The good end is here! Caoilfhionn’s last fight is soundtracked to This Game from No Game No Life! I really like the piano arrangement by Animenz, better than the original song actually. Really short chapter, because the story actually continues from here. And in fact we’re starting to head towards the end of the fic? I’ve still got story arcs for the boys to go through but from this point on the game story started to interest me less so you’ll see less of it. I’m still loving the areas in PoF, and exploring them, but the plot still hasn’t quite grabbed me yet. It would help if I could figure out whether I’m shipping Damara with Faren or Canach… or both, one after the other… and if Faren had more screen-time to make that sort of feasible. But anyway.
Btw, I’m not having Trahearne be giant-sized in this story. I’ve seen some really nice art of ‘Trahearne post-HoT’ and I really like that idea, but I’m going a different route.
Part 9: The Strength to Fight
He woke to find himself lying upon damp earthen ground, and sucked in a heaving gasp of air. How sweet it was, after such exertion! Even down here, where it smelled of decaying plant matter. He had truly pushed himself to the brink and it was good to wake and rest.
But Trahearne! He sat up, a little woozily as his sap took a moment to adjust its flow, and then pushed himself shakily to his feet.
Rytlock stomped over, sheathing his sword. “You did it! Two dragons down, four to go.”
“We did it,” he confirmed solemnly, a huge smile suffusing his face. “Mordremoth is dead.”
“Truly dead,” Canach said. “I can’t hear its voice in my head. It’s completely gone.”
“And we Sylvari are still here, still… us,” Caithe said in a low voice of wonder. “I wasn’t sure…”
Caoilfhionn ran to Trahearne, saw with concern that his eyes still glowed red. “Are you all right? Are you badly hurt? Tell me what to do.”
Trahearne took a deep breath, seeming just as weary as he. Well, with good reason. “Caoilfhionn… I… My sword… Caladbolg… Only its power can free me from this. Please, bring it here.”
Damara was closest, and she had to tug strenuously to free it from the vine it was buried in, and brought to them.
Trahearne took another breath, pain creeping back into his face. “Quickly, now: use it… on me. Kill me, Caoilfhionn.”
“NO!” Caoilfhionn’s cry rang through the tunnel. “Mordremoth is dead! We destroyed its mind! I will not-” He choked. He’d lost his brother and his friend – and many more besides – he could not lose his beloved as well. Not after all he’d fought. He flung himself at Trahearne, impacting hard into his chest, his face buried in his neck, and felt Trahearne gasp and clench his teeth.
Slowly, his arms closed about Caoilfhionn, returning the embrace. “But I still hear its voice. Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed planted deep in my mind. You must kill me, Caoilfhionn. Before that seed grows… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”
His Wyld Hunt was still ringing in the back of his mind. He took a step back, his eyes blazing with determination, putting his hands on Trahearne’s shoulders. He was exhausted, yet he would burn himself to the core before he gave up. “No. I will find another way. I will save you.”
“Caoilfhionn-” Trahearne’s eyes were tragic.
“Wishful thinking,” Rytlock muttered.
He cut over both of them with a firm kiss on Trahearne’s mouth, then drew his dagger and began to cut Trahearne out of the pod thing that held him from the waist down.
Everyone yelled. “What are you doing!? Wait! Stop!”
Caoilfhionn locked eyes with Trahearne. “I trust you. I love you. You can fight him. We’ll get you to safety and I will purge him from the world.”
Trahearne was shuddering for air, his control fracturing before his eyes, stumbling forward onto the ground, reaching out to Caoilfhionn for support. “Caoilfhionn- this is a mistake- Don’t do this-!”
“Believe in me. Believe in me as you’ve never done before. I swear-”
There was a rumble, and Trahearne’s whole face changed, and a shadow rose behind him – a shadow with malevolent yellow eyes, and a blast of magic knocked them all back a pace, even Caoilfhionn. Trahearne thrashed, and from his mouth came horrible words. “I am the future. I am this world. You cannot destroy me. Run while you can.”
“I’m not running,” Caoilfhionn said quietly, sheathing his dagger and holding out his arms. “Give me my love and begone!” The others were moving forward. “Stay back! If I die, do as you please, but until then, stay back and do not harm him!”
Mordremoth laughed with Trahearne’s mouth and pounced upon him, knocking him down onto his back, straddling him him and pinning him down. “Little fool! Die in futile hope, then! There is nothing left of him. He is mine!” He struck Caoilfhionn, Trahearne’s fingers lengthened into claws, tearing through his clothes and flesh. Caoilfhionn screamed, writhing – he was brave, he would endure this, but his body could not help but react to the pain. Mordremoth ripped at his chest and back, slashed through his left eye, reached down and bit at his throat like a beast.
He heard the others crying out, heard them try to run forwards to try and save him, but Mordremoth swung a hand and they were knocked back.
He mustered some control through the agony, gritting his teeth against the sobs of pain, resting his hands on Trahearne’s knees and managing to smile up at him with only one eye. “Ah, Mordremoth, how pitiful you are. If there is nothing left of him, why is he crying?” For tears were flowing down from those glowing red eyes, and he looked miserable, even the part that was frozen in wooden armour. “Shhh, it’s all right, my beloved. I know you’re tired, that you’re beyond the last of your strength. Just fight him a little longer. For me?” He could feel the sap draining from his body. He didn’t have long.
“Your death will seal both your fates!” cried Mordremoth, and raised one arm high, claws poised to smash through his chest – and he paused. Caoilfhionn watched, not without bracing himself. Trahearne reached up and seized his right arm, fighting once more for control, pulling at it – and suddenly, with a terrible cry, wrenched it free. Sap sprayed over Caoilfhionn, and Trahearne slumped to one side, collapsing to the ground unconscious.
“Trahearne!” He wheezed, trying to sit up, but he was too wounded, he couldn’t- Marjory ran to him, channeling healing power into him. “Thank you. Him, too!”
“Mordremoth isn’t dead,” Canach said, sounding alarmed and angry. “You’ve kept it alive. Trahearne’s weakened it by weakening his own body, but he can’t control it alone.”
“He won’t be alone any longer,” Caoilfhionn said. “Heal him! Give me Caladbolg, I must…” He swayed as Damara helped him to his feet. The worst of the sap loss had stopped but he was still so weak… and tired…
“You’re not going anywhere,” Braham said. “You shouldn’t be standing!”
“Don’t worry about me,” Caoilfhionn said fiercely. “I’ll go wherever I have to. All that matters to me is saving Trahearne. Watch him, restrain him, but don’t kill him. I’ll be back. I swear it.”
He took Caladbolg, and its broken strength was enough to let him reach out… to the Grove… He appeared in its warm greenery and sprinted for the Omphalos Chamber. Many cried out at his sudden, ragged, sap-covered appearance, but that didn’t matter. The Wardens tried to stop him. “What are you doing, Caoilfhionn? The Pale Tree isn’t well enough to be interrupted- what happened to you?”
“It’s life or death!” Caoilfhionn cried, holding up Caladbolg’s remains. “Please, let me by, or Trahearne will die!” He didn’t know how long he had, how long Trahearne could keep Mordremoth locked inside his unconscious mind.
They looked at each other, then nodded and stepped aside. He entered the lift, panting impatiently, trying not to pass out again… and then the green mossy carpet of the Omphalos Chamber was before him. He was barely aware of crossing it, half-collapsing in kneeling before the Pale Tree. “Mother-! I-! Trahearne-!”
“Breathe, Caoilfhionn,” said the Pale Tree, who was only just sitting up herself. “What has happened? You found Trahearne? Oh, your poor body… Your eye…”
“Never mind me,” Caoilfhionn said, though he felt the Pale Tree touch his head and cure some of his hurts. “Thank you, Mother. But Trahearne – the Dragon has taken him – we defeated the Dragon in its own mind, but now it is in Trahearne’s and if I don’t save him he will die-”
“Can he be saved?” asked the Pale Tree sadly. “If the Dragon has taken him, then…”
“I cannot believe it’s impossible!” Caoilfhionn burst out. “Mother- only give me a chance! Put me in the Dream! I beg you – I know you are not well, but only give me the chance to save him and I will never ask aught else of you again! Please… you are my only hope!”
She was moved by his tears, he could tell, and with Aine and Serimon helping her avatar, she stood, and placed her hands upon his head. “Then go to him, my son. Save your heart – and all our people.”
He woke in darkness, thick cloying darkness… yet it was not absolute. There was enough shadowy light that he could see all about him thick thorny vines, writhing slowly. Some of the light came from broken Caladbolg beside him, and he picked it up as he picked himself up. His spiritual body was unwounded, his eyes intact. Before him was a larger open space, and he stepped forward into it.
Trahearne was standing, barely, arms outstretched, dark greenish necromantic power enveloping a vast shadow, keeping it at bay… but the bubble was so thin, his power weakening… “Trahearne.”
“Caoilfhionn?” Trahearne rasped, half-turning to him. Caoilfhionn rushed to his side. He was unaltered, his eyes not red – so it was in the Dream, where he could be his true self.
“I’m here. I’m here.” He put his arms around him, holding him close, comforting them both. “I’m here to fight him. You’re not alone anymore.”
“It’s too late,” Trahearne said, and his arms wrapped around Caoilfhionn, tighter and tighter, as if to trap him – to crush him. Caoilfhionn leaned back to look up in confusion. “You should have killed me…” Trahearne choked, a horrible, guttural sound, and then thorny vines burst from his mouth, from his eyes, from the ground to wrap around both of them. Caoilfhionn choked back a scream and flinched away – even from his love, for the horror of it shocked him – but then he rallied.
“No. It’s never too late! I swear by the Pale Mother, by all the gods, by all the worlds, by all the magic in existence, I will save you or die with you!” The vines were shying away from Caladbolg, even broken as it was, and with an effort he slashed at the vines around, cleaving them with Caladbolg’s light and his own fire, forcing the vines to retreat.
Trahearne still writhed, possessed by the vines, and he slapped him down with the flat of the blade. Trahearne hissed and screeched as the blessed blade scorched the vines, and Caoilfhionn pressed it down harder on top of him – until he realized it was giving Trahearne pain as well, corrupted as he was.
He pulled back as he heard Mordremoth laugh from behind him, and turned to see the Dragon’s face hanging shadowy before him. The bubble entrapping it was gone. “I told you it was futile. You’ve done well to come even here, but you are alone, and you are weak, and you are tired. How pitiful you are. And now I’ll kill you in great pain.” More vines sprang up around them, edging closer and closer, as if this entire Dream would be nothing but vines, strangling, tearing, killing.
His vision blurred, but he blinked past it. Here of all places he knew who he was. Caoilfhionn held his ground, his only illumination Caladbolg’s dim light. “As long as you realize you’ll never leave here either. Heads I win, tails you lose.” He raised the sword and its light shone out in Mordremoth’s face, fearless and defiant.
Mordremoth laughed and the vines surged forward. Caoilfhionn sprang to meet them, fire erupting from his strike, pushing them back. But he didn’t go too far – he could not leave Trahearne alone. He spun a ring of fire around Trahearne, raising the flames with the strength of his feelings, of his heart.
He heard Trahearne cough and looked down to see the vines retreating from his body. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Trahearne whispered. “But you have won me a space. A space to say goodbye in…”
“Stop talking like that!” Caoilfhionn said strongly, swinging at another vine. “Don’t you want to come back with me?”
Trahearne gasped for air. “I do, but…”
“But…?”
“I fear I have not the strength.”
Caoilfhionn knelt beside him, took his hand and kissed it. “Maybe we don’t. But we are Sylvari. Is it not better to die nobly fighting to the last, than to die without having tried?”
Trahearne’s look was painfully affectionate. “You’re terribly selfish, Caoilfhionn.”
Caoilfhionn smiled. “I am. But I give all I have to you in exchange.”
Trahearne lifted his head, and Caoilfhionn gave him a hand to his feet. He took a deep breath. “Then I will fight.”
Caoilfhionn handed him Caladbolg and drew his sword and dagger. “I will protect you.”
“Amusing,” Mordremoth said. “Come, then! Let me devour you!”
“Devour this,” Trahearne said, and Caladbolg blazed with white fire. Caoilfhionn laughed with delight and stabbed forward, Fire and Water swirling in the air about him. Together, step for step, they drove back the vines, fighting closer to that shadowy presence. If only they could reach it, blast it from existence! And swiftly, before their strength failed! Caoilfhionn pressed forwards, acting as Trahearne’s vanguard, the more agile of the two of them – and then darted back, slashing away vines that thought to sneak upon them from behind. Together, they were much stronger than apart.
Of course, all this jumping about had a cost, and he stumbled in his weariness. The vines didn’t hesitate; he cut two of them apart before they could reach him but the third slammed into his left shoulder. He reeled with a cry of pain, and Trahearne shouted his name, jumping to defend him, cutting him free. He could no longer hold his dagger, leaving it behind and slicing his sword high as Trahearne pushed him to his feet. His vision was blurring again, his head pounding, and he yelled as he cut through the interference. Mordremoth’s yellow eyes were before him and he charged with the last of his passion, blinking forward with the power of Air, striking deep into the Dragon’s jaw.
Mordremoth tried to shake him off. “I am the Jungle Dragon! You are my creations! How do you resist still!?”
“You’re nothing but a memory!” Trahearne snarled and buried Caladbolg to the hilt in the Dragon’s eye. Physically, it did not bite deep – but Caladbolg’s magic surged, bright enchantment blasting into the Dragon’s soul.
Mordremoth gave a great scream and began to dissipate around the edges. Caoilfhionn gritted his teeth and held on, channeling every last ounce of fury and love into the monster, and so did Trahearne, and it faded away into thin air. The vines around them glowed white like sparkling filigree and withered into ash, and all about them grew much lighter, like twilight just after sunset, revealing a pleasant, wild, jungle-ish landscape.
“It’s gone?” Trahearne said, more suspicious than relieved, though he swayed and leaned on Caladbolg to keep himself upright. “Check around for even the smallest seed of a vine.”
Caoilfhionn put his hands to the ground and cast about with Earth and Water, as Trahearne reached out above him, searching in his own way. It was his Dream, his mind, he would know every corner of it better than Caoilfhionn. “Does anything feel wrong?” Vaguely, he noticed the visual aspect of this Dream looked like Orr, like obsidian ruins draped in verdant greenery.
“It all feels wrong,” Trahearne said wryly. “He broke me, Caoilfhionn. Even if he is truly gone, there is no part of me unscarred by his touch. But…” He paused, as if listening. “I think… he is truly… gone.” He turned to Caoilfhionn, smiling though tears ran from his eyes. “And I have you to thank for everything.”
“And the Pale Tree, for sending me here.” Caoilfhionn smiled broadly through his own overjoyed tears. “I could not bear a future without you.”
“Come here.” Trahearne threw his arms around him, pulling him close, kissing him hard. They fell to their knees together, then to the ground. He could feel his utter exhaustion; they’d both gone beyond their limits, yet in this metaphysical space they could for once be closer than close. To let their souls touch, to feel their love resonate in a deeper way than the waking world… it was too precious a chance to let go.
He would have to wake up soon, but for now, it was beyond heaven to lie on green grass, Trahearne’s weight above him, held with complete enrapturing love, his mouth affirming that love, breathing in his scent and hearing his breath. If only they’d had more time, he would make love to him and profess with his whole body his devotion and adoration, but he would take these breathless seconds, feel his hands and his lips and his tongue-
He opened his eyes and looked into Trahearne’s. “I should go. ‘Tis not my power that brought me here, and I should not impose on it.”
“Of course,” Trahearne said softly. “I’ll see you in the waking world, then.”
He woke to find himself lying on damp ground, Phiadi bending over him, holding out her hands to channel healing energy into him. He winced with a gasp as he tried to open both eyes and found only one working. Phiadi frowned. “Lie still!” she ordered him. “You’re such a jerk, making me heal like this. You better be grateful.”
“I am,” he whispered, feeling anew all his wounds and his deathly weariness. “Trahearne?”
Annhilda leaned into his field of vision. “Alive. Unconscious. Finally responding to magic. Did you win?”
“I won,” he whispered.
“Good. He’s much worse off than you, and you look like you’ve been sat on by a whole village of jotun. Let me get back to it.” She leaned away and was lit up by a blue glow, no doubt pumping healing spells into Trahearne.
The others were hurrying about around him, but it didn’t matter. He closed his eyes with a smile. He’d done it.
“What are we doing with this arm?” he heard Annhilda ask in the background. “Can we reattach it, or wait for a new one to grow in?”
“We should wait,” Caithe answered. “His new arm may not be as strong as the old one, but his body may not accept the old one back.”
“Crazy,” he heard Rhyoll say. “I wonder why more of you don’t become engineers, with that sort of ability?”
“It’s still just as painful and inconvenient as it would be for you, not that I’d know from personal experience,” Canach told him.
Caoilfhionn cracked his eye open again to look at Phiadi. “I heard that you won outside, too.”
“That overgrown snake never stood a chance,” she sniffed. “We lost a lot of troops, and it was a bit irritating to defeat the body and find out that the mind was still active, but it was satisfying to tear it up. You should see it, impaled on its own tree.”
Rhyoll sat down beside him. “Good to see you alive, twig. Yeah, everyone fought hard, even the Nightmare Court. We got everyone organized to go home, and we sent messages off to Rata Sum. Annhilda’s planning to march to the coast and get them to pick us up by ship from there. You’ll be home in no time!”
“And then I can rest,” Caoilfhionn whispered with a faint smile. “I am so weary.”
“Then stop talking,” Phiadi told him. “Sleep! I’m 87% sure your body won’t give out after all the healing I put into it – though if it does, I’m resurrecting it to do a puppet show. So don’t give up entirely just because you’re asleep.”
“Inappropriate,” Rhyoll rumbled, and Caoilfhionn heard Phiadi make a raspberry as he closed his eyes again.
Annhilda kept tight security around him and Trahearne as they marched to the coast; Trahearne still looked half-Blighted, though what colour his eyes were no one knew yet, for he hadn’t woken up yet. The Pact was still pleased to know that their Marshal was alive, he heard, and Annhilda didn’t want anyone to panic from seeing him. He was not much better off himself, drifting in and out of painful consciousness right up until the Asuran ships reached the Grove. They’d stopped once at Rata Sum, dropping off most of the Asura, including Zojja, still in a coma herself, and a few others. Eithne had been close by his side the whole time.
They were carried on stretchers to the Menders, but they had only just begun being cared for when word came that they were to be brought to the Omphalos Chamber, the two of them and Hope’s Legacy. The Pale Tree was waiting for them, looking even a little better than he’d last seen her. “Ah, my children, it is so good to see you! All of you, Tyria owes you a great debt for freeing us from Mordremoth. And so do I, for bringing my sons safely home.” She knelt beside Trahearne. “Poor Trahearne… he has suffered so nobly. And Caoilfhionn… he has fought so hard for his love.” He looked up at her with his good eye and a little smile. He didn’t mind fighting hard.
“They’ll be… able to get better, right?” Damara asked, with an awkward curtsy.
The Pale Tree nodded. “They will never be quite as they were. No one can be. But rest can be had. Would you like that, Caoilfhionn?”
“Yes,” he breathed. And Trahearne needed it even more.
There was a soft sound, and a seedpod touched down near him. “Then rest in my branches,” said his Mother. “Let me nourish you both as you recover. Aine, Caithe, please lay Trahearne in the pod.”
Caoilfhionn made a soft grunt, reaching out, and the Pale Tree laughed a little, wind rustling her branches. “Yes, Caoilfhionn, you will share the pod with him. You don’t think I would separate you now, do you?”
He relaxed again, smiling. No, of course not. But he just wanted to make sure.
When Trahearne was nestled in the pod, Aine and Caithe came to him, helping him out of his clothes and lifting him to his feet so he could step into the pod. He draped himself across Trahearne, holding him gently, and lifted his head and arm one more time to wave at his friends outside. “Thank you… for everything. I’ll see you… in a little while.”
“Sleep tight,” Rhyoll said.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite!” Damara said, grinning. “I mean, it’s not a bed, so you won’t have bedbugs, but anyway!”
“I hope you feel better soon!” Kasmeer said. “Too bad we can’t do the same with Logan.”
“We’ll get him back to Divinity’s Reach right away,” Annhilda said. “See you later, Caoilfhionn.”
Their smiling faces were the last thing he saw before the pod shut, enclosing him in a warm green womb, and he nodded off to sleep right away.