Victor of Tucson

39 – Introspection

Arona paced the walls of Victor’s palace at Iron Mountain, scanning the countryside. The structure was atop a high hill, with steep grades leading down grassy plains into dense forest. To the east, some five miles distant, lay the city of Iron Mountain. Southward, the entire horizon and most of the sky were dominated by the mountain itself. Being near that peak made it easy to forget that the palace was on elevated ground.

The mountain’s great shoulders rose toward the firmament, fading into obscurity in the atmosphere. That peak, that place, had meant something special to Victor… The thought interrupted her contemplations of the countryside, reminding her of him, and she turned, looking over the courtyard toward the tall spires of the palace. Her gaze drifted upward to the top of the tallest, broadest tower. His vault was up there, and he was either lying within, undergoing some sort of personal battle, or he was dead. She wished she had a way of knowing which.

Of course, Kynna had employed her most talented scryer to attempt to see within the fae-crafted vault—tomb?—but she’d been unable to pierce the dense magics that protected the contents. Arona hadn’t been surprised. The Fae employed elder magic, and such artifacts were beyond most modern practitioners.

She turned her attention back to the lands outside the palace walls. Kynna’s engineers were hard at work, fortifying the magical wards. Their enormous excavations dotted the landscape in a mile-wide radius. They were burying warding monoliths designed by Arona’s old master, Vesavo.

Arona knew the designs well, but she’d had to employ Death Casters from the various kingdoms under Kynna’s rule to create them. They made a barrier pattern that would sap the Energy of enemies passing near them, draining it away. Because of the size and density of the stones being used, Arona had been able to create sinks for hundreds of Energy types. Of course, they could be destroyed, but burying them would make that a painful process. Any sappers Kynna’s foes sent forward to deal with them would be easy targets.

It wasn’t that the palace’s warding wasn’t already robust. For instance, Arona had found that the footings for the walls went as deep into the earth as they soared into the sky. They’d been married to the bedrock by powerful Earth Elementalists long before anyone currently living in the palace had been born. The enormous stones used to build it were enchanted in such a way as to be nigh-indestructible, and the anti-flight patterns and spatial shielding made it unlikely that anyone short of a veil walker would be able to enter the keep by other means.

No, the empire’s killers and champions would have to come through the gates or spend tremendous amounts of Energy and time trying to breach the walls. Meanwhile, they’d be giving Kynna’s people a chance to make the assault as costly as possible.

Arona sensed her contemplations were about to be interrupted again; she felt Bryn’s approach before she heard her boots. “How do things look?” the one-time Queensguard asked.

“Arona?” Bryn prodded.

Arona blinked, chuckling softly. “Sorry, Bryn, my mind runs in many directions these days. Things look good. The monoliths are all in the ground, but the Earth Elementalists still work to cover them. It takes time to draw the massive boulders through the earth, but we want the monoliths buried in stone, not soft soil. They’ve assured me they’ll finish by week’s end.”

“Will the, um, malaise be active immediately?”

Arona shook her head. “The monoliths are tied to a control stone here in the palace. If we were all Death Casters, we’d let it run unchecked, but we don’t want to turn Iron Mountain into a death-attuned horrorscape, do we?”

Bryn pressed her lips together, the corners turning down in distaste. “Definitely not.”

“And the queen? How was your meeting?”

“She’s as well as can be—more determined than last week when I met with her. She had some good news; one of the other great houses, Voth, requested teleportation access. Kynna refused, of course, but King Bomar wasn’t put off; he’s sending his champion here to parlay, and Kynna wants you and me to determine his intentions.”

“He’s coming overland?”

“Flying, I assume.”

Arona nodded, her dark brows turning down. Could it be an assassination attempt? “What’s his name?”

“Resh A’kel. Bomar used him in several duels against the other Great Houses in the past. They were only trade wars, and no one lost their lands, but his aggression wasn’t well-received by House Khaliday. Kynna’s hopeful that Bomar might want to aid us.”

Arona turned to regard the excavations on the plains again. “If this Resh A’kel wants to join our fight, he’s welcome, but we must be careful. I won’t allow him in Kynna’s presence.”

“No.” Bryn moved to stand beside her. “I agree with that sentiment. I’m already nervous about some of the champions Kynna brought in from the kingdoms she conquered. I feel their loyalty is less than absolute.”

“Their oaths are quite binding, but I agree we shouldn’t bet on them giving their all.”

Almost whispering, Bryn leaned closer to say, “I wish he’d emerge.”

“We all do, Bryn. I pray every day that he will, that he’s not dead in there.” Arona meant it. She prayed to any great powers that might be listening—she prayed to fates and to Victor’s ancestors. She didn’t think anyone would listen; she’d long lost any belief that true gods existed. Vesavo had broken her of such notions, but being with Victor had sparked something in her that didn’t used to exist—hope.

“You do?” Was all Bryn said, likely wondering about her use of the word.

Arona didn’t want to expound on her strange, nebulous faith. Instead, she just turned to her and nodded. “We must remain hopeful, Bryn. I can feel it coming, though, can’t you? It’s like a storm I can’t see, though the pressure of the atmosphere bears down on me.”

“Yes,” Bryn said softly, lifting her eyes toward the overbearing presence of the mighty peak, “I can feel it.”

###

Chantico, still sitting before Victor, lifted her arms and let the weird, nebulous Energy play along her fingertips. “Tell me, little brother, what natural treasure did you find?”

“Is that what this stuff is from?”

“Yes, this stuff is Energy attuned to the aspect of potential—incredibly difficult to cultivate. It’s meant to be directed by a mind far different from yours or mine. I’ve seen similar, though never so much at once or quite so…alien.” She stared at him, her eyes boring into his, and Victor shrugged almost sheepishly.

“An insect queen gave it to me. Her species was on the verge of creating its own universe where they intend to ascend to another plane of existence or something along those lines.”

Chantico clicked her tongue, a wry smile turning up one corner of her lips. “It’s no wonder you make waves through the universe. The threads of fate that weave your road are thick and multi-layered, stretching to strange and consequential places and beings. Every step you take vibrates through the ether. I wonder how so many knots were woven under and around you. Was it a chance encounter? Many? One choice leading to another and another, accumulating through momentum and luck? I’m glad my blood runs in your veins, Victor. It pleases me that I had this chance to meet you before I finished my contemplations and left this plane.”

“Are you so sure you must go?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I’ve lived long and long, Victor. I’ve tasted all that this existence has to offer, and I grow increasingly intrigued by what lies beyond. However, I’ll admit to some pleasure at the none-too-gentle tugs on the threads that connect us.” She smiled and reached out to grasp his hand again. “Let’s speak about what’s happening to you.”

“You mean with the curse?”

“No, not that yet. Let’s talk about this.” Again, she lifted her hands to run her fingers through the dense, nebulous Energy surrounding them. “This Energy needs directing. I can help it on its way, and so could you if you took a hundred years or so to study how traits are tied into a person’s blood—the impossibly small, impossibly dense instructions written on the tiny structures that make up our skin and bones and hair.” She smiled. “Something tells me you don’t want to sit here and contemplate such matters for so long. You have things to do back in your life, yes?”

Victor nodded. “Yes, if I stay in this vault for a hundred years, many of my loved ones will suffer.”

She thumped a fist on his knee. “Just so. I will help this Energy on its way, at least much of it, but you ate something very, very potent, Victor, and there will be more than your body can absorb. We’ll have to talk about your Core, too, and that will take effort on your behalf.”

“I’ll do anything needed.”

“I know you will. So—” She reached out and brushed her fingers across his forehead, sending lightning tingles arcing through his skull. “I’ve already taken a long look in there, little brother, and I’ve seen that you’ve made good use of our bloodline’s ability to absorb the strengths of our enemies. You’ve unlocked some potent bloodline traits—regeneration, fiery wings, even a Breath Core! That’s nothing to say of the many lesser ones.”

When she paused, Victor thought she wanted him to say something, so he said, “I’ve done my best. I always wanted to please my ancestors.”

Chantico’s smile broadened. “Such an earnest young titan. I like you more and more, Victor. I’m also pleased to see you’ve advanced your bloodline itself; it’s nearly pure in you! I believe that’s why this treasure you consumed hasn’t killed you outright. A lesser vessel would come apart under the strain of all this potential.”

She waved her hand around, and this time, some of the Energy gathered around her fist, balling up around it into a globe so bright that Victor couldn’t look directly at it. “So, we’ll take some of this Energy and send it into your cells—the tiny building blocks of your body—with the mission of awakening the deeper parts of your ancestry. Do you know what I mean by that?”

“You don’t mean the Quinametzin?”

“Ah, we Quinametzin are titans, to be sure, but we descended from other, even more potent beings—primordial titans born of fire and chaos, beings that built and destroyed entire worlds.” She grinned and winked at him. “You’ve met one—well, two, if you count me.”

“You’re a primordial—”

“I was born Quinametzin, but like you, I sought to enhance my bloodline. Over centuries, I did so, awakening the deeper parts of my ancestry.” She gestured to herself, indicating her figure and appearance. “I wear this form most of the time because that was how I looked during my formative years. As you’ll soon learn, however, a primordial titan’s blood and bones are bursting with the vast weight of incalculable potential. If I wish it, I can stand a thousand feet tall, wearing the scales of my conquered foes and breathing fire that would make a volcano shudder with shame.”

“I’ll soon learn…” Victor trailed off, trying to comprehend exactly what she was saying.

“Perhaps not to such a degree immediately, but this will awaken much.” She gestured with her hand, still clouded in brilliant Energy. “I wish you’d gained more traits from slain foes, but you’ve gained many. You’ll benefit greatly. You will have to learn to will yourself to be a certain way. Natural laws must be browbeaten into submission.”

Victor narrowed one eye, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Your bones and flesh are going to be very dense. If you try to stand on the structures of lesser beings, you’ll destroy them, even if you maintain your usual size. You have to will yourself to be lighter. When I looked through your mind, I saw that you’ve learned some control of your aura, yes? It’s much the same. Simply take command of your body and assert your desires. It will listen. You’ll find this easier on worlds with less ambient Energy. It takes power for a primordial titan to expand to her—or his—full potential.”

She waved her hand, gathering a bit more Energy, then pressed it to his chest, closing her eyes briefly. Victor felt a tingle through his entire body, but it faded rapidly. When he looked down, the Energy was gone. “That was it?”

She laughed, a musical, lilting sound, and shook her head. “I sent that Energy into your cells to do their work, but it will be a process. Luckily, your mind is free, here with me.” She waved her hand. “Look around! Do you see? More than half of the potential is gone, sent into you to work its magic, digging for the hidden lines of instruction that will unfold the secrets of your ancestors.”

Victor felt some relief, like he’d been rescued from a math exam he hadn’t studied for. “Thank you, Chantico.”

“We aren’t finished. We must address the rest of this potential; you’ll have to absorb it, and to do that, you’ll need a much stronger Core.” She smiled slyly. “I have a hunch we’re going to accomplish two goals with this work.”

“Two goals?”

“Patience. Let me lead you there.” She put her hands on her knees, palms up. “Put your hands in mine.” Victor did so, once again feeling electric tingles permeating his flesh at her touch. Was it power? Was it her Energy merging with his? Was it psychosomatic? Before he could ask, she said, “Now, close your eyes and take me into your Core space.”

Victor had no reason to argue or delay; he was eager to see what she would show him, so he did as she asked. When he opened his inner eye and turned his gaze inward, he was acutely aware that he wasn’t alone, though he saw neither himself nor Chantico. All he saw was the beautiful, pulsing heart of his power, the Spirit Core he’d so painstakingly built with Ranish Dar’s guidance back on Sojourn.

At the center of his Core space sat the blazing, throbbing, white-gold sun of his inspiration-attuned Energy. Around it, arrayed in concentric rings, were his other affinities—first, a golden, sparkling band of glory-attuned Energy; then, around that, the thick, glowering crimson ring of rage. Finally, surrounding them all, was a ring of darkness, shadow, and dread—his fear-attuned Energy.

“You’ve done good work here, little brother,” Chantico said, her voice echoing in the space, under the constant hum and buzz of his Energies. “I was very pleased to learn you had a Spirit Core.”

“You were?”

“Yes! I have one, too! I believe emotions and feelings are what make people special. If two people see a woman’s death, they both may objectively experience the same event. It’s how they feel about it that makes them special or unique. You have big feelings; I know this about you from my glimpse into your memories. It’s no surprise that you have such potent affinities. I think you’re missing something, however.”

“I am?” Victor frowned, his mind racing through the many conversations he’d had with different beings about his affinities. Most prominent among them was the bear spirit, Thunderbite. It seemed a lifetime ago when the long-dead bear had helped him to form his fear affinity. Hadn’t he sort of indicated that Victor didn’t have any more strong affinities? Or maybe just one other? Wasn’t it glory? Even Dar hadn’t thought Victor’s Core was lacking. But then, Dar had been trying to help him perfect what was there. Had he really looked for something else?

“Yes,” came Chantico’s answer. “Something vast. Something underlying all of this.” He thought she was waiting for a response, but before he could say anything, she asked, “Tell me about your inspiration, Victor. When did you find that?”

“When my Core was broken. I was in a dark place—a slave, weak and alone. I thought of Lam, who, at that time, was more of a slave master than a friend, but she’d done something that, in my mind, was incredible. I saw her in battle, and I remembered how it made me feel, and that emotion and that inspiration resonated with me. Of course, that was just the first of many images that I used. When I recognized it, I thought of others who’d inspired me, and that helped me to form my affinity.”

“So, would you agree that your inspiration affinity helped to pull you out of despair—out of a dark, fearful place?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Excellent. Tell me about your affinity for glory, Victor. Why do you crave the recognition of others so?”

Victor’s eyes were on his Core, but his mouth—or the representation of it in that strange place—turned down at the corners. Was that what his glory was? Was he just trying to be recognized? It felt deeper than that—more meaningful, more… glorious. Still, she had a point: at its core, glory couldn’t exist without others to witness his actions. If he were the last person, alone in an empty world, nothing he did would be “glorious.” It required the recognition of others. “I… don’t know, I guess.”

“Oh come, you’re more clever than that. Think it through.”

Victor wanted to argue, wanted to say it didn’t matter. He had to consider why he felt that way, though. What was so difficult to face? Mentally buckling down, he forced himself to confront the question: why did he seek the recognition of others? What did he love about the crowd’s cheers? Why did he crave hearing his name in other people’s mouths? “I guess…” He struggled to finish, hesitating with the hard truth that was on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m here, Victor.” Chantico’s hands clenched his more tightly, and that electric surge intensified.

With an effort of will, Victor bulldozed through, admitting the answer that felt somehow shameful. “It makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like I’m not alone and that people want to be around me.”

“A wonderful insight, little brother, and nothing shameful at all! No one wants to be alone—not all the time.” She squeezed his hands again. “One more. This one will be easier for you because you’ve admitted it before. Tell me where your rage comes from.”

Victor sighed, feeling some stress bleed out of him. She was right; he’d made this admission more than once. “My rage comes from fear. Thunderbite helped me to see that.”

“A clever spirit!” Chantico’s thumbs caressed his palms, a comforting touch that did much to keep Victor relaxed as she said, “So, you can see, I’m sure, what this means: your three lesser affinities are rooted in fear, your strongest affinity. Inspiration to pull you out of fear and despair, glory to help you fendoff your fear, and rage to react to the things you fear, smashing them to bits.”

Victor couldn’t argue, though it felt reductive; his use of rage wasn’t really about fear anymore, was it? He supposed that wasn’t the point—that was where his affinity was rooted, and he knew that was true. His early fights, his early troubles with family and school, were all rooted in fear. “That’s right.”

Chantico’s voice echoed around his Core space, radiating approval and confidence. “Excellent. Now, little brother, we need to talk about what your fear is rooted in.”