Chapter 1: Part 9 - Fools of All of Us

The ways of mesmers had always been a mystery to Jean. It wasn’t just that Marissa was his older sister, and forever as distant as only an older sister could be. He simply didn’t understand the way she saw the world, its currents and its connections.

He’d be the first to admit how useful her magic could be, though. If anyone was going to save the Valparis from dropping out of the competition in its earliest stages, it would be Marissa.

“I’ll track her,” Marissa had announced, after they’d cut the Nth Degree loose, leaving them to scavenge the remains of their golems from the mud. “We’re going to get one of those keys, one way or another.”

Jean didn’t need to ask who Marissa was referring to. There was only one person, in the entirety of Yinn’s game, who it could be.

“You can do that?” he asked hesitantly, as they turned south, back towards Rata Sum.

Marissa turned her imperious gaze on him. “What makes you think I can’t?”

Jean threw up his hands. “I’m not questioning your ability. It’s just…”

Just that Jean found himself wondering if tracking was an ability Marissa had always possessed. Two years ago, Vasha had seemed to vanish off the face of Tyria; would Marissa have been able to find her, then? Would he have been able to swallow his pride long enough to ask?

“It takes prolonged contact,” Marissa said, with a sniff, “but yes, I believe I’ve spent enough time in her vicinity to be able to find her.”

“Her?” Jean’s frustration bubbled to the surface once again. “Vasha. Her name is Vasha.”

“Is it?” Marissa said. “I recall her being called something quite different.”

Jean kept his mouth closed. Any more of this conversation and he was going to say something he regretted.

Marissa would only perform her tracking spell alone, without watchful eyes. Every hour, she’d withdraw from the rest of the family, and return from her seclusion – under a tree, beside a stream, in the shadows of an asura outpost – with more directions to share. By the time the Valparis reached Rata Sum, Vasha was already somewhere in Kryta – according to Marissa, anyway. Jean wasn’t sure whether he believed her; he also wasn’t sure he had any choice.

They passed through Rata Sum, then the nighttime bustle of Lion’s Arch. By the time they’d had a few hours of sleep in the city, dawn had arrived – and Marissa had news.

“We need to go north,” she said. “She’s in Harathi Hinterlands, moving more slowly now. We’re getting close.”

“Why the Hinterlands?” Auri asked. “There’s nothing out there.”

“There’s nothing in the jungles of Metrica Province but insects and asura,” Marissa replied. “That didn’t matter to Yinn.”

Jean winced, but didn’t argue. One of these days, Marissa was going to make a pronouncement like that when there was someone more easily offended – and more dangerous – than him around to hear.

It was noon by the time they reached Harathi Hinterlands. Oska scouted ahead, disappearing into the shadows of the mountain pass like nothing more than a breath of wind. He reappeared only minutes later, so suddenly that Jean jumped.

“There’s nothing,” he announced. “Nothing but footprints, anyway. Charr, norn, human. Several humans, in fact.”

Marissa’s look of jubilation faded. Several humans? That meant someone had beaten them here.

They hurried through the pass, then across the rolling grasslands on the other side. Marissa’s magic wasn’t needed any longer – the trail through the long grass was so clear that even Jean could see it. Whoever had passed this way hadn’t troubled to hide themselves.

They’d reached the fringes of a sunlight-dappled woodland when Oska flung out a hand, bringing them all to a stop. “Can you hear that?”

Jean tilted his head to the wind, and for a moment could hear nothing more than the whisper of tree branches overhead. Except– Was that the barking of a dog? No, not a dog – a wolf.

He only realised he’d started forwards when Marissa grabbed him by the arm. “Where are you going?”

“The Marauders must be fighting someone,” Jean began, but his words trailed away at the look on Marissa’s face.

“So what if they are? What makes you think we would intervene?” Marissa released his arm, turning her gaze towards the fighting. Now that Jean looked more closely, he could see shadows flitting between the trees, though he couldn’t be sure if any of them were Vasha. “The Marauders have made it quite clear they see us as their enemy. I don’t see any reason for us to feel differently.”

“What about Vasha?” Jean pressed. He knew it was hopeless, arguing with Marissa, and equally knew that he had to try. “She might be in trouble.”

“Then her team will have to save her. That’s what they’re for, isn’t it?”

Jean fell silent. Marissa was right, but her refusal still stung. If it had been any other team, he was sure he could have persuaded her to get closer, perhaps even to choose a side. Not the Marauders, though, and that wasn’t just because they were ‘enemies’. Jean was certain Marissa was punishing him for not divulging Vasha’s identity sooner. She hated to be surprised, almost as much as she hated being made a fool of.

But they were both like that, weren’t they? Arrogant, headstrong, uncaring of the feelings of others – or Vasha would have said so, anyway.

“There’s another trail here.” Oska’s voice interrupted them. He was crouched in the grass, running his fingers across a handful of broken stems. “It’s a lot fainter, but someone went west from here. Might be worth investigating.”

For the first time, Jean saw Marissa hesitate. Before he could persuade her to go after Vasha instead, though, she strode to Oska’s side. “Could it be another team?”

Oska shrugged. He had a dagger in one hand, and was idling twirling it over his fingers, as he often did when thinking. “It’s recent. Whoever went that way was only an hour or two ahead of us.”

Too long for another team to have witnessed the Marauders fighting and decided to go another way, but that didn’t mean much. Jean had a feeling they were all groping around in the dark. Maybe Yinn was making fools of all of them.

“We’ll follow it,” Marissa said decisively. She gestured towards the woods, where the sounds of battle had grown fainter. “That’s hardly our style.”

Jean couldn’t really disagree. For all Auri’s raw firepower, the Valparis were more inclined to subtlety than all-out warfare.

He glanced back only once as Oska led the way west. If the fight in the woods continued, he could see no sign of it. He thought, just briefly, he felt the ground shake, but then the sensation was gone.

The trail they were following curved sharply away from the woods, climbing a long slope to pass through the rocky hills to the west. At the summit, Oska came to a stop. It was so silent amongst the rocks and scrub, they could have been the only four in the world.

“Well?” Marissa demanded, breaking the stillness.

Oska crouched. “There are two pairs of footprints up here. One asura, one norn. They go west, and then…”

He trailed off, and they all looked down into the valley at the foot of the hills. It was shadowed and barren, scattered with bits of broken wall. If anyone had gone that way, there was no sign of them now.

“Did anyone see a team with an asura and a norn in it?” Marissa asked, but everyone just shook their head. If he was honest, Jean hadn’t paid much attention to anyone but Vasha, back in Rata Sum. Given how she’d reacted to seeing him again, he was starting to wish he’d been a bit less blinkered.

“What now?” Auri asked.”Those are the Ruins of Holy Demetra.”

“This place is cursed,” Marissa murmured, her gaze distant. Jean watched her uncomfortably. There were rumours within the family, the kind that weren’t discussed in polite company – rumours that the Valparis had once been ‘associated’ with the White Mantle, as their mother put it, usually when she’d had a few drinks. The family had spent a long time disassociating themselves from that history, though. Jean didn’t think any of them wanted to revisit it now.

Abruptly, Marissa shook herself. “If another team went into those ruins, they’ll have to come out again. We’ll wait.”

“Do you think they have a key, whoever’s down there?” Jean asked, keen not to think about the ruins themselves.

“I’m certain of it,” Marissa said briskly. “It’s too late to catch them, but perhaps we can see what they return with. It may give us our next clue.”

Jean didn’t need to be a mesmer to read Marissa’s mind. She didn’t care who’d entered the ruins, and she didn’t care what they found, even if it helped them win the game – as long as they weren’t the Marauders.