Chapter 5: Part 6 - Mercy

Spark had always expected to go out fighting. It wasn’t only that that was the charr way. She’d scraped and battled her way through life from the day she’d left the fahrar, suffering untold losses, devastating failures, and more bloodshed than any one individual should witness. Two things had always carried her through: her work as an engineer, which she was certain held the key to bringing peace to Tyria… And Weir.

Kneeling in the Ascalon wilderness, a dagger buried in her gut, wasn’t the end she’d envisaged. Being taken down by that little scrap of a thief wasn’t either. But then she also hadn’t expected to be alone. No warband, no guild, no Weir. Somehow, she’d made one wrong move after another and left them all behind.

It was the click of a pistol that made the thief go still. Oska stopped rummaging through his supplies and his head came up.

A young woman’s voice floated out of the darkness. “Congratulations, little cousin. You caught her. Now, are you going to do the honours, or am I?”

The pistol was aimed at Oska’s head, but Spark was certain the girl wouldn’t use it. When she emerged from the shadows, it was all too apparent she was another damned Valpari.

“Ruby. What are you doing here?” Oska’s voice was steady, but there was a tension in his shoulders as he levered himself to his feet.

“Making sure this ends properly.” Ruby’s aim was unwavering. It followed Oska as he rose, the pistol pointing directly at his head.

Spark gave a dry laugh that turned into a hacking cough before she could stop it. This, at least, she hadn’t missed. Family meant treachery. Friendship meant betrayal. When you were alone… Well, it was difficult to betray yourself.

Difficult, but not impossible. Spark had fully intended to kill the elementalist girl the moment they reached the wilds. It would have been a thousand times safer that way, for herself and all of Tyria. Spark knew the girl was a weapon like no other, however innocent she might appear.

But it was innocence that was the problem, in the end. Auri wasn’t just a collection of bolts and nuts and polished metal. She was a living thing, with a will and a purpose and a heart. When she’d looked at Spark ‒ when she’d smiled and said she understood ‒ killing her had become a lot more difficult.

Ruby abruptly shifted, swinging the pistol in Spark’s direction. “What are you laughing at?”

Myself, Spark wanted to say. Instead, she bared her teeth. “You, of course. You talk big, but you haven’t pulled the trigger.”

“She’s not going to.” Oska stepped forwards, putting a firm hand on Ruby’s outstretched arm. “Don’t do this, Ruby. Auri wants her to live.”

Ruby’s lip curled. “Auri is as soft-hearted as a rabbit. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Because she couldn’t protect herself.”

Oska’s voice grew lower. “Would you really want her to be any other way?”

For the first time, Spark could see Ruby hesitating. She almost wanted to tell the girl to get it over with, but the words wouldn’t come. Perhaps the desire to live was stronger than she’d thought.

Oska’s hand tightened on Ruby’s arm. “Don’t you remember that night in Fort Koga? You wanted to find out what it meant to be human, didn’t you? You wanted to be a Valpari. Well, this is what we do. We show mercy, even at the bitter end.”

Spark laughed again, more harshly than before, ignoring the blood that bubbled on her lips. “Fort Koga? I know that place. It’s as haunted by humans as the rest of this damned land.”

Ruby’s expression was one of fury and disgust ‒ and yet something in her cousin’s words had hit home. She stepped back, shoving the pistol into its holster. “Yes, human ghosts,” she spat. “I’m sure your ancestors are responsible for plenty of them. But Oska’s right. Our family has enough ghosts of its own.”

Spark found herself staring at the holstered pistol, almost wishing Ruby would draw it again. Saved by human ghosts… That was an irony and a half.

Oska dropped back to his knees, but this time he hesitated. “Ruby’s right to be angry. You would have killed Auri if we’d given you the chance. I’m only going to leave you a medkit. That’s the best I can do.”

Spark could find no vicious response, this time. She managed to nod and when she lifted her head again, both Valparis were gone. Nothing but a chill wind through the dry grass marked their passage.

It was a long time before she managed to move. The pain in her gut was beyond anything she’d ever known, but the cold was worse. It spread out from her chest, creeping down her limbs until each was gripped in a band of ice. The medkit Oska had left lay tantalisingly close, close enough that even a dying charr could reach it ‒ but still, Spark didn’t move. Instead, she lifted her head a little higher and looked at the stars.

It was Ruby who’d been right, she found herself thinking. Not Oska, not Auri, but the savage little snake who’d appeared out of nowhere and been so close to pulling the trigger. Auri was tender-hearted, Oska was trying to be noble, but Ruby… She’d looked into Spark’s eyes and seen the truth there. She’d seen what this battered old charr deserved.

She’d only ever tried to make Tyria better ‒ wasn’t that what she’d told Auri and Weir? It had felt like the truth at the time, but now she saw it for a lie. She didn’t want Tyria to be better. No, she wanted to make up for all the pain it had caused her. She’d forged her weapons and gone into battle time and time again because she’d been hurt ‒ and what other response was there but to hurt the world in return? Weir had seen it, in the end. Weir and then Ruby, a stranger who looked like she knew exactly what that sort of pain was like.

So Spark didn’t move and when the grasses rustled again, revealing a very different figure, it was almost a relief.

“She’s gone,” Spark grated. Her jaw still worked against the cold, but only just. “Her brother spirited her away.”

There was a sigh, perhaps of disappointment, perhaps of satisfaction. “I’m glad Auri is safe,” was all the sylvari said.

Spark managed to get her head up. She’d meant to look Artair in the eye, but her gaze snagged on something else. The rifle he held, long and sleek and beautiful, and almost as dangerous as the girl they’d both been chasing.

“Where,” Spark hissed, “did you get that?”

Artair lifted Souleater higher, admiring it in the moonlight. “A friend… retrieved it for me. Another engineer, in fact. She’s almost as talented as you are.”

Retrieved it? Stole it, more likely. “Does Amber know?”

“The asura? No, and I intend to keep it that way as long as possible.”

“She’ll kill you.”

“She can try.”

Spark closed her eyes. All her worlds seemed to be colliding, past and present and… Not future. She could feel that rapidly slipping away. “Auri’s safe. What use is revenge now? You could go after her instead.”

“I could,” Artair said softly, but his fingers tightened around Souleater. “But she’s safe, as you say. I’m sure I’ll see Light’s Memory soon enough. Once my business here is concluded, that is.”

Spark considered, for a moment, the dagger sticking through her gut. It was the only weapon she had left. She could draw it out, try to stab Artair before he shot her ‒ but her body felt very far away and it no longer moved when she told it to. Even the pain was gone.

“You could be like the Valparis,” she growled. “You could show mercy.”

“Mercy? When you took something so important from me and tried to do it harm?” Artair’s smile was an unsheathed blade. He began to raise Souleater, its stock gleaming silver in the moonlight. Spark stared at it for a moment, then returned her gaze to the stars. They were so beautiful, so unsullied by treachery or malice ‒ but they weren’t enough to block out Artair’s final words. “No. Like you, my dear, I have many weapons in my arsenal ‒ but mercy isn’t one of them.”