Victor of Tucson
Book 11: Chapter 5: Soon Enough

5 – Soon Enough

When Victor returned to his palace at Iron Mountain, he teleported directly into the workroom outside of his cultivation chamber. He’d already spent time saying his farewells to Kynna, Bryn, and the others; Arona knew he’d return when he was able to open broader teleportation to Dark Ember. There wasn’t any need to bog himself down with another round of farewells. Knowing Kynna, she’d talk him into some sort of state dinner or celebration, and, frankly, he was ready to get moving.

That being said, when he arrived, he went directly into his cultivation chamber and sealed the door. He wanted to experiment a little with his spirit space before he sought out Chantico, and he figured the chamber would ensure that nobody sensed his presence. He sat down on his platform, inhaling deeply of the Energy-rich atmosphere, then he closed his eyes and turned his gaze inward.

As he viewed his Core space, he looked for some sort of aperture, some opening or doorway that hadn’t been there before. The thing was, he’d given the space more than one cursory inspection since he’d finished his battle with Dro Vah, and he hadn’t seen anything obvious. It was the same this time.

Frowning, he moved his focus out to the thick band of his aura where it encircled his Core space, keeping it secure from prying eyes or other magical senses. It was like a dense cloud of crimson-black fog, ripe with emotion and intent. It didn’t bother Victor, being that it was his own aura, but he knew it was overwhelmingly heavy and caustic to others.

He saw no sign of an aperture near the barrier of his aura, so he moved his gaze inward, studying the space around his blazing Core. When his scrutiny failed to discern anything, he focused on his Core. An orb, pulsing and throbbing like a fiery star, hung at the center, pale blue and wonderful to behold, and around it, two thick bands rotated. One was crimson and baleful, hot and ready to ignite. The other was like a coil of purple-black shadow, roiling with mysteries that spoke to the primal fears imprinted on through ancestral memories.

Victor knew his Core was connected to his spirit. The reason his hope-attuned Energy was at the center was so that it would have the strongest effect on Victor’s psyche. Did that mean the aperture to his spirit space was at the center, too? Did the orb of blazing Energy obscure it? Victor allowed his mind’s eye, his consciousness, to drift closer until his Core was massive before him, filling his entire field of view. He moved past his slowly rotating, swirling band of fear-attuned Energy. He waited for the thick, endless-seeming ring of rage to flow past, and then he proceeded, straight into the heart of his Core.

As the blue-white Energy engulfed him, he felt a pull. At first, he resisted it, halting his momentum, but instinctively, he knew he was meant to go with it, so he let go of his inhibition and allowed himself to be drawn deeper into his Core. Seconds later, he felt himself slip through some kind of barrier—a threshold or, perhaps, a metaphorical curtain. When he emerged, he found himself standing on a flat gray plane.

He could see his feet standing on something, but it wasn’t clear what. When he looked around, he had a vague sense that the gray space went nowhere, but also forever; he couldn’t see a limit, but he couldn’t see anything between himself and that limit, either. It was a bizarre sensation. The space wasn’t empty, in any case. Nearby, he could feel a pulse of Energy that felt familiar; it was attuned to potential.

He looked toward the feeling and saw a fountain of sparkling light sprouting from the nothingness of the gray plane. It looked almost like a Roman candle firing in perpetuity—a shower of colorful orbs that went up into nothing, fading as more orbs continually emerged from the grayness to replace them. “My Energy-well, I take it.”

Victor turned, feeling something else, and saw a thick bundle of colorful threads of light hanging in the featureless gray behind him. It was a true tangle—thousands or tens of thousands of strands that came out of nowhere, wound into knots with each other, then traveled off into…nowhere. This had to be his skein, he figured, and the idea that he was supposed to make some order out of that mess gave him shudders of anticipatory frustration.

Frowning, he stretched out a hand, reaching for one of the threads, a red-tinted one, and when he touched it, he felt a visceral tug in his chest and a memory flashed through his mind. He saw himself exploding with fury, igniting with magma-rich Energy as he stalked up a mountainside, intent on annihilating a foe. Victor released the thread, and the feelings and images receded, but he got the idea; that thread represented his Volcanic Rage and a memorable use of it.

“How am I supposed to pull threads into a mantle, though? Where is the­—”

As he had the thought, a shimmering translucent outline appeared in the nothingness between his Energy-well and his skein. It was amorphous, ready to be shaped, ready to be stretched or compressed. How he knew, he couldn’t say, but he was certain this was the framework for his mantle. He was meant to pull threads into it, attaching them to invisible hooks as he shaped it into the perfect representation of his mantle. “And then I can feed the Energy out of the well into it.”

Nodding, happy that he at least had found the elements of his mantle, the things he’d need to work with to make it, Victor moved closer to the Energy well. Dar had said he could shape his spirit space with some of the Energy he’d gathered. Victor wasn’t about to spend a hundred years trying to make a castle in there, but he wouldn’t mind something in that gray, empty plane. He stretched a hand into the fountain and immediately felt the depth of it; he’d already amassed an imposing amount of Energy.

He tugged a thin thread of it out, directing it toward the gray nothingness at his feet. At the same time, he willed it to stretch out and expand. He pictured his favorite rug back at Dar’s Lake House, an enormous, hand-woven cream and midnight-blue one, patterned with abstract shapes that made him think of dragons and flowers. It was thick and lush, and Victor had no problem imagining how it felt on his bare feet or how each fiber pulled in different directions when he sat down and pressed his fingers into it.

To his delight, the Energy easily molded to his desire, and when he let go of the thread, he no longer stood on nothing; his lush carpet was beneath him, stretching over the space occupied by his skein and his Energy-well. Victor looked at his boots on the rug, then held out his hands and frowned, examining his many rings. Was he really there? Had he traveled into his spirit-space, or was he just there mentally, in spirit?

He reached into one of his rings and summoned one of his elder magic books, one he’d already studied to exhaustion. It appeared in his hand, and his brows narrowed further. Could he do that if he weren’t really there? He set the book down on the carpet at his feet, then looked around. How was he supposed to leave? It seemed intention was important in the spirit space; as soon as he thought about an exit, one appeared.

An opening split the nothingness, shining with the pale, blue-white light of his hope affinity. Victor stepped into it, then opened his eyes and found himself back in his cultivation chamber. “Now that’s pretty damn cool,” he muttered.

Concentrating, he tried to see if he could sense the book he’d left in his spirit space. It was far easier than he’d expected. Now that he’d found his spirit space and gotten a feel for it, he found he was aware of it somehow; he could feel it all the time, much as he could feel the contents of a dimensional container when he was touching it. Concentrating briefly, he mentally “reached” into the space and drew out the book. It felt so natural that it wasn’t even a surprise when he looked down and saw the volume in his hand.

Grinning, Victor closed his eyes, turned his gaze inward, and this time, much faster, let his consciousness flow through his Core and into his spirit space. When he once again stood on the rug he’d crafted from pure Energy, Victor moved to the Energy-well and tugged another thread of Energy from it. Using that tiny fraction of his potential, he began crafting more furniture: shelves, a table, and an armor stand. He made them look like dark, polished mahogany, and when they were finished, he populated them with his dimensional containers—his rings, his pouches, even his vault.

He went through those storage devices and removed the objects he might want to access directly. He hung his armor on the racks he’d made, and he made sure Lifedrinker was comfortable there, her head resting on the rug, and her haft leaning against the bookcase. When he rested his hand on her haft and asked how she felt, joy radiated from her.

“Heart-mate! I love this place. It feels like you!”

Victor smiled, warmed by her enthusiasm. “I’m glad, chica. You’re close to me here—someplace no one but I can reach you.”

“Thank you, battle-heart! Will we wage war on your foes soon?”

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“I think so, yes. I’m glad you’ll be here until then, however.” Victor looked around his space, chuckling at the spartan, unfinished nature of it, and shrugged. He’d spend time here and there improving it, but for now, it would suffice. He gave Lifedrinker’s haft another pat, and then stepped through the opening into his Core space.

When he opened his eyes and sat there in the dim lighting of his cultivation chamber, he took a few minutes trying to decide if he was genuinely ready to report to Chantico. Part of him knew he was stalling for various reasons. Primarily, he wanted to spend more time with his friends and loved ones. He wasn’t sure what to expect on Dark Ember, but he knew it wouldn’t be a vacation. Chantico and he both had talked about him “conquering a city” to enable teleportation, as though it would be a trivial task, but he knew better.

He might be a long time working toward that goal, and that meant he’d be cut off from everyone. “That’s not quite true,” he muttered, contemplating the Farscribe books he’d put into the bookcase in his spirit space. “All right, enough stalling, pendejo,” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes. “Let’s go see big sister.”

He cast Spirit Walk, concentrating his will and providing the Energy to bring his physical vessel with him. When he opened his eyes, he saw the familiar landscape of the spirit plane dominated by the mighty Iron Mountain. A campfire flickered out in the plains, brightening the twilight gloom of the mountain’s shadow with its dancing orange flames. Victor started toward it; he could see Chantico’s leather-clad figure reclining in the grass nearby.

As he approached, she called out, “Little brother? You kept your promise!” She sounded almost surprised, and Victor clicked his tongue.

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

“No. I thought you would, but I’m pleased, nonetheless.” She stood, brushing her hands off on her leather pants. “This is a lovely spot, and I accomplished much thinking while I waited.”

Victor tilted his head, eyeing her quizzically. “Where is your body?”

“Far and far from here.”

Victor nodded, folding his arms. “But you didn’t want to wake for a while? Spend some time in the real world while you waited?”

She arched an eyebrow, chuckling. “You think this world isn’t real?”

Victor sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Victor, I didn’t want to wake. It will be a…momentous occasion when I do, and I won’t easily be able to leave again. Where I rest, my loved ones have carried on, and there will be many relatives, old and new, for me to spend time with before I take my leave and attempt to ascend.”

“Will you wait to see if I carry out your wishes on Dark Ember?”

“I’ll feel it, certainly, if you succeed or fail.” She stepped closer, resting a warm hand on Victor’s forearm. “I have high hopes for you, and I wish I could help properly, but I think fate pulls you and me in different directions. I’m glad we intersected, though.”

Victor smiled, unfolding his arms so he could put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad too.”

She stared into his eyes for a long minute, and Victor couldn’t help thinking that her eyes looked a lot like his—more than anyone he’d ever known. They were like luminous orbs of honey, filled with countless little details and striations—ring after ring of faintly different shades. They drew him in, until he felt like he was falling into a depthless, golden tunnel. She blinked and giggled, shaking her head. “I was losing myself in your eyes.”

He laughed. “I was thinking the same thing!”

“Come, then, fated one. Let me guide you to the next step in your destiny.” She turned and started walking over the grassy plain, and Victor followed. “I see you brought your flesh and blood with you onto this plane. That’s good, Victor. I’m glad I didn’t have to teach you.”

“My mentor, Ranish Dar, showed me how.”

“Good. We’ve far to go, but your Energy pool should be sufficient to keep you whole. If you feel yourself waning, however, speak up, and we’ll find another world to stop over at so you can recover.”

“I will.”

With that, Chantico began to jog and Victor hurried to keep pace, knowing how the spirit plane worked; she could move a thousand miles away from him with a single step if he lost sight of her. As long as he stayed close, though, that same distance-distorting feature of the plane would serve to move him with her. Her intention guided them both.

After a few hours of jogging, Victor cleared his throat and called out, “Chantico! When I visit my spirit space, does my physical body go inside?”

“No.”

“But when I’m in there, I can leave belongings behind. Like, I took off my rings and when I came out, they were gone!”

“You took them off on the physical plane and sent them into your spirit space; your presence there is a construct of your spirit.”

“So I’m vulnerable while I’m in there?”

“Yes! Just as you would be on a normal spirit walk.”

“Can I bring my physical body in the way I did here, to travel over the spirit plane?”

“How would that work? Your doorway to your spirit space is within your body! It hurts my mind to imagine how you could put your body into it!”

“But—I thought my spirit space would eventually be a universe of its own!”

“Yes, but…” Chantico shook her head, then muttered something in a language the System couldn’t translate. “I don’t know, Victor! Perhaps you can create a doorway into your spirit space that lies outside your body. It’s not something I’ve ever explored!”

Victor grinned, pleased to have stumped his ancient ancestor. “Do you think others have?”

“Of course! You’re one mind among multitudes; I’m sure there are experts of spatial magic who have thought this through. Now, stay close, we’re about to make our first world jump—I see the bridge.”

Victor nodded and followed Chantico as she guided him over the first of many “bridges” that connected the many worlds on the spirit plane. He’d done the same with Dar when his mentor had guided him to Ruhn, but, as before, Victor could hardly see a difference between a bridge and the run-of-the-mill spirit plane. Chantico—and Dar—said it was one of those things you had to learn by exploring.

When Victor mentioned it, he was encouraged when Chantico said the journey would be long, and he’d get dozens of opportunities to study bridges. He hoped he’d be a little more adept at locating them by the time they reached their destination.

He found his hope was a reasonable one because by the time they neared the fourth bridge between worlds, he noticed a different hue to the air, a sort of shimmer he hadn’t seen before, and once he saw that, he felt a difference in the ambient Energy. It was lighter and thinner. As soon as he realized it, he called out, “We’re nearing a bridge!”

“Well noticed, little brother! Soon we’ll be crossing over to a world called Umberrion. The spirit plane there is thick with dark Energies, but we won’t linger long enough for it to bother us.”

Victor nodded, matching her pace as she lengthened her strides across the bridge, no longer jogging, but flat-out running. When they crossed, he saw what she meant about the ambient Energy. It felt heavy and gloomy, and he knew the affinities would be inclined toward things like shadow and death. Dark, glowering spirits lurked in the distance, their eyes shining with hunger as they saw his flesh-and-blood vessel running across the plane. None dared approach, though; whether they were afraid of Chantico or thought Victor was too much of a mouthful, he couldn’t have said.

Soon, he noticed another bridge and they crossed to another world. This went on for hours and hours—days, perhaps—and after something like their thirtieth crossing, Victor looked inward to see his Core was running low on Energy. “I think I’ll need to rest!” he called out.

“Good timing! There’s a pleasant little world not far away. We’ll pause there for you to recover.”

Victor nodded and followed Chantico across another world bridge. She stopped then, pausing in the middle of a dense, twilight forest. The trees were tall and thin, with branches that only covered the top quarter of their length. Without a word, she began to gather firewood, pulling branches from the underbrush even though Victor couldn’t see a single dead limb anywhere. Was she manifesting them?

“You’ll need to end your walk, little brother. I’ll wait here.”

“Ah, right. I’ll return as soon as I’ve recovered my Energy.” She only nodded in response, so Victor added. “Speak to you soon.”

“Soon,” she agreed.

With a final nod, Victor ended his Spirit Walk and inhaled deeply, inexplicably proud to be setting foot on yet another new world, one he didn’t even know the name of. The air was chilly, and the forest was far denser and darker than it had appeared on the spirit plane. Animal and insect noises were thick in the air—buzzes, clicks, howls, coughing roars, and the screeches of some kind of bird. Victor found a large tree, put his back to it, and sat down, staring out into the night.

His titan eyes pierced the darkness for a hundred yards or more, so he could watch the little shapes of night creatures jumping from branch to branch, scurrying through the underbrush. Other, larger creatures plodded here and there, eating the leaves and berries from certain bushes. Victor didn’t intend to sleep; he could feel the Energy was thick in the air, and he knew he’d recover within an hour, so he just held still and observed, enjoying the alien pageant put on by the forest creatures.

When his Core was fully recovered, he once again cast Spirit Walk, willing his body to come through with him. Chantico was lying on the soft forest bed, her arms crossed beneath her head. Her eyes were closed, but they opened instantly when Victor looked at her. “Welcome back.” She leaped to her feet. “Ready? Another ten bridges to go, I think.”

“You think?”

She shrugged. “Give or take a bridge or two.” She started jogging, and Victor fell in beside her. “Have you thought of your plan?”

“I figure I’ll make myself look like a normal human for a while and see what things look like.”

She nodded. “Wise. Get a look at the land and a feel for the culture.” She shook her head, chuckling. “Though I pity the minor noble who tries to make you a thrall.”

Victor grinned. “I want to get an idea of what the thralls are like—what their lives are like. It might be enlightening to act like one of them for a while.”

“You’ll stand out, healthy as you are. Still, you can say you escaped a neighboring master; the undead lords of Dark Ember are not friendly with one another. If one of them thinks they’ve taken you from a rival, they won’t want word of it to spread. Their insular, combative nature will serve you well during your conquest.”

“I was hoping so.”

“Good! I’m glad you’ve been thinking about this. Now, focus and stay close! Another bridge approaches.”

Victor matched her pace, excitement warring with something like dread anticipation in his chest. He loved to fight, and he’d always meant to help the people of Dark Ember, but at the same time, he was worried about what he’d find there. He could feel it twisting his guts as he remembered how Nia had described humans being treated like cattle on that world. The thought carried unsettling images, and he found himself gripping his hands into fists, wishing he were holding Lifedrinker.

“Easy, little brother,” Chantico said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “There will be time for your rage soon enough.”