World Refugees Final Mix

"History portrays India's gods as pretty bloodthirsty gods. You think they were really like that? I mean, the local interpretations of them. The way they were worshiped back then..." she stopped rambling and stepped forward to peek into the shadowy passage, then slowly continued on.

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Mabry stared at the statue. "I think all gods have a dark side, as well as a bright one. India's gods are no different than the Greek or Norse in that respect. Or the Hebrew God for that matter. Ancient religion was all about blood . . . well, blood and sex. Those are what is primal. Life, death, rebirth." Her voice remained thoughtful, as she approached the passageway. "It's really just a matter of whether you balance your religion more towards one or the other and how much metaphor you cloak it in."

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"Good answer."

The passage wasn't long, but its narrowness and twisting course made it feel that way. It wasn't carved like the front of the temple. The walls were rough and raw, cramping so close together in places that it took some squeezing to get through. Faint light reflected down from cracks in the roof of the cavern.

Medrau didn't say another word until they reached the end. No one hid in the cavern. It ended abruptly in a small, circular chamber, against the back wall of which was a roughly hewn pedestal.

"Well..." she commented, edging closer to the object that was held there. "It's certainly not nothing."

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"What is that? It feels . . . bad." Mabry asked in puzzlement. "I don't see any signs of whoever Maleficent sent either. Are you sure this is the place?" She took a step closer to the center of the room and the pedestal.

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"It does, doesn't it?" Medrau mumbled in response to Mab's first question. She turned her back on the pedestal and faced Mabry, brow furrowed. "Doesn't it seem right, though? I mean, could we really have stumbled upon some big mystery that doesn't have anything to do with what we're searching for? Unless it is a trap, like you said..." Her gaze shifted to stare over Mabry's shoulder nervously.

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Mabry glanced back over her shoulder and faced the passageway out. "No, there's no one there. It's just us. And whatever that thing is."

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"You're right." Medrau's hand fell heavily on Mabry's shoulder, and within a split-second her knife's blade rested cold along the healer's throat.

"Us and the end of the world. Just like old times..." She moved suddenly, bringing the knife down to drive it into Mabry's chest.
She aimed for a lung.
The injury wouldn't kill immediately, but it would cause enough pain and difficulty breathing to prevent the use of any inconvenient magic. She would have preferred a nice, dramatic speech, but it would have been rather embarrassing to end up under a Stop spell half-way through. The gloating would just have to wait, she supposed.

Letting Mabry fall, she stepped back and snatched up the black stone which had waited in the temple for so very long. Her mistress would be proud.

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Mabry stared up at the other girl in shock. She tried to speak, but her lungs were already filling with blood. She was dying, she realized. And without help, she was going to die. The focus to cast spells was beyond her.

"Why?" her blood-spattered lungs mouthed.

She stared at the stone in Medrau's hands, but her thoughts were of her husband, of Ashlyn, of Song. There was still so much she wanted to do. She did not want to die like this.

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Medrau's smile was cold, and her eyes empty. Messy dark hair framed her face like a hood... there was something familiar there.
But she was nothing like the cheerful, slightly mad girl who had plowed ahead to unravel the mystery of the temple.

"Fun, mostly... I wish I had more time to chat, really I do, but I don't actually want you to die just yet... Mistress might not like it, but I did warn her I was bad with secrets. Ah well..."

Swiftly she stepped past the fallen Refugee, turning in the doorway to face her.

Then she changed.

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Mabry was choking and her vision somewhat clouded. Nothing had ever hurt this much before, not even labor, which really had not been all that bad. What did Medrau mean that she didn't want her to die?

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She stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and blind. A few last strands of raven hair slowly faded back to golden-brown, like a sunrise shrouded by a filthy sky.
Her hair was not the only difference. Her face had changed, though only just enough. Robin had always been mistaken for younger than she was. Medrau's claim of being twenty instead of twenty-four was only natural.

The rest had been more difficult - the acts, inventing a personality that was as far from Song's as she could manage. Trying so hard to disguise her manner of speech. Carelessness, shortness... She'd played a fool as well as an innocent. If anyone had caught on, it was too late now.

Tinuviel had what she wanted.

But Song awoke with barely a fraction of this knowledge. She remembered attacking her sister - the knife was still clutched in her hand. She remembered blacking out again before that, just after she'd convinced Seph to leave. She wasn't sure, but it felt like days ago...
And she remembered the phone in her pocket, though she seemed not even to notice the mysterious stone which had been slipped into the other. All of her mind, still foggy, was set on making the call for help. She didn't know, but it was Tinuvial - Medrau - who drove her to that just as she'd influenced so many other decisions.

The settings were already changed to audio post. She spoke shakily, "help. I need help. In India... Earth. Track the ship. We're in a cave. It's Mabry..."

The call made, she fell to her knees beside her sister, trying almost robotically to stop the bleeding.

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Mabry's eyes were wide as she stared at her sister. "You . . ." There was almost no sound to the word.

Her fingers were numb, but she tried to clutch at her sister.

Clinging to consciousness was difficult, for while she had tried to hide it, she had not been well for some time. Mabry did not brag when she claimed to be the second most powerful healer known to the refugees, and the recent return of illness had struck her harder than she had shown. It was ironic that her inability to breathe kept her from healing an injury that on another she could have mended with only a few whispered words.

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Sluggishly, still dazed by Medrau's control, Song remembered her own spells. Earth's dampening effect really was an issue, but at least she'd taken the time to learn Cura. She cast the spell over and over again, still too stunned to shed tears or raise her voice.
She did not share the same illness as her sister. With Medrau so active, there was more darkness in her than not. Her black-outs and weariness had been the shadow's doing, and now, for whatever reason, the shadow made her strong.

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Mabry felt her pain lessening slightly. She felt horribly weak, and every breath was an effort, but it was . . . not getting worse.

She tried again to speak to say her sister's name, but no sound came out, only a spattering of blood on her lips.

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Her own breath labored and the spells soon petered out. Her vision kept blurring and fading as it had before her previous blackouts, and she wasn't aware when Medrau reclaimed enough control to open a tiny portal and pass the treasure through - a first-class delivery for her mistress. Mission complete.
Now came the most fun part.
The shadow retreated, this time completely, and the weight of what had happened was left to sink in.

"Mab... Mabry?"

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Mabry looked up at the young woman. She tried to smile. Whatever had just happened with the woman whose place Song had taken, she suspected that her sister had just saved her life. And Song was pregnant and therefore fragile.

Put on a brave front, she told herself.

She tried speaking again, and a faint whisper of sound finally came out. "Song?"

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Instead of responding, Song tried to cast the spell again, but apparently she'd used up all her mana, as it were.

Her face grew hot and her throat constricted when the magic wouldn't come.

"I'm sorry." The words were strangled and breathless, as if she'd been the one stabbed.

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"'sokay," Mabry replied. She paused between the words of her next sentence, each one taking supreme effort. "How . . . what . . . Medrau . . ?"

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"But I..." She didn't understand what Mabry was talking about, and it didn't sound important.

"I tried to..." Song looked at the knife she'd dropped, and did not finish her sentence.

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"Not . . . you," Mabry tried again. "Medrau . . .traitor . . . need . . . to . . .post."

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"But I did... I remember." Nothing here was making sense to her. It was clear that she hadn't been acting under her own power. She never would have hurt Mabry, and she didn't remember coming here, but at the same time, she couldn't get past the feeling that it had been her, in some way. She tried to think rationally, she honestly did, but she couldn't banish the guilt and anguish.

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"I . . . think . . . you're . . . her." Mabry choked slightly and spat more blood. "Need . . . your . . .phone."

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That didn't make any sense to Song, and yet it did. This was all terribly confusing, and the distress of Mabry's condition made it impossible to concentrate.
Numbly, she brought out her phone again. "What do you want me to post?"

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