Chapter 9: The Illusion of Choice

Salara had only been asleep for a few minutes before she was woken by a gentle shaking. As the sylvari slowly regained consciousness, she blinked again and again until her sleep-induced blurry vision cleared. She saw Seren bent over her, her brow heavily furrowed with concern. Most of the young woman’s earthen-brown hair had pulled out from her leather tie and now hung in a mess around her face. A substantial bruise had already begun to purple along her left cheek where she had taken a strike from one of the Byrnes’ mercenaries as they were taken prisoner.

“I think the guards are comin’ back again,” Seren warned her. Returning her attention to the doorway, she settled down on her haunches, ready to strike if the occasion called for it.

After freeing Nienna during the battle in Lion’s Arch, Seren and Salara had been taken on board the Byrnes’ airship as prisoners. Despite their efforts to make a stand against their captors, they were outnumbered and quickly overcome. They were then bound and dragged down below to a small room in the bowels of the airship where they were to wait out the journey. Left alone with only the sounds of the airship engine and the occasional thudding from a room next to them, Salara silently huddled up with her knees to her chest in the dark while Seren busied herself feeling along the walls for a way out. However, her efforts were in vain. Without a light source, she couldn’t see anything, and even if she did manage to break them out, they were in a vessel high above the ground. Where would they go? There was no safe way down to the ground, and they couldn’t take the airship themselves. Seren resigned herself to waiting out the journey and sat back down next to Salara offering words of comfort and reassurance.

The journey itself had not been a smooth one. The damage sustained during the battle at their home in Lion’s Arch had taken its toll on the airship. The engine shuddered on and off most of the voyage, shaking the entire vessel. Salara immediately went into a panic each time she felt the ominous vibrations, and Seren comforted her as best she could while doing her best to contain her own fear. Their stomachs lurched as the ship dipped and started to quickly lose altitude. It felt like they were crashing, and the two braced themselves for an impact that thankfully never came.

As the airship abruptly made its landing, the two of them were tossed against the adjacent wall and then back down to the floor like a pair of ragdolls. Once everything had stopped moving and the airship engine had been turned off, voices rose up from outside the door, followed by a sudden rush of activity. Seren and Salara scrambled to their feet and strained to listen for any specific chatter but couldn’t decipher anything amongst all the noise. Moments later, the door swung open and a pair of armed mercenaries came to retrieve Seren and Salara. The girls were roughly escorted down the gangplank and out into a snow-covered Priory camp.

The brisk mountain winds swirled a stinging mix of snow and ice all around them. Seren shivered, but Salara didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold too much. A group of mercenaries piled bodies shrouded in Priory robes and travelling clothes off to the side as they crossed the camp’s courtyard. Seren seethed quietly to herself as they were ushered off into a small tent in the back of the camp and chained to an anchored post along the back panel. One way or another, the Byrnes and their thugs would get theirs. She would make sure of it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep again. I’m just so tired, and it was so cold last night. I barely slept with all the shivering. I don’t mind a little cold, but I do have a limit.” She looked up at Seren from where she had slumped over on the floor with one of the blankets they were given, her crystalline eyes half open and pleading for rest. As she shimmied herself up against the canvas wall into an upright position, her chains caught around her foot. She pulled and thrashed, but made no progress while in her tired state until Seren stepped in to help. Salara thanked her, yawned, and leaned her head back against the woven material.

Seren watched the doorway of their little room meant to serve as a temporary cell. It had originally been filled with cleaning and repair supplies, but the mercenaries removed all the items, piling them in the courtyard, before chaining both of them inside. She stiffened as she spied two darkly-clad mercenaries approaching the doorway, but they did not enter. Instead, they remained outside with the other posted guard, exchanging a few quiet words before taking their positions on either side of the tent’s opening. “You don’t want to be asleep when your captors are coming for you, if you can help it. It’s best to be alert and aware. You never know when you’ll be presented with an opportunity to escape.”

“I’m sorry,” Salara said as she yawned. “I’ll try to stay awake better this time. I’m supposed to be looking after you anyway. Can’t do that while I’m asleep, I suppose.”

Seren’s visage softened. “It’s okay,” she replied. “I forget sometimes you’re not a soldier too.”

The sylvari chuckled to herself. “No, definitely not a soldier. Just a scholar trying to keep her promises to an old friend and to fulfill my Wyld Hunt.”

“Was I your Wyld Hunt?” Seren asked. It was a simple question, but she hoped keeping Salara talking would help keep her awake.

As she shifted where she sat, Salara looked down at her shackles and frowned. They had been specially forged with Inquest technology to significantly reduce the effectiveness of her abilities. She opened her hands, willing life into them. All she could manage was a spark that fizzled out as quickly as it appeared. She closed her fists and rest them on her lap.

“No, you were a promise I made to Rhys some time ago and was lucky enough to find the hidden trail left behind to find. But my Wyld Hunt—that a different story. I never told you about it?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“The Dream of Dreams shows us what we need to see, and not every sylvari is given a Wyld Hunt. It is our life’s quest. Before I was born, it showed me such strange things…” her voice trailed off as she recalled the details of her dream. “My pod opened into a world of fire, but nothing burned to ash. It was so beautiful. I looked up to find a figure standing over me—one of endless darkness. They had stars for eyes, and in their chest was a heart, cut open and bleeding red. Besides the stars, it was the only contrast to the darkness.”

“Sounds a bit creepy.”

Salara nodded. “I thought I would be scared, but I wasn’t. Somehow, I knew they meant me no harm. They reached out to me, took my hand, and pulled me from my pod. By the Pale Tree, how the world burned around us. It was so bright. Hues of red, orange, and yellow—like a living sunset. The strange figure lamented the loss of their light, and immediately I felt the call to help. I awoke from my pod just after. I still don’t know who they are and what exactly I need to help them find. I’m hoping one day, I’ll figure it out.”

Seren reached over and patted the sylvari’s caledon-barked arm. “As soon as we get out of here, you’ll get the chance. I promise.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“I know so.”

Salara was quiet for a moment as she looked down at her shackled hands again. “If we can’t get out ourselves, do you think the others will come for us?”

Seren bowed her head. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought much about the others since they had been taken. She couldn’t rely solely on being rescued. But she did think about Nienna and the connection they shared. It amazed her that a few pieces of parchment could change everything. According to the documents, the Quinns were not really her family, her brother was not really her brother, and her name was not her own. The information Salara had found said she was a Valar, though she wasn’t sure she felt like one.

“It won’t matter if they are coming for you,” Lady Eira Byrne said as she stepped into the small room. Her long, dark-purple coat dragged along the tent’s floor behind her as she slowly strode toward the girls. The two mercenaries from earlier followed her inside and remained by the doorway with their rifles trained on the prisoners. “They can run as fast as they can, but we will be underway again very soon.”

Seren glared at the noble woman as she rose to her feet. Her restraints snapped taunt as she tried to raise her arms above her waist. “What do you want with us?”

The noble woman clasped her hands together. “You two were an unexpected acquisition, I confess, but a beneficial one nonetheless. For the time being, you’re our guests. As long as you remain quiet and don’t cause trouble, you’ll be taken care of,” she replied, scrunching her petite nose at their battle-worn appearance.

Salara raised her shackled wrists up from where she sat. “You have a strange way of taking care of your guests.”

“Considering the damage you caused some of our crew,” she began, eying Salara with murderous intent, “we had to take precautions. You nearly burned poor Malachai’s hand off.”

“They intended us harm!” Salara argued.

Lady Eira clenched her hands so tight, her knuckles turned white. “They intended to simply take you prisoner, but you two struck first,” she shot back. Her cheeks reddened as she narrowed her eyes at them. “They had no choice but to use force.”

“And what about you?” Seren posed as she stared down the noble woman. She refused to show this woman any fear. She refused to give her the satisfaction. “Did you have no choice but to attack us?”

Lady Eira slowly wandered in a wide arc around Seren and Salara, studying them both closely. Although she managed to mask her outward appearance fairly well, being under such intense scrutiny made Seren severely uncomfortable, and as she glanced over where Salara sat, she could see she was feeling the same.

“Choice is a myth.”

Seren scoffed. “Please, enlighten us on how you came to this conclusion.”

The noble woman cocked her head slightly as she uttered an amused sound. Victim to gravity, her crown of golden curls toppled over toward the lower side. “Does a person really have a choice to protect their family from harm? Do they have a choice to right the wrongs of the world when the means are within their grasp?”

“Of course, we do.” It was Salara who spoke up this time. She awkwardly got to her feet without the help of her free hands. “We always have a choice in what we do. It’s what sets us apart from the beasts and the monsters.”

“Beasts and monsters,” Lady Eira echoed. “Is that what you think of us for wanting to protect our family? Our son lay near death because our government’s treaty with the charr leave us open and vulnerable. Those beasts took the opportunity and cut down his entire travelling group. And what of the four-legged savages galloping freely in Kryta while the Queen’s meager attempt to quell the situation has failed. If a person has the means, then that person has a duty to their family and their people to do whatever it takes to do the right thing and keep them all safe.” She stepped toward Seren until she was just out of the young guardian’s reach. “Tell me, if one of your people were in danger or dying, wouldn’t you do whatever it took to protect them, without consulting the illusion of choice?”

Lady Eira reached into the folds of her skirt, producing a long, slender blade. With one swift movement, she thrust the point toward a wide-eyed Salara, but Seren threw herself between the sylvari and the weapon. The point sunk into the woven material of her tunic and into her shoulder about an inch, eliciting a cry from both girls.

“Do you see? You’ve made my point,” Lady Eira said matter-of-factly as she pulled the blade out. She looked down at the pair with satisfaction. “Choice has no part in what we do. It is a myth perpetuated by scholars and philosophers who have lost contact with the real world and how it really works. When it comes down to it, we do what we do because there is no other alternative.”

A tall, hooded figure strode into the tent through the doorway, dressed similarly to the other mercenaries, aside from a leather bandolier crossing their chest. A dozen small blades were secured long the material, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. Seren recognized this figure from the bow of the ship where she and Salara had made their last stand. The hooded mercenary had remained in the background barking orders to the others the entire time.

“My lady, the airship is almost ready to fly again. The crew worked overnight, and they’re pretty confident she’ll fly without any issues,” they announced. The higher pitch of their voice surprised Seren. She had assumed the figure was a male, but when they removed their hood, revealing petite features and long, auburn hair twisted back into a braid, it invalidated her initial suspicions.

“I need more than just pretty confident,” Lady Eira replied.

The mercenary commander stiffened and cleared her throat. “She’ll fly, you have my word.”

“Ah, good.” Lady Eira turned her attention back to Seren and Salara. “I believe you two have already met Commander Morrow.” She gestured toward the stern-looking woman. “When can we start boarding?”

“The engineers say by the end of the day,” Commander Morrow replied. “We’ve already gathered any supplies we found here and prepared them for loading.”

Lady Eira nodded. “Thank you. That will be all.”

The mercenary commander nodded and took her leave.

“You’ll forgive me for taking my leave as well. There’s much to do before we depart.” She glanced down at Seren’s shoulder. “I’ll send someone to patch that up shortly.”

Without another word, the noble woman exited the room, leaving Seren with her wound and Salara frightened at her side. Seren reached up as best she could despite being shackled and touched the bleeding puncture as she inspected it. The area welled up with searing pain upon contact, and the young guardian winced and pulled her hand away. It wasn’t too deep and had avoided damaging anything serious. The bad news was it was going to slow her down for any plans to escape in their near future.

“What a horrible woman,” Salara commented as she examined Seren’s shoulder. “Lecturing us on the existence of choice. Of course, choice exists. It’s her ignorance that blinds her to the truth.”

Seren sat quietly mulling over what Lady Eira had said. As soon as she saw that blade thrust at Salara, all reason and thought went out the window, and she did what she felt was right: throwing herself between Salara and danger, even if it cost Seren her life. Lady Eira had made her point. Choice didn’t even come into play.

Voices rose up from outside, pulling Seren from her thoughts, and the two tried to see what was going on outside, but the guards still stationed outside the doorway blocked most of the view.

“What do you think is going on out there?” Salara asked.

Seren shook her head. “I’m not sure. Sounds like someone’s shouting orders maybe,” she suggested while straining against her shackles to get a better view out the doorway. Dark flashes flew past the doorway as they made their way into the small camp’s courtyard. Voices barked orders, and amongst the cacophony, rose a mighty inhuman roar.

“Is that—it IS! It’s Clarkus! I know that roar anywhere!” Salara brightened up as she got to her feet. “Have the others come for us?”

An object the size of a human body collided with the front wall of the tent, startling both of them and causing the whole structure to shake. Seren looked behind her at the anchor post their chains were attached to. She pulled on her chain and discovered the post now moving, shaking the back panels of their tent.

“Look,” she said to Salara as she motioned to the post. She pulled her chain and made it move again.   

The sylvari’s eyes went wide as she murmured, “an opportunity to escape.”