Victor of Tucson-Chapter 18Book 10: : Fire Tempers Steel

18 – Fire Tempers Steel

Florent peered through a square he made with his thumbs and forefingers, staring at the mote of void Energy slowly devouring Victor’s flesh. The cursed ball of nothing seemed to be almost stable, Victor’s regeneration holding it at bay, but he knew that perception was deceiving. It only seemed so because it grew very, very slowly, but in the hour since he’d finished his duel, he could tell it had grown ever so slightly. Would the pace of expansion increase? Why had it grown so rapidly when Loss had first cast it?

Florent frowned and lowered his hands, turning his gaze on Victor’s face. “A troubling bit of magic, milord.”

“No shit. And?” Victor wasn’t in the mood for small talk or beating around the bush.

“And I’ll need to study it further. The simple fact of the matter is that void magic, at least to my knowledge, doesn’t generally incorporate curses. I know how to destroy matter, teleport, and even sustain myself in the void, but curses—”

Arona interrupted him. “Curses are the province of darkly attuned Classes—Witches, Necromancers, Doomspeakers, Occultists, Gravehexers—I could list a hundred more. Most of them have an affinity for death, shadow, entropy, dread, pox—again, I could go on all day.”

Victor looked at her as some hope fought to take root amid the dour thoughts dancing through his mind. “You know how to get rid of one?”

“Some, certainly. There are different sorts of curses, though, Victor. There are curses of the flesh, of the mind, and of the spirit. On the surface, this curse seems to be one of the flesh, but if that were the case, I feel like you would have resisted it by now.” She frowned, folding her pale arms over the bodice of her dark blue gown. She stared at Victor’s chest for a moment, then nodded, and in her raspy voice, continued, “We can test the theory, though it will involve some pain on your part.”

Victor snorted. “We’re past that point. This damn thing hurts!”

Arona nodded, glancing around the room. They were in Victor’s parlor, near the balcony doors. He was sitting on the sofa, his legs kicked up on an ottoman. She moved to sit beside him. “If this is a curse of the flesh, if we carve the offending void Energy away from you and Florent destroys it, then you should be well again.”

“Okay.” Victor nodded, willing to try anything at this point.

“The void Energy would destroy a blade. I can slice it away with this,” Florent said, holding out his finger and projecting a beam of void Energy that looked like the absence of a knife blade.

“I’ll be precise, and as soon as I’ve carved it away, I’ll simply absorb the void Energy.”

“Do it,” Victor grunted, gritting his teeth.

Florent nodded and held the slightly crackling dagger of nothingness close to his chest while he splayed the fingers of his other hand. Florent gently, precisely guided his void blade underneath the tiny ball of void Energy in Victor’s chest. Victor sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the burning, electric pain of having his flesh dissolve before his eyes, and then it was gone. Florent had absorbed the Energy as soon as he carved it away from him.

Victor stared at the spot on his chest, watching as the bone of his sternum filled in, then the vessels and layers of skin, and then he was whole. He stared at his smooth, pain-free chest for several seconds, then began to smile. “I think it worked—”

“Drat!” Florent sighed, and Arona cursed as the mote of nothingness appeared at the center of Victor’s chest and began eating away at his flesh again.

“I was going to say something a lot worse,” Victor chuckled, looking at Arona. “Not a curse of the flesh, then?”

She shook her head. “And not of the mind.”

“Which leaves spirit, right? I don’t get it. How does that work?”

“It simply means that he’s bound the curse to your spirit, not your vessel.” By way of illustration, Arona tapped one of her polished, perfect nails against the center of her chest. “If I’d had such a curse before I died, it would have followed me to this body.”

“I’m a pinché Spirit Caster, Arona! How can that pendejo put a curse on my spirit?”

She chuckled. “You’re a formidable fighter with so many synergies as to make people—” She pointed to herself. “—wonder if the gods truly do exist and if they’ve blessed you. However, something tells me that a steel seeker, one who may have been cultivating his particular brand of power for centuries, might have the upper hand when it comes to a simple battle of wills.”

“My will is—”

“Formidable. I know. However, you aren’t the only person in the universe who’s ever had the bright idea to focus on developing that attribute.”

“I…” Victor shook his head, frustrated and unable to think of another objection.

“Interesting,” Florent said, nodding. “I know that many of my destructive spells, especially those meant to utterly annihilate a foe, can be resisted; it boils down to a battle of wills. So curses operate on much the same principle?”

Arona nodded, still looking at Victor. “Exactly. And now the curse has taken root, and the longer it festers, the deeper those roots will dig and the more difficult it will be for you to carve them out.”

Victor groaned. “I have to carve them out? Can’t people help? Can’t you?”

“Even as a Death Caster, I didn’t have a spirit affinity. I wouldn’t know how to begin. Perhaps your master?”

Victor frowned, irritated by the term. Hadn’t he come to terms with it, though? Hadn’t he decided he understood that, for now, Ranish Dar was his master? Things had changed, though, hadn’t they? He’d gained significant power since then. He’d had visits from ancestors and spent time with a true primordial titan—a being so powerful as to make Ranish Dar seem a bug. He pushed the thoughts aside and nodded. “I’ll message him.” He was irritable from the pain and the frustrations he’d experienced as both the people he’d hoped could help him came up short.

“At least it seems to be growing slowly.” Arona tilted her head, trying to make eye contact with him, but Victor didn’t look at her. He knew she was trying to help him turn his mood around, but he wasn’t ready.

“Yeah. It was a lot faster in the arena when he first cast the spell.”

“Because he was alive and was feeding it Energy.” She held up a finger, and her eyes widened as though she’d just had an idea, but then she shook her head. “I was going to suggest putting yourself somewhere with little or no ambient void Energy, but everything is the opposite of the void. I don’t know where you could go.”

“I had the same thought,” Florent added. “Void Energy is always at a low level unless I go into an actual void or approach an artifact that’s rich in it.”

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“That’s why it’s growing slowly?” Victor looked at the little mote again. It seemed the same.

“Yes,” they both said.

Victor looked at Florent again. “Can’t you just siphon it off? Cultivate from it?”

He shook his head. “Have you ever tried to cultivate from another Spirit Caster? This is part of you.” He pointed to the spot of void Energy. “Apparently, it’s tied all the way through your Core and into your spirit. You would reflexively fight me, and I don’t want to battle your will. In the worst case, it would weaken you further and allow this curse to dig deeper.”

Victor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, scratching viciously. “All right. Thanks for the advice. I’m going to write to Ranish Dar now.”

Florent nodded and turned toward the door, but he paused. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more help, Your Grace, but I will remain near at hand, ready to aid you should you discover a course of action. I will also do what I can to research things on my end.”

“I appreciate it.” Victor was too preoccupied to say more as he dug through the stack of Farscribe books in his storage ring, looking for Dar’s. He heard Florent leave and was vaguely aware of Arona sitting down beside him, but he’d already found the book and was flipping through the pages. There weren’t very many messages; Dar was a “hands-off” kind of master, it seemed. He sneered at himself, mentally labeling Dar that way out of spite.

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As he wrote a long, detailed explanation of what he was going through, Arona sat quietly, but when he closed the book, she said, “I should have kept my death affinity.”

Victor jerked his gaze her way. “What? Hell no.”

“I might have been able to research a cure for the curse—a way to lift it. I could have returned to Vesavo and asked for his help. He would have been happy to see I was alive; I could have convinced him I wasn’t trying to flee, that—”

“Stop it, Arona. I’d rather deal with this pinché thing eating away at me for a hundred years than put you through that. Seriously, though, do you think a Death Caster could help me?”

She sighed and shrugged, her delicate shoulders rising and falling so naturally that Victor really couldn’t believe that she was made of metal and crystal. How did it work? Did she only look like flesh and bone, or was she becoming flesh and bone? Was that how the spell—

Arona interrupted his thoughts by saying, “It’s possible that a veil walker with a Class specializing in curses may be able to devise a cure. Spirit curses are notoriously difficult to shake, however. I think your mast—”

“Call him by his name, please.”

Victor didn’t mean to snap, but his irritation must have been evident because Arona looked abashed. “I’m sorry! I meant…” He must have interrupted her train of thought because it looked like she was searching for the words again. Part of Victor wanted to apologize, but another part was tired of apologizing, tired of being nice. He knew he wasn’t being cool, but he also knew that he had a curse slowly devouring him and was in constant pain. He decided to cut himself some slack and, rather than apologizing, prompted her.

“You think Dar is my best bet?”

“I do.”

Victor nodded and sat up. He was shirtless, but he didn’t care. He pulled the thick golden ring off his thumb and tossed it in the air, catching it with a satisfying thwap in the center of his palm. “This ring belonged to King Bayle. Lohanse hinted that I should claim it as a prize. What do you think is inside?”

“Hmm—” Arona leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “—a dimensional ring belonging to the king of a great house?” She held up a finger to indicate she wasn’t done. “A king who was prepared to attempt to flee before the terms of a duel could be executed. I think it must be filled with riches. Perhaps his most valued objects!”

Her breathy enthusiasm was a little contagious, and Victor appreciated her efforts to help him forget about his curse. He grinned and nodded. “I was hoping it was something like that, too.”

“Well?” she prodded.

“All right, let me see here.” Victor sent a trickle of Energy into the ring, claiming it for himself, and then expanded his awareness into it. It was an ample space, but nothing so vast as the ring Kynna had given him. At first, he was disappointed when he saw the majority of the contents. He would have been thrilled a year ago, but now, a mountain of sacks containing millions of Energy beads wasn’t so exciting to him. Still, he continued to peruse, and then a slow smile spread on his lips.

Nestled among the sacks of beads were six ornate chests. Five were identical—about four feet long by two feet wide and embossed with gold leaf designs. The sixth was smaller by about a third and made entirely of silver. He could feel what was in the five identical chests: Energy Hearts—dozens of them. Each was worth a small mountain of beads; he knew that much, and that was before finding out if any of them had rare Energy affinities.

He couldn’t sense what was in the silver chest, so he kicked his ottoman back and summoned it out, placing it on the floor before him. He glanced at Arona and smiled. “So far, I’ve found maybe fifty million Energy beads and a few dozen Energy hearts.”

Her eyes opened wide. “A king’s fortune!”

He nodded. “I don’t know what’s in here, though.”

“Open it!” She slid from the couch and knelt beside the chest, watching with wide, bright eyes. Seeing her there on the floor, eagerly awaiting the opening of the chest, reminded him so strongly of a certain Christmas when the cousins had all gathered at his abuela’s house to open presents that a powerful wave of melancholy struck him. He closed his eyes and tried to savor the memory. He’d fought with his cousins more often than not, but they’d been happy then. Everyone had a present to open, and his dear, sweet abuelita had made tamales and—

“Victor? Is something amiss? Does the void pain you so?”

Victor realized he had a tear running down his cheek, and he opened his eyes, blinking away more of them. He shook his head and inhaled deeply, shaking his head. “I’m all right. To be honest, it was a happy memory that hit me.” He leaned forward and flipped the latch on the chest. “Let’s see what’s in this sucker.” As he lifted the lid and let the hinges hold it open, he stared at the contents and wrinkled his brow in consternation. “The hell is this stuff?”

The chest was lined with black felt and, nestled in cutouts, were seven polished, ovoid crystals. Each was about the size of a soda bottle and shone with a faint pink inner light. At the center of the seven crystals, also surrounded by felt, were two other objects: a rune-etched cube of golden metal and a matching sphere about the size of a billiard ball.

“It looks like an array—a, um, formation. You set the crystals up in a pattern, and then those other two objects must be part of it,” Arona guessed.

Victor reached into the chest and lifted out the golden cube. Either he was lucky, or some intuition had guided his hand because beneath it was a rectangle of cardstock imprinted with neat lettering. He set the heavy cube down and picked up the card, reading aloud, “Portable teleportation array instructions for operation.” He looked at Arona, who lifted her eyebrows in interest.

“Well? Read the rest!”

Victor grinned. “Step one: Arrange the pattern crystals equidistantly from the control cube. Each crystal will glow with steady, bright light when positioned correctly. Step two: Allow the array to absorb ambient Energy. When the crystals begin to flash with a steady rhythm, the array is ready. Step three: With the destination orb in hand, concentrate on your desired destination. This must be a location familiar to you. After completing steps one through three, a portal will appear and remain active until the array pattern is broken.”

“Victor! This is…” Arona shook her head, apparently lost for words.

“I mean, I’ve seen portal arrays before…” He was thinking of the one Tes used on their quick trip back to Fanwath. He had no idea how rare or valuable such a thing was, but she’d acted like it was on loan from her order and that it was kind of a big deal.

“Like the portal room in your palace? Or at the arena? Those are very different! They have anchor stones on either end. Someone had to travel to that place to make the link. With this array, you can hold that orb in your hand and go anywhere you have ever been. I mean, as long as you remember it.”

Victor’s stomach dropped as, for the second time that day, he thought of his abuela. Could the array make a portal to Earth? He doubted it—there was no Energy flow on Earth, causing most teleportation means to fail. Still, he could try it. He still hadn’t forgotten that Tes said there was a way, but he couldn’t remember the details. He just knew he’d have to pack a ton of Energy to keep himself alive, considering his body now sustained itself on it.

“Are you going to try it?”

Victor nodded. “Sure. We could visit my home—Fanwath. We could go to Sojourn. Maybe I’ll go there right away if Dar says he can help me.” Victor put the card back in the chest and then closed the lid. “I mean, if there’s someplace you want to go—”

“No!” She shook her head. “I don’t want to see my family, and I certainly don’t want to run into Vesavo. I will accompany you where you need to go, though; I’m here to help.”

Victor inhaled deeply, nodding as he picked up his Farscribe book again. “Thank you, Arona, but I honestly don’t want you to feel so indebted to—"

She interrupted him for a second time. “It’s not just that. I want to help you. I want to see you through this problem.”

“Well, thanks.” Victor flipped the book open, very much doubting Dar would have replied so quickly, but he was surprised to see a lengthy—for Dar—note from the Spirit Master:

Victor,

I’m sorry to hear about your predicament. A curse upon your spirit is no small thing, and this one sounds particularly pernicious. I have some words of encouragement for you and, unfortunately, some words that might bring a bit of gloom to your no-doubt already troubled mind. First, the encouragement: you are a Spirit Caster and a strong one at that. You can beat this curse, but it will take everything in you and some hard work and resources besides.

This is a matter of will. To do battle with the curse, you must enter the spirit plane as pure spirit—set aside your material being and possessions. To carry them over is to mask your spirit, and when masked, you will not see the corruption of the curse. I believe, instinctually, you’ll know what to do when you see the aspect of the curse. You will do battle, but, as I said, victory will come with the strength of your will, not muscle. I would not attempt this until you are ready. Retreat is possible, though not guaranteed.

Now for the gloom. I believe I could rid you of this curse, but it would cost you two-fold. One, I’d have to cut it away; as I am not you, and I cannot exert my will from within your spirit, I would have to grasp onto the curse and pull—I am certain your spirit would be damaged in the process which could result in all manner of trauma: lost Energy, a fragmented Core, or even physiological damage such as lost memories or a weakened vessel. As you are undoubtedly aware, your spirit is intimately connected to all aspects of your being. Any damage to it will have repercussions.

I said the cost would be two-fold. The other half would be another debt to me. Call me cruel, curse me, do what you will—I have aided you before and will do so again, but this process would not be free. I say this for two reasons. Firstly, you must understand that I have my priorities, and there are many demands on my time. Secondly, I want to encourage you to solve this problem independently. I believe the trials we face push us to our true potential; why do you think you so cleanly thrashed the pampered children of the elite in Sojourn?

I can offer a few bits of wisdom to aid in your success. Most imperatively, do not trust another to solve this problem. Do not seek out a “curse-master” or some such thing. I know the spirit well, and I can assure you that any such specialist will harm you at the very least as much as I would. This curse has already taken root, and it will not go quietly.

Once you’ve come to grips with the situation and found the mental fortitude to commit to solving this problem on your own, you must do all that you can to strengthen yourself. Cultivate your will—if you are near a Class change, be sure to choose one that provides a boost to your will and then gain some levels!

If the curse begins to spread too quickly and you aren’t able yet to battle it, try consuming a racial or bloodline enhancement treasure! It may slow the progression. The mightier your vessel, the more potent its resistance. And remember: your Spirit Core is linked to your spirit. Cultivate it. Build it. Do what you have been too lazy or too busy to do for so long.

As parting words, Victor, I will remind you that fire tempers steel, young champion. This curse may well be the impetus to significant growth. Good luck. Keep me apprised of your progress. Remember that I can and will aid you, but it should be a last resort.

R.D.

“This cryptic pendejo!” Victor groaned and passed the book to Arona so he didn’t have to repeat all of Dar’s bullshit.