Storm God, chapter two

The Elders of the Herazor

• Introduction and table of contents

• Chapter one

 “…Vorn succumbed to Tarneb’s venom and he fell into a deep, feverish sleep. Everyday he grew weaker and his kin despaired that he would surely die. But it was not to be, for Zera took the Skithiar by secret ways and came swiftly to Herazeem, great city of the Sky Gods. There Vorn was entrusted to the care of his sister Ariana, whose skill in healing was greater than any other who walked upon the face of E’a in those most ancient days…”

-The Elder Zorath, The Book of the First Time.

Vorn stood upon a field of blackened stone. All around him faceless serpents with sharp spines and long, jagged fangs, slithered through the mist. He raised his axe, but it crumbled to dust in his hands. Pain shot up his side, then a thousand puncture wounds opened across his body, weeping blood and putrid slime.  The eye of Tarneb, reptilian and alight with purple flame, arose before him. He recoiled, withering beneath its hateful gaze.

Behind him, the four Elders of the Sky Gods looked down from atop unassailable walls.

Vorn reached for them. “Help me!” 

His mother and father, centre most amongst them, shook their heads and turned away. To their left, his uncle hesitated with pity in his eyes, but then he turned away as well. To their right was one Vorn knew only from story and song. Thoh’s twisted body was clad in a blood stained robes and wrapped in heavy chains. From his scar matted face shone a single eye, bright and fierce, and deep with wisdom. He tried to reach for Vorn but the chains tightened, glowing with molten light, pulling him down into the depths.

A foul wind rose, carrying Tarneb’s harsh laughter with it. For a moment the wall stood strong. Then it fell in a rolling crash of stone and dust. The Elders emerged from the rubble, confused and disorientated. The serpents closed in with snapping jaws, tearing them apart.

Vorn woke screaming, soaked in hot sweat. He tried to sit up but his body burned. His head swayed and he fell back, panting.

“Peace, Vorn,” a soft, melodic voice said from somewhere to his right. 

A light hand brushed over his forehead, radiating soothing warmth.

He lay still as his breathing slowed and the stone chamber in which he lay came into focus. 

His sister Ariana, robed in silver with hair like snow, stood over him, face set with concentration as she felt his pulse. Behind her, two white robed human attendants, barely as tall as her waist, looked on. Thalsi leant against the wall to his left, her face unreadable. 

He craned his neck to look at himself. The entire right side of his body was filled with a hot, sickly aching and wrapped in heavy linen bandages.

“Ama, water with three drops of prendin extract. Hemor, the maddockroot salve,” Ariana said without looking away from Vorn. Her attendants hastened to obey, turning to the urn lined stone shelves behind them. Ariana continued her inspection, running her hands over his bandaged side. Her frown deepened.

“That bad?” Vorn croaked.

“The wounds from Tarneb’s fangs are healing as well as can be expected, but the venom…” She paused, shaking her head. “I’ve managed to slow its spread, but nothing I've tried has cleansed it.”

Ama brought over a copper mug of water–a bucket to her tiny human hands. Ariana took it and slowly tipped some into Vorn’s mouth. He drank deeply of the cool, soothing liquid, collecting his thoughts, remembering his dream.

“I need to speak with the Elders,” he said as Ariana took the cup away.

“The only thing you need to do is rest and let me tend to you,” Ariana said, taking an urn filled with a bitter scented green paste from Hemor.

“No, I've rested enough.” He pushed himself into a sitting position. Sharp throbbing blossomed in his side. He grunted, gritting his teeth. Thalsi stepped to his side and put her hands around his shoulders. 

“Vorn, you’re not strong enough. You’re lucky to even be alive. There will be plenty of time once you’ve recovered.”

“And how long till I’ve recovered? How likely am I to ever truly regain my strength? You say you can’t cleanse me of the venom. How long till I’m dead?”

Ariana hesitated. 

“Come now, Ariana. You’ve never been one to skirt around the truth.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Not long though. A month, maybe less.”

Thalsi’s grip tightened on Vorn’s shoulders.

“But if you stay in my care, I’m sure I can find a way to heal you. You just need to give me more time.”

Vorn chuckled grimly. “A month…and you might be able to heal me? Am I supposed to just wallow in your temple while I wait around to die? No, sister. I thank you for your care, for surely without it I’d be dead already. But I have much to do and little time in which to do it. I need to speak to the Elders. Now.”

They stared at each other. “Fine, go then,” Ariana said stiffly. “But come back once you’ve seen them. You’re still my patient, and I will find a way to heal you.”

“Thank you, sister.”

He tried to stand, but his head went light. Thalsi draped his good arm over her neck and helped him up. Even with her support, it was harder than it should’ve been. By the time he was standing, his breathing was heavy and his heartbeat rapid. Ariana shook her head solemnly.

Vorn glanced around the chamber, looking for his axe. Then he remembered. He sighed and flexed his hand before he and Thalsi shuffled out of the chamber.

A group of ragged, fur-clad humans–the Lowlander tribe he and his sister’s rescued, Vorn realised after a moment–awaited them in the wide, stone walled nave of Ariana’s temple. Murmurs of “Stormtamer,” and “Storm God,” rippled through them as they came forward to crowd around Vorn and his sister. Most bowed, some reached out to touch him, a few offered up babies or small children.

“Alright, clear off,” Zera called from the temple’s vaulted double doors. She’d changed from her travelling leathers into a flowing robe of blue and green. “The Storm Tamer needs some space.”

The humans stepped back a few paces and parted around Zera as she approached.

“It’s good to see you on your feet,” she said, coming to a stop before him. “You look terrible though.”

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

Thalsi shook her head.

“So I can see,” Zera said dryly. “Are you sure you should be up so soon?”

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “I’m going to go speak to the Elders.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes.” He nodded to Thalsi, and together they started down the central aisle.

Zera studied him for a moment. “Fair enough,” she said, falling into step beside them. 

The crowd of humans followed close behind.

They stepped out of Ariana’s temple onto the Grand Promenade of Herazeem, the great city of the Herazor Sky Gods. Along its sides rose towering spires of coloured glass and golden domes, gleaming marble temple complexes and gem encrusted bronze statues. At one end sat a pyramid clad in iridescent dragon scales and topped by an eternal beacon glowing with the power of a star. At the other sat the Grand Citadel, carved from the skull of Nira, the Dragon of Order, and engraved with pulsing arcane runes. Above all, wreathed in wisps of low-hanging clouds, sprawled the cavernous canopy of Yani, the Great Tree, through which the mid-day sun filtered down, dancing across the city in dappled patterns of golden light. 

“Aros is furious,” Zera said casually, as they turned onto the promenade and started towards the Citadel.

“Why?”

“You destroyed his chariot. You know how much he loved it.”

“It was the only way.”

“I don’t know about only way. What you did was really stupid.” 

Thalsi nodded.

“But it worked,” Zera continued, glancing over her shoulder at the humans following them. “Try telling that to Aros though. He keeps telling everyone he’s going to duel you. Apparently he’s going to teach you some respect.”

“Do you think he’ll forgive me? I have a feeling I’ll need his strength in the days to come.”

“You know what Aros is like. Do some grovelling, let him win his fight. He’ll get over it.”

“I doubt I’ll need to let him win.”

Zera glanced at his bandaged side. “Is it so bad?”

 “I can barely walk.”

Zera’s countenance fell, and they lapsed into an uneasy silence.

“So…Stormtamer?” Vorn said after a few moments.

Zera grinned. “Yeah. Stormtamer, Storm Lord, Storm Master. I’ve heard a few variations.”

Vorn frowned at her.

“The mortals we saved have started calling you the ‘God of Storms’ after you rode off into Tarneb’s storm to hold him off.”

“I hardly tamed the storm though. It almost got me killed.”

“At first I didn’t think it would catch on, but it seems to be spreading amongst the mortals. You’re getting very popular, much to Aros’ annoyance.” Zera shrugged. “Kind of suits you, eh? Makes you sound heroic.”

Vorn couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or not. “It doesn’t matter. The mortals can call me whatever they want.”

Even with Thalsi’s support, by the time they came to the Citadel’s steps, Vorn was slick with sweat and breathing heavily. They paused for a moment before beginning the ascent. Vorn’s side stabbed at him with every step. When they finally came to the top of the stairs, he was flushed with exertion and had to rest again, leaning heavily on Thalsi.

She gave him a questioning look.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Why are you so bent on seeing the Elders right now?” Zera asked.

“I… had a dream,” Vorn said quietly. “Tarneb destroyed the Walls and killed the Elders. I don’t know if it was some sort of premonition or not, but I can’t shake this gnawing sense of urgency. I must do whatever I can to make sure it does not come to pass.” He sighed, waiting for Zera’s jibe. 

Instead, she nodded thoughtfully.

Vorn pushed himself away from Thalsi. He swayed on his feet and his head went light. Thalsi stepped towards him, offering support, but he waved her away. “I’m fine. I can do this on my own.”

Vorn took a deep breath, then stepped forward, throwing open the gates.

The hall within was larger than some Lowland towns. Its vaulted ceiling, adorned with motifs of sun, moon, and star, was held up by two rows of thirty metre tall glass pillars, worked into the likeness of trees. Within each pillar shone a bright eternal flame, casting its light out across the petroglyph inscribed walls. At the far end, many yards distant from the gates, rose a dias upon which sat five crystalline thrones. 

Seated in four of the thrones were the surviving Herazor elders–the sires of Vorn and his kin. In the two on the right, sat Vorn’s mother and father: Miraz, golden skinned, and silver bearded, with eyes of burning white light, and Anyara, wrapped in a robe of woodland browns and greens, with hair and skin like bronze. In the two to the left sat Vorn’s uncle and auntie: Kenaz and Zreth, with obsidian skin, bone white hair, and faces heavy with thoughts of darkness. The center most throne was empty.

Inset into the back wall high above their heads, the glowing heart of Nira hung within a cage of humming gilded steel. Radial geometric patterns adorned the surrounding wall, rippling with power in time to the heart’s steady beat.

As was customary, the three walked down the wide central aisle, towards the distant dais in silence. With every step, the aching in Vorn’s side deepened and his head grew lighter. Thalsi walked beside him, watching from the corner of her eye.

“It’s good to see you’re still alive, my son,” Miraz said, as they drew near and bowed their heads. Vorn blinked away dizziness, breathing deep, trying to stand as steady and upright as possible. “I hear that by your valour, another tribe of Lowlanders has been saved. How many was it this time?”

Vorn hesitated.

“Thirty-seven,” Zera said.

Miraz smiled. “Good, good. Thirty-seven more mortals safe behind the Walls of Kethis. By your sacrifice are the Oaths upheld. You three do us all proud.”

“So I suppose you’ll be returning to the Lowlands to look for more mortals to rescue before long?” Kenaz asked.

Anyara shook her head. “No, not after what happened last time.”

Miraz nodded. “We warned you not to confront Tarneb directly.” He glanced at the empty throne beside him. “You’ve done much for the mortals, but now is the time to rest in peace and safety behind the Walls. Leave the Lowlands to Tarneb.”

Kenaz chuckled. “He attacked Tarneb head on and survived, even if only barely. I doubt he will be cowed so easily by the fears of his mother and father. There must still be what? thousands of humans left in the Lowlands? Tens of thousands? Without Vorn’s intervention they are condemned to death.”

“My confrontation with Tarneb has left me weak, it’s true, but Kenaz is right. If I thought doing so would be the mortal’s salvation, I wouldn’t rest until every Lowlander human was safe behind the Walls.”

Kenaz nodded, but Miraz frowned.

“But,” Vorn continued. “I fear that soon, the Walls will no longer be enough to hold back Tarneb. Soon the Lowlands will be completely overrun and Tarneb will throw all his might against them.”

“Let him,” Miraz said in a voice like distant thunder. “It will avail him nothing. The Walls will keep him out for the rest of time.”

“But what if they don’t, father?” Zera asked. “The desolation spreads day by day and Tarneb’s power with it. The Walls still hold, and by the will of Ilo may they hold for an age or more. But nothing can last forever.”

“I wrought the warding spells myself. And the heart of Nira, of Order Incarnate, gives them power.”

“I question not your skill, nor the power of Nira, only the impermanence of all things. Nira was Tarneb’s twin sister, his equal but also his opposite. Is it not the way of chaos to wear away and break order when it grows too rigid and stagnant? By killing Nira you harnessed her power but also bound it. Even as we speak Nira’s power fades while Tarneb’s grows.”

“Then what would you have us do?” Miraz asked.

“We must fight,” Vorn said.

Kenaz scoffed.

“Fight?” Miraz asked incredulously. “You have seen the power of Tarneb first hand. To move against him would mean the death of us all. It is folly.”

“If the Walls fail will we not all die anyway? At least this way we might–”

“They will not fail! We have safety and strength here. Within these Walls we will outlast him and our kingdom will flourish until the end of days. But to go beyond the Walls to confront him? That would only mean walking into his grasp and sacrificing all that we hold dear for nothing.”

“But if we worked together we might–”

“I will hear no more of this folly,” Miraz said, raising his hand. “Begone and speak no more of the failing of the Walls.”

A distant, disembodied bell rang, signalling the end of the audience. The three of them reluctantly turned and began walking back down the aisle.

“Don’t you start,” Miraz muttered under his breath. “It’s impossible, and even if it weren’t, the risks are too great.”

Vorn glanced over his shoulder. Miraz was leaning over, whispering to Thoh’s empty throne.

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• Chapter three

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If you have any feedback regarding the story, either positive or negative, don’t hesitate to let me know. I’m always looking to improve.

Thank you for your time and attention, I truly do appreciate it.

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