Victor of Tucson

Book 6: Chapter 51: Motivations

Victor sat beside Chandri on the stone wall Sarl’s engineers had built around the encampment. They were facing the mountain where, in the darkness, Victor could make out the dim lights of the twin keeps guarding the road up to Hector’s base of operations. After their lengthy sparring, when everyone, including Victor, had let off a good amount of steam and the soldiers moved off to perform their evening duties, Victor had pulled Chandri aside and asked if he could speak with her. Now they sat, looking into the darkness, Chandri quiet, perhaps uncomfortable, and Victor unsure of what he’d wanted to say.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat and pointed toward the dim lights up on the mountain. “Can you hear it? The river roaring down the falls?”

“Of course. It’s a big river, but not so big as the Rill Catcher. I’ve seen bigger falls west of Gelica, toward the frontier.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I’ve seen that river, too, but not the falls. Where I grew up, there weren’t any big rivers; I lived in a desert. Sometimes, when it rained really hard, the washes, as we called them, would flood and pour through the desert like rivers, but they usually dried up in a day or two.”

“Do you miss it? Home?”

“Yeah, of course. Mostly, I miss people. My grandmother especially. I’ve learned a lot about spirits and my ancestry, though. I know she’s in here.” Victor thumped his fist against his chest. “And out there.” He gestured toward the distant, twinkling stars. “I’m sure we’ll meet again someday, though probably not in this life.”

“I remember you asking me questions about how we Shadeni are always talking to our ancestors. It’s interesting to see you take it even further. I’ve heard about your sacrifices and how your ancestors take action through you. For weeks, everyone at the pass talked about how you fought off an entire army, breathing fire and shouting for your ancestors’ glory.”

Victor turned away from the stars to look at her face, her magenta eyes dark in the shadows. “Is that why you came here? The stories of our victories?”

“Well . . .” She frowned and folded her arms, covered in bloody, dusty scrapes. Victor felt a twinge of guilt at how rough he’d been with her and the other soldiers, but they’d seemed to enjoy it at the time. Besides, it was good for them to feel how a giant opponent might toss them about, wasn’t it? “To be honest, I’m not sure. I felt like . . . I felt like I was missing something. I was spending my days watching children and teaching them to hunt. I know it’s an important task, but Challa knows as much as I do, and she’s matured a lot lately. I think having Deyni look up to her has helped in that regard. Anyway, I’ve felt angry, and I don’t know why, but I knew I wanted to see you, and I wanted to help somehow.”

“Hmm.” Victor nodded and rubbed his chin, feeling a little nervous. If they’d heard the tales of his exploits back at the pass, had they also heard that he and Valla were together? She wouldn’t be here to try to rekindle any sort of . . .

Chandri interrupted his racing thoughts. “I don’t think I regret rejecting you back when you stayed with us, Victor. I think I regret deciding I wanted a simple life, though. How could so much change in a few months? I’d been sure I wanted to continue our old way of life, following the same hunting migration my father and his fathers had followed for a hundred years. Now we’re in a new land, fighting wars, joining with people I’d never imagined would be so close. Everything highlights how simple I’d been, how short-sighted.” She paused, tsking and shaking her head, but before Victor could respond, she kept talking.

“I was angry with you initially, and I know how irrational that is. Was it your fault you were born with such potential? Was it your fault you were molded from a lump of iron into a blade by the crucible of your hardships? Those are Tellen’s words—he and I had a good, long talk before I left to join this army. I think a part of my heart was angry with myself for limiting my future with simple dreams, for not at least entertaining the idea that my future wasn’t with the clan, living as a huntress. Still, it’s hard to see so much change and not feel some heartache. Where will we hang our midwinter ribbons this year? What trees will fill that role? The Blue Deep is too far. What about in spring? Will we still have a feast to welcome the spirits of the small creatures? Many of our old ones have died, and I worry that traditions will be lost.”

“I get that . . .”

“I know you’ve suffered loss, too. I also know that I’m not making sense! In one breath, I talk about how I’m angry that I limited myself, and in another, I lament the loss of tradition.”

“There aren’t easy answers, Chandri. I can’t promise that things will be better here, but that’s what I’m working for. Once we drive out these invaders, your people will have a part of this new land to call their own. You won’t have to look over your shoulders any longer. The animals you hunt and the land you nurture will be your own. Your traditions will survive, especially if there are more like you who value them.”

“I know that’s your dream, Victor. I hope you’re right, and I think it will bring me joy to see my father, Thayla, and the others build something permanent. I hope it will make things easier for me as I leave to know they’ve done so, that they’ll be here.”

“Ah!” Victor was beginning to understand. “You’ve decided to leave?”

“Yes. I want to help the effort to claim this land, and then I intend to travel and adventure. There are lands beyond these marches, beyond the mountains and the sea. I’m going to explore, Victor! I know there are other continents and other unclaimed lands. I want to return to the town my father settles with maps and tales of places and people that no one in the Ridonne Empire has seen or heard of in hundreds of years.”

“A lot of history has been lost because of those guys, the Ridonne. Have you seen Valla?” Victor intended to talk about the Ordeni and Rihven, but Chandri’s eyes told him he’d misstepped.

“Your lady love?” She chuckled, but Victor detected a bitter note in the laugh. “How could I not? She’s a goddess walking among primitives.”

“Hey!” Victor couldn’t help himself. He reached out and grabbed her chin, turning her face to his. He stared into her eyes as he spoke, “Don’t be stupid, all right? If your face wasn’t smeared with dusty, bloody war paint, you wouldn’t look half so scary . . .” He grinned, flinching back, hoping she’d take a swipe at him because of his stupid joke, but she shook her head, and he saw tears forming in her eyes. “Come on! That was a joke! I’m trying to lighten the mood here. You know she’s had a lot of racial enhancements, right? You could . . .”

“I could what? Do you know how many racial enhancements our entire clan has come across in my lifetime? One. One that Tellen tried to get Old Mother to consume, but she refused, saying it was better used on a hunter. So, we had a festival with contests to choose the recipient, and my cousin Rorrin won. Guess where he is now.”

“I don’t . . .”

“Dead. Killed by a boyii alpha while he sought a vision from the spirits.” She sighed and slapped her hands on her leather-clad thighs, stirring up a cloud of dust. “Forget it, Victor. I appreciate you talking with me. I know you have a good heart, and I want you to know I’m not angry with you. I’m just angry. I need to do something meaningful, and that starts with helping to finish this war. Will you let me be? Will you let me seek my own destiny?”

“Of course, I . . .”

She hopped to her feet with a grunt. “That’s all I want. Thank you for taking the time to speak, Legate.” She snapped a perfect salute, her fist sending another puff of dust off her chest, and then she turned and hopped off the wall, leaving Victor sitting there feeling dumbfounded. After a while, he stood up and wandered around the camp, observing soldiers performing evening tasks, sitting around cookfires, or rushing to and fro, likely working on tasks vital to Sarl’s planned bombardment of the citadel gates in the morning. Eventually, he made his way to his travel home, and when he went inside, he wasn’t surprised to find Valla still talking with Lam and Edeya. They sat near each other around one end of his dining table.

“There he is! Were your ears itching?” Lam smiled when she saw him coming in from the foyer.

“You were talking about me?”

“We were wondering how serious you were about the assault in the morning,” Valla said, standing up and walking to meet him.

“What do you mean?” He held open his arms so she could hug him more easily.

Lam provided the response, “If the trebuchets work and break the gates, will you attack?”

“And if they don’t, will you break them yourself?” Edeya added.

“You guys think I can?”

Valla pulled away and looked up into his face. “Is that a question meant to confound us? If we say yes, are we encouraging you? If we say no, will you take it as a challenge?” She winked at him and turned back to the table, pulling his hand to bring him along.

“I don’t know. It’s been a while since I had a good fight, and I’m getting antsy. The more time we give someone like Hector, if he’s anything like Belikot, the longer he’ll have to prepare something surprising. I feel like we should take the citadels so he can’t stage some kind of surprise. If we hold them, or at least the first one, it will be a much stronger position. Also, I don’t like Hector in charge of that bridge; what if he broke it?”

“I told you,” Lam said, nodding. “Sarl, though he prepares his bombardment for the morning, is of the opinion that you mean to wait for Rellia and Borrius to bring the full legion here.”

“I do intend to wait for them, but I’d rather wait from within one of those fortresses.”

Lam nodded, pounding her fist on the table. “And then we could launch a full-scale assault on the mountain!”

Victor smiled at her enthusiasm, but it was half-hearted. He pulled out a chair, and Edeya poured a glass of some kind of chilled wine for him. He sat there, sipping it, while Valla and Lam began a conversation about siege engines, their effectiveness against warded structures, and the different times they’d seen them put to use. He nodded, made encouraging sounds, and tried to follow the conversation, but he kept thinking about Chandri charging that wall with the other soldiers. He kept thinking about how quiet Hector had been. He felt like he was missing something.

It was still relatively early when he pushed his chair back and said, “I think I’m going to turn in. Maybe I’ll do some cultivating and try to clear my head. I’d hoped some exercise would do it, but my brain is still pretty damn busy. Don’t mind me.”

“I’ll come with you . . .” Valla started to stand, but Victor shook his head.

“Nah, I won’t be good company. You should invite Kethelket over for his opinion on the siege. He has a couple hundred flying troops, after all.”

Lam chuckled. “Well, of course, we were going to talk to him. I’m surprised he’s not here already—did you hurt him on the practice field?”

“Nah.” Victor smiled a little ruefully. “In fact, I think he got more solid hits in than I did. Anyway, tell me how it goes when you finish up.” He leaned forward and kissed Valla’s forehead.

“You’re sure you don’t want company?” Valla stood and took his hand, following him as he walked toward the dimly lit staircase.

“No, I have some things tickling my brain that I need to figure out. Some quiet is all I’m after.” He squeezed her fingers and started down the steps, happy to hear her turn and call for Edeya to “go find Kethelket.” Something was bothering him, but the problem was that he couldn’t tell if it was all in his head. Maybe he was being paranoid. Still, he kept replaying his conversation with Victoria over in his mind; who had mentioned Spirit Walking first? She had, right? Something about him having to battle the veil star on the Spirit Plane if he wanted to be rid of it. “Then she said I shouldn’t try . . .” Victor growled as he opened the door to his bedroom.

No matter how hard he tried to stop, he kept thinking back to Belikot. He kept remembering how everyone said not to mess with him on the Spirit Plane, to build a troop of heroes to dig out his lair and face him that way. Victor had ended the matter by ignoring them, by using his prodigious gift with spirit-attuned Energies to crush him in the Spirit Plane. Hadn’t Old Mother encouraged him to do so? Growling, Victor sat down on the rug in the empty area beside his bed. How much time and how many lives had he saved by handling Belikot in such a way? Was he irritated because his pride had been questioned or because he felt like Victoria was scheming somehow? Why did he feel that way?

Victor unstrapped Lifedrinker and held her on his lap. “She doesn’t want me in there. She doesn’t want me to see what Hector is doing up there on that mountain.”

We should hunt! Let your enemies quake, knowing you are on the prowl!

“Yeah,” Victor growled. “I think we should.” He reached into his Core and severed the connection to his Alter Self spell. The stone flags under the rug didn’t complain as his mass surged, and he expanded, occupying a much more significant portion of his bedroom. He took long, deep breaths and tried to calm his mind. He wasn’t sure he was doing something clever, but it felt right—how could he ask his troops to begin an assault at dawn when they had no idea what to expect from Hector? What if he had another massive horde of undead up there, just waiting for his army to become entrenched in a battle?

They needed intel, and he couldn’t risk more Naghelli, not when he was perfectly capable of taking a look around. Hadn’t he already proven he was powerful enough to match Hector’s death casters? Hadn’t he slaughtered Victoria’s ghostly guardians and thrashed her into submission? “Yeah. I think it’s time I got my eyes on Hector and gave him something to worry about.” Victor reached into his Core and pulled out a strand of inspiration-attuned Energy, pulling it into the pattern for Spirit Walk.

#

Victoria’s eyes snapped open, and she smiled, unable to contain her glee. She’d glimpsed Victor’s spirit, blooming into being on the Spirit Plane like a bonfire among candles. She’d immediately fled, long before he might have taken note of her presence. As she continued to grin, wringing her hands in excitement, her guard scowled at her from within the dark folds of his cowl, but she ignored him. He might have a solid resistance to her charms, but he was utterly blind where her spirit walking was concerned. It hardly took a trickle of Energy for her to send part of herself into that realm; her phylactery kept her partially anchored to it at all times.

Her little ruse with the tether she’d had Victor sever had done a good job of building trust, showing a false animosity between her and the dark prince. That and the “assassination attempt” had served to convince all of these fools to lower their guard, at least enough so she could work around their watchful attention. Meanwhile, her connection to her phylactery and, through it, to Hector had been her saving grace. Just a tiny trickle of Energy was all it took to contact him. To convey news of Victor’s armies and warn him about the champions who sought to slay him and halt his imminent dominion over this rich world.

What a simple matter it had been to ensconce herself among these mortals! When Eric’s man, Porter, came running, weak and near death, a bloody stump where his powerful arm had once been, Hector had made the plan, and Victor had fallen for it every step of the way. Hector’s idea to place her in the Obsidian Keep, the next obvious target of Victor’s assault, had only been the first step. Oh, Victor was strong and a cunning fighter, but not cunning enough. She chuckled, ignoring the glare of the guardian standing near the tent’s exit. She’d learned so much about Victor, first from battling with him, then from listening to the tales spun by his followers. They worshiped him like a god among men, and in that worship, she’d found his downfall.

His rage, glory, and fear were apparent; she’d felt them for herself. The tales from his lieutenants and even the soldiers’ gossip had filled in the rest of the story—justice to hunt down the wicked, inspiration to help his allies learn, and courage to bolster them in the face of even the most awful and terrifying of foes. It was a potent mix of attunements, but nothing that couldn’t be prepared for. She’d whispered her news to her lord; she’d told him all she’d learned, and now Victor was on the Spirit Plane, and she knew what he was doing there.

“What a fool,” she chuckled, grinning at the guard as he stepped forward, hand on his sword hilt.

“Silence!”

Victoria smirked and settled back in her chair. All it had taken was a hint, a mere mention of the Spirit Plane, and then feigned concern, “No, no! You mustn’t go there! Hector is too strong under the veil star!” She almost laughed again as she remembered how the titan-blood had bristled. That was another thing his worshipful troops loved to speak about—Victor’s pride. It wouldn’t matter if they never mentioned it; she’d tasted it herself. Still, she’d heard the story of Belikot and played Victor like a harp, strumming the chords of his downfall.

“Well,” she said, standing from her chair, “I think it’s time I introduce myself . . .”

“Silence!” the guard yelled, and the tent flap opened, admitting the other two, each with an exposed blade.

“No, I think not. My name is Catalina, consort and confidant of Prince Hector, the rightful monarch of these lands, and I’m afraid my patience has expired.” She unstoppered the flow of her death Energy and, as the guards burst into lightning motion, slashing her with their wickedly sharp blades, she exploded into cool mist, wrapping herself around them, pulling them close, draining the heat and life force from their bodies.