Mara - The Lady Grief (Completed)

11 Burn It

2651 B.C.E., The Desert

Early Spring, Month of Addaru, One Year after Mara's Rebirth

Mara

"Mara, there has been a disturbance," our new Patriarch, Salbin, enters the room in a huff, his eyes so wide the whites show all around.

"Patr-"

"Call me Salbin," he interrupts, by rote, now, after a week of telling me to not call him 'Patriarch.' I think the title doesn't sit well on his shoulders, yet.

"In the deserts. The rumors..."

"What rumors, Patriarch?" I say sharply. I have just scarcely recovered from the incident with Tafia's beast. All of the postites have been letting me rest, so whatever has Patriarch Salbin so agitated must be something dreadful.

"The First House has proclaimed that one week ago their Lord, Thane, ventured out to the deserts with six of his warriors. They have failed to return." Patriarch Salbin takes a breath while my blood turns from acid to ice.

"The First House finally admitted that they left to go to the Forgotten tombs," he hisses. Anger dances in his eyes. "They finally, after a week, told the Recondites. The Shadows sent two males out there, Mara. Mara... the tomb of one of the First House has been opened."

I blink at Patriarch blankly. Who? How? Why? And... what in the name of my father, Nateos, are we supposed to do?

"Has it risen?" I whisper.

Pale, the whites of his eyes showing, Patriarch Salbin shakes his head. "I don't know, Mara. The Recondites claim the body is still there... just that there is a disturbance."

---

I stare and stare at the tomb. The builders cleared sand away from the door and whoever opened it didn't bother to gather it and push it back, so the black mouth of the cairn is hovering over my head. A stick, a lever, one of the Recondites tells me, lies broken under the slab of the tomb. Torches, long since gone cold, are placed every so often around a campsite that the Recondites are picking through, looking for clues.

One of the hedgerow Recondites approaches me. Belen is his name, I remember. He was laughing that day, he is not right now. He looks as serious as... death. There is no light of laughter in his green cat-eyes.

"Recondite," I greet him.

"Lady," he replies quietly. "The corpse is intact and chained. There was a disturbance in the tomb, however."

I look at him blankly. Obviously there was a disturbance. The door didn't pry itself open.

The Recondite smirks slightly and I blush when I realize that I said that out loud.

"Apologies, warrior. I am merely... disturbed, myself." I bite back the hysterical giggle bubbling up.

Belen's next words make my laughter die immediately.

"Do you need to inspect the body?"

I suck in a deep lungful of the dry desert air. On the exhale, I reply, "yes."

Two Recondites, hovering nearby, shift their wings in a smooth motion and enter the maw of the tomb without any hesitation. I envy them for their flight. It would be a nice little trick to have.

As for my mundane, non-flying self, I use the ladder that Thane's group of males conveniently left behind.

Rung over rung I climb. At the top, one of the Recondites is waiting. His presence is comforting, to say the least. I am hesitant to step into the tomb. I am not a warrior. Carnage and rotting corpses are not part of my life. I deal with ghosts and bodies encased in flesh-eating acid sealed in tombs.