TenThousandBrokenDreams/Session21
- Mother Cypress speaks:
- “Welcome, my little nestlings. I see you’re here for a tale. What would you hear of tonight? Would you hear the tale of Benjala Buran, who fell in love with a cloud-spirit as he watched the skies one summer’s day? Would you hear of how he battled with Heaven to preserve his lover beyond her natural span? Or would you hear more of the tale of the Sun’s bright children, and of the dawn of the new Age?
- “Then gather round, my children, and spread ears like elephants; that I may tell you more of the tale of the children of the Sun, of where they went and what they did in the new year.”
* * * * *
The Sun’s children rested in their camp on the first day of the new year. They kept watch against such demons as might have survived the previous night’s doings, and sought to recover their strength. Thorwald prodded at his cracked ribs, and Li helped pick corroded leaves of brass out of Aekino’s lacerated back. The old Dragon-Blood they’d rescued from the altar lay curled in a corner, recuperating from his drugged stupor.
A silver-eyed eagle settled upon a stone. It changed shape, became Fetek. He looked glum. “Tul Tuin is, as predicted, a smoking ruin.” He told them of the alien architecture of black stone and brass that had spread across the slopes below the Tower of Winds, of the cinders and wreckage strewn through the lower quarters, of the mortals that still lingered in those quarters and the demons that crawled, walked, fluttered and flapped amidst the streets and battlements of the intruding demon towers.
Zera regarded his comrades. “What now?”
“We still need to go to Idris,” said Aekino sourly, “to fulfill our obligations.”
“Sadly,” Fetek observed, “the faerie queen is our only ally.”
Aekino nodded. “And her daughter.”
“By rights, we should send word to the Blessed Isle,” Fetek added, though his dubious expression belied his words. Zera laughed.
Our heroes discussed their options for a time. Where should they go next, and what plans should they try? Some wished to press on into Kaihan and retrieve their grave goods; others proposed to attack the demons in Tul Tuin immediately. But Zera’s opinion ruled the day; he proposed to go to Idris and force the queen of that place to fulfill her end of their bargain, to provide the aid promised them in exchange for freeing her mother, the faerie Cessair.
Eventually, the old Dragon-Blood awoke. He proved cranky. He asked questions. Aekino sought to lull him with half-answers, describing how they’d lucked onto the infernal ritual and freed him. The old man asked how they’d opposed demons on their own, and why they’d dared; Aekino prattled on about the aid they’d received from the spirits and elementals of wind and wood.
“Child,” said the Dragon-Blood, “don’t mince words with me. I am many centuries older than you. Tell me what is really going on.”
Zera smirked. “Yes, Aekino,” he said snidely, earning some black looks, “he is many centuries older than you. Don’t mince words with him.”
Thorwald spoke up. “We are demon hunters, old man.”
The others built on the half-truth, spinning a yarn that proved agreeable enough to the old man. He told them that his name was Master Ro, and spoke of how he’d been ambushed in his manse, the Well of Ashes, a month ago and held prisoner by the demon cult. He offered them wealth and magic if they would help him clear out any demons or other usurpers who might have moved into the manse in his absence; but as their route to Idris took them northward and the manse lay to the south, they turned him down.
They traveled on for the next day, albeit slowed by their many injuries. They stopped briefly in a village to obtain arrows and trail rations. They continued on toward Idris, sticking to the edge of the forest, passing blot-stones still crusted with sacrifices of milk, honey and blood, watching fields and farmhouses through a screen of trees.
Zera drew Li aside to ‘scout.’ He whispered in her ear: “Li, this troubles me. I want to get your advice. He is an old Dragon-Blooded, yes?”
“Yes.”
“He will discover our identity sooner or later. We will be forced to do battle with demons, or Forty-Four Devil Blossoms, and our caste marks will be revealed.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“This is madness.” Zera kicked at the undergrowth. “If we want to have any chance of gaining his trust, or even of getting through this without having to kill the old fool, we’re going to have to tell him before he figures it out on his own.”
“Are you sure this is wise?”
“It is prudent. We did save his life. I think he has the right to know.”
Li regarded the sunlight as it slanted through the trees. “You aren’t going to ask Thorwald and Aekino?”
“How? Will I take everyone out ‘scouting’?” He spat.
When they made camp for the evening, and Master Ro went to the nearby brook to perform his ablutions, Zera addressed his comrades: “I spoke to Li, and she agrees. Li… she has a grand daiklave on her back. This Dragon-Blood is old and wise, to have lived so long. He will see what we are, and it would be best for us to show him ourselves.”
“And what if he cuts our throats in the night?” Thorwald demanded.
“He must have a clue by now, and he hasn’t slit our throats yet.”
“It is a waste of time trying to deceive him,” stated Fetek, and the others agreed. So they waited until the freshly scrubbed Master Ro returned, and then they told him.
* * * * *
Master Ro took things reasonably well. There was some confusion around this, as it took our heroes some time to grasp the fact that Ro was not a Dynast; he had never seen the Blessed Isle, nor studied the lore of the Immaculate Order. His discomfort around the Anathema paled in comparison to his distaste for the Fair Folk. Upon learning of Cessair’s release, he balked at traveling to Idris, and only consented to accompany our heroes after much persuasion.
The elder Dragon-Blood also showed little interest in the demonic infestation of Tul Tuin. Aekino glared at him. “How can you be so disinterested?” he barked. “These are your own people!”
“They are not my people,” Ro pouted. “I already told you, I’m not a Dynast. I’m from Halta.”
“Bah! Excuses!” grumbled Thorwald. “You southerners have no sense of community.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” The Dragon-Blood glared crankily. “I said I’m from Halta. That’s in the North.”
Thorwald grinned. “You are all southerners to me.”
* * * * *
While the others harangued Master Ro, Fetek quietly drew Aekino aside. “I have a favor to ask,” said the No-Moon. “I would like you to teach me Emerald Countermagic.”
The Dynast arched an eyebrow. Inwardly, he smiled; at last, that smug, sorcerous Lunar had come begging to him! “Ah… I think it would be best,” he said, “to wait until we reach Idris. I would like the opportunity to discuss the matter before committing to such an action.”
“I think it would be best to do this before we engage the faerie queen,” Fetek riposted. “This would help me to better protect your Circle.”
“Hm.” Aekino pursed his lips before proceeding. “When we have asked you about your background in the past, you have been less than forthcoming. You must understand… it’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t know you.”
Fetek shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
* * * * *
Fetek told Aekino of his childhood, of life as a priestess’ son in a small village in the East. He told of how the pale man came, that Earth-prince of the Realm, to subdue his people’s gods and crush those who would give them worship. He told of how his parents had sent him into the cellar beneath the temple; of how the cellar collapsed, trapping him as he heard his neighbors, friends, and family all die above; of how he dug at the dirt for days, his hands raw and bleeding; of how Luna came to him, there in the stale and earthy dark, to give him the strength that set him free.
Aekino looked at him with new respect, mingled with pity. “Did any of your family survive?”
“I don’t know.” Fetek spoke impassively, as if discussing the weather.
“Do you know who the pale man was? The Earth Aspect?”
“No. I had never seen him before. But he wore this symbol.” Fetek drew the sign in the dirt. Aekino swallowed. It was the Tepet mon. His family’s sign.
Aekino brought forth his family sash to show Fetek. He explained the connection. The Lunar snarled.
“I am sorry for what happened,” Aekino said, his hands raised to placate the Moon-child. “I am sorry for what he did. I know what they’re like; I left the Blessed Isle to get away from them.” This was not strictly the truth, but Aekino preferred not to have his throat torn out by an enraged Lunar warrior, thank you very much.
After a pause, full of leaf-scent and birdsong, Aekino went on. “You might want to think about this, the next time you’re fighting soldiers. These men and women have families, even as you did. They love their families, who also love them. They know the same sorrow over a loved one’s death.”
Fetek brushed the matter aside. With regard to this single obsession, he was implacable. “Do you know this man? This Earth Aspect?”
“No.” Even if he had known the fellow, Aekino might have thought twice about sharing the knowledge. Whoever it was, revealing his identity to Fetek would mean the man’s death.
* * * * *
Our heroes discussed many things on their journey to Idris. They spoke of the wonders of the Southern deserts, which none of them but Zera had seen. They spoke of the dead, of the nature and meaning of death, and of how the Deathlords had twisted death’s sacred nature into an abomination. They spoke of what they might face in Idris itself, and of whether Queen Idris would honor their deal, with Thorwald staking yet another week of drinks on his mistrust of the queen. And quietly, apart from the others, Aekino asked Fetek as to the whereabouts of Dancing Water, his Lunar lover from the First Age, whose presence still weighed on his soul after their sole encounter at the foot of the Iron Tower.
Then they came to Idris, and entered its walls along with a stream of refugees from Tul Tuin. They moved through the crowd in search of lodgings, but few vacancies were to be had; many of those who had left Tul Tuin had wealth enough to find housing, and there was little space available.
Skirting between a garbage heap and a fruit-seller’s stall, Thorwald spat. “Look at that,” he said, pointing at a tiny storefront where a dwarfish blue Fair Folk crouched, mending a boot. “This is a horrible place. I cannot believe that they suffer the Fair Folk to live, let alone live alongside them.”
“I don’t think so.” Zera gestured. “See how many of the people shy away from them? I think the people here like the Fair Folk little more than you or I. I think they fear them.”
“Then they do not fear them enough.”
* * * * *
They spoke briefly with some refugees, to learn what had transpired in Tul Tuin. They learned little more than what they already knew. Riots and burning had begun early on the last night of Calibration, with the city guard and Ledaal soldiers fighting with gangs in the dock district. Then the black towers rose, and the demons came forth. The family they spoke with knew no more. Thorwald gave them some silver. Other refugees then swarmed around him, asking for a handout; thus did Thorwald learn about panhandling.
Our heroes made their way to the low, sprawling palace of Idris. Guards fetched the queen's grandson, Erlend, who exhibited remarkably little pleasure at their arrival. The Circle agreed to leave their weapons at the gate, some agreeing with poorer grace than others. They agreed not to fight within the palace; in Thorwald’s case, he amended that to agreeing not to start anything, while making clear that if someone else started a fight, he’d be sure to finish it.
After losing an exchange of verbal jabs with Zera, Erlend escorted the Circle to a guest suite, muttering about how Zera was “the most annoying little man I ever met.” Our heroes spent some time cleaning themselves up, which mostly involved waiting for Aekino to get out of the bath and stop using up all the hot water, after which they attended court in their best dress. There, surrounded by the court and the bodyguard of wolf-headed faeries, sat the faerie queen Cessair, the Fair Folk they’d freed from the Iron Tower. The faerie noble Orlàm stood at her side.
“Your pardon, lady,” the Dynast observed after performing an obeisance, “but we had hoped to meet with Queen Idris.”
Cessair smiled. The Circle reeled before the force of her presence, and her merest glance all but turned Zera’s knees to water. “My daughter no longer holds authority here,” she said. “You may address your concerns to me.”
Thorwald grimaced. Little as he liked faerie half-breeds such as Idris, he reserved his hate for the Fair Folk themselves. But he addressed the queen nonetheless. “We had a deal. We freed you so that you could return here. Now uphold your side of the bargain! Give us the forces we agreed on, to destroy the dead of Kaihan!”
“I made no deal.” She lounged upon her throne, ignoring the threat implicit in Thorwald’s anger. “Your arrangement was with my daughter, not with me. I am certainly willing to negotiate,” she added, glancing at the enthralled Zera, “but I owe you nothing.”
Thorwald raged at Cessair for her refusal to honor her daughter’s pact. She smiled and egged him on, as she and her new consort Orlàm drew sustenance from his wrath. She even had her daughter Idris brought forth to address her accusers.
“You promised your aid if we brought your mother to you!” shouted Thorwald. “You gave your word. I expect you to honor it!”
Idris looked back at him sulkily. “And what would you have me do?” she asked. “I have no power now, no army.” She glared at her mother. “Would you have me walk with you, alone, into the shadowland, just to die?”
“Yes! I expected no better from her, but you are part human. You have nothing left to you but your word. What value does your life have without it?”
Li placed a hand on Thorwald’s shoulder. “Enough, brother. Release her from her oath.” He gave her a hard look, then nodded curtly.
“Perhaps,” suggested Aekino, “we could continue this discussion in private?”
The faerie queen nodded. “Very well, then. Leave now.” She gestured to the mob of courtiers. “All of you.” Within moments, only Cessair, her faerie guards, and the Circle remained.
Aekino and Thorwald each pressed the fae queen to grant them aid. She smiled and smiled, but she would not be swayed. She had ruled in these lands for centuries before Ledaal Vir usurped her throne, she said, and she knew how to deal with supernatural threats. She would not act recklessly. She brushed off Aekino’s insistence that she must move before the demons and the restless dead caught her between hammer and anvil; there would be time enough to plan before that happened, she said. And through all this, Zera watched her hungrily, white-knuckled, torn between the desire to strike her down and the desire to worship her, to embrace her, to be her slave.
Cessair regarded Zera with all of her attention. He grew weak. “Ah, Zera Thisse. Now, if you were to stay the night with me in my chambers… I might be inclined to look favorably upon your petition.”
Thorwald’s face reddened. Veins stood out in his neck and forehead. “No!” he shouted; but giving the lie to the northman’s words, Zera stumbled toward the queen, his eyes glazed with lust. Li and Thorwald grabbed him before he could cast himself down before the throne. As Li manhandled the archer out of the room, followed by their fellows, Thorwald snapped out, “This audience is over.”
Our heroes gathered their possessions from the guest suite and made their way out into the cool autumn evening. Mingling with the crowd, they could feel the nervous, subdued mood of the townsfolk, not wholly unlike their own. Zera looked up at the night. “It seems ungrateful to leave, don’t you think?”
“There is nothing for us here,” Li replied.
* * * * *
Light poured thickly from open windows, pursued by shouts and the buzz of low conversation. A chaplet of wilted flowers dangled from the sign reading “The Crown of Roses.” Our heroes entered the inn. Near the back, they spotted a familiar face: Rei of Nechara. After driving off her table-mates with a half-drawn sword and some harsh words, she smiled at our heroes and invited them to join her.
“It’s good to see you’re still alive,” she said.
“Likewise,” Zera replied. “Barkeep! A week of drinks for my friends!”
Fetek arched his brows. “How much is a week of drinks?”
“Not enough!”
Various greetings followed, along with a discussion of who’d done what and gone where. Rei slid a pouch across the table to Aekino; it held rings and a pendant of orichalcum, which she’d found upon her return to the Tomb of the Anathema. She brushed off thanks for the gift, observing that she was rich now as a result of raiding that tomb, and wouldn’t miss a few bits of demon-gold.
“I wasn’t the only one down there,” she added. “There was this nutty old woman rooting around down there, too. She had some kind of Essence weapon, like one of Kurokami’s toys. Here, look, she left me a souvenir.” She rolled up her sleeve to show a burn scar that cut across her upper arm.
“Was she a Lookshyer?” asked Zera, gesturing. “Hazel-eyed, with long gray hair?”
“That’s the one. She said she’d killed already to get as far as she had, and she’d damn sure kill again.”
Zera sighed. “We’ve met her before.”
“You have?” Recognition dawned. “Oh yeah, that old woman from the barge-trip here? Yeah, that might have been her.” She nodded. “I’m pretty sure of it.”
“Did you kill her?” Aekino inquired.
“Nah. She was in that inner chamber; I figured you’d picked it clean, so why fight over it?”
* * * * *
Our heroes settled in for some hard drinking. They relaxed and unwound a bit, enjoying this occasion for companionable conversation. It would be some time before they realized that Zera (sneaky, sneaky Zera!) had gone away. For all his easy banter, his mind remained in turmoil. How could that Fair Folk woman get inside his head like that? How could she make him love her, need her, like that? He couldn’t allow it. She had to die.
He slipped through the town like a shadow. Shopkeepers and refugees looked right through him as he made his way up the streets toward the silhouette of the grove-capped palace hill. Guards stared past him, unseeing, as he circled the palace walls. He leapt in silence onto the timbered roof. He made his way among the slates and gables. There, he thought, regarding dim blue windows. That must be the queen’s chambers.
He slipped in through an open window. There, amidst dim light. He padded softly past draped velvet, book leather, mahogany. Down the corridor, he heard. Moaning. Panting. He stopped his ears, pulled his kerchief down over his eyes, clutched Thorwald’s iron necklace. The witch would not enchant him.
Zera followed the sounds, faint and muffled through his earplugs. Soft sighs; sweet low moans; the slip of flesh on flesh. He crept closer, an iron knife in his sweaty grip. There, in the bedroom. Vague shapes moved beyond his blindfold. Limbs tangled and intermingled; the perfumes of sex and lust thickened the air. Desire quickened and surged inside him; he quashed it. He raised the blade.
CRACK! A whip twined around his wrist. The knife went tumbling, clattered on the oaken floor. Soft hands drew away the blindfold. There, lying amidst tumbled sheets, lay the faerie queen, her whole body bare to his gaze. His control shattered.
She beckoned to him.
He came.
* * * * *
Aekino raised his mug. He paused. “Where’s Zera?”
Li raked the bar with her gaze. She cursed. “He’s gone.”
“Where is he?” asked the Dynast. But Li had already left the table. Repeating the question, Aekino followed her out the door.
“He’s gone to the palace.” Li pointed along the empty street. “He has gone to her.”
They ran to the palace. Of Zera, there was no sign; so they entered the palace as before, surrendering their arms to the guardsman with ill grace. They meandered briefly in search of the queen’s chambers, for where else might their brother be found?
Aekino flirted shamelessly with a servant in order to gain passage to the queen’s suite. Unfortunately, a pair of guards bearing bronze-tipped pikes stood on watch outside of her door. “We wish to see the queen,” Aekino suggested.
The guards proved less pliable to the Dynast’s not inconsiderable charms. “Her Majesty is currently with one of her companions,” one observed. “Perhaps you can see her once you’re done.”
Seething inwardly, Aekino replied, “She has asked us to join her and her ‘companion.’ Please let us past, so that we may, ah, do our duty.”
“I’m sorry, but we’ve had no orders to admit anyone else. You’re welcome to wait.”
“Thank you. We’ll come back later.”
The two backed down the hallway. As they turned a corner, Li hissed, “We need a plan.”
“Well,” mused Aekino, “we are going to have to knock out the guards…”
“And then, we kill the queen?”
The Dynast regarded his comrade with some surprise. This seemed out of character. “Only if we need to, to free Zera.”
The western swordswoman stretched lazily, looking lethal even without her swords. “Are you sure I can try and kill the faerie queen?”
Aekino gave her another odd look. “Yes.”
The two of them returned to the queen’s door. The guards greeted them again. Then, as one, our heroes struck at the guards with feet and fists. Aekino’s victim dropped senseless from a blow to the head; Li’s barely avoided a crushed windpipe, and managed a shout of “Guards!” before joining her companion in unconsciousness.
The Solars smashed the door open and pelted inside. Li seized a guard’s pike; she edged deeper into the softly lit suite. Aekino started piling furniture in front of the door. From somewhere among the corridors, he could hear the shouts and calls of the palace constabulary.
Li burst into the queen’s bedchamber. Cessair had kept her daughter’s luxuries; blue-tinged lamps shone upon silk and silver and jade. They shone also upon Zera’s heaped garments. The canopies of the massive four-poster bed were parted. Zera lay there, his body entwined with those of Cessair and of her consort’s leman, the green-haired courtesan Silver Jade.
Zera was the last to notice the intrusion. Brushing his hair from his face, he looked up at Li with a blurry smile. “Why are you here?” he inquired.
“The deathlord of Thorns is attacking,” Li replied, utterly deadpan. “He is at the gate with his undead juggernaut and a legion of ten thousand zombies.”
“That is far from funny, sister.” The archer levered himself up on one elbow, peering over the crook of the faerie queen’s knee. “As you can see, I am aggressively negotiating in our favor.”
“I am sorry to cut your negotiation short.”
Aekino burst in. He gaped at the ménage à trois. Finding his tongue, he said, “The guards are almost here. Come on, Zera!” He moved to the bed, grabbed Zera by the shoulders. And then… well, indulgence had always been Aekino’s greatest vice. He ran his hands over exposed flesh; he sighed; his eyes rolled back in his head. In a trice, he had joined the others in the massive bed.
For Li, that was the last straw. She leapt up onto the bedpost, the pike flashing in her hands. Essence cracked and flared as she lunged directly down at the faerie queen’s heart.
Cessair twisted aside, but not swiftly enough, entangled as she was with her lovers. The bronze blade of the pike sank into her side in a spray of colorless blood. She screamed! The sound stabbed deep into the minds of everyone there, like rusty spikes through the ears. Zera clutched his head; Aekino moaned. Li ignored the sound; she stabbed again at the faerie queen, but not before a web of glittering gossamer armor spread across Cessair’s body, softening the blow. The queen then leapt up to another bedpost, tearing a swath of cloth from the canopy and swirling it before her to baffle and entangle Li’s weapon.
The queen’s scream continued on, gripping them in a pitiless vise of noise and pain. Li spared a glance at the others. Silver Jade crouched in a corner, clutching her whip in one hand and holding a chair as a shield in the other. Aekino and Zera were watching the battle (or just the faerie queen?) with hypnotized fascination. “Aekino and Zera!” hissed Li. “Get out of here!”
Aekino shook himself free of his lustful trance. He seized Zera by the arm. “Break out of it! We’ve got to get out of here!”
Zera said nothing, even as Li caught his pants on the tip of her pike and flung them into his face. He kept ogling Cessair, but he did put his pants on. Aekino dragged him to the balcony.
Guards funneled into the room. Bronze pikes gleamed. Cessair stopped screaming. And Li tossed the pike aside, leapt down to the balcony, and yanked her brothers out over the railing, into the dark.
* * * * *
Our heroes stopped at the palace’s front gate only long enough for Li to render the gate-guards unconscious and retrieve her swords and Aekino’s staff. Then they ran through the streets to the Crown of Roses. They found the place wrecked: windows shattered, chairs and tables smashed, beer and mead pooled everywhere, patrons littered all across the floor and out on the street. Thorwald and Fetek were clapping each other on the shoulder for a bar brawl well fought.
Seeing Zera half-naked and without his iron necklace, Thorwald immediately intuited what had happened. He snarled at his comrade. “Tell me you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!”
“What happened?” asked Fetek.
Aekino shook his head tiredly. “He went back to her.”
Thorwald looked ready to explode into a loud tirade, but Li cut him off. “Cessair’s soldiers will be here soon. We must go now.”
It took them only a moment to gather their things and make for the south gate. (Zera’s total lack of any possessions other than his pants made this a little easier.) They stopped briefly at a stable, where Thorwald obtained horses by threat of force. “Bloody thief you are!” cried the younger of the two grooms, and, “The queen will hear of this!” shouted the older.
Thorwald smiled. “Tell them Thorwald of Stonehold took them.”
Soon they were out of town, riding hard to the south. Luna smiled down at them, a slim silver grin that mocked all their frailties. Li slumped in her saddle. The weight of everyone’s foolishness weighed heavily on her, her own most of all. She sighed. “I do not think we will be welcome here anymore.”
Aekino snorted. “For good reason. And good riddance.”
Fetek looked wistfully up at the moon. “Our list of allies grows short.”
“Our list of allies,” muttered Li, “was painfully short to begin with.” And she would say no more.
The woods hulked blackly to their left; the river ran silver and laughing to their right. They followed the road between.
(Note: all PCs received 3 XP for this session. Fetek gained 2 XP for contributions (notes on events for the session). XP totals to date: Aekino 101, Fetek 86, Li 100, Thorwald 102, Zera 107.)
