Daytime was more peaceful than night. A tranquil reprieve between the constant war. The Pact armies, or what was left of them, advanced onward. Intending to finish what they had started. It was a good opportunity to cover as much ground as they could. Some stayed behind to hold their established encampments.

The same counted for Bohan, Asterix, and their ursine companion. The group of three stocked up at the Pact camp and learned from the officer in command that their choppers would fly in to pick up wounded every other hour. Once Liliwen was found, they could come back there and take the chopper home once there was room left over. It surely would save them the extra travel time. Hiking all the way here under desert heat was a burden by itself.

Find Liliwen, and get her home. That's the plan, but so far there was little luck. It was like seeking a needle within a haybale, and there was much hay to dig through; beautiful things and equally dangerous things to see. They saw many blooming jungle plants in a rainbow of colors. A small few were familiar to Asterix, while others were completely unknown to him, and he suspected them to be poisonous. Finding a flower-headed girl like Liliwen between all the flora would be a difficult task indeed.

Of course, daytime still had dangers of its own. With the wastes not far behind, and the smoke thick, the air was still hot and sometimes difficult to breathe. The jungle provided some humidity, but that did not make it any better.

There was also the local wildlife. Asterix didn't think those tiny red-headed pocket raptors could be so ravenous and annoying. Bohan didn't expect to meet living, angry mushrooms giving chase after anyone they crossed paths with. They met colorful frog-men in the tree tops, watching them warily. Tigers and leopards prowled, and mosquitoes were at large. The only reason it was 'peaceful' was because the dragon's minions weren't nearly as active at this time of day. Nobody knew why.

But the Gaul was well aware that they could be hiding. Waiting to ambush. Now that he had met the Mordrem converts up close, he knew they weren't just dim-witted creatures that only followed orders. Although they did whatever their master told them to, they were still frighteningly intelligent, and retained their capability of making their own strategies against the enemy.

It was strange, though. Ever since Bohan had fainted in their first battle here, the Gaul felt an aura of unease radiate from the sylvari. He was quiet, leading the band at the front and not bothering to look back to see if the others were keeping up. Whatever caused him to collapse back there, set off a wave of doubt in the sylvari. Asterix wasn't sure what, but he had his suspicions. He just hoped that he would be proven wrong soon. But as long as Bohan stayed at the front, he had an eye on him. He appreciated that.

As the three continued down the path, the Gaul eased and let his eyes stray and soak in the scene some more. They were still surrounded by Pact wreckage, up close looking worse than from the safety of the precipice they camped at last night. Metal ship hulls were stripped of their great leather balloons that gave them their ability to stay afloat in the sky, and their fins that drove them forward were tattered or pulled off. Snapped wiring gave off electric discharge, and their skeletal frames were bent. The twisting tendrils of Mordremoth curled around and through the ships' remains, searching purposefully. Fire continued to burn as oil leaked from punctured tanks and metal barrels. There was no body to be found. Asterix wondered why that was.

He hadn't noticed it before from up high between all the trees, but as they delved deeper into the jungle, Asterix also found that the jungle dragon destroyed not only the fleet. Like a child having a violent tantrum, the beast's greatest vines separated large chunks of the earth as they broke through from underneath the jungle, creating fresh sinkholes, localized tremors, and other environmental hazards. As if the Pact didn't have a hard enough time already. His mind didn't deceive him this time; those enormous vines really did move. But they seemed to have no interest in mere mortals.

Despite the destruction, the greenery still flourished.

But their route grew more hazardous, one side of the path was riddled with loose rocks and thick roots. The other turned into a long, steep drop into a squirming mass of living vines. Too far down for them to pose a threat, but the fall alone would be lethal. Asterix could also see more chunks of land around him, caressed in the dragon's grip. Connected merely by makeshift bridges, fallen trees, or the vines themselves. Each piece told a story of its own. Indigenous homes destroyed or abandoned, pact ships burning, bloodied signs of battle, Mordrem caravans…

Wait, what?

"Hold on," he hissed at Bohan. The sylvari stopped in his tracks and turned. Asterix was pointing down the cliff, and the sylvari noticed what he had seen. Quickly they hid behind the nearest, best boulder they could find. What they had found below was a caravan. Of dead soldiers and animal carcasses. Two Mordrem guards led a four-legged beast of bark and plant, who pulled strong vines tied to its horns. At the other end of these makeshift ropes, the bodies were ensnared in netting, smearing cold blood along the path. Many tracks and dragging marks could be seen embedded in the road. It appeared to be used often.

"What are they doing?" Bohan questioned with a whisper. It didn't make any sense. It seemed like they might be collecting the bodies for something, but why would they? Mordremoth was not a dragon of undeath. It had no use for them …did it?

"Not a clue," the Gaul answered quietly. "But I don't like it."

"Me neither," Bohan agreed. "We should keep our heads low and find out what they're doing."

Asterix looked at Bohan with concern. "What about Liliwen?"

The sylvari bit his lip. He looked conflicted, fidgeting and not ready to choose. But Asterix was already able to tell where his priorities were, and he agreed. Anything in the hands of the Mordrem meant nothing good could come of it. They had to find out what they were up to.

"We'll find her," Asterix asserted moments later, and he placed his hand on Bohan's shoulder for reassurance. The sylvari didn't look much better. Not breaking away his sight from the Mordrem escort, he nodded regardless with an uneasy expression on his face.

"I know."

Keeping a long enough distance to not be spotted by the enemy, but close enough to not lose them, they began to stalk the caravan downhill. It was before long that they had reached their destination.

The giant tree was a spiral of dark wood and branches, and the place was swarmed by many more of Mordremoth's minions. The smell of death was powerful, creeping into nostrils even from a great distance. The land on which the tree stood was separated from the rest of the jungle, and surrounded by deadly brambles. It was made accessible only by one route, formed by the great vines that served as a bridge. The tree feasted on the magic deep below, visible from the sickly glow that crept out from between splitting bark as its roots reached into the abyss, where the dragon fed it. The monstrous thing had no leaves, and only grew thorns and giant, rotten looking crops from its branches. These strange fruits glowed too, and moved as if they were alive, or as if something was inside.

The caravan stopped in front of the tree, and the Mordrem began untangling the vines from the corpses and dragging them one by one under the tree between its massive roots. From there, spying group could no longer see. They chose to take cover in the bushes, far and high from the danger zone. It was difficult to make out what happened down there, between the boughs and thorns of the great tree. They could only speculate.

"Why are they bringing corpses here?" Asterix questioned.

"To create new minions." That was not a voice they recognized. It came from behind, and was deep and throaty. Surprised, the group swiftly turned their heads and drew their weapons, expecting that they were caught by a Mordrem from behind. But it was a charr. A lone charr, in dark knightly armor with many spikes adorning it. He wore a blindfold, though did not act like he was blind. He stared directly at them.

Before they had a chance to let out a sigh of relief, though, the cat-like beast snatched Bohan off the ground, and snarled. Asterix, taken by surprise, swiftly rose to his feet to defend Bohan from the assaulter. But the charr easily threw him off balance with a swift kick, and he hit the dirt again with a thud, dropping his sword. The weapon's flame died as it hit the ground.

The short man's eyes watered from dry dust that was kicked up as he made impact with the ground, and when he finally had a chance to see again, another ambusher grasped him by the shoulder and locked him in an inescapable grip. He could only see the powerful arms wrapped around him, but it was enough to tell him it was a norn with a medium brown skin. His armor felt like it were metal, leather and furs, a typically norn fashion. He heard a deep but young male voice grunting, accompanying a shield's clattering against his back in the struggle. Asterix called for Bobbo, but soon learned that the large man had forced the poor animal into submission with a swift pummeling of his mace. The great grizzly laid sprawled on the ground, weeping.

As quickly as the fight began, did it seem to end. The ebony-brown charr took and raised his sword, setting it ablaze as his paw squeezed the grip. Asterix's eyes widened as he saw the weapon – it was flaming sword like his, but glorified and as though it should be in the hands of a benevolent lord. Its guard was a golden dragon's head, intricately designed yet unbreakable. From its open maw, it spewed fire that engulfed its double-helix twin blades. The charr raised Bohan higher, preparing to ram the sword into the sylvan man, killing him definitely. His opponent fought back as best he could, but could do no more than flail and kick his legs, his hands too occupied with keeping the firm paw from squeezing his throat shut if he let it.

He had to be stopped! Unheeding the norn's presence, Asterix called to the bear again. "Bobbo, bite!" But the bear did not obey.

"Bite!" he tried again. This time the bear pressed his paws deep into the dirt and made a leap, shutting his jaws around the norn's arm.

"Ah!" Startled, the man staggered as Bobbo pounced him. It was enough for Asterix to struggle free before the norn got overwhelmed under the great grizzly's weight, and as he rolled aside, the norn, —now revealed as a red-haired young man— collided with the ground, with an angry bear on top of him. This time, the Gaul reached for his bow and arrow.

"Stop right there!" Asterix shouted, drawing an arrow back on his bow and aiming it at the charr. Suddenly, time seemed like it had come to a halt all around them. Nobody dared move, all but the charr who directed his head toward the small man. The black blindfold's tattered ends waved with a jungle breeze. Perhaps he really was blind, but his four ears were perked in his direction, and he gazed at the Gaul as if he were able to see him perfectly well. A hiss and a long growl escaped from between his long fangs.

"I'm doing you a favor, human," the charr snarled.

"You'll do me a favor by releasing him," Asterix retorted. His aim crept towards the attacker's arm, lingering between shoulder and hand. It was difficult for him to make a clean shot with the dust still clearing from his eyes. He did not intend to kill anyone, but he was also afraid of hitting Bohan. "Let him go." He bluffed, but the beast sensed his hesitation. The charr growled.

"This sylvari is weak. Once Mordremoth gets a hold of him, he will lob his axe into you while your back is turned."

"You will release him," Asterix threatened. "If you don't, I will shoot. Even if I miss, my arrow will alert those Mordrem below."

The charr, though unfazed by the threat, paused and turned to look behind him. The little man was right. Mordrem were crawling below at the base of the giant tree. His bowstring was already tensed and ready for release. All it would take was him letting it go; nobody could stop him. It didn't matter where the arrow would fly. It would alert the enemy either way. Fighting a hundred Mordrem would be much less favorable. He turned back, and gave the Gaul a sly grin.

"Well played."

Finally, he released Bohan from his grip, letting him drop to the ground. The sylvari scrambled to his knees, wanting desperately to crawl away from the threat. The charr watched him for a moment, making sure he wasn't going to turn on him. The norn, still occupied with Bobbo, tried to hush the angry animal, understanding that the battle was forfeited, for now.

The charr looked at Asterix once again. "Who're you with? What is your order?" he inquired. The sound and the urge of his voice suggested he was demanding to know, as if he were some kind of superior. What did he mean with 'his order'? Did he mean the Pact? Asterix hesitated.

"Answer me," the charr demanded.

"Nobody, it's just us. We're looking for a friend." Asterix answered. He couldn't think of anything else. The charr looked surprised, and he growled, unsatisfied with the answer.

"You come out here with only a sylvari as your backup, and for what? A rescue mission? Do you even know the situation you're in?"

"We're leaving as soon as we find her."

The charr laughed. "Your faith is severely misplaced, especially for a human. Let your friend prove his allegiance then," he suggested. "We will take that blighting tree down together."

"Rytlock," the young norn spoke up after he finally had the bear off his back by soothing the creature. "We don't have time for this, the commander is waiting for us—"

"The commander can wait a little longer." said Rytlock. "If we destroy that tree, we'll have one less minion factory to worry about. Well?"

The Gaul flinched at the words. What did he mean, minion factory? Were the bodies used to create new minions? But Mordremoth is a jungle dragon, it doesn't bring people back from the dead!

"W-What do you mean, minion factory?" Bohan asked before Asterix could, his voice wavering as he was still shaken by the assault that just overcame him.

"Bodies go in. Mordrem copies come out," the charr answered.

"How?" the sylvari asked.

"I should be asking you. I don't share minds with the dragon of cabbages."

Bohan then bowed his head shamefully.

"Cut him some slack," Asterix said angrily. "He's on our side."

"Sure," Rytlock responded, dismissive. The Gaul felt his face boil. The nerve of this guy! He was not about to let this weirdo boss them around.

"If you want to be hostile, do it towards the Mordrem!"

Rytlock growled, not breaking away his sight from Bohan. "I'm looking at one."

Then, when Asterix was about to approach the charr, he felt the norn's hand grip his shoulder again. This time, not forcefully, the strength in his arm restrained.

"Enough," said the norn. "Are we going to destroy the tree or what?"

Bohan, happy to disperse the conflict, chimed in agreement with the norn. "How are we going to destroy it? It's teeming with Mordrem."

Rytlock huffed, "I'll show you how." He raised the dragon sword in his hand. Answering the charr's whim, the blade spewed its flame more violently. Asterix remembered his own, and walked over to his dropped blade to pick it off the ground. His hand closed around the grip, and the fire was given life again. His sword was dwarfed by Rytlock's, but its flame rivaled that of the noble blade all the same. He then remembered something else.

"There's a shipwreck nearby. There were barrels of oil scattered nearby it. If we lit some of those and threw them at that thing…"

Rytlock smiled. "I like your thought-process, shorty."

"Great, we have a plan!" the norn said.

xxx

After a rushed salvage, fourteen steel barrels were lined up on their sides along the top of the cliff, ready to be lit and rolled downhill. Their bungs had been carefully removed, and the holes were then stuffed with dry vines and other flammable matter that would act as the fuse. "When the fire starts, they'll be coming for us," Rytlock warned. "Braham and I will hold them off at the precipice while you two drop the bombs on their precious tree. Once you run out of barrels, you join us and we'll clean up what's left of them."

Bohan and Asterix both nodded in agreement. Then, Rytlock placed his clawed foot on the first barrel. "Now, let's have some fun." The great sword in Rytlock's paw crept close to the barrel's bunghole, carefully encouraging the fuse to catch flame. As soon as the leaves sparked and began to burn, he estimated his aim and pushed the barrel forward with his foot. It tumbled down the cliff, then began to roll, faster, faster down the hill, until it finally hit the natural ramp formed by the earth's separation. The bomb went flying, and crashed down between the branches of the tree. They were quiet for a moment, awaiting the explosion.

And there it was. First, a cloud of flame burst out from between the roots. A bough of the tree splintered and snapped, and shards of metal dug into root and Mordrem alike. The fire immediately began its hungry purpose to consume. A mere second later, they heard the explosion from afar.

"Bullseye!" Braham cheered.

Rytlock smiled. "Ahh, listen to that. The boom, the crackle, the anger when they realize what's happening…"

"Time isn't a leisure here,"Asterix criticized, his sword already lighting the second barrel's fuse. The barrel received a hefty kick and began rolling down to its target, hitting the tree again with a blooming swell of orange and yellow and the sound following moments after. The third followed suit after being lit by Braham, missing the tree only by several paces but still making a breathtaking scene and taking many Mordrem with it. The charr grinned when he saw the enemy flying.

Perhaps Rytlock was a sadist, but Asterix had to agree. This was quite satisfying, knowing the evil that happened down there. He was only worried of the fire destroying more than they were anticipating.

Bohan lit the fourth fuse with his makeshift torch. He did not hesitate; in fact he looked more determined than Asterix had ever seen him before, and he found it to be a good sign. He truly was a sylvari eager to rebel against his so-called 'master'. Rytlock approved when the barrel went tumbling down and struck the blighting tree yet again.

"There they come!" Braham called. He drew his shield and mace and rushed to block the only route to them and their makeshift artillery. Bobbo quickly followed closely behind him, having taken a liking to the norn. The surviving Mordrem, still a several dozen, swarmed the vine bridge at the base of the tree soon after discovering the attempt to stop one of their facilities, and they were furious.

"You know what to do," said the charr, after which he joined his norn comrade. One by one, each barrel was lit and pushed off the cliff. The seventh one missed, leaning towards the left too much as it made its way to the tree. The ninth detonated too early, halfway along its path.

Regardless, the blighting tree took many hits, and the fire created a spectacle.

The tenth barrel rolled out. Four were left. Asterix and Bohan rushed to finish their job so they could join in the fray. Braham, Rytlock and Bobbo held off the Mordrem from reaching the barrels, but with strain. Braham used his magic to conjure a palpable magical barrier, pushing unsuspecting Mordrem off balance and sending them falling down the cliff. The enemy's arrows could not pierce the mighty shield, and Rytlock used this to his advantage to burn the enemy at the front line while standing behind its safety, either with his sword or his own magic. Bobbo picked off those few who managed to get past the duo. But without Bohan and Asterix, they would not be able to gain more ground and advance towards the source. And the mordrem continued to swarm from the massive tree.

However, the blighting tree was dying. It would soon run out of minions. The final barrel was lit by Bohan. He pushed it down the slope. "This is for the Pale Tree!"

"Let's go!" Asterix shouted. He stowed his sword and took his bow and arrow instead. The enemy was concentrated and densely packed at the bridge, held back by Braham's shield. It would be hard for him to miss here. Bohan took hold of his hatchet and dagger. His necrotic abilities would aid them greatly.

Once the others joined up, Braham began to advance, bringing the ethereal shield with him as he did. Asterix was still slow with his aim, but none of his arrows missed. Unlike the enemy's, his arrows slipped effortlessly through Braham's magical barrier like a hot knife through butter, and struck target after target. It didn't always kill them, but sometimes it would put them off balance just enough, and they would tumble down into the abyss. Rytlock used his sword to slice into the enemy, incinerating them. Bohan's magic infused the team's weapons with life-stealing properties, causing each slash, shot and burst of flame to empower their next attack. Soon they were advancing over the bridge, and the Mordrem surely ran out of reinforcements. Their team was unstoppable.

Then, there was only one left.

"Who dares?" asked the final Mordrem. This one was a giant, with the features of a woman. Her head was adorned with great antler-like growths, and she only had a single eye. Her stature made her no doubt the overseer of the facility. She stood before the burning tree, facing them, with her two long blades out. One in each hand.

"We're here to turn your tree into a nice little pile of ash," Rytlock answered. "Now if you would be so kind, we need you to die."

"Fools," the creature hissed. "You think destroying just one tree will do you any good? Mordremoth has a thousand more. And if you kill me, he will bring me back stronger than ever."

Braham puffed. "Then I guess we'll just have to keep killing you until you stay dead." His magical shield flickered away, and in place, the norn raised his mace, imbuing it with his own magic in preparation for the coming battle.

The Mordrem laughed. "I will never stay dead."

"Rytlock, you do have a plan B, right?" the sylvari whispered. Asterix wondered this, as well, but he knew they were going to fight the overseer either way. He already had his arrow drawn far back on his bow, sensing the tension on its bowstring. Braham, as any norn, was itching for a fight. But when they saw Rytlock staring at the Mordrem creature, he did not look impressed by her at all.

"It's bluffing. Keep hitting until it stops moving."