Chapter 4: Part 6 - Aid Accepted

Roan's plans started to fall apart before they even left the Eastern Colonnade. Vasha knew that because, for once, Roan wasn't keeping said plans a secret.

"There's a ravine between us and the rest of Orr," he said, as the Marauders gathered beside the southern gate. "There's a bridge west of here, but these Pact soldiers tell me it's blocked. We're not going to wait around for them to clear it."

"There's another bridge," Gull put in. "To the south. It's a longer route, but it shouldn't be difficult."

"And the road goes through a region called the Theater of Delight," Roan said, with a snort of humourless laughter. "Gull's right. Should be a walk in the park."

Haki pulled ahead to scout as they turned south, Gull bringing up the rear. Vasha found herself walking at Roan's side. It seemed impossible that she'd ever had to lead the Marauders in his stead. Time to recover – and the encounter with Grey – had left him just as composed and controlled as ever.

But this journey had changed them all. Roan had learnt to accept help when it was needed, even if it came from the Valparis – and Vasha knew she had the strength to take charge, if she had to. She supposed that meant she had the strength to accomplish a lot of other things, too, even if it didn't always feel like it.

The second bridge came into view two hours after leaving camp. They caught up to Haki, who was sheltering behind a small rise, watching the road below.

"I haven't seen anything go past," he said. "We're not the only ones out here, though. Listen."

Vasha realised now why Frostpaw sat with his ears pricked up. There was a sound other than the mournful wind. In the distance, someone was shouting.

"They're asking for help," Haki said, frowning. "They've been shouting like that for a while."

"Could be a trap," Gull said, coming up behind them.

"And it could be someone in trouble," Roan said. He studied each of them in turn, as though looking for disagreement. No-one moved or spoke. Vasha sensed he was coming to a decision. "If that was you down there, you'd want someone to help."

Down there? Of course. Vasha might not have charr hearing, but the longer she listened, the clearer the shouts became. They were coming from the bottom of the ravine, probably on the south side of the bridge.

They hurried down the slope in formation. For all Roan's assertions about wanting to help, he led them onto the bridge as though expecting an ambush. When none came, he finally moved to the edge, Vasha with him.

A cold, fetid wind rushed out of the ravine, straight into her face. The shouts had stopped; whoever was down there seemed to be waiting. She could finally see them, though. There were three figures at the bottom, heads bobbing above the water. Another was perched halfway up the eastern cliff, on a narrow ledge – and his was a face Vasha recognised. It was Grey.

Roan snorted. "Just our luck."

Grey seemed to have heard the words. His pale face turned towards the sky, his voice floating up in strange echoes from the ravine. "Don't suppose you brought a rope?"

"How did you get down there?" Vasha asked, because she knew none of the other Marauders would.

"Yinn dumped three of us at the bottom of the ravine," Grey said, his words almost lost to the wind. "Don't think he meant to put us all together, but that's what happened. Arnaud got dropped off just east of here. He found us before we could get out, but he got injured on the way down. Then I tried to climb back up..."

And got stuck, Vasha guessed. There was an overhang twenty feet above Grey's head, which looked impassable. It would be invisible from the bottom of the ravine, especially if the team was preoccupied by injuries and anything that might be lurking in the water. Grey would have had no idea the climb was impossible for an amateur until he got halfway up.

Roan growled something unintelligible and pulled away from the edge of the bridge. He stood in silence for several minutes, long enough for Haki to start shifting from foot to foot.

"We can't just leave them there," he said, though it sounded more like a question.

They could, Vasha knew. Grey and his team of pirates were opponents in this game. More importantly, if their positions had been reversed, Grey would definitely have left them to rot.

"We should move," Gull said. She was looking back the way they'd come; at her side, Cirrus had her tail low and was sniffing the air intently. "It isn't safe here."

"Nothing about this damn place is safe," Roan said, dropping his pack to the ground. "I want every bit of rope we've got. Vasha, I know you're carrying some. Haki, you too."

Vasha began rummaging in her pack. No-one argued, not even Gull. This wasn't really about Grey, Vasha thought; it wouldn't have made any difference who they'd found in that ravine. They would all be dead now if not for the aid of the Valparis. It was time to return the favour.

It wasn't long before Vasha began to regret her willingness. Roan decided she had to be the one to go over the edge, taking the rope down to the stranded team. She was the smallest, the least useful for holding the rope at the top, and the least likely to knock Grey off his ledge when she landed – at least according to Roan.

She peered over the edge, her heart rising into her throat. "Couldn't we just throw it?"

"No," Roan replied. "The overhang. We'd never get the rope past it."

She hated to admit it, but Roan was right. Between the wind and the overhang, the rope would never make it to Grey. She had to take it to him.

The moment to be lowered over the edge came far too soon. Despite Gull's excellent knot-work, and the three strong backs holding the rope, Vasha felt sick with nerves as she descended. Her only job was to use her feet to stop herself spinning into the cliff, yet that only made her feel more helpless. Perhaps climbing down under her own steam would have felt less like being bait lowered into a dragon's lair.

She was still a dozen feet from Grey, and just past the overhang, when she came to a stop. Vasha risked looking up, though the view made her dizzy. There was plenty of rope; they'd calculated they had enough to reach the pirates at the bottom of the ravine. She could no longer see Roan at the edge of the bridge, though – and as she hung there, already starting to twist in the breeze, she heard weapons being unsheathed.

The rope jerked. Vasha dropped several feet before it was caught again. Her heart was hammering, her muscles as tight as a drum. She still couldn't see the Marauders above. The sound of their weapons, of grunts and snarls, drifted down as though part of a dream. Vasha didn't want to think about who was holding the rope.

She dropped again, with a yelp of surprise. What was going on up there? If they let go of the rope completely–

The rope went slack. Vasha had only a heartbeat to comprehend what was happening before she was in freefall, arms cartwheeling, mouth stretched into a soundless scream. The cliff rushed past her face too fast to pick out handholds. All she could do was scrabble at the rock, bloodying her fingertips, bruising her toes with every panicked kick. There was water below, wasn't there? Maybe that would break her fall–

Vasha jerked to a stop. Something was clamped around her wrist with bone-crushing force – something that snarled and cursed. Grey. Grey had caught her.

He hauled her up with more cursing, Vasha's shoulder aching as though it had been ripped loose. When Grey deposited her on the ledge, though, she was able to stand. Her hands and feet ached, her shoulder was on fire, but she was alive.

"Idiots," Grey spat, with a glance towards the bridge. Vasha let out a laugh that was more of a sob, hugging her arms around herself. The twin ropes were slack at her feet, but the other ends were still at the top. One of the Marauders must have tied both to themselves.

Before she could speak, a dark shape came hurtling through the air. Vasha bit down another yelp of surprise as she recognised one of the Risen, tumbling past the ledge to land with a heavy splash in the water below. She risked looking up and saw Roan's head poking over the side of the bridge.

"Okay down there?" he called.

"Fine," Vasha replied, knowing her voice was shaking. She untied the spare rope from her waist, handing it wordlessly to Grey. "You can pull me back up."

It was done with gratifying swiftness. Roan even patted Vasha's shoulder when she scrambled back onto the bridge. It felt like an apology, though she hardly thought it was needed. The bridge was littered with so many Risen body parts, she was amazed the Marauders were still standing.

The rest of the rescue, at least, went to plan. Grey was hauled up next, another pair of strong arms to join the Marauders at the top. It was far easier to let the ropes down into the ravine, where the rest of his team waited; they were pulled up one by one, dripping wet but mercifully alive. Each one showered the Marauders with gratitude, even the injured Arnaud. Vasha couldn't help thinking there was a reason they were in this game, not plying their trade on the open ocean like proper pirates. Out there, they would never have survived.

Although truthfully, they'd only just survived Orr. Arnaud was attempting to look cheerful, but his leg was clearly broken. Vasha couldn't imagine the pain he was in, nor how they could possibly continue the game.

"You'll have to send him back to Pagga's," Gull said, after she'd helped splint his leg. "He won't be able to walk for weeks."

The pirates exchanged looks. Vasha could see them silently reaching an agreement, though she couldn't guess what it might be – not until they all looked at Grey.

"You could go on," Arnaud said. He was pale and sweating after the work on his leg. "That necromancer's working alone, isn't he? You could do the same."

Grey studied them in silence for a moment, then grunted and folded his arms. "Yinn wouldn't allow it. I'm not even supposed to be here."

That, Vasha thought, sounded like an excuse. Yinn had shown remarkably little interest in who participated in the game, or how they arranged their teams. Grey, she was sure, could go on if he wanted to.

No-one wanted to question him, though. If he'd decided joining the game was a mistake, he could at least leave with his pride intact.

No-one, that is, except Roan.

"You could come with us," he said, looking Grey in the eye. "We've made alliances before and Yinn didn't stop us. You don't have to be an official Marauder to travel west with us."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Vasha couldn't be sure whether that was a challenge, or if Roan really thought Grey wanted to keep going. He sounded almost as if he was trying to do Grey a favour, even if it was a favour the smaller charr clearly didn't want.

Grey's shoulders dropped, his gaze directed at Roan's feet. "I'd only get in your way. Like I said: I'm not supposed to be here."

Roan merely sniffed. "Fine," he said, and turned away.

It was only later, after Grey and the pirates had rigged a stretcher to carry Arnaud to safety, that Vasha found herself walking at Roan's side again. "Were you really going to let Grey travel with us?" she asked.

Roan grunted, as though it was a stupid question. "Course not. That coward had been looking for a way out of Orr since he got here. I could smell it on him."

Vasha winced. That was charr for you, she supposed. Roan had seemed different since Maguuma, with his talk of accepting help, and then with offering it to the pirates. Some things never changed, though. The contest of wills between him and Grey hadn't been settled in the jungle, not in a manner that had satisfied Roan.

In the end, whatever the conflict, whatever the argument, he had to win.