Chapter 4: Part 1 - The Grim Truth
The first thing that struck Vasha was the smell. It was the brine of the sea, a scent that filled her with both longing for her pirate days and profound relief that she was back on dry land. This sea smelt different to any she'd sailed, though. Almost... rotten.
Vasha's stomach flipped. She knew where they were. Even blindfolded and having used one of Yinn's confounded teleportation devices, she knew they were in Orr.
That fact was alarming in itself, but she also couldn’t hear any of the other Marauders. Roan wasn’t grumbling, Gull and Haki weren’t sniping at one another, the pets weren’t sniffing and yipping. There was only the slosh of the waves and a high, thin sound, one that might have been either the wind through a crevice or some kind of mournful bird.
They were supposed to wait a hundred seconds before they could remove the blindfolds, but Vasha had lost count. She’d also ceased to care about the rules. Ripping the cloth away from her eyes, she squinted at her surroundings. There was the sea, all right, though it was dark and sluggish. Her boots were starting to sink into soft, oily sand – and it was exactly as she’d feared.
She was alone.
Vasha turned in a slow circle. The sea lay to what she thought was the west, dotted with sandbars and rocky outcrops. It seemed more like a bay than open ocean. Some kind of vast building rose through the miasma on the far side of the water; it filled her with dread for reasons she couldn't name. To the east, behind her, rose a low hill. Deciding it was the lesser of two evils, Vasha went that way.
The ground quickly turned harder, crunching under her feet. Vasha focused all her attention on that: on the substance of the ground, the sound her boots made, the clammy air against her skin. It was better than thinking about the reality of her situation. She was alone, in Orr, with few weapons and even fewer supplies. Where were the rest of the Marauders? Was this all part of Yinn's plan, or had something gone wrong? For all she knew, she was the only one here.
Panic threatened to swell in her chest and claw its way up her throat. Vasha swallowed it back down, breathing deeply. The air smelt of rotten seaweed and something worse, but that was still better than dwelling on where the game had brought her. Alone. In Orr. No clues, no plan, no supplies–
Something rolled over beneath her foot and Vasha bent to pick it up. Nothing but a piece of rock, but it had a dull glitter beneath the weak sun, almost like dirty gold. Pyrite?
A flash of inspiration hit Vasha. Pyrite Peninsula. She hadn't made that up, had she? It was a place in eastern Malchor's Leap – which made that huge building to the west the Cathedral of Eternal Radiance. She didn't need Gull with her to know that was dangerous territory, but at least she'd remembered something else. There were Pact encampments out here. There might even be one to the south, where the road arrived from the Straits to the east. Orr wasn't entirely a wasteland.
And therein lay the problem.
She was halfway up the slope when movement flickered in the corner of her eye. Vasha slowed, reaching instinctively for a pistol. Before she could fire, the shape was gone again, leaving only a lingering impression in her mind. It had been some kind of beast, with a heavy head and a long tail – and it had been creeping up behind her.
She swung round, both pistols in her hands, firing before she could devise a more cunning strategy. Even as she let her pistols drop again, she knew it had made no difference. Half a dozen undead drakes swarmed up the beach behind her and her first hail of bullets hadn't slowed them in the slightest.
Vasha turned and ran. There was no strategy to that, either, other than the fact she couldn't kill the creatures alone. The peninsula's slope shifted beneath her feet, treacherous ground threatening to throw her back down to the drakes with every step. Once, she stopped and fired another spray of bullets, but only out of desperation. She had to get to safety.
Two more steps and the ground became firmer. Vasha scrambled onto a crunching carpet of pyrite, forcing her aching legs to pick up speed. She'd taken only a handful of paces before the snarling and screeching of the drakes fell away – and was replaced by something worse.
Vasha barely had time to register what was coming for her. It was huge and hulking, a twisted humanoid form of glittering stone. An elemental, some helpful part of her brain supplied, even as the creature swung a heavy appendage towards her. Vasha dropped and rolled, barely avoiding a fist bigger than her head.
She was back on her feet in a heartbeat, but she could hear the grinding movements of the elemental behind her. Vasha glanced back and yelped in surprise. For a creature that weighed as much as a golem, it moved with fearsome speed. All it would take was one misstep from her and the elemental would grind her into dust.
Even as she thought as much, the ground gave way beneath her. Vasha's right foot sank into a shallow pit, and before she could pull free, the elemental was on her. She yanked out a pistol, swinging awkwardly to fire at the creature. Every shot was as loud as a grenade to her ears, almost covering the fact that she couldn't stop herself screaming.
The bullets ran out. Vasha thrust her pistol back into its holster, trying to wrench her foot free in the same movement. Too late. The elemental loomed like the end of the world, bellowing a sound of pure fury as it drew back a fist–
Vasha's world filled with shadow and a noise like the distant cawing of crows. She flung herself down in the dust, hands over her head, panic stripping all better survival instincts from her. Was this death, come to claim her? Her last thought, unaccountably, was of Jean.
Silence.
No, not quite. She could hear her own breath, loud and rasping – and she could hear the elemental, stone scraping against stone as it tumbled into a heap. Somewhere on her other side, there was a different scrape. A weapon being sheathed.
She pushed herself upright, scrubbing dust from her eyes, in time to see a figure stride up the last few feet of the slope towards her. A figure she recognised.
Yelazar the Carver looked a little worse for wear than when she'd seen him last. His dark hair was as covered in dust as her own, the hem of his robes tattered. He still had that confident glitter in his eyes, though. He still looked like a man determined to win.
Vasha finally pulled her foot free. She staggered backwards a few steps, but Yelazar remained unarmed. In fact, he had both palms turned towards her.
"Look who it is," he said, making no effort to hide an irritating smirk. "The pretty little flower I almost gutted in Harathi Hinterlands."
Vasha tried to snort in derision, but it turned into a cough. "You never even got close."
Yelazar cocked his head to one side. "That big charr of yours isn't around to save you this time?"
"We were separated," Vasha said, dropping both hands to her pistols. She suspected they'd all been split up like this, but of course Yelazar wouldn't know. He seemed to have discarded all pretence of being part of a team.
"There's no need for that." Yelazar nodded towards her weapons. "I wouldn't have saved your life if I didn't have a use for you – though admittedly, your corpse might have been more valuable."
Vasha shuddered. "What do you want?"
"An ally." Yelazar stuck out a hand. "I never thought Yinn would send us anywhere so desolate, but here we are. Orr is going to be hard even on me. Zhaitan's creatures make for poor minions."
A distant part of Vasha knew she should do what Roan would: take Yelazar out, here and now. He'd admitted to a weakness and that was something she could use. She was already exhausted, though, and her ankle ached from being twisted in that hole in the ground. If they fought now, Yelazar might seriously injure her – and how would she survive the other horrors of Orr then?
She wouldn't; that was the grim truth. The only way she was getting out of here was by finding the rest of the Marauders – and to have a chance of reaching them, she needed to pick her battles carefully.
"I'm heading south," she said, still watching Yelazar in case he made a move she didn't like. "There are Pact encampments out here. If we follow these hills, we should reach one."
"We?" Yelazar's smile widened. "Delightful."
Vasha shuddered again. Already, she was regretting this 'alliance'. She didn't have to pretend to be friends with the necromancer, though. She drew one pistol, tilting the muzzle towards Yelazar. "Lead the way."
He spread his hands, as though astonished that she should feel the need to keep a weapon trained on his back – but it wasn't enough to deter him. Yelazar turned away, picking a path down the hill towards the south. Foreboding already deep in her chest, Vasha followed.