With this chapter I tried to make clear more how the PCs are involved in the Pact in the Silverwastes. It felt a little in the game like the Pact Commander shows up well after Trahearne's already got everything underway, which seems irresponsible. I also felt the final attack needed more explaining, it seems a bit hare-brained in game.

Caoilfhionn cries when he tops but as a bottom he's more mischievous. ;D

Thank you Tharash for beta-reading! "Can I call your plant romance 'sappy'?"

31: The Silverwastes

While the others went their separate ways from the Grove on the morrow, Damara, Rhyoll, and Caoilfhionn went to Fort Trinity to help. He also caught sight of Canach, which left him feeling disgruntled, but what could he do about that? The great airship fleet, repaired after the liberation of Orr, was being loaded, and the Pact forces were reassembling from their three Order headquarters. Trahearne was too busy to talk much, and Caoilfhionn made himself useful as he could, spending time with the medics. Rhyoll joined the engineers, and Damara was put in charge of several units of Vigil forces.

The Glory of Tyria was the first to launch, ready to make the several-day trip west and north; it landed in a small canyon east of Brisban Wildlands with a vast quantity of building supplies and materiel, and a small force to protect them. The next ship brought engineers to start assembling the base, and over the next few weeks, ships came from Fort Trinity, bringing more and more soldiers, not only Order soldiers, but Charr centuries and Human squadrons, Sylvari Valiants and Norn hunters, even Asura Peacemakers. Watching Trahearne coordinate it all was splendid; he'd truly grown into his role, giving orders with no hesitation or doubt, a leader of people to be reckoned with. Caoilfhionn rather adored hearing him be bossy, even – perhaps especially – when he himself was the target.

"Ho there!" cried a familiar voice one day, and Caoilfhionn turned to see Eithne and Ruadhan grinning at him from the airship dock stairs. "Caoilfhionn! Brother!"

"Eithne! Ruadhan!" He ran to them and embraced them. "What brings you here?"

"We came to help!" Eithne said, laughing, her yellow skin shining in the sun as befitted her nickname. "I know I am more a hunter of beasts than of monsters, but my arrows fly true just the same!"

"After what happened in the Grove, how could we stay behind?" Ruadhan said. "We wish to do everything we can to protect the Mother Tree, and we decided that purpose would be well-served by coming here. And you rushed away without staying to commiserate with us!" He made a comically sad face.

"I'm grateful to see you here," Caoilfhionn said, patting his brother's shoulder. He'd met with Cathaoir after the attack, but it was true that the meeting had been brief and he had been focused on following Trahearne to Fort Trinity. "If there's anything I can do to aid you, tell me and I shall do it." They were not often out of Caledon Forest, he knew.

"Well…" Eithne looked around uncertainly. "This is all very strange to me. I could certainly use…"

"A tour!" Ruadhan cried. "Yes, if you show us around, surely we will understand better all this clamour and confusion."

In the midst of it all, they ran into Trahearne, who greeted them courteously. "Have you heard anything from our Mother? Is she recovering? I've been so worried."

The two other Sylvari looked at each other anxiously. "I believe she's still in danger," Ruadhan said. "Her mind was… damaged."

"Oh, our poor Mother." Trahearne clenched his fists. "This feeds my desire to stop this Elder Dragon in its tracks. It will know the burn of my wrath."

Caoilfhionn put a hand on his arm. "Do not leave caution behind in your hurry to take revenge."

Trahearne took a deep breath and unclenched his hands, turning away slightly; Eithne and Ruadhan pulled back. "No. No, of course, you're right. I have too many lives in my hands. Thank you for being the voice of reason. I occasionally fall victim to my rage."

"It's hard to believe of you," Caoilfhionn said, a half-smile crossing his face. "When I am angry, I become hot. When you are angry, you become cold. It's harder to see."

"That's because you are the sun, and I am the moon," Trahearne said, leaning against the wall behind Caoilfhionn with one hand and reaching up to touch his face with the other. "But surely you know me well enough to know I'm not always as calm as I seem."

"Oh, I know now, but others may still not. But I'm angry too, and just as determined to destroy Mordremoth." Even had not the call of his Wyld Hunt been growing ever more insistent in his mind, he was determined. Although he was rather distracted by Trahearne leaning over him like that, his sap running fast; was he not thinking about how much he loved it when he loomed? Or was he doing it on purpose?

"I'll confess. This particular dragon inspires a dread in my heart that none other has. I've never felt so personally attacked. That it would go after her… It's unforgivable." Trahearne paused, and lowered his voice even more, his gaze distant. "Some mornings, I awake, and for a moment, I'm afraid that when I look outside I'll see the world destroyed. That image is so clear in my mind. It's the most desolate feeling I've ever had."

"You carry such weight on your shoulders," Caoilfhionn said softly. "I'm here to take some of it when you can spare any."

"You already do so much," Trahearne said, his attention focusing on him again, so close and so intense. "I beg you to be careful, if you wish to ease my burden. Our Mother Tree needs you. I need you."

Caoilfhionn reached up and kissed him. "I will do my best. …Would you like to help me show Eithne and Ruadhan around camp?" He'd nearly forgotten his siblings standing near. How utterly rude of him!

Trahearne had apparently also almost forgotten, and quickly stepped back from him, turning to include them all in the conversation. "I fear I have not the time, but I am grateful for their presence." He approached them and bowed. "Thank you for coming to aid us."

"We'll do the best we can," Eithne said, nodding. "For our Mother, and for Caoilfhionn, and for you, Trahearne."

"In that order, I suppose," Ruadhan joked, and Trahearne laughed.

Annhilda had gone to check on Marjory and Kasmeer and Wegaff; she had been in the middle of a strategy session with Trahearne, Phiadi, and Damara when the message came. Her eyes had lit up at the mention of the Special Collections, which was when Phiadi said "Go on, then, just promise to bring back some useful intel." She had almost forgotten to say goodbye before heading out.

Access to the Special Collections was highly restricted, and every opportunity was exciting. There were enough legends collected there to make songs you could sing for years without repeating yourself, and that was quicker than reading the books and scrolls they would be taken from!

There was something different about the main hall today, as she walked up the stairs past the looming stone figure of Abaddon – funny how the Priory ended up collecting things that were supposed to be lost forever. It took her a while to find Archivist Ernswort, who was flustered as she always was, fluttering around her crates and packages. "Are you delivering something?" asked the old archivist severely. "I'm already buried in magic items. I don't have enough scribes, and every piece needs to be catalogued."

Annhilda pointed upwards. "I really have to ask. Is that Zhaitan's tail?"

Ernswort turned quickly, taking in Annhilda and her pointing finger, and chuckled. "As a matter of fact, it is. We brought it here after Zhaitan's death. We had to construct special rigging to get it in here. It took months."

"Huh, I must have been busy," Annhilda said.

"We wanted his head, but it was in too poor a condition to recover."

"Oops," Annhilda said completely unapologetically. "Oh well, you probably would have had to fight several Norn who wanted to pin it up on the Great Lodge at Hoelbrak. Anyway, I'm looking for some particular books…"

The books led her to Ogden, who tricked her into a… place in the Mists? The crystalline dreamscape could only be Glint's Lair, and Annhilda felt a shiver run down her back as she looked around. Two and a half centuries ago, the heroes of the Flameseeker Prophecies passed through these same paths, seeking Glint's wisdom.

It was… rather… bright, though there was no harsh lights to bounce off the crystals and blind her. And it was rather pastel, between the bismuthian 'ground' and the quartz 'walls'. Caoilfhionn would have loved it, she couldn't help but think. He did enjoy frivolous, sparkly things. She, on the other hand, appreciated more the clever puzzles and traps, the way the place made you question which way was forward and which was back. It took Raven's wits to design such a place. She strode ahead, sword in hand, alert for danger. Wegaff trotted behind her, equally uninterested in the view, torn between jumping at every sign of danger and attempting to quantify the magic suffusing every bit of the place. Marjory and Kasmeer had been separated from them, but they could at least hear each other's voices echoing through the crystals.

As impressive as it was, the biggest riddle remained Ogden's reason for it all.

Camp Resolve was an ever-increasing buzz of activity with every passing day. With the camp a now heavily fortified bastion, sheltered from the natural elements, Trahearne was ordering offensives on foot right up to the edge of the jungle, where massive vines spilled over the edge of the cliffs separating the dry from the wet. Everyone was constantly on edge lest vines of that size invaded the camp from below, as with Fort Salma or Prosperity Village. Though the ground appeared to be solid stone, that hadn't protected Prosperity…

But the fleet was assembling, more than half-gathered in the last six weeks, and now things would accelerate until finally they launched in all their strength and splendour, to… do things. Caoilfhionn was not officially privy to the battle plans, but everything Trahearne knew, he knew – and what he didn't know, either. Any scouts sent past the edge of the jungle did not return; they still knew almost nothing further west, where the dragon's lair was, what lived in the jungle besides Mordrem, anything at all.

So their current strategy was to hold the Silverwastes, to keep the plants at bay until they were ready, and then plunge boldly ahead, bombarding the jungle before them to keep the vines down, until they found the dragon. They'd head west first, where the vines seemed to be coming from, and if it wasn't there, they'd sweep around to the unknown areas to the south.

"It's a dreadful plan," Trahearne said privately to him one night. "I hate it."

"But our fleet is half again as large as before," Caoilfhionn said, sitting behind him on their cot and massaging his neck; he was rewarded by Trahearne melting under his hands with a relaxed sigh. "The Glory of Tyria is not our only large ship anymore."

"But to put our trust in strength alone is foolishness. Knowledge is far better. We could not have defeated Zhaitan without knowing his weaknesses, and Mordremoth is likely stronger. Nor do we have the knowledge to weaken him yet. He has been strangely docile about our base here, but I don't trust it. Not at all."

Caoilfhionn soothed him. "I agree, but we can't have that knowledge now, so at least we have overwhelming strength. Besides, I'm sure once we launch, everything will become clear. It's the waiting that's the hardest part."

"Yes… But not only that, I hardly like to lay waste to the entire jungle. It can't solely be the provenance of the Elder Dragon. And the Dragon is the target of my vengeance, not the jungle."

"It doesn't sound like one of your ideas, no. But then why are you going along with it?"

"I'm not just going along with it, I'm taking responsibility for it," Trahearne remarked with disgruntlement. "It was Logan's idea, actually, and half my commanders, including Phiadi, backed him up. I will say it's provisional, but I don't believe I can come up with a better one while we're still losing scouts. I don't like losing so many scouts. It feels like a death sentence to send them out."

"At least we've determined that making our way through the jungle on foot is not really a feasible option," Caoilfhionn said, embracing Trahearne and pulling him back to rest against him. "Annhilda said she's coming back tomorrow, perhaps she'll have learned something to help."

"Aye, surely there's something about the Heart of Maguuma at the Priory, even if there was none about Mordremoth. Not that it would be recent information…"

"Better than nothing. Come, beloved, let us talk of lighter matters before we sleep."

"I have too much to think of to allow myself to-"

"Then we don't have to actually talk-"

But Trahearne didn't struggle too hard against his lips, against his adoration of Trahearne's lean, angular shins and forearms and shoulders, letting the smaller Sylvari push him down and pull his clothes off. As usual, Caoilfhionn only made it partway before he was overcome with awe and gratitude, simply holding his lover, pressing kisses to each of his spinal marks, breathing in his greenness, trying not to weep with how amazing he was, feeling his sap sing in his veins.

"Are you all right?" Trahearne asked, trying to look over his shoulder.

"More than all right," Caoilfhionn replied with a sniffle. "Just let me worship you, my beloved."

"As you wish, my prince…"

Annhilda, unfortunately, did not have information on the Heart of Maguuma or Mordremoth, though she brought news that was nearly as exciting – if top secret. The dragon Glint had given an egg to the Master of Peace of the Zephyrites, and now they were back on his trail. Surely he was long gone after all this time – but no, Hope's Legacy and Caithe caught up to him in a hidden labyrinth of stone and vines beneath the Silverwastes, mortally wounded by a pack of especially vicious Mordrem.

"You're our only hope now," he rasped to Annhilda. "Listen… closely. I have something… I can no longer protect. You must… understand… its importance to Tyria's future…"

"The egg," Annhilda said. "I know its significance. I'll guard it carefully-"

The Master of Peace breathed his last breath, sagging in her arms, and the egg fell from his grasp.

"No time to explain," Caithe said, dashing forwards and scooping it up before anyone else could react.

"Caithe! Wait!" Marjory cried. "What do you think you're doing!?"

But she was gone, only a few fluttering leaves falling to the sands where she had stood. "What was that all about?" Damara said. "I thought taking care of the egg was your job, Caoilfhionn? Didn't the Pale Tree ask you?"

Caoilfhionn looked around, confused. "I thought so too. But it's true Caithe is a very good guardian. Perhaps she thought it best to get it safely away as quickly as possible. I'll thank her when we catch up."

"Then let's do that," Annhilda said, rising with the Master of Peace's body. "We need to take this one back to his people, and I'm not comfortable lingering here."

"Me either, boss," Braham said. "I hate the heat outside, but sooner we get back out of these caves, the better."

"Really? I like how hot it is outside," Rox said.

"I don't get it, you're covered in fur. Shouldn't you be warmer than me?"

"It's short fur. You've got all that extra padding for cold climes, it's not helping you here."

"Did you just call me fat!?" Braham gasped, pretending to be offended.

"It's no more than Taimi would have done," Rox said, grinning.

"Hmph. You're not wrong."

"Fourteen Kasmeers, wasn't it?" Damara said.

"Nineteen," said Marjory, "but that was including Scruffy who was at least ten of those Kasmeers."

Kasmeer was blushing. "I'm not a unit of measurement!"

But Caithe was not at Camp Resolve, and everyone they asked – Logan, Eir, Zojja, Trahearne – were just as mystified by her actions; they'd seen her for a moment and then she'd been gone again. "I have no idea why she would take this task on herself, when she knew the Pale Tree had given it to you," Trahearne said to Caoilfhionn. "Perhaps you should ask Mother yourself? She may have some insight that we lack."

"That's a good idea," Caoilfhionn said. "I'll do that – if she's well enough to speak with me." He looked around at the others. "I'll go alone, I'm sure the rest of you are needed here. I'll send a message if I need assistance."

"Come back soon," Trahearne said. "We're finalizing launch preparations in the next two weeks."

Caoilfhionn nodded. "The sooner the better. Mordremoth doesn't need any additional time."

"My thoughts exactly. Annhilda! I'd like your opinion on the state of our outposts."

"I have several," Annhilda said. "Most of which involve me providing personal instruction in Mordrem-bashing."