High Artificer, Ch 24: Teron Whitewing

Teron Whitewing walked into the room first, followed immediately by the Wind Wraith commander.

“Patriarch!” The steward jumped to his feet instantly as he bowed to Teron. 

The bow was deeper than what he’d offered to Sam, but not by much, which showed how much emphasis he’d put on Sam coming to their aid.

He offered no greeting to the Wind Wraith who was following Teron, apparently happy to pretend he didn’t exist, but the commander seemed indifferent to it.

Sam stood up as they came in and he nodded to Teron in greeting. Alora did the same beside him. He could have stayed seated as a way of emphasizing the power difference between them, but it would have damaged his potential relationship with Teron. 

Plus, it was the man’s home, so it was only polite. 

He analyzed both of them. 

Teron Whitewing. Winged Fury. Level 582. Brilliant Wing of Light-General of the White Storm.

The Whitewing patriarch’s classes were similar to his son’s. 

Tenal was a Bright Wing of Justice-Commander of the White Storm, but Teron had a higher position within their clan, which was reflected in his subclass as a General instead. 

Based on the Winged Furies Sam had noted throughout the palace, it seemed like most of the Whitewings took a military subclass. That was similar for many armies that mixed their class structure with their rank, but it required either a high-tier class artifact or a strong bloodline to organize it. 

The nagas in his Silver Army did the same thing with their subclasses, like Sleset, who had a subclass as the Scaled General of the Silver Army, but that was aided by the World Core. The Whitewings clearly used the bloodline method.

It made him think for a moment that he should have brought his nagas along, but if he had it was unlikely much of the city would have been left. 

As soon as they heard the insults toward their Silver Lord, half of the buildings would have been destroyed and all the ones who’d dared to speak strung up by their wings as examples.

They were enthusiastic about their work.

He set the thought aside as he studied Tenal’s father.

The Winged Furies were obsessed with the idea of bright wings and light, as if those were the highest form of good. Perhaps it originated with their classes.

If that was the case, Teron was a representative of the best in them. His wings and bearing glowed with light, as if he were a living embodiment of their ideals. 

Everything about him spoke of honesty, forthrightness, and the complete absence of deception. His son had been arrogant but earnest, but Teron was the refined version. 

The ever-present arrogance of the Winged Furies was almost absent in him, reduced to the proud lines of his bearing and the composure in his features. His eyes were clear and his aura was serene, like a solitary mountain peak that held up the sky.

It was a good first impression.

There was a bright light in his eyes that showed his excitement, but he was too steady to display more than that, even with the battles across the palace that were still going on.

Beside him and completely the opposite, the Wind Wraith was interesting in his own way.

Where Tenal was proud and serene, the Wind Wraith was obscured, his features hidden behind shadowy patterns of air that made up his skin. He looked barely half present as his body constantly blended into the air around him.

Most Wind Wraiths had a white or blue shade to their bodies, which made them easy to spot, and some were even as bright as a summer’s day,  but this one was as dark as a night wind. 

There was also a set of false classes displayed on his profile. The real ones were clear in Sam’s mind.

Aylo Arthane. Wind Wraith. Level 570. Displayed Classes: Stormfury Warrior-Windblade Commander. 

[Real Classes: Stormfury Infiltrator-Windblade Assassin.]

That was interesting. It was rare that Sam saw someone capable of hiding their classes.

It was probably an innate ability for the assassin, since otherwise he would be outing himself as soon as someone saw him, but it looked like he was limited to only changing one word in each class.

His level at 570 meant he was just as important to his race as Teron was to the Winged Furies, one of the top elites across their entire population. 

There weren’t many with the capability to reach the Sixth Evolution without the World Core’s help.

The assassin’s look was cold as he examined Sam and Alora, but there was no indication that he was going to ask about his missing people at the gate. He was clearly trying to assess the level of threat the two of them represented. 

Some would have dismissed Alora at Level 512, since there was a significant difference between that and 570, but the assassin’s gaze lingered on her. 

He was wise enough to know the value of a high level healer and how quickly they could change a battlefield.

Both he and Teron seemed to ignore each other’s presence, but the immediate changes in their posture as soon as the other one moved betrayed how close of an eye they were keeping on one another. The movements were so automatic that it was clearly a well-practiced habit. 

They had undoubtedly fought many times over the past decade.

“Welcome,” Teron said as he began to greet them formally, but before the word was barely formed, the assassin was already moving. 

The Wind Wraith apparently decided that speaking was pointless and that he couldn’t risk allowing Teron to find an ally, so he seized the tiny moment of distraction as the patriarch’s attention was focused on Sam. 

His body blurred, his entire form turning into howling wind as he leapt forward. 

He didn’t draw any weapons, instead long needles made of hardened wind appeared at the tips of his fingers. The points hummed with force and explosive potential. 

He didn’t head toward Sam, but Alora. 

At the assassin’s level, there were very few things able to resist an attack and he was holding nothing back. 

It wasn’t clear if he planned to take her hostage or if he simply wanted to kill her, but it didn’t matter. 

He’d made his choice.

Despite the assassin’s speed, Sam was faster.

His cloak billowed out, its movements warping the area as streaks of grey chaotic light filled the area. It felt like an older age had reappeared, reversing time from the current era. 

An aura of ancient stars spread out, burning and freezing at the same time, as space in the room receded, falling into the depths of the Void. Instead of closing, the distance between the Wind Wraith and Alora expanded. 

The commander’s attack was swallowed by the darkness between the stars, falling away endlessly into the depths of the First Age. The needles on his fingers disintegrated, turning into wisps of grey light that flowed into the depths and were gone. 

They’d returned to primal chaos.

“Cease.” Sam reached out and seized the assassin by the throat as time slammed back into the present.

The Wind Wraith’s body deformed under the pressure of the sudden halt. His limbs exploded into mist and dark clouds that swirled around the vortex of his heart.

“How dare you, Arthane!” Teron’s shout cut through the air as he tried to lunge after the assassin. His wings blazed with white flames that spread across his body.

But then he jerked to a halt, his expression full of disbelief, as he saw the Wind Wraith dangling in Sam’s hand.

The room was silent. 

Teron and the steward looked on in shock, while Alora let out a sigh as she sat back down. 

“That was foolish,” Sam said as he shook his head at the Wind Wraith. “If you had harmed her, your people would have paid the price for it.”

The Wind Wraiths were already pushing at the limits of his patience and if this one had actually touched Alora, he would have shattered their home world into dust.

Fortunately, there wasn’t much that could break his defense or that of his cloak, which was infused with his Law of Primal Runes and the Echo of the First Age. 

Almost nothing could cross it without being reduced to primal chaos, and definitely not the attack of a Fifth Evolution assassin. He’d had it protecting Alora since they arrived. 

He had expected something like this or he would have been much angrier.

The man’s body was reforming as he tried to struggle out of Sam’s grip, but Sam had no trouble holding him. 

Silver streams of light flowed around the Wind Wraith, locking the man within bands of dimensional space, and then Sam released him to float in the air at the center of the room. 

Arthane wouldn’t be escaping. 

He’d sealed him inside a dimensional realm that was projecting into the room. It was a prison that even a Sixth Evolution being would find it difficult to escape from, much less this wraith.

“The only reason you’re still alive,” Sam explained, “is that you’re going to answer a few questions.”

“You will find no answers from me, human,” Arthane hissed. His voice was like a thin, cutting breeze whistling along the edge of a roof, low and unearthly. 

“Kill me now if you have the ability, but know that your time will come. My people will avenge me.”

“Your assistance isn’t required,” Sam said. “It would just speed it up. But for now, be silent.”

A veil of silver light closed the Wind Wraith away from the room.

While the wraith might know a few things, the bigger picture was already clear.

Arthane had clearly been tasked with keeping the Whitewings under control and he understood that the presence of two more Fifth Evolution beings here would change the balance of power, especially when they’d already eliminated a significant part of his forces.

So he’d tried to attack the healer.

It was a reasonable tactic, at least if he’d been successful and then killed Sam next while taking advantage of his class’s stealth abilities. It might have allowed him to turn the situation around and make up for his reduced forces.

It also meant that he had decided killing them was the simplest solution to preserve whatever secret he was trying to keep here. 

But he’d vastly underestimated his opponent.

Arthane’s aura was full of information that Sam took a moment to read in depth. It held an imprint of his history here on Bright Sky, all of which was clear to see. 

The list of assassinations he’d pulled off to support the Highwing’s agenda was long. He’d been here for well over a decade working behind the scenes, years before he’d been appointed to watch Teron. 

Dozens of critical figures had died at his hands from the three military clans.

The only thing that wasn’t clear was exactly how deep his connection went with the Wind Wraith High Councilor. There was no clear link in his aura to anyone who fit that idea. 

That only meant he’d gotten his orders from a separate source, perhaps an intermediary.

More things were clear now, but there were still some to unearth, including the exact intent of the Highwing and Wind Wraith alliance.

Just taking over Bright Sky and even the High Councilor seat wasn’t a good enough reason.

Sam turned to look at Teron.

The patriarch quickly regained his composure, although he glanced now and then at the confined Wind Wraith. He had lost the loftiness in his bearing, but there was still an inborn grace.

In what was probably out of character for him, he seemed lost for words at what had just happened.

“I have to apologize to you,” he said as he gathered himself. He bowed to Alora and then to Sam. “You were attacked in my home and I was not able to prevent it. That responsibility lies with me. I am grateful you were not injured.

“If you had not dealt with it so swiftly, I am not sure I would have been able to stop him in time. We have fought many times, but he concealed that ability from me. I wasn’t aware that he was so swift.”

“He was hiding his classes,” Sam said as he pointed at the frozen wraith. “He’s actually an assassin. That’s one of the things we need to discuss.”

A flicker of his domain tore away the illusion from Arthane’s class and left the information clear for Teron to see. The patriarch’s expression grew darker, but he didn’t seem that surprised. 

“I knew there was something off about him,” Teron growled. “That just proves it. The Highwings have a lot to answer for. I’m impressed you were able to reveal that so easily. He’s been here for a decade and I could never see anything. You must be quite the figure...but I have never heard of anyone like you before.”

He seemed impressed but also puzzled as he looked at Sam.

“High Artificer and Lord of Silver Stars....” He shook his head. “Who are you, my friend? And who is your ally, this lady with you?”

He turned his attention to Alora, giving her a smile. 

“My deepest apologies again that you were nearly harmed in my home,” he said. “It seems you are in good hands, though. I would never harm you, but I dare say that if I tried, I doubt I would fare any better.” 

He chuckled at that as he looked back at Sam.

“It is fortunate that you both seem to be allies, although unknown to me. So, please tell me, how can I help you? You have already struck a blow in my favor, so I will do my utmost for you, although you should know that the situation here is complex.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Even now, my people are fighting against the rest of the Wind Wraiths. Without Arthane, however, the battle should be short. We are on our home territory and the old wards here will help us prevail. We have prepared for this moment for many years.

“Despite that, time is critical. I have a few moments, but shortly I need to set into motion plans that I have long established. The Highwings will pay for what they have done. Despite this current fiasco, we too have old allies.” 

He looked grim.

“War will come to Bright Sky, something we have avoided for ages. It has been over four hundred thousand years since we last fought amongst ourselves. The traditions stood for a reason, but Yaivon has shattered them!”

His fist slammed into the table in front of them.

“We must fight or all that is good among my people will crumble! Our honor demands it!”

He had let himself go for a moment, but he took a long breath and his wings waved behind him as he regained his composure. Only the determination in his eyes was still there.

“I don’t know how much you know about the recent history here,” he said as he studied Sam and Alora, “but this is only one part of a larger scheme, one that has repercussions far beyond my clan and Bright Sky.”

White flame flickered on his wings as he spoke before quickly dissipating.

“I can see the edge of it with the alliance between Yaivon and the Wind Wraiths, which threatens to change the balance of power on the High Nine, but I can’t see everything.” 

He studied Sam as he spoke.

“Is that why you’ve come, or was this merely a lucky coincidence? At the very least, I can tell you are not with them.” He glanced at the frozen Wind Wraith before he looked back. “Pardon me for asking, but who are you? Have you come from the High Council?”

He clearly shared the same idea as his steward. 

Given that there were very few people who had the power to do what Sam had just done, it was a reasonable guess.

“We came to help you, as well as to investigate the Highwings,” Sam said as he waved at the table in the center of the room. “Yuris and his allies caused me some trouble at Council, so I came to see for myself what was going on.”

Teron’s eyebrows rose at that, but his posture relaxed. 

“If you’re an enemy of Yuris and the other Highwings, you’re a friend of mine,” he declared. “That alone would put us on the same side, not to mention what you’ve done to help me break free of these Wind Wraiths. Tell me how I can help you.”

Teron took a cue from Sam and apparently decided to pretend that Arthane wasn’t floating in the middle of the room as he sat down. 

The steward swiftly served a new pot of tea and small plates of delicacies, and then he retreated from the room with a bow, but not before he sent a few more satisfied glances at the frozen Wind Wraith.

As he closed the door, a sword appeared in his hand and his wings flashed as he headed off to join the battle.

Sam handed Alora a new cup of tea and then took one for himself. 

They exchanged a few pleasantries over the tea, allowing Teron to play the role of host and to apologize again for the attack. 

He was keen to know who they were, but seeing that Sam was unwilling to explain in detail, he was forced to stop asking for the moment, since anything else would cross the bounds of politeness.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Sam said with a laugh as he leaned back in the chair. “But I will say that I met your son recently, and that he played a large role in my decision to help you.”

“You met Tenal?” Teron’s eyebrows rose in surprise, as well as excitement. “He left before this mess even started. Where did you see him? Is he back?”

“It was near Aster Fall,” Sam said with a smile. “That’s my home and the main reason you don’t recognize me. But no, he’s not back yet. He took a different route and a much longer one.”

“Aster Fall?” Teron fell silent and the look he gave Sam changed to one of shock. Unlike most of the galaxy, he’d heard of the world.

Just naming it was enough for him to believe what Sam was saying, since no one else knew about that detail. He was also clearly aware of the mission that Tenal had been sent on to fight a Vos’Rekan.

“He’s alive then? They were successful?” Teron asked, the eagerness in his voice demanding an answer.

“Very much alive,” Sam agreed. “He impressed me there. That’s one reason I am returning the favor by helping you now. So be at ease.” 

“Then there is still some good news in the galaxy!” Teron said with a laugh as his mood turned better. “Do you know when he’ll return? If you’re here, he must not be too far off?”

“About a decade,” Sam replied, “but there’s a chance I can help him speed it up. I would have to find him and the other reinforcements and take them on the same route I took to get here. I can look into it later. For now, you should know that he’s fine.”

He was able to track the path of the traveling disk that the reinforcements were on, and if needed, he knew exactly where to intercept them.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that he doesn’t return in the middle of this,” Teron said after a moment. His excitement dimmed. “It would keep him safe until everything is over. Let him come home to a clean house....”

He looked off into the distance, and then he nodded.

“No, don’t bring him back yet,” he said. “But just for that information, my thanks to you is greater than ever. If you are from Aster Fall, that explains why I’ve never seen you before. I don’t think anyone has come from that world in millions of years. That is incredible.... But it is called the Garden of the Gods. Perhaps that explains your strength.”

He shook his head.

“Please tell me,” he said, “how can I help you? You’ve already helped me more than I can repay, but I will do whatever I can.”

“Let’s focus on this world for now,” Sam said. “I’d like to know more about what the Highwings are up to, as well as this alliance you mentioned. I’m looking for the bigger picture. Why are the Wind Wraiths here?”

His question drew Teron back to the present and the patriarch looked grim again as he studied his tea. 

“All I know is that someone wants this war,” he said as he looked between Sam and Alora. “And at the rate things are going, they will get it.” 

He’d apparently decided they were allies and his words now were like he was speaking to old friends, blunt and direct. 

“I have no choice but to fight. I will not allow our people to fall into ruin like this, to give in to the heresy that Yaivon worships! He revels in the worst of us. I’m sure you’ve seen it already in the streets!”

Teron’s words were stubborn, fierce, and determined, full of an honest character on full display.

He would fight for what he believed in, even if he thought someone was setting him up, because the alternative was to abandon the traditions of his people and who he thought they should be.

The comparison with what Sam had seen from Jasperi and the Night Wings was stark.

If he had to choose between them, he would take Teron every time.

As he considered Teron’s words, the insight that he’d come to Bright Sky to find began to fall into place. He hadn’t suspected the Wind Wraiths until he saw them here guarding Teron’s palace, but they had their hand deep in this mess. 

“The Wind Wraiths have never liked working with the other races,” he said as he thought it through, “so why support Yaivon?”  

“That’s what I have never understood,” Teron agreed. “It’s out of character for them. The best idea I’ve come up with is that Yaivon paid them to do it. They are often employed as mercenaries and assassins.”

Sam shook his head.

“No, that wouldn’t have moved the Wind Wraith councilor to support him so closely,” he said. “These forces are too high level as well. This is something they care about much more than mercenary work. Arthane would not spend decades here for a handful of gold.”

They’d worked hard to establish Yaivon and to suppress the other forces here, forcing a break with the Winged Furies’ tradition. 

Whether or not they’d assassinated the old councilor, they’d taken advantage of the timing. Then they’d dedicated a massive effort to supporting Yaivon and suppressing the Whitewings.

That meant they had something to gain from this, and when he looked at it from their perspective, one thing jumped out.

It just required seeing these events from a different angle.

“Someone wants a war...” he said as he looked at the Wind Wraith and then back to Tenal. “Now I understand.”

That was the key.

“Not just any war,” he said, pointing at Teron, “but a civil war that will split the Winged Furies apart. Bright Sky will be weakened, possibly even turned into shambles.”

“That is what I am afraid of,” Teron agreed immediately as he followed Sam’s thoughts. “You can see it too. But what is the gain from this? That is what I don’t understand. No one wins in this war!”

“None of your people,” Sam agreed, “but the same isn’t true for the Wind Wraiths.”

He turned and looked at the frozen commander as everything began to come together.

“The Wind Wraiths are antisocial,” he said. “They have never liked the dictates of the High Nine, particularly the requirement to work with the other races on joint efforts. So why would they spend decades here working on this?”

That was the key question.

There was no advantage in this war for the High Nine, but there was an advantage for a race that had never wanted to be on the High Nine to begin with. 

In chaos, there was an opportunity for the balance of power to change. 

It only depended on how far they would go.