Victor of Tucson

Victor was alone in his travel home, sitting on the floor of one of the empty rooms in the basement. He had several tasks to accomplish, and for the first time in a while, he’d told everyone to get on without him. He’d given Kethelket his objective, and the Naghelli prince was working with the alchemists to create fire bombs that would, hopefully, significantly reduce the number of undead lurking in the forest. Valla, Lam, and Sarl were coordinating the defensive preparations in the keep while Edeya kept a close eye on the command book. If Victor planned to get anything done before things started to boil over, now was probably that moment.

“Let’s see what you’ve got to say, old man.” Victor touched the pink gemstone on his bracer and sent some Energy into it. He was used to the weird aspect of the Ancestor Crystal’s realm now, but it still took his attention enough, with its sharp, angular planes and lights, odd refractions and shadows, that when Khul Bach spoke, it startled him.

“I see much has changed since you last visited. That nascent Core in your chest has ignited into a smolder.”

“Hello, sir.” Victor shifted so that he was more directly facing the giant Degh spirit. “Yes, I had a breakthrough with some Energy gifted to me by my Quinametzin ancestor.”

“Excellent! So, you’ve learned to cultivate the Core?”

“I think so. I had to create a pathway opening into my lungs, and when I pull Energy into them, I can harvest it into my breath Core. I haven’t had much time to experiment, but it seems to work.”

“Good! This will increase your power, young titan! Imagine your strength with two powerful Cores to draw upon! I’ve known the great wyrms had a second Core; the learned among the Degh have studied them for millennia, though we never thought we could claim one for ourselves. A shame that you cannot share with us your ability to grow stronger from the consumption of your foes! I wonder if it’s something that can come about naturally. If my kin were taught to consume the hearts of the vanquished . . .”

“I don’t know, Khul Bach. Maybe? I understand my gift and know how it works, but not its origin. If I ever learn more in a vision of my ancestors or through communion with them, I’ll let you know.” Victor didn’t see the harm in the promise—he doubted he’d ever learn the secret of how the Quinametzin got their uncanny ability to gain strength from eating hearts. He didn’t know, but it could be a matter of belief or faith. It could be a matter of DNA. Whatever the reason, the Quinametzin were strong and grew stronger with each enemy they vanquished. The same could be said about any cultivator, but the Quinametzin, with their heart-eating, took it to another level.

“That is good. The more you learn, the stronger you become, the better it will go for my people when you return to Zaafor. Do you come to me for advice or simply to visit?”

“I was wondering if you knew anything about paragons. I, apparently, manifested the Paragon of the Axe recently.” Victor rested his hand on Lifedrinker’s haft while he spoke, and she vibrated eagerly against his flesh.

“Excellent! This is something that many of those who break through to the higher tiers of weapon skill are able to do. Not all, but many. It’s a matter of talent, focus, and will. Not all warriors can exhibit all three, at least not so early as you. In the legendary tier, it becomes more commonplace.”

“Are many on Zaafor at that level?” Victor was surprised by how the giant took the news in stride. He’d fought some talented people on Zaafor and never seen evidence of a paragon. If anyone in Coloss would have been able, he’d have thought it would have been Karnice. Had he? Victor tried to remember the times when Karnice grew annoyed with him in the arena and beat him down. Had he displayed the Paragon of the Spear, and Victor hadn’t noticed? Had he assumed it was some kind of Energy ability? He remembered Karnice manifesting a great red doppelganger that wielded spears in all four arms . . .

“Not many, but enough that the phenomenon is well known.”

“Does it do anything?”

“Hah!” Khul Bach slapped his knee. “Of course! A paragon manifests in a reflection of your spirit. It can make your weapon larger, faster, and sharper. It can mirror your weapon and give you two cutting edges—assuming we’re talking about the axe. I’ve heard stories of an archer manifesting the Paragon of the Arrow, and when she took her shot, nine mirrored arrows would join hers to devastate her target.”

“Where do they come from?”

“The paragons?” Victor nodded, and Khul Bach rubbed his chin. “I believe they’re like spirits, great spirits that move on a different plane. They gather Energy from the dedication and focus of those who practice their craft. When they feel a practitioner reaches a certain level of art, they visit them with boons.”

“You believe?” Victor frowned.

“Aye, young titan. I don’t know. I wasn’t given a secret manual of the universe with all of its secrets laid bare. No, I must learn from experience and make my own hypotheses about such matters. Are my answers not wise enough for you?”

“No, I didn’t mean that . . .”

Khul Bach waved Victor’s objection away. “How goes your conquest of these young, fertile lands?”

“I think well, so far. We caught the invaders with their pants down. We’ve slain a few thousand of their troops, but I’m currently surrounded by a massive army. I’m not too stressed yet, though, because our main force is free and wreaking havoc while my smaller army keeps Hector’s attention.”

“Clever. A stiff thorn in his heel to distract him from the blade coming toward his neck? Is Hector the name of the enemy commander?”

“Yeah.” Victor shook his head. Had it really been since before the Granite Gates that he’d spoken to Khul Bach? “He’s some kind of powerful Death Caster. We’re fighting a lot of undead.”

“Ah. Death Casters are anathema to the living. Be wary of their wiles.”

“I will. Hey, speaking of that, I captured one of his ‘barons,’ and she’s giving me intel. Do you think it’s safe to bargain with her? I mean, all I intend to offer her is her life—I’ll let her flee after we’ve won. In exchange, she’s giving me information about Hector and his armies.”

“So long as you guard your will when you’re with her. Death Casters are dangerous in their own right, but many, for whatever reason, also have an affinity for mind Energy. Still, they suffer from the same primary desire most mortals do—the urge to keep living. If she’ll trade information about this enemy army in exchange for her continued existence, it seems a triumph to me.” He paused and frowned. “I doubt this enemy lord is eager for her to share all of her secrets with you. Be sure to guard her well . . .”

“Shit.” Victor stood, suddenly stressed. How safe was Victoria in that tower? He’d placed three guards to watch her, but were they strong enough to protect her? Victor hadn’t claimed the keep yet—would it even be difficult for some winged assailant to enter that tower? “Thank you, Khul Bach. I think I should check on her.”

“Until we speak again.” Khul Bach’s words faded to a soft echo as Victor severed the connection of Energy to the bracer on his wrist, and the natural world snapped into focus. Despite knowing that he was probably overreacting, Victor stood up and jogged all the way out of his house, into the keep, and up the steps to the tower where Victoria was being held.

He was relieved to see the two Naghelli guards outside the door. “Any problems?”

“No, Lord,” the woman on the left replied, and Victor thought her voice was familiar.

“Have you been on duty here since I first spoke to the prisoner?”

“Aye.” Instead of calling him lord this time, she snapped a salute with her answer.

“Don’t you need a break? Some sleep?”

“Of course, Lord. We take turns resting out here. I hope it’s not against protocol . . .”

“No, only that I think it’s a shitty duty. I could understand it for a short time, but there’s no reason you three should give up your freedom to watch this woman. It could be months before I move her. I’ll mention it to Kethelket and see that you have some guards to switch off with so you can get time to yourselves each day.”

“Thank you, Lord. Going in?” She reached for the key in the door. Victor nodded, and she turned the key, pulling the door open. He braced himself; some small part of him was convinced that Victoria and the guard inside the room had been slain. His fears were unfounded, however. The guard stood by the windows watching Victoria from the side, and she sat with her hands folded in her lap. Victor wondered how uncomfortable she must be after hours and hours in that chair. Did the guards let her walk around to stretch? He stepped into the room, and the inside guard moved out, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Am I mistaken, or do you look relieved, Lord Victor?”

“I . . . had a sudden thought that it wouldn’t be so hard for a talented assassin to reach you here.”

“That may be, but you have not hobbled me. I’m far from defenseless. The guards you’ve placed with me seem quite capable as well.” She smiled, exposing her strange teeth, more fit for an old skull than a youthful woman’s face.

“Well, that’s good. Still, I’m wondering if this is the best place for you. I think my travel home might serve better. It’s, um, a kind of dimensional container. I think it might be harder for Hector or assassins to find you there.”

“An extra-planar dwelling? Yes, Hector would not be able to sense my presence there easily.”

“If I move the home, I’ll have to take you out, but, for now . . .” Victor nodded and called out, “Guards!”

The door crashed open, and the three Naghelli suddenly stood around Victoria with naked swords inches from her flesh. Victor had nearly forgotten how fast they could move with that strange shadow magic they all seemed to share. “Lord?” the slight guard he’d spoken to earlier asked.

“Sorry! Nothing’s wrong, but we need to move her. We’ll hold her in my travel home, but you’ll still guard her, just as before. I’ll lead the way. Follow me, Victoria, and please don’t make eye contact with anyone we pass by.”

“As you say, Lord Victor.” Victoria waited until the Naghelli stepped back and sheathed their shining blades, then she stood and nodded her readiness. Victor turned and led the way back to his home, Victoria right behind him and the Naghelli keeping pace, shadowing them from various angles. They drew many stares from the soldiers in the keep, but Victor didn’t say anything. He figured the sooner they passed by, the sooner the soldiers would get back to their duties.

He knew better than to expect to make it through the courtyard without drawing attention from Valla and Lam, so he wasn’t surprised when they both, leaving Sarl to continue a meeting with his lieutenants, walked toward him from the gatehouse. “You’re taking her somewhere?” Lam asked, frowning, but Valla just folded her arms, waiting for Victor’s response.

“Just into my travel home. I suddenly grew concerned about an assassin. My home is warded and,” Victor glanced at Victoria, “extra-planar. We’ll continue to guard her there.”

“Ah!” Lam nodded, looking up to the top of the round tower where Victoria had previously been held. “Not a bad idea—if Hector has killers who can fly . . .”

“Not only fly but teleport short distances.” Victoria spread her lips in that uncanny smile again. “I can, for instance.” Victor whirled on her, Lifedrinker suddenly in his fist, but she held up a pale hand. “I am not keen on seeing true death anytime soon, Lord. I know you can track me down, so I will not flee. I’ve already promised you as much.”

“Right,” Victor grumbled. “Come on, then.” A few minutes later, Victoria was seated in the same cushioned chair—one of the guards had brought it along in a storage device—in the center of one of the empty rooms in the home’s lower level. “Comfortable?”

“The tower had better lighting . . .”

“Really? Banter already?”

“I’m sorry, Lord.” Victoria looked down, and Victor suddenly felt like a bully. She was undead, probably three or four times his age, likely responsible for all kinds of atrocities back in her world, but she’d been cooperative with him.

“Just remember that we’re not friends, all right? What else do you need? A better light? A bed? You can’t be comfortable in that chair all the time.”

“I have some things in one of my rings that would make this room much more tolerable for me.” She looked up at him with a hopeful expression.

“We’ll go over your belongings a bit later. I have to take care of something first, and, as you know, we’re in the middle of a war. Your things are safe, though, and we’ll do it soon. Understood?”

“Thank you!”

“All right.” Victor turned and stepped outside, holding the door open for one of the guards to take his place. Once he’d closed it, he pointed to another empty room across the hall. “I’ll be in there.”

“As you say, Lord.”

Victor sighed, stepped into the empty room, and was about to close its door when Valla appeared, silently descending from the stairs. He waited so she could step inside with him, then he pulled the door shut. “I was just about to, you know, eat that heart.”

“I’m sorry! I came down because it seemed you’d become distracted with your prisoner, and I was curious what she might be saying. Should I leave?”

“Depends. You want to see me munch down on a raw heart?” Victor chuckled, then moved to the center of the room and sat down in a cross-legged position.

“It’s not something I haven’t seen before.” Valla shrugged and sat down on the bare wooden floor beside the door. “Nothing dangerous will happen?”

“Uh.” Victor frowned, looking at her. Hadn’t he burst into flames when he ate the elder wyrm's heart? When ate the Night Brute Prince's heart, hadn’t the room filled with tendrils of terror-attuned Energy? “That’s not a sure thing. I don’t really know how strong this heart is, compared to . . . other hearts. I think maybe you should wait outside.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” She looked him in the eyes and smiled. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No. It’s not that, Valla. Sometimes, the Energy I’m absorbing does things outside my body. When I ate the wyrm heart, I torched a huge area of the battlefield.”

Valla sighed and stood up. With a scowl of scrutiny, she looked around the room, studying the close walls and low ceiling. “Is this a safe place, then? If you do too much damage in here, you could cause the home to collapse.”

“Shit! Seriously?”

“I think it would take a lot—this home is designed to self-repair, and the material is very strong and dense. The . . . jade; I’ve forgotten the name.”

“Hah, me too. Anyway, I guess I shouldn’t risk it. I’ll go back to the tower where we were holding Victoria. That way, if I explode, it will be above the rest of the keep.” He laughed, but Valla wasn’t smiling. “Do you want to come? I mean, it should be safe to wait a few steps down.” Victor stood up and walked through the door as Valla opened it.

“I think I’ll return to work with Lam and Sarl on the siege preparations. Sorry if I’ve disturbed your plans.”

Victor put an arm over her shoulders—he was in a reduced size—and led her to the stairs. “Not at all, Valla. You might have just saved all of our lives!” He winked at the two Naghelli guards as they walked by.

“Perhaps!” She shook her head, and Victor couldn’t tell if she was amused or dismayed. When they returned to the courtyard, she shrugged out from under his arm and said, “Please be careful, will you?”

“I will.” He leaned down, and she kissed him softly, and then he hurried back into the keep, up the stairs, and into the now-empty room at the top. He closed the door and sat in the center, looking around at the stained-glass windows, admiring the play of colored light on the shiny black stones. “Well, she was right—the lighting in here is a lot better.”

Victor severed the connection to his Shape Self spell, groaning with relief as his full power and potential returned, and his mass rapidly increased. “Right. Let’s see here,” he muttered as he formed the Iron Berserk pattern and cast the spell. His vision tinted red, his muscles and bones filled with roiling, hot Energy, and he expanded again. Victor lifted his arms, a grunt that turned into a roar escaping his throat as he stretched, and his muscles erupted with power. Cords like iron stood out on his forearms and around his neck, and his wyrm-scale shirt grew to its natural size—Tes had crafted it for a true titan.

“Yes!” he grunted, enjoying the surge of power. Victor reached into his storage ring and pulled out the Ridonne Heart. He unfolded the bloody cloth and tossed it aside, feasting his eyes on the still-warm, bloody organ. His mouth began to salivate, and Victor took a bite, ripping a third of the flesh off and chomping on it. The rich, coppery juices sluiced around in his throat, and when he swallowed them, Victor groaned with pleasure. He felt the power of the flesh almost immediately. It was hot and rich and began to roil in his gut as his Quinametzin body and soul began to consume it, the Energy, and, Victor suddenly realized, the shard of spirit still clinging to the heart.

He felt the spirit, the bit of the Ridonne ancestor recoiling, fighting him, and suddenly Victor made another connection—that bastard was still alive somewhere. He growled and took another chomp of the heart, then focused his will on that spirit, squeezing it in his gut, holding tight. “You’re not getting away, pendejo,” he growled, droplets of hot blood running down his chin and onto his chest as he ground the meat of the heart in his mighty molars and swallowed down the chunks. He was reaching up with the last bite when the window before him shimmered brightly and exploded into colorful yellow and orange motes. A moment later, in a burst of crackling red electricity, a black-robed and cowled individual took shape before him.

“Wrong place,” Victor grunted, then stuffed the last bit of the Ridonne's heart into his mouth.

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