Chapter 4: Part 10 - Bones and Dust

Jean had never done anything more disgusting than swim across the foetid water to Graven Cay. Marissa, Auri and Amber had gone in the boat with Floxx, but there had been no time to search for other vessels. By the time Jean hauled himself onto the far bank, he felt as though every pore was filled with toxic grime, his nostrils full of a greasy stink he'd never be free of.

"That was unpleasant," Oska said, as he pulled himself up next to Jean.

"Unpleasant? I don't think I'll ever be clean."

Oska didn't appear to be listening. He was looking up the slope towards a band of roiling, yellowish fog – in which there were flashes of light. "I think we have bigger problems."

There was no chance for tactics. By the time Jean saw the last of them – Haki – drag himself out of the water, the rest of the party had vanished into the murk. There were shouts, more flashes, a low rumble in the earth. Bigger problems, indeed.

Marissa had been determined to reach Graven Cay as quickly as possible. Jean would have attributed that merely to her eternal desire to be in control, except there was something in her eyes that said otherwise. She'd put both Yinn and his staff in danger for her own ends; even she was capable of feeling guilt over that.

Did that mean her swift action was an apology, of sorts? Marissa had tried to ally with Yelazar once before, then gone on to kidnap Yinn. After everything she'd told them about Artair, it was going to take a lot to prove she wasn't just as bad.

Jean couldn't deny her a right to change her ways. He only wished she hadn't been in such a hurry.

The fog cleared quite suddenly, when he was halfway up the slope. Two huge beacons loomed over the scene, casting the landscape in an eerie blue-white light. Beneath their silent gaze lay a hollow, ringed with fallen masonry and with a worn statue in the centre. A number of asura were pressed up against the latter, weapons in their hands – and they were fighting a veritable army of undead.

Not the Risen – Jean could see that at once. The creatures swarming the statue were much smaller, delicate constructions of bone and sinew that could only be of a necromancer's making. There were so many of them, though. Hundreds surrounded the statue, with more boiling out of the ground on every side. If they were Yelazar's, Jean could see no sign of him.

But he could see Yinn. He was with the other asura, perched on a broken lump of stone as though he'd scrambled there – or been put there out of the way. His hands appeared to be bound.

Suddenly, Jean understood how this whole scenario would appear to Yelazar. He'd trekked through Orr like the rest of them, with no word or sign from Yinn, only to find Yinn himself a prisoner. Marissa was right: this looked like part of the game. Any other team would have attempted to free Yinn; they were merely unlucky that Yelazar had got here first.

Because the necromancer clearly had no concept of mercy, game or not. His minions were vicious little things, and though they went down easily, there were always two more to take their place. The asura around the statue wore varying expressions of fear and panic; in taking Marissa's bribes, they hadn't been prepared for this.

Marissa herself was halfway down the slope, an army of her clones battling the army of minions. Auri was at her side, staff raised, fire falling from the sky in hissing streaks – and on Marissa's other side stood Vasha.

Jean had only a heartbeat to marvel at the wonder of Vasha working with his sister, because the minions were less blind than they looked. A handful were scurrying up the slope towards him, their skeletal legs clicking against the dry ground. Jean repressed a shudder of disgust, drawing his sceptre and focus. Before he could attack, Oska came up on his right side, Haki on his left. There wasn't even time to share an appreciative nod; by then, the undead were on them.

They fought in a maelstrom of blades and magic. Oska was as swift as a shadow, Haki more nimble with his giant axes than he looked. Jean raised his weapons, sinking into that place of utter concentration the elements required. The ground rumbled beneath his feet and power surged through his body, fierce and exhilarating. With a single wave of his sceptre, the nearest minions were frozen solid, before exploding apart in a burst of icy shards.

Even as Jean rebuilt his power, Haki went whirling past, axes a blur. His wolf followed, snarling and snapping – and then Oska was there, almost invisible as he darted from one minion to the next. He left only scattered bones and dust in his wake.

It wasn't going to be enough. Jean could see that, even as he cast another spell. The entire hollow had become a battlefield, Light's Memory on one side, Roan and Gullveig on the other, Marissa and her companions holding the centre. There were so many undead, though, enough to overwhelm them if they weren't careful. They had to find Yelazar. Quickly.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who knew that. As he struck the nearest minion with a bolt of lightning, he caught sight of Vasha. She'd moved a short distance from Marissa, closer to the shelter of the statue – but not close enough for Jean's liking. In fact, she looked almost oblivious to the chaos around her.

A moment later, Jean knew why. She had something in her hands, something that was absorbing all her concentration; he couldn't see what it was, but he knew immediately what it was for. Detection.

A pulse of energy shot across the battlefield, rippling past Jean with an audible sigh. Even at a distance, Vasha looked jubilant, and understandably so. She'd found Yelazar.

They should have guessed his location, Jean thought. Where else would Yelazar have placed himself but right in the middle of it all? He stood atop the weathered statue like a great, black bird, his tattered robes rippling in the wind. His face was half covered by a hood, but Jean wouldn't have been surprised if he was smiling.

Yelazar leapt from the statue with surprising grace. He tossed something aside as he fell, perhaps some stolen item that had provided his stealth. Jean found himself momentarily distracted by it – and then Yelazar landed in a cloud of dust. Right behind Vasha.

Jean ran without thinking – and so did the army of minions. They turned as one, rushing down the hill in a great rippling, rattling mass. Marissa met it with her clones, until the entire hollow was a whirlwind of flashing blades and clacking bones.

Jean scythed through the middle of it, a sweep of his sceptre throwing a dozen minions aside. Oska darted past, following the cleared path before vanishing into the melee. Ahead, Vasha backed away from Yelazar, the sound of her pistols lost beneath the roar of the battle. Yelazar himself carried a pair of daggers, spinning them over his fingers with casual disdain. The pistol shots didn't seem to touch him.

Only a dozen feet left – but something latched itself onto the hem of Jean's robes, throwing him to his knees. He thrust himself upright again and found the ground around his feet crawling with minions. They clawed at his legs, sightless forms questing upwards.

Jean blasted the minions away without thinking. More swarmed in, but this time he hardly felt them. Vasha and Yelazar were barely a foot apart, the necromancer snarling something only she could hear – but Marissa was there, too.

The world seemed to slow. Jean saw Marissa melt from thin air, an expression of triumph on her face. Yelazar turned too late. Marissa's unsheathed blade sank into his stomach and lodged there; they were so close to one another, it had to be buried up to the hilt. The moment stretched on and on, Marissa smiling, Yelazar's face turned away from Jean – and then the necromancer sagged to the ground, leaving the bloodied dagger in Marissa's hand.

The silence was complete. It wasn't just in Jean's ears, this time. The minions froze, then fell into dust as though they'd never been.

Leaving Jean facing both Vasha and Marissa over Yelazar's body. Neither of them looked at him. Some wordless communication seemed to pass between them, Marissa still smiling, Vasha giving a wary nod. Jean wasn't sure if that was a truce, but it was certainly something close.

The moment was broken by Yinn. He still stood beside the statue, holding his hands out for Erin to cut the bindings. She stepped back as soon as she'd finished.

"What a mess," Yinn snapped, snatching his cane from one of the other asura. "What an insufferable mess. This was your idea, I take it?"

"If you're talking to me," Marissa drawled, "it certainly was."

"And what stupid part of your stupid human brain thought this would help you win the game?"

Marissa took a step away from him, already losing interest. "This has nothing to do with the game."

Yinn's eyes narrowed and so did Marissa's. She was studying the hollow, the remnants of their battle – where there was no sign of Archon Artair. Marissa's ruse had drawn Yelazar out of the woodwork, but her true prize hadn't been baited.

It seemed Yinn wasn't in the mood to argue with Marissa. He turned away, snapping orders at the handful of asura instead. They followed his instructions sheepishly, with guilty looks on their faces. Marissa's bribes, it seemed, only stretched so far.

There were two fallen asura, a short distance away; Jean didn't know whether they'd been felled by Yelazar's minions or Orr's undead. He went to them anyway, checking the first one and then the other for a pulse. Neither seemed to have been dead long; Yelazar's work, then. That necromancer had a lot to answer for.

Jean pulled off his outer layer of robes, draping it over both asura as a shroud – and as he shook it flat, something rustled. There was a piece of folded paper protruding from the pocket of the closest asura. Jean stared at it for a moment, then swiftly pulled it free, letting the shroud fall into place.

He retreated round the back of the statue to study his find. On the other side, Yinn was still arguing with anyone who'd listen; it sounded like Amber was trying to reason with him. She was asking Yinn to call back the final team, the Nth Degree, or to send out someone to look for them – and Yinn was refusing.

The game was still on. It wasn't finished until someone found the prize – they should have known Marissa's plan wouldn't end this. With shaking fingers, Jean opened the paper. It was a map.

A map to the prize. It had to be. They'd lost track of Yinn's clues long ago; Marissa had abandoned any interest in following the riddles. Some of Yinn's staff had known where this round ended, though, and they'd written it down – which meant Jean now knew, too.