38: Farewell to Ruadhan

The Exalted allowed the Pact to rest at their city, and the army came in gratefully, eager to catch a bit of rest and a couple good nights of unstressed sleep after more than three weeks of constant fighting. The quartermasters and cooks got together to prepare a veritable feast, and morale was as high as it had been since they left Camp Resolve. The Priory members, naturally, rambled the city, asking questions of every Exalted they came across, and Annhilda had to caution them not to be annoying.

Hope's Legacy was not there. Taimi had passed on a message through a Whispers scout, saying they were heading south to keep on the trail of the prisoner caravan, and that they had not had any injuries. Caoilfhionn had reflected, and the terrible vision he had seen – that must be a premonition of the future, of course, because Logan, Zojja, and Trahearne were still being taken to the Dragon. The Mordrem had not stopped to put them in a Blighting Tree, not yet. So if they were fast, he could still save them from such anguish. Still, the horror of the vision stayed with him, and once more he found himself numb to the glories of the city and the surrounding jungle. His leaves were getting dryer by the day, and more and more of them were fading to yellow and brown.

Braham, and Rox, however, returned, in the Charr copter that had taken Eir to safety. "They're taking Mom straight home. I'm still worried for her, but I have a job to finish here. And if Faolain is truly still alive... after a fashion... then I've got two jobs to do."

It was the second day the Pact rested there, and they were beginning to repack everything in preparation for leaving at the next sunrise, when the ground shook. Caoilfhionn looked around in alarm. The wards about the city were faltering, fading, and the sky seemed to be darkening with unnatural swiftness. Mordremoth's voice grumbled in the back of his head.

"That can't be good," Laranthir said, kneeling to feel the ground. "I wonder..."

Huge vines burst from the ground, belching poison as they came, enveloping the central square of the city and blocking it off from the outside. More vines sprang up through the north courtyard where Caoilfhionn and Annhilda stood with Laranthir.

"Dammit," Annhilda grumbled. "Mordremoth really doesn't want us to have a moment's rest." She raised her voice. "Pact, to arms! Defend the city! Laranthir, go east, I need a commander in each quadrant! Damara, get south as quick as you can! Master Bongo, you're west!"

"T'would be nice if the Mordrem were not already in the city," Laranthir said, waving at the Pale Reavers and running to the eastern courtyard.

The Luminate appeared beside Annhilda with a number of Exalted, larger in stature than Caoilfhionn had seen before. "We have protected Tarir since its beginning," cried the Luminate, and her voice echoed from every surface until it could be heard throughout the entire city. "It will not fall this day. We have the power to repel Mordremoth, and we will reject its Mordrem from Tarir. We would rather die than surrender Tarir to Mordremoth. This is the sacrifice we are all willing to make."

"Hope it doesn't come to that," Annhilda said. "Look out! Mordrem hylek!"

With the Vigil's courage, the Priory's cleverness, and Whispers' cunning, they felled the Mordrem blocking their path – Mordrem Guard, Mordrem hylek, Mordrem arrowheads, hardy and deadly opponents all. Still their enemies came, but once they had a clear path to the vines seething about the courtyard... they discovered they were too tough for normal weapons. Each of the commanders hastily improvised, each seeking their own way to weaken the vines, rushing to destroy them before they could demolish and corrupt the centre of Tarir – or force the Exalted to some unnecessary sacrifice. As the Pact regained control of the outer courtyards, runners were sent between all the commanders, trying to coordinate to defeat the plant from all sides simultaneously. As each quadrant was retaken, the Pact cheered with greater determination than they'd had since the launch of the fleet.

As the last vine shredded under heavy Vigil axes, a light pulsed from the ground, washing over the city. The sky grew lighter, the menace retreated from his mind, and Tarir sighed peacefully.

Annhilda met with each of her commanders in the central courtyard. "Well done, everyone! Mordremoth will think twice about attacking this place again!"

"That's probably more from the magic I just saw go up, though, isn't it," Master Bongo said.

The Luminate appeared before them. "Yes. The wards that defend this place were not properly set against Mordremoth's strength. It will not happen again."

"It better not," Annhilda said. "We need this place." She traded a look with Damara and Caoilfhionn.

"It will not," the Luminate said firmly. "You may rest easy for Tarir when you leave."

"All right," Damara said. "Then let's sleep early tonight and get all the rest we can. We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow!"

"We don't know that," Caoilfhionn said. "We don't know what Hope's Legacy has discovered yet, chasing the prisoners."

"We'd have gotten a pigeon if they had caught up, or were in trouble, or found the Dragon," Damara said. "So I don't think we've missed anything yet. But I want to hurry anyway."

"Me too," Annhilda said. "Extra rations tonight, too; once we set out again we won't have that luxury anymore."

"Very good, ma'am," Master Bongo said.


The Pact was in good spirits when it set out again on the next morning, taking the fight to Mordremoth, carrying replenished hope of victory. Southwards – for so Hope's Legacy's trail led them – the jungle began to be more treacherous again, narrower ravines between low cliffs among which lurked hostile Itzel, and Mordrem Guard, pocket raptors, and rolling devils.

Caoilfhionn was in the forefront of the prisoner caravan pursuit, of course, which meant he was the first to hear sounds of combat from the south a few days later. Damara took a squad of Pact soldiers and followed him down a winding side trail until they came across yet another airship wreck, a small one, with some very raggedy-looking Pact soldiers defending behind improvised barricades against a large Mordrem force of cavaliers, punishers, and the hated snipers. Caoilfhionn charged forward with flame into the fray. "Take heart! The Pact has come to your aid!"

A yellow face crowned with green leaves popped out from behind cover. "Caoilfhionn!"

"Eithne!" His siblings were all right! "Watch for snipers!" He writhed in the centre of his own ring of fire, slashing at anything that dared approach the barricades, and the Pact's flanking assault surged around him, taking the enemy off guard. Within minutes, they had slain one of the saurian riders and half the foot troops, and the rest broke off and retreated into the jungle.

Caoilfhionn vaulted the barricade and hugged Eithne tightly, and she hugged him back – too tightly. There was pain and grief in her soul, and he pulled back to look up at her with the beginnings of heartbreak in his own soul. "Did Ruadhan..."

"He's dead," she said, and her voice broke. She leaned forward onto him and began to weep. "He died when we crashed nearly a month ago. I couldn't hold on to him... he fell."

Grief tore into him like a blade, and he held her close. "I... I was so afraid for you both. I..." What could he say? His brother had been gone, gone nearly a month, and he hadn't known. Cathaoir and Blathnat still did not know. There wasn't anything he could have done about it.

And Eithne was leaning on him, her own emotional wounds torn open again from having to tell him. She had seen far less death in her life than he had, and he was the elder by several hours... "And I've been hearing voices, and someone else on the ship, Camdin, went mad and tried to kill us."

"It's the voice of Mordremoth. I'll explain everything later. You must resist the voice as much as you can." As if in answer, Mordremoth pulled, and he sucked in a breath – and so did Eithne.

"I will," she said, though not with as much conviction as he would have liked. But she was no soldier – no knight. This was not her life. "It is so difficult... but I do not like what it says."

"Stay with me, or the other Sylvari," he said. "They'll remind you who you are. Stay strong, Eithne. Mother loves you, and I love you, and Ruadhan who lives on in the Dream loves you."

She sniffled and squeezed him, her cheek against his yellowing leaves. "You're withering. You must be under so much weight, and yet I cannot..."

"It's all right. I'm here to support you until you can." He looked up again. "Did you burn Ruadhan's body?"

"No... he is buried beneath the ship with the other dead. Why?"

"We must burn the bodies before we leave. The Mordrem will take them, even though they're buried, and use them to replenish their ranks else."

She recoiled. "That's horrible! Mordremoth would not only take our minds, but our bodies as well?"

"This is why we must slay him as swiftly as possible. Will you keep fighting with us?" If she wanted to leave, he could send her to Tarir to await the end, for good or ill – though she probably would not make it farther back to civilization on her own. She was not strong enough to use the waypoints. And she had no Wyld Hunt as he did to push him onwards, as if he even needed his.

Her eyes, normally so large and green and curious, had a new look in them he'd never seen before. "I will fight. I have lost my brother once, to death. I will not lose him again to be Mordremoth's puppet. I will not lose any more of our brothers and sisters to this evil."

"Well said," he said. "We must be swift, though. Trahearne is a prisoner, and we're trying to rescue him before they take him to the Dragon itself."

"Trahearne's a prisoner? Oh, no! No wonder you're withering!" She squared her shoulders and nodded. "I will help you save him. Maybe I can't fight beside you, but I will fight alongside the Pact. What little I can offer is yours."

"Thank you, my sister. I am in your debt."

"And I think we'll all be in yours when this is over."


They finally caught up to Hope's Legacy and Rytlock on the next day. "Fancy meeting you here," Phiadi said, as Annhilda approached them. "How'd it go?"

"Took a little doing, but the egg is secure," Annhilda said. "Faolain?"

Marjory shook her head. "Still out there, unfortunately. She disappeared before we could take her down... if we could take her down, that is. I'm not sure how that fight would have ended up with the three of you gone."

"Yeah, just when I thought Faolain couldn't get any worse," Annhilda said.

"What about Caithe?" Caoilfhionn asked.

"In typical Caithe fashion, she slipped away during the fight," Rytlock said.

Kasmeer looked at Caoilfhionn with concern. "You look worse than ever. Still having a hard time?"

"My brother's dead," he said shortly. "My sister is still alive, at least, and she fights on."

"I'm sorry," Marjory said – and she would know. "If it's any consolation, we think we're catching up to the Mordrem prisoners. If we keep on at this pace for a couple more days, we may catch them."

Did he dare let hope wax bright in his heart? He'd been ill rewarded by it so far... But he could not help it. To see Trahearne so soon, to ensure his safety, and then to strike down the Dragon at his side... he wanted that!

"That's great," Annhilda said. "Where's Taimi?"

"She wandered off as we took a short rest," Marjory said. "We were just about to go looking for her."

"We'd better do that now," Annhilda said. "The Pact is catching up, and having you out in front scouting has worked well so far."

"It's all thanks to Canach," Kasmeer said.

Canach shrugged. "Despite this being their favoured terrain, they have not been subtle. They have been going too quickly to cover their tracks."

"Okay, everyone split into pairs and look for Taimi," Annhilda said. "Marjory, Kasmeer, hold this point in case she comes back while we're gone."

Damara looked at Caoilfhionn. "Partners?" He nodded, and set off into the undergrowth away from the others.

They stopped to listen, periodically, and a few minutes later, Damara stopped and pointed. He listened carefully; there was something, but he couldn't tell if it was Taimi, and if Damara were not speaking, she didn't know if it was her either. And it was dangerous to draw attention out here.

They followed the slight sounds, the suspicious rustling, until Caoilfhionn was pretty certain that whatever it was was not Taimi and that they were being baited. But who would bait them...?

Apparently Damara was having similar thoughts, because she slowed, then stopped, and he stopped with her. There was no point in getting drawn into an ambush here.

And just as they turned around, someone stepped out of the bushes before them. "Hello, Caoilfhionn."

"Malyck!" Caoilfhionn cried, forestalling Damara's arrows and her spider's poison. "How are you?"

Malyck shook his head, laughing to himself. "If you would but join the Dragon, you would no longer ask such pointless questions. I am well. I am always well now, with Mordremoth. And look at you! Withered, worn, carrying grief and pain and hope that will only be crushed. A beautiful cycle for enemies of the Dragon – but you need not be."

"Yeah, because Caoilfhionn would give up his free will out of vanity," Damara said sarcastically. "Don't you miss free will?"

Caoilfhionn reeled, the pressure building in his head, but he rallied. "He would not be able to say, but in his heart, he must. I will never join the Dragon, Malyck. I am strong enough to resist to the end."

"I thought you would say that," Malyck said. "But if your mind will not be swayed, we can still use your body!" He drew his pistols and aimed, but Caoilfhionn had in the same instant drawn his daggers, sprinting forward with Fire and enveloping them both in a ring of flame. Both Malyck's shots missed and then he was forced to dodge back, sheathing his pistols again and drawing his sword. Sword clashed upon dagger, the sounds ringing from the trees. Damara was aiming, he sensed rather than saw for all his attention was on Malyck, but she did not dare shoot into their melee.

Fire, Air, Malyck was unmoved by them both. Water would not help him here, and Earth was too slow. If he could slow Malyck, perhaps he could capture him. He summoned vines, slender bright green entangling things to wrap about Malyck's feet and legs – and for a moment Malyck nearly tripped. Better than the last time he'd tried that! But he recovered, tearing himself free and blocking Caoilfhionn's flame strike. "Do you think to challenge the Dragon with his own tactics? A fool you are." Malyck grinned and spiny dark Mordrem vines sprang up about Caoilfhionn's legs, anchoring him to the spot, clutching at him and tearing into his flesh. Caoilfhionn growled and cast down a ring of flames again, making them abruptly let go and flee back into the ground.

But Malyck slashed again, and Caoilfhionn's right hand dagger went flying from his grasp. Malyck smiled and stabbed forward; Caoilfhionn twisted around it, dropping his other dagger and seizing the hilt of the sword with both hands, trying to keep it away from him. It was a contest of strength now, and they wrestled, the blade quivering near Caoilfhionn's shoulder, then high in the air as Malyck sought to pull away from him. Caoilfhionn hung on grimly.

There was a whizz, and a thud, and Malyck dropped the sword, reeling back, clutching at his side where an arrow stuck out. "Fine. The third time will pay for all, though, Caoilfhionn! You will not escape again!"

"There won't-" Damara began, but even as she loosed her next arrow, Malyck had dodged into the undergrowth, surprisingly fast for an injured man. "Are you all right, Caoilfhionn?"

"Yes," he said. The mental pressure was also relenting, a little. He bent to recover his daggers, but he took another look at the sword he had wrested away from his former friend. It was a beautiful sword, surprisingly – or perhaps not so surprisingly. Most of the other Mordrem had thick, dark-coloured, jagged, thorned weapons, but Malyck had borne a slim, slightly curved blade, scarlet with a faint pulsing glow, and its hilt was simple and elegant, fitting who Malyck had been before. Perhaps he had made it or acquired it... before.

"Are you keeping that?" Damara asked.

"I'm considering it," Caoilfhionn said. "It is a fine weapon, though I only know a little how to use it. Perhaps it would give me greater reach, or allow me to try new ways to focus my abilities."

"I'm sure you can find plenty of people willing to teach you," Damara said.

"And I wish to honour Malyck... perhaps this is a strange way to do so, but I want him to know I do not hate him, even now. I know he had no choice. Perhaps it will inspire him. Though I am losing hope that he can be saved."

"Yeah," Damara said. "I'm sorry I had to shoot him. But it did make him go away. Next time we can try and have a plan ready, if you really want to catch him."

"Thank you, Damara."

They returned to the others; Annhilda returned a little later, with Taimi, and the news that there was an Asuran city somewhere to the east – and Mordremoth was definitely south. "Rox, I want you to keep heading south and looking for the caravan. The Rata Novans will almost certainly have information about Mordremoth, however, so Taimi and... I can't go myself, I have to lead the Pact. Who wants to go?"

"I'll go," Phiadi said. "I want to tap Wegaff, for a little extra genius power, and Canach, for muscle. Living muscle, at least."

"You think they'll have hints how to kill Mordremoth?" Braham said. "I want to go too."

"Fine, you can come," Phiadi said. "I don't mind having a larger entourage."

"I'm not going to be your entourage," Braham said, frowning. "I'm going to learn how to murder a dragon."

"Call it what you like," Phiadi said. "Anyone else?"

"I'm going with Rox," Caoilfhionn said. The city was irrelevant to him.

"Head out whenever you're ready," Annhilda said. "Catch up as soon as you can. Be careful."