Chapter 3: Part 4 - Wounds

Time seemed to have stood still atop that hill in the Silverwastes. Vasha couldn’t be sure whether they’d been up there for hours, or merely minutes.

“We were in Verdant Brink,” Gull said, staring out at the green horizon, those narrow and twisting valleys. “It was a few months after the Pact opened the way. Few adventurers had dared follow, and we thought…”

“You thought there was fame and riches to be found in the great unknown,” Grey said roughly. He was still smeared with dust from his tussle with Roan, sticking his pale fur into spikes. “We all did.”

“We came across your warband,” Gull said, as though dredging the memory from deep inside herself. “Camped out in the middle of nowhere, fires lit against the Mordrem…”

“Not just any warband, though, was it?” Grey said with a snarl. “The Storm warband – once home to the great Roan Stormstrike.”

Roan abruptly swung around, pointing a claw at Roan. “And you’re one of them now, are you? Why would they take a runt like you in?”

Grey tapped himself on the chest, which had swelled up with pride. “Grey Ashstorm. They were undermanned after you left, weren’t they? Needed new recruits.”

“And how many of you did it take to fill the space I left?” Roan asked.

Grey grinned. “Not as many as you think. You’ve got no say in what happens to the warband now. You’re as good as being a gladium and–”

Roan surged forwards, so fast Vasha almost didn’t see him move. His claws swiped for Grey’s throat – but it was a warning, nothing more. If he’d wanted Grey dead, Roan wouldn’t have missed.

Instead, he merely growled. “I’m not a gladium.”

Grey had staggered back, but now he righted himself. “No? Can’t see much room in the warband for you any more. You’ve been gone too long.”

“That isn’t your decision to make,” Roan said, but he didn’t argue the point further. Vasha didn’t know enough about charr society to say whether Roan’s position was unusual or whether he’d ever be able to go back – or enough about the charr himself to say whether he’d want to.

She could see, though, that whatever had happened in Verdant Brink, it was a wound that had been left to fester too long. By the sound of it, Grey had only joined Yinn’s game to force the truth out of Roan.

“So what happened?” Vasha found the words spooling from her mouth before she could stop them. “What happened in Verdant Brink?”

She’d expected Roan to lash out again, but instead he seemed to curl in on himself. He was silent for several minutes, and then…

“We met the warband,” he said, without looking at anyone. “I didn’t know they were going to be there.”

“It was a last-minute decision–” Grey began, but Gull waved for him to be quiet. His mouth snapped shut.

Roan didn’t seem to have heard. His gaze was turned inwards, as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist. “I almost said we should detour around them, but Gull had already seen the campfire, and the region was too dangerous not to take advantage of an established camp. They were all there, all the Storm – and Artorius.”

Roan shook his head. “We were all brothers and sisters, all of us in the warband… But me and Artorius were from the same fahrar. We’d known each other the longest. No matter how many other bonds you make, it’s hard to break that one.

“He was so pleased to see me. We talked and drank, and for a while it was like I’d never left the warband. Didn’t last, though. Artorius started up with the same old shit as he always did. How could you leave? How could adventuring with a couple of norn ever make up for having a full warband? Was I going to finally register as a gladium and admit I wasn’t coming back?”

Roan’s paws curled into fists and he spoke through gritted teeth. “When I left the camp, Artorius followed. I was too angry to think about what I was doing. If he hadn’t been there, I’d probably have walked for a couple of minutes, realised how stupid I was being, then turned around. But Artorius was only a few steps behind and he kept asking those damn questions. Eventually, he started saying we should go back, but by then I couldn’t admit I’d made a mistake…

“It’s dark out there, away from the campfires.” Roan lifted his head, as though seeing distant skies. “Occasionally, I’d get a glimpse of the stars, but mostly we followed a ravine. It felt more like a tunnel through the earth, rock walls on both sides, moss underfoot. Perfect place for an ambush.”

There was silence, broken by Haki’s hushed voice. “We didn’t hear anything. We almost came after you, but we didn’t think you’d gone far…”

“Artorius wouldn’t have done,” Roan said, his voice a harsh sandpaper rasp. “I was too stubborn to admit he was right. We were under trees, almost too dark even for charr eyes, when the Mordrem found us.”

Roan shook his head. “I don’t know how many there were. We could barely even see what they were. I remember fangs and claws, and skin hard as iron. Artorius and I fought back to back. We managed to get clear just once, both of us covered in blood and whatever those damn Mordrem bleed. Artorius grabbed my shoulder, and at first I thought he was holding himself up, but he only wanted me to look him in the eye. ‘We need to get help,’ he said, but I didn’t want to listen. I knew the way back to the camp, but I chose to go the other way. Back towards the Mordrem.

“I don’t know if Artorius had lost his bearings. Maybe he thought we were going back to the warband – or maybe he didn’t. He followed, though. He followed.”

“I remember you coming back into camp,” Gull said. Her eyes were wide, her skin drained of colour. Her voice broke as she added, “You were carrying him. Artorius. And the look in your eyes… I half thought you were a ghost yourself.”

“He fell to the Mordrem,” Roan said curtly, as though he’d had enough of unburdening his soul. “I fought my way free and carried his body back to the camp. There’s nothing else to tell.”

“Yes, there is.” Grey sounded strained, perhaps with grief, perhaps with fury. “I was out there, Roan. I was up on the bluff above you, scouting. I had to listen to Artorius – my brother too, remember – begging you to go back to camp. I couldn’t even call out or the Mordrem would have found me, but I heard him pleading with you.

“And then you were gone up the trail, away into the darkness. It took me hours to loop back round to the camp, keeping away from the patrols of Mordrem. By the time I got there, you and your norn were long gone. You didn’t even stay to bury Artorius, you damn coward. You left that for us.”

“Better for his warband to do it,” Roan said. All the fight seemed to have gone out of him. “I didn’t think…”

Grey took a step closer, claws flexing. “We did bury him. By dawn, the area was swarming with Mordrem; your fight brought them in. We couldn’t get back to safety, so we had to go forwards, into Auric Basin. You might not have taken Artorius with you, but we did. We buried him there.”

He seemed to want to say more, then abruptly shook his head and walked away, as far as he could manage on the tiny hill. Roan didn’t move, his head down and his gaze distant; he looked almost as defeated as he had done in Lornar’s Pass, after they’d faced the impostor Maille. The two norn were silent and Vasha couldn’t think of anything helpful to say. She was the only one with no stake in this tragedy, with nothing to contribute except…

Except she was still a part of Yinn’s game and her mind was whirring. Yinn had sent Grey here; Vasha had said all along that Grey himself was the puzzle they had to solve. He’d led them all this way and now… He’d given them the next clue.

“We have to find his grave,” she said. Grey spun round at her words, whilst Roan’s head lifted just a fraction. Vasha went on, “Artorius’ grave. That’s where you were leading us to.”

“I wasn’t.” Grey looked briefly uncomfortable. “We were going as far as the camp in Verdant Brink. I was going to confront Roan there, and then…”

“We’d have heard the same story,” Vasha said, certainty gripping her. “You still wanted Roan to confess. Your task might have ended there, but ours wouldn’t have. We have to reach the grave.”

“That’s a dangerous road to take,” Gull said, then snorted. “Not that that’s ever stopped Yinn before.”

Vasha turned to Grey. “Can you lead us there?”

The charr was silent for a long time, but Vasha already knew what he’d say. If it caused Roan more pain, he’d agree.

“Fine,” Grey said finally, ending the word on a snarl. “I’ll take you to Auric Basin – as long as you can keep up.”