Mikel had been tracking the trio of sylvari for three days. So far they had led him deeper into the Maguuma Jungle than he had ever been, and they showed no signs of stopping yet. He had followed them from well within the edge of Krytan territory, and now they were into the lands inhabited primarily by sylvari and asura. Not that Mikel had seen any of those peoples since crossing the border. The ones he was tracking were being careful to avoid inhabited areas.

Tybalt and he had been assigned to spy out a meeting between a group of Krytan bandits and nightmare court sylvari. Intel had come to the Order of Whispers from their contact within the Shining Blade that the two groups might be seeking an alliance, or at least a trade of supplies and services. When the Shining Blade contact had also implied that the bandits might be linked with, or possibly even members of the White Mantle, Mikel had all but volunteered himself and his partner for the mission.

Tybalt had agreed to the mission amicably, and the two of them had hidden withing earshot of the meeting. Whether the rumor of the White Mantle involvement was true or not, the bandits and the sylvari did seem to be negotiating a mutually beneficial trade agreement. Determined to find out more, Mikel and Tybalt split up to each follow a faction of the negotiations as they separated. Tybalt had insisted on tracking the bandits himself, knowing the possibility of such an assignment turning very dangerously personal for his partner. Mikel had protested, but he knew Tybalt was right. They had both determined to move on from the past. He would have to thank the Charr when they next reunited, perhaps over a cider.

Mikel shoved all thoughts of bandits and White Mantle aside. He focused on moving silently through the dense forest, on catching signs of the nightmare courtiers he was tracking. They moved quickly, but with a casual disregard for their surroundings. They left a trail that any Whispers initiate would be able to follow. But, as beings born of the forest, they seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of what paths were easier to travel. More than once they had outdistanced him because they found a path hidden beneath seemingly inpenetrable foliage. As far as Mikel could tell, however, they still had no idea they were being followed. He had always moved quietly and stepped lightly, and his training with the order had turned that into silence and invisibility.

Voices sounded from in front of him and brought him up short. Mikel listened intently, and knew immediately that there were more voices than just the three he had been following. He chanced moving closer to get a look. Before him was a broad depression between the roots of three enormous trees. Twining between and among the roots and trunks were thick and thorny vines. They appeared to almost form a sort of wall enclosing the wide valley. Mikel could see little through the thick greenery, but the three nightmare courtiers he had followed stood with a fourth near a narrow opening in the brambles. It was a camp, then. The sylvari had led him back to one of their bases. He waited until the four had disappeared into the enclosure before he began carefully moving closer. Perhaps he could get close enough to the walls to listen in on their plans.

He approached the thorn wall cautiously, as close to the door as he dared. The mass of vines was dense, but not solid, and he could see through it to some extent. With a little work, he could probably even slip through and into the camp at need. For now he simply crouched as comfortably and silently as he could to listen in.

"...are already selling stolen supplies to the centaurs." Mikel missed the first part of the sentence, but he recognized the voice as one of the courtiers had had followed. "It didn't take much for them to agree to trade with us as well."

"Never mind that." A second voice, thick with excitement, cut in. "We caught a real prize while you were gone! He's a wyld hunt valiant!"

"So? What's one valiant?"

"This one is special." A third sylvari interjected smoothly. "He's the one Caithe has been taking under her wing."

"The favorite of a firstborn?" The first sylvari seemed to be reluctantly catching the excitement of the others. "If he is Caithe's protégé he'll not easily be awakened to nightmare."

The second voice giggled maliciously. "Oh no, he's far too good for that. But the Knight of Thorns will open his eyes to the truth, or break him trying. The pet valiant of Caithe deserves no lesser touch than that of a knight!"

"The knight has returned?"

"Not yet." The smooth voiced sylvari spoke again. "But he is due to arrive soon. You can give your report to him then."

The voices moved off and Mikel could catch no more of their conversation. He frowned as he weighed his options. He wasn't likely to get anything else about the alliance with the bandits. The courtiers seemed far more interested in whomever they'd captured. At the same time, he was in a position to be able to sneak into the camp while the leader was away and the rest were distracted. He could at the very least make an attempt to free the captive. He was on his own, however, and he would be badly outnumbered once inside the camp. Mikel turned to look through the vines once more. Grenth take the odds. Here was something he could do. He was an Agent of Whispers. Those courtiers would never know he was there.

Mikel could see no guard at the door of the camp, and thought that strange. Then again, they were in a remote part of the jungle and he had seen no other sylvari nearby. Perhpaps the vine wall was more to keep out wildlife than anything else. Still, he avoided the door, as it was clearly visible from almost all parts of the camp. Instead he chose a spot in the brambles where the vines grew slightly further apart, and the root of a tree provided visual cover from the interior of the valley. He slid his knife from his belt and quietly cut through a handful of the thick vines. As soon as he had a wide enough opening, Mikel silently slipped through. He swept the camp with his eyes from behind the cover of the root. His luck was holding so far. All the courtiers in the camp seemed to be clustered at the far end from the door, lounging about on various pieces of foliage and talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Directly across the camp from where he was hidden, Mikel spotted what could only be the captive valiant. The sylvari was kneeling under the arch of a giant tree root, with his arms held up against the wood by thick tangles of green vines. Unlike the nightmare courtiers who seemed to be clad in petals and leaves, this sylvari wore plain leather and cloth such as someone might wear as padding under armor. His head hung low and the curtain of dark red leaves that made up his hair obscured his face. Mikel wasn't certain the sylvari was even conscious.

Mikel scanned the camp again, but it seemed that none of the courtiers were paying their captive any mind. Clearly they thought he was well and truly caught. There wasn't even anyone keeping watch. Mikel whispered a quick invocation and felt the power of air rush through him. Earth was by far the element he was strongest with, but for this, stealth and speed would serve him better than battle. With the power of the wind granting speed to his steps, Mikel slipped out from behind his root cover and swiftly crossed the open camp.

The captive sylvari didn't stir at his approach. Mikel crouched down beside the valiant, partially hidden from the view of the courtiers by the root he was bound to. Mikel gently laid a hand on the sylvari's shoulder. The captive still did not wake. Up close Mikel could see the valiant's grey/green skin was streaked with red in bark-like patterns. Shallow cuts and rust brown bruises marred those patterns in half a dozen places. Mikel glanced about the camp to raffirm that he would not be spotted. He was more determined than ever to get the valiant out before he was left to the mercies of a knight of the court.

Mikel tightened his grip on the captive's shoulder and gave it a slight shake. At that the sylvari jerked as far away from the touch as the vines holding him would allow. His head flew up and bright red eyes locked onto Mikel's. Then, as they stared at each other silently, the fear and defiance in those red eyes melted into quizzical confusion.

"Easy." Mikel whispered quietly and reached for the nearest vines. "I'm getting you out of here."

Without waiting for a response, Mikel used his knife to slice through the binding vines. The sylvari seemed to relax a little now that he knew he was not being tormented further, but the confusion in his eyes remained. Once free, the sylvari staggered to his feet. Mikel moved quickly to support him. He kept his knife drawn and his magic ready, however. They weren't out of the camp yet.

The sylvari moved near silently, but not overly quickly. Clearly he was fatigued from being held captive for however long. Mikel decided that crossing the open camp so slowly would not be a good idea, and he steered them to the nearest vine wall. He'd look for another thin spot he could cut through, and failing that they could follow the wall to the door. It was risky, but the courtiers still seemed to be occupied amongst themselves.

The vine wall was thicker on that side, it seemed. Mikel had not seen anywhere with thin enough vines for his knife to cut through. They had made it about halfway along the wall to the door when a handful of leafy figures stepped into the gap in the vines. The sylvari tensed beside him, and Mikel pulled him into the shadows of a root that rose amongst the vine wall. From that hiding spot, Mikel watched the newcomers closely. All of them were clad in artfully grown foliage and were clearly members of the nightmare court. Three of them were showing deference to the fourth who could only be the Knight of Thorns the others had spoken of. A big, black fern mastiff paced at the knight's heels.

Mikel watched warily as the group passed into the camp. If he and the valiant could only escape detection, then they could slip out of the camp behind the group. On the other hand, once the group got to where the valiant had been bound, they would certainly be alerted to his escape and come searching. The valiant shifted behind him, and Mikel put a hand on the sylvari's arm to steady him. The knight and his entourage were almost past.

Just then the fern mastiff stopped and swung his leafy muzzle towards where they hid. Mikel froze, hardly daring to breathe. The knight strode on, still speaking quietly with the courtiers flanking him. Then the mastiff howled and all four courtiers halted in alarm.

Mikel gripped his knife tightly in his left hand. He knew the game was up as soon as he saw the smirk on the knight's face as he approached their hiding place. Like a shot, Mikel flew out from the shadows of the root, riding on a rush of lightning to land right in front of the mastiff's face. He tossed his knife to his right hand and wrapped himself in a field of electrical energy. The hound lunged at him, but pulled back with a yip when he hit the field. The stunned mastiff staggered and quick lash of lightning arcing from the knife silenced him for good.

Lazy applause followed the crackling of the lighting, and Mikel looked over to the knight in surprise and suspicion. The nightmare court knight stood easily confident before him, still smirking as he clapped. Two of his entourage had already grabbed a hold of the valiant again, and were dragging him back into the open clearing. The valiant was struggling, but Mikel could tell earlier fights of this sort had already taken their toll. Getting them both out free and alive was up to the elementalist alone.

"Are you friend of his?" The knight drawled with a lilt of humor in his dark voice. "Or are you just a wandering do-gooder trying to be noble? It hardly matters. Nightmare has laid claim to him."

Mikel tightened his grip on his knife. No way would he just accept that. The valiant was still doggedly fighting, and he would too. He sprang to close the distance and thrust his knife towards the knight. A bolt of lightning leapt off the blade and into the nightmare sylvari. The Knight of Thorns stumbled a step backwards as the electric surge sapped his strength. Mikel charged another arcing lash of lightning at the tip of his blade even as the knight drew an arm back for a strike of his own. Mikel let fly the charged electricity and stepped quickly backwards to avoid the knight's open handed attack. The knight flung a burst of pollen from his open hand even as he was struck by the lightning.

Mikel caught the cloud of pollen square on, and nearly doubled over coughing violently. Whatever the pollen was, it was clogging his throat and lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe. Through his gasping he heard the knight approaching and desperately shifted his knife back to his left hand. He leapt backwards on a sudden gust of wind that also forced the knight backwards a few paces. Mikel was still gasping around the pollen and dropped to his knees. The cloying powder seemed to drain his strength even as it blocked off his airway. He fell forward onto one hand, still coughing. His vision was blurring around the edges as he struggled to breathe. Voices shouting and sounds of battle registered only dimly beyond his own gasping.

With his free hand, Mikel gestured desperately in the air beside him, tracing out a glyph of healing. The rush of magic through the symbol he'd drawn restored him a little. He was still coughing, and his breath was still short, but he could at last breathe again.

He levered himself to one knee and looked up. He gaped at how the battlefield had changed since he had fallen. The three courtiers of the knight's entourage lay nearby either unconscious or dead. Two of them were smoldering. Strange blue flames flickered weakly in a ring around the remaining two combatants. The Knight of Thorns was grinning as he threw himself towards the valiant. Though he had clearly been able to take out the three other courtiers, the valiant struggled to dodge the attack of the knight. His evasion fell short, and the knight was able to knock the valiant against another of the protruding tree roots. Almost immediately binding vines grew and tightened around one of the valiant's wrists, holding him fast to the woody root. Still the captured sylvari struggled and lashed out with his free hand. The Knight of Thorns grinned contemptuously as he caught hold of the valiant's free arm. The knight drew a long, leaf bladed knife from his belt and without warning sunk it to the hilt in the valiant's abdomen. The pained cry of the valiant was punctuated by the thunk of the blade hitting the wood of the root behind him.

Mikel froze in horror as he watched, still gasping for air and balanced on one knee. The knight released the valiant's hand and it fell limply to the sylvari's side. Mikel could tell only the knife and the vines holding his other arm were keeping the valiant upright. The sylvari's red eyes flashed fire at the knight, but it was nearly buried beneath pain and weariness.

"Stay right there and wait your turn, leaflet." The knight drawled, still grinning. "This human's memories won't go to the Pale Tree, but my memories of torturing him may, and he will be good practice before I get to you."

At the threat to him, Mikel finally got his other foot planted and made his way determinedly to his feet. The words seemed to awaken something in the valiant as well. His eyes blazed defiance again, and his free hand slowly came to rest upon the hilt of the knife that was buried in his gut. Still weak and wheezing from the pollen, Mikel knew his chances against the knight we slim. He also didn't care. If he didn't do something, that valiant clearly would, and it would probably mean the sylvari's death. Grenth take the odds, this was something he could do. He was an Agent of Whispers. The knight would never know what hit him.

In a low voice made harsh by the pollen still choking him, Mikel growled out the words of another elemental invocation.

"I can move mountains!"