Verdant Brink

1328 AE

The jungle was just as inhospitable as Ospreii had expected. From the moment she’d crossed into Verdant Brink, she’d felt exposed, like there were thousands of predators watching her from just out of sight. It made her jumpy, but thankfully so, because it also didn’t take long for vines to start reaching for her, and for Mordrem to start ambushing her at every turn. She was at least alert enough to not be taken off guard. 

She’d done well to dispatch the few small patrols she ran into, but her memories harkened back to Claw Island, when Zhaitan had sent probing forces to get a feel for the Lionguard’s strengths and tactics. She knew she was being toyed with, and when Mordremoth felt like it, she’d end up with more foes than she could hope to defeat on her own in no time.

Not more than two hours since she arrived, the snare had sprung on her. 

There were at least two dozen Mordrem surrounding her that she could count, but there were most certainly more, and every single one was fixated on nothing but her painful death. 

The Mordrem of the Jungle proper were far more intelligent and strategic than any they had encountered at Concordia or the Iron Marches, outsmarting even the Mordrem nearby in the Wastes. She could fight them fine, as smart as they were, they weren’t exactly new in any of the ways that mattered. It was just that there were so many now. 

They hit hard, and every blow was starting to add up. Slowing down now was fatal, she knew, so she forced herself to keep leaping from target to target, even as her breaths turned to shards in her chest.

Ospreii blinked, trying to get the jungle to stop spinning as she exited a whirl of her hammer, still sparking with electricity. The moment she did, she caught sight of a Mordrem sniper taking aim, dead on her. Already moving, she dove to the side and into a sloppy roll. Maybe she was seeing double, but they seemed to just keep coming. She’d probably killed all of the first two dozen she hastily counted, but now it seemed like there were three. 

She really wasn’t shocked, though. After all, there would be a large bounty on her head. Having both the Pact Marshal and the Pact Commander in its tendrils would be a great prize for the Jungle Dragon, wouldn’t it? At least her friends probably weren’t being hit as hard, wherever they were. 

Taking a steadying step, Ospreii prepared to lunge back at the sniper. She’d come to the conclusion already that these snipers were the most dangerous to face. They were high on her priority list to kill, so she wasted no time in ensuring this one wouldn’t get a good shot on her. She did not notice the mounted cavalier rush from behind until the breath had already been knocked clean from her torso. She was launched forward into the eager hammer of a crusher. Even though she’d managed to activate a gyro for the protection it offered, it wasn’t enough. She was slammed hard into the ground, and was too winded to even cry out. 

Her feet scrambled weakly, attempting to find purchase in the moist dirt to put distance between herself and the mob of quickly approaching jungle monsters. They were laughing amongst themselves, eager to take the head of the Marshal’s “little rat”. Her hammer had been thrown a few paces away, her gyros still needed recharging, and her knees were too wobbly to get back to her feet. 

Panic set in. This couldn’t be it. She couldn’t fail. If she couldn’t defeat Mordremoth, all of Tyria would be uprooted and slaughtered. But there were so many. For each one she killed, three more would take their place. Every root, every vine, every tree in this jungle wanted her dead. She knew she needed to move, find some way to get out of this alive, but her body just wouldn’t react at all. Finally breathing in a gasp of air, Ospreii did the only thing she could think to do. 

She screamed as loud as she could breathlessly muster. 

It was stupid, it’s not like there was anyone around to hear her, but on the off chance there was… it was better than just waiting to die. 

In the moment the horde of Mordrem bore down on her, time itself seemed to rip, and tear, and shatter. The silhouette of a lithe man standing before her was gone in a mere blink of an eye, disappearing and reappearing at random as he flitted around the enemies. Circular wells occasionally appeared underfoot that wreaked havoc among the Mordrem, some slowing down, some being inflicted with an invisible pain, some being thrown to the ground. 

He was certainly a mesmer, but this technique… well, she was mesmerized. 

One by one, they each started dropping like mere insects, and soon the buzzing of the jungle, and her desperate pants were the only sounds in the entire world. Standing alone among the many corpses was a young-looking redwood sylvari with dark blue-green hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Even compared to her, he was startlingly short. Ospreii rose shakily to her knees, beaming with gratitude, and itching to ask him questions about his technique. Once she saw the look on his face, her smile faltered. One ice-blue eye was shabbily covered up with a few braided plants, likely injured by the jungle’s creations, the other harbored an intense disdain. She recognized that look.

“What?” He questioned abruptly. “The Commander doesn’t like sylvari either? Think I’ll kill you right after I saved you? Think I’m the Jungle Dragon’s puppet?” The way he was holding his thin, sap-covered sword wasn’t exactly comforting. 

She vehemently shook her head, waving her hands for emphasis, and said, “No, no, I greatly trust my sylvari comrades but… erm.. You’re a courtier, aren’t you? Are you… my comrade, exactly?” She tried to sound pleasant, but she couldn’t keep the bite out of her voice.

At her question, his hostility seemed to take a sudden pause, and a tiny glimmer of consideration appeared in his sharp and bitter expression. “Comrades… I wonder. The jungle wants us both dead, is that answer good enough?” He gave a small sigh, and his brusque tone returned. “They’re not done, get up.”

Holding back a groan, Ospreii managed to stand back up, though the world swayed around her. She watched, slightly dazed, as the courtier approached and stooped down to pick up her comparatively small hammer, holding it out. Taking a breath, Ospreii slapped both of her cheeks to refocus her mind, then she lifted one hand to grip the handle of her hammer, but didn’t move to take it from him immediately. She just studied his face once more, making the split second decision to trust such a man. With a small nod, she took her weapon, and turned her back to face the second wave of Mordrem. 

Then the third.

Then the fourth, the fifth, and then the sixth.

And then it was quiet for a while.

The duo was thoroughly exhausted by then, both gasping for air and collapsing ungracefully to the ground. But they were not unhappy. They’d lived to see another hour, maybe. 

Tending to her wounds, Ospreii glanced over to the courtier, feeling the air turn a little icy between them. “May I ask for your name?” She ventured, to which he, who was also nursing his injuries, shrugged.

“Does it matter to you? You’ll be reuniting with your team again soon. There’s no need to get familiar.” He muttered. 

Ospreii gaped, then looked rather cross. “So what if I’m going to go look for my team soon? Like you said, this jungle is trying to kill both of us. I don’t care what you’ve done outside of here. I cannot, in good faith, leave you to fight alone.” 

This time, it was his turn to stare at her incredulously. 

“Besides, we could really use every single sword possible,” She added hastily.

Silence settled back over them, and the courtier raked his hand through his hair. A long moment passed before he muttered something inaudible. Perking an ear, Ospreii strained to hear, and puffed a cheek out in annoyance when she couldn’t make it out. “A little louder, please?” She asked, knowing she sounded incredibly obnoxious at the moment. 

“Ciaran,” He grumbled again, raising his voice louder than necessary in frustration. 

Ospreii smiled. It wasn’t all that hard, was it? 

“Nice to meet you Ciaran, I’m Ospreii. Thank you for saving me earlier.” She said amicably, wondering if it was even possible to get on a courtier’s kind side. She’d heard that it was impossible to bring a sylvari back from Nightmare, but it’s not as if they were all about death and torture all the time, right?

He gave her a sidelong glare, as if he didn’t want to be put through the ordeal of saying ‘you’re welcome’. “If you die the entire resistance falls apart. It was mutually beneficial for me to.”

The pleasant grin on Ospreii’s face momentarily faltered. She felt as though there was something significant about this sylvari, but whatever reason remained elusive, just outside of her reach. Her look of perplexion did not go unmissed by the courtier, but the only indication he gave that he saw was a slightly more narrowed stare. 

She’d grown accustomed to this constant feeling of deja vu, stemming from the time she spent in the Mists, peering into more realities than she could hope to understand. Perhaps she’d seen him there. But a nagging feeling made her think it was more than that. She massaged a temple and sighed. She could think about it later, when they weren’t at risk of dying. 

“Are you ready to move?” She asked him as she finished tying off a bandage, climbing to her feet. He clicked his tongue for a response and stood as well, as if he was silently bemoaning how unwise it would even be to remain sitting ducks in one spot. “... Alright then… let’s see if we can’t find any survivors of the crash.” 

“Were you not on board, Commander? I thought the captain usually goes down with the ship,” He sneered, folding his arms across his chest as they began cutting their way through the underbrush. 

“This captain had other important matters to attend to.”

“More important than the lives of your soldiers?” 

Ospreii huffed and sent him a glare of her own. “The timing was bad, you don’t have to tell me. If I’d understood a little sooner… If the Pact’s departure had been an hour later than it was…” She bit her tongue and hissed quietly. “It doesn’t matter. We have to make the best of the hand we have right now. There’s no do overs.”

Though he rolled his eyes, Ciaran could appreciate the mental fortitude of the famed Commander. Crying over past mistakes never did anything productive. “You use a hammer, even as an engineer?” He asked, deciding to change the subject.

“A stroke of genius, I must say,” Ospreii gloated, turning her warhammer over in her hands. “Can’t blame an asuran engineer for tinkering and finding something that works, can you? Besides… it’s a lot less uncanny than whatever the hell you were doing.” She said while pointing at his shield.

“Can’t blame a courtier for innovating new battle styles to stay alive, can you?” He mimicked, voice edged with slight mockery. 

“But still, time manipulation! How do you even manage t-” She cut herself off with a gasp, suddenly halting her walking as well. “Time manipulator!” 

He looked back at her, grimacing. “What?” 

He was the one her mistwalking friend told her about! The one who had held her position in a much different timeline. They had said that he might not be well-off in a world where he never became Trahearne’s commander, but to think that he ended up this deep in Nightmare’s snare… What had happened? 

She chuckled sheepishly, having no desire to reveal any of that to him, and scratched the back of her head. “Erm, nothing. It’s just really cool that you can do that.” Looking at him through new lenses, she thought about what a feat in and of itself it was to create such a new, robust form of mesmer fighting. Such a person who can make impossible feats into reality would be a wonderful ally, courtier or not. 

He didn’t seem convinced by her response, but he didn’t push it either. For all his grumbling and bad remarks, he didn’t seem all that inclined to senseless arguments. Rather, he seemed to be picking and choosing his battles carefully. 

“What rank are you?” She asked, tilting her head curiously. 

“... Duke.” 

She tried not to balk at that. He was infamous indeed. But given his calculating, harsh demeanor, it made sense. 

“Why?” She asked. 

It seemed she didn’t need to elaborate her question. He looked away, deeper into the jungle, and was silent. In tandem, they forced themselves past layer and layer of thick underbrush.

“Why?” He echoed back, finally, not elaborating either. Why did she care? Why did she ask? Why was she prying? She was't even sylvari. Ospreii hummed, allowing the topic to be dropped. She would sound like a lunatic if she explained herself properly. 

The crackle of fire reached her sensitive asuran ears, and she lifted a hand to signal for him to be on alert. There was likely debris nearby, and that possibly meant survivors. It also possibly meant Mordrem. 

“Don’t worry, there’s no jungle minions ahead,” He said, stepping into a small clearing. 

“How are you so sure?” She asked, staring up at him. 

He made a motion towards his head, flippantly, like it ought to be obvious. “It’s noisier when there are.” Her mouth opened into an “oh” shape, without making any noise. 

At that moment, a surprised, desperate shout reached their ears from not too far away, and before long a younger asura stuck her head into the clearing, wide-eyed. “OH-! Commander Ospreii, it’s you!” She exclaimed, pale pink eyes filling with tears in relief. This girl was notably a few years younger than Ospreii, but still older than Taimi, probably about nineteen or twenty, if she had to guess. Her dark hair was an absolute mess, and her armor was dented and scuffed so badly Ospreii could only assume she was onboard an airship when they went down.

She studied the girl a bit longer, and gasped when she saw who it was beneath the soot and ash smeared all over her face.”Biijou! I’m glad I found you! Myrick will be so relieved to hear that you're okay!” The other Asuran lit up at the mention of her friend. Then, it seemed something occurred to her as she dashed forward some more, clumsily latching onto her hand.

“Hey, Dr. Dlalli is your sister, right?” She asked, hopeful. 

“My twin, yes, do you know her?” Ospreii asked, her long silver ponytail swinging as she tipped her head slightly to one side. 

Biijou smiled and nodded her head eagerly. “My older brother is a doctor too. They work together. Er- at least, that's what I've been told. Is she here? I need a medic.” 

“Sorry to say, she’s still in Rata Sum. She’s not one for going out onto the field to work.” Ospreii explained, relieved that her sister was somewhere that wasn’t here. “What do we need a medic for?” 

“It’s not for me, there’s-” She began, gesturing wildly behind her, but she was cut off as Ciaran, who’d been idly listening to the two talk, suddenly hissed, grabbing his forehead with one hand. He seemed to be in pain, just like Myrick had been, but not so intensely.

Maybe he’d been wrong about courtiers, then. Maybe Nightmare similarly shielded sylvari too.   

“Ambush,” He managed to get out, drawing his sword with his other hand. 

“Ah!” Biijou gasped, pulling hard on Ospreii, making her stumble in the direction Biijou had emerged from. “Come this way, then, quick!” 

She had little time to argue, allowing herself to be dragged this way and that once she was sure Ciaran was following closely behind. The thick scent of smoke was growing stronger, as was the haze that filled the air around them. A wreckage site, then. 

“Krill!” Biijou shouted before doubling over with a cough. “I found the Commander. We have back up now!” 

“Real shit? The Commander?” A male voice responded at the same exact time a Mordrem suddenly became visible in the smoke, having been knocked through the air, a thrown axe wedged deep in its chest. It was dead on impact with the ground. “Well done, Biijou! We might actually make it through the day!”

The voice revealed itself to belong to yet another asura, following the dead Mordrem from the smoke to retrieve his axe. He was a young gentleman who looked to be about Ospreii’s age, somewhere in his mid-twenties. He was tall and tan-skinned, with blond hair pulled up into three short ponytails on the top of his head. He was good looking, Ospreii thought, save for his strangely sharp red eyes that seemed to bore into her. It was a little uncomfortable. 

This sensation was familiar. If he was one of her soldiers, then they’d surely met at least once before. She just couldn’t recall where at this moment.

In an unnatural manner, his gaze shifted slightly above her head, and he flung his axe once more with no hesitation nor warning. Ospreii ducked at once with a sharp intake of air, staring at him wide-eyed for a long moment before hearing the axe meet its target with a solid thunk. 

She wasn’t sure if she should break out her Commander's voice to chastise him on the risky move, but before she could decide, the Mordrem ambush caught up to them in full.

Fortunately, with their two new allies, it was much easier to dispatch them than before, leaving each of them only slightly winded. Good. Ospreii could work with this.

It would take some work to establish a foothold, but there were survivors, and they were apparently holding their own. 

“So,” Krill said pointedly, glancing at Ciaran a few times. “Do you know what’s going on with the sylvari? The few on our ship were fine one moment, then attacking us the next. But he looks fine. What gives?” 

“Do you want me to attack you? I can, with my own free will,” The courtier grouched and grumbled, so predictably that Ospreii found herself laughing freely in the middle of all the wreckage. Her company all gave her their own bewildered looks. 

“The sylvari are fighting their own battles right now. All we can do is support them, Soldier Krill,” She explained once the bout of laughter passed. Behind her, Ciaran fell silent, brooding. Krill laughed too.

“What an easygoing fella you’ve got there. Reminds me of a friend of mine,” He said. 

Biijou giggled, “Reminds me of my big brother! Oh, but Commander! I was asking about your sister because our troop leader was injured badly.”

Krill nodded seriously. “She’s been unconscious since the fall, and her left arm’s been pinned under debris. We haven’t been able to move her, so we’ve just been defending this spot from any Mordrem that show up, hoping for medical backup.” 

Ospreii followed them into the main clearing where the source of all the smoke was clear. Before them was the wreckage of a small airship, still smoldering in places. To one side of the crash site were two charr keeping watch over an unconscious norn, whom Ospreii recognized to be Warmaster Maeve Vernirisey of the Vigil. The two charr lifted their heads at their approach, visibly sagging with relief when they saw who she was. She also recognized the imposing figure of the large female charr to be Warmaster Kestrel Dragonseer

The sight was… quite dismal all around, but the thing that really made Ospreii’s heart wrench was the sight of a bonfire at the far side of the clearing. 

There were neat folded stacks of armor beside it. Badges and weapons glinted coldly despite the warmth of the flames. 

Even somebody who was in Orr for just a single day would know what that meant. Her understanding settled heavily on her shoulders. It really looked so inane, but it was such a sobering sight.  

Burning of the dead was now an all too common practice of the Pact, now. 

Biijou had followed her gaze, and she also seemed to deflate under an invisible weight. “It was mostly their warband. The Sylvari that were on board with us, and a few Whispers agents. We haven’t seen two of our own, either. They’re both resourceful, so we’ve been hoping that they’re out there somewhere. Maybe they’ve gotten a good scout of the area and just don’t know where we are…”

“I need to do some scouting of my own, to understand the battlefield better first… I’ll keep an eye out for them. Running around blind isn’t helping anybody, most certainly not Destiny’s Edge nor Trahearne.” 

“No word on them?” Krill chimed in, sounding disappointed. 

“No, I wasn’t with them when the fleet took off. Nobody was foreseeing this. We were all a little naive, perhaps.” 

She was met with silence. A polite agreement from all assembled. 

Not for the first time that day, Ospreii felt shame warm the tips of her ears. Ciaran snorted, sitting down and getting comfortable, leaned back against a tree with folded arms. “That kind of expression doesn’t belong on a commander. Where’s your conviction from earlier? Cut it out.” 

Sheepish, she scratched the back of her head. Come on now, how did it come to her earning a warranted scolding from a courtier of all people…? 

“If we’re not moving until you figure out where we are, which I recommend waiting until morning, can we wait in silence?” He spoke again, shutting his eyes, looking quite indignant. “There’s enough talking in my head already. I don’t need to listen to even more.” 

“As you wish, your majesty,” Krill teased, accompanied by an overdramatic, over-flourished bow, before taking a seat himself. Ospreii and Biijou both sighed, a tad resigned, but it seemed everyone was in silent agreement. They should take advantage of this momentary quiet, to rest and recuperate in order to be prepared for whatever hell the night would have in store for them. 

And so they waited, resting in shifts, and watching with unease as the sky darkened with each passing moment. 

When the first few stars shimmered through the plumes of smoke in the air, a scream rang out in the darkness. It wasn’t far away.