3 – Coming Up For Air

Victor looked with satisfaction at the pattern design he’d sketched on a bedsheet-sized piece of paper. When inspiration hit him, he’d tried to work directly with the thread that contained that crucial, character-defining memory of himself and his abuelita, but frustration had set in when he’d had to unravel it for the tenth time and start again. Finally recognizing the folly of his lack of planning, he’d set it aside and used a bit of Energy to create a new drafting table and accompanying paper stock large enough to contain his vision.

Now the sheet was crammed full of interwoven lines, stretching into multiple layers depicted with Victor’s supernaturally fine pen strokes and shading. It was a work of art worthy of a gallery, and as he studied it carefully, looking for the tiniest of mistakes, he thought he might, in fact, have it framed and put it in one of his homes one day. He’d used charcoal for shading, and the silver-gold ink he’d created for the thread stood out beautifully.

Parts of the pattern consisted of narrow, lightly braided strands. In contrast, others resembled tapestries, with the thread densely woven into intricate designs that took his eye and made him hold his breath with wonder as he traced the delicate contours and folds. It was the most complicated thing he’d ever created, but it was that way by necessity, not out of some misguided desire to impress the System or whatever natural law guided the creation of his mantle. No, he’d had to consider that this pattern would be the root of his entire mantle and that every thread he wove into it would need to be supported and enhanced by it.

He'd been at it for days, and it felt good to see it complete, to trace the intersecting lines and fail to find a single flaw. It felt right, as elder magic patterns often did when they were properly complete. Sighing with satisfaction, Victor looked up from the table, his eyes drifting over to his empty mantle frame. Drawing the pattern was one thing; weaving that single thread into it would be an entirely different matter.

“Better check in with Arona first,” he muttered, closing his eyes and pulling his awareness out of his spirit space and back into his body.

He sat up from the rug at the center of his bedchamber—a simple room near the top of his tower where he could sleep, plan, or, as was currently the case, hole himself up behind a locked door and spend days at a time inside his spirit space. The chamber was made of dark metal, just like the tower—a construct one of the artificers from Iron Mountain had made for him. Lesh and Bryn had similar ones; the towers made good command posts, as was their design, from which to lead an army.

He unsealed the metal door and stepped outside, only to find Edeya approaching up the spiral stairs, her dark, cobalt mail glinting in the yellow Energy lamp that illuminated the landing. “Hey,” Victor said, surprised. “Thought you were on Fanwath.”

“Oh, well, hello! Coming up for air, are we?” She smiled, coming to a stop on the landing and looking up at him with her hands on her hips. “I’ve been back a couple of days. I grew bored with the interminable talks and left Lam and Rellia to handle them. Besides, my cohort lieutenants have been sending me daily messages, and I felt I was missing all the fun.”

“Fun?”

“How long have you been stuffed away in there? The warrens are finally burning!”

“Oh yeah?” Victor felt conflicting impulses warring for control of his body. Half of him wanted to rush upstairs to the top of the tower so he could see with his own eyes, the other half wanted to hurry back into his spirit space—he didn’t have a mantle! What if Dragomir Veselov finally ventured forth? Was he ready? Victor clenched his fists, his muscles pulling him in two different directions.

Edeya laughed. “Looks like you just swallowed a bug.”

Victor snorted, waving a hand. “What are you doing, anyway? Were you looking for me?”

“Nope. Arona.” She jerked her thumb toward the tower’s top.

“Your wings aren’t working?”

Edeya’s dragonfly wings fluttered, spilling blue motes of Energy down into the tower’s depths. “They work fine, but your mages are suppressing flight out there—the bats have been going wild since the fires finally took hold.”

“All right.” Victor started climbing the steps. “Let’s have a look.” As she fell into step beside him on the wide stairs, he asked, “How are things on Fanwath? I know politics are boring, but it’s better than cities burning, right? Are the girls good?”

“Your girls are nowhere to be found, not since Rellia finally gave them unfettered access to the dungeon.”

“But she’s making them check in, right?”

Edeya laughed, nodding. “Yes, she put a clerk in charge of that task at Caldera Keep; it’s his only job, and Rellia let me read one of his reports—the poor man’s asking for early retirement, and he’s my

age!”

Victor grinned. “What’s the problem? The girls don’t like reporting?”

“No, apparently they don’t, and they keep messing up the dungeon schedule by cutting in line. It doesn’t help that Rellia encourages them.” She poked him in the ribs. “And you. No one will stand up to them, knowing Cora and Dalla are your wards, or that Deyni and Chala treat you like a second father.”

Victor shrugged. “I know it’s not fair, but life’s not fair. I found that dungeon, and I don’t care if the people I love use up a few dungeon slots every day. It’s not like Du can’t create more than one instance at their tier.”

“I know, I know. I’m not judging you! I just thought the whole thing was funny, that’s all. I mean, funny in a cute way. I’m glad you’re spoiling those girls; I love them too, you know.”

Victor looked down at Edeya, smiling as their eyes met. She was his oldest friend, at least in that part of the universe, and she’d really come into her own lately. That thought reminded him to ask for an update, “What level now?”

“Seventy-four!”

“Damn! I think the last time I asked, you were still tier-six.”

“Yep. I might be guilty of jumping the line at the dungeon over the last few months, myself.”

Victor paused, mid-step, and laughed, leaning against the cool metal railing. “Wait! So, you weren’t even suffering through any boring talks, but running through dungeons? Was Lam even present at the talks?”

“Don’t be silly. Your governor and Rellia wouldn’t let her off the hook, and if they had, Borrius would have dragged her kicking and screaming.”

Victor started climbing again. “Good point.” By then, they’d come to the tower’s top, and Victor could see Arona standing near the map table. She didn’t look up when he called out a greeting, but she lifted a hand, waving over her shoulder.

“Any luck?” she asked.

Edeya looked at Victor sideways. “Luck?”

“With my mantle.” Victor walked over to the table, but paused when he got there, turning his gaze out the archway to the parapet. His eyes were stinging from the smoke in the air. “It’s really burning, huh?”

Arona nodded, looking up. “Oh yes. Can’t you feel a difference in the miasma? I think we’ve broken through the vampire lord’s reserves. He pulls inward, holing up in his…hole.”

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“He’s not in the tree?”

She shook her head. “Beneath. I felt his aura contract. Our fear that he’d come out in a rage when we broke through the last of his army may have been for naught. It seems he’s retreated into a sanctuary of sorts. Judging by the resistance, I think we’ll be at the trunk within a week.”

Victor nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. “A week.”

Arona looked into his eyes. “You didn’t answer my question, and now I’m more intrigued.”

“I tore my mantle apart and started from scratch. I think I’m onto something better this time, though.”

Arona frowned, narrowing her eyes. “A bold move. You’ve rebuilt it?”

Victor shook his head. “I built the core of it—on paper.”

Edeya folded her arms, clicking her tongue. “I wish I knew what you two meant by all that.”

Victor reached for her head, meaning to ruffle her short blonde hair, but she pulled away, likely because he tended to bend her little antennae when he tried stuff like that. Her scowl said as much. “Hands off, oaf!”

“Anyway,” Victor said with a sigh, lowering his hand, “you’ll get to know about mantles all too soon. Then, you can join us in our miserable complaining.”

Arona’s eyebrows shot up as she turned to Edeya. “You’re getting close?”

“Not that close, still tier seven.”

Arona nodded, pursing her lips in contemplation, then she said, “Well, before I met Victor, I might have thought you’d have a good decade or two of work left before you reach steel seeker, but if this war persists and if you continue to make use of Du’s dungeon, I think it will just be a few short years.”

Edeya beamed, unfolding her arms and clasping her hands behind her back. “The dungeon helps a lot. I had to stop, to be honest. Lam was furious that I’m close to seven levels ahead of her now.”

Arona’s lips curled into a partial smile. “And Olivia?”

“I don’t know how she does it, but she’s already tier nine—Morgan, too.”

Victor cocked his head, nodding appreciatively. “Not bad, considering all the distractions the Ridonne have been throwing their way. I mean, Lesh is already a steel seeker, so—”

Edeya punched him in the shoulder, her tiny fist hard and surprisingly solid. “Don’t you dare mention Darren to me!”

Victor laughed, rubbing his arm. He knew exactly why he wasn’t supposed to mention Darren: the guy had reached tier eight and, more than that, helped Lesh to conquer half a dozen cities while Edeya had been back on Fanwath. Arona cleared her throat and waved her hand, placatingly. “Don’t hold yourself up against their progress, Edeya. All the people you mentioned—and Victor and I, too, if I’m honest—have high Energy affinities. It works as a multiplier when the System awards Energy.”

“Hardly fair!” Edeya said, but she was nodding along with Arona’s words. “Anyway, I can’t complain. As I advance my bloodline, my affinity improves. Not everyone can say that.”

“Olivia and I were speaking about that the other…” Arona paused, frowning. When she spoke again, she was shaking her head in disbelief. “I think it’s been more than a year now. How time flies! Well, what I was saying is that we were discussing the great variety of bloodlines and how they all seem to have evolved unique ways of interacting with Energy. Fascinating to think that before the System came along, back when our bloodlines were pure and our worlds were young, we had a much more natural, intrinsic relationship to it.”

“It?” Edeya frowned.

“She means Energy,” Victor said, well familiar with the topic of discussion.

“Oh, right.” Edeya rocked back and forth on her heels, eyes drifting toward the open door. Before Victor could follow his own impulse to go outside and look at the great tree and the warren beneath it, Arona spoke again:

“If Olivia and Morgan are tier nine, why don’t they simply lead an army to the capital of Fanwath and crush the Ridonne. Didn’t you tell me that they were, at most, at the sixth tier?”

Victor groaned, reaching up to drive his fingers through his thick, short hair. “Now you understand why I need to go and deal with this mess. The Ridonne have steel seekers on Sojourn and other worlds, and, as you know, they have agreements with veil walkers like your old master.” Victor still tried not to use Vesavo’s name, if only for Arona’s benefit. He almost growled as he added, “They’re threatening to act against the Free Marches if our heroes threaten Tharcray—the Ridonne capital.”

“Just as they did with Victor,” Edeya added.

Victor sucked his breath between his teeth, shaking his head. “Right.” Only a year into his campaign on Dark Ember, Rellia had delivered that bit of news to him. Her mission to Sojourn with Olivia, Morgan, and Issa had borne fruit; they’d found a pair of veil walkers, young ones in comparison to Dar and some of the Great Masters, who’d agreed to stand up to interlopers threatening the Free Marches. Unfortunately, they’d also been accosted by the Sojourn Council on behalf of the Ridonne.

The Council had informed them, in no uncertain terms, that Victor was no longer considered to be of “appropriate strength” to meddle in the affairs of a world that enjoyed veil walker protection—like Fanwath. The news had been rankling, even then, but as the years passed and he saw the struggles the Ridonne put his friends through, Victor had begun to work on the problem. Meanwhile, Rellia sent him reports about trade embargoes and “bandit activity,” and even disinformation campaigns waged on the citizens of the Free Marches.

“As I told you, Arona,” Victor said, nodding to Edeya to include her, “I think I have a solution that will take the steam out of the Ridonne’s aggression. I just need to spend a little time in Sojourn to make it happen, and—” He turned and walked over to the open archway leading to the parapets. He leaned out into the smoke-filled air to peer at the fire raging in the distance. “I think I need to deal with this first.”

“Are you ready?” Arona asked, moving to stand beside him.

“Not quite. I want to get this new mantle started first. You think it’ll be a week before we burn through to the trunk?”

She tilted her head in a slight nod, making an affirmative humming sound.

Victor clapped his hands, brushing them together. “I’ll go get started. I should be done by then. Don’t be afraid to interrupt me if Dragomir shows himself.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Edeya interjected. When Victor turned to look at her, she was grinning evilly.

“You think a little ice water will bother me?” Victor summoned some null frost onto his breath, and his eyes turned icy blue as the air in front of his mouth and nostrils began to freeze.

“Monster!” Edeya backed away, conjuring her gleaming, silver spear, the blade of which glowed faintly pink. “A beast, Roselance! We must slay him!”

Victor inhaled, opening his mouth threateningly, but then Arona turned, and her eyes flashed with golden Energy as she said, “Please! I’ve been working hard on that map, and it’s not yet enchanted for durability!”

Victor held up his hands, laughing. “I surrender.”

Edeya, who was, in all fairness, hovering over the map table, settled back to the ground, placing the butt of her spear on the ground as she leaned against it. “You’re lucky, Victor. Rose has been yearning for a taste of your blood ever since you gave her to me.”

Victor feigned a yawn. “You tell me that every time we spar.” He turned to Arona and was pleased to see her smiling faintly. She was looking at him with approval in her eyes, and he knew she was thinking something along the lines of it being good to see him joking around again. He couldn’t deny that he felt better. It seemed to him that getting out from under the weight of that enormously complicated mantle had freed something up inside him.

Hoping to get a chuckle out of his stoic friend, he bowed with a flourish. “Milady Moonglow, please excuse my absence as I retire to my quarters.”

Arona didn’t laugh, but she looked at Edeya and deadpanned, “I blame you for this. You always bring out this side of him.”

“Go on, Victor!” Edeya shooed him. “Hurry up and finish, or we’re not going to leave anything for you to fight.”

“All right, all right.” Victor waved, descending the stairs, still smiling to himself, and soon he was settling back down on the rug in his quarters. He closed his eyes, looked inward to his Core space, and then sent his awareness through into his spirit space.

His new pattern was there waiting for him—thousands of whirls, whorls, angles, and twists. With a flex of his will, he turned the table into a wall panel from which his pattern hung. He shifted it around the room until it stood beside his mantle frame. Then, he stood back and ran his eyes over it, wondering if he should check it one more time; it would only take him a few hours.

He shook the idea away; he’d already checked it ten times. “You’re just stalling, pendejo.”

With a deep breath, he arched his back and twisted his neck, making them pop as he exhaled slowly. He laughed when it crossed his mind how absurd it was that he was making his spirit “body” breath and stretch, and pop. His real body was sitting still back on the material plane. He supposed it was a matter of habit—a way to make his mind comfortable by going through little rituals that tended to relax him when he wasn’t just a spirit manifestation.

Without wasting any more time, he reached over to his skein, grabbed hold of the silvery-gold thread, and pulled it toward his frame. Then, with one eye on the pattern he’d drawn, he began weaving, twisting, bending, and splitting that thread into a multi-dimensional copy of it. That single pattern was incredibly complex, but it wasn’t anything like the old pattern he’d dismantled. That one had contained thousands of threads in hundreds of complicated patterns.

Even considering all that, Victor was proud of this pattern. It was complex, yes, but it was unlike anything he’d ever created in its elegance. In fact, as he worked, an unoccupied part of his mind began to contemplate the spell patterns he used. He pictured them all, from Iron Berserk to Honor the Spirits, and he realized he was capable of far better. “It’s about time I gave my spells a review, isn’t it?” As he spoke, he glanced to his left where Lifedrinker hung in her place of honor among all the pieces of his artifact armor.

It always made him feel better about talking to himself if he could reassure himself that he wasn’t really alone. Lifedrinker loved being in his spirit space, and he knew she was listening to him. He grinned, turning back to his work. “We’re going to have a hell of a fight, soon, chica. The so-called Great Master that I’ve been telling you about.” He got quiet, biting his lip as he concentrated on completing a complicated twist. “Yep, just as soon as I get this pattern straightened out. Just a few days.”