Battlemage - Amara

Aamara held the door and punched a man in that came rushing toward her in the throat. He fell back, choking and gagging while he grasped his bruised windpipe. Artesia slipped behind her emerged into the night.

Aamara hurried out behind her and they jogged a distance down the road before slowing.

Artesia shook her hands and flexed them before turning to see Aamara doing the same. She grinned at the ebony skinned woman. "So much for that job," Artesia said.

"Damn!" Aamara cursed. "I left my halberd in there!"

Artesia had left her sword at Dara's house, but she winced in understanding. "We can go back?"

Aamara scowled. "It was nothing special. Still, they're not cheap."

"I can.--"

"You can pay for that too?"

Artesia could, but she wasn't about to tell Aamara that. Not yet, anyhow. "Well, I... I mean, no, but I feel bad."

"Don't," Aamara said. "You weren't the reason that happened, I was."

"You were?" Artesia repeated.

"I threw the first punch," Aamara said.

"You mean table?"

Aamara laughed. "Okay, the first table."

Artesia laughed with her and then said, "You're really strong."

Aamara nodded and fell silent.

"That's not a bad thing," Artesia said. "I mean, look at me. I'm strong. I think it's good. Very good."

"I am who I am," Aamara said. "I didn't ask to be like this, but it is."

"It is so."

Aamara glanced at her. "What?"

"Sorry, it's a saying a friend of mine uses. I sort of picked it up."

"Oh," she said and then paused. "I should go. It's late and I have a busy day tomorrow."

"Wait, I owe you a drink," Artesia said.

"Another time, maybe."

"Nonsense," Artesia said and probed at Aamara with her powers again. There was something to her. A natural resistance and more... some sort of magic already in play, maybe? It made her pull back and play it safe. "Sorry, I haven't even given you my name, I'm Artesia."

Aamara was thoughtful for a moment before she stopped and turned on Artesia. "Aamara. Why?"

Artesia reared her head back. "Why? Why what?"

"Why me?"

"Um, I feel bad?" Artesia said. "After what happened and all, I mean. And... you interest me."

Aamara grunted. "I'm not looking for that."

"For what?"

"A good time. A bed partner. Whatever you want to call it."

"Saints," Artesia swore. "I wasn't... look, I didn't mean that! I meant I've never met a woman like you. I may not always be the tallest woman in a room, but I'm pretty much always the strongest. The way you flipped that table and handled yourself... maybe you've got me beat."

"Oh, so you need to make sure you're the strongest? Fine, you win," Aamara said.

"No! I didn't mean--I wasn't competing with you!" Artesia argued. "You're tall, strong, and you can fight. That's, like, everything I've been trying to find ever since I realized I wasn't like other girls."

"You're a little taller, big deal," Aamara said. "You're pretty enough, I don't see much difference."

"Pretty enough, gee, thanks."

Aamara smirked. "Prettier than me."

"Don't listen to those dogs in the tavern," Artesia said. "I think you're different and beautiful."

"You're white as a bleached bone, I'm black as charcoal," Aamara pointed out.

"Because we're different isn't why I think you're beautiful," Artesia said. "And that doesn't matter anyhow. There's just something about you that works for me."

"Works for you?"

"Yes, like we have something in common. Or like we can complement each other. Maybe help each other, even. I'm new to Mira and learning my way around. I do odd jobs here and there, but the only thing I'm good at is fighting."

"So you're an expert at tavern brawls?"

Artesia laughed. "No, I meant... like a mercenary or soldier. I know how to use a sword."

Aamara looked her up and down, studying her with an openness that hadn't been there before. "You have the look of it. But tell me, are you a mercenary or something else?"

"A bandit?"

Aamara shrugged.

"I did some of that, I'll admit," Artesia said. "It was years ago and I gave it up. I earn my way now, I don't steal it."

"Why?"

"The world's hard enough," Artesia said.

Aamara considered her words and then gave a slight nod. "That was years ago, what have you done since?"

"I've worked as a man-at-arms for a Lord for a while; his private guard and even a tutor for learning how to fight with sword and spear. I served as advisor to a general in lands to the northwest and helped them fend off a gnoll army. I traveled with a band of warriors and we hunted and killed a dragon. I--"

Aamara laughed. "A dragon? A story like that would have traveled far and wide."

"Perhaps, but it happened far away to the northwest. On the other side of the Western Divide. I came from there, on the western coast of Kroth. The dragon was a long ways from where I lived though, in the savage lands north of where we considered the end of civilized lands."

"If you were me, would you believe such a tale?"

Artesia frowned and then chuckled. "That's a fair question. There were three towns forced to slavery by the dragon and his minions. We freed them, but they were all filled with desperate people that sought to escape the petty city-states where I grew up and set out to build their own futures in the wilds."

"What happened after that?" Aamara asked.

"Further north, where it began to grow cold. I visited Noraven and saw the impossible made possible. All manner of races living together in peace. Not just humans, elves, and dwarves, but gnolls and goblins and great horned beasts like minotaurs and others."

Aamara glanced away and then back. "I've heard tales of such a place. You say it's real?"

"As real as the sand that finds its way into your clothes."

Aamara chuckled.

"Then I went east, to Altonia, and saw a kingdom even greater than Noraven, and built to be fair and just. It was so different from the places I grew up... from there I came south, seeking warmth and new adventures. Sadly, I also found no other places ruled as justly as those I left behind."

"Justice is... an ideal."

Artesia raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

Aamara snorted. "Look around you. If half of what you say is true, you've seen all the proof you need to know what I mean. Justice is what the person with the most power desires."

"I don't--"

"Tell me who declares and enforces the laws? Who writes the stories of what happened?"

Artesia saw where she was going. She tried, but failed, to counter her argument.

"Justice is defined by whoever is strong enough to demand it," Aamara said.

"That doesn't make it right," Artesia argued.

Aamara scoffed. "Right doesn't matter."

Artesia shook her head. "It's a shame. Did something bad happen to you?"

Aamara let out a scalding laugh.

"So young and so pretty to be so bitter."

Aamara's snarl was anything but pretty. It faded fast, but a stern mask covered her face. She looked around and then grabbed Artesia's arm and tugged her toward an even darker nook under an awning of a building. Artesia went with her, not that she had a choice unless she wanted things to turn ugly.

"You still think I'm pretty?" Aamara growled as her face seemed to melt before Artesia's eyes. Her face snapped back into focus before Artesia could begin to gasp. When it did, her lips parted in shock anyhow.

Aamara's hair was gone, leaving only a bald scalp mottled with old scars and some discolored birth marks. Her face had similar blemishes as well as some bones that hadn't grown in right. Her right eye was narrower than her left and her cheek bone was higher on the side, giving her a permanent leer. Aamara's nose was twisted to the right as well, pulling it off center at the bottom.

"I thought so," Aamara said. "Not so pretty, am I?"

Artesia stood her ground. "You're still tall and strong."

"Like a monster," Aamara spat. "I was born like this and they knew even then I was different. The woman of my people are small and slender. I... I am a monster."

"You're in luck."

"This is luck?" Aamara seethed at her.

Artesia stared into her uneven eyes. Their color, some magical meeting between grey and brown, remained the same. "I must like monsters."

Aamara trembled and then turned her head and snorted. "You're a fool."

Artesia grabbed her shirt and pulled her back to face her. "Why? Because I'm not afraid to look at you? Because you don't disgust me?"

"I am disgusting!"

Artesia made a point of studying her scalp and face. Her mottled skin, ebony dark with splotches of pale grey, went down her neck and beneath her shirt. "You are unique and I would stand back to back with you in any tavern brawl or other fight."

Aamara's chest heaved as she struggled to deny Artesia's claims.

"I've faced my share of hatred," Artesia said. She lifted her hair to show off her ears. "I'm half human and half-sand elf. And even for that, I've got my differences."

"You're a prize compared to me."

"Only if you've met people who don't value you for who you truly are."

"Kind of hard to be seen when this what they look at."

Artesia shrugged. "That's nothing. An easy thing."

"How can you even pretend to know--"

"I don't know," Artesia cut her off. "But I know it can be changed if you want it."

Her eyes narrowed. "How? A skinshaper? I looked into them. Their magic is dark and the demands they make... better to be a monster."

"What if I knew someone that could help you?"

"At what price?"

Artesia smiled. "They'd do it for me."

Aamara's misshapen nose flared. "And what is your price?"

"You," Artesia said.

"What?"

"You. With me. For a year, that's all. One year."

"With you? You mean... serving you?"

"I suppose that's true, but I mean at my side. Be my friend. My confidant. My sister-in-arms."

Aamara stared at her for nearly a full minute before she asked. "You're serious, aren't you? You really believe you can do this?"

"I am certain of it. It's not like the justice, you spoke of. This is a fact."

"A year?"

"One year. If you like it. If we get on as well as I believe we will, it need not end there."

Aamara's uneven cheeks flexed as she clenched her teeth together. They were crooked too, given the glimpses in the dark Artesia had of them when she spoke. "I... I need to think on it."

"I respect that," Artesia said. "We'll see each other again, soon. You can tell me then."

Aamara's eyes narrowed. "How do you know this?"

"Because I like you, Aamara," Artesia said. "I'm not going to let you ruin this just because you're scared."

Aamara snorted. "I haven't been scared since I was a little girl being chased from my village."

"Good, then you'll make the right decision," Artesia said. She smiled and leaned up on her tiptoes. Aamara's eyes widened and her breath stilled in shock. Artesia's lips pecked the tip of her nose and she backed down and winked at her. "I'll see you soon."

Aamara was still standing in the shadows watching as Artesia walked down the road and out of her sight.