BOOK 12: CHAPTER 5: WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT

5 – Words of Encouragement

Victor chuckled softly as he finished reading Thayla’s letter. He’d certainly gotten some things wrong when he imagined Deyni and the other girls in their day-to-day life. It seemed Thayla was at her wits' end. The girls, with Deyni as a ring leader, had been skipping classes, and their frequent visits to Du’s dungeon had not been sanctioned by Rellia or anyone else. In fact, at Thayla’s and Efanie’s insistence, Rellia had tried to limit their visits to once per week. The problem was that the staff at Caldera Keep were too intimidated by the girls and their relationship with the leaders of the Free Marches to turn them away.

He ran his eyes over the last couple of lines again: I begin to wonder if they’ve outgrown our schooling and if they might be better served by an apprenticeship with the right sorts of masters. Do you have any ideas?

It sounded to him like Thayla wanted to split the girls up, and he knew she wouldn’t write to him about something like that if Efanie and the instructors at the Freemarch Academy didn’t agree with her. He wondered, though, if that might be a little too extreme. According to Thayla, it was only Deyni, Cora, and Dalla who were causing trouble—Chala had left with her older sister, Chandri, to explore the unclaimed lands on the southern shore of the Silver Sea.

That bit of news had been a bit of a shock to Victor—not because he didn’t approve in any way, but because he simply couldn’t believe that Chala was eighteen years old or that Chandri was in her mid-twenties. He’d been back several times over the last few years for visits, and each time, he was amazed by how the girls had grown, but the idea that Deyni and the others were just a few years behind Chala and that soon they’d be leaving home… “Very soon if Thayla has her way.” It was enough to make him feel strange flutters in his gut. Did everything have to change?

With a slightly melancholy sigh, he picked up his pen and wrote a response:

Thayla,

As always, I love reading your letters. I’ve come to look forward to the unique slants and loops of your handwriting because it always brings me back. Do you remember our flight through the depths of Greatbone Mine? It’s hard to believe you and I are the same people. Our lives have changed so much!

It sounds like things are going well with Tellen and the clan, and I know you have your hands very full. Before I respond to your question about the girls, though, I’d like to encourage you to find some time to continue your advancement. I know we discussed this after the incident with Thoargh, but I want to remind you that regardless of how things work out with the Ridonne, Fanwath will gain more and more exposure as our people—like Deyni and the others—gain power and travel. It would be good if you and Tellen were more formidable.

You should make it a point to try to gain a few levels every year, and if that means taking a week away from your duties from time to time to visit the dungeon, you should do it!

Victor paused, re-reading what he’d written and contemplating scratching it out. It wouldn’t do any good. The words were already written. They’d appear in Thayla’s book, and she’d see his efforts to change them. He wasn’t wrong, anyway. Thayla was still only tier three. He could only imagine how easy it was to lose track of gaining levels or cultivating a Core when one was busy raising a family and running a large community. However, he knew that strength was important for leaders, and he didn’t think it was wrong to remind Thayla of that. The fact that Deyni and the girls were higher level than Thayla should have made his point for him! He continued writing:

As for Deyni, Cora, and Dalla, I’d like you to pass on a message to Efanie. I have to visit Sojourn and Zaafor soon, and I’ll be stopping by Fanwath to collect the girls to bring along with me. I have an opportunity for a Spirit Caster on Zaafor, which I’ll explain to you in greater detail when I visit. I think it might be appropriate for Dalla and Deyni to take on the task as a team, and I’d feel better about them having each other to rely on while they’re there. As for Cora, she’s my oldest ward, and I think it’s time she began to learn about the responsibilities that go along with that title.

So, with all that being said, you can expect me to visit soon. Well, I hope that’s the case. I have to slay a particularly nasty vampire first, but if things don’t go well, I’m sure Arona will let you know.

Victor laughed as he wrote the last line, then shook his head and crossed it out.

You can’t see me right now, but I was laughing when I wrote that. Don’t worry; I don’t intend to lose this fight. I’ll see you soon!

Love,

Victor

Victor closed the book, then sent it and all the others into his spirit space. He’d had enough correspondence for the time being. He stood and stretched, then looked out the window. To his surprise, the light of dawn was bright in the sky, brightening the heavy layer of black and gray smoke clouds that hung overhead. Victor frowned, shaking his head. There was no way dawn had come already; besides, it wouldn’t have been so bright—not with the sky clouded with smoke.

He walked to the window and looked out, and he guessed what it was before he looked: Arona. She’d summoned an orb of solar Energy and was creating a false dawn to make it clear that the army was ready to listen to him. More than that, he could feel a stiff breeze blowing to the south. His Wind Mages were clearing the smoke, pushing it out to sea. Victor turned that way and saw that the fires, while still blazing, were well past the northern side of the tree. All that was left of the warrens were smoldering ruins on the far edge, away from the army’s encampment.

“So,” he said, summoning Lifedrinker into his hands.

“Is it time, Battle-heart?”

“Yep. We’ll thank the army for their hard work first, though.” Victor set her down, leaning her against the wall near the window, then he summoned his armor. Despite his hundreds of victories and an equal number of cities, castles, forts, and palaces sacked, he’d yet to improve on the armor he’d acquired during his stay on Ruhn. It was a testament to the fact that Dark Ember and the vampires who ruled it had not had the benefit of the System for most of their existence.

Mundane wealth was plentiful on the dark, undead-ruled world, as were lesser magical artifacts. However, when it came to truly great prizes, it seemed the Artificers who worked for the tyrannical rulers of the cities and nations of Dark Ember weren’t up to the level of the older, System-controlled worlds where Victor’s treasures had originated. So, he summoned his Crown of the Dark Colossus, his Aegis of Charyssor, his Terror-scale Boots, his Umbral Greaves, and his Gauntlets of the Mountain’s Might.

As always, he smiled with pleasure as each artifact embraced his flesh, adding its strength and weight to his physical presence. The crown gave him a hundred strength points—a drop in the bucket by then, but still nothing to sneeze at. More importantly, it protected his head better than any helmet he’d ever found, and, like his other gear, it was nigh indestructible.

His aegis weighed tens of thousands of pounds and was denser than any material Victor could imagine, yet when he put it on, it felt comfortable. It felt good. The same could be said for the other pieces of his armor—they were all exceedingly comfortable, and despite their power, weight, and durability, he hardly noticed them when they clad his body.

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Once he’d pulled the second of his gauntlets on, Victor reached down and picked up Lifedrinker. Then, holding her sideways before him, he leaped out the window and summoned his wings. Again, he felt the pull of the flight wards, and again, he tore through them. This time, he launched himself skyward, trailing a plume of black smoke as he soared through the stiff breeze his mages were conjuring.

The encampment was deserted. Some support personnel toiled here and there, fixing roads, managing the animals, or delivering supplies. For an army the size of his, one might expect a similar-sized army of non-combat personnel, but thanks to his training from Borrius, Victor’s legions didn’t operate that way. Soldiers were tasked with building and maintaining the camps, and the relatively small support staff was there only to fill in when soldiers were wounded or on missions.

Victor banked his wings and turned south, toward the great open plains where he knew his army was waiting. Arona’s miniature sun hung in the sky, a thousand feet higher than he was flying, throwing the field into daylight for miles in every direction. Arrayed on the grass, standing in neat columns and groups separated by cohort and division, his enormous army stood waiting. When he flew in that direction, despite exhortations from the sergeants, a tremendous cheer broke out. It was like a sound from nature—a surf crashing or a storm rumbling.

It filled Victor’s chest with something that he’d fought hard to combat over the last few years—pride. This time, he welcomed it in. His troops deserved to see him confident after all they’d done to deliver this moment to him. He flew toward that sea of bristling warriors, grinning to think that it was his army. It wasn’t just the number of soldiers, but their quality that made him proud. He had an entire cohort of tier nine soldiers. Every other cohort had a significant number of high-tier soldiers as well. In fact, the average

level of his soldiers, as of Arona’s last report, was sixty-four.

“Tens of thousands of fighters who are stronger than I was when we fought for the Free Marches.”

Lifedrinker vibrated in disagreement. “I care not what rank they claim; none are as strong as you were, even then.”

Victor laughed as he swooped down toward the small sea of soldiers. “I guess I won’t argue with you on that one.”

He saw the platform he was meant to speak from. It resembled a siege tower with a square stage constructed atop it. He figured it was about thirty feet high, and when Victor pictured himself standing up there, shouting through his voice amplification trinket, he chuckled inwardly. “Sorry to the engineers who made that, but I won’t be needing it.” Instead, as he descended toward the field, he released all his constraints on his titanic flesh, allowing it to expand to its full, natural potential.

When he landed beside the platform, the ground shook, and the soldiers roared again, screaming their cheers so loudly that Victor could see their faces turning red with the strain. Laughing, Victor held Lifedrinker high—a hatchet in his mighty hand—as he brushed the platform tower aside, sending it tumbling and crashing over the grass. There he stood, a true titan, nearly forty feet tall, and that was without his berserk abilities swelling him further. When he roared back at his soldiers, his voice boomed like thunder and carried over the field for miles.

As the echo of his voice faded, silence reigned, and Victor lowered Lifedrinker, holding her by his side as he stood straight, looking out over his massive army. Most of his soldiers were human—liberated from Dark Ember—but thousands were from Ruhn, Sojourn, and Fanwath. There were giants among them, though none stood more than a third as tall as Victor. His height made it easy to ensure they all saw him, and that he saw them. His bright eyes scanned the lines, and he hoped they all felt that he acknowledged them.

“What a glorious day! Thanks to Legate Arona and the Mage Corps, we’ll soon be rid of this gloomy smoke.” Victor didn’t yell, but he projected his voice, and he knew it rumbled to the far corners of the assembly without any trouble. He turned to regard the gigantic dead tree that stretched toward the firmament. “When I’m done speaking here, I’ll venture into that tree to pull the vampire lord, Dragomir Veselov”—Victor shouted the name, as if daring the Great Master to come forth—“from the depths where he hides!”

His proclamation and the brazenness of his statement had the desired effect: his soldiers howled their pride and glee, shaking their weapons in the air. “I wouldn’t be able to do so if not for your great labors! For nearly two years, you’ve fought here! You’ve killed millions of undead and gigantic bats! Thousands of your comrades have died to bring us to this momentous occasion! For every drop of their blood spilled, I’ll make Dragomir pay!”

More cheers greeted his promise, and Victor lifted Lifedrinker high, letting her soak in the adulation. “I’ll need you soldiers to stay here. I need you to remain ready to fight, but unless more undead pour forth from the depths of that great tree’s roots, you will serve me better by staying safely out of my way.” Once more, he shook Lifedrinker and screamed, “For I intend to unleash hell!”

By then, the soldiers were whipped into a frenzy, and more than half of them broke ranks in their exuberance, jumping and screaming their approval. Mages fired magical missiles of all flavors into the sky, and Victor knew Arona was probably frowning severely in his direction, wherever she was. He glanced toward the center of the assembly, where he was reasonably sure she’d be standing, and, sure enough, caught sight of her bright breastplate and gleaming, diamond-studded cape, brilliant in the light of her false sun.

He felt good knowing she was there, that she’d be standing by with the army. She was a powerful steel seeker, and he had no doubts that she was a good deal stronger than many of the veil walkers he’d slain on Dark Ember. If he became entangled with Dragomir, then she’d keep the army safe from any ambitious lesser lords who might try to decimate his army. Even if she weren’t there, he had some captains who were strong enough to face off with a lesser lord. No, the army would be fine, he decided, nodding as he considered his following words.

“Listen to me well, soldiers!” he said, lowering his axe and trusting his booming voice to get through the din of their cheers. “Many of you have been with me when we conquered other cities, and I slew lesser lords. You know that after a prolonged siege, the System sees your hard work, and it grants you a share of the Energy that flows from my kills. Stand ready, because your hard labors are about to be rewarded!”

As the soldiers cheered again, Victor built the pattern for the Banner of the Conqueror, and as the great standard took shape behind him, it blasted the area with its glory-attuned Energy. As large as he was, with the strength of his aura and all the feats that amplified it, the potent Energy stretched for thousands of feet, and most of his soldiers felt it. Their hearts surged with purpose and power, and they tasted the promise of glory.

Victor grinned mischievously as he saw the captains, lieutenants, and sergeants going mad with their efforts to maintain the ranks. Victor turned, faced the great tree, and started walking. He knew his soldiers would try to follow him, whipped into a frenzy by his aura and the glory-attuned Energy, but he trusted Arona and the other commanders to reel them in before they got far. He didn’t need to worry about them keeping pace with him; each of his strides spanned nearly twenty feet.

He passed through the encampment in seconds, and when he reached the southern fortifications, he leaped over the earthworks, spikes, and pitfalls. The ground shook when he landed, and he continued, rapidly passing through the blasted battlefield, littered with bones and burned corpses—recently dispatched undead that had yet to be collected for the pyres.

The tree loomed before him, bigger and bigger as he approached. The once dense, tangled warren of thorns that used to encircle it was largely reduced to ash, and still his boots crunched on unburnt roots and thick, hot cinders. Victor ignored his footing, eyes focused on the tree. He’d been close before. He’d flown into those branches to battle the bats when they’d first arrived, hoping to get a glimpse at the heart of the tree—was it hollow? Did a city of the undead lie within?

He'd learned that, yes, it was hollow, and yes, even he could be weakened and drained by the thick, malignant miasma of undeath that had hung in the air back then. Now, though, it was gone or so diminished that he could shrug it off. In fact, his banner’s blazing sun burned it away, blasting the area with glorious light that stirred the ashes and wilted the undead flesh from the bones of unclaimed corpses.

Victor was awash with emotion—anticipation, bloodlust, excitement, and…dread. Some small part of him didn’t believe he was ready. A tiny voice in the back of his head, feeding on the rich fear that grew in the Core of his being, whispered to him, “All those soldiers are going to die if you fail. None of them can stand against a Great Master—not if you can’t.”

As if she could hear the voice, too, Lifedrinker offered a counterpoint. “Be brave, my battle-king! Remember who you are! Victor, Titan of Earth, Slayer of Dragons, Conqueror of Millions! Killer of Kings! Warlord slaughterer! You are the Blood Lord, the Axe Incarnate, the Heart of my Battle Dance! No undead scum hiding in the roots of a tree will stand against us!” Her love, ferocity, and adoration came to him through his grip on her haft, and Victor nodded, reaching into his mind and excising that doubting voice, grabbing it tight and shoving it down, burying it beneath his hunger for battle.

“That’s right, beautiful. Let’s dig up this ancient corpse and remind him why he ran away from Earth!”