Victor of Tucson

Victor sat on the supple leather couch, looking through the enormous windows at the park and the city beyond it. Rather than a medieval magical world, he felt like he was looking out at a futuristic New York or Paris—he really had no clue, having never been to a big city on Earth. It was hard not to feel relaxed with that view in the comfort of his hotel room, but he managed. He was tense and annoyed and feeling like everything was too damn complicated.

When he’d gone from Fanwath to the city of Coloss, he’d been irritated to find that people there were generally a lot more powerful than those on Fanwath. He’d been expecting something similar when they traveled to Sojourn, but not on this scale. There were times he’d been talking to people on Fanwath—Borrius, Rellia, even the folks at First Landing—and while he spoke about being prepared and growing in power, he’d often wondered, quietly, why someone truly mighty, someone like Tes but opposite in temperament, wouldn’t come to Fanwath and take the place over. Being here, walking around in the thick Energy, slinking through the shadows cast by the god-like powers up above, he realized that Fanwath wasn’t worth noticing for these people.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Victor looked up to see Valla stepping out of the bedroom. She’d been hanging some clothes in the wardrobe, something he didn’t understand. He was fine keeping his things in his storage ring, but he supposed Valla liked to visualize her outfits. “Hmm?”

“Are you ready to talk about your mood? You’ve been . . . short with people.” She walked closer to the couch, pausing to look out the window while he considered his answer.

“I just hate feeling so small, I guess.”

She looked at him and frowned, making an expression that was half irritated and half sympathetic. “Firstly, love, if that’s truly bothering you, then you need to take a step back and put yourself in everyone else’s shoes. Secondly, that’s not it. You’ve been distant since we beat the invasion, distant with me, and short with everyone else. You have bouts of good humor, but there’s more bothering you, and it’s only going to fester until you confront it.”

“I don’t know what you want to hear. I’m worried about Edeya. I’m stressed having so many dangerous . . . beings, I guess, around us.”

Valla shook her head, sighing, then walked around behind the couch. He could hear her steps as she continued toward the door. “I’m going to get that guidebook thing from Darren. We need to figure out where to ask for help with Edeya.”

“No. Be back soon.” With that, she stepped through the door, and he heard it click shut. Victor felt his irritation start to steep into something more like anger and clenched his fists, sitting there alone, feeling stupid and childish. Something in him wouldn’t allow him to take all the blame, though. Was it his fault he felt stressed? He hadn’t exactly been mean to anyone, had he? Hadn’t he even told Darren to relax and stop sucking up? What was he supposed to do, kiss everyone’s ass? Was Valla right about him being distant since the volcano? Again, what was he supposed to do about that? Forget about all the good people who’d died? Forget about Sarl?

Victor found he was clenching his teeth, his jaw bulging from the pressure, and forced himself to physically relax by taking a deep, slow breath through his nose. He stood and paced before the window. Even at his full, natural size, it took him five steps to traverse its length, and a part of him was impressed with the weird spatial magic that allowed the massive windows on the interior of the building while making them a tenth the size on the exterior. The thought didn’t last long, though, in the storm of emotions raging in his mind. Looking deep, where he hated to gaze, he knew it was more than stress, anger, sadness, or disappointment that was messing with his mind; it was shame.

He'd put on a brave face and accepted everyone’s insistence that it wasn’t his fault that so many had died when Hector had sprung his trap, but what it boiled down to was that he didn’t believe the platitudes. He didn’t believe that Kethelket wasn’t upset with him, not after losing nearly a third of all his people. When he’d joined the campaign, he’d brought more than three hundred Naghelli. Now, he was settling the lands they’d earned with something like a hundred and eighty. Even if Victor put that aside, how could he ever be okay knowing that more than seven hundred members of the ninth and the reserve cohort had died in that attack?

People said things like, “If not for you, more would have died during the campaign,” but the words didn’t help. To him, Edeya had become the symbol of his failures. She was a constant reminder of what had gone wrong that night, and the sadness lurking in Lam’s eyes only compounded that feeling. Lam put on a brave face and tried to keep hopeful about a solution, but Victor wasn’t so sure. Catalina was cruel, sadistic even, and he didn’t doubt that the part of Edeya she’d taken wasn’t being treated well. He wasn’t sure what a Death Caster would do with someone’s spirit, but he knew it wouldn’t be pretty. Even if they made her whole again, would she ever be the same?

His stewing was interrupted when the door opened, and Valla walked in carrying the glass tablet. She held it aloft and said, “A different person was working at the desk, a strange metallic being with four arms. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman or something else. Anyway, they were very kind, and when they heard me speaking to Lesh and Darren, they offered to send a runner back to the World Hall, as they called the place where we arrived, and fetch us another one of these. Lesh paid for it and said he’d wait for the replacement.”

“That’s cool.” Victor sighed, shaking his head. “Listen, I know I’m not a great communicator. I don’t know how to voice all the shit going on in my head, but I want you to know I’m sorry if I’m making you miserable.”

Valla, too, sighed, and she walked toward him, pulling her wings close with an almost metallic rustle. “Come here.” She opened her arms, but Victor didn’t move. He wasn’t feeling right, and receiving more comfort or kindness from someone wasn’t what he was looking for; it wasn’t what he deserved. That didn’t deter Valla, though, and she continued toward him. When she stepped around the couch into the bright sun shining through the window, the light in her eyes was mesmerizing, and Victor almost didn’t realize it when she took his hands in hers, looking up at him. “I noticed you’re not reducing your size here.”

“I . . .”

“You want to put more distance between yourself and us.” She didn’t ask; it was clear she thought she was right, and she might be. It was easier to stand high above Lam and Edeya. It was easier to avoid looking into people’s eyes. “I know the source of your pain, and I know people have tried words to make you feel differently. Maybe you should try some words. Put to voice what’s haunting you.”

“What’s haunting me? A thousand ghosts!” Victor snapped, jerking free of her grasp and turning back to the window. “A thousand people who died because I was a prideful idiot. Because I let that . . .” He trailed off, not wanting to start throwing out curses and invectives he might come to regret.

“You let her play upon your pride? You took some bait and, with every good intention, attempted something perilous? How many others could say the same? How many of us wouldn’t put ourselves at risk if we thought it would save the lives of others? You made a bad decision, but you made it for the right reasons.”

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“Valla! The Naghelli are practically gone!”

“Would it be better if you’d never killed Belikot? Would they be better off?

Victor turned to the glass, refusing to meet her gaze, and pressed his forehead against the cool surface. “So, if I do something good, it excuses hundreds of deaths?”

“Get over yourself, Victor!” Valla snapped, apparently tired of coddling him. When he turned, eyes wide, surprised at the outburst, she continued, “How are you so certain no one would have died if you’d been there? Most of the deaths occurred when Hector descended with that bone dragon! What if you’d run off like me and Kethelket, pursuing and slaughtering the ghouls? He still would have landed on that wall. He still would have run amok among the troops while you fought your way to him. Should Kethelket and I carry the burden of those deaths because we didn’t stand back with the soldiers? Now, tell me, if you’d pursued him up that mountain but hadn’t had the breakthrough you were forced to make while trapped, do you think you would have beaten him so cleanly up in that volcano? Keep in mind that his veil star would have still been there. Keep in mind that the volcano wouldn’t have awakened. Stop moping and grousing about what could have been when you’ve got so much to be thankful for! We won! We destroyed a vast army of undead and drove the invaders from Fanwath, and that was largely due to your heroics!”

“I . . .” Victor stopped, mouth hanging open, unable to formulate a coherent string of words. He’d rarely heard Valla speak so much at once and never with such ferocity. She glared at him for a handful of seconds, then turned and walked to the couch. She sat and began tapping her fingers on the tablet, scowling. Victor turned back to the window, staring out at the crystal city center in the distance, and, for the first time, he appreciated the beauty of it. For the first time, he didn’t think about the beings walking the heights, wondering about their intentions. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voicing his thoughts.

Valla didn’t reply, so he turned to her and watched her eyes scanning the tablet. Her eyebrows were drawn down in a scowl, and he wondered what it must have taken for her to yell at him like that. Had he really been so wrong? He moved over to the couch, casting Alter Self, reducing his size to something more on her level. When he sat, he was sure to leave some space between them. He watched her scanning through the guidebook information, pointedly ignoring him, and after a few minutes, he said, “You’re right.” Her finger paused for a moment, then went back to scrolling through the information. “You know, you’re a lot older than I am. It’s not really my fault that I don’t see things as clearly as you do . . .”

“What?” She whirled on him, dropping the tablet to the carpet. “Did you just say I’m old?”

Victor grinned, leaning back as though taunting her, daring her to do something. “I mean, I’m just stating the facts . . .” She leaped on him, hands going for his throat, her wings spreading wide. Victor laughed and fell back, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her close. Her feigned chokes became caresses, became kisses, and then it was only a matter of time before they were pulling each other’s clothes off and, in the shadow of the glittering, rainbow-lit city, they made love, or, more aptly, had sex—wild, pent-up sex that left them both sweaty and drained and, at least in Victor’s case, much clearer of mind.

Later that afternoon, after they’d cleaned up, Lam came to their suite with Edeya in tow. While she and Valla sat talking, Victor perused the guidebook. It didn’t take long to find a listing of “Sojourn-sanctioned” businesses, and among them, subheadings for practitioners of “spirit” and “portal” magic, among other promising categories. When he saw that, he looked up, tuning in for the first time to the conversation taking place.

“. . . think it’s kind of endearing. He could have become bitter or vengeful, but he’s accepted his failure and chosen to better himself. In fact, I was the one who convinced Victor to bring him.”

“That’s all well and good, but are we sure Lesh is the right one to mentor him? What do we even know about that man’s culture?”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I think I have a lead here. This guidebook has listings for different kinds of businesses and dozens of spirit and portal experts. I figure if someone can’t help Edeya here, maybe someone can help us find a way to get to Dark Ember. Or at least to send me. If I can get my hands on that bi . . .”

“Woah,” Lam said, laughing. The genuine humor in the sound and the light in her eyes reminded Victor of what an idiot he’d been earlier. She might be upset about Edeya, but there was great hope there, enough to let her enjoy the moment. And why shouldn’t she be hopeful? While Edeya had life, there was a chance she’d recover. There was so much in this universe he didn’t understand, so much power he couldn’t fathom. Who was he to decide something was hopeless? Those beings who’d inspired dread in him as he walked beneath those crystal towers were just as worthy of inspiring hope.

“Right. One step at a time. Do you guys want to go see one before it gets dark?”

Valla smiled. “This is a city, Victor. Darkness doesn’t mean businesses close . . .”

“Right, well, dark was the wrong word. I meant late. Businesses do close, you know.”

“I’m up for it,” Lam said, illustrating her words by standing.

When Valla nodded, Victor said, “Let’s pick a place first. I say we should visit a ‘spirit practitioner’ first. It would be good to have another opinion about what’s going on with Edeya, and I wouldn’t mind asking about, shit, I don’t know, an instructor? What do you call it when you want to learn more about your magic?”

“A teacher, or master, or mentor, or . . .” Lam looked like she meant to continue listing synonyms, so Victor held up his hand for mercy, laughing.

“Right, right, you know what I mean. Here are some of the names. He read from the list: Vyrt’s Wonders of the Soul, The Love Loom, Empathy Echoes, Hope’s Horizon, Chamber of Remorse, Harmony’s Haven, Ether Echoes, Celestine’s Crystal Gaze . . .” Victor trailed off, frowning.

“Is that all of them?” Lam prodded.

“No, there’s about forty more, but I was just thinking that these names don’t say a lot. We might as well just pick one, and if they can’t help us, we can ask whoever runs that shop for advice on where to go next.”

“Well, I’m partial to the, uh, hope one,” Valla said, gesturing to her sword, Midnight Hope, leaning in her scabbard against the wall beside Lifedrinker.

“Right.” Victor grinned. “Hope’s Horizon, it is.” He and Valla gathered up their weapons, and then, with Lam holding Edeya’s hand, they walked through the long hallway to the magical stairway. When they approached it, a thought occurred to Victor, “Hey, how does Edeya use the stairs? Don’t you have to think of your destination?”

Lam shrugged. “I just hold her hand, and she moves with me.”

“Well, that’s good. I guess if nothing else worked, I could carry her . . .”

“Not necessary,” Lam laughed.

The map made it easy to navigate the city; it was like having GPS on your phone back on Earth. Victor led the way, but the sidewalks were wide, the denizens of the city were pleasant, and they didn’t encounter any trouble as they made the short walk to the address in the guidebook. Their route took them back toward the city’s center, but they stopped well short of the first crystal tower, finding Hope’s Horizon to be a small shopfront on the side of a large building occupied mainly by a huge bookstore.

“Oh!” Valla said, grabbing Victor’s wrist. “Can we go into the bookstore when we’re done in there?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Victor glanced at Lam, “That all right with you?”

She nodded, smiling at Valla’s excitement. “I love books.”

“Never saw you reading back in the mine . . .”

“Spent a lot of time watching me in my private quarters, did you?” Lam gave his shoulder a bit of a shove.

“See? That’s what happens when I walk around all tiny like this; people think they can shove me around.”

“Tiny?” Lam scoffed. “None of us are tiny.” It was true; even if he reduced his height to be similar to Valla's, the three of them were all seven feet tall or more. Victor shrugged, then approached the business door. The bright yellow sun was dipping toward the horizon, providing a breathtaking sunset that filled the western sky with deep shades of red, magenta, and purple while darkening the rest of the atmosphere, allowing the already visible stars to shine more brightly in the blackness. He’d nearly walked into traffic twice, trying to stare up into that expanse as they traversed the city. With that in mind, he worried they were too late as he pulled on the door handle. It opened easily, putting his fears to rest, and they stepped inside.

Victor found himself in a small, comfortable-looking shop with couches on the right-hand side, a counter on the left, and rows of trinkets and potion bottles on shelves behind it. A man with long, wavy pink hair, massive, pointy gray ears, and golden eyes that reminded Victor of a cat looked up from the counter. His eyes narrowed with interest. “Welcome in. Hurry now, don’t let all the warm air out. Ah, ah, I see a bright spirit Core among you, and . . . what’s this? This poor girl’s spirit is fragmented. Come, come, sit down. Let me have a better look.”

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