhaps there would be a fire after all. "We're losing the light.. I am not in any shape to ride through the night." No'a rolled her shoulders and her spine. She was unused to long hours in the saddle, stiffness was seeping into her limbs. Furthermore she was still recovering from both healing him and binding Jivin's magic. If she were honest with herself, she would have to admit she was flagging. "We should set up for the night." To enforce her words she urged Abel into a slightly open space in the woods. Acutely aware that she was likely slowing him down, she expected him to argue against it. "Even if you don't need the rest, surely you could eat something right?"

It would be real bad luck if they were found by the mages tonight. She needed to rest badly. Her head turned back to Arawn and she raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "What about you Arawn? It sounds like you are glad to leave the city, embracing the call of the wild. Where do you hail from? Has the capital always been home to you?"
 
Arawn’s eyes were glued to the road ahead of them as their mounts continued to carry them down the mountainous trail. Arawn was used to long rides in the saddle, but the rocky terrain here made things twice as uncomfortable, and even slower going. But a slow pace was just fine by his standards… All the more time for his prey to catch up to them. “No, I don’t imagine you have,” he replied over her lack of warm welcomes. At best, one of her kind could only hope to be ignored. Though, topic of conversation soon turned back to the city and life there.

“Not usually,” he confessed. “Our council has their fair share of dealings with the city’s officials, but we foot soldiers stay out of political matters for the most part. Still, we get dragged into their affairs every now and then. As you can imagine, there are next to no mages in the capital. The Wardens posted there serve as peacekeepers, and when tempers flair and arguments turn to threats, the high lords utilize no lack of underhanded tactics to come out on top. We’ve had to get involved more than once, but for the most part, those who keep to the city are glorified sentries at best. Regardless, the city has taught me that, like our assailants, its people are good at hiding behind masks.”

The hesitant look she gave him over his own question had Arawn wondering whether he should have asked at all. What good was it speaking like this; of getting to know one another better? It wasn’t like they were on some happy little venture, casually sharing the road. She was more akin to his prisoner, and given his purpose, the less he knew about her arcane backgrounds, the better for both of them. But the query had been posed, and Arawn sat and listened with quiet interest while No’a spoke of a life long since lost to her. He’d heard of the Bhavai before, though never met one himself. Learning of the different cultures and peoples that inhabited their land was part of a Warden’s formal education. The more they knew about the different civilizations scattered across the continent, the easier it was to sniff out those who did not belong...

The story of her mother and father was of particular intrigue. It explained a lot about the woman now riding beside him, and how she could blend in so easily out here. The way that tale ended, however, was of no surprise. Nearly every mage had a story just like it to tell. He met her eyes as she looked upon him, finishing up the tale with a little grin. Yet Arawn had to glance away, feeling somewhat guilty to look upon her when the somber ending had everything to do with the order he served. It wasn’t that he disagreed with their cause, but any logical man could see that the greater good demanded no lack of suffering. He couldn’t help but wonder at all the broken homes and somber narratives that ended with their names. He would have liked to believe it was far less than Tariq’s, but who could say anymore?

“Well, I imagine we’ll be passing through again before long,” he said, thinking of the place No’a once called home. “My brothers were carrying most of the provisions when we were attacked. I’ll need some supplies if we’re to make it to the capital.” Zhuttar was the only place in these mostly untamed lands that was sure to have what he needed. But the idea of visiting the bustling hub of trade also made him hesitate. A Warden traveling in the company of a mage was likely to draw attention. ‘Escorting her to face trial’ would be a satisfying answer for most, but it was only a matter of time before they came across other Wardens. And in that event, it was hard to say if they would accept that, or demand she be given a sentence then and there. Arawn was wholly unsure what to do in that situation.

He was still mulling over the thought when No’a finally confessed her weariness and requested they stop for the night. Arawn was feeling just as worn out, though he was far better at ignoring it, and couldn’t have ridden on a while longer than this. But, being brought within an inch of your life and carefully drawn back, only to fend off another group of mages, was more exhausting than he would have liked to admit. Even after all the rest, and a forced slumber courtesy of No’a’s sleeping powder, he was still feeling drained. And she made a good point about the fading light. Up n this rocky wilderness, they could easily wander off trail and lose their footing in the dark. Even so, he was uncertain if he was ready to stop here. The argument was on the tip of his tongue; he would have liked a little more distance put between them and the rebels. He certainly didn’t want to be ambushed at night. But No’a was insistent, and his stomach was feeling rather empty by this point. The meal she’d provided early was hardly enough after everything he’d gone through.

And so, with a little sigh, Arawn gave in. He shifted his pressure in the saddle, cajoling Farah to turn off and follow Abel towards the clearing. The mare tossed her head as she did so, clopping along as they stalked beneath the towering trees, dark and imposing against the fading light. He kept his head on a swivel as they meandered, trying to confirm this would in fact be an ideal place to camp. Luckily, the copse was thick enough that you wouldn’t even know a clearing was here, had you not seen it from the road. It would be difficult for anyone to catch them off guard, and that was satisfying enough for him. But even as he was gauging their potential campsite, No’a found a way to catch his attention.

Just like her, the Warden seemed reluctant to say at first. He rarely spoke of his past with those he trusted, let alone with a sworn enemy. Yet, No’a had spoken honestly enough when he posed the same question; it would be untoward to deny her in return. “For most of it, yes,” he said after the moment’s hesitation. “I was born in a large town a long ways south east of here, where my father worked as a blacksmith to support us. He was rather well known for his steel… but to tell you the truth, I can scarcely recall my parents' faces, let alone my life with them. I was just six years old when Tariq was felled by the Grand Masters, and among the first of the boys chosen once the recruitment began. They plucked me from my mother’s arms and spirited me away to the heart of the capital. And then the training began. A Warden’s training is rigorous and demanding. There wasn’t much time to think about my family, my home, or our life there. I had a new family; A new life… A life I've known for so long now that whatever came before has simply… faded away.”

Except that wasn’t entirely true. While most of the details of his former life were gone from his memory, there was always some part of Arawn that never truly gave up on what he did remember. The warm embrace of his mother’s arm, the smell of coal and sweat while his father worked the forge, his mighty hammer ringing the testament of his strength with every blow… They were simple, fleeting recollections, yet they refused to fade from his mind like the rest. And somewhere, deep down, he wondered at the fates and fortunes of his bygone family, for he’d never returned to that town of his birth to learn of them. In the order of the Wardens, it was discouraged to look into the life one might have led before. They were serving a greater purpose now.

“Truthfully, I’m a little more like you,” Arawn admitted to No’a, “Living on the move, that is. I report back to the citadel of the Wardens every so often, but it’s never long before I’m back on the road, off on my next mission. But it suits me. I like to keep busy.” True to his word, he reined Farah in as they came to the edge of the clearing, nodding his satisfaction over their chosen place for rest tonight, and got right to work. He slipped out of the saddle and guided Farah over to one of the trees where he hitched her reins to a gnarled branch, just in case. She wasn’t one to run off, and not often spooked either, but he poor beast had been on edge ever since fanatics popped out of the woods and began their onslaught.

“I’ll start a fire if you’d like to scrounge up some food, then,” he suggested. She was the one who tempted him into stopping to eat, after all.

Rifling through his belongings, Arawn retrieved his knife, and flint stones before ambling off in search of some tinder. That was an easy task here, as the trees provided plenty of dry wood to use. With his kukri he easily scraped away the bark, and cut away the branches and sticks until they were of the perfect size for a modest fire. He came back with enough fuel to keep it burning as long as they liked. He set the bundle aside before building a small pit with stones, making sure the flames wouldn’t spread before organizing the sticks in the center, applying some kindling, and setting it to light with his flint stone. Once that was done, he returned to Farah and fetched his bedroll and looking for a level bit of ground close enough to the fire to keep warm. Then, unbuckling his sheath, he finally sat beside the fire with a weary sigh, setting his sword down beside him.

He watched No’a for a moment, her visage awash with the orange light and shadows cast by the licking flames between them while she busied herself with her own tasks. “I have to admit,” he said after a moment, “I definitely didn’t see the day ending like this… About to break bread with a mage.” He’d eaten within her home earlier, but things were far more tense at the time. Now things were far more relaxed between them, a staggering enough concept on its own.
 
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No'a slid down Abel's back, rubbing the horse's shoulder in appreciation. He'd taken her well enough so far. It had been a while since she'd been in the saddle, she must not have been the most easy rider on his back. The horse pushed his large nose against her hip and she stroked over his brown head. Arawn surprised her by returning the favour and answering the question of where he came from. Her head turned to watch him as he told his story, while she still ran her fingers gently along Abel's nose. She listened carefully, trying to hear what he hadn't said. He'd simply been recruited, his 'blood' traded for a new family. He was forged in the fires of the Wardens, just as the sword that seemed a natural extension of his arm. They had shaped the man he was now. Principled, disciplined, and a moral compass that reached beyond the teachings of his order. It wasn't far from how she'd been sent off for her apprenticeship, but she had been slightly older then. And in training with her mentor, she had never lost the connection to her family. It hadn't mattered whether it had been endless miles separating them, or at some point the veil of the afterlife. Alone, but it needn't keep them apart.

Tossing Abel's reigns over a branch, she secured him. This partnership was fresh, she couldn't be sure he would just hang around. But the bay seemed easy enough, dropping his head to browse the forest floor for something to eat. It turned out both of them lived as nomads. For him home perhaps was found in the saddle of his horse, where she might find it in connection to her surroundings. Would either of them have had it differently, had they lived in another time? It would not do to dwell on 'what if's', still she liked to wonder.

With a nod she acknowledged the division of labour, wandering out between the trees. She knew very well how to survive here, survive without ever setting foot into a city. Still, there were men who could read the land in a single glance. She'd met some of them on her travels. No'a wasn't quite as good, but she had ways to make up for that. Finding a small animal trail, she set a few gametraps. It would not leave them with anything to eat right now. But if she checked them before they left, there might be some fresh meat for them to bring on their travels. They were light on provisions as Arawn had mentioned. She could have survived without, but this journey was not her own as most of her travels had been. Resting her hand on the bark of a gnarled old tree, she send her magic out. It seemed quiet enough here. No disturbances that had been of note to the trees. She scouted the land for whatever else they might eat. Easily enough, she picked a few berries, dug up a handfull of roots. Then she returned to their camp. Darkness had already taken the skies, the first of the stars blinking through its heavy cover. Camp was still easy enough to find, Arawn was already coaxing a fire to life.

From her saddlebag, she offered both horses a handful of grain. Then she brought the bag and her foraged roots and berries. Laying out a thick woolen blanket near to the fire, she sat down crosslegged on the blanket. She grinned a little as he mentioned he'd never expected to be breaking bread with a mage. "Or a Warden." She nodded in agreement. Everyone she knew, and even literally any other mage would be questioning her sanity that she was sitting here with even a measure of calm. But No'a couldn't think too much about what they were doing, couldn't think about going to a city, any city. Whether it was Zhuttar or the capital. She couldn't think of what might happen to her there. It would only send her running. Fear and survival instincts, drilled into her over a lifetime of living on the run, overriding whatever rational decisions she had made. By now she was mostly resigned to her fate. And being on the move, out here in the woods, soothed her. She would take it, for however long it might last.

Her thoughts mulled over what he'd said earlier. They would go through Zhuttar. She had some memories of that city, but they were faint. She'd been a toddler when they left. In a sense it might be interesting to see where her life had started. The city her mother had grown up in. On the other hand it would be nothing like the city it had been. No magical community. Would she be able to hide? Or would people instantly know what she was? Other Wardens would with their helpful tattoos.. No'a shivered a little. Still, Zhuttar was quite a way's off still. And they still had the rebels to deal with. "You normally travel alone or with your 'brothers'?" She asked him to take her mind off her wandering thoughts. "How do you spend the evenings around the fire?"

From her hut she had taken the last of the stew, she hung a small pot over the fire, to heat it. With her silver knife, she cut up the roots. As she worked, she barely even noticed she started humming softly. An old children's song. Some habit she'd acquired from little Jivin. The roots were added to the stew, letting them soften a little as the stew heated. Then she broke the bread. She was still humming as her hand reached out, offering him bread and berries.

Something occured to her and she straightened her spine. "Will you mind if I ward our camp?" She would rest easier with the added protection, but he would likely reject the help. Amber eyes studied him for a moment, before they returned to the stew. It was hot enough by now. She poured half of the stew into a bowl for the Warden, then tending to her own. She savoured its smell, cupping the bowl between her hands to bring it to her face and inhale deeply. There was nothing as comforting as this hot and hearty stew, just with a hint of spice. Something to remind her of family, of simpler times. Especially after the days she just had. She was physically, emotionally and magically spent. Tonight she would sleep beside a Warden.
 
Naturally, the Warden was a little uneasy with having set No’a to her task. It was a strange thing, knowing there was a mage wandering about and out of his sight. But not truly out of sight, for the brand upon his chest kept him painfully aware of her direction at all times. This ability had served him endlessly over his years working for the Arcane Wardens, but he was almost wishing he could turn it off now. It was like an annoying buzz in his ear while he knew good and well that No’a would be going no where fast. Even if she did decide to make a break for it, she wouldn’t make it very far without her horse. That sleeping powder of hers could perhaps aid in an escape, but Arawn had no intention of letting her get close enough to employ that again. Fortunately his unlikely companion returned before he had too much time to think about it, with a bounty of roots and berries to boot.

Arawn had to marvel at the odd pair they made, and wondered what should happen if someone came along, spotting a Warden and a mage settling in for the night together. He wagered it was something that hadn’t happened once, not in all the years since the Wardens came to power. Yet here they were, sitting beneath a canopy of stars and leaves, with a fire to keep them warm. It had to be every bit as strange for her as it was for him. Perhaps even stranger; she was the sheep and he the wolf, after all. But No’a kept a calm disposition, whatever might be running through her mind unreadable by the expression on her face. She was so unlike the others of her kind; at least the ones he’d dealt with. Most would have been reduced to a puddle of fear long before they found themselves alone in the woods with him.

The picturesque scene of a couple of travelers resting at camp still had its cracks, the ripples of mistrust still there to be scene. Again No’a asked a question, and once more Arawn hesitated with an answer. He knew her curiosity was innocent, but he was still speaking of Warden matters with a sworn enemy. We’ll never make the trip if this is to be every conversation, he decided. He’d go insane if he had to weigh every word before he spoke to her. Perhaps if he kept busy it would help to distract him from what she was. Maybe he could just treat her like any other person then. To that end he reached for his sword, drawing blade from sheath and laying the weapon across his lap to inspect its edge.

“It varies by the job,” he explained to her. “These days, there are few mages powerful enough to warrant a full contingent, but we often ride out in pairs.” Arawn couldn’t help but contemplate how much of that had been in thanks to the very weapon before him. How many lives had been stolen away by that edge, he wondered as he lifted it close and inspected the sharpness. Enough that it was duller than he would have liked, so Arawn retrieved a cloth and whetstone and began tending to it.

“The same as most, I expect,” Arawn said of his nights around the fire. Recreation and fun weren’t exactly things the Wardens preached when under their careful guidance. “Talk, mostly. Stories of past conquests…” Arawn didn’t imagine No’a would like to hear most of those stories. While one of his brothers in arms might have been excited to hear about the slaying of a renown mage and the creative way the Warden found to butcher him, she was likely to feel quite the opposite. “A lot of the brothers take to gambling,” He said, changing tact. “Dicing for wages, particularly. Sometimes cards, or a brawl. Nothing like a good sparring match to keep you fit. or put a few coins in your pocket if you back the right man.”

Once the blade was clear of grit and grime, Arawn began the methodical process of sharping his sword. He carefully ran the oiled stone across that precarious edge, ever conscious of the fact that he was one slip away from losing a finger. But the Warden had done this so many times that by this point it was muscle memory. Despite the gloomy circumstances, their camp somehow kept a cheery little atmosphere. The crackle of the fire and No’a’s soft humming were a pleasant harmony against the scrape of metal, carrying him along through his work without a care for the fact a witch was in his company. That gentle voice and the pleasant aroma wafting from her little cook pot could have easily been a spell she were casting as the Warden relaxed, suddenly aware of his hunger.

But No’a was still a mage, and there would be no forgetting it, least of all when she looked up and asked her latest question. Arawn’s hand came to halt, the whetstone grinding to a standstill halfway down his blade as he looked up at her. She looked stiff as could be, and he infinitely suspect as he considered the request. He was on the verge of denying her, but it occurred to him that he was already a hypocrite. What were a couple of warding spells compared to that blood ritual he took place in earlier? The sin was already committed, a phantom itch where the blade had sliced him making that all too obvious. Would he really be serving himself or his brothers if he turned away from something that could help them?

“If you must,” he grumbled, deciding the more advantages the better if those masked devils ambushed them again.

His distaste was clear, but he didn’t argue a word against it, falling back into silence save for the metallic grinding of stone on blade, making himself more dangerous with every stroke. The stony disposition remained, even after he was done with his work and No’a with her cooking. A word of thanks was all that was uttered, his sword returned to its sheath while they supped. And just like that, the cheery atmosphere seemed snuffed out for Arawn, his ease replaced by a ceaseless itch as he felt No’a’s ward all around him. It was like his mark was trying to warn him that the very air and wrong and dangerous, despite the spell working to the contrary. It made for an unsettling dinner to say the least, but he did not complain. It was something he would have to get used to if he was going to be spending her days around her. Though, he had a feeling sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight beneath that veil of magic.
 
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She could practically see the warring instincts in him as he pondered her question. Finally the whetstone resumed its rhythm on the hardened steel of the blade. Its steady beat spoke of years of training, not only in wielding the blade but caring for it. Perhaps all wardens had this level of skill, or maybe the blacksmith was somewhere in his blood. Like magic was in hers. In any case both of them would have to be ready to fight another day tomorrow. No doubt he would be. She was traveling at the side of a warden. Both the blade and the warden were forged in fire. She had seen his skill, and knew instinctively he would have had plenty tales of slain mages to share by the fire. Suddenly she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake in siding with him rather than the rebels. But intuitively she knew, even if Arawn hadn't been there, she wouldn't have gone with the rebels willingly. There was something so off about them.

Not that it mattered now. She had made her decisions. She would have to live by them. As would he. They were bound. Leaving him to finish his supper, No'a went to set up a ward. Nothing as elaborate as the ones she had had at home.. Those took time and magic she didn't have right now. But something simple that would work for now. That would wake her in case anything big enough to hurt them would cross the ward. She circled around their little camp and included the horses inside her circle. Her tread soft and slow. Without ever intending to her footsteps fell into the beat of his whetstone and her fingertips caressed trees and plants as she passed them, muttering her incantation under her breath. She tied the ward to the warm energy crackling fire, the steady roots of the trees surrounding them, and enough of her magic to keep it going should the flames die out. The connection to nature settled her. Once other mages might have disregarded her type of magic. It wasn't as learned and didn't fill whole libraries with spell books. But it was old, tied to the land and here among the trees it brought her a semblance of peace.

As the ward settled, the spell took hold. It wasn't anything anyone could see. But it was something they could feel. He because of the tattoo, she, because it was her spell. No'a returned to the fire. Where it gave her a level of comfort, she could tell Arawn was unhappy with the magic around him. The tattoo at work? Was it that sensitive? This ward was one of the simplest she knew. What did magic feel like to him? She wondered, purposefully distracting herself from everything else. One day she might ask him. Whether it was something that actually felt bad or not, he had been taught to fear and loathe it. Still he never mentioned his discomfort, so neither did she. Where the tension had waned slightly on the road, now with the ward up around them it was back in full force. Perhaps she shouldn't have made the ward, but neither of them was in the best state to hold a watch. Instead she cleared her things away, before she curled onto her mat by the fire. Her fingers tracing the angry runeshaped scar on her arm as she let the events that lead them here pass through her mind. Even knowing what she did now, she didn't think she would have done anything differently. There simply hadn't been any good options. She thought of little Jivin, and could only hope she would see him again. Under better cicrumstances.

She watched his silhouette behind the flames for a short while. For all the predators in the woods around them, the most dangerous one was still in front of her. Soon however the darkness dragged her under. The fatigue and stress of the last couple of days overruling whatever restlessness she felt. Not she would have a peaceful slumber.

No'a walked amongst an endless congregation of houses, surrounded by stone and dirt. A city bigger than she had ever known. It was filled with people, though she couldn't make out any of their faces. And they kept their distance from her. The sea of people parting wherever she went. Their mouth moved but she couldn't understand what they were saying. It was all just merging into this angry buzzing. Finally she came upon a well. When she stared down into the water, she flinched at her reflection. She looked thin and pale, haunted, a shell of who she used to be. On impulse she raked her fingers across the water to break up the mirror image. That was when she noticed her arms. She was covered in scars, all of them in that same rune shape. Bound.

Her sleeping form twitched and shook on her sleeping mat. A grimace on her face as her fingers dug into the fabric of her sleeves. It wasn't enough to wake her from the nightmare though. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she shot into a sitting position. The dream was still fresh on her mind, but that wasn't what had woken her. "Arawn.. Something's set off the ward."
 
Arawn was restless, the magic in which No’a took solace sending a wave of unease prickling across the Warden’s skin. He kept his eyes averted, however, refusing to let her see the way the ward bothered him, even if his heavy silence and stony disposition happened to give it away. His sixth sense, keen as it was, could not distinguish between a spell cast to aid or one intended to harm. To the sigil upon his breast, any and all magic was to be treated as a threat. What he wouldn’t give to silence its screams of warning; to douse the fire of anticipation that heated his blood. His mind’s reassurance that all was safe was nothing compared to the physical reaction it stirred. His body had grown to learn that when magic was near, a fight was soon to follow.

Perhaps that was why Arawn’s sword remained out of its sheath, the weapon laid bare across his lap even after the whetstone had been set aside in favor of his dinner. It was a small comfort, at least. If nothing else, it remained a sturdy rock he could cling to amid the ocean of uncertainty that existed between them. Perhaps it was this unwelcoming posture that rendered No’a just as silent as her companion, his sword every bit as disquieting as her magical nature. Or perhaps her mind was a storm of thoughts, much like his own. Short of an interrogation, he’d never had an opportunity to sit and speak with a mage before. A thousand and more questions came to mind, each a more forbidden inquiry than the last as they gathered about the back of his tongue, only to be swallowed down.

“We set off again at first light,” Arawn said, it being the only sentence he could bring himself to form before settling in. Returning his sword to its sheathe, the Warden kept the weapon close, setting it on the ground within reach of his bedroll. His knife was kept closer still, the blade stashed beneath his bedding while fingers remained curled about its handle, even as Arawn lay down for the night. But sleep would not come so easily for the Warden, no matter the weight of his fatigue. How could It, when his mind kept replaying the day’s events over and over again, as if to reassure himself they’d actually transpired?

To think that he, Arawn of the Arcane Wardens, had willingly taken part in blood magic…

Arawn lifted his hand, eyes latching on to where No’a had cut into his palm. But there remained neither wound nor scar; not even the slightest blemish to reveal his most terrible of violations. All evidence of his sin had been swept under the rug, save that of the boy he’d bled for. Naturally, Arawn’s thoughts turned to Jivin, and to the magic now sealed away inside of him. It seemed like a good idea at the time; one life saved to appease the countless number he’d taken. But the more Arawn thought about it, the more he saw the imbalance and inherent hypocrisy.

How long, he wondered, eyes tracking the shadows of the forest as they danced in the firelight, Before my secret is brought to light? The question plagued him even as his eyes grew heavy, the dancing shadows slowly melting into darkness.

When next Arawn opened his eyes, he no longer found himself in the forest, but a smoky forge pulled out of the recesses of his mind. He took a step back, giving the smithy room to work as he transferred steel to anvil, and took hammer in hand. Arawn felt meek next to the massive lug of a man, the ring of his hammer causing him to flinch every time it crashed upon its mark, shaping the steel into the formidable edge it would become. Arawn could only watch as the process unfolded, fascinated but too intimidated to interrupt the craftsman with his interest. The blacksmith was too focused to notice him, not a word spoken until his work was finish at last. Only then did he take his freshly born sword in hand, and approach his son.

“May this weapon serve you in all the trials to come, as you carry out this most solemn, and sacred duty.”

But as Arawn reached out to accept the sword, it was no longer from his father’s hands. Instead stood the Grand Master of the Wardens, the smoky forge in which he stood having changed to the incensed halls of the temple he called home. Arawn scarcely seemed to notice the change, putting all that behind him as he accepted the sword from his master and focused on the duty at hand. Beside them knelt a woman in chains; a witch with the impurity of magic running though her veins. She would be a test; a sacrificial lamb to prove his worth and devotion to the order of the Wardens.

Arawn remained unflinching as he turned to face his task, his weapon of slaughter firmly in hand. He’d prepared himself for this moment; for the way his victim would gaze up with fearful, pleading eyes. Yet the face that greeted him was not the tearful, helpless stranger he expected. She was far more familiar, with bronze skin and amber eyes. It was not fear in those eyes, but accusation, for she knew his darkest secret, one she need but speak now to turn the full weight of his brothers against him. Yet when she spoke, it was to announce a different truth.

‘Arawn.. Something’s set off the ward.’

The Warden’s eyes shot open, his mind remaining in a dreamy haze the same as No’a’s, but only for a moment. He reoriented himself quickly, mind snapping back to reality as he came to understand the words that roused him, and sat up. The knife he slept with remained in hand, grip tight around the hilt as he looked to No’a, then searched the darkness. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, though it was hard to see anything now that the fire had burned to embers, rendering the world around them into velvety darkness. Then, there was a sound: A shifting in the brush, followed by the snap of a twig.

No sooner than his ears picked up the sound was Arawn on his feet, kukri forgone in favor of the sword he scooped up off the ground. He looked to No’a, grounding himself as he motioned for her to be silent. Ever so carefully, he drew his sword, the blade scarcely making a sound as he pulled it free then set the scabbard aside. He didn’t feel anything out there, but No’a and her ward remained loud enough warnings that they could have easily drowned out another mage creeping through the night. Regardless, there was no mistaking something had set her ward off, and it sounded like that something was getting closer.

Arawn took a steadying breath as he searched the darkness, trying to decipher which direction they were stalked from. A flicker of motion from the left caught his eye, and Arawn could feel the tension mounting as he turned to face it, the grip tight on his sword. It appeared as a large shadow at first, a large, hulking shape that shoved its way through the trees and towards their little encampment. He couldn’t say what it was, but he wasn’t about to let anything get the jump on them. Quick as a fox, Arawn dashed towards the tree line, weapon in hand and ready to strike whatever emerged.

The shadow reacted at once, bursting into a fit of panic as it surged forward, spooked by Arawn’s charge. The swordsman’s murderous resolve faltered, however, once he saw the huge, antlered beast that came lumbering into the moonlight. The elk blew right past him, crying out with a bugle of distress as it tore through their camp and bounded away into the night, hooves crashing through the brush. Arawn could only stand there like a slack jawed fool, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins as he came to terms with what he’d almost done battle with. Once he had, he couldn’t help but crack a grin in No’a’s direction.

“At least it wasn’t wearing a mask,” he quipped, retrieving his scabbard and sheathing his blade. “Now, unless your magic says there’s any deer or rabbits we need fight, I’ll be getting a bit more rest. We’ve still got a couple of hours before daybreak…”

With an amused sigh, Arawn shook his head and returned to his bedroll, some of the tension leaving after the humorous false alarm.
 
No’a went completely still, almost holding her breath as she listened carefully. Her first thought went to the masked mages that had been at her house. They had found her there, had they found her here as well? Icy fear skittered up her spine. How? She narrowed her eyes trying to see what had breached the ward. It was only a simple ward, beyond the fact that something big had crossed its boundary she had no idea.

The pale moonlight didn’t penetrate further among the trees, only slightly lighting the small clearing where they had made camp. Her words had been barely more than whispers, but it seems Arawn was as alert while sleeping as he was awake. Meanwhile her hand crept into her satchel, searching inside for her knife as she scanned around her for what might be creeping up on them. Her fingers closed around the hilt and she slid it out. But the real weapon had been sleeping next to her. Even though her heart thundered in her throat, she couldn’t help it. Amusement tugged at the corner of her lips as he motioned for her to stay quiet. She gave him a single nod to show him she’d seen him. Yes Warden, I won’t get in the way. Arawn found the source of the noise before she did, leaping into action like one of the black panthers that hunted higher up in the mountains. No’a moved in reaction to him, getting into a low crouch. The Warden’s predatory move had effect as their ambusher fled at once, stepping into the light. His antlers rustling through the trees, snapping branches.

Giddy with relief she got to her feet and made sure she wasn’t in the gentle giant’s way as he fled the clearing. The horses dithered a little at the disturbance. And then the night’s quiet settled back again. No’a looked at Arawn, matching his grin with a quiet chuckle. Slowly her fingers relaxed, the knife sinking back into her satchel.

“At the very least we’ve been saved from waking up next to fresh elk manure.” She deadpanned in return and sank back onto her blanket. “First light..” She sighed softly to herself. Life in the village had softened her. Like she had been unused to long hours in the saddle. She had grown accustomed to full rests in relative safety. Although any kind of rest was welcome, after what they had been through.. She need all the hours she could get badly.

Perhaps it was good the elk had disturbed them. It had cut through her dream and it had cut through some of the tension between them. There was more peace to the night now. It was easier to lie there, looking up at the moon. And this time when sleep claimed she was pulled under, into a deep, black, dreamless sleep.

But when she next opened her eyes, there wasn’t a sign of light behind the mountains yet. The moon had set, so it wouldn’t be long for daybreak. It made for the most intense dark moment among the trees yet. No’a frowned, the ward was fine. Undisturbed after their encounter with the elk. So what had woken her?

Slowly, quietly she pushed up into a sitting position and looked around her. The camp looked the same. The horses seemed at ease. Whatever woke her, hadn’t caused them any concern. Her eyes scanned through the darkness, trying to discern something, anything between the trees. She didn’t hear anything, but the hair on the back of her neck rose up. There was the definite sensation of something behind her, watching her.

Turning her head she found herself nose to nose with the ghostly apparition of a huge cat. Tiger, from the looks of it. It glowed with a faint blue light, like spirit animals do. No’a exhaled without a sound, relaxing a fraction. These she had seen before, the magic very much akin to her own. But.. Seeing a spirit animal generally required a lot more. She had always had to perform a specific ritual to tap into such energy. So.. Not normal either. The tiger’s nostrils flared and stared at her. No’a pursed her lips slightly. What was going on now.. Her spirit animal had never been a cat. She had always been represented by a hawk in any vision quest she’d stepped into. Her gaze shifted towards Arawn. Perhaps she hadn’t been far off in her analogy, just not a black panther.. A tiger instead. The tiger’s lip curled in a low growl. It was only then that she noticed how it’s jaws were slightly open, with a tiny bird trapped between. The small bird fluttered a little. But where the jaws were giving it enough space so that it wasn’t harmed, it was still trapped.

The tiger growled at her again and then slunk away. Pausing at the edge of the treeline, looking back as if it was waiting for her.

Slowly she got to her feet, still not quite sure what this was. A dream? A figment of her imagination? She was half expecting it to go away as she moved, but it didn’t disappear. As quietly as she could, she left her spot by the cold remnants of the fire. This was something she needed to see on her own. Arawn wouldn’t understand. He would distrust it. And he might not be wrong about that. Caution was definitely warranted. So she moved slowly and carefully. She made her way towards the treeline, giving Abel a comforting rub on his soft nose as she passed him. Which one of them she was comforting, she wasn’t quite sure.

She followed the cat along the forest. Her eyes darted along her surroundings, not sure what to expect. The tiger stopped and turned towards her. No’a stopped as well, waiting. Still that sense of something known, something familiar. Going on instinct alone, she reached out to touch it. Then the tiger hunkered down, it muscles bunching up and tensing. She froze and then the tiger pounced.

Just as its ghostly form touched hers, it disappeared, leaving her instead with a vision.

A face, weathered and lined. Dark skin and even darker eyes of almost black, crinkles around them as if he had just thought of something funny. Long dark hair framed the face, with feathers and talismans made of stone and bone tied into it. This was definitely familiar, so familiar it made her heart ache. His lips formed a single word. “Commune.” Then it was gone and she found herself alone among the trees.

The first rays of light were starting to peek over the mountains. They would start moving again soon. No’a made a trip along the traps she’d set the night before. The two rabbits she’d caught, would feed them at the next camp. She couldn’t stop thinking about the spirit animals. What had it meant? Not the vision at the end, that had made its intention very clear. But the tiger and the little bird. Was she supposed to be the little bird, trapped by Arawn taking her to the Wardens? Possibly.. It didn’t feel right. She was missing something.

As she returned to camp, she looked for Arawn. She'd lifted the ward for him, shortly after the vision happened. Holding up the rabbits, she grinned. “Dinner.”
 
Much like the mage sleeping across from him, the rest of the night remained peaceful for Arawn, with no cryptic dreams to plague him like those that consumed him before. It was much needed rest for which his body was thankful. Though the evidence of his battle was gone thanks to the courtesy of No’a’s magic, the exhaustion of his ordeal remained, as did a lingering soreness. Sleeping on the ground was no help there; by the time the light of early dawn spilled across his eyelids, rousing him, the warden’s muscles were stiff and heavy. His first impulse was to close his eyes and fall back into much craved slumber, but a sense of urgency and discipline saw him shuffling out of the bedroll instead.

It didn’t take long for Arawn to realize he was alone in the little clearing, a little spark of panic igniting in his chest once he came to understand that No’a was gone. Her mount remained, at the least, the bay gelding left behind to graze beside his own blue roan. Clearly she hadn’t run… Or maybe she simply feared the sound of a fleeing horse would wake him? Arawn was so busy considering the possibility that it took him a moment to realize he could still feel her nearby. Normally, the sensation of nearby magic would have been the first thing he felt. Perhaps his body and mind had gotten used to the feel of it as he slept through the night. After all, he’d never spent so much time in the proximity of a mage. It only made sense that he’d learn to ignore the warning somewhat.

Now that he was focused on it, however, it spoke loud and clear, telling Arawn that No’a was on her way back to their little campsite. Once he realized that, Arawn felt somewhat guilty for having doubted her. He continued to struggle with trust while No’a continued to prove that she was a woman of her word. Yet feelings of guilt or no, it would not do for the warden to grow complacent in the matter. The road ahead was long, and while this mage appeared to be honest, there was no getting around the fact that he barely knew her. Anything could happen between here and Zhuttar, let alone all the way to the temple of the wardens.

His thoughts of doubt were no where to be found once No’a returned, brandishing her catch with a proud grin.

“Well done,” he told her, nodding in approval over the the achievement. It would save them from having to hunt on the road, giving them more time to focus on putting as much distance as they could between them and the village. Arawn had no intentions of wasting that time, the warden encouraging No’a to stow away the rabbits and get a move on with breaking down camp. Within a matter of minutes they would have everything packed up, belt and sword returned to Arawn’s waist while his bedroll and other amenities were restored to Farah’s saddle. Once they were mounted up and on their way, only the ashen remains of their fire remained to mark their presence.

How long until they discover we’ve been here? Arawn wondered, glancing back at the bones of their encampment before leading them out of the clearing and back to the road.

For the time being, Arawn wouldn’t make it easy for their enemies to catch up. Where the road was open Arawn drove them onwards, leaving no room for conversation against the thunderous hooves and rushing wind. Yet, even when the craggy terrain forced their pace to a crawl, the silence persisted. A misstep on these rocky slopes could prove fatal, requiring their focus to safely navigate. Yet in these moments, it was not the hazardous trail which concerned Arawn so much as their surroundings at large. He’d already fallen prey to one ambush in these woods, who was to say those masked devils wouldn’t plan another? If so, what better time than when their road was bottlenecked by stony cliffs? As such, Arawn gave little time for reprieve, their mounts kicking up dust against as soon as they hit flat land again.

It was only when the horses showed signs of fatigue that the warden entertained the idea of easing their pace a bit. By then it was well after midday, the hot sun beating down on them with all of its intensity as they trotted along. The last thing he wanted to do was wear out the horses, so after a time, Arawn pulled away from the road, directing them towards a bubbling stream that he and his Warden brothers had broken their fast at on their way up these crags. There they could give their mounts water, feed, and a short break. Once they’d been tended to, Arawn plopped himself down on a mostly flat boulder to rest his bones for a spell. A night’s sleep had done much to restore his former strength, but he could still feel the weight of fatigue tugging at him. Annoying as it was, if a bit of lassitude was all he had to suffer after being pulled from the brink of death, the Warden could not complain.

While they idled Arawn shared in his provisions with No’ah, offering her a couple strips of dry, salted meat to chew on. The Warden’s rations weren’t much of a meal, but it would tide them over until they made camp and cooked themselves a proper dinner. Tearing off a bite of the jerky, Arawn leased a half weary, half content sigh as he sat there, watching Farah and Abel nibble at a few tufts of grass near the water’s edge. It was a quiet, peaceful moment, yet his thoughts grew louder the longer they remained. He could not shake the idea of those masked witches, and the fact that even now, they could be following in their tracks. At the very least, he was certain they would have learned of No’a’s abscondence with him. With all the magic on their enemy’s side, who was to say they wouldn’t catch up to his reckless pace? Perhaps they could even surpass it…

At the thought, Arawn’s eyes fled the mare and her glossy roan coat, landing instead upon No’a. If the adjudicators could only read his considerations then… He’d be branded a heretic most like. But he’d already dabbled in the arts of heresy; the ritual he’d partaken in was a greater sin than anything he was contemplating now, no matter how altruistic his intention.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he began to say, the weight of the words feeling heavy upon his tongue. “The masked ones… it’s only a matter of time before they find our breadcrumbs. We can assume that after what I did to their friends, they won’t come asking questions this time.. They’ll be out for blood, and if the attack that killed my fellow Wardens is anything to go by, that's bad news for us.”

Still., Arawn remained hesitant in getting to his point. Being the proud man that he was, he had a natural aversion to asking for help even at the best of times. But to ask her of all people… A heretic witch he was meant to put to the torch, not share in his bread with. But it was better than the alternative. Arawn couldn’t survive the wrath of an entire conclave of mages on his own.

“I need to know everything you’re capable of should this boil down to a fight.” He eyed her seriously, perhaps even a bit suspiciously. Thinking back to last night, he recalled her pulling a dagger rather than conjuring up a spell. Would that be all she was worth should her fellow witches fall upon them?

“Is mending wounds the extent of your abilities, or will you be able to fight fire with fire when the time comes?” He voiced the thought, ignoring the way his spine tingled over the taboo inquiry.
 
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Words between them were sparse that morning. But it lacked the tension that had hung in the air the night before as they moved with haste. No’a sensed his urgency and she couldn’t fault it. She herself felt that itch between her shoulder blades. That unease that these rebel mages had caught them both unawares before. They might well be on their trail now. The efficiency with which Arawn broke up their camp was admirable. The Wardens were so incredibly well trained. It was no wonder they had been so successful in eradicating magic users from this land. She helped and she watched. Everything she could learn might come in helpful later.

The haste drove them forward. Arawn pushing them on with a relentless pace. It took all of No’a’s attention and energy to keep up. If anything, it made her rely on muscle memory, instinctively getting back into that mode of traveling she had been used to a year before. Still she was going to feel this. She certainly had no time to even think about talking. Not even much time to think, which was perhaps a blessing. It prevented her brain going in circles at the danger she found herself in.



Her legs and muscles were already starting to ache and bruise by the time he called for a break. No’a let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Sliding off Abel she leaned against the steady horse and slowly stretched out her legs, murmuring a healing chant to herself. A slow trickle of healing to ease the wear and tear in her muscles. There would be more hours in the saddle to come. If she let herself get stiff now, the rest of the day would only get harder. The stream beckoned to her, but she knew the mountain water would be freezing. Not quite as comfortable as it might look. She did rinse her hands in the stream. It was so cold. She pressed her wet hands to her face, pushing her hair backwards. Feeling a little refreshed. All the while giving Abel a long reign to figure out his own footing. Let him find his own way among the water and finally towards the green grass.



Sinking down to the ground, she sat crosslegged near Arawn. He’d given her a piece of jerky and she chewed on it thoughtfully as she watched him. Was it really only two nights ago he came to her on the brink of death? It felt so much longer. So much had happened. There hadn’t been time really to consider all that had happened. She had been too focused on the drastic decisions she had made in a bid to shield her young friend from death.



When Arawn broke the silence, she was broken from her thoughts. Her brow furrowed a little. His tone was so severe, it made her dread what he might say next. The rebel mages. He was worried what might await them on the road. So preoccupied with what had passed, she hadn’t given it much thought. “I agree. I don’t think they will let us get away that easily. They know you will bring the Wardens out in force to them.” The Wardens would come, even if he didn’t make it back. But it would take more time and they wouldn’t know what they might be searching for. Arawn would be bringing tidings of dark mages gathering in the woods with untold powers. However.. “The spell that hit you was advanced. Either they had training or they have unearthed some of the spellbooks that you lot haven’t purged. On the other hand.. The mages that came to my house.. None of them were exceptionally powerful.”

No’a paused. She had been answering instinctively, thinking out loud. Then she remembered who she was talking to and her stomach twisted. Everything she told him might endanger another mage on another day. But if she wanted to survive this now, she had to work together with him. She kept running into impossible choices. Softly she sighed.



His next question didn’t make it much easier, but he was making sense. He needed to know who he was working with. She needed him too. By herself she wouldn’t stand much of a chance in a direct confrontation. “I suppose you are hoping I inherited some of my mother’s magic as well?” Her smile turned a little brittle. “It’s very rare for a mage to be able to tap into different types of magic. I’m afraid my magic is purely shamanistic. It’s not limited to mending wounds, but it is mostly defensive. That’s not to say I’m not of any help in a fight. There are things I can do to shield you from harm in battle. Wards I could place. Other things take more time. I could make a poison you could lace your blade with, but I’d need to find the right ingredients and take the time to make it. I could..” She hesitated, but then continued a little more carefully. “If you were willing and we had the time, I could help you find spiritual aid that would help you in a fight.” Part of her soared at the idea of practicing her magic openly like that. And at the same time it was sobering to think it would eventually come to harm another like her. And yet, for some reason she wanted to show she had something to offer. She had been taught never to talk about her magic. There was something freeing about being this open about it. “Finally, I know how to use a dagger. I have some tricks up my sleeve as you’ve experienced yourself. Herbs, powders that would inconvenience an attacker. I could give you some of those. ”

Figuring now was the time to ask questions and exchange open answers, she took a deep breath. “Arawn.. When you were sent here, what were you sent to do? Who were you coming for? Was it the rebels? Was it me?” She paused and then continue to explain why it was important. “How did the rebels know you were there? Did they find you by accident? What do you know?” She had intended to ask only the first question. But once she’d started, more came out. She knew he wouldn’t have all the answers. He might not even share the ones he did have. But she wanted him to think about it. The way the Wardens worked was somewhat clear to her. He would know how they worked. Neither of them knew much about these rebel mages. Other than they were gathering in a bid to resist the Warden’s slaughter, which on the surface wasn’t the worst goal. Were they actively hunting down other mages to add to their group?

She dragged her hands through her hair, inhaling deeply. Willing herself to compose herself again. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, she finally turned to look at Arawn. Watching him carefully, waiting for his answer.

Behind them she heard something shift. She froze. For a moment it stayed quiet and she almost thought it was nothing. Then she heard it again. Something shifted in the leaves. Definitely bigger than a bird or rodent. This time there was also a faint groan. A groan of pain. It sounded human to her. Her eyes met Arawn’s for a second. Slowly she turned toward the sound. As quietly as she could she moved in the direction she heard it from. In the brush by the stream, she found him. No’a sucked in a breath and then soundlessly released. It was both not as bad as she feared, and infinitely worse. A man, a broken man. So covered in blood and dirt it was hard to say anything about what he looked like. He must have dragged himself to the stream to drink.
 
A cloud of unease had settled over Arawn even before he brought up the taboo conversation. While the tension had indeed subsided between them, it was far from gone; easily summoned back once No’a slid off her horse and conjured up her magics to heal her aches and pains. Arawn remained silent, of course, biting his tongue and doing his best to ignore the tingling alert that crawled across his skin. Worse yet, the awkward sensation continued to plague him, picking up on the residual energy that lingered even after No’a had finished the spell. Usually, as the magic faded so too would the warning prickling across his skin. But, this time, it only seemed to grow louder, forcing Arawn to disregard it entirely less it distract him from No’a’s response.

The topic of discussion seemed to have a similar effect on No’a, furrowing her brow and stiffening her back as though the mage possessed her own mark of protection. Arawn remained expressionless while she guessed at the logic of the other mages, refusing to show any sign of his thoughts on the matter. No’a was right, of course: Rallying the Wardens to eliminate this threat would be the first priority, but he had to wonder how she felt about that plan. Once they learned of this menace, the Wardens would swarm over this land like an army of locusts, rooting out every last magical trace of these mountains, masked or otherwise. Admittedly, this gave Arawn a bit of pause as well. After all, if the wardens came to this land, they would inevitably come across Jivin as well. No’a’s seal would be well and truly tested then; what would happen if it failed? Thanks to more immediate concerns, Arawn was able to put it out of mind for now.

“Fledglings, at best,” Arawn agreed with No’a’s assessment of the fanatics they’d dealt with. “None of them seemed to know how to cast a proper spell…” It was a lucky thing for the warden. Weakened as he was, Arawn doubted he would have survived an encounter with three, more experienced mages. “But, you do not send hardened soldiers out on recruiting missions. The real question we must ask ourselves is how many do they number? And, perhaps even more importantly, who do they follow?”

But the Warden was getting ahead of himself. At present, these mysteries were impossible to solve, instead distracting him from his initial curiosity concerning No’a’s abilities. Once he had a firm grasp of that, they would be able to plan their next move.

“Well, it would be useful,” Arawn admitted of her mother’s powers.

Praising such destructive force soured his mouth with the taste of hypocrisy, but the warden couldn’t concern himself with that now. Save for No’a, he was alone and grossly outnumbered. He’d already broken his oaths by protecting Jivin, so he wasn’t about to throw away his life just to uphold them. If No’a’s magic could help keep them alive, then so be it. Unfotunately, however, he’d already guessed at the answer about her powers. Even so, his lips pulled into a small frown in contrast to her bright smile. As convenient as it would be to burn away their enemies, perhaps it was for the best. He’d be no better than the devils he hunted if he utilised such a power, even if it was for the greater good.

In truth, even No’a’s list of defensive capabilities left Arawn a little skeptical. He chewed over the last bit of his jerky while consider the potential of these wards she spoke of. While the one she used last night had accomplished little more than losing them sleep, it had still done its job in alerting them to an interloper. It was fine enough for cut throats, he supposed, but the sacred brand of protection upon his chest would already warn him of approaching fanatics. Poison didn’t have much allure to him either. Not only did Arawn consider it a cowardly tactic, but if any foe was careless enough to be on the receiving end of his blade, it was unlikely they’d be walking away after.

Even less appealing than her first couple of options was the idea of summoning spirits. Arawn’s eyes leapt up to No’a’s face with a dangerous flash, narrowing some at the suggestion. While her heart soared at the idea, his darkened with suspicion and mistrust. He’d already taken part in one ritual with her, one that left his values and beliefs shaken to the core. He had no intention of joining her in another.

“Sadly, we don’t have the time,” Arawn told her flatly, keeping a hard edge to his voice that suggested he wasn’t sad about it at all. “Even if I were willing to do such a thing.” In fact, they’d already wasted too much time here. Or maybe he only felt so anxious because he was beginning to regret this conversation. Everytime magic was brought up, the warden felt like he was being torn in two directions. Perhaps utilising her in a fight wouldn’t be so easy, when he could scarcely even talk about it without bristling. Fortunately, she had a couple final assets to add to the table, and to these, Arawn gave a light nod.

“For now, we’ll stick with those.” A dagger was a far cry from a sword but it could prove deadly in the right situations. No’a was nothing if not clever, as she’d proven with her sleeping powder. At the very least he was certain he could make use of that. The best way to answer the mysteries of this cult was to get another one of its members under his control, and what better way than knocking them out with the same trick that downed a Warden? It would give Arawn enough time to secure the hostage this time, instead of giving them a chance to fall on his sword.

While Arawn contemplated over how he would handle such a situation, No’a seemed to have other considerations on her mind. Her question gave the warden pause, his eyes meeting hers with a sharp and dangerous look to them. It was a dangerous game they were playing, exchanging info like this. Of course, No’a had good cause for posing the query, if her string of follow up questions was anything to go on, but it made Arawn no less hesitant to share details about his closest allies. Still, the mage had been open and honest with him so far; shouldn’t he respond in kind?

“I don’t know much,” Arawn confessed, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence that followed No’a’s inquiries. “Only the captain of our squad was given the full details of the job, but to my understanding there was only one target. We never expected to encounter such a large group of fanatics. Had the wardens been aware of these rebels they wouldn’t have sent a three man squad, they would have ridden out in force and put them all to the sword. As for how the rebels knew about us… I cannot say for sure, but what happened was no accident, it was an ambush. They were waiting for us…”

Arawn had spent no little time considering the implication of such an ambush. Had the mages gotten lucky and spotted them on the trail, giving them the time to plan a proper ambush? Or, was there something even more sinister at play? The thought of their missions being compromised made Arawn shift uncomfortably on the spot. One one hand it didn’t make any sense. It was unlikely that any turncoats had found their way high enough into the ranks to learn their plans; a mage couldn’t get within a hundred yards of the temple without every Warden inside being alerted to it.

A sympathizer, perhaps, thought Arawn, but this seemed every bit as improbable to him. After all, only a high ranking official would have intimate enough knowledge to plan such an ambush. It was hard to imagine anyone who’d spent so many years in service to the wardens suddenly working against them. That left happenstance as the only plausible outcome, but why didn’t the conclusion sit right with him?

Arawn was still grappling with his thoughts when the sound of shifting brush caught their attention. The two of them locked gazes, mutual understanding spoken through nothing but their eyes as No’a turned to investigate. Arawn rose from his resting place, his hand instinctively falling to his sword, fingers curling around the leatherbound hilt. The Warden was like a deadly shadow as he stalked behind No’a, allowing her to lead the way while he remained ready to pounce on any potential threat they might find. In the back of his mind his recalled the false alarm they’d experienced the night before; odds were they were walking into a similar situation. No’a’s was the only magic he could feel near by, and yet their conversation of ambushes had left him on edge until No’a found what had disturbed them.

From his position abaft her, Arawn thought it was a wounded animal at first. But a better look told him otherwise, and the warden sprang into action without even thinking about it. He brushed passed No’a as she stood there, seemingly caught in surprise by the find, and approached the downed man. He seemed every bit as motionless as a corpse, and as bloodied as one to boot, but as Arawn knelt down and inspected closer, he could see the man still drew breath, as shallow as it was. Given the state of the man, however, it would not be for much longer. The poor soul had lost so much blood that it soaked his clothes, mixing with the filth he crawled through and making it impossible to address the extent of his injuries. But regardless of the wounds, any man who’d lost this much blood was as sure as dead. The best thing to do would be to put the sorry bloke out of his misery, and so Arawn began to draw his blade. But no more than a couple inches of polished steel came free before he stopped, a wave of unexpected guilt washing over him. No more than a day ago, Arawn had been in the same exact situation: A dead man beyond saving. And then he’d met No’a…

The Warden’s eyes jumped to his most unexpected of companions, his expression softening in a way that defied his usual, stony countenance.

“Can you help him?” he asked, disregarding the fact he was requesting the use of magic in the hopes of saving a man’s life.
 
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