Monsters from the Sky
Firiel shivered a little as she emerged from the tunnels of Left Peak. It was raining very lightly, so Firiel wanted to take advantage of the unusually good weather and enjoy the breeze. She leant on her walking stick as she walked the path the leading to higher ground, her joints aching.
There was a time when she could walk the same path quickly and confidently. Now she was practically hobbling, her limbs aching with every step. Such were the indignities inflicted by age.
As she gradually made her way up, she came across a young soldier who was patrolling the path. The soldier paused before inclining his head respectfully towards her.
"Ma'am," he said. "May I help you?"
He extended his arm.
Firiel considered refusing (such was her stubborn pride), but her aching limbs changed her mind. She thanked the young soldier and gratefully took his arm. The soldier walked alongside her, patiently helping her walk up the path.
There were perks to being the Storm Lord's mother.
She missed Thorondor; she hadn't seen him since the end of the war when he had come to tell her of the Thunder Bearers' victory. He had wanted her to come with him to the Storm Hold, but Left Peak was her home. Firiel couldn't bring herself to leave it, even though the disappointed look on Thorondor's face had caused her a twinge of guilt.
But she was proud of him; proud of what he had accomplished, proud of what he will accomplish and what he had become.
The soldier left her at her favourite viewing platform; it sheltered her from the rain and afforded her a fantastic view of Tempestas. As she looked across the ocean, she lost herself in her memories of Thorondor in his younger days, before he had become the ruler of Tempestas. She smiled to herself as she remembered the countless times she had chased after him and Gwaine for whatever foolishness that they were always getting up to.
Firiel wondered what people would think if they found out that she had smacked the Storm Lord's bottom countless time for misbehaving in the past. It would spoil the legend and mystique of Tempestas's hero somewhat.
"Storm Lord indeed," she muttered to herself, chuckling. "You'll always be my foolish little boy, Thorondor."
Firiel lost track of the time even as she lost herself in her memories, but the same soldier who had escorted her to viewing platform interrupted her thoughts.
"Ma'am," greeted the soldier. "I'm sorry to bother you, but reports say the weather's going to turn violent soon. If you'll come with me, I'll escort you back to your quarters."
Firiel nodded. "Thank you, boy."
As they made their way down the path again; the soldier patiently leading Firiel down, the Eternal Storm began to rumble.
Used to such sounds, the soldier paid no mind to it and proceeded to move on, but stopped when he realised that Firiel was not following.
"Is something wrong, ma'am?" asked the soldier.
Firiel had turned away from him and was instead looking up to the sky. Her eyes were narrowed and her face scrunched, as though trying to hear and see something.
"Ma'am?" repeated the soldier.
"Do you hear something?" asked Firiel.
"Ma'am?" asked the soldier.
"The Storm, boy," said Firiel. "There's a sound...there's something in the Storm."
The soldier turned to the Storm and listened for anything unusual. He couldn't hear anything beyond the usual rumbling.
"I don't..." the soldier trailed off, listening again.
He could hear something too; a low constant rumbling in contrast to the uneven rumbles of the Eternal Storm.
It was growing louder.
All thoughts of descending into the shelter of the tunnels forgotten, the soldier began to radio the army headquarters, warning them to be on the alert, though he was confused; the low constant rumbling could only mean that an aircraft was approaching, but the fact that it was coming from the Storm made it unlikely; there were no aircrafts on Tempestas capable of flying into the Storm without being destroyed.
Five minutes later, the impossible become reality.
An aircraft of size and scale bigger than anything Firiel and the young soldier had ever seen descended from the Storm, swiftly followed by a second. The soldier's radio went berserk with radio traffic as the soldiers scrambled to react to the unexpected...visit? Raid?
Invasion?
Recovering from her shock, Firiel began to hobble quickly up the path, intending to make her way to the peak of Left Peak, its flat surface allowing it to serve as a port for all incoming aircrafts. The surprised soldier followed after her.
"Ma'am, we should really head back down where it's safe…" he protested.
"Nonsense!" snapped Firiel. "I have to see what's going on! I've never seen an aircraft that big…"
"It could be raiders, ma'am," warned the soldier.
"Hmph! As if those savages could build something that big!" retorted Firiel. "Impossible for them; not with security forces hunting them down constantly."
"But ma'am, we have no idea if they're friendly or hostile…"
"What if it's the Storm Lord himself?" suggested Firiel. "What if he's built that aircraft and decided to show off by giving everyone a heart attack?"
"B-but…why…?" stammered the soldier.
"I wouldn't put it past the cheeky fellow," said Firiel, chuckling. "I'll give him a good rap on the head if it is him."
Firiel continued to hobble up the path with the soldier following hesitantly. Firiel shot him an irritated glance over her shoulder.
"Well, are you going to help me get up there or not?" she snapped. "What excuse will you have for the Storm Lord if you let his old mother slip and break her back?"
Gulping at the thought, the soldier hurried to help her up the path.
II II II
Commander Brand had been fifteen when the war had started. He had enlisted despite his young age and had served ably, rising to the command of the 85th Thunder Bearer Regiment in those twenty years. Since the war had ended, Brand's main duty was to keep the peace in Trident's Peak region. It had been a peaceful, if slightly dull task.
Now though, Brand was completely thrown by the situation unfolding before him.
Two aircrafts the sizes of which were bigger than anything he had ever seen was hovering above the landing platform. They had descended from the Storm ten minutes ago, approaching Left Peak before coming to a stop, hovering like rumbling Storm Eagles.
The fact that army forces had managed to deploy in defensive formation on the platform with anti-aircraft weapons at the ready despite being caught off-guard was testament to the strict regime that Brand had enforced on his soldiers, keeping them battle-ready at all times. His regiment's aircrafts had deployed and were circling the interlopers, prepared to fire at the first sign of trouble.
Brand stood with his men near the frontlines. Attempts to communicate with new arrivals via radio had been met with silence, so Brand raised a voice-projecting device to his mouth.
"Unidentified aircrafts! You are to land immediately and power down your engines! Have your crew exit unarmed and surrender yourself into our custody! Respond! If you fail to do so, we will open fire!"
For five tense minutes, the aircrafts remained as they were, before one of them slowly lowered itself, landing on the platform. The entrance to its loading bay opened, revealing darkness within as a landing ramp extended.
The Tempestan soldiers found themselves tightening their grip on their weapons.
"Easy, men," warned Brand, raising his hand to prevent them from firing prematurely.
When the passengers of the aircraft descended, Brand very nearly gave the order to fire, and only stopped himself with sheer force of will.
There were nine of them, hulking giants clad in steel-grey armour, towering over the Tempestan soldiers. Their heads were covered in helms with glowing red eye-lenses. Eight of them carried massive guns across their chest, and combat knives the length of swords at the belts, clearly not hostile, but wary and battle-ready. The ninth, clearly the leader, had more ornamentation on his armour, and his helm bore a Mohawk-like crest of black. He bore no gun, only what was clearly a chainsword tucked at his side, but one many times the size of any chainsword that could be found on Tempestas.
The giants strode forward in perfect synch with each other, more akin to automatons than living men before coming to a stop several yards away, facing the Tempestans.
Their leader stood in front of his men, the glowing red lenses surveying the soldiers before him.
"Who rules here?" he asked, his voice the bark and rumble of an aircraft engine.
Brand mustered his courage and stepped forward, trying not to flinch when the giant turned his gaze on him.
"I am Commander Brand of the 85th Thunder Bearer Regiment," said Brand, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Sir, I must ask you and your men to surrender your weapons…"
"I asked: who rules here?" repeated the giant.
"As the ranking officer at Left Peak, I do," answered Brand, a hint of anger in his voice at being interrupted. "Now I must insist…"
"I mean, who rules this world?" interrupted the giant again.
Brand bristled at the interruption. "Sir, I demand that you turn over your weapons now! You have entered Trident's Peak airspace without authorisation, and must submit for interrogation."
The giant glared down at him. "I will meet the ruler of this world. If necessary, I will submit to him and him alone."
"That is not for you to decide!" snapped Brand. "Now surrender your weapons, or we will open fire!"
The giant let out a noise that sounded like a chuckle. "You have courage, little man. But no, I will not. I suggest you hold your fire, unless you want a bloodbath."
Brand wanted to give the order to fire, but somehow sensed that the giant was more than capable of making good of his threat. But he still could not simply let these…foreigners have their way.
"You will tell us where we can find the ruler of this world," said the giant in the manner of a man used to being obeyed instantly.
"Do you really expect that we'll let armed intruders near the Storm Lord?" snapped Brand. "You must think us foolish."
"The Storm Lord?" repeated the giant, curiosity in his voice. "Is that what he is called…"
The giant trailed off, and Brand could hear something akin to radio chatter apparently emitting from within his helmet.
The giant titled his head to one side, listening intently. "My lord, I don't think…"
He paused, listening to the chatter again before nodding.
"As you wish, my lord."
Without a word, the giant and his men took several steps back as the other aircraft lowered itself, its loading bay entrance already opening.
Several more giants, similarly armoured but in a shade of grey more similar to the Eternal Storm leaped from it, landing with all the force of thunder before the Tempestans. Pelts from beasts unknown to Brand flowed from their shoulders like capes. These giants wore no helm, but instead, their faces were covered with leather masks shaped into monsters and carried all manner of axes and swords with them. Unlike the other giants, who carried themselves in the manner of disciplined soldiers, these were clearly individualistic warriors.
Beneath their masks, Brand could make out panting mouths.
And fangs.
Gold eyes and with jet-black pupils stared at him from behind the masks.
"Monsters," whispered Brand as he and the Tempestan soldiers found themselves backing away. He was about to give the order to fire when another being leaped from the aircraft and landed before them.
Brand had been in the presence of the Storm Lord only once in his life, but that moment had burned itself deep into his mind.
Brand had stood at the front ranks with the other commanders following the end of the Battle for the Storm Hold as part of the triumphant celebrations held to celebrate the end of the war. The Storm Lord had walked from one end to the other, offering every commander he passed a word of encouragement, gratitude or praise.
When the Storm Lord had reached Brand, Brand had been complete overwhelmed by the sheer presence that exuded from the leader of the Thunder Bearers. The Storm Lord had looked down at Brand from his towering height, his grey eyes evaluating everything about Brand then and there, an enigmatic smile on his face.
To Brand, it was though he was facing an embodiment of the Eternal Storm itself, locked into human form. He throat had gone dry and he had struggled to remember to breathe as the Storm Lord looked down upon him.
Finally, the Storm Lord's smile had widened as though pleased by what he saw and he had clapped Brand upon the shoulder before moving on.
No words, just a simple gesture, but it had stayed with Brand ever since.
The being that had just leapt from the aircraft reminded Brand of the Storm Lord in so many ways. From his towering height, Brand could see that the…man would be equal to the Storm Lord in height, but that was just a superficial similarity.
The man towered over even the giants, his reddish blonde hair billowing around him wildly like a mane, reminding Brand of a savage feral beast. He was clad in tempest-grey armour, with ornate etchings and battle-marks decorating it. The man's skin was pale, and his eyes blazed with savage intentions and he had a grin on his face, revealing fangs that sent chills down Brand's spine. A sword, easily longer and bigger than Brand was strapped across the man's back.
But it was the sheer presence exuding from him that had Brand paralysed with a mixture of awe and terror.
If the Storm Lord was like the Eternal Storm contained into human form, this man was like the onset of the Storm, seconds away from being unleashed. Beneath his gaze, Brand felt as though every part of his body was being analysed for the best way to be ripped apart. He tried to speak, to reassert his authority, but he felt that if he were to utter a single word in this…monster's presence, he would be ripped apart on the spot.
Brand stared, utterly helpless as the monster approached.
The monster came to a halt before brand, aggression radiating from every fibre of his being. He stared down at Brand as though deciding which part of Brand's body he should begin dismembering. When he finally opened his mouth, Brand thought the monster was going to bite out his throat, but instead, the monster spoke in a voice edged with a wet-leopard growl.
"So little man, do you have the courage to ask the men of the Vlka Fenryka to surrender their weapons to you?"
Brand's mind froze in terror. The monster's grinned widened as his warriors threw their heads up to the sky and howled. It was a low, mournful sound that cut across even the rumbling of the Eternal Storm. It threatened violence and death.
The sound chilled every Tempestan soldier to core, but they stood their ground. The men and women of the Thunder Bearers of Tempestas had fought a long hard war to unify their world. They would not back down from anyone.
Not even the monsters from the sky.