"How much further is it to the Grove again?"
"Shh! We're entering Nightmare Court territory now. You can talk again when we're past the Wychmire Swamp."
That silenced Asterix quickly, but he wasn't happy about it, not in the least. He had been warned about the Nightmare Court by Liliwen beforehand. Nasty sylvari. If they see you, it's too late. It was short and to the point. He and Liliwen had been walking for the whole day. His patience was running thin. So were his reserves of energy, especially with the heavy bag hanging on his back. Even Dogmatix was once again fitted into his collar so the animal could have some rest. And now they were in enemy lands once again, trudging through a smelly, murky swamp. The water got up to his knees. Lovely.
But it was him who insisted to not take the shortcut that led right past the Inquest facility, and the only other road went north, then east, then south again. It was a big loop around the building, but it meant they stayed away from that horrible place by at least a mile.
He didn't think that the botanic people could have a nasty side. He learned and discovered much of their wondrous kind in the short period of time he traveled with Liliwen, and all of those experiences had been good, so far. He learned that they were actually a very young race, having only arrived to the world of Tyria less than thirty years ago, when their source of origin, the Pale Tree, began to bloom and 'awakened' the first of sylvari, fully formed as adults and ready to explore. Asterix even met more sylvari on the road. They came in all kinds of vibrant colors and forms, their skins varying from soft plant tissue to hard bark, and their hair varying from roses and dandelions to branches and mushrooms. They were always very cheerful, a little intrusive, sometimes, and most of all: curious. Not just curious about him, but curious about everything, much like Liliwen. Except she had a little more experience. The fact they were literally a sentient and intelligent species of plant sparked in him a fascination towards their kind and their ways of life.
They crossed a deeper part of the swamp using fallen, rotting tree logs. Liliwen whispered it was safe to cross, but Asterix still had issues trusting the musty old logs. He ended up keeping one hand close to the rough surface to grab on to in case he slipped, and he kept his other hand close to the leather holster attached to his belt, in case enemies would see them and he had to pull out his revolver. He wasn't really ready to use it yet; he was shown how it worked, how to load it, and how to aim and shoot, but he never used it, and hoped he wouldn't need to any time soon. He quickly hopped off the last tree log after he finally crossed it. But as he came closer to Liliwen, the sylvari halted him with a swift motion of her hand, signing to stop.
"Enemies approaching," she hissed under her breath. Asterix crouched down and remained perfectly quiet, waiting for the next instruction.
"There's two of them. Didn't see us yet," Liliwen told. "Stay here and stay low. I'm going to take them out."
"What if something goes wrong?" Asterix whispered back questionably.
"It won't. Trust me." She looked back and smiled, then she raised her hand, and from the base of her palm, smoke began to form until she was enveloped in it. When the smoke dissipated, she was gone. It all happened within just seconds, leaving Asterix blinking like an idiot. He remained there, waiting, hushing the growling Dogmatix in his collar. Soon, he saw the two figures. They were indeed Nightmare courtiers, that was instantly recognizable from their silhouettes; their armor was that of twisted branches and sharp thorns, and they both glowed a sickly green. That was another useful thing Asterix had learned; a large majority of all sylvari inherited bioluminescence. Patterns on their bodies would light up like candles when it got dark. It was useful for finding Liliwen in a pinch, but also for spotting the enemy before they saw him.
"Hold on, I think I heard something," the first courtier, a woman, spoke up.
"Probably just a skelk. Don't start hearing things now, our patrol shift is almost over and I'm getting hungry," the other courtier answered.
"You fool! If we don't do our work properly, we'll soon have a Warden army on our heads. What do you think Faolain would think of us if we allowed them to take this land? What will your excuse be? 'I was hungry'?"
"Faolain, the Grand Duchess? A coward. She left this place to rot since her lover chased her out-"
The courtier's voice was suddenly cut short, a dagger boring deep into his neck as he gurgled and collapsed in front of the female. But there was nobody else near them. Her eyes widened in shock. An assassin! She quickly turned and made for her base, but then she felt the weight of the invisible assaulter landing on her back, and the blade pierced deep into her back and reached her heart. Just like that, they were both gone.
Asterix had only stared in dreaded awe, witnessing Liliwen reappear from her invisible form shortly after she cold-bloodedly murdered the two Nightmare courtiers. This was a dark twist of events he hadn't expected. She just went and killed two of her own kind. They were enemies, sure, but coming from the same tree, they were also her siblings, in a way. He quickly found himself wishing they had taken the shortcut after all.
The red-glowing silhouette of Liliwen glanced around, until she looked back and faced Asterix. She raised a hand to beckon him. It was safe again. Hesitantly, he got up and walked toward her, looking down at the two dead sylvari as he approached them. Their skins no longer pulsed their foxfire, as golden blood slowly drained from their bodies and mixed with the swamp water.
"Why did you have to kill them?" he half-whispered the question. His tone sounded lugubrious. Liliwen felt his sympathy. It was just as strong as her own. But she knew that the Nightmare Court could not be reasoned with. She regretted that he had to watch the bloody scene, but it would have happened eventually anyway.
"I'm sorry. But you must know, these people are not what they once were." she answered. "If they catch us, they will torture me into becoming one of them, and kill you," she eventually added as an afterthought, hoping he would understand her reason behind what she did.
Asterix stared into Liliwen's glowing red eyes, until he slowly lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I understand," he said, but the tone in his voice indicated that even though he did understand, it didn't mean he agreed with her actions.
"Come on, it's not safe to linger here. We should be out of the swamp soon." Liliwen sheathed her dagger and continued to walk. Asterix looked back at the bodies for a short moment before he picked up pace and followed her. When they were finally out of the murky swamp, Liliwen paused to let Asterix take a moment to wring out his soaked leather shoes. He let Dogmatix out for a moment to let the dog do his business. He had been whining and wiggling an awful lot after the small run-in with the Nightmare Court.
"So what was that magic you used earlier?" Asterix finally spoke up. They were out of the swamp now, which meant that it was time to ask questions again.
"Magic?" the sylvari asked, blinking. "Oh right, that! It's just a simple invisibility trick," she said as she shrugged. "It's nothing special, hardly any magic involved. Though it's a bit difficult to master."
A single wing perked up from Asterix's helm. His curiosity piqued more than ever. "Would you mind teaching me something like that?"
Liliwen hummed at the thought, "I wouldn't mind. It'll help you if you get into trouble again. Let's give it a try when we're in Mabon. We'll be staying there for the night, and you can get your shirt fixed there." She smiled a cheeky grin at Asterix. He returned the smile back as he put on his shoes again. Dogmatix quickly rejoined the two after he had finished wiping his little paws over the thick moist grass.
They made a quick stop at Caledon Haven, another Lionguard post. They ate there and went on their way again. Swamplands were now replaced with jungle once more, and one that was far more beautiful than the last, it was almost a garden. The flora and fauna were much healthier here, filled with blooming flowers of all shapes, colors and sizes. Asterix assumed this was made possible by the sylvari. He stopped for a moment to absorb the surroundings, brilliantly lit by an evening sun. He was so distracted that Liliwen had to call him.
"Don't wander off! It's getting dark soon."
Asterix snapped out of his trance and looked toward Liliwen, who was quite a bit further up the hill. Dogmatix was with her too, barking at him excitedly. When did they get all the way up there? He started climbing the hill to reach them, but halfway up, he took a wrong step. He suddenly felt the thin surface of branches and leaves shift under his foot. A trap!? He yelped as he vanished under the ground. "Skritt!" Liliwen cursed. She rushed over to the scene, but it was too late.
Asterix tumbled down the small tunnel until he hit the floor with a thud. "Ow!" He laid there for a few seconds until he opened his eyes. It was dark, stuffy, and it smelled like…like an untended animal farm. He groaned in annoyance. Now what?
"Asterix! Asterix, are you all right!?" Liliwen's voice called down from the hole he fell through. He pushed himself from the floor, taking in his surroundings when his eyes had adjusted. The walls were hammered with wooden planks, iron bars, and all kinds of things that appeared to have been scavenged by something, or someone.
"I'm fine," he called back, rubbing a slightly strained neck.
"Good. Stay where you are, I'll find a way to get you out," she replied. "Oh! If you see any skritt, shoot them!"
"Shoot them? What do you mean?"
But she was already gone. Asterix blinked in befuddlement. Apparently, he must have fallen down a skritt den. But why would he want to shoot any? Were these skritt not friendly, then? He quickly reached at his holster and pulled out the revolver. It was already loaded beforehand, just in case. He flipped the hammer of the gun down. It was now ready to fire, but he wasn't. He trembled nervously and breathed fast, with the weapon firmly held in his hand. His index danced around the trigger guard, but it never actually came close to the trigger. He was afraid to do so. He took a good look at the room he fell in. It was more of a tunnel, rather. A golden light shone dimly in the distance. A way out?
Liliwen told him to stay where he was, though. But could it hurt to just take a peek? He swallowed and took a long, deep breath before he carefully walked across the dirt and metal floor, his revolver primed. He turned his head around the corner, but rather than what he had hoped to find, he discovered a dead end. It was not necessarily a bad thing, though; contained within this room was a small hoard of treasure. Filled with copper, silver and gold coins, and all sorts of other shimmering objects such as armor and glazed pottery. An old recycled asuran lamp lit the room, and its light reflected in the treasure trove. An indication that the skritt were actually quite versed at figuring things out, and had a strong fascination for shiny objects. This was not what Asterix had expected at all, but then he pondered. Maybe it was alright if he rummaged through the pile a bit, to see if he could find something useful in there. The skritt wouldn't mind, right?
He fitted the revolver back into its holster and got closer. Ever so carefully, he dug a hand into the pile and shifted coins aside, hoping that he didn't make too much noise. Something suddenly glinted in the corner of his eye, and he turned to look. Another stash was there, but instead of money, these were weapons. Enormous war hammers, sharp battle axes, long and short bows, and even great pistols with big handles and long snouts. One would need to hold such a thing with two hands instead of one. He took a quick handful of coins and pocketed them, then got up and inspected the weapon stash further. There were swords. Swords in all shapes and sizes, but they were all too big or too little. One of them was so large a norn or charr could make better use of it.
But then, he found it. The perfect fit; a short sword, shaped much like a Roman gladius, was carelessly laid there within the great pile. It looked like nothing special, it had a slim hilt and double-edged blade, much like what he used to have himself. It was worn, indicating it was a favored weapon of its last owner and had met the throats of many, but that didn't bother him. A sword is a sword, no matter how old it was or what it had been used for. He could buy a better one later. He walked up to the pile of weaponry and reached a hand for the hilt, and slowly lifted the small blade out of the pile. It sparked responsively in his grip, making strained effort to ignite itself, but then, the sword burst out in flames, engulfing its blade.
Surprised, Asterix jerked back and dropped the sword, and the blade's impact on the floor made a resonating clang. The flames died shortly after. He continued to stare at the sword for a while. He blinked, dumbfounded by its sorcery. "What in the name of…" He looked around quickly, nobody who lived here appeared to have heard it. Recollecting his courage, he took the sword once again. This time, the sword's response was faster, igniting its blade again as soon as he took a firm hold of its hilt. It was as though Asterix had woken it from a long undisturbed slumber.
Witchcraft, Asterix thought to himself, as he lifted the sword up inspect it. The flames didn't even feel hot at his hand that was firmly wrapped around the grip. Curiously, he tried to touch the blade… "Ouch!" Okay, that hurt. Best not to try that again. He looked down at his scorched fingers; they stung intensely.
Asterix shifted his eyes back at the sword, its flames were bright and hot. He suddenly remembered his empty scabbard… Looking down at it, he contemplated if it would work. He placed his burnt hand on the scabbard, hissing slightly at the touch, and aligned the sword carefully. Then, with a swift move, he slid the blade into it. The scabbard warmed slightly, until he let go of the hilt, and it cooled once more. The sheath fit around it like a glove. What luck! He now didn't just have a sword; he had a magic sword. That one's a keeper!
"Who're you!? What're you doing!?"
Asterix flinched and shot a glance back, and immediately a thin rusty blade was held out at his chest. He quickly raised both hands in surrender. Three of the skritt had cornered him, each of them carrying weapons.
The first skritt with the rusty sword chittered angrily. "Thief! Think you could take our shinies, did you? Did you?" He poked the blade lightly at Asterix, making him stagger backwards. He didn't want to get pricked by that dirty old thing. Who knows where it might have been.
"I'm sorry! I got here by accident. I didn't take anything," Asterix lied.
The rat-like creature flicked his ears. "Oh?" He turned around toward the other two skritt. They both shrugged obliviously. The first one then looked back at Asterix, scanning him up and down.
The skritt hummed thoughtfully. "Not sure. How do we know you're not liaring?" he questioned as he squinted his black spheres suspiciously.
"You mean, not a liar, or not lying?"
"Pffegh!" The skritt waved his skinny hand about in annoyance. "Don't be smarty-pants!" He suddenly lifted the sword higher up to meet Asterix's face. "Tell the truth! How do we know you're not liaring?"
Asterix gulped when the blade came closer to him, his hands were still high in the air. That gave him an idea. "I have nothing in my hands, see?" He wiggled his fingers a bit, hoping the skritt would be fooled. The three stared at his hands for a while.
"It's true, nothing in his hands," another skritt piped up.
"Nothing, not even a coin," the third one said.
The first scratched an ear, pondering, and eventually he lowered his sword. "Alright, then. Not a thief." Asterix puffed a sigh in relief. These skritt could be reasoned with. He didn't need to defend himself.
"But you're still on our turf!" The three skritt suddenly sneered and raised their weapons. "Kill it!"
Never mind, now was a good time to defend himself! He quickly drew out the sword in his scabbard, as well as the revolver in his other hand. As if led by instinct, his index finger immediately brushed the trigger, just not powerfully enough to pull it. "Get back! I'm not afraid to use them!" But in truth, he was afraid.
The skritt backed away a little at the sight of the fiery sword, for only a moment, but then they pressed forward anyway, knowing they were greater in numbers. A little man like that would be easy enough to overpower. Then they could have his stuff too. Asterix was the one backing away now, but he had nowhere to go. He had really hoped not to be needing to use his revolver, not this soon. Squeeze the trigger gently, don't press it forcefully, he reminded himself with Liliwen's teachings. He raised the gun high, aiming it to the ceiling, and slowly he pressed his finger down against the trigger until it fired a warning shot, the bullet boring into the earth and the loud noise echoing through the room and the tunnels. This was the first time he ever used the gun, and it almost left him having a stroke, the crackling boom piercing his eardrums painfully. So much even that he no longer could hear a thing. Nothing except the loud high-pitched tone ringing in his head. The three skritt each dropped their weapons, and they yelped and cowered. Their rat ears were far more sensitive than his. They cried in despair and cupped their tortured ears with their hands. He glanced at the tormented creatures. They were far too distracted to get back at him anymore.
He took his chances and leapt past the three skritt, no point in waiting for Liliwen anymore now, he had to get out of here, and fast. His deafness was disorienting; being unable to hear anyone coming down the tunnels left him running down whichever tunnel came next. Very slowly, though, his ears were recovering, though they continued to hurt. He could hear the half-silenced voice of Liliwen calling, but he couldn't tell from where. He stopped at one gap of daylight above him and instead, he called out to her.
"Liliwen! Liliwen, I'm here!"
Asterix looked around frantically, completely lost in the maze of tunnels he was in. Not this again… At least he had decent weapons this time. He had kept them both in his hands the whole time, the familiarity of holding a sword made him feel a little more confident, but the situation was still dire. His impaired hearing detected noises coming from the tunnels. Great, more skritt. And indeed, there they came from every corner, in great numbers. Even better, he was trapped in the middle, the only thing accompanying him was the light shining down on him through the hole, and a dangling rope hanging out of it.
Wait a minute, rope? Liliwen's voice called at him again from above. "Grab it, hurry!"
He sheathed both his weapons and gripped the rope tight. He heard more voices coming from above, and very soon, the rope was pulled up at incredible speed. The skritt below him shouted angrily, throwing rocks at him but only barely missing him. After some more hauling, he was finally back to the surface, greeted by Dogmatix and Liliwen, and a small crowd of cheering sylvari. It made him wince and pull his hands to his ears.
"Everything all right? I heard a gunshot," Liliwen quickly asked. Her face was frowning anxiously, checking him for injury.
"Yeah, everything's fine," Asterix groaned. "Just hurt my ears when I used the gun… That thing is loud."
"So it was you," she suddenly smiled, the cloak of worry lifting from her face. "How did it feel? It's thrilling, isn't it?"
"I think I prefer swords," Asterix answered dully. "Good thing I found a good one down there."
"You stole from them?" Liliwen couldn't help but laugh. "You little scamp! And I didn't even teach you any thieving skills yet!"
Asterix looked up at Liliwen in confusion. She's a thief? And why was she being so open about it? Nobody around them appeared to mind that she was. They were just happy he was safe again. Soon, they all walked back, and the two arrived at their final destination for the day: the small market of Mabon. Dusk had settled in, and the moon began to peek over the woods, lighting the shores at which the small market stood.
The market was, surprisingly, made almost entirely out of plants, grown and guided by sylvari to serve their needs. They were made into houses, shops and even carts and lanterns. They visited a tailor to have the holes in Asterix's tunic fixed. The tailor did so expertly using strong silk thread, and after he was finished, Asterix insisted he would pay himself, and he gave the sylvan man the fee that was asked of him. It was no more than a silver coin. Liliwen smiled at Asterix approvingly, although if it was for being polite or for stealing from the skritt, he was not sure. Finally, they settled in a small empty house, made out of the enormous curling leaves that formed its walls and roof.
Like before, Asterix was spent. He let out a long yawn after he had laid his belongings down next to him and sat down on the bed he rolled out from his backpack. He gave Dogmatix a reassuring pat as the little dog got comfortable on the bedding. His hearing had recovered completely, although loud noises still stung a little bit. He reminded himself to have the revolver adjusted tomorrow, if possible, so it wouldn't make so much noise. He watched Liliwen roll out her own bed. When she turned around, she glanced down at his hand. "Oh my! You're hurt," she spoke up.
Asterix looked down at his burnt fingers, and he felt the stinging return. "Oh, right. I kind of burned myself, a little. It's nothing serious."
"Nothing serious? It's all red! Here, let me help," Liliwen said. She rummaged into her own backpack, taking out a small jar of salve. "This is special salve made by my kind. It helps speed healing on any ailment, and wards off infection." She took out a thin lick of the green goop in her hand, and coaxed him to hold out his hand. He winced slightly when it came into contact with the burns. It first felt painful, but then it began to cool.
"There, much better," Liliwen smiled, and she closed the pot firmly.
"Thanks," Asterix said. "And thank you for not giving up on me," he added, looking down a bit shamefully. "I got myself into some deep trouble there. I should have paid better attention. I'm sorry."
"Nobody saw it coming, little scamp," Liliwen grinned. She just went and picked that as a nickname for him. "And you got out alive and well. That's what matters." Sweet Liliwen, optimistic as usual. She put the salve back into her bag. "Now, let's get to sleep. We should arrive at the Grove tomorrow around late noon."
"Right. Good night, sleep well."
"Sleep tight! Pleasant dreams."