“Well, that went about as well as we could have hoped.”

Siora’s sighing words brought a nod from the rest of us. With Captain Jack’s help, and that of the Black Wraith, we made our way to the borders of Thedra, in the port city of Uldan. Before we parted ways, the undead pirate gave us some advice on where to go in order to dispose of our loot, without drawing too close an eye. Of course, he warned us that we would be cheated, but such things were inevitable, really. Discretion and haste had a cost associated with them, after all.

With a sigh of my own, I said, “I know Jack said it would be bad, but I did not know it would be this bad. Even with the two of you practically throwing yourselves at him, he didn’t budge on some of the prices. Honestly, I’m wondering whether he wasn’t some form of construct.”

Fartooth chirped in bemusement. “Well, the deal wasn’t entirely one-sided. We got some powerful upgrades to our gear, which would normally take weeks, if not months, to sort out properly if they were made from scratch. That’s no small point to consider.”

“Our little friend speaks the truth,” Vestele added. “And let us not forget the, quite literal, ton of trade goods that we acquired, or the fact that we now have a contact on the other side of the planar gate in the capitol that would be willing to deal with such disreputable types as ourselves.”

That much, at least, was true. In addition to some store of coin, and the more powerful weapons, armor, and other gear that we were able to source from Jack’s friend, we had picked up a store of trade goods, mostly spices and other such things, that could be sold in the celestial planes for a tidy profit. More importantly, we’d been given a name.

Setting aside how we would manage to get to the higher planes, the mere fact that, in that bastion of ‘goodness’, there would be someone willing to trade with our type of people was surprising, to say the least. Or perhaps it was not so surprising that such a type exited. Every society had its outliers, if not outright bad apples. What was surprising was that he was allowed to exist.

And I had no doubt that it was a case of them allowing him to exist. After all, it takes a great deal to open a rift between planes, so a smuggler or fence who dealt in extraplanar goods would be known to those in charge, just by the ripples in the mana he created. While a human or elven government might ignore them, or even attempt to coopt them or turn them into an intelligence asset, the residents of the celestial planes were not exactly known for that kind of thinking. They were more the type who saw ‘evil’, and smote it, immediately, without asking questions.

This was made even more unusual by the fact that the plane the portal in Magika, the Thedran capitol, was said to be linked to one of the planes more closely associated with Lawfulness, as well as Goodness. That they would allow something as lawless as a smuggler to exist, especially one that was willing to deal with evil types like us, beggared belief. But it was, apparently, true. Which left more questions than answers.

None of those questions mattered at the moment, of course. The Magika portal was, obviously, in Magika, and the capitol had been overrun by the forces of the celestial planes. The archons had invaded through the rift, and taken control in a matter of days. Now, months on, they were holding the city, and slowly pushing out as the Thedran forces tried to push them back, to little success. The only reason more of the country hadn’t been swept up in the invasion was because the archons appeared to be gathering evidence and holding trials for all the mortals that they captured, during the city’s fall and after, and purging all those they found guilty.

I shook my head. “Still, Vestele, we would have been even worse off if you hadn’t gotten in touch with the local brothel—I mean shrine to Malcanthet.” We chuckled, since the brothel was actually a front for the shrine. “They fitted you out quite nicely, I see.”

Vestele was positively radiant as she beamed. While most of us had updated a few pieces of gear, and gotten some toys on the side, she had come back with almost entirely new equipment, with only a ring the same as before. “Our actions so far have convinced the Queen that I rank as one of her greatest servants in the mortal realm. If we are to be taking this fight across the planes, then she wishes it known I fight in Her name.”

“Well, just make sure to keep that cloak covering things, most of the time. All those symbols on your shield and armor won’t go unnoticed, for all the fact that we’ve done our best to protect ourselves from casual divinations and scrying. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves until it is time.”

The priestess chuckled. “Yes, of course. Though I doubt such measures will be effective for more than the most cursory of glances. So, shall we go over the plan once more?”

I sighed. “Might as well. To stop the celestial invasion, we will need to slip across, into the plane it is coming from. We could use the Veilsplitting Blade that the Queen Findelye gave us, but the magic is not very accurate. It could have us ending up anywhere from ten to a thousand miles away from where we hoped to be. A distance that we would have to cross while worrying about all the archons and other celestials that might be about.”

“And since that is just a fancy way of saying we’d be going to our deaths,” Siora chimed in, “we instead need to go and find some other way across, which means a portal.”

Fartooth nodded. “We could try the one in Magika, but that would mean fighting or sneaking our way into a city currently on lockdown, and getting through to the most secure part of it, to get to the other side, which will likely be in the most secure part of their base. Not exactly a winning plan.”

“Which is why we were also paying for information and access with Captain Jack’s ‘friend’, back there,” I continued. “Without him, we wouldn’t have learned of a second, more secret, portal that slavers and smugglers have been using for who knows how long to infiltrate the celestial planes. That portal is not inside Magika, thankfully, and should be less guarded. In fact, we shouldn’t have any troubles at all getting through, since we have the passwords.”

“But that only helps us on this side,” Vestele reminded us. “Once we’re on the other side, we’ll be in enemy territory, quite literally. There won’t be anyone we can call for help, and pretty much everywhere we go is going to be hostile to us.”

“I’m not so sure about that. The fact that there is commerce with the plane at all, much less Thedran smugglers, tells me that things aren’t exactly a solid front on the other side. Remember, just because the people there are ‘good’, doesn’t mean they get along. And when you have disagreements, you can have factions that begin to form. And factions can convince themselves that all kinds of things are all right, if they’re for the ‘greater good’.”

Siora frowned. “You mean, there might be some discord in the heavens, then? Some conflict that we can use to our advantage?”

I nodded. “Probably not to the scale of full civil war, or anything like that. But there would not have been the possibility of a smuggler’s den existing on that plane unless there was some demand for the goods they bring, right? And the smugglers wouldn’t be coming if there wasn’t something here that they could take away in trade. Merchants do nothing for free, after all.”

The beguiler nodded. “Then, we just have to see how this underground economy works. Which means asking some questions of our contact once we manage to get to the other side.”

Ebonheart stomped once upon the ground. “Then we had best be about it. These smugglers, at least, are more intelligent than the ones who opened the portal in Magika, since they put theirs well outside the city.”

That much was the truth. It would take us a couple hours to reach the cave where the portal lay. The merchant had given us directions, as well as the passwords and a letter of recommendation, but it was not a direct line path from the city. Looking by the map, it would take us almost three hours to get there. We could fly, but that was rather the opposite of discretion, if we wished to take the twins’ wagon with us. Which we did, since it was holding all our trade goods.

With that thought in mind, we mounted up, and began the trek.

(Elsewhere)

A man sat upon an iron throne, deep in thought. He was a beautiful man to behold, as befit a god. Shirtless above the waist, he let his raven hair go wild behind him, as his oiled muscles glistened in the sunlight. Wine and grapes were provided to him by loyal servants, all of them equally pleasing to the eye, though lesser in grandeur than he was. But how could anything not already divine compare to a god?

He was known by many names in the heavens and the mortal realms. Many names, for many deeds. Loyalty and Fury were his bywords, as he passed judgement upon those who erred from the proper path. Some called him the True Deity, a name that suited his fancy quite nicely. But the name he answered to most was Torm.

A trumpet archon entered his great hall, and knelt before him. His body was honed like iron, but the perfection was marred by the scar that ran across his face, where his right eye had been taken from him. It was an imperfection that made the whole more perfect, more real, than the ethereal ruggedness of most of that ilk. Not that he would ever admit to jealousy over such a thing. A deity should be perfect at all times, after all.

“Report.”

“The mortal realms are abuzz with the news that two parts of the prophecy have already come to pass. The white wyrm of the Aurilsblood has forced a marriage between himself and a mortal, throwing that region into chaos as monsters run rampant. Signs point to the Frostmaiden instigating that matter.”

That was not unaccounted for. The prophecies had come down from the Absolute Overlord, who had gleaned the information from places only he knew. Perhaps they had been carved on the Tablets of Fate themselves?

Whatever the case, every god was moving to try and secure their positions, or to bring about the prophecy in ways that would benefit them. No one wanted to be caught slacking, not after the last time. If the Great Troubles were to return, everyone wished to be prepared.

“Very well. We shall send some of Our clergy to the Emirate, and see if they cannot inspire the people to cleanse the corruption that allowed such a thing to come to pass. What of the other prophecy?”

“The elven kingdom of Silverwood has fallen into chaos, and barely hangs on. One of the old queen’s sisters fell to the worship of Graz’zt, and, through manipulation and corruption, condemned much of the populace’s souls to the demon lord’s clutches. The elven pantheons are in a rage, and the new queen is purging all the unclean from the Silverwood.”

The messenger trailed off, hesitant. “What is it?”

“The new Queen did not have the strength to reclaim her throne alone, and so sought outside help. A group of adventurers following evil gods known as the Sable Wing aided her. They number a kobold, two sisters who follow the succubus queen, and a Twice-born follower of the Frostmaiden.”

He frowned as he listened to the archon’s report. “The Twice-born of Auril? Has there been another?”

“No, my lord.” The archon paused, now visibly trying to control himself. “It is the same one who descended now eighteen years ago, and set about causing trouble in the frozen north and in the Moonwood.”

“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “You and some of your mortal children tracked them down, and you failed to slay her, losing all your children and your eye in the process. You came to me after Tyr made it so the scars you gained in the battle were made permanent, in reminder of your failure.”

The archon grit his teeth. “It is as you say, my lord.”

“Then We will give you a chance at redemption. Where is this Sable Wing now?”

“They left Silverwood for Thedra, my lord. They were open about their intent to seal the rift there, and end your Judgement of the mortal plane.”

“Then, they will seek away into Our domain, for it is here that the portal is made permanent, and held open. You will seek them out, and defeat them. Do this, and I shall restore what was stolen from you. Fail me, and you need not worry about the loss of an eye.”

The archon smiled with the eyes of a hunter seeking prey. “As you command, my lord!”