Lich for Hire

Most people had a deeply mistaken impression of Thanos.

The common assumption was that the chief deity of the Furies had to be a volatile lunatic who flew into a rage at the slightest provocation. Even his own faithful understood that, if the day ever came when they could not summon their courage, Thanos would either cast them out into the barren void of the cosmos to fend for themselves—or, worse, bring them to his divine realm, the Tower of Ruin.

The latter generally meant that Thanos would vent his rage on the unfortunate coward himself.

Being sent to a god's realm as a punishment for abandoning that god's faith was unusual enough to be nearly without precedent, which was why the other deities generally regarded Thanos as unstable. He was considered a powerful god who destroyed things for no discernible reason, driven purely by his temperament.

But in reality, he was closer to a difficult child.

He was quick to anger and slow to calm, but in certain respects he was almost guileless. His power manifested as a catastrophe that could unmake a coastline, but less out of malice than the mischief of a child pouring boiling water into an anthill.

Thus, despite being a chaotic evil deity, Thanos occupied a meaningfully different category from demons, beings whose only impulse was to consume and destroy. Thanos had preferences. He valued things, and he found things interesting.

Lately, what interested him was Ariel.

In a population that skewed toward straightforward violence and not much else, a person who actually thought before she acted stood out like a termite in a colony of ants.

How interesting she was!

Wouldn't it be interesting if she could harness the fury of the storms with her intelligence and strike at her targets precisely?

So Ariel had received a divine gift: an iron hammer infused with his power, capable of summoning devastating lightning with a single strike.

But that still wasn't quite enough. Ariel had become careful, perhaps too careful, in Thanos's view.

The careful ones always preferred to think before they acted. He wanted to see her at her limit, to find out the depths of her courage and wisdom in dire straits.

He wanted to see an epic hero in Ariel. Perhaps he could forge one of his own.

He had had that idea for a while, but Thanos was not a god known for his intelligence. He hadn't been able to come up with anything interesting.

Then, he heard the Ragetide king's prayer.

In the ruined expanse of his divine realm, the hundred-meter deity smiled. He drew a line across his own forearm with one claw, caught the blood that welled up, and shaped it into a man.

His flawless body looked to have been designed by a genius sculptor: a strong-boned face, eyes that glittered like a field of stars, hair the color of white lightning streaked through with blue. The one exception was his face, which was covered in branching scar tissue in the pattern of lightning strikes, giving him an appearance that could charitably be described as striking.

Thanos closed his massive hand around the man, and his voice rang out like a thunderclap. "I give you your name: Aiolos! My blood, my son. I grant you my blessing. As the waves never cease, so shall you never fall."

Expression began to surface on Aiolos's face. When he drew his first breath, the suggestion of a tidal wave appeared behind him. When his heart beat for the first time, immense magical power began to move through his blood. In that single moment, Aiolos broke through to the legendary rank and his boon took shape within him.

He didn't have time to examine any of it. He dropped to his knees in his father's palm and bowed his head. "Father, thank you for the gift of life. My will and my life are yours."

Thanos shook his head. "My son, I'm not sending you to fight for me. I'm sending you to court someone interesting."

A touch of lightning from his finger became a mirror. Ariel's face appeared on its surface.

"Aiolos, your task is to marry this mortal. But do not invoke my name. That would ruin things entirely."

If Aiolos arrived with a divine mandate from Thanos, Ariel would comply without resistance. That would just be a very ordinary arranged marriage, which held absolutely no entertainment value.

An ugly, powerful man whose origins were mysterious—could he make Ariel fall in love with him on his own terms?

To ensure Ariel wouldn't immediately identify the divine connection, Thanos deliberately had not given Aiolos his signature power over lightning. He had given him the power of the ocean instead.

The ocean gods were not allies of Thanos. That would generate friction, which meant more interesting situations. And to guarantee that Ariel's first impression of Aiolos would be negative, Thanos had shaped his son's face into something intimidating rather than appealing.

All of this was exactly as it should be.

This was the kind of story Thanos wanted to watch. Even a child born of his own blood needed to survive the storm's trials before earning the right to stand at his father's side.

"Go, Aiolos. Complete your mission. Make Ariel your wife. But remember that this is a test. Whatever happens, you may not invoke my name. Whatever trouble you face, you must face alone."

Aiolos inclined his head. "By my soul, I swear it. I will satisfy your demands, Father."

"Good. Now go, and make this world a little more interesting."

Thanos closed his fist, and a bolt of lightning erupted from his palm. He threw it downward.

The lightning punched through the spatial barrier between planes, traveled through countless layers of reality, and arrived in the material plane.

On a calm stretch of ocean, a waterspout formed from nothing. Dark clouds piled up across a sky that had been clear moments before. A small boat rocked violently in the sudden wind, nearly capsizing.

The young orc aboard it grabbed the sides of the hull and fought to stay level.

He watched the waterspout get closer. "Is this what my life is now?" he cried out. "Nothing has gone right since I left the mountains. Gods above, I'm not a slave anymore. I shouldn't still be getting punished!"

Kalgore Kruman had only recently reclaimed his name.

Kalgore was an orc slave who had won his freedom, left the orc kingdom, discovered that deserts existed and were hostile to life, walked for two weeks without water, survived it, found a lead on his enemy, and decided to go to sea.

He had never before seen the ocean. He only knew of it as a large lake, magnified many times over.

He had brought extra food and rowed out with reasonable confidence. The first few days had been mild. With sun, light winds, and calm water, he had concluded that the sea was manageable.

The worst that could happen was ending up on the wrong patch of the ocean. If he kept going, he would eventually return to shore.

Then came the waterspout and storm clouds.

Just as his small craft was about to be sucked into the waterspout, a brilliant bolt of lightning lit up the sky.

Kalgore had grown up in mountains that were permanently covered in storms. He was not afraid of lightning, but he had never seen anything that looked like this particular bolt.

It came down and split the waterspout as cleanly as a blade through straw.

The scale of it suggested the bolt of lightning might have cracked open a mountain. Kalgore only had time to close his eyes and pray that he might survive.

To think he would die from lightning even far from his home of storms...

Kalgore Kruman waited. What he felt was cold water around his body, not the sensation of being torn apart by electricity.

He opened his eyes. The waterspout was gone. The clouds were gone. The ocean was calm again, as if the previous minutes hadn't happened. The sky was the same unremarkable blue it had been all morning.

It wasn't an illusion, though. There was a body floating in the water.

Kalgore looked at it. Someone had apparently had worse luck than him. He considered the practical implications, picked up his paddle, and moved toward it.

He reached out and grabbed the arm.

The "corpse" came to life and launched itself out of the water. The man stood on the surface of the ocean—just stood there, completely unclothed, looking directly at Kalgore.

Kalgore couldn't help but ask, "Just what are you?"

He had never seen the ocean before. Could the people of the ocean walk on water? Surely this wasn't a normal human. He looked even more ugly than a goblin.

Aiolos shook his head and immediately regretted it. His father's method of interplanar transport was not gentle. A lightning bolt through the planar barriers had left him stunned and disoriented.

He registered Kalgore Kruman's question. "Ignorant and impertinent mortal," he said, drawing himself up. "I am Aiolos, the s—" He caught himself just in time. "—the most devoted servant of the Lord of Storms, Thanos! Mortal, who are you?"

Kalgore frowned at him. "Are you right in the head?"

Kalgore Kruman declined to engage further. This wasn't food. He'd become a madman if he ate a madman. Paddle in hand, he began moving away.

Aiolos rushed in front of the boat. "Wait! Don't go. Tell me, where is this place?"

Aiolos had existed for approximately four minutes. He had been given some basic knowledge but no geography, and he had no idea where he was or how to find the person he was supposed to marry.

The mortal before him was ugly, but appeared to be capable of communication. The disrespect could be addressed later.

"You're asking me?" Kalgore frowned again. "Can you not see? This is the ocean."

"I know it's the ocean. I mean, which part of it are we in? Do you know where Ariel is?"

"Who?"

"My wife."

Kalgore confirmed his initial assessment. "There's definitely something wrong with your head. You're asking me where your wife is?"

He paddled away again.

Aiolos grabbed the side of the boat. "Mortal, I'll give you one chance. Tell me where Ariel is."

Kalgore's eyes narrowed. His hand moved to the curved blade at his hip.

Then, at the edge of the horizon, something dark appeared.

Kalgore's eyes sharpened. He pointed. "Land! An island!"

Aiolos turned to look. Land meant humans, and humans meant finding out where Ariel was.

The moment his head turned, Kalgore's drew his blade and beheaded him.

Aiolos's headless body fell. He and his head sank into the sea.

Kalgore didn't stay to watch. He dissolved into shadow and moved through the water toward the island.

Shadow travel couldn't be maintained indefinitely, but this distance was manageable.

A few seconds after he vanished, Aiolos surfaced. His severed head had reattached itself.

As the waves never cease, so shall Aiolos never fall. The ocean had never been still in all the history of the world, which meant Aiolos's existence was as permanent as the sea itself. Short of a deity personally revoking his blessing, he could not be killed.

He looked at the empty boat, then at the water where the orc had been, but found nothing. He roared in outrage.

He clenched his hand. The sea rose up, grabbed the boat, and crushed it into splinters.

Aiolos had two objectives now. The first was to find Ariel and marry her. The second was to find this particular mortal and provide a thorough demonstration of the fury of the storms.

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