Faith – Chapter 6

I've no time to look upon endless portraits, no time to feel the weight of history, no time to spy gold ornaments and worry that I've blundered into a dragon's lair. There's certainly no time to savour the heat and sweat of the young woman I'm clutching for dear life.

Instead, I have to note every corridor, turning and lobby to construct a map. I see balconies and choke points where an archer, behind a wall of regenerating Ursine flesh, might sow havoc. Should we invite Jarvan's wrath, we'll need every trick at our disposal.

Over and over, Garen yells the situation is under control, no sudden moves. Each repetition is like a hammer blow to my skull.

Our footsteps echo down a great hall, flanked with statues of legendary knights. A chill crosses the back of my neck. I see Lux, watching from above, her smile as blank and irritating as ever. She cups her oval face, observing us without lifting a finger. Quinn was right about her non-interference, at least.

Once Garen reaches a pair of massive, emblazoned doors, I steel myself. This must be our reckoning.

I'm surprised at how small Jarvan's receiving room is. Comprising a circle between two staircases, it resembles a duelling pit. One descent is at our entrance, the other by Jarvan's ebony throne, a tasteful shock amid the shine.

Jarvan slouches, wearing the same golden armour as before. He's even kept his three day stubble. The sense of déjà vu slows my reactions. I don't see Xin Zhao until his weapon digs into the thin flesh under my ribs. In response, I push my knife deep enough that Quinn squawks in pain. Volibear squeezes Valor until bones crack.

Finally, Jarvan surges upright. 'Everyone, stand down!'

Xin Zhao doesn't move. I'm told my "piercing azure glare" can bring anyone to their knees. All those compliments ring false before Xin Zhao's unwavering serenity. He says, 'This woman is no killer.' Sejuani would be disappointed. As glad as I am to hear Xin Zhao's appraisal, I can't imagine worse timing.

Jarvan says, 'Can you look at her companion and say the same?'

Xin Zhao's attention flickers. 'No,' he says, lowering his weapon.

While Jarvan looks over the battlefield, I sense a profound weight, weakening his posture. He's one of the tallest men I've seen but he wears it like a burden. As a war veteran, his lack of response may stem from weariness rather than statesmanship. I have to find an opening. He says, 'Garen, you did the right thing, as always. Thank you.'

Garen salutes. 'I couldn't risk anyone's life, Your Majesty.'

'No time for protocol. I think Ashe warrants a little candour.' Jarvan address me. 'I didn't expect you to ransom Quinn but I saw the possibility. Never did I think you'd arrive in person with an Ursine traitor.'

Volibear refuses the bait. 'Your expectations are meaningless. We're in control, not you.' He rattles Valor hard enough to scare me.

Jarvan balks. 'Enough! You've made your point. What are your demands?'

I have to be careful. Jarvan's unlikely to publicise Quinn's affair but if I misplay, he might retaliate. One stray comment will turn Volibear against me. The dance begins. 'I'll give them to you, alone. Send your men away.'

Jarvan follows my lead. 'Xin Zhao stays. You're not taking me hostage.'

'You… me… Quinn. Everyone else goes.'

I hear Volibear growl. 'You planned this from the start, you witch.'

'We share just one goal. That doesn't mean you're privy to all my dealings. We're still at war.'

Lightning erupts. My heart echoes wildly. 'Count yourself lucky that I made a promise to a better chieftain. Sacrifice me then. If you don't succeed in your quest, I'll haunt you for the rest of your days.'

Garen says, 'You're in Demacia. The just are safe, whatever Queen Ashe might intend.'

'She's not my queen.'

Jarvan twists a mechanism behind his throne. A partition opens, revealing a corridor lit by magical fire. He stalks over the threshold like a heron. Does every Demacian have an odd walk? You have Garen's gallop, Xin Zhao's trundling siege unit impersonation, Quinn's adorable hunch…

I'm anxious enough that I miss Jarvan's explanation. All I hear is, 'Warded against eavesdroppers, magical and otherwise.'

'Oh…' I come back to the present. 'Lux's work?'

'We are the vanguard of arcane suppression. Our ingenuity runs deeper than you know.'

Lux will definitely be watching. I pray that's all she does.

Trailing through the bowels of the castle, I haul Quinn like a slain doe. Jarvan eyes me curiously. 'How perfectly barbaric.' I scowl, not dignifying his quip with an answer. He continues. 'You're stronger than you look. A shame, your costumes undermine your power.'

'How gallant. I was thinking the same about your armour.' He looks ridiculous.

'True. It is meant to be seen from a distance, not up close.'

The secret war room is impossibly huge. Some of our banqueting halls are smaller. The table covers Runeterra in exhaustive detail. Jarvan does consider the whole world his backyard.

Thankfully, his map of the Freljord is incomplete. If it's roughly to scale, he's got a vague sense of where Sejuani roams but Ursine lands are too far north. That's almost Lissandra's territory.

There's a little bird figurine touching base with a bow and arrow. That must be Quinn and me, together as if we're married. At least Jarvan can't deny knowledge of Quinn's movements with this on show.

Despite all this opulence, I'd sooner work at my narrow desk. I have charts, rather than pointless bunting, upon every spare bit of wall. Demacia may have reach but they lack focus and raw field information. Too many variables are going unheeded, a fatal omission if you're campaigning in adverse conditions.

I understand why Lux was keen to get involved with us.

I lower Quinn to the floor and cradle her in my lap. I touch the clotted blood on her neck, silently horrified at my own capabilities. I wish I could apologise but I can't say the words until I have Jarvan's co-operation. She's drinking in our proximity, like a slave gulping filthy water because they'll never taste wine.

Jarvan picks up a chair and sits apart from us. He leans forward, resting his massive chin upon a clenched fist. 'Where to begin?' he says. 'Quinn, I'm glad to see you back home where you belong.'

'Thanks, Your Majesty. Sorry for causing you so much trouble.' She keeps repeating that phrase.

'If anyone's causing trouble, it's the woman with a knife to your throat.' He scrutinises me. 'What is the meaning of this, Ashe?'

'I caught one of your spies, and I need a ship in return.'

'A very specific request. Why?'

'To rescue someone from the Shadow Isles.'

He draws back in surprise. 'Intriguing, and who is your Ursine companion? Evidently, he's not your subject and wields thunder like a shaman. I'm confident that's Volibear himself.'

'It is. The person we're here to rescue is the Winter's Wrath, Sejuani.'

Jarvan responds as though scolding a child. 'The woman you sought our help to crush. Now you wish to save her. Quinn, you performed a great service, keeping us out of this war. Despite Ashe's claims, I suspected our two tribes were not so distant.'

I say, 'You mean Tryndamere's claims. I always insisted our tribes were one people. A shame you remember his words and not mine.'

'You were less clear, deprived of sleep and wit. Regardless, your… indiscretion with Quinn raised a possibility, that you propositioned Sejuani before Tryndamere. Your muddled actions befit a spurned lover.'

He's impossibly near the mark. 'No… you presume too much. I find her attractive. Many people do. That was my sole omission.'

'Suppose I believe you. What has changed since our last meeting?'

'Do you remember the story of how Lissandra nearly killed us?' He nods. 'After you left, I captured Volibear. He told me Sejuani was able to come back and save us by pledging her soul to Kalista.'

'Do you believe him?'

'Volibear's not a liar. You can take him at his word.'

'Should I be dealing with him and not you?'

'He would ask you for the same thing.'

'Though he would be more willing to sacrifice Quinn,' says Jarvan. 'Was the theatre for his benefit, a means to persuade him you were serious? You must spend every moment in his company fearing for your life.'

Just a bit. 'I'd be lying if I said otherwise but he needs my help.'

'Why you? Does he believe you more competent and ruthless than his kin?'

'Yes and, unlike him, I've got a vessel to carry souls back to the Freljord.'

Jarvan's hostility grows. 'You would employ dark arts to further your cause?'

'Not at all.' I think he protests too much. 'Anivia provided it.'

'Elemental magic?''

'I presume.'

'So Volibear would have no trouble wielding it himself?'

'No more than I would.'

'Then why risk his company? He could simply kill you and steal it.'

'I needed someone who could brave the Shadow Isles.'

'Yet we have resources. You could have made Garen or Luxanna one of your demands.' He closes the net. 'What you really needed was someone to kill Quinn on your behalf, and you couldn't bring yourself to give her up.' I'm choking. 'Why should I believe you can kill her now? That we have anything to negotiate apart from your release?'

'Because…' I fall silent and lose myself in Quinn's plain beauty. She represents all I'm fighting for, the right of normal people to simply be.

Suddenly, Quinn's the most precious thing in this whole, twisted world. Before getting to know her, I wouldn't have picked out her face in a field. Now I can't believe I'm responsible for something so gorgeous and unique.

I'm trying and failing to weigh Sejuani's ineffable damnation against a visceral here and now. My willpower's gone. I'm sorry, my princess. You thought I was pitiless enough to save us both. I'd always wanted to prove you wrong but not like this.

Jarvan grabs a lance off the wall. 'I respect your sense of obligation. If a worthy opponent saved my friends, I would not think twice about returning the favour, but I can't allow you to extort Demacia. You have no hold over me, as Quinn's life is not at risk. I will excuse your trespass and not send anyone else to your country. That is all you will get from me.'

I swallow but the lump in my throat will not vanish. 'What about Volibear?'

'Luxanna can bind him if you can't retaliate.'

So, I have to make a genuine effort on Quinn's life? Should I begin cutting off her fingers? I…

Quinn yells. 'No! You can't do this, Your Majesty!'

He dismisses her. 'Quinn, I've made my decision. It's over.'

'But…'

'I've given you space to reflect and overcome when a sterner liege would have disowned you for dragging our name through the dirt. Your broken past and immaturity will excuse no further. Let this woman go before she destroys you.'

'Before Ashe destroys me? For the sake of your pride, you're gambling with my life!' Quinn bares her throat. On cue, I thrust my blade into her right shoulder. She cries out in pain. 'You may not take Ashe's desperation seriously but I've known it, first-hand. I felt her pass out in the middle of my first kiss!' Jarvan cringes at that detail. He can face mortal danger but not intimacy, and Quinn knows it. 'I want to live, Your Majesty!'

She's roaring from her tiny body. Jarvan is losing control of the situation. 'Calm down, I promise you'll be…'

'Don't tell me to calm down when you're letting me die! Am I that repulsive? That you'd abandon me for the sake of providing a ship? For the sake of ending a civil war? If you won't take Ashe's threat seriously then how about mine? If you don't help, I'll tell everyone you ordered me to seduce her!'

Jarvan points with his lance. 'You wouldn't dare.'

'Dare to what? Save myself? How else can I persuade you that Ashe is going to kill me?'

'Do you think anyone would believe a promiscuous farm girl over…?'

'Yes, they would!' She powers through his objection. 'I'm Demacia's Wings and I bear your message to people like me. There are legions of dirty, stinking farm girls, and only one of you!'

Jarvan advances like an angry treant. Even if Quinn survives, her life is over… unless I justify her treason. I had doubted her loyalty but, right now, she's more committed than I am.

Sejuani, when we meet, you will know every moment of my weakness. I promise.

Distraught at what I must do, I sever Quinn's jugular.

Blood gushes. Her mouth stretches in a grotesque yawn. I stare Jarvan down as I press my fingers into the warm river. Baring my teeth, I choke out a threat. 'I'm serious, Jarvan. I… love Quinn but I can't forgo this chance to unite the Freljord. Help me or I'll release the pressure and our little bird will be… no more.'

Jarvan reaches out like a man drowning. His weapon clatters to the floor. 'Quinn, I was a fool to doubt your words and risk your life. I am unworthy of being your prince.' He kneels. 'I will see to your wounds and… arrange a vessel for Queen Ashe.'

I forget about our performance and wail. Huddling over Quinn, I touch our heads together, praying she's already too drowsy to fear death.

With the scraping of metal on stone, Jarvan shuffles away. He murmurs to himself. 'Demacia… you teach me something new every day. This truly is…. the greatest…'