Victor of Tucson

Book 8: Chapter 19: The Pull of Glory

Sometime later, Victor lay on his back, one arm behind his head on the pillow and the other outstretched, cradling Valla. She lay on her side, looking at him, and after several minutes of silence, reached over and began to trace little circles on his chest. Her fingertip felt cool to his hot Quinametzin flesh, and he loved it. While he luxuriated in the attention, Valla softly asked, “You know why I was upset, why I’m still upset, right?”

Victor inhaled deeply through his nose. “I guess ‘cause I was impulsive and didn’t ask you about selling the house.”

“You guess?” The finger stopped moving, pressing into his breastbone.

“No, Valla, I know. I also know that’s not the only thing that got you pissed at me. I shouldn’t have freaked out in the restaurant when I saw you. I shouldn’t have, but,” Victor turned slightly so he could look down into her good eye, “I worry about a lot of things, and I’m not good at explaining what I’m feeling.”

“So try. Just tell me what was going through your mind.” Her finger started moving, gently tracing the outline of his pectoral muscle.

“If I say it, you’re going to think I’m an even bigger asshole. It’s a feeling I’m not proud of.”

“Whatever kind of asshole you are, however big you are,” she chuckled, “I still love you. So?”

Victor’s mind raced, and he wondered if he should be honest. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide his feelings from Valla, but in this case, he honestly thought his feelings made him seem like a prick. “Even if I know my thoughts make me seem, I don’t know, conceited? Full of myself? Insecure?” Valla’s thumb joined her finger, and she squeezed his skin between the two—a clear threat of a wicked, incoming pinch. “Easy! Easy,” he laughed. “Let me gather my thoughts.”

“Just say what you’re feeling. Don’t spend time twisting words to hide the truth!”

“Really? Well, get ready to be pissed again.” Victor took a deep breath, then began letting his thoughts fall out of his mouth in a rush, “When you were telling me how you got hurt, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wished I’d been there, that I could have killed that pinché boss. Of course, that made me think about how you and Lesh were just about my level, so why was I so sure? I am sure, though, which makes me sound like a conceited asshole, but, shit, Valla, I’ve beaten several tier eights and nines at once.”

Valla was quiet, and she released his flesh and started to withdraw her hand, so Victor rushed to try to explain, “It’s not that I was sitting there thinking you guys are weak or anything. I was worrying about how you might not be able to catch up to me. Ever. It’s not just about levels, it’s about . . . shit, I don’t know. My bloodline? My Class? The goddamn freakish synergy of everything that makes me into some kind of monster. What if you get tired of trying? What if you decide it’s not worth it? What if we grow further and further apart? I hated being away from you for just a few days, but honestly, it looks like there’s more time apart than together in our future.”

“Oh, Victor,” Valla sighed, flopping over onto her back with a huff and a faintly metallic rustle of feathers. “Do you think I only want to gain levels and strength to ‘catch up’ to you?” The blunt question drove home the point so clearly that Victor, as usual, felt like an idiot.

“No. I guess not. But, even so, Valla, what about,” he reached out and gently touched the scar on her forehead, just above her bandage, “the rest of it. What about me getting pulled into more and more situations where you’d be at risk if you were with me? What about me, during my downtime, sitting around missing you ‘cause you’re doing your thing?”

“Well, what did Lesh tell you?”

The question seemed to come out of left field, surprising Victor and putting him even more off balance. “Huh?”

“You sat at the table for a while after I walked out. My hearing’s not as good as yours, but I heard your voices. What did you tell him?” Something told Victor she’d heard much more than she was letting on. She’d been sitting right outside the window, after all. Was that why she’d made the peace overture after her nap? Had she heard him stumble upon the truth of his self-centered concern?

“Well, he basically told me that I should be happy for the time I have. I should be happy for what I can grasp and stop trying to control what I can’t.” He sighed. “I don’t remember the exact words.”

“So?” Valla turned toward him again, reaching to gently scrape her nails through the rough, short stubble on his jawline. “Aren’t you happier having grasped this moment?”

“Yeah. Of course. I don’t like feeling like you’re angry or that I’ve messed things up. I just also wish I could count on some stability in our future together—”

“Victor!” She spoke sharply, but her lips and eyes smiled as she leaned closer, pressing her forehead against his. “The only way that will happen is if we both decide we’re content with what we have, if we both stop going out and risking ourselves. We’d have to decide we don’t need more levels, more knowledge, or more strength. We’d have to admit that we’re okay with a huge portion of the population being stronger than us and having power over us. Even if we returned to Fanwath, we’d need to worry about the next threat that might come through a gateway. Could you do that?”

His voice was quiet and a little thick with emotion when he eventually responded, “No.”

Valla smiled and leaned close, kissing him softly. “I have to confess that I was feeling a similar way. It’s why I got upset about the house. For a tiny moment, when we first moved in there, I could picture a life with you, making a home together. I’m not saying we won’t do that. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I think when I realized you sold the house, I recognized the fantasy for what it was. So, let’s do our best. Let’s find ways to improve while spending as much time together as possible. Let’s try not to be irritated with each other and spoil our precious time with fights.”

“All right.” He moved his hand to the side of her face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. “You know, it’s not sold yet. I could tell the realtor to stop trying—”

“No. You made the right decision. A home isn’t the right place to tie up our money right now. Besides, if we want to spend time in a place that’s truly ours, we can visit home.” Victor smiled at the words; having a place to think of as home was nice, and the Free Marches fit nicely. She grasped his hand, halting his gentle exploration of her injury. “Don’t worry about the scar. I’ll consume the racial advancement elixir I earned in the dungeon. If it’s not enough to repair my eye, I’ll use the regeneration tonic I saved.”

“I’m not worried. I don’t give a shit how many scars you have!” Victor growled, his voice gaining some volume and a bit of a rumble. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the universe. Any scars you get only make things a little fairer for the other goddesses out there.”

That brought a giggle burbling out of Valla’s throat, and she bounded atop him, her wings spreading wide. “Did you just call me a goddess?”

“Obviously—” Victor started to say, but then a knock at the door interrupted his further efforts to earn her good favor. “What?” he barked, more harshly than he intended.

A muffled voice came through the door, “Victor, sir, Lord Dar would meet with you. He awaits you in the library.”

“Shit,” Victor sighed. “I hope I’m not in trouble. I wrote in the damn Farscribe book like he asked—”

“Go!” Valla rolled to the side and nimbly off the bed. She padded, barefoot and naked, toward the bathroom. “I’ll be here. I’m going to consume the racial advancement! Check on me later.”

“I will.” Victor sat up on the side of the bed and quickly began pulling on his hastily discarded clothing.

He thought she was gone, out of sight in the bathroom, but after a few seconds, she spoke up from the doorway, her voice very sweet and almost a little plaintive, “I love you, Victor.”

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He jerked his head up to lock eyes with her and immediately replied, “I love you too.” She smiled at that and pulled the door closed, and then Victor finished getting dressed and hurried out.

When he stepped into the brightly lit Library, shielding his eyes from the sun reflecting off the lake shining through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, he found Ranish Dar sitting at one of the study tables, thumbing through a text so thick that it would have put his abuela’s old-school dictionary to shame.

“Thank you for hurrying, Victor. I hope I didn’t interrupt your nap.”

Victor tried to hear sarcasm or wry humor in the man’s deep, grating voice, but the words felt sincere. “No, I was awake.” He strode over to the table and gestured to the empty seat across from Dar. “Should I sit down?”

“Yes, by all means.” Dar closed the thick book with a thud and turned his smoldering eyes toward him, watching Victor take a seat. “You’ve made yourself small again?” He chuckled, clearly finding Victor’s human-sized form in his oversized chair amusing.

“Well, I was with Valla,” Victor mumbled, reaching into his Core to cut the connection to the Alter Self spell. As he surged in size, filling the chair out and putting himself eye to eye with Ranish Dar, he shrugged. “It makes things easier.”

“Yes.” Dar rubbed his stony chin. “No doubt it does.” He leaned back, causing the dense hardwood chair to creak. “I read your reports in the Farscribe book. I appreciate you asking if I mind you and your friends hosting a gathering here, but, as I told you before, I want you to consider this your home for now. I generally don’t entertain, so you needn’t worry about my schedule. Once I get you started on some rigorous practice routines, I will return to the tower and give you some space.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” Victor smiled, knowing Lam and Edeya would be pleased.

“I’ve been thinking about your ritual. The heart, I mean. We spoke only briefly after you consumed it, but I was serious about finding you some worthy opponents, enemies whose hearts might be worth claiming. I believe I’ve stumbled upon a solution in the most unlikely of places—a letter from one of my grandchildren.”

“Your, um, grandchildren?”

“Have I not mentioned that I’m old, Victor? Some might say ancient.” He chuckled. “When a man conquers worlds, a few dozen children here and there are to be expected.” He looked hard at Victor, and his stony brows lifted in amusement. “Unless his heart is claimed, perhaps. Love? I’ve had love, Victor, but centuries tend to pull even the most desperate lovers apart.”

Victor was silent, contemplating Dar’s words. Was it a coincidence? It felt strange to be hearing about love and centuries “pulling people apart” directly after the discussion he’d just had with Valla. Was Dar teasing him? Offering him advice in a strange, roundabout manner?

Despite Victor’s preoccupation, Dar continued speaking. “When I was younger, I conquered a kingdom in a world called Ruhn. I lived there for quite some time and built up a rather extended family before my yearnings for knowledge, adventure, and power called me away. My wife was gone, and my children had either left to seek their own glory or had become elderly due to their lack of ambition. I didn’t feel compelled to stay.”

That got Victor’s attention, and he pushed away his unquiet thoughts and tried to pay attention to the master Spirit Caster. Dar noticed his renewed focus and smiled as he continued, “These days on Ruhn, you can find many high-tier individuals in the iron ranks and even a few hundred working through their tests of steel. However, only a very few have entered their lustrous veil. According to my granddaughter’s letter, ten such individuals watch over the world, and they are, to put it simply, hands-off.”

“Yeah?” Victor liked the sound of that, but probably only because he was still an “iron ranker.” He didn’t enjoy having hundreds or even thousands of people at Dar’s power level hanging around, reminding him of his insignificance.

“Yes. Ruhn is, in effect, ruled by an empire of which the kingdoms, like the one I left to my descendants, are member states. The kingdoms are often vying for power and influence. The most influential will occasionally force a war of succession, changing the empire’s rulership. I’ve lost touch with the world and my children’s children, but this letter surprised me recently. Well, it was recent to me—something like four years ago. It was after our discussion last night, following your ritual, that I was reminded of my granddaughter’s plight.”

“Her plight?” Victor was trying to keep track of Dar’s rambling tale and how it might impact him. He’d yet to figure that part out.

“Yes, the point of her letter—my kingdom, well, hers now, is beset by hostile neighbors who’ve been putting tremendous strain on her economy and infrastructure. She fears they’ll soon challenge her and lay claim to her lands, destroying my descendants’ legacy.” Dar spoke matter-of-factly, betraying no emotion at all, and his uncaring demeanor brought storm clouds to Victor’s narrowed eyes.

“She wanted your help? Four years ago?” He couldn’t keep the snarl out of his words.

“That’s right.” Dar nodded, drumming his fingers on the table, ignoring Victor’s evident judgment. “At the time, I contemplated a walk back to Ruhn, but that would throw me into conflict with the ten veil walkers of that world. No, someone of my stature could not aid her. So, I set the letter aside with plans to find a solution, and now I have!”

“But . . .” Victor started to object, wanting to chastise his “master” for taking so long to help his descendants, but something else had caught his attention. “What do you mean you were thinking about a ‘walk’ back to Ruhn?” He quickly followed up with, “And what’s a veil walker?”

“Ah, that’s right.” Dar looked at him with an even expression, and Victor got the distinct impression that he was pitying him. “I let slip my mind your lack of formal education. Fear not; I’ll spend some months giving you lessons before I send you on your way.”

“Send me—”

“But, to answer your questions.” Dar held up a finger, interrupting Victor. “When I ‘walk’ somewhere distant, I use the Spirit Plane. Yet another lesson I must add to your long list of study topics.”

“You can—”

Dar brandished his finger again. “Veil walker is a general term for those who’ve completed their test of steel and moved into their lustrous veil.” He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Now, to the point: I told you we need to find you more hearts from worthy foes. On Ruhn, wars are decided by battles between two kingdoms’ champions. The fools pressuring my distant granddaughter won’t be worthy hearts for you, but after you’ve vanquished them, you will champion my granddaughter as she begins a war of succession. You and she will conquer Ruhn.”

“Seriously? When? How long will that take? Why wo—”

Dar held up a hand. “Victor! Such panic from a titan? Calm yourself and think. There are more than a hundred kingdoms on Ruhn. Of those, twenty-two are formidable and will have champions that will truly test your mettle. When you face the seven great houses, you will earn hearts that will make the one from the behemoth seem a mere snack! Of course, those champions will likely all be steel seekers, so you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

Victor opened his mouth to reply, but Dar pressed on, “There are several ways to gain raw power for a standard cultivator—vanquish foes for their Energy, cultivate Energy from other sources, and improve one’s species or bloodline. You have another method that does all three and more!”

Dar’s passion broke through to Victor, and he nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scowled in determination. Dar was right. He gained a lot of Energy from every heart he consumed, sometimes improved his bloodline, and often gained traits from his enemies. Even his breath Core came from eating a heart. “Are the fights always to the death?”

“Always. It’s meant to deter conflict.”

“So, I have to win a hundred duels?”

“Once the war of succession has begun, other kingdoms will likely seize the opportunity to remove enemies, claim weaker neighbors, or even unite in mutual defense. Many may kneel to my granddaughter, accepting her claim.”

Victor’s scowl deepened. He wanted to have an idea of what he was up against. “How many? Will I have to win fifty? Twenty?”

“There’s no telling. The last champion to lead a claimant to the imperial throne won sixty-four duels.”

Victor shook his head, baffled by the strange custom. “So that’s all it takes? One champion kills another, and they lose their kingdom?”

“Not quite. Wars of succession are much more complicated. You'll be dealing with shifting alliances, resource management, and political intrigue. A kingdom is not required to accept a duel, and should they refuse, my granddaughter will need to coerce them. That’s what has been happening to her. Her hostile neighbors have been putting pressure on her in myriad ways—cutting off food supplies, severing communication with the greater empire, destroying resources, assassinating members of her court, and even kidnapping civilians.”

“How do you know she hasn’t fallen?”

“Because I used a treasure to scry her this morning. Her current champion yet lives; she’s close to breaking, but her neighbors feel no hurry; they slowly bleed her of resources and know she’ll be forced to accept the challenge eventually. A year or ten is nothing for people who count their lives in centuries.”

Victor sighed and reached up to run his fingers through his short, stiff hair as though he could stimulate his brain by pulling on it. “You said her neighbors are weaklings. Now you say they count their lives in centuries.”

“Few people push much past the middle of the iron ranks. Why would they? They feel not the pull of glory! The competition for resources becomes deadly, the grind of cultivation becomes an all-consuming obsession, and the pace of progress becomes glacial.” He snorted softly, amused by some private thought, as he eyed Victor knowingly. “For most. Nevertheless, reaching level thirty or fifty greatly extends a natural life, yes? So, most people in worlds like Ruhn will gain levels while it is easy or entertaining and then fall back into rather mundane lives, enjoying the gains they’ve accumulated for hundreds or thousands of years.”

Victor slowly nodded, lowering his hands to the arms of his chair as he thought about that. His perception of the worlds he’d visited was badly skewed; he was always seeking to advance, so he encountered other people on that path, whether it be in arenas, on monster hunts, in wars, or even in dungeons. Still, he encountered seemingly mundane people daily—servants, officials, merchants, and countless people on the street about whom he knew nothing. Suddenly, Valla’s point that he and she would need to agree that they were content before having real, quality time together took on a new light.

The truth was, Dar was out of touch. Victor knew that it wasn’t just people who no longer found gaining levels “easy or entertaining” who stopped. He knew that life wasn’t fair and that on many worlds, maybe most of them, the people with power actively worked to keep others from acquiring it. All he had to do was remember the Wagon Wheel and the Greatbone Mine to cement that point in his mind.

He turned his attention back to the topic of their meeting. “So your granddaughter needs to force the other kingdoms to accept her challenges before I’ll need to fight?”

“That’s right. She may need your help with some of her strategies, but, for the most part, you’ll remain in her court, training and making yourself available for duels. If a kingdom bends the knee to her rather than having their champion duel you, you’ll receive a portion of the tribute they pay—a tariff for your formidable intimidation value. I’ll instruct my granddaughter to demand growth items as payment for your services.”

“How long?”

“Before I send you? Two to six months, I’d say. There’s the matter of your education—etiquette, the laws of succession on Ruhn, and some general knowledge about advancement. More than that, I want to get you started on methods of training that you can practice while away.”

“And my companions?” Victor already felt like he knew the answer before Dar shook his head.

“They must remain here. I will extend my hospitality to each of them; I know their safety is important to you and won’t have you distracted with worry. Besides, I rather like Lam, and I’m eager to see how she advances. I can see you formulating an objection, especially with regard to your lady love, but Victor, she will languish on Ruhn. There aren’t easily accessible dungeons, and once it begins, the war will turn the countryside perilous with lurking assassins and saboteurs. She’d have to stay at court and watch as you grew ever more powerful, winning duel after duel. No, I think it best you leave her here with your dragon-blood friend.”

Victor felt that earlier dread, that cold, hard grip on his heart, slide back into place. Had he somehow felt this coming? Had he known Dar would be sending him places for God knows how long? He must have suspected it on some subconscious level. “Shouldn’t she have the option?”

“Yes. Talk to her. Explain that Ruhn is four jumps away via a System Stone and that when I help you make the journey, you’ll use the Spirit Plane—a method unavailable to anyone without a sufficiently sturdy spirit Core.” Dar pushed his chair back and stood. “Go now. I have things to arrange.” He scowled at Victor, but the slight tilt of an eyebrow made it clear he wasn’t really upset. “Primary among them, I must negotiate with the Sojourn Council in an attempt to release you from your debt of three tasks.”

“So that I can leave?”

“Exactly. Now, enjoy some time with your friends. Come dawn, we will build your cultivation chamber and begin your training in earnest.”

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