Blood Moon

by The_Darker_Fonts

Chapter 20: The Negotiation

Hemorrhage stared at the entrance into the gloomy cavern, contrasting deeply with the sprouting trees that surrounded the black hole. The residence of the other coven was about six miles south of their own, but also something like a mile lower in elevation, meaning the winter had subsided more down here. In fact, even though darkness had begun to fall on the land as night set in, there was still the slightest tinge of spring warmth that the mordigan hadn’t felt in months. It was easy to see why a coven so large had chosen to live in such an area sheerly from an environmental aspect.

The entire area was forested in such a way that it had taken them hours to traverse between the trees to get to the cavern. There were a multitude of animals as well, but in spite of the hunting of some thirty nocturnals, they remained in seemingly healthy numbers. The only slight concern was how close the coven was to a few of the villages in the territory bordering his own. They were small and relatively defenseless against attack if the coven should decide on an actual meal of pony. Thankfully, it seemed as if Halven had beaten temperance into his nocturnals. Though the ompyre was clearly a shifty one, he had many good traits that Hemorrhage had come to appreciate in their negotiations.

“Well, it’s as gloomy as I remember,” Argon muttered, his eyes scanning the roof of the cavern.

“Come now Argon, appreciate the effort they put into deterring any foolish ponies from entering,” Hemorrhage joked, pointing at a pairing of stalactites that looked like teeth.

“Yes, look at how we protect the defenseless against ourselves,” a voice hissed from somewhere within the cavern, setting them both on guard instantly. The pair watched as a trio of dark figures crept out from within the wide opening, two of them crawling low to the ground, encircling them as the third walked confidently towards them. “Friends in the dark, I presume,” the stallion suggested with a lisp, stepping into the moonlight. “My name is Necrophos, but please, if you are friends, call me Necro.”

“Good evening, Necro,” Hemorrhage greeted, eyeing the circling figures, watching their crouched forms. They had to be werewolves based solely on their lithe forms, but also the way they seemed to be more animalistic without remorse, bared teeth and shining eyes the only thing the moonlight revealed about them. “My companion and I have come to discuss matters that would be most concerning to your master. May we be granted entry to speak with Halven?”

“That is not my choice to make, but might I suggest you dissolve that false face and show your true colors, stranger,” Necrophos hissed with a great glare. The stallion crouched slightly as he took a step forward threateningly, a loose smile spreading across his marred face. “I hate liars.”

“My wooden masks have been worn away by the forever blowing winds,” Hemorrhage stated, raising his head as he looked down at the encroaching werewolf. Watching the stallion continue his advance, he frowned and lit his horn, tossing the werewolf twenty, thirty, then forty spans sideways without a motion. Still facing where he had been, Hemorrhage finished, “All that is left is the stony face of a mordigan.”

The action caught up with his cronies, the two leaping at Hemorrhage with teeth bared. In an instant, they were both pinned beneath Argon’s large paws, the lycan baring his teeth in the eyes of the attackers.

“One wrong move and you’ll lose your head,” he threatened the struggling pair.

“Please, no such extreme actions are needed,” a new voice called from within the depths of the cave. Glancing back at the forlorn entrance, he saw a female figure emerge with an insincere smile on her face. There was something alarming- uncanny even- about her, the way her tail began to swish from side to side as she glanced at her pinned comrades. “Halven will gladly see you, Hemorrhage. An ally cannot refuse such a friendly visit.”

“Thank you, Mantris,” the mordigan responded, disregarding the werewolf he had tossed aside stumbling back towards his cavern, a mangle paw held in the air as whines of pain slipped through his teeth.

“Aw, he remembers my name,” the werewolf cooed as Hemorrhage passed by her to enter the cool cavern. He gave her a wary glance. It was hard to forget this one in particular, her strange demeanor and habits clear in the crazed shining of her eyes. She was the kind to hug the shadows until the light caught her, but when it did, she wasn’t ever caught off-guard. As silly as it was, of all the members of Halven’s coven, she was the one he feared the most, whether because of her unpredictability or skill, he couldn’t quite tell himself.

“Do be careful in there, though,” the werewolf warned, a cheerful smile still on her face. “Winter has just ended and many of us are tired of fish…”

“I know the feeling,” Argon growled, licking his chops, staring down Necrophos as he followed Hemorrhage into the depths of the cavern. With a wild snarl, the werewolf backed up, but before Argon could reply, Mantris had silently leapt between them, her grin ever shining.

“Come now, after all the trouble our masters have gone through to ensure this doesn’t happen, the two of you would end it so quickly,” she challenged. Shaking her head in disappointment, she pursed her lips as she muttered, “For shame for shame.”

“Argon, we haven’t time for this,” Hemorrhage reminded the lycan, gently prodding his pride aside. The stallion begrudgingly left the others behind, his sudden transformation causing him to loom threateningly over the other members of the coven drawn by the sounds of their scuffle. They watched the pair enter their residence warily, though not altogether hostile like Necrophos and his friends. Instead, they simply watched the foreigners they vaguely knew about, knowing that something important would be happening.

As they continued into the cavern, it gradually became less cave and more of a furnished room underground, the floor tiled and the walls smoothed out, some of them even bearing carvings left by the residents as a mark of their presence. He wasn’t scanning the cave for its appearance, however, but the details within it. Everywhere he looked, there was at least some sort of scrap or residue left from a meal eaten, bone or tufts of fur that hadn’t quite been thrown out or decayed. He could recognize most of them, even the littlest bits, by sight. Scrap of a rabbit here, a fetlock of a deer there. There were even some old pieces of pony, though because of their cracked, yellowed form, he knew they were too old to be what he was looking for. In spite of all the pieces left around, he didn’t see a single scrap of foal, much to his relief. At the very least, those poor foals hadn’t become food for this coven after having their lives destroyed by Khan.

Finally acclimating to the cave as they entered a narrow hallway carved out of a natural tunnel, Hemorrhage brushed away those particular concerns. He was worried that at some point he would have to bring up the disappeared town to Halven, but with the children not appearing in any form here, he wasn’t too concerned now. The cavern itself hadn’t changed much physically since the last time he had visited, but there was still certainly something… off. Whether it was simply the turn of the season that provided the chill or the attitude of the other nocturnals as they watched or followed from a distance, there was an unmistakable cold in the air.

Keeping as stoic as possible with his expressions, he found himself exiting the stone hallway into a surprisingly well lit room. Hemorrhage blinked at the unexpectedly harsh light of torches placed in holders carved into the walls. He glanced around at the half dozen individuals who bustled about quietly, doing something that was obviously important, but he couldn’t understand. One of them instantly stuck out as a friendly face, a glowing smile among the somber frowns of those who completed the task of sealing some sort of stone cabinet.

“Omen, is that you,” Argon asked, the first to remember the lycan’s name. The stallion seemed to not hear them at first, whispering to one of the others while his back was still partway turned to them. However, as the pair continued their approach, he noticed them, the beaming smile remaining as he greeted them.

“Ah, old friends, welcome back to our wonderful abode,” he exclaimed, stepping forward for a hoofshake. Hemorrhage accepted the first friendly greeting from the coven with his own smile, giving the extended hoof a firm shake. “It’s so wonderful for you to have arrived at the time you have, though I’m afraid my mate may be unavailable for any discussions at the moment. We’ve had a very long night and have dealt with a small issue, but thankfully the matter is done with and we can continue on peacefully.”

“That’s good to hear, my friend,” Hemorrhage responded courteously, though his smile faded as he apologetically added, “Unfortunately, I have to request and immediate audience with Halven and the leaders of this coven, since this isn’t merely but a friendly visit.”

The cheerful lycan’s expression faded as well upon hearing the request, but he nodded in understanding. “I had a feeling there was more to an unannounced visit than merely a check in. Halven will understand, though. Please, follow me.”

The pair dutifully followed Omen past a narrow corridor and over through several small chambers connected with a wide hall. There was nothing unique or practical about any of the small chambers, simply empty pieces of cavern converted into a living space for the coven. The only truly notable thing about the depths of the coven’s residence was the cleanliness. In spite of the messy entrance, here the only thing that distracted from the stone and tile were the stringy bits of moss growing on the walls and uncut stalactites.

Suddenly, the gray and faded green gave way to brown, a door blocking the entrance into the next chamber, and the only clear sign of anything of note this far down. The trio came to a stop, Omen waiting for the briefest moment to stare at the door before raising a hoof and knocking.

“Yes,” came a hoarse call from beyond the door, the response so immediate that Hemorrhage knew Halven had heard them arrive.

“Hemorrhage and Argon from the far-off coven have arrived and have a matter of great importance to discuss,” Omen announced, staring at the door. “I know it’s a bit early for such matters, but there is certainly something pressing about the news they are bringing, given their sudden appearance.”

“Very well,” the voice from behind the door responded. In an instant the wood was replaced by the tired face of an overworked ompyre, his tufted gray fur ruffled, yet still somehow neat. Immediately he noticed his teeth, still sharp as if he had been in his ompyre form. The two leaders stared at each other, scanning each other curiously. With a short chuckle, the ompyre finally said, “You look like you’ve seen better days, friend.”

Hemorrhage cracked a smile, knowing he must have looked like a beaten gray rug after a sleepless night and hours of travel. “Well, I’m certainly not getting any younger. It also doesn’t help that I have to traverse through dozens of thistles to reach your coven.”

“I wasn’t commenting on your age,” Halven corrected, his shoulders seeming to settle as he exited the room, shutting the door behind him. “You actually look quite a deal younger than the last time we met. I’m guessing it means you’ve finally found the one.”

Hemorrhage was caught slightly off-guard by the suggestion, both how casually it was said and how simply the ompyre noted it. “Well, yes, I think I might’ve found her, but there hasn’t been too much yet to confirm it,” the mordigan quickly recovered, a soft smile replacing his shock.

“That’s not what my wife tells me,” Argon objected knowingly, a smirk giving away the truth.

“Bed her already then,” Halven asked. Not waiting for a response, he muttered, “Well done.”

“I didn’t… bah, whatever, my personal concerns aren’t why I'm visiting,” Hemorrhage quickly attempted to clarify.

“But of course it isn’t,” Halven replied, seemingly distracted as he walked towards a slot in the cavern wall. “I’m guessing there is some urgency to this meeting. One of my scouts reported sudden movement in the earlier hours of the morning, so I knew you were on the move. It took too long for you to have simply come here, no, you went up to Canterlot, yes?”

“Yes, we did,” Hemorrhage replied, refusing to be unsettled that Halven had a scout spying on him. They monitored the other coven just as well. “You see, Argon arrived in the middle of the night from the Crystal Empire, having barely escaped the clutches of the Bastard Prince. For the past eight moons, he was pretending to be a guard for him, joining his queen’s personal guard. She’s dead now, but the truth of the matter is that that only empowers the Bastard, and now he has summoned the courage to once again attack Equestria.”

“And this is a concern to us how,” Omen asked, a hoof thoughtfully tapping his chin.

“Well, we have a good reason to believe the bastard is actually a mordigan, much like myself,” Hemorrhage revealed. Instantly, the other pair of nocturnals diverted their full attention to him, Halven snapping away from his cupboard in the walls.

“Do you have any physical evidence,” he questioned, his eyes narrowing to slits at the dangerous proposal.

“I have the witness of a mare who was one of his slaves for over three years,” Hemorrhage responded gravely. “The only reason she was his slave to begin with was her failure to kill him in spite of placing an arrow right into his heart.”

“Moon be damned,” Omen swore, a deep frown crossing his face. “This is a precarious situation for us to be in.” He looked up from his thinking, glancing around at the other three. “We thought we were the last covens in the world, but if what you're saying is true, then there’s a good chance that we may be facing a coven of eighty, ninety individuals!”

“Wait, why so many,” Argon asked.

“Well, this is Sombra we’re talking about, a lunatic without any self control or moral compass,” Halven replied darkly. “In any case, he knows his power and would likely attempt to spread it to wherever and whoever could help him maintain and enhance it. You said he was a mordigan, yes? Well, that just serves us even worse. Most likely, he doesn’t have the same restrictions as the rest of us, using his ungodly magic to dissuade or subdue any of the punishments of coming onto a mare. That’s what you meant by slave, right?”

Hemorrhage fell into an embarrassed silence, not expecting the stallion to be so deftly blunt. Stumbling over his words slightly, he stuttered, “Y-yes, unfortunately, that is what I meant and what happened.”

Omen shook his head sadly before muttering, “That poor mare. She’ll never be able to recover from what that stallion did to her.”

“Actually, she already has,” Argon came to Joint’s defense matter-of-factly. “She’s as tough as a lycan when it comes to such things, both physically and emotionally. She escaped from Sombra by killing an assassin sent to kill her by the queen and then floated herself down the river until she could leave on the Equestrian side.”

“And that’s how she came to us,” Hemorrhage finished with a thankful glance at his partner. “She was captured almost killing the bastard, and she escaped him by surviving an attempt on her own life. That isn’t even the most of it, however. You see, while in captivity, she gave birth to a filly.”

Silent shockwaves rolled through the other two leaders, their eyes widening at the news as they glanced at each other. Slowly, Omen stood as he tentatively ventured, “You mean to say… you have not only the witness of Sombra’s nocturnality, but also Sombra’s heir in your possession?”

“Impossible,” Halven muttered, astonished. Quickly standing himself, he began pacing as he added, “Not impossible, but completely insane that not only is he able to subdue the affects of sex before marriage in a nocturnal, but also to do it with one who is not his other half. Such a thing hasn’t happened in recorded history. How could this have happened?”

“Well, I actually happen to know something of the matter myself,” Argon meekly answered. Hemorrhage turned to the lycan, surprised. The stallion seemed slightly embarrassed about the matter and quickly explained, “You see, since I’ve been married, I’ve learned that I don’t have any restraints on me concerning, well, mares. Now by the moon I haven’t explored the full realms of what that means, as I only have eyes for my wife, but I don’t feel the same bands that held me back from touching or walking towards others.”

“So you’re saying maybe he already found his other half,” Omen surmised, his face scrunching up. “Who?”

“Maybe it was the mare you took in,” Halven said, his pacing leading him back to the cupboard. Pulling it back open, he used his magic to pull a bottle and four glasses out from within, simultaneously opening the door.

Then his words hit Hemorrhage.

“Absolutely not,” he raged, his shout reverberating throughout the cavern. “That mare has only hate for the bastard and he has no heart to love with. The only care he has is his pride, a failing, fleeting pride in his own power. I can’t believe you would make such an offensive and erroneous claim against somepony you don’t even know!”

He watched as eyebrows were raised at his outburst, but he stubbornly stuck by it, the rage rolling over and over and over deep within him. He felt the heat of anger, the white hot flame that burned him and made him want to tear apart words and ensure they were destroyed forever. But he couldn’t do it. Words floated in the air and stuck in the mind. Thankfully the only words that echoed were his own, the shouts haunting the room still as they echoed up the hallways and out to the world. Let them hear the truth, for it had to be the truth. Right?

“No need to be so stung, Hemorrhage,” Halven chastised, taking a careful step towards him. Reaching out a hoof, he rested it on his shoulder, an apologetic smile crossing his face. “I forgot who I was speaking of there for a moment, and that was my mistake to make such a theory. I should have realized that you and I aren’t so different in nature, simply two nocturnals with loves that others don’t approve of.” The stallion paused to glance back at Omen, who watched them with a soft smile. “You see? You are an old pony, but a young old one compared to I. It is the curse of immortality, to remember so much and have such quick thoughts in the most simple of moments, to forever be haunted by the past and a future you don’t know.”

Letting out a deep breath, Hemorrhage nodded and thanked him, saying, “I’m sorry for this all. I haven’t had much of a will to live and try for years, but in just this past night so much has changed, and the pressure of it all has been building.”

“I can see that,” Halven related with a sad sigh. “I was like that before I discovered Omen, but now, I am alive. Last night was a terrible one for me as well, but it too has invigorated my soul in spite of wearing on my body. I had to kill a demeaning member of my coven who challenged me for the seat of power, and while I knew it had been coming, it was a sad thing to deal with.”

“I… I’m sorry to have disturbed you in such a condition, my friend,” Hemorrhage comforted, suddenly feeling guilty for what he was about to do to this poor ompyre. “If I had known, I would have waited until you were in a better condition to bear all of this news.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” the ompyre assured him, patting his shoulder before turning and walking towards the open door, his bottle and glasses following behind like ducklings. “All I need right now is a drink. Please, come in and sit.”

Hemorrhage and Argon followed the request gratefully. The interior of the room was very much still cavernous, but instead of feeling hollow and gray, it had a surprisingly cozy feel to it. The moss grown on the wall seemed to have been cultivated as a sort of tapestry that covered the stone, giving a lively green shine to fire-licked walls. Two couches facing each other with a small wooden table took one side of the room while something like a bed took the other. It wasn’t quite a normal bed, more a nest of pillows and blankets settled on a flat of stone.

Halven and Omen took the far couch while Hemorrhage and Argon settled on the other. After the hours of running and flying, Hemorrhage felt himself instantly sink into the sofa, his legs finally resting as he at long last pulled his wings into himself, dissolving them into his body. The glasses were set on the table while the bottle hovered briefly, the top popping off and tilting so it began to pour into the glasses. The four were filled in short order, the trickling sound of blood infused alcohol filling the room as everypony stared at the dark liquid.

“Thank you,” Argon thanked, a smile brushing his lips as he took a deep sip from his glass. “Moon bless you, this is good! What year is it?”

“Four eighty, blood infusion wasn’t done until just six moons back,” Halven responded, sipping from his own glass. “Blood can sometimes ruin the true flavor of a chardonnay if left in for over a year, so thank you for giving me an excuse to pop this open.”

“Well, while we’re still here and comfortable, I have one more thing you need to know,” Hemorrhage stated. Having caught his host’s attention, he continued, “Unfortunately, one of the things that Argon learned and is able to say will happen is a surprise invasion from Sombra into the southern region of Oppotimare. As you know there is nothing there but villages and trading posts, and beyond that, is us. We’re not sure exactly what motivated the move, whether word had somehow escaped about Joint and Sombra’s heir being with us, or simply wicked insanity, but it will happen. When it does, Argon and I will be fighting with the ponies the Princesses sent to defend the helpless region, seeing as I, a count, need to provide service in such armed conflicts. That also means that my coven is being attacked and being pulled into this war, and while both Argon and I have no issue with serving our nation, we also realize it invokes our own agreement with you and your coven.”

“The defensive pact,” Halven questioned, looking ever so slightly annoyed.

“Yes, and unfortunately I feel the need to activate such a drastic measure seeing as the nature of our enemy,” Hemorrhage confirmed, hoping to soothe the nuisance he was presenting to Halven. “You see, with everything in consideration, should Sombra himself appear on the battlefield, we will be needed to stop him. He’s unbeatable in combat, but that’s only because he hasn’t dueled with a nocturnal such as us. Also, while it may be a bit presumptuous to say, considering the tensions I’ve felt in this cavern, I suspect your coven would enjoy some distractions.”

Halven nodded slowly, draining the last of his glass as he stared at the table, deep in consideration. “You certainly know how to get somepony to like what you’re proposing,” he finally commented, setting his glass down. Looking up at Hemorrhage, he licked his lips before shaking his head slightly. “I really don’t like to send my coven off to gallivant where they shouldn't, especially with regular ponies. They are a danger to them and thus make those normal ponies a danger to us. However, you prove a fair point. By allowing the world to see the dangers of a nocturnal through Sombra, even if he isn’t directly discovered, will result in a purge of the last remaining of us. Besides-” the ompyre added, standing with a smile “-anything for our friends.”

“Thank you,” Hemorrhage thanked, standing up and bowing to the stallion, relief escaping him with a deep sigh. “Hopefully, with you and your coven’s help, we’ll be able to put this matter to rest in a matter of days and be back home swiftly.”

“Yes, well, there is one thing,” Halven quickly objected before the mordigan’s enthusiasm could grow too much. “Considering that moonlight has but to brush me to end my life, I personally cannot go to fight in this event, and considering the instability here on the home front, I require Omen’s presence to defend our rule here. However, I can send two of my most trusted compatriots; Mantris and Sureblood, a great lycan that has remained by my side for hundreds of moons now. Please, take them and nocturnals of your choosing and go end this once and for all. If it hasn’t ended by the three days without moonlight, then I will come and visit myself and see what help I can provide before sun-up.”

“You are most gracious, Halven,” Hemorrhage told the ompyre, reaching out and shaking his hoof. “I hope that one day I will be able to repay you in kind.”

“Well, I hope that there will never be a need for you to repay me,” he responded kindly. “Please, stay here during the day and leave during the night. After the long night you’ve had and the many miles you’ve traversed, you should take a short break at the very least.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I actually plan to return to my castle briefly to collect some of my own members if they are willing and ensure the safety of Joint,” Hemorrhage informed him. Turning he began to leave, adding, “It was good to visit with you, even with such a dark matter at hoof. Hopefully one day soon we’ll have a good reason to visit.”

“Aye, but until that time, farewell, my friend,” Halven said after him, watching as the pair of foreign nocturnals left, shutting the door behind them.

Pausing briefly just outside the wooden door, Hemorrhage glanced over his shoulder at Argon, asking softly, “Did that seem a little too easy to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Argon replied with a breathy laugh, continuing to walk past him and towards the narrow hallway to the exit. “The entire time both of them were interrogating me with their eyes. I thought that at any moment I would crack or they would see something that would betray us as traitors to them, even though we hadn’t done anything.” Chuckling again, he said, “I can finally breathe right.”

“Well good on you,” Hemorrhage encouraged, speeding up slightly to catch up to him. “I haven’t been able to breathe all day.”

Author's Note: