Trahearne's been listening to more Aviators songs, although none of them quite fit, not like Let There Be Fire fit him during the Orr campaign. But there's No One Will Save You, Monumental, When Our Bodies Wash Ashore, and maybe Wake Me When It's Over. Thanks Tharash for reminding me this music existed!
I forget how much I talked about Damara's backstory previously so I hope I haven't contradicted myself much XD
49: New Horizons
"Are you sure I'm allowed to be here?" Damara whispered, looking at the gigantic looming statue. "Hey, didn't we see a statue like this in that underwater temple thing on Orr?"
"Yeah, exactly," Annhilda said, striding into the foyer of Special Collections under the Priory. "Do you remember who it was?"
"Abbadon," Damara said. "...How did the Priory get such a big statue of a god erased from history?"
"That's what the Priory does," Annhilda said, smiling. "We find the lost and forgotten, and preserve it. Do you remember why he was erased from history?"
"Uh... I know Kormir replaced him. I imagine you want to tell me the rest of the story, though I don't see why you had to sneak me into the Priory... Seriously, I don't want Gixx to yell at us."
"Gixx won't yell at us," Annhilda said confidently. "He's too busy. And if he does... Do you know how many times our friend Sieran got yelled at? It's not a big deal. Ogden will find it hilarious, if anything. The person you have to watch out for is Archivist Ernswort. And she's further in. Just stop fidgeting and no one will care."
Damara sighed. "Okay. So, the story?"
"Abbadon was once great among the gods," Annhilda said, her tone shifting to a poetic one, like a skaald – not that Damara had really had the chance to hear skaalds a lot. "He granted magic to Humans. But power brought strife, and the other gods intervened to try to bring peace. Abbadon tried to protect his followers, and brought war even to the gods. So the gods cast him out and bound him in the Realm of Torment. But still he tried to break free, until about two hundred fifty years ago Spearmarshal Kormir and her companions destroyed his fallen remnants, and she took his power to become the Goddess of Truth."
"Okay, that all sounds vaguely familiar," Damara said, still staring at the disturbing, six-eyed statue. "And why did you bring me all this way to tell me about it?"
"What do you see when you look at this statue?" Annhilda asked.
Damara frowned. "Um... Well, he was a god, when this statue was made, so I guess... a god?"
"Yes. But he isn't one now, is he?"
Damara gave Annhilda an arch look. "You're trying to say something about Balthazar, aren't you."
"Took you long enough," Annhilda said, teasing, then sobered. "I don't mean to mock your gods. But given what we saw what he was doing inside Draconis Mons, what he said there, I think the likelihood is high that we're not dealing with a proper member of the Six. Not anymore."
"Yeah, he was not friendly at all," Damara said. "So... we should start thinking about who's going to replace him. I hope it's not me, I have no affinity for war or fire. I'm a Melandru girl!"
"Well, I don't think it's going to be Marjory or Kasmeer either," Annhilda said, "and they're the only other humans in our group. But that's fine – I'd hate to lose any of you."
Damara suddenly giggled. "You know who would make a good god of war? Rytlock."
Annhilda laughed loudly, causing a chorus of shushings to come from further in the archives. "He's not even Human! You're not wrong, though."
Damara looked up at the statue one more time. "Well. He is doing whatever he wants without any apparent care for Humanity. Or even the world. He probably wouldn't even listen to the other gods long enough to slow down. And we have to stop him?"
"Unfortunately. We can't let him kill the Dragons." Annhilda breathed out a noisy sigh. "Just when we were getting good at that, too."
"That's a joke, right? We barely got Mordremoth."
"Yes, that's a joke. Come on, let's see if Seimur's around to make fun of."
Caoilfhionn was in Astorea, helping saplings with their first curious steps outside the Grove, when he was hailed unexpectedly from down the road. "Cauliflower!"
"Wegaff!" Caoilfhionn exclaimed, delighted. "How are you? It's been so long!"
"You look a lot better," Wegaff said. "What are you doing with your flux fields?"
"Er..." Caoilfhionn looked at his sword. "I'm not sure yet. But it appears to be working."
"Fascinating..." Wegaff began, then shook himself. "No, no, no! Time for that later. I wanted to see if you were up for hearing vitally important news about the fate of the world."
Caoilfhionn perked up – and caught himself. "Well... I am." He glanced over at Trahearne, who was sitting by himself, trying to blend into the background and remain anonymous. "How worrisome is this news?"
"Very," Wegaff said. "Do you want it or not?"
Caoilfhionn still hesitated... then took the plunge. He could always decide not to tell Trahearne and preserve him from it a while longer. Or maybe it would distract Trahearne from his ongoing problems. "Tell me."
"Okay, do you remember when I theorized to you that killing the Elder Dragons wasn't the right thing to do?"
"Vaguely," Caoilfhionn said. "I think I was a bit distracted at the time."
"Possibly. We were going into your mysterious cave after Caithe and the dragon egg. Well, it turns out that I was right."
"In what way?" Caoilfhionn sat down on the grass and got comfortable.
"The Eternal Alchemy really is a giant machine, as you saw it, with Tyria and the Dragons – and having killed two, we've thrown the machine out of synchronization. Killing any more could destroy the whole machine – that is, the world. Taimi found a new source of data that confirms it."
Caoilfhionn blinked. "That's... unfortunate. But what were we supposed to do?" If they had not killed Zhaitan, Lion's Arch would be assaulted by the Risen until it fell. If they had not killed Mordremoth, the Sylvari would be eternally under the threat of slavery – especially Trahearne.
"We haven't figured that part out yet," Wegaff said. "Right now, Dragon's Watch is still working on identifying the problem, let alone the solution. Which is complicated by Balthazar sticking his spoke in."
"Balthazar? What would a Human god want with a Dragon?"
Wegaff explained, in detail, and at length, and Caoilfhionn took some time to mull over what his friend had said. "So... Balthazar wants the power of Dragons, but removing any more Dragons could destroy the entire world. What does that mean for us?"
"It means we gotta stop him while he's still weak enough to be hurt, to put it bluntly," Wegaff said. "And he's only got two choices. Primordus and Jormag are out of reach right now, so it's either going to be Kralkatorrik or the ocean Dragon. And according to my calculations, Kralkatorrik is the most likely target. So: I'm going recommend Dragon's Watch expedite themselves to Elona to make sure the two of them never meet, one way or another."
"Will you be coming?" Caoilfhionn asked. "Er. Going. I haven't said I'm going yet. I'll have to talk with Trahearne."
"Why, what's his problem?" Wegaff said bluntly, and Caoilfhionn restrained an eyeroll. "Yes, I'm strongly considering it. How am I going to figure out how to tell you how to beat this strange arcane being if I never get the chance to study him?"
"Right," Caoilfhionn said, smiling. "That's certainly tempting. But Trahearne's recovery has been slow, and I don't want to leave him alone."
"Were you going somewhere?" Trahearne's voice came from behind him, and Caoilfhionn looked up at him with wide eyes. "Hello, Wegaff. What's the news?"
"I'm sure Caoilfhionn can summarize in a way you can understand," Wegaff said, which made Caoilfhionn frown skeptically at him – Trahearne was far more intelligent than Caoilfhionn was, at least he thought so! "I already disseminated my information."
"The important thing is: the Human god Balthazar wants to kill the remaining Dragons, and take their power for his own," Caoilfhionn said. "And we're not so sure that killing any of the Dragons is a good idea."
Trahearne was very still, showing impressive self-control given his current instability. "Mordremoth had to die." But he was growling, ready to blow up.
"Yes," Caoilfhionn said, remaining steady. "The other Dragons may enthrall and subdue but none of them enslaved the way that Mordremoth did. Our entire race was in danger in a way no one else was or is."
"I guess you have a point," Wegaff said, though reluctantly. "It's made everything we do now a lot more delicate, though."
"Are you saying-" Trahearne began, with flashing eyes, and Caoilfhionn grabbed his arm.
"Wegaff, do you remember what I said to you at the time you first told me that killing the Dragons might be bad?" he asked.
"Of course," Wegaff said. "You said we might use the baby dragon to replace one of the Elder Dragons. The immense amount of time that would take – which we don't have – aside, I will admit you might be on to something. But we don't have ten thousand years."
Trahearne let out a deep breath, allowing himself to be drawn back to the topic at hand and not to take umbrage over his decisions of the past five years. "So I suppose you'll be going to stop Balthazar."
"I haven't decided yet," Caoilfhionn said. "I know Hope's – Dragon's Watch would benefit from my presence. But Balthazar is likely going to Elona, and that's a very long way away..."
"Weeks, by ship, many days even by airship," Trahearne said. Had he traveled there in his past, too? "I'll miss you."
"But-"
"You're ready to go," Trahearne said, taking his hand and standing, leading him away from Wegaff, from Astorea. "You are healed, body and soul. I am not. That is just the way it is. I don't want to..." He cut off.
"Hold me back?" Caoilfhionn said softly. "You are not. You could not."
"I certainly can," Trahearne said. "It does not escape me that you are restless. You are happy to be in the Grove, happy to... be with me, but you are burning to join the action, wherever it may be."
Caoilfhionn lowered his gaze. He'd thought he'd disguised it well, even from himself. He did not want to leave Trahearne behind.
"This is your chance," Trahearne whispered. "Take it. Do not worry for me." His mouth twisted. "I will be well cared for even in your absence. Like an infant."
Caoilfhionn squeezed his hand. "You'll be coming after me, won't you?"
Trahearne looked surprised. "I... Yes. I suppose I have nothing better to do."
"Then... then I think I could go. If you're sure." He hesitated. "Do you want me to stay."
Trahearne glared at him. "Don't ask me that. Go have adventures."
Which mean he wanted him to say and was afraid to say so out loud because Caoilfhionn would stay. His eyes told the truth, and Caoilfhionn was caught.
Trahearne huffed. "Go, dammit. Stop hovering over me."
"Only if you kiss me," Caoilfhionn said, trying to break his sour shell.
It worked; Trahearne leaned in, his whole demeanour melting into contrite adoration, and Caoilfhionn returned both embrace and kiss with shameless passion.
Wegaff was pointedly looking at his pocket device when they walked back to him. "So are you going or not?"
"I'm going, and Trahearne will come later," Caoilfhionn said, smiling. He intended to milk as many kisses as he could out of the preparatory time, though, first. "I'll be ready in a couple days."
"The sooner the better," Wegaff said. "I'll start asking around about transport while you do... whatever it is you're doing."
Trahearne squeezed his hand. "This is the right thing to do."
Caoilfhionn squeezed it back. "I won't be gone from you long. Come to me as soon as you can."
Caoilfhionn had been gone a week. Trahearne sat alone in his room, waiting. For what, he did not know. It wasn't like he would simply magically recover, yet fighting to heal seemed pointless. His first blush of gratitude and joy at being alive had worn off long ago. He'd fought so hard to survive long enough for Caoilfhionn to come for him, to live for the one he loved, believing that he could rescue him – and he had! Oh most beautiful of beings, knight of knights, the fiery sword that pierced all darkness, Caoilfhionn – but was it worth it?
It wasn't, whispered the feelings in his head. What can you offer him, broken as you are? What use are you to him or to anyone? Better to have succumbed and let him kill you. It would have been a merciful death. And he would be free.
He sat motionless, eyes distant, contemplating the truth inside him. His thoughts wound their way along mazey paths, scattered and disoriented. It was so difficult to think straight, even without the echo in the back of his mind; he was tired of his ineptitude, his weakness – it had been so easy for him before! He knew intellectually what was wrong with him and that did not stop him from feeling ashamed and despairing. No amount of rest would fix it. And maybe that was most of his problem. How did one overcome the insurmountable?
He had been glad when Caoilfhionn left. His love was never more beautiful than when he had a cause to fight for, a goal to hope for, and he was more powerful than ever. He would save the world, again and again, and Trahearne was happy for him. Better than he be out there, shining for all, than closed away, wasting himself on Trahearne's wounds. He was almost sickeningly jealous of him, how he'd come through the deep jungle seemingly unchanged. Yet now that he was gone, Trahearne yearned for him as if his heart were already broken. He craved his love and affection and support, useless though it might be. Caoilfhionn mocked himself and called himself selfish, and perhaps he was, demanding mercilessly that Trahearne slog back in the vague direction of life, but Trahearne wanted to be selfish too and keep Caoilfhionn all to himself-
Like Mordremoth? It wanted the Sylvari all to itself. No, Mordremoth was dead- His body shuddered as he remembered, unwillingly. Those whispers, murmurs, shouts, clawing at his mind, gouging pieces of it away, bit by bit, and he hung, helpless, until he passed out from the sheer pressure. Day after day – only a few days but long enough... Blessed Source, it had been unimaginable torture. Mordremoth had not managed to crack his sense of self, his defiance – but it'd taken everything else, his intellect, his body, nearly his will...
He didn't remember it clearly with his waking mind, which was one small blessing, even if he could not turn away from it – half-remembered horror following him wherever he went. Stirrings of something that were not his own thoughts, threading through his already scattered thoughts insidiously – like vines, and he shivered again with fear and anger. His thoughts wandered in circles aimlessly, rolling around the nightmare they were trapped in. Nightmare... he was afraid to sleep, especially without Caoilfhionn beside him, afraid to drown himself in powerless torment. Sleep brought no rest to him.
What are you waiting for? He couldn't tell whose words they were, if they were echoes of a dragon or his own reproachful guilt. You should be getting up and doing. Sitting here is useless, just like you. But you can't, can you. No wonder they pity you.
He reach out and knocked over the table. It thumped on the soft earthen floor.
The violent action had not sated him and in sudden fury he seized his focus and blasted death magic at the overturned table, smashing it to smithereens. It was still not enough, and he flung himself through his small home, flinging magic at shelves, the chairs, even the bookshelves, even the chest where Caladbolg lay hidden, as broken as he. Who cared!? Nothing mattered-
"Trahearne!" He stopped at the cry, just before he'd gone to do something self-harmful like punch the rocky wall. He was breathing hard. His house was a mess of torn leaves.
It was Malomedies, standing at the door, looking patiently at him. He hated that look. Hated to feel that he was an invalid – but he was – but he shouldn't have been- "Brother. Put down the focus."
Trahearne dropped it and turned away. "What can I do for you?"
"You can stop pushing everyone away," Malomedies said softly. "You prideful fool, my brother, why do you hide from us?"
Trahearne whirled, shaking with anger. "Why!? Why do you insist on subjecting yourself to me?"
"Fool," Malomedies said again, gently. "When I returned from my abduction and torment, you never gave up on me. How then should I give up on you?"
"They couldn't touch your mind," Trahearne said. "Not like- I can't-" He suddenly fell to his knees and found he was weeping. Where was his self-control? He should never have shouted at his brother – he remembered all that – Malomedies was right. His brother had been physically beautiful until the Asura had stripped his health from him, but his mind had gone through that suffering and come out more gentle, more beautiful. Why could he not do the same!?
As if to prove his point, Malomedies knelt beside him and embraced him. "You don't understand, Trahearne. I thought Caoilfhionn might have taught you, but it seems you still don't know. You hurt us more by insisting on bearing your hurts alone. Always, you have done this, for Orr, for Zhaitan, and now. Stop, dear one. Your nobility does not come from suffering in silence until you shatter."
"I... I..."
"When you were strong, you found more strength in others to buoy you up when times were difficult. There is no shame in finding strength in others now while you are weak. You hate to feel helpless, I know – we all do. But your pride will only make things worse."
"I may never recover," Trahearne rasped. "What if you are wasting your time?"
"What if we aren't?" Malomedies retorted. "And let me inform you immediately that if you don't agree to move into my house while Caoilfhionn is away, I will be moving into yours. Now that you've sent away the first person that you trust. Fool of a Sylvari."
"All right," Trahearne said, and almost smiled. "If that's what you wish."
He went to see the Pale Tree. Malomedies must have spoken to her. He'd seen her briefly when they'd first come out of the seedpod, but since then he'd stayed away. She had been wounded too, and he had dared not burden her with his small problems.
But Malomedies had told her, it seemed, and told him that his problems were never too small to bring before her... An advantage of being a Firstborn, perhaps, or at least of being dear to the Tree. Which would have made him feel guilty if he were capable of taking on even more guilt. But she had sent for him, and he could not refuse this time.
He came before her avatar in the Omphalos Chamber, and knelt before her. "I am here, Mother."
"Ah, Trahearne... I am sorry I could not help more."
"You healed my body," he said. "That is enough."
She raised him to his feet with a gesture. "It is not. You are not acting yourself. You are unwontedly destructive. You must try to be good, my son."
"What do you want me to do!?" he cried angrily. "Do you think I have not been trying? Don't tell me what to do." He put a hand to his head. "I do not want to leave the Dream but I scarce feel myself part of it anymore. How can I be good – how can I be your son when I cannot-"
"You will never not be my son," she said to him sorrowfully, and he looked away with self-reproach gnawing at him. "Even were you to fall to Nightmare, I would still love you. But that is why I blame myself. If I could fix it, you would not have to..."
"No one can," he said shortly. The Dream was powerful, the Pale Tree was powerful, yet magic did not solve everything. "If I had been stronger..."
"No one else could have been stronger than you," the Pale Tree said to him. "No one except maybe Caoilfhionn, who dared the impossible, for love... The two of you need each other."
"Mother..." He slumped to his knees. "I cannot live up to your ideals right now, with Caoilfhionn or without. ...Please..." It was difficult to say. "Help me. Perhaps I... am ready to... try in a different way... if you can be patient with me. If... please just don't... don't push me so hard." Could she be patient with him, when he was not patient with himself?
She knelt beside him. "I... am learning, the same as you... I will try my best. Lay your head in my lap, my dear son." And as he did, she stroked his brow with a semi-corporeal hand and began to sing. "Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way..."
The familiar melody washed over him and it quelled his doubts, his meandering mind. For how long, he didn't know. But he was grateful for the respite.
Damara walked into the market of Amnoon with Betty, her devourer, clinging to her backpack, and stared around in fascination. Her mom had been from Vabbi originally, before... escaping – she never spoke of that much. But she had spoken of Amnoon! Its beautiful pyramids, its endless markets, its well-trained raptors, its multitudes of people. But she'd felt it still too close to whatever she was running from, and set out for Lion's Arch and then Divinity's Reach, where she'd met a Krytan man with lovely dark eyes and... they'd been taken away by sickness when Damara was fourteen.
She blinked away sudden tears and tried to focus on the city around her, not her recollections of her mother's recollections. And her gaze fell upon a man in local clothing, bantering with an Asura... but very fashional local clothing... and his stance was really familiar... and the sword at his side... and he was blue-skinned- "Caoilfhionn!?"
Caoilfhionn and Wegaff turned, and Caoilfhionn grinned. He was wearing glasses!? And a white short robe with loose sleeves and brightly-coloured red sashes, and a long violet vest, and loose pants, and a local-style head covering. No wonder she hadn't recognized him at first. "Hello, Damara! You made it!"
"What in the name of the Six are you two doing here?" she exclaimed. "Why are you dressed like that? Oh, it's been so long since I've seen you, Caoilfhionn! How are you? How is Trahearne?" She flung herself at him to hug him tightly and he returned it with a startled grunt, awkwardly trying not to grab Betty.
He laughed breathlessly. "Can I answer one question at a time? I'm well, thank you. Trahearne is... recovering, but he insisted that I come when Wegaff told me his plans."
"Wegaff didn't tell us he talked to you," Damara objected.
"I guess I forgot," Wegaff said. "But anyway, Annhilda's my guild leader... not my professor."
"Glad to know where we stand in your estimation," Caoilfhionn said, teasing. "We've only been here a week, trying to learn as much as we could for when you arrived. Wegaff knew you'd be along eventually."
"Took you longer than I expected," Wegaff said.
"We'd have been faster if you told us where you were," Damara complained. "You came by boat? Did you get the clothes here?"
"No, Blathnat's done her research." He smiled proudly. "I don't think the locals know what to make of it. I'm not sure most of them have seen a Sylvari before – except around the casino, where Canach has been loitering. But yes, I came by boat. Is it my turn for questions yet?"
"Ask away," Damara said, hooking her arm through his and steering him in the direction she knew Annhilda, Rytlock, and Kasmeer still were, figuring Wegaff would follow if he wanted to. "Come see the others, too. Oh, it's good to see you again! I'm glad you're well enough to help us kick Balthazar's behind."
"I'm looking forward to it!"
