Whoohoo! Progress is being made! This one is extra long (by 25%) because the 70-80 quests are actually really long! And copious amounts of fluff! Thanks again to Tharash for beta-reading and editing!
The most egregious thing that needed adjusting for me was the final boss fight, because Zhaitan goes down like a sad puppy in the game and… like… some Wyld Hunt that was. I wanted to stab the dragon myself, not watch it die by clicking the “shoot cannon” button over and over! (Also that dungeon is very slow and doesn’t have great pacing.) It was also fun to figure out how the different choices of mission could work at the same time! I also put in some cameos from other characters, some of them probably gratuitous.
Soundtracks used for inspiration: Fodlan Winds, Seven Pillars of Wisdom, Let There Be Fire, Apex of the World, and also 打ち上げ花火 by Cellchrome (or Fireworks is what Google Translate tells me that means) which doesn’t have the studio version on YouTube, only live mall performances which are… not actually that great (sorry Cellchrome, you guys sound better on CD, I will buy all your CDs if you make them available in Canada, deal?).
I’m madly in love with Trahearne’s voice, help lol. How is it so deliciously yummy!? Cheers to Matthew Brenher for having such a magnificent voice. : )
I’m in game up to the end of HoT, so I’ll be writing at least up to that point.
Contents:
– 1: Strength of the Firstborn (Forging the Pact)
– 2: The Second Loss (Level 70 quests)
– 3: Comfort (The Battle of Fort Trinity)
– 4: Strike Boldly (Level 80 quests)
– 5: Love Requited (The Cleansing of Orr)
– 6: Victory or Death
– 7: Meet the Family (Basegame Epilogue)
Part 3: Victory or Death
1: Strength of the Firstborn (Forging the Pact)
Timberline Falls was one of Caoilfhionn’s favourite places in the Shiverpeaks, where the unutterably majestic mountains sloped down to lush green pine forests, spangled with glittering little ice-cold streams that chattered gaily as they swept into blue, blue lakes that were crystal clear once you dove in. Fort Concordia was a neat little timbered structure on a little island in the middle of one of the rivers, not the prettiest fort in the world despite the breathtaking location, but reasonably defensible against the local tribes of hostile grawl.
It was raining this day, a chill drizzle that promised harsher to come. Rhyoll was constantly trying to whip the wet from the tuft at the end of his tail. “It’s miserable out today!”
“I disagree,” Caoilfhionn said. “I love the sun, but it’s delightful today, too!”
Rhyoll glared at him. “Easy for you to say, walking plant. Look at me! I’m soaked through!”
Caoilfhionn turned to him in alarm. “Right through? It’s penetrated your skin?”
Phiadi rolled her eyes. “No, of course not, but it feels like it. You’re not freezing and feeling sodden?”
“No?”
“No, this is nice,” Annhilda said. “Damara, what’s your opinion?”
Damara shook her head. “Not my favourite. If only because it messes with my arrows. There isn’t much cover at Concordia, is there?”
They’d just arrived, and Caoilfhionn looked around. Wynnet, Doern, and Efut were already there, but… “Where’s Trahearne? Isn’t he here?”
“He just stepped out,” Wynnet said to him, gesturing to the south gate. “You can call him back in if you like. Your guild’s here now, so we can get started.”
“Thanks, I will,” Caoilfhionn said, and stuck his head out of the gate. Trahearne was standing quite still down by the water’s edge, watching it flow by, letting the rain fall on his head without concern. “Trahearne?”
The Firstborn looked to see him, with a brief smile that faded quickly. “I’m glad to see you. I need to convince the Orders that the path I’ve chosen is the right one. Reassure me: Hope’s Legacy will support me, yes?”
“All the way,” Caoilfhionn said firmly.
Trahearne took a deep breath. “Taking charge of an army – or even a group of strong-minded individuals – is new to me. I hope I sound more confident than I feel.”
“You were brilliant last time,” Caoilfhionn said, smiling sweetly. “Just remember that they want to believe too.”
“Do they?” Trahearne shook his head. “I sense they still have doubts. Perhaps you and your friends could talk to them and discover the concerns they cannot voice to me.”
“I’ll do that,” Caoilfhionn assured him. “Wynnet likes me, and she likes Annhilda even more. I’m sure she’ll open up with a bit of talk.”
“Thank you,” Trahearne said, and they went back in the gate.
The meeting was brief, and it was only a short while before Caoilfhionn had gathered what he needed to know, with the help of his friends, and went unobtrusively with Trahearne into a corner while everyone else was still talking.
“What have you learned?” Trahearne asked, and frowned at the muddy ground before Caoilfhionn could answer. “It is underhanded to use you in this way, and yet…”
“You need to know, don’t you?” Caoilfhionn said. “If they won’t tell you, we ask for you, and then you can adjust without letting anything on. Then no one is offended or discommoded. But yes, they do have doubts, as you guessed. Wynnet says you’ll need charisma and a forceful personality to see this through.”
“I wonder if I have that sufficiently,” Trahearne said. “I was never one for charisma… Not compared to… Riannoc, or… or Faolain, at the beginning. Or Laranthir; have you met him?”
Caoilfhionn laughed. “I think you have it, you just don’t realize you do. When your passion shines through, you are magnetic, Trahearne.”
“Difficult for me to believe,” Trahearne said dryly. “But in time, Zhaitan will give me the chance to prove myself. I simply hope they don’t abandon me before then.”
“You prove it each day, every day,” Caoilfhionn said. “They’ll see. I promise.” Surely this wasn’t his rose-tinted view getting in his way.
Trahearne smiled tolerantly. “It’s kind of you to say so. What I really need is the opportunity to show them I do speak the language of war- who’s that?”
A Human was rushing up to them, in mud-soaked Priory robes, waving his arms and yelling. As he made it up to the gate, he fell to the ground, gasping for air. “Somebody, help me! The team studying Rankor Ruins was overwhelmed by the undead!”
Trahearne and Caoilfhionn shared an alarmed look. “Rankor Ruins?” Trahearne exclaimed. “At the dig site?”
“Yes! Please… they’re trapped! Help them!”
“Right away,” Trahearne said. “Crusader Afanen! Agent Zrii! Hope’s Legacy! You’re with me. Efut, Wynnet, Doern, defend the fort until we return.”
Everyone saluted, and Trahearne led them south, across the river ford, to the remains of dwarven ruins. Caoilfhionn sniffed the damp air and frowned. There was a faint scent of rot under the wet earth and moss; the undead were definitely around.
“Something is definitely wrong here,” Trahearne said. “Everyone, our objective is to locate a missing Priory team. Zrii, I want you to conduct stealth reconnaissance while the rest of us take the main path through the ruins. We’ll draw the attention of any Orrians and thin out their numbers as we proceed. Rendezvous at the far end of the site.”
“Understood,” said Zrii, and vanished from sight.
Annhilda drew her sword and loosened her wrists. “I’m ready to teach those walking corpses a lesson. Are you ready, Hope’s Legacy?”
“More than ready!” Phiadi said, drawing her first minion out of the ground. “Huh, this one’s kinda cute.”
“Like I said before, I’m not liking this weather too much,” Damara said. “It’s going to be slippery, and much more of a challenge for me to land my arrows. I might go close-quarters on this one. But Orion will help put them down.” She lifted her arm and a great raven flew to her and began preening.
“I approve,” Annhilda told her with a grin. “Do what you have to.”
“I’ll try not to blow up anything historically significant,” Rhyoll said. “Except as a last resort.”
Caoilfhionn laughed. “Let’s go rescue some researchers! Dispel this foul air!”
Crusader Afanen chuckled. “I’d heard the stories, but Hope’s Legacy really is what they say, isn’t it.”
“They truly are,” Trahearne said, taking Caladbolg in his hands. “We’re fortunate they’re on our side.”
The research camp was deserted, except for deceased bodies both mobile and immobile, but they found three living Asura up the hill, barricaded inside an ancient hut. After driving back the undead, they pushed further to find the rest of the team, inside a cave in the mountain. Rhyoll shook himself all over as they entered the cave, spraying rainwater everywhere. Well, it wasn’t like the rest of them could get more wet.
“I hope we’re not too late,” said the Asura krewe leader, who introduced himself as Dobbs. “I’ve never returned from a dig without at least 65 percent of the people I set out with. I’d hate to see those numbers go down.”
“This is my last expedition with him,” said one of the researchers to Caoilfhionn under her breath. “Sooner or later I’m going to be on the wrong side of his ‘safely returned’ ratio.”
“I… don’t think I blame you,” Caoilfhionn said. Sure, archaeology was dangerous, but 65 percent…?
They were guided by the sound of fighting, and an Asura calling. “Hey! Over here! Help!”
“Kekt!” Caoilfhionn cried. “It has been a while!” The man who had been present when he first met Sieran was with a larger group of Priory researchers with their backs to the wall, holding off a swarm of grubs.
“Oh, I remember you,” Kekt said. “Your timing is impeccable. There’s a lot of you, aren’t there? Good. We might actually survive this.”
“I’m glad you’re still alive. What’s the quickest way out from here?” Trahearne asked.
Kekt and Dobbs looked at each other. “There’s a way out to the south. I theorize it will have fewer Risen compared to the direction you just came from.”
“Perfect,” Annhilda said. “I’ll take point. Keep together and stay on your guard.”
But the way out was blocked by a wall of strong bones. They’d blasted through bones like them before, with heavy magic, but they did not have that here…
Everyone began to talk at once. “Where did this come from?” demanded Dobbs. “This was supposed to be our way out!”
Agent Zrii’s voice echoed from the shadows. “The Orrians funneled us here. They’ve shown disturbingly advanced tactics ever since we arrived.”
“I knew it,” muttered the female Asura. “I’m going to die here and Dobbs is going to write it up as ‘acceptable losses’.” One of the other Asura began to wail to himself.
“Pipe down,” Annhilda said sharply. “Let’s plan our next move.”
The Charr researcher on the team had been inspecting the bone wall, with his salamander drake pet beside him. “Even Amphebe’s breath after a bushel of garlic couldn’t melt through that.”
“I’ve seen Orrians swarm, and I’ve seen them lurk, but I’ve never seen them set traps like this,” Crusader Afanen said. “Are they capable of tactical thinking like that?”
“Oh yes,” Trahearne said, his voice dark and deep. “I’ve seen them do exquisitely horrible things.” Everyone looked at him. “What is it?”
Caoilfhionn laughed, despite the situation. “Trahearne, you’re my very dear friend, but when you say things like that, surely you understand why some call you ‘creepy’. Sometimes.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been quite so harsh on that one Lionguard… no! Trahearne might have a creepy side, but it was hardly the whole of who he was. And when his voice got low like that… He felt a shiver run down his spine, and it wasn’t with horror.
Trahearne’s luminescence pulsed in the darkness of the cave. “Er… well… be that as it may, if the Priory team found the artifact I suspect they found, it all makes sense.”
“We were looking for a dwarven tome,” said Kekt, patting his satchel. “Why would Zhaitan care so much about an ancient book of lore?”
“I believe it contains information about the last time the dragons rose. Its very existence proves they can be beaten back. Our enemy wants to keep that information from us.” Trahearne looked around, at them all, at the bones. “And if they fall upon us here, they could wipe out most of the Pact’s leadership.”
“So what do we do?” Annhilda said. “They’re coming quickly.”
“We may be trapped, but I can summon the reinforcements we need to fight our way out,” Trahearne said, his eyes glinting. “This will require no small effort. Buy me some time to prepare.”
“You got it,” Annhilda said. “Hope’s Legacy! Let’s go! Researchers and mages in the back!”
“They won’t get to you,” Caoilfhionn said to Trahearne. “Take your time and do what you need to.”
Trahearne nodded and lifted his hand, letting his eyes half-close in concentration. Caoilfhionn turned away to face the oncoming horde.
Anhilda flung up a magical wall to block the spittle from the incoming grumbs, and Damara released arrows through it. Rhyoll’s rifle went off, again and again, deafening in the enclosed space, turning grubs into exploded balloons of pus and guts, backed by his hearty guffaws. Caoilfhionn sprang forward at Annhilda’s shoulder, wrapping a cluster of grubs in a ring of fire. A group of larger, more humanoid zombies stumbled through the flames, unflinching, but he whipped another fire spell at one, Phiadi ripped the life-energy from another, and Annhilda slashed a third in two and the bodies fell to the floor on top of several burning grubs.
Trahearne gave a shout, and bodies erupted from the floor of the cave – big, hulking minions, as big as a Norn, dwarfing him, great incorporeal spirits clustering about him. And yet he stood so straight and commanding, even with that mystical, concentrating look on his face, there was no question – they obeyed him and him alone. Caoilfhionn’s breath was stolen to see the glint of his yellow eyes; a brief glow, residual from casting such a mighty spell, that spoke to the power hidden in him. Creepy? Yes. Completely captivating and alluring? Also yes.
“Follow me!” Trahearne cried, and his minions fells upon the remaining undead viciously, clearing the way for them.
“This Trahearne’s got some real power, doesn’t he?” said the Charr scholar. “Can’t wait to see him go all-out.”
Caoilfhionn beamed at him. “That makes all of us, I think.”
“Aye,” said the Asura woman. “I’m done with Dobbs, but Trahearne? Him, I’d follow.”
“There!” Annhilda cried. “There’s the entrance! Take heart!”
Caoilfhionn came into the murky, undead-tainted light of day, into the icy, misty rain, and gasped. A tall wraith awaited them, surrounded by ranks of undead that equaled Trahearne’s minions in size – and outnumbered them. They did not attack, though a low growl went through them all, and a clattering of claws.
The wraith spread his hands and spoke in a bone-rattlingly deep voice. “Ha! Welcome Sylvari. Lured you here, trapped you here. Now you die here. The elements bow before me and I bow before Zhaitan. He wills your death. He shall have it.”
Trahearne stared up at the wraith, unimpressed and unafraid. “I was born to undo your master’s work.” He lifted Caladbolg high. “If I must kill you to achieve that, then you shall die here.”
The rain poured down; lightning cracked somewhere nearby with a blinding flash and a report that echoed endlessly between the mountains, and the two sides lunged at each other. Caoilfhionn flew on wings of instinct, going for the nearest abomination to Trahearne, his daggers ripping through flesh and leaving lightning in their wake, ducking smoothly under the swing of its huge arm. Air and water flowed around him, and he flowed through the melée, hardly pausing for an instant. The wind rushed through his leaves and the rain streamed down his face and trailed his fingertips.
The wraith lifted his hands, hurling spell after spell at Trahearne, who stood his ground magnificently, wielding Caladbolg with power and grace. He caught a flash of bared teeth as the greatsword whirled, cleaving the wraith’s dark spells asunder. Caoilfhionn felt the surging of magic through the air, a tingling feeling that nearly knocked him back with the sheer force of the power involved. The wraith moved forward, increasing the intensity of his attacks. Trahearne took a single step back, and no further, holding fast as the creature loomed over him, Caladbolg blazing like the moon amid the rain and the magic.
The rest of them were holding back the abominations, just barely. Monsters fell about them, splashing into the mud with loud groans, but they kept coming. Trahearne’s own minions and spirits were falling, his concentration focussing ever more on the wraith, leaving the rest of the battle up to them. He would call if he needed help, surely…?
The wraith knocked Caladbolg to one side, hissing as its essence burned away from the touch, but the other arm reached out and grabbed Trahearne by the throat. “Have you now, Sylvari-”
An arrow struck the wraith in the eye and it dropped Trahearne, taking a step back with a howl. Caoilfhionn breathed again, but who had shot the arrow? Damara was beside him, opposite the direction it had come from, and that wasn’t one of her arrows…
In the shadows of the ruins and trees, almost unseen through the rain at this distance, was a tall slender figure. Tall even for a Norn, but he could not make the person’s features. They raised a greatbow nearly twice his height and loosed another arrow; an abomination near him thudded to the ground, its head pierced through. Lightning flashed, and Caoilfhionn gained an impression of white skin, long brown hair, and dark blue leather.
Trahearne nodded at the figure, once, then hefted Caladbolg and charged, making a great slash across the wraith’s body. Thunder crashed, and he couldn’t tell if it were the lightning or the strike of the sword. The wraith shrieked and dissipated, its essence coming undone, and all the abominations fell as one. Trahearne stood alone, so tall and commanding with the greatsword shimmering in his hands.
“Yal-” Trahearne began, turning to the figure, but it was already gone, disappearing into the mountain mist as if it had never been. “Thank you!”
“Who was that?” Crusader Afanen asked, shading her eyes from the rain with her hand, peering in the direction it had been. The intensity of the weather was letting up, now that the wraith was gone.
“Yaleiya,” Trahearne said, catching his breath. “She wanders these lands.”
“Wait,” Annhilda said. “The Yaleiya? I thought she was a myth.”
Trahearne shook his head with a little smile. “She’s no myth, though I’m not sure what she is. I met her long, long ago, here. Yet again she has saved my life.”
“Would she fight with us in Orr?” Agent Zrii said. “We could use a one-woman ballista.”
“I do not think so. She doesn’t like people, and seldom leaves these lands… No matter. The wraith is dead, the research team is alive, and we have the artifact.”
“Well done, Marshal Trahearne,” said the Charr scholar. “That Orrian ugly looked nigh unstoppable, but you did it.”
“The Pact did it,” Trahearne said graciously. “Our combined efforts made this happen. Just as we’ll defeat Zhaitan together. Hopefully, our chances of doing just that have been improved with the information contained inside this tome.”
“I can help you there!” Kekt said. “I’m fluent in ancient Dwarf. Get us out of here and I’ll translate the stuffing out of this tome.”
“Yes, he was the one who led me to my first mission with the Priory with his translations!” Caoilfhionn said.
“Excellent,” Trahearne said. “Let’s return to Concordia. Zrii, please take point.”
Caoilfhionn found himself walking back beside Trahearne. His heart was light as the rain washed over him. It would not stop until tomorrow at the earliest, maybe not even then. That was well enough; the rain was a necessary and beautiful part of the world. “I’m sorry I was late to aid you, but I’m glad the Yaleiya showed up.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” Trahearne said. “She is there when she is there. It was good to see her again, if only for a moment.”
“What’s she like?”
“A person of few words… very few. Inscrutable. Unpredictable. Very pragmatic.”
“You know a lot of people, don’t you?” For all he was unpopular with the masses, he seemed to know everyone.
Trahearne quirked an awkward smile. “A product of my sordid youth… No, no, I jest. I’ve… traveled. A lot. For a long time. I haven’t spent my whole life in old libraries or exploring Orr. I meet people. Sometimes, they meet me.”
“That’s wonderful. I like meeting people too!”
“I never said I liked it,” Trahearne muttered, but his widening smile gave him away.
Caoilfhionn laughed, then perked up. “Oh, hang on a moment.” He reached out without thinking, wiping a mud spatter from Trahearne’s cheek that hadn’t been washed away by the flowing rain.
“Er.” Magenta pulsed strongly through Trahearne’s leaves and face. “Caoilfhionn?”
“Ahh!” The impropriety of what he’d just done sank in and he jumped back, snatching his hand away; his own luminescence flaring wildly. “S-sorry! W-well, anyway, now we’ve achieved victory again!”
“Victory indeed,” Trahearne said, recovering himself smoothly. “The first of many, with allies like you beside me. But this is just the first step in a long, perilous journey. From here on, things will get more difficult.”
“The difficulties from Zhaitan, probably,” Caoilfhionn said. “But I hope this shows the others that you’re the one to lead the Pact. So fewer difficulties there. Right?” He smiled hopefully.
“There’s nothing like the man in charge risking his own life to instill trust, is there?” Trahearne said dryly. “No, it went well. I don’t think it’s my strong suit. But thank you for standing by me. With you there, I know I can accomplish what I need to.”
2: The Second Loss (Level 70 quests)
Caoilfhionn woke early in the morning, as he usually did, and found that for once, he was not alone. Annhilda had crawled, bleary-eyed, out of her tent, and Damara was poking the fire out of slumber. Phiadi and Rhyoll were still abed, and they would be for a while yet. Caoilfhionn often found it difficult to keep his voice down sufficiently in the early morning out of courtesy to them.
Both women were dreadfully dishevelled; Annhilda’s thick red hair was sticking out in all directions, falling over her face, and generally forming a forbidding red miasma of irritation about her. Damara’s dark hair was softer, wispier, but no less unkempt at this hour. “G’morning.”
“Good morning!” Caoilfhionn said. “You’re up early today!”
Annhilda smirked. “D’mara said she wanted to help with my hair today. Figured she’d need some extra time.”
Caoilfhionn lit up. “Ooh! Can I help too?”
“You don’t even have hair, pup.”
“That’s exactly why I want to help.” Caoilfhionn sat down crosslegged next to the fire eagerly. “Hair is fascinating, you know? You mammals might not have the diversity in head coverings that Sylvari do, but there’s such variation in what you do have – we don’t have anything like it. And you can change it so easily, the colour, the styling – my brother has pinecone scales, and he will always have pinecone scales, forever and ever. Hair is so flexible!”
“Someone’s got a fetish,” Damara said, putting the kettle on.
“A… what? No? I just want to help. And be curious. Come on, I have dextrous hands, I can braid.”
“Do you, now,” Damara said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“All right, you can give it a try,” Annhilda said. “If it isn’t up to my standards I’ll just redo it later, no big deal.” She got out a large brush and began taming the wild tangles out of her hair. Caoilfhionn winced at the harsh noises it generated, but Annhilda didn’t seem to care.
After Caoilfhionn had finished making preparations for breakfast and put it on to boil, and after they’d all had a cup of tea, Annhilda had finally finished with her brush. “All right. You two sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Damara assured her. “I braid my hair every day too, remember? It keeps it out of the way and it’s cute!”
“I don’t give a damn about ‘cute’,” Annhilda said. “I just need it out of the way.” She was so tall, even sitting, that Damara could stand and not find it uncomfortable to reach her head.
“I think I know how you normally do it,” Damara said. “Okay, Caoilfhionn, you take the other side and follow my lead.”
Caoilfhionn leaned over to see what she was doing. “Oh, I think I understand. With the twine… like this?” Her hair was so thick, and somewhat stiffer than he’d anticipated, somehow both finer and coarser than he’d thought – it tangled around his fingers so easily, like a whole wilderness of tough, pliant grasses. His sisters’ leaves, even Eithne’s, looked incredibly simple compared to this. He found it difficult to concentrate on what he was doing; he just wanted to keep touching it, to stroke it, run his fingers through it. Fascinating. She would probably disapprove very strongly, and he was still a little in awe of her, even now, so he kept his mind on his task.
“You’re not exactly instilling me with confidence,” Annhilda said, rolling her eyes towards them without moving her head. “You can do it tighter than that, Caoilfhionn, it’s not that sensitive.”
“Ah, sorry. You don’t feel through your hair?” That explained a few things, and he became more confident in his handling, secure that he wouldn’t hurt her if he was slightly less gentle.
“No, just the roots. You feel through your leaves?”
“Yes, it’s like an extension of our skin.”
“So that one time I saw you trimming your leaves-” Damara began with an expression of horror.
“It stings a bit, but it’s worth it,” Caoilfhionn said, laughing at her reaction. “What, do not you have cultural practices that cause pain in pursuit of beauty? What about these tattoos, for instance?”
“Excuse you, those tattoos have meanings,” Annhilda said. “It’s not just about looking badass. Which they also do, though that’s not the point.”
“Well, it’s important for our fearless leader to look her best,” Damara teased her. “After all, it’s the last thing most of our enemies will see.”
Annhilda snorted. “You know what I like to hear.”
“And thus we, your handmaidens, shall attend to you,” Damara said theatrically, and was unable to dodge a swipe from Annhilda. “Whoops! Careful!”
Annhilda was laughing. “A Norn does not need handmaidens. Though I’m sure some of the men wouldn’t object if a pretty girl was around to braid their beards…”
“What’s all the giggling about?” complained a groggy voice, and Phiadi crawled out of her little tent. “You guys having a girly hair party?”
“It’s not girly,” Annhilda protested fiercely.
“And I’m not a girl?” Caoilfhionn said.
“Or have hair,” Phiadi said. She grabbed Annhilda’s brush, swished it through her white-pink chin-length bob a few times, and tossed her head – her hair was instantly perfect. “Done.”
“Lucky you,” Damara said. “Okay, how do you normally tie this off, Annhilda?”
Annhilda showed them. “I guess we should help with yours now, too.”
“No, Caoilfhionn’s first!” Damara said, grinning. “You heard him, he’s more vain than the rest of us put together.”
“You can try,” Caoilfhionn said, but to no one’s surprise, she didn’t get far in braiding his rather short leaves, though the endeavour caused both of them to giggle madly.
Rhyoll rolled out of his tent. “Hair? Who cares? As long as it’s not on fire?”
“Spoilsport,” Damara said, perfectly happy to have Annhilda and Caoilfhionn do up her braids. “Breakfast should be ready any minute, don’t forget to wash up, Mr. Sleepyhead.”
Caoilfhionn and Damara were on their first official mission together, aiding an Asura engineer. They met at the United Arcanist Lab in the south of Sparkfly Fen. Demolitionist Tonn was a peppy young man who seemed much more friendly and down-to-earth than many Asura Caoilfhionn had met, Phiadi and Wegaff included. “Hey, Commander! Over here! Time to make some noise!”
“Demolitionist Tonn?” Damara asked. “I’m, uh, Commander Damara Biros, and this is my friend Caoilfhionn. Teammate? Colleague?”
“Colleague sounds distinguished,” Caoilfhionn said.
“Also known as the Orch-”
“Damara!”
Tonn laughed. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you both. I told Trahearne I needed the big guns for this mission, and here you are.”
“I’ve got the guns,” Damara said. “Not sure about Caoilfhionn, though.”
“Damara, you use a bow, and I use magic,” Caoilfhionn objected. “Rhyoll’s the one with the guns.”
“No, it’s slang,” Damara explained. “Guns is slang for biceps.” She flexed, causing the muscles to stand out on her upper arms. They were substantial, he had to admit.
He laughed. “In that case, you should have asked for Annhilda, Tonn.”
“I just meant powerhouses, and you’ll do very well,” Tonn said cheerfully. “Welcome to the party! Like I always tell my wife, Ceera: any lump can hack bad guys to death, but it takes skill and style to turn them into craters and dust.”
“Too bad Rhyoll decided to go with those Vigil types, he’d agree with you completely,” Damara said. “So what are we lighting up today?”
“Our preliminary targets are three Orrian towers that are flooding the region with undead nasties. We can’t hold this area until we stop the influx. I’ll handle the explosives. Your job is to get me to the targets and keep the enemy off me while I plant the charges. Then we drop back, settle in, and enjoy the spectacle pyrotechnical.”
“Sounds good to me!” Damara said. “Let’s get moving!”
The three of them, Caoilfhionn, Damara, and Tonn, were on their biggest mission yet, destroying the flagship of Zhaitan’s bone fleet. It should have been simple. Easy, even.
“It’s too bad this is our last mission together,” Damara said as they assembled with their Pact escort, before they dove into the water to plant the charges. “Trahearne’s calling us to Fort Trinity after this goes off.”
“We sink the bone ship and cover ourselves in glory first though!” Tonn said. “But it’s sad, I agree, we make a great team.”
“I’m sure we’ll work together again,” Caoilfhionn said.
“Perhaps we’ll meet your wife next!” Damara said. “Ceera, right?”
“That’s her! Tell her how great I’ve been, all right?”
“Will do,” Caoilfhionn said, and dove gracefully into the sea. Damara was behind him with her shark, Erik, swimming up from the depths to meet her.
The sea here was dark and murky, and filled with enemies prowling. Their saving grace was that undead had terrible eyesight; even Caoilfhionn’s vibrant dark purple clothes blended in to the shadows of the sea, letting them pass by without detection. A pair of sharks caught on to them, but Caoilfhionn froze them and Damara speared them, and they silently floated away.
The rest of the demolition placements went also in silence; Tonn was delicate as he attached the bomb to the bone ship’s hull, mindful of how sound traveled through water, and they slipped out as carefully as they’d come in.
Tonn was giggling and bouncing as they emerged again onto the little island where their Pact squad was protecting the detonator. “Hold onto your ears, everyone. This is going to be my masterpiece- Wait, something’s wrong.” Tonn checked the detonator, fiddled with it, tapped it. “Argh, it’s showing red. The connections were perfect! Something must be knocked out of position.”
“I guess you can’t fix it from here, can you?” Damara said. “Well, it’ll be twice as dangerous, but we have no choice but to sneak back out-”
“Sir!” cried Crusader Gilley to Damara. “We have krait inbound. Closing fast, and they look like they mean business.” She pointed north to where many dark, sinuous shapes could be glimpsed below the waves.
“All right.” Tonn squared his shoulders and turned to Damara. “I’ll reset the charges on the ship, you keep the krait off the detonator.”
“I’ll go with you, then,” Caoilfhionn said. “I don’t like you going alone. Between the krait and the sharks…”
Tonn snorted. “I can handle the cartilaginous cretins that are still out there, and the krait are focused on this position. They won’t even notice me. But the detonator has to be protected. And the ship has to go down.”
“Sure, but we’ve got all these Pact forces,” Damara said. “I’ve got things covered. Take Caoilfhionn.”
“Oh, all right,” Tonn said. “Come on, Caoilfhionn, time’s a-wasting!”
Despite the urgency of the situation, they still had to swim as carefully and quietly as before. Caoilfhionn felt the pressure mounting in his chest, the fear that they would not be on time. He enjoyed daring infiltrations but even he knew that doing them twice meant greater chance for something to go wrong. And it… felt different, somehow, in this context, than it had when he was younger and making sport of the Nightmare Court. Was he growing up? Or was it just that this wasn’t his own initiative, that his part was a smaller piece of a larger war machine, that so many others were relying on him?
He begrudged every undead who got in their way, but despite his impatience, they made it back to the bone flagship without incident. He kept watch for Tonn as the Asura swam to his bomb, popping the cover off to examine the insides.
It was only a moment before Tonn grabbed his arm. “It’s fixed! Go, go, go! Gotta get clear!”
Relief flooded him. They’d done it at last, and they hadn’t been swarmed by the undead. “I’m with you!”
A hand grabbed his ankle and he twisted to see a big formerly-Norn undead trying to drag him down. Caoilfhionn writhed and slashed, element of Air freeing him and tearing his enemy away. Not now! He swam on as quickly as he could.
Suddenly the world collapsed around him. An immense sound blasted his sensitive ears, and all the air in his lungs was knocked from him by a crushing shockwave. For several minutes he hung, stunned, in the water, unable to tell which way was up or down, just clinging to the air coming in through his aquabreather, trying to get his lungs working again. His ears were ringing and for a moment he wondered if he’d ever hear again.
They’d done it! …And it had almost been disastrous for him, at least. It was a good thing his shield of Air had still been up when the bomb went off. He was recovering, though his head was still woozy, and he shook himself – which didn’t help – and looked around. “Tonn? Tonn!” He swam to the surface, to see if Tonn were up there. “Tonn!!” The bone ship was still collapsing, sinking quickly, raining bits of bone into the water around him.
An uneasy feeling was taking hold in his belly. It was difficult to find anything in the water unless he already knew exactly where it was…
“Caoilfhionn!” Damara called to him, her voice faint in the distance and the ringing in his ears, yet not so faint as it should be. She’d come to meet him, worried, no doubt. “What’s taking so long? You should have been back by now!”
“I can’t find Tonn!” he called anxiously. “Help me look for him!” Bodies were popping up, but as far as he could see, they were all of undead.
“I see something!” shouted Crusader Gilley. “Over here! …By the Gods, it’s Tonn! He’s… he’s dead.”
“No!” Caoilfhionn exclaimed, swimming over as fast as he could. “He can’t… I was right there…”
“I was sure he signaled us,” Damara said, as he caught up, the three of them treading water around a small, sad body floating face-down between the waves. “Was the explosion bigger than he expected?”
“We had the go-ahead signal,” Crusader Gilley said. “I saw it. You saw it, Damara, you did. By the gods, why would he sacrifice himself like that?”
“I don’t know,” Caoilfhionn whispered. “I don’t know what happened. One moment he was beside me, and then next moment we were attacked, and then there was the explosion…”
“This is a huge loss for the Pact,” Crusader Gilley said, gathering up the body and beginning to swim back to shore. “Tonn was the best demolitionist we had.”
“And we’ll have to tell his wife,” Damara said.
“By the Tree.” Caoilfhionn gulped back tears. “She’s waiting to hear from him.”
“I’ll tell her,” Damara said. “I was the commanding officer. It’s my responsibility.” Even through the water, he could feel her fear. “Melandru guide me…”
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I was with him up until the last moment.”
“We’ll do it together,” Damara said.
“I don’t envy you,” Crusader Gilley said. “Tell her he died a hero. It won’t soften the news, but it might help in the long run.”
3: Comfort (The Battle of Fort Trinity)
Caoilfhionn still had not been to Fort Trinity in the month since the Pact had formally come together, and while he was still overcome by Tonn’s death and the responsibility that weighed so heavily on him, he had high anticipation for seeing it for the first time. At least, until the morning of the next day when he came through the trees to the sandy jungle shore and saw it, a hulking monstrosity of steel, powered by floating Asuran cube generators and twined about with strange, modified Sylvari vines. It was ugly.
It didn’t matter what it looked like. A Pact soldier pointed Damara and him in the correct direction, and they entered to find Trahearne arguing with some Priory soldiers about Asura gates, but he dismissed them as Damara and Caoilfhionn walked up with somber faces. “Greetings, Damara, Caoilfhionn. I was sorry to hear about Tonn. He was a huge asset, and much admired.”
“Thank you, sir,” Damara said. “The mission was a success, but that’s small comfort to his loved ones… or us. We’re… still arguing over who takes responsibility.”
Trahearne looked back and forth between them. “As long as you remember that that is what it is: responsibility. Not blame.”
“Yes, sir,” Damara said. Caoilfhionn took a deep breath and clenched his hands. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now, or else he’d start crying. He couldn’t cry until after he’d talked to Ceera. His head hurt enough without crying on top of it. And his stomach. And his chest.
Trahearne took a second, closer look at him. “Are you well?”
“He was on the edge of the explosion,” Damara said.
“I’m fine,” Caoilfhionn said in a tiny voice. “I’ve been healing myself since it happened. I just need to keep working right now.”
Trahearne frowned, and Caoilfhionn felt worse. “You should get a second opinion on that. Injuries from explosions are not like those from a blade.”
“I will,” Caoilfhionn promised. “In a bit. After we’ve told her.”
“All right.”
Damara gestured at the high steel walls about them. “This place is certainly formidable, and it looks incredibly strong.”
Trahearne grimaced. “It had better be. We’ve seen a huge increase in undead activity while we’ve been establishing our defenses. I believe a major attack is imminent. All the signs are there: our outermost defenses have suffered a series of probing attacks, and we’ve lost several long-range scouts. Annhilda recovered a powerful magical orb from the krait, and we still have Tonn’s best explosives, but there have been some disturbing… glitches in communication. Fort Trinity is not yet secure. Worst of all, our Asura gates are not functioning, and nobody can tell me why.”
“What can we do to help?” Caoilfhionn asked.
Trahearne seemed to relax, almost imperceptibly; perhaps he had been waiting for him to say that. “Could the two of you double-check our defenses at the lumber camp? They’ve lost of a lot of workers, and we need that timber. I need to talk to Phiadi and Rhyoll about a possible saboteur, but I will send Annhilda with you.”
“Got it,” Damara said. “Hi, Annhilda.”
“You look like you had a rough time too,” Annhilda said, as they headed back out of the gate.
“We lost our partner, Tonn,” Damara explained. “We’re still not sure what happened… we think maybe the blast hit him, but surely he was too good of a demolitionist for a mistake like that?”
“It’s my fault,” Caoilfhionn said mournfully. “I took my eyes off him at the worst moment.”
Annhilda put a hand solidly on the top of his head. “Now listen here, pup. You can’t watch everyone at every second. You did your best to protect him, I know you did. You never do things by halves. So it is not your fault that he died.”
“Thank you,” Damara said to her. “I’ve been trying to tell him that, but I didn’t know the words. But you said your mission was also difficult?”
Annhilda growled. “I seized some kind of magical orb from the krait that should help defend us against the undead. They’ve been working on it since I got in last night. But in exchange, the krait captured Apatia, and that is unacceptable. I will tear them apart to rescue her, just as soon as we’re done here. I would have done it already, except I had to deliver the orb and now Trahearne wants me to stick around just a bit longer in case this big attack materializes. Which… is important.”
“Well, we’re here now, so either we can hold things down while you deal with it, or maybe we can even go with you if the opportunity arises,” Damara said. “I’m sure with the rest of Hope’s Legacy here, and a whole army, your absence won’t make or break our survival.”
“Well, most of the army isn’t here yet,” Annhilda said. “That’s why Trahearne’s so worried. Did you not get briefed?”
“No, we literally just got here. What’s up?”
“We’ve really only got a token force protecting the construction crews. The rest of the Orders’ manpower has been assembling at their respective headquarters, to avoid lengthy and costly and noisy treks over land. As soon as the Asura gates are running, we’ll be fine… but right now we need every body that breathes. And we’re losing too many gatherers and builders, too…”
“And he said the gates aren’t working, and something about a saboteur?” Caoilfhionn said. “I’m not great with Asura tech, but I know the flow of magic, perhaps I can take a look – what’s going on up there?”
There was sharp movement in the trees ahead, the flash of swords and axes, and the report of pistols. A Priory scholar came stumbling down the path towards them, covered in mud and blood. “We’re under… attack- grah!” A zombie had run her down, stabbing her from behind before Damara could loose an arrow.
“Raven’s wings!” Annhilda cried. “Hurry!”
They dashed to the camp, but it was already clear they were losing the battle. The undead were swarming, and many of them were huge, lumbering brutes, that Caoilfhionn remembered vividly from when he’d visited Orr in the Dream. “To me!” Annhilda cried, blinking into the middle of camp and lifting her sword to catch the dimming light of the sun. “Rally to me! We must win back to Fort Trinity together!”
“Commander!” gasped a chorus of voices, relieved Humans, gruff Charr, determined Sylvari.
“Caoilfhionn, you Charr, clear us a path towards the fort! Don’t get surrounded!” Annhilda gestured, and Caoilfhionn felt energy flood him. His body still hurt but if he just stayed in Water, he could stay up and kill undead at the same time. It would be slower and less satisfying, but he wasn’t completely reckless despite being emotionally compromised. He couldn’t die here.
But he was glad Annhilda was there to take leadership, that he could follow her as she led the way through the gap he cleared with the Charr soldiers; Damara took a rear position, picking off any undead who dared show its head to her arrows. It seemed so much longer to get back, but there was the great round gate before them, and the cleared open ground between the fort and the jungle – and more undead sprouting around them, gaining on them. The sickening miasma of death was descending around them, choking him with its stench, darkening the sky with a grim fog.
Trahearne was in the gate, watching for them. “Come, get in, before the undead arrive!” As the three of them and their followers sprinted past the portal, he gestured to the soldiers next to him. “Seal the gate!” Only Caoilfhionn heard him say softly to himself: “Mother, forgive me…”
“Where next?” Annhilda said.
“The docks,” Trahearne said, pointing. “That attack I feared? It’s here. This is it.”
“So I see,” Annhilda said. “Good thing you asked me to stay, then. Come on, Damara, Caoilfhionn!”
Undead were surging from the water, up the ramps into the base; Caoilfhionn caught a glimpse of Rhyoll setting up turrets coolly while Phiadi flung her minions forward, foregoing her axe momentarily in favour of her scythe-shaped staff. Bone ships emerged from the noxious mist, sailing steadily closer and hurling more undead into their midst.
Trahearne was still calling orders. “Get those cannons firing! Secure all the gates except the inner courtyard! Yes, the submarine gate as well!”
Caoilfhionn forced his aching body to sprint forward into the thick of things, his head still spinning from the noxious fumes and the headache he’d had since the explosion, the cool balm of his Water spells just enough to keep him focused on the enemy. He found himself near Phiadi, and saw that as fast as her minions died, she pulled more from the gruesome remains of the fallen enemy undead, repurposing their bones and what remained of their flesh into her own twisted servants. “You won’t be defeated anytime soon, I see.”
She cackled. “Never waste a corpse! Especially one that’s already been used two or three times – it’s natural recycling!”
“Mother preserve us,” gasped a Sylvari nearby. “What’s that in the sky?”
There was a roar from overhead, and he looked up from facing the seething hordes to see the leathery bat-wings of a dragon soar by, spitting poison onto the docks. Trahearne shouted to the cannons, and finally they began to boom or zap into the sky, Charr and Asura engineering raining fiery death upon their flying enemies. This fortress would not suffer the same blow as Claw Island had.
They were holding their own against the invaders from the sea, and they’d even taken out several of the besieging bone ships. Caoilfhionn was beginning to hold hopes that they would finish this quickly when the dragon crossed over the courtyard again, spitting poison, melting or exploding most of the cannons. The engineers yelled as they scattered to safety. “No cannons! The cannons are down!”
A huge zombie landed near Caoilfhionn with a thud that sent him flying, tumbling halfway across the yard. He scrambled up again as quickly as he could, but already the undead were pushing forward, rushing over everything, and the thin line of the Pact was crumbling.
“Withdraw to the centre!” Trahearne commanded. “We’ll hold there!” He waved everyone through the inner gate, waiting for as many of the soldiers to pass through as he could, before he again gave the command to seal the gate. But no sooner had the gate been closed, trapping the oncoming zombies and a few remaining unlucky Pact soldiers outside, when the ground of the courtyard quivered and a new force of undead clawed their way out to greet them. In only moments the inner courtyard was as confused a melée as the docks had been.
“Sometime, I’d like to fight an enemy that doesn’t steal the ground from beneath our feet,” Rhyoll complained.
“Let me steal it from under theirs,” Phiadi said absently, waving her staff wildly, planting curses every which way.
There erupted a shout from the north side of the yard. “The enemy has the orb! They’re heading for the Asura gates! Somebody stop them!”
“What did you say?” Annhilda demanded, dashing in that direction without waiting for the rest of the guild to catch up.
A gasping Charr woman in Whispers robes pointed towards the Asura gates. “They had the orb! They looked like Pact soldiers, but then they changed. By the time I realized they were using illusions, it was too late.”
Phiadi screamed an obscenity at the top of her lungs and took off sprinting. A Vigil Asura nearby shook his head at the piercing noise, and at her description of what she was going to do with the Eternal Alchemy and the thieves’ personages, but Phiadi was away and giving orders. “You, form a perimeter! Keep the undead off us while we get through the door! You, stand with us so we can crush those impudent idiots when the door opens!”
“If they get the gates working, we’ll lose them and the orb,” said the Whispers agent. “But we need explosives to get through this door, ma’am.”
Caoilfhionn’s eye had already fallen on some familiar packages nearby, and he picked one up and held it high. “Here! Tonn made these. I recognize his work. Damara!”
“Got it!” Damara caught it as he tossed it, planting it on the gate and then dodging back as Annhilda threw up a barrier to protect them from the blast. The gate gave way with a groan, and they were treated to the sight of several belligerent-looking people – well, they still wore Vigil armour, to his eyes. A Charr woman held a smooth, azure-blue orb, and she was at the back, next to the central Asura gate as another of her comrades fiddled with it. “Your Pact is finished. Your orb, your fortress, and your Asura gates belong to us!”
“We’ll see about that!” Annhilda said, and blinked forward into the traitors’ defensive line with a shout.
“We can’t lose the orb now!” yelled the Charr mesmer, edging away from Annhilda’s rage. “Keep them away from me!”
“Seems a futile endeavour,” Trahearne commented in an aside to Caoilfhionn, who chuckled tightly and splashed healing Water about on his companions. Caladbolg was not idle, but Trahearne was facing outward, joining the soldiers who prevented the undead from getting at the orb themselves.
The Charr mesmer screamed and transformed into a strange wraith. “You will not-!”
An arrow from Damara felled the wraith. “Hmph. Don’t have to be near you to take you down.”
“The orb!” cried Annhilda, seizing it. “What do we do with it?”
“The central pillar!” Trahearne said, pointing. “We prepared a seat for it!”
Behind her, the Asura gates flickered from red to purple, then blinked and began disgorging Pact soldiers from all three, but Annhilda was not stopping now, sprinting with her long legs for the point which Trahearne had pointed out to her. The reinforcements charged the zombies, and Caoilfhionn and the others with them.
As Annhilda settled the orb into its Asuran-made housing, the antenna above it lit up in blue, and the beams of energy between each of the fortress’s towers brightened to a powerful glow. The miasma lifted, as if pushed back by a powerful but unfelt gust of air, and the undead ceased to crawl from the ground. Caoilfhionn heard Carys cheering somewhere near him, a cheer that many joined in.
“Forward!” Trahearne shouted. “Open the gate to the docks and take them back!”
Now they charged, back down the ramp; many of the Sylvari staying at the top with their strange long rifles and firing at anything that looked like it ought to be dead. Caoilfhionn was right with Phiadi, and the two of them wove their magics together, death and fire, demolishing a great hulking brute before it could charge into them. There was a screech above them, and looking up, he saw that the dragon was retreating, flying back to the distant land across the strait. The power of the orb? He hoped so. He wondered what it was. If even Annhilda didn’t know, it was mysterious indeed.
It was not long before anything that rotted ceased moving, and they could begin the painful process of determining which of those un-decomposed bodies were still living… and which would need to be buried. Everyone helped, even Trahearne himself.
When those who could be saved were saved, they all assembled in the inner courtyard. Trahearne appeared on the orb platform above them all, lifting his hand for attention. “For more than two hundred years, Orr has been lost. Despoiled, corrupted, ruined by the presence of a dragon; an infection, withering the heart of Tyria.” He gestured to the fortress around them. “Fort Trinity symbolizes our determination. It stands as a mark of our unity against the dragons. From here, we will prevail. We will fight to rend the darkness with steel and flame, always looking toward the dawn. Our victory at Fort Trinity will show the world that we can strike against the dragons. When we are ready, we will prove that even in the sanctum of Orr, they are not untouchable. We can reach the dragon’s lair in the heart of Orr! We can assault Arah! We can destroy Zhaitan before the dragon’s infection claims us all. This battle is over. We can triumph! But the war has just begun.”
The army cheered him, enthusiastically, as he left the platform, giving orders to Doern, Efut, and Wynnet, and then he made his way over to where Hope’s Legacy was waiting. In their presence, he allowed himself to look relieved – but the determination from his speech was still there. “I’m glad we have the dragon’s attention. I want Zhaitan to know the names and faces of those who will defeat it.”
“From the size of the assault force it sent here, I’d say the dragon has taken notice, sir,” Annhilda said. “But we have other issues at hand.”
“Yes,” Trahearne said slowly. “I think Lionguard Apatia is our first priority. Phiadi, Rhyoll, we will have to confront Syska tomorrow.”
“Ugh, fine,” Phiadi said. “That’ll give me time to charge up some of my best curses for her…”
Rhyoll nodded. “I can be a screw-up for one more day. Let’s get Apatia back.”
“Do you need us, sir?” Damara asked. “I’d rather not put off… you know.”
Trahearne nodded. “Of course. I had Tonn’s personal effects sent here. I’ll have them delivered to you. There was a locket that looked important. I’m sure his wife would appreciate its return.”
“I… wonder how she will take it,” Caoilfhionn said softly.
Trahearne put a hand on his shoulder, making him look at him. “You have to make her understand Tonn’s sacrifice. He was willing to give his life to defeat Zhaitan. We all have to be, or the Pact will never stop the dragons.”
“I know.” Caoilfhionn nodded slowly. “I’ll try.”
They found Ceera busy among the wounded at the Squall Cusps to the south. She hardly looked up as they approached.
When the healer seemed to have a brief moment, wiping her hands on a towel, Damara took the lead. “Ceera… I’m here with bad news about Tonn.”
Ceera looked up sharply. “What news? Who are you? What’s happened?”
Damara swallowed. “I’m Commander Damara Biros, and this is my friend Caoilfhionn. I was with Tonn on a demolition mission. He… he did not survive.”
Ceera gasped and her already-large blue eyes grew even larger with horror and grief. She shook her head. “Tonn’s… gone? That can’t be. He promised me we’d both live through this. What happened? Tell me how he died!”
Caoilfhionn braced himself and spoke. “We rigged an Orrian bone ship to blow, but the explosives wouldn’t go off. Tonn and I went back to fix them. I… I don’t know what happened then. We were separated. But he saved the mission.” He couldn’t bear to have that accusing stare boring into his eyes and lowered his gaze to the ground, trying not to let grief overwhelm him.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Ceera demanded, her face twisting. “The war can go on without Tonn, but I can’t. How could you let this happen?” Tears rolled from her eyes – until abruptly she straightened with fury. “You murdered my husband, you and your Pact. Get away from me. Just get away!” She turned and ran, through the south gate of the camp.
“Ceera!” Damara cried, but Caoilfhionn was rooted to the spot. Her reaction was entirely justified… if he hadn’t killed Tonn himself, he might as well have, with his inattention. What sort of Valiant was he to let his teammate, his companion die like that? To bring such grief to his lover was perhaps even worse. She was right to want him away from her, he would not follow- “Come back, it’s dangerous out there!” Damara took off running after her.
Ceera screeched from where she was in the distance. “No! Get away from me, you murderers. Tonn! I’ll find you, I swear it.”
Damara would have stopped, but suddenly Ceera’s cries changed tone, galvanizing even Caoilfhionn into action. “Ahh! No! Somebody, anybody! Help!”
They ran, chasing the undead who were chasing Ceera, who ran into a cave and did not stop, not until she came out of the cave to a small jetty where there were yet more undead waiting for her.
“Hold on!” Caoilfhionn called, blazing forward as lightning, crashing into the undead that stood before her. Damara drew her sword instead of her bow and threw herself at the ones behind. They were not Zhaitan’s best minions, slow and clumsy, and together they hacked them to pieces as quickly as they could.
When the last one had fallen, Caoilfhionn knelt before Ceera, unable to contain his grief fully. “I am sorry that I failed you – that I failed both of you. I… I don’t have any words that could possibly help. I know no words can help.” He wiped his sleeve over his eyes, willing his voice to stay steady enough to continue. “All I know is that he loved you madly. You were all he talked about, you and the life he wanted to have with you.”
“Life? What life!?” Ceera cried, and he wilted further at her strong emotions. “What do you know about him, or me? Just leave me alone.”
“W-wait.” He fumbled inside his coat. “Trahearne gave me this to give to you…”
“His mother’s locket.” She took it, turning it over in her hands. “He wanted me to have it. It was all he had when she died… and now it’s all I have left to remember him.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. All he knew was what it was to love. To lose his love was a pain he could not imagine. And he would fight to his death to destroy the dragon, to prevent it from separating loved ones like that again. But telling her that seemed… useless.
“You saved my life,” Ceera said coldly. “I think you for that, but I will never, ever forgive you for taking Tonn from me. Just leave. I’ll find my own way back.”
He picked himself up and left with Damara, and every step felt like lead.
Damara followed him closely back to the fort, and made him go see the healers there, who told him he needed to rest for a couple days and allow his body time to heal completely. Caoilfhionn fled to high on the outer wall of Fort Trinity the moment he got away from them, for now he could cry – could let himself sink into his misery, let it wash over him, and hopefully, as with Sieran, find the way out by going through. He underestimated Damara at finding him – or, more accurately, her hound’s nose, but her well-meaning words did not help, and he soon sent her away.
He stayed there, as the sun sank, as the rescue party returned, and they did not sound cheerful either. Had today been a victory or not? Nothing seemed to be going right… and yet they’d survived, most of them, another day. Had crushed the dragon’s attempt to destroy them, even. And yet.
Trahearne found him in the twilight. “Ahhh, sapling. Here you are again.”
Caoilfhionn’s tears had dwindled to quiet streams down his cheeks, and his grief was already tired. “Damara sent you, didn’t she.”
“She said I was the only one who can talk to you right now.”
“For once… I don’t want to talk,” Caoilfhionn said. “But a hug would be nice.”
Trahearne sat beside him with his back to the wall and pulled him into a close embrace in his lap. Caoilfhionn tucked his head under Trahearne’s chin and rested, comfortably, listening to his breathing, breathing in his scent, still fresh and green and slightly bitter even after the day’s exertions.
“Did you see the healers?”
“Yes. I’m supposed to rest for two or three days to allow my injuries to heal.” Caoilfhionn swallowed and burst out: “How can I rest now?”
“You must,” Trahearne said soothingly. “The risk is too great. We need you well. I need you well.”
Caoilfhionn fell silent. Trahearne was right, of course, but his heart cried out against it.
“Ceera blames me,” he said after a while. “Blames us all.”
Trahearne breathed. “Do you blame yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just wish there was a way to fix it.”
“I know,” Trahearne said, his voice soft, and deep, and aching with sadness. “So many died today. Every decision I make, people die. It’s almost unbearable sometimes. When we shut the gates, do you know how many were still out there in the jungle? I do, and I know how many never made it back. If they were still alive when the gates were shut, they would have had nowhere to hide…” His arms tightened around Caoilfhionn and – Caoilfhionn inhaled sharply as he felt a teardrop fall onto his leaves. “But… the gates had to be shut. I had to cut off their lives, to save the lives still in the fort.”
“I know.”
“This is war, and even in peaceful life, people die. Frequently. Even with all my knowledge, I cannot prevent that…”
Caoilfhionn pulled Trahearne a little closer; he wasn’t the only one who needed comfort and support, and if he could give any of his own, he would. “The rescue mission didn’t go well, did it.”
“No. Apatia was already dead. Annhilda is dealing with her own grief and feelings of guilt. If we have even a moment tomorrow after dealing with our saboteur, I’m away to Hoelbrak with Annhilda to tell her family.”
“Mm. I can’t help with that, but perhaps I can help with the saboteur…”
“No, you must rest. I will find something for you to do that doesn’t involve risking your life. Don’t worry,” he added dryly. “You’ll be back at it soon enough.”
“I won’t let you down.”
They sat in silence again for a while. At length, Trahearne spoke. “What do you think of the fort, by the way? I meant to ask you sooner, but… with everything…”
Caoilfhionn made a face, though Trahearne couldn’t see it. “It’s… not very romantic.”
Trahearne snorted. “That sounds diplomatic. I agree with you, but what makes you say that?”
“The way you described it, I was sure it would be a ruined stone castle, like Fort Cadence to the north.”
“Ah. No. Well, not after the Charr got started. There are stone foundations underneath. But after seeing what happened to stone fortifications on Claw Island, it was determined that a different type of construction was necessary. I agree it’s not very beautiful… but it will keep us safe. It already has.”
“It has,” Caoilfhionn said. “I… right now… I miss home.”
“Do you want to take a leave of absence to visit the Grove?”
Yes, his heart whispered. “No. I’m stronger than that. I’m not leaving until this is done. Even if I must rest.” Already he was ashamed of voicing his weakness.
“Thank you,” Trahearne said softly, his voice deep enough to fall into, and Caoilfhionn nearly did. “I missed you. Your mission was important, but… I wished you were beside me.”
“Don’t send me so far away next time, then,” Caoilfhionn said, trying to joke.
“No,” Trahearne said, still grave. “I think I will not.” He sighed and slackened his embrace. “Well. I’m tired. You’re tired. I won’t have you sleeping up here in the open. In fact, you should probably be in the infirmary.”
Caoilfhionn considered pouting, but it wouldn’t help – Trahearne would just insist more. “Very well. I will try to sleep, and I will see you… when you are not busy.”
“Which may not be any time soon, but even a word or two would help keep my spirits up in between everything that’s been going on.”
“Mine too.” Caoilfhionn stood and helped Trahearne up. “Thank you for taking care of me yet again.”
“My pleasure,” Trahearne said with a courtly bow. “Good night, Caoilfhionn.”
“Good night, Trahearne.”
4: Strike Boldly (Level 80 quests)
He gathered that the saboteur was dealt with the next day, and prevailed upon Phiadi to give him the whole story, after they had returned and Trahearne and Annhilda went to Hoelbrak. He was shocked to hear that the mesmer had impersonated Trahearne himself in an attempt to disrupt Pact operations! If he’d been there, he would have seen through it immediately, he was sure.
“…said he’d have me up on charges of insubordination…” Phiadi was rambling.
“And you believed him?” he asked indignantly.
Phiadi gave him an arch look. “Hel~lo, it’s me! If I don’t like my orders, I do what I want anyway! …Usually! It was only after he started being rude that I figured it out. Trahearne is probably not as strict as that imposter… or he might be, given time in his new position… but he’s never rude. It would probably break him to be so uncouth or whatever.”
“No, indeed. Well, at least you figured it out eventually.”
“I did.” She finished her story, and then pointed at the letter in his hands. “What’s that?”
“A letter to Caithe. She has been… in low spirits. I decided to take today to write back to her again – although, it seems Destiny’s Edge is slowly reconciling, one at a time! I think it’s wonderful, if true.”
Phiadi rolled her eyes. “I think it’s suspicious. I don’t think they had any real problems with each other, that they were just making it all up.”
“You really think so?”
“I think Caithe put them up to it, in fact! She seems the sort to start a scheme like that.”
Caoilfhionn was bewildered. “But what purpose would it serve? And don’t you remember how they quarreled in Twilight Arbour?”
“Yes, well, I think it’s an act. Think about it. They’re each prominent citizens – heroes, even, you might say – within their own races, and we of Hope’s Legacy are becoming prominent citizens within our own races. You think that’s coincidence?”
“Umm…”
“They deliberately left a vacuum to encourage our rise, mentored us separately while we remained within our own countries, quarreled with each other in front of us to warn us against quarreling like that, and now that we’re doing all right, they’re suddenly cooperating again?” Phiadi shook her head. “I’m not buying it.”
Caoilfhionn unfolded one of the letters Caithe had sent him. She really did sound unhappy. The world is cold, and quiet. The chill in my heart feels as though I stand at the heart of winter, even if I know it is not so. I feel truly alone… save for you. I hear that you have done well and struck a mighty blow against Zhaitan. I also hear that, along with Trahearne, you have at last begun the true battle – the invasion of Orr…
Why save the world, when everything in it is falling apart?
“Well, you may think as you like,” he said diplomatically. He’d written a passionate answer in response, trying to muster all his hope and resolve and love – of which he still had plenty of all three – trying to support her. She was alone, as she said; her friends did not listen to her, or had not until exceptionally recently. Trahearne had him and the rest of Hope’s Legacy nearby to lean on, but who did Caithe really have? So he would do his part, as near as she would allow him. Caithe was a loner, even more than Trahearne. Still, he found it a little strange, upon reflection, that a near-newborn was supporting two Firstborn with beliefs that even he knew to be naive.
Phiadi shook a finger at him. “They say Logan and Rytlock managed to work together long enough to take down some Flame Charr leader jerk at the Citadel of Flame. They say Eir’s recovered her old spark again, helping kodan in the north! Mark my words, they just put on a poorly-acted show for us, and now that we don’t need it, they’re just dropping the pretenses.”
“Weren’t you one of the ones who thought that Caithe and Eir should start a new guild, because of the difficulties with the old one?” Caoilfhionn asked skeptically.
“Well… that was then! This is after I’ve had some time to think about it. This is why I’m a genius. They can’t hide anything from me.”
He really didn’t want to answer that one, because she sounded more deluded than genius. “Well, we could really use their help when we go to fight Zhaitan. They’re the only ones here with experience in fighting an Elder Dragon.”
“They’ll be here,” Phiadi said breezily. “Count on it. Hey, you! What are you doing, skulking around there? What’s your clearance?”
She really kept the soldiers in line, Caoilfhionn considered. Better her than him, anyway.
The invasion began in earnest the next day. Sometimes under Trahearne’s personal leadership, sometimes under the leadership of one of the commanders, the army of the Pact split into three taskforces, each to assault Orr from a different vantage. It was weary work, not aided by the weather – Trahearne commented that winter was a terrible time to be invading an island nation, even from the relatively sheltered northeast side. But they persevered, hunting down Zhaitan’s lieutenants, destroying bone structures, clawing inch after inch away from the undead. And, what was more difficult, holding those inches after undead rose behind their lines and attacked their camps from all sides. Some of the Pact camps became no less fortified than Fort Trinity itself, bounded about by steel walls edged with Sylvari vines and Asuran lasers.
With Trahearne’s canny leadership and existing knowledge of the place, with the Pale Reavers’ experience, they had many victories and only a few defeats, though every loss was keenly felt. But after a while, Caoilfhionn was confident enough to go clambering about on the rocks and the ruins, eager to explore the land more fully himself, beginning to see – under the oil slicks, zombies, and general ruination – something of that beauty that he hoped to see fully after the dragon was gone. He never went too far from the others, but if there was a ridge to be climbed, he was going to climb it. Sometimes he went alone, sometimes he took Wegaff, who had also joined the Pact and while not thrilled about the hordes of undead, was happy to see him again. Sometimes new friends joined him, like a rambunctious Asura necromancer named Takko and a cryptic Human mesmer named Tharash.
Trahearne saw him at it one time, near Pagga’s Post. “Caoilfhionn, what are you doing? Get down, you’re going to hurt yourself!”
“He’s fine,” Damara said, and laughed. “He’s like a goat, these days.”
Trahearne’s worry did not abate. “He does trip a lot. What if he should fall? From such a height?”
Caoilfhionn hopped down and joined them. “I don’t trip anymore, though! It’s funny you remember how clumsy I was when I was newly Awakened… I’ve learned to balance much better with all the combat I’ve seen since then. You need not fear for my feet or my balance at all.”
“Yes, now he’s all graceful and agile, a proper Orchid Prince,” Damara said, teasing.
“Damara!!” Caoilfhionn was certain his luminescent blush could be seen from the Charr copters, even though it was broad daylight – or as much as it ever was under the heavy clouds the dragon maintained. He was reconciled to her use of it among Hope’s Legacy, but not in front of Trahearne of all people! Anyone else but Trahearne! Although anyone else might start a rumour that Trahearne might hear but now he himself already knew-!
Trahearne started. “Orchid… Prince?”
“Sorry,” Damara said, and shrugged. “I forgot he didn’t know about it.”
Caoilfhionn buried his face in his hands. “A nickname among my siblings and my guildmates. A… well, pay it no mind. Please. I beg you.”
When he dared to look up, he saw Trahearne was faintly smiling. “It suits you. Whoever chose it for you chose well. Though if it bothers you that greatly to have it said aloud, I shall forebear.”
They were on a mission with the Pale Reavers, the all-Sylvari unit led by Tegwen. Caoilfhionn had recognized several faces he knew added to their numbers, not least of which was Mabbran, Phiadi’s former partner.
Phiadi, of course, had attached herself to the dour Sylvari and chattered his ear off with all she had accomplished since whenever they had last met; he answered with nods and grunts – until they were attacked, and successfully held the outpost. Afterwards, they ventured out into the field together, and Caoilfhionn watched them with great curiosity as Mabbran squatted down next to a dead undead body and began ripping it apart methodically. “Look at this piece of intestine, Phiadi. It’s so distorted.”
“It’s beautiful,” Phiadi said, holding out a jar to him. “That’s a good sample, we’ll take that one back to the lab.”
Caoilfhionn made a face. “And they say Trahearne is creepy.”
Trahearne chuckled. “You say that as if I have not done similar research extensively. On as many types of Zhaitan’s minions as I could acquire.”
Caoilfhionn squinted at him. “Er… Yes, I suppose you have an appreciation for… Well, you did once say they were ‘exquisitely horrible’.”
“They are,” Trahearne said matter-of-factly. “Though… set your mind at ease. I may appreciate death and its study, but I value firstly hope, and love, and life, and peace.” Was it his imagination, or were those yellow eyes anxious on him?
“My mind was never uneasy,” Caoilfhionn said, his heart melting. “Anyone has but to speak with you to see what you say is true. Your fascination with Orr and the undead has never bothered me.” The thing that bothered him was when others allowed these things to prejudice them against him… “Though I have no strong interest in them myself.” He laughed a little.
“Ah. Well.” Trahearne coughed. “Good, then.”
“Marshal!” Tegwen was approaching them. “The area has been secured. What are your orders?”
“Fine work,” Trahearne told her. “No new orders. Establish a watch, and scouts, and send the others to rest. Tomorrow we begin the offensive to take the Temple of Lyssa.”
The Temple of Lyssa was a long, slogging march away, through terrain rife for ambushes and entrenched enemy positions. It took them weeks to advance, and losses on the first half of the march were severe. Trahearne spent too much time reading casualty lists, in Caoilfhionn’s opinion, and the light in his eyes when he took to the field himself with Caladbolg was grim and steely. His arms were so thin, to be wielding such a heavy sword, Caoilfhionn thought, and he wondered how heavy a burden it was for him. Yet in battle he had become truly awe-inspiring, a shining presence in the thick of combat, a quick-witted, adaptable general who knew when to take charge and when to trust his subordinates, a strong, calm voice and unstoppable will. No matter how dark the clouds pressed on them, nor how furiously the undead raged against them, Trahearne was noble, beautiful, indomitable.
At least in front of others. “It never relents,” Trahearne said to him privately one night, watching the flicker of watch torches from a small hill near their camp. “I always thought I would be helping someone else win this war, not leading it myself.”
“You’re doing marvellously,” Caoilfhionn assured him. “The way you command is truly inspiring! You have come into your own over the last few months. You might not have expected it, but you are the only one I can imagine accomplishing all this.” Trahearne was silent. “No one else could speak to the heart of every race as you can. Everyone has done their part but you have done the most, bringing all of Tyria to fight as one, and look how far we’ve come!”
Trahearne shook his head. “Perhaps we’ve done as well as could possibly be expected, but I do not know how long I can continue. I am so weak and small and… and young – I may be the oldest of all Sylvari, but I against a dragon… how can I hope to prevail?”
“Trahearne,” Caoilfhionn said, his chest aching to reach out to him with more than words. “I don’t know what it’s like to stand where you stand… but I tell you this: you may bend, but you will never break, for you are not alone! I will always be beside you, and others are too.”
Finally, Trahearne smiled, but it was only with his mouth, and Caoilfhionn wondered what he was thinking. If there was any way he could convince him to fully embrace the confidence he projected.
But Trahearne, had he known Caoilfhionn’s thoughts, would not have even been concerned with that. The situation was about as good as it could be, and yet he was so keenly aware of how fragile it was. The whole operation was on a knife’s edge – no, thinner than a knife’s edge. He’d come too far to turn back and there were no second chances if he made any mistakes. All that was left was to push to the bitter end, no matter how bitter it might ultimately be, to deliver everything he had for one precision strike upon the dragon itself.
He was gambling everything now – thousands of lives, no, the very world itself – for if they failed, who would halt the spread of the dragons’ power? Who would save Lion’s Arch next time? Already, the lists of those he lost were too long, and he had to find quiet time and meditate as often as he could, to keep his spirit strong. But though the fates of those who relied on him were heavy, he was most terrified of losing Hope’s Legacy. Of losing Caoilfhionn. He was more popular than he’d ever been in his life before, and yet Caoilfhionn was still one of his only true friends and he loved him and he sent him into peril on a daily basis.
He was not afraid to go into battle now. No longer did the undead terrify him. Before he had only studied them. Now he slaughtered them, with Caladbolg weaving a deadly dance of purifying fire at the side of Hope’s Legacy’s devestating power. And no, he did not fear death. He had wondered, in the Dream the Pale Tree had given, how he could say such noble things with such confidence. Now he knew: it was his love for Caoilfhionn, the wellspring of his hope. He would face anything for his sake, die ten times over if it did the world any good, if it brought life back to Orr. While these goals burned inside him, he would not falter, though his body and soul protested, his will would not relent. So he fought on in mystical obdurance, every skill he’d ever honed over his twenty-five year life brought to its utmost. No matter what it cost, he would see this dragon slain.
The Temple of Lyssa was henceforth taken and Zhaitan’s supply of minions greatly reduced, and a day afterwards Hope’s Legacy and the other commanders were summoned to a secret meeting in a place called Augur’s Grotto. Trahearne himself met them at the entrance, with a few Pact guard with him. “There you are! This way. Be cautious, we’re still clearing out the last of the Orrians from here.”
“This grotto is pretty defensible, isn’t it?” Annhilda said, looking around as they came into the main cavern. “Only two ways in – this passage, and the seaway.”
“Which makes it easier to be trapped in,” Damara said. “Rabbits never have so few burrows…”
“I’m told star-crossed lovers used to meet here,” Trahearne said, and Caoilfhionn stared, because that was random. Could he possibly…? No, he was imagining things. Trahearne was just explaining what he knew about the place, which he did often with many places they’d been through.
“I think it will need a lot of sprucing up before anyone does that anytime soon,” Damara said, looking around at the bare stone and Pact barricades and tents.
Trahearne cleared his throat. “Indeed. Anyway, Doern, Wynnet, and Efut are already here, preparing the next front.” He approached the higher, better-lit tent at the back of the cave. “So, what are your recommendations for our next move?”
“Full offensive, sir,” Efut said immediately. “We’ve cut away Zhaitan’s supports. Now’s our chance to attack the main force, while they’re still reeling.”
Doern raised an eyebrow at her. “I agree, but a land-based offensive would hit where the dragon is strongest. If we attack from the sea, we’d do more damage.”
“Marshal,” Wynnet interjected, “we’ve lost contact with the squad investigating lost artifacts. I want to send in an extraction team.”
“I see,” Trahearne said. “We have the resources to do all three if necessary-”
After a brief interruption to beat off an attack by the undead, he continued on. “Commander Annhilda, what are your thoughts on these operations?”
The Norn smiled mischievously. “Why have one mug, when there’s a whole keg?” Everyone stared at her in confusion.
Only Wynnet chuckled. “Why not, indeed?”
“I thought it was a Whispers thing to be cryptic,” Rhyoll complained.
“Look, Trahearne’s right, we need to do all three,” Annhilda said over him. “Doern’s got the best plan. We cannot besiege Arah with Zhaitan’s fleet at our back. It needs to go. But if we just do that, Zhaitan will have had time to re-organize his defenses. We’ve got a contingent of Charr tanks, and they’ll be no use at sea. Let’s have Efut take them for a ride.”
Rhyoll huffed. “An Asura behind the wheel? You’re going to need me to keep those babies rolling.”
“Splendid thinking, Commander,” Efut said, ignoring him. “Will you be joining us as well?”
“I’d love to, but my sights are set on the sea. Therefore… Damara?”
“I’ve never ridden one of those things before,” Damara said, her eyes dancing. “Rhyoll, will you show me how? I want to know all their features.” She laughed, then suddenly recomposed herself, cleared her throat, and said, “I mean – as Pact Commander of the Vigil forces, I shall take command of this operation.”
“Glad to be working with you, Commander,” Efut said.
“Perfect,” Annhilda said. “Wynnet, this artifact, are we talking about… the big…” She curved her arms, as if holding a massive ball.
“That we are, Magis- Commander,” Wynnet said.
“Don’t be so mysterious,” Phiadi told her. “It doesn’t suit you Priory types. Just because I’m Whispers, doesn’t mean I don’t care about artifacts of magnitude! Besides, I’ll find out anyway.”
“You’ll be taking that mission, then?” Trahearne asked.
“Of course,” Phiadi said. “A little bird told me there’s a secret weapon in the works for just such an occasion and I’m itching to test it in the field.”
“How’d you find out about that?” Wynnet asked.
“Trade secret,” Phiadi said.
“And… me?” Caoilfhionn asked, putting a finger up.
“I want you with me, pup,” Annhilda said. “The fleet isn’t small, and the heavier we hit it, the fewer problems we’ll have.”
“And I don’t need you,” Phiadi said. “I’m a whole squad by myself.”
“Everyone happy?” Annhilda said. “Marshal?”
Trahearne nodded gratefully. “You certainly are all decisive. And agreeable.”
“That’s why you made us commanders,” Phiadi said. “And that’s why we made a guild. We get things done.”
“Doern, I want to talk to you,” Annhilda said. “What’s our current intel on the fleet?”
“I’m jealous, Commander,” said Arda Gyreshriek, the Charr pilot flying Phiadi to her destination. “You get to pilot the meanest battlesuit ever built right into Zhaitan’s backyard.”
Phiadi giggled, still admiring her new toy. “You should be. I’ve heard great things about it. Can’t wait to put it to the test.”
“You’re outfitted with the finest weaponry in the Pact,” Arda gushed. “Energy beams and ballistics, offense and defense, cased in Deldrimor steel. You’re a walking murder machine.”
“As I should be,” Phiadi said. “Don’t forget the teleporter based on Inquest research based on my translocator research.”
“Right! Oh, neat, so you’re really familiar with the tech. Here comes the drop zone. Good luck, and give Zhaitan my regards.”
Five minutes later, Phiadi was cackling like a hyena as she blasted through seething hordes of undead, melting through armour and bone alike with the massive beam on her armour’s chest. “Ahahahahaha! Hahahahahahahaha!! Die, you pathetic mindless insects! Dieeee! Hahahaha!”
“Should we go in, sir?” asked a soldier on a ridge nearby.
Laranthir of the Wild watched the rampaging battlesuit a moment longer through binoculars. “I think not. Let the Commander have her fun. …For our own safety.”
“Enjoying yourself?” Damara called into the back of the tank as it grumbled its way across the low dunes of western Orr. Her hawk, Lina, preened herself on her shoulder.
Rhyoll’s chuckle echoed out of the dark, smokey depths. “These babies are sweet! Good to be working around proper engineering again! And best of all, I don’t have to walk, hahaha.”
“Yeah, you had a bit of trouble before, didn’t you?”
“Malchor’s Leap sucked engine grease for me. I should’ve waited behind for these to show up rather than slowing you all down.”
“Nonsense!” Damara said. “You didn’t slow us down. If you hadn’t been there, who would’ve shot a rocket at that giant zombie chicken?”
“Heheheh. That was a pretty fine moment, wasn’t it. How are you doing up there?”
“I’m doing fine,” Damara said. “Wind in my face, and the way it joggles over the rocks is fun. Hitting anything hostile is going to be extra hard, though.”
“I know you like a challenge!”
“Not as much as you do! -Heads up, or down, we’ve got incoming!”
“No one mourns your death! No one…” The undead sniper had fallen, victim of Elli’s heartbroken rage, and now she and her hologram fell to her knees, weeping over Zott’s fallen form.
Caoilfhionn stood near, his chest aching for her, and yet he was not crushed with grief. It alarmed him – was he becoming used to death, or had he simply not known Zott well enough to be overcome as he had with Sieran and Tonn? He wiped his eyes and turned away to give her some privacy, and saw that Pact reinforcements had arrived.
Lines of tanks had rolled up on a ruined road from inland, rows of infantry marching behind them, and down at the shore, a fleet of Pact ships and submarines had landed, even more infantry disembarking, with a familiar straight wiry figure at their head. A third group was arriving from due north, a smaller group, and he saw Phiadi and Laranthir with them. Damara and Rhyoll hopped off a tank and came over to them as well.
“Good to see you,” Annhilda said as the guild came together. “I trust your missions were successful?”
“One hundred percent,” Phiadi said. “Of course. Well, we lost our pilot, but she went down fighting. You must have heard the explosions from here.”
“Vaguely,” Annhilda said. “I think we were a bit preoccupied with the trebuchets.”
“We had some trouble, but we’ve brought the firepower,” Damara said.
“Any remaining groundpounding minions of Zhaitan better watch out!” Rhyoll said. “You don’t look too happy, Caoilfhionn.”
Caoilfhionn looked back at Elli, still weeping where she sat. “We lost a good friend. We almost made it through all together…”
“You lost someone?” Trahearne had arrived and joined them. “Good work bringing the Pact this far. But who was it?”
“Zott,” Caoilfhionn said. “He and Elli were becoming closer… It’s… painful to lose him.”
“I understand,” Trahearne said, and after a brief pause, made his way over to Elli. “Elli, you have my sincere condolences. Agent Zott died a hero, and his sacrifice will be remembered.”
“He was a great inventor, and a good friend,” Annhilda said.
Elli sniffled mightily and scrubbed tears from her eyes, looking up at them all. “He was an irascible old crackpot and you know it. …I… I don’t want to believe he’s gone. I don’t think I really knew what it meant to fight for Tyria. Everyone said, ‘this is war, and there’s no turning back.’ I couldn’t appreciate what that meant, but now I know. It means loss, and pain, and sadness, but it also means hope.”
“You’re right,” Trahearne said, looking at Caoilfhionn, and he nodded.
“I won’t give up, and I won’t turn back,” Elli said. “Even when Zott thought I was gone, he kept searching for me. I’ll keep him alive too – with my inventions.”
“You’ll have a chance to do that,” Trahearne said. “The Pact isn’t turning back, either. We’re going to defeat Zhaitan, once and for all. …Excuse me.” He bowed to her, and gestured to Hope’s Legacy to gather around, leading them a little away so they could confer again in private. “It’s good to see all five of you still in one piece. I will need you all for an important mission tomorrow.”
“What is it?” Annhilda asked.
“The Priory and I have developed a ritual that we think could cleanse Orr,” Trahearne said, and Caoilfhionn’s eyes widened. “We just need to get Caladbolg to the proper spot.”
“And what spot is that?” Caoilfhionn asked.
He thought he saw the ghost of a smile pass over Trahearne’s face. “Do you remember the Azabe Qabar royal crypt, from the Dream? We’re going there.”
“The Dream?” Rhyoll asked skeptically. “You went to Orr in a dream?”
“The Dream,” Caoilfhionn corrected him. “I’m not quite sure of my bearings from here, but…”
“A bit further south,” Trahearne said, saving him from floundering. “I’m selecting an assault team to support us, but I want Hope’s Legacy with me. This is… too important to me not to have the very best with me.”
“You’ll have it, sir,” Annhilda said, smiling. “We’re with you, wherever you go.”
“Thank you,” Trahearne said. “Get some rest, then. Dismissed.”
But he found Caoilfhionn later, after dinner, on the edge of the camp. The clouds, for once, had cleared, letting the moonlight strike the land feebly, and yet it was as if the very sky were oily and diseased. Still, in the distance Caoilfhionn could dimly make out vast shapes towering impossibly high into the sky that he knew could only be the city of Arah – and they were so close to it, and drawing closer by the day.
Trahearne came up beside him. “How are you doing?”
Caoilfhionn looked down from the sky in surprise. “I’m fine. How are you?”
“That’s good,” Trahearne said. “I had thought you might be grieving.”
“Oh.” Caoilfhionn thought about it, but though he had been wounded by Zott’s death, it was a shallow wound. “I don’t know… Is there something wrong with me? I feel like I should be as inconsolable as I was with Tonn, but I am not. I can bear it. Am I becoming too used to death?”
“I don’t think so, not in the way that you fear,” Trahearne said. “In a way, we all are – we cannot help it – but I think you only did not know him as well as Tonn.”
“I did not,” Caoilfhionn acknowledged. “But I feel for Elli… And yet she has such strength! To go on, after such a horrible blow – to gain and lose her lover in the same instant…” Fear surged into his stomach. If Trahearne were to die in this quest… he would not be able to go on the way Elli was. He would not be able to speak of hope and of life lessons, even if he happened to also know that Elli hadn’t gone to dinner and had been weeping the rest of the day even as she threw herself into work.
He ought to say something soon, even if his chances were non-existent. Just to have it said, and known, before it was too late. But this moment was not the right one, and he hoped Trahearne would not comment on his fear that he could surely sense. “You never said – how are you?”
“I’m quite well, all things considered,” Trahearne said. “I’m very glad we made it this far. Things are going frighteningly well, though we had other losses. …Tegwen was one of them.”
Caoilfhionn gasped. “Not Tegwen! How?”
“She gave a signal to the tank column to destroy a temple where the undead were gathering. There was an equipment malfunction, I understand, and she was killed in the bombardment.”
“No…” This wound cut deeper. With an effort, he swallowed it. He didn’t have the luxury now that he’d had before. He had to wait until there was not desperate deeds in his immediate future. “I should go find Carys… if she wishes company.”
“She might.”
“How do you feel about tomorrow?” Caoilfhionn changed the subject abruptly, eager to speak of something that might give him more cheer – Trahearne himself.
Trahearne inhaled, exhaled. “Excited. Nervous, even. Jittery, almost.”
“You never get jittery,” Caoilfhionn said in wonder. “But we’ll be with you tomorrow. We’ll help you see it through.”
“I know,” Trahearne said. “I’m counting on it.”
“I was a little surprised when you said it was the next mission, actually,” Caoilfhionn said. “I had thought with the dragon dead, there would be leisure enough for healing the land, and if we failed to kill the dragon, it would soon corrupt the land again, so why…?”
“The dragon draws power from the land,” Trahearne explained. “We’ve taken its supply of magic, its supply of new minions… if we can sever its very hold over the land itself, all we will be left with is a dragon. No mean opponent, of course, but not quite as terrifying as otherwise.”
“Ahh. I see.”
“You’ll get your chance yet, don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried,” Caoilfhionn, then realized Trahearne had been teasing him deadpan. “Er. Well, you should sleep. If you can.” He would go find Carys before he tried to sleep, himself.
“I shall make an attempt,” Trahearne said. “Good night, Caoilfhionn.”
“Good night, Trahearne.”
5: Love Requited (The Cleansing of Orr)
They headed for the tomb the next day with Laranthir, a Norn Bear shaman named Grechen, and a rearguard of about a dozen, leaving the rest of the army to fortify their new camps. Trahearne was confident enough when they set out, but he grew more and more distant as they came to the entrance that Caoilfhionn vaguely remembered from his visit to the Dream.
“This is Azabe Qabar,” Trahearne said at the low arch that marked the entrance to the complex. “Grechen, you and Laranthir must hold the entrance. Zhaitan’s forces will be relentless. Our survival is in your hands.”
The Norn saluted. “I understand, Marshal Trahearne, and I won’t fail you. You’ll have the time you need.”
Trahearne nodded to her and walked firmly into the shadows. Inside, Annhilda went in front, then Phiadi and her minions… Trahearne was falling behind and Caoilfhionn touched his elbow before he slowed to a stop entirely. Trahearne startled and looked up. “Forgive me if I seem distracted, but this is the culmination of my Wyld Hunt. I’m about to answer my life’s calling. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying.”
“It must be,” Caoilfhionn said, unable to restrain a hopeful smile. “But let’s keep moving, together.”
“Right. Yes. My apologies.”
They came to the great chamber where the kings were buried, to the back where there was a large space, and Trahearne stopped. “This is the place,” he said, his voice very deep and ominous – with apprehension, Caoilfhionn realized. “We’ll perform the ritual here. The moment we begin, Zhaitan will know. Be ready for anything.”
“We’re ready,” Annhilda said softly, and Hope’s Legacy took up positions surrounding Trahearne, facing outwards, as he planted Caladbolg in the ground before him and began to make gestures, his eyes half-closed in concentration. Caoilfhionn could not watch, but he could feel the magic swirling around him, heard a sound like rushing wind, heard Trahearne make a sharp gesture and hold it, pulling the magic to the ritual with an ever-increasing intensity.
Undead burst from the ground and everything erupted in chaos. Caoilfhionn lashed out with lightning; the only thing that mattered was keeping them away from Trahearne. Not simply because if he was interrupted, he would have to start over, but also with this much magic in one place, if he lost control of it, they would probably all turn into shreds, making starting over moot.
Then Laranthir came dashing in, with about half the rearguard behind him. “Marshal! The rearguard is overwhelmed! Grechen has fallen. You must leave, now!”
“We can’t!” Caoilfhionn called back. “We can’t interrupt him! We have no choice.”
There was a growl from behind Laranthir, and he turned to see: “Grechen! No, not Grechen… only her tortured remains. We must put her to rest.”
Annhilda’s sword flashed. “Spirits grant you peace, Grechen. Thank you for your service.”
As the last undead collapsed to the floor, the swirl of magic in the centre of the chamber reached its height, and Trahearne finally made the symbol that would unleash it. About Caladbolg, vines erupted from the ground, flowers burst out with a scent not smelled on Orr for centuries – but as quick as they grew, they withered, turning black and collapsing onto the dry ground.
Trahearne’s face was anguished as he knelt beside the pitiful outcome of all his effort. “No! We were so close! By the Pale Tree… it’s impossible.” His shoulders sagged and he reached out to take back Caladbolg, then stood and looked down at Grechen’s rotting body. “All this… all these lives, wasted. All for nothing.”
Caoilfhionn reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, his eyes pleading with him. “Trahearne, didn’t you see? The cleansing did work! For a moment, the spirit of the land rose up like a breath of wind.”
“We all felt it,” Annhilda said. “It was as if Orr’s own soul was fighting to be free. The ritual was a success.”
Trahearne shook his head. “But the absolution didn’t hold. Though sacred, the Royal Tombs weren’t strong enough. This isn’t the heart of Orr. I wonder if such a ‘heart’ still exists.”
They were all silent for a moment; Caoilfhionn was thinking. “Wait, Trahearne – remember the Dream the Pale Tree showed us? An Orrian king spoke of ‘the Source’. Maybe that’s what we’re looking for.”
Trahearne brightened. “You’re right. The Source of Orr… Yes! I couldn’t remember before, but now I think I remember hearing about such a thing. A priestess of Grenth, and a shaman of the Norn spoke of it. The ancient priests of Grenth were said to be the keepers of Orr’s deepest secrets. We’d find them in Orr’s Cathedral of Silence. It’s a terrifying place, half-shrouded in the Mists.”
“And what did the shaman say?” Annhilda asked.
“An ancient Norn explorer, Romke-”
Annhilda thumped her fist into her opposite palm. “Yes.”
Trahearne gave her an incredulous smile. “Er- I didn’t even finish…”
Annhilda shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Romke’s my ancestor. I know what you’re talking about, and I’m going after it. The rest of you can go investigate the temple.”
“What is it, though?” Damara asked. “Maybe the rest of us would like to come too. I’m not keen on haunted crypts, myself.”
“Me either,” Rhyoll said. “Got enough of those at home.”
“You two are no fun,” Phiadi said. “But it looks like I’m already outvoted.”
“Supposedly Romke was trapped in Orr when Zhaitan rose beneath his ship,” Trahearne said. “Legend says his map was blessed by all four Spirits of the Wild, and can show the route to any destination.”
“This is personal,” Annhilda said. “That map is mine.”
“If it’s still here,” Phiadi said. “The tidal flat is no place to archive a hundred year old document.”
“We’ll be able to ask Romke himself. His ghost form is still trapped in Orr, near the Mausollus Sea, bound to the land that ended his journey and his life.”
“By Raven!” Annhilda said. “I am going. Now. Alone. The rest of Hope’s Legacy will investigate the temple. That is an order.”
“Annhilda!” Caoilfhionn cried, chasing after her as she began to stride quickly out of the tombs. “Romke may be your ancestor, but this is Trahearne’s Wyld Hunt, and the quest of everyone in the Pact.”
She slowly turned and met his gaze with an icy stare. “You don’t understand,” she began.
Caoilfhionn took her hand with a sweet smile. “We’re here for you. We want to help you. That’s why we formed a guild, isn’t it?”
“…Yes, I suppose it is,” she said, softened, and waited – though impatiently, he could tell.
“It’s not yet noon,” Laranthir said. “We may yet have time if we move swiftly. Shall I prepare another escort?”
“Yes,” Trahearne said. “An aerial one, please. But you and these soldiers must return to camp and rest.”
Laranthir grimaced a little but did not object. “I’ll get it done immediately, Marshal.”
They headed back the way they had come. “We were close!” Caoilfhionn said to Trahearne.
“Closer than ever before,” Trahearne agreed. “We – I cannot give up hope. My Wyld Hunt is not in vain. I’ve seen that now with my own eyes. You have my gratitude for all that you’ve done. All of you,” he said, raising his voice a little.
The others gave him smiles of their own. “No problem!” Damara said for all of them. “We’re glad to help! It’s going to be awesome.”
Annhilda stood on the beach, her hands on her hips, and regarded her ancestor. “Well.”
“We’re free!” Romke said, spreading his arms wide with a warm smile. “The curse is lifting, thanks to you.”
“So it’s into the Mists for you next, eh?” Annhilda said. “May the Spirits watch over you there.”
“And may they watch over you in this life,” Romke said. “I know you’ll put the map to good use. Just try to be more careful with it than you were with my horn!” He winked.
Annhilda shuffled and… blushed? “I got it back, though! …And then it got broken… but it’s the inspiration, the legacy that counts, right?”
“I know, I know. Hey, when you destroy Zhaitan, spit in the rotten worm’s face for us.”
Annhilda grinned. “Will do, Captain. Thanks for all your help, and enjoy your final reward.”
“We will. Farewell!” Romke had been losing definition as they spoke, and now he dissolved entirely into the wind, blown away on a rising evening breeze.
Night had long fallen on the Pact camp as Caoilfhionn left its walls and headed for the docks. He should have been sleeping, but he couldn’t. There was something far more important on his mind, something that made his stomach flip-flop inside of him – but he pressed on anyway. He climbed on board one of the smaller vessels, one with no crew abovedecks, and headed aft.
Trahearne was there, leaning on the railing, staring out at the water, where the full moon left a rippling white road west to the horizon. Even the oily atmosphere couldn’t completely quench its beauty. He looked up as Caoilfhionn climbed the narrow stairs towards him. “Good evening, Caoilfhionn. Couldn’t sleep?”
“No,” Caoilfhionn said, with a rather foolish grin. “You either?”
“Mm.”
Caoilfhionn took a place beside him, also leaning on the railing, looking at the sea too. He didn’t know what to say now that he was here.
“Tomorrow will be more difficult,” Trahearne said at last. “Zhaitan knows what I’m up to now.”
“I won’t leave your side,” Caoilfhionn assured him.
“You never have,” Trahearne said. “Thank you. It… means a lot to me.” He clenched one hand on the railing and frowned, inhaled to say more, and thought better of it.
Caoilfhionn noticed, but his mind was too full to ask for more. So he simply stood stupidly, watching the water. They stood in silence together for what seemed an eternity.
Trahearne glanced at him. “You… seem to have something you want to say?”
“Yes, actually,” Caoilfhionn said, taking a deep breath and turning to face him full on.
And was caught in admiration – of that sharp profile, those narrow yellow eyes, those full dark leaves with lovely luminescence flowing through them, stunning in the weak moonlight. Trahearne was strong, and cunning, and noble, and brave, and melancholy, and beautiful, and he adored him with all his body and soul-
“What is it?” Trahearne asked, looking at him in perplexity and raising a hand to brush at his own face. “Is there something on my face…?”
“I love you,” Caoilfhionn gasped out with a little sigh.
Trahearne froze – Caoilfhionn froze – and then panicked. He had meant to confess but not like this-! “Ah, i-it’s – if you don’t reciprocate, it’s fine, I only wanted to tell you-” He turned to run-
-and was stopped by a lean hand closing quickly around his wrist. “Wait!” Trahearne said, so soft and gentle. “Caoilfhionn… I… Why me?”
Caoilfhionn turned back to face him with a helplessly adoring smile, noticing that Trahearne’s luminescence had brightened and quickened almost as much as his own. Trahearne was right; he couldn’t run away until he’d explained himself, no matter the cost. He couldn’t read Trahearne’s spirit clearly yet – surprise and confusion, mostly. “Why? How could I not love you? I’ve loved you since the moment we met.”
Trahearne looked away in embarrassment, though he still hadn’t let go of his hand. “That does sound like something you would do…”
Caoilfhionn laughed nervously. “Ahaha… But I wanted to tell you, even now when I might die tomorrow, because… I’ve seen how hard it is for you, and I wanted you to know how much you are loved. That I love you, completely, utterly, madly. That being in love with you is inspiring and makes me happy and mmff-!”
Trahearne had taken a quick step forward, drawing Caoilfhionn to him with wiry arms, and pressed his lips against his firmly. Caoilfhionn gasped, nearly swooning clean away, having just enough presence of mind to wrap his arms around Trahearne and kiss him back. The sensation – the strong arms around him, firm fingers on the back of his head, the lean body pressing against his, the lips softer than he’d imagined, surrounded by the rich scent of slightly bitter green freshness – he was transported to delights unknown. The realization was exploding in his mind like fireworks – Trahearne loved him back! By the Pale Tree, was it possible to be this happy!?
Trahearne pivoted to pin him against the cabin of the ship, and that made him even happier. His lover, despite having initiated such a bold kiss, was still shy at first, but as Caoilfhionn responded enthusiastically, became more forceful very rapidly and Caoilfhionn clung to him in a desperation of fulfilled yearning. Trahearne pulled away from him most unwillingly after several minutes, but they were both running short on air. “I never dared hope – but that was foolish of me, wasn’t it? You are the very embodiment of hope, Caoilfhionn.”
“A-am I?” panted Caoilfhionn, gazing up at him with with round eyes. “I always thought you would think me too young, too new – that you would have fallen in love already, though you said you had not…”
“And I always thought you would find me too old, too disturbing, too depressing. I knew you loved someone and never dared dream it would be me. Glad am I to find we were both wrong.” Trahearne smiled at him, the sweetest smile he’d ever seen on him. Any Sylvari nearby would have been knocked over by the happiness and love radiating off both of them. “Fear not this night, you will not go astray-”
“Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way,” Caoilfhionn joined in eagerly.
“And you can always be strong,” Trahearne sang to him softly. “Lift your voice with the first light of dawn… Dawn’s just a heartbeat away… Hope’s just a sunrise away… You are my dawn, Caoilfhionn, the dawn that has brought light and joy to my long night.”
“And you are the dusk that gives me peace and love,” Caoilfhionn answered. “Without the dusk, the dawn couldn’t exist.”
Trahearne kissed him again, and rested his forehead against his own. “You say such pretty things about me.”
“They’re all true.”
“It may take some time to believe that.”
“I’ll kill the dragon, and then we’ll have all the time we could want.”
“That would be nice. My Caoilfhionn. My… my Orchid Prince.” And Caoilfhionn thought he had never loved that epithet so much as this moment, with Trahearne murmuring it to him in a deep, tender voice that resonated through him so. He suddenly didn’t mind that Damara had let it slip.
“My Trahearne,” he whispered back. “My scholar. My beloved. I am yours forever.”
“And I am yours.” Trahearne let go of his embrace and took his hand again. “But before forever, or even tomorrow comes, we should rest.”
“With you?” Caoilfhionn asked, squeezing the hand gently.
“I’d like that.”
Trahearne still did not sleep quite yet, even when they had lain down together in his tent. Caoilfhionn had dropped off rapidly, but he never could, not just like that. And besides, now he had ample justification to stare shamelessly at the young Sylvari in his arms, to study every vein on his smooth azure face and violet leaves, the peach luminescence running through his skin, the delicate tendrils of his beard, the contented smile that still transformed his whole expression, to breathe in his floral cinnamon scent. He had thought he loved him before; now he loved him tenfold. He’d watched him grow over the past almost-year, seen his newborn innocence tempered through trial and grief into a maturity that rendered him far more beautiful than the naive young Valiant he had been before. How would he grow, in ten years, or even five?
He had wondered before if he really deserved to be this happy, but as Caoilfhionn walked boldly into his feelings, that had bothered him less and less – because he really couldn’t help it. He couldn’t even feel guilty about it. He would take whatever happiness he could get in these dark, stressful times, and he had been given so much all at once…
Already Caoilfhionn had become his heart; the heart of his guild, Hope’s Legacy; and with the stakes of the quest before them, the heart and hope of all Tyria. He hoped – oh, he hoped – he would not cure Orr only to lose him to the dragon. That would be unbearable. Caoilfhionn was skilled… but the dragon was very strong.
He decided to try not to think on it, not in this moment, instead filling his mind with more thoughts of the love that he still could not believe was requited. He kissed his forehead, gently as not to wake him, and closed his eyes to try to sleep.
Caoilfhionn woke the next morning early as he always did and at first did not know where he was – why there was breathing green warmth next to him – but then all his joy came flooding back, not that it had gone very far while he slept. Carefully, he propped himself up on one elbow to watch Trahearne sleep.
“You’re watching me, sapling?” Trahearne murmured after a few minutes.
Caoilfhionn blinked. “You’re awake?” He knew very well that Trahearne was not a morning person.
“Your aura woke me.”
“Sorry.”
“Not at all.” Trahearne opened his eyes and smiled blearily at him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Caoilfhionn bent and kissed him. “I’m glad to be here. Today, we fulfill your Wyld Hunt.”
“With you beside me, we can do anything.” Trahearne’s arms slid closer around him and pulled him in for more kisses – many more kisses – until he pushed him away again, reluctantly pointing out that they really couldn’t skip breakfast today of all days. Caoilfhionn laughed and rolled off the cot to look for his boots. He hadn’t had enough – he could never have enough – but he would fight his hardest to ensure they had time later for more.
They assembled that day at a hidden passage in the back of the Cathedral of Verdance, Trahearne, Hope’s Legacy, and a contingent of the best soldiers from all three Orders and beyond. There was Wegaff, and Mabbran, Elli, and Laranthir, and Carys, and Shashoo of the quaggans, Wynnet and Zrii and Afanen and even Sayeh al’ Rajihd, and many more whom Caoilfhionn knew only in passing. Trahearne spoke to them all with stirring words, lifting Caladbolg high, and they cheered him and took up defensive positions at the mouth of the passage. “Stand ready,” Trahearne told them, “and stand together!”
Hope’s Legacy set off down the passage. “This is it,” Trahearne said to them as they jogged together. “This is the Source of Orr, the font of its magic – the water from which this land draws life. The heartbeat of this land is weak and thready, but I can hear it. When we reach the Source… then we will know for sure.”
They rounded a corner in the winding tunnel and nearly headlong into a group of undead. Caoilfhionn yelped in surprise, and Trahearne steadied him with a hand on his back. “Stay focussed, Caoilfhionn.”
“I’m ready, Trahearne,” Caoilfhionn reassured him. “Let’s do this.” Instantly he sprang away on feet of lightning, into the midst of the undead, zapping them away from him.
The fight was already fierce, past the guards all the way up to a great portal at the end of the corridor; here they might have been halted or even defeated by the Risen Knights there, but the last Eye of Zhaitan wished to see them… and that gave them the space to slay the Eye and the Knights.
Trahearne stepped up to the edge of the murky spring and looked at them all – but mostly at Caoilfhionn. “Here, at the end, I am glad that you’re with me. We will cleanse Orr together… as we were meant to do.”
Caoilfhionn stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Nothing will harm you while you do this. I’ll protect you.”
Trahearne smiled at him and drew Caladbolg, planting it point down in the centre of the spring, then began to cast again. Once more, they took up positions around him, tense, waiting, ready.
The magic here was almost suffocating; Caoilfhionn could only hear the battle ringing about him dimly, fighting as if in a trance himself – the only thing before him was the next enemy, and the next, the only thing he could hear clearly was his own breathing as he cast fire and water at the Risen Knights rushing them.
Then Pact soldiers were storming into the chamber, shouting. “We’re being overwhelmed. Fall back!”
“Form up and protect Marshal Trahearne at all costs!” called Warmaster Efut, and the soldiers rallied to her cry, making a solid line of steel and magic between them and the oncoming undead. Caoilfhionn spun and slashed, half-dancing his way across the battlefield, sliding between rusted swords and baleful spells, conscious only of the building pressure in the chamber. On, the undead came, on to his blades of fire, and the Pact forces were being pushed back, back towards the centre of the spring, to where the wind was gathering so cool and sweet.
Trahearne gave a shout and the spell released – green and gold light sprang from Caladbolg, vines erupted from the water, ancient husks of trees grew green and flowering about the walls of the chamber, and the water bubbled crystal clear among the pebbles. Everywhere Caoilfhionn looked turned to warm green life, beautiful, healthy, and strong. The remaining undead stumbled and ran; most were cut down by arrows and bullets and magic. He didn’t even notice, as he ran towards the epicentre of the explosion of life, feeling it wash over him with gentle power.
“It’s done,” Trahearne said, panting heavily, his entire body shaking visibly with exertion, triumph ringing through his strained voice. “I can feel the waters beginning to radiate with the energy of Caladbolg, flowing everywhere the water touches.” He staggered and fell forwards – into Caoilfhionn’s arms.
Trahearne’s weight carried them both to their knees in the spring and Caoilfhionn peered at him anxiously. “Trahearne, are you all right!?”
Trahearne lifted his head wearily, still collecting his breath. “It took a great deal out of me, but I will live-”
He didn’t get any further because Caoilfhionn lunged forward and kissed him soundly, his embrace tightening around him – he was so proud of his love, so in love with his love, he could hardly stand it.
It took him a moment to realize that everyone was staring at them, and another moment to realize they were beginning to laugh and cheer. “By the Gods, my ship is sailing!” yelled Damara.
“Public displays are disgusting…ly cute,” Phiadi said. “Ugh. I’m going to be sick.”
“About time!” said Annhilda.
“Yes, if you two made eyes at each other when the other wasn’t looking for much longer, I was gonna say something,” Rhyoll said.
“Wait, what?” Caoilfhionn said, as they separated in confusion.
“I did not make eyes at him-” Trahearne began.
“Oh, yes you did,” Wynnet said. “Spirits bless you, but everyone could see it. From both of you. Who asked who first, by the way?”
“I-I did?” Caoilfhionn confessed.
Wynnet smacked her armoured thigh. “Doern, you owe me five gold.”
“So I do,” Doern said. “Sadly, it is back at Fort Trinity.”
Trahearne was pushing to his feet, and Caoilfhionn helped him. “Are you sure you don’t want a medic?”
“I’m sure. Thank you.” He still felt unsteady to Caoilfhionn, but he was recovering, both physically and as Marshal of the Pact. “We must regroup at Fort Trinity, and then we will have the opportunity to plan the final strike. Let this door be sealed to keep the undead out; nothing must be allowed to poison this spring again. The waters must spread undisturbed.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Efut said. “The airlift should be here any minute now.”
Leaning on Caoilfhionn’s shoulder, Trahearne let out a great, relieved sigh. “It has been a part of me since I took my first steps, but now my Wyld Hunt is complete. It’s time I redefine myself. A rare and unique challenge… but I have the Pact to keep me busy. Thank you all, for all that you’ve done.”
Annhilda smirked at him. “Here, now, why are you talking like everything’s ready to get packed up? We’re not quite done yet!”
“Well, but we can have a little celebration tonight, can’t we?” Damara wheedled. “We’re heading back to the fort for tonight anyway.”
“After we finalize our plans for tomorrow’s attack,” Trahearne said. “Anyone not involved in that can certainly celebrate as soon as they choose. Everyone gets extra rations tonight. I’m weary.”
“You can rest soon,” Caoilfhionn told him. “We’re almost there.”
Trahearne had gone to visit the medics on disembarking, and told Caoilfhionn to go help those trying to celebrate, so he had obediently gone off and helped serve two or three rounds of drinks to everyone – everyone except the engineers, that was, who refused and kept working feverishly on the airships in dock. But after an hour or so of listening to everyone chatter and laugh and blow off a little steam, he began to search for him. Trahearne had left the medics, and the strategy session, but no one knew where he had gone…
Sayeh al’ Rajihd materialized out of the shadows near the airship landing. “Come to me. We must discuss.”
“Lady Sayeh?” Caoilfhionn said politely.
“You are looking for Trahearne, are you not?”
“Yes… have you seen him?”
He thought the enigmatic woman might have smiled behind her breathing mask. “The Marshal is also a solitary creature. He avoids the attention of others, but not mine. You’ll find him up on the vessel above.”
“Thank you, Lady Sayeh. May your steps be relentless.”
Trahearne was on the deck of the ship docked there, the Humble, leaning on the railing and looking out at Orr thoughtfully.
“What’s the matter, beloved?” Caoilfhionn asked, coming up beside him and settling his arms about Trahearne’s waist.
Trahearne looked down and smiled, and put his own arm about Caoilfhionn’s shoulders. “This is a great day, a joyous day… but I am still troubled. To achieve such a victory, with so much yet to be done…”
Caoilfhionn bonked his head into Trahearne’s shoulder. “I know. However. Put down your burden for but a moment and let the Pact cheer its Marshal! We’ve been waiting for you.”
Trahearne hesitated, then nodded. “You’re right. Victory does not end a general’s responsibility to his soldiers. I shall join the celebration.”
Caoilfhionn beamed at him. “Good! Let’s go together.”
“By the Tree… They’re going to swarm us, aren’t they?”
“You say that like it’s the most dreadful of fates. They’re happy for us!” They really were; nearly everyone he talked to had congratulated him. The news had spread quickly, it seemed, the gossip on everyone’s tongue.
“Isn’t it, though? …Can’t we meet in the grotto under Lyssa’s Temple instead?”
“I’d be willing to help restore that place to its rightful purpose, once the waters of the Source have had time to spread so far…”
“I’ll stay for a little while, and then I need to rest. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
6: Victory or Death
Hope’s Legacy were on board the Humble, riding the airship to the gates of Arah, when a Charr copter flew by. “Destiny’s Edge has been forced down! They need your assistance!” the pilot yelled through the window.
“Understood!” said Captain Vandem. “Everyone, hold on to something!”
“Destiny’s Edge is here?” Damara asked.
“Cooperating?” Phiadi said, with a sly look at Caoilfhionn.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Annhilda said. “There they are, fighting a lot of those big abominations.”
“Is there space to put down?” Rhyoll asked doubtfully.
“This isn’t a tank,” Captain Vandem said. “Watch us!”
Rope ladders were unfurled, and one by one, the members of Destiny’s Edge and the crew of their downed airship clambered up – but-
“Logan!” cried Caithe, looking down, as an abomination seized the rope ladder and ripped it from the ship. “No!”
Rytlock growled. “That idiot! I’ll hound him into the Mists for this!”
Eir put down Garm from her shoulders. “I thought that this time, together, we would be unbeatable. Could I have been wrong?”
“We can’t lose him, not after coming back together,” Zojja said.
“We have lost him again,” Caithe said. “Can we survive this?”
Rytlock slowly shook his head. “No. I don’t believe he’s truly dead. Logan’s the most foolish, but also the bravest and most combat-savvy human I’ve ever known. He’ll find a way out.”
Phiadi elbowed Caoilfhionn in the shin and he stepped away from her – her elbows were sharp!
“Sorry to interrupt,” Captain Vandam said, “but we’ve got gigantic minions of Zhaitan up ahead. Battle stations!”
Trahearne paced restlessly at the Cathedral of Verdance. He longed to be in the fight, but he was still too weak after the day before… He would only have slowed them down, and they knew what to do. He flexed his hands in front of him, uselessly, then forced himself to relax them and looked up once again at the sky.
It was hard to make out anything from here, the airships, the dragons, anything – the clouds were thick today and Arah was far enough away that all he could really sense were the sounds. The sky rumbled with cannonfire, with the shriek of burning engines, with dragons screaming. How many were there!? And where was Destiny’s Edge, where was Hope’s Legacy among them? Where was Caoilfhionn? Where was Caithe? His closest Valiants, with their Wyld Hunts drawing them to the Elder Dragon?
To be sure, Caithe could handle herself; he’d long given up trying to worry for her no matter what she got up to. Though he was always a little worried, as a brother ought to be. But Caoilfhionn… his heart reached out to him, praying for his safety like he’d never prayed before. If only he could…!
He fixed his eyes on the sky and waited, as his guards waited, as they all who were not currently fighting waited.
The fight was a long, slogging battle through the air, taking out select ground targets to assist the infantry and tanks that were also rolling through the destroyed city, then rising higher again to tangle with lesser dragons. The Humble was far less nimble than the dragons, but her cannons hit harder than their breath, especially with her physical shielding augmented with Asuran forcefields.
But the third dragon they fought got a lucky shot in, tearing a great hole in the steel bubble that kept the ship aloft. The ship shuddered beneath them and tilted, fire and smoke pouring from the hull, and Caoilfhionn suddenly noticed how very high they were – they were above some of the clouds, even, and the only ground he saw was the great central cone of Orr and a few spires from Arah below them. Someone on the crew was whimpering in fear.
Zojja, clinging to the railing by the bow, pointed suddenly. “Another ship coming in! And it’s a huge one!” Below them, the clouds parted and an airship the length of the Durmand Priory came into view – and what an airship! It was gloriously patterned like a dragonfly, with delicate wings streaming back from its engines; Sylvari influence was heavy in its design and he couldn’t help but think it the most beautiful airship he’d ever seen.
“And they’re heading straight for us, thank the Six Gods!” Damara exclaimed. “Think they’ll pick us up?”
“If it gets close enough, get aboard anyway!” Eir said.
But the great ship maintained its heading towards them, pulling up beside their floundering vessel, and Logan Thackeray met them at its side. “Come on, you laggards! We don’t have all day!”
“Logan! You’re alive!” Rytlock boomed.
“You think I was going to let you all go up against Zhaitan without me?” Logan said with a big grin, pulling Rytlock safely onto the deck.
“Logan, I am delighted to see you are well,” Caithe said. “I thought…”
“I know,” Logan said. “I got out by the skin of my teeth and hopped a lift with this ship, the Glory of Tyria. Isn’t she a beauty? I’m told she got out of drydock about an hour ago.”
“Impressive,” Zojja sniffed. “I think this is just what we need to take down an Elder Dragon.”
“Everyone, to battle stations,” Eir cried. “We’re going in!” Garm barked and wagged his tail violently. Only Caoilfhionn spared a glance for the Humble as it sank below the clouds; it had been a good ship while it lived.
“What is that!?” came a shout from the port gunners. “Look at the size of that thing!”
“Zhaitan!” Annhilda cried. None of them had seen the Elder Dragon before, in person or depiction, but each of them knew for a certainty that the eldritch horror flying through the sky between the lightning strikes was the one they sought. Caoilfhionn stared in awe at the writhing conglomeration of pale rotting wings, tails, even heads. Its eyes glowed green and it dwarfed even their great ship twice over, horrible, terrifying, majestic in its sheer scale. Here, he knew, was Death Personified – and his Wyld Hunt cried out in his heart, calling him to battle.
“Sheesh, he looks like one of my summons from when I was a progeny,” Phiadi muttered, ruining the moment.
“Here it comes!” shouted Logan. “Brace yourselves!”
Caoilfhionn had just time to anchor himself to the deck with Earth magic when Zhaitan skimmed the bow of the Glory of Tyria, tearing a good twenty metres off the front like it was not even there, leaving only splintered wood and twisted metal behind. The airship shuddered and lurched to the side; the engines strained as the pilot fought to hold them steady. Everyone about him flailed, and he reached out to steady Rhyoll before he slipped. The noxious stench of the dragon swept over them and he choked, covering his nose with his sleeve. The soldiers on the cannons at the bow of the ship had been turned to zombies by sheer proximity; Eir coolly shot them before they could get close.
Zojja recovered her footing and pushed her way to the main cannon controls. “Stand aside. I have this.”
“Excuse me!?” exclaimed the Asura who had been standing there. “This is a mist-cooled tripartate thautmatium energy weapon.”
“Uh-huh,” said Zojja, dead-pan. “With a lead tracer array set for draconic energy. Who do you think designed it? I know how to handle this. I won’t break it. Much.”
The Dragon flew overhead again, not striking them this time, but releasing a flood of undead to land on the forward deck, and for a couple minutes all was blades and spells for the remainder of Destiny’s Edge and Hope’s Legacy. And not only did they have undead gorillas, quaggan, and Norn to contend with, but the dragon’s breath corrupted all it touched. Caoilfhionn fought with all his strength, determination blazing in his soul. They would not be overwhelmed here, not when they were so close!
“Steady, steady,” Zojja muttered as the ship slowly tracked Zhaitan. The Elder Dragon was not as nimble as its lieutenants, but it was still faster than the airship… Caoilfhionn waited with bated breath, the wind whipping his leaves violently as they surged through the sky.
Zojja slammed her fist on the biggest button on her control panel, and energy gathered hissing and crackling in the ship’s main cannon, mounted high aft, and it blasted out with a zzzzzap that nearly deafened him and made Rhyoll’s fur stand on end. The Dragon writhed and roared – its tail! Its largest tail had been struck, and was tearing free, along with several smaller tails and limbs. It came at them with a sudden charge, roaring in rage, promising their doom with its hateful eyes.
“Get DOWN!” Rytlock roared, and the dragon crashed against the aft of the ship, tearing the aft cabin and the cannon off the ship, turning what had been a marvel of engineering into a smoking ruin. The Glory pitched wildly, and he flung himself to the deck with the others-
“Wait!” Damara screamed – and went tumbling from the edge.
“Damara!” they all cried, but it was too late, she was gone from view. How horrible! Damara!
“Get back on those cannons!” Eir ordered, crawling to her feet and pointing. “Put more hurt on him! It’s him or us!!” Pale Pact soldiers rushed to obey, and they fired, more searing energy weapons raking the Dragon’s hide as it flew by once again.
This was no good. Caoilfhionn clenched his fists in desperate frustration. What good was he, were all of them, simply riding this ship!? Even Eir’s sturdy arrows were surely no good against such a behemoth, and they’d lost Damara. His magic, channeled through his daggers, could only reach an armslength around him… Caithe, too, with her own daggers.
Zhaitan writhed under their assault, even his armour burning under the energy beams, then turned, gaping maw glowing brilliant green, and dove for them. Several people screamed as the enormous Dragon crashed into the side of the ship – and latched on, roaring at them all, broken wings flapping uselessly. Everything caught in its breath withered – the cannons melted, their crews turning to undead instantly, the wooden deck rotting beneath their feet. The ship tilted and rocked, the engines wailing under the strain of carrying both ship and Dragon. Lightning cracked nearby.
Caoilfhionn stared down Death with wide eyes, that gaping, jawless green maw filled with a dozen smaller dragon heads all snarling at them. Well now, here it was, within the reach of his daggers at the other end of the deck, and what could he do even now!? Sylvari as he was, he might not become turned, but he would die, and die uselessly, if he charged it full on.
And yet the ten – nine of them were all that stood between this Dragon and annihilation for everyone. He felt no fear in this moment – this was what he had been born for.
“I have it!” Annhilda cried. “Eir, keep those undead off us, and get ready to tell of a new legend!”
“Annhilda!” Eir said. “We’ll protect you – and help you if we get the chance. You think you can take that thing down?”
“I swear it,” Annhilda said fiercely. “Caoilfhionn! Launch me!” She grabbed a nearby hammer, a hefty steel polearm that one of the crew had let fall, and beckoned to him.
He gasped. “Eh??”
She nodded frantically. “I know you can. With your Air magic. Launch me straight at his ugly mug! …Mugs.”
“You’ll be dead before you get there!” Phiadi cried. “If only I could mobilize a Well of Power…”
“Put it here,” Rhyoll said, opening his Charrzooka and revealing the missile within. “This’ll take careful timing. Caoilfhionn, you think you can handle it?”
Brilliant! Insane, suicidal, but brilliant! He set his eyes on the frothing dragon with determination. “Absolutely. Ready, Annhilda?”
“Do it now!” Annhilda shouted, hefting the hammer to strike.
Caoilfhionn looked at Rhyoll, breathed with him, and cast – not on himself, but to give Annhilda a burst of lightning, to send her flying quick as an arrow. At the exact same instant, Rhyoll launched his enchanted missile, Phiadi’s spell flying on it before Annhilda and turning Zhaitan’s corruption to blessing.
The heartbeat of the world slowed to this one instant; the wind in his leaves, Zhaitan’s roar, the dazzling spark of his spell as he flung his guild leader forward with all his strength, the lightning crashing through the clouds. Annhilda reached the end of the lightning spell and for a moment he saw wings erupt from her back as she reached the massive Dragon’s face and swung the hammer with all her might. In that instant, a burst of light, white-hot as a tiny sun, blinded him.
Everything was obscured by fire and miasma. He couldn’t see Zhaitan or Annhilda. Then the Glory of Tyria lurched – and lurched again, as Zhaitan’s claws fell away from its hull and the great Dragon plummeted away, its skull smashed to pieces, soon to be smashed again upon the spires of Arah.
“Annhilda!” screamed Caoilfhionn, reaching out helplessly. They’d lost Damara only moments ago, and now Annhilda had gone with the Dragon… inevitable perhaps, but still, he’d hoped-
“A… A little help here?” came a faint call from the lower deck, and they rushed to the railing to see – Damara, stretched out on her stomach on the deck, both hands hanging onto one of Annhilda’s for dear life as the Norn dangled off the edge of the airship.
Madly, Caoilfhionn swung down over the edge to land beside them, summoning clinging vines to grow from the hull where Annhilda might grab them and pull herself up. Phiadi came sprinting along from the ramp to the upper deck, and Rhyoll following as fast as he could with his limp.
“By the Eternal thrice-damned Alchemy!” Phiadi screeched, and launched herself into Annhilda’s arms. “I spent my best spell on you so you wouldn’t die and then you almost did anywayyyy!”
Annhilda tried to comfort the crying Asura. “But I didn’t die – by the grace of the Spirits and all your help. We won, Hope’s Legacy. We won. I left the hammer buried in the dragon’s skull up to the handle.”
Caoilfhionn also threw himself at Annhilda, and Damara. “I’m so glad you’re both alive! Praise the Pale Tree!”
“And the Six Gods,” Damara said. “Not an experience I want to repeat!”
“And the steel that brought us here,” Rhyoll said. “It did the real work, you know.”
By now they were all tightly gathered in a group hug, only interrupted by a polite cough from the side. They turned to see Destiny’s Edge gathered there, beaming at them.
“Well done,” Eir said grandly. “I knew you could do it. All of Tyria owes you an immeasurable debt. On behalf of Garm and Destiny’s Edge, thank you.” Garm barked and wagged his tail.
“Can’t believe you got that half-cocked idea to work,” Rytlock grumbled. “Glad it did, though. When you got a moment, I’d like to toast to your victory.”
“I salute you, and not just because half of you outrank me,” Logan said with an easy grin. “You’ve made Tyria safer, stronger, and more secure.”
“Thank you all,” Caithe said. “For helping Trahearne and Caoilfhionn and me with our Wyld Hunts. If you keep helping Sylvari this way, we may have to make the rest of you honorary Sylvari.”
Zojja sighed. “I didn’t expect you to succeed so spectacularly. Now I have to recalculate my Heroic Potential Matrix. Thanks a lot for the extra work. Oh, and for cleansing Orr, killing Zhaitan, and so on…”
Everyone laughed. “Wait, who’s driving this thing!?” Rhyoll exclaimed.
“Good question!” said Annhilda. “Let’s confirm that monster is dead, and then head to Fort Trinity to bust open some kegs!”
The air had never felt so sweet to Caoilfhionn as now, as they turned to fly for home base, the remaining dragons breaking on the rest of the fleet, the other airships turning to form up on them, wounded, limping, yet triumphant. He’d never felt so alive, so free, so joyful, even with all the weight of the grief that had come with them so far, so fulfilled with the conclusion of his Wyld Hunt. All he wanted now was Trahearne’s beautiful smile and his life would be complete.
They disembarked in the clear twilight and quickly made way for more airships to land with, and they were all talking at once. “Courage, skill, and friendship brought the dragon low,” Eir said, raising her hands high in a gesture of praise. “Let this day never be forgotten!”
“A victory that all Tyria can share!” Logan said, raising his fist with hers.
Rytlock huffed. “This is not an ending. There are other dragons out there. Other battles.”
Zojja gave him a look and rolled her eyes. “You shambling fuzz-ball. Can’t you just be happy?”
Rytlock raised an eyebrow at her. “I was being happy.”
“Will you return to your queen now, Logan?” Caithe asked.
Logan shook his head. “No. Not until I know that Kryta’s safe.”
Rytlock grinned and slapped Logan on the back. “Meaning he’s up for more fighting. See? Logan’s happy, too.”
Eir nodded. “Snaff would be proud of us. Especially of you, Zojja.”
“Proud that we didn’t screw up and plant our faces in the mud again, you mean?” Zojja said, a little sharp still – but that was just Zojja. “…I guess he would, at that.”
Eir chuckled and turned to them all. “So who’s next? Jormag… Primordus… Kralkatorrik?”
“As dawn scatters shadows, so we will destroy them all.” Caithe said, and looked to Hope’s Legacy. “We could not have done this without you. Thank you.”
Annhilda shrugged “You’re welcome. You can count on us.”
“Good,” Caithe said. “Because Eir is right. The rest of the dragons are still out there, waiting.”
“We’ll get them,” Caoilfhionn said to her. “Wait and see.”
He smiled brightly and they entered the courtyard, where food and drink had already been set up – and fireworks! And music! There were so many people, the entire army from all the Pact, from every nation and race – even those who had been on active duty right up until the battle had been recalled, for there was no need to hold land against the undead when the undead leader was gone.
“Oh, hey!” Annhilda said, grabbing his arm before he got separated in the crowd. He could barely hear even her strong voice over the hubbub and the fireworks. “I know we haven’t really talked about this, but you should invite Wegaff to the guild!”
“But he doesn’t…”
“I know! But he can still be part of the guild! We should have done this ages ago. Hey, Phiadi! Ask your Mabbran friend, too! Rhyoll, I don’t suppose your yellow friend would want to join our guild? Damara, you got any friends looking to join?”
“If we’re doing all that, we need a guild hall,” Phiadi said. “Someplace in Lion’s Arch where we can meet and conduct experiments. We have to be less wishy-washy about our organization.”
“I don’t do experiments, but there’s my farm near Divinity’s Reach?” Damara said.
“Your pets are remarkably even-tempered, but I can’t imagine they’d appreciate constant exposure to my work, hahaha!” Rhyoll said. “I vote for Lion’s Arch.”
“Agreed,” Annhilda said. “Caoilfhionn, tell Wegaff he can have his own lab, that should get his attention.”
Caoilfhionn snagged a glass of champagne and went in search of his old friend; he found him arguing vehemently with Researcher Fero. “Wegaff! Spare a moment?”
“Caoilfhionn! You finally did it. Can’t say I’m surprised. You always were the type to go running up to the most dangerous thing in the test area and try to poke it.”
“I actually didn’t do that much,” Caoilfhionn said cheerfully. “Zojja and Annhilda did most of it.”
“More than me,” Wegaff said, shrugging. “Though I’m hoping to be on the Dragon recovery team tomorrow.”
“Say, how would you like to join Hope’s Legacy?”
Wegaff narrowed his eyes. “You know I’m not one for combat field work-”
“I know, I know, but I’m not asking you for that. We just want to have more friends around, like you!”
“Hmm. So what sort of amenities have you gained as a guild?”
“Err…” Caoilfhionn sweated a little. “Not much, but Phiadi was just saying we need a guild hall, where she could have a lab, and you can have a lab, and there’s also a half-mad Charr with a workshop who will be more than happy to produce prototypes of anything you want, especially if it explodes-”
“Sold,” Wegaff said with a giggle, and shook Caoilfhionn’s hand enthusiastically. “I’ll be more than happy to help you look for a place to call our own. I’ve missed my personal lab – say, can I bring my krewe from Rata Sum?”
“Of course!” Caoilfhionn said gaily, not knowing what the others would really think, but still sure they wouldn’t mind. “I’m glad you’re going to join us. This will be exciting!”
He stayed to take part in the conversation for a while longer before excusing himself – there were many more people he wanted to talk to, and he hadn’t seen Trahearne yet! He went back to flitting from circle to circle, eager to laugh and cheer with the other members of the Pact, occasionally crossing paths with his guildmates.
“So then I said ‘Caoilfhionn, launch me!’” Annhilda said, and the circle of listeners about her burst out laughing uproariously.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Doern said admiringly.
“I haven’t even told you what they all did yet!” Annhilda said, and gulped down more of her ale before continuing.
But Trahearne was nowhere to be found, and really he had partly expected that. But he had to be around somewhere. He wasn’t at the memorial wall… Caoilfhionn slipped away from the noise and lights of the crowd, glad that he hadn’t gotten too tipsy yet, back up the ramp to the airship dock. The battered frame of a smaller airship was docked there, and on its deck… yes, a familiar figure, gazing out at Orr under the moonlight.
He walked up beside Trahearne and slipped his hand into his. “I knew I’d find you up here… Hiding from the crowds again, beloved?”
Trahearne shook his head with a distant smile. “Not hiding, beloved… waiting for you.”
“I’m here now.”
“And thinking. Completing my Wyld Hunt lifted a weight from me, but Zhaitan was still a terrible threat. Now that threat is truly gone, it feels like the sun has finally emerged after a cold, endless night. I can’t help but wonder… what’s next? Now that we’ve formed this unstoppable alliance and tempered it in battle, where do we take it?
Caoilfhionn pressed closer to his side, leaning his head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. “To the next challenge. The next victory. There are more Elder Dragons to confront… and now we know how. We know they can be defeated. But! First! We celebrate! We won, beloved – it would be a crime not to stop and appreciate that! And while I’d be perfectly happy to spend the rest of the night up here with you, most other people would be very disappointed, you know. Come, there’s plenty of time to worry about the other dragons later.” He began to steer Trahearne in the direction of the ramp.
Trahearne laughed and let himself be steered. “You’re not wrong. Ah, but Caoilfhionn – a moment-” and Caoilfhionn found himself pinned against the curving glass viewport of the airship with Trahearne’s mouth on his. He made a strangled gasp, relaxing wholly into the kiss, clinging to Trahearne like a lifeline. He changed his mind. He wanted to stay right here in this moment, forever…
“Come, my young prince,” said Trahearne, teasing, pulling back just enough to see him. “Didn’t you say they wanted to see us?”
“Y-yes,” Caoifhionn said, slow to recover with Trahearne leaning over him like that, with that voice so low and alluring. “I suppose.”
Trahearne grinned in triumph. “Not so quick to pull me away to parties now, are you? I should use that more often.”
“Trahearne!”
“Forgive me, beloved; my heart is light as never before. Shall we?”
Caoilfhionn laughed. “Always, mine too, and let’s.”
They were met by Hope’s Legacy and Destiny’s Edge above the submarine docks, with wild cheering. “But I didn’t do anything today,” Trahearne said aside to Caoilfhionn.
“Never mind that,” Caoilfhionn said. “Besides…”
“So when’s the wedding!?” Damara shouted, beaming at them.
“..I think they’re also still just excited about us… Wedding!?” Caoilfhionn cried. “Err… actually…”
“Day before yesterday,” said Trahearne bluntly.
“What!?” exclaimed everyone but Caithe, who simply smiled. “You can’t have!” Damara exclaimed. “Where was the ceremony? Who were the witnesses? I need all the details!”
“Where was the drinking?” Annhilda put in.
Caoilfhionn scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “We… didn’t have any of that?”
“Sylvari often pledge themselves to each other without so much as a witness,” Trahearne said. “It is enough that we have pledged. And I was rather hoping to avoid making a public fuss over us?”
“It might be in good taste to have some sort of celebration,” Eir said. “Humans, Norn, Asura all mark the occasion publicly in some fashion.”
“Charr don’t celebrate unions like the rest of you sentimental types, but we’ll still come provide the barbecue,” Rytlock said.
“As if we needed another excuse to party,” Zojja said. “But I’m down if the rest of you are.”
“I’ll… we’ll consider it,” Trahearne said faintly. “But in the meantime, shall we not endure the rest of this party?”
Caoilfhionn laughed and looped an arm about Trahearne’s waist. “You don’t hate it that much.”
“No, I don’t, you’re right. I hear music… shall we dance?”
Fireworks burst overhead, colouring the stars red and blue and green and gold. Caoilfhionn danced next to his lover, admiring his gracefulness, the look of absolute joy and abandon on his handsome face, and locked it all away in his memory to treasure forever. His eyes sparkled like never before; he couldn’t stop smiling; his heart was too full for words.
7: Meet the Family (Basegame Epilogue)
Annhilda returned to Hoelbrak a few days later, looking forward to boasting to her family and drinking with them until the dawn crept over the horizon. However, the moment she stepped foot through the Asura Gate everyone turned to look at her, and then point at her, and then rush towards her with cheers and shouts. “Annhilda! Annhilda! Slayer of Issormir and Zhaitan!” In very little time she was borne up on the shoulders of the flash mob and carried towards the Great Lodge with a cacophonous noise as they chanted her name and sang several conflicting songs at once.
“Raven’s beak, I hope the others have an easier time of it,” she muttered under her breath, but she suspected that they were not. Rhyoll might be all right, with the discipline of the Charr… and maybe Phiadi with her confident arrogance… but she could just imagine Damara buried under an avalanche of confetti in Divinity’s Reach.
She saw Eir and Garm in the doorway of the Great Lodge and waved urgently at her. Eir gave her a rather sheepish smile. “Sorry, Annhilda! I couldn’t resist spreading your legend early-”
Knut Whitebear, clearly having hurried down from his high seat, stepped past Eir, opening his arms in welcome. “Slayer of Zhaitan! Welcome home! What can we get for you? Are you here to break the Fang?”
“Spirits, no!” Annhilda tried to say, but she was overridden by a huge cheer from the crowd, who rushed forward into the hall. She kicked and struggled, suplexing the bear of a man carrying her. Now that she was on her own two feet, she managed to punch her way through the mob until she reached the edge, aiming for a side door where she could sneak out to the Raven Lodge. “Damn, I’m not nearly drunk enough for this…”
She could hear them chanting behind her. “Break the Fang! Break the Fang! Break the Fang!” She wondered with a chuckle how long it would take them to notice she’d escaped, and headed back out into the wintry cold. Ah, there was the Raven Lodge, with its beautiful sculptures out front. She stepped inside and brightened to see the familiar figure of Havroun Wiebe at the far end. She moved closer, intending to pay her respects to Raven and lay down the arm-length fragment of bone she’d recovered from Zhaitan as offering.
Havroun Wiebe heard her approach, turned, and smiled. “Hail, Annhilda, Slayer of Zhaitan! Are you going to break the Fang?”
Annhilda screamed in frustration.
Four weeks after Zhaitan’s destruction, after an incredible amount of activity restructuring the Pact and drawing up an agenda for its continuance, the Pact Marshal took a weekend to return to the Grove for… personal reasons.
Caoilfhionn exited the Asura Gate and was assaulted by his close siblings – at least he wasn’t in danger of being mobbed this time, he’d already been through all that on previous visits. “My brother!” cried Ruadhan, seizing him by the shoulders. “Look at you! A Valiant and a hero, all grown up!”
“He certainly has not grown in stature at all,” Eithne said, putting a hand on his head.
“You haven’t been back in so long, I thought you’d never pick up your next outfit,” Blathnat said.
“Welcome home,” Cathaoir said. “And to you, Firstborn.”
Trahearne bowed to the four of them, a little shyly. “It is good to meet you. Caoilfhionn has often told me of you…”
“But Blathnat, I like this one,” Caoilfhionn said, indicating his asymmetrical violet and floral garb. “It truly makes me feel like an Orchid Prince; I’ve scarcely worn anything else since you gave it to me-”
“Hush! You’re coming to my arbour this instant so I can make sure the new one fits well on you!”
“Blathnat-” Caoilfhionn could not get another word out before his sister grabbed his arm and dragged him bodily away.
Trahearne watched them go. “Is… is she…”
“Always like that? Yes indeed,” Ruadhan said. “Our Tulip Countess has a way about her. But never mind them. Only be thankful that she probably won’t insist you join them…”
“I must tell her how much I appreciate her work,” Trahearne said. “Caoilfhionn has never been aught but splendidly dressed, no matter when I’ve seen him.”
“She’s simply happy to have a vict- sibling who fully appreciates her skills,” Eithne said. “Would you like to come and eat with us while they’re busy, Firstborn Trahearne?”
“Please, just Trahearne,” he said, and followed them. How different they all were, for all that they were born on the same day as Caoilfhionn! It should not have been a surprise after all this time and yet he still often found wonder in it.
“We’re all glad you and Caoilfhionn found each other,” Cathaoir said, as they settled around a table at the tavern. “When he was hardly a month old, he wanted someone to fall in love with, he told me, from seeing his friend Tiachren’s love.”
Trahearne frowned. “Did not Tiachren lose his love?” Caithe had said something to him about it at the time, in a letter – the first time he’d heard of Caoilfhionn, actually.
“Aye, but Caoilfhionn is the worst romantic you ever met, even by our standards,” Eithne said. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed. Even that wasn’t enough to deter him.” She gave him a stern look. “But don’t think that gives you leave to do as Tiacren’s love did!”
“Eithne, I hardly think Trahearne one to fall to Nightmare,” Cathaoir said.
“No indeed,” Trahearne said drily. “I’ve seen too many nightmares to wish to become one.”
Perhaps that hadn’t been the right thing to say, because their smiles were a bit awkward for a moment – but he was saved by Caoilfhionn returning, still tugging on the cuffs of – by the Pale Tree, he was gorgeous.
“It’s incredible, truly!” he was saying. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“You say that every time,” Blathnat said. “Though I think you’re probably right. That embroidery took me months, so you can expect I’ve enchanted it up a cuckoo’s nest to protect it.”
“I think this one ought to be more for special occasions, though,” Caoilfhionn said, finally satisfied with his adjustments. “It’s too resplendant for everyday, even for me.” He turned and smiled at Trahearne, who had risen to his feet without knowing it. “What do you think?”
“I have no words,” Trahearne said, staring. “It looks incredible on you.” Exquisitely tailored violet patterned velvet and red silk were overlaid with the most intricate gold and silver threads; he really did look like human royalty. And this shining creature came to him and embraced him and kissed him.
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, smiling sweetly.
He felt shabby next to him, in his ordinary garments of leaves that he’d worn all his life, and started to say so. “Caoilfhionn, should I-”
“No,” Caoilfhionn said. “Unless you want to. I like you just as you are. I’ve always thought you were beautiful as you are, and your garb has always looked wonderful.” And his sparkling coral eyes were so adoring, Trahearne found himself losing his heart to him all over again.
There was a cough, and they looked up to see Hope’s Legacy arriving. “Good, we haven’t missed anything,” Annhilda said.
“Looking good, Caoilfhionn!” Damara said. “You’ve got yourself a nice catch, Marshal!”
“Mine’s better,” Caoilfhionn retorted, tightening his hold around Trahearne.
Trahearne felt his luminescence flush. “Whatever are you doing here? I thought I reduced your duties so you could go adventuring without concering yourselves with Pact responsibilities?”
“You did indeed, and we’re taking full advantage of that to follow you home and tease you in front of all your family,” Phiadi said. Mabbran behind her rolled his eyes.
“It’s tradition among Asura, anyway,” Wegaff said.
“And Norn,” Annhilda said.
“Definitely among Humans,” Damara said.
“I came in case there was food,” Rhyoll said.
“Just accept it,” Caithe said, from another direction with Destiny’s Edge. “Trahearne, you have been alone the longest of any of us. Now we want to wish you joy.”
He wondered how hard that was for her to say; his closest sister, who had only known the joy of a good relationship for less than two years before it had turned on her, who still loved Faolain even as she was resolved to stop her cruelty, with death if necessary. “Thank you, Caithe.”
“Is it possible for you to dress up any fancier, Caoilfhionn?” Rhyoll asked.
“Ask Blathnat,” Caoilfhionn said, and Blathnat flushed with a pale blue hue under the scrutiny. “Ha! I didn’t know you could be embarrassed, my sister!”
“Hush!” Blathnat protested. “H-he’s a very good model, th-that’s all!”
“You should go see Mother, and share your joy with her,” Caithe urged them. “We’ll be here when you come back.”
He looked down at Caoilfhionn, at their firmly clasped hands. “Yes, let’s,” Caoilfhionn said.
“Fy gwawr fendigedig,” Trahearne whispered to him, and saw his smile widen.
“Mo oíche álainn,” Caoilfhionn said in return, and kissed him again.