43 – Thank the Ancestors

“Victor?” The voice was familiar—one of those who’d been wronged by his quarry, someone deserving of Justice. Still, the warm meat in his hand had a strange power over him, almost a hypnotic effect. He gripped it, making it squelch as a bit of blood spurted from one of the torn arteries. His mouth filled with saliva, and an emotion awoke in him, wedging open the door to his psyche. Victor put a foot through the opening and pulled it wide. Time to go, he told his alter ego, and the Harrier, the one who brought to heel those who fled Justice, began to recede.

“Are you well?” the voice asked again, but this time Victor knew it was Rellia. He blinked, looking away from the faintly steaming heart in his hand. She stood there on the garden path, crimson hair blowing in the faint breeze. Efanie was beside her, and they both watched him with wide, wary eyes.

“Yeah,” he grunted, pushing himself to his feet. Thoargh’s corpse was there, cold and lifeless, ever so slowly shrinking in on itself as the Energy that had swollen the Warlord bled into the universe. Victor realized that he, too, was overlarge for the setting, and he willed his flesh to contract, bringing himself to a less awkward height as he gazed at the two women. “Did he hurt anyone?”

As Rellia’s face fell, he knew his words had been foolish. Before he could correct himself, Efanie shook her head. “Nothing lasting. Not around here, I mean. The girls are safe; the others went to them. The townsfolk will be fine.” She looked at Rellia and frowned, opening her mouth to speak, but not finding the words.

Victor sent the heart into his spirit space and stepped past the corpse, pulling Rellia into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice husky with emotion.

Rellia seemed to have been waiting for a signal to let go, and she did. She crumpled into him and, after a deep, shaky inhale, began to cry. She buried her face in his torn, blood-stained shirt and wept, balling up her fist and thumping it against Victor’s chest and shoulder. Victor held her that way for a while, “I couldn’t do anything. I was like a child before him!” She pulled back, blinking away tears. “We’re so lucky you were home! He was going to take the girls. He was going to do terrible things to bring you home. He knew I had a Farscribe book with you. He— He took the information from me! What a fool I am!”

“Stop it, Rellia.” Victor held her at arm’s length, staring into her big, crimson eyes. “Thoargh is my fault. Polo’s death is on me. Everyone this asshole hurt…” Victor shook his head. “They’re all on me. I should have ended him sooner. I shouldn’t have gone to Dark Ember yet. I just got caught up in things. I wanted to help my ancestor and—”

“Now you stop it!” Rellia growled. “If I can’t blame myself, then you can’t. One thing is certain, though, we need to do something to keep more monsters like this”—she nodded at Thoargh’s corpse—“from coming through our System stone.”

Victor scowled at the cold, blood-spattered corpse. “Another thing I should have foreseen. I’ve been to Sojourn. I’ve met monsters worse than this man. I thought…” Victor growled, letting go of Rellia and pacing past her, clenching his fists. “I foolishly thought that the agreements the Ridonne had made on Sojourn to protect Fanwath would carry over to us. Of course, they’d allow someone like Thoargh to attack us! All they need is a maniac willing to slaughter, and they can be rid of us.”

“The thorn of the Free Marches removed from the Empire’s side?” Rellia snorted. “Perhaps we’d best forge our own agreements, then. Perhaps we need to put an end to the Ridonne Empire once and for all.”

Victor nodded, but, in truth, all he could think of were problems. He could try to go to Sojourn and establish agreements with some of the old masters there. Dar would not be interested in involving himself in the protection of a world that was relatively new to the System, but he might be able to point Victor in the right direction. The problem was that the Sojourn Council was currently looking for him and Arona. Who could guess what sorts of wrenches they might throw in his plans?

Efanie cleared her throat. “I have some contacts on Sojourn—people who know veil walkers interested in this sort of thing. I could make introductions.”

“That would be wonderful, Efanie,” Rellia said, nodding. Her eyes were hard and sharp, laser-focused now that she had a purpose, something to distract her from the nightmare she’d just gone through.

Victor had other thoughts. He turned to regard the corpse. “I’ll deal with this. Will you please go and get the girls?” Efanie nodded and took a step, watching Rellia to ensure she was coming along. When Rellia didn’t move, Victor added, “I’m going to go and lock the System stone, Rellia. You should keep it that way until we’ve figured out the extent of Thoargh’s plans and whether more trouble is coming. If we can establish relationships with a veil walker or two on Sojourn, you can open the stone again.”

“I should have—”

“No!” Victor growled. “I already told you; this is on me. You’ve never even been to Sojourn or one of the older worlds. Understanding a veil walker’s power only really comes with feeling it.”

Rellia looked at the corpse. “Was that what he was?”

Victor shrugged. “Maybe. If not, he was close enough.”

“Yet you slew him, Victor,” Efanie said, taking a step closer, putting her hand on Rellia’s shoulder.

Rellia lifted an arm, stretching it toward him, though her fingers fell short of touching him. “She’s right. Your aura was so heavy, and I could tell you weren’t even trying to oppress us.”

“If you make it known that we’re under your protection…” Efanie frowned, shaking her head. “If you did that, it might dissuade interlopers from coming here to conquer, but it will also put you in an awkward position. It would mean you are above the conflicts of this world. You’d draw the ire of the Ridonnes’ protectors if you involved yourself in any wars here.”

“Let us try diplomacy first,” Rellia said, sniffing as she nodded. “We can find other protectors, I’m certain. We’ve much to trade.” Her head shifted to the north, and though they couldn’t see it from Victor’s garden, he knew she was thinking of the volcano and the dungeon beneath it.

“This is all stuff we can discuss later.” Victor motioned for them to leave. “Go. Get the others. I’ll deal with things here.” When he’d arrived on Fanwath, he’d given Efanie and Lam permissions with the gateway, along with Gorro, his governor. As the thought crossed his mind, he said, “Wait! Where’s Gorro? The staff?” He looked toward the dark house.

Efanie smiled. “All safe. Edeya and Lam scared them off when they brought the children here.”

“All right.” Victor turned to the corpse as they started walking again, scanning his nemesis for jewelry. “Did you leave me anything, other than your heart, you asshole?” When he found nothing—no ring, no necklace, no hidden dimensional pocket—Victor growled in frustration and leaned close to the man’s dead, staring face. “I’m going to go to your citadel, pendejo. I’ll find the treasures you have squirreled away there, but not before I tell Black that you're dead. Not before I give him his ancestor shard and tell him he’s safe to reclaim all the others. I’m going to undo all your work. You’ll have no legacy—just a footnote in the history books.”

As he growled his threats, he saw large clusters of Energy orbs begin to permeate outward through the flesh of the corpse, gathering in clumps that reminded him of star constellations. He stood and watched, aware that the potency of the Energy ran deep. In all honestly, it felt like more, even, than he’d gotten from the vampire lord he’d killed in the pass back on Dark Ember. He took a step back, staring. Had Thoargh pierced the veil? It hadn’t felt like it, though, he supposed, if he hadn’t had some hard counters to the man’s more potent Energies, their fight might have gone differently.

Then he recalled that Thoargh had been steelbound for centuries. More than that, he’d eaten through the resources of an entire world. His Core must have been something spectacular. “Not anymore,” Victor grunted as the dense, bright Energy coalesced and streamed into him. He gasped, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, letting the euphoria overtake him. Sometime later, when he came back to himself and felt the ground beneath his feet again, he opened his eyes and read the System’s messages:

***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 112. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 strength and 20 will. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality. Finally, you’ve been awarded 20 unallocated attribute points.***

***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 113. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 strength and 20 will. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality. Finally, you’ve been awarded 20 unallocated attribute points.***

***Congratulations! You have advanced to level 114. Because of your current mantle, you’ve been awarded 20 strength and 20 will. Your feats have awarded you an additional 5 vitality. Finally, you’ve been awarded 20 unallocated attribute points.***

***Your use of breath attacks while under the mantle of the Night Crowned Flame has drawn the threads in your skein into a new pattern. Examine the design to gain insights into a possible evolution.***

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“Three levels again. Well, thanks, pendejo.” Victor was beginning to amass quite a pool of unallocated attribute points—180 after those last three levels—but he had earlier determined to save them, waiting until he’d perfected his mantle a bit more before committing them. This was also the second time the System had told him to examine his skein because of his breath attack use. He’d been busy since then, but the truth was, he’d been putting it off, waiting until he was in a place where he could properly focus. Somehow, he doubted he’d get any peace in the next few days.

Victor looked down at the corpse, scowled as dark thoughts crossed his mind, then concentrated, casting Honor the Spirits. Watching the ghostly flames consume Thoargh’s body was cathartic in a way, and he felt some tension release in his shoulders as the wispy smoke faded into nothing. That done, he took a moment to put on a new shirt and pants, to pull on some socks and boots, and retrieve his crown from his spirit space, setting it atop his head. He doubted he’d be fighting again, but he wanted to at least wear that artifact, just in case.

Feeling much better, he summoned his fiery wings and exploded into the sky, streaking northward along the shore as fast as he could. He’d never flown so hard, even when he was trying to eat up the distance flying around Dark Ember. He poured Energy into his wings in a volume that strained his pathways, and they blazed like the fires in a blast forge. His passage through the sky resembled something terrible—a calamity of nature or some kind of primal monster. So, it wasn’t a surprise when the capital, Rellia’s seat of power, which had already undergone one terrible experience that day, was in a state of panic as he descended like a falling star toward the monolithic stone at the city’s center.

Luckily, Rellia’s surviving troops and the acting seneschal recognized Victor immediately and were able to restore peace quickly. Victor hardly noticed; he had eyes for the System stone and nothing else. He stalked toward it and placed his palm against the cool, hard surface. As soon as the System’s menu appeared, he navigated to the world travel options and selected the option to close access.

He knew people would be alarmed; there were probably hundreds of citizens abroad, visiting Sojourn or other nearby worlds. Furthermore, many of the businesses that helped the Free Marches thrive were dependent on the commerce of societies on disparate worlds. Victor cared, but he cared more that people were safe. When they’d come up with a solution, they could reopen travel; until then, he hoped that Farscribe books would suffice to put stranded people at ease.

After he’d explained the situation to Rellia’s acting seneschal, a man who’d been her stablemaster earlier that morning, Victor poured his Energy back into his wings and exploded into the air, streaking back toward his home in the south. There was no doubt that Rellia would want to get home as soon as possible to put things in order, but he was going to try to talk her into waiting a little while. Things were relatively safe now that the stone was closed off, but he was worried about her. Not only had she seen people she cared about slaughtered, but she’d had a vile man inside her mind. Suddenly, he wished Valla were home.

With the immediacy of the threat dealt with, Victor’s mind began to wander, and he had a moment to examine his feelings. He was angry, of course, but he also felt guilt. He’d told Rellia that Thoargh’s rampage was his fault, and the more he thought about it, the more he believed it. He should have foreseen something like this happening. He’d met people like Arcus’s father—people like Lord Roil and Vesavo Bonewhisper. He’d seen the kinds of monsters that were in the Iron Prison, and he’d felt the petty, cold-blooded disregard with which the Great Houses of Ruhn treated the “small” people.

More than any of that, he’d met Thoargh. He knew how cruel and spiteful the man was. Why had he believed the Warlord would sit idle on his little world, waiting for Victor to choose the perfect time to confront him? Once he’d been exposed to Tes’s strength, of course, he’d start to wonder what he was missing from the wider universe. It was something Victor should have considered, if nothing else.

All of that said, he should have anticipated that some ancient monster, some ancient asshole, might decide to come to Fanwath and mess with the people he cared about. He should have tried to arrange for their protection, regardless of any deals the Ridonne had made. He knew that was how things worked. Worlds without a veil walker’s protection, or worlds where the wrong sorts of veil walkers gained power, were often conquered. Hadn’t Arona told him that she’d helped Vesavo to subjugate something like twenty worlds?

So, it was with feelings of guilt overshadowing his cooling anger that Victor settled down on the street where his battle with Thoargh had begun. People were outside, and they saw him coming, but his fiery wings weren’t a foreign sight to the citizens of his settlement. They saw him coming and, rather than flee, they gathered, waiting for him to land.

When he settled down and his wings faded away, Victor looked around, taking in the faces. Many folks that he’d normally expect to be standing there, demanding an explanation for the violent clash, were missing; they’d gone to Ruhn to join his army and had since made the further trip to Dark Ember. Among those not present were many of the veterans from the Ninth, along with Nia and a large portion of the surviving former thralls.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said, deciding that simplicity was best. “I allowed a threat to come to these lands that never should have set foot on this world. I’ve dealt with it and taken measures to ensure that nothing like that happens again.” As relieved murmurs broke out in the crowd, several people called out their support and gratitude. Victor looked at the damaged buildings and the ruined main street.

“I’ll pay for the repairs. Gorro ap’Dommic will make the arrangements.”

“Victor?” The familiar voice came from up the road, past the crater, in the direction of his home. He looked to see Edeya and, behind her, all the others, including the children. Suddenly, he wished he’d told them to stay on Ruhn. At least there, so long as you weren’t a member of a ruling family, you were generally safe from assassins and mad warlords.

Trying to force a smile for the people standing around staring, Victor walked up the street toward his friends. Naturally, as soon as she saw he was there and that the danger was passed, Deyni broke away from Lam’s clutches and sprinted toward him. Her eagerness and the unfiltered adoration in her eyes broke through Victor’s glum mood, and he smiled, squatting down so she could smash into him and wrap her arms around his neck.

As he lifted her, she said, “That man was terrible! I was so scared!”

“He’s gone.” Victor kept walking, skirting the crater and burned cobbles. When he stood before his friends and saw Cora and Dalla still clinging to Lam, clutching her hands with theirs, he smiled gently and said, “How about we all eat together tonight? Let’s save the campfire for another time.”

Rellia stepped forward, offering a smile that was more of a grimace as her haunted eyes kept shifting to the north. “I think I’ll take my leave. Might we speak privately for a moment?”

Victor gave Deyni a final squeeze, then set her down. “Go up to the house while I take a little walk with Auntie Rellia.”

Deyni hurried to Efanie, taking her hand, and Victor watched them all continue up the lane toward the gates to his villa. He always found it amusing when he remembered that the building had originally been blueprinted as a “hermitage.” Due to its central location, it was certainly not fit for a hermit. Rellia was quick to bring his thoughts back to the present, less-than-amusing situation. “Did you manage the stone?”

Victor nodded toward the bend in the road, leading north toward the farms and orchards and, eventually, toward her holdings. “Let’s walk for a minute.” As she fell into step beside him and they passed out of earshot of most of the people who were busily working to salvage what they could from the destruction, Victor said, “I closed the stone to travel.”

“Our economy is going to grind to a halt.”

“Parts of it, I’m sure. It’ll be fine for a while, though. With Efanie’s contacts, not to mention Ranish Dar’s, I’m sure we’ll be able to arrange for something more sustainable. Once it’s made known that the Free Marches have some veil walker sponsors, we won’t have to worry so much.”

“And you think it would be a mistake for you to…”

“Declare my protection?” Victor shrugged. “It could be a double-edged sword. I have some powerful people who don’t like me on more than one world. Not to mention what Efanie said; if I did that, I’d be disqualifying myself from helping against the Ridonne.”

“If we go to war—and that’s a big if—then the Free Marches will thrash the Ridonne Empire! I don’t intend to march north, so they’ll have to come south through the pass, and we’ll make it such a costly enterprise that they’ll ruin their economy and be faced with open rebellion within a year.”

Victor tilted his head, looking at her sideways. “So, just continue with the stalemate, tolerating each other's existence?”

She shook her head. “They can’t hold onto power anymore.” She waved her hand up the road, indicating her lands and, more specifically, her city. “We have gateways to Persi Gables and Gelica now. People are coming here. People are seeing what we bring from other worlds—no, more than that, they’re traveling to other worlds. The Ridonne Empire is a fading dynasty. Their most powerful family members leave, and just as you need to worry about involving yourself in the conflicts of this world, so do they. Eventually, the cities under their sway are going to break free.”

Victor stopped walking, turning to face her as the sun’s last rays made the sky behind her crimson, almost blending with the color of her hair. “We’re talking around the issue, but let me be blunt: are you okay?”

Tears immediately welled in her eyes, and she looked down, squeezing them shut. “No, Victor. I’m not. I’m desperately heartbroken about Polo and so many others. After that devil dominated my mind, he made me walk behind him up to my palace. He—” She shook her head, and Victor reached toward her, trying to offer comfort.

“You don’t have to tell me…”

“No.” She shook her head more forcefully, looking up at him. “I won’t hide the bastard’s crimes. He killed people indiscriminately, and I know he didn’t get pleasure from it. No, the pleasure he garnered was from my reaction. I couldn’t flee or close my eyes. He made me watch, and he watched me. His smile grew ever wider as the horror took me.” Surprisingly, Rellia’s voice grew more and more firm as she spoke.

Victor wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to comfort her by saying he understood, but did he? Sure, he’d suffered losses, he’d even been helpless at the hands of his enemies before. Even so, he wasn’t sure he could relate to the nightmare the Warlord had put Rellia through. So he just stood there and listened, letting Rellia face her ordeal and describe the people she’d lost. Eventually, she fell silent, and Victor took her hand in his.

By then, the sun had gone down, but the western sky was still bright. Victor turned to the east and pointed to where the stars were beginning to appear in the darker skies. “That’s what it's like all the time on Sojourn. Even in the middle of the day, you can see the stars.”

“I’ll go there. I’ll be the one to find us protection.”

“You don’t want me—”

“You’ve got a war to fight—an entire world to conquer. You have an army waiting for you.”

“It can wait, Rellia.”

“It can, but it doesn’t need to. I can do this. I need to. I’ll talk to Olivia’s people; First Landing needs protection, too. They haven’t opened their world travel yet, but they will. They’re growing almost as quickly as we are.”

Victor wanted to argue, but he knew she was right. Besides, it would solve the problem of him having to deal with the Sojourn Council. He squeezed her hand and nodded. “You know, I’ve always been awed by your strength.”

“I’m strong for Fanwath, but I’m not strong enough. I see that now.”

“I meant your strength of spirit—your character.” They stood silently for a while as she absorbed his compliment, then he said, “Is Valla still coming for Free Marches Day?”

Rellia gasped softly, shaking her head. “Yes, and thank the Ancestors she wasn’t home today!”

Victor nodded, looking up to the stars. “Yeah. Thank you, Ancestors.”