Victor of Tucson

Book 9: Chapter 4: Friends and Enemies

After they emerged from the catacombs beneath his home, Dar led Victor into the main parlor and said, “Why don’t you take a shower and freshen up, and then we’ll go out. Tell your dragonkin friend that he’s welcome to join us. I had plans to dine with Lo’ro, but when I felt your breakthrough, I thought it a good opportunity for you to let off a little steam. He won’t mind the extra company.”

“At his home?”

“Hah, no.” Dar chuckled. “He may be a friend, but I’ve no taste for death-attuned environs.” He glanced down at his hypnotic attire. “I’ll get myself cleaned up—too much powerful drink can wear a man out. I’m in need of some hearty food. Meet me back here in twenty minutes.”

Victor nodded, squinting at the windows. He’d utterly lost track of the days, let alone the time while he’d been down in the cultivation chamber. The setting sun was bright in the sky, and it felt good on his face as she squinted out toward the lake. “I’ll let Lesh know.” As Dar nodded, Victor walked toward the front door where he could be sure a servant was always on duty. He didn’t have to go that far, though, before Mr. Ruln approached from the direction of the kitchens.

“Looking for something, Sir Victor?”

“Do you know where Lesh is?”

“Ah! Sir Lesh is currently sparring with a guest on the recreation field.”

“Oh?” Victor’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s good! Thanks, Mr. Ruln.” As the steward nodded, Victor hurried out the front door and down the path toward the outdoor recreation area where he and Lesh often practiced. Long before he arrived, he heard the grunts and thuds as two very large men exchanged blows and grappled. When he rounded the corner, Victor was thrilled to see Lesh grappling with Drobna, the turtle-like berserker he’d battled in the Vault of Valor. He paused on the edge of the sand-covered field and watched, waiting for the two men to notice him.

Victor could see that Drobna wasn’t berserk; his muscles were swollen with power, but he was clearly not enraged. Watching them exchange blows and struggle to throw each other, Victor wondered if Drobna’s berserk ability differed from his own. He wondered if he’d advanced it to the epic tier and, if so, whether or not he’d gained Iron Berserk as an ability evolution. He watched and contemplated such things for nearly five minutes, but when the two showed no signs of pausing their struggles, he finally called out, “Lesh! Do you want to join Dar and me for dinner?” When the two fighters looked his way, he added, “Hey, Drobna! You’re welcome to join, of course.”

“Victor!” Lesh laughed, releasing Drobna and jogging over the sand toward him. “You’ve finally come out of your cave!” Drobna followed him over, brushing his large, greenish-brown hands together.

Victor laughed. “I did! At long last, I’ve come out of hibernation!”

Drobna stood beside Lesh, clapping the black-scaled dragonkin on the shoulder. “I’m pleased to see you, Victor. When can I claim that promised sparring match?”

“Soon. In fact, I’ll corner Master Dar at dinner tonight to get him to commit to some kind of schedule. I need regular practice.” He reached out a hand, and Drobna took it in a firm grip. “Join us?”

“It’s a wonderful offer, and I’m sure I’ll be gnashing my beak in frustration later tonight, but I must decline. My wife’s parents are hosting a small event, and if I don’t attend, I’ll be sleeping outside for a month.”

Lesh chuckled, a deep, almost growl-like sound, and elbowed the berserker. “You’d miss a chance to dine with a great master? Your wife must have a weighty hand.”

“Hah!” Drobna shrugged. “She does, I can’t deny. I fear her wrath a great deal more than I value the attention of even the great lords of Sojourn.”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Victor gave his hand a final squeeze and let go. “I’m glad you’ve been keeping Lesh busy. I’ll reach out with our training schedule for the next few months, okay?”

“Yes! I’m eager to see if we might have a secret or two to share with each other.” He turned to Lesh. “I suppose that brings our session to an end?”

“Yes! I’ll not miss a dinner with Victor and the mighty Ranish Dar!”

“Until next time, then.” Drobna waved and started down the path. Victor grabbed Lesh’s shoulder and pulled him along behind the shelled warrior.

“We need to hurry. Dar’s leaving in about fifteen minutes.”

Lesh nodded, quickening his steps. “I must rinse this sweat and blood from my scales, and then I’ll be ready!”

Eighteen minutes later, Victor and Lesh, both freshly washed, climbed into Dar’s coach. The master Spirit Caster was already inside and, to Victor’s relief, wore a fresh set of silken pajama clothes. These were solid emerald green and much easier on his eyes. As he and Lesh took their seats, Dar smiled and gestured to a tray of drinks—large tumblers filled with rich, amber liquid. “Have a drink, men. I’m pleased you joined us, Lesh!”

“Thank you for the invitation, Lord Dar.” Lesh picked up one of the tumblers and drained it in a single gulp. Victor chuckled and took a more restrained sip, well aware of how strong Dar’s liquors were.

“I have something for you. I was waiting until Victor was finished with his seclusion in the cultivation cave, and I think now would be a good time to present it.”

Victor looked into Dar’s fiery eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Is this the—”

“It is! Lord Roil was loathe to hand it over; he was rather irritated that you slipped away before the council could question you, but I pointed out that you were not obligated to do so.” Dar chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, you should have seen him fume when Lady Rexa wrested control of the dungeon from him.”

“Wait, what?”

“I spoke to her in confidence about what was taking place in the dungeon. After you told me of the children’s plight and your promises to aid them, I felt obligated to seek her advice.”

“But what about Ronk—”

Dar held up a hand, shaking his head. “Remember your promise, Victor. Lesh is an ally, but he’s not part of that man’s trust. Rest assured that I wrung a promise out of Lady Rexa; she will aid the children and not interfere with other matters.” Again, he chuckled, a deep sound like large plates of stone grinding against each other. “To be honest, I believe she prefers it that way.” He turned back to Lesh. “That’s all beside the point, however. The council owed Victor another prize, and he chose to request a cultivation item for you.”

“What?” Lesh’s eyes opened wide, and he looked from Dar to Victor. “You didn’t have to do that, Lord Victor!”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“Come on, Lesh! Just Victor. Don’t worry about it, anyway. I promised I’d help you figure out how to cultivate your breath Core, and you can’t do that without something to cultivate from.”

Dar nodded. “Exactly so.” He held out his hand, and a heavy-looking metallic box with a rounded lid appeared in his broad palm. “When I demanded your prize, I thought the council would open its coffers and purchase your friend an Energy heart attuned to acid. I was rather surprised when Kreshta Griss provided this treasure instead. Fear not; she was reimbursed by the council.” Dar lifted the top of the dull-gray box, revealing an interior filled with dark, moist soil and a single sprout of green rising from the center. As soon as the lid was clear, the little sprout began to exude green vapors that hissed in the air as they climbed toward the ceiling.

Dar quickly replaced the cover, but not before everyone got a whiff of the caustic gas. Victor’s eyes immediately began to water, and he leaned back, holding his breath. Lesh, however, leaned forward, eyes alight. “It’s potent!”

“Aye, very.” Dar nodded, holding the box out to Lesh. “A venom petal orchid. It’s something of a misnomer; there’s no venom involved; it exudes pure acid-attuned Energy vapors.” As Lesh gingerly took the box, he added, “You may find a place in my gardens to plant it—distant from the house, please.”

“Thank you, Lord Dar!” Lesh tried to bow, sitting down, but his bulky body didn’t accommodate such a maneuver easily, and he almost tumbled out of his seat.

“Thank Victor. He gave up a treasure of his own for this.”

“We already went over this!” Victor laughed, again clapping Lesh on the shoulder. “It’s nothing.” He turned to Dar. “Thank you, though, Dar, for keeping the council honest and for going to Lady Rexa for help with the children. I made a promise to a kid—young man—in there, and I’m pleased to see he’ll be getting some help. I, uh, hope it didn’t cost you anything.”

“Cost? No, rather, I gained something in the bargain. Rexa has a soft spot for children. She may be Fae, but she’s a Summer Fae, and they love life. She was pleased that I shared the secrets of that place with her.”

Victor nodded, and they rode in silence for a few minutes. The coach was Dar’s best—swift and smooth—if Victor couldn’t see out the window, he wouldn’t have realized they’d even taken flight. Lesh put his treasure away, but only after having Dar inspect his storage container to ensure it was suitable. Victor thought about the little sprout inside the box and pictured himself and Lesh planting it. Then, an idea occurred to him. “Should we build some kind of cultivation chamber around that plant?”

“The Energy is in the form of a mist, so I would think a canopy would suffice. Something domed with open sides so the flower can still get light when the sun rises and sets. I’ll have Mr. Ruln collect the supplies—I’d like to ensure they’re aesthetically pleasing since you’ll be building it in my garden.”

“Thanks.” Victor grinned and elbowed Lesh, who was also grinning. His snout made it look more like a hungry leer, however. “Getting excited? Soon, your breath Core is going to rank up!”

“I’m more than excited. I’d like to get started immediately—”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough,” Dar chuckled. “Victor and I are hungry.” Lesh began to reply, but Dar spoke over him, pointing out the window. “We’re here.” Victor followed his pointing finger with his eyes and saw that they were coming in for a landing near the top of one of Sojourn’s enormous crystalline spires. This was the first time Victor had been up to those heights while in the downtown area. The spectacle was enough to strike him dumb.

High Sojourn, as the heights were colloquially known, was off-limits to the likes of Victor and Lesh. At least, he’d thought so. Looking out there, he could see the nearly invisible walkways with their faint, iridescent sheen, stretching from spire to spire, arching over and under each other in a weirdly beautiful tangle. They weren’t crowded—there were only a few thousand veil walkers in Sojourn—but the people Victor saw were interesting enough to make up for their small numbers.

A woman with a great, bulbous black spider’s body marched by, descending an arching crystal span toward a round-capped tower with gem-studded stars and moons adorning its dome. Passing above her, a blue-fleshed man strode—he was easily thirty feet tall and moved his long, slender legs ponderously. He wore a toga that seemed to be crafted of silvery mist. Before Victor could closely examine any of the other folk passing nearby, Dar jostled him and gestured toward the door.

“Come, Victor. We should hurry into the restaurant before I have to defend my right to bring you two here.”

Victor nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly and chuckling as he exited to stand near Lesh. The dragonkin was similarly dumbstruck, staring over the edge of the crystalline pier where their coach had set down. Victor followed his gaze and felt a spinning sense of vertigo when he saw the towers stretching down toward the distant ground where ant-like people crowded the streets. He quickly looked away, grasping his friend's shoulder. “Holy shit,” he laughed. “Didn’t realize how damn high these towers go.”

“Come.” Dar, leading the way, gestured to the nearby tower. The crystal walkway expanded near the tower into a wide ring. Victor immediately felt strangely out of place when he saw the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and brightly lit signage; it reminded him of a sci-fi movie more than anything else. They’d stepped out of Sojourn's luxurious, high-fantasy medieval setting and into a weird alien city from a futuristic film. At least that’s what his imagination told him, even though he knew that Energy and enchantments powered everything around him.

The sign that hung above the doorman's station, glowing in bright neon oranges and yellows, proclaimed the restaurant as “Sunset’s Rest.” As they approached the door, the man standing ready to open it leaped into action, bowing stiffly before pulling it wide. “Welcome, Lord Dar. Your table is ready.”

Dar flicked something to him that glimmered, and he deftly caught it. Before Victor could wonder what it was, they were inside, and the door was swinging shut behind them. Dar turned to regard Victor and Lesh and gestured to the wide-open dining room. Black tables that gleamed like cut and polished opal dotted the midnight blue floor. They were almost all occupied by interesting folk, but Victor couldn’t focus on the people; he was too taken by the fact that the walls surrounding the dining room were wide open to balconies with crystal-clear railings allowing for an unobstructed view of the high Sojourn skyline.

Just as he’d stared from the coach, Victor found himself doing so again. His eyes traced the crystalline walkways, the colorful spires, and the strange, fantastical people walking about in the distance. Lesh gave him a nudge, and Victor started walking, following Dar through the dining room to a table where Lo’ro sat, adorned as usual in black robes and sipping from a tall glass of blue, fizzing liquid. Standing close, Victor realized the table was high, suited for a man of Dar’s or Victor’s stature, but Lo’ro’s chair was tall and allowed him to sit at a comfortable height.

“Lo’ro,” Dar greeted the Death Caster with a nod. “Apologies for our tardiness.”

“No need, no need.” Lo’ro smiled and regarded Victor and Lesh. “I didn’t realize you were bringing your apprentices.”

Dar chuckled and sat down, then gestured to the two empty seats. “Sit, men.” He turned back to Lo’ro. “I’ll claim only Victor. Lesh’ro’zellan is his companion.”

“Lesh’ro’zellan, is it?” Lo’ro openly stared at Lesh as he took a seat and pulled his chair in. “Well met, dragonkin.” Lesh hurried to stand again, but Lo’ro waved him back down. “Relax, young man. How interesting! Dar, you always surprise me. I had no idea you had someone from Ashenshoal at your house.”

At that moment, Victor wished he had a camera pointed at Lesh’s face. The dragonkin’s mouth hung open, and his eyes bulged as he practically choked. He coughed to cover his surprise, then asked, “You know of Ashenshoal?”

“Naturally! The birthplace of Zoh’ka’drul? He violently conquered a few worlds in allegiance with the Bloodmoon Triumvirate before succumbing to the Dread Scourge. He almost won through, but those were Vesavo Bonewhisper’s most bloodthirsty years, and his undead legions were merciless.” He laughed and sipped his drink. “I’m sorry, Dar—I’m already a bit drunk. Forgive my rambling.”

Victor had watched Lesh during the little exchange and saw only confusion in his friend’s eyes; he figured it was a safe bet that Lesh had never heard of Zoh’ka’drul. He wanted to ask Lo’ro more about the story; he was interested in Vesavo’s history, if only because he was helping Arona to escape him, but Dar spoke first. “Nonsense. We’re celebrating. Victor had a breakthrough today.” He waved a hand, and a server hurried over. She was a petite, elfin-looking young woman wearing a shimmering black dress that clung to her figure—all the servers seemed to be women, and all were similarly dressed.

While Dar ordered drinks, Victor leaned closer to Lo’ro. “What’s the ‘Dread Scourge’?”

“That was the teaming mass of undead Vesavo led from world to world, conquering in the name of death and revenge. I was one of his lieutenants back then. Some might say I was his right-hand man, but they’d be wrong; his infatuation with Shivana kept the rest of us firmly on the periphery. Those days are long over, however. We’ve been rather lazy these last few centuries, idling about Sojourn. I wonder how many of his worlds he still holds.”

“Seventeen,” Dar said immediately.

“Is that all?” Lo’ro laughed and shook his head. “He was so hellbent on conquering the Greensap Ascendancy—I swear he held more than a hundred at the height of his power.”

Dar chuckled. “Don’t downplay your part. I believe he handed off a dozen or so to you during that expansion.”

“True, true. Though, I was never one for ruling—I’m more at home in my laboratories.” Lo’ro sighed, then finished his drink. As he set it on the table, Victor’s eyes were drawn to his long, corpselike fingers with their polished black nails. He didn’t realize he was staring until Lo’ro cleared his throat and startled him by saying, “Victor! You’ve recently come out of a harrowing experience, haven't you? I heard both the Volpuré boy and dear, lovely Arona Moonshadow perished, yet you emerged hale.” Victor experienced a moment of panic at those words; he’d forgotten that Lo’ro had been somewhat obsessed with Arona.

Dar saved him, though, thumping the table and proclaiming, “That’s right, he did! Now, a toast!” Victor hadn’t realized the server had returned, but she was there, reaching up to deposit tall, slender, fluted glasses before each of them. They were filled to the brim with steaming orange liquid, and Victor caught a faint whiff of something like vanilla as he leaned close to inspect the drink.

Dar picked up his glass and held it out. “I’m inspired by Lo’ro’s ramblings about empires and great wars. I, too, have conquered a place or two; in fact, my army’s destruction of Lo’ro’s forces led me to befriend this dastardly rascal. How many years in my prison did you languish, old friend?”

Lo’ro’s skeletally thin face always looked angry to Victor. Even when he smiled, it looked like he was preparing to devour someone alive. Still, even with that evil, rictus grin, his voice was light when he replied, “Seventy-nine years, Dar. Seventy-nine years in which we played at least a thousand games of Fortitude. We became fast friends over that marble table, didn’t we?”

“We did. So—to friends!” Dar held his glass up, but before anyone could join in the toast, he added, “And enemies.” Victor suddenly felt like a child having dinner with a couple of old tigers, as if they might destroy him with a careless swipe of their paws. Hearing them talk of conquering worlds and fighting world-spanning empires was a little daunting, not to mention that they’d apparently been mortal enemies in the past. Victor locked eyes with Lesh and raised an eyebrow. He could tell the dragonkin was thinking similar thoughts.

“To friends,” Victor said, touching his glass to Lo’ro’s and then to Lesh’s and Dar’s.

“And enemies, Victor.” Lo’ro leered as he leaned close. “Never forget to thank your enemies. They make you what you are.” He nodded to Dar. Victor downed his drink, and it burned like acid. In fact, both he and Lesh belched loudly, and smoke erupted from their mouths.

“Hah!” Dar laughed. “Another!”