Victor of Tucson

Drobna laughed—an exhausted, wheezing laugh, but a laugh all the same—and fell to the sand, rocking side to side on his leathery shell as he clutched his sore shoulder. “Old gods, Victor! I’ve had enough!”

Victor grinned and leaned against his spear, the butt firmly planted in the practice ring sand. It was a bright, sunny morning, made brighter still by the glowing orb of inspiration-attuned Energy that hung over their heads. He watched Droba lying there, rocking side to side, using his “inner eye” to observe the rage fleeing the man’s pathways and retreating toward his Core. Drobna had been berserk during their last match—Victor hadn’t.

It said a lot that he could beat the warrior, enraged as he’d been, even though he’d only used his inspiration-based spells and a spear. It was a matter of toughness, he supposed. Add to that his uncanny ability to heal and his potent secondary abilities like Sovereign Will, and he was just too much for a guy with nothing but brute force going for him. Drobna was tough and had a great attitude, but Victor had learned the secret to beating him was simply to outlast his rage, and, surprisingly, the spear made that even easier. It was an excellent weapon for creating distance between himself and his foe.

He stepped forward and held out a hand, hauling Drobna to his feet. “I take it you haven’t broken through with your Berserk yet?”

“Nah. Still advanced.” Drobna bent to brush the sand off his legs. He looked toward the edge of the ring. “Lesh? Up for a rematch?”

Lesh was seated on the ground, Belagog, his massive cudgel resting on his shoulder. “Thanks, Drob, but I’m eager to head to my cultivation garden. I’m close to a breakthrough of my own.”

Drobna looked at Victor with his smooth brows arched. Victor shook his head. “I’ve too much to do today. When’s your next day on the schedule?”

“Five days hence,” Drobna sighed. “These sparring matches are wonderful! I wish I could come every day.”

“Well…” Victor looked at Lesh, frowning for a moment as he contemplated. “Why don’t you get the names of the other people on the schedule? I think Valeska’s coming tomorrow—check with her; if you two want to spar when Lesh and I are done, I don’t mind you using this space.”

“Ah, thanks, Victor, but it’s just not the same without your inspiration Energy thick in the air like this. My time between sessions is better spent in a dungeon or cultivating.”

“All right.” Victor shrugged. “I’ll be gone in a couple of months, though. Might be good for you to make some connections. Lesh will be wanting to do some dungeons, and I bet between you two and the other folks we’ve been sparring with, you could build a solid team.”

Lesh grunted his agreement. “I’ll write up some plans, Drobna. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you.”

Drobna nodded, and that conversation marked the end of their sparring for the day. Victor, still leaning on his spear, watched him leave. The spear was one of the better-made mundane ones he’d taken from Karnice in Coloss. He had a few very nice spears but had yet to pick his favorite. The terror-attuned spear was potent, but it didn’t have the proper heft for Victor’s robust frame. A couple of others, though, like the fourteen-foot one he currently held, must have seemed enormous to Karnice. Still, he had the mind to trade it and some others for a spear made for a giant like himself—something heavy and long and with an oversized, nigh-indestructible blade that he could use in situations where Lifedrinker wasn’t ideal.

As Drobna turned the corner and his footsteps faded with distance, Lesh asked, “You’re disappointed?”

Victor frowned in puzzlement, turning his gaze back to the darkly scaled, hulking figure. “About?”

“Drobna. I can tell you’d hoped to learn more about your Berserk, but it seems you are the one doing the teaching.”

“My abuelita always said, ‘The best way to learn is to teach what you know.’ It’s funny because she didn’t say it to me; she said it to my older cousins who didn’t want to let me play football in the street or join them playing other games.” Victor barked a short, loud laugh. “Even video games!”

“It seems you’ve taken her lesson to heart, however it was initially intended.” Lesh stood with a grunt. “To the garden?”

Victor thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Dar gave me the afternoon off, and I just thought of another thing I want to do in town. I think I’ll skip cultivation today. I’d ask you to come, but I know you’re close to breaking through to improved…” Victor left the statement hanging, giving Lesh the chance to object. The dragonkin didn’t, however.

“Yes, I’d prefer to stay here. Thank you, though.” He frowned—a fearsome expression on his fang-lined snout. “Speaking of staying here, have you had word from Lam and the others?”

Victor nodded, stepping closer to his friend. “I heard from Edeya last night. She said they’re having a lot of fun. The dungeon they’re in is enormous. It’s set up like a perpetual war between two factions—pirates and a beleaguered city-state. The city provides missions, and the party in the dungeon has to carry them out. They have a week-long access window, but inside the dungeon, there’s some time dilation—to Edeya, they’ve already been inside for two months.”

Lesh’s eyes bulged. “I should seek such a place!”

Victor laughed. “Yeah, I think there are a few dungeons with dilations that severe, but they’re hard to get into. Trin’s connections made this one happen for them. I bet if you build a team with some of the folks we’ve been sparring with, you’ll have the clout you need to swing something like that.”

“Yes!” Lesh nodded enthusiastically. “Dovalion is something of a local hero, and Valeska was once teamed with Arona—everyone in Sojourn knows her name.”

Victor clapped Lesh on the shoulder. “Exactly, my friend. You’re going to do well here while I’m gone. I’ll see you this evening, yeah?”

“Indeed. I hope I’ll have good news for you.” Lesh thumped his chest, indicating his Breath Core. Victor nodded, gave his shoulder another punch, then walked up the path leading to the house. When he reached the front door, he looked at the servant standing there and smiled. “Hey, Wensa, can you let Mr. Qwor know I’ll need him and the coach in about twenty minutes? I’m heading into the city.”

“Yes, sir!” Before he could reiterate that it wasn’t urgent, the girl sprinted down the path toward the coach house.

“Thanks!” he called after her, chuckling as he pulled the door open, intent on taking a quick shower before leaving. Just about fifteen minutes later, after washing the blood and sweat from his hair and body, he was back outside, striding toward the coach where Mr. Qwor stood, ready to open the door.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“Into the city, sir?”

“Yeah. We’ll head to the Council Spire first; I have business with the City Stone.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Qwor opened the door, and Victor hopped inside, grateful to Dar for having giant-sized things. He slid into one of the plush leather seats and watched out the window. As soon as the coach was airborne and streaming away from the lake house, he pulled the heavy, silver-runed, black bone from his storage ring and held it in his hand. “Arona?”

With a shiver of cold air that seemed to blow from nowhere and everywhere, a luminescent blue apparition took shape in the coach with him. Looking much as he remembered her in life, Arona stood before him, her small, black-booted feet failing to make any impression on the plush carpeting. “The ether feels…the same. We’re still on Sojourn?” Despite the lack of flesh, her voice was as raspy as ever.

“Yeah. Still a couple of months before we leave. Lesh mentioned you earlier while we were sparring, and it got me thinking about you. I figured it would be safe to talk to you while flying through the air; we’re not in any lord’s domain, right?”

She nodded. “Certainly not any undead lords.”

“So? Are you doing all right?”

“I am. My phylactery is spacious and contains many of my favorite things, as I told you before. I’ve been studying and reading for pleasure. I listen to music and while away the hours dabbling with my spell patterns.” She tried to rest her ghostly hand on his knee, but it passed through, failing to do anything but give Victor a slight, chilly sensation. “And you? Are you faring well?”

“Yeah. I’m learning a lot from Dar. I haven’t told you much about where we’re going or what I’ll be doing. Aren’t you curious?”

“Of course! But our time was short while I stood whispering to you in Dar’s garden. It’s a miracle he didn’t sus us out!”

Victor smiled crookedly. “I dunno. Dar’s oddly respectful of privacy for an old master.” He pointed to the seat to his left. “Can you sit? I might as well tell you a little about what’s coming. We have a half hour or so before we get to the city.”

Arona looked at the plush couch and shrugged. “I can’t feel discomfort, but if it will make you more comfortable…” She floated over to the seat and sat down, though the leather didn’t move, and it seemed she was floating slightly above it.

“So, Dar’s got some extended family he left behind on a world called Ruhn. His granddaughter is a queen there, and…” Victor tried to abbreviate the situation as much as possible, hoping to leave room to talk to Arona about other things before they reached the city. As he wrapped up the tale with Dar’s explanation of “Gloria’s” besieging neighbors, she nodded and gently tapped her chin.

“It seems you’ll be well-situated to request meetings with high-ranking individuals in Kynna’s court. I would think you might be able to meet with a Death Caster without raising any suspicions.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. There’s something else I haven’t told you, something I can do.”

Arona’s dark, angular brows shot up on her ghostly forehead. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I had a friend, back on Fanwath, who picked up an artifact that ‘granted’ her a death-attuned Core. It’s a long story, but she ended up getting infected—possessed, really—by a Death Caster without a body. I chased him out of her with my spirit-attuned Energy, and, in the process, I gave her a spirit affinity. Since then, she’s been cultivating spirit Energy and slowly altering her Core, minimizing the death-attuned Energy and—"

“Could you do this for me?” Arona leaned forward, her dark eyes wide and intense, glimmering with the strange inner light of her spirit form.

“That’s what I’m wondering. I wonder if it would be a mistake to have a Death Caster help you. Maybe there’s another way to get you a, uh, body.”

“There are…” Arona’s eyes grew distant as she contemplated things. “Some Death Casters have created vessels out of magical materials—golems or constructs. Even so, they maintained their Death Core, which was likely due to how they created their vessel. Some treasures can be used to form a Core in such a vessel, and I’m sure the materials impact the type. If I were to do as I originally planned and have a Death Caster prepare a dead body for me, then my spiritual essence would dictate the Core’s type and strength; it would be just like the one from my former body. This is all beside the point you made, though—there may be a way for you to help me, regardless of the type of vessel.”

Victor nodded. “I’d like to do that for you. I know you aren’t happy being a Death Caster.”

“You’ve given me much to think about, Victor! With the resources you may have available to you on Ruhn, and with the knowledge that you seem to be able to impart spirit-attuned Energy…Yes, much to think about and research!” Her excitement was evident; her tone had lightened, her eyes shone, and she leaned forward with an intensity to her gaze that Victor wasn’t used to. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. I mean, I know you wanted to get away from Ve—”

“Don’t say it!” Arona reached as though to put a hand over his mouth, but he only felt a waft of cold air.

“Right. Anyway, I know you want to get away from him, but I think you’ll be even safer if you somehow figure out how to not be a Death Caster, you know?”

“Yes! I agree wholeheartedly!” She glanced at the bone, still clutched in Victor’s hand. “I’ll return to my phylactery and study. Perhaps I’ll have some ideas when next we speak.”

“Wait!” Victor’s exclamation halted her sudden attempt to dissolve back into formless ghostly energy. Her features solidified again, and she looked at him questioningly. “Should I buy any books on the subject? Is there any way I can get them to you in the phylactery?”

Her smile was bright, something he’d never seen from her in life, as she shook her head. “Thank you for the kind offer, Victor, but only I can send things into my phylactery and only when I’m in a corporeal vessel. I’m afraid I’m stuck with what I have for now.”

“All right. One more question: I told you what Dar said about Kynna and—” Victor chuckled at himself and ran his fingers through his hair, a little embarrassed. “Well, do you have any idea what kind of gift I should get her?”

Arona’s ghostly lips continued to smile as she regarded his words. “A queen? Whom you’ve never met? I don’t envy you. Perhaps a piece of jewelry—no!” She shook her head, chuckling. “She’s a ruler at war. I think, as a gift, you should present a weapon and swear to use it in her defense.”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up as the idea hit home and set off a lightbulb in his brain. “So, my, uh, service is the real gift?”

“Yes. Though, she may consider the weapon as the material representation of the gift, so I’d not offer her your lovely axe, just in case she wants to keep it for sentimental value someday.”

“Nah, this is perfect—I planned to get a new spear anyway. Thank you, Arona!”

“You’re welcome, Victor. Anything else?” The edges of her spectral form began to blur as they faded to a ghostly, blue haze.

“No—talk to you soon, I hope.”

“Soon…” The word hung in the air as she faded to mist and streamed back into her phylactery.

Victor moved to the other side of the coach compartment and slid open the window between himself and Mr. Qwor. “Do you know of a weaponsmith who might specialize in spears?”

“I may know someone like that. Allow me to consult the guidebook while you’re in the Council Spire, and I’ll have a destination for you.”

“Perfect.” Victor slid the panel closed and sat down, still smiling at the idea. He was killing two birds with one stone—a decent spear, fit for a titan, and a gift for Kynna all in one. “She’s pretty smart, wouldn’t you say?” he asked the empty coach. Catching himself talking to the air like that made him feel very alone. He wished Lifedrinker wasn’t so unwieldy that he had to keep her in a storage container. He took her out at night and spoke to her often before he slept, but it wasn’t quite the same as it once had been. He was tempted to bring her out inside the coach, but she was large and incredibly heavy, and her blade was as sharp as a shard of obsidian glass—he didn’t want to slice one of Dar’s lovely leather seats in half.

Perhaps because he was feeling so alone, he brought out the Farscribe book he shared with Olivia, his distant cousin—possibly from another timeline or universe—and opened it to the most recent message she’d sent him just the day before:

Victor,

I recently traveled to Rellia’s budding city in the Free Marches—Seaside. While there, I was regaled by tales of your adventures in the city of Sojourn. I’m jealous! It seems that the people of Fanwath have, indeed, been intentionally kept ignorant of the greater universe around us. Of course, the Ridonne are to blame for that, though my investigations into similar matters have led me down strange paths that indicate that some of the blame is on the System, itself. It seems that when a new “System” world is formed, it makes certain demands on the ruling factions. I don’t hold the Ridonne blameless—regardless of the System’s demands, they took things too far. Still, it’s an interesting topic to my mind, and I would enjoy learning more. The travel cost to Sojourn is steep, and I have many demands on my time here, but I intend to make the journey sooner rather than later. I wonder: will I see you there?

I look forward to hearing from you,

Olivia

Victor thought for a moment, then with a shrug, he took one of his favorite pens and began to scrawl out a neat reply:

Hey Olivia – Things are good here, and I’d love to show you around, but my mentor, a very powerful and influential man here, is sending me on some pretty important business soon. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not trying to sound like a big shot. It’s just that Dar has some family who are in trouble; their kingdom is under attack, and he thinks it will be a good learning experience if I help his granddaughter kick a little ass around that place for a while.

Anyway, I have a lot of friends and connections here, and I’ll give you their names. Shit, I’ll leave a letter of introduction for you at Dar’s place. Any coach for hire in the city will know how to get you there. If you’re hurting for money, I can leave you some funds, too—enough to purchase some books or buy you access to one of the better libraries. Just let me know.

I’m not sure what level you are now, but be careful while you’re here. There are people on Sojourn who could flatten you with a thought. Don’t worry too much—laws here prevent the powerful from squishing us mere mortals. You’ll love it, by the way; there are tons of opportunities for growth for “iron rankers.” That’s what you are, by the way—everyone under level 100 is called that. Shit! I just thought of something: Lam, Edeya, and Darren—hah! Remember him from First Landing?—are all closing in on level 20. They might be over that by now, in fact. If you’re not too much higher than them—I’d say under level 40—you might have a good time adventuring with them in the dungeons around the city.

I’ll write you again with more instructions about how to get in touch with everyone. Stay safe!

Your cousin, Victor

Victor was smiling hugely by the time he put the pen down. It was nice to remember the people he cared about were still there, even though he was alone at the moment. He figured it would be even more important to remember that when he was on Ruhn, separated by billions or trillions of miles from all those people. As he stowed the Farscribe book away, the coach set down, and he heard Mr. Qwor climbing out of his compartment to open the door. Victor climbed out with a heavy sigh, looking up the steps to the massive, crystalline heights of the Council Spire. “Time to get some shit done. See you in a few minutes, Mr. Qwor.”