Victor of Tucson

***Savannah Dores has been rescued from certain death and removed from the dungeon. Eleven entrants remain. Prepare for an Energy infusion.***

Victor glanced at Sora, and she nodded, closing the door behind them. They’d just found what they believed to be a set of stairs leading up to the third dungeon level and were preparing to climb them when the message appeared. It was the second one since they’d left the gargantuopod’s lair, and Victor was sure it would level him. He could feel the tension in his body and Core; it felt like even a hint of Energy would push him over the edge. They were in a round stone chamber with one exit and a spiral staircase leading up to shadowy heights.

Sora sat down with her back to the door, her bow in her lap. “It might be a few minutes; it seems the System tries to wait for battles to halt before throwing the Energy at us.”

“Yeah.” Victor sat down on the steps facing her. “You think we’ll get another chest when we go up?”

“That’s my understanding. Each level awards a chest, and the value of the prizes is supposed to increase as the number of participants dwindles.” She smiled, shrugging. “Should be quite a bit better than the last one. A few people have been knocked out since.”

“Mmhmm.” Victor nodded absently as he stroked Lifedrinker’s haft. She’d been very quiet since the gargantuopod, and he could still see the faint lines of shimmering green Energy in her silvery metal. He didn’t know exactly how it worked, but it seemed like she was slowly digesting what she’d taken.

“Your axe is made of Heart Silver?” Sora’s intonation made a question out of the statement.

“Yeah. Well, she started with just a Heart Silver core, but it's expanded as she’s . . . evolved is the word for it, I guess.”

“A wonderful weapon, to be sure. She must have drained much from the gargantuopod. I’m sure it helped our fire to slay it.” When Victor didn’t respond, not wanting to chatter about his axe or her secrets, Sora tried another topic, “You called yourself a titan, yes? Are there many of your kind on your homeworld?”

Victor looked at her with narrowed eyes. He’d grown leery of strangers trying to dig information out of him. So many unscrupulous people had tried to use knowledge of his abilities against him that he was mistrustful. The problem with his thinking, though, was that the questions felt innocent enough; she could simply be trying to make conversation, perhaps trying to bolster their tenuous alliance.

Rather than answer her, he decided to turn the tables to see how she handled some personal probing. “Hmm, how about you tell me about yourself? On my homeworld, people who look like you are often called elves. Is that right?” He didn’t mention that he’d only seen them in fiction.

“Elves? Well, I have a Fae bloodline and, as a result, have devoured many a text on the subject of the Fae. They have subgroups of people, and yes, I’ve read the terms ‘elf, ‘elfin,’ and even ‘elvish.’ However, my people are called the Ramash, and most don’t share my pointy ears, strange coloring, and large eyes. I hail from a world somewhat distant from Sojourn; I had to traverse another hub to reach this place.”

Victor nodded, more interested than he’d expected to be in her answer. He’d made a lot of assumptions about her—about most of the people in the dungeon. For some reason, he’d held himself apart as though he weren’t benefiting from a wealthy patron like most of the other entrants.

He was starting to see that he often gave himself more credit than he deserved, that he considered his efforts to get where he was somehow out of the norm. In his mind, the other dungeon goers were akin to spoiled rich kids, pampered on an easy world and handed opportunities that he’d had to work for. Had he, though? It sounded like he’d had an easier time getting to Sojourn than Sora. He decided to be more open-minded and to try to learn more about the people he encountered. “How’d you get to know Cam?”

“In another dungeon. We were both signed up for the same time slot, and the coordinators put us together. I still consider him a friend, and I’m dreading the outcome of my betrayal.” She looked down, and Victor saw real emotion in her eyes, real hurt. He’d been so suspicious of her earlier that he hadn’t considered the weight of her actions if she were telling the truth; she’d gone against a friend to keep from betraying Victor’s trust. As he completed the thought, another voice in his head scoffed—she’d betrayed a friend to keep from getting smashed by him. Just because she wasn’t stupid didn’t mean she was loyal to him.

“I don’t know exactly what Cam was going to do, but you made the right choice. I don’t tolerate betrayal well. At least in here, your friend had the Lifesaver, and your attack wasn’t enough to kill him outright. I couldn’t make promises to that effect if I lost myself in rage.”

“So you don’t always have control?”

Again, Sora’s question rubbed Victor the wrong way, as if she was fishing. He glanced up to the air at the center of the spiral stair and saw the two spy stones floating around up there. There was no telling who was listening to their conversation. He was about to change the subject again when, out of nowhere, glittering balls of bright golden Energy slammed into each of their chests. Victor grunted as the euphoria swept over him, and when he came back to his senses, he had a System message waiting for him:

***Congratulations! You have achieved level 64 Herald of the Mountain’s Wrath and gained 12 strength, 17 vitality, and 12 will.***

He waved the message away and looked at Sora. She was staring into space, her eyes moving left to right as though reading something. She did it for a long while, and Victor figured she’d gotten more notifications than a simple level; maybe she’d gained a new skill or spell or some other kind of upgrade. With a grunt, he stood up and slung Lifedrinker back over his shoulder. “Ready to head up?”

Sora shook her head and blinked rapidly, hopping gracefully to her feet. “Aye. If we’re separated again, I’ll wait outside the award chamber.”

“Yep, same here.” Victor turned and started up the stairs. Sure enough, after just a few steps, he found himself stepping into a room almost identical to the one at the end of the first level. The only difference he could perceive was that the chest was made of wood and inlaid with dark, metallic runes. He stepped toward it, looking over his shoulder to ensure he was alone, that the floating spy stone was gone, and that Sora hadn’t been sent to the same award room. The stair leading down was empty and quiet, so he turned back to the chest.

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It was about the same size as the last one, only about twenty inches by twelve and something like ten inches deep. When he reached down to lift the clasp, it made a kind of ringing sound as it rubbed against the metal of the latch, and when Victor lifted the lid, sparkling golden fog billowed out, accompanied by a distinct chime. “Fancy,” he chuckled, waving the haze away so he could see the contents.

When his eyes found his award, Victor frowned and reached in to lift out a pair of sturdy-looking, dark leather boots. As soon as he saw them, he knew they were part of the same set as the gauntlet he’d gotten in the first chest. “Two boots. Does that count as two parts of the set?” To answer his question, Victor channeled a little Energy into the left boot to read what the System had to tell him:

***Boots of Sojourn – these boots count as one item in a set. Collect five pieces of the set and bring them to the Sojourn City Stone to imbue them with curated set bonuses.***

Victor’s scowl deepened as he set the boot down and peered inside the chest again. It was utterly empty. “Seems like bullshit,” he grumbled and sent the pair into his storage bag. He stood up, ready to head out, but then he felt Lifedrinker begin to vibrate on his back, and, with a nerve-grating, elongated crackling sound, he felt a sudden increase in her weight pulling against his harness.

Victor’s mind flew down panic-laced pathways: Had the Energy Lifedrinker absorbed harmed her somehow? Was she trying to tell him something? Had some invisible fiend tried to pull her off his back? With his thoughts whirling, he reached up to grab her haft and found it much more of a handful than before.

Sudden understanding dawned on him, and Victor’s worry turned to excitement as he lifted her free of her harness and pulled her around to grasp in both hands. He lifted her high before his face, staring at her beautiful shape. Lifedrinker’s star-dappled, living wood haft had grown by more than a foot, and her brilliant silver axe head had to have increased its mass by fifty percent. The blade was larger and heavier, with wicked swoops at the ends of the crescent. She glinted with her own inner light, and when Victor held her close to inspect the shimmering glow, he saw that her edge was so fine as to be nearly transparent. “Qué rico, beautiful!”

Pride and satisfaction emanated through her haft into his hands, and Lifedrinker veritably hummed with excitement. Let us hunt! she cried, filling his mind with images of wolves chasing down prey. Victor chuckled and slung her back over his shoulder. Her new size felt right, a good deal more substantial and a more proper fit for his own growth. As he stepped forward to open the door, his disappointing treasure was forgotten in the warm pride he felt for Lifedrinker’s advancement.

#

Darren felt Lam stiffen as the stranger called out his question. When she turned, he stepped back as she slowly lifted her arm from around his shoulders, nudging him and Edeya behind her. “What’s that, stranger? Were you speaking to me?” Lam’s voice was crisp and sharp, her earlier slurring utterly banished by either adrenaline or the strength of her will. Darren peeked around her faintly fluttering dragonfly wings, peering through the cascades of golden Energy motes at the man who’d stopped them.

He was tall and had that palpable vibrancy that spoke of many racial advancements. It was a feeling Darren often felt when near Valla and Victor and, to a lesser extent, Lam and Lesh. Even Edeya felt similar, though the depth of her power was clearly much shallower.

Before he got too sidetracked, wondering about racial advancements, Darren continued his inspection of the man. His skin looked almost golden, and, half-extended behind him, were broad, powerful wings adorned with crimson feathers. The wings tilted forward and hugged his shoulders like a great cloak. He was terribly handsome, with big, golden, almond-shaped eyes, full, pleasant lips that spread in a gentle smile, and feathery red hair that matched his wings.

While Darren felt comforted by the pleasant aspect of the man, he saw Lam bristle, and suddenly a shimmering, silvery warhammer was in her hand. “Ridonne,” she said, veritably spitting the word.

“Ah! I wasn’t mistaken, then! I thought sure those were Ghelli wings, but I wasn’t aware of any Ghelli in Sojourn. Have they changed the access policy in Tharcray?”

“Not likely. We came by other means.” Lam didn’t lower her hammer, and the enormous, sledge-like head began to hum, vibrating the air in discernable waves of force.

“Dear me! I’m not sure what fills you with such angst, dear Ghelli, but I offer no threat. I was simply intrigued by the sight of you and your companion there, and when I walked near, I heard you mention the giant warrior. Curiosity is the only motive for my approach!”

When Lam didn’t respond immediately, and her hammer remained in her hand, he cleared his throat and folded his arms, cocking his head at her. “You’re aware of the laws in Sojourn, yes? I’d hate for us both to get into some trouble if you start swinging that thing. Tell me, why the hostility? I haven’t been home in decades and was hoping for a bit of news.”

His mention of Sojourn’s laws seemed to get through whatever was clouding Lam’s mind, and she slowly inhaled, lowering the hammer but keeping it in her hand. Darren had a good idea why she’d reacted the way she had. He’d heard plenty about the Ridonne and, of course, had heard all about how they’d attacked Victor’s army before he reached the Untamed Marches. If this particular Ridonne had been in Sojourn for decades, though, then surely, she couldn’t hold that against him.

Before Lam could prove Darren right or wrong, Edeya stepped out from behind her and snarled, “We’ve seen what kind of honor to expect from the Ridonne.”

“My, my! I’d hate to bear the brunt of that anger. What makes such a lovely lass spit such venom?” The Ridonne stepped closer, lowering his arms but clasping his hands before him in an unthreatening posture. “My dear, I’ve never seen a Ghelli with your coloring! Such striking shades of azure! Whatever my kin did to you back home, please don’t hold me accountable. Who was it? Ravasha? Trenia? Mordo-dak? I’ve so many ill-mannered kin that I could probably list names all night. Is there aught that I can do to make amends? I’ve so wanted to speak to someone from home without the tedium of checking in with my family! Couldn’t I entice you to a dinner or . . . Oh! I have it! Won’t you come to Warin-dak’s victory ball?”

That took some of the steam out of Edeya, and she looked up at Lam in confusion, waiting to see if she’d made more sense of the tall stranger’s words. “Warin Dak?” Lam asked, obviously trying to dredge through her memory for the name. Darren could see why—the man before them spoke it like everyone should be acquainted with his meaning.

“Oh, ancestors!” The Ridonne chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m so out of practice. My name is Chal-dak, and Warin is my cousin. He’ll likely win in the challenge dungeon, and I’m sure he’ll throw quite a feast.”

“What?” Lam’s eyes opened wide. “There’s a Ridonne in there?” She looked at Edeya, then down at Darren. “I didn’t see one on any of the spy windows . . .”

“Ah! I see the confusion! Warin-dak didn’t awaken the, um, more pleasant side of the bloodline. He’s more bedecked with horns, and his coloring leans more toward crimson and less toward golden. Moreover, he fancies himself a wizard and wears heavy robes with a hooded cowl . . .”

“Oh! The one who killed the three others while they battled those troll things,” Edeya said. Darren knew precisely who she was talking about; they’d watched the battle on the big “viewing window” just before Victor and his two friends began exploring the second level. Three adventurers had been fighting a pack of brutish horned giants with green, pox-ridden flesh when a fourth had arrived, blasting them all with terrible bolts of red Energy. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie to Darren—death beams that melted through flesh and stone alike.

“They didn’t die . . .” Chal-dak began to say, but Lam spoke at the same time.

“Eliminated . . .” She shook her head as they both stopped short, not wanting to speak over each other. When Chal-dak remained silent, she said, “I wouldn’t plan a victory party just yet.”

“Aha! Our conversation comes full circle! Might I enquire again? You know the giant warrior?”

It was Lam’s turn to fold her arms over her chest and smile knowingly at the Ridonne. “I do know him, and though he’d be angry if I spoke much about him to a stranger, I would say he has no love for the Ridonne.”

“Ah! Such a shame. I don’t suppose you’ll expand on the source of his—and your—animosity?”

Again, it was Edeya who spoke up, her voice fierce, her brow narrowed in a scowl. “Should we start with how you and your kind have kept the rest of Fanwath ignorant and subservient, locking away the world travel options for you and yours?”

“Oh? I suppose I can’t be surprised that you don’t know the System’s mandate, handed down when Fanwath was new. As far as I know, it’s not something they teach outside our academy.”

Lam frowned. “Mandate? Academy?”

“You see! There are things for us to talk about! There’s much I could explain. Won’t you come to our party after the challenge dungeon?”

Lam sighed, clearly ready to end the conversation. “I won’t commit to anything, and, as I said, you shouldn’t invest too much in a victory party. In any case, we have other obligations in the near future.”

“Well. I do hope you manage to find the time. Even if Warin-dak fails to secure the top position, we’ll celebrate his homecoming. Here,” he flicked his fingers out, and a glittering, golden card appeared between his pointer and middle finger. He extended it to Lam, “My calling card. Simply feed it a touch of Energy, and you can send me a message. Conversely, I can leave a message for you. I’ll send you the address of our estate in Sojourn and any forthcoming details about the victory—or not—gala.” Darren knew he shouldn’t, but he found himself liking the man. He was smooth and charming despite the hostility Lam and Edeya had been showing him.

Lam took the card, sent it into one of her dimensional containers, and nodded. “We must be moving on. Obligations.”

“It was my pleasure, Lady . . .” He lifted an eyebrow expectantly, obviously hoping to learn Lam’s name.

“Lam.”

“Ah!” He smiled, his eyes glittering with pleasure. “No surname? Well, Lam the Ghelli from Fanwath—I’ll have to be content with that. I do hope to hear from you soon.” With that, he bowed with a flourish, spun on his heel, and strode confidently away, back toward the drinking establishment.

“What a cocky asshole!” Edeya growled.

Lam groaned. “Roots, Edeya! You’ve been around Victor too much.”

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