Chapter 4: Part 8 - Conniving Natures

Erin was usually good at waiting. Hunting in the Shiverpeaks required the utmost patience, which meant it was a quality she’d cultivated even before she could hold a sword. But crouching in the undergrowth of a rain-slick night in Ascalon? This was more excruciating than any ambush she’d ever done before.

It had been Caolinn’s idea. Erin had left Blackthorn Manor in a daze, heading back to the guild hall to reconvene with what few guild members she had left. Once they’d interrogated her, Taria and Ruby had turned uncommunicative and Erin had known there’d be no help from them for the time being. Auri would have to wait, anyway. Erin needed to get Oska back first.

But that was where Caolinn, ever following her own agenda, had proved her worth. The message had arrived mere minutes after Erin returned to the guild hall. Oska sighted. Artair has him. Will attempt rescue if necessary.

‘If necessary’? If Caolinn was right and Oska had fallen into Artair’s hands, how could a rescue not be necessary?

The necromancer didn’t see it that way. “You need to have more faith in Oska,” she counselled, as they settled into the hiding spot Caolinn had chosen. “He’ll free himself from Artair when the time is right.”

Would he? Erin had, she felt, misjudged every member of her guild at one time or another. She no longer knew what to believe.

“Someone will know where Auri is,” Caolinn murmured, as the first blush of dawn touched the sky to the east. “Someone cleverer than Artair and Taria combined.”

“And cleverer than me,” Erin grumbled. The rain had begun to ease, but her legs had gone to sleep and she could only imagine the rust forming on her greatsword in the damp.

Caolinn gave her a sympathetic look. “Someone with a more conniving nature,” she said. “Someone it’s impossible to trust, because they never trust anyone in return.”

Erin sighed. That described an uncomfortable number of both her guild members and Artair’s, along with just about everyone she considered a close ally. Ivar, crouched silently in the long grass behind her, was the only one she could reliably read. Even Auri was a mystery. Was it possible the girl had somehow made herself vanish, without any outside help?

No, Caolinn was right. Someone conniving, who played by their own rules. They were the culprit here ‒ and if Artair really wasn’t to blame, Erin was starting to have her suspicions about who might be at the top of that list of suspects.

The sun had almost completely risen by the time Ivar gave a low whistle of warning. Erin peered through the scrub, catching sight of two familiar figures stumbling down the road. They looked bloodied and bruised, seemingly holding one another up.

Erin surged to her feet. She no longer cared who might be watching; if Artair was chasing them, she’d face him in the cold light of day. But Oska and Jean appeared to be alone and they stumbled to a stop as Erin reached them.

Oska grabbed her before she could speak, his hands gripping her arm as though he’d collapse in a heap otherwise. “Auri’s still out there,” he gasped. “Artair doesn’t have her.”

“I know.” Erin caught him under the arms, gently lowering him to the ground. “Taria doesn’t know where she is either. No one does.”

“But that means she’s out there!” Oska said again. His gaze was feverish, his cheeks flushed. “I have to find her.”

“We will.” Caolinn had emerged from the side of the road, though her gaze was locked on the eastern horizon. “But right now, we ought to find shelter. Artair doesn’t like to be thwarted.”

“How did you get away?” Erin asked, hauling Oska back to his feet.

The thief’s mouth opened, then closed again. “I…” he began, which seemed to be all he could manage.

“He doesn’t remember,” Jean put in. He had a gash on his cheek and was limping, but didn’t seem as dazed as Oska. “He head-butted Artair, then punched him right in the jaw. I’ve never seen anyone move that fast. He probably gave them both a concussion.”

Ivar took Oska’s other arm. “Head-butted Artair,” he said, grinning. “Wish I could have seen that.”

Erin could only agree. Oska had been a pain in her arse from the beginning, but sometimes she found herself oddly proud of the headstrong little thief.

A short distance from the road, they found a grove of aspens, their leaves rattling in the breeze. A boulder stood beside them, screening the road from view. Ivar, with a nod in Erin’s direction, settled into its shadow, whilst the rest of them headed deeper into the trees.

Erin sucked in a deep breath. The air in Ascalon was crisp and smelt of wet earth, reminding her of the Shiverpeaks in spring. There were days when she missed home, the snow and the mountains and the bustle of Hoelbrak. She missed being a lone warrior with no responsibilities to anyone but herself. But she’d chosen this guild, or perhaps they’d chosen her. She knew she could never leave.

She stood in the middle of the grove, arms folded, and realised everyone was waiting for her to speak. Even Oska was looking at her expectantly, though Erin kept waiting for him to stagger to his feet and run. But he didn’t, and no one spoke, and though the weight of their trust felt like a burden to Erin, she also knew it was the greatest gift.

“We need to talk,” she said slowly, “about Marissa.”

The faces around her were all blank. Erin studied Jean most carefully, but even he didn’t look guilty. He didn’t know, she realised. Even her own brother didn’t know what Marissa was up to.

“Go on,” Caolinn said. There was a note of satisfaction in her voice, as though she knew where this was going.

Erin took a deep breath, then looked at the two Valparis apologetically. “I think Marissa has been lying to us.”

Jean winced. “Nothing new there.”

“Perhaps, but this might not be one of her ordinary schemes.” Erin shifted her weight, putting her thoughts in order. “I spoke to Amber before she left. She thought Marissa had probably recovered from her injuries much faster than any of us realised.”

“Why would she want us to think she was incapacitated?” Oska put in. His dazed look had faded. Concussed or not, the prospect of finding Auri had sharpened his focus.

“Because we left for Brisban Wildlands right after Artair’s fake attack on the guild hall,” Erin replied. “Marissa used her injuries as an excuse to stay behind in Lion’s Arch ‒ or we thought she did.”

“Did anyone see her there?” Caolinn asked. “Was anyone watching her?”

“Only Darr,” Erin said, “and he was busy trying to restore the guild hall’s security. There’s every chance Marissa could have left without him noticing and arrived back before we did.”

“But why would she?” Jean looked bewildered. “That’s extreme even for my sister.”

“To head for the Wildlands at the same time as us,” Erin said, watching the expressions around her change one by one. “It must have taken mesmer magic to spirit Auri away so quickly. Very powerful mesmer magic, too.”

Jean scrambled to his feet. “Wait a minute…”

Erin spoke over him. “Oska, you know Auri better than any of us ever will. Would she really have gone with Artair willingly? If he’d tried to take her, wouldn’t she have put up a fight?”

“I thought…” Oska’s gaze was distant for a moment, but then his jaw tightened. “No. Auri wouldn’t have gone with Artair without asking me first. She knows he’s the enemy. Unless…”

“Unless she was convinced to trust him by someone whose magic she recognised,” Erin said heavily. “Someone like Marissa.”

In the wake of her words, there was a long silence. Overhead, the branches of the aspens scraped against one another and a crow cawed.

“Marissa would never help Artair,” Jean said finally. His voice shook with emotion. “Never in a million years. She hates him more than anything in the world.”

Erin swallowed. That was the flaw in her argument, she knew, the one piece she couldn’t account for.

But Jean could. “But she would trick him,” he went on. “She’d find a way to get one over on Artair if it meant getting Auri to safety.”

“Clever,” Caolinn said, admiration in her voice. “Devious, but definitely clever.”

“Where is she, Jean?” Erin asked, a fresh urgency gripping her. “Where’s Marissa hiding?”

Jean shook his head in dismay. “I don’t know. We’d been camping in the Hinterlands before I got Oska’s message, but I knew Marissa was planning to move us soon. And she kept disappearing, anyway. She wouldn’t say where she’d been.”

“To check on Auri,” Oska said, also getting to his feet.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t help us find either of them.”

“Jean, please.” Oska’s voice was rising. “You have to think‒”

“Enough.” Erin’s voice cut through the budding argument. Something had caught her eye as it fought against the breeze, little more than a dot of white against the glare of the rising sun.

It was the most welcome dot of white she’d ever seen.

Erin raised her hand and the messenger bird landed on her arm with a grateful chirrup. She untied the message with shaking fingers, barely noticing the bird leaving again. She recognised the untidy handwriting, though. The sight of it made her throat tighten in gratitude and relief.

E. Sorry for being incommunicado. Difficult situation. Moving constantly. Target being more secretive than usual.

Erin grimaced. That certainly sounded like Marissa.

But there was more to the note than that. Time to attempt extraction before target strings me up by the ears. Please rendezvous at indicated location. A.

There was a map. It was horrendously messy and smudged as though it had been rained on, but Erin recognised the location at once. It looked an awful lot like home.

“That’s from Amber,” Caolinn said, “isn’t it?”

Erin lifted her head and realised she was grinning. “It is. Looks like we’ve got somewhere to be.”