34: The Agony of Hope

He was numb as he knelt helplessly on the clifftop; before him flickered an endless sea of leaves and flames. His sap was frozen within his veins, his breath choked off in his lungs, and there were tears in his eyes. All he could do was stare in disbelief and fear. The Glory of Tyria was impaled in three places, held aloft by vines of the same girth as the Pale Tree, her lovely dragonfly wings shattered. She was lying on her side, no sign of movement on her decks, and the fire still burning within suggested that there were no survivors on her now.

He found Damara's hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "Hey. Hey. Caoilfhionn. Come on. We have to help. There's survivors. I'm sure they know what happened to Trahearne and the others."

Of course. No one would believe that Trahearne would be killed in the first attack... would he? And yet he couldn't breathe until he knew for sure. And there was that pressure in his head, faint but insistent. Damara helped him to his feet, her jungle spider skittering behind her.

Wegaff was on his other side. "Come on, you're the brave one. We're a team, don't forget." He nodded.

"Stay sharp," Annhilda was saying, cutting off everyone else's shocked murmurs. "Mordremoth may have hit the Pact hard, but it's up to us to pick up the pieces. Let's go down- Braham!"

Braham was already running full tilt down the slope towards a small cluster of Pact soldiers huddled within a large ring-shaped piece of wreckage. "Hey! I'm Eir Stegalkin's son. I want to know where she is."

"Braham, you can't just run off like that," Annhilda warned him as they came up behind. "We're in enemy territory." And night was falling, rapidly, the sky covered in thick grey clouds past the black smoke.

"Commander!" cried Laranthir of the Wild, sitting strangely still in the centre of the ring as the other Pact soldiers watched him carefully. "You're a welcome sight. The situation is grim."

"You can say that again," Annhilda said. "I'm glad you survived. Give me everything you know."

"Trahearne and Destiny's Edge were taken prisoner," Laranthir said, and Caoilfhionn's legs folded under him. Thank the Pale Tree, he was alive. He could be rescued. "They were alive, but now MIA. And the remaining soldiers no longer trust me."

"And you're surprised?" Marjory said. "Scarlet, Aerin, and now this. Mordremoth always uses Sylvari to do its dirtiest work."

"Marjory?" Damara said, as surprised as Caoilfhionn at the sudden attack. "That's not their fault."

"Any word on Rhyoll and the other engineers?" Annhilda asked.

Laranthir shook his head. "I do not know. Their ship was much further down the line from the Glory. I know many ships continued the attack; we can only guess where they went after we went down."

The Charr Priory Explorer in front of Laranthir glared at him, her hand on her gun. "First things first. We need to strengthen the defenses around here. Our priority has to be salvaging weapon parts from the crash site."

"What about our comrades in the cavern?" asked Laranthir, gesturing carefully to the northwest. "The Pact does not abandon its own."

"Look around, 'sir'," said Explorer Metella. "There is no more Pact. And the prisoners you want to save are probably already dead."

"Think it through, soldier," Laranthir said, a touch of his Warmaster tone coming through. "We need greater numbers, or any salvage party we send will disappear like the others."

"Those imprisoned soldiers are all Sylvari. They're not worth the risk. Even if they're still on our side, who says they're alive and ready to fight?"

Braham had been fidgeting, and he flung up his hands now. "This isn't helping. Just tell us where Destiny's Edge is. Please."

"All right, quiet, all of you," Annhilda said. "Whatever else may be true right now, the Pact is not dead. I need to think. Damara, Phiadi, do you think we can do both of these?"

"Sure," Damara said. "We'll need a group to head out on a rescue, a group to head out for salvage, and a group to defend this position since we've got this lovely wall to keep the Mordrem out."

"The above-ground ones, anyway," Phiadi said. "I'll agree with Damara. As long as these minions stay professional and obey orders without whinging, we can resurrect this."

"All right, then," Annhilda said. "Listen up, everyone! We've suffered a serious setback, but we're far from beaten. Laranthir is still your commanding officer, and he has my full confidence. Clear?"

"Yes, Commander!" said an Asura Vigil Crusader. "Crusader Gatt, reporting for duty!"

"Laranthir, you and Damara are leading the search-and-rescue team. Phiadi, you're with Metella leading the salvage team. I'm going to fortify this position."

"It's not worth risking more lives to save Sylvari prisoners," said Metella. "They're already gone. Sylvari belong to Mordremoth."

"You're a fool," Canach retorted. "Only weak-willed Sylvari are vulnerable. The rest of us fight back."

"All right. Damara, who do you want on your team?" Annhilda asked.

"I'd like to go," said the Asura Crusader. "I believe in you, Warmaster."

"Thank you, Gatt," said Laranthir.

"Okay, then you, and Caoilfhionn, and Canach, and Rox and Braham," Damara said. "Sound fair?"

"Sounds good to me," Annhilda said. "Get going. Phiadi, who are you taking?"

"Good luck," Wegaff said to Caoilfhionn.

Damara nodded to Laranthir, who stretched, shook himself, and gestured for them to follow him. He led them away from the camp to the base of a small cliff, where there was an ancient archway over a tunnel of stairs leading downwards. Caoilfhionn tried to control his breathing. Being on the move, having something to do, it helped. He wondered if it was the same for Braham.

There was a call from above and ahead. "Can anyone hear me? We're up here!"

"Look, stairs," Crusader Gatt said, pointing. Caoilfhionn stared at him a brief moment longer than necessary. His voice was... not important. He had to focus now.

They dashed up the stairs and into a camp of – oh no. There were Mordrem here, but not the ones they had seen before. These were no mindless husks and animalistic beasts. These were... people, plant people, like horrifying, monstrous cousins to Sylvari. Their eyes glowed red like the beast types, their faces near-skeletal, their bodies armoured in heavy bark. Nothing about them was beautiful, only purely functional.

And they spoke. "Welcome, fodder. So nice of you to come to us. Mordremoth has plans for you all."

"Get us out of here!" cried one of the Pact Sylvari, in a vine cage.

"Get them!" yelled Damara. "Braham and Canach in front! Everyone else, shoot straight and keep your eyes on those rifles! Caoilfhionn, get those cages open! Murlie, hit that big guy for me, will you?" Her jungle spider chattered and skittered forward, tiny feet tapping on the rocky ground, spitting poison at the Mordrem.

Caoilfhionn flung himself at the nearest cage, ripping it apart with his daggers. The Sylvari inside grinned at him. "I knew someone would come for us. Thanks!"

"Ready to fight?" he asked her, adrenaline rushing through his own body.

"Yes, sir!"

Together they ran to the next cage. "Caoilfhionn!" said the Sylvari inside.

"Mabbran!" Caoilfhionn set him free. "You're wounded!" He cast healing Water on him, on his brow where sap had run down, on his bleeding leg.

"I'm fine," Mabbran said. "I'm ready to kill the enemy. All I need is my rifle and a clear line of sight."

"Where is it?" Caoilfhionn said, looking about.

"Lost in the jungle, probably, sadly," said the first Sylvari. "Let's grab some of theirs."

"I like this idea," said Mabbran.

"Look out," barked Rox, shoving them as one of the enemy fired one of those strange rifles. It burnt a line through the dark evening air next to them, light lingering ominously where it had been.

"There is no escape. You will all serve the Jungle Dragon," said the tallest Mordrem, a hulking brute swinging his hammer at Canach, who dodged nimbly away. Caoilfhionn zapped himself to the sniper, stunning her and stabbing her – but her bark armour-skin was thick, and his blade glanced off. Before he could follow up with anything, she had recovered, swinging her rifle at his head and rolling away as he ducked.

Suddenly that distant pressure that still buzzed in his head grew stronger, and he heard a booming voice saying "This world is mine."

Mabbran hissed. "Dammit, not again."

"That's going to get old quick," said the other Sylvari. They were both behind him, weaponless, looking to help him corner the sniper and take her rifle. The sniper dodged again, then took aim at him, nearly at point-blank range. He hissed and flung himself out of the way as one of those beams lanced at him.

An arrow pierced her throat and she slumped, the rifle falling from her hands. "There you go!" Rox called.

Mabbran had blinked forward before the other Sylvari could, catching the rifle before it hit the ground. "Yours next, Heulwen." Caoilfhionn had turned to the next cage. There were still too many cages about.

As he reached it, he stumbled as a rumble crashed through his mind like dark lightning. "I am the reason you exist. I am the purpose you serve. Obey me!"

"Ignore his voice!" Laranthir cried. "We are the children of the Pale Tree! We are members of the Pact! Mordremoth is our enemy!"

"Aye!" cheered the Pale Reavers around him, even the ones who were obviously struggling. Caoilfhionn lifted his head. He knew who he was. The whispers, the foreign urge to attack his friends, they could not confuse him. His purpose was to find Trahearne. He wrenched open the cage.

When all the Mordrem lay dead, they freed the last few Sylvari he'd not made it to. It was nearly completely dark under those clouded smokey skies, and it was difficult to return where they had been. Even with a couple lanterns, and Caoilfhionn's magic to illuminate their steps, the jungle was confusing and unfamiliar, and the camp's fire would not be visible through the wreckage that shielded it and the cliffs that separated them. Rox sniffed out the trail somehow, and they made their way wearily to the wreckage where the Pact forces were encamped. They were challenged by a scout, and made ready answer.

"You're back," Annhilda said, as they trooped into the firelight, Laranthir coming to attention before her, Damara copying him. "Good. Anyone who knows anything about turrets, come help over here. Everyone else, go rest. It's a long time until daylight."

"I don't like this," said Explorer Metella. "So many crazies. Keep those twigs away from me, or I'll use them as kindling."

Canach sneered at her. "Did you just condemn my entire race? It seems the Dragon brings out the worst in you, too."

"Hey!" Annhilda said. "What did I just say!?"

"We met a Pact Sylvari on the way," Kasmeer explained. "He... it was awful. The Dragon took his mind right in front of us. We had to kill him. We... made it quick."

"How horrible," Caoilfhionn murmured. Then winced as Mordremoth's voice rumbled again.

"Kill them or cripple them. Then bring them to me."

He got up and went to Annhilda. "He's speaking again... I fear we may be attacked very soon."

"Good to know," Annhilda said, glancing at the others. Some of them were holding their heads, but most were trying to show no reaction. "Everyone, ready up! We're-"

A beam of red light burned through the middle of camp, striking one of the Pale Reavers in the chest. She died with a pained gasp, her chest a smoking crater. Everyone sprang up, Damara already loosing an arrow in the direction of the beam. "Metella, get us some light!" Annhilda shouted, charging from the camp, shield forward. "Support each other, try not to get sniped!"

There was a loud click, and floodlights bathed the ground in front of the camp in brilliant white light, bright as noon, harsh shadows stretching behind everything in front of the lights. Caoilfhionn squinted, his sensitive eyes pained by the sudden light, but the Mordrem were taken even more off-guard, shielding their eyes with weapons and hands. "Let's see them snipe us now!" Phiadi cried gleefully, and ordered her minions forward with a sweep of her scythe-like staff.

Blinking rapidly to try and recover, Caoilfhionn ran forward, though less recklessly than he normally would, sending fire raking across his enemies, dodging hideous thorny blades and misshapen bludgeoning instruments, his breath hot in his lungs. He was in a very bad mood, his head hurt, his heart hurt, and he did not have complete control of his power.

There was a flare of light off to the left, and Caoilfhionn looked in time to catch a portal opening and a strange-looking Charr bursting out of it. He drew a flaming sword – and then Caoilfhionn knew him for Rytlock, whom Rox had said vanished into the Mists. Two mounted Mordrem charged towards him, and he swung his sword. A dragon of light rose before him and slammed into the Mordrem, through them, and they fell dead before him.

Rytlock growled ferociously. "Sharpen your blades and guard your vitals – I'm back!"

"Rytlock!" Annhilda yelled. "Good to see you. Could use your help!"

Caoilfhionn had never seen magic like that before, and apparently neither had Wegaff, because he heard a long whistle from his friend, as Rytlock jumped into the fray, Sohothin slashing with strange spells. With that sort of advantage on the Pact's side, the Mordrem soon broke off and retreated into the blackness of night. Rytlock growled at their backs and made his way across the battlefield to Annhilda. "Hope you don't mind me joining in, Commander."

"Greatly appreciated," Annhilda said. "Welcome back."

"Tribune?" Rox exclaimed. "You're alive! But where have you been? And what's that new magic you're using?"

"Later, cub. All you need to know is that I'm back and I'm better than ever. Right now we've got comrades to rescue and dragon minions to kill."

"Rytlock's right," Annhilda said. "We need to find Destiny's Edge and hit Mordremoth where it lives." She shook Rytlock's hand. "Glad to have you back, Tribune. Time for us to kill another Elder Dragon."

Laranthir approached, looking a lot less tense than he had at dusk. "Commander? I'm certain there are more Pale Reavers out there. I'd like to gather them together and take command. As a Sylvari-only unit, we can monitor and protect ourselves from threats both internal and external. If any of us show signs of... faltering, the others will do what needs to be done."

"All right," Annhilda said. "Request granted. Good luck, Laranthir."

"Did anyone overhear anything that might be useful?" Rox said to the Pale Reavers. "Especially about Destiny's Edge? We know they were taken prisoner."

"I saw Mordrem force-marching high-value prisoners west, deeper into the jungle," Mabbran said. "I can't say for certain I saw Destiny's Edge, but there was the Glory's captain for one."

Annhilda clicked her tongue, thinking. "We need to gather the Pact's scattered forces before we're all picked off. We need to learn the lay of the land and how to navigate these sharp elevation changes. We need lines of supply and communication. And we need to head west to rescue as many prisoners as we can."

"Are we splitting up, then?" Braham said. "I want to scout ahead west."

"Not yet," Annhilda said. "We still have too few resources."

"Well I have a solution to the elevation changes and chasms everywhere," Phiadi said, and did a complicated summoning motion. A pair of boney wings crawled from the soil and to her shoulders, unfurling into a simple frame with spectral essence forming the webs. "We need to be able to just jump and glide from one place to another."

"Okay, that's great for you," Rox said. "But what about the rest of us? We're not necromancers, most of us, and that looks a bit flimsy for me."

"All right," Annhilda said. "Gliders. Great. We can make that happen. Just as soon as we find Rhyoll and the other smiths. So catch some rest, we're going to head north tomorrow to look for other survivors near the other crashed ships. Laranthir, you'll remain here to secure the area."

"Thank you, Commander. I'll head south, to the high ground. That's where the Pale Reavers are trained to go."

"What about the rest of us?" Metella demanded.

Annhilda shot her a glare. "If you're so determined to skip out on this fight, you can be in charge of getting the wounded back to the Silverwastes. Amber Sandfall should be secure."

Metella growled. "I'm not skipping out. I just don't want to be left here with a bunch of-" Canach cleared his throat. "...Sylvari."

"You're going to have to get over that," Annhilda said. "I can't make you trust them, but making a dolyak out of yourself from paranoia isn't going to help us beat Mordremoth either. Okay everyone! This jungle is just as deadly as we knew it was going to be, but the good news is that it can't take us all out at once. Stay together, by Wolf, and I'll get us all out of this. Now, who's got pigeons? Anyone?"

Traversing the jungle was slow going. The paths of the Heart of Maguuma were twisted and confusing – it was easy to lose one's direction following the trails that wound about, and often ended abruptly at a tall cliff, or a deep chasm. Giant vines, still holding aloft the burning wrecks of airships, were but another obstacle. The sun was often hidden behind clouds bringing thunderstorms, and even Canach's experienced woodcraft was failing him here, in this new and vicious terrain. Luckily, Rox had a good compass.

But they'd found more Pact forces, many of them concentrated in a large camp northwest of the Pale Reavers' outpost. The officers had managed to maintain order, though at the expense of all their Sylvari, who were fearfully segregated away from the other soldiers. Annhilda was enthusiastically welcomed, and the officers informed her of all they'd learned, which was not much – but Caithe had been spotted, at least. She, too, was here, for whatever reason, and Caoilfhionn knew he would have to find her soon.

Caoiflhionn's siblings Eithne and Ruadhan had not been found, and as sick with worry as he was for Trahearne, he had yet more space to worry about them. They had joined to follow him, to help him, and he would feel wretched if they had died because of- no, not because of him. Because of Mordremoth. Their ship had not been found yet, so it was possible they had escaped harm. He had to hope for that, too.

There was another worry that had not occurred to him for years: Malyck. Malyck's tree had been from this area. He had not looked like a Mordrem, but he'd had no knowledge of his parent tree, of his siblings, of the Dream of Dreams. Would he have any idea what was happening? Would he have been able to resist and retain his mind?

Annhilda was soon swimming in management and logistics issues for the troops, and left the search for missing soldiers, and Destiny's Edge, to her guild. With Rox and Canach in the lead, they scouted in all directions where the burning airships could be seen. There were many survivors scattered throughout the jungle, holding on through tenacity, or sheer luck, and these were directed back to the main camp. Every time they returned, the camp was more crowded, with more people, more tents, until it actually started to look like an army.

During one of their scouting trips, they came across a local tribe of hylek called the Itzel. They were as much under assault from the Mordrem as a the pact, and immediately welcomed an alliance. In exchange for military aid, they shared their knowledge of the jungle: what was safe to eat, how to make simple gliders, and use the air currents, and most importantly: all the Mordrem troop movements their scouts had sighted, including a remarkable prisoner transport: a single Sylvari, Human, Asura and Norn were personally escorted westward by one of the Mordrem commanders.

Through every waking hour and slithering into every dream, Mordremoth's voice hissed through the forest, constantly calling to the Sylvari, whispering when not booming, distracting them at best – Canach brushed it off as no more than a fly buzzing, but Caoilfhionn thought he was stretching the truth – and twisting them to mind-wiped foes at worst. Many Pact Sylvari gravitated towards the Pale Reavers even if they had not been part of that unit before, simply to get away from the prejudice of the non-Sylvari, to find solidarity with their siblings, to collectively shield each other against the Dragon's call.

They were constantly harassed by the Mordrem Guard, whether skirmishes with scouting parties or pitched assaults on their camps. Their defense of the jungle was far more cunning and aggressive than the Risen had been of Orr, vicious and bloody, and the Pact had to adapt rapidly or die in those first few days and nights. Their main camp seemed so small amidst everything, small and vulnerable...

Caoilfhionn found himself unable to sleep much those nights even when they were not attacked. Though he knew Trahearne to be alive, and far too valuable to kill, his heart ached for him and what he must be enduring. Trahearne knew himself, and would not be easily overcome by the Dragon's power even if Sylvari were the ones susceptible to Mordremoth's call, but if the Dragon chose to bend all his power upon Trahearne alone... could he withstand it? For surely the Marshal of the Pact would be a great prize of a champion for Mordremoth to gain, for his knowledge of everything within the Pact, and for his immense power as a learned Firstborn.

Every nebulous fear he'd ever had about Trahearne had come true, and he felt angry that he had not paid more attention to them. So he lay awake at night, in a constant state of worry and weariness, unable to wander the edges of camp in case some Pact soldier took him to have gone crazy and tried to murder him.

Kasmeer came by one of those nights. "Hey, you're awake."

"I am."

She sighed sympathetically and sat beside him. He didn't mind her being there. She probably understood better than most of the others, being a bright, hopeful person whose love was a necromancer constantly in danger. "I'd tell you to try and sleep, but I know you know you ought to try and sleep. So... how are you?"

He shook his head. "I can't stop. I can't bear this waiting. I know we're not ready to go further in and it chafes me, I..." All at once everything that simmered just under his surface came welling up and tears ran down. "I can't bear this. I'd give anything – I'd give everything to have him back." Was this what Tiachren had felt when Ysvelta had been taken from him?

One of Kasmeer's warm arms wrapped about his shoulders; it was not Trahearne's arm but it was comforting just the same. "Shh, shh. You're not alone. Braham's suffering too. And we're all here for you both. But you have to keep it together until we find him. We need you so much."

He leaned into her embrace. "I can't. I can't smile for you now."

"Not now, then. I miss it, but I understand. But stay with us."

"Of course. I'll fight to the last of my strength, you can count upon that."

She touched his leaves. "What's this? You've got some yellow here."

He'd known his leaves were getting dry around the edges, particularly the little ones closer to his scalp. "It's just stress. I'll live."

"You're drinking enough water, right?"

"Yes. It's not that causing it."

She was quiet a moment. "You know what I want to do while we're here?" He didn't answer, but she continued anyway. "I saw a huge tree not far from here, or the remains of one, anyway. It's so big, I can't even imagine what it was like when it was not just a stump. I want to climb it. I imagine the view would be amazing, I think it's nearly as big as a Shiverpeak mountain. I wonder if I could see the Shiverpeaks from the top, even. Do you think such a big tree could be the ancestor of the Pale Tree?"

"Since Mordremoth made her seed, probably not," Caoilfhionn said.

"He didn't have to have made her seed out of thin air. Though it does seem to be a different type of tree... Anyway, I know we're not here to look around. We've got a mission and we're going to see it through. But this place is amazing, if you can spare the space to look."

He sighed against her shoulder. "I do not. You will have to look for me. Please, look for me."

"I'll look at everything and remember it so that after this is all over, we can come back and look around properly."

"It'll still be dangerous, I'm sure."

"As long as we don't get lost. ...Will you be able to try and rest now?"

"I'll lie down," Caoilfhionn said. "I don't know if I can sleep."

"Maybe you should try lavender tea. It helps me to sleep, at least."

"If there are any in the supplies," Caoilfhionn said. "Otherwise I will endure."

She patted his shoulder as he lay down on his side. "Sleep well, Caoilfhionn. I'll look into it."