Victor of Tucson

Victor wasn’t sure what time he and Valla finally fell asleep. If the soldiers returned, they didn’t bother him, and when he slept, Valla’s soft hair tickling his nose, sharing the same pillow, he’d really slept, deep and untroubled. When he woke, Valla was awake, but she was sitting in bed beside him, writing in one of her Farscribe books. She smiled at him, raising one feathery, seafoam eyebrow. “Must have been tired.”

“Well, I had a big day. Had to slay a monster, and before that, I fought a whole army . . .”

“A monster? Slay?” She reached out and snatched his ear between her thumb and forefinger, giving it a tweak.

“Just a euphemism,” he laughed.

She smiled and let go. “You have a good vocabulary when you want to. It seems to me that sometimes you curse and roar just because you think it’s what we expect of you.”

“Is this you trying to change me? Is it happening already?” Victor grinned, his white teeth bared as he shifted to look at her better, a mischievous arch to his eyebrow.

“Oh no.” She held up a hand. “Don’t start, not this morning. Rellia and Borrius are on their way, Lam too.”

Victor groaned, shifted to his back, and arched into his pillow, stretching his spine and sucking in a deep yawn. “I figured it was too much to hope we’d have more than a night to forget about this campaign.” When he turned back to Valla, he let his mouth get away from him, “I like that you’re cool hanging out naked with the lights on.”

Valla was sitting up, pillows piled behind her, and she looked down at her breasts, then narrowed her eyes at Victor. “You expect me to get dressed while in bed?”

“Would they?” Again, that eyebrow shot up. “Know the sleeping habits of many women, do you?”

“Uh, no . . .”

“Just how many women have you spent time with? In bed?”

“Oh, wow!” Victor looked at his wrist. “Sheesh! Look at the time! I promised Kethelket some sparring, and I should probably check in with Sarl.” He shifted his legs to the side of the bed and started to stand up.

“I’m teasing! You don’t have to flee!”

He looked back at her, and as he took in the sight of her there, pale blue skin against white sheets, he silently thanked God and his ancestors for his luck. “Nah, I know you’re messing with me, but we should get out there, don’t you agree? I keep thinking of this campaign like a fight, and one thing I know about fighting—when you’ve got your enemy on his back foot, you should push the attack.”

Valla’s book disappeared into one of her rings, and she stood up, nodding. “You want to find the next keep and attack.”

“Exactamente.” Victor started pulling clean clothes out of his ring and dressing. When he looked up, he saw Valla was also dressed and already shrugging into her scale armor. “That was fast.”

“As you said, there’s much to do.” She smiled then, scales clinking, stepped over to him, and pointed her face up. Victor didn’t need an invitation; he kissed her softly, and she pulled away. “Come, let’s check on Edeya.”

“Right!” They stopped by the kitchen for a glass of cold water, magically dispensed from a dimensional container that held a massive reservoir. The container was built into the ground beneath the basement level, and next to it was an identical one holding hot water. Victor had learned of these little features after purchasing the home, and sometimes, he wondered what other little secrets the place held. As they drank their water, he perused the cold cabinet, or fridge, as he liked to call it, bothering Borrius to no end. “Nothing great in here unless you want me to cook up some bacon and eggs.”

“I’m in the mood for something sweet, and I have some pastries in my ring from Gelica.”

“Gelica? Those are old as hell . . .”

“The ring preserves them!” She scowled at him as she produced a woven basket lined with a pale linen cloth and stuffed with frosting-covered pastries. Victor’s mouth began to water as he smelled the warm, sugary dough. “You don’t want one?”

“Yeah, I want one,” Victor grumbled sheepishly.

He was halfway through his second helping when a voice called out from near the front of his home, “Victor! Are you up?” He recognized Lam at once. Only a handful of people had access to enter his home unaccompanied, and she was one.

“In the kitchen,” he called, covering his mouth to keep from spraying bits of pastry. He heard her boots before he saw her, and then she came into view, walking around the long, empty table to the kitchen counter that separated the dining and cooking spaces.

She sat in front of the counter. “Where’s Edeya?”

“In the keep.” Valla leaned forward and pushed the basket of pastries toward her. “She consumed her racial advancement reward yesterday.”

“Really? Here?” Lam delicately plucked a pastry from the basket. “No milk?”

“In the fridge.” Victor’s voice was muffled because he’d stuffed the second half of his pastry into his mouth.

“The fridge? Oh, right.” Lam walked over to the cold cabinet and fished out a bottle of milk.

“We thought she needed to do it; she almost died again in a skirmish on the field, and Victor wanted her to level; she’s nearly thirty.”

“Well, I’m glad someone finally pushed her to it. She’s been dragging her feet long enough. Did she . . . suffer much?”

“From the injury?” Valla asked.

Victor shrugged. “She got beat to hell and knocked out. She didn’t remember much of the fight.”

“And you? You seem different.” Lam glanced Victor up and down, and then her eyes drifted to Valla. “You too. What did I miss?”

“Victor leveled and gained some abilities last night. He, well, didn’t anyone give you a summary of the battle?”

“Not exactly. I heard you beat another army to the east. Caught ‘em between the ninth and the fifth, if I’m guessing, yeah?”

“Sort of.” Victor shrugged.

“Victor held off an army of a thousand reavers—undead heavy fighters with some ability to transform into more deadly monsters. They were close to pouncing on the fifth cohort while they dealt with an army of hounds.”

“More like wolves.” Victor leaned his elbows on the table, watching Lam eat.

“Well, they seemed like boyii hounds, but the size of roladii. I guess they weren’t colorful, and I didn’t see any with more than one tail . . . does that sound like wolves?”

“Yeah . . .” Victor frowned at her. “You’ve never seen a wolf?”

“They don’t come to this part of the world,” Lam interjected, obviously trying to move the side discussion along.

“Anyway, Victor rode his steed down among the reavers and fought them until Sarl could arrive with the Ninth.”

“The Glorious Ninth.” Victor smiled, pleased with the moniker he’d given Sarl’s cohort.

“You fought off a thousand heavy troops?” Lam gave Victor another appraising look.

“I had help from my ancestors and probably would have died anyway if not for the Ninth arriving.”

“That’s a discussion for another time.” Valla frowned at him, and he figured she didn’t like being reminded that he’d been ready to fight to the death. Victor had been trying to downplay his heroics, but he’d gone a while without putting his foot in his mouth, so he just shrugged and picked up another pastry.

“So, you destroyed three armies yesterday?” Lam pulled a stool out from beside the counter and sat down. “I don’t know if I should be annoyed or pleased. On the one hand, I’m glad we’re making headway in this conquest, but on the other . . . I’d like to get some of the action!”

“Victor improved his axe skill to epic!”

“Probably not helping . . .” Victor mumbled as Lam turned wide eyes his way.

“Polo Vosh was decades between advanced and epic if I’m not mistaken . . .”

“Well, he didn’t have an axe like Lifedrinker. I think she’s taught me as much as anyone I’ve trained with.” Victor rested his hand on the warm, gleaming metal of Lifedrinker’s bearded blade.”

“I certainly chose the right man to give that weapon to.”

“You gave him Lifedrinker?” Valla joined Victor, leaning forward over the counter, resting on her elbows, and letting her gaze travel between Lam and Victor. “Why haven’t I heard that story?”

“I never thought . . .”

“The axe wasn’t awake back then. I thought I was giving Victor a decent blade, an old weapon I no longer used. He was the one who woke her up, so I take none of the credit.”

Victor, your she-wolves speak about me?

“That’s right, beautiful.” Victor smiled at the expressions he received from Lam and Valla. “Not you guys! She wanted to know if you were talking about her.” He almost told them what the axe had called them but decided he didn’t feel like having his skin flayed off. He shrugged and turned back to the earlier topic. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I mentioned how much I’ve learned from her. When we get into a really good fight, it’s like she and I move together as one. Like a dance, almost, but bigger. Shit, I can’t think of the right words.”

“Well, if that’s helped you advance so quickly, you are a lucky man.” Lam took a drink of her milk and contemplated the remains of the pastry in her hand.

“I am lucky. No argument from me.” Victor glanced at Valla, and they shared a knowing smile. Then he asked, “Where are Rellia and Borrius?”

“En route. They march with the army. We’re leaving the Shadeni and the reserve cohort Borrius made from surplus troops. All eight cohorts will be here within the hour to join the ninth and the fifth. Talk to me about your losses.”

“Let’s get Sarl in on this; he’ll have more concrete info. Valla and I were . . . out of it last night.”

“Oh?” Lam raised an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes as she looked between the two of them but said no more.

Victor shrugged and led the way out of his house, unwilling to expound on the subject. They were met with a flurry of activity when they stepped into the courtyard. Soldiers were sparring in loose circles, others were cleaning, and still more were carrying items to and fro—sacks, barrels, boards, even furniture. Victor flagged down a passing sergeant. “Where’s Captain Sarl?” Several soldiers passed by in a group, interrupting the man’s answer, and Victor reflected on the fact that the keep was overfull—it was meant to house a force smaller than a single cohort, not two.

“He’s outside the gate, sir.”

“Fetch him, please. We’ll be in the . . . map room on the second floor.” Victor turned away from him and said to Lam, “You gotta see this.” He led the way into the keep, up the spiral stairs, and down the long hallway to the weird round room with its raised dais depicting, in three dimensions, the contested lands of the Untamed Marches.

“Wonderful!” Lam said, walking around it, her dragonfly wings twitching and fluttering with excitement. “So, the unobscured lands are the ones we hold.”

“Right.” Valla pointed to the little model of the keep. “That’s us. Up the road there, that’s the pass. Victor, look!” She pointed to the grassy, hilly area east of the keep. “Wasn’t more of this obscured yesterday? I think we opened up more land when we beat those armies last night.”

“Makes sense.” Victor stepped around the dais and pointed to the foggy area west of the keep. “See those trees there? You can just make them out on the edge of the fog. I think it’s a forest, and I’m betting Hector’s forces have another stronghold in there. If we take it, we’ll have the northern edge of the Marches under our control. Then we can start pushing south.”

He’d just finished speaking when Sarl and Kethelket came into the room. “Legate!” Sarl saluted. “I’m glad you’re well. Quite the heroics you pulled off last night . . .”

“I was stunned, Victor. Sir.” Kethelket, too, saluted. “I was determined to try to fly you out of that melee. I was on my way in when you burst out with those . . . incomparable flames.”

“It’s true.” Valla smiled at Kethelket. “He was on his way into that madness. It was when you paused, your Berserk gone, your banner . . .” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Let’s not dwell on it. Sarl, can you report on the losses for the ninth and fifth cohorts?”

“Of course. The fifth suffered heavy losses at first but rallied and soon took control of their fight with the great wolves—that’s what the Naghelli have been calling them. They lost, in total, a hundred and twelve soldiers. “We fared better. The reavers and vampyrs were demoralized when we smashed into them. Only seventeen losses, sir.”

“The Ninth grow harder and harder,” Kethelket said, grinning at Sarl.

“And what about your troops, Captain?” Victor asked the lanky Naghelli.

“They are ready for action, sir. I wondered if you wanted to put together a scouting force to prepare for the next offensive.”

“I do. We’ll wait for Borrius and Rellia, but I have some ideas. Speaking of . . . sometimes my head is clearer after some exercise. Kethelket, while Lam grills Sarl and Valla, how about we get in some weapon practice?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

“Right.” Victor nodded and turned to the doorway, refusing to look directly at Lam or Valla, fearing the daggers that might be lurking in their eyes. “We’ll be in the courtyard!” He called over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll stop as soon as the other commanders arrive.”

To his surprise, Lam called back, “Thank you, Victor. I’ll try to get up to speed so I can help brief Borrius.”

“Huh. How about that.” Feeling decidedly braver, he turned to get a final look at Valla. She stood tall and serene, arms folded on her glimmering wyrm-scale armor, watching him depart. He saw amusement in her eyes, though, so he winked, then hurried ahead of Kethelket to the stairway, down, and out of the keep.

“You seem well, Lord. My apologies—sir.” Kethelket hurried to walk beside him, and Victor looked over at the man; they weren’t too different in height, with his size reduced as it was.

“I am well, Kethelket. I had the most epic battle of my life last night. I was blessed by my ancestors. I broke through to epic with my axe, and, well, things are just going well for me. Hope I didn’t just jinx things by talking about everything like that . . .”

“Jinx? As in curse? Excuse my bluntness, sir, but that’s nonsense. It’s important to acknowledge our blessings. Welcome them in, share them; in a world of war and despair, good tidings should be welcomed by all.”

“Huh.” Victor eyed the ancient warrior and gave him a nod. The more he spoke to Kethelket, the more he liked the man. He wasn’t what he’d imagined when he’d learned about the Naghelli and when Vellia had told him about the leader of her “faction.” He’d pictured him as old-looking and stodgy, not fierce and eager to engage with the enemy. He led him to a relatively quiet corner of the courtyard, an area behind Victor’s travel home in the rear northwest corner. Standing, facing each other, he asked, “Do you remember a lot about the world, I mean yours, before it was joined to Fanwath?”

“I remember much. What I don’t remember is the joining; the System either made us dream or forget, but one day, we were fighting our own small fights, and the next, we were part of something far greater. It was world-shattering. I mean, personally. Our small wars became large ones. My servitude to Belikot saw me embroiled in a massive conflict with peoples from all four worlds. Oh, how I regretted the bargain I’d struck with that man!”

Victor contemplated his words, unslinging Lifedrinker and limbering up his shoulders. “Are there many like you? I don’t think I’ve met anyone else who was alive before the joining.”

“You’ll find many in Tharcray. There are others around the world, though, if you take the time to look for them.”

“Were the Ridonne from the old worlds?”

“Oh yes. How do you think they gained the upper hand so quickly? The Shadeni and Ardeni outnumbered the civilized peoples from the other worlds by a factor of four. The Ridonne were the strongest among them, other than the Vessi, but they’d been at war for centuries before the joining, and the Vessi were all but gone by the time the System brought us together.”

“The Vessi . . . an Ardeni bloodline, yeah? Supposedly as strong as the Ridonne? Did you ever meet one?”

“Aye, I did, Victor! You’re full of questions today!” Kethelket’s words were friendly, and though his large, strange, black eyes were hard to read, Victor thought he saw kindness in them.

“I’ve wanted to talk more for a while now. I always feel so driven, though, worried about expectations of me. I’m going to start putting a change to that. I need to make time for life while I’m living it, you know?”

“Indeed, but you also have the right intensity when it comes to winning battles; you seem to know when to push an enemy, and you have an instinct for finishing things.”

“A killer’s instinct?” Victor raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a good way to put it.” Kethelket nodded. “Shall we see how you fair against Gevel and Uthac?” He drew his two dark metal blades, and they danced with flickering, swirling blue-yellow Energy.

“They’re both awake?”

“Aye, have been since before the joining.”

“Yeah, let’s dance, but hang on! I was curious—what did the Vessi look like?”

Kethelket let his blades hang down, and he looked up at the sky, somewhere beyond Victor’s head, his eyes going distant. “They were every bit as impressive as the Ridonne, Victor. Where the Ridonne are golden and red, the Vessi were blue and silver.” His voice grew soft with remembered wonder, “Beautiful, fast, taller than other Ardeni, with silver-feathered wings that cut the air so fast I couldn’t begin to follow. My wings are better now than they were then, but I still am no match for their soaring glory . . .”

“Sounds awesome.” Victor grinned and lifted Lifedrinker. “All right, come on!”

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