"Yes, I am here," she said, voice weary, slurring the usual melodic speech of the elves. "What words do you have for me?"
A touch of despair over the cold greeting trailed through Temken's heart, but he quickly banished it because of the importance of his quest. He stepped forward, deeper into the tree's embrace, and knelt into the marshy soil in front of her, ignoring the clammy wetness that soaked at his knee. Shocked by what he saw, he fought to keep concern from ruling his face or voice. He knew her vaguely. That was to say that he remembered her from Before-he a juvenile, scout apprentice, and she barely an adult but already a sentry. A century had brought them both into the long twilight of middle age enjoyed by most elven races, but while Temken had finally found a purpose in the After, bringing together the Survivors, it was clear that she had allowed a sense of despair to invade even her personal life. No need for magic; it was written in her appearance. Fatigue etched hollows beneath her opaline eyes and the sunken cheeks of malnourishment left her with a haunted expression. Her dark hair was wild and tangled with bits of moss and mud-the detritus of bayou living. The ceremonious words with which he had opened scores of previous reunions fled him. She obviously saw no cause for celebration in his arrival, and so Temken opted for a simple offering of warmth and hope until his mission could be explained better.
"I've come to bring you home, Gwenna."
Her gaze burned into Temken, eyes reflecting the pain still wrapped up in her memories.
"Argoth is destroyed," she said, immediately putting into so few words what most Survivors could not stand to even think. "We have no home."
Skirting the edge of the wetter portion of the bayou, Gwenna led Temken from the sentry post where she had awaited his coming to the village she and the others had settled. The shadow flitted at the edges of her vision and consciousness, always a presence lurking in the darker recesses of her mind. Gwenna chose paths most times at random, rarely by memory. Trails could change with the latest rainfall, wiped away or made treacherous to the point of mortal danger, and the ever-changing territories of the local predators always made it prudent to vary one's attendance to the trails. At one point the pair found their way blocked by a large web, easily twice the height of the elves. The remains of a few unfortunate creatures were spun into preserving wraps for later feeding. A spicy scent, lure for the less intelligent creatures, rose in the air about them.
"We've lost two young ones to the webs over the years, " she said in a monotone as they backed away from the site. "Be careful. Those strands are hard to cut, even with the sharpest blade. "
Temken was visibly startled. "That's the circle of life, " he said. "Still, I grieve for our loss. "
Our loss. Gwenna did not miss the way Temken automatically included himself. She remembered the courtesies and social law of Argoth-what affects one affects all. But instead of feeling appreciative for his consideration, she knew pain for the memory.
"We are no longer protected, " she said quietly. Stronger, she added, "We never really were. "
Certainly they had thought so. That was the lie to it all-the great lie that Gwenna had seen exposed in so short a span of years that she still reeled from the shock of its memory. Argoth, island paradise tended by the elves and ruled by Titania, avatar of Gaea. The law governed them, and Titania protected them. So thoroughly had Gwenna believed in that protection that she helped a human, cast down with his flying machine onto Argoth's beach, certain that even if he could escape the storms, Argoth would remain secure.
Her mercy cost the Argothians everything.
The human returned, bringing others with their saws and picks and shovels, their smelters and forges. Their war. Their incredibly vicious war, as two powerful brothers fought for dominance, in the process ruining that which the victor would have taken possession of anyhow. The island's precious resources were ripped from Gaea's womb as the air turned foul with smoke. The inhabitants of Argoth were caught between two mighty armies, one of which they might have held back, but not both. Gwenna remembered Titania herself weakening, dying. Then the flame-haired woman offered them the chance to strike back where the army of Urza was vulnerable. The target was the virtually unprotected mainland.
Gwenna still wasn't sure how many warrior enclaves finally accepted the offer-dozens, certainly. Her own band had been in the process of attacking an inland city when the southeast horizon suddenly glowed with an unnatural sunset. The Argothian elves heard Titania's final scream, Gaea's own cry, as their homeland was shattered by whatever final cataclysm the Brothers' War had released. The earthquakes and tidal waves, and the dark years which followed, were pitiful epilogues to that one terrible moment.
Guessing her thoughts, Temken placed a hand upon her arm and gently squeezed.
"We can never have what was Before," he offered, "but we can build again. The Survivors are building again."
The warmth of his hand, even through her damp tunic, allowed Gwenna to feel Temken's belief, if but for a second. In that moment she wanted to believe him, to believe in him. Then the shadow loomed at the side of the path, chilling her. What could Temken offer that Titania had been unable to give? Nothing. More false promises, that was all he brought.
"Titania is dead," she said, feeling the void inside and wanting to-needing to-share it. She swallowed against a coppery taste, her throat raw and constricted. "Gaea has abandoned us."
"But she hasn't," Temken insisted. Taking Gwenna by the elbow, he pulled her to a halt there on the path. "Wounded these many decades, she has still found a way to speak to us. She brought us the gift of knowledge by which we have found ways to find each other and to protect ourselves in the After."
He stepped off the trail into a patch of sparse, wet grass that bordered a small puddle of muddy, insect-choked water. Laying a hand on the ground, right where a beam of gray light had worked its way past the dense growth above, he half closed his eyes in concentration.
A sense of foreboding washed over Gwenna, warning her. The bayou dimmed, drawing out the darker shadows and teasing them into a shroud that discolored the land. Her head swam, and something deep within her mind spoke of danger.
"Don't," she said, reaching out to shake Temken by the shoulder.
Gwenna's warning went no further. Beyond her fingers, she suddenly saw a green glow radiating from within Temken, bleeding down his arm into the ruined land. In the recesses of her mind-which usually held the sin of her mercy on Argoth and the consequences it reaped- she instead saw visions of dense forests and snowy taiga. Temken raised his hand, and beneath it a new shoot of vibrant green had broken earth. It grew, blossomed, and flowered in mere seconds; an orchid with petals of jade and lavender pistils.
Already, though, the dark force that had been stalking them since Temken entered the shadows rallied to the challenge. The darkness danced at the edge of Gwenna's vision, and she saw the flower begin to whither and die, as Titania had done. Gwenna felt the elven mage tense beneath her touch, bending in closer to the stricken flower. He now appeared to share some kind of special relationship with his creation, drawing from it to strengthen his own aura, which flowed back into the jade orchid and resurrected it.