GW2 fic, 85-91

[anghraine]

I knew the danger of the Risen. I’d killed hordes of them. But until that moment, I hadn’t truly grasped the power of Zhaitan, the totality of the threat posed by the dragons. I just—I hadn’t understood.

Looking at him now, I did. I would never forget this, as long as I lived.

title: pro patria (85-91)
verse: Ascalonian grudgefic
characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Logan Thackeray, Agent Ihan; Corporal Kellach, Countess Anise, Ailoda Langmar; Althea & Logan, Althea & Ihan
stuff that happens: Althea, Logan, Ihan, and Anise confront Kellach and deal with the aftermath, and Althea goes home.
chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42, 43-49, 50-56, 57-63, 64-70, 71-77, 78-84

EIGHTY-FIVE

1

The doors to the throne room swung open, and a man with deep red hair and pale, sickly skin staggered through. He still wore the armour of a Seraph, though his surcoat was stained with grime and only the Six knew what else.

Logan’s face went blank, which I thought might be his idea of acting, while Ihan, Anise, the illusion behind us on the throne, and I all stared.

“Your Majesty!” Kellach cried, and to my very real astonishment, he fell to his knees.

But it brought him a little closer. I held myself ready.

In clear anguish, he croaked out, “My beloved queen.”

2

He’d brought anguish to a lot more people than himself, but nevertheless, his tormented face chilled me. If not for my knowledge otherwise, I would have thought him like Logan.

For one terrible moment, my imagination superimposed the mottling of his flesh on Logan’s, the absolute horror in his expression. I drew a sharp breath, though Kellach didn’t so much as glance in my direction.

“Jennah,” he gasped out. “You—you have to listen. I won’t hurt you!”

3

I’d believe that when I saw it. But I paid close attention nonetheless.

“I … I just need your blood,” he said, and added desperately, “It will save Kryta!”

Blessed Dwayna. He wasn’t thinking only of his own corruption; he’d followed the logic to its proper conclusion—if Jennah’s blood could heal him, it could heal the others who’d fallen under Zhaitan’s corruption. Perhaps all of them, if it were true.

But it wasn’t.

4

This poor man, though.

“Corporal Kellach!” I snapped out. “Drop your weapons and surrender. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“No,” said Kellach, shuddering, his eyes still fixed on the false Jennah; she looked so much like the real one, down to her thoughtful gaze, that even I would never have guessed the difference. “I need her blood! Royal blood.”

5

Damn Alastia Crow.

“Don’t you understand?” whispered Kellach, frantic hope in his face. “It can cure the corruption. Make us all free!”

Were she not already dead, I would have begged Grenth to strike her down. Kellach, at any rate, had gotten a better vengeance than he knew.

Better, perhaps, than he’d ever be capable of knowing.

6

“It’s not true,” I said, forcing my voice into smooth, steady tones, as soothing as I could manage, even while my stomach clenched. “Alastia Crow lied to you, Kellach. She did this just to endanger the queen.”

His head shook wildly. “No! No, you’re wrong! There has to be a way!”

7

“Tell me!” he screamed.

I knew the danger of the Risen. I’d killed hordes of them. But until that moment, I hadn’t truly grasped the power of Zhaitan, the totality of the threat posed by the dragons. I just—I hadn’t understood.

Looking at him now, I did. I would never forget this, as long as I lived.

EIGHTY-SIX

1

Logan shook himself out of our collective horror to say, “Kellach. Put away your weapons.”

“No,” Kellach whispered, his face going still more bloodless. His gaze flickered around the throne room, his eyes frantically searching each of our faces. In a rougher voice, he insisted, “This can’t be true!”

“Kellach—”

“I’ll kill you all!”

2

He lunged forward, sword drawn, and through some magic I didn’t care to understand, four large Risen materialized behind him.

“For the queen!” shouted Logan, rushing forward to slash at the undead brutes.

Ihan and Anise didn’t waste their breath on battle cries; the former darted about, stabbing anyone within reach, while the latter fired aether from three different personas, faster and more powerfully than I could dream of. I had no idea which was the real Anise, while I felt very certain that she knew where I really stood among my own clones.

“Grenth take you!” howled Kellach, beating wildly on Logan’s shield.

Logan knocked him away with a jerk of his shield hand and neatly decapitated the undead nearest him. Ihan sliced open the spine of another, and chaos magic flashed all around.

3

“I won’t … I won’t give in,” Kellach panted, and I honestly didn’t know whether he spoke to Logan or Zhaitan.

Either way, he was doomed. But his breathing grew more ragged, even though he hadn’t taken much damage, and when I held up my sword to block any attacks and drew closer, I could see that his eyes were no longer wild, but pale and staring, except when he blinked rapidly now and then.

“Must kill,” he mumbled, steps growing still more uncoordinated. “Need … blood.”

My companions had the undead under control; I focused all my will on the magic coursing through my sceptre, intensified the flow of it to all I could bear, and pointed it straight at Kellach.

This is for you.

4

My magic lashed out at him.

Anise seemed to follow my line of thought, or hers took the same route. Her magic spilled into mine, the deep purple of our joined power throwing his face into unearthly shadow.

Perhaps her strength, so much greater than mine, did the rest of the work. Perhaps Ihan’s dagger found its target, or the blue fire flickering about Logan burned some vulnerable flesh in all that armour, or perhaps all our attacks combined into one deadly whole. However it happened, Kellach collapsed to his knees once more.

Then, his vacant expression growing desperate one last time, he crumpled the rest of the way to the ground.

5

Kellach’s body sprawled at Logan’s feet. Dismembered undead lay all around him—around us. It made for a revolting scene, and a terrible one.

Nobody spoke. Nobody relaxed our guard; for all we knew, the apparent death might be a trick, or some new and poorly understood development of the corruption. Logan methodically cut the straps of Kellach’s armour, kicked off the plates of it, and drove his sword through Kellach’s chest.

He bled, sluggishly, but gave no other response.

6

As if released from a curse, we all drew breaths together, the sound so natural and ordinary that it brought some semblance of order to the grotesque scene.

“Burn the corpse and scatter the remains,” Anise said, earning a respectful nod from Ihan.

Logan flinched.

“We don’t want him to suffer any more,” I told him.

“I know.”

He exhaled, then squared his shoulders, knelt down, and reached out a hand, not quite touching Kellach’s body.

The flames of his magic burst out.

7

Logan’s fire ignited Kellach’s clothes first, then flashed over his skin, then engulfed his lifelessly writhing body, the smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils. I couldn’t do Logan’s grisly work for him, and I knew that nothing I might say would help, but I stayed near, near enough to feel the heat of the flames on my own skin. Even Ihan and Anise kept nearly as close; we were all in this together.

I only left him once, after Kellach’s corpse and the assorted remnants of the undead had been burned to ash. We needed a broom.

Ihan and I swept the ashes into four separate pouches, and each of us took one to dispose of as we saw fit.

And that was my initiation into the Order of Whispers.

EIGHTY-SEVEN

1

Once we were done, Logan held out his hands, still encased in bright gauntlets, and stared down at them.

“Poor Kellach,” I said, wholeheartedly meaning it. “His mistakes were rooted in his love for queen and country.”

“So many mistakes,” he said, dropping his hands, “made for all the right reasons.”

“Exactly.” I glanced around, checking for signs of what had occurred, but the throne room seemed pristine once more. Its very cleanliness unsettled me; Kellach might have never existed.

2

Logan still looked stricken. “The queen could have been killed by someone who loved her. Even—I mean, it really makes you think.”

I bet it did. Not unsympathetic, I touched his vambrace.

“It’s all right, Logan. The queen is safe,” I assured him.

3

“Focus on the future, and Kryta will stay safe, too.”

Logan nodded, but seemed scarcely aware of it.

Meanwhile, Ihan fastened his portion of the remains on his belt, to all appearances unperturbed. Then he grinned at me.

“Well done, Initiate! You showed tremendous cunning and nerve. I’m proud you’re a member of the Order of Whispers.”

4

Mixed in with the remnants of horror, I felt a trace of gratification at that. Though not often lacking in pride, I hadn’t ever imagined feeling so over this. I’d fought competently enough, and kept my nerve throughout, but I hadn’t expected Ihan to care. Surely he would expect no less?

“Thank you,” I said.

This seemed to satisfy him. “Now, for the rest of your initiation.”

5

I swallowed.

“Go to Lion’s Arch a week from today,” continued Ihan. “There, you’ll be contacted by an apple merchant.”

A what?

“Meet with him to get your first formal assignment.”

My first assignment! Anticipation sparked in my chest.

6

“I look forward to it,” I said honestly, and thought of Kellach’s face, the creeping power of Zhaitan. “It’s time to be part of a bigger world.”

Ihan smiled again, and said nothing more, instead striding over to watch Anise unweave her spell, perhaps hoping to learn something from the process. I returned my attention to Logan, who was looking at his hands again.

“Logan, are you all right?” I asked. “You seem rattled.”

Not that he didn’t have reason to be.

7

“I’m glad Jennah’s safe,” he said slowly, “but I realize now that her safety is temporary. Everything is temporary, unless the dragons can be stopped.”

True, but I didn’t blame him. I’d only just grasped it myself.

“The dragons can’t be defeated by one people,” said Logan, lifting his eyes, “or even one nation. There has to be another way.”

That’s what the Orders were for—weren’t they?

EIGHTY-EIGHT

1

Logan’s brows drew together even as he hung his head a little.

“Do you think we can overcome our mistakes, my friend?” he asked. “Make up for the things we’ve done?”

I didn’t know what mistake he meant, but I knew it wouldn’t shake my friendship. I gave a firm nod.

“I know we can, Logan.” Offering a smile, I added, “Mistakes make us human.”

2

“It’s rising up again that makes us heroes.”

I believed that with all my heart. Wasn’t that the story of our people? We’d been weakened by our pointless war with Kryta, vulnerable to the Charr, but we’d risen up again in Lion’s Arch and Divinity’s Reach. Then, while Adelbern wiped out what little remained of human Ascalon after the Searing, Ebonhawke rose in the south under Logan’s own foremother.

Logan straightened up. “You’re right.”

3

He didn’t quite return my smile, but the lines of his face smoothed out.

“I’ve been too focused on keeping the queen safe.” He drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I love being at her side! But maybe that’s not where I can best defend her—or Kryta.”

I honestly would never have imagined him saying that. Perhaps he wasn’t wrong.

4

No, he definitely wasn’t wrong. But from Logan, he might as well have said the sky was purple and the Charr our friends.

“An old friend named Caithe asked me to meet her in Lion’s Arch next week,” said Logan, leaping by some inexplicable train of thought. “I think I’ll take her up on that.”

I really had no idea what that had to do with anything, but I was all for friendship. I smiled up at him again.

“I think that’s an excellent idea—I’ll see you in Lion’s Arch!”

5

He told me a little more about Caithe before we parted; she was a sylvari who had been a scout in his old guild, Destiny’s Edge. She’d never accepted the dissolution of the guild. When I asked Logan if he trusted her, he vacillated, before saying that she didn’t understand that the guild was gone forever.

“Why does she want to meet you in Lion’s Arch and not in Divinity’s Reach?” I asked, though I could imagine that sylvari might not care for their reception in our home city.

“Lion’s Arch is where it all began,” said Logan. “She likely wants to use a familiar place to dredge up sentimental feelings.”

Well, that took some nerve, at any rate.

6

I respected nerve.

“She’s stubborn,” added Logan.

I respected stubbornness, too.

“What does Caithe want?” I asked.

“It’s likely she’s discovered something new about the dragons,” Logan said, and sighed, but he did look intrigued. “If I can convince her to tell me, it might benefit Kryta—and the queen.”

Well, I could imagine why the guild had broken up.

7

“Caithe wanted to meet you in Lion’s Arch,” I said, thinking of my own forthcoming journey. “Anywhere in particular?”

Only afterwards did it occur to me that he might not want me present during the actual meeting—likely a fraught one.

“The Trader’s Forum,” Logan said easily. “It’s where we first formed Destiny’s Edge.”

“I’ll meet you there,” I promised, to his evident relief. “Travel safely.”

EIGHTY-NINE

1

We lingered even after that, talking a little of the queen and Logan’s feelings for her. He praised Lyssa for Jennah’s survival, and though we ourselves had carried out the plan, I could believe that Lyssa had aided my magic—both Anise’s and mine. She might not speak to us any more, but she was there, nonetheless. I assured Logan that the gods would watch over us all, and on that note, we parted.

Once Logan left, undoubtedly to find Jennah, Ihan walked back over to me.

“Your wits are sharp as knives, Initiate,” he said. “The Preceptors were right about you.”

2

The what?

“Who are the Preceptors?” I asked.

Ihan, with a nod at Anise, placed his hand at my back and gently led me towards the doors out of the throne room. “The Master of Whispers leads the order, but his identity is a secret. Three Preceptors carry out his directives.”

When I asked who they were, he told me that their names were Halvora, Valenze, and Doern, and that I’d meet them soon. I certainly didn’t recognize the names.

3

“They were right about me,” I said slowly. “Do you mean that they knew about me before I was appointed Advocate of the Crown?”

“Of course.”

“And they liked me?” I said, a little incredulous that the flailing hero of Shaemoor would appeal to an organization of spies and manipulators.

Ihan inclined his head.

“What did you all even know?” At his expression, I paused. “Oh, you can’t tell me.”

4

“Not all, certainly,” said Ihan. “What would you like to hear?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

He shrugged. “You were born in Ebonhawke in the year 1304, the second daughter of Lord Edmund Fairchild and the former and future minister Ailoda Langmar. Your ancestry is approximately three-quarters Ascalonian and one-quarter Krytan. In 1310, your family removed to the Rurikton district of Divinity’s Reach, where you were brought up and educated as both an Ascalonian and a subject of Kryta.”

5

It was all true , but—

“You performed well academically,” he continued, “particularly in matters related to the Ascalonian people, but did little with your talents until the apparent death of your sister in 1323, when you took over the bulk of your family’s affairs for a year. As a natural mesmer, you afterwards began training in chaos magic under Countess Anise, and proved gifted, which aided you when you unexpectedly rushed to the aid of the village of Shaemoor early this year.”

“Well, yes,” I said, “though I’m not sure—”

“You further developed your skills as you investigated a political plot that culminated in a trial by combat and established your close alliance with Logan Thackeray. When not involved in politics, you began performing selfless acts of service around Queensdale and later, Kessex Hills.”

“It’s not quite what it sounds like,” I said.

6

“Many of them quite minor,” added Ihan, “but some requiring a great deal of effort on your part, such as a large-scale attack on a massive creature of the Underworld. You proceeded to investigate the questionable ambush that led to your sister’s supposed death in battle, helped Thackeray apprehend the captain who betrayed Lieutenant Fairchild’s company, and discovered the survivors. At that point, you returned to your hobby of refining maps for the Tyrian Explorers Society, until you were recalled to serve as Advocate.”

“Well, if that’s not everything, I’m not sure what else there is to know,” I said.

“You tend to befriend people unlike yourself,” he answered; I suspected he meant Faren. “You also tend to rely—in both society and battle—on a strong talent for mimicry and for concealing your own thoughts and actions until opportunity arises, when you act quickly and decisively. Both of these qualities interested the Order.”

7

“I suppose I’m an odd creature by way of a hero,” I admitted.

“We have long had our eyes on you,” said Ihan, which I took as yes.

“And there’s more?”

“You possess qualities which I imagine you are not yourself aware of,” he told me. “Qualities and predilections, I should say, which are not all beneficial. Those, you must discover and conquer. Be warned, though: based on our knowledge of you, this first task will test you and your loyalties in ways you do not imagine—and is intended to do so.”

NINETY

1

Well, that sounded menacing. It was probably meant to, too. Hadn’t I already passed my initiation?

Just not a custom-tailored initiation, I guessed.

“I’m very loyal,” I protested.

“Yes,” said Ihan, his face giving away nothing. “We know.”

2

I set that aside, since I couldn’t do anything about it.

“What’s the next step, now that I’m a member of the Order of Whispers?” I asked.

As we stepped out of the hall of the palace into the daylight, Ihan squinted at the sky and said,

“The Preceptors arranged a contact for you in Lion’s Arch. His job will be to mentor you in our modus operandi.”

Already suspicious, I said, “Who will be my mentor?”

“That’s need-to-know information, Initiate,” said Ihan, steering us towards the Salma District. I had no doubts but that he knew exactly where I lived, and probably where I slept, too.

3

“Don’t worry,” he added. “He’ll contact you when you reach Lion’s Arch.”

All right. An apple merchant would contact me in Lion’s Arch, when I would receive a task that would test my loyalties in ways I couldn’t imagine. That sounded fine. Perfectly fine.

“I’m eager to hear from him,” I said.

4

Before he left me at the gates to the Salma District, Ihan told me to take notes on Logan’s meeting with Caithe; the Order kept detailed information on the members of Logan’s old guild. Destiny’s Edge must have been something.

I wondered if this was my test—choosing to betray Logan’s trust for the Order, or the other way around. But I didn’t see Logan’s trust and the Order’s demand for information as quite contradictory, at least not yet. For all I knew, Logan didn’t care one way or another if the Order knew about Caithe, which they clearly did already, and he was all for helping the orders of Tyria fight the dragons, anyway.

I’d see what happened, and make my choice then.

“I look forward to a long career in the Order,” I said.

5

“That’s a week from now, of course,” said Ihan, glancing down at me. It wasn’t all that far down; if I could get used to anything, it would be not straining to look up at Logan. Maybe my contact would be on the smaller side, too, or a sylvari.

Then again, they might be a Norn.

“What do you plan to do in the meanwhile?” he asked.

I thought about it, though I already knew the answer.

6

“I’m going to Ebonhawke,” I said, setting my jaw. “I want to see it again before—”

Before the Order swallows me up, I almost said. Well, not almost, but I thought it.

“—I get too busy.”

“Ah,” said Ihan. “Yes, it’s natural to be curious about what you come from.”

7

“We have a base of operations there,” he added, “so we’ll stay in touch.”

“Good,” I said, though I’d go anyway, unless expressly forbidden. “I’m thinking about going to the Ascalon Settlement afterwards; I always meant to see it, but I wasn’t capable of the journey.”

“It’s a challenging one,” said Ihan. “Even for you.”

I had no intention of getting myself killed out of curiosity, even curiosity that sprang from my connection to my people and my birthplace.

“I’ll take care.”

NINETY-ONE

1

Thankfully, Ihan assented to the second plan as well as the first. In fact, he said,

“Then you’d better take this.”

He dug around in his apparently bottomless bag; it gleamed with pale yellowish light every time he opened it up, and after a few moments, he pulled out a beautiful bronze sceptre, red-jeweled at its base, gradually widening to a little mechanism of some sort, and topped by a group of different-sized circles. The circles all glowed with the same light as that filling the bag, little bolts of lightning crackling across them.

I caught my breath as Ihan held it out to me.

My fingers did not quite tremble when I took it in my hand. Even without casting a spell, I could feel its strength.

2

The sheer quantity of aether I could pour through this sceptre—I’d never touched a weapon so fine. I lifted astonished eyes to Ihan’s.

“Thank you,” I said unsteadily. “I … thank you. I didn’t expect it.”

“I’m aware,” said Ihan, his mouth quirking. “But I’d rather not see a promising initiate immediately killed by pirates.”

3

“Then why are you letting me go?”

The sceptre hummed pleasantly under my fingers, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to sheathe it with my other weapons.

“If you can’t survive Gendarran Fields,” said Ihan, “then you won’t survive the Order. But properly armed, you have the wit and the strength to survive everything on the way to the settlement. And it’s good to test your skills and sharpen them before entering into a new phase of your career.”

I looked down at the sceptre, then up at him, then back at the sceptre.

“I see.”

4

“Good luck, Althea Fairchild,” Ihan told me, extending his hand.

I reached out with my free hand, and took his in a firm grip, shaking it. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever do it again, see him again, or if this first mentor—of sorts—would simply vanish into the shadows. I might never know if he lived or died.

If the gods willed it, though, I would. Maybe our paths would cross someday.

I said, “Good luck, Ihan.”

5

With that, he walked over to a nearby crowd and joined it. When the crowd dispersed, he was gone.

I took a deep breath, then turned back to the gate and walked into Salma, where everything was comfortable and familiar. Kormir knew when I’d be back for any significant length of time, and I could hardly tell my mother that I’d joined a continent-spanning organization of spies and assassins. As I made my way to the manor, it felt half-unreal, but for the pouch of ashes at my waist.

I shivered. Poor Kellach—and poor Logan.

6

My mother, of course, didn’t like the idea of me going back to Ebonhawke. But then, she didn’t like the idea of me going anywhere outside of Divinity’s Reach, so I reminded her of the cease-fire with the Charr and the treaty in progress, said I’d keep her updated, and promised to take no unnecessary risks.

We had different ideas of necessary, Mother and I.

After reassuring her, I packed my bags with what went for practical in my wardrobe, tied my hair back, and headed out to Rurikton.

I didn’t go immediately to the Ebonhawke gate. Instead, I walked slowly to Langmar Manor—and more importantly, the Langmar cemetery. Kellach was no Langmar, of course, but it was the best I could do for him.

7

I sprinkled Kellach’s ashes in the fresh plot where Deborah’s headstone had rested: my portion of Kellach’s ashes, that was—just thinking of that had me shuddering again. But perhaps he could rest in the Mists peacefully now, free of Zhaitan’s grip; perhaps even the Risen he’d brought with him could, too. We’d done what we could, however grisly the doing of it had been.

From there, I made my way to the rear of the district, gazing up at the crackling gate.

It had been so long.

Handing over a few coins to the Asura by the gate, I straightened up, checked the fit of my weapons and my bag, and then—

Then I walked home.