Of course. The all-seeing Mask Maker of complete and indefatigable knowledge. How could he have forgotten?
Don’t forget again. Don’t stop fearing Makuta.
He considered removing the cup and placing it back on the floor, but thought better of such an overt disrespect.
Don’t stop fearing Makuta.
He was taken from his thoughts by hearing his name spoken. He was intensely aware of others’ attention, real or not. He could feel a peculiar whooshing in his ears, heat suddenly suffusing his face. His legs took several steps forward, unbidden, as his mind retreated.
They will see you for what you are. This is what Makuta wants. The least capable, the most cowardly, the worst fitted for the task, given it. This is what he wants. A common enemy, for them.
The question snapped him from his reverie. Don’t be ridiculous. You will try and fail, but at least you will have tried.
“Actually, I …” His voice was still slightly ragged from the fight. He cleared his throat. It didn’t help.
Cheshie’s eye flicked between Tullus and Ilya, her skepticism thinly veiled. From what she had seen so far, they wouldn’t have been her first choices, but perhaps it was too earlier to make any concrete judgements.
“And when?” Cheshie added, though she already anticipated what the Mask Makers response would be.
Makuta kept his eyes locked on Cheshie’s as he answered both questions.
“The City of the Jungle region is closest.” He began. “You will look for the Elder of Jungle, and from there you will head to the region of Water’s capital. You will make your way around the island as quickly as possible, and you will eliminate any hindrance that prevents your path forward.”
“As for when…”
There was more of a ruckus from rooms further back in the forge. Makuta gave an incredibly deep and extremely bitter sigh, breaking eye contact so he could massage his brow. The noises continued, and out from the hall emerged a rolled-up letter tied with a string.
“You have five minutes to prepare.” Makuta took the note with one hand and advanced towards the door - but placed a hand on Cheshie’s shoulder as he passed. The words “Come with me” were spoken, but they were so incredibly quiet it was impossible to tell if Makuta had said them or not, as only Cheshie could hear them.
The Mask Maker exited the building, leaving the party alone.
“Oh.”
Jaawu was surprised. He expected more time. Though, for what, he realized he had no idea at the time. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
“Well, you all ready?”
Cheshie swallowed nervously, straitening self consciously under Makuta’s gaze, her arms clasped firmly behind her. She nodded along dutifully to the Mask Maker’s answers, trying desperately to focus on his words as apposed to his stare.
Cheshie froze for a split second, then turned on her heel and walked after Makuta in long strides, not giving her mind the chance to protest.
Katau grunted to acknowledge the fact. He quickly checked over his bag, making sure that all his supplies were in place, recovering his fire sword in the process. The fire Okotan sheathed the blade, and then glanced around the Forge, searching for his wooden staff he had dropped during combat.
“Aha!” Katau muttured quietly to himself as he picked up the wooden rod, then turned to the others and said,
“Well, I’m ready.”
The Dark. The words resonated throughout his mind. He froze. His heart started to rapidly beat. Any other words faded from his mind. It flashed back to pictures of dense foliage,massive trees,and deep shadows,more alien to him and his arid homelands.He remembered the Hunter,their horns twisted and red eyes.The eyes were what haunted him.They seemed to look through him,looking dismissive,yet curious at the same time.They seemed to try and pry at him,tug at his defenses.He was obsessed with figuring out what they were doing there,and now an opportunity had landed in front of him. He felt a tightness in his chest,his throat dry and ragged.He was scared. Bloodcurdling fear seared through his mind like a blade through flesh.
The words shook Henan out of his fear induced visions of his memories,
and back into his reality.He had already everything he would need,he hoped…
Makuta waited until the door had closed behind Cheshie. The first flames of light were appearing in the dark city of the mask makers below, weary watchmen beginning their rounds.
“N-no, sir.” Cheshie stammered, struggling to find a mental footing. She wasn’t sure if it was stupider to openly disagree with the mask maker, or try to cover it up from him.
“Well, I-” She paused, catching her breath, trying to put her thoughts in order.
“It’s just, from what little I’ve seen, they may not be the most qualified.”
Shut up, Chesh.
“and, I honestly doubt the qualifications of most of this group,”
Shut up, Chesh
“I’m just not sure of the value a carver or the likes of Jawuu could contribute to this mission,”
SHUT. UP. Chesh.
“But, that’s just off of a first impression, so I could be totally wrong, and, I’m not trying to second guess your judgement, I’m sure you thought all of this out, and honestly, it’s pretty ridiculous to base my judgements off of a few minutes of sparing, so I guess I really probably have no idea what I’m talking about, and should probably just stop talking.”
Cheshie finished her rambling with a pained wince, staring down at the steps of the forge. Great job Cheshie, now the most important person on the island thinks your subversive and lack a back bone. Great start.
“None of you are qualified.” Makuta responded, lifting his eyes off to the light of a single torch on the outermost wall of the city. “Do you think I would deprive this city of any competent soldiers? The defense of this place is key to the survival of every other village on this continent; no one believes for a moment I am capable of defending this city entirely on my own.”
From around the corner of the building flew a dark object - Makuta’s hammer. It snapped to his casually opened hand. “So I am sending you, the inexperienced, the youthful, the only ones inexperienced enough to qualify on this expedition. This struggle of leadership will either make Ilya rise to the occasion or crack and crumble under the weight.”
Makuta turned and handed the note towards Cheshie. “Be there to pick up the pieces.”
Cheshie’s expression darkened as the gravity of the situation began to dawn on her.
Cheshie didn’t flinch as the hammer whizzed past her. She barely seemed to notice it. So, we’ll die. Maybe not all of us. Maybe not all at once. But it’ll happen. The revelation didn’t come as a fearful shudder, but as a numb realization.
Cheshie looked up, meeting the Mask Maker’s eyes. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it Cheshie? She simply gave a grim nod before accepting the note, and turning back toward the forge doors, opening the note before joining the others.
Palios returned to his feet and seeing as he was no longer blind he had no trouble doing so. “Why do you think Ekimu left…”
“Nevermind.” Palios looked around and picked up any arrows that had fallen out of his quiver then once he had returned them to their rightful home he turned his attention to the newcomer, Tussul. “Like your poncho, where’d you get it?” This was an obvious attempt at small-talk to distract himself from the crushing anxiety of having to venture into the unknown of The Dark in a mere five minutes. Palios found that he often did so before helping guide his father’s caravans around the island, however, this was so much more dangerous than traveling in the relative safety of the coast.
Tussul turned sharply about to face Palios. “It- I didn’t get it. I made it from- from-”
Cheshie slowly returning with her eyes on the letter paused him momentarily. “It’s from uh- stuff. It’s stuff.” He fiddled with the end of his bow behind his back, looking for some convenient hole to go die in.
The letter ran as such:
By messenger of the Court of Okoto
The disappearance of the Elders was marked today, three decades ago, under dark and uncertain circumstances. The remaining Elder has consistently proven unsympathetic with attempts to locate them, and The Dark continues to grow in the absence of their leadership. For the sake of society we would dare to press on, but brother Ekimu has unwisely departed on his own initiative, and may be in definite peril.
With this in mind, I, Makuta, Champion at Arms and Head of the People of Okoto, commission you, the recipient of this decree, to aid and assist in the recovery of the Elders, or to seek out and appoint their most suitable replacement, to travel with this party of skilled adventurers into the heart of The Dark, and to ultimately discern the fate of our missing Mask Maker.
By Decree of Makuta, Champion At Arms, Regent of the People’s Court, Justice of All Offense and Altercation, Commander of Armed Defense
Cheshie puffed an exhale before folding the note, and placing it in her satchel. Looking up, she scanned the Okotans gathered before her. They each stood distinctively, and while they were strangers now, she knew they would grow familiar with time. Bonded together through the forge of adversity. Whether she liked it or not, she was a guard, and in a sense, they were her charges, no matter what she had lost in the past. She took in the scene. This “adventure” would change them, all of them, for better or worse. And Cheshie would stand by them through it. She had to. It’s who she was.
A resolve settled in Cheshie.
She stepped into the light of the forge, mustering all the confidence she could manage, attempting to put on an earnest smile. “Everyone have all the supplies they need? Food? Bed roles? Proper weapons?”
Ilya glanced around the empty room. There didn’t exactly seem to be much to do with five whole minutes. No weapons to supply them, no mixing powders. Maybe the ash from the forge could be useful, but they had two Fire Okotans. Ash shouldn’t be an issue.
Ilya gave an appraising glance at the group, and then himself. They were woefully ill-equipped, and looked it. He would be disdainful, but for the fact that he was just as inexperienced as the rest of them.
He felt he should say something … leader-y. Something to gain respect, or maybe friendship. That would be the right thing to do. The intelligent thing to do.
“I am Ilya.”
Even before he had completely registered the words, Ilya felt a pang of resent. This was who should lead them. The one that had a modicum of knowledge of what she was doing. The idea that there would be someone to carry on when Ilya inevitably failed was as comforting as it was enraging.
He turned his head to face Cheshie. His expression was grim, withering, and only slightly humorous. “It doesn’t exactly appear that way. Not for supplies, at least.” He paused, and his eyes squinted, for a moment. “I … I suppose I’d better ask Makuta for … for money …” Ilya fought down the shudder that threatened to rise, glancing grimly at the door.
“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We should get on that.” Cheshie paused, taking a quick headcount of the Okotans present.
“Looks like there’s seven of us, so it won’t be cheap, and Makuta doesn’t strike me as the generous sort, but I’m sure we’ll manage.” Cheshie said, turning to Ilya, attempting to add some optimism at the end.
“Come on, the sooner we get this done, the better.” With a swing of her head, she began toward the door, pausing for Ilya to follow and exit first.
Ilya did his best to keep his blanch inward, though the success of that endeavor was dubious at best. He didn’t show it, but he was grateful for Cheshie’s deference, whether it had been forced or not. He took a few steps forward, past Cheshie, and then paused at the doorway. For a brief second, he inhaled sharply, and then breathed out slowly.