Naga Sadow's Tomb

Although Ifrit confirmed his ability to heal her wounds, Mariah knew that if a medbay was available, it was always the best option for wounds like this. At the very least, she wouldn’t have to somehow pull herself towards the ship alone. Being carried on Ifrit’s back was certainly the lesser of two evils, although the perpetual scowl that resided on Mariah’s expression left even that an uncertain belief. All that mattered now, was that the two of them had escaped the clutches of death and sent another poor soul back where it belonged.

Mariah hummed her agreement to be taken back to the ship, offering no other words to her instructor while within the tomb. However, as Ifrit turned to take them back, that lingering feeling haunted her again. Her grasp around his neck tightened slightly, a silent warning to the disturbance she felt. It wasn’t just Bara’duun’s presence anymore. That and the fact that Ifrit seemed oblivious to that sensation set Mariah even further on edge than before.

“Wait…” Mariah uttered.

Her voice might have been a whisper, but it was as sharp as ever in that command. She turned her head so that her crimson gaze could stare deeper into the shadows of the tomb. As much as she wanted to ignore the call of the disturbance this time and explore it later when she was healed, she was chained by a sense of duty to investigate it. In her current state, Ifrit would have to carry her. If her concerns were correct, she could only brace herself for the questions that would come. In her current state, her hand was forced. At this present point in time, she needed him, a fact she would never outright admit.

“Take me into the tomb. Something isn’t right.”

Although Ifrit couldn’t see the determination that smoldered in those crimson irises, her persistence was as sharp as ever in her aura. If she was lucky, though, this was nothing, and she could dismiss the disturbance without a need to answer a single question. However, Mariah trusted her intuition much more than that, especially when it came to the Force’s warnings. No matter how much she weighed her decisions here, there was no clear-cut correct answer. When it came down to it, it was always about choosing the lesser of two evils.

The traps within the tomb were the least of Mariah’s worries. Although she could have unfortunately directed Ifrit on how to avoid them, the need never came. Someone had already set them off. A clumsy thief, by the looks of it. However, it begged the question. If this person had been successful in what she feared, how could they have been so idiotic as to have faced those traps head-on? Surely, she snapped at herself within her head, this disturbance was not nearly what she feared.

However, upon turning the corner, the blackness of the tunnel was enough to twist her stomach into knots. The small woman on Ifrit’s back visibly tensed, causing a sharp pain to shoot through her body from the broken bones within her legs.

“Kriff…”

There was a different hostility within her whispered words now, though, if Ifrit had been tuned into Mariah’s quiet utterings. Her usual wrath at such things that could go wrong had perhaps the first hint of panic she had ever shown. No matter what that tunnel was supposed to represent, it was more than clear that she knew what was beyond it and that the mere fact that it was opened meant a fate worse than death to the crimson-haired woman.

Before Ifrit could question it, though, Mariah commanded sharply, “Push onward, and be prepared for hostility.”

Should they find the intruder here, she would be of no use to Ifrit now. To Mariah, though, it begged the question: who could have possibly managed to open up the tunnel? The closer the two headed towards the mouth, the easier Mariah could make out the runes that should have kept the tunnel sealed. They were well-hidden, barely casting off an essence within the Force. Only a select few even knew of what lay further up ahead, and even fewer had the means to break the spell of those runes that kept it sealed. It surpassed even Bara’duun’s magicks, which spoke measures considering she had just witnessed and faced off against such a mastery of Sith sorcery.

It was yet another lose-lose situation, one that she would need to assign the lesser of two evils and push forward. Either they would be up against an even more powerful foe than the one they just faced, or they were too late to resolve the disturbance which haunted her. Either way, with clenched teeth and determined stare, Mariah held no fear or doubts in her command to Ifrit to push onward, deeper into that tunnel.

There was only a faint hint of a snarl caught in Mariah’s throat at the mention that he was always ready for a fight. Traversing this far deep into the Tomb could have terrible consequences after the fight they had just endured. Both could be as ready for a fight, but with Mariah already wounded and Ifrit weakened from their encounter with Bara’duun, the unfortunate best-case scenario was that they were already far too late…

The deeper Ifrit brought the two, the more visible tense Mariah became. His questions came without any answers at first, the crimson-haired woman holding firm to silence. He had made all the correct assumptions. An answer was unnecessary. She knew what this magic was. Not only that, she knew the reason for the faded power of the dark side energies.

Mariah didn’t say a word until Ifrit pushed through a mouth at the end of the tunnel. There was no light to lend them physical sight, something that Ifrit didn’t lean on anyway. However, that was just another confirmation for the woman who rode upon his back.

The chamber was clearly carved out and was not simply a natural formation. The landing that they entered into dropped down into a flight of clearly-cut stairs that led down into a bottom floor. Human-like statues held up the four corners of the chamber like pillars, and the center of the bottom level, an ornately carved pillar stood tall, with another pillar stretching down from the ceiling, leaving an eerily empty space between them, while reminiscent energies lingered like a small sun. However, the first things that could dominate the Force senses of sight were the walls, etched with archaic symbols. The magics that resonated off of them spoke that they had once served a purpose for this chamber, and not all that long ago, either.

Mariah sucked in a deep breath, knowing that the best worst-case scenario had been confirmed. And now, she had Ifrit here with even more questions than before, she was sure.

“You remember our first conversation, yes?”

It was as much as she would offer now as an explanation. However, if Ifrit could recall their first conversation on Sullust, she had mentioned the secrets she knew. The artifacts, tomes, and magicks, which she could lead him to if he could but teach her how to harness the skills to wield them.

Mariah clenched her teeth together as she was forced to make peace that there was little that the two could now. The one who had been here was long gone. That left the question, though. Who was able to break through the runes that guarded the entrance? A question Ifrit would not be able to help her answer, and thus, it lingered silently without an answer.

“We should head back to the ship now,” she whispered before Ifrit could push further with his own questions, her anger hissing in the quiet tones.

It was more than clear to Mariah before arriving that unless she planned to crawl her way out of the chamber, Ifrit would deem when they would leave. That was, if they were ever given that option. Upon the realization that they were alone, it was all left in Ifrit’s hands. At the very least, he knew her well enough to immediately seek some sense of a compromise -- not have to give the whole truth, but at least some sort of an explanation to this place she guided him into.

With a frustrated half-sigh half-growl, Mariah succumbed to her earlier decision, the one which prompted her to instruct him here to begin with.

“There are things no one else in the galaxy should know, but seeing as I'm the one who led you here... There are many of these chambers scattered throughout the galaxy,” she murmured in answer. “They were created by my ancestors to hide ancient artifacts... powerful relics of the Force... which were protected and guarded by my people for generations. Wars had been fought over them, including those among our own people... But we should have been the only ones who could...”

Mariah inhaled a deep breath as she deemed her answer sufficient, despite her trailing sentences. Ifrit was lucky enough to have received that much. He had made a powerful point to her earlier, though. She swore she would keep few secrets from him. It was the bartering tool for her lessons as she attempted to grow closer to that missing piece of her tribe and their magicks of the Force. However, those lessons would have a need to be put on hold. Mariah needed to find the one responsible for this and cut them from the realm of the living as quickly as possible. Without a lead, though, Mariah was forced to accept her own personal defeat after Ifrit’s victory. At least for now. Battles were always lost, no matter if you came out of the war a victor.

With another low-spoken yet sharp command, Mariah requested again, “If those are all the questions you have at this moment, take us back to the ship,” before her voice softened, if only to be replaced with the disgust of her loss. “I have no desire to linger here any longer.”

Mariah didn’t make a sound, even with Ifrit’s thanks for the little bit that she revealed. In a way, it was simply reinforcing that there were secrets she knew. It had been a piece of their agreement, after all. If he adequately trained her in the magical arts of the Force, eventually that which she knew would become his. Even when making such a pact, Mariah had been hesitant, but there were other ways she could have upheld her end of the bargain. This chamber, however, and those like it, delved much deeper than she had ever dreamed. From its desecration by an unknown bandit to the necessity of acknowledging its existence to an outsider -- this reality was her nightmare, in more ways she would verbalize.

In a way, she was thankful for Ifrit and his thought of burying this secret so that none other would find it. In another way, she cursed the work it would take to excavate it later down the line, when she could safely return the artifact to its resting place. For now, though, words remained without purpose. As Ifrit’s spell took flight, there was little now to stop it. It was what it was. Even as the earth trembled and the dust and small pebbles rained down from the ceiling, Mariah neither a move or sound. There were no thanks, nor was there a displeased reprimand. Just the purest silence she could offer, as though she had just laid another to rest.

Silence was something shared between the two as Ifrit made the trek back. He seemed to remember her earlier scolding, a thought that reflected a wicked smirk for the flicker of a second, there and gone before any could witness it. It was clear to see that something remained on Ifrit’s mind, though. As careful as he may have started the descent, the closer they reached the bottom, the more careless he seemed to become. Although not by much, Mariah still needed to steady the jostling; however, that came with a cost. She still made no sound, though, despite the scorching pain that shot through her body from her shattered bones. She had been trained to endure far worse. If anything, she reprimanded herself as the memories of her own voice, her cries, echoed in her head as Bara’duun tried to crush her.

Mariah was pulled from her own thoughts as Ifrit brought the two up the ramp and into the medbay. She had demanded it, after all. However, the reason she desired a quick escape was now pointless. Tending to this now, rather than later, was the smartest decision for her, now with a secret out and questions answered, no matter how minimally. As carefully as Ifrit had dropped her onto the table, Mariah moved carefully yet confidently, stretching herself back to lie herself flat. With her hands balled into fists, she brought her folded arms to rest above her head, nestled within the pool of crimson hair that puddled around her head. No matter what Ifrit needed to do, she seemed unmoving from her position, her expression revealing nothing out of the ordinary for the stoic warrior.

“If time is of the essence, then only do what you must to ensure I can fight another day. Don’t slow down for pointless measures…”

In other words, no matter what pain she would have to endure, she would rather endure it than waste any more precious seconds in ensuring a false and fleeting comfort. With a final exhale, the crimson-haired woman closed her eyes, and prepared for whatever final moments of this deafening pain she would need to handle. Time moved steadily onward, though, and this pain, like all others before it, would soon be a distant memory. At least, until the next battle.

Despite the rough shape that Mariah’s body seemed to be in after such a battle, as she lay there on the table, she appeared as though she felt none of the pain at all. Whether it was through sheer willpower or a trained mind to blind herself to the pain, it was uncertain. However, there wasn’t a muscle in the woman’s body that twitched or tensed from the pain, nor did she make a single groan within her steady, unlabored breaths. She had been through hell and back before. This was just another story to add to her scattered scars.

But why did she bother to put herself in this predicament? It was a thought that kept her mind busy, further allowing her to ignore the pain that coursed through her veins. She had been beaten, captured, tortured so many times in the past. This time, however, it was not by her own doing that brought about this fate. No, she had stood by her instructor's side in this mission, this goal that hardly included her in any fashion. Now, if he couldn’t heal her, Bara’duun would be the least of his worries. For all the times she had made a clear threat to end his life on a whim, she had yet to do so. All of those many times she pushed a blade against that protective spell of his, that’s all it was -- a threat.

Then again, if she ended his life…Mariah’s thoughts were snapped away as Ifrit pressed a syringe against her arm.

“I thought I told you…”

Her protest was cut short as he injected her, the painkillers calming and numbing icy burning that silently wreaked havoc over her body. It was only then that she groaned, huffing out a deep breath before she let her instructor get to work. For both their sakes.

His murmured chanting lulled her back into her thoughts, as though the magicks he worked weren’t just an incantation to mend her bones and muscles back together. As much as she had attempted to dismiss and refute the idea, it was as though she could hear the chanting of her father, her great-grandfather, and so many others in his spells. A taunting reminder to what was no more and what she had sought to accomplish after all these years. Their magicks.

Her magicks.

And that was why all she had with him were threats. She had proved her point many times that death was imminent to all who crossed her the wrong way. All, but one. All but one who was the closest she had to a bridge to all she had lost, and why she had put her life on the line to ensure his safety.

However, they still had work to do. With fluttering memories, the crimson-haired woman recounted even as a child the synchronicity she and her sister had achieved together. Her Spellweaver would have never allowed her Blade to fall to such circumstances as Mariah found herself in now. At the very least, though, her current Spellmaster could at least patch her back up. All she needed to do was ensure that she stayed alive for him to work.

With that final thought finding a resolution, Mariah’s consciousness drifted back into the present, where the clatter of Ifrit’s footfall backward snapped her crimson eyes open. Without bothering to stretch her legs, Mariah twisted her body around and hopped off the table, allowing Ifrit’s work to be truly tested. Although the woman stumbled at first by the freshly knit bones and muscles, she managed to gracefully keep herself upright.

With a thoughtful hum, Mariah shifted her weight from one hip to the other as she looked down over at herself as though staring at something brand new. Once she convinced herself to be adequately pleased with his workings on her legs, Mariah turned her attention to her charred arm, something only a dull aching with the painkillers still in effect. She didn’t appear bothered by it, though, and instead, arched an eyebrow as she looked up at her instructor. As though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just spent hours tending to her injuries, she spoke up and questioned him.

“So what do you plan to do now that your master is dead?”

Her tones were low and murmured, resonating with a familiar disinterest in the answer to come. In a way, it was completely expected of her. What wasn't expected was that she even bothered asking. Whether it was to divert attention from her arm, or the bigger picture of the empty tomb, it was easily assumed that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question. With the way she turned and hopped back up on the table, leaning forward to better look at Ifrit with an attentive, questioning, albeit judgment gaze, perhaps there wasn’t.

Mariah inhaled sharply in distaste as Ifrit edged himself closer to take her arm carefully within his grasp. The pain killers were strong enough to have numbed her once-shattered legs, an injury that would have left her unable to walk had it not been for interference. Because of it, there was a dizzying feel with the world around her, and her judgment wasn't as critical and precise as usual. Exhaling, Mariah's decision had been made for her. Closing her eyes, she had no other choice but to allow her instructor to work.

Even as he finished and began to speak, Mariah didn't move from her seemingly-lazy posture, with her head tilted down, crimson spilled over her shoulder to create a veil over her expression. The training. The ring. Nothing seemed to disturb her and her seemingly meditative state, at least, up until he mentioned the end of his time, at her hands or another. At that, the faintest exhale of a laugh seemed to reveal itself, a murmur of Mariah's dark amusement to such a claim.

"If you keep proving your usefulness, then you have nothing to worry about from me... for now."

It was an odd mix of wicked play and a serious threat, something that didn't reveal itself often. Whether it was the pain killers fault or some other explanation had yet to be revealed, though. Nonetheless, there was also a strange reassurance to it, Mariah verbalizing that she wouldn't bring him harm, at least if one could actually delve deep past her otherwise haunting reminder that she knew what she was capable of and was prepared to exercise that proof upon a moment's notice.

Opening her eyes, Mariah lifted her chin and turned her gaze over the fresh skin that had formed under the charred, dead shell that still remained. As Ifrit continued about the obvious -- the Sith and their inability to be trusted -- she went as far as pressing down against her arm with her left hand to ensure he completed the task. Deeming it sufficient, Mariah snatched her arm from the top without warning, and with a violent jerk, she tore away the blackened skin from her arm. A sickening sound of the crunching, flaking skin filled the brief silence. Mariah seemed unperturbed, however, and sighed as she simply tossed it to the side, now able to fully examine Ifrit's work. The scars that once littered her arm were gone, now left with only the faint remnants of her earlier injury.

It was only then that Mariah lifted her eyes to finally meet the blindfolded, green gaze that looked down upon her, and with that final question, she leaned back, placing her hands back to keep herself propped up on the medical bed.

“For starters,” she murmured, “you can start listening to me for once, especially if you have some scheme that’s going to end up affecting me and our training.”

With every movement she made, her head swirled more with the reminder of those damned pain killers. The momentary pain would be gone by now, but now she was left with that Force-awful swimming she couldn’t get rid of, and wouldn’t until they had passed, probably another few hours from now. It was a decision that he had made on her behalf, one that she despised him having done. Now that he mentioned some new plan in the works, she was in a rather interesting situation. If this plan affected her negatively at the very least, one wrong decision from him on her behalf would have to mean more than just that bladed threat against his protective spell. However, with a sigh, she closed her eyes and uttered her answer to his final question,

“In the meantime, we keep training. The Sith haven’t bothered us yet, and I’ll count it as a boon. We move forward with your new, secretive plan, and so long as I continue progressing under your lessons, I’ll stand by your side.”

The pain killers were definitely affecting her judgment. To hear Mariah speak those words aloud -- to stand by his side -- and with such confidence, was probably a first to hear for both of them. However, the Mariah he knew still lingered under there somewhere as she let a faint, malicious smile curl at her lips, offering something that was hardly a reassurance.

“...and if we get nowhere with my lessons throughout executing this scheme of yours, then at least you seem to already know that the Sith will be the least of your concerns.”

The more that Mariah mentioned her future training, the deeper a hole she dug for herself, she knew. Every new lesson seemed to carry on some sense of hurdles that needed to be leaped over -- or bashed through -- until she could understand the foundation of the spell or ability. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that if Ifrit wanted to teach her how to deal with such nuisances coursing through her bloodstream, it would be the same song and story. Perhaps welcome, in the long run, but Mariah hadn’t a need for such a trick. That was, until now. The mix of her attuned senses within the Force plus that added touch of empathy had helped her decipher who meant her harm, and thus the need to rid herself of any sort of toxins was irrelevant. Only now did it pose an issue, while under the instruction of someone who managed to dull those senses on the daily.

However, the mention that it was slightly her doing in planting that thought in his head, that she had a part in the scheme, it caused her arc an eyebrow at Ifrit questioningly. Like-minded in their beliefs. Many things separated the two, but the strongest bond that they shared was their distaste for the Sith and their dogma. An Order. Mariah exhaled a snarled sigh as she tilted her head up, casting the judgment meant for him up towards the medbay ceiling. Her immediate and open distaste may have been discouraging for some, but then again, Ifrit might have been used to it from her by now.

What he also might have been used to was her quick tongue to cut him down for mentioning such a thing, but that didn’t come. Instead, she seemed to stew on this scheme in her silence, allowing him to continue without interruption. It took a beat after Ifrit finished speaking before the crimson-haired woman finally lowered her gaze again. Now appearing more composed, she addressed him. Although her expression seemed calm, she wasn’t one to mince words, nor hide the ferocity and sharpness in her tones.

“And what do you think the Sith will do the moment we decide to go rogue? They’ll destroy us before we even start. For as many battles as I’ve faced, the last thing I’d want is to have it all end at the hands of one those kriffing pathetic excuse for mortals. Do you have a plan to pacify them and keep them pacified as this Order of yours grows? I could always take the same approach as the day we first met in Byllurun, but something tells me that the Sith’ari won’t be as kind as Ammon.”

Not to mention that Mariah knew she was hardly fit for such a role as starting up a brand new Order. At this point, though, even Mariah couldn’t deny how sweet it would be to finally be out from under the Sith’s umbrella, no matter the cost. She had sworn her allegiance as an ally, all in hopes to train with a Spellbinder. Only by the Force was she able to find someone among the Sith who hated them as much as she. The possibility to no longer have that Force-awful promise looming over her head was more than enticing. However, even she knew that they needed a plan, and a well-thought-out one, at that, before she would even humor this idea. It was a new scheme, though, and one that they had time to work out the kinks. With another frustrated sigh, Mariah quieted her concerns with the whole thing. For now.

“I said it once, I shouldn’t have to say it again. Just know that I can't save you from every stupid decision you decide to make. Facing down your old master was already pushing it.”

It was all she muttered as her final answer to his proposition, but she hoped it would be enough. So long as he would continue her training and it wouldn’t get her killed, she would stand by his side.

It seemed as though one of them had a bit more faith in pacifying the Sith, should this new scheme of Ifrit’s take flight. However, it became more than evident to Mariah that this man held her on some kind of pedestal, the way he would talk of Viox versus the way he would address her. Although she knew her skills, she wasn’t about to underestimate the foe they were about to put themselves up against. While she believed that she could hold herself one-on-one against even the Sith’ari himself, that wasn’t her concern. It was the tens of hundreds of thousands that she would have to face. Ifrit seemed to forget the fact that she, too, was mortal.

What more, there was that lingering thought in the back of her head. Someone had found it, that artifact. Who? How? The worst-case scenario was that the Sith had somehow managed to find it. At least in this scenario, though, they would have no idea as to how to truly unlock its truest power and potential. Not without her, at least. Nonetheless, she wasn’t about to take her chances now at a war with them. Not until she could confirm that they still had no knowledge of its existence.

However, as Ifrit continued on with his plan, Mariah locked her jaw. The first stupid decision he could make, and the Order wasn’t even created yet by any means.

“There’s a reason I’m capable of operating on my own,” she shot back, her crimson eyes flashing upwards at him with a sudden sharp judgment. “I only have myself to worry about.”

She was more than aware of the issues that would come up from such a decision, and what it all boiled down to, Mariah had no desire to take charge of such a group. She had run into all too many situations on Nar Shaddaa. In one way, she had been feared and revered, perhaps all that was needed to rule, but there was a catch. She was an enigma, a shadow that no one seemed to truly know. She had preferred it that way. Scurrying throughout the slums and criminal undergrounds, it made for a perfect way to operate. To survive. To issue her to aid in creating an order that functioned for the whole of many, it was less than advisable.

Still, there was a small thought in the back of her head, one which held her tongue from expressing her outrage. With a snarled sigh, Mariah pushed forward. There was still plenty of time to build and reevaluate later. No matter what, though, if Ifrit found a way to placate the Sith, then the idea of breaking free from them far outweighed his stupidity. For now, they had accomplished their goal here, and she could agree that it was wiser to head back to Sullust than linger another moment.

“Sounds like a plan,” she murmured as she hopped off the medbay bed again, landing much more gracefully than she had the time before. “If it’s something you believe is useful, I’ll accept your guidance. I’ll ensure I practice the healing and concealment spells in my free time.”

Without turning back to see if Ifrit would follow, Mariah departed from the medbay to the cockpit. However, still within earshot, she tuned in her comlink and issued the command on her own accord.

Tasradan, we’re finished. Set coordinates to Sullust and prepare for hyperspace. We’re heading back.