The Storm King

“Two hundred years ago, these mountains gave shade to fertile plains and peaceful villages,” Tiraeses began, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “Several hundred thousand people lived here in peace and harmony, threatened only when Strong Ashagon, Lord of Battle, sent wolf packs and bandits—though such occasions were rare. Here, we lived with the peace of the gods, and in living well, we honored them. But then…”

Tiraeses caught himself, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tiraeses tapped his foot on the floor of the chamber and channeled a significant amount of earth magic, and a moment later, the cracks in the floor began to close, followed by the broken wall. In only a matter of seconds, the wall looked pristine, as if it had never been broken. All of the carvings were back, and Leon couldn’t tell if any were different from how they’d been when he’d entered the chamber.

“This was where we came to be Seen,” Tiraeses explained, his use of the word ‘seen’ coming with a particular suffix that indicated some kind of religious duty, though Leon lacked the cultural knowledge to know what it meant. “Each one of us left the words by which we wished to be remembered here, what we wished to impart the most to the next generation…”

Leon cocked an eyebrow and inspected the wall again. The writing system of Aeterna was heavily influenced by the modern runes, but whatever writing system was used here—it actually looked like more than a dozen languages were represented, though there could’ve been even more than that—was not. Unfortunately, the Rumble Stone only worked with understanding spoken language, not with writing, so Leon couldn’t read anything on the wall.

“Now,” Tiraeses continued as he stared at the wall, “of my brothers, nothing else remains of the physical. Each one heard the death keening of the Red-Eyed One, and been brought to Just Helior—may their souls find peace with the gods, and atonement for any wrongs they committed in life.”

Again, Tiraeses fell silent, but Leon was patient. He could tell the man was having no shortage of trouble reminiscing about all that he’d lost.

“It started two hundred years ago,” Tiraeses croaked. He took one more moment to steel himself before saying with a much steadier voice, “We thought it only one more test from Strong Ashagon, much as we’d repelled many times before—beasts rushing north, in manageable numbers at first, but quickly overwhelming us in only a few weeks. But it wasn’t until the men followed that we realized they had simply been running. By then, many had been killed as we strove to contain the rampaging beasts, but when the men came, broken and harried, we could not move fast enough; they preyed upon the peaceful people of this fair land, and left little but death and misery in their wake.

“But as my brothers and I meted out the gods’ justice for the grave crimes these men committed, we realized again, that these were crimes committed out of desperation. Food was stolen because they had been starving. Women and children were kidnapped and forced into marriage and adoption because they had lost their families.

“But just as one cannot wash their hands with mud, neither can one crime be annulled by another. Even Alandt, that great hero, was judged harshly by Just Helior when the Red-Eyed One brought him to the Gates of Judgment. These men hadn’t a fraction of Alandt’s virtue, and we showed them no mercy.

“When it was done, we breathed a sigh of relief. We sang for our dead and feasted for the living—as much as we could, there not being much left after our trials. But the Mother Below is generous with her bounty, especially back in those days, so we believed our job done, our trial over. It was time to pray for all we’d lost and move on.

“But even these desperate men were only harbingers for what was to come. More people came, each one bringing stories of death and destruction that would shake all but the stoutest of hearts, of black masks and wicked smiles, of black blood and sharp knives.”

Tiraeses paused again and whispered another prayer to Valiant Ashatar. Then he looked Leon in the eye and continued, his voice steady, though his eyes speaking of horror and anger beyond description.

“We learned it began slowly in the Mandian Lands,” he explained. “A cult in the shadows, working with the devils to bring death and ruin to all. A great ritual was enacted in one city that brought pestilence beyond what even the most favored of Misia, Lady of Bodily Mending, could cure. Those afflicted lashed out, the gifts of Wise Farangeun lost to them. Unstoppable, anarchic violence spread in the pestilence’s wake. Even the strongest warriors, those destined to walk with Valiant Ashatar or Strong Ashagon after the Judgment of Just Helior, could not stop the violence for long.

“And then the beasts came, twisted by the pestilence beyond recognition, and given devilish strength. The pestilence laid low cities, the beasts laid low Kingdoms. And even the beasts were only preludes; in their wake came the aura, the curse, that has taken this land. The gifts of Wise Farangeun, Valiant Ashatar, and Bright Lucaelior are suppressed in it, and the Red-Eyed One sings for all caught in its grasp. And everyone was caught in its grasp.

“Cities fell by the score, men died in the millions, and the survivors fled anywhere they could. But the pestilence, the beasts, and the curse followed, spreading from the Mandian Lands to all the rest of the realms of men, and beyond. When it all reached these fair lands, the trees and the grass of the fertile fields, long nourished by the Mother Below, crumbled to dust.

By then, nothing remained to mourn, save for myself and several of my brothers. The pestilence and the beasts had claimed all others, while the curse took what little remained.”

“What happened to your brothers?” Leon gently asked.

“Taken by the Red-Eyed One,” Tiraeses answered with a grim look passing over his chiseled features. “The beast you contended with… we sought to slay. We failed, and now I am alone, too craven to call for the Red-Eyed One myself and face Just Helior.”

Leon sighed, his mouth set into a hard line. “Being the last is a heavy burden to bear. I would not call you craven.”

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“Only Just Helior or Mandious, Lord of All in Heaven, can absolve me of my failures, but I thank you for your words, regardless.”

Tiraeses waved his hand and used his light magic to conjure the image of a dragon-like creature not unlike Maia’s water dragons. Its body was long and serpentine, with two arms that ended in long, sharp claws that appeared specialized for burrowing. Its head, however, wasn’t dragon-like at all, and was dominated by a massive straight beak—it didn’t even have any other visible features on its head. Its scales weren’t black, as Leon had seen, but a rather beautiful blue-green.

“Raelons,” Tiraeses identified. “They rarely grew larger than my arm, though they lived for centuries despite the gods keeping magic from them. They lived in water, making their home in riverbeds, and eating fish. Many times in my youth was I called upon by the elders in my order to aid fishermen in cleansing the local rivers of raelons.”

“They only grew as large as your arm?” Leon asked, astounded. The raelon out in the wastes was larger even a Thunderbird Clan supercarrier.

“The curse,” Tiraeses offered as explanation. “The wisdom of Wise Farangeun eludes me; I can’t say how the curse works, only that it makes monsters of even the smallest and tamest of creatures.”

To his dismay, Tiraeses pointed to a small mountain range far in the northwest.

“Shit…” Leon murmured. “I was hoping we were closer…”

“Why?” Tiraeses asked.

Leon noted a deep grimace appear on Tiraeses’ face at the mention of Qo Weylekh, though he didn’t immediately press for more information since Tiraeses evidently didn’t think it important enough to interrupt him with whatever thoughts he had.

“Can you be any more specific about the causes of the pestilence and the curse?” Leon asked. “I need all the information you can give me.”

“No,” Tiraeses somberly answered. “Wise Farangeun never saw fit to bless me with his gifts, and those he did bless were taken by the Red-Eyed One long ago. None are left to give you the information you seek.”

Leon sighed. “I suppose that means I’ll have to head for the center of the plane if I want those answers. Get as close as I can before leaving.” He paused and gave Tiraeses a meaningful look. “I could use a guide…”

Tiraeses snorted in amusement. But when he opened his mouth, no words fell from his lips. Instead, he slowly turned his head to look at the wall of carvings before turning back to Leon. “You already do not walk alone; I sensed communion between you and a devil of the Underworld.”

“A demon,” Leon admitted. “A stray I picked up. Once you get used to him, he’s not so bad, but he’s so acerbic it’s impossible he’ll make a good first impression…”

[I can make whatever impression I like, human,] Xaphan protested, though Leon ignored him.

He explained as succinctly as he could who Xaphan was, where he came from, and how he came to reside in Leon’s soul realm. He skimped on details like his Clan capturing and imprisoning Xaphan in the first place, though.Google seaʀᴄh ɴovel(ꜰ)ɪre.nᴇt

“Pacts with such creatures… are frowned upon in the Mandian Lands,” Tiraeses said. “It does not go against the laws our gods gave us, but the potential to abuse that power is ripe…”

“There are many who abuse demonic power back on Aeterna, too,” Leon replied. “I’ve had more than my fair share of problems with vampires, believe me. But you have my word that Xaphan is no danger to you or your plane. He hardly even cares about what happens here, I’d wager.”

[You’d lose that wager,] Xaphan grumbled. [This whole place reeks of Primal Devil; you think that’s not intriguing to me?]

[I was talking about the plane itself, not any Devil interference.]

Xaphan grunted and didn’t otherwise respond.

Tiraeses took a long time to contemplate Leon’s words, his eyes never leaving Leon for long, and when they did, it was only to flicker to the wall again.

Leon nodded in gratitude.

“As for your request for a guide… I cannot leave.”

“Why not, if I might be so bold as to ask?”

Tiraeses glanced around the chamber. “I have lived here for centuries. This is my home. I cannot abandon it, not when my brothers fell in its defense.”

“That’s… disappointing,” Leon said. “This place is already so well fortified, those ancient runes warding the place surely won’t let anyone else through, will they?”

“Ancient runes…? The will of Mandious, Lord of All in Heaven, sanctifies this place, keeps it pure.”

“To get in here, I had to bypass the ward of an ancient rune… Do you know what that is?”

“Wise Farangeun did not bless me with his gifts,” Tiraeses repeated.

“Fair enough,” Leon replied, accepting that he probably wasn’t going to get many answers about this place’s ward scheme from Tiraeses. “Would you mind me asking what ties you to this place? What are you protecting at this point?”

Tiraeses’ jaw visibly clenched and his aura momentarily spiked, but he swiftly calmed himself and plastered a smile across his face.

“No sanctuary can go without its defenders. Without its caretakers.”

Leon took a deep breath. He wanted to collect more information about this pestilence and curse—which he was assuming were caused by the same thing—as well as the cult that apparently started all of this, and it would go much faster if he had a native to guide him to where he needed to go.

So, he decided to press Tiraeses a bit. A ninth-tier mage on his side would be an incredible boon…

“You spoke of needing absolution from your gods for your failures. Are you just going to stay here and hope that they judge you well??

“I will do my duty,” Tiraeses insisted. “My duty is to remain here in the sanctuary!”

“While Arkhnavi falls apart around you?” Leon shot back. “This ‘curse’ has apparently taken a massive chunk of this plane, if not the entire thing! Would your gods look down upon you for leaving this place to fulfill your duty elsewhere? Or do they only care about these specific stones? You said earlier that your duty is to protect people, no? Does that duty end at some arbitrary line on a map?”

Tiraeses began to look conflicted, so Leon focused on that argument.

“You said it yourself: ‘Above all, look to a man’s actions to determine his character’. What will your gods think if you allow this plane to die, for fear of the curse touching lifeless rock? What needs you more? You say you need absolution for your failures, but absolution won’t come to find you, you must go out and seek it! You have that choice! You’ve always had that choice, and yet you’ve remained here instead of helping elsewhere!”

Tiraeses flinched when Leon used his words against him, and he only shrank back upon himself as Leon continued.

“You… speak words I have spoken to myself many times,” he muttered. “I have prayed to Wise Farangeun many times, hoping he might show me the way. Perhaps… Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am not meant to stay here… Perhaps Wise Farangeun has grown tired of my prayers and sent you to set me straight. I have been stubborn.” He fixed Leon in his serious gaze. “I… will guide you to the Mandian Lands, Leon. But first… I must do something…”

“What do you need?” Leon asked.

Tiraeses’ expression turned a shade or two more wrathful and Leon felt a slight spike in his killing intent. The monk was doing an admirable job controlling himself, but there was a huge pot of simmering fury that he was now tapping into.

“Seventy years ago, dozens of my brothers joined me in battle against that raelon,” he said. “While it yet lives, I cannot face even myself without shame, let alone the Red-Eyed One or Just Helior. Aid me in killing it, and I will aid you in your quest for answers that I regret I cannot provide.”

“That… sounds like quite the challenge,” Leon replied with a grin. Killing that raelon would be quite the hunt, and now that he was a little more in control of the situation, he found himself looking forward to a proper test against it. It was only ninth-tier, to be sure, but it was massive, and tiers on monsters were always deceptive, reflecting only magic power emitted by a creature and not that creature’s physical capabilities. “I agree to your terms.”

“Then let us rest for the night,” Tiraeses declared. “I must pray for strength. And tomorrow morning, we will walk with the Brothers of War, Valiant Ashatar and Strong Ashagon, and slay this foul beast once and for all!”