Victor of Tucson

Book 8: Chapter 51: Going Home

Victor looked around his cultivation chamber, deep beneath Dar’s home, and slowly nodded to himself. This would be a good place for Lifedrinker to consume the treasure Lira had given him in the Iron Prison. He’d thought about keeping her in his vault, keeping her locked safely away and concealed around his neck, but when he mentioned the idea to Dar, his master had vehemently discouraged the plan. He said that such an evolution would require the ebb and flow of Energy and that Lifedrinker’s spirit might feel stifled in such an environment. He feared such containment might lessen the potential of her evolution.

So, Victor had agreed to leave her behind to slowly consume the enormously dense “soul ore.” Dar had vowed to keep the axe safe and sound, so Victor wasn’t worried about her. He knew he’d feel a little naked without her, though, and that was probably why he hesitated to set her on the ground. “You know why I’m leaving you, yeah, chica?”

I must feast! I must grow more powerful to better fight at your side! I do not fear the solitude.

“Heh, okay, okay.” Victor pressed the side of her blade against his forehead and basked in the warmth of trust and love, then he knelt and gently laid her on the stone ground. A moment later, he summoned the absurdly heavy lump of ore from his storage container, and it slipped through his fingers to the ground with a resounding clunk. Victor’s eyes widened as he saw hairline cracks in the solid stone spreading out from the edges of the ore. “Okay, beautiful. I’m gonna put your blade on this stone. Take your time and do it right.”

Victor had no idea what he was talking about. Was it possible for Lifedrinker to not take her time? Could she do something wrong when it came to incorporating this new, powerful metal? He didn’t know, but she didn’t correct him. She was silent and only emanated eagerness as he picked her up and gently propped her at an angle with her metallic axe head resting atop the ingot. Victor sat back and watched for a moment, and, at first, he didn’t think anything was happening. Then he saw it.

Where her metal touched the ore, a hazy gray cloud was forming, and, as he peered more closely, Victor could see tiny sparks of electricity, almost like static, dancing in the hazy barrier between the two metals. Victor put his hand over the glow lamp he’d brought with him. As the room plunged into darkness, he saw the real light show. Lifedrinker was aglow—not just her metallic head, but her haft, as well. More than that, she danced with tiny sparks, and the space between her and the ore was like a miniature hurricane as the weird reaction continued to build.

Victor stood, looked at his wonderful axe, his steadfast companion, one more time, and nodded. “Okay, then. See you soon.” Then he left, rapidly climbing through the tunnels to Dar’s home. He was late; he and Valla had been heading to the coach when Victor had remembered the ore and decided he should get Lifedrinker started on it.

Feeling rushed, knowing Cora and Efanie were probably waiting for them, he jogged through the house, then outside to where Mr. Qwor had pulled the coach. It hovered above the ground, door open, but it wasn’t alone; Trin’s coach was there, and, to Victor’s surprise, Edeya burst through the front door and hurried past him, aiming for the little submarine-shaped vehicle without sparing him a glance.

“Hey,” he called. Edeya froze and turned to look at him, and Victor was sure it was surprise he saw in her eyes as she took him in.

“Where to?”

“Um, to pick up a friend of Trin’s. An avian woman—” She frowned and shook her head, then, in a jumble of hurried words, tried to explain, “We think Darren’s waking up a bloodline. He’s, um, growing a, uh…” She threw up her hands and blurted, “He’s growing a beak, Victor!”

“Oh? Shit…” Victor wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Should I stay? Should we postpone our trip?”

“No! No, you go. We can handle this. Lam’s with him now, in case he wakes, but Trin has an avian friend who should be able to explain things to him better.”

“All right. Keep me posted. I’ll check the Farscribe book when we get to Fanwath.”

“Have a good trip!” Edeya waved and then jumped into the vehicle, which, with a weird burbling, buzzing sound, drifted away toward the city.

Shaking his head, Victor climbed into Mr. Qwor’s coach. He pulled the door closed with a thud, then collapsed into the cushioned seat beside Valla. He tapped on the panel with his knuckles, and Qwor launched them into the air. “Sorry for the delay,” he sighed, stretching his legs out toward the opposite seat.

Valla, shaking her head but wearing a wry smile, took ahold of his hand. “You got your axe situated?”

“Yep. She’s all set.” Victor leaned back and sighed. “You should have come with me. That ore is so wild—I think you would have enjoyed seeing it before Lifedrinker eats it. I couldn’t hold it up with only one hand. It fell to the cave floor and cracked it!”

“I hope it’s not too much for your lady axe to handle.” Her tone was light, but Victor still felt a twinge of worry. He hoped so, too.

In an attempt to not dwell on his anxiety for Lifedrinker, he changed the subject, “Did you hear about Darren?”

“Yes. I suppose it’s a lucky thing that the winged people of my origin world didn’t have beaks—seems such a thing would make kissing difficult.”

Victor frowned. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought about that. I guess the universe is big and full of variety, huh?” He still wasn’t sure about where he stood with Valla, but he took the fact that she was holding his hand as a good sign. Almost tentatively, he leaned toward her, but she was quick to take the hint and closed in for a kiss. He smiled as they parted. “I’m damn glad you don’t have a beak.”

Less than an hour later, they exited the coach and approached the row of token vendors at the World Hall; sure enough, Efanie and Cora were standing there waiting. Efanie had shed her Volpuré livery, and both she and Cora were dressed similarly in rather formal-looking layered skirts and blouses. They looked nice, and Valla said so as they approached, taking a minute to lean forward and fuss with the frilly fabric around Cora’s collar. Victor watched, and he could see that Cora was starstruck by Valla, staring into her eyes with the first expression he’d seen on her that wasn’t tinted by sadness or anger.

When Victor had come to Sojourn, the System had charged him a toll of nearly a hundred thousand beads. With that in mind, he was a little surprised when the attendant, after looking up Fanwath on her elegant, crystalline tablet, quoted him a price of only two hundred thousand beads for four “transport tokens.” He didn’t complain, but it puzzled him enough to bring it up with Valla as they walked toward their designated transport circle.

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“Perhaps it has something to do with the level of Sojourn’s System Stone.”

“Undoubtedly,” Efanie chimed in. “I paid a hefty fee when I left my world, which has a much less advanced stone.”

As they worked their way through the crowd, through the enormous chamber with its many support pillars, arched ceilings, and decorative mosaics, Victor saw that Cora’s eyes were wide with wonder as she looked around. It puzzled him slightly, considering she’d been the only child of a very wealthy, powerful man, and, before he could think better of the question, he nudged her shoulder. “Hey, have you been away from Sojourn before? Were you born here?”

“I’ve never been to the World Hall, milord. I went with my father to visit my homeworld once when I was nine, but he used a portal created by a great magus from Lord Volpuré’s household.” She almost stopped speaking, but then she seemed to remember the rest of Victor’s question and added, “I was born on Avendus, but my father brought me to Sojourn when I was three—a-after my mother died. I have no memory of that trip.”

“Ah.” Victor cleared his throat. “I see.” The more he learned about the girl, the more he realized his own sob stories were certainly less than unique. Inwardly cringing, afraid he was about to pull open a fresh wound, he asked, “And you have no other family on, uh—what was it? Avendus?”

“That’s right, milord. When we visited, my father was settling old business. I spent the time in a hotel room.” She spoke flatly, with little expression, and Victor decided to let it rest. He caught Valla looking sideways at him as if judging his reaction, and he offered her a tiny shrug, ensuring Cora couldn’t see the gesture. Valla squeezed his hand, and they continued in silence.

Soon enough, they came to their transport circle—a smaller one in an alcove set off from the main hall, and when they’d all moved to stand at its center, Victor nodded to Efanie and Cora. “You two first. I’ll follow as soon as I see you’re safely away.”

“As you say, Victor.” Efanie placed one of the travel tokens in Cora’s upturned palm. “Channel a little Energy into this.” Cora nodded, and then, with a flicker of light and a tinge of ozone-scented air, she was gone. A bare second later, Efanie disappeared. Victor looked at Valla, locked eyes with her, and they both channeled Energy into their tokens. As before, the world vanished in a flash of light, and then, almost instantly, Victor found himself standing in the dimly lit, quiet portal room beneath the Colony Stone of the Free Marches.

The space, while large enough to hold dozens of people comfortably, was tiny in comparison to the World Hall, which added to some of the disorientation common with teleportation. Cora was kneeling in her skirts, Efanie leaning over her, gently stroking her thick, curly hair. Before Victor could see if she was all right, stomping feet alerted him, and he spun to see several guards in Rellia’s household livery approaching from the stairwell. They had weapons drawn, but when they caught sight of Victor, they relaxed, and expressions of excitement replaced their alarm.

“Lord Victor!” one of the guards—a former member of the Ninth, if Victor wasn’t mistaken—shouted. His eyes scanned the rest of their party and widened noticeably when he saw Valla. “Lady Valla! Welcome!” He turned to one of his comrades. “Run! Alert the Seneschal! Lady Rellia will want to know about—”

“Easy, man!” Victor laughed. “We’ll be here a while, no need to have a meltdown.” Despite his words, one of the guards had already sprinted for the stairs, and Victor could hear her feet pounding on the steps as she ascended. He chuckled, then turned to Cora. She was already up on her feet, and though she was a little pale, she seemed all right. He looked at Valla. “Ready to see your mom?”

She folded her hands before her, fidgeting a little, and gave him a surprisingly easy smile. “I actually did miss her. Yes, it’ll be nice to visit.”

Victor inhaled deeply, feeling some nebulous satisfaction. He turned to Efanie. “Let’s head up. You two all right?”

“Fine, um, Lord Victor.” Victor groaned inwardly but didn’t bother trying to correct her; they were about to be surrounded by guards and attendants who would refuse to be casual with him. He led the way up the stairs, and when he came out on the platform surrounding the City Stone, his eyes widened as he took in the changes to the budding capital of the Free Marches.

In the time they’d been away, the walls that used to surround the Colony Stone had been much reduced, and Rellia’s keep moved back nearly half a mile. Huge, cobbled boulevards led away from the central hill—one toward the sea, one in the opposite direction toward Rellia’s ever-expanding fortress, and then another that ran north-south. All along those wide avenues were buildings, almost exclusively built from pale stone. It certainly didn’t look like a frontier town any longer.

Massive city walls loomed in the distance, though the area inside them was less than crowded, and Victor could see plenty of places for expansion. Aside from Rellia’s keep and the enormous observatory jutting up from the shore, only a few buildings were taller than two stories. More than the changes in architecture, the increase in population drove home to Victor how much the town was growing. He judged it was still early morning based on the sun, but he saw throngs of people milling about outside stores, at restaurants and taverns, and bustling to and fro.

“Lovely,” Efanie said, and Victor turned to see her staring toward the Silver Sea. The waters were tinted orange and yellow by the rising sun but shimmered to reflect their namesake as the waves rolled toward shore.

“Yeah, it’s pretty country.”

“Lord, Lady, will you follow me to the keep? I’m sure Lady Rellia is eager to greet you.”

Victor looked to the guard who’d followed them up and nodded. “Yeah, we’ll say hello.” Victor had already written a note in his Farscribe book tied to Gorro ap’Dommic, his governor, so he doubted Rellia was really going to be surprised to see him and Valla. As he thought about it, he looked at Valla. “Didn’t you message Rellia?”

She shook her head. “I wanted to surprise her.” She took his hand and pulled him down the steps toward the roadway leading east to the keep and its tall, pale walls. The guard hurried to lead the way. He was a Shadeni and decently well-built, but he had to veritably scurry to keep ahead of Valla’s and Victor’s long strides. Recognizing that, Victor looked over his shoulder to see Efanie and Cora falling behind, so he slowed a little, tugging Valla’s hand.

She realized what he was doing and laughed. “I really am eager, aren’t I?” She turned back to the keep, and Victor followed her gaze. The gates were the same as before—huge and metal, prepared long before the Free Marches were conquered and transported from Gelica. They stood open, and the gap between them was already filling with soldiers forming on either side, creating an honor guard for Rellia and her “noble” visitors.

The street was lined with what seemed to be governmental buildings. Victor saw a library, a courthouse, and even a constable’s office and jail. He lost track of the other sights as Rellia appeared, flanked by her more important advisors and courtiers. She walked between her row of impressively armored and armed soldiers.

She looked different—taller, more regal, and certainly more finely dressed than he remembered. She wore a high-collared purple cape and a form-fitting black gown, ribbed and tooled to accentuate her tall, lean posture. Her rapier hung at her side, and her lustrous, curly red hair was pinned back and held down by a glittering diamond-studded tiara. Despite the finery and the show of regal bearing, her face looked the same as ever. Rellia’s crimson eyes glittered in the morning sun, her red-painted lips spread in an enormous smile, and she broke away from her guards and hurried toward Valla, lifting her skirts to keep from tripping.

Valla’s feathers rustled as she softly fluttered her wings, boosting her forward to smash into her mother. She caught her in an embrace, lifting her off her feet and spinning around once. Victor laughed and slowed, giving them a little space, holding out his hand to signal Efanie and Cora to stop. He looked at them and said, behind one hand, “That’s Valla’s mom.”

Cora’s eyes widened. “Her mother rules these lands?”

Victor shrugged. “Kind of. Really, it’s a republic of sorts, with landholders having the voting power. I, uh, have a lot of votes.” As Valla and Rellia finally separated, Victor stepped forward and couldn’t help but smile in response to Rellia’s genuine enthusiasm for seeing him. She held out her arms, and Victor scooped her up in a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Victor! Are you always this big now?”

“Nah, I can make myself smaller. This is my normal size, though.” As he set her down, she took one of his hands and pulled him toward Valla. Victor resisted and said, “Let me introduce Efanie and Cora.”

Rellia paused and turned to the two smaller women, one who looked like a human child and the other who looked very much like an elfin Fae. “Companions of yours?”

“Cora,” Victor pointed at the girl who looked down nervously, “is my ward. Efanie is looking after her.” Efanie tugged on Cora’s sleeve as he spoke, and the two performed remarkably graceful curtseys.

Rellia raised an eyebrow at Victor. “Welcome to the Free Marches. As Victor’s ward, Cora, you’re a member of his household, and, as a member of his household, anything you ever need, I will endeavor to provide.”

“Thank you, Lady.” Cora curtseyed again. Some weird, primal part of Victor felt proud of her in that moment.

“Come,” Rellia said, tugging his hand again as she reached out with the other to take Valla’s. “We have much to discuss, and something tells me you’re eager to see your own lands. I think you’ll be pleased when you do! First, though, I must insist that you and my daughter join me for an early brunch.” She turned to Cora and Efanie, “You’ll both attend, of course.”

As they nodded, Victor allowed himself to be led toward the keep, uncomfortably emotional by the sensations washing over him. Was this what it felt like to come “home?” Was Rellia so much like family to him? Had he forgotten his real home? Tucson felt like a distant dream, his cousins, aunts, even his abuelita, ghostly and faint in his mind’s eye. He supposed he’d given up on ever seeing them. He’d accepted that his grandmother was gone for good, at least in this lifetime, and hadn’t thought about that part of his life at all.

As they stepped into the shadows of the gatehouse, he felt a similar shadow in his heart—a melancholy acceptance rearing its head, reminding him that, despite all he’d gained, he’d certainly lost plenty, too. The thought had a strange effect on him, and he turned to look over his shoulder at Cora. Her eyes were wide as she looked around at the guards and regal décor. At that moment, he vowed that she wouldn’t experience any more loss, at least not until she was well and truly grown and no longer his responsibility. She was still young—hopefully, young enough to build enough joy atop her own melancholy experiences to help her avoid the kind of ephemeral despair that had chosen such an odd time to grip his heart.