The Storm King

“This is a fucking trap,” Alix stated.

Leon glanced around at his advisors. It was a fairly limited meeting, all things considered, featuring just his retainers, family, and some of his most powerful Tribal allies and army officers.

Judging by the expressions that everyone was making, Alix’s sentiment was shared by most in the room.

“What even is this ‘tau’?” Menander growled, the Lion elder having only arrived in Argos the previous day with many of his Tribe’s strongest warriors. “It sounds like a barbar—an Imperial trick.”

“Halting operations would be to the benefit of our enemy,” Lana, the daughter of Tillan, the Lawspeaker for the Rock Mane Bisons agreed. She was only a sixth-tier mage, but Leon had her transferred into his direct command after the campaign on the Sword. Tillan was seeing to his Tribe’s business back on Kataigida, so having her around meant that he always had a voice for the Bison Tribe in his immediate orbit. Given her ties to the Tribe, no one else in the meeting was that offended by her presence, despite her relative lack of strength.

The final voice from the Tribes that Leon was waiting to hear from finally spoke up, and his words brought some much-needed—as far as Leon was concerned—dissent from the prevailing opinion.

“I’ve heard of tau before,” Sar said, a look of deep thought on his aged face. “They’re quite peculiar creatures. Their tears turn into pearls that can act as potent sources of light magic, and they’re thought to be creatures of great wisdom. If one has reached out to our King, then his words ought to be at least taken seriously. If he can bring us victory without us sending any more of our young men and women to their Ancestors before their time, then is that not an admirable thing?”

“It would be,” Alcander said, “were it to be true.” He glanced at Leon with a slightly apologetic look. “Apologies, Your Majesty. I know that this particular tau has some history with us, but I’ve never met the guy before, and his appearance here asking us to stop for some weeks is just a little too convenient, right?”

“It’s hardly opportune,” Leon agreed. “However, I know his power. One of his pearls is implanted in my armor, and it’s saved my life on multiple occasions. His appearance was no trick.”

“Then the trap must be in his words,” Menander growled, his ninth-tier aura rumbling in anger almost as much as his voice. “He has thrown his lot in with our enemy!”

“To accuse something like a tau of being duplicitous…” Sar murmured.

“I’m inclined to believe him,” Leon announced, finally making his opinion on the tau’s offer known. “We wait for a few weeks, and then the way to Thunderhaven opens. I can then settle our business with the Sunlit Emperor, and we can all go home.”

“Clean,” Marcus stated. “Tight. Everything wrapped up in a nice little bow. I’m sorry, Leon, I’ll do whatever you order, but this still feels like a trap. If this doesn’t work out at all, then we’re giving the Sunlit Empire all the time it needs to dig in and prepare for our arrival.” He paused and turned to Gaius. “How long until the remainder of our forces disembark?”

Gaius frowned, thought for a moment while his magic senses were projected down to the docks where hundreds of ships continued to wait to disgorge their human cargo, and then said, “A week at least. The more powerful mages can help by flying and moving material using their soul realms, but the bulk of the army is made up of mages who can’t fly under their own power or land-bound war beasts. They’ll need that time to land, get organized, and begin their deployments. We can’t have hundreds of thousands of soldiers marching in a single column, can we?”

“No,” Marcus agreed. “That would just be asking for us to get blasted by Imperial long-range weapons and other magics. But a week is pretty doable, crossing the Azure Plains would only take another week or so—and that’s assuming that our fastest and most powerful formations travel with the slowest and most vulnerable. We could send out the arks and start taking Sunlit land in two days if we had to, I’m sure.”

“I like that plan a lot better than sitting around and waiting for a bird to ask our enemies to stop,” Menander said with a vicious grin.

Sar made his displeasure known with a deep sigh, but he said nothing aloud.

“Even if we wait the month,” Leon said, frustration starting to creep into his voice, “we could still blast our opponent into pieces. We’re stronger than they are, even if they were to dig in. Our mages and arks are practically unstoppable. So what do we lose by waiting that month?”

“Lives, potentially,” Sar muttered. “I agree with you, though, Your Majesty. Tau are trustworthy beings.”

“You trust too easily,” Menander responded in a light and jovial tone.

“Does he?” Leon asked. “I trust the tau, myself. And ultimately, we’re not here to conquer; we’re here to get revenge and knock the Sunlit Empire out of this war. Once we do that, we go home. No need to consider occupation, as we had to with the Sword.”

Menander quietly nodded in acknowledgment.

“Are we really going to trust this thing?” Alix asked.

“This tau is powerful,” Valeria pointed out. “Consider how strong he must be for his pearl to protect Leon so well. For him to slip past all of our defenses to enter Leon’s dream with no one any the wiser. Dismissing someone who can do that is unwise.”

“I agree,” Cassandra declared, smiling wryly as she fielded a few looks of surprise. “The tau is known to my people—I mean, it’s known to everyone who lives near the great central sea, and venerated quite highly by most. If a tau says that he can create better conditions for us to fulfill our mission, then I say let him try.”

“His other claim proved true,” Elise said. “Sentinel forces are leaving the Sunlit Empire…”

“Are they?” Lana said in surprise. “We haven’t been able to verify that.”

“Heaven’s Eye has its, well, eyes on this situation,” Elise replied. “We’re keeping tabs on all large-scale troop movements in the region.”

“My Empire is doing the same,” Cassandra said with a slight frown. “I haven’t heard about any troop pullouts, though…”

“It’s being done quietly,” Elise said. “It’s not like there were many Sentinels in the Sunlit Empire, to begin with, relatively. They can leave without being too obvious.”

“And your sources are trustworthy?” Menander asked, skepticism practically dripping from his tone.

“Yes,” Elise responded with an iron stare and a subtle challenge in her tone. Menander, wisely, didn’t take the challenge, but based on his expression, Leon knew that he wasn’t going to believe anything until he saw it himself.

“Menander,” Leon said, drawing the Lion’s attention. “We’ll avenge Creon fully. Do not doubt that.”

“It’s not just Creon,” Menander growled. “It’s all of my Tribe’s warriors who died alongside him. The blood of thousands have joined the chorus of our Ancestors crying out for vengeance just in the past few years.”

“Numbers aside,” Leon replied, “do you doubt that I’ll deliver on my promise?”

Menander met Leon’s gaze, then faltered. “No, Your Majesty.”

“The Sunlit Empire will lose its Emperor,” Leon said. A light grin played at his lips as he added, “And I doubt that he’ll be alone in facing his Ancestors for judgment.”

The meeting room descended into silence for a long moment, until Anna finally asked, “So, we’re trusting this tau, then?”

“Yes,” Leon responded. “We’ll wait. For now.” He glanced around the room, noting that his words weren’t encouraging to most of his advisors. “But we’re not going to blindfold ourselves. Elise, stay in touch with Heaven’s Eye. Cassie, whether Keeper wants to hide it or not, eventually Evergold will hear about the Sentinels’ troop movements. I want to know when they do. Contact the Lord Protector, too. Besides, if the way is cleared to Thunderhaven, I’m sure both he and the Grand Druid will want to watch.”

Elise gave him a dignified nod while Cassandra energetically said, “Done!”

“Should this plan prove a mistake,” Lana began, “how do we respond?”

The way she glanced at Leon had him thinking the question she actually wanted to ask was how he would take responsibility if the tau didn’t deliver. He was happy she didn’t ask that, but the substance of what she did ask wasn’t that different.

“I’ll lead us to Thunderhaven personally,” Leon answered swiftly with a knowing smile. “If the tau can’t deliver, then I will. Simple as that.”

Lana bowed her head, apparently satisfied. Menander made no more arguments, and though he remained fairly upset, Leon speculated that once the tau delivered on his promise then the Lion would calm down. Sar, meanwhile, just nodded in support, for which Leon was grateful.

His retainers, as well, accepted his decision, with only Red voicing her displeasure once his decision was made.

“I’d rather we take the option where I get to burn and eat these sun people,” she grumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll get an opportunity to do just that,” Leon replied with a soft smile despite the grimness of what she’d said. “I doubt the tau will be able to get everyone to stand down.”

“If he can’t,” Anshu said, “they’ll fall before our ark fleet.”

Leon nodded and smiled at his confidence.

With that, the meeting came to an end. Even if they were going to wait for a month in Argos, there was still much to do to prepare for what was gearing up to be, he hoped, the last campaign he’d have to fight for a long time. He hoped that after sending the Sunlit Emperor to his own personal hell, he wouldn’t have to fight again until reaching the Nexus.

He wasn’t going to hope too strongly, but with the power and allies he’d acquired, he thought that such a possibility had a good enough chance to happen that he could waste a little hope on it.

---

The Grave Warden couldn’t help but smile as his colleagues appeared one after the other. The Wardens of the other planes in the Divine Graveyard had a longstanding pact to meet at least once per universal cycle, and though it hadn’t been nearly that long since their last meeting, he was gratified to see them honoring their commitment to appear when one of their number declared an emergency.

His colleagues—his friends—all appeared as he remembered. Anarga, the Third Warden, was barely dressed, wearing no more than a rag to preserve the modesty of his remarkably thin and unhealthily pale form. Parghan, meanwhile, appeared wearing long rainbow robes, a cloak of gold and peacock feathers over his shoulders, and a massive headdress that Ambrose figured would make simply turning his head an endeavor. Even his dark skin had been heavily adorned with bright paints and tattoos. The rest of his friends were somewhere in the middle, though most appeared at least a little irritated.

The most irritated was the latest of their number to arrive; Targona, the Second Warden, a woman of ethereal beauty. She had long white hair, silver eyes, pale skin, and wore a dignified blue dress that trailed across the floor. Even her sleeves extended so far as to almost brush against the polished floor.

“What is the meaning of this?” she growled as she took her seat, her silver eyes locking onto Ambrose. “Dragging us all back here without stated reason?”

“’Brosie’s bein’ all coy and shit,” Donetheril, the Sixth Warden, replied, an easy smile gracing his lips. He was almost the complete opposite of Targona, with a much duskier complexion, short black hair, and dark eyes. He wore no more than a simple red tunic and a pair of sandals, and whereas Targona took her seat with perfect posture, Donetheril leaned back on one armrest and threw his legs over the other. “I’m startin’ to think he jus’ missed us! That ain’t a bad thing, is it?”

“I was busy,” Targona replied.

Ambrose just smiled as he regarded his friends.

They had assembled in their traditional place: a tiny plane in the center of the Divine Graveyard, just large enough to hold a single domed meeting hall in which sat a dozen massive stone thrones. The ceiling had been gilded and featured dozens of murals all depicting the rise of the Great Lord Khosrow and the subsequent war which saw the fall of the Primal Gods, Devils, and Divine Beasts.

Now, surrounded by the reminders of their past glories, eleven of the twelve Grave Wardens had come together again, tens of thousands of years before they were supposed to.

“Like falling stars shall fate treat those who cast their friends in the light of suspicion and anger,” Parghan responded to Targona. “Be not impatient; yonder lies an empty seat!”

Parghan waved extravagantly at the only remaining throne that remained unfilled.

“Hmm,” Targona quietly mused. “Wherever is Qo Weylekh? I don’t recall him ever being late before?” She glanced at Ambrose again. “Has he, too, been caught unawares by these sudden summons?”

Ambrose held up his hand, silently asking for silence. She cocked her head slightly in allowance, and he rose to speak.

“My friends,” he began, “it gladdens me to see all of you here. Gladdens me. However, our missing friend is just the reason that I called this meeting. You see, I had an incident on my plane…”

Ambrose tried to get through an explanation of Jormun’s attempt to free Krith’is, and the Primal God’s brief moment of freedom, as well as the Primal God’s death at the hands of a young descendant of the Great Black Dragon. Despite his attempts to get to the point of the meeting, though, his colleagues constantly forced him to pause and answer their questions. He got through them as quickly as he was able to, but they still ate up enough time that he wished he’d gotten to the point before giving these background details.

“Such pain, then!” Parghan dramatically said once Ambrose was finally finished. “That so many of our old friends have been laid low by fate! And yet that cursed bloodlines continues to darken the sky!”

“The existence of the Great Black Dragon’s bloodline doesn’t matter right now,” Ambrose insisted. “Doesn’t matter. None can use his most destructive power, so the universe is safe. It’s safe. From the Great Black Dragon, at least.”

“Thy impatience shows,” Kesh’arak, the First Warden observed. “Pray reveal what hast thou so perturbed?”

“As many of you know,” Ambrose responded, happy to finally get to the point, “I have been reaching out for the past few years. As many of you know, I worried that my negligence and laziness might be shared by some. I was worried, but my fears were mostly settled.” He held his hand out to Weylekh’s empty seat. “Qo Weylekh, however, never answered my communications. All avenues I have exhausted in an attempt to contact him. All failed. All failed. Qo Weylekh is missing.”

The other Grave Wardens, already wary after hearing his story of how he’d nearly failed the task given to them by the Great Lord Khosrow, realized just how terrible a situation they found themselves in. One Primal God attempting an escape and nearly succeeding was one thing, but the disappearance of a Grave Warden was another thing entirely. All those Primal beings imprisoned on their plane would be at risk of escape, and for Qo Weylekh in particular, that was terrible news.

Qo Weylekh, after all, held the most powerful Primal Devils yet living. If he could no longer keep them in check, then the entire universe was at risk. The heroes that had won the day in the ancient war were long gone, and the Grave Wardens had little faith that those who’d taken their place at the top of the pecking order would have much of a chance at combatting any Primal Devils who might escape.

Even if they could succeed against one, they’d only be victorious after an ocean of blood had been spilled.

“The tides of fate turn against us,” Parghan whispered. “In finding our old friend shall answers be found and this ocean turned back. Nothing can be spared in our search!”

“It ain’t that simple!” Donetheril snapped. “None of us can go over there! We can’t run ‘round each other’s planes!”

“We’d have to send agents,” Targona said.

“Find those strong enough to at least investigate,” Ambrose agreed. “Who can find our friend. Perhaps find out what happened. What happened.”

“Hast thou a figure in mind?” Kesh’arak asked.

Ambrose smiled. “The very one who killed Krith’is. He has reached the tenth-tier recently and succeeded in forging an Adamant sword, into which he placed the Iron Needle.”

“The Iron Needle?!” Anarga shouted, his blind eyes opening in shock. “How?!”

“He’s the descendant of the Thunderbird, too,” Ambrose admitted with a gleeful smile.

His words stunned the other Grave Wardens into silence for a long moment, and then all hell broke loose as they shouted for details. Some even demanded that Leon be killed. Ambrose thoroughly rebuffed all those who floated that idea, though; he had no desire to see Leon killed just for the bloodlines he bore.

And after things settled down, the Grave Wardens collectively decided that Qo Weylekh’s disappearance had to be investigated. But only those who had yet to reach Apotheosis could enter another’s plane without much hassle, and so they agreed that one person from each of their planes would be put forward to make up this team. This team would then be inserted onto the seventh plane of their planar cluster and sent to find Qo Weylekh. No more, no less. Once they learned what happened, they’d be extracted, and the Wardens would decide their next steps then.

It was as much of a win as Ambrose thought he was going to get. Now, he just hoped that Leon Raime wouldn’t make this too difficult. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the fate of the universe could hang in the balance…