Dragon Descendants.

The last dragon breathed its final breath. The barren field, the site of the concluding battle between the mages and the dragonkillers was soaked with blood, slick underfoot. The victors had left, as had most of the mages. The few that remained were gathered sadly around the cooling corpse. Mægwen looked gravely at his companions, his friends and fellow-mages, and the women with them. The decision was his and his alone, as difficult as it was to make.

"What shall we do?" wailed Edwyn, the youngest mage there. "Without the dragons, we are defenceless! Our powers will fade and die!"

"Not for many years yet," objected the coolheaded Rouen. There was little that could disturb his composure, the beginning of a catastrophe least of all. "Maybe not even in our lifetime."

"So we ignore it, is that what you are saying! Ignore it, and hope for the best! We have failed, Rouen; the dragons trusted us for their protection and we failed. We are cursed!"

Mægwen held up a hand, cutting Edwyn off before he became hysterical. "We have not failed. Not yet." He drew his belt knife, an ornamental thing more than a weapon; mages needed no swords, not even in the midst of battle. "Edwyn, bring the chalice. Rouen, choose two of the women- make sure their children are still being nursed and that there is a child of each sex. Quickly, we have no time to waste." They followed his instructions without question for once, hearing the urgency of his words.

Edwyn returned first, holding out a large silver chalice, encrusted with rubies as red as blood. Mægwen forced a smile at the young, anxious mage. Rouen came shortly afterwards, leading two women. Mægwen couldn’t help noticing that the women he chose were beautiful, blonde and shapely. Rouen would notice a pretty woman if he were on the gallows.

Rouen gave a short bow, ironically, though not mockingly. Rouen had hoped for the head mageship once, though conceded to the majority decision with very little fuss. Mægwen had never wanted to be chosen, though he did his duty without complaint. He smiled at the women. "Fear not: we mean neither you nor your children harm. What I do today will probably not even affect them, but what they pass on to their children will be of vital importance."

So, with no further speech he sliced deeply into the soft underbelly of the dragon, catching its congealing blood in the chalice. Edwyn nodded then, he was young, but he was no fool. Mægwen, for his part, concentrated on what he was doing, trying not to remember Arein, the frost dragon that had been his constant companion for over forty years. He tried not to remember the sweep of her wings in the pale dawn sky that had moved him to tears so many times, or her lively voice in his head, hopeful even when all hope had gone. He watched the blood spill thickly into the chalice, not wanting to waste any of it.

"Rouen," he said eventually, when the chalice was full. "Take the boy-child." Rouen’s eyes widened. He understood.

"It is well, Elida. Give me Garth." He cradled the babe, looking for all the world as if he had done this for years, before tilting the child’s head back and forcing his mouth open. Edwyn held the mother, Elida, back. Without any ceremony, he carefully tipped the chalice until, crying and choking, the baby swallowed half of Arein’s blood.

"Now the girl," he said softly into the thick silence, broken only by the crying child. Edwyn plucked the girl from her mother’s nerveless grasp. "What is her name?" he asked.

"Tilly," she whispered.

Edwyn brought him the child, and he fed her the last of the dragon’s blood. When they were done, Mægwen stared at them with all the authority of head mage. "Garth and Tilly are the inheritors of a great power, but it will not be needed now, nor in the time of their children’s children. But, when their descendants are called, great will be the day of their coming."

"And what of the dragonkillers?" asked Rouen. "Do you expect that they will just let the children live, when what we’ve done is in the open? They will slay them!" Maybe even Rouen’s nerves were ragged, now.

"No," Edwyn said. "We will protect them. We will not fail them, as we did the dragons."

"We will not," agreed Mægwen. "They will not be here- I am sending them away. It is my right!" he suddenly shouted, even though Rouen and Edwyn had not responded, and the women had no idea of where he was sending them. "I am head mage! I am permitted."

"Peace, Mægwen!" cried Rouen. "No one is denying your right. It is well."

"It is probably for the best," whispered Edwyn. "If you can do it. But how will the descendants return?"

"I will leave them a passageway, so that when we need them, they will come, although all knowledge of their heritage may be lost to them. They will come." He turned his attention to the women. "Ladies, I am sorry. I am sending you out of Eldámere."

"What? How is that possible? Where would we go?" asked Elida, clutching her baby to her chest. Blood stained his lips, filling Mægwen with horror and faint foreboding. There is no end to bloodshed. No end…

"My lord," said the other woman, whose name he did not know. "If it is even possible- my husband? My eldest son?"

"It is possible!" he snapped, before relenting. These women had been remarkably brave, they deserved his respect and compassion, but he felt as if he had none left to give. He beckoned to his crimson-garbed Dragonguard. "Summon these women’s families and bring them here, with all possible speed."

"It will be done," the warrior replied, bowing formally at the waist before getting the details from the women.

When the guard had left, Mægwen faced the women soberly. "Eldámere is not the only world. There are many, many other worlds, other universes, as many as there are leaves on a tree. A thousand different possibilities and realties, all under one sky, but each part separate and unreachable from every other. As head mage, I can open the barriers between them, briefly, and send you somewhere safe. Another world. From this sending there will be no return for you. But you will be safe, and preserve the hope of mages throughout the years."

Elida was weeping softly but the other woman shook her head. "My lord, I beg of you, reconsider. Send us to one of the outer isles; hide us underground- anything but this. The fate of our children’s children is caught up in blood. I beg you, have mercy."

"What makes you say this?" Edwyn barked, the strain of the day showing in his voice. Rouen put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"I have the foresight," she answered softly, not meeting their gaze. Women with the foresight were often ridiculed, but the mages knew better. They looked at each other, silently conferring.

"What is your name?" Mægwen asked gently, at last.

"Arein," she answered. Rouen’s eyebrows shot up and Edwyn hissed in superstitious fear. Mægwen felt himself smile, a frantic, hideous smile like the bared teeth of a skull. She looked from each of them in confusion.

"The dragon… she shared your name," Edwyn informed her.

"Quiet, Edwyn!" Mægwen said, more sharply than he intended to. The boy looked hurt, and then angry. Another mistake that he'd made today. "Despite your foretelling, I feel this must be done. As soon as your families get here, I am sending you away. Away to a world without magic and warring factions such as we have here."

They were quiet then, until their husbands arrived and they fell weeping into their arms. In a tight voice, leaving no room for further doubts or questions, he ordered them into place, before concentrating on the difficult task. He felt the power surge through him and Rouen and Edwyn ushered them all through the barrier, out of Eldámere into a strange new place. The barriers snapped quickly back into place, leaving the three mages staring tiredly, feeling their defeat acutely. Mægwen dropped to one knee and clutched his chest, breathing heavily. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done. But, painfully aware of his position, he stood and faced his companions, who were both looking at him hopefully. He wondered, with some hidden bitterness, what exactly they expected of him, and then he dismissed the emotion as an unworthy one.

"Edwyn, think no more on my harsh words," Mægwen asked, and although the younger mage bowed, he could see strain almost like madness in his eyes.

"We should not linger here," Rouen advised and both Edwyn and Mægwen nodded, singling their Dragonguard to readiness.

"You are right, Rouen. But we will meet again soon, and discuss what is to be done to welcome Arein’s children back to Eldámere." They clasped arms in farewell and walked away in different directions, but Mægwen hesitated, looking at the place where the barrier had opened.

Come back soon.