The Storm King

Nestor accompanied Leon on the path back to Westmount, both setting a fairly languid pace. Nestor continued talking about theories about the One Rune even as Leon struggled to put the Great Black Dragon’s abject refusal to speak about the beginning of the universe or the realm of death out of mind.

“… infinite simplicity would imply that the One Rune is only a point, or even nothing at all, and yet even putting a single dot on a page of spell paper does nothing, no matter how much I concentrate on what I want. That naturally folds into the issue of rune complexity compared to the desired effect: the more complex the rune, the easier it is to get the effect you’re looking for. An ‘open door’ rune will open doors easier than a more generic ‘open’ rune, but will open everything else much less easily. So an infinitely simple rune, which encompasses all possible meanings, would also require infinite willpower to affect the desired change. But how does one measure willpower? What is infinite willpower compared to only ‘some’ willpower?”

‘Would anything change if I started using the Eye of Calamity more often? Have I… he does know, right? Or have I forgotten to tell him?’

Leon sighed, unsure of how much he’d done over the past several weeks. Running around, fighting wars on every front, desperately keeping his Kingdom alive as his enemies pressed on every side, had so consumed him that he couldn’t even remember if the Great Black Dragon even knew that he’d started using the Eye of Calamity consciously or not. And, of course, the dragon was now out in the Mists of Chaos, so Leon couldn’t tell him now and see if that loosened his tongue.

“…eon. Leon…”

It took Nestor driving his metal elbow into Leon’s shoulder for Leon to pull himself back to his and Nestor’s ‘conversation’.

“Have you been listening at all?”

“Define ‘listening’…”

Nestor scoffed and made a show of stopping in place and holding his face in one hand. “Why do I even bother? All of this fantastic work, and who is around who can appreciate it?”

“Your work saved my Kingdom,” Leon replied. “Everyone appreciates it.”

“The gratitude of street rats doesn’t interest me, boy. But here I am, trying to hold a discussion with a man who would see himself my equal one day, if not superior, and he can’t be bothered to listen!”

Leon exhaled deeply through his nose. “May the Ancestors teach me patience…” he murmured. He pursed his lips for a moment, then more loudly said, “Nestor, my lack of attention has to do with the Great Black Dragon, not with you. Or are you more concerned about a theoretical One Rune than you are about the reasons why a Primal Being, something that came into being at the dawn of the universe, refuses to discuss anything about the nature of the universe at the time, or even before then?”

“My curiosity is boundless,” Nestor stated. “But as he spoke to me about the One Rune, it was made clear to me that he isn’t one to share his secrets easily. You could try and force the issue, but I… hesitate to endorse such actions against the progenitors of bloodlines. Though, if you do try something like that, be sure to keep it away from our Ancestor.”

“Is there some way that might work?” Leon asked with at least a bit of seriousness.

“I spoke hypothetically, or did you not realize? I understand that your social skills leave much to be desired.”

Again, Leon scoffed and turned away from Nestor. He took a few more steps down the path, but then halted.

“He knows far more than us about it.”

Nestor’s response was swift and blunt. “Of course he does. But dragons do not give up their secrets easily.”

“There was more, though,” Leon continued. “Something about the way he phrased things was so alike how Veles phrased it that I find it hard to believe that he doesn’t know a lot more about this topic than he wants any of us to realize.”

Nestor grunted, the sound resounding metallically within his frame. “Is this ‘Veles’ a mage to be trusted?”

As Leon’s eyes flickered around their forested environs, searching for any sign that Veles might be listening in, his lips descended into a pronounced frown. “No. He was friendly and seemed upfront with information. But no, I wouldn’t say that makes him trustworthy. I’d say that just makes it harder to find out how, where, and why he’s lying.”

Leon scowled, the expression ugly and carved deep into his face. “I first saw the man at Khosrow’s Fane. He said he was there to meet a friend. He refused to tell me who that friend was, even though the man can only be seen—apparently—by those who have wielded…? Or have used the power of death? Something of that nature. That would mean that someone at Khosrow’s Fane around that time has the power of death, aside from myself and Veles.”

Metal fingers met metal chin, and after a moment of thought, Nestor said, “Such an exotic power… would imply someone quite powerful to me.”

“Veles is only twelfth-tier,” Leon said without much conviction, and Nestor immediately jumped on the reason for that.

“‘Only’ twelfth-tier, right? Why, to a mere eleventh-tier mage like me, that certainly isn’t that powerful, is it? Surely, of all the myriad mages in the universe, all would agree that twelfth-tier is not powerful.”

“You know what I meant,” Leon retorted. “Compared to those who’d gathered at the fane, and those who were at the Games, twelfth-tier really isn’t that powerful. But… then again, Veles said that he was ‘stuck’ in the twelfth-tier. Maybe someone else is stuck like him? The power of death feels different to magic; it’s something else entirely. Maybe the magical tiers can’t be applied to this power’s holders?”

“None of that convinces me,” Nestor curtly stated as he started pacing circles around Leon. “That power is too exotic for some random mage to have.”

“I have it,” Leon said. “Again, Nestor, who even is Veles? He’s a survivor of the Primal Age, and he wasn’t even that highly ranked at the time, as far as I know. Magical tier doesn’t necessarily correspond to exotic powers.”

“But it makes it more likely that they’re familiar with exotic powers,” Nestor argued. “If you can find out who was at the fane while you were, at least, you’ll have a better idea of who to suspect Veles was meeting.”

Leon scowled again. “That’s assuming that his friend isn’t in a similar situation to him and can actually be found.”

‘And that’s not even including the possibility that he might be tied to the Khosrow cultists…’ Leon thought, thinking not only about the silver-masked cultists at the fane, but also about the silver masks that had supposedly destroyed the city that had once lived below where Artorion now stood. That city, built into an Aesii, had been sacked and destroyed by the Wailing Dirge, a creature with a rune carved into its forehead, possibly created by the silver masks—and the creature he hunted at Lancefoot as Artorion was under siege by Terris…

“I feel like I have scattered pieces of a puzzle that I can’t even hope to start putting together,” he said quietly. “This vexes me.”

“Then let us do something that won’t be nearly as vexing,” Nestor said. “Return to my lab. This war has been devastating, but if we can find the few drops of life-giving rain within all of this grim sunlight, then we can see the opportunity hidden within. This Kingdom will need to rebuild the fleet that it has lost—and not just that, but so much more. This is a chance to not just rebuild as it was, but to rebuild better than before! Better weapons, better jump drives, better Ulta suits! Better, Leon, better! But it will require work. Hard work. Are you up for it? Or will you do as you have seemed inclined to for long stretches of time and leave it all to me?”

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“No need to get pissy,” Leon growled. “Fine. If you want to see who can make the better jump drive, then we can do just that…”

He and Nestor began the journey down the mountain again, bouncing theories and rough calculations off of each other without any heed paid to the challenge Leon had just suggested.

---

Even after hundreds of years, Leon still felt awkward staring at the ritual, knowing what it was designed to do. Though he hadn’t known it at the time, his childhood home had been ravaged by lesser demons—ice wraiths—and after he’d left, the Bull Kingdom had heavily stigmatized demonology. Adding to that, the run-ins with Amon’s vampires on Aeterna that made the dangers of vampirism clear, and even the knowledge that this ritual was to contact Xaphan, didn’t make Leon feel any less awkward about it.

Fortunately, there were no blood sacrifices needed, nor truly ‘sacrifices’ of any kind. He needed power, not just to contact the demon but also to allow him to follow the connection back to the Nexus. And that power had to be properly channeled if he wanted the demon to arrive safely.

“That should do it…” Adil, the Raven in charge of the ritual’s preparation, said with a wild grin. He bounced over to Leon, his seventh-tier aura quivering with glee. “It is ready, Your Majesty. We can begin on your orders…”

Leon’s golden eyes swept over the complex enchantment that would summon Xaphan back to his cave on Westmount. Seven obsidian obelisks, thick, tall, and smooth, had been erected and inscribed with hundreds of precise runes. Those obelisks were arranged in a perfect circle, with additional enchantments magically connecting their bases to each other. The interior of this circle was formed by runes spiraling toward the center in such fine detail that just staring at it was making Leon dizzy.

Finally, in the center of the ritual circle, sat a vessel of ambrosia, the golden glow of the miracle drink within casting light out of the open top and across the dark ceiling. Ambrosia was, as far as Leon could calculate, the best option for powering this ritual as it was neutral, magically speaking, which wouldn’t interfere when Xaphan’s fiery power flooded through the bridge he was about to build between Westmount and the Elemental Plane of Fire. The portal that Xaphan had used to allow his Kingdom to trade with fire demons wasn’t nearly so complex, but he’d had a former Lord of Flame there to open it, keep it open, and monitor all of the magic involved. Without Xaphan around to operate it, that gate was all but useless.

“Begin,” Leon ordered them as he focused on his and Xaphan’s contract.

As it had been since the battle with Triton, the connection felt weaker than it usually did. Leon had initially chalked that up to simple distance, but as the days passed, doubt had crept in.

‘He’d have contacted me before now, wouldn’t he?’ Leon thought, knowing that demons should be able to speak with their contracted mages with relative ease, even when they weren’t sharing the same space. However, Xaphan hadn’t made use of that power before, so he wasn’t sure if he’d been somehow restricted. Still, that did little to assuage his steadily growing doubts, and as the Ravens conducting the ritual spread out across the perimeter of this ritual circle, Leon’s heart began to beat louder and harder.

Power flared from the Ravens, and one by one, they channeled their powers into the obsidian obelisks. Runes glowed with power, alighting upon the black obelisks like stars suddenly appearing in the night sky. Reflected light speckled the carved walls of the cave, the stone cold without the usual demonic inhabitant there to warm them.

“Hold there!” Adil shouted as he walked the perimeter of the circle, murmuring to himself and sprinkling glittering brimstone powder along the runic lines. That brimstone ignited upon contact with the runes even though power wasn’t yet flowing through them, revealing that there was far more than just a single alchemical ingredient within the powder.

When he completed three circuits, the cave had heated up significantly, and the pungent stench of rotten eggs assaulted Leon’s nostrils with greater ferocity than any of Triton’s soldiers had assaulted the walls of Artorion.

“Continue!” Adil commanded, and the Ravens amplified their power.

The enchantments inscribed upon the obelisks glowed brighter, and the obelisks themselves glowed with inner light. That light spread into the runic lines along the ground as the light reached the base of the obelisks, turning a richer red color as the brimstone burned even more brightly. Leon followed the path that the power traveled through the enchantment, watching light flow from rune to rune. It started along the perimeter, and after completing the circle, started flowing into the enchantment from the seven obelisks.

As it moved inward, the reddish light darkened and dulled until it matched the hue of demonfire, and the heat increased even more as the magic drew close to the ambrosia vessel.

But then, the power slowed, and Adil cocked his head in confusion. “More power!” he shouted.

The Ravens redoubled their efforts, but the light only managed to push slightly further along the spiraling runic lines before being pushed back again.

“What’s wrong?” Leon asked, knowing enough about demonology to have helped prepare the ritual, but not enough to have any inkling what was happening.

“Some kind of interference,” Adil said. “Something is trying to keep us from summoning Lord Xaphan…” A manic grin crossed his face, and before Leon could ask what they should do, he began shouting to the other Ravens, “Pulse your magic in time with your heartbeat! Current power, then half, then current!”

Leon sensed them immediately follow his directions as he leaped over the fire and took Raven form. The form of the Raven-of-Hail-Hall was larger than a normal raven, with more pronounced iridescence to its feathers and much sharper claws. The Raven’s eyes were ice blue and flashed with determination as he began to beat his wings and push his magic into the enchantment. Leon couldn’t quite tell what he was doing, aside from the purely mechanical alterations he was making on the fly to the enchantment—almost entirely adding tiny glyphs here and there that caused the pulsing enchantment to grow brighter and hotter, though without growing more magically powerful as far as he could tell.

And the light started to slowly crawl toward the ambrosia vessel again, reaching the short dais it rested upon, and then finally reaching the base of the vessel. More runes were revealed along the exterior of the vessel as power flowed up its sides, and when it reached the ambrosia at the center, a jet of flame burst from the vessel, rapidly consuming the ambrosia within.

Adil darted back to Leon’s side and retook human form. “Now!” he shouted, and Leon jumped forward.

He laid a hand on the closest pillar, let it feed from his magic power, and before the jet of flame could consume all of the ambrosia, he whispered, “Xaphan…”

He felt the word resonate within him, and his power reached outward, passing through the Nexus’ relatively thin shell and into the Void, reaching farther, farther, farther. Within, he was barely able to perceive the thinnest filament of power that was different from all the rest, and this he knew to be his contract with Xaphan, connecting them even across the universe.

Through the Void, his power raced, reaching what Leon could perceive as a wall of orange light. That wall revealed itself to be fire, endless oceans of ever-burning fire at the edge of the universe. His magic plunged into this great fiery ocean, seeking out his target. He couldn’t see much within that infinite flame until he suddenly heard a voice.

“Leon…”

Xaphan’s voice boomed along the path of power leading back to the Nexus and echoed through the jet of flame blasting from the ambrosia vessel.

“Xaphan,” Leon said back. “I’ve put together a summoning. It should be able to bring you back to Artorion. It should be ready in just a few seconds, so we’ll have to be quick…”

“Leon,” Xaphan repeated. “I am glad to see you still alive, but I… I am not coming back.”

The words hit Leon like a mountain-sized war hammer. His fingers on the obsidian faltered, though he was able to maintain his power. His head turned as he stared at the jet of flame, within which he could see a pair of white-hot eyes staring back at him.

“I hid in your mountain too long,” Xaphan continued. “I grew comfortable. But I will never defeat Amon and reclaim my place as a Lord of Flame if I remain with you. If I remain… comfortable.”

“But then…” Leon whispered, wanting to tell his demonic partner that he would rather have him back in Artorion, that he would rather they delay taking on Amon until he could lead a massive death fleet to the Elemental Plane of Fire and help Xaphan drag Amon through every kind of hell that such traitors deserved.

“Don’t say anything more,” Xaphan requested. “You’re already making me feel like I’m kicking some helpless mortal. Just know…” The demon paused, his gaze wavering for a moment before refocusing on Leon with renewed determination. “Thank you, Leon. For releasing me from that prison, for carrying me throughout your journey, and… for your friendship. I will never forget it. And should you ever find yourself in the Elemental Plane of Fire, know that I will return that friendship a hundred-fold. But for now… I can only wish you farewell. We will each take the vengeance we seek; I know that. And we will speak again; I know that, too. But I will remain here, in the Elemental Plane of Fire, and I ask that you do not attempt to contact me again. Already, I have risked too much by allowing this ritual to continue for this long. I will reach out when I am ready, my friend… Until then… farewell.”

The jet of flame suddenly sputtered out, and the Ravens maintaining the ritual were pushed back hard, but not so hard that they were flung into the wall. The light in the runes quickly died, and the obelisks returned to their dark exteriors, no traces of their inner light remaining.

As Xaphan’s goodbye echoed in Leon’s mind, he found himself shivering. Even with the lingering heat of the ritual, the cave suddenly felt dreadfully cold.

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