Cults of the Dragon Gods (Path of Transcendence Book 4)

by Brian McGoldrick

  "Alpine white. It looks much better on high end sports cars." Dacbold has a slightly disapproving expression on his face.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  As I take out my armor and drop the heavy pieces on the conference table, both of Special Agent Jones' eyebrows raise. He picks up one of the rerebraces, and his eyes open a bit wider. "You actually wear all this when you fight now?"

  "When I'm expecting a serious fight."

  After I start strapping on my armor, doors on the five vehicles open, and a group of women begin debarking. One of the women, exiting an SUV, yanks harshly on a leash, and a man, with shackles on his wrists and ankles, is pulled out and falls on his face. His black and blue, bloodied face is swollen almost beyond recognition, and his back, from his shoulders to mid thigh is nothing but raw bloody meat.

  The woman holding the leash looks familiar, but it takes me a few moments to place her. Since last time I saw her, she has lost a considerable amount of weight. Judging from her face, she was that fat sausage that Tyrend was fucking in Gor'achen, but now that she is skinny, she looks pretty good. I would fuck her myself.

  Dacbold whistles softly. "They worked your friend over pretty hard."

  Friend? There is no one that I would call friend. Elan and Angelique are my women, but I would not call them friends. Our relationship is different than simple friendship. As for Tyrend and the others that follow me, I do not know how to define my relationships with them. I do not even know if I am capable of being friends with another being.

  I shrug. "Tyrend's tough. He'll get over it."

  With no visible expression, Dacbold watches me out of the corner of his eye, while I continue putting my armor on.

  In total, nine women exited the vehicles. Scanning their faces, I recognize all of them as being among the whores from Gor'achen. Standing next to the limousine, Lavinia, the owner of the whorehouse, turns her head to look at something still inside it. After a few moments, she bows toward the open door of the limousine.

  With the exception of Lavinia, all of the whores are wearing short, translucent dresses that only extend an inch or two beyond their cunts and sandals on their feet. Each of them has a pair of short swords at her waist, a quiver over her shoulder, and a bow in her hand. Lavinia is wearing a long dress of the same translucent material, but with her body, which looks like it is on the far end of a rough and ragged middle-age, she should really wear something different.

  "Do you recognize the fletching?"

  Dacbold face turns grim. "I had a good look at it while one of their arrows was stuck in my chest."

  Special Agent Jones puts on a flak vest and pick up one of those boxy AA12 guns that he likes.

  "That crap you're wearing is not going to stop one of their arrows. One of them put an arrow right through the rerebrace of my armor the other day, and your Earth guns would have a hard time doing more than scratching the surface of this armor."

  Special Agent Jones' face is blank. "If they're dead, they won't be trying to put any arrows in me."

  He has a point.

  When the three of us reach the main lobby, Valcrit is waiting for us.

  *Angelique and I are on the roof. We are out of their line of sight, but that does not mean that the whores are unaware of our presence.* Elan's comment is made in the general raid channel, so both Valcrit and Dacbold can hear it.

  *That's good. Elan, be ready to ward us. Angelique, if you have a way to precast one of those cyclones and have it ready to release, do that. If a shit storm breaks loose, go wild.*

  The only one not in the loop is Special Agent Jones. After we are done with the whores, I'll have to see if Special Agent Jones can learn to use one of Thorrin's social organizers. The bullets he shot at me when trying to commit Suicide by Brand show that he has Power, but whether it is under his control or the control of that of the metal implant will be a deciding factor.

  The sliding double doors of the lobby allow me to exit the building without having to turn partly sideways. Even without my armor on, I can no longer pass through normal Earth doors without my shoulders bumping into the door jams.

  As Lavinia looks me over, an apparently unconscious frown settles on her face. She glances over her left shoulder in Mikumi's direction, and Mikumi nods.

  "You are Brand, the gladiator from Gor'achen?" Lavinia's question is in English, and the odd tone of her voice betrays confusion and something else.

  *Brand, be careful of that one. I never saw it in Gor'achen, but she has completed the second Path of Transcendence.* The sour tone of Elan's voice in the raid channel reveals her anger.

  As I try to enhance the receptivity of my Psi with my Power, once again, pain floods my Body, Mind, and Soul. The sensation of being crushed is becoming stronger than the tearing or burning nature of the pain up till now. Even though I endure the pain, I cannot detect much in the way of Lavinia's emotions. Is it because of my condition or something about Lavinia herself?

  "I always thought my ugly face was hard to forget. Don't you recognize my scars?"

  Lavinia looks into the open door of the limousine again. Other than the sound of soft classical music, I do not hear anything from inside the limousine. After about fifteen seconds, Lavinia nods and turns her attention back toward me.

  "Give us this spell cube from Area 51, and we will return your friend to you." Lavinia points at Tyrend's prostrate form.

  "I don't have it. So, give me Tyrend, and I'll let all of you leave alive."

  Lavinia's expression changes, revealing hostility and disgust that she must have been concealing up until now. "If you do not give us this spell cube, now, I will have Sara kill that slave."

  As I walk toward Tyrend, the whore, Sara, holding Tyrend's leash drags him to a kneeling position. Slinging the bow she would not be able to shoot with one hand holding Tyrend's leash, she draws one of her short swords and places the edge of the blade against Tyrend's throat.

  "If you come any closer, I'll slit his throat."

  Tyrend chuckles. "You were a lot more fun when you had some meat on those scrawny bones like a proper woman..."

  Taking a half step forward and spinning on the ball of her foot, Sara plants a kick in Tyrend's balls that lifts him a good six feet in the air. Using the leash attached to Tyrend's neck, she immediately slams him face first into the ground.

  "Cease your movements, pig!"

  I snap my head around toward the limousine. Until she spoke, I did not hear or sense the woman standing next to Lavinia. Even now, I can only see her and not feel her with my unreliably operating spatial awareness. When did she get out of the limousine?

  "I don't remember seeing a whore that looked like you. Who the fuck are you, cunt?"

  Other than the soughing of the wind, tense silence fills the parking lot. The eyes of all the other woman focus on the new one standing next to Lavinia. From the mix of fear and outrage on the faces of Lavinia and her whores, I seem to have hit a nerve with them.

  While she silently glares at me, I take my time staring her up and down. She does not possess anything close to the beauty of Elan, but she is better looking than most of the whores, with Mikumi being the only real exception. She is tall and slender, but her tits are exceptionally large for such a willowy body. Her face is sharp, and her chin pointed. Her eyes are black, and her hair is the grayish white of an elderly person, with odd silver highlights. From her overall physical appearance, I would guess her to be a Half-Alfar. Assuming she is a Half-Alfar, there is no telling how old she might be, but in human terms, she would appear to be somewhere between about eighteen and twenty-two. She is more like a girl than a woman.

  Unlike the whores in their white dresses and sandals, this girl is wearing a black dress with elbow length sleeves and a miniskirt. Her hands, forearms, feet, and shins are encased in black leather gloves and boots. Casually gripped in her left hand, she has a sheathed sword reminiscent of a katana, except that its overall length is more than five feet.

  "You're fuckab
le."

  The girl's pale face turns nearly crimson, and her left hand grasps the sheath of her sword so tightly that her knuckles stand out white and bloodless. Seeing her reaction, all the whores involuntarily take a step or two backward, putting a little more distance between themselves and the enraged girl.

  "Lavinia!"

  Thunk!

  Lavinia falls to her knees and slams her head against the hard pavement. "Holiness?"

  Turning her head to stare at Lavinia, a cruel smile touches the lips of the girl. "You and your whores will stake this pig to the ground and skin him alive."

  Again, the grey haired girl glares at me. "Pig, prostrate yourself on your back and submit to your punishment."

  I glance over my shoulder at Dacbold and Special Agent Jones. From the expressions of completely uncomprehending stupor on their faces, I think if the wind blew just a slight bit harder they would be knocked over.

  "Pfft!" Trying to keep from laughing, I cannot stop myself from sputtering. For some odd reason, this arrogant little girl telling me to lay down and let her whores torture me is the funniest thing I have heard in a while.

  With incredulous expressions on their faces, Dacbold and Special Agent Jones look at one another and burst into laughter.

  Seeing Dacbold and Special Agent Jones lose it, I manage to keep my own laughter tightly bottled, and simply, stare at the girl with a smirk.

  *Brand, be careful. That female is solidly on the Third Path of Transcendence, and all of them have an unnatural aura about them. I think they can use Elemental Power.* Elan's tone carries more than just a hint of worry.

  *Don't worry. That bitch J'Rome was Third Circle, as well, and I've killed more than a few users of Elemental Power.*

  Elan's irritation fills the raid channel. *Yes, and look at the condition you are in after fighting J'Rome. Every time we touch, I feel the pain that you are suffering from the damage caused by the Power backlash.*

  As I remember words that Thrall said to Boran, my smirk changes into something more like a smile. Ha! I won't kill him, but I will show him pain. You've seen his pattern. The more he suffers, the faster he grows. When it comes to learning, pain is like meat and drink to this one. There is nothing wrong with teaching him a few manners along with my Shadow Fist.

  There was also the time when I was fighting with a DokkAlfar Psi, the Dark Od rose within me of its own accord, and that voice came to me though the Od. You are pathetically weak beyond measure, but as she said, you are one of mine. Frail as it may be, your greatest strength comes from unbridled hate and rage; calm and control are the tools of the weak. Learn from your pain. If you survive to Transcend, you will have to make a choice, and no matter how you choose, there will be prices. That which does not kill you will make you stronger; a stupid and false saying for most, but for you, it is truth.

  A feeling or resolution fills me. *Pain won't kill me, Elan. No matter the pain, I will survive and grow stronger.*

  The grey haired girl seems more enraged by my smile than my smirk. I am almost certain that she expected me to lie down and allow myself to be tortured at her command. It is hard to say whether she is just arrogant or just used to people meekly submitting to torture and death in response to her demands.

  The girl is so close to losing control that her Power is pulsing irregularly around her. Her Mana, Psi, and Ki are discharging in waves of rapidly fluctuating intensity. She is a Trinary and a strong one, but how did she ever make it to the Third Circle of Coalescence with such a low level of self-control?

  With the explosion of rage, I expected the girl to immediately attack me, but she just stands in place and shivers. As the seconds drag out one by one, more than a minute passes before she seems to somewhat regain control of herself.

  "Lavinia, Subdue that huge pig and fly him alive. I expect to hear his screams." After gesturing in my general direction, the grey haired girl reenters the limousine and closes the door.

  A few seconds after the limousine door closes, loud classical music booms out from the vehicle.

  "What … the … fuck?" I feel like I am watching the antics of a spoiled brat. Despite appearing to be around twenty years of age, the way the grey haired girl acts is more like a twelve or thirteen-year-old that has never been disciplined.

  No one in my party replies to my comment, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Dacbold shrug.

  Lavinia offers a thin smile. "You have offended Her Holiness. For Her Holiness to hear your screams over her music, your suffering will eclipse your worst nightmares."

  "I already know you're whores by day, but what is this moonlighting job you've got?" The nasty smirk is back on my face again.

  Lavinia's smile does not change in the slightest. "We are the Sisters of Penitence. We serve her Holiness, the Holy Dragonian."

  *Master, that whore is a Psi. While keeping you occupied, she is communicating with the other whores.* Valcrit gives his warning in the raid channel, so that everyone can hear.

  *Don't worry about it. I can feel it. I'm just playing along, so that Elan and Angelique have more time to prepare spells. Besides, any information she spills might be useful.*

  *Another ninety seconds would be ideal, but you can start killing them anytime you choose. We have a few interesting surprises ready for them.* Raw malice is practically dripping from Elan's words in the raid channel.

  When using the social organizers or whisper charms, the spell patterns embedded in the device take thought images and emotions and convert them into words. Because there is no need to enunciate our words with our physical voices, our entire exchange takes less than four seconds to complete. For anyone watching me that cannot detect the social organizers communications channels, my short conversations with my party would appear to be nothing more than me gathering my thoughts or mulling something over.

  I laugh. "Holy Dragonian, eh? That is one stupid ass sounding name. What kind of an imbecile would call herself something like the Holy Dragonian? What the fuck is a Holy Dragonian?"

  This time Lavinia smile flickers, and she cannot keep the anger and hate out of her eyes. "I suppose I should not be surprised at the ignorance of a Earth pig, like yourself. Her Holiness was sired upon a lowly human sow by one of the Most Holy Radiant Dragons. You should feel blessed to have looked upon Her Holiness, before we put your eyes out."

  Putting on a malicious smile, I stare at Lavinia with narrowed eyes. "So, is that how you see yourself, a lowly human sow?"

  Lavinia keeps her smile in place, and if I could not feel her intense overflow of emotion, I would never question its veracity. The miasma of bitterness, anger, and self-loathing that surrounds her hits me almost like a physical blow.

  "I do not know if I should be astounded by your ignorance or just accept that is a lack of experience. The greatest of all Dragons Nidhoggr and his brothers and sisters created the multi-verse. Before anything else existed, they came into being from the endless void. All was created by their will according to their design. Humans are nothing more than animals, or at best slaves, created to serve the mighty Dragons or be used as their food." In spite of the negativity of her emotions, Lavinia's words are delivered in a solemn tone, as though she is speaking a truth so obvious that it can never be denied.

  How is living under the rule of the dragons any better than living on Earth? No matter which it is you are raised to think you are nothing but a piece of shit whose only purpose is to serve the will of your betters.

  Lavinia's eyes flicker to the whore standing next to Tyrend's prostrate form. There is pool of urine mixed with blood is slowly spreading on the pavement where his body lays. As that whore communicates with Lavinia through Psi, the whore's bitter smile turns to one of satisfaction.

  "It seems like you and the rest of your whores have organized your plans. Does this mean you're gonna stop talking and try to kill us, now?"

  Lavinia's head snaps around toward me again. As her line of sight shifts toward Valcrit, she cannot keep her confusion out o
f her eyes. Dacbold and Thorrin's new social organizers do not function using transmissions in the Realm of Psi. The Aether has a lower resistance level to Psi energy than the Psi Realm. They transmit through the Aether to extend the range of their functionality, and even if I know it is happening, I still do not know a way to detect or monitor it. Lavinia, almost certainly, understands the meaning of violet eyes, but she is confused because she probably thinks that I am not a Psi and she has not detected any communications from Valcrit.

  Lavinia does not say anything verbally, but there is a flash of Psi projected from her to the rest of her whores. Immediately, all nine whores shout what I think are two words, but I do not know the language.

  Columns of silverish grey Power form around them. The Power is Mana, but it seems to be tainted with another Power. I am not sure what the other Power is, but from the feel of it, it is an Elemental Power.

  *Beware, they appear to be able to manipulate Radiance. I cannot tell if they are Mediums, Elementalists, or simply have an Elemental affinity.* Elan's tone is a mix of curiosity, confusion, and wariness.

  The columns of Power only lasts for a few seconds. As they dissipate, the nine whores are again revealed, but now, they are wearing armor over their dresses. Crafted from metal that gleams like polished silver, their armor is not complete suits, but rather, it is sectional plates of armor. They are wearing breastplates with spaulders and tassets attached, but on their legs, they only have greaves and sabatons with nothing like a cuisse, and they have gauntlets on their hands without any vambraces or rerebraces on their arms. Their helms are crafted in the style of barbutes with a Y-shaped opening. Overall, the armor has an extremely feminine appearance and does not seem like it will provide much resistance to blows from weapons. Sometimes, appearances can be deceiving, but the only way to know will be seeing what happens when I bury a sword in one of their stomachs.

  The weapons in four of the whores hands have changed from their bows to their swords.