Chapter 4: Part 4 - Starry-Eyed Idealists

A different approach. That was what Oska had promised Erin, as they’d stood in the halls of the Durmand Priory. It had seemed like such a simple suggestion to make ‒ except now he found himself standing between his cousin and his guild leader, wishing he’d kept them as far apart as possible.

“What did you expect me to do?” Jean, sitting at the guild hall’s sole table, spread his hands. “She’s my sister.”

“So you’ll follow her to the ends of Tyria.” Erin leaned against the wall, arms folded. Oska had the distinct impression she was trying to look casual, perhaps even relaxed. Given the stiffness of her shoulders and the giant greatsword resting beside her, it wasn’t working.

Jean placed both hands flat on the table, as though to stop himself waving them around. “She’s stood by me through thick and thin. It’s what siblings do. I mean… Usually.”

Oska caught the pitying look Jean gave him. He understood it, too. He and Auri had been close enough to share one mind, until the moment she’d walked out of their tent in the Wildlands. Now, he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Even if she hadn’t meant that as a betrayal, it still felt like one.

“Jean was willing to stay in contact with me when he left with Marissa,” Oska said, deciding it was time to break the stalemate. “He’s known his sister longer than he’s known Light’s Memory. You can’t fault his loyalty to her.”

“Or his loyalty to the engineer girl,” Erin said, which made Oska wince. He was only now starting to realise what a foul mood the norn was in. She could complain all she wanted, though. When he’d suggested this meeting, it was in the knowledge that they needed to find a way to work together as a guild again. There was no other way they could win.

“Vasha,” Oska said, pronouncing the name with deliberate care, “is the reason I brought Jean in.”

Erin greeted that with a strained silence. “Go on,” she said finally.

“Jean can get a message to Vasha,” Oska said, the words spilling out of him. “She can help us free Auri.”

Now that he’d said it aloud, Oska had to admit the plan sounded even more ridiculous than when Jean had suggested it. Erin just shook her head. “Why would she? Why would Vasha do a single thing to help us?”

Jean got to his feet. “Because of me. I know Vasha, whatever she thinks she’s turning herself into. She feels guilty about what Artair did to me and she doesn’t want to see Auri come to any harm.”

“It’s a good plan,” Erin said slowly, “if a single thing you’ve just said about Vasha is true.”

That was the conundrum, Oska knew. Jean thought he could practically read Vasha’s mind ‒ but hadn’t Oska thought the exact same thing about Auri? Look where that had got them all.

Erin sighed and pushed away from the wall. “Making contact with Vasha is risky. She could turn you over to Artair just as easily as help you.”

“She won’t,” Jean said, but Erin held up a hand to stop him.

“She might ‒ which means we’ll be ready for her. We’ll be ready for Artair, too, if it comes to that. Make contact with the engineer. Arrange a meeting, preferably somewhere out in the open. I’ll get the rest of the guild ready.”

Erin strode off, leaving Oska staring after her and Jean tapping his foot in impatience. In fact, the norn was hardly out of the room before Jean said, “Is she gone?”

Oska raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”

“Because we need to move.” As he spoke, Jean reached under the table and hauled out a rucksack, which clanked and rustled with supplies.

The truth dawned on Oska as his cousin slung the pack onto his shoulder. “You’ve already spoken to Vasha.”

“I sent a letter,” Jean said curtly, “and she replied.”

“Why are we in such a rush?”

Jean was already halfway to the door. “Marissa thinks I’ve gone back to Divinity’s Reach to visit our parents. She’s expecting me back by nightfall.”

Which was barely two hours away. No wonder Jean was in such a hurry. “You could have just told Marissa what you were up to.”

“Collaborating with Light’s Memory and talking to Vasha? She’d have my head.” Jean swung the guild hall door open. “Besides, do you really want to delay matters when Auri’s life is at stake?”

The bottom seemed to drop out of Oska’s stomach. He’d been trying not to think about what might be happening to Auri as they planned and prepared. Apparently, Jean was more willing to look the situation in the eye than Oska himself was.

Jean was already gone. Oska cast a look back over the empty guild hall. It would take time for Erin to gather the rest of the guild. He didn’t like sneaking off like this, but Jean had made up his mind to leave. If Oska didn’t go with him… There wasn’t a chance Jean could stand up to Artair’s guild alone.

“You’ve changed,” Oska said, once he’d grabbed his own rucksack and followed Jean outside. “Ever since the end of Yinn’s game, you’ve been different.”

“You mean I’m no longer a starry-eyed idealist?” Jean’s smile was filled with mockery, directed mostly as himself. “Most would say that’s a good thing.”

They slipped quietly away from the guild hall and onto the streets of Lion’s Arch. Jean didn’t offer the name of their destination and Oska didn’t ask. Instead, he followed Jean first through the asura gate to the Black Citadel and then onto the eastern road. Already, the sky was turning rose-gold with evening, although it was almost obscured behind a bank of thick grey clouds streaming in from the north. Oska could feel their shadow weighing on him more heavily than his supplies. He didn’t want to fall back on superstition, but the weather was distinctly ominous.

It started to rain an hour before sundown. The road had turned towards the north and heavy drops blew into their faces with every gust of wind. Oska pulled his hood down and hoped Jean couldn’t see the doubt on his face. They were alone in the wilds with night closing in and Vasha was supposedly waiting for them. Jean had such faith in her, but what if Erin had been right? What if they’d find themselves betrayed?

It was too late for worries now. Jean led the way through a mountain pass to the north, before turning away from the road. A rocky path lead through the foothills to the east, little more than a trail made by goats.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Oska asked.

He got only a hiss of alarm in response. The goat trail had come to an end, at least as far as Oska could see. A slope of scree lay before them, tumbling down towards a patch of woodland, itself flanked by an expanse of water.

“Bloodfin Lake,” Oska murmured, dropping into a crouch to survey the way ahead. “Is that where we are?”

Jean nodded. “Vasha agreed to meet us on the bridge.”

Oska pressed his fingers to the rain-slick rock. “She’s going to expect us to arrive from the other side.”

Another nod. “You didn’t really think I’d bring you here with no precautions at all, did you?”

Oska straightened, already pulling a length of wire from his belt and testing the hook on the end. It wasn’t intended for anything as strenuous as climbing down cliffs, being far more useful for pulling a foe in close ‒ but as Jean was staring at the slope before them with undisguised dismay, he clearly hadn’t thought to bring a grapple himself.

Oska jammed the hook between two rocks, stamped the point down hard enough to wedge it into place, and leapt before he could think better of it. For a moment, he was weightless, rain pelting against his back, the wire rough against his palms ‒ and then his feet came down hard against the slope. Scree ground and skidded beneath his boots, hurtling him down the hillside at breakneck pace and almost throwing him into the lake at the bottom. Instead, he released the wire and rolled, coming back to his feet in the wet grass with his hands stinging.

Jean was a grey figure above, but there was enough light left to see him making three slow, soundless claps. Oska, grinning, threw up a rude hand gesture in response.

The moment of levity didn’t last. Oska waited, his skin prickling with tension, as Jean used the wire to climb laboriously down the slope. He was panting by the time he reached the bottom and the rain had turned his grey hair almost black.

“Well,” he said, shaking out his hands, “that was an experience.”

“You owe me a new scorpion wire,” Oska said, but Jean was already moving off through the trees.

The rain was loud enough to have covered their descent, but Jean moved silently anyway and Oska followed suit. He scanned the trees ahead, but true dusk had fallen and he could make out nothing but silhouettes. At least he could still see the lake, pockmarked by the downpour, glittering faintly in the gloom. That dark line to the north had to be the bridge and there was just a trace of a figure in the middle. That had to be Vasha…

And the blade that snaked out of the shadows, coming to rest in the pit of his throat, had to belong to someone else.

A low chuckle joined it, filled with satisfaction. “Ah, the norn’s pet thief. We need to stop meeting like this.”