BOOK 11: CHAPTER 33: LEGENDARY

33 – Legendary

Victor stood on the lip of the great amphitheater that his people had dug behind the former Lord Fausto’s palace. It was a huge depression lined with gray stone that occupied what had once been the palace gardens and a museum of some kind. The museum had primarily stood empty with a few notable exceptions—taxidermied beasts that Fausto had, apparently, hunted when he’d first come to the valley.

His liberated thralls had been all too happy to tear the structure down, dig out the concave depression of the new amphitheater, and line it with the stones they’d taken from the museum. They’d run short, but there were plenty of other barely-used buildings nearby that they’d cannibalized for the cause. Now, the System Stone stood proudly at the center of the amphitheater, and a great, stone-lined assembly area filled the space around it. All in all, it was a terrific undertaking, and Victor was happy to learn that many of his young army’s Earth Casters had leveled up multiple times as they worked to shape the ground and mold the stone to its new purpose.

On the curving sides of the depression, his workers were still hard at work, constructing benches, lining the space with seating for thousands. Florent, meanwhile, worked on the northern end of the new space, setting up his portal gateway, complete with a tremendously Energy-dense keystone that would link it to the gateway at Iron Mountain.

They’d already done the same thing back on Fanwath. When he and Florent had traveled to his province in the Free Marches, they’d found that his instructions had been well received and that a “portal hall” had been constructed in the growing town near his estate. It was a much smaller affair than this amphitheater or the World Hall at Iron Mountain, but it was more than sufficient for what Victor needed.

While Florent had worked to build the gateway on Fanwath, linking his estate to Iron Mountain, Victor had spent a few days visiting with his loved ones and friends. He had so many people waiting for him and depending on his efforts that he’d felt guilty relaxing, but even so, he’d done it. As a result, he now felt very rested and ready to face his next challenge. Of course, Deyni, Thayla, and even Efanie and Cora had groused about him leaving again, but he’d explained everything to them and shown them how the gateways he was building would make it so much easier for them to stay in touch as he spent time on one world or another.

Thayla had wondered about why he was linking the worlds with Ruhn at the center. She’d even gone so far as to bluntly ask if he favored that world. Victor didn’t think he did, but it didn’t matter; he had a good reason for the nature of his world gate setup. With Dark Ember linked to Ruhn, he didn’t need to worry about hostile Vampire Lords attacking Fanwath. On the other hand, if one of the Great Masters from Dark Ember tried to assault his holdings on Ruhn, they’d be faced with the veil walkers who watch over that world. Even if the invader was strong enough to prevail in such a contest, it would give Victor time to rally support from Sojourn and crush the invasion. At least, that was the theory.

He walked down the steps and over the parade ground toward Florent. As he drew near, he called out, “How’s it coming?”

The Spatial Magus turned to regard him, squinting against the bright morning sun. “Just another day or so.”

“You think the keystone is powerful enough to bridge the gap?”

Florent nodded. “Not just the keystone but the Energy stones I’m embedding into the gateway. They’re crafted from millions of beads worth of Lyra Crystal.”

Victor had no idea what Lyra Crystal was, but it sounded impressive, so he just nodded, rubbing his chin as he looked at the dark stones that made up the structure of the gateway. Florent had carried them in a dimensional container, and they’d been pre-enchanted by a powerful Stone Elementalist so that, as he placed them together, they flowed into each other, merging into a unified stone archway. It was a simple, quick process, but the time-consuming part of the build was Florent’s calculations and rune inscriptions—things he couldn’t do before he stood on the world he was connecting to Ruhn.

“Good, because my armies are in serious need of guidance. I’m eager to get my veterans here.”

“And I’m eager to go home to my wife and be done with this madness.” Florent turned back to his work, and Victor chuckled. Their little jaunt through the System stones hadn’t been easy on the Spatial Magus. On Vagabond’s Reach, they’d nearly gotten caught up in a pitched battle between rival warlords on their way to the city. On Wildroad, they’d stepped out of the portal and into a town being attacked by reptiles that reminded Victor far too much of a pack of Tyrannosaurus Rex dinosaurs.

Honestly, Victor had enjoyed the gigantic reptile invasion; he’d enlarged himself to his full size and gone to war, but Florent had nearly been snapped up when they’d first arrived. He’d escaped, teleporting himself high into the sky, where he used a magical device to float and wait out the battle. Still, the shock of their initial arrival, accompanied by the screaming roars of the gigantic beasts, had put him in a foul mood. He’d been snippy ever since.

Victor was about to ask him to join him for breakfast, but then his raven totem alerted him to something. He’d put the bird and his coyotes back on patrol as soon as he’d returned, and, for the last two days, they hadn’t discovered anything of interest or concern. Now, though, the impression he’d just received from his raven was one of alarm. Victor closed his eyes and willed his spirit totem to share its sight with him.

He saw a wide, birds-eye view of the southern mountain range. He could see the road leading up into those high, craggy peaks. It disappeared in the fog about halfway to the crest of the pass, a result of Victor’s influence waning and the undead lords beyond the mountain pushing their miasma of death to the limits of their

influence. Even so, Victor saw what was bothering his totem: furtive figures were moving around in that high pass, clinging to the foggy mist, but slowly encroaching. Moreover, it seemed the fog was advancing, rolling down the stony, shale-strewn road toward Victor’s valley.

“Can you see them any better, hermano? Can you get a little closer?”

The raven must have felt his intention; it banked on a high breeze and swooped down, closer to the mountains and the bank of dark clouds that hung over them. As it drew nearer and the figures grew larger in its eyes, Victor saw pale skin, long limbs, and glowing red eyes. “Pinche ghouls,” he spat. ɽÄ𐌽Ọ𝐁ЕS̩

He realized Florent had stopped working and turned to stare, so he looked up and waved a hand, dismissing his evident concern. “Something’s creeping up through the southern pass. I’ll go check it out while you’re working.”

Florent drove his fingers through his mussed, curly hair. “Old gods, please let me finish this damn thing before the next invasion!”

Victor summoned his fiery wings, then asked, “Do you think they’ll listen to you?”

“Who?”

Victor shrugged. “The old gods.” Before Florent could respond, he exploded into the sky, trailing a thick cloud of dark smoke. With the pale yellow sun as a guide, he pointed himself south and poured Energy into his wings, increasing his speed until he had to squint his eyes against the blast of wind hitting his face. With his connection to his raven, he could feel the distance between himself and the southern pass, so he knew that, at his current pace, he’d probably take an hour to reach it.

Flying was still a novel experience to Victor, and he found that time passed rapidly while he was in the air. He enjoyed the raw thrill of it, but he also took pleasure in watching the landscape pass beneath him. He watched the little villages as he flew overhead. The houses looked like toys from his vantage point, the villagers like insects. When he grew weary of studying the miniaturized landscape, he focused his gaze on the horizon, maintaining his course and letting his mind wander.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

He thought about how he’d left Fanwath with Nia organizing the volunteers for the army, gathering supplies, and mustering them through the portal to Iron Mountain. There, Bryn would organize them further, splitting them among her partial cohorts. She and Victor had decided that her high-level iron-rankers and the veterans from Fanwath should be mixed into cohorts with the recruited thralls. Bryn would be hard at work, organizing those lists, and Victor clicked his tongue at the thought, glad he didn’t have to do it.

He wanted to give his new captains, Tasya, Timmet Gray, and Von Moss, a chance to lead, but he knew better than to put any of his veterans under their command. Instead, he’d give them lieutenant positions and, as his army grew, eventually, they’d get their own cohorts again. Victor had been coming to terms with the scope of the upcoming conquest—the idea of conquering an entire world.

The campaign wouldn’t be like Ruhn; he couldn’t win a few duels and have ready-made kingdoms bend the knee. He’d have to go city to city, undead kingdom to undead kingdom, and conquer an entire globe. He had to hope that, as his armies grew and gained power, they’d be able to separate and push the conquest in more than one direction. If not, he felt like he’d be there for many years—decades, even.

Of course, he didn’t know. He didn’t know how populated the world was or how big each undead lord’s territory was. For all he knew, he might only have to kill one Great Master to conquer an entire continent. For that matter, he didn’t even know how many continents existed on Dark Ember—or if there were any oceans! As those realizations had dawned on him, he’d decided that one of his first orders of business would be to establish some scouts, and he had the feeling that the steel seekers who’d be joining from Ruhn would make excellent candidates.

His thoughts had been so busy that Victor was surprised when he saw the high gray peaks of the southern range rapidly approaching. He steered himself toward the gray-brown ribbon of the road that wound its way through the foothills. His raven was still watching the ghouls, so he knew he was a ways off, but he began to descend anyway. He didn’t want to make a spectacle of his arrival, streaking through the sky on fiery wings.

It wasn’t that he had anything to fear from some ghouls, even an army of them, but if they had a commander—perhaps one of the vampire lords—Victor didn’t want to give them a chance to flee or prepare a trap. So, he descended to the road while it was still in the foothills, and then he summoned Guapo using a torrent of dark, fear-attuned Energy. Guapo’s fear incarnation was stealthier than the others.

The mustang appeared from a portal of roiling shadows, his eyes blazing purple, and his dark coat cloaked in thick shadows. He whinnied angrily, the sound discordant enough to raise the hackles on even Victor’s neck. “Easy, big boy,” Victor soothed, patting the steed’s neck. “Let’s move quietly, yeah? Use your shadows to muffle your steps.”

Guapo snorted, rolling his eyes, but when he stamped, the sound was, indeed, muffled. Victor grabbed his thick mane and pulled himself onto his back. “Good boy. Let’s go.” He clicked his tongue, and the nightmare steed reared, then exploded into motion, tearing up the road, on hooves that felt like they were pounding onto the surface of a cloud. Victor could still hear the impacts, but he knew the sound wouldn’t travel far.

###

Warlord Thoargh stepped away from his framework and smiled as he read the message from the System:

***Congratulations! You’ve forged a new mantle: The Tyrant’s Gambit – Legendary. Blood fed it, conquest shaped it, and stolen fortune crowned it. This mantle crushes the resolve of foes, twisting fate itself to favor your strike and shatter their defenses. It radiates the dread certainty of a warlord who not only commands armies but bends destiny to his will, leaving only submission or ruin in his wake.***

Just as he’d hoped, the chance affinity he’d stolen from Duvius’s student had been the key to his breakthrough. “Finally!” How many epic mantles had he woven? A hundred? Two? And here, with just that one rare affinity twisted in, he’d pushed it into legendary. Was this one what he needed, however? He thought it would be. He could feel it. He’d already been so close! With this mantle, though, and perhaps a bit of cultivating, he would certainly find a way to break through the veil.

Feeling very light on his feet, he pressed his hand to the control slate of his cultivation chamber and channeled a bit of Energy into it. The massive door hissed and opened, revealing the landing and stairway leading down to one of the many near-identical corridors of his citadel. To his surprise, Black stood there, his hulking figure cloaked in the black wyrm-scales of his light armor. “I thought I left you in Sojourn.”

Black nodded. “You did, Warlord. But I’ve news for ye.”

Thoargh rolled his hand, feigning a yawn. He was still irritated with Black. He felt like he’d be irritated with him for a century or more. The worst part of the feeling was that he didn’t have a concrete reason for it. It had all started with that damn berserking boy and that ass-pustule of a dragon! There was something about how Black had seemed to cozy up to Victor and then, at the trap they’d laid for the dragon, someone had broken. Someone had given her an opening. Of course, it could have been Blue or one of the others who’d died. That’s what Black said…

“Two things, Warlord,” Black continued, stepping close and speaking in a voice meant not to carry. It made his husky baritone voice mushy, though, and his words ran together. Thoargh held up his hand, interrupting him.

“Just speak normally. This is my citadel; there are no prying ears or eyes here.”

“Ah, of course. I’ve been skulking around that damned crystal city too long.”

“Yes, yes.”

“On the matter of your, uh, recent acquisition. The lad’s mentor, the wizard who you—”

“Just say his name. Duvius Black.”

“Right, right. He’s been asking questions. He’s had some scryer or some such track the young man to the neighborhood where you keep your place in Sojourn.”

Thoargh waved a hand. “It matters not. I got what I needed and soon, if I’m not mistaken, I’ll be that man’s equal—at least. Any accusations he makes after that will need to be well-reasoned and substantiated. If he attempts to bring charges to their council, he’ll need evidence, and there won’t be any. Nothing concrete.”

“Aye, sir. I made certain of that.”

“That’s right. Now, what’s the other matter?”

“That girl? The one from the party?”

“Yes! The one that reminded me of Victor. I’m certain she was of the same race.”

“Right, milord. Her name’s Olivia, if you’ve forgotten, and the investigator I hired says she’s from Fanwath—same as those Ridonne people you’ve fallen in with.”

“How intriguing. Are there more people like her there?”

“Aye. The investigator couldn’t find much about them, but his agents—some actors who cozied up to her at an arena event—managed to get the woman to at least confirm that there are others like her there.”

Thoargh reached up to grasp his giant War Captain’s shoulder, slowly baring his teeth in a savage grin. “Could it be that easy, Ardek? Is the key to my vengeance right there under my feet? If I’d gone to visit that world when Vessa-dak invited me, would I have found Victor’s people? Would I have found him?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, Warlord. Pardon me asking, but have you ever asked her about him?”

Thoargh shook his head. “I’ve never uttered his name in that city. I won’t have my vengeance ruined by a misstep of fate…” He trailed off, shaking his head as his grin widened. “Fate is mine to toy with now, Black. I’m so very close. I’ve crafted what I need; just a matter of a bit more power, and I’ll ascend.”

Black straightened out of his stoop, his eyes widening. “That’s amazing, milord. After all these years! What if we’d visited Sojourn sooner? We spent so long…” He shook his head, voice trailing off. He knew better than to inadvertently insinuate that Thoargh had made a mistake in his isolationism. Even as he stood silent, though, Thoargh was analyzing Black’s voice, wondering what he’d heard in it. There had been something there, slinking around under the awe and regret. Yes, he was right to mistrust the old Degh. Was the grudge of his people still lurking in that big, dull skull?

Thoargh waved a hand, dismissing his musing. “Yes. At last. Everything’s coming together, and I owe it to that lad. This affinity—it was the key.” He hated to hear himself speaking so earnestly, so damn spontaneously. He was usually more calculating. He couldn’t fault himself, though; he’d had the best news of his life with that mantle announcement, and now here was Black delivering another choice bit. Power and control were his for the grasping.

Black’s puzzled expression finally clarified as he made the connection. “The chance affinity?”

Thoargh nodded. “Yes. Don’t let that resonate too much, Black. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that everyone’s journey is different. I’m quite certain that your path through the veil will diverge greatly.” Thoargh smiled; it was a mean, condescending expression. He had no faith that Black would ever break through the veil. The man’s Core was too simple, his bloodline was pathetic, and he didn’t have the will to make the changes he’d need.

The big man shrugged. “What’s the next step, then, Warlord?”

“I suppose I’ll need to return to Sojourn, though that won’t be an issue with the gateway we established. I’ll send my apologies for Vessa. I’ll use you as an excuse, Black. You’ve been suffering from marital strife, and I’ve been dealing with your failure to fulfill your duties.”

“If it helps.” Black ducked his head, but his expression said he wanted to rip Thoargh’s arms off. That was more like him, better than this obsequious fakery.

Thoargh nodded, clapping Black on the shoulder as he started down the steps. “She’ll want to know why I’ve been inattentive. She’s a narcissist.” Thoargh darted a glance at Black, just in time to see him lift an eyebrow; he didn’t say what he was thinking, however. Thoargh chuckled and motioned for him to hurry. “Walk with me. We’ve much to plan.”