Victor stood in his room, staring at himself in the mirror. The figure looking back at him was monstrous—huge, dragon-faced, with scales, leather, and thick, metallic plates hiding all but his muscular right forearm and strong, clenched fist. His armor had taken on a new kind of vibrancy since he’d fully imbued it at the Sojourn City Stone. He’d spent more than two million beads to get the enchantments, and each one had altered his armor-clad appearance.
Of course, he’d already had some “class A” enchantments: self-cleaning, repairing, sizing, and disguising. The two “class B” enchantments he’d chosen were a bit more combat-oriented. He’d decided to shore up his resistance to electrical damage, largely because he’d been shocked and stunned in battle more than once. The second enchantment was a boost to his fire-attuned damage—why not capitalize on one of his strengths?
His armor also had slots for one “class C” and one “class D” enchantment. The “C” choice was easy—between enhanced mass or a “Lava Blast” ability, he’d taken the one he felt would always benefit him. Enhanced mass meant that he’d be harder to move, he’d resist physical damage more efficiently, and his own attacks would have more weight. Looking at himself in the mirror, he, once again, marveled at the enchantment’s visual effect. The metal of his helm and gauntlet looked weightier. The scales and plates were denser and more prominent, and the horns and fangs glimmered with golden undertones. His leather pants, belt, and boots were now decked in red-gold scales that complimented his wyrm-scale hauberk's dark red-black ones.
The “class D” enchantment was another story altogether. Once he’d selected the one he wanted—Flight of the Lava King—his armor had begun to glow with an inner, fiery illumination that was subtle but present enough to catch the eye. It was almost like it smoldered—like it was always on the verge of bursting into flames. He’d tried the ability a few times over the last couple of months, and, while it wasn’t true, limitless flight, it was incredibly useful. When he activated it, great fiery wings sprouted from his shoulders, and they carried him wherever he focused his gaze, ripping through the air on currents of fiery Energy. The wings only lasted about ninety seconds, but, in Victor’s estimation, that was plenty of time to bring down a flying foe.
He turned left and right, inspecting himself once more. The draconic, lava king maw that obscured his face did so via some kind of magic. He only saw shadows within, no matter the angle from which he peered into the maw. Meanwhile, the fierce, ruby-red draconic eyes looked alive and seemed to focus on whatever Victor stared at. It was an imposing visage. The reason he studied himself so was that he was torn, unable to decide if he should wear his armor when he traveled to Ruhn, or if he should keep it hidden until he needed it. He hadn’t asked Dar, but he had an idea what his mentor would say.
Inside his helmet, he grinned as he spoke to himself, “Something like, ‘Victor, only reveal your cards when you need to play them.’ Hah!” He laughed at his near-perfect impression. His mind made up for him by an imaginary Ranish Dar, Victor sent some Energy into the runes that converted his armor to simple, fine clothing. He touched the key and marble-sized vault hanging from the chain around his neck, almost like he wanted to ensure it was still there, and then he looked through his rings, reviewing the things he was taking with him to Ruhn.
Dar had given him nearly a library’s worth of books to study. Victor had sorted them as neatly as he could, but he still felt overwhelmed by the stacks of books in the enormous, high-quality storage space he’d taken from Fak Loyle. As the thought crossed his mind, Victor thought about Cora, and his lips spread into a smile; he’d received a note from Efanie just the day before describing the girl as “increasingly happy and making fast friends with Deyni and Chala.” He shook his head, pushing the happy thought aside, and refocused on the books.
Foremost among them were his tomes on runes, sigils, and glyphs. He’d made much progress with Dar over the last few months, but there was still a lot to learn, especially where Elder magic was concerned. Dar had, begrudgingly, taught him one set of glyphs, but he’d also given Victor tomes on two others, again urging caution and patience in their study. Beyond those books were ones on spell patterns, enchanting, and artificing. Dar had expectations for Victor to study them while he was away, along with several accounts of military history and other general areas of study like—to Victor’s dismay—math, poetry, literature analysis, and even philosophy.
The enormous list of study materials and lessons Dar had given him—enough to fill a small leatherbound book—drove home the point that Victor would be on Ruhn for a while. In his estimation, Dar had given him at least two years' worth of study materials, and that only accounted for the academics. Victor would also be expected to continue to practice his martial prowess between duels, maintain his daily Spirit and Breath Core cultivation, and, of course, pursue his social duties and goals among the elite of Gloria.
After several minutes of perusal, Victor felt satisfied that he had everything he needed packed away in his storage rings, and he began to feel a twinge of nervous energy as he realized he’d run out of excuses to stall. It was time to say his farewells and meet with Dar. With a heavy sigh, he gave his room a final, lingering look and then left, walking quickly down the hall and into the main parlor. Just as they’d promised they would be, Lam, Edeya, Darren, and Lesh were all there, ready to see him off.
Edeya was first on her feet, fluttering her blue, shimmering wings as she raced across the large area rug to wrap her tiny arms around his waist, hugging her cheek against his stomach. “Promise you’ll visit when you can!” she said as he gently pressed her close.
Victor laughed and nodded. “Dar says it's cheaper to stop here on my way to Fanwath if I want to visit home, so you can believe I’ll spend a day or two catching up with you all.” He directed his words to the others who’d all stood and approached. Darren cocked his head, eyeing him down his beak with his predatory, perpetually angry seeming eagle face, and Victor couldn’t help a chuckle as the tall, feathered man made deep, resonant clicks in his throat.
“Oh?” Lam asked, arching an eyebrow. “You’ll only stop here because it’s cheaper?” At her teasing tone, Edeya tightened her squeeze, and Victor laughed.
“No, of course not. I suppose I was just saying I could kill two birds—” He stopped abruptly, glancing at Darren with wide eyes.
“Oh, very funny!” Darren chuckled and folded his arms, putting on a show of being offended. Victor could tell he wasn’t, though, because he was still making that happy click in his throat. He and his groupmates, including Trin, had been running through dungeons nonstop over the last few months. They were all well into tier two but had, thus far, failed to pull any treasures to advance Darren’s bloodline further. Victor had offered to help him buy one, but, to his credit, Darren insisted he wanted to earn it.
Lesh stepped closer, holding out a hand. “If it weren’t so many jumps, I’d travel with you to see you settled in, Lord Victor.”
“Oh, come on, hermano! Don’t start with the ‘lord’ this and ‘lord’ that again.” He grasped the dragonkin’s hand and squeezed.
Lesh chuckled and returned the pressure. “I’m feeling formal, seeing as you’ll soon be gone. Rest assured that Darren and I will continue to make a name for your household here on Sojourn.”
“Hey!” Edeya released her grip around Victor’s waist and turned to glare at Lesh. “We’re all making our names known here, and, of course, we know it reflects on Victor.”
“I didn’t mean—” Lesh floundered.
“Well, you big, scaled—”
“Whoa!” Victor laughed, wrapping an arm over Edeya’s shoulders and pulling her into his side. “I’m proud of you all, and I know one thing: there’s nothing any of you can do to mess up whatever reputation I have around here. Hah! That’s the last thing on my mind. I’m just going to miss you all, but I know you’ll be doing great things while I’m gone.” He turned to Darren. “Did the page I gave you work?”
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“Yes! I messaged Olivia, and she’s aware that if she writes on that page of the Farscribe book, I’ll see the note. So far, she doesn’t have a firm date for her arrival, but I’ll be checking the page daily.”
“Good.” Victor looked at Lam, met her eyes, and smiled, then at Lesh and nodded his head. Finally, he squeezed Edeya’s shoulders one more time. “I guess that’s that. I gotta meet Dar down in the catacombs.”
Lam’s wings flickered, and golden motes sprinkled to the carpet like fairy dust. “Where he helped me?”
“Yep. I guess the veil is thinnest there.”
“Bye, Victor,” Edeya said, turning into his embrace so she could look up into his eyes. “I love you, you know?”
Sudden moisture sprang into Victor’s eyes, and he blinked, looking up. “I love you too, dummy.”
“Hey! That’s my name for you!”
With a chuckle and a sniff, Victor looked around the room one last time. “Stay safe.” He turned and started toward the hallway, but plenty of well-wishes chased him as he made his way to the kitchen.
“Be safe, yourself!” Lam called. “Take care!”
“Thanks for everything, Victor!” Darren’s newly deep voice rang out.
“We’ll speak soon! Good luck, brother!” Lesh boomed.
Only Edeya was quiet, but her earlier words still rang in Victor’s ears. She loved him, and that felt wonderful. Of course, he knew it before then. He knew there were people here and on Fanwath who loved him, but it felt good to hear it, just the same. He was surprised to find most of the staff lined up in the kitchen, waiting to watch him pass through on his way to the cellar. Several of them called out fond farewells and urged him a speedy return, and Victor could only smile and wave as he hurried past.
Dar was waiting for him in the cave where they’d done Lam’s ritual. Victor, as always, had a sneaking suspicion that the Master Spirit Caster could somehow sense his location on his property and would use the Spirit Plane to travel quickly ahead of him. Victor grinned when he saw his mentor in his orange-and-teal, flowing, silken outfit and sketched a formal bow. “Good morning, Lord Dar.”
“Ah, excellent form on that bow, Victor. You’ll make me proud on Ruhn.” He gestured to the stony ground before him. “Come close. You should find it easier than usual to pull your physical form onto the spirit plane from here. Are you ready? Have you meditated on the toil ahead of you?”
Victor nodded. “I’ve been holding myself on the spirit plane for nearly an hour these last few days.”
“Good. Perhaps, after some study and advancement, when you visit me next, you’ll be ready for me to teach you the secret to bridging worlds on the spirit plane.” He chuckled and shook his head. “It depends on how long you wait to come for a visit. Don’t expect me to teach you if you come running home after a week or two.”
“Nah, I won’t.” Victor smiled, inhaling deeply through his nose. “I think it’ll do me good to be on my own for a while. I’ve got my Farscribe books if I need to hear from some familiar people.”
“Good. You have everything? Your books? Your weapons? Your gift for Queen Kynna?”
Victor nodded. “All set.”
Dar looked him up and down, nodding. “I’m pleased you chose to keep your armor concealed. Best to avoid using it until you must. I won’t be joining you for an introduction. Instead, I’ll deposit you outside the city walls. My welcome will be very short-lived; the veil walkers who watch over Ruhn will not tolerate my presence for more than a few moments. It’s best that I don’t attempt to interact with any of my descendants or those poor people foolish enough to worship my memory.”
“Will I stand out?” Victor gestured to his clothes. “Like this?”
“Not especially. Your attire is suitable, and your Quinametzin blood makes you resemble the primeval Fae quite a lot. Some of my kin will be darker or lighter, depending on the amount of Igniant in their blood, but the primary ancestral heritage of the people of Ruhn is, as I told you before, one of giantish Fae.”
“Is that a word? Giantish?”
“Did I not use it? Could I utter it otherwise? It means descended of, related to, or appearing like a giant.”
“Am I giantish?”
“Hah! Until you grow to your full potential, aye. When you’re enraged and fully in your titanic aspect, people will know that ‘giantish’ doesn’t measure up when it comes to your description.” Dar grinned and grasped Victor’s shoulder. “Well? Have we dawdled enough? Are you ready?”
Victor returned the gesture, clapping his hand on Dar’s shoulder. “I’m ready! Let’s do this.”
“Right. See you on the spirit plane.” With that, Dar faded from sight. Victor steeled his will, looking inward as he built the pattern for Spirit Walk. He wrapped his aura around himself, grasping hold of his every component cell, and as he cast the spell, he willed his body to come with him. He’d done the same every night before sleeping, holding himself longer and longer on the spirit plane each time. As Dar had promised, it was almost effortless by then, especially from inside the cave beneath his home.
When he appeared on the Spirit Plane, Dar stood there, solid and real, just like him. “Good! Now, concentrate on keeping yourself whole. Don’t let your body try to slip away from you. Moving will burn your Energy faster than simply standing still, but not by much. If my estimation is correct, we’ll reach Ruhn long before you run dry.”
“How will I guide myself? Usually, I have a destination in mind—a person or place I know.”
“Leave the guiding to me. Focus on my presence and simply move with me. This will be another test of your will: you must not let your gaze wander. If you see something that takes your attention, you will fall away from me, and then we’ll have to waste precious minutes looking for each other. Where we’re going—between worlds—vast distances can be crossed in a single heartbeat, and it wouldn’t be impossible to become lost. Even I would have trouble finding you.”
“And if I run out of Energy out there?”
“Then you’ll be pulled out of the spirit plane onto the material—in the void of space. Even a sturdy Quinametzin couldn’t last long in such a state.” Dar grabbed his shoulders and focused his blazing eyes on Victor’s. “Stay with me!”
With that, Dar turned and began to walk, and Victor fixed his gaze on a spot of teal fabric on his mostly orange tunic as he followed. The spirit plane passed in a blur as they gained momentum, but Victor refused to break his gaze from that spot. He didn’t blink; he hardly breathed as he focused on following his mentor. Soon, his vision tunneled as their speed became immense. They raced through the spirit plane as Dar guided them, and Victor focused on keeping up with him.
They never ran; it was always a normal walking pace, but that was the magic of the spirit plane; it wasn’t properly tangible. It was a place of Energy and light and the stuff between the material and the metaphysical. With an act of will, a desire to be somewhere, a spirit walker could bend the reality of distance and move great distances with a thought.
Victor never noticed when they moved beyond the bounds of Sojourn into the space between worlds. He couldn’t tell if Dar had changed directions or performed some action to create a bridge between the worlds. All he knew was that spot of teal on orange and the blur of the universe speeding by on either side.
He was acutely aware of his Energy levels; he could feel how his reserves dipped below half, then a quarter, and when he began to get nervous as he lost half of that again, Dar suddenly stopped. “We’ve arrived,” he announced, gesturing around the spirit plane. They stood in a meadow of ethereal grass dotted with shimmering blue flowers. The stars above were brilliant and clear. Looking around, Victor saw distant luminescent trees and the faint purple outlines of mountain ranges in nearly every direction.
“The city walls are a mile or so distant; you’ll see them when you look around. I won’t cross over. This is where we part for now.”
“Um…” Victor nodded, licking his lips. “And Kynna? Do you have a message for her?”
Dar waved a hand. “Your arrival is message enough. Victor, I know I speak flippantly about duels and family and…well, many things. Listen to me now, though, as I impart some final, serious words.” He stared at Victor, waiting for a response.
“I’m listening.”
Dar nodded. “Good. One: a final warning about Elder magic. Tread lightly. Two: I’ve put much faith in your ability to win lopsided contests. If you get to a point where defeat seems inevitable, I will not hold it against you if you counsel Kynna to cease her attempts to expand her nation. I’d rather you backed down than died.” Those words were the first sign of any doubt Dar had that Victor could win his fights on Ruhn, and they tickled his spine like cold fingers.
“She’s expecting to force a war of succession, though.”
“I haven’t pressed that issue yet in my correspondence with her, but once it’s begun, she will understand if you don’t believe you can win against the great nations. She’ll have to. Remember, her original request was for a champion to fight off her neighbors. This expansion is entirely my idea—a plan to gain you worthy hearts for your ritual. I didn’t want to fill your mind with doubt, but I feel I must tell you that the length of this campaign is entirely in your hands. You will be the judge of how far to push things.”
Victor wasn’t sure what to say, so he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. After a moment, though, he nodded. “All right, Lord Dar. I’ll try to be smart about it. Is there anything else?”
“No. I’ll look forward to your weekly reports. Farewell, Victor.” With that, Dar was gone, and Victor stood alone on the ethereal grassy plain. Looking inward, he saw that his Core was nearly drained dry, so he reached into his pathways and severed the connection to his Spirit Walk spell. The world shifted, flashing brightly as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, and then he felt the cool breeze, smelled the fresh air with a distant odor of woodsmoke, and heard the steady trundling rumble of a massive wagon rolling on nearby cobbles.
Victor turned toward the sound and saw, down a grassy slope, a broad, brown-brick paved road leading toward a tremendous city wall in the distance. Dar had said he was a mile from those walls, so Victor took a moment to appreciate their size. They had to be a hundred feet high with an outward-flaring base that made the gatehouse tunnel look deep and cavernous. Squat ballistae towers lined the wall, and, as he squinted to look more closely, Victor counted more than a hundred soldiers patrolling just the area above and near the gate.
“If they settle wars with duels, why the hell do they need walls like that?” He looked back to the wagon he’d heard earlier and saw that it looked almost like a rolling fortress. It had four axles, was plated with heavy-looking metal, and looked to be propelled by some kind of Energy engine that hummed and glowed with orange light, belching black smoke out of a chimney stack near the rear. Half a dozen guards lined the top of the wagon, all wielding glowing crossbows.
Victor could only assume that the roads and wilds of Gloria weren’t safe. He didn’t see any other traffic on the road, but looking away from the city, he saw massive forests and looming mountains in the distance. One of the peaks was enormous, with smooth white shoulders and a rounded top shrouded in black, dark clouds. “A volcano?” He grinned at the idea. Maybe he’d get a chance to visit.
He turned back to the wagon and watched it approach the gate. Despite the size of the vehicle, it easily disappeared into the gaping maw of the gatehouse tunnel. Victor saw a couple of dozen guards form up ranks behind it, facing outward, toward the road, apparently awaiting the next traveler or, perhaps, a hostile force. “Or maybe a damn monster.” Victor shrugged and strode down the grassy slope to the road. “All right,” he sighed, squaring his shoulders. “Time to meet the people of Gloria.”