The Pact of Great Crag

Sypheros, 1004 YK. Great Crag, Droaam. The Warlords' Arena. Night.

Some might balk at the idea of a war meeting outdoors, under the open sky, with who knows what ears lurking nearby, but it was the Droaamish way.

Good thing the witches had plenty of abjuration spells. Selina was certain her wards would hold against prying eyes and ears--even if she was painfully tired. How is it I can't find a damn minute to take a nap? she thought as she sank into the stone chair meant for the warchief. Unfortunately, she was smaller than the median Droaamite, and had to either choose between sitting on the edge like a child, or sitting so far back that her feet didn't touch the ground. Like a child. At least the second way, she could "recline" against the solid mass of cold stone. In her state, even that wouldn't hold off sleep.

No warlords were present this night (unless Aundairan ones count). Instead, lords and ladies of a different sort had gathered to speak the Truth, before the cosmos above, and to at least begin the downfall of one of the most evil organizations in Eberron's history.

King Kaius I, still known as such only to his closest associates (most of whom were present), stood near his queen-to-be, wearing the armor of his youth as a Blo6od Knight of the Sacrament, sworn to an order that no longer exists. He was here as a knight of justice, not as a king.

At his other hand, stood Dame Siobhan of the Emerald Claw, which in her case, referred to the original knightly order that she once knew as brothers, even if its current form was a foul shadow of what it had been. Her honor was unmarred, her oaths strong, and her blade ready to mete out death to the enemies of Truth, Beauty, and Life (now that Tyburn had begrudgingly given it back).

The First Warlord of Aundair, Prince Riven, stood not as a flag carrier, but as bodyguard and wizard attendant for his charge. His mother Aurala, Queen of Aundair, had teleported in to meet in person, pledging to aid in any way to bring down the Black Blood. Perhaps the fact that its leader was once her trusted spy and assassin, perhaps because they tortured her for a week and tried to steal her soul and turn her into a monster...who can say why queens do what they do?

Ariadne, Tyburn, and the dragon were here, naturally. Along with Selina, they'd faced Travelyan directly when they rescued the Queen. They prevailed, but it cost him little, and cost them dearly.

"Friends," addressed the king, "Allies. Brothers and sisters in arms," he gave a knowing glance to Siobhan. "We have gathered here tonight, for a single purpose. A holy and righteous cause, whose end we are obliged and privileged to pursue. The end of the Black Blood."

Siobhan stepped forward to narrate. "Twenty-five hundred years ago, the beautiful tragedy of Erandis Vol became the spark that ignited our Faith. Though she is long at rest--Blessed Be She--the path she set us upon is clear. Her revelations taught us to seek the Divinity Within, and in its radiance, we are made whole."

Kaius moved but an inch, a silent reminder to tone down the proselytizing. She got the message. "The tenets of our Faith were corrupted by wicked foes, seeking to use her revelations as a vehicle for personal power, as an instrument of injustice, and to effect the greatest sin of all: the quest for immortality.

"Erandis was half-dragon, half-elf. Her power was in her nature, the birthright of her creation. And such, she was unique. Others sought to duplicate her achievements, to reach enlightenment as she did, and they failed. In time, our Faith would learn the true depth of discipline and rightness of thought required to emulate her, but the envious foes wanted a shortcut. And, after what we must assume was lengthy and cruel experimentation on countless subjects, they found it. A ritual involving much sacrifice, including the spilling of blood from a newly-hatched dragon. With it, they became immortal, but also traded their souls to darkness."

The Queen stepped forward, perhaps the best one to elucidate this particular detail. "Kings, lords, and men of coin and influence were approached with an offer. How could they refuse? Immortality? Superhuman powers? What was the catch? Perhaps they didn't even ask, but were coerced, force to partake...or die." Her morbid words rang over the silent night, as she no doubt recalled her long torment, slowly dying as she refused to take the blood.

"The beings they became are indeed ageless, and quite difficult to kill, although not truly immortal. More importantly, they are ever at the disposal of the Black Blood, if not by outright control, certainly by the threat of being outed as a vampiric monster to their peers and subjects.

"Which must be where Quintus Travelyan saw his opportunity. He was a wizard of the Arcane Congress, before he was tried as a warlock and sentenced to die. His sentence was commuted by my hand, a stay of execution in exchange for vital, life-saving information. The circumstances do not excuse the result, as he was able to parlay this largesse into a stint as a Royal Eye. He served with distinction, achieving his objectives and advancing the cause of Aundair, until the final days of the Last War."

Mercifully, Kaius took the wheel. "At the peace talks, I and others agreed, as part of the Treaty of Thronehold, war criminals would be brought to justice. And Travelyan was one such, having committed...excesses...in the persecution of his tasks. But he didn't have the character to admit his wrongdoing, or the stomach to stand trial. He fled like a coward, presumed to seek anonymity and buy more hours of worthless life, as agents and bounty hunters pursued him endlessly.

"But he defied justice. He was too careful, too slippery, and had too many powerful friends. We know he was approached at some point to take part in the Black Blood's machinations. He must have realized early on that their influence over the world was more valuable than their gift, for as far as we can tell, he never partook. But he certainly has been on the other side of the table, and, in one instance, masterminded the kidnapping, false imprisonment, and torture of the Queen, and the murder of the wizard Adal, among others."

Taking the stage with a flare of magic, Riven conjured images of three people: two elves, and an unknown, hooded figure. The first was a slender woman of noble bearing, not unlike Etrigan herself. "Ethniu, of the Long Night. She masquerades as a simple attendant to Zorlan d'Cannith, but was in fact the mastermind behind Etrigan's transformation and treachery."

A man, who may have been some vain elvish king, if the Undying Court allowed such things. "Balor, of the Earthen Tomb. We think he is Ethniu's father, and gave her to the order willingly after he himself took the blood. He's well over a thousand years old, so the sources are a bit sketchy."

The final figure was little more than a placeholder. A woman, probably, human height, cloaked and hooded. That was all. "Morrigan, we know by her name and deeds. We don't know if she was an elf, or even if she took the blood. Her form is referenced a few times in the sources, and always the same, so she is ageless. Since she's the one who tempted Balor in the first place, and still exists today, she's certainly not of the mortal races."

"Unless she's a dragon," Tyburn offered. A silly thought, but maybe not. Erandis herself was born of a dragon, and while their rituals are quite profane to their kind, profanity is a capability of dragons.

"Either way, we can't assume anything. We're learning what we can. Arcanix and the Twelve Towers have a lot of lore to dig through, and we have partners in Aerenal trying to unseal ancient scrolls that may shed some light. But one thing is clear, a simple, deadly truth.

"Newly-hatched dragons are exceptionally rare." All eyes were on the wyrmling. How could they not take notice? His presence was tenfold more bizarre and inexplicable than the Warchief's meteoric rise, the stupendous air battles of the war, a royal wedding in a cathedral of Blood and Flame. Anyone would bet on the dragon every time in a game of Three Truths and a Lie.

Selina reflexively put a protective hand on the dragon, who'd been catnapping in the warmth of the nearby brazier, stretched out on the stone armest at her side. She'd almost fallen asleep, despite the grave subject matter, but the idea of danger to the dragon rousted her from the Sandman's clutches.

"My associates in the Handlers Guild were attempting to intercept that poor creature, as he was being smuggled by Travelyan to no doubt fuel the next ritual of black blood. He was instead rescued by the Warchief, and her friends," he gestured to Ariadne and Tyburn, "And they've kept him safe ever since. It's entirely possible that one was intended for my mother, as the ritual must be conducted in a timely manner. I don't know if that one is out of the woods yet, as we don't exactly have the ritual's specifics in hand.

"But aside from that one, there are few to be found. And fewer still are the options for how they could even be hatched. Even elder dragons do not know the location of the Broodmothers' hatcheries, nor would they be permitted to enter them, nor could they overpower the Broodmothers if they did. It's preposterous to think a man like Travelyan and his associates could steal eggs from there.

"It's vaguely possible--if he somehow has a decoded copy of the Draconic Prophecy, and some amazing divination magic--to learn of a newly gravid female and intercept her during the relatively short flight to the nearest hatchery. On Argonesson, of course. It's far-fetched to say the least, but not strictly impossible.

"However, the easiest and cruelest possibility we've been, in our shame, able to imagine, is a captive female, forced to breed and lay eggs. Now, dragons do not have a seasonal fertility. They are influenced by movements of the stars that are usually unpredictable even by draconic astromancers. But, it is feasible that powerful magic could force a dragon into fertility. I won't go into details about the means, but insemination by an unknowing male dragon is...possible." He gulped down an unpleasant sensation, the medieval version of terror at one's internet search history being discovered.

"It's not wise or easy to transport a dragon egg by magic. They are inherently magical objects, and the sentience of the wyrmling creates the possibility of refusing to teleport. This explains the use of an airship to move the egg, and also implies that the egg was sourced from somewhere relatively close to the Dame Gorschen's port of embarkation: Fairhaven.

"I can't think of any above-ground structure that I'd call 'close' to Fairhaven that could possibly house an adult dragon without drawing attention. Extradimensional spaces and planar vergences are out of the question, for the same reason as teleportation. Which suggests that we're looking for somewhere underground.

"It is well known to Arcanix that there were many tunnels and caverns leading to Khyber in the vicinity, but all known ones were caved in or sealed off long ago. Which means either my libraries have been redacted, or my agents are lying to me actively. It's far from unfeasible that there are no wizards in the order who've taken the black. Travelyan himself was one, after all."

"I'll not mince words," the Queen started in. "The mistake was mine, letting him live, and giving him freedom. Yes, Kaius played a part, but it wasn't as if I didn't know better. I'm not proud of everything I did in the war. But this is the worst mistake of my life. I will offer anything I can to unmake it."

"And let it not be all upon you, my Queen," Kaius offered. "The Black Blood existed for a thousand years or more before him, and would have persisted without his help. He is not our only target. The entire organization must be purged, every one of them brought to justice, and the knowledge of this infernal ritual expunged from the earth."

"Normally, I'm not a fan of erasing history, especially arcane lore," Riven offered, "but in this case I must agree."

As foolish as the notion of erasing knowledge is, is the idea that these mortals can accomplish it, a voice spoke to Selina from within. She was...she didn't know...not asleep, but not awake. Some new, uncomfortable liminal state. She wasn't dreaming--that'd be a first (well okay, a second)--but her mind had been wandering about the possibilities of dragons, where they come from, where this one was supposed to be, and nothing new there, except she could swear she almost had the answer. The knowledge was more forbidden than the darkest secret in Teraza's book, yet it was right on the tip of her tongue. Or was it this voice's tongue?

Who are you? she asked it, unfamiliar with this kind of psychic self-reflection, and already not a fan. This was Ariadne's domain, not hers.

I'm no one, child. But a shadow. Your mother, and hers, and of all witches. Do not hasten, we will meet in time. Perhaps in your dreams.

Oh, shit.

She didn't even dare think it in italics, in case the voice heard her.

But the meeting continued on, with the King's voice ringing out, "I propose we swear here, before the Witness Stone, under the eyes of our ancestors, on our blood and honor. That we shall, with all our strength, pursue the death of the Black Blood, all its members, and all its knowledge. That we will stand, brother and sister, against them and all their wrongdoing. That we will bring them all to justice. Especially Travelyan."

"Here, here!" came the sounds of mass assent. They all probably said yes, or whatever. Maybe Selina did too, with a fragment of her consciousness. Her mind was racing, putting things together, tying the threads into a knot. She pulled out the book, paginating furiously, and found the notes on Tea Time itself, or at least on the Tower of Iron Will enchantment placed upon it.

"Yadda yadda, immune to all charms and compulsions, blah blah, psychic assault...ah ha! Side effects include headaches and insomnia. For the headaches, try Worgenroot Tea or Blackberry Pie (the pie won't help, but it's tasty!), but the insomnia is tougher to root out, as one can't sleep with one's thoughts all a-twitter. What a conundrum!" She whispered the old woman's words to herself, sounding as mad as the madwoman.

The ritual on the airship, that infernal hellscape. Her father was a demon lord--information she'd waited a lifetime for, provided barely 24 hours too late. Her insight into her own blood brought her not to the witches' origin, but to his. The voice in her head was infernal, offering knowledge in exchange for favors. Curse me, the most obvious folly in the book! Was I born yesterday?

No, child, but consider that it was not folly, but wisdom. Oft you've doubted your mothers, and especially the elder, yet ne'er has she steered you wrong.

The intrusion was unsettling, but also a confirmation. Teraza's spoon was preventing her from sleeping, which was preventing whatever demon was planning to take her mind over as soon as she did so. The madwoman had bought her time, but the enchantment didn't take away the need to sleep at all. She would kill for a catnap at this point, but it would be her last act as a free woman.

Why didn't you just prevent me from falling into this trap, damn it? she railed at the shadow of her Nina in her mind.

I think you already know, don't you? This was always meant to be. She reads the Threads of Fate, she does not design the pattern they weave. Nor do I, for that matter.

She needed help. And one small mercy, she was in just the right place and time. She had a psionic dream expert, and the three most powerful witches on the planet. She was surrounded by family and loved ones, in her stronghold, a veritable mountain of defense.

And yet, she wasn't safe at all. The enemy was already within.