The Storm King

Blood poured down his face and hot pain lanced through his mind, but Leon stood on the sands of the Lions’ arena, pride swelling in his chest. Though he’d only won the duel because Menander had set the standard for victory at first blood—the injury given to him by the Thunderer being far and away worse than the one he’d given to the man just a moment before—victory was still victory.

The Thunderer hardly seemed bothered. With a wave of his hand, the privacy spell was broken and the roaring jubilation of Leon’s faction hit their ears like a tidal wave. But Leon continued to stand firm, basking in his win, and the Thunderer stood there stoically, his eyes closed as if lost in thought.

They stood there for what seemed like hours, but was only several seconds, before Leon found himself nearly tackled to the ground by Cassandra, Maia just behind her, and Valeria just barely coming in third.

“Let me see, let me see,” Cassandra whispered as she took gentle hold of Leon’s head and angled it so that his wound could catch as much light as possible.

“How does it look?” Leon asked as he smiled cheekily, ignoring the pain that caused him. “How badass of a scar will I have?”

“Don’t move like that, Leon,” Cassandra rebuked. “You don’t want to make it worse.”

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Valeria said. “The cut was clean, probably won’t leave a scar after being healed.”

“Damn,” Leon said without a shred of seriousness. “I have it under good authority that women love scars.”

[If you came home with a scarred face, Elise would have us all flayed,] Maia whispered, her lake-blue eyes glittering with concern.

Before anyone could respond, the rest of Leon’s retinue arrived to give their congratulations, but it was Anshu who was in the lead.

“Leon,” the Indradian said as he pushed to the front of their group, his hands already glowing with light magic. “Hold still and I’ll have that wound sealed up in a moment.”

“Thank you,” Leon replied as he complied. Soon, the pain disappeared, leaving his triumphant delight alone in his mind. When Anshu was finished, Leon could tell that the wound was only closed and far from fully healed, but it was enough as far as he was concerned.

It seemed that everyone else was of the same mind as Alcander burst forward and shouted, “You won! We all knew you would, but you fuckin’ won!”

There was some shouting and stomping from the watching Lions, but the Thunderer’s people were dead silent, and Leon could even sense a significant degree of killing intent.

The two men he was most concerned about, however, had not a shred of killing intent in their auras to be seen.

Menander was the first, and he was slowly walking toward Leon’s group, a wide smile on his face even behind his thick blond beard.

The Thunderer was the other, and he’d put his weapon away and was now staring at Leon. As if sensing his intent, Leon’s retainers closed ranks against him, Cassandra and Maia standing at his shoulders with Valeria beside Cassandra. If there was going to be a fight, they’d fight at his side this time.

Fortunately, there wasn’t going to be a fight. The Thunderer simply nodded to Leon and stated quietly, though his voice was still clear enough to be heard above the celebrations filling the arena, “Well fought. Well fought.”

Without another word, the Thunderer turned and began walking towards his waiting followers.

Leon was about to call after him when Menander arrived and took his attention, the noise within the arena fading as he did.

“He’s right; that was a GLORIOUS battle! To defy the order of things and defeat a man so much stronger than you! Such mettle is nowhere to be found in ordinary men!”

Leon grinned for a moment until he felt a ripple of displeasure from Maia, reminding him that she lost against someone a tier below her, too. He kept his attention on Menander, but he reached out, took her hand, and sent her love through their connection, quieting her displeasure and replacing it with much warmer feelings.

“How glorious was the battle?” Leon asked as his grin faded slightly. “Enough to prove my strength to you? Enough to give you confidence enough in my cause to swear yourselves to me?”

As he spoke, he cast his gaze around the arena, making eye contact with as many Lion elders and Chiefs as he could, making sure that they all knew he wasn’t just speaking to Menander when he said this. At the same time, the rest of Leon’s followers, those from the Jaguar, Eagle, and Hawk Tribes, had come down from the stands and were walking over to join them.

Leon wasn’t honestly expecting an affirmative answer; he thought that Menander would give him some other stipulation or condition that he had to fulfill first. He thought that the Lions would want to negotiate in some way even if they were inclined to join him. What he didn’t expect was for Menander to glance back at his other ninth-tier colleagues, who leaped down from the platform and landed next to him, their families joining them a moment later. He didn’t expect Menander to look around the arena as he just had.

He didn’t expect Menander to take a deep breath and roar, “THE HEIR OF THE THUNDERBIRD HAS SHOWN HIS STRENGTH! THE LIONS WILL FOLLOW THE THUNDERBIRD ONCE MORE!”

But that was exactly what happened, taking Leon by surprise. What surprised him even more was the rest of the Lion Tribe practically demolishing the arena as they stomped and roared their support for Menander’s declaration. The arena shook with the force of the Lions’ strongest mages roaring almost as one, and the other Tribes Leon had brought with him almost stumbled in the sand as they quickly made to join him.

Once more, pride—nearly more than he’d ever felt at any one time, exceeded only by a few moments in his life—filling him from the tips of his toes to the top of his skull. He’d won another Tribe. His bid for the throne of the Ten Tribes would’ve been lost had he lost the Lion Tribe to the Thunderer, but he hadn’t lost them. The Lions were now with him.

“SEND MESSENGERS TO EVERY CORNER OF OUR LANDS!” Menander boomed, his voice rising above even the apocalyptically loud noise the rest of his Tribe was making. “INFORM THE WHOLE TRIBE! INFORM THE WHOLE ISLAND! THE LION STANDS WITH THE THUNDERBIRD!”

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After Menander’s declaration, the Thunderer and his people swiftly departed the arena. From what Leon gathered in the hours after, they were intending to leave the city in only a matter of hours.

Leon and his people, on the other hand, were given quarters as befitting their station. Leon was taken to a compound of great opulence, much larger than what he could possibly fill even most of his family and retinue there with him. The rest of his Tribal allies were given their own compounds as well, separated from his by sprawling gardens and wide fields, but for the most part, when Menander ordered them accommodated, they followed Leon into his palace with the promise that Menander would find them soon.

Once escorted there by one of Menander’s wives, they began their celebrations, though there was a slight undercurrent of anxiety, an idea permeating the entire party that this was too good to be true. The Jaguar insisted that the Thunderer wasn’t going to just take this lying down, and Ipatameni was uncomfortable that the Lions hadn’t sworn any formal oaths yet.

Leon was happy enough with Menander’s loud and public declaration, and the fact that he could see with his magic senses runners being given messages repeating his declaration and departing the city, but he could understand the concerns of those who felt them. And soon enough, Menander arrived at his palace and Leon left the rapidly-brewing festivities to talk with the ninth-tier Lion, as did the Jaguar, Ipatameni, and Rain-Dancer. Cassandra, Valeria, and Maia also joined them.

“That was a brilliant fight,” Menander said once they found themselves in a private courtyard and seated in plush furniture. “It’s been a long time since I saw anyone fight against a tenth-tier mage and perform so well.”

“Oh?” Leon responded. “When was the last time for you?”

“Seven hundred years ago,” Menander quickly replied, and the Jaguar and Ipatameni both visibly cringed. “The last time the conflict between us and the barbarians across the sea went hot, it was because they attempted to invade our fair island with a massive task force. We fought them off at great cost. I regret that I was too young and weak to take part much in the fighting, but we struck them back hard. My Tribe attempted to seize Argos, and though we inflicted great casualties upon the barbarian defenders, we were still pushed back by one of the barbarians’ tenth-tier mages. My grandfather was Lawspeaker for my Tribe at the time, and he held the… what was her title? Sunlight Empress? He held her back long enough for us to make our retreat.”

“He sounds like quite the fighter, and a man of rare bravery,” Leon replied. As he spoke, he gave Cassandra a quick look, noting that she seemed barely able to hold herself back from participating in their dialogue.

“He was the best of our Tribe,” Menander said. “It gives me no small amount of pride to recount the tales of valor my Tribe has accumulated, but we have other things to discuss, don’t we?”

“When are your oaths going to be made official?” Ipatameni bluntly demanded. “The bloodline of the Thunderbird deserves more than a simple declaration—”

“The bloodline of the Thunderbird,” Leon interjected with a look of reprimand, “shall decide what is and is not appropriate in this circumstance.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Ipatameni hurriedly said.

Menander chuckled silently. “Is the word I have given not enough, my aquiline friend? Are you questioning the honor of my Tribe?” Menander’s aura slowly began increasing in intensity as the Lion shifted his attention to Ipatameni.

“I think,” Leon interrupted again, “that the lack of ceremony has taken some of us aback. Personally, I have little patience for formality, so your declaration was enough for me.”

Menander smiled and silently thought for a moment before saying, “Allow me to alleviate all concerns, then. My word stands. My Tribe will follow me, and I swear myself to you, Leon Raime. Let my claws be your blades; my hide, your armor. Wherever the Thunderbird has need of us, my Tribe shall be there, fangs bared and claws extended.”

“Thank you,” Leon replied. “I’m surprised, though. I would’ve thought you would’ve asked for more information before making such a declaration.”

“Lions do not concern ourselves with treaties and long negotiations,” Menander replied, his tone almost dismissive. “For us, you have shown your strength. That is enough.”

“The Thunderer showed his, as well,” Leon said, indicating the closed gash on his face. “Had he been only a fraction of a second quicker, it would’ve been him drawing first blood, not me.”

The Jaguar added, “Would you have been so happy to swear yourself to the Thunderer if that were the case?”

Menander grinned at the Jaguar. “Lysander, how long have we known each other? I’ve lost track of the number of years, but it should be enough to know what was going on in there…”

“Hmm?” Leon hummed as he glanced at the Jaguar.

The Jaguar glared at Menander for a moment before turning to Leon and saying, “They were testing you.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow and turned back to the Lion Lawspeaker.

“He speaks truly,” Menander with an unapologetic grin. “How could we allow ourselves to be subjugated by someone weaker than us?”

“That the duels were tests was obvious,” Cassandra finally spat, her patience having worn out.

“Yes, obvious,” Leon muttered, silencing any response anyone might’ve made. “What is less obvious,” he continued, “is why you were testing me.”

Menander’s grin widened. “We are familiar with the Thunderer’s strength. We voted for him to become Thunderer due to his strength. But there is more than one way to show strength, more than simple strength of arms or skill in magic. You are a ninth-tier mage and a highly competent warrior, by all accounts. What we wanted to see was something else, something we’d already tested in the Thunderer and found palatable enough to support—for a time, anyway.”

Leon began grinning back at Menander. “Could you hear what we were saying in that duel?”

Instead of directly answering, Menander simply said, “Ambition is a sign of strength as important as arms or magic. The Thunderer has great ambitions, but they pale in comparison to what some others desire…”

Leon quietly laughed. “Good. Good. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who dreams of the Nexus.”

“This land has been good to us,” the Lion said. “But it is not home. Our home lies elsewhere. It lies among the stars. Though you are measurably weaker than the Thunderer, next to the Nexus and the Void and the stars, the conflicts of this plane do seem quite… petty, don’t they?”

“That they do,” Leon agreed. “That they do.”

Menander looked like he was ready to speak more, but a knock came at the door, and a moment later, after Menander projected his magic senses throughout the palace, he tilted his head and called out, “Enter!”

One of his wives quickly opened the door and slid inside. “The Thunderer has arrived,” she declared.

“That I have…” the Thunderer said as he made himself known. He paused in the doorway and surveyed the room, and most of Leon’s people sprang to their feet and arrayed themselves around him. Leon’s ladies were at his shoulders, while the Jaguar, Ipatameni, and Rain-Dancer interposed themselves between him and his family and the Thunderer. Of all of them in the courtyard, however, only Leon and Menander remained seated.

“Relax,” Leon ordered the room, though his order failed to have much of an impact. Regardless, he looked at the Thunderer and asked, “What brings you here? You are welcome, as far as I’m concerned, so don’t worry about that…”

“Gratitude,” the Thunderer whispered as he took a couple steps into the room. His handsome face was long and serious, the man looking almost like he’d aged a decade by mortal standards in just these past few hours. He came unencumbered by attendants or any other followers—he was standing there alone, which Leon could plainly see with his magic senses.

“I wish you would’ve told me you were on your way,” Menander cheekily said. “I would’ve had you escorted.”

“That was unnecessary,” the Thunderer replied, hardly looking at Menander. “I came to speak with Leon Raime. Alone, if it pleases all of you, though I will not insist on it.”

“You would meet with our rightful King alone?” Ipatameni said incredulously. “Not a—”

“It’s fine,” Leon interjected again. “I won’t ask anyone to leave, but I have no problem with our friend here meeting with me alone.”

Though he said he wasn’t going to ask anyone to leave, when he glanced at everyone, he made it clear with his eyes alone that he hoped he wouldn’t need to ask them to leave.

Ipatameni and Rain-Dancer both bowed and left the room. Menander sauntered out seemingly without a care in the world. The Jaguar, however, paused as he passed the Thunderer.

“If any harm comes to our King,” he growled, his aura filling with killing intent, “I will tear you apart myself.”

The Thunderer didn’t even acknowledge the Jaguar’s words, and a moment later, the Jaguar, too, left.

And so, the Thunderer was left alone with Leon and his ladies. The Thunderer looked at each of them, his gaze lingering on Cassandra for a moment, and then flitted back to Leon. If he had anything to say about their decision to stay or Leon’s clear lack of interest in telling them to leave, he kept it to himself.

“I… would like to apologize to you, Leon Raime. And thank you.”

A look of shock immediately overwrote Leon’s confident and somewhat smug grin, while Cassandra spoke for all of them when she said, “Fucking what?”

Ignoring her, the Thunderer continued, “I’m glad I lost that fight, as a matter of fact. I don’t regret my loss.”

“You… don’t regret losing the Lions?” Leon asked disbelievingly.

“They’re hardly ‘lost’, are they?” the Thunderer asked. “I never ‘had’ them, did I? Only Lions tell the Lions what to do. And, I suppose, Thunderbirds. But I’ll admit that I do feel some remorse for how that worked out. No, what I speak of is the duel and only the duel. I… lost myself during our clash.”

As he spoke, the Thunderer drew a spell from his soul realm and laid it on a table before Leon. With a glance, Leon noted that it was a powerful healing spell.

“It is not my wish to win by force of arms,” he explained. “I… I was wrong to challenge you so. Though we were bound to fight, as is Lion tradition, I’ve always wished to convince the Ten Tribes to follow me by the rightness of my arguments, not by the strength of my sword arm, or my magic. With words, not with weapons. For when we finally strike back again at our eternal foes, we must be united.”

“In that, we can agree,” Leon said, and he felt Cassandra’s eyes land upon him. In part to alleviate any concerns his words had planted in her, he added, “Though, I think we might not so readily agree on just who our foes are.”

“In this, I would say your words are accurate,” the Thunderer replied. “And it is for that reason, among others, that I will continue to oppose you. However, I would like to reiterate that I believe in the rightness of my cause, and that the other Tribes will see that before we’re all done. We do not need Kings anymore. But if the Tribes wish to return to being mere vassals of the Thunderbird, then I will not stand in their way.”

He paused, a shallow grin spreading across his face, almost removing the years that his loss to Leon had added to his features.

“… I wish you the best, Leon Raime. I will not lie down for you. It will be the Elder Council that decides the fate of the Ten Tribes. Not us.”

“I wish you the best as well,” Leon replied with a smile as he got to his feet and stood opposite the Thunderer, eye-to-eye. “And I hope that whoever the Tribes decide to follow always keeps their best interests in mind.”

The Thunderer’s smile grew. He bowed slightly and, without another word, left the room. For the moment at least, they had nothing more to say to each other.

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