High Artificer, Ch 23: Whitewing Clan

Sam headed toward the gates of the Whitewing palace with Alora’s hand clasped lightly in his. 

The way up to this peak was clear of merchants and travelers, which was different from the other five palaces that surrounded the city. Those had plenty of visitors flying up and down in a constant stream. 

Only this one was quiet.

The whispers across the city told him that Tenal’s family had been accused of conspiring against the interests of Bright Sky and that they had withdrawn from the public eye in order to avoid embarrassment, which was why no one visited them.

That was obviously a lie, since the lack of traffic would not have been so severe if that was all it was, but it showed that their enemies had done a good job suppressing them. 

As to the real truth, he knew most of the story already. He just wanted to confirm a few things.

The Winged Furies were not a fan of roads, which they thought belonged to dirt lovers, and they refused to build them around their cities, but there was still a sort of path up to the peak. It was marked out by ornate banners and streamers that blew with the shifts in the wind, creating an ever-changing trail of the house’s colors. 

The Whitewing’s colors were white and gold, and their banners made a river of brightness that matched the afternoon sun as the two of them reached the gates at the top. 

Wind Wraiths flickered in his awareness as they appeared at the sides of the gate and along the walls of the palace. They faded in like wisps of clouds that took human form, swirling with white and blue mana. They were very similar to air elementals, but more solid.

“Halt!” A sharp voice called out from in front of the gate. “No foreigners are allowed access to the Whitewing palace!”

The speaker was a Level 520 Wind Wraith with Storm Infiltrator as his main class and a Hurricane Warden subclass. It was a rogue and guard mix that was well suited for both gaining and blocking entry.

His aura was dark as he glared at Sam, but that was normal for the Wind Wraiths. They generally disliked conversation and dealing with other people.

“We are here to speak with Teron Whitewing,” Sam said calmly as he looked across the ranks of guards that had appeared. There were over thirty of them who were split between the Fourth and Fifth Evolutions.

Teron was the name of Tenal’s father and the current head of the Whitewing clan. If the Wind Wraiths were working for him, they would give way to one of his guests, so it was a test.

“Leave at once!” the Wind Wraith commanded, ignoring the name. “Any trespass on the grounds of the palace will result in your death! Guards!”

His shout roused the rest of the guards around the palace, who began to prepare spells and abilities, all of them targeting Sam and Alora with clear hostility.

This was no normal response to a visitor.

It was enough confirmation.

“Are those the words of the Whitewings?” Sam asked with a slight smile. “Or of those who hired you? But at any rate, your permission is not required. I’ll give you a chance to step aside and return to your own world. The affairs here are not yours to deal with. Take this as your only warning.”

“Wind Wraiths, silence the invaders!” the commander ordered. “They’ve come to attack!”

Without any more words, his form blurred as he shot toward Sam.

The Wind Wraith’s entire body shifted into something like the edge of a storm. It was a blade of air that crackled with lightning and sharp pressure. The humanoid outline was still partially there, but it was fused with the storm.

At Level 520, there was a significant force to his attack, enough to strip bare the surface of the mountain and leave the palace in rubble. Wards flared across the walls as the backlash of the winds struck them. 

Sam just shook his head as he reached out with one hand. A silver aura of light surrounded him that made everything nearby stand still, including the Wind Wraith as he flew straight into it.

He shattered the air form with a pulse of his aura and grabbed the Wind Wraith’s neck, bringing the commander to a brutal halt. It was like the man had suddenly slammed into an immovable wall. 

The impact of the attack echoed out in a rolling wave that crashed against the walls and sent some of the weaker Wind Wraiths stumbling, but not even an errant breeze ruffled Sam or Alora’s clothes.

The commander hung in Sam’s grasp, his eyes rolling in his head as he tried to recover his state of mind. If he’d been human, that impact would have broken bones, but since he was mostly made of air, his body had compressed and then reformed.

But that didn’t stop the rest of the Wind Wraiths from attacking.

Arcs of lightning, rolling waves of thunder, spells that were designed to compress space, wind blades, arrows, and more elaborate attacks converged on Sam and Alora.

“Be still,” Sam’s words floated lightly on the air as he looked out at the attacks. 

Runes burned in the words, turning each of them into an enchantment, and they spread out in a wave, subtly stretching space. 

Where they passed, the attacks froze.

Spells hung in the air, wind blades stopped crackling with lightning, and the Wind Wraiths that had been leaping toward them became solid, their bodies reforming from the air they’d been merged with.

Sam’s cloak billowed out around him and Alora, creating a second layer of defense to make sure nothing approached her. Then he waved his hand.

An ocean of silver light filled the area, and when it passed, the Wind Wraiths and all of their attacks were gone. 

Silence hung across the walls of the palace, marking out where they had stood just a moment before. The walls of the palace were empty of guards and the gates stood open before them.

“What did you do with them?” Alora asked as she looked around. 

“They’re in a temporary dimensional realm,” Sam said as he tapped his bracer. “In here. I’ll let them out later, once I decide what to do about them.”

It was an ability called the Realm of Silver Stars that he’d built into the bracer. He could have created a similar spell, but this way he didn’t need to maintain it. 

The bracer was a Divine tier artifact and could hold them indefinitely.

He would either have a chat with them or just dump them somewhere in the Void eventually, depending on his mood. At their levels, they could find their own way back home.

The group was about a third of the Wind Wraiths’ total force here, with several Fifth Evolutions. Their combined auras were a bit harder to suppress than the pack of Night Wings on Council, but it still wasn’t very difficult.

Even if a Sixth Evolution being showed up, it would still fall in his favor unless they were near the top of that realm.

“Let’s go see where the Whitewings are,” he said as he took Alora’s hand again and led her through the gate.

There were no Winged Furies in sight at first, which suggested that they’d been ordered to stay in the palace, but once they walked inside, servants and others began to appear.

Although the disruption at the gate was brief, it had not gone unnoticed. 

Within moments, Winged Furies were racing toward them. All of them wore clothing in shades of white and gold that matched the banners outside. 

“My lord and lady!” A voice shouted as a slightly older Winged Fury flew down the hallway and came to a sharp halt in front of Sam. Winds spiraled around him and his wings flared out as he stopped his advance through a combination of Wind affinity and skill.

He immediately bent his head and gave an ornate bow, one that was copied by an elegant flourish of his wings. He held the pose for a long moment before he stood up. 

“Please, allow me to welcome you to the Whitewing Palace,” he said eagerly. His wings mirrored the tone as they moved excitedly behind him. “You’ve broken through the guards, so you can only be an ally! Lord Teron would love to speak with you. He is already heading this way. 

“I am Lord Teron’s steward. He sent me ahead to greet you. Please forgive his delay. May I offer you some refreshments in the meantime?”

“That would be fine,” Sam agreed easily. 

He could sense Teron on the other side of the palace hurriedly giving out a set of orders to his people, all of which were targeted at taking control of the palace surroundings again now that the Wind Wraith guards had been reduced.

Sam hadn’t removed all of the Wind Wraiths and there were already clashes erupting in other parts of the palace as the Whitewings tried to seize the opportunity, but there were enough privacy wards on the palace that it was silent here.

He kept an eye on the battles as they followed the steward to a finely appointed hall.

He’d taken out the majority of high level guards, so the only one that still mattered was the Level 570 Wind Wraith nearby, the one who was the real power. 

At the moment, that one seemed to be ignoring the small battles as he headed toward the entrance. 

He must have already determined that the real outcome would be decided when the three of them met, so he didn’t want to expend effort on the rest of it. 

That lack of caring about his subordinates was giving Teron time to organize a defense, but he didn’t seem to care.

It was a typical decision for the Wind Wraiths. They were an unsympathetic race, even toward their own.

Teron quickly finished his orders and was now heading in this direction too as he continued sending messages to his people, but the palace was large and at the rate he was moving it would take a few minutes. 

They would all meet up soon enough.

The steward served some tea and quickly prepared a rushed set of small delicacies, but despite the haste, they were elegant and well presented.

The three of them exchanged some small talk while they waited and Sam kept an eye on the auras of everyone in the palace as he continued to gather information.

It was easy enough to see what the steward thought.

Sam and Alora’s levels were high enough that they would have been treated courteously if they’d come as guests in any normal year, especially since Sam’s level was similar to the patriarch’s, but the real reason the steward was so polite was due to the speed with which he’d removed the Wind Wraiths at the entrance.

That was something their patriarch could not have accomplished, nor any of the other Winged Fury clan heads. They didn’t know how he’d accomplished it, but it had upgraded Sam’s potential value to the Sixth Evolution, which was a game changer for them.

It was also what had sent Teron into such a flurry to seize the moment. He was hoping that a rescuer had finally come, and if not, he still was going to try...at least as long as Sam was willing to help, which was why the steward was being so polite and why Teron was rushing here.

The steward’s aura was full of pride whenever he mentioned the Whitewing name or the patriarch. It seemed like they’d been waiting for an opportunity to strike back.

“My lord, are you an emissary of the High Nine?” the steward asked as he tried to probe for information. “Or perhaps one of our old allies? I can see that you appear human, but I’m also aware that statuses can be obscured, and your strength does not match any human I’ve ever heard of.”

He looked at Alora then, his expression curious.

“My lady,” he said politely, “I’ve never heard of the Wild Spirits, but your elegance is beyond compare. You must be from a famous family among them.”

“She’s their queen,” Sam said with a chuckle. “Or that’s what her position would be if they had queens.”

“It’s not so important here,” Alora said with a wave of her hand. “We were traveling and saw that you were in trouble. My...lord has some connection with your family, so he chose to help.”

She hesitated on how to refer to Sam, which made him smile, but he didn’t say anything.

“I came to check on the status of the Winged Furies,” Sam said calmly. “There has been some difficulties on Council and with the appointees close to the High Nine, which I intend to set straight. Who I am will be revealed soon enough. All you need to know for now is that I have the power to intercede on this matter and that I plan to set things right.

“Thank you, my lord!” the steward shouted as his expression lit up. “I knew that our injustice would not stand! You must be special envoys from the High Nine! Your disguise is wonderful, but once my lord arrives, we would be eternally honored if you displayed your true self.”

“We’ll see if that’s necessary,” Sam said, feeling amused. “Once that cat is out of the bag, it  will be difficult to put it back in.”

His words made the steward turn pale from excitement, and Sam could see the thoughts running through the man’s mind as he tried to put together who he really was, but he didn’t drop any more hints.

He’d rather deal with this problem quietly, but he wasn’t against appearing here as a Titan and setting out a decree if he had to. The Winged Furies seemed to respond best to that type of display.

Perhaps if he left a trail of events across the galaxy, it would pave the way for new Titan rumors to keep everyone in line.

“As for why I came here, specifically,” Sam added, “it is because I have some familiarity with Tenal Whitewing. When I saw his home surrounded by prison guards, I refused to let it stand.”

“Your wings are bright beyond measure, my lord!” the steward cried out as he was overwhelmed by emotion. “I knew the young master would not abandon us! He must have greatly impressed you to make you willing to come here to rescue us! He is his father’s son!”

Sam gave the man a moment to gather himself, and then he focused on the main question. 

“How did it come to this?” he asked. “Explain in detail.

He wanted to hear the Whitewings’ side of the story.

“Of course, my lord,” the man said immediately as he calmed down. His expression turned hard as he tried to maintain his decorum. “It’s been this way for over twenty years now. Any member of the six great clans could tell you most of it, but I have more details than most. I would be happy to fill you in, but my lord would be even better at it.”

He glanced over his shoulder as if checking for the patriarch or anyone who planned to come in, but Sam could tell that Teron was still some distance away. 

“We have a few minutes,” Sam told him. “Go ahead.”

The steward didn’t argue as he began to explain.

“You should know that there are two main factions within our race,” he said. “Our Whitewings have always been the head of the old order, the house of generals and honor. Our wings are bright with that heritage...”

Sam gestured for him to get on with it. He wouldn’t have minded listening to all the details, but he wanted the story before Teron and the Wind Wraith got here.

Seeing that, the steward skipped to the heart of things. 

“Yes, my lord, very well,” he said. “In short, our Whitewing clan, the Brightfeather clan, and the Skysurge clan are the honorable heirs of our past, while the Highwing, Aetheri, and Windsoar clans constantly agitate for change. We provide the bulk of our military, while they engage in trade and other crafts.

“This balance has existed for hundreds of thousands of years, and there are many traditions that dictate our interactions and roles. These traditions served us very well, but in the past couple of centuries, the Highwing family has agitated for change in more dangerous ways. They also became political allies somehow with the Wind Wraiths, who have always been a volatile presence on the High Nine.

“Normally, none of that would have mattered, since the Sixth Evolution leaders of our people traditionally come from the Whitewing or other military clans.” The steward hesitated for a moment, looking sad and angry at the same time.

“The last leader of our race was from our clan, but twenty years ago the Venerable Lord died unexpectedly, far before his time. No one is quite certain how it happened, but we suspect foul play and perhaps that the Wind Wraiths were behind it. They are consummate assassins. Their presence here continues to suggest it.”

The steward shook himself, his wings beating angrily at the air.

“The next most powerful contender to take up the mantle of High Councilor was from the Highwing clan, rather than one of the military clans. He had long been using the weight of political favors to help increase his level, and due to whatever deal he made with the Wind Wraiths, they were eager to assist him even more. 

“His level rose swiftly and when it came time to decide the new lord, he somehow won the honor duels. He used abilities we didn’t recognize and that definitely did not come from our people. Such tactics have always been frowned upon, but not strictly banned, since it is a competition of arms, not only of tradition.”

The steward’s anger was apparent as his wings continued to beat at the air.

“What happened to the military clans after that?” Sam asked. “These Wind Wraiths are only around yours and not the other two.”

“Yes, we were singled out!” the steward exclaimed. “Our clan had many old disagreements with the Highwings’ methods and after they succeeded to the High Seat, they took the opportunity to suppress us. The Brightfeather and Skysurge clans proclaimed they would honor the outcome of the duel and refused to help.”

The steward’s expression said what he thought of that decision. Even with all his formality, it looked like he was about to spit.

“After that, the Wind Wraiths helped to elevate the Highwings even further and their Sixth Evolution Lord personally assisted their patriarch in reaching the Sixth Evolution. Now his position is cemented in a way that we are incapable of challenging unless our patriarch is also able to reach that level and can call another honor duel. 

“The traditions of power among our people are in danger. Day by day, the Highwing patriarch threatens to cast away even more of everything that makes us who we are!”

“What’s his name?” Sam asked.

“Yaivon Highwing,” the steward replied immediately. “His presence darkens the feathers of our people.”

“He’s connected to Yuris Highwing?” Sam looked at the steward for confirmation.

“Yuris is his nephew and one of his most ardent supporters,” the steward said with a nod. “I heard he was at Council, so my lord must have run into him already.”

“How did the Wind Wraiths end up here?” Alora asked as she joined the conversation and helped to steer the steward back to the important part.

The steward looked over at her and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement.

“We were able, barely, to accept the outcome of the honor duels,” he said, “because they were in front of everyone, but then Yaivon Highwing found an excuse to imprison us in our own home! He claimed that we refused to honor the traditions of our people and support him! He dared to say that of us, the Whitewings!

“He ambushed us during a family gathering when nearly everyone was present, on a day when combat was forbidden. He and these bags of polluted air trapped us here. It’s been this way for a decade now, while he slowly changes our world to suit his own interests!

“Now we have no choice but to fight! Even if by doing so, we know that it will break more of the traditions of our people, we must right what he has done!”

Sam nodded as he put the parts together.

He couldn’t say for sure that Tenal’s family was completely innocent, since they probably were thinking about rebelling, but from everything he’d seen, they were the much better of the two options. He didn’t mind putting them back in power.

If the Highwings were up to no good, it was justified.

The death of the old High Councilor was suspicious as well. If the Highwings and the Wind Wraiths were involved in that, it was crossing a line. That type of assassination destabilized the galaxy. It also painted the Highwings in a very bad light. 

He would look into it.

He shared a glance with Alora, only to find her smiling slightly at him, which made him chuckle.

“You already know what I’m going to do,” he told her.

The steward’s story rang true. 

The man’s aura was honest and the more Sam read into the auras of this world, the more he found to support those claims. He wasn’t sure about the assassination yet, but it wouldn’t take that long to find out.

The connection between the Wind Wraiths and the Highwings was also questionable. It was rare for one race to actively support another in seizing power. Normally, the rest of the High Council should have stepped in to stop it. 

That meant they either weren’t doing their job or this had been hidden from them. 

It would have been difficult to hide it, but not impossible, so he was leaning toward that theory. Ten to twenty years wasn’t a lot and Bright Sky was a long way from Council. 

The High Council might be aware of the duel and the strange death of the previous councilor, but without another Sixth Evolution contender to challenge Yaivon, it would be difficult to dismiss the results in front of them.

It was only here that things were clear.

The changes to the city said enough about what Yaivon was doing. It had once welcomed foreigners and been on good terms with other races. Now it was turning hostile and insults that only thugs used to speak were becoming more popular on the streets.

The presence of the Night Wings might also have something to do with Yaivon. They were certainly tied closely to Yuris and to Solecea, who was from the Aetheri clan here and part of the same faction. 

Solecea had been one of them and Jasperi as well.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Yaivon was encouraging that organization and using them as his private assassins. Their attitudes matched the ones that were developing across the city.

Races often had dark histories and the Winged Furies were predators, so some of their instincts to hunt were natural, but the Night Wings were going down the wrong path.

One that wasn’t beneficial to the galaxy.

He set his teacup down on the saucer in front of him and gave Alora a reassuring nod. Then he looked toward the door, where Teron and the Wind Wraith were approaching. 

At the end of the day, everything boiled down to power. 

The Highwings had managed to get more of it and they’d suppressed their rivals, and they’d also managed to cover up most of the tracks. 

But when it came to power, he had more of it than they did.

Tenal was going to owe him a big favor.