Victor of Tucson

Book 9: Chapter 8: Ideas

Drobna laughed—an exhausted, wheezing laugh, but a laugh all the same—and fell to the sand, rocking side to side on his leathery shell as he clutched his sore shoulder. “Old gods, Victor! I’ve had enough!”

Victor grinned and leaned against his spear, the butt firmly planted in the practice ring sand. It was a bright, sunny morning, made brighter still by the glowing orb of inspiration-attuned Energy that hung over their heads. He watched Droba lying there, rocking side to side, using his “inner eye” to observe the rage fleeing the man’s pathways and retreating toward his Core. Drobna had been berserk during their last match—Victor hadn’t.

It said a lot that he could beat the warrior, enraged as he’d been, even though he’d only used his inspiration-based spells and a spear. It was a matter of toughness, he supposed. Add to that his uncanny ability to heal and his potent secondary abilities like Sovereign Will, and he was just too much for a guy with nothing but brute force going for him. Drobna was tough and had a great attitude, but Victor had learned the secret to beating him was simply to outlast his rage, and, surprisingly, the spear made that even easier. It was an excellent weapon for creating distance between himself and his foe.

He stepped forward and held out a hand, hauling Drobna to his feet. “I take it you haven’t broken through with your Berserk yet?”

“Nah. Still advanced.” Drobna bent to brush the sand off his legs. He looked toward the edge of the ring. “Lesh? Up for a rematch?”

Lesh was seated on the ground, Belagog, his massive cudgel resting on his shoulder. “Thanks, Drob, but I’m eager to head to my cultivation garden. I’m close to a breakthrough of my own.”

Drobna looked at Victor with his smooth brows arched. Victor shook his head. “I’ve too much to do today. When’s your next day on the schedule?”

“Five days hence,” Drobna sighed. “These sparring matches are wonderful! I wish I could come every day.”

“Well...” Victor looked at Lesh, frowning for a moment as he contemplated. “Why don’t you get the names of the other people on the schedule? I think Valeska’s coming tomorrow—check with her; if you two want to spar when Lesh and I are done, I don’t mind you using this space.”

“Ah, thanks, Victor, but it’s just not the same without your inspiration Energy thick in the air like this. My time between sessions is better spent in a dungeon or cultivating.”

“All right.” Victor shrugged. “I’ll be gone in a couple of months, though. Might be good for you to make some connections. Lesh will be wanting to do some dungeons, and I bet between you two and the other folks we’ve been sparring with, you could build a solid team.”

Lesh grunted his agreement. “I’ll write up some plans, Drobna. Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you.”

Drobna nodded, and that conversation marked the end of their sparring for the day. Victor, still leaning on his spear, watched him leave. The spear was one of the better-made mundane ones he’d taken from Karnice in Coloss. He had a few very nice spears but had yet to pick his favorite. The terror-attuned spear was potent, but it didn’t have the proper heft for Victor’s robust frame. A couple of others, though, like the fourteen-foot one he currently held, must have seemed enormous to Karnice. Still, he had the mind to trade it and some others for a spear made for a giant like himself—something heavy and long and with an oversized, nigh-indestructible blade that he could use in situations where Lifedrinker wasn’t ideal.

As Drobna turned the corner and his footsteps faded with distance, Lesh asked, “You’re disappointed?”

Victor frowned in puzzlement, turning his gaze back to the darkly scaled, hulking figure. “About?”

“Drobna. I can tell you’d hoped to learn more about your Berserk, but it seems you are the one doing the teaching.”

“My abuelita always said, ‘The best way to learn is to teach what you know.’ It’s funny because she didn’t say it to me; she said it to my older cousins who didn’t want to let me play football in the street or join them playing other games.” Victor barked a short, loud laugh. “Even video games!”

“It seems you’ve taken her lesson to heart, however it was initially intended.” Lesh stood with a grunt. “To the garden?”

Victor thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Dar gave me the afternoon off, and I just thought of another thing I want to do in town. I think I’ll skip cultivation today. I’d ask you to come, but I know you’re close to breaking through to improved...” Victor left the statement hanging, giving Lesh the chance to object. The dragonkin didn’t, however.

“Yes, I’d prefer to stay here. Thank you, though.” He frowned—a fearsome expression on his fang-lined snout. “Speaking of staying here, have you had word from Lam and the others?”

Victor nodded, stepping closer to his friend. “I heard from Edeya last night. She said they’re having a lot of fun. The dungeon they’re in is enormous. It’s set up like a perpetual war between two factions—pirates and a beleaguered city-state. The city provides missions, and the party in the dungeon has to carry them out. They have a week-long access window, but inside the dungeon, there’s some time dilation—to Edeya, they’ve already been inside for two months.”

Lesh’s eyes bulged. “I should seek such a place!”

Victor laughed. “Yeah, I think there are a few dungeons with dilations that severe, but they’re hard to get into. Trin’s connections made this one happen for them. I bet if you build a team with some of the folks we’ve been sparring with, you’ll have the clout you need to swing something like that.”

“Yes!” Lesh nodded enthusiastically. “Dovalion is something of a local hero, and Valeska was once teamed with Arona—everyone in Sojourn knows her name.”

Victor clapped Lesh on the shoulder. “Exactly, my friend. You’re going to do well here while I’m gone. I’ll see you this evening, yeah?”

“Indeed. I hope I’ll have good news for you.” Lesh thumped his chest, indicating his Breath Core. Victor nodded, gave his shoulder another punch, then walked up the path leading to the house. When he reached the front door, he looked at the servant standing there and smiled. “Hey, Wensa, can you let Mr. Qwor know I’ll need him and the coach in about twenty minutes? I’m heading into the city.”

“Yes, sir!” Before he could reiterate that it wasn’t urgent, the girl sprinted down the path toward the coach house.

“Yes! I agree wholeheartedly!” She glanced at the bone, still clutched in Victor’s hand. “I’ll return to my phylactery and study. Perhaps I’ll have some ideas when next we speak.”

“Wait!” Victor’s exclamation halted her sudden attempt to dissolve back into formless ghostly energy. Her features solidified again, and she looked at him questioningly. “Should I buy any books on the subject? Is there any way I can get them to you in the phylactery?”

Her smile was bright, something he’d never seen from her in life, as she shook her head. “Thank you for the kind offer, Victor, but only I can send things into my phylactery and only when I’m in a corporeal vessel. I’m afraid I’m stuck with what I have for now.”

“All right. One more question: I told you what Dar said about Kynna and—” Victor chuckled at himself and ran his fingers through his hair, a little embarrassed. “Well, do you have any idea what kind of gift I should get her?”

Arona’s ghostly lips continued to smile as she regarded his words. “A queen? Whom you’ve never met? I don’t envy you. Perhaps a piece of jewelry—no!” She shook her head, chuckling. “She’s a ruler at war. I think, as a gift, you should present a weapon and swear to use it in her defense.”

Victor’s eyebrows shot up as the idea hit home and set off a lightbulb in his brain. “So, my, uh, service is the real gift?”

“Yes. Though, she may consider the weapon as the material representation of the gift, so I’d not offer her your lovely axe, just in case she wants to keep it for sentimental value someday.”

“Nah, this is perfect—I planned to get a new spear anyway. Thank you, Arona!”

“You’re welcome, Victor. Anything else?” The edges of her spectral form began to blur as they faded to a ghostly, blue haze.

“No—talk to you soon, I hope.”

“Soon...” The word hung in the air as she faded to mist and streamed back into her phylactery.

Victor moved to the other side of the coach compartment and slid open the window between himself and Mr. Qwor. “Do you know of a weaponsmith who might specialize in spears?”

“I may know someone like that. Allow me to consult the guidebook while you’re in the Council Spire, and I’ll have a destination for you.”

“Perfect.” Victor slid the panel closed and sat down, still smiling at the idea. He was killing two birds with one stone—a decent spear, fit for a titan, and a gift for Kynna all in one. “She’s pretty smart, wouldn’t you say?” he asked the empty coach. Catching himself talking to the air like that made him feel very alone. He wished Lifedrinker wasn’t so unwieldy that he had to keep her in a storage container. He took her out at night and spoke to her often before he slept, but it wasn’t quite the same as it once had been. He was tempted to bring her out inside the coach, but she was large and incredibly heavy, and her blade was as sharp as a shard of obsidian glass—he didn’t want to slice one of Dar’s lovely leather seats in half.

Perhaps because he was feeling so alone, he brought out the Farscribe book he shared with Olivia, his distant cousin—possibly from another timeline or universe—and opened it to the most recent message she’d sent him just the day before:

Victor,

I recently traveled to Rellia’s budding city in the Free Marches—Seaside. While there, I was regaled by tales of your adventures in the city of Sojourn. I’m jealous! It seems that the people of Fanwath have, indeed, been intentionally kept ignorant of the greater universe around us. Of course, the Ridonne are to blame for that, though my investigations into similar matters have led me down strange paths that indicate that some of the blame is on the System, itself. It seems that when a new “System” world is formed, it makes certain demands on the ruling factions. I don’t hold the Ridonne blameless—regardless of the System’s demands, they took things too far. Still, it’s an interesting topic to my mind, and I would enjoy learning more. The travel cost to Sojourn is steep, and I have many demands on my time here, but I intend to make the journey sooner rather than later. I wonder: will I see you there?

I look forward to hearing from you,

Olivia

Victor thought for a moment, then with a shrug, he took one of his favorite pens and began to scrawl out a neat reply:

Hey Olivia – Things are good here, and I’d love to show you around, but my mentor, a very powerful and influential man here, is sending me on some pretty important business soon. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not trying to sound like a big shot. It’s just that Dar has some family who are in trouble; their kingdom is under attack, and he thinks it will be a good learning experience if I help his granddaughter kick a little ass around that place for a while.

Anyway, I have a lot of friends and connections here, and I’ll give you their names. Shit, I’ll leave a letter of introduction for you at Dar’s place. Any coach for hire in the city will know how to get you there. If you’re hurting for money, I can leave you some funds, too—enough to purchase some books or buy you access to one of the better libraries. Just let me know.

I’m not sure what level you are now, but be careful while you’re here. There are people on Sojourn who could flatten you with a thought. Don’t worry too much—laws here prevent the powerful from squishing us mere mortals. You’ll love it, by the way; there are tons of opportunities for growth for “iron rankers.” That’s what you are, by the way—everyone under level 100 is called that. Shit! I just thought of something: Lam, Edeya, and Darren—hah! Remember him from First Landing?—are all closing in on level 20. They might be over that by now, in fact. If you’re not too much higher than them—I’d say under level 40—you might have a good time adventuring with them in the dungeons around the city.

I’ll write you again with more instructions about how to get in touch with everyone. Stay safe!

Your cousin, Victor

Victor was smiling hugely by the time he put the pen down. It was nice to remember the people he cared about were still there, even though he was alone at the moment. He figured it would be even more important to remember that when he was on Ruhn, separated by billions or trillions of miles from all those people. As he stowed the Farscribe book away, the coach set down, and he heard Mr. Qwor climbing out of his compartment to open the door. Victor climbed out with a heavy sigh, looking up the steps to the massive, crystalline heights of the Council Spire. “Time to get some shit done. See you in a few minutes, Mr. Qwor.”