Chapter 1: Part 10 - Grave-Robbing

The Ruins of Holy Demetra didn’t mean much to the Marauders. From the moment Gull had extracted the name from one of the captured necromancers, though, Vasha had felt her skin crawl. Some of that was anticipation, and some, she had to admit, might be fear. There were plentiful stories about the supposed resting place of Saul D’Alessio, none of them pleasant. To think that she might have to enter the place herself…

This was human history, though, not norn and not even charr. Roan, Gull and Haki were more concerned with how to approach the ruins, and whether Yelazar the Carver might make another appearance. Vasha was less anxious on that score.

“The rest of his team were expendable to him,” she said, as they wound their way through the Hinterlands. “He won’t come back for them.”

They’d left the necromancers tied to trees in Wynchona Woods. None of them were badly injured, but nor were they likely to cause any trouble in the near future. Yelazar, if he made another appearance, would have to do so alone. Vasha had a feeling Roan had genuinely scared the Carver, though. She didn’t think he’d make any attempt to come after them – for now.

Which left the Marauders with a completed key – along with the name of the ruins, the necromancers had eventually coughed up the last three pieces – and no obvious competition. Vasha wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of grave-robbing, but there wasn’t any point arguing. The necromancers had read their pieces of the map correctly: that was where Yinn’s game was leading them. Vasha supposed White Mantle history didn’t mean much to asura, either.

They approached the ruins from the north-east, pausing just long enough for the norn to study the terrain ahead. “Looks straightforward enough,” Haki said, glancing at Gull and shrugging. For once, even the siblings weren’t in the mood for argument. “A few ghosts, a few skelk. Nothing we can’t handle.”

That was good enough for Roan. “Then what are we waiting for?”

The charr went first, the two norn following and Vasha in her usual position, trailing along behind. The path led down into a gloomy valley, high cliffs rising on either side, and broken walls dotting the landscape. Cool mist trickled over Vasha’s skin, and her palms felt sticky around the handles of her pistols. There was nothing to worry about, she kept telling herself – Haki and Gull had been sure of it. There was nothing down here that could hurt them–

The skelk launched itself from the shadows with a screech like shattering glass. Vasha yelped, swinging her pistols round to fire on the creature. Her shots went wide, and it was Roan’s mace that brought the skelk down, with a single, concussive blow.

Silence fell again. Even the norn looked a little jumpy now, but Roan just glared at them. “Pull yourselves together. We’ve got work to do.”

The valley narrowed, the path diving under a high arch that must once have held a mighty door. Vasha shuddered as water dripped from its stones, right down the back of her neck. On the other side, there was only more of the same: a couple of skelk that threw themselves futilely at Roan, and a trail littered with debris.

The path turned to the right, climbing up a steep slope until it became a flight of stairs. And at the top…

“Looks like catacombs,” Gull said, idly scratching the back of Cirrus’s neck.

Vasha studied Gull’s face, then Haki’s, and finally Roan’s. All looked utterly unconcerned. “What about the ghosts?” she sputtered, incredulous.

Roan swung his mace as though it was as light as a toothpick. “Ghosts go down as easily as anything else,” he said, his one eye blinking slowly. “Trust me on that.”

Roan was soon proved right. Vasha followed the rest of the Marauders up the hill, watching them disperse the restless spirits like nothing more than dust being blown aside. The only pause as they entered the catacombs was for Gull to light a torch, the darkness causing them far more difficulties than the ghosts.

“I’ve been here before,” Gull said conversationally, swinging the torch around.

Vasha stared at her. “You didn’t say that before.”

Gull shrugged. “No point. Whatever we’re looking for wouldn’t have been there then.”

Wondering if there was anywhere in Tyria the ranger hadn’t been, Vasha edged closer to the circle of torchlight. “What did you find in here the first time?”

“Ghosts, rubble, an old shrine.” Gull shrugged again. “And an empty tomb.”

Vasha shuddered. She didn’t want to think about that. “Let’s try the shrine.”

When no-one argued, Gull led the way.

They wound their way through the crumbling building, dispatching a few more ghosts as casually as before. Gull turned abruptly to the right, up another flight of stairs, and then…

A room opened before them, and Vasha’s breath caught. There were no ghosts here, and the space was flooded with sunlight, slanting through high windows. A handful of candles burnt at the foot of a timeworn statue, its features so smooth it was almost impossible to work out who it depicted. You couldn’t mistake the aura of the place, though, peaceful and serene. The statue had to be Dwayna.

“Any more clues?” Roan asked, close enough to Vasha’s shoulder that she jumped. She fumbled in her pack, pulling out the newly assembled key. It was hexagonal, with the engraved map on one side. Aside from a tiny cross marking the Ruins of Holy Demetra, there was nothing further to read from it.

“It must fit somewhere,” she said. “Somewhere in here, or…”

That was a thought she didn’t want to finish. The map definitely led to these ruins. If the key didn’t open anything in this shrine, there was every chance they’d have to search Saul D’Alessio’s empty tomb. Vasha couldn’t imagine anything more likely to ensure they were all haunted for the rest of their lives.

She edged closer to the worn statue, crouching down in front of the candles. Someone had been in here, and recently – the wax was barely softened and the wicks on the candles freshly trimmed. It was reassuring that, even in a place like this, there were those who still had faith.

And there was something else. Most of the statue was on the verge of collapse, cracks spreading through the stone. There was a newer section in the base, though, almost invisible save for where the candlelight illuminated the join between the old and new pieces. Perhaps she’d been wrong, Vasha realised. Perhaps the candles weren’t an act of devotion, but in fact the final clue.

“Here,” she said, suddenly knowing she was right. “Look.”

The Marauders usually hid their eagerness, but for once they crowded round. Vasha reached across the candles, touching the newer stone with a finger. It snapped open, revealing a hexagonal indentation in the statue’s base. Vasha’s heart leapt into her throat, her pulse a wild thunder. This was it.

Even as she pressed the key into place, though, Vasha realised what was wrong. The candles had already been lit. Someone had already been here, perhaps only minutes before. And the hidden compartment at the foot of the statue, when it popped open, was empty.

Horror seized Vasha, making it difficult to breathe. How was this possible? They’d been the first team to arrive in Harathi Hinterlands. No-one had gone ahead of them, not even Yelazar – they’d made sure of that. Had Yinn been tricking them all this time – or had she read the map completely wrong?

Silence fell across the Marauders – and into it came a crackling, as loud as heavy footsteps breaking twigs.

Vasha lurched to her feet, leaving the now useless key in place. She pulled the communications device from her pocket, staring at it in dismay. A voice broke the quiet. “This is Marissa Valpari. I know you can hear me.”

Roan broke into a chorus of curses, looking almost like he wanted to smash the statue to pieces. He swiped a claw in Vasha’s direction. “Go on, then. Talk to her.”

With trembling fingers, Vasha pressed the button on the device. “We can hear you.”

“Good. Then listen closely. As you’ll already have gathered, you weren’t the first team to reach your destination.” Even over the tinny device, Marissa’s voice was a self-satisfied purr. “We’ve seen signs of at least two individuals entering the ruins. As we haven’t heard fighting, they must have left by other means before you arrived.”

“The ruins were empty when we got here,” Vasha replied, her voice a croak.

“Well, there you are, then. I don’t know how they got out, but they did. Do I need to spell out what that means?” Marissa paused, but not long enough for Vasha to reply. “There’s another team out there, one we didn’t know existed. They were faster then you, and us, and whoever you were fighting in the woods. They’re better than all of us. I hope this means you’ll be smarter next time.”

“Next time?” Vasha asked.

“In round two, whatever that may be. You attacked us in Metrica Province, entirely unprovoked. In the future, you might want to be more careful about which allies you shun.”

And that was it, the device falling silent. Vasha looked mutely at the other Marauders, then pulled the game’s invitation from her pocket. Several of the twelve circles on its back had gone dim, their teams presumably dropping out of the contest – and as Vasha watched, the symbols changed. The circles faded away, replaced by a jaunty message.

HERE ENDS ROUND ONE! PLEASE RETURN TO RATA SUM FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.

Marissa was right: round one was over, and someone had been victorious – but not the Valparis, and not even the Marauders. Someone had beaten them all.