More level 30 quests! I really like the title of 'Valiant' for the knights-errant.

7: A Valiant's Quest

The news had shocked the Pale Tree and all the others. They all decried Waine for cowardice; none seemed to think anything of the fact that he was a Human child, not even full-grown yet. To be sure, they hadn't been in the vision; they had not seen the fear on the boy's face and heard his voice. But… he'd thought Caithe, who was widely traveled, to have some sympathy, at least. But then again, Riannoc was her brother. If it were one of his own close siblings, he might not be so interested in sympathy either.

Most of which he realized slowly later – at the moment, he found his mind turning towards theirs, to share their opinion that such an act had doomed Riannoc as surely as if he'd slain him with his own hand, and so was both incomprehensible and reprehensible. Which… was true, as well.

Which meant their next task was to find the Human, now a man twenty-five years older, and reclaim the sword that he still surely had. The Priory and the Order of Whispers had both uncovered that he was using it in pit-fights outside Lion's Arch. And then they asked Caoilfhionn to decide whether to steal it back, or to fight Waine for it.

It was no choice at all. If he was going to recover the sword for the Sylvari people, then he would do it openly, with his honour burning in his eyes.

And it was burning now, and sweat was also trickling down his face, and he was breathing hard after his first three fights with hardly a moment between. And now here down to the pit came a swaggering Human, twice Caoilfhionn's weight and a foot taller – strong, square, lightly bearded, with a familiar greatsword on his back. He met Caoilfhionn's gaze with an arrogant look. "I'm not afraid of you. But I am ready for you. I've been ready for years."

Either he could read his face, or he said that to all the Sylvari he fought. But this time, it was true. "We shall see."

Waine drew the sword, which did not glow as Caoilfhionn remembered it, and charged at him with a hoarse yell. Caoilfhionn blasted out an ice slick under Waine's feet and dodged nimbly to the side as the Human slipped on his backside and flew into the wall of the pit. He climbed to his feet, cursing, and used the broad blade of the sword to block the icy blade that Caoilfhionn sent shooting his way. Now he advanced more cautiously, flicking the sword so that waves of power shot out of it at the Sylvari, trying to close enough to attack him in melee.

Caoilfhionn was not going to give him that chance, though normally he thrived on being in the thick of battle. His sap was thrumming and he ducked around a wave to flick fire back in Waine's direction. Waine hissed as one of the streams of fire sizzled past his arm. "You cheating little-"

But he was closing quickly, faster than Caoilfhionn was going to be able to get away, and he switched back to Water, blasting a ring of ice around him to slow him down. Waine flinched, then faltered. He growled, baring his teeth fiercely, and charged again, ducking the icy comet Caoilffhionn tried to bring down on him.

He just had to stay one step ahead and keep nailing him with spells, switching to Air. He didn't need to kill Waine. If the dark past had been weighing on him for twenty-five years, he did not need further punishment after Caoilfhionn took the sword back. He could hear the spectators, most of them cheering for Waine; he didn't care. Let them cheer for the violent thug whose face was twisted to ugly anger. It wasn't important as long as he got the sword back.

Waine spun, casting another two bolts of energy at him, and Caoilfhionn blocked them with a gust of wind. But that had let Waine close on him again, and now he lifted Caladbolg to strike.

Caoilfhionn ducked, and slammed a lightning bolt directly into Waine's ribs. Caladbolg went flying across the arena to land in the dirt near the remains of the MRDRBOT; Waine went tumbling to the ground, clutching his ribs and coughing spasmically. Caoilfhionn hopped backwards – Waine was still twice his weight in muscle even without the sword – and pointed his dagger at the half-prone Human. "You're outmatched, Waine, but I'm not here for your life. I'm here for Caladbolg. Give me Riannoc's sword, and I'll let you go." Even though he'd grown to be an arrogant prick… at some point he'd only been a frightened boy who made a bad choice.

Waine snarled, climbing to his feet and wiping his nose roughly. "The sword is mine! Riannoc wasn't worthy of it. He was willing to give his life – for what!?"

Caoilfhionn hissed in anger, rage boiling through his veins. "Unworthy!?" He took back every charitable thought he'd ever had about Waine. He would kill him for this insult to Riannoc's memory – Riannoc, who had been infinitely more noble than Waine could ever be, Riannoc who should have lived rather than this sniveling self-important ill-mannered Human. "He gave his life for his people. And for you, Waine." His voice was taut as a bowstring. If Waine were at all capable of feeling shame… he should feel it now. "He stayed to give you a head start from Mazdak. The lich would have chased you down to get Caladbolg. That's why Riannoc died."

Waine's eyes widened, then narrowed. "No. You can't know. You weren't there! I'll kill you. Then I'll put all you smug Sylvari behind me for good! I earned this sword! I suffered for it! You can't take it away from me!" He lunged for Caladbolg – which, Caoilfhionn realized too late, was on Waine's side of the ring – and came at him, swinging blasts of energy in his direction with a vengeance.

The commentator was shouting to the crowd, but Caoilfhionn was not listening, the sap in his veins roaring in his ears. "Who suffered more, you who ran or the man who fought to the end!?"

Waine screamed at him. "Shut up, shut up! Riannoc was weak. He was weak! It wasn't my fault, it was his!"

"Dishonourable lout!" he heard Branthyn call.

"How dare you-!" He was beyond furious, all weariness burned from him, calling every element to him, blasting the bigger man – fire, water, air, earth, and again. Caladbolg was said to enhance its wielder's natural abilities, and unfortunately Waine was a very hardy fellow, resistant to magic of all kinds, it seemed, even when he was not able to block the spells with Caladbolg. It didn't even matter. He would vent his rage and his vengeance on this ignorant-

Was this the way a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt should act? He ought not to use his power to bully those weaker than him. Just finish it and be done.

And as he came to this realization, Waine caught up to him, and instead of striking with the sword, simply jumped on him, knocking him to the dirt, closing his hands around his neck. Caoilfhionn's gasp of surprise was cut off, his mind ablaze with panic – Fire! He clutched his focus and a shield of fire erupted around him, tearing Waine from him and throwing him back. Caoilfhionn gasped for air as Waine screamed, one hand holding his burned face, the other scrabbling to lift Caladbolg. Caoilfhionn looked up in the middle of a coughing fit to see the sword high above him, and he stabbed upwards with his dagger in blind reaction.

A blade of ice formed between them and slammed into Waine's chest. Waine made a choking noise, and tumbled heavily to the ground, never to rise again.

Caoilfhionn slowly stood, breathing hard, shaking like a leaf, tears running from his eyes. He had too many emotions in him – rage, pain, sorrow, regret. No satisfaction. No triumph.

Caladbolg lay before him, dusty, yet still keen as the day it was plucked. He bent down and hefted it with both hands – by the Pale Tree, it was so heavy! He climbed carefully back up to the top of the ring and met with Branthyn. She was glowing with victory. "You were amazing down there! Your combat prowess is really something. I envy you the beating you gave that thug. I wish I'd been able to lend a hand. Are you hurt?"

Caoilfhionn shook his head. "I'm fine. He wouldn't stop attacking me. I didn't want… Should I have killed him?"

"That question is what makes you great Vigil material," Branthyn said. "Waine had been carrying that burden for so long, it was probably a relief to die at the hands of someone who knew the truth."

Was it? "You're right," he said quietly. "I could see it in his eyes. He seemed almost… grateful." Or perhaps it was simply wishful thinking. Waine had said all those terrible things. Had come so close to killing him. Caoilfhionn didn't know. He was tired and confused and he did not understand Humans.

"Come, Valiant," Branthyn said. "I'll take Caladbolg back to the Pale Tree. You look like you're about to keel over, and it looks too heavy for you. We'll get it and you both back, and you can rest, and then we'll find a way to make Mazdak pay."

Iowerth had been busy while Caoilfhionn had been off with Branthyn, and with Wegaff – already a full member of the Priory – helping, had determined that Mazdak was about to assault Ascalon Settlement. The three orders all had different plans for dealing with the impending doom, and once again, they wanted him to choose – and to choose one of them to join.

He had to go off by himself into a corner of the Omphalos chamber and think, pacing back and forth, rubbing a hand over his leaves. The leaf pups who usually cavorted there came up to him and whined, and he petted them, but his mind was not on them. He was drawn to the Vigil, to their honour and glory in battle… and yet he was also drawn to the Priory, to the pursuit of knowledge, to the exploration of the world. "Where life goes, so too, should you," was his favourite of Ventari's teachings, after all. He wanted to ask the others for advice, but he knew already that his friends would not help him decide. What would Trahearne do? Trahearne had apparently resisted joining an Order, despite repeated invitations, but that was his prerogative as a Firstborn. Caoilfhionn had no choice. What would Caithe do? He could envision her joining any of the three.

In the end, he liked Iowerth's plan the best. The other orders forgave him for not choosing their part, and Trahearne and Caithe both readily agreed to come, which made him glad. Of course they would come, to finally avenge their brother, but it was reassuring to have their combined fifty years of expertise with him. And as a final gesture, the Pale Tree entrusted Caladbolg to him.

It weighed heavily on his back… though now that they were on this quest, it was just because he lacked the physical strength of other, sturdier Sylvari like his brother. He wondered if Trahearne and Caithe would feel similarly – though Caithe, at least, was used to fighting with melee weapons.

So the five of them, including Wegaff, set out for the northern Gendarran Fields. He was overjoyed that Wegaff would come; another elementalist would certainly be useful against the undead, and he was grateful that his friend would take the time to come with him, especially as the only non-Sylvari in a party full of them. Wegaff shrugged when he thanked him. "This was the deal. We become friends, we help each other from time to time. I'm sure you'll help me when I need a hand."

"I certainly will!"

"Now if you'd just let me take readings of that sword…"

"No samples! Readings only!"

"Relax, I know what I'm doing."

On the journey, he had time to tell Trahearne and Caithe the entire story of fighting Waine, including the terrible things Waine had said. Perhaps he shouldn't have; he should have spared them that last stroke of pain, but the words came tumbling out of him without stopping, the embers of his anger flaring up again. And Caithe did ask.

Caithe seethed. "I'm glad he is dead, Valiant. He was a waste of air. Now I wish I'd been there myself."

"I'm sorry that I ever felt sorry for him," Caoilfhionn admitted. "Saying such things about the man who died for him. Despicable."

"You felt sorry for him?" Caithe said in confusion. "Whyever for?"

"He was not a full-grown Human, back then," Caoilfhionn said. "You probably know better than me, but I've noticed that Humans do not let their… children fight, no matter how boldly they speak. Indeed, they seem to think that fighting is one of the worst things to happen to a child, even if they become warriors when they reach full stature."

Caithe paused. "I have noticed that, you are right. And you said he was afraid. Understandable. But still inexcusable. I still cannot forgive him for Riannoc's death, nor for the things he said."

"Agreed," Caoilfhionn said.

"I wonder," Trahearne said. "Did he really believe the things he said, or was he trying to hide his wounded ego and guilt? Was he only trying to bait you into anger to give himself a sense of superiority? If so, it worked – but I cannot blame you. I think even I would have done the same in your place."

Caoilfhionn stared wide-eyed at him. "I cannot imagine that."

Trahearne smiled wryly. "I try not to lose my temper. It can cause a terrible mess. But I feel just as deeply as any other Sylvari, though some of them disbelieve it."

Caithe reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "I know, Brother. Were we to fall victim to our feelings easily, we should be no better than the Nightmare Court. But we must remain calm while we fight Mazdak."

"Indeed," Trahearne said. "To let our passions drive us, yet not control us." He looked at Caoilfhionn with a wry, slightly anxious smile. "Do try not to almost die this time."

"I'll do my best," Caoilfhionn promised.

The tomb was everything he'd hoped it would be – traps that kept him on his toes, arcane magical puzzles, friendly ghosts who helped him proceed in the name of justice and honour. With the learned intelligence and honed inquisitiveness of everyone in the party, it did not take them long to pass through to the innermost chamber – though Caoilfhionn nearly tripped over a spear trap, felt his sap freeze in his veins as the deadly spikes clipped the heel of his boot as he fell face-first onto the dusty stone floor. How he wished to be as graceful as Caithe! She should have been the one to wield Caladbolg, not he.

But this was no time to doubt his abilities or his worthiness. They had come to what Captain Bragen, their ghostly human guide, told them was the final chamber. The chamber was wide and tall, flooded with water ankle-deep, or in Wegaff's case nearly knee-deep; in the back of it loomed the lich they had come to destroy.

As the door creaked open, the lich took a few steps towards them. "Sylvari? Here? You have long roots for such small weeds." What was that supposed to mean? "Flee, while you still have your lives! When the human race was as young as your own, I conquered these lands and named them Kryta!"

"Now I recognize these markings!" Trahearne cried. "Mazdak brought the first human settlers to Kryta, from Orr. No wonder he is so powerful. As a mortal, he lived in Orr… while the dragon slept, hidden deep beneath the ground."

Was that when the dragon had gotten his claws into him? Or had Zhaitan infiltrated all the graves in Tyria in more recent history? "You may have once been a hero, Mazdak, but now you're nothing but Zhaitan's slave. We don't fear you!" Caoilfhionn exclaimed, drawing Caladbolg from his back and hefting it into a ready position. Iowerth had brought along a sword and shield, and drew them now as well.

"Ah, but you should!" Mazdak laughed. "Know this before you die: no weapon forged can harm me. You face your doom!"

"Geez, he likes to be dramatic," Wegaff muttered. "I'm allergic to melodrama."

"No weapon forged I bear," Caoilfhionn said, pointing Caladbolg at him; it blazed with white fire. "Perhaps you recognize this blade?"

Mazdak flinched for a moment. "Caladbolg!? I thought it was destroyed, long ago. Very well, Sylvari… Let this be a battle to the death – and beyond!" He raised his arms, and more undead sprang up around him.

"Leave those to us!" Caithe cried, moving swiftly to Caoilfhionn's left. "You take Mazdak, we shall protect your back!"

"Understood!" Caoilfhionn took a deep breath and charged forwards, seeking to slam the sword into Mazdak's robed body. The undead lord was much taller than he was, looming over him fearsomely with his bone staff and his skull mask… but that just made him a larger target. He had not had much practice with the greatsword on their journey, but he did not intend to fail now, fighting not only for his life and the lives of his friends and the Ascalon Settlement, but for the honour of Riannoc and all Sylvari.

And Caladbolg had magic of its own. Glowing brightly in the presence of its hated enemy, it blasted beams of power out at Mazdak, far more potent than Waine had been able to muster. Mazdak snarled as it struck him – he had not moved, perhaps unused to dodging. It had not been necessary until now, had it?

But then he struck back, while Caoilfhionn was still only halfway across the room, a dark bolt of energy that halted Caoilfhionn in his tracks with agony. Already, he stumbled, using the sword to hold him up.

Mazdak snorted a laugh. "You think to avenge your dead kinsman? You will fall, as he did."

"Never," Caoilfhionn gritted out, taking another step forward, and another, regaining momentum, swinging another beam of energy forwards. He had to close with the lich. This was just like when Waine fought him, but Mazdak would not flit around the room the way Caoilfhionn did. If only he could get close…

The sounds of battle echoed through the chamber, and Wegaff's spells were illuminating it with fire and lightning – he had summoned his stone golem Bryn as well, setting it to protect him from any zombie that managed to dodge his spells. Iowerth was guarding Trahearne with sword and shield, and Trahearne was flinging spells from his sceptre, causing zombies to disintegrate in their tracks. And Caithe was whirling gracefully, ripping through the undead like a panther through mice. His friends were all fighting valiantly. But Mazdak still seemed so far away, raising wave after wave of undead without hardly seeming to think about it.

The pain wracked him again, and this time he felt something physically strike him as well – a zombie had gotten through and was attaching itself to his left leg, clawing at it, biting it, tearing through his pants and ripping open the flesh underneath. Blindly, he swung Caladbolg at it, felt it yanked away by heat and light – a fireball from Wegaff had blasted it off him. "You're clear!" Wegaff called. Caoilfhionn had no breath to answer. He invoked his Signet of Restoration and pushed forward, though his leg was still running with yellow sap and lancing with unbearable pain into his abdomen.

Mazdak was before him and he swung with gritted teeth; the lich stepped backwards, his glowing red eyes leering down at him. The staff lifted but he swung again, forcing him to step back yet again. If he could keep Mazdak from casting any more of those horrible spells, he would have the space to attack again! Once more he stepped forward-

He tripped over a hidden stone under the dark water, with his wounded leg, no less, and fell heavily with a splash. He tried to push himself up; Mazdak swung his staff, and Caoilfhionn screamed as pain raked his body – a scream that abruptly cut to a gurgle as his face slipped into the water. He couldn't breathe-! He couldn't see, could feel nothing but agony darting along his veins, and he rolled to flail – and breathe.

"Caoilfhionn!" shouted everyone, turning to him – they would not reach him in time – he managed to open his eyes to see Mazdak looming over him, raising his staff for a killing spell.

"I cannot be defeated! I will break Caladbolg, and you along with it!"

Caoilfhionn made a mighty effort and swung Caladbolg up, through Mazdak's staff. The staff shattered, raining pieces of bone around him. Caoilfhionn twisted, using Caladbolg to help him spin to his feet. "No more. No more will you plague the Humans and the Sylvari! No more will Zhaitan work through you!"

"The touch of that sword is like fire!" hissed Mazdak, cowering from its light. "Stop!"

Caoilfhionn swung, putting his entire slender body behind the blow, and Mazdak fell in two, robes and bones splashing into the water, meaningless fragments of an ancient corpse.

The other undead fell where they stood, and Caoilfhionn nearly followed them, pain still wracking his body and sap-blood flowing from his leg. As it was, he sagged nearly double, leaning on Caladbolg to keep him up.

"Easy," Caithe said, walking over to him and putting her hand on his back. "Breathe slow. You've won."

He'd won. He really had! When he had caught his breath and wiped the water and sweat from his brow, he managed to recover himself, straightening to his full height – which was not much, he was the shortest Sylvari in the room. He was still no match for Riannoc, in either stature, physical prowess, or heroism. But it was enough.

He turned, sheathing the blade on his back, and announced to his friends: "Mazdak the Accursed is dead." The revelation washed over him, and he had to smile, uncontrollably joyous despite the lingering tears of pain in his eyes. By the Pale Tree, he was in an exalted state somewhere between wounded exhaustion, and glorious triumphant exhilaration. "By the blade of Caladbolg, Riannoc is at last avenged."

"Haha! Well done!" Iowerth was the first to congratulate him, stepping forward to shake his hand. "Novice, you've shown both intelligence and courage. I rate your performance as exceptional. Let Wegaff and I be the first to officially welcome you to our order."

"Hear, hear," Wegaff said. "Though you were as much a shoe-in as I was, even with no head for theory."

"I'll learn," Caoilfhionn assured him, smiling.

"I expect you will!" Iowerth said.

Caithe stepped forward and led him to a low stone to sit upon. "Now let's get you fixed up. That leg of yours can't be feeling good, even with the magic I saw you use." They fussed over him, binding his leg with bandages and placing more healing spells on it; it would accelerate the healing, though it wouldn't cure him instantly. He was quite happy to let them do so, happy to just sit and rest.

Iowerth sat back on his heels when it was done and nodded decisively. "When I return to the Grove, I shall write a glowing review of your performance and have it set it on Gixx's desk immediately!"

"Gixx?" Caoilfhionn asked. "Who is that?"

"You don't know!?" Wegaff asked indignantly. "Ranked 'Incomparable Genius' in the Asura Colleges, twice awarded the Meritorious Service Medal of the Iron Legion – you should at least know the head of the Order you are joining!"

Caoilfhionn rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and laughed. "I apologize. I… found this all to be a little sudden." He hadn't been planning to join any Order until they asked him to so vehemently!

"It's quite understandable," Iowerth said. "You're only a few months old, aren't you? But he is as Wegaff says: the leader of the Durmand Priory. His intellectual brilliance inevitably led him there. He's a bit grumpy, but astonishing nevertheless."

"I understand," Caoilfhionn said. "I shall endeavour to learn all I can as quickly as I can. I don't want to let you down."

"Don't stress yourself," Iowerth told him. "You should head to Lion's Arch as soon as you are able, where you will meet your mentor and receive your first formal assignment. They'll instruct you in all you need to know."

"Thank you," Caoilfhionn said. "I don't suppose it would be Wegaff, would it?"

"Unlikely," Wegaff said. "I'm still in the Novice rank myself. But I'm sure we could get assigned as partners."

"I'd like that," Caoilfhionn said, and tried to stand, with Iowerth's help. "Caithe, what's wrong? You're quiet."

"I am thinking," Caithe said. She had turned away from them, towards the wall, but now she came back towards him, her expression far less joyful than Iowerth's. "Riannoc died before he could fulfill his Wyld Hunt. He died because he was alone. If you had been alone… If we wish to fight Zhaitan, we must not let fear or anger force us apart. If we do not find a way to defeat the dragons, Tyria will be destroyed. Tell me, my friend… Do you think… do you think it's possible for people to let go of their differences? To unite?"

In this moment, he believed in anything, the euphoria of victory still ringing through his soul. "Our Dreams inspire us, Caithe. We must never give up hope, or we give up on the Dream itself."

She nodded decisively. "Then I must also go to Lion's Arch. It is time to call together Destiny's Edge." Without waiting for them, she began to stride to the entrance.

"Caithe!" called Trahearne, straightening from studying Mazdak's remains. "It is too late in the day to journey all the way to Lion's Arch. At least let us go together back to Ascalon Settlement."

She paused, then managed to smile. "Yes, you are right. I will go with you. Caoilfhionn, can you walk on that leg?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" Caoilfhionn said. "I'm a little concerned about getting back out past the traps. I don't know if I have the strength to find the waypoint at Ascalon Settlement…" which would be the easy way out.

"There should be a method to deactivate them from in here," Wegaff said, already looking around. "They wouldn't seal in the interrers… probably."

"While they are working on that, a moment?" Trahearne said to him. "If you are bound for Lion's Arch, then by your leave, I'll return Caladbolg to the Pale Tree. I'll be sure to tell her the tale of Mazdak's defeat."

"That is a splendid plan," Caoilfhionn said, and gladly handed over the heavy sword. "Thank you for everything, Trahearne."

"My pleasure," Trahearne said.

Caoilfhionn hesitated, then asked: "Will I see you again?"

Trahearne did not hesitate. "Yes. I am sure of it. Our Wyld Hunts are linked, my friend. We will need one another."

That sent a cascade of butterflies through his stomach – though surely Trahearne didn't mean it like that. "I am looking forward to it." An awkwardly formal answer, but what else was there to say?

"As am I. Come! I think they've found the switch. Caithe and I will aid you if you need assistance getting up those stairs."