Victor of Tucson-12.7 A Wave of Death

Victor of Tucson-12.7 A Wave of Death

7 – A Wave of Death
The earth shifted under Arona’s feet—under the
army’s
feet—and the soldiers amassed on the plains uttered a collective gasp. The gigantic, dead tree where Dragomir Veselev had taken up residence was shifting left and right, moving with the quaking ground. It was a disorienting sight; the top of the tree was hazy and faint, stretching into the sky so far that it threatened to scrape the stars—at least that was the impression from a mortal’s perspective on the ground. Seeing it shift made one doubt the stability of the ground, and for good reason, apparently.
“Will it fall?” Captain Tasya asked, glancing toward the assembled ranks of her cohort. No doubt she wondered if they ought to retreat further afield, away from the sight of Victor’s unseen battle.
Before Arona could respond, Telemedes, a steel seeker from Ruhn, and one of the strongest Elementalists in the army, said, “If it does, we’ll nudge it to the south, away from the troops.”
“It must weigh millions of pounds!” Tasya said, her voice full of awe. She’d done well, that one, Arona mused, considering her origins. Of all the officers Victor had promoted from the former thralls, she was the fiercest, the brightest, and the most accomplished. She wore her hard-won trophies proudly; medals and ribbons adorned her chest, artifacts taken from elite vampires comprised her armor, and the scars of a dozen close calls marked her flesh. Through a hundred battles, she’d persisted, and she’d gained significant strength—enough that she could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with veterans from other worlds, and no one questioned whether she belonged.
A sound rumbled over the miles between the army and the tree. It started out like a thunder clap, but it stretched on, widening and deepening into a concussive cacophony that had most of the soldiers clapping their hands over their ears, and even Arona searching the horizon for the display of lightning that surely must be there. Only it wasn’t. Finally, Yesheva, leader of Victor’s Nature Mages, exclaimed, “It splits! It cracks! It will fall!”
As he spoke, Arona saw the truth of his words. Branches as wide as city streets were falling from the heights, and the tree was listing badly to the west. She didn’t need to give any orders—Telemedes took flight, riding an invisible cyclone of air. He whisked himself toward the assembled division of Elementalists—one of the six full steel-seeker divisions that made up the legion’s first or “Prime” cohort. Even as he flew toward them, Arona felt the surge in Energy as they channeled their strength together.
She wasn’t sure exactly what type of spell they’d use to control the tree’s fall, but she assumed it would be the Wind Mages who directed it. They wouldn’t use fire, water, or earth. They wouldn’t use the many sub-elements, such as lightning, steel, or glass. Wind would be Arona’s choice because it would be effective, and it wouldn’t interfere with Victor’s battle like a controlled quake might. Besides, Victor was making the earth shake enough.
“I hope it’s him,” she muttered, but not softly enough.
Tasya looked at her, arching an eyebrow. “You think it might not be?”
Arona smiled, trying to reassure the younger woman. “Oh, I’ve seen Victor fight hundreds of times. I think it’s him.” A sudden gust threw her loose strands of hair forward, obscuring her vision, so Arona reached up, tugging the loose locks back and securing them with a pair of silver barrettes. Meanwhile, the wind continued to rise, and the army, already noisy and unruly, cheered as the clouds and smoke still in the sky rushed away, driven ahead of the wind that the mages were conjuring high above.
Arona watched as the tree, leaning sharply to her left, began to tilt away, pushed by the wind. She wondered if their action was premature—perhaps it wouldn’t even fall. Regardless, the magical wind caught the many leafless branches, and for a moment, the tree righted itself, standing up straight again. However, then another cacophonous crack split the air, and the tree fell to the south with a great creaking, grinding sound. As it toppled, Arona raised her voice, shouting so the commanders stationed around her would hear. “Brace yourselves!”
The command was echoed around her, rapidly passing through the ranks, and then, like they were playthings on a table being upended by an angry child, the ground lurched and almost every soldier and commander was thrown into the air. A few managed to keep their feet—men and women with affinities for the earth or those blessed with wings or possessing unnatural abilities that allowed them to ride out the violent upheaval. Arona surrounded herself with solar Energy and hovered in the air, unwilling to settle back down until she saw others clambering to their feet.
Meanwhile, the
sound
of the tree hitting the ground washed over them, and Arona clapped her hands over her ears reflexively. It reminded her of a volcano erupting or, as she’d done once or twice in her life, standing too close to a behemoth as it roared. It was a sound her ears were not ready to cope with, and they shut down as it rolled over the army. Soldiers fell and cried out, though none could hear their screams.
The legion wasn’t comprised of weaklings, however. The ranks of soldiers around Arona were battle-tested and rich in Energy. Most of them recovered quickly, regaining their feet and helping their slower comrades. Soon, despite the cataclysmic event, Arona could look around and see the ranks reforming, and she felt some pride knowing she’d been instrumental in building that massive, disciplined force.
She looked over their heads to the south and saw nothing—just a cloud of gray and brown. Ash and dirt, thrown up by the tree’s collapse, filled the sky, and it rolled toward them like a massive storm, only to be held back by the same mages who’d directed the tree’s collapse. Arona could feel the surge of the Energy and knew they were giving it their all. If it weren’t for those hundreds of Elementalists, the unnatural storm of ash and dirt would have washed over and suffocated many of them.
She contemplated lending her strength to the effort. Her solar Energy could move the air if she unleashed it. She could help blast those dust and ash particles away, but she held off, saving her strength. Things seemed too calm, too quiet. The Great Master wasn’t dead; she’d know it. Neither was Victor for the same reason. There was more destruction to come, but she didn’t know what sort. So, she watched that dark cloud, observing as the Elementalists very gradually gained ground, pushing it away from the army, foot by foot.
“Are you well, Lady Arona?”
She turned toward the voice and found Victor’s friend, Nia, a survivor from Dark Ember whom he’d freed during their invasion of Fanwath. She was one of his captains now, and quite a good one. Nia looked up at her, scarred face and scalp exposed by her close-shorn dark hair. Her dark blue eyes were narrowed in worry, but Arona didn’t think it was for her. “I’m fine. Do not worry for Victor. A great tree falling will not slay our commander.”
“How could anyone—” she started to ask, but then froze, eyes widening. Arona knew why: something momentous was happening. She could feel the Energy fleeing the air, pulled away like a gateway into the void had been opened. “What—” Nia started to ask, but Tasya put a hand on her shoulder and pointed. Arona looked and saw what she’d picked out with her sharp eyes. An orb of sickly green-blue Energy was forming in the distant sky.
“How can we see it?” Tasya asked.
Arona shook her head. “It must be incredibly bright. It’s—” She stopped speaking, looking inward. Her Energy was seeping from her Core into her pathways. The
vacuum
was trying to take her Energy. “Guard your Cores!” she shrieked.
People around her gasped as they realized what she’d noticed. It was a close thing; Arona could already feel the many flavors of Energy in the air—stolen from the Cores of the people around her. Again, her warning was echoed, and she heard it being shouted up and down the lines. Then, as rapidly as it had begun, the pull faded. Gasping with relief, Arona continued to stare into the cloud of dirt and ash, watching that brilliant green-blue star continue to grow.
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“It’s…” Nia said, frowning. “It’s like the star Hector made atop the mount—” Her words were cut short as the sky flashed with green light that was bright enough to blind a simple mortal. A wave of miasmic Energy tore the cloud of ash and dirt to tatters and rippled away from the site of the downed tree like a shockwave unleashed by an exploding sun.
Arona’s eyes blazed with solar Energy, and she reflexively cast the first epic-tier spell she’d ever learned: Solar Bulwark. She poured a tremendous amount of Energy into it, for she could
feel
the destructive power of the incoming wave. To the soldiers around her, it looked like she exploded. A brilliant star ignited in her chest, expanding outward at the speed of light, throwing the entire field into glorious daylight and blasting every stray particle of dirt or ash from the air. A dome of sunlight expanded around the army and, just as it reached the furthest ranks, the wave of deathly miasma struck it.
Arona cried out, buckling and falling to her knees. Nia took one of her arms and Tasya the other. Together, they steadied her as the Energy in Arona’s Core poured forth, bolstering and maintaining her bulwark at great expense. “Take my Energy,” Nia cried, but Arona ignored her. The woman had a Spirit Core with a justice affinity—something she’d built from the tatters of a partial death attunement; there was nothing she could do to bolster Arona’s spell. Tasya, on the other hand…
“Ack!” the other captain cried as Arona pulled, tugging on the unattuned Energy in the woman’s pearl-class Core. She resisted for a moment out of reflex, but when she realized what was happening, she relaxed. “Take it!”
Take it, Arona did, draining the poor woman into unconsciousness. It was enough to steady her, though, enough to stretch her solar Energy a few more seconds—long enough to withstand the brunt of the miasmic wave. When her barrier fell, and Arona collapsed beside the fallen captain, she looked up to see just a few tatters of greenish Energy fading away, dispersed by the magic of other mages.
“Are you okay?” Nia asked, still holding her arm.
Arona nodded, gesturing to Tasya. “Get her up. We have to move.” Arona struggled to her feet, facing the many captains looking her way. “Everyone! We have to move back! Get the soldiers marching! Northward!” As the commands rang out, taken up by lieutenants and sergeants, she helped Nia with Tasya, pulling the poor, shellshocked woman to her feet.
“But you blocked it; will he strike us again?” Tasya murmured.
“That’s the frightening thing,” Arona said, helping her to stumble down the slight grade of the commanders’ post. “I don’t believe he was striking at us. It was a side-effect of his clash with Victor.”
###
Victor had cut the flow of Energy feeding his Volcanic Fury, and the loss of that elemental transformation meant that, even with his innate resistances and the resilience of his titanic flesh, he burned. The charring, melting of his flesh would have been debilitating, an impossible agony, something that would mean the ruination of most beings. Victor, though, had been through worse. He’d lived with similar pain for the better part of a year. He
was
resilient, so the burning was slow, and, moreover, he had the unnatural regeneration of a legendary behemoth.
So, as he tumbled in the molten river, his body aflame with constant agony, he closed his physical eyes and opened his inner one. Using that spiritual sense that allowed him to see his Core, his aura, his
spirit
, he searched for his prey, swimming through the thick, burning lava, following the traces of cold, blue death Energy. He was oblivious to the turmoil outside the molten river—the falling stones, the crumbling roots, the crashing of the great tree. In the world’s fiery vein, all was calm; only his agony and the scent of death existed for his dogged mind.
Early on, he grew weary of trying to swim with Lifedrinker in hand and his impossibly heavy, bulky armor on his body. He sent everything into his spirit space with a mental promise to Lifedrinker:
I’ll pull you out when I catch him!
Naked, clad in flesh that burned and regrew in a constant cycle of fiery pain, he chased his quarry, deeper into the lava, through a gap in the bedrock of the world, and into a massive lake of molten stone.
As he swam, he considered his visions of lava kings and elder wyrms in their natural habitat. They were untroubled by the lava that rolled off their scales. Were dragons the same? With a thought, Victor willed his flesh to change, to shift into the scales of a dragon, and, for good measure, he made them red. To his amazement, his pain all but vanished. He would have laughed, but he didn’t want to open his mouth. His eyes yet burned, and another idea came to him. Would lava burn a wyrm’s eyes? Grinning inwardly, he willed his eyes to grow scales, too—transparent ones.
As the last of his pain vanished, Victor kicked his feet and picked up his pace, coursing through the lava like the reptilian creatures he emulated. He wondered how Dragomir was moving ahead of him—was his gigantic skeleton immune to the heat? Was he simply walking on the rocky bottom of the river? Growling, Victor summoned his magmatic wings and poured Energy into them, and suddenly, he was
flying
through the lava.
The death-attuned Energy grew thicker, and he saw the roots of a stone island—like the bedrock around the lava, it refused to melt. He streaked toward it, and when he burst out of the lava and landed on the hot, hard stone, he roared, making his frustration known. He was in another great cavern, some distance from the one he’d destroyed, and the stone pier on which he stood led over the lava lake and under another high, natural arch. The death Energy was thicker that way.
Victor let his wings flicker out, and he summoned Lifedrinker as he stalked under the arch. Another cavern opened, this one dimmer than the red-lit, lava-filled one. Still, he could see just fine with the residual orange glow behind him. Black basalt covered the ground, and great towers of human skulls filled the enormous vault. At a glance, he saw more than a hundred stacks of them, and he could hardly guess at the number of skulls—tens of thousands, certainly.
The gigantic skeleton stood at the far end of the chamber, facing Victor over a black, glistening altar. Dragomir’s huge bony arms moved left and right as he swayed, channeling a thick torrent of death-attuned Energy into some sort of ritual. Victor cast Velocity Mantle and charged, streaking through the massive hall like a red-scaled missile.
Just as he arrived and heaved Lifedrinker in a deadly cleave, Dragomir finished his work, and the world erupted in a hurricane of cold, caustic, death-attuned Energy. The world turned blue and icy, and Victor felt his feet swept out from under him as the cavern filled to bursting with the dark power. He and Dragomir were borne upwards to the stony ceiling. Victor smashed into it, driven by the pressure of too much Energy in too small a space. His scales ground against the stone, his bones—harder than diamonds—refused to bend, and the bedrock began to crack.
The pressure of the death Energy forced it into the tiniest of cracks, widening them, and then the cavern shattered. Victor was borne upward, riding on a wave of shattered stone and upheaved earth, tumbling on a wave of freezing, sapping, death-attuned Energy. Eventually, he exploded out of the ground and soared into the air, riding Dragomir’s Energy like a surfer who’d caught the leading edge of a tidal wave.
As he realized he was free of the ground and soaring into the sky, Victor summoned his wings again and took flight, driving himself away from the column of blue, entropic Energy. He held Lifedrinker before him as he spun, turning to scan the sky for Dragomir. The air was thick with dirt and ash, and all he saw was an orb of death-attuned Energy, steadily growing as the column from the depths of the planet continued to feed it. He looked down, scanning the ruins of the colossal tree and torn-up ground. “Where are you,
pendejo
?”
No sooner had he spied a giant, bony arm erupting from the earth as the undead Great Master crawled out of the soil, than the blazing orb of deadly Energy burst. To Victor, flying perhaps a quarter mile from the orb, it felt like being swatted by some unseen, impossibly huge deity. He felt the air drawn from his lungs, then abrupt silence fell over him as his ears failed to register the calamity, and then a shockwave of greenish-blue Energy hit him, faster than he could blink, and he was thrown through the air, tumbling on a wave of pure destruction.
When Victor hit the ground, he tore a furrow twenty feet deep and a hundred feet long. He was stunned, numb, and, though his scales had shed much of the destruction, he was wounded. The impacts had torn his organs, and several of his nigh-indestructible bones had broken. Nevertheless, his regeneration was relentless, and soon his hearing returned, and his vision cleared. He realized he was lying in a pool of water, and, as he sat up, he saw that he'd nearly been thrown into the sea. His trench had hit groundwater and was rapidly filling.
Urgency entered his mind as he pictured Dragomir, thinking Victor was dead, and moving against his army. He roared, pouring Energy into his wings and launching himself back into the sky. Of course, he still had his grip on Lifedrinker, and he held her high as he raced northward again, toward the site of the fallen World Tree. “Okay, beautiful,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m giving you a piece of my spirit. I need you to cut that fucker’s bones!”

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12.7 A Wave of Death