He didn’t want to believe he was mentally compromised. I was only amused at his attitude. “You’re Bound to a creature that is far more powerful than you are, smarter than you are, older than you are, wiser than you are, and possessed of far greater force of will than you have, and you believed you would remain untouched?” I had to laugh, despite myself. “What fools do mortals be.” Always thinking they are better than others...
He suddenly looked rather defeated. “And I imagine you would have done better?” he asked faintly, challenging me in a helpless, piteous huff.
I considered Aelryinth’s past, where slaughtering dragons trying to infiltrate the ecosystem was a given. He had an entire cloak made out of their heartscales, and they even had a Curse-Name for him: Glaus nog Mont, The King in White, so named for the number of dragons he’d vivisized.
“I have no memory of ever meeting a friendly dragon,” I stated coolly. “They were either confident they could win a fight, or they fled.” I tilted my head. “Why, is that dragon looking out your eyes asking?”
He flinched. “What?”
“You don’t even know that much?” He looked properly horrified. “Yes, a dragon can spend a few Valences and look out your eyes and ears, just like using a Crystal Ball. You’re like a fine living camera and mobile entertainment source. If it wasn’t getting something from you, do you think it would have given you a Pact at all?”
He was flushing hotly now, thinking of all the things he’d done that the dragon had probably been watching. His wife just sniffed and turned her head away.
“Is there a way to stop it?” the Professor asked urgently, almost desperately.
“Do you want to revert to being 117 years old?” I replied easily, and he stiffened in shock. Yes, it’s easy to get used to those extra years. “I didn’t think so. So, Professor, you are an intelligent man. As opposed to breaking your Pact mutually and instantly dying of old age, what are your alternatives?”
He shuddered and sat back in his chair, eyes intent, and abruptly deep in thought.
He couldn’t become a Forsaken... he’d passed Seven, and even getting Drained wouldn’t change the fact now. That meant he had to replace his Pact, unless he wanted to die.
He glanced at me as he realized it. “I have to become a Warlock,” he half-declared, half-asked.
“Becoming a Warlock means you will have to fight, Professor,” I said lightly. “Your Pact will compel you to take action against the forces that are threatening the source of it. No more lazing about and lording over your non-intellectual equals in your little slice of paradise. Whether they go with you or not, you will have to go fight.”
He glanced sharply at his wife, who gazed back at him calmly, offering no words. “I, I believe that I could endure that, to get a dragon out of my head,” he admitted, his fist clenching.
“There are not a lot of the major Profound Pacts around waiting to be Sworn. If you want to swear a Pact to something powerful, your best bet is probably the Land upon which you stand. If it is agreeable, then perhaps you might want to swear secondary Pacts to the Heaven of Clouds above, and the sea beyond here, if the Land is agreeable to such.
“Or, you may remain pure to the Land. It is your choice. Power versus versatility.”
“I have traveled many places on this world. It would be best if I could relate to all the Spirits of those places I have passed.”
I lifted an eyebrow at the prompt answer. “Well enough. My associate can meet with you in the morning, and take you to a place to receive the acknowledgement of the Mother Land. She is a Warlock Grandmaster.”
“Ah!” He considered that point, eyes almost sparking at the thought. “What does that entail?”
“You must hold at least five Pacts, and two of them must be contradictory or opposed to one another. Legion is Bound to both Heaven and Hell, among many others.”
Both of them looked shocked. “That sounds... somewhat unworkable?” the Professor asked softly.
“Not at all. Hell doesn’t care what you do with the power, as long as they get you in the end. Heaven does care, and will drop you in a cold second if your heart doesn’t stay the course. Is there anything in there that cancels out?” I glanced at both of them, and they both shook their heads after a moment.
“A Landbound Pact is dominated by The Green and The Brown. Sea and Sky Pacts are not opposed. If you wish to be a Grandmaster, you must complete the cycle and swear to the Mountains and the Volcanoes, or perhaps to the sun here. But that is a matter for you.” I waved it away, not my problem.
“Of course,” he agreed with a nod. “But... will the Pact with the dragon just... go away?”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Naturally not, but it should not be an issue. By the words of the Pact, the dragon cannot cancel it without your deliberately requesting he do so. Keeping a Dragonbound Pact on a true Warlock that is going to demote his Dragonpact is... unwise to the dragon. It is merely a dragon, and does not have the power or breadth of a true Spirit of Nature, even if they are mostly dreaming. Unless it wishes to be adversely affected and drawn into your Pact, it will let the agreement go.”
“And... if it does not?” the Professor had to ask uneasily, and his wife looked at me sharply.
“It is scrying on me through your eyes. I have the taste of its magic. I have the Name it gave you. I can touch its link to you and track it across the world without fail. Once I get to it, well, I will express my displeasure.”
Both of them froze in place at the way I ground the words out. There was so much killing intent in them that the very wind died down and held its breath as I stared into the eyes of the thing looking out the Professor’s eyes.
He forgot to breathe, and it was thirty long seconds before reflex kicked in, and he inhaled sharply. His eyes flashed, and there was a flicker there.
“He understands,” he breathed out. “Umryxigorz will give you no trouble over this matter.”
My eyes probably flashed with schadenfreude. “This may be presumptuous, but keeping the Pact with the Dragon is also a path. The fact that you have not taken advantage of what a Dragonpact can offer you is on you, not a reflection of the strength of the Pact. Using it as the dragon would not, while also subjecting it to the influence of the Spirits of the Land... mmm.” I steepled my fingers thoughtfully, smiling slightly. “You could literally force the dragon to get involved in purifying the Land, simply by forcing it to be aware at all times of the problems bothering it.”
“An itch you cannot scratch is the worst of all,” Matron Osellyi caught on quickly and slyly. “You would make him itch!”
“You sound very familiar with Dragonbound Pacts, Lady Traveler...” the Professor noted softly.
“Dragons love to grant them to mortals and gain new pawns. It costs them nothing and gains them disposable tools. Categorizing their powers is no more difficult than doing so for a normal Warlock Pact.” I arched an eyebrow at him. “I gather your Patron never bothered to inform you of those powers, and you’ve deliberately not gone seeking them, to the point where you didn’t even think there were any?”
“I...” Now he looked embarrassed at the way I was getting so far ahead of him. “That is likely true,” he admitted after some hesitation.
“Dragonbound Pacts work almost exactly the way normal Pacts do. Dragons merely tap into the Elemental powers of their bloodline and ancestry to power such Pacts up, acting as conduits, much like meeting an angel or demon to gain a Warlock Pact. As they are mortal, if powerful, creatures, there are some differences.
“The Amethyst Pact is one of the more unusual, as the breed prefers psionic energies, not magical ones. It is the most formidable of the Jeweled Dragons, and the most cerebral, with infamous aloofness and belief in its intellectual superiority over other dragons, and by extension, all other creatures.”
His face twisted at my dry assessment. “I cannot disagree with you on that point.”
I inclined my head in amusement. “More pointedly, amethyst dragons are masters of Force effects in the same way Pyre Dragons are masters of fire, Storm Dragons master lightning, and Hoar Dragons master cold.
“This naturally affects the Breath Weapon you can wield.”
He blinked. “I... can use a Breath Weapon?” he asked, stunned.
“A normal Warlock wields a Warlock Blast, which powers all their abilities. In Dragonbound, that effect is your Breath Weapon. Certainly you have seen other Dragonbound at work? I did say you were ignoring developing your Pact, did I not?”
He stared for a moment, then looked out over the new balcony railing. He got to his feet slowly, walking up to it, and put his hands on it. Frowning, he closed his eyes, feeling for something he had long ignored, to the point where he did not think it was there.
Then he inhaled abruptly, harder and sharper than should be humanly possible. His exhalation was equally violent, bending him over as a blast of purple-white coruscant force energies exited his mouth in a bolt of power, flashing out for about twenty paces before dissipating.
To my utter lack of surprise, in the next second he bent over the railing and vomited hard. His wife looked at me, I inclined my head, and she rose to stand next to him. She was visibly surprised when he grasped her hand almost frantically, holding tight to it while he emptied his guts.
It took him a couple minutes to get control of himself, and I just watched him coolly. Suddenly turning on the power switch and becoming a true conduit for violent energies does not come without cost. He was getting something mild compared to swearing an Elemental Pact... but he’d find that out, too.
“Bly bouth ith num,” he sort of got out, clutching at his throat, little shards of purplish force spitting off his teeth.
“Congratulations. You are a rank amateur playing at being a spellcaster. Welcome to the world of rep counts!
“If you want to overcome that rather horrible feeling of uncontrolled energies playing up and down your mouth, throat, and chest, then you learn to control them. You invest the time and effort and energy to do so... oh, and loads and loads of Karma. One wonders where one might get such a thing.” I waved at the dark blot over there in the sullen sky tellingly. “Oh, and also, that is a pathetically weak attack. It is single target, and does about the same damage as you hitting someone with a club. It felt violent and powerful in the same way that someone sticking a club down your throat feels strong, but in reality, it is laughable. Your wife can do the same thing with a Cantrip all day, too.”
He flushed and lowered his eyes, working his mouth, trying to feel his lips and tongue. “I have wasted a great deal of time, have I not?” he finally managed to get out slowly and legibly.
“It would not be at all far-fetched to say that if you were not affected by Amethyst isolationism, you would probably have been the Warlock Grandmaster of the Hollow World a long time ago, Professor Shellington.”
His shoulders slumped as he was again forced to realize that he had been used. At the same time, a defiant light lit up in his blue eyes, something that had probably not been there for some time, as he rallied and fought back against that influence.
“I look forwards to meeting your associate!” he stated firmly, and put a hand about the slender waist of his lovely wife. “But, I do not want to enter such a Pact alone. Is it possible that my lady can enter a Pact with the Land with me?” he asked firmly, and her eyes widened in astonishment.