MY ONE-SHOTS
Summary: Years after Mordremoth's defeat. The HoT crew, led by the Commander, faces off against the other three dragons: Jormag, Kralkatorrik, Primordus, and the unknown dragon in the deeps, known among the group as Maretimor. But the Elder Dragons are powerful, and, one by one, slay the Commander's friends and allies.
Chapter ten: The Blades of Fate
Author's Notes:
This is going in the one-shot collection, even though it is a two-shot. Oh well. (Edit: Nope! Just reeeally long chapter /rubs-her-hands-together-in-glee)
The name mentioned in the summary - Maretimor - for the unknown dragon, is based off my own research. 'Mordre' in Latin means 'to bite' or 'to encroach' but it is also similar to 'mordus' 'morde' and other words that have to do with death. Anyhow, 'Maretimor' is Latin for 'sea terror' which I thought fitting for an Elder Dragon.
Also, because 'Dragon's Watch' only includes some of the people I have to regard as friends, and because the name sounds kind of lame, I thought up another name. The new group includes the Commander, Rytlock, Logan, Zojja, Caithe, Canach, Taimi, Kasmeer, Marjory, Rox, and Braham. Basically Destiny's Edge + Dragon's Watch + Braham (because I heard he left Dragon's Watch).
This started out as an idea for after all the Elder Dragons are defeated, but um. I need to summarize what happened in-between Mordremoth and the start. So that's what this chapter is - 'recap the last however many years since Mordremoth, before we give you the real story.'
Edit as of partway through writing the chapter: Well, this is depressing.
Edit as of the end (which really should be in end A/N, but oh well): The whole story turned out to be the prologue... ohwell. (I say 'oh well' a lot, don't I?)
Okay, here's the story now:
"We can't cease fighting the Elder Dragons just because the Pact is crippled by Trahearne's death," the Commander says fiercely. "If anything, we should redouble our efforts - we can't lose anyone else. We won't."
Rytlock nods. "I've lost enough friends to the Elder Dragons that I won't stop no matter who is or isn't with me."
"I'm in," Braham agrees. "Every day we wait, somebody else - actively fighting the dragons or not - dies. We can't leave them to that."
"I'm sure the Rata Novus research will help a lot against Primordus," Taimi agrees.
"I'm afraid I'll have to wait for Countess Anise to give me permission or release my billet," Canach informs them, "but once that happens, I see no reason not to continue the fight."
"I've got nothing else to do," Rox shrugs. "I'll help you."
"We're in too, of course," Marjory asserts, gesturing to Kasmeer. "After all we've been through together, it would be a crime to leave you now."
Logan, Zojja, and Caithe are with Rytlock.
"First Snaff, now Eir," Caithe sighs. "To honor their memory, we will make a stand against the other dragons."
"What'll we name it?" Taimi wonders. "We can't just go around calling ourselves 'Destiny's Edge plus some others,' now can we?"
"Of course not," Canach snorts.
"Destiny's Edge... hmm." Braham mumbles.
"Oh, I get it!" Taimi brightens up. "A name that is almost just like Destiny's Edge, but using different words. What's another word for destiny?"
"Fate," Caithe suggests.
"Fate... Fate's Edge?" Rytlock harrumphs. "No way are we calling ourselves Fate's Edge."
"I quite agree," the Commander nods. "What's another word for edge? As in, edge of a blade?"
"Fate's Blade?" Rox suggests.
"How about Edge of Fate?" Braham suggests.
Zojja shakes her head. "No. It sounds like we're about to fall over the edge of a cliff to our deaths."
"Fate's Blade sounds nice," the Commander agrees, "but so does Fate's Razor."
"I will not be part of a guild called Fate's Razor," Rytlock snaps instantly.
"Fate's Blade, though," Logan nods. "It's fitting."
"But we don't all wield blades," Zojja points out. "Not even the Commander."
"I'm going to see if Caladbolg can be reforged," the Commander says quietly. "It deserves to see the last of the Elder Dragons fall. And it will serve as a reminder to all of us of what has been lost, what may yet be gained, and the lessons of the past."
"We're all going to be wielding legendary blades if this keeps up," Logan shakes his head. "Rytlock's got Sohothin, I have Dylan's sword, the Commander will be using Caladbolg, Marjory has her sister's sword..."
"Eir went after Magdaer shortly after the disaster that Caithe called a meeting in Lion's Arch," Rytlock offers.
"Fate's Blade is actually starting to sound like a viable name," Zojja says, almost as if she is surprised.
"And that's just blades," Braham adds. "I'm sure we all have special weapons. I have Eir's bow."
"Canach uses the Shield of the Moon," Caithe observes. Canach glares his signature glare at her.
"Yeah, I remember it doing some guardian-like shield thing inside Mordremoth's mind," the Commander recalls.
"I noticed Zojja started wearing Snaff's blue thing," Logan offers.
"Snaff's 'blue thing'?" Zojja asks indignantly. "I'll have you know there's gray powerstones in 'Snaff's blue thing.'"
Logan, Rytlock, and especially Caithe stare at Zojja in complete shock.
"Burn me, gray powerstones," Rytlock curses. "Gray powerstones, Zojja, gray powerstones!"
"Gray powerstones..." Caithe echoes hollowly.
"We're all idiots," Logan groans, smacking his forehead.
Taimi blinks for a moment. "Oh. You mean... those gray powerstones? Zojja!"
"Can anyone explain what these gray powerstones are?" Braham sighs.
"Powerstones that blocked the Dragonspawn's mind from dominating us when we went to kill it," Caithe says softly.
Silence descends on the group.
"That's why it was... odd," Caithe whispers. "The powerstone tattoo. Mordremoth's voice was... confusing. More so than what other sylvari experienced - and my Wyld Hunt. It was..."
"At least we know it wouldn't have stopped Mordremoth completely," the Commander sighs. "If they did... well... the ways we could have used that."
"That's why the copies of Zojja we had to fight were telling us to kill them," Rytlock realizes. "The powerstones."
"What were we talking about before Zojja took offense at Logan saying 'Snaff's blue thing'?" Braham sighs. "Fate's Blade?"
"Well, maybe Fate's Powerstone is better," Taimi suggests. "Or maybe Snaff's Powerstone."
"I will not be part of a guild named after an asura," Canach says flatly.
"It sounds like we're inanimate objects," Rox agrees. "Fate's Blade? Or Fate's Weapon?"
"Fate's Shard might... nah," Braham thinks out loud. "Dragon's Fate?"
"Dragon's Destiny," Zojja suggests. "A remake of Dragonspawn's Destiny."
"Fate's Legacy," Marjory suggests.
"Legacy, now that's a good word to use," the Commander agrees. "But Fate's Legacy sounds... off."
"Legacy's Revenge?" Taimi wonders.
"If we wanted a really long one," Canach says sarcastically, "name it the Blade of Legacy's Revenge."
"Revenge of the Blade of Legacy would be even longer, but slightly less confusing," Kasmeer suggests.
"Would be a bit hard to insert into a battle cry," Braham observes. "I like Fate's Blade."
"Everyone likes Fate's Blade?" the Commander checks. "Then let's do that. Oh wait! Maybe the Blade of Fate. The Elder Dragons will meet the Blade of Fate."
Silence falls as each member tries to figure out which one they like better.
"Why not use it interchangably?" Taimi suggests reasonably, after a minute. "We could be Fate's Blade or the Blade of Fate, however you like to use it."
"Sure, why not."
"Yeah, good idea."
"Great."
"We're still naming ourselves an inanimate object," Rox jokes. Braham rolls his eyes.
"No objections."
"Sure-fire way to strike fear into a dragon's heart." Marjory agrees.
"Literally and metaphorically," Taimi chimes in.
"So, we're the Blade of Fate and it's pet, Fate's, Blade?"
"Now that's a tongue-twister."
The Commander sighs amusedly. "Let's get back on topic. Now we've established that, the next question is, where and how do we start?"
Zojja falls first, her mind caught between Jormag and Primordus. The powerstone tattoo embedded on her from years ago glows a bright, blinding blue and explodes under the pressure, taking Zojja's only protection with it, not to mention distracting her.
"The last of Dragonspawn's Destiny is gone," Logan observes at her memorial. Her body had been consumed by battling Icebrood and Destroyers.
"Snaff, Eir, now Zojja." Rytlock shakes his head.
"And the first of Fate's Blade is gone, as well," Caithe sighs.
"I'm not sure we should rely on the powerstone tattoos at all anymore," Taimi observes. The Blade of Fate had all been tattooed with the powerstones. "They didn't help against any Elder Dragons at all - just the Dragonspawn. Unless there's a way to amplify it somehow..."
"I could try," Kasmeer offers. "Blending mesmer magic with Snaff's powerstones might help."
"And ley energy. And chak do things with ley energy, we should try that," Taimi agrees. "I bet the Rata Novans have equipment for manipulating ley energy."
"We still shouldn't rely on them," the Commander reminds.
"No, we should not," Caithe agrees. "They took Zojja, and didn't hold up under Mordremoth."
"These dragons are going down," Taimi says, her voice with an edge of steel to it. "They won't get away with Zojja's death."
"Or Snaff's," Rytlock agrees.
"Eir's," Caithe adds.
"Trahearne's," the Commander nods. "The dragons will not get away with this."
Kasmeer dies next, halting in the midst of Kralkatorrik's lair, desperately searching out the mind controlling the visions of her that aren't her illusions. Trapped among the crystals, Branded find and turn her. Fate's Blade doesn't even find out until Marjory faces Branded Kasmeer on the battlefield, and, frozen in shock and denial, is slain, and Belinda's sword dropped on the battlefield to be taken by another Branded.
Marjory is then reanimated - Kralkatorrik had absorbed some of Zhaitan's power. The two lovers fight on against the Blade of Fate.
Fate's Blade puts them to rest soon after.
The Commander is almost vibrating with rage. "Kralkatorrik will pay," she snarls. "First Snaff, now Marjory and Kasmeer... let's drive the Blade of Fate into Kralkatorrik's heart."
"Onwards," Logan nods. "To victory."
"Or death," the Commander agrees.
This becomes the Blade of Fate's motto - to victory or death. They fall, one by one, to the dragons' corruption and, subsequently, their allies' Blades of Fate.
Taimi seems almost confined to Rata Novus, leaving sleep behind as she desperately looks for Primordus' weakness, or a way to amplify the gray powerstones, "or anything!" as she puts it. "Anything! Anything to take down an Elder Dragon."
Braham stays with her, fighting off the chak that come as Taimi's experiments involve more and more ley energy, alongside Scruffy 2.1. Scruffy 2.0 had been partially destroyed by chak once already.
Kasmeer's death means that the group can't use mesmer magic to amplify the powerstones, but Taimi finds out that chak can and will harness any and all magic, and convinces Braham to capture a live one.
The rest of the chak near Rata Novus sense ley energy being cycled through the captured chak, over and over again, and come in a swarm, overwhelming both Braham and Taimi and destroying all the contraptions in the dragon lab. Except the asura gates, of course. One of Snaff's other inventions, known as the 'hole-in-your-pocket,' had been utilized once the Blade of Fate had realized the potential for them. Chak find the portable asura gate that leads to Glint's Lair, the headquarters of Fate's Blade, alerting the Commander's team to problems.
After the chak meet the Blade of Fate, Fate's Blade then uses the same portal to get to Rata Novus, where they discover the bodies of Braham and Taimi.
Rox is in shock. Braham had been one of her closer friends, and, of course, could not get away without getting to know Taimi almost as well. Now both are dead. It seems her luck is against her; first her warband and Skewer, her first devourer, then Eir, Braham's mother, and now Braham himself, as well as Taimi.
Eir's bow truly becomes a weapon of legacy after their funerals; Rox wields the bow of her fallen friend. The same occurs of 'Snaff's blue thing' - Taimi had taken to it once Zojja died, and after Taimi's death, Rox manages to alter it enough to fit one of the larger races, namely Logan.
Caithe tries to lighten the situation - "at least it matches the guardian magic. Blue." But the joke falls flat.
The Commander finally gets the satisfaction of slaying Primordus - once they have him pinned down, he meets the Blades of Fate. Caladbolg, Sohothin - Marjory's blade conspiciously absent, which only serves to increase the Commander's ire - and Eir's bow are the weapons that slay Primordus, while protected from his flaming attacks by Canach, using the Shield of the Moon.
"For Snaff, Eir, Trahearne, Zojja, Kasmeer, Marjory, Braham, and Taimi," the Commander snarls at the dragon, shaking in rage, before finishing Primordus with Caladbolg.
"You do know only Zojja on that list was actually slain by Primordus?" Canach remarks dryly.
"Doesn't matter. The Elder Dragons are all kin. What one does can be laid at the feet of another," the Commander replies with an angry huff in the dead dragon's direction.
As Fate's Blade turns it attention towards Jormag, with three Elder Dragons gone and two more to go, a repeat of the Great Tsunami happens, wiping out Lion's Arch again, absolutely devastating the Grove, and rendering Rata Sum no longer a flying city, but a floating one, to the terror of the asura living there, and Orr is sunken again.
"The Six blast it!" the Commander howls. "Now Orr probably needs cleansing again! Especially if an Elder Dragon makes it their domain!"
"Don't tempt luck," Rox warns. "It probably was an Elder Dragon's doing, anyhow. Zhaitan and Mordremoth's deaths sent shockwaves of power through Tyria, and Scarlet woke Mordremoth that way. I wouldn't be surprised if that's what woke up this dragon."
That turns out to be correct. The dragon of the deeps soon reveals its name to be Maretimor, and its favorite subjects of corruption appear to be krait and quaggan, although that is only figured out from what passes for speech from the corrupted krait and quaggan.
The corrupted monsters are large, flying orbs of water that possess the ability to sink into the ground and sprout vines to entangle their foes. Not to mention surrounding the head of their enemy and rendering them unable to breath, while projecting thoughts into their enemies' minds. The gray powerstone tattoos hold out the corrupted minions, and Fate's Blade doesn't even realize what the minions are doing.
The Great Tsunami 2, apparently, was not just from the rising of an Elder Dragon. It was also said Elder Dragon's first assault into Tyria, and the survivors of Lion's Arch and the Grove speak of 'the Water Bubbles.' The sylvari of the Grove are particularly explicit in describing what had happened with the thought-projection. 'They told me I was dying, that I would serve Maretimor, that my body would serve as the basis for humanoid Water Bubbles...' and of course these things only heighten the fear and panic of the moment. Which, when unable to breath, is absolutely wonderful for staying alive in water.
But, it turns out that expelling the Water Bubbles mind also propels its physical aspect away, something that the sylvari do easily, remembering Mordremoth.
When Canach learns of this, he is particularly interested. "These blasted gray powerstone tattoos are blocking our means of survival should our heads by covered in these Water Bubbles," he complains.
"To the contrary, they probably prevent that situation in the first place," Caithe observes. "And it doesn't kill them. How do you kill water?"
After some discussion, the group try to capture some of the Destroyers left from Primordus' short-lived campaign to use against the Water Bubbles.
All that results in is a great deal of steam and two dead dragon minions.
"There's more Water Bubbles than Destroyers," the Commander sighs. "And this is very inefficient anyway. We can't keep transporting captured Destroyers to Lion's Arch to see if anything more happens."
"Why don't we work on getting the general population outfitted with the powerstone tattoos?" Logan suggests. "We might as well have the first line of defense on hand - none of us have been attacked by the Bubbles yet. And we should set some asura to researching them - we don't have any geniuses on our team anymore."
"Right," the Commander agrees tightly, remembering Zojja and Taimi.
"And if everyone is properly protected from the Bubbles," Rytlock realizes, "then we don't need to worry about them at all right now. Kralkatorrik and Jormag are still out there, doing who knows what while we figure out another Elder Dragon. We're no experts, and Priory Scholar Marjory is dead."
The Commander huffs. "What is the Pact doing right now?"
"Still rebuilding after Mordremoth's devastation." Logan supplies. "Most sylvari are angry at the Elder Dragons, and the Orders are recruiting more sylvari than ever. There's an increase in other racial volunteers, as well - an Elder Dragon killing the head of the Pact was a warning bell. But they're not ready to take on another dragon yet."
"We can't lose any more people. Each person's skills are vital to the Blade of Fate. But you're right - let's set up a team of asura to tattoo people - after Lion's Arch has been destroyed, a protection would be very much welcomed. And we should work on tapping the Priory's knowledge."
Kralkatorrik is contemptuous of the Blade of Fate's attempts against him - Caithe had supported the idea that Snaff holding down Kralkatorrik's mind almost worked, if not for the Branded.
The obvious idea is for either Caithe or Canach to take Snaff's place, as their minds had been fortified by Mordremoth's constant attacks; and it is decided that Canach, in particular, will do this, as he was more vulnerable than Caithe at that time, not having had a gray powerstone tattoo, as well as having gone into that dragon's mind himself, which Caithe had not done.
"Why not both of them?" Rox suggests. "The more people inside a dragon's mind, the better."
"And I'm sure it would take at least two people to equal Snaff," Logan agrees.
"The problem is the powerstone laurel - we don't have Glint anymore to place it on Kralkatorrik's head," Rox wonders.
"My magic," Rytlock says. "I can... teleport."
The Blade of Fate lures Kralkatorrik to Lion's Arch, giving Fate's Blade additional protectors - the Water Bubbles still avoid the powerstone tattoos, but the Branded will have to fight through any of Maretimor's minions that are around.
Fate's Blade lure the Water Bubbles among them, trapping them in a circle surrounded by the powerstone tattoos, forming a a bubble of Water Bubbles around Caithe and Canach for additional protection.
And then Kralkatorrik comes, preceded by waves of Branded, only a few of which get past the Water Bubbles wandering Lion's Arch, falling on the Blades of Fate defending the sylvari, whose eyes lose focus as they stare into space, battling Kralkatorrik's mind.
But then, the bubble of Water Bubbles surrounding the sylvari turn on Caithe and Canach - entering another Elder Dragon's mind, they had gone in direct counter to the powerstone tattoos, which spark a little and die.
By the time the rest of Fate's Blade realizes what is going on, both Caithe and Canach are dead. Their bodies, however, remain untouched by the corruption seen in other victims of the Bubbles.
And then Kralkatorrik truly arrives - his Branded swarming Lion's Arch and what remains of Fate's Blade.
Caladbolg glows as if in delight as it swoops back and forth through the dragon minions, cleaving them and shattering the crystalline monsters. Sohothin blazes and melts crystal where it touches, and Logan's blade, the legacy of his brother, bites the Branded apart, the steely edge razor sharp, and Eir's bow, which had grown powerful with its legend and legacy, keeps down the numbers of Branded facing those Blades of Legacy.
And then, of course, Kralkatorrik had to show some smarts. Branded enter Lion's Arch from the opposite direction, and none of Fate's Blade notices until Rox lets out an enraged roar, drops the bow, and turns on the Branded that had claimed the life of her companion, her last close friend since Braham and Taimi.
Rytlock snarls a loud "no, Rox! Stop!" before rushing to her side, picking up the Shield of the Moon on the way. "Rox! Stop! Do you want to die?" Rytlock manages to cover Rox with the shield before the Branded get to her, kneeling by Frostbite's body.
The Commander and Logan turn on Rytlock's cry, and the Blades of Fate retreat into the shield maintained by Rytlock.
"Rytlock, Sohothin works better against the Branded than my sword - I can hold the shield," Logan says, and Rytlock hands off the shield to Logan.
It flickers, but remains steady.
"How are we going to survive this?" the Commander wonders, as she looks on the Branded surrounding them, held off only by the shield. The Water Bubbles are being cleared out by said Branded, as well. "We deliberately lured an Elder Dragon here. It's probably somewhere up in the sky."
As if on cue, the Branded turn and clear out, and Kralkatorrik lands in front of the group huddled under the shield, twisting the immediate area into a lookalike of the Dragonbrand.
Rox's eyes seem to glow in rage and she charges forward blindly, desperate to kill the thing which had slain her companion.
"Oh, no you don't," Rytlock snarls. "Logan, where's the Dragonsblood Spear?"
"You get Rox, I'll handle this," Logan says determinedly, hefting the spear.
"I'll distract the dragon," the Commander agrees.
Rytlock teleports in front of Rox, who yelps in surprise. "Rox, don't be a fool!" Rytlock snarls, pulling Rox out of the way as Logan charges forward with the spear.
In front of Kralkatorrik, the ground ripples and changes as the dragon breaths corruption on the suicidal human.
Rytlock teleports in front of Logan with the Shield of the Moon before the blast reaches him. It shatters the magical, guardian-like shield, splinters the physical shield, causes Rytlock's powerstone tattoo to explode, and Brands Rytlock. It passes through the now-Branded charr and collides with Logan.
"No!" the Commander shrieks, and runs forward - but the blast did not touch Logan. The Dragonsblood Spear absorbs the full blast, even reversing it back to its source. The reversed power-wave shatters the Branded Rytlock, and stuns Kralkatorrik for about half a second, while Logan takes the last few steps and sinks the Dragonsblood Spear, still thrumming with Kralkatorrik's magic, deep into the dragon's heart, sending another shockwave of purified dragon corruption through it's body.
The Elder Crystal Dragon, Kralkatorrik, seizes up and freezes, the purified energy bouncing through it's system, before shattering, exploding shards of crystal throughout Lion's Arch, rendering it a wasteland, except for the six-foot-in-diameter circle that is Logan's guardian-shield, under which the Commander, Rox, and Logan are shielded. Even the bodies of Caithe, Canach, Frostbite and Rytlock are annihilated, and the Water Bubbles had all deserted the city when Kralkatorrik landed.
The Branded, on the other hand, are now mindless and wandering, much like the Risen, Mordrem, and Destroyers after their respective Elder Dragons' deaths.
In the Brand, a band of civilians attempting to cross it are able to survive due to the Branded's sudden lack of focus. The remaining Blades of Fate will never hear of that, but it makes the effort to kill Kralkatorrik that much more worthwhile. It is their whole reason for existence.
The remainder of Fate's Blade had closed their eyes when Kralkatorrik exploded, expecting every moment for Logan's shield to fail and themselves to be annihilated, but after a minute, they are sure they have survived the death of another Elder Dragon.
Looking around at the rubble that had been Lion's Arch, and the places where their friends had died, the group is in shock.
Logan doesn't notice anything. "Rytlock! No!" He falls to his knees, the guardian shield dropping, as he realizes that his closest friends are gone. All he has left is the Commander, Rox, and, of course, Jennah, but that doesn't matter right now. Rytlock is dead. "You didn't have to," he whispers. "The spear absorbed it. You didn't have to die."
The Commander and Rox are in shock.
"Pointless. So pointless," Logan continues. Nobody has to ask what he means. If shielding a companion with your own life is heroic, it all becomes pointless when said companion wouldn't have died anyway.
"There are... other Elder Dragons to kill," the Commander says after a minute. "Other Elder Dragons. They will pay. We three are the only ones left... we'll make it count. We have to."
The blast from Kralaktorrik exploding had annihilated the bodies of Caithe, Canach, and Rytlock, as well as the powerstone laurels the two sylvari had been wearing and their weapons. The Shield of the Moon is forever lost to Kralkatorrik's magic, and Sohothin had, luckily for its power, fallen inside of the shield Logan had erected when the dragon exploded.
To honor her friend, Rox takes up Sohothin and wields it in counterpoint to Eir's bow. "Jormag, then." she decides. "We're even less capable of taking on Maretimor now - and we at least know things about Jormag. And that asuran team we put to work tattooing everybody is very effective."
Sohothin proves invaluable against the Icebrood, particularly when near to Caladbolg - the two swords' auras merge and amplify each other, bringing Caladbolg to flame, and Sohothin several times moves of its own will in Rox's hand, saving her life.
Sohothin and Eir's bow, as well, enhance each other - Sohothin's flame burns brighter and hotter, like adding fuel to the fire, and any arrows discharged from the bow ignite, burning brightly.
When they finally get to Jormag's sanctum, the two blades melt the ice and Icebrood easily, and the three advance on, guarded by Logan's shield.
Jormag is waiting for them, and instantly goes for Logan, the only one without a flaming sword.
The Commander and Rox bar Jormag's path, standing close together; the swords are brought closer together than they have been before, at least in combat. The flame from Sohothin leaps to Caladbolg, igniting it as well, and the two flames feed off each other, growing brighter and hotter.
Logan sneaks around the side to behind Jormag while the dragon is mesmerized by the dancing flames. Even the Icebrood are still.
The silent confrontation stretches on as Jormag draws closer to flaming blades, still mounting exponentially in heat and intensity.
Suddenly, both blades dart forward as one, alive in the hands of the Commander and Rox. Caladbolg, the living weapon, remembers a time when a human and a charr would not have stood side by side if their lives depended on it, and Sohothin, brought to life through Caladbolg's aura, recalls a time when history changed because of a fight over the sword. The unity that the Commander and Rox working together brings only enhances the two swords' power - and the cavern, which had already been warm, mounts in temperature. Jormag, still entranced by the dancing flames (or is it the dragon's weakness? Flame and purity, life, as opposed to ice and corruption, death?) suddenly begins dripping. Melting.
Jormag snaps out of it and the Icebrood attack, but slowly, sluggishly, as if in a dream. They are melting even worse than Jormag.
But Jormag bolsters them with an almighty roar, puffing cold throughout the room, but the two swords together overcome, and just become stronger and brighter. Logan is in position to critically stike the dragon, and does so while the Commander and Rox lunge forward as well, the bonfire blades plunging into the dragon's heart.
In Hoelbrak, the Fang of Jormag begins vibrating violently, calling the attention of every norn (and non-norn) in that lodge.
As the norn population watches the Fang, it begins glowing with a fiery light, before bursting into flame and melting, making a puddle out of the tooth that the norn people had thought invincible for several hundred years.
Unfortunately, the Icebrood that Jormag had chosen to guard itself were slightly more sentient than most Icebrood - sentient enough to know to attack those that had killed their Elder Dragon.
Again, they all head straight for Logan - on the other side of the cavern. The Commander and Rox run to him, but his shield can only do so much against the Icebrood - it is not the Shield of the Moon.
By the time the Commander and Rox get there and clear out the Icebrood, Logan is not dead, but injured fatally. Even Rox's 'battlefield magic' that had once healed both Braham and Marjory aboard the Breachmaker cannot save Logan.
As he draws his last breaths, he smiles. "Commander. Bring Jennah... Dylan's sword. Tell her... I killed another Elder Dragon... for her..." he pauses and coughs, spitting up blood. "Kralkatorrik." the guttural name with its sharp syllables sounds even worse coming from Logan's dying body. "Get... the last one... for me... Commander..."
"Logan, no!" the Commander says desperately, trying to heal her first friend. But it is too late. Logan is dying. "You can't die! We need you! I need you! I can't... I can't lose anyone else..."
As Logan's heartbeat slows and stops, the Commander resolves to see the last dragon dead, whatever the cost. She'd resolved, in a general sense, to see the Elder Dragons dead long ago. She'd already killed Zhaitan, was working on killing Mordremoth, and, of course, had plans to kill the other dragons as well, but Trahearne's death had left her with a legacy to fulfill. Logan's death leaves her specifically with the task to kill Maretimor.
"Let's fulfill his last wishes," the Commander says after a minute of mourning for her first friend. "Bring Dylan's sword to the Queen. I can do that. And then... and then we end Maretimor."
"Commander, the Queen has been ill the last few days," Countess Anise informs them, just outside the Queen's throne room. "But she knew you were coming. She wishes to see you... alone. Follow me." Countess Anise leads the last two of Fate's Blade into a side room, where Queen Jennah is waiting.
"Commander. And Rox - you were the Black Citadel's representative at the celebration I held in thirteen twenty-six?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Rox replies. "Logan sent us."
"I know what happened to Logan," the Queen says gravely. "I felt it through the bond we share. But... tell me. My heart will not believe it until you tell me it is true."
"Logan... fell to Icebrood, Your Majesty," the Commander says sorrowfully. "He helped us kill Jormag."
"It is as I feared," Queen Jennah sighs, her eyes downcast. "But I assume he sent you for some other purpose than to tell me of his death."
"He told us to bring you Dylan's sword, You Majesty," Rox informs her.
"Dylan Thackeray. A loyal captain," Queen Jennah nods. "I remember Logan taking the blade after he died. He sent you with his weapon?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Commander replies, handing the sword in its sheath to the Queen.
"Alas! Two great captains fallen to the Elder Dragons, when all that post entails is keeping the peace of Kryta," the Queen mourns. "But Logan... Logan knew what he was getting into. He slew a champion of Primordus in my name."
"He also told us to tell you that he dealt the first and last blow to Kralkatorrik as your champion," the Commander adds.
"My champion. Yes," Queen Jennah sighs in sorrow. "He sent word to me, previously, of the others of you group that died. And you are the only ones left?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Rox replies. "The Elder Dragons and insectoids known as chak in the Maguuma Jungle killed them. But Logan told us to kill Maretimor, and we will."
"We are Logan's champions now, as he was yours, Your Majesty," the Commander agrees.
"Tell me," Countess Anise says, speaking for the first time since entering the room, "about these powerstone tattoos."
"They protected Destiny's Edge from the Dragonspawn's mind, in thirteen nineteen, Countess," the Commander replies. "And they assisted Caithe in keeping her mind during the whole fiasco with Mordremoth. They preveted Maretimor's minions from bothering us, and we couldn't find a way to kill them, so we refocused our efforts on the other dragons. We had been going to experiment with amplifying them, because relying on them is how Zojja died, and they didn't hold up too well under Mordremoth. We were going to use mesmer magic to see if that would amplify them, but then Kasmeer died."
"Yes, I remember Logan writing about Lady Kasmeer's death." Queen Jennah says slowly. "And her death limited your search for ways to amplify the powerstone tattoos? You were going to use mesmer magic?"
"Yes, because the gray powerstones are designed to protect your mind from things. We thought, that since mesmer magic is so... mental, it might help. But then Taimi died, and I have no idea how they work or how mesmer magic might help, or anything like that."
"I see. And I can tell you don't want others studying them?"
"Not more than we have to. Zojja was a fiery brand - literally - about Snaff's discoveries, and if more than the basics of powerstones became discovered to Tyria, she'll burn us to ash when we finally get to the Mists. Given the death rate of our group, I'll be surprised if we survive the next dragon."
The Queen glances at Countess Anise, and the two seem to hold a silent conversation.
"Go then," the Queen says, after a moment, "and defeat Maretimor as Logan's champions."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Commander replies, and she and Rox leave the room.
Lion's Arch, which had been rebuilt - "I wonder what the first Lion's Arch looked like?" the Commander comments - has a Pact outpost. There, they are told that Fort Trinity has been rebuilt along the Straits of Devastation, and that rock-sized gray powerstones have been set up around it - and gigantic ones along the Tarnished Coast - to keep the Water Bubbles out.
The Commander and Rox head to Fort Trinity, where they find that the Pact is trying to learn all it can about Maretimor, having been built up enough over the years since Mordremoth's defeat that going against another Elder Dragon is a viable option.
The asuran device known as a VOED - Very Old Energy Detector - has a modified counterpart that is much more sensitive, and will be able to pin down Maretimor's exact location.
The entire Pact is amazed at the gray powerstones, having never been able to just bypass a dragon's minions before. Of course, the whole Pact is in on the 'gray powerstone tattoo' thing, which means that plans for going against Maretimor don't need to factor in the minions.
Many months later, Pact ships - and airships - are sailing south, each ship outfitted with the modified VOED.
The Commander and Rox have figured out that 'Snaff's blue thing', now an ultra-legacy (it used to be Snaff's, then Zojja's, then Taimi's, Logan's, and now the Commander's) reacts with the other weapons, as well - Caladbolg, Sohothin, and Eir's bow.
Snaff's blue thing, being infused with gray powerstones, affects the 'living weapon' part of Caladbolg and now Sohothin, enhancing the sentience of the weapons. Before, they had acted on instinct to protect those who wielded them; now they understand the intricacies of swordplay. The magical power of Snaff's blue thing also enhances the fire of Sohothin and Caladbolg.
Being used against Jormag in the way they were, it seems that Caladbolg now flames on its own, and Sohothin retains the 'living weapon' aspect on its own, as well. Now, when the two are close together, and the Commander and Rox are battling something, the resulting magical storm that happens is spectacular... as well as only being dangerous to enemies of those who are using the weapons.
Neither Rox nor the Commander want to know what would happen if the two were used against each other - they have practically been forged and tempered in unity, and are twins now, despite being so different in make. When one is wielded alone, is is powerful. When it is wielded with its twin, the results are boundless, due to the exponential nature (pun intended) of the blades.
The Commander and Rox decide that their blades are now truly Blades of Fate - or the blades wielded by Fate, in which case, Fate's Blades.
"I am very nearly one with Caladbolg," the Commander says.
"Yeah. It is... special." Rox nods.
"More so than just being Caladbolg."
"I know what you mean."
"You feel the same way about Sohothin?"
"So we are the Blades of Fate," Rox speculates.
"The blades are twins..."
"And we are twins with our blades."
"And they will go against Maretimor..."
"And end the dragon," Rox nods.
"I wonder what would happen..."
"If one person wielded both at once?"
"You know, if I die or something."
The Commander frowns. "They were forged in unity."
"When we faced off against Jormag," Rox recalls, falling silent.
"I could... feel Caladbolg..."
"Feeding off my friendships and things."
"If the same person was..." the Commander trails off.
"Both weapons would..."
"Most likely not be nearly as powerful."
"Well, let's try not to let that happen."
Maretimor seems alarmed by the gray powerstons aboard the ship. The dragon tries to sink the ships, but the waves just veer to the sides, away from the powerstones. Eventually the ships do sink, but are inside a bubble of air.
The ships sink farther and farther down, pulled down towards the dragon still in the depths of the sea. There had been a definite southern border to Zhaitan's domain - the taint of corruption everywhere had suddenly stopped, and no Risen crossed the invisible line.
"Like the krait orb..." the Commander realizes
"Protecting Fort Trinity,"
"Maybe the krait orb..." Rox starts,
"Was Maretimor's magic?"
"Yeah!"
"I mean, it kept out Risen."
Suddenly, in dark depths of the sea, the water finally crushes in on the ships. The dragon itself is compressing its body - "Its made of water?" Rox wonders, to which the Commander replies, "Mordremoth," - around the ships.
"Looks like - " Rox observes.
"We were right," the Commander finishes.
"We are going to -"
"Die to Maretimor," the Commander agrees.
But that is not to be. Caladbolg and Sohothin, pairing with the powerstone tattoos - "can any magical artifact enhance these weapons?" - hold the water at bay, leaving two pockets of air in the depths, which suddenly expand to include any Pact soldiers nearby.
"They were - "
"Forged in - "
"Unity, and they - "
"feed off of it,"
"Of course they'd - "
"Help our allies."
Only a few Pact soldiers are in range of the bubble, though. Rox and the Commander close the gap between them - they'd been on opposite ends of the ship - and merge the air bubbles, both on opposite ends to lengthen the bubble.
The Commander glances around and notes that General Almorra is inside the bubble, and sighs in relief. She can't command the Pact troops as effectively as Almorra can.
But the nature of gravity means that they are pulled downward at an ever quicker rate - falling to the bottom of the bubble, but the center of the bubble falling to the bottom bringing the bottom of the bubble lower - until they hit the bottom of the endlessly deep ocean.
And Maretimor is pressing all around them. The Commander and Rox and the surviving Pact stand as close together as possible, to focus the Blades of Fate's power on a smaller bubble.
And then the dragon compresses itself and forces its way in through one point. A portion of itself, anyway - the size of one of its minions, it bulges through the side of the air bubble, hovering right there, still connected to the water outside.
Both Rox and the Commander realize that if they disconnect the dragon from the rest of the water, it might help them kill it. It's barely a plan, but it might work. Sohothin and Caladbolg are flaming, that should help.
Rox runs over to the bubble of water and puts Sohothin between it and the outside sea, cutting it off. A Pact elementalist throws a ball of fire at the Water Bubble, which evaporates.
"Keep - " the Commander starts.
"Doing that!" Rox finishes.
"What's going on with you two?" General Almorra asks. "Completing each other's sentences like that."
The two look at each other. "Oh. I - " Rox starts.
"Guess we were," the Commander agrees.
General Almorra huffs.
"Maybe it's - "
"Caladbolg and Sohothin - "
"Doing more of - "
"Caladbolg and - "
"Sohothin magic."
Meanwhile, the elementalists of the Pact are throwing fireballs at the water surrounding them. A low grumble shakes the ground.
"The dragon - " Rox notes.
"Isn't happy!" the Commander crows. "Keep - "
"Doing that!" Rox agrees.
General Almorra sighs and turns to her troops.
"Let's try - " the Commander suggests.
"And do the - "
"Thing we did - "
"With Jormag."
"Twins!"
"We're twins - "
"And they're twins - "
"That's how - "
"I know - "
"What you - "
"Are going - "
"To say."
"Let's do it."
Then, Maretimor tries to come through into the bubble again, and this time, instead of cutting it off, they attack it, the proximity of the Blades to each other building a fiery vortex, sparking off of each other, Snaff's blue thing, Eir's bow, and the powerstone tattoos to create a magical storm.
Quickly, the bubble of Maretimor is evaporated again, but this time the Commander and Rox attack the wall of water. As the Blades' power goes into the magical storm, the bubble collapses, to just Rox and the Commadner, and only a few guardian shields here and there keep the water out, and serve for places for the Pact soldiers to wait out the magical storm.
The two blades bounce pure power back and forth to each other, building up the storm. Maretimor is more powerful than any other Elder Dragon ever - it had absorbed power from all of the Elder Dragons as they died.
The Commander merges with Caladbolg, and her fury at Maretimor on behalf of all her friends slain at the hand of an Elder Dragon powers Caladbolg to new heights of magical potency.
The same happens to Rox and Sohothin, and the four living Blades spark off each other, building up power. Caladbolg draws from its long history - the living weapon had delighted in unity, and draws power from the uniting of the three Orders, the solidifying of this as the Pact, the stalwart solidarity of the Pact against Mordremoth's tactics of distrust, the formation of Fate's Blade, witnessing Rytlock's death for Logan, and many others, not to mention the bond with Sohothin.
Sohothin pulls power from destruction, rather than unity - and yet the two opposite personalities of the swords merge. Sohothin is fire and destruction, and delighted in the downfall of the Dragonspawn and Morgus Lethe, not to mentionIcebrood, Risen, and Mordrem. Sohothin had absorbed a lot of Kralkatorrik's shockwave when Rytlock died. By Rox's hand the sword had drawn power from its new bond with Caladbolg, from Jormag and Icebrood, and even the last few Water Bubbles Rox had evaporated.
The two swords pull on these yet-untouched reserves of power, and the magical turmoil is seen from as far away as Orr, and even Lion's Arch, for the careful observer. It manifests itself as a heavy stormcloud over the place Maretimor resides, a stormcloud that just grows bigger and bigger as Maretimor fights the power of unity and destruction turned against a common foe.
Maretimor revolts, reflecting the magic back at it's own source, much like the Dragonsblood Spear had from Kralkatorrik. But the nature of the Blades' magic turns the trap around, instead doubling the magic already being coursed through the Blades, feeding it through the connection and back out at Maretimor.
But Rox cannot channel this level of magic. Of the four living beings channeling such magic, in her lifetime, she has used the least. Being charr and anti-magic helped, but also, the Commander had had a lot of experience with Zephyrite crystals, not to mention Glint's egg. Which never had hatched, curiously enough.
But in whatever capacity, it stands to reason that the Commander and Rox are on the weak end of the power-channeling spectrum, with Sohothin and Caladbolg being on the infinitely strong side. And of the Commander and Rox, Rox can't channel as much.
In the middle of the swirling whirlpool that is Maretimor, next to the Commander, Rox seizes up, the magic flowing through her effectively shorting out her body, to use asuran terms. Her heartbeat stops, her brain stops functioning, and she stops breathing.
The Commander feels a sudden... absence, for lack of a better word, in the four living Blades. Her emotions had gotten so twined up in the Blades she had ceased to be conscious as the Commander.
But Rox's death brings her back to herself. The sudden doubling of magic had surprised her, too, especially when the Blades had turned it around at Maretimor again, but Rox...?
The magical storm ends, and all that remains is a lone bubble of air surrounding the Commander and Caladbolg, and the fiery glow of Sohothin in the murky water merely a pace or two away. Silence, deathly silence.
Caladbolg responds to her subconscious wish, and the bubble expands to show Rox's body, still twitching from the afteraffects of the magical overload.
"Rox?" the Commander says, and her voice echoes inside the air bubble. Conspiciously silent. Since its reforging, Caladbolg had been humming at the back of her mind, a hum that rises to a roar when used in the way she'd just used it. Also humming there, once Sohothin and Caladbolg became twins, had been Sohothin, the two Blades calming her. She knows Rox had experienced the same thing, as she had felt Rox there, too, much fainter, but there, especially near the end. She hadn't really noticed the Blades or Rox - they were just there - but now she feels a conspicious absence.
But now, Rox is gone. The Commander had gotten used to Rox being with the other two in the back of her mind, providing subconscious support, and she had grown used to knowing that she had a presence in Rox's mind as well, as did Caladbolg and Sohothin. The four Blades really had been one.
And now Rox is gone. It is an empty silence. "Rox? Rox, tell me you're in there!" the Commander cries desperately. "Rox! Rox!"
The only answer is Sohothin's mournful wail in the back of her mind. The Commander falls to her knees before Rox's body in shock.
Caladbolg hums at her. The Commander looks around. There is nobody. Not even those guardian shields that had contained the Pact soldiers.
Just outside the bubble, she sees the bodies of the Pact soldiers floating by.
"The magical battle must have ripped the shields apart," the Commander realizes out loud. "The whole Pact... gone like that. So quickly."
No answer but for Caladbolg and Sohothin's mournful humming.
"There weren't very many Pact left at Fort Trinity. They all came on the ships, and most of them died when the intial bubble collapsed. Now... the whole Pact... just gone."
Silence.
The Commander remains at the bottom of the sea, mourning her companions, for several hours. She had taken her grief at other friends dying and put it into destroying the Elder Dragons, her main goal in life, especially once Trahearne died, seven years ago, and now? Now she has nothing to redirect the intense emotion into, and nothing to do. She feels like a sylvari whose Wyld Hunt has ended, and has nothing else to do. Ever. Trahearne had completed his Wyld Hunt, but still had his duties as the Marshal of the Pact, and a new goal - defeat the Elder Dragons.
But what goal more important than that? Keeping the peace, most likely; stopping wars and the like, but with the Pact gone, and no real reason to start it again, with the Elder Dragons gone... well.
So, with no purpose to redirect grief into, the Commander mourns her friends at the site of the last Elder Dragon's destruction.
Eventually, after maybe a day, but with no way of knowing, in the depths, the Commander picks up Sohothin. Rytlock is dead. This is Rytlock's blade, or had been for most of the time she had known of the blade. But moreso it is Rox's blade. Rox's, and Rox's alone. Rox has nobody to pass the sword to, like Logan had passed Dylan's sword to Queen Jennah. Rox doesn't have somebody like that.
But the Commander. The Commander would have entrusted Caladbolg to Rox if she had been the one to die; and she just knows Rox would want her to have Sohothin.
But what would she use the blade for?
"I can exterminate all the minions." she says aloud. "They're still a threat. Right? I'll end the menace of the Risen, Branded, Mordrem, Destroyers, Icebrood, and Water Bubbles."
She slings Sohothin on her back, crosswise to Caladbolg - Trahearne's weapon. She'd always identified it as Trahearne's weapon, but recently it had become hers. 'No. It's Trahearne's weapon. His legacy. Like Snaff's blue thing. Eir's bow. Belinda's sword. Dylan's sword. Always referred to by the original owner. Caladbolg is Trahearne's.'
Caladbolg seems to huff at her mentally.
'It's the last of him I have left! Even the Pact is gone, now, and everyone I ever knew who also knew him. Caladbolg is all I have left of him.'
But, nonetheless, she feels as if Caladbolg is her Blade. The same as Sohothin is no longer Rytlock's blade, but Rox's.
Eir's bow, still on Rox's back - not used much since Rox took up Sohothin. Eir's bow. From Eir to Braham to Rox, and Rox died.
The Commander knows she would have entrusted Snaff's blue thing to Rox if it had been the other way around. The bow should be Braham's. But Braham is dead, as well, and Eir had no other relations. The Commander certainly won't entrust the bow to a random norn in Hoelbrak who might claim relation.
But it is quite impossible to wield just two greatswords at once, never mind adding a longbow to the list.
'We'll figure it out,' the Commander thinks, unconsciously referring to herself and the Blades as 'we'.
She brings Rox's body back to Fort Trinity, and informs the lead Pact officer there what happened - the dragon is dead, the Pact is gone - before heading to the headquarters of Fate's Blade.
Where the others are buried, or at least have memorials standing for those whose bodies were consumed.
The three Blades bury Rox, taking solace in each other for comfort.
'I'll never be alone, so long as I have Caladbolg and Sohothin with me,' the Commander realizes. 'Never alone.'
She would have buried Rox with Sohothin - Sohothin is Rox's sword, and it seems like a charr thing to do - except Sohothin. Sohothin doesn't deserve to be buried out of sight for ever - Sohothin is not dead.
Even Snaff had been buried here. Zojja had cremated him after his death, and buried his remains beneath the floor of his workshop, but she had moved him here when Fate's Blade had been founded, and Eir and Trahearne had been brought here as well.
"The legacy of Glint to Destiny's Edge to Fate's Blade," the Commander says softly. "And it will end with me."
Quite soon, she realizes that she should tell Queen Jennah that her task as Logan's champion has been completed. Really, Queen Jennah is the only person left at all. The sort of person who would have been honorary Destiny's Edge member if Rytlock hadn't been so antsy about it back around the time of Snaff and Glint.
She travels to Divinity's Reach, but really does not feel like being approached and congratulated by every last citzen of Kryta, so she covers Sohothin and Caladbolg and wears a hood.
Countess Anise seems to recognize her instantly, though, and nods toward a side room, before figuring some excuse for the Queen to leave her throne room for a short while.
"Commander," Queen Jennah says. "Where is your friend, Rox?"
"Dead," the Commander replies quietly. "Dead, and a part of us with her. But Maretimor is no more. We will find another purpose."
"Us? We?" Countess Anise queries.
"Caladbolg and Sohothin. Living weapons, and sentient."
The Queen nods. "I understand. But the Countess and I have discovered some... troubling rumors about you. And I fear they are true. What happened to the Pact?"
"Gone. All gone, save for those who remained at Fort Trinity. Maretimor sank the ships." the Commander did not feel like explaining more. It was unbelievable even to her, at times. "What do you mean, rumors about me?"
"Are there any capable Whispers Agents at Fort Trinity?" Countess Anise asks. "We should get someone to investigate. If the rumors are true, then you need to disappear from public knowledge."
"Why?" the Commander asks. "No, don't bother answering. My mind has been filled with confusing things recently, and I need time to think over them all, not new things. I'll see if I can find a capable Agent."
"Be careful," the Queen urges.
The Commander nods. "I will. If I find an Agent, they will come with the code. 'A sword flames and a sword lives.'"
With that cryptic comment, the Commander leaves the room.
She goes first to Lion's Arch using a hole-in-your-pocket to the Pact outpost, and speaks to the Priory Magister there. She learns that there aren't any Whispers Agents in the city yet, so soon after its rebuilding and the attack on Maretimor, but she does have the same cryptic warning that Countess Anise and Queen Jennah gave.
The Commander goes to Claw Island to take a ship to Fort Trinity, but, when there, a charr that she recognizes as Evon Gnashblade, the head and founder of the Black Lion Trading Company, approaches her.
"The Captain's Council has voted you guilty," he says without preamble.
"Guilty of what?" the Commander sighs.
"Killing Primordus."
The Commander would have burst out laughing - she needs an excuse to laugh, and it really is absolutely ridiculous! - at the ridiculous statement, if Caladbolg and Sohothin hadn't thought there was some point, that it means something.
"And since when is killing an Elder Dragon a crime?" the Commander asks.
"Since it woke up an even bigger Elder Dragon that destroyed Lion's Arch - again. It's not a crime, per se, but you still have to pay for the entire rebuilding of Lion's Arch."
"And if I don't want to or don't have that kind of money?" the Commander speculates, amused at watching Gnashblade squirm under her questions. He obviously hadn't expected her to be this... ignorant.
"Then the people of Lion's Arch will have your head," Gnashblade responds promptly.
The Commander waits for the punchline, but none comes. "Is that a joke?"
"I don't joke, particularly about things of this big a magnitude."
"Should've known," the Commander sighs. "So, if I didn't loot enough gold off the six Elder Dragons I've killed - because, you know, killing the dragon that destroyed Lion's Arch obviously isn't payment enough - I say, if I didn't loot enough gold from the Elder Dragons, I die?" Sohothin is humming at her in delight for the way she employs the use of sarcasm and subtle probing and guilt tripping.
"Hey, this isn't my opinion. I'm just the messenger."
The Commander huffs. "Well, I am certainly not paying for the rebuilding of Lion's Arch, Gnashblade, so, if you'll excuse me that I don't believe your flat joke, I'm heading to Fort Trinity. Find some Whispers Agents, you know, to figure out what's going on here. Maybe you'll catch me on my way back if you're really serious about it.
"Lionguard," Gnashblade says. "This civilian is resisting arrest."
"Civilian?" the Commander replies, highly amused.
"If you aren't Lionguard or Captain's Council, you're a civilian. In Lion's Arch, anyway."
"You're telling us to arrest the Commander of the Pact?" one of the Lionguard nearby asks skeptially. "Sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
"What does Captain Magnus the Bloody-Handed have to say about this?" the Commander queries.
"Ah, and now we get to the crux of the issue," Gnashblade nods. "He was killed when the city was overwhelmed because of your dragon-slaying. As was Captain Ellen Kiel. And that is why half the city wants your head. And they want it whether you pay up or not. I don't particularly care about that part - but so far, the money for rebuilding has come straight out of my pocket."
The Commander nods. "Yes. I believe I understand now. No, really, I do. I'd want the same thing, if I was one of them and one of them was me. And I would want the same thing if I were you and you were me. But still, I'm afraid I have to decline. I do not particularly want to give up my head. And if I did, I can assure you that the Blades of Fate would have something to say about it. They would be so enraged - I mean, the other fourth of our quartet has been slain by Maretimor. Fate's Blades have so much power now, I wouldn't be surprised if they mutated into being capable of wielding themselves if you killed me. Now, that would be terrifying. But I'd rather spare them the chance; so good-bye. Catch me if you can!"
The Commander turns around and heads for the ship that had been waiting, while Gnashblade tries to figure out what she'd just said.
"Good luck, Commander," one of the Lionguard salutes. "The Captain's Council may have forgotten about you and Marshal Trahearne saving Lion's Arch from Blightghast the Plaguebringer all those years ago, but we have not."
"Thank you for your confidence, Lionguard. But don't profess your loyalty here - you might lose your jobs."
"Lionguard isn't a job, Commander. It's a duty to our people," another says as she casts off from the island. "A duty that is not terminated by supposedly not being a member of the Lionguard anymore."
"Keep up that attitude, and Tyria will never fall, even to corrupt government," the Commander salutes as the ship sails away. "I'm afraid I won't be able to fulfill such a duty anymore - not with the Captain's Council after my head. They're a rather influential governing body, if you didn't guess."
The Lionguard on the dock laugh and wave. "Hope to see you again someday, Commander!" one calls as the ships sails out of earshot.
'I'm guessing that Queen Jennah's 'worrisome rumors' turned out to be true,' the Commander thinks. 'I'll head to Fort Trinity and inform them of my status as outlaw from Lion's Arch and send a messenger to Queen Jennah, and then I think I'll... hmm. I should really find a way to carry on the legend of Fate's Blade. That means Hoelbrak, at least for a little while.'
As the Commander of the Pact sails away from Lion's Arch in 1335, ten years after the title had been given to her by a close friend, she also leaves behind a Tyria that will know peace. She never really cared about fame; not particularly. But she understands the way norn feel about their legends - and she is determined to carry on her friends' legends, if not hers.
Queen Jennah opens a letter addressed to Queen Jennah of Kryta - A sword flames, and a sword lives, and the triad will not fade from legend.'
The Commander's saluting line - at least to those she knows well - greets the Queen's eyes, and she smiles.
Spokesman of the Blades of Fate:
Jennah, I am sorry it has been so long since I have last written. A lot has been happening in the last year or two. And yes, that is a long time to wait to write; but I have heard of troubles in Kryta, and you probably were too busy to miss me much. But those things can wait; I will catch you up on the more mundane things first.
I read your last letter aloud to Logan - no, don't laugh, I know you think I am going crazy, still reading letters to a grave after four years, but I am quite certain he is watching over me and you, from the Mists. Unless he is still too busy berating Rytlock about dying for nothing. You know Logan.
Caladbolg thinks I'm crazy too, but I don't think he means it. That might be slightly confusing, so let me explain. If you recall, I went to Hoelbrak in 1335 - four years ago - to spread the legend of Fate's Blade, and rather soon, I found myself besieged by Sons of Svanir. In mockery of them, I and some protesting norn formed the Daughters of Jora, as you know, and proved that their Spirit of Dragon is dead. Of course, we were wrong; Glint's egg still hasn't hatched, and the Spirit is still alive. So the Daughters of Jora got some real combat experience, from the powerful constuct the Sons summoned, but Caladbolg and Sohothin still needed to pool their powers to defeat the thing. We went all-out in that one, too - we forgot our surroundings just like when we defeated Maretimor. Caladbolg and Sohothin are now as sentient as you or I, not that they weren't before, but they seem to have more personality now.
The Daughters of Jora decided that, even though the Sons of Svanir are quite gone, the Daughters will continue to exist; they don't want another organization taking it into their heads that women are weaklings. I know you agree with me. But the problem with the Daughters continuing to exist is that they want me to continue to lead them; and while normally I would seize this opportunity to do something, I feel like I would prefer a quiet life, divided between Stonewright's Steading and Glint's sanctuary. I instructed them on how to support themselves from within, but have not had sufficient time to check up on them recently.
Speaking of Stonewright's Steading, I have decided to take up the discipline of carving statues; I have been told by numerous people that I'll never sculpt as well as Eir did, and while I may have once thought that I would never be as great as Eir in that area, instead I decided to see it as a challenge. It takes my mind off other things, and allows me to honor Eir.
I'm still not too profiecient at it, but both Caladbolg and Sohothin are helping me; they will combine their power and help me do it, as the Spirits of the Wild once helped Eir.
So, like I said; Caladbolg thinks I'm going crazy. Sohothin is reserving judgement; he remembers Rytlock fighting as many Ascalonian ghosts as dragon minions, and who knows, maybe Logan's hanging around as a ghost somewhere. I doubt it, though. Only victims of the Foefire ever became ghosts; them and the Seraph at Fort Salma.
Speaking of the Seraph at Fort Salma, I recovered Belinda Delaqua's sword from a nest of Branded I raided in the last few months. Did I ever tell you that Belinda fused her ghost with the sword? It doesn't sing to me the way Sohothin and Caladbolg do, or indeed have any connection with me at all, but I do know that Belinda is in there. She can go to the Mists whenever she likes; but I think she enjoys being trapped inside a sword. Perhaps it's because she shares Marjory's Priory nature and is interested in the Blades' sentience. These things I know because Sohothin told me - apparently there's such a thing as sword-language. I am not going to attempt to decipher it, but I am curious.
I wish you well, Jennah, and hope you don't mind my long silence. I'm quite sure Logan sends his regards, as well. I would visit in person, but I've never been able to figure out a replica of Snaff's portable asura gate invention, and I don't know how to tune it to another gate.
However, if you send word in advance and come to Hoelbrak, I can meet you there and bring to Glint's sanctuary. There has been a movement among the norn that echoes Lion's Arch; Magnus the Bloody-Handed was a norn, and had quite a legend. The problem is, I am quite sure that if I offended the norn that way, I may have offended Kryta, as well; at least the general public - because Ellen Kiel was human. And the same goes for Ascalon; I'm sure Evon Gnashblade is angry at me, and you know how that sort of thing goes. Gnashblade is the head of the Black Lion Trading Company. That leaves asura and sylvari; and I am not sure I could offend the sylvari, what with having been close friends with three very influential sylvari. I have also opened communications with the Pale Tree, beyond informing her of Caithe and Canach's deaths in 1333, which I deeply regretted not being able to inform her in person of.
The asura think I am nuts for keeping the last of Snaff's legacy from them - I think they're just restless. They haven't had a proper genius among them since Taimi died. And that's another thing I wish I could do - reform the Snaff Savant tournament and look out for promising young inventors. There's so much I am limited in by being outlawed from Lion's Arch. And also, I am glad. I really want to settle down with Caladbolg and Sohothin in Glint's sanctuary and just remember the past. The present is just so much more alone than it used to be, and the future is not looking any brighter.
And this is how my letters tend to run on; I begin to say goodbye, make a parting comment, and then become interested in that comment and expound on it and explain details. I shall try to desist, however, and bid you farewell.
The Spokesman of the Blades of Fate has spoken; a sword flames, and a sword lives, and the triad will not fade from legend.
"She does well at keeping tabs on the world," Countess Anise observes. "How she knew about the White Mantle causing trouble in Kryta I'll never know. I think you should take her up on her offer."
"Go to Hoelbrak?" the Queen asks, slightly surprised. "And draw the attention of the world there? Why on earth would the Queen of Kryta go to Hoelbrak?"
"Ah, but the Queen of Kryta would not go to Hoelbrak. Do you forget our shared area of experise? I'm beginning to think you really should get out of Divinity's Reach more. And the same expertise could be used to bring her through Lion's Arch unnoticed."
"And she wanted to stay alone, too," the queen sighs. "I think she is growing old too fast; quiet and reflective and taking on mostly an advisory role, as elders are wont to do. But bright young women of her age normally don't see the amount of death and suffering as she has; having someone as bound to you as she was to Rox, only to have them ripped away through the use of that said bond, would only amplify her suffering."
Spokesman of the Blades of Fate:
One of the Daughters found a lost child of no more than two years out in the wild, cold and all scratched up from brambles and even a bite from some wild animals. I think the Spirits must have her protected. Yes, I know, I am beginning to sound like a norn.
But this child. I think I could raise her to the legend of Fate's Blade, and perhaps lead the Daughters in my place. They really need a proper leader, and I don't feel cut out for that.
I don't know how I will go about raising a child, but I can try. The legend of Fate's Blade shall live on; and perhaps the Blades of Fate will even bond with little Laura. I am old, Jennah, if not in actuality, then in emotion and mind, I am old. I am tired, and ready to join my friends in the Mists. The Blades might even join me, but they are the Blades of Fate for a reason, and I don't want them leaving Tyria to its own devices. I have been limiting them as it is, to this side of the Shiverpeaks, and I think they deserve more. Laura will be a steadfast Spokesman for them, and capable of traveling the world without an outlaw's decree hanging over her head.
Speaking of that, in the last three years the norn have only gotten more antsy about me; already one team of norn has tried to capture me and bring me to Lion's Arch. Knut Whitebear and the Wolfborn put them down hard, of course, when the Daughters informed them, but most of the crowd was against the ruling, I could tell.
As a result, I have begun spending more and more time in Glint's sanctuary, raising little Laura. The Blades are excited about her, and already are trying to communcate with her. I think they're lonely.
The Pale Tree has been keeping me quite up-to-date with the happenings of Tyria on that side of the Shiverpeaks; being the keeper of the Dream, she has many memories of such events to keep me promptly updated. I hear your White Mantle problem disappeared as soon as the last of the mursaat, Lazarus the Dire, came anywhere near to one of the gray powerstones scattered all along the Tarnished Coast. Apparently the magic of the mursaat conflicted to heavily with powerstone, and set off a chain reaction through all gray powerstones, exploding but sending their power into the mursaat and overloading him. Can't think of a better riddance.
I traveled to Tarir recently to find out why the egg is not hatching - when I borught the egg there I was supplied with a portal to take me there any time - and the Exalted told me the egg had withdrawn its choice. It did that only two months ago, but the Exalted made a ceremony out of it, declaring the exact date and everything - 20 Phoenix, 1343. They begged me not to be offended - they do that a lot, as I recall - but I am certain the egg is waiting for Laura to claim it. Then she truly will be a legend.
The Spokesman of the Blades of Fate has spoken; a sword flames, and a sword lives, and the triad will not fade from legend.
"She is just like every mother I have ever seen," Countess Anise observes. "The whole letter, she hardly went a whole paragraph without mentioning her Laura."
The Queen nods. "She has a good source of information in the Pale Tree and the Dream. She seems more lively, too."
Spokesman of the Blades of Fate:
Laura is now a healthy girl of six, and already chattering away to Caladbolg and Sohothin, who were getting lonely. She is almost as tall as me, already - she is norn, you know - and I am just glad the Blades hold her in check, or I would never be able to train her properly. She is an expert at wielding the Blades, as well, and I think they purposely make themselves lighter for her. They can do that, and it feels terribly odd when I am the one wielding them.
But Laura is already learning how to move with the Blades. I think she'll be the best swordswoman in all of Tyria, having been raised from a young age to such intellgient blades. She'll be better than I, and all of us know it. Except her. Can't have her getting all big-headed and asura-like, you know. Sohothin thought that comparison was absolutely hilarious - he was thinking of Zojja, especially back before Snaff died. Caladbolg did the sword equivalent of rolling his eyes.
But Laura will be a true legend; one that won't soon be forgotten. And as her legend remains in the history of Tyria, she will pull the legend of Fate's Blade after her, less known but not forgotten. It is a fitting tribute to my friends.
Having Caladbolg and Sohothin bonding with her at such a young age means their bond will go further than ours ever did. I have high hopes for my Laura.
Jennah, you do not know how wonderful it is to raise a child. I only wish she had siblings; but then, the Blades have been acting like children over her. And Sohothin just told me indignantly, 'I'll have you know I'm older than the years!' and it's true. I didn't know it before, but Sohothin used to be Balthazar's sword, if you can believe it. But he's still acting like a preteen. Probably because of Caladbolg's influence. Oh, this is so hilarious. Now they're fighting over which one of them is actually older. I did say that about Caladbolg on purpose to do that, you know. And now they're death-glaring me. Or would be if they weren't swords. Oh, you have no idea how hilarious they are, for having such a fancy title as 'Blades of Fate' or 'Fate's Blades'. I should really stop transcribing their conversation and my opinions, or this letter will last forever.
The Spokesman of the Blades of Fate has spoken; a sword flames, and a sword lives, and the triad will not fade from legend.
"I wish I could meet these Blades sometime," Queen Jennah says, amused.
"They have a playful attitude, but, from what she says, are quite wise and knowledgable, not to mention powerful." Anise agrees. "And she herself seems more hopeful and energetic. Perhaps she will travel Tyria once more with the girl."
"That would indeed be a reason for happiness," Jennah replies.
"Such a legend roaming Tyria would mean all of us sleep safer," Anise agrees. "She has become a legend in the eyes of the people; for near fifteen years she has not shown her face anywhere but Hoelbrak, and only once or twice the Black Citadel. And yet she slew the Elder Dragons with only the help of a hero who perished."
"Tyria does not know the role the Blades of Fate played," Anise sighs. "They are aware of the Blades, of course, but their level of power that was relied on for their defeat..."
Caretaker of the Blades of Fate:
You may have noted my change of title from Spokesman to Caretaker. This is because I am no longer the Spokesman - Laura is. Let me tell you of her.
Laura is now a strong, healthy girl of eleven. I took her to Tarir a week ago to see if Glint's egg reponds to her touch, and it lit up the skies more than it did when it chose me - and it annihilated the last remnants of the Mordrem that vengeful sylvari didn't already get. I am confident she will become a true legend.
And the Blades' bond! They are sharing memories, something I never got so far as. And she did that without even starting the magical storm that happened when we killed Maretimor. She truly is a promising child, not to mention taller than me. They have started calling me 'child' and 'young' - even Laura! It is more amusing, for all of us, than insulting, and I generally reply with 'yes, I am young - I'm a year younger than Caladbolg, and he's fifty-two.' Which sends us all into giggles, because Sohothin likes saying how he's more like eleven thousand and fifty-two, having been Balthazar's weapon since he stepped into Tyria, around seven hundred BE. It's funny, you know. I think Sohothin is turning into a pre-Snaff's-death Rytlock. At least, that's Laura's opinion, and she knows more about that time than I do.
I'm not raising Laura any more so much as... well, nothing. I'm bored, now. I never even had to school her, because having your mind bound up with a sword that is near thirty years older than you imparts subconscious knowledge. It just does.
And Laura is as good with the Blades as I am, now, so I don't even have a protector role anymore. I don't even hear them humming in my mind the way they used to - not all the time. Caladbolg is my mind more than Sohothin, and Caladbolg is whom I wield. When there's anything to wield him against. Glint's lair is pretty secure.
I'm adrift without purpose, and I spend most of my time talking to the graves of my old friends, especially Trahearne and Rox, closely followed by Logan. They were the closest to me, before the Blades, and I'm just waiting for Grenth to come claim me.
But I also don't want to leave Laura. Death changed me, Jennah, changed me, my outlook on the world, and many things. I don't want Laura to go through that until she has to. And the Blades... Caladbolg and Sohothin, I think, might want to come with me if I go to the Mists too soon. I can't let them abandon their legend. If they come, Laura will need me, then. And it will all have been for nothing; a paradox, if you will.
So I will wait. I should send her out into the world, with the Blades to guide her, but I am terrified some harm will befall her. She is only eleven, and the Blades... well. I know the Blades can do almost anything as long they have a hand to hold them up, and Sohothin is older than the Exodus, but...
Her legend is hers, and Laura is an exceptional girl. I will not hold her back merely because I have unrational fear; but perhaps it is also residue from watching each and every one of my friends die before me. I told myself I would get attached to none but the Blades; but that changed nine years ago, when Laura was found.
Our journey to Tarir showed her a bit of the world, however, and the Forgotten tested her as they did me. I was petrified when Caladbolg was barred from entering, and both barred even from her mind - leaving Sohothin in her hand as simply a sword with battle instincs, for all the use he was - but she prevailed, even alone. She will be fine. I tell myself that, Jennah, over and over, and I can only just convince myself of it. She was fine without the Blades; she will be invincible with them.
And it is my duty. I cannot keep her ignorant of the world, and I cannot accompany her into it. She must go with the Blades and not I; her Fate demands it. I will quote Snaff on this one, a quote that Sohothin remembers well; he took it to heart. Ironic that it will never apply to him.
"She will outlive me, as she should. She will face horrors that I will not. And in those moments, I hope she remembers my strength, not my weakness."
These words have a new meaning for me when I can apply them to my own situation; I never knew Snaff, but through Sohothin and my other friends, but his words are deeply profound.
I will continue speaking to my friends' graves. I know them well enough I know their responses; I don't need Caladbolg to tell me that Trahearne would respond to a certain thing in one way. He was bonded to Trahearne for several years, you know. But I knew him during the same time, different only by a few days.
The Spokesman of the Blades of Fate has moved on; a new Spokesman rises, the Blades shall be known again, and the triad will be made a legend.
"She has grown wiser," Queen Jennah comments.
"That she has," Countess Anise agrees. "That quote from Snaff fit right in amongst the rest of her words."
"That it did." Jennah nods. "I sympathize with her, alone even with the Blades. I fear she will waste away talking to dead legends. She can still wield one of the Blades; she and Laura together could withstand any attack on them, particularly with the Blades' power. The respect I once had for the city of Lion's Arch vanished like the Six from Tyria when they exiled her."
"And yet, we could do nothing," Anise sighs. "I have no doubt Lion's Arch would bend, not after declaring their position with so much finality, and starting a war would only shatter the peace that she worked to hard to effect, and then we had just won the centaur war, and were in no place to start another."
"War is not something I would consider," Jennah shakes her head. "Not after so much of it already; the Elder Dragons, the centaurs, not to mention the charr so long ago. And war on Lion's Arch would isolate Kryta from other lands; see what it did to the Commander."
Anise smiles. "What she would say if she heard you still called her Commander after almost twenty years, I would like to find out."
"Calling someone a title to their face is much more habit-binding than learning of and using one in a letter," Jennah replies. "I am not sure anyone but the four living in Glint's lair - and perhaps the Daughters of Jora - call her the Spokesman anymore. Caretaker, rather."
Wielder of Caladbolg, a Blade of Fate:
Laura has been venturing further and further abroad the last five years. It is now thirteen fifty-seven, and I have a purpose again.
"But it's thirteen fifty-eight," Queen Jennah wonders.
"Perhaps this letter was written over a span of time - this is what she was saying then," Anise suggests.
Laura learned of the emergence of Scarlet's Alliances as one unit; mockingly calling themselves the Pact. She took up Sohothin, and I Caladbolg and the legacies of Fate's Blade, to find and destroy Scarlet's Alliances.
That sounds like a grand plan; but you know this mockery of the Pact is based in the Tarnished Coast, in and around Rata Sum; the asuran Council had been tolerating and accepting the Inquest for quite a while during the original Pact's campaign. I also heard from the Pale Tree quite some time ago that the rest of Rata Sum was echoing the Council's tolerance, at the least; I fear it may have grown into acceptance and perhaps even nonchalance.
But Laura reported even worse; the Council, beyond asking the Inquest for advice and 'wisdom' have begun setting them up in respected positions of authority beyond the Council, and the colleges do not seem to mind much. With the Nightmare Court, Flame Legion, dredge, krait, Aetherblades, and others joining the Inquest, and one by one as I hear from the Pale Tree, I do not see the Rata Sum asura rejecting them.
This problem is biggest because of the distance to Rata Sum from Glint's sanctuary; Laura could take the asura gate to Lion's Arch and Rata Sum, but I cannot. Laura is a pure warrior - I think she gets it from Sohothin, the Blade she is most fond of, who got it from Rytlock, not to mention Balthazar, and neither of us have the slightest of 'sneaky magic' as Laura calls stealth and mesmerism.
I reasoned that Lion's Arch couldn't be that bad; so I went with Laura and was promptly mobbed by what seemed like all of Lion's Arch. Laura, it seems, has become known, and I heard many shrieking at her in high displeasure of why she would take up with a murderer like me. In light of this idea, and that it could potentially harm Laura and the Blades' legend, I thought of disclaiming the idea; we simply happened to be traveling through the same gate; but the bond of the Blades prevented my even thinking of voicing the thought.
They tried to arrest me; and Laura wanted to intervene, but the Blades forbade her; they have the same ideas as me regarding her legend, not to mention the fact that I can take care of myself. Which I did, to surprising effect; Lion's Arch just got the madder at me, but Caladbolg took care of me while Sohothin helped Laura get out of the spotlight.
"There seems to be a difference between this part and the next part," Jennah notes.
This happened a few weeks ago; in fact, I would be surprised if you didn't hear about it before this letter reaches you.
But I feared I was alone with Caladbolg and the graves of my friends; I could feel Laura and Sohothin's adventures and victories, but more, I could feel Caladbolg's longing to be with them, however much he tried to hide it. But normally he would do such a thing by latching onto Laura or Sohothin and quietly slipping out of my mind, and he could not do that this far away.
Laura and Sohothin returned for Caladbolg, and tried to convince me to take the trek through the Shiverpeaks the long way, avoiding Lion's Arch altogether, but I decided not to. My reception in Hoelbrak is a pale shadow of my greeting in Lion's Arch, but a pale shadow is still very vehement. I do not dare to try the Black Citadel, and while I know Divinity's Reach benefits under your rule, Jennah, and agrees with you, one must remember that roughly half of the population is aligned with Minister Caudecus Beetlestone, who has always opposed you in most ways, and the Pale Tree informed me of a rumor that he was in with the White Mantle. If he was, his ire at me would only have been supercharged at Lazarus the Dire's death. Rata Sum, as I have already mentioned, is very accomodating to Scarlet's Alliances, and I'm sure they all remember my takedown of Scarlet in thirteen twenty-seven.
I fear the only place that is welcoming of me at this point is the Grove, and that because of the nature (pun intended) of sylvari and the Dream keeps memory of the Elder Dragons prominent, not to mention my frequent correspondence with the Pale Tree.
But my point is that I doubt my accompanying Laura and the Blades would have done much good.
So they are out in the Tarnished Coast, hunting down Scarlet's Alliances and earning the half-hearted glares of the asura, but elsewhere they are earning much respect. Nobody recognizes Caladbolg and Sohothin - it has been twenty-five years, and they are barely remembered in the first place. Laura will build herself a legend, and in the doing, draw Sohothin and Caladbolg with her, building new legends for them.
She is only sixteen, nearly seventeen, but she does not need me anymore. I am simply an old and wise friend to her, now. The Blades have moved on from me; and I cannot find it in my heart to envy Laura; rather, I am proud of her and wish the Blades better treatment under her than under me, as I kept them out and away from Tyria.
I speak with Trahearne, Rox, and Logan all the time. I am speaking to one or another of my old friends all day.
The friendship I shared with Trahearne was special, and unlike the others; forged of a common goal, a united alliance, and determination, and deepened and sustained through constant companionship. It was special, and unlike what I had with anyone else; I was closer to him, in many ways, than the others.
Logan, it is true, was my first friend; but it was more a steady partnership, reforging his deeper friendships and helping him complete his former goals, than the powerful friendship I shared with Trahearne.
The bond I shared with Rox for a year or two was magical and awesome and bonding, it is true, but also it was not much of a friendship so much as... I don't know. We never really 'got to know' each other; I mean, we did, through the bond, but it was never 'oh, let's have a careless conversation' and more 'what's the battle plan? How will we defeat this dragon?' and it just seemed... hollow, without a previous deep friendship. Not that we weren't friends before, but I didn't know her so well - there was always Logan, Rytlock, Caithe, and Canach until Rox took up Sohothin and Sohothin and Caladbolg started sparking off each other.
If the same thing had happend with Trahearne... I suppose, with Sohothin in my hand and Caladbolg in his, well, it would have been so much deeper and more meaningful. I don't know how to describe it - but I know I would have died of grief on the spot had Trahearne been in Rox's place and died after all that. I think Rox understands; it was the same for her, with Braham being her Trahearne in that example.
But Trahearne was always my trusting friend, my closest confidant, and... well, I just knew him so much better.
To change the topic, though. You wouldn't have thought distance to make a difference in the bond, but apparently it does. I can hardly sense them at all out here, and they lose conscious thought for power to destroy the constructs that Scarlet's Alliance builds often enough that I am growing more and more disconnected; and I feel I prefer the solitude.
I am a loner by nature, Jennah, but for a few close friends. I feel an empty place in my heart and mind when Caladbolg and Sohothin are not there, but it is not the hollow pang of grief I feel when thinking about Trahearne's death and subsequent... absence. Not there for the felling of the other Elder Dragons, the happening of which replaced his Wyld Hunt when that was completed.
I am slowing down, I think. Quieter, more reflective. My days are slow - not boring, but never full, and never excited and energetic. And I prefer it that way. I feel tired; the way you do after a long, hard day. I am ready to join my friends, but also... not yet. I am not ready for whatever adventure awaits in the Mists; I like my peace and quiet. I do not think Laura and the Blades will return; they will be kept busy with Scarlet's Alliances for many years yet, and then the more diplomatic duty of ensuring the like never happens again in Rata Sum will begin, aided in that more by Caladbolg than Sohothin.
So I am alone, and I find peace in solitude. I feel lethargic, and I prefer sitting at my friends' graves than writing. I may not write again, Jennah - and you too, Anise, I know you are listening to every letter - so consider this my farewell to you before passing from this life into the next. I would have liked to introduce you to Laura in person, but the Blades were with me when I saw you last after defeating Maretimor, and can make the introduction easily enough.
Goodbye, both of you. I see a quiet year or so ahead of me; alone, isolated, but among friends. And I will truly join them, and soon. Very soon. I can almost feel them calling me.
The Spokesman of the Blades of Fate has moved on; a new Spokesman has risen, the Blades are known, their legend forged; a sword lives, a sword flames, and the legend of the Blades of Fate and their Spokesman shall live forever.
To the casual observer, the aged human woman seems typical of old folk; quiet, slow-moving, and sad. But if the observer recalls the location - Glint's famed sanctum, where Destiny's Edge faced Kralkatorrik nigh on forty years ago - and the almost dangerously efficient and graceful movements of the woman, betraying the fact that she is learned in the art of battle and swordsmanship, he might put together the clues, aided by the very age of the woman, and realize that she could be the Commander of a Pact long forgotten, the memory of whom is tainted by Scarlet's Alliances and Lion's Arch's quite open scorn of the person.
Once in a long while, she will glance around as if missing something.
That something would be more quickly recognized than she; the flaming, sentient Blade of Fate, Caladbolg, the only thing quickening its recognition (if that were possible) being the presence of its twin, Sohothin, and their wielder, the norn woman known as Laura of the Blades.
But they are not there; only the former Commander of the Pact. And she does not miss Caladbolg very much anymore. Not really.
The Commander sits in the center of a cluster of gravestones carved in the likenesses of fourteen people, speaking softly aloud, seeming mainly to address the life-size statue of a sylvari that many other sylvari would recognize as one of the Firstborn, Trahearne by name.
But one statue she hardly ever addresses at all; the one in the likeness of a wavy-haired norn female wielding two greatswords - the Blades of Fate - that have echoes among the other statues. That one is not a gravestone, but a monument, a reminder of the legend the Commander had given to Tyria.
Several items are carved more often than should have been among a company of fourteen; fifteen including the Commander, her statue off to the side; indeed, those items seem as if they should be unique. The Blades of Fate are wielded by Laura of the Blades, Caladbolg by Trahearne, and Sohothin by the two charr.
The device painstakingly constructed out of heavy stone seems to depict a floating powerstone above the left arm of the three asura, the most famed Captain of the Seraph, and Laura of the Blades.
Two blades that were carved exquisitely but never repeated - the one wielded by Logan Thackeray, and the one used by Marjory Delaqua, of the Durmand Priory. Marjory Delaqua's sword - the real version - leans against her statue, and it seems to glow slightly, a misty white aura surrounding the blade of the weapon.
Another weapon repeated several times is the bow used by both norn; Laura of the Blades speaks of them often, among the rest of these statues; Eir Stegalkin and her son, Braham. The bow is also present in the hand of Rox, also wielding Sohothin. The real version of the bow leans against the statue of Eir; Laura of the Blades cannot wield both greatswords and a longbow at once.
The oddest of the lot is the shield that seems incomplete on the arm of a sylvari - also spoken of by Laura of the Blades, Canach - incomplete possibly because of the faultiness of memory by the carver, rather than because carved as broken. But Rytlock holds a similar shield, only it seems as if it was added as an afterthought - perhaps only wielded temporarily. There is a separate block of stone with the shield carved into it without a wielder, with a short inscription detailing how it was destroyed.
Two of the statues are unique by the fact of wielding no special weapons; no exquisite craftmanship on the daggers the Firstborn Caithe has in her hands, and nothing special about the staff held by the human standing near Marjory, Lady Kasmeer Meade.
Over a few days, the Commander gets quieter, and just looks around at the statues, her eyes pausing over each one, stopping with a queer expression on the blade with the misty aura leaning against Marjory Delaqua's statue, and a sad sigh at the bow on Eir's. Her gaze lingers last and almost longest - beaten only by Firstborn Trahearne - on Laura of the Blades, who seems to have carved replicas of most of the weapons carved in stone, lacking only the ones whose originals are among the statues, Logan Thackeray's blade, and the Shield of the Moon.
Laura of the Blades seems to be the end of a funnel of weapons of legacy; the painstaking care of the asuran device - slightly modified from the asuran version, to be compatible for human use - the conspicious lack of flame on the Blades of Legend (how do you carve a flame and leave the original carving recognizable?) and the seeming sorrow of the Commander at the fact that most of the special items are not on her person; neither the two unique swords, the odd shield, or the bow.
The Commander drifts among the company of statues, speaking a word or two to each of them, murmured as if in a dream, but not unintelligible; just inaudible. She pauses last - always last, just as the others seem to come in a particular order, most of the time - at the statue of Laura of the Blades, and says only a sentence or so to her, before turning to the plainest statue of the lot, off to the side - a replica of the Commander, wearing only her brown leather outfit of the adventurer tinged with a splash of green here and there, a face lined with deep grief, but tired resignation, and holding Caladbolg loosely in one hand. It is less detailed than the others; it is a statue from the foggy past, of an event that had shaped the future of Tyria and that had changed the Commander deeply.
She turns to the other statues, raises a hand as if in salute - or perhaps farewell, before heaving a heavy sigh, glancing through the congregation of statues, and going to sit in the center of the group, at the base of the statue of her closest friend, Trahearne. The statue of herself, despite the statue's preoccupation in the events of the past, seems to be a watchful guardian over the group.
A day or so passes in this manner, with the Commander hardly moving from her place, and as the hours pass, she even ceases looking around at the statues, simply sighing in memory.
Around nightfall, roughly twelve hours after she first ceased to wander the forest of statues, the statue of Laura of the Blades gains the same misty-white aura as Marjory Delaqua's sword. This white glow remains for a single hour, before fading. After that, each of the special weapons carved in stone - but only one of each - lights up in the same way, one at a time, for an hour each.
First is the Caladbolg carved into Trahearne's statue; then the carved bow on Eir's back, followed by the odd device on the asura - but the mist seems indecisive on that one, whether to dwell in Snaff's version, Zojja's, or Taimi's. The indecision results in each getting about a third of the hour spent. Then the stone version of Marjory's sword, and the real sword, glowing the same misty white, glows brighter during that time, as if the two auras are communicating. It lights up Braham Eirsson for about five minutes, but Eir's bow in his hand is conspiciously dark, before returning to the statue of Taimi for the same length of time, leaving the asuran device alone, and then Caithe; the Shield of the Moon, held by Canach, is lit up for its full hour, then Rytlock and Sohothin, followed by Logan and his unique sword, and finally Rox, the glow extending partially into the Blade of Fate.
Then, the misty glow settles on Trahearne's statue for another hour, as if watching over the Commander still sitting against that statue.
Lastly, it fully lights up the statue of the Commander, as if watching over all the statues; Marjory's sword seems to be paying attention.
The Commander's statue remains in this watchful state until the sun peeks over the horizon, at which point both the statue and Marjory's weapon go dark.
Dawn comes to find the graveyard empty of life, for the first time in decades. Even the ghost-infused weapon of Marjory Delaqua is silent.
Later in the day, the deathly quiet is disturbed by the noise of a norn trying to be quiet.
Laura of the Blades, and the Blades of Fate themselves, find the Commander's body at the base of the statue of Trahearne, with a peaceful expression on her face.
Laura heaves a shuddering sigh, and, catching sight of the statue of the Commander, kneels to see the inscription at the bottom; 'The watcher of legends; the one who ensures they go on; lost and alone, she returns to their company, secure in the knowledge that their legend is carried on by her faithful daughter, Laura of the Blades.'
Laura draws Sohothin and Caladbolg, and holds them crossed in front of her, the Blades sharing flame. The three living Blades remain in this position for some time, before Laura nods to the statue, then gesturing at the others.
"They will not be forgotten," she promises. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, before drifting among the statues in the same order as the white glow - the temporary ghost of the Commander - had.
After one circuit, Laura crosses the Blades again. "They will not be forgotten. So says Laura of the Blades. The history of the Elder Dragons and the Pact will not fade to history. So says Laura of the Blades, Spokesman for Caladbolg, Fate's Blade. Lessons will be learned of all the history of Tyria, and threats like those of the Elder Dragons will not rise again. So says Laura of the Blades, Spokesman for Sohothin, Fate's Blade. Together the Blades of Fate will protect and guard Tyria, and find a successor, always none of my own kin, to train. So says the Spokesman of the Blades of Fate. May all Tyrians mourn the passing of the dragon-slaying elite, Fate's Blade. So speaks the soul of Tyria."
Laura of the Blades, Spokesman of the Blades of Fate, buries her mother in all but blood, known most commonly as the Commander of the Pact beneath her statue, and mourns her for a single week.
Then, the Blades return to Tyria.
Thirty years later, Laura of the Blades finds an asuran orphan whose parents died on birth, returns to Glint's sanctuary, and raises Nilgg to wield the Blades of Fate.
At sixteen and a half years, Nilgg returns to a Tyria that had lacked it's protector. Around the time Nilgg turns twenty, Laura of the Blades performs the same ghostly circuit as the Commander had.
Thirty years later, Nilgg finds a successor in the charr Enyale, raises him to the Blades, releases him on Tyria at sixteen and a half, and performs the Rite of the Ghost when Enyale is twenty.
Enyale finds a skritt worthy of the title of Spokesman. The difference is that skritt don't live long enough to only be released on the world at sixteen and a half; but the Blades, knowing their duty to an art, having been doing this for a century or more, have Notchackt ready to aid Tyria by ten. Enyale passes on when Notchackt is twenty.
Notchackt is suceeded by the sylvari Eveanyn, who trains and raises Tlinn, another asura.
The cycle continues, Caladbolg and Sohothin refining their art so that each new Spokesman is capable of aiding Tyria at earlier and earlier ages, somtimes even accompanied by their mentor.
Each Spokesman learns the art of carving, and adds their mentor's statue to the growing collection of statues in the graveyard.
Each Spokesman knows the original Fate's Blade group as well as if they had known them in reality; Caladbolg and Sohothin's memories, as well as the Commander of the Pact's, Rox's, and Laura of the Blades' memories suffice to give each new Spokesman an emotional attachment to the original Fate's Blade, as well as each of the Commander's successors.
Each new Spokesman's mental capacity is expanded by this intimate knowledge of Fate's Blade, and the Blades of Fate grow wiser and more powerful; but the bond between them and the Spokesman is enough to bridge any gap in age or personality.
Tyria has peace; and the traditional ten-year gap - shorter for short-lived races, of course - that generates enough danger for Tyria's helper to be appreciated, and for the non-biological line of Spokesmen to not get careless and lazy.
Author's Notes:
Yes, very, very long chapter, but I got obsessed. And this way it doesn't have to be a two-shot in a one-shot compilation.
And I am so sorreee! I haven't touched Book Three: United We Stand since Friday. (Did I touch it on Friday? At least on Thursday. Of last week.) I just decided to begin writing this, and this is what happened.
I like it. And no, I did NOT expect the fact that the name 'Fate's Blade' would turn into a legacy-heirloom story. It just... kind of happened. It sounded kind of cold at the beginning, but it got warmed up.
I liked the idea of communicating long time gaps through letter. I think I'll use it again sometime.
This is nothing like the idea that sparked it. /shakes-her-head-in-wonder
Thanksgiving week = hectic. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way! (just, you know, one day late!)
I wrote the last word of this on Sunday - except these last two paragraphs, of course - but my week has been so hectic that I didn't even get the chance to edit in all of the line breaks. (you know, the thing just below this line?)
(those things, yeah.) So I did that just now - Friday morning - because I can't do that in my Word document, and now I'm posting it, finallly.
And of course, I haven't written a single word of Tyria's Rea - oh wait. It's not Tyria's Real!? anymore... it's the Tassof Series, or, more specifically, Book Three: United We Stand, chapter eight. I really need to stop calling it TR, and call it TS at the very least, right? *sigh* Well, enjoy the next chapter... whenever it comes out... (hey, I do have more than half of chapter eight written from before I wrote this chapter!)