Victor 10.50 - The Enemy You Ignore

Well, folks, this wraps up book 10! I know many of you have an idea of how things should go, but I hope you'll find my version of the next couple of books satisfactory. :) In my head, it's going to be awesome, but the hard part is getting it from my head and into text without losing a lot of that awesomeness. We'll see how it goes! :P

Now, my brain needs a break from VoT so I can start off book 11 strong. I'm going to take three "VoT" days off. That means no chapter on Thursday, Sunday, or Tuesday. I'll be back with 11.1 next Thursday, the 8th.

Thanks for all of your support and for reading my story!

-Plum

50 – The Enemy You Ignore

“I told Draj to handle it personally. You should have all of their belongings, including Dro Vah’s sword and your gauntlet, delivered tomorrow morning. Luckily, one of my Queensguard spotted your dismembered arm near the gates!” Empress Kynna Dar said. She was sitting close to Victor, near the head of the table, and was talking about the armor, weapons, and magical gear of the champions he’d slain outside the palace. He supposed he’d probably inadvertently destroyed some of their belongings, but what was there would be his.

“It must be a great fortune’s worth of magical artifacts,” Bryn said, still a little tipsy from the alcohol Arona had given her.

“Well deserved, wouldn’t you say, Baroness?” Kynna asked, arching one of her perfect eyebrows.

“Um, of course! I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Oh, hush.” Victor chuckled. “You’re fine. As for the equipment being delivered here, thank you, Kynna.”

“You’re most welcome. I knew you didn’t want to be out there, surrounded by a throng of adoring citizens while you sifted through all those remains. I appreciate you spending the time with us that you did—you’ve attained folk hero status among our people. Even so, I’d love to invite you to a state dinner at the capital. I intend to invite representatives from every nation. I think it will—”

Victor held up a hand. “I can’t promise that’s going to happen, Kynna. I have much on my plate”—he shoved the near-empty plate in front of him back a few inches, chuckling—“that I need to see to. There are people I need to meet with and pressing matters I need to attend.” They’d been eating for a while and, thus far, everyone had avoided the specter looming over the conversation: what would Victor do now that his quest to deliver Kynna the empire was done?

“Can you tell me about any of that? I’d so hoped that you’d fall in love with this world—that you’d want to spend more of your life here.” Her words were so candid and sincere that Victor found himself wanting to comfort her. She leaned closer as she spoke, and he had the distinct impression that she’d utterly blocked out the fact that Bryn and Arona were sitting across the table from her.

He smiled and in a softer, less firm voice, said, “I do love things about this world. I’ve grown very fond of Iron Mountain, in particular, and the people here.” He glanced at Bryn, smiling as he caught her eye and saw the glimmer of moisture gathering there. “I’ll most definitely want to spend time here now and then, perhaps months or years, but there are other places and people I care about, too. There are other worlds I want to visit, worlds I want to discover. I’m not ready to settle down in one place. I’m not sure I ever will be.”

Kynna nodded, pressing her lips together as she cleared her throat and looked down briefly. Was she tearing up, too? Victor hastily tried to move the conversation forward. “When I nearly lost the battle with my curse. I mean, when I locked myself in my vault, I spent time communing with one of my living ancestors.”

Kynna looked up, eyes wide, suddenly very interested. He could understand why; she’d been spending time corresponding with her own living ancestor, Ranish Dar. “You did? Have you done so before?”

“Yeah, through visions of one sort or another, but I’d always thought she’d moved on. I thought she was one of my ancestors who’d passed through the veil. It turns out, she’s not. She’s still in this universe, though very distant from here. She’s been trying to do something—ascend, cross the veil, I don’t know exactly what—but there’s something here holding her back. She has a karmic debt, a weight on her spirit, and she’s asked me to help her resolve it.”

“Do you owe her a debt?” Arona asked, suddenly more interested in the conversation.

Victor nodded. “She guided me through my struggles. More than that, she’s my ancestor, and she’s gifted me power in the past—saved my life.”

“Well, as I know you, Victor,” Bryn said and, emboldened by her tipsiness, leaned forward to grasp Victor’s hand in hers, “you’d help her without any sort of debt.”

Victor grinned and squeezed her hand. “You’re probably right.” He looked into her brown eyes, still glistening from unshed tears. “Remember how grouchy you were when we first met?” She snorted and, embarrassed, pulled her hand back, hiding her face in her napkin as she pretended to wipe her nose.

“What must you do for this ancestor of yours?” Kynna asked. “How can I help?”

Victor shook his head, idly fidgeting with his fork, tapping it on the side of his plate. “You can’t help. I mean, at least not right away. The world where I must go is very distant—beyond the reach of most who can create gateways, and sealed off from the System’s teleportation network. My ancestor will guide me there through the spirit plane.”

“But Victor—” Arona started to say, but he held up a hand.

“Once I’m there, I’ll find a way to connect to this part of the universe. My ancestor suggested conquering one of the cities and taking control of the System stone. I think that should be doable.” He locked eyes with Arona. “I don’t think it will take too long, and I promise I won’t forget about you. We’ll be able to communicate via Farscribe books.” He said the last to the whole table, including Bryn and Kynna.

“If I were still a Death Caster, I could likely follow you through the spirit plane. As I am now­…” Arona shook her head, trailing off.

“Your Energy isn’t right for it. I know. Don’t worry, because your Energy is perfect for what we must accomplish there—it’s an entire world ruled by Death Casters.”

Kynna clicked her tongue. “You’re so sure you can conquer a city alone?”

Victor shrugged. “Maybe I could, but I don’t intend to. I’ll build an army there. Dark Ember is inhabited by human thralls, enslaved by their undead masters. I know this because I’ve fought some of their armies on Fanwath when the System allowed them to invade.”

“As you slay their masters, you think they’ll come to fight for you?” Arona asked.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they will.”

She didn’t argue. Instead, she turned to Kynna. “I’d be happy to stay here with you while Victor secures a foothold on this undead world. I could help you vet and train some proper advisors.”

Kynna’s smile returned, and she leaned across the table to take Arona’s much smaller hand in hers. “Would you, truly? It goes without saying that your presence and assistance would be most welcome—cherished!”

Victor sat back and inhaled deeply, breathing out slowly, sending the tension he’d felt building since his discussion with Chantico out with his breath. He’d wondered how Kynna would take his departure. He’d feared Arona would be hurt or feel lost if he left without her. She wasn’t ready to go back to Sojourn yet, after all. It was apparent, however, that he should have given her more credit. She’d lived a long life already and had a resourceful outlook. She’d be good for Kynna, too. No doubt there were many snakes lying in the grass, waiting for the opportunity to take advantage of her kindness.

He figured he’d spend a day more on Ruhn, sorting out his business, then he’d visit Sojourn and shower some gifts upon his friends there. Why not? He had the artifacts and magical equipment of nearly thirty steel seekers coming his way. Maybe he’d ask Dar for a bit of advice about his “mantle” while he was there. After that, he’d take a quick trip to Fanwath to check in, and then it would be back to Ruhn to meet with Chantico and travel to Dark Ember. It meant a lot of traveling in just a few days, but it would be easily done with his teleportation array.

Nodding, listening to the three women at the table speaking about near-term plans, he felt very content and lucky. He’d made some good friends on Ruhn and had many more waiting on other worlds. More importantly, he had the means to visit and support them all. He didn’t know how long Chantico’s quest would take, but it was good to know the people he cared about would be all right while he was gone.

Of course, he still had his promise to Khul Bach to fulfill, but that shouldn’t be a big deal. He was already, in his estimation, on par with the Warlord. Surely, conquering some Death Caster veil walkers would only make his eventual run-in with the man all the easier. He still had a dragon heart to eat once he had a little time to spare. Despite the large meal he’d just eaten, his stomach rumbled at the thought. Chuckling, and, as if to confirm his confidence was well-placed, Victor sipped his wine and read through his status sheet again:

###

Thoargh, Warlord of Zaafor, slid out of bed, careful to keep his pearlescent white-feathered wings from brushing the naked flesh of the woman lying there. She was lovely, he thought, running his eye over her crimson flesh, to the downy black feathers of her own wings. A Ridonne, she called herself, and one of the mightiest from her world—his agents had assured him. He padded over to the window and peered out at the glorious, starlit city.

“Sojourn,” he whispered, tracing the crystalline towers with his gaze, admiring how the lights within gave each one an iridescent sheen in the darkness. What a place! He supposed he owed that dragon witch some thanks. The way she’d humiliated him, the way she’d effortlessly tossed his strongest men aside—it had opened his eyes to the possibilities beyond his singular backwater world.

Without her interference, he wouldn’t have learned of “steel seekers” and “veil walkers.” He wouldn’t have discovered that he was “steel-bound” and had been for centuries. Coming to Sojourn, though, finding a mentor in that powerful, if foolish, man, Consul Yon, had opened new doors for his advancement. Thoargh had finally moved beyond the stagnation that had driven him mad with vexation.

Zaafor was still there, awaiting his return, but the more he learned, the more power he grasped, the less he cared. No, with the things Yon taught him, he’d truly unlocked the potential of the many bloodlines he’d stolen. He’d built a mantle that not only incorporated what he’d mastered as a warlord, but so much more besides! Again, he glanced at the sleeping woman on his bed.

He concentrated for a moment, trying to remember her name. “Vessa-dak,” he whispered, letting his mouth get a feel for the consonants and vowels. What had she said? A world, peerless in its beauty, kept innocent and ripe? Her people held power there, though their control was waning; the people, in her words, needed to be reminded why the Ridonne ruled over them. Naturally, Thoargh found the concept intriguing. Was it not similar to what he’d done with Zaafor? It wasn’t why he’d seduced her, however.

No, he’d taken an interest in her and her people when he’d learned that the world she called home was home to another. Thoargh felt his ire stirring and pushed it down lest his aura disturb his guest. “Victor,” he hissed. That bastard had used his hospitality. He’d killed his people. He’d stolen from him and fled, leaving his dragon guardian to cover his tracks. Well, his pet bitch couldn’t protect an entire world, could she? No, if Victor wanted to hide from his wrath, then those he cared for would have to pay the price.

Thoargh smiled, looking out over the city again. He felt a deep well of satisfaction in his gut. When it came to his vengeance, it was no longer a matter of how, but simply of when. Was he ready yet? Could he still learn more here? If that dragon did happen to come calling, wouldn’t it feel good to taste her blood? If he couldn’t face her alone, perhaps some of his new allies would like to join the fun. He chuckled, thinking of the many unsavory yet disturbingly powerful people he’d made acquaintances with on Sojourn. How many of them might profit from the destruction of a mighty dragon?

He'd bide his time. He’d finish his mantle and gather his allies. He’d use his budding connections to the Ridonne to facilitate the invasion, and then deliver his vengeance. Smiling, he shifted his vision, accessing one of his bloodlines, the Kythana, enhancing the colors of the night, tinting things toward violet, and pulling out the details from the otherwise muted palette. The city went from beautiful to garish, and he grinned, exposing his fangs, pleased by his corruption of it.