Victor grunted as he lifted his helm to his head. He stood outside the gates, Guapo huffing out plumes of hot breath in the chilly morning air. The idea of his spirit horse breathing hot air brought a lot of questions to his mind, but he was distracted from the thought as Valla came bounding into view, riding atop a very spirited Uvu. The big cat was full of energy, a definite spring in his loping passage, and lots of grumbling, groaning, big-cat noises emerging from his broad chest as she directed him over to Victor.

“He wanted to chase every animal he heard! It feels like when I first started training him!” Valla’s flushed cheeks and big smile let Victor know she wasn’t upset with the cat’s enthusiasm. Rather, she was thrilled by his exuberance.

“So, he’s feeling good, huh?” Victor swung himself up onto Guapo’s back. They were going to ride out, just the two of them, while Lam, Sarl, and Edeya marched with the Ninth. Kethelket and two hundred of his Naghelli were already gone, leaving before sunrise to scout the edges of the forest to the west.

“He is! Speaking of exuberance, did you see Edeya yet?”

“Nah, she was in the bath when I went to check on her. Lam said I’d see her soon enough, so I packed up and headed out to find you. Looks like, as usual, you found me first.”

“I was with her when she woke.” Valla leaned forward, resting her elbows on the front of her cat’s soft, burgundy-stained leather saddle, and stroked his furry shoulder. As he began to rumble a definitive purr, she said, “You heard she gained five ranks, yes?”

“Yeah, I heard. Lam said she’s showing signs of a bloodline, too—Cobalt Wing? Is that right?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen one, but I think they’re rather revered among the Ghelli. Instead of the yellow Energy motes like Lam’s wings give off, Ghelli with the Cobalt Wing bloodline have distinctive blue wings and give off azure motes.”

“Is that the only difference?” Victor clicked his tongue, and Guapo started moving, trotting away from the keep, away from the sunrise.

“No!” Valla laughed as Uvu pounced into motion, swerving so much toward Guapo that Victor thought they’d collide. The cat chuffed and pulled away, just coming close enough for his furry side to rub against Victor’s leg. “It’s more than the color of their wings; it also changes their Core! Edeya is gaining an affinity for water, though she says it’s not as strong as her pure Energy affinity yet. However, if she keeps advancing her race, she should be a formidable Elementalist someday.”

“Huh, that’s cool.”

“Cool.” Valla shook her head and snorted.

“Hey, that word did a lot of heavy lifting in my old life.”

“I can tell!” Valla laughed, but then, as a bit of silence grew between them, and they rode without speaking for a few minutes, she spoke up. “Are you worried about our . . . disparity?”

“Huh?” Victor frowned at her.

“Every time you do just about anything, you grow in power. I heard about your ‘sparring’ session with Kethelket. You displayed some sort of paragon? I never knew such a thing was possible.” Victor started to try to explain, but she hurriedly kept speaking. “It’s not just that; you fought off an army the other night, an army of foes, any one or two of which would have given me a difficult battle. I’m not weak, Victor. I’m strong, maybe stronger than nearly anyone else in our army, save Kethelket. I think I could beat Polo, my mother . . .” She trailed off, sighing and shaking her head. “I’ve lost my train of thought. I think what I’m trying to say is . . .”

“You think I’m going to leave you behind.”

“Not intentionally!” She was quick to protest, but Victor could see the worry behind her words.

“Like how, then? You think I’ll just kind of become so powerful that I’ll ascend into a new realm or some shit?” Victor was, perhaps irrationally, irritated by the turn of conversation. Things had been going so well between them lately that he couldn’t help but feel she was inventing a problem where there wasn’t one.

“No, you Urghat-brain!” she growled, and Victor barked a short laugh; she’d never called him that one.

“Urghat? I think I fought some of those in the pits way back in the day . . .”

“Don’t change the subject! I’m not saying you’ll ‘ascend’ or anything like that. I’m saying that you’re going to keep facing challenges that I’m not ready for. You’re going to look at me and think about how risky things are for me, and then you’ll want to leave me behind. ‘For my safety,’ you’ll say. ‘I’ll return when it’s safe,’ you’ll say, and before we know it, you’ll spend more time away than with me, all the while growing more powerful, creating a larger and larger disparity between us.”

“Holy shit, Valla! Take a breath. Tell me something; were you feeling too happy? Did guilt have something to do with this? Did you speak to Rellia? Did she warn you about our ‘disparity?’ I’m asking because things were going great this morning when we woke up together and . . .”

“What if she did?” Valla asked, frowning, eyes stormy. Her voice was a little muted, though, and Victor could tell he’d made her think.

“You know she’s got ulterior motives, right? She doesn’t want you to leave her. If—when—we conquer these lands, she’s going to have governing to do. She raised you to be her right-hand woman. I think she knows I’m not planning to stick around, much as I love some of the people here. I fully intend to return, to visit, to share what I gain in my explorations of the larger universe, but I have bigger plans than the Untamed Marches. You do, too! Don’t lose sight of that.”

“I know. But . . .”

“But she was convincing. I get it. You’re worried about our disparity? Then get stronger! Shit, you never thought you could do what Tes showed you, improving your affinity, learning to use your affinities together, fighting with ranged abilities. What level are you now?”

“Fifty-eight.”

“Fuck yeah! Two more and you get a new class. You think you won’t see huge gains after all you did in Coloss? Everything we’ve done since? You’re going to get an awesome class. Oh, what about your race? Have you ever told me what rank you’ve gotten it to?”

“I’m at improved-five.”

“That’s enough for you to get level sixty, right?”

“I think so.” She’d lost some of her steam and looked contemplative as she answered his questions.

“Let’s get it up to advanced, anyway, just to be safe. I’ll share my tokens with you; I’m pretty damn sure one of those conquest awards was a racial advancement. My mouth started watering when I smelled it.”

“Aye, mine too! But, Victor, you should use it.”

“That’s the first of many. It feels like the System is treating this conquest like a game or a contest, and if I know anything, things are going to get harder, and that means bigger rewards. I’ll get something like that advancement cake or even better. Believe it.” He laughed and reached into his storage container, pulling out a blood-soaked, white linen towel. He held it in his hand, hefting the weighty contents. “I still have this to eat, too.”

“Ancestors!” Valla wrinkled her nose. “Is that . . .”

“That huge Ridonne’s heart. I got it out of him before he shrank again.” Victor stowed it away again and shrugged. “Looking forward to seeing what that one does.”

“What if it’s not good? Could you absorb a negative trait?”

Victor snorted and shook his head. “A Quinametzin absorbs the strength of his foes by eating their heart, not their sickness or weakness.”

“Always? Can you be so sure?”

“I know it like you know how to breathe. When I had my vision, I was inside my ancestor’s mind; I was him! I knew what he knew, and he knew this. You understand?”

“Aye.” Valla smiled and nodded, locking eyes with him as though to convey her trust in his words. “I haven’t had a vision like that.”

“Yeah, well, things are changing for you, Valla. You’re on the road to some great shit, and just because I’m leading the way a little right now, you’re with me; you’re taking every step I’m taking. Let’s get you to sixty, get you a racial advancement or two, and see how things are shaping up, hmm? I mean, with Midnight, your sword skill is already epic, yeah?”

“That’s true. If I can push my true rank to epic, I wonder if Midnight can carry me to legendary.”

“That would be fucking badass!” Victor yelled his enthusiasm, and his voice echoed through the grassy hills. Valla laughed and looked around, perhaps wondering if they were as alone as they seemed. Victor wasn’t worried; the Naghelli had already scouted this way, and they had an army coming behind them. If some undead wanted to challenge him in broad daylight, it would be their funeral.

They rode for a while in relative silence, just a comment about the countryside here and there. The landscape was pretty, almost idyllic. Victor came from a country where green wasn’t so common, and what green there was existed on tough, hardy trees and bushes. He’d experienced massive grasslands, extensive forests, and even the twilight plains of the Spirit Plane since then. Still, this landscape reminded him of what he’d always imagined fantasy worlds to be like. They passed through rolling green hills dotted here and there with clumps of trees, some of which bore fruit that resembled apples or pears.

The influence of the undead seemed to have wholly fled the lands, and the greenery seemed no worse for its previous presence. While he watched the trees and grass pass by, noting that the blue tint was much fainter here than in the lands north of the pass where he’d done most of his adventuring, Victor’s mind drifted toward his sparring bout with Kethelket and the paragon he’d somehow brought into being through Lifedrinker. He’d seen it, like a ghostly overlay on Lifedrinker, but he’d been so absorbed by the perfection of his movements, his oneness with his axe, and the dance they performed with Kethelket and his swords that it hadn’t registered in the moment.

Looking back, though, Victor wondered what that paragon had been doing for him. What exactly was it? Was there an actual spirit out there, some essence of all axes? That’s what Kethelket seemed to think, but it seemed so wild to Victor. Axes weren’t even alive, in general, so how could they have a spirit? Was the paragon more like an idea? “Or an ideal,” he muttered.

“Hmm?” Valla looked up at him.

“Just trying to think through this idea of a paragon. Kethelket said he’d seen an old master summon the Paragon of the Sword, so I know it’s not just axes. Is there a paragon for everything?”

“I don’t know. For perhaps the first time, I know even less than you on the subject.” She chuckled. “Let me know if you figure it out.”

“I think maybe that something needs to have a lot of devotion and energy put into it to create a paragon. People, me included, have spent a lot of time, big parts of their lives, working to master the axe. I think that kind of energy and effort helps the paragon to come into being. I doubt there’s a Paragon of the Fork.”

“Some people devote a lot of energy and practice to the art of eating . . .” Valla chuckled, but Victor had to concede she had a point. Were there people who made the use of the fork an art? He doubted it, but he had to wonder.

“It’s got to be more than that. Maybe it has something to do with the mortal intent of the axe or the sword, the lives they take. The different arts and styles clashing, perhaps. You might love to eat and practice with that fork, but will you ever clash with another eater? If so, it doesn’t happen with the bloody results brought forth by the clash of weapon wielders.”

“One would hope.” Again, Valla chuckled, and Victor looked at her with a smile of his own.

“Glad to see your mood has improved. It’s almost like with distance from Rellia comes an increase in good humor.”

“Look!” Valla pointed, conveniently spotting a reason to change the topic. Victor followed her finger with his eyes and saw what had gotten her attention. They were riding down a long, sloping hillside, and not too far ahead, perhaps three miles, a dark line of mist began to cloud the horizon.

“Here we go.” Victor loosened Lifedrinker in her harness despite the sunny sky and the fact that the Naghelli were already scouting the area ahead of them.

“Should we wait for the Ninth?”

“Nah, let’s see if Kethelket left a scout behind to fill us in.”

“Right.” Valla urged Uvu forward, and Victor let Guapo keep pace, though he had to exert his will to get the Mustang to settle as he began to snort and lunge, lengthening his stride; the big horse didn’t like to have another mount leading the way. In minutes, they were kicking up wisps of foggy mist as it gradually enveloped them. They slowed, and after another couple of minutes of walking, large, wide-boled trees with high, broad canopies began to blot out the sun, further darkening the foggy area. Everything grew quiet; even Guapo’s big hooves were muted as they crunched down on soggy, dead leaves and damp earth.

The branches were high, hanging over even Victor’s head, and the ground between the big knobby trunks was free of undergrowth; if not for the mist, they would have had an easy passage between them. As it was, their visibility was low, and they had to keep their mounts moving slowly lest they ride into a trunk or get separated by the need to maneuver around the trees. After just a few minutes, Victor was wondering if they should stop and light a fire or something. Then Valla spoke up, and he slapped himself on the head. “Why not summon your banner?”

“I’m an idiot!” He laughed and channeled his Energy into his pathway, summoning the glorious banner. It blazed to life, palpable heat radiating from its sparkling, pulsing, blood-drenched sun. The mist recoiled like a living thing, falling back from the circle of light the banner cast, and Valla laughed, a sound Victor had come to love, though he heard it all too infrequently.

“It's like the light of your banner burns it off.”

“Well, if it’s created by the same Energy that powers the undead, that’s not surprising. My banner has a way of messing those dudes up.”

“We should hold here, no? If we get too deep in these woods, the army will have the same trouble finding us as we were having before you summoned the banner.”

“Yeah. I suppose the Naghelli can find us . . .” Victor let his words trail off as several dark shadows with glowing ochre wings drifted into the light of his banner, seeming to fall down from the heights.

“Lord,” one of them said, offering a salute. “We saw your banner and made haste to report. Kethelket has eyes on the next fortification.”

Victor almost corrected the man, explaining that he wasn’t a ‘lord,’ whatever qualified someone for that title, but thought he’d spend his time better asking about Kethelket. “What’s the story? How far is the keep? What kind of defenders?”

The Naghelli looked left and right at his compatriots, his eyes wide with something like apprehension, perhaps dreading what he had to say. He sighed, straightened his back, and opened his moth-like wings wide, maybe to give himself confidence. “The keep is not more than three leagues further west. We’ve slain dozens of undead in these woods, but something else lurks on the parapets, Lord. We saw figures cloaked in mist and shadow but oddly illuminated. Kethelket sent two of our number to try to subdue one, a single guardian on the southeastern corner. My brothers fought valiantly, but it was plain to see that their weapons could not touch the being. We watched, aghast, as invisible knives slashed them, their blood pulled from them in great fonts. Their bloodless corpses hang above the gates.”

The Naghelli scout bowed, folded his wings, and stepped back, waiting for Victor’s response to the news. “Ghosts?” Victor asked, looking from the dour-faced scout to Valla. She wore a puzzled, pensive expression and narrowed her eyes at his question.

“Ghosts? Like haunting spirits?”

“Exactly. If they’re spirits, but they’re hurting people here outside the Spirit Plane . . . is that possible? Does that happen?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think so. You can’t interact with this world when you Spirit Walk, can you?”

“Forgive me, Lord, but Prince Kethelket said we need not despair. He said that you would know what to do, that you were a master of the spirit, and that if anyone could face these beings, it would be you. Did he speak true?” This question came from one of the other scouts, a woman that Victor recognized; she’d been one of the scouts who’d first spotted the reaver army.

“Well, I’ll be honest.” Victor took a moment to look each of the five Naghelli scouts in the eye. “I don’t know what those things are, but if that’s how they’re doing what they’re doing—avoiding the weapons of your brothers by lurking on the Spirit Plane, then, yeah, I know what to do about ‘em. I’ll go into the Spirit Plane, and I’ll fuck their shit up.”