Chapter 5: Part 6 - War

As the blinding light faded, two thoughts hit Vasha. The first: that unless the magic of Draconis Mons was even stranger than she'd guessed, this had to be another of Yinn's tricks. The second: out of all the people she could have been deposited next to, why did it have to be Jean?

Jean, who looked far less surprised than Vasha felt, took only a few moments to study their surroundings, before holding out a hand. "We should find cover."

He was right, though Vasha hated to admit it. She didn't recognise the terrain they'd been dropped into. It was flat and dusty, smelling of burnt rock and perhaps sulphur. It was a far cry from the lush slopes they'd climbed thus far.

But Jean, damn him, seemed to have been expecting this. The Valparis had clearly scouted this part of the region already. Had they known the teleportation was coming? It seemed impossible, but unless Jean had grown immensely skilled at concealing his bewilderment...

"This way," she said, ignoring his outstretched hand. There were boulders to one side of them, tall enough to hide a golem behind. She slunk into their shadow and waited for Jean to follow.

Waited, with a pistol in her hand.

Jean didn't even look surprised to find it pointed at his face. "Is this really necessary?" was all he asked, in clipped tones.

Vasha refused to let her hand shake. "It is if you're carrying a key."

Jean raised an eyebrow, making him look exceptionally like his sister. "Do you think that likely?"

Vasha cursed under her breath. Of course it wasn't. Marissa would be in charge of anything as important as a key – if the Valparis hadn't already lost theirs to the mercenaries.

Still, she didn't lower the pistol. "Tell me what's going on."

"Yinn planted something on each of us," Jean said, without hesitation. "A small piece of metal that is, apparently, capable of making you vanish and reappear somewhere new. It'll be amongst your clothing or possessions. I still haven't found mine, though I doubt Yinn will pull the same trick twice. That would be far too dull."

Vasha resisted an urge to start feverishly searching her pack. Instead, she lowered the pistol, trying to look like she was still in control. Jean's honesty had thrown her, until she wasn't sure whether to threaten him or treat him like a long lost friend. Somehow, Jean always managed to have that effect on her, by the simple virtue of being the only person who consistently looked her in the eye and refused to tell her lies.

At least, that was the impression he gave. Sometimes, she wondered if it was all an act, if he was merely a damned good actor – and she wondered, too, why she hoped that wasn't the case.

"Do you know where we are?" she asked.

Jean looked at the sky, as though reading something in the wind. "The top of the volcano. The centre is somewhere to the west of us, behind all that steam. I don't suppose you can feel it, but to an elementalist, it's really quite... distracting."

An elementalist she was now stuck with. Either Yinn had been watching the personal relationships of his teams like a hawk, or he'd got excessively lucky when it came to making her uncomfortable. Why did it have to be Jean?

"This isn't an alliance," Vasha said, holstering her pistol. "As soon as I find the rest of my team–"

"–You'll be gone. I understand." Jean peered around the boulders, turning his back on Vasha in the process. As usual, he was too trusting by far. "But I would suggest we stick together, for the time being. There's trouble ahead."

Vasha could tell Jean wasn't speaking in general terms. He'd seen something specific, something threatening. Vasha sidled past him and crouched at the edge of the shadows. The horizon was obscured by dust and steam, but there was movement not far away. A group of mercenaries crept across the parched landscape, weapons in their hands.

"They don't know we're here," Vasha murmured. "If you can distract them with your magic, I can approach from the other side of that plateau–"

Jean made an exasperated noise. "You're really going to attack other teams? Even if we're victorious, which of us takes their key?"

Vasha didn't answer. If Jean even had to ask that question, he wasn't ruthless enough to make sure it was him. "Just back me up," she said.

He caught her arm before she could leave the shadows. Vasha jerked free, whirling on him with a rising sense of anger – which evaporated under his steady, searching gaze. "Save stabbing me in the back for later," he said. "We've got bigger problems."

"Like what?" she demanded, but Jean was already moving away. He slid down a short slope of scree, than climbed onto a higher ledge. Vasha followed, more curious than angry now, though she ignored the hand Jean held out.

"Oska was talking about sabotage," Jean said softly, when she reached his side. "This isn't quite what I expected."

It took Vasha several moments to understand his words. She'd thought the dark patches moving across the plain were only shadows, but the light was too hazy for that. No, she was looking at people, so distant they would have been indistinguishable from the rocks if they hadn't all been dressed in black.

"There are dozens of them," she said uncertainly.

"Hundreds, I would think." Jean tutted. "The Order of Whispers have been watching the game for weeks. My cousin is one of their members; I think he's been coordinating with them in secret. So have I, for that matter, although it hasn't been terribly enlightening. This certainly wasn't what I expected from their grand plan. They look like they're going to war."

Vasha couldn't dispute his assessment. She was no tactician, but the Whispers agents were spreading out across the landscape, some scrambling onto outcrops, others disappearing into gulleys. Many more were heading towards the centre of the volcano, where golden light glowed through the haze.

"Do you think they're going for the prize?" she asked. She hated that Jean, of all people, might have more answers than her, but she couldn't risk going into this situation blind.

"I highly doubt it." He made a thoughtful noise. "An organisation that can field hundreds of agents doesn't need to win this game, no matter what the prize is. I think it's more likely they're here to cause..."

"Disruption," Vasha guessed. That was all this was. The Order of Whispers wanted to end Yinn's game and they were going to use overwhelming force to do it.

"They might take Yinn into custody," Jean said thoughtfully, "if they can catch him. Though I have no idea who has jurisdiction out here. Maybe–"

"Enough." Vasha ran a hand over her pistols, then tightened the straps on her pack. When she started forwards, Jean followed.

Not that he sounded happy about it. "Where, by Earth and Fire, are we going?"

"To get that prize before the Order smash it to pieces."

"Really? This isn't the time–"

"This is exactly the time," Vasha hissed, as Jean drew level with her. "If you don't want to be here, don't be. Go back to your fancy house with your fancy family, and leave the rest of us in peace."

There were several moments of quiet, punctuated only by the crunch of their boots through the grit. "I'm sorry," Jean said finally, sounding genuinely contrite. "It's easy for me to forget how much this means to you."

"Not just to me. To all my team. You're here because you're competitive. Some of us, though..." Some of us need this. Or rather, she needed to prove herself worthy, so that Artair would deem her fit to join his guild. It had become, in Vasha's mind, much the same thing.

She quickened her pace. By the time they rounded another outcrop, she'd almost broken into a jog.

"Down," Jean hissed. He grabbed Vasha's arm again, with more force than before. This time, she let him pull her into cover. It was a measure of how strong his Earth sense was that he'd felt the approaching enemies before they came into view. Vasha peered round the boulder to see a dozen mercenaries moving swiftly towards the heart of the volcano.

A dozen, and in the distance, a dozen more. In fact, now that Vasha surveyed the horizon, there were mercenaries approaching from all sides, in far bigger groups than their original teams. If the Order of Whispers was assembling an army, so was Yinn.

For a moment, Vasha's nerve failed her. This wasn't just about a handful of teams any more. There were now hundreds of people out there, all of them with violence in mind. Even if none of them cared about the prize, how was she going to fight her way through? How was she going to win?

Jean was chewing his lip. "Unless you've got a means of detecting which of those mercenaries is carrying a key..."

A fresh wave of despair swept over Vasha. Jean was right. The prize was useless without Yinn's keys – and there was no way of knowing who held one. For all she knew, Yinn was going to abandon the game entirely, to protect himself from the Order.

Vasha pushed herself away from the boulder. It didn't matter. The prize was immaterial against the prospect of proving herself to Artair. All she had to do...

She grabbed Jean's hand, forcing him to look at her. His eyes went wide in evident surprise – and a flicker of something more. Vasha had no time to feel guilty, though. She needed back-up and this was the way to get it.

"I have to get up there," she said. "I have to get to the end. Will you watch my back?"

Jean swallowed audibly, then nodded. Finally, Vasha felt a flicker of unease. Jean knew he was being manipulated... Didn't he?

They both wanted this, for their own reasons – or that was what she told herself, anyway. Maybe Jean wanted the prize; maybe he only wanted to protect her. It made no difference, as long as he was willing to play along.

"To the end," he said, his voice hoarse.

Vasha released his hand as though she'd been burned. She turned away, looking for a way to scramble up the next plateau. It was easier to focus on that than to see the hope in Jean's eyes. He could wish for a different future all he wanted, but nothing he did was going to sway her. Vasha had seen the future she wanted, the one only Artair could provide – and it didn't include Jean.