Chapter Text
Soon Garm smelled something acrid on the air. In the far distance, spirals of black smoke wormed their way up into the sky. He rounded a corner, and looked up. Debris from the fractured airships hung suspended from vines and lay wedged amongst the branches of the canopy. Garm ducked his head. The sound of rending metal and the screams of Pact soldiers echoed in his ears.
“What are you doing here?” a scathing voice cut through his rumination. Garm’s head snapped up, and his ears sprung to attention.
Faolain wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t think you would actually catch up with me. Go away, mutt.”
Garm whined, and his tongue lolled. Faolain grimaced.
“I thought you said you were helping?”
Garm tipped his head to one side. Faolain didn’t seen to be talking to him. Her eyes were unfocused, and she moved with short, jerky movements. His tail fell still, and the fur between his shoulders bristled.
Faolain started walking again. She looked exhausted, and watched Garm through watery eyes.
“Did she send you?”
Garm flicked an ear.
“No,” Faolain muttered, “no, she doesn’t know you’re here. She’s still trying to talk to my clone.”
Garm loped towards her, his paws picking deftly over the torn ground.
“I said leave,” Faolain hissed, glaring at Garm. The direwolf reached the sylvari and touched his nose against her shoulder. Under the grime, he could smell something coppery and harsh. Garm tensed.
Faolain placed her hand over his snout, and shoved him away. He braced his paws against the ground and resisted. The sylvari drew a shuddering breath, and crossed her arms.
“Scram,” she spat. “Get away from me. I don’t like you, and I don’t need you here.”
Garm sunk onto his belly. He waited for Faolain to walk some way ahead. She cast a sharp glance over her shoulder at him when he shifted his paws against the ground.
After a while, Faolain said: “There must still be Pact soldiers over there.”
Garm lifted his head from his paws. Faolain was pointing towards the crashed airship.
“I can see the signal fires,” she continued. “But they’re too far away…” she paused, wiping her face with the heel of her hand. Garm whimpered, and shuffled his paws.
Faolain sucked air through her teeth, and ground the palm of her hand over her forehead. “Go catch me a rat or something,” she said with a sigh. “Go fetch me a bird.”
Garm blew air through his nose. He heard the tiredness in Faolain’s voice. It was the same tinge to her words that had starting to hang around Eir’s voice too. Garm’s ears drooped.
Faolain scuffed the ground with her foot, and flung a shower of dirt and stones at the wolf. Garm lifted his head with a yelp.
“I got dizzy is all,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “I would have come back sooner.”
Garm pressed his ears flat, and narrowed his eyes. The patch on his snout where the mud had hit him stung.
“But I wasn’t kidding. I really do need to find something to eat…”
Garm watched her.
“The dragon,” she admitted, “I’ve been led in circles by his damn voice for hours now…”
Garm whined.
“Did you meet the frog?” she asked with a wry laugh. “Perhaps not. I met her twice.” Faolain closed her eyes. Her forehead creased into a deep frown, and Garm saw the tendons in her jaw bunch up. “At least, I think it was the same one… I was so stupid to think I could trust him,” Faolain muttered. Her voice grew hard. “Eighteen minutes…” she grit her teeth, “ eighteen minutes?”
Garm flicked an ear.
Faolain sighed. “They wouldn’t take me in anyway,” she said. Her voice grew thick, and her eyes filled with tears. “Even if I made it to the Pact, they’d never take me in. I’ve… I’ve a rather strong reputation-” She paused as her breath hitched in her throat.
Garm exhaled.
Faolain tutted. “Well aren’t you just a wonderful moral support,” she said bitterly.
Garm waited.
Faolain dried her tears. Something stirred at the back of her mind, something insidious that made the leaves in her hair stand on end. She ignored it.
“Go away, dog,” she said. “My clone is all but dead, and I have a lot still to do. Leave before something worse comes along.”
Garm stood and woofed.
“I said I don’t need your help!” Faolain kicked out again, and lost her balance. She flung out her arms, her head flung back, but did not hit the ground. As she fell, a vine broke up through the ground and looped around her waist. It set her to her feet.
Garm stared. Then he hung his head and bared his teeth.
Faolain’s eyes were wide. She moved her head slowly, and looked across at the direwolf. Garm growled.
Oh dear…
“Why is it doing that?” Faolain whispered.
I think it’s stopped trying to help you… Mordremoth laughed. His voice seemed to echo through the jungle; he made the leaves around them vibrate.
Garm snarled, his lips pulled back over glistening teeth. He darted forwards, eyes wild, and ran for Faolain.
Mordremoth twitched. Faolain felt something building in her skull. The Dragon’s attention made her veins thrum with energy, and she gasped. Mordremoth made the jungle spring to action , and suddenly the ground heaved.
Garm skidded to a halt, his ears pushed back against his skull. A eerie silence had fallen over the area. The air was thick, and still. Suddenly there came a grinding sound, and he was buffeted by wind. Garm looked up in time to see a sheet of metal falling from the vines above.
He bounded out of its shadow seconds before it crashed into the ground. The torn pieces of airship creaked and screeched as the vines holding them shifted and swayed. Across the clearing, Faolain cast one look at the wolf, and turned away.
Get going now, Mordremoth said. Go on, now. Still a way to go… are you sure you know the way?
Faolain shivered. Her heart was racing, and her chest felt light. Her feet carried her swiftly towards the treeline.
“Of course,” she said. Her voice grew strong, “I know the way.”
Garm ducked his head as a vine darted towards him. He fell on his stomach, and scrabbled his paws against the heaving ground. The vine clipped the trunk of the tree next to him, and flung a spray of splintered wood into the air. The chips rained down on the jungle floor and struck Garm’s face and back. He whimpered, and licked his snout. A flock of birds wheeled overhead, screeching and chattering. Garm pushed his ears back. He could smell bruised wood and broken leaves. It stung his nose, and made him blink his eyes.
The vine pushed on, curling around the thick trunks of the trees. Garm slunk close to the ground, weaving amongst the broken branches. Another vine arched overhead, casting a deep shadow and blocking out the sky. Garm watched it warily. His ears swiveled from side to side, picking up every sound. Somewhere deep under the jungle came a low rumble.
Garm’s fur bushed up. He raised his shoulders and dipped his head and stared with burning eyes into the undergrowth. Faolain had vanished. Another vine darted down from above, driving into the dirt and sending a shockwave through his paws. He was forced to retreat back the way he had come. The fractured wing of an airship swung by, still embedded in a vine. It sent a shower of bright glass over the jungle floor, and Garm yelped as he ran over it.
He reached the undergrowth, and barrelled through the leaves. The vines chased after him, snapping the branches overhead. More birds screeched, and a pack of miniature saurians scattered like insects in torchlight. Garm ignored them, and tried to run ahead.
After a few tense minutes, he started to slow. He breathed deep, catching his breath, and snuck a glance behind him. The vines had looped up around the trees, twining together to bar the way back. They formed an impenetrable wall. Garm sighed, and licked his nose, and slunk away.
***
Faolain focused hard. In her mind’s eye, she started to make out the inside of the cage. Her clone sat close to the ground. Eir watched her with flat, dull eyes.
A spark of anger flared in Faolain’s chest.
“Eir!” she snapped, “Why is Garm here?”
Eir looked confused.
“I’m running out of time,” she snapped. “The guard, where are the guard? How many came back? How many are there?”
Don’t trust her for something like that…
“My time has run out. Any window I had to get into camp unnoticed has gone…”
So what now? The Dragon’s voice was dripping with intrigue.
Faolain ducked under a branch, and kept running. “Everything happens at once,” she muttered. “Just you watch.”
Faolain slowed. She focused on the clone, and managed to move its arms. She found the knife, still tucked away safely, and held it ready through its clothes. Eir moved in front of the clone, and knelt down, and held out her hand. Faolain barked a short laugh, and shook her head.
“Fool,” she chided. She tried to make the clone speak, but managed only a low growl. “Stupid thing,” she hissed.
Eir seemed intent on taking the knife. She was jabbing and clawing at the clone. Each time her hands struck it’s wavering form, spikes of pain spread across Faolain’s shoulders and back. Faolain grit her teeth, and came to a stop. She screwed her face into a grimace.
Mordremoth’s voice broke through the pain: if you lose that clone…
“I know,” Faolain hissed. “Shut up and let me concentrate.”
Controlling the clone was like wading through tar. Faolain managed to get it to move its arm. She reached up to strike Eir’s face and force her away. The clone’s fingers skittered over the norn’s flesh, and Faolain’s hands exploded with pins and needles. Faolain recoiled, and lost the link with the clone. She watched as Eir retreated across the cage.
“Dammit!” Faolain yelled, raising her fists to her temples.
Try making a sufficient distraction now…
Faolain drove her foot into the ground. “Shutup,” she snapped. “I’ll get it back! And as for you…” she turned her attention to Eir, “just you try getting through the vines without my help. I dare you to get through this jungle without me!”
Well, whatever changes your plan needs, you need to make it back to put it in motion. Mordremoth’s voice took on a lilting tone, and it set her teeth on edge.
“Maybe I won’t make it back,” Faolain retorted. It seemed like The Dragon was mocking her. “Between you and this wolf-”
How can you say that? Mordremoth’s voice seethed with mock outrage: I’m helping!
Faolain walked onwards. The pathway started to wind upwards, and she crossed a bridge cradled in the shadow of many trees. “How can I trust you?” she responded. She peered over the side of the bridge. The floor dropped away abruptly and disappeared down into a grey abyss. The bushy tops of trees waves up at her in the breeze. She pulled back, and swallowed hard. “We’re close,” she said.