Chapter 1: Part 6 - Little Brother

Jean had never been in a war, and he hoped he never would be, if this was what the aftermath of a single skirmish looked like. The ground around him was churned into black mud, pieces of twisted golem smoking in the pits and hollows, and to his left, there was even a splatter of blood.

He didn’t know who the latter belonged to; perhaps one of the norn Marauders’ pets. His own family, at least, were in relatively good shape, and none of the captured asura were visibly bleeding. Even so, looking at the dark smear on the ground made him feel queasy. This was supposed to be a game, but you wouldn’t know it here. Someone could have been killed.

Oska appeared at his side. The thief wasn’t the emotional type – it was always hard to tell what the twins were thinking – but even he looked unsettled. “Marissa wants your help to question the asura,” he said.

Jean looked up. Marissa had arranged the bound asura in a line a short distance away, where they looked hunched and sullen. “She’s the mesmer. What does she need me for?”

Oska shrugged, but Jean thought he already knew. Marissa might be able to get inside their heads, but she also had a temper. If she lost it when she was trying to question them…

Jean picked his way through the mud, glad to be finally out of it. It had been Marissa’s idea for him to survey the battlefield, to see if anything interesting had been dropped, but she seemed to have lost interest in his findings; in fact, Jean had the feeling the task had been intended as a punishment.

When he reached the line of prisoners, Auri was tying a bandage round one of the asura’s arms. She looked serene, but the sight made Jean shiver. Oska was unpredictable, but there were times when Auri actually scared him, even if he couldn’t have said why. Maybe it was that she could be tending wounds one minute and snapping necks the next, and she never seemed to see the contradiction between the two.

Or maybe that was just a Valpari problem.

Marissa looked regal, even spattered in mud. She folded her arms, surveying the row of asura – but she spoke to Jean. “Which one do you think was in charge?”

“Why don’t you ask them?” When Marissa didn’t reply, Jean sighed, and turned to the asura himself. That was what she wanted him for: to be the one to sully his tongue by talking to commoners. “You’re the Nth Degree, is that right? Which one of you was the leader?”

One of the asura grumbled something, then spat in the dirt. “This is a violation of our rights,” he said finally, glaring up at Jean. “You’re contravening at least three game rules by–”

“This game doesn’t have any rules,” Marissa said, deigning to speak to them. “Or had you forgotten that?”

The asura went quiet. Jean sighed again. “She’s right, unfortunately for you. Yinn didn’t set any rules. Just answer our questions and we’ll let you go.”

Marissa shot him a look, as if to question that. Jean ignored her. They’d have to let the asura go, surely. What else could they do with them?

“The Marauders stole something from one of you,” Jean said. He’d seen Vasha’s audacious theft during the fight, and been so distracted by it, he’d almost been knocked off his feet by a golem. He’d never seen her fight, and never realised she was capable of such strength, such grace, or such courage. As if he needed any more reasons to admire her. “What did they take, and where were they going?”

The asura who’d spoken kept glaring at him, until another of them elbowed him in the ribs. He sniffed, then said, “I want a contract categorically stating you’ll release us once I’ve told you what we know.”

“You won’t need a contract,” Jean said, as Marissa shifted in irritation beside him. “We’ll keep our word.”

He would, anyway, and he’d do his damned best to make sure Marissa did, too.

“They took two pieces of key off us,” the asura said, then snorted at the look of surprise Jean had been trying to hide. “You did know they were part of a key, didn’t you? Six pieces, to make one finished article. If the Marauders completed their personal clue at the start of the game, they’ll have at least three of the six.”

Vasha had mentioned retrieving a communications device from the body of a drake; presumably, a piece of the key had been attached, as it had to the device Jean had taken from the spider’s nest. “Half a key isn’t going to get them very far,” he said.

“Our two pieces didn’t fit together,” the asura went on, “but there was an engraved map on the back of them. It looked like somewhere north of Lion’s Arch.”

Marissa abruptly stepped forwards, bending to grab the asura’s chin with her fingers. “You’d better not be lying to us. If you are…”

Magic sparked in her other hand, purple and gleaming. The asura’s eyes fixed on it, and Jean could see the fear there, mingled with defiance. The asura wanted to resist, but Marissa had been right – there weren’t any rules to this game. Yinn hadn’t promised they’d all escape with their lives.

Jean moved closer, firmly taking Marissa’s arm and pulling her away. She let him, which was a relief. Jean was perfectly aware of which of them would win in a fight.

The asura shuffled on the ground, but there wasn’t really a way to look dignified with your hands tied behind your back. “The Nth Degree are an honourable and trustworthy krewe, and… And we know when we’re beaten. It was a map of Kryta. We didn’t want to be the first ones there, in case no other teams had the brains to follow us. Without a chance to retrieve more pieces of the key, those Marauders might have already lost.”

Except they hadn’t, Jean was sure. Maybe Vasha was taking a risk, but it would be a calculated one. Other teams would make it to Kryta, if they hadn’t already, giving the Marauders a chance to complete their key. They’d just got a head-start at working out the next clue.

Marissa waved imperiously, beckoning Oska over from where he’d been crouched in the grass; it was clear she’d had enough of the Nth Degree. “Point them in the direction of Rata Sum and let them loose,” she ordered. “And make sure they don’t come back.”

Oska looked distinctly bored at what he clearly saw as a menial task, but he didn’t argue. He began chivvying the asura to their feet, then with Auri in tow, led them away towards the south.

Jean watched them go. That was the sort of job Marissa usually gave him, not the twins – except when he turned back to her, he realised why he was still there.

Marissa’s face had the pale, mask-like look she only got when she was furious. “So,” she said softly, “tell me about the girl.”

Ah. “Vasha,” Jean said firmly, emphasising the name, “is here of her own accord. It was a complete surprise to me when I heard her on that device. I had no idea she was taking part.”

“And would you have told me if you had?”

Jean hesitated, and knew he’d given himself away by doing so. Perhaps it was time for honesty. “Truthfully? No. This hunt was open to anyone, and it’s none of your business what Vasha does with her time. The fact that she’s here is pure coincidence.”

“I don’t care why she’s here, Jean.” Marissa’s nostrils flared. “I don’t care if it’s coincidence, or the Eternal Alchemy, or it was decreed by Lyssa herself. I only want to know what you’re going to do about it.”

Jean’s mind went blank. “Do?”

“Yes! You’ve never been able to think clearly where that girl is concerned. If she’s going to impair your judgement, she needs to be removed from the game as quickly as possible.”

That was rich, coming from Marissa, who’d hated Vasha from the moment they’d met. He wasn’t the only one who couldn’t view her with detachment. Marissa hated being reminded of her own faults, though, so it was safer not to bring that up. “Vasha being here doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I’m here as a Valpari, and I’m here to win.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes at him. “That had better be the case. If I have the slightest inclination that you’re treating her team favourably–”

“What?” Jean stepped forwards, his own anger flaring. “You’ll cut them down? You’ll kill them? Or maybe you’ll kill me. Given what a debacle that last fight was, I’d like to see you try.”

Marissa’s chin tilted up a fraction, and he saw the triumphant look in her eyes. “That’s more like it, little brother. It’s about time something put more fire in your belly. Hold onto that anger, even if you direct it at me. It’s what’s going to make sure we win.”

Jean stalked away before he could say anything he regretted. He came to a halt on the edge of the battlefield, looking out at the shattered golems again. He hated that Marissa could goad him so easily, but she was right: if they were going to win this, they had to really want it.

And Vasha? Jean’s insides twisted when he thought of her, but he couldn’t let that interfere. She’d made the decision to walk away from him a long time ago, and it was clear she hadn’t looked back. No matter how much it hurt, he wouldn’t either.