A Dark Dawn

Mauria stood before Nyra, still as a stone and just as unyielding. Nyra had come to hate Mauria in the past few years, even away, Mauria had become a constant plague and worry on her mind. Nyra had known Mauria a long time. Together, they had fought back the armies that had threatened to destroy the culture and people they shared so much with. Mauria had become like an elder sister to Nyra with everything she had taught her. But Nyra had never forgotten who Mauria as, the real and true Mauria. 
Mauria was a great Journeyer of Old. The supposed last of her kind. The legends of her and others expeditions were great and far surpassed Nyra's and those of the Journeyers of New. Some vital spark had been lost when Montoria had ceased to call itself the land of the Journeyers, the Blood. The Journeyers of Old had fought with all they had, they were the fierce guardians of all, traveling the lands of the three realms. 
Times had indeed changed though. The Journeyers of new were of an entirely different breed, and in Nyra's eyes, Mauria was the one flaw, the one painful bump that stopped the Blood from continuing on into the future. 
Nyra feared Mauria as much as she loved her. For Mauria was the one threat to the society that held peace. Nyra knew the whispers of legends, Mauria the Great, Mauria the Changer. Where Mauria went, change was quick to follow, no land could live in true peace with her near, so Nyra had called Mauria, her Champion, here to do one thing, and one thing alone. Nyra had thought long and hard on a solution to this problem and had come up with only one answer, a verdict that she did not want to deliver, but truly believed that she must.


"Mauria," Nyra descended from her high throne, her silver skirts sweeping the floor. She let a broad smile light her face, as painful as it would be to do the task that she had set for herself, she still considered Mauria her friend, despite what she may or may not do.


Mauria, as always looked severe, but underneath all that, Nyra could see more. For the first time that she had ever noticed, Mauria looked...weary. As if she had suffered at the hands of all the worlds woes. It made her look almost ancient, despite the 19 years that her body showed. It was all Nyra could do not to gasp as she looked over her old mentor. 


Mauria's voice was as equally enervated as her face. "Nyra." Her words still withheld that quiet gentle timber that it had always been though. A slight smile touched her lips and suddenly, it was all gone, the old lines and heavy burdens that had moments before marked Mauria's face and eyes was gone, youth shined through that same impenetrable shield that Nyra had so often seen Mauria surround herself in. 


"It is good to see you, friend," Nyra touched her brow, her heart, and her lips in the customary gesture of honor the Journeyers shared. Although in this house, Nyra was far superior to the older woman, the hostess always paid homage first, a respect to the power and strength to the comrade, and it had been a habit that Nyra had never been able to break from her years of training under Mauria. Mauria sighed and for the first time, it occurred to Nyra that Mauria may already know what was coming.

~~~

Mauria was sitting as still as she could. Her words pounded in her head. I am a shadow. I am a shadow. Then she heard it. Soft, at first, then slowly louder as the objects of her vigil approached. The walked past her, none the wiser of her presence and continued to be unaware as she shadowed them into the woods. The dark velveteen sky and the scattered diamond stars were quickly hidden by the cloaking branches of the trees Had Mauria not know what she was listening for, she would have lost them quickly, but she knew the sound of their voices as well as she knew the land, and the had no chance of hiding from her. She ghosted after them, listening intently to their soft conversation.

"She said she will be here, do not worry my friend, she will come."

"Ah, but she is of the blood, is she not? And the blood are not to be trusted. That is a truth that e all know."

"You'll find it wise to trust me. I know Mauria personally, she will come through. Don't you worry on that account. What I would worry about, if I were you, is whether or not Mauria will trust you enough not to cut you down where you stand."

Mauria grinned as she heard the man whimper, such a coward! He was spinning his role well. 

"Stop here." Salamari's* voice rang out, resonating, as always, in a firm and commanding way that suggested that she was the sort that was far greater than you were.

Mauria waited carefully in the trees, watching as Salamari continued to speak to the man. "Here is where I'll take my leave. Blessed be you, Marod*, son of the night." Salamari melted into the shadows, as if she had never truly been. 

Mauria stepped forward cautiously. She was uncertain of this man, who looked only to be the same age as she, but Mauria knew that if he was he one who she had always heard whispers of, then he was possibly far older, and that the appearance that he withheld was only that, an appearance. 

"Marod," Mauria's voice was soft, but the man turned to it as if she had spoken normally.

"And you, Mauria, the first Nithagrian, the wise one, the secret-keeper, the wielder of Belfaron*, the champion of the Virtues, the foretold returner of balance."

Mauria tilted her head forward, affirming his assumptions. "That may be true, but I do not hold as many secrets as you do, warlock."

Marod smiled a wicked grin "So you know my secret. Something Salamari told you?" His eyes followed her as she slowly began to circle him.

"Not at all, I guessed a long time ago, when these trees were still young, what you were," Mauria's smile was as equally malevolent as Marod's had been, "and it turns out that I was correct. Despite all appearances, I am not all that you think. The names that have been given upon me are not all without reason." Mauria stopped circling him, she knew that he found it unnerving, and stared him in the eye, waiting for him to again speak. 

Marod's lips twitched once more into a smile, thins one more friendly than the one before. "Ah, Mauria. The years have been long without you nearby to pester me, old friend. You would not have sought me out without good reason though, you assured me of that the last time we met. Tell me, what is it that you seek, or is it some information that you wish to bestow upon my shoulders as you did so often in the past."

Mauria's face darkened, as if a cloud had passed over the light that ha moments before shone upon it. "I need to get contact with the Mourning Stars."

Marod looked at Mauria with a look of pure disbelief. "The mourning stars?" He asked her in a hoarse whisper, all smiles gone now. "Mauria are you insane?"

Mauria looked distant, disturbed. she frowned at nothing and none in particular. "Possibly," She looked back at Marod, as if just noticing him. "you make think that I have no idea what I'm talking about," The look on his face said that this was indeed the case, and Mauria continued on. "but I do. I know who they are. Renegades. Outcasts." She smiled a wry smile. "things that I know about." 

Marod looked at her with a shocked expression. "Mauria, you may are many things, a wanderer among them, but you are most certainly not an outcast, that I know. You are the Champion of the Virtue*, how can you be an outcast?"


Mauria's smile was a sad one. "So you haven't heard the news then. Nyra* fears that I conspire against her. She outcasted me." Mauria's voice turned bitter. "And they all believed her claims, Regulairis* as well."


Marod eyes filled with sorrow and pity toward his young friend. He could see that Mauria would grow to be ancient, older even than he, but to watch as yet another weight was placed upon her shoulders, to see lines that shouldn't have marked a man five times her apparent age, made him worry. So long had it been since Mauria had actually truly appeared to be the 19 years her face and height showed.


"Are you sure that this is something that you want Mauria? We are the discontent, the woeful. We are those that bear the true sorrows of the world"


Mauria's laugh was harsh."As if I do not already do these things." Her voice softened. "Please, Marod, I'm begging you. If I am not that which I thought I was, then what am I? And Nyra has removed me from all that has since defined me. Where shall I turn now if not to your door, is t not you who I have always come to hen my road turned weary and dark? If I cannot rely on you for this one small favor, then I cannot rely on you at all, for what friend would deny me the right to redefine my position in this sorry land? Written in my bones is my need to act and from acting I am exiled. Allow me to join Marod, I need this, without it, I fear I will jot survive."


Not for the first time that night, Marod carefully examined the girl who had so often come to his doorstep, pleading for his company. Mauria created around herself this shell if impenetrability, something that others often wrote ff as arrogance, but Marod knew, Marod knew the soft vulnerability that lay beneath that shell. Mauria spoke the truth to him, this he knew. She honestly believed the words she spoke, the question was though, was what she asking for what she really wanted?


"What of husband, your daughter?" Marod's voice was soft, but it carried, it carried on the wind and he knew that no matter how hard Mauria tried not t show the the way those words stung, they would sting, and she wold not be able to hide it. Indeed she flinched, as if he had poked her with a sharp spear over the heart.


"Gone. Kayla's child...*," Mauria's voice turned sad at the thought of the name. It brought back memories of a smiling brunette girl that had stood unswervingly by Mauria's side through all the hardships she had faced, until the moment Mauria had drawn the line between friendship and duty. "It was discovered and none survived." With a pang, Mauria thought of her daughter, who she had left on the island while she and her husband returned to the Gan to carry out their various duties."


Marod gasped in surprise. "But that only explains your daughter, what of your husband?"


"He remains with Death and the Gen. As far as I'm aware, he does not know of my exile. I imagine he will be very angry when he finds out."  


Marod looked at the dawn that had slowly started to bleed into the back sky. He knew what he had t do. "Alright then, come. we have far to go and I imagine that the guardsmen will quickly find out that we are on their land. It is not wise to anger the Montorians, even when we have barely crossed their border." He turned away, walking though the woods once more, unaware of the thankful glance that Mauria threw at his shoulder.

~~~

"You're a brave soul, Mauria. You deserve better than this."

Mauria just shrugged. She didn't like recognition. She did what she did, and that was that. What was the point of saying that someone was braver than another because one person could and did do something that the other could not? As Mauria saw it, if she didn't act, then nobody else would, so she may as well act.

Marod sighed in response to this. He'd been trying to get her to understand hoow the general population viewed her feats for a very, very long time, and, as always, Mauria refused to even try to look at it at that point of view. How people could come to the conclusion that Mauria was cocky was beyond hm. She was probably the most sacrificing person he knew. 

They were riding back to Marod's house after settling a dispute that had gotten bloody a few miles away. Some men had begun fighting over some petty thing like land or livestock and had puled their thug friends int it. Mauria had broken it up quickly with a flash of her sword and a man suddenly placed at her feet. everyone had come into attack her, avenge the harm she had caused the man that lay on the ground, and every one of them Mauria had only hit with the flat of her blade, even as they each came at her without mercy. Her face had remained passive, she had shown no fear and Marod seriously doubted that at any given moment she had felt it; she had stood against far harsher, why should this be any threat to her?

They continued on in companionable silence until at long lat they came across the manor that Marod called home. It sat on an island in the middle of a lake nestled in the tall mountains that surrounded it. The lake reflected the million pinpricks of light that filled the black evening sky, making the house look like it floated in the clouds instead of on the ground. The full moon shone down on the mansion, illuminating it, and the windows lit with candles looked like small flecks of gold in the pale walls. A single bridge spanned the gap between the shore and the manor, connected the isolate to the world. Marod watched Mauria carefully, trying to gauge her reaction, but her face remained as impassive as always

~~~

Mauria leaned against the wall, watching the dancers that filled the hall. It was Marod's birthday; he always threw wonderful parties. She closed her eyes, it spread out before her. She was dancing, as she had so often done in her younger days. From the color of the hair that brushed over the head of her partner, she could tell that it was Finnly. Even though she knew it was only a memory, her heart gave a short stab of pain, regret, love at the sight of hm. How he had loved her, and she him, so long ago that had been. So very long ago. She opened her eyes and sighed. Funny how things so quickly changed. She shook her head. Parties, as Mauria believed, were something she constantly bought trouble too. If she wasn't the one causing it, it was always something else. Her mouth quirked up as she remembered the masquerade party they had had on Hastilia's Day back when she had still lived with Saura, when she had been freely able to call Montoria home. The catastrophe that had happened then had been a thing to remember. 

She meant to turn away, retreat to her room or the library, but Marod saw her at last minute, and before she could escape, he was on her, pulling her out into the room.

"Mauria, my dear girl! Why aren't you dressed? It is my party, after all! This simply will not do, absolutely not!"

Mauria laughed. "Marod, I would have changed, except I do not plan on staying, I only stopped because this was on my way to the library."

Marod looked at her with horror. "You weren't planning on coming to my birthday party? When it is the same house that you are incidentally staying in, none the less! What's your excuse! You can't seriously believe that I won't let you come just so you can stay in that library that you practically live in! Definitely not." He shook his head. "You are coming and that is final. Change out of," he gestured at her Journeyer garb with a hint of dismay, "that and into one of those dresses I know you have hiding somewhere. Off you go."

"Marod, really, I don't do parties. Something bad is bound to happen, and I don't ant ot ruin this for you."

Marod sighed. "Mauria, do you not know that I am quite hoping something like that will happen? This party is getting rather boring. I don't even know half these people! Where they came from..." he trailed off and looked at her pleadingly.

Mauria chuckled. "if you really need an excuse for clearing them all out, I'll be happy to oblige, I be don soon I guess then."

Marod smiled. "Of course you will," He gave her a little push. "Go on now. We can't have them leaving on their own."

Mauria flashed one of her rare smiles. "All right, all right, I'm gone." 

~~~

Mauria leaned back and stretched. She felt alive here. The sun touched her face and she held the clouds in her hand. The small house Marod had given her stood in a meadow near the top of a mountain. The flat terrace on which it sat had a view unrivaled by any that Mauria had ever seen. It faced northeast, towards Montoria and the life she had known there but the promise of sunrise as well. A deep valley lay below the lip of the flattened land where the house was, and a steep road led down to it. Both were places Mauria rarely roamed, preferring to make use of the wings she had as a griffin*. 
Salamari was coming today. A visit that Mauria certainly had mixed feeling about. As much as she loved the kindly woman who had taught her so much, Mauria felt that here, in 
Neria Regalia, she had started over. The old shouldn't mix with the new, it defeated the purpose. Yet Salamari would be coming none the less, and Mauria may as well be prepared for her. 
In the old days, Mauria would have cherished such visits. they were few and far between, and often were an omen of great trouble in the land, if Mauria had ever need the council of her mentor, Mauria had to ask for it. It had built on her independent nature; you had to solve your problems n their own, and ask help on your own, nothing would ever be done for you.  
She could see Salamari's horse approaching on the steep road that led to the house. staying next to the distant river far below that snaked its way through the valley, Mauria could see the flare of the white traveling cloak, and the white hide of Salamari's horse, Halogyin*. What would Salamari say? Would she be disappointed that Mauria wasn't acting towards the troubles the world was facing? Would she be understanding? As loving and caring as the kindly elf had always been to her, Salamari had been as much of a teacher to keeping a poker face to Mauria as she had been in admitting true feelings. 
Mauria sighed, tuning to go back inside. Her old mentor would be here soon, and Mauria may as well have some sort of dinner to offer her before they talked.

~~~

Mauria stood in the arena, the floor was cover in sand, it as nobody but her and the practice warriors she had summoned. Her sword was perfectly balanced in the ball of her hand, already she could feel the thrill of a fight seeping int her bones. She bounced on the balls of her feet and swung as the first warrior approached. He exploded into a burst into of sand and she moved onto the next one.

Mauria loved fighting.  Fighting as she was now, barely focusing on her movements and the actual attack, had become something of a meditation for her. 

Thrum thump. thrum thump. As the noonday sun washed down on her, Mauria honed in on the troubles that had been plaguing her. The change in the wind she felt, Neria Regalia was without leader, true, the blood each ruled their own portion of the country, as they had before, and those leaders met in a council, but they lacked a common ruler, and Mauria felt deep in her bones that the people who did lead the 5 Houses of the Blood were not fit to rule them. They were not Journeyers, not Rangers. They didn't understand the full workings and culture of the people.

Then, these so called leaders never did actually do anything, sat around and argued. No action. Without action, you could be vulnerable. And the Mali, the natives to these mountains, the Council was trying to run them from their homes. What action the Council could decide on was the wrong action entirely. Neria Regalia needed a queen. A strict hierarchy. Leaders fit for the job. The council wasn't acting enough on its own and they couldn't always rely on the Mourning Stars to save them. Change. It always boiled down to that unwanted change. 

But getting change to happen where it was needed could be as hard as telling lightning where to strike. Mauria realized that she had stopped with her practice and with a grim face resumed it. Getting change to happen needed a decisive leader. A Journeyer. Not her, Mauria's Journeying days had long since ended, she knew her place though. She had to find someone. The right someone, that would get that change. Without it, nothing good could come of the future. 

~~~

Mauria closed her eyes to the bright sunlight. In the mountains, the sun seemed so much closer. The stars weren't the distant pinpoints that they had been when she had lived on the flat plains of Montoria. Here, they were gem that felt so close, you were almost deceived into believing that sweeping your hand thought the night sky would bring you all the riches of the world. She had a small cottage tucked away in a little valley, Marod had seen to it that he was well equipped, he could tell that after all she had done, she was finally beginning to weary, a she always did, of the fight. She remembered when she as so much younger. When she had touched the stars, not just dreamed of doing such. When she had fought to her last breath, then come back for more. Then she had been a living deity, a force to be reckoned with. Now she was legend. No one had seen or heard from her in years, but stories were till told about the great Mauria Nithagria, defeater of a million evils, wielder of Belfaron, the First Nithagrian. True she was all of those things and many more again, but the hour was changing, the tide was raging, whispered on the wind was the hour of reckoning. 

Mauria sighed and turned back inside the hut. One last thing she had to do. One last little thing. Her packed bag sat on the bed, her sword beside it, lain neatly atop her grey-blue traveling cloak. Her amber rubbed against her neck as she bent to pick it all, sliding on her weapons belt, her trusted knives, Belfaron, her bow and a quiver of arrows. She went out again, her horse stood in the small clearing that marked the small yard that Mauria had. Below her, the valley continued to stretch to the winding river that rushed away toward the distant sea, unaware of the woes of the world. Above her the mountains pushed themselves up higher, like the heads of proud princesses. This was a beautiful land, a land full of the kinds of people Mauria had missed, she had seen what they needed and he would not fail them. She was Mauria Nithagria, savior of the broken, and as she mounted the gray horse that she had tentatively begun to call her own, she looked back on it all. She would miss it, but go she must, else there never may be an end to these empty times. The fires needed to be relit, the pillars rebuilt, the prayers resaid. Time called for Change, and Mauria knew where to find it. She sighed letting the noon mountain sun wash over her once again, and turned away, down to the bottom of the valley, towards the river and the road that would lead her away, away t the people who feared her existence more than the dying queens of Montoria. This as a quiet life, but Mauria didn't believe in the quiet, only the moments of great music that sang in the fields and set ablaze the world and land of reason. Such times begged for the horror of an army Mauria had faced off so long ago. She remembered the dying words f a man she had once know "And so they will come tenfold, and without those great children of the Blood there will be no redemption" Mauria squared off her shoulders. Redemption would come. No matter the cost.

*(Hal-OH-gee-IN) Salamari's horse, who never seems to grow old or wounded. Mauria has always assumed that this is because Salamari is a servant of Life
Life is also a member of the Gen
(Sal-uh-MAURE-ee) also known as the White Griffin, she is a good friend of Mauria's, something of a mentor to the young girl. 

(MARE-odd) Another old friend of Mauria's, she trusts him with her secrets and relies on him for help when she needs it. He is also a member of a semi secret organization called the Mourning Stars

(bell-FAR-on) Mauria's sword, one of the 10 great blades.

(Reg-you-LAIR-us) Regulairis is Mauria's fighting partner. In A Dark Dawn, he is also the Champion of Death, yet another ruler on the council of the Gen.

Mauria, and many others of the House Nithagria, had a special gift of being able to shape-shift into griffins. The gift is also present among those of other houses, for example, some members of  Hastilia's House can become wolves. This talent is not restricted to just the members of the blood though. Regulairus has been know to change into a strange animal with fur the color of obsidian and 14 foot wings that are like silk.

Virtue is one of the four leaders of the Gen, which is the ruling council of Mauria's religion. Mauria is the champion, which means that she serves Virtue in battles and carries out punishment that Virtue inflicts.  

A Journeyer named Nyra took up the position of Virtue, marking her out as an immortal. The irony is, however,, that Mauria originally trained Nyra and that in their house, house Nithagria, Mauria is actually ranked higher than her.
Death is obviously the lord of the afterlife in the Gen. He has a group of 5 people who bring the dead into his realm and, as he cannot leave it. If Death were to leave this place, there would cease to be such thing as death. He uses these "Riders" as they are called to safely bring the souls of the deceased across the gray area between the two realms as well as enforce punishment on those who successfully escape. 
Life is the counterpart to Death, and, as ironic as it may be, the two are married. While the color of Death is Black, that of Life is White and is commonly worn to funerals in Montoria and Neria Regalia. Because of this, white is not a color worn at weddings, but rather silver, the color of virtue. 
Life has a large number of servants, namely women, who serve her and carry out the mission of carrying out the protection of the helpless. The women are of then referred to as the Tenders and are not easily found. Rumored to be fierce fighters, they help Mauria in the battle for Montoria in her Journeying years.

Kayla was a good friend of Mauria's and later became the Queen of Montoria, the land of the Journeyers. When Kayla tried to get Mauria to help her expand the kingdom and create an empire ruled by the Blood, Mauria turned her down, saying she would have no part in such action. For this, Kayla began persecuting Journeyers Rangers, and anyone else of the Blood, striking them down without mercy, justifying it with the fact that they didn't abide by their rulers commands and merely lived off the nation, a separate, exclusive group of people. The remaining members of the Blood retreated to the towering mountains south of Montoria to escape such punishment and fought a brutal war to keep that land. Mauria stubbornly remained away from this new realm, preferring to keep to a hidden island she had found of the coast of Montoria, knowing that there she would be safe while remaining within the country she still considered home. Kayla had died during the war, but her daughter had carried out her mother's quest with the same ruthlessness, and her daughter after that. The irony of this persecution is that Kayla and her daughters are actually of the House Jomar, and by Kayla's rules, should be murdered for having their so called "pure blood" tainted by that of the five. 

The five are the five founding members of the Journeyer bloodlines, they and their descendents, no matter how distant, are often referred to as the Blood. The houses of the Blood are House Nithagria, House Jomar, House Caran, House Hastilia, and House Solard. The descendents that posses the amazing gifts that the founders had are called Journeyers if they are girls and Rangers if they are boys. No Journeyer or Ranger ever ages past 21, as they are charged with keeping the land and cannot be beyond their so called "prime". Journeyers are far better known than Rangers in these realms, but Rangers are just as numerous.