Victor of Tucson

42 – Xelhuan

Arona, Kynna, Bryn, and ten members of the Queensguard stood atop the second-tallest tower in Victor’s palace, the “Mountwatch Spire,” named for its unobstructed view of Iron Mountain. They weren’t observing the mountain, however; they were watching the Khalidaysian forces struggling to deal with the perimeter stones that Arona had devised.

There wasn’t a great army arrayed before them. Instead, there appeared to be no more than fifty individuals who’d come to fight. They were fifty monsters, though, each of whom, individually, was probably a match for the entire Queensguard.

At the moment, they were delayed, the sickly malaise of Arona’s death-attuned perimeter wards holding them at bay. Even the handful of Death Casters out there knew better than to push through the field—the stones under the earth would drain them just as readily as those with other affinities. Meanwhile, the cold, lifeless Energy permeating the air made it difficult for the Earth Elementalists to work. They were trying, though; ten high-tier individuals brought to support the Khalidaysian champions were channeling from a safe distance, working to pull the perimeter obelisks out of place.

“It won’t be easy for them,” Arona said, turning to look into Kynna’s smoldering eyes. “We anchored them deeply with amber ore chains fastened to the bedrock. Even so, if they are relentless, eventually, they’ll pull enough stones out of the pattern to disrupt the field.”

“You did well, Arona,” the queen replied. “You’ve bought us precious time. I yet hold out hope that the veil walkers will settle their feud and put an end to this unlawful attack.”

Arona nodded, turning to scan the ramparts, ensuring that none of the queen’s staff had joined them unannounced. When she saw they were still alone, save for the queen’s most loyal guardians, she asked, “And have you considered King Lund’s offer?”

“Of course, I have! I consider it every minute.” Kynna leaned forward, peering past the crenellations to the right so she could see the solitary blue tent set up in the field outside the gates. Resh A’kel had made camp there, refusing Bryn’s offer of accommodations inside the palace. “That champion would be most welcome in the coming fight, let alone the others Bomar has promised. Still, it rankles to be held hostage in such a way. I’ve never liked Bomar Lund, and I like him less for taking advantage like this. No, I’ll hold out a bit longer. Have you any idea how much time we have before they can directly assault us?”

Arona shrugged. “Days? Perhaps a week or, at most, two. Unless the empress sends more Earth Elementalists—perhaps one with a proper metal affinity to deal with the chains. If that were the case, I’d say two days.”

Bryn turned to face the queen as she spoke, her words clipped and formal. “Our champions outnumber theirs nearly ten to one, but they have several individuals whom we cannot match. Most prominent among them is the Imperial Champion, Dro Vah.”

Kynna nodded, muttering, “Dro Vah’lash’rokeen’anam. My spymaster tells me he’s an actual dragon.”

Bryn frowned, perhaps irritated that the queen was asking her for information she already had. She’d never say so, though. Instead, she cleared her throat, nodded, and replied, “None have seen him take on a dragon’s form, My Queen; however, it is rumored that he breathed acid upon two lesser champions from the Imperial stable, killing them outright. It’s said that he was offended by their lack of respect.”

The queen shook her head, sighing. “I understand you two intend to fight with our champions, but I must insist you stay by my side. If our superior numbers fail against the might of their most potent fighters, then you may be my last line of defense.” She gestured toward the field. “Besides, if they breach that formation of yours and begin an assault on our walls, I’ll likely accept Bomar’s offer, and then we can count on Resh A’kel to stand against Dro Vah. Hopefully, my husband-to-be will bring enough other champions into the fray to offset the other elites Khaliday has sent against us.”

“Do you believe Resh can defeat Dro Vah?” Arona asked. She, herself, was doubtful. The truth of the matter was that there were fifty steel seekers out there. Fifty champions, each of whom could likely defeat her in a one-on-one battle. Meanwhile, the queen had some five hundred tier eight and nine iron rankers and only a handful of steel seekers to defend her. If the iron rankers were like Victor, they might have a chance. The odds of that, though, were slim. Arona felt confident she could defend against any of those steel seekers for quite some time, enough to escape or get help, but defeat? No, things weren’t looking good for the queen’s forces.

“I’ve no idea,” the queen replied. “He is respected and feared, but no one knows exactly what Dro Vah can do.”

When they’d begun preparing to resist the Khalidaysian onslaught, everyone had estimated that the Empress had seven or so steel seekers she would send against them. They’d assumed that a few of the great houses would send one or two more to assist them. They might have had a chance if they’d been correct, if only fifteen steel-seeker champions were out there. Fifty, though? Arona knew very well that the queen would have to accept Bomar’s offer if they stood any chance at all.

Nevertheless, she understood Kynna’s reluctance. Things weren’t over yet. The queen’s hope that the veil walkers might end their conflict and come to her aid wasn’t so far-fetched. They’d maintained order for thousands of years, hadn’t they?

Her review of their impossible situation was cut off as Bryn, ever hopeful, pointed to the tall tower standing to their right. “Do you think he’s gone?”

Kynna sighed. “Bryn, must you put salt into the wound? It’s been nearly three months. You said he was on death’s door when he crawled into that vault. Even his gigantic axe is inert, lying dead in that cultivation chamber he built. We must find a way through this without him, and the time draws nigh when we’ll have to see if King Lund will be our path forward. It’s not so much to ask, really. I’ve married a man I didn’t love before. My first husband. Do you remember?”

Bryn shook her head. “It was before I was born, My Queen. I know my history. His name was King Yvan, right?”

“That’s right. They won’t teach you in the history books that my father desperately tried to stop that marriage. He didn’t believe any individual should be sacrificed for the good of the many, even a royal princess. He thought it morally abhorrent. I swore to him, though, that I loved Yvan. I did it to forestall a war with Frostmarch, and it worked, for a time. Unfortunately, Yvan was a coward and a lecherous dog, and he was killed in a duel when I was still very young.”

“Wasn’t it King Vennar of Frostmarch who killed him?” Bryn asked, her voice tentative.

“Indeed.” Kynna clenched her jaw, and Arona felt she was done with the subject. The queen made that clear when she said, “I’ll go and write some missives and spend some time with my journal. You two should do the same. Even if I take Bomar Lund’s offer, I fear it’s likely our days are numbered.”

Arona opened her mouth to try to argue or at least offer some encouraging words, but the queen turned on her heel and strode toward the stairwell without pause or another glance.

When she and her Queensguard and all filed out, Bryn cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Something I said?”

Arona snorted, smiling wryly. “Gallows humor, Bryn? I’m impressed.”

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The one-time Queensguard smiled and put one of her arms over Arona’s shoulders, jostling her gently. “Come now; how many times have you had to bolster my spirits over the last few months? We’ve time yet. If the queen accepts King Lund’s offer, the threat of his champions might force the Empress to negotiate; perhaps she’ll be willing to settle for banishment.”

Arona nodded. “I had the same thought. I’ve enjoyed my time in this world, but if we can all leave with our lives, that might not be so bad. It would be different if…” She trailed off, once again glancing at Victor’s tower. Bryn only nodded, squeezing her more tightly as she followed her gaze.

###

For the thousandth time, Victor painstakingly dragged a great swath of potential-attuned Energy into his pathways, straining and stretching them to near-bursting, then cycling it through, into his unified Core construct. He pressed with his will, watching as the Energy compounded, slowly expanding the limits of his Core, each of his affinities pulsing rapidly, building to a crescendo until it broke through another barrier, becoming more dense and slightly larger.

It was the sixth time he’d broken through to find a new plateau, and, though the Energy in his “spirit space” was growing thin, he knew he’d already pushed his Core to heights he hadn’t imagined. He could feel the heaviness of it, the throbbing power. The first breakthrough had been trivial, but the second had taken him hundreds of cultivation cycles. He knew why: his Core had been at the eighth epic tier when he'd consumed the royal jelly, so the second breakthrough had pushed him beyond epic.

He'd asked Chantico if his Core would be “legendary” now, but she feigned ignorance, saying she didn’t exist within the confines of the System, nor would she ever bow to its categorizations. Her attitude reminded him of Azforath’s, and Victor knew it was useless to press the issue with her.

“Very good, little brother. I believe you’ve taken all you can. This remaining potential is slowly sinking into your being, drawn by the process I started when I first arrived. Your Core is much more potent than when we first began, largely because of how we balanced it, but also because of this unseemly gift those insects gave you. Ivid, you say?”

“That’s right. They use this jelly to make their queens.”

“And their queen is much, much stronger than the rest of the hive, yes?”

Victor nodded. “Yes. When I gazed at her with my inner eye, it was like looking at the sun.”

“Hah! Amazing. Your path is truly blessed, which is something we should discuss before this Energy is fully absorbed by your body and you awaken.”

“My path?”

“Yes. Recall the favor you promised me, little brother. If you follow through, that favor will dictate your path in the near future.”

Victor nodded. He felt so much better than when he’d arrived in that place—not physically; he couldn’t feel his body yet—but mentally. Chantico’s time with him had been invaluable. The help she’d given him to see that he had another affinity, one that could encompass all of the best facets of inspiration and glory while providing a stronger balance against his fear and rage, couldn’t be overstated. If he’d been alone, struggling to figure out what to do with all of the potential-attuned Energy in his spirit space, he might have lingered for centuries before he came to grips with it. He might never have found a solution so elegant as Chantico’s.

He was grateful to her, and a favor to her felt like a gift to himself—something he’d take pleasure in doing. “I won’t back out of my promise.”

She smiled, tilting her forehead forward, acknowledging his words. “I knew you wouldn’t. It’s something I should do myself, but my heart will not allow it. It’s a great shame of mine, something that binds me to this universe. It’s the primary obstacle to my ascension.”

Victor stared into her eyes, giving her his full attention, but he didn’t speak. When she saw that he was waiting for her to continue, she nodded again and said, “I’ve had many children in my long life, Victor—many and many. My first lover and I had five sons and four daughters. This was back when I was a young Quinametzin. I was the pride of my people—a great fighter and hunter, and a leader, too. Over the centuries, those children grew and had their own children. I took other lovers and had more children, too. Still, those first nine sons and daughters of mine hold a special place in my heart.

“One of my first sons, Xelhuan, had an affinity for death magic. He grew very powerful and built a kingdom of darkness in the deep, primal forests of the great continent where we, Quinametzin, first thrived. I won’t bore you with a thousand-year tale, but suffice it to say that his people and his magic clashed with most of the Quinametzin people. He even made war against me and mine, slaying his own father.” Chantico’s voice grew tremulous as she spoke, and thick, glistening tears ran from her eyes. Victor reached out to grasp her hands, holding them like she’d held his during his struggles with his Core.

“When the Energy grew thin on the world of our origin—the world you call Earth—most of the Quinametzin left. Xelhuan remained, ruling over his kingdom of death. He made many followers and gained many allies—other death worshippers who’d stayed to rule over the dark, fear-filled world. When the Energy faded further, nearly entirely gone, they built a great portal and traveled to another, bigger, richer world—one with a docile population which they soon enslaved, adding to the hordes of thralls they brought with them.”

Chantico had said he was connected by fate to the favor she needed, and, with that clue, it was easy to guess where this was going. Frowning, he said, “Dark Ember.”

“Yes, Victor! The Great Masters, as they call themselves, are the death worshippers from my—and your—world. Chief among them is my own son, Xelhuan.”

“You want me to stop him?”

Chantico nodded. “I ask much, I know. He’s stronger than the one you call a mentor—the one who helped you to build your previous Core construct. Still, you’re stronger now, too. Soon, you’ll reach the point where you must hone your spirit and build an archetype for yourself. Perhaps you’re there already after consuming this mighty treasure. I know you’ll do well, Victor. Moreover, I know your new affinity is exactly what Dark Ember needs. Millions wallow there, hopeless. Bring them the light that shines in here!” She pulled her hand from his and pressed it to his chest.

Victor enjoyed her praise but was doubtful he was up to the task. “He’s ancient, though. You’re saying he’s stronger than a powerful veil walker?”

“Veil Walker. I’ve heard this term before. That would be an appropriate title for his rank.” She nodded, contemplating. “He’d be a powerful veil walker.” She kept her hand pressed to his chest as she continued, “The Great Masters each hold sway over vast swathes of land. Kill some lesser masters and build your strength as you free the thralls who live in despair. Like most of his ilk, Xelhuan wallows in his vile experiments, hiding away in his dark lair. He and the other masters have no love for each other. Conquer one, and the others will eventually try to claim those lands, but they won’t come to each other’s aid.”

“They don’t have alliances?”

“No, they have peace agreements that are fragile, at best. They’d just as soon kill each other as help one another against a threat. They’re a loveless, horrible lot, and the sooner they’re brought low and the suffering of their enslaved peoples ends, the better.” She moved her hand back to his, squeezing. “You’ve already sworn to help the people of Dark Ember, Victor. I can see it plainly on your spirit, wrapped deeply with resounding karmic bonds. I offer you another reason to do what you already want.”

“Can I really do it, though? Even if I’m a steel seeker, can I face a veil walker?”

Chantico’s eyes narrowed as he spoke. “Steel seeker, veil walker! You are a titan! You are a Spirit Caster with a powerful hope affinity! If anyone can free that world, it will be you. The fates pulled us together for a reason! Xelhuan is a Quinametzin, true, but he’s forsaken his heritage. He hasn’t tried to find the deeper roots of his bloodline. No, he, instead, performs dark rituals, ever distancing himself from our kind. Stay true to yourself, Victor, and you will prevail against him.”

For the first time, Victor had an inkling of doubt about Chantico’s motivations. It almost felt like she’d guided him toward a hope affinity so that he could better face the challenge of defeating the undead masters on Dark Ember. Was that the case, or was it just as she’d said—fate? Was he destined to go there and face the evil wrought by one of his own ancestors? He decided it didn’t matter. He’d made a promise, and she was right; he had always intended to go there anyway. “I’ll do it.”

“I knew you would, little brother.” Again, tears welled in her eyes, and she looked down, then up again, blinking rapidly. “I feel ashamed.”

“Why?”

“Because I ask so much of you. Because I am to blame for Xelhuan’s existence. Seven times, I stopped others from slaying him—seven times, before he grew powerful enough to dissuade assassins. Those are long tales, though, and our time grows short. Look!” She gestured to the air around them, and Victor saw she was right; the potential was almost gone. Just a few stray wisps remained. “I will await you on the spirit plane. I know you yet have to battle your curse. When that is done and when you’ve finished your business on Ruhn, will you come to me? I can show you the way to Dark Ember.”

Victor could feel something changing in the air. He could feel something changing in himself. Something was pulling, tugging at his consciousness. She was right—he was about to wake up. Hastily, he nodded, leaping to his feet and pulling on her hands. “Let me hug you, big sister! Thank you for your guidance.”

She embraced him, pulling him tight with powerful arms. When they separated, she locked eyes with him again. “It was my pleasure. I know I call you little brother, but somewhere along the line, I am your ancestor, Victor, and I am very, very proud of you. I’m sorry to lay my burden upon you. I hope you know how grateful I am.”

Victor didn’t reply, but he smiled, staring into her depthless amber eyes as the world grew dim, then black, then bright again as he took his first deep breath in months and opened his eyes.