Book 8: Chapter 29: A Slight Detour

Arona wasn’t exactly what Victor would consider a socially adept person, but after he’d basically told her he didn’t trust her, she became decidedly standoffish. She brooded by herself on the northern edge of the clearing with her five skeletal servants standing watch in a wide circle while Victor and Tyn continued to chat, sitting on flat stones and snacking while they waited for Arcus. Victor checked his watch regularly, and after some time had passed, he called out, “Just a few more minutes,” hoping to get Arona to perk up a little. She ignored him, staring into the ruins, leaning on her ivory staff.

“Is she angry with you?” Tyn whispered.

“She’s a Death Caster, kid. Who knows?” Victor chuckled and handed him a slice of buttered pumpkin bread. At some point, he’d decided to do what he could to put some meat on Tyn’s bones. He watched him wolf the treat down, enjoying the expression of bliss on the youngster’s face.

After he swallowed a huge mouthful, Tyn cleared his throat and jerked his thumb at his chest. “I’m not a kid.”

Victor nodded solemnly. “Right.” He couldn’t stop glancing at Arona’s pale, glowering face as she stared into the dark sky. After another couple of minutes, he sighed, standing. “Wait here.” He gave Tyn’s shoulder a friendly slap, careful not to knock him over, and walked over to the Death Caster. “Hey, was I too blunt earlier?”

She snorted and turned slightly, making it hard to see into her eyes. “About not trusting me?”

“Do I know you, Arona? I mean, really? Give me a chance to—”

“Please put the matter out of your mind, Victor. It’s fine.” She still wouldn’t look at him, and Victor could hear her bone guardians clattering as they moved. Were they agitated? Could they sense their master’s mood? Staring at the side of her face, seeing the partial scowl and hearing the stiffness in her voice, Victor recognized a kindred outcast. He’d been in her shoes a hundred times with his cousins and their friends. He knew what it was like to act unbothered when something was eating at him. He’d gotten over it with friends from school and, obviously, his friends in this new life, but those memories still stung.

He reached into his Core and pulled out a thread of inspiration, casting Globe of Insight. It had a more subtle effect than Inspiration of the Quinametzin, but he could explain it by saying, “This dim landscape is getting to me.”

Arona glanced up at the glowing ball of white-gold Energy, and he saw some of the creases around her eyes fade as her glowering countenance relaxed. “A pleasant glow.”

Victor nodded, watching her, and then, as he’d hoped, some inspiration struck him. “Hey, you’re worried I won’t ever trust you, huh? You’re thinking about those friends of yours you abandoned in the challenge dungeon.”

“I didn’t—” She cut her protest short, clenching her fist around her staff until her pale fingers turned white. After a moment, with Victor staring at her the whole time, she sighed and seemed to collapse inward. “I did. I left them to fight you so that I could win the competition. My master was proud.” She practically spat the last sentence.

“Well, I’m not thinking about that. I just, well, I’ve got a bad history with Death Casters. I guess that’s a kind of prejudice, but I can’t help being wary.”

She turned to face him, her dark eyes wide and earnest. “You should be wary. Death-attuned Energy wears on a person’s spirit. It eats away at qualities people generally view as virtuous—honesty, kindness, honor, empathy. I’m tier-nine, Victor, but I’m young—a prodigy, some say. I haven’t lived with this cursed Energy for centuries like most at my level. I tell you this with an open heart; do not trust a Death Caster, especially my master!”

Victor’s mouth hung open in surprise. He’d expected her to deny being bothered or to shrug off his concerns and tell him she was different. He certainly hadn’t expected that emotional outburst. He cleared his throat and tried to think of the proper response, but she was already turning, already stomping away, and he decided to give her some space. He shifted to look away, staring into the distant ruins as he contemplated. Softly, he whispered, “Shit, chica, I guess I hit a nerve.”

Lifedrinker vibrated against his shoulder, and he knew exactly what she was thinking: It didn’t matter to her what kind of Energy his enemies used—she was ready to fight. He was saved from further introspection when the portal howled to life in a flare of bright blue Energy. Seconds later, Arcus walked through in his bright red robes, a two-foot metallic rod in each of his hands. One was red and radiated heat. The other was dark iron and seemed to absorb the light around it.

“Well done, Victor! The council is pleased.” Before Victor could respond, Arcus whirled to face Tyn and lifted his red rod. It began to glow with white-hot flames, and Victor realized he was about to blast the kid.

“Chill out!” he roared. “That’s my friend!”

Arcus looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, his eyes ablaze. When Victor returned his gaze, glowering, the Pyromancer shrugged and lowered his rod. “Who’s this, then?”

“I’m Tyn, sir!” The kid jumped up and surprised Victor by approaching Arcus with an outstretched hand. Victor stared, trying to decide if Tyn was too stupid to understand the danger he’d been in or if he was just so used to being in danger that it hadn’t registered.

Victor cleared his throat. “Arcus, did you know people were having kids in here? Did you know there are towns in this dungeon?”

Arcus stared down his long, straight nose at Tyn, then, surprising Victor, took his hand. He shook his head slowly. “I had no idea. How strange! You were born here, young man?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded eagerly, the unruly mop of hair atop his head bobbing back and forth.

“Come,” Arona said, and her skeletons emerged from the nearby ruins, click-clacking over the stony ground as they took up positions around the four living beings. “We should get moving before Ronkerz sends another group of attackers.”

“Ronkerz? He’s still alive?” Arcus waved his red rod in the air, and Victor felt a surge of Energy. A flash of flames and sparks erupted above Arcus’s head, and then a fiery bird appeared, shrieked, and flapped its wings, flying high into the dark sky. Victor watched as the magical creature continued to rise and then leveled off, gliding in a wide circle around them. “I’ll be able to keep an eye out with my flame kestrel.”

“Come on,” Victor said, following Arona and her bony guardians. “I’ll fill you in while we walk. Lead the way, Tyn.”

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Arona’s skeletal helper lifted out a brightly glowing object and dropped down in a clatter of bones. As Tyn more carefully descended, the skeleton loped over to Arona, holding an orb of swirling rainbow Energy cradled between two long claws. Arcus stepped forward and said, “Transferrable? Usually, they’re consumed on touch!”

Arona smiled, her canines brightly reflecting the light from the orb. “This isn’t a System award. It’s . . . I suppose it’s a type of natural treasure.”

Victor didn’t want to look like an idiot, so he didn’t speak up. He was fairly sure he knew what the orb was. He’d gotten one in a chest from the dungeon when he’d escaped the Greatbone Mine. The one he’d received had glowed with golden Energy, and when he touched it, it gave him a level. To clarify without sounding too ignorant, he asked, “Will it give a full level?”

“I think so,” Arona said, making him feel a little better—they didn’t know for sure, either. “This would sell for a handsome prize to someone of our tier.” Victor could see she spoke mainly to Arcus but included him in the glance she threw their way.

Arcus was clearly struggling with his words, trying to think of a reason why he should be able to claim the orb or at least a partial stake. Victor decided to earn some points with the Death Caster and spoke his feelings plainly, “You did all the work. Keep it.”

Arcus sputtered, “She only did all the work because she told us to stand down! I could have summoned an inferno upon that death wind.” He spat the name derisively.

“Well, you didn’t.” Victor shrugged. “Don’t worry; I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to earn our own prizes.”

“So unconcerned, hmm? So easy for you to be the generous one—you, who didn’t lose any cursed Energy to the System’s greedy clutches.” Arcus’s smooth veneer had cracked, and Victor was only slightly surprised at how quickly it had occurred.

“You want this so badly?” Arona rasped, gesturing at the orb still in her skeletal pawn’s clutches.

“Of course! Don’t act like you aren’t thrilled. That, there, represents a year’s hard labor for you or me at our tier!”

“Seriously?” Victor raised an eyebrow, looking from Arcus to Arona. “A year for a level?”

“You’re not—” Arona started to say, but Arcus spoke over her.

“That’s right! When you’re tier-nine, you’ll see. Things come slowly!”

“Probably depends on what you do, yeah? Didn’t you gain any levels in the challenge dungeon, Arona?”

She nodded. “I did—one.”

Again, Victor shrugged. “Well, there you go.”

“Listen to this rube! Victor, just because you stumbled ass-first into a challenge dungeon doesn’t mean the competition runs all the time. There’s great risk involved. Take me—rather than gaining a level, I lost ten!” He practically screamed the last word, and Victor saw flames dancing in his eyes. He was well and truly losing his grip on the relaxed, friendly façade he’d been putting forth.

Victor sighed and glanced down at Tyn, watching the back and forth with wide eyes. “How far to the Enclave, Tyn?”

“Maybe an hour if we’re careful and avoid the spawns.”

“Forget that.” Victor grinned at the kid and ruffled his mop of sandy brown hair. “Lead me through all the spawns; let’s kill some shit on the way, and maybe Arcus can find a treasure.” He snorted, turned his back on the casters, and stomped southward.

“Victor,” Arona called, her voice hoarse as she raised it. “What of the orb?”

He waved dismissively with his free hand. “Do what you want.” He only took a dozen steps before Tyn jogged past him, angling for a row of low hills with scraggly, dead-looking trees on their slopes.

“Victor, sir!” he panted, turning to walk backward while he spoke. “There’s a lich-wyrm in those hills. We all give it a wide berth when we hunt and scavenge. I bet you could find a trinket or two in its lair!”

Victor laughed and turned to look back at Arona and Arcus. They were walking behind him, though separated by a good ten feet. Arona’s skeletons were ranging out, establishing their usual marching perimeter. He couldn’t see the orb, but he could tell by Arcus’s scowl that Arona had kept it. “Did you hear that, Arcus?”

The Pyromancer quickened his steps, and though his eyes still burned with angry fire, he spoke almost pleasantly when he caught up. “What’s that? The boy said something of note?”

Victor nodded. “There’s a lich-wyrm ahead. I don’t know exactly what that is, but I know what a wyrm is and what a lich is. Sounds like it might be a decent challenge. Sounds like it might drop a treasure or two. What do you say? Shall we make a slight detour?”