City of Delusions (The Dying World Book 2)

by John Triptych

  Kyti muttered a cruse as she bent over and began picking up the loose coins on the floor. “Zeren, you clumsy rogue!”

  Zeren saw what had happened behind him as Hreth hurriedly came up and began to barricade the door leading to the stairwell. He knelt down beside Kyti and lifted her head up with his other hand. “It is best you leave the coin, for they are killing everyone, including the slaves.”

  A look of profound shock came over Kyti’s face, but she recovered her wits in less than a second. Grabbing the pouch from the floor, she stood up and ran towards the end of the corridor. “Follow me.”

  Zeren glanced at Hreth before hurrying after her. “Come on, old man!”

  Hreth grunted as he ran after them both. “I shall give you a thrashing after this, Zeren. I swear by Karma’s gold ringed feet.”

  Kyti tried to open the latch of the obsidian door at the end of the corridor but it wouldn’t budge. She turned to the two men running up to her. “I cannot open it, help me.”

  “Stand back,” Zeren said as he gestured with his hand. The inner side holding the bolt closed quickly shattered into thousands of shards that fell to the floor. He kicked the door open, revealing an old store room with a bone ladder that led up to a trapdoor in the roof. Zeren sheathed his sword and then lifted Kyti up underneath her arms, moving her past the shards of obsidian on the floor before gently setting her down in the room. “Be careful of the slate, they will cut through your delicate feet.”

  “Worry not, Zeren,” Kyti giggled as she tied the pouch around her neck before beginning her ascent up the ladder. Like all other entrances in Lethe, the trapdoor was made of obsidian, and she unhooked the latch before pushing the glass door outwards, revealing the moonlit night above.

  Hreth closed the half broken door and began sliding a bone wardrobe in front of it to serve as another barricade. The crashing noise coming from the stairwell meant that the enemy had made it to the upper level. “Hurry up you two,” he said.

  Kyti clambered up through the trap door. Just as she used her shoulders to pull her chest up, an arrow embedded itself into her right breast. The air emptied from her lungs as she fell back down the ladder.

  Zeren was right underneath and he instantly reacted, catching Kyti with his arms. His eyes opened wide when he saw the arrow protruding from her blood soaked chest. He gently laid her down on the floor, just as the enemy began pounding on the barricade. He knew the wound was mortal. “I am so sorry, Kyti,” he said softly.

  Kyti gave a faint smile as she gasped for air. “Give … me a kiss.”

  Zeren did. Kyti’s chest heaved a few more times as her body stiffened. A few drops of blood oozed out of her mouth and she shuddered for a number of seconds before laying still. Zeren placed a hand over her glazed eyes and closed them. He would remember her fondly, till the day he died.

  Hreth let out a groan while straining against the barricade, trying desperately to hold back the enemy. The door was starting to cave in from the repeated blows against it. The old mercenary used the long gun as a door stopper, bracing its butt against the wall. Hreth glanced over at Zeren, a look of wild despair on his face. “We must leave!”

  Zeren took Kyti’s pouch and hung it over his own neck before he started climbing up the ladder. Peering just above the opened trapdoor, Zeren noticed another Magus on the roof, wielding a bone bow. Using his mindforce, Zeren leapt up and landed on the roof in a single jump. The Magus was somewhat surprised by his sudden appearance, but he quickly knocked an arrow ready and prepared to let fly. Zeren drew his sword and used his mindforce to make another leap, this time closing the gap in between them as he jumped onto the roof of the adjacent building. His opponent was able to let loose another arrow but Zeren used his Vis to swat it away as he landed right next to him.

  Inan had been stationed on the roof, ready to use his bow against anyone who planned to escape using the upper floors, but he was totally unprepared against an opponent who was skilled with the mindforce. The Magus tried to parry the blow with his bone bow but the shaft was cut in half when Zeren swung at him. Inan used his mindforce to jump backwards while drawing out a bronze sword.

  Zeren sensed his opponent’s inexperience so he made a running attack, using his Vis to gain extra speed. Inan was not expecting him to move so quickly as Zeren slid past him- by the time he turned around he realized that his side had been ripped open. Inan staggered for a bit before finally collapsing as Zeren turned around and headed back towards the tavern roof.

  One of the glassy eyed men was able to get past the barricade, just as Hreth was halfway up the ladder. The dazed man plunged his javelin into Hreth’s hip and the old mercenary screamed as he fell sideways into the floor. Crouching up and shaking the pain away, Hreth drew his short sword and swung it at his opponent’s arm, almost severing it.

  The glassy eyed man did not utter a single word as he looked down at what was left of his arm, dangling from a shred of skin. What made it even stranger was not a single drop of blood came out from the open wound at the stump, only a strange, clear liquid began to ooze out of it. Zeren looked down at what was happening from the trapdoor and his eyes were wide open.

  Hreth grimaced in both pain and amazement. “By the gods, what sort of foul magic is that?”

  The barricade at the door finally gave way as the other strange men broke through and tried to attack Hreth, but they were too close together and all they could do was to try and stab at him from their shoulder level. Hreth staggered backwards as he parried their slow attacks, but he was already trapped.

  “Come on, get below me!” Zeren bellowed.

  Hreth grunted as he ducked underneath their painfully sluggish attacks and used his weight to push them back. Zeren also used his mindforce to force them all away as he grabbed Hreth’s outstretched arm and pulled him up with an extra boost of his Vis. Hreth momentarily flew up into the air past the trapdoor before landing back down onto the top of the roof with a groan. Both men were now at the top when more of the glassy eyed men poured into the room and began to clamber up the ladder.

  Zeren glanced across the roofs of the adjoining buildings. This part of the city was constructed so that every building was leaning on the other. With proper speed, they could lose them among the numerous rooftops. He pulled Hreth up to standing position, but the old mercenary could barely maintain his stance. The first of the glassy eyed men was able to get up on the roof and drew a bronze blade before advancing at them slowly. Within minutes, they were surrounded by no less than half a dozen robot-like men who steadily converged on them.

  Hreth could barely catch his breath. “You better go now, Zeren. Use those powers of yours. I’ll hold them off.”

  “You can come with me,” Zeren said as he parried a thrusting attack by a glassy eyed man near his right flank. “We have both been through worse scraps.”

  “I am afraid not,” Hreth said softly.

  Zeren stole a glance at his friend. That was when he realized that there was blood dripping down from Hreth’s side. “Where did you get that?”

  Hreth shook his head slowly as he held his sword up in a high guard position. “When I was holding the barricade in the room. What does it matter anyway? I can barely feel my right leg anymore.”

  “These demons move slow,” Zeren said. “We can easily chop their heads off and make our way down.”

  “Look over there,” Hreth gestured with his chin. One of the Magi was trying to clamber up from the trapdoor, but Zeren gestured and the trap door slammed down on his head, momentarily knocking him back down into the room below.

  Hreth laughed, but the pain in his torso made it only a hoarse wheeze. “More of these things are coming and a Magus as well. It is time for you to go. Do not worry, I shall give them a good fight. Just raise a toast of that lovely otus wine to my memory every now and then.”

  Zeren understood. Death was always part of their profession, and he knew it would be better to fight another day. “I will avenge you.”

&n
bsp; One of the glassy eyed men made a swing at Hreth, but he parried it and the point of his blade tore away part of his opponent’s arm. The creature staggered backwards for a bit before advancing again. “Find the owners of these things and kill him!” Hreth screamed before wading into them with his blade.

  Zeren rolled sideways and sheathed his sword before making a running jump. He wasn’t expecting a battle, and his reserves of Vis were low, but he no longer had any choice. Leaping past the flurry of swords and javelins around him, he bounded the wall over an adjoining building and was soon lost in the night.

  Elevis cried out in pain as she fell to her knees. The sensations of controlling the minds of so many had finally taken its toll, and she could no longer bear the crushing thoughts and jumbles of confused memory that assailed her own psyche. The headache had been intense the moment she had begun the ritual, and she had compensated by taking an extra dose of the otus milk, but even with the help of the drug it was not enough. Now her head felt like a boulder of solid granite had come crashing down upon it, the crushing pain bringing tears to her eyes as she continued to weep uncontrollably.

  Nylius had been standing beside her, and now he picked up her frail, shuddering body and placed it on the back of the wagon. They were both standing in an adjoining street when he commanded Vytor to bring the mercenaries into the tavern. It was a test to see if Elevis could control the minds of those men who were exposed to the spores of the mutant strain. He knew that the best way for her to grow in power was to constantly use her mindsense in tasks such as these. He remembered that Elevis could barely control a single one of these sporemen just a few moons ago. With the help of Belgos and his continued experimentation, Elevis could now control over a dozen of these men, and in open combat as well.

  Vytor came out of the building and walked down the street over to where they were. He glanced over at the whimpering Elevis lying on the wagon before making a short bow to his superior. “Everyone inside and on the roof has been killed, Lord Executor. Our own losses consists of two mercenaries and one Magus, Inan- someone killed him with a blow to his side.”

  Nylius placed a comforting hand on Elevis’s quivering body. It was clear she needed some rest before he could use her again. “Not all were killed. One got away. Grimgrin. And he was the one we truly wanted.”

  Vytor looked down in shame. Nylius wasn’t the forgiving type. He was liable to be killed for this mistake. Nevertheless, he remained stoic. “My apologies, Lord Executor. The failure is mine.”

  “Worry not, Vytor,” Nylius said. “It was but a minor setback. On the other hand we have learned a great deal as to the capabilities of our sporemen. What did you think about the men who were with you?”

  “They were fearless, milord,” Vytor said. “Much better than the mercenaries we normally hire. And they seem to be able to withstand injuries that might otherwise kill an ordinary man.”

  “Yes, they are indeed better,” Nylius said.

  “The only worry is that they move somewhat slower, as if they were in some sort of mind trance, milord,” Vytor said. “It may be a detriment in battle.”

  Nylius nodded. He never intended that the sporemen would use any hand to hand weapons. Not only was it awkward when it came to Elevis controlling them in melee, it was harder for her to anticipate attacks and defenses by the enemy. He had planned to equip the sporemen with guns instead, for it would put less strain on Elevis’s mindsense when all she had to do was to mentally command them to shoot and reload. “Did you recover any of the weapons we were looking for?”

  “Just one, milord,” Vytor said. “One of our opponents used it as a brace when they barricaded the door. It is quite broken now.”

  Nylius sighed. They needed to find those guns, or it would be much harder to take the city. “Surely you must have gleamed some piece of information that we could use?”

  “Yes, milord. I have found out that Grimgrin’s actual name is that of a man named Zeren,” Vytor said. “He is apparently well known in the slums.”

  “Put a bounty on his head. I care not whether he lives or dies, but those weapons must be found,” Nylius said. “The future of our Order depends on it.”

  Chapter 6

  His memories had begun to return, but Rion knew he was in a precarious situation if his so-called “mother” ever found out about it. At first he had thought that she was using her mindsense to leech away his recollections of the past, but he rarely got a visit from the matriarch, for she seemed quite busy with other things. The boy spent most of his days under the tutelage of Isryk, who seemed to be telling him stories that were the exact opposite of what he remembered having learned from another. His free time was spent under the watchful eye of Kardra the servant girl, whom he trusted more than anyone, yet Rion still withheld his newfound awareness from her, because he knew that it would place her in danger if they were ever found out. Spies were everywhere, and he could not let his guard down.

  By sheer trial and error, Rion had begun to realize that his daily meal of salad- prepared from the otus plant- had a sickening effect on his mind. Eating the green leaves was making it harder to recall his most distant memories. The plant itself seemed to have affected his very thought process. The only remedy he could think of was vomiting out the food, so Rion would drink as much water as he could while eating before excusing himself to head over to the toilets. The boy would then stick his finger down his throat, in a painful effort to induce his stomach to expel what he had just eaten. The first few days had been awful, but he had slowly gotten used to it. Kardra seemed somewhat concerned that he would always excuse himself in the middle of his meal, but she hardly protested. During the times when she wasn’t around to observe him eating, Rion would toss the contents of his bowl out the window, or just stow them away in a pouch for later disposal. As the days wore on, the sparse recollections in his mind began to collate, and he hoped it was a matter of time before he would remember everything.

  The most dangerous aspect of his current life however, were the times he spent with his mother, the Matriarch Cirine. Every once in awhile a fellow noble would visit, and Rion was bathed and given the best tunics to wear before he was presented as Efrin, the youngest son of House Kentis, during the dinner feast. Rion was required to sit beside his mother and her two husbands, while his uncle sat at the opposite end as they faced the numerous guests that were invited. Uncle Acro was a doddering old man who had a predilection for young girl slaves, he hardly even noticed Rion and tended to just pat the boy on the head whenever they bumped into each other, before going off to either his bedchamber or to watch the pit matches at the city center. Matriarch Cirine’s two husbands weren’t any better. First Husband Corym was very dismissive, preferring instead to work out his body in order to stare at himself in the mirror for hours; when Rion had approached him one day while they were both undergoing weapons training at the rear courtyard, Corym gave him a red welt on his forearm and told the boy not to ever bother him again. Second Husband Laox was bookish and kinder to him, but he rarely had time for Rion since he was always busy sorting out the family finances. The boy sensed a rivalry between Corym and Laox, and each one was trying to outdo one another in terms of being the most indispensable. Matriarch Cirine clearly had need for both, since she seemed to use Corym as a concubinus while Laox was nothing more than an accountant, neither of them gaining the upper hand since she used them to fulfill different wants.

  Matriarch Cirine was a powerful Striga, and Rion was horrified at the possibility that she would discover his recollected memories during their infrequent meetings. To that end, the boy initiated a daring plan: he would assume two personas. His public face and personality would be that of Efrin, loyal and dutiful son of House Kentis, believer in all the tales that proved Lethe was a shining beacon of light across the world. Rion’s true self would be buried deep in his subconscious mind, and he would hide it using a combination of mental conditioning and memory repression. Whenever it came time to meet his moth
er, Rion would completely immerse himself in Efrin’s character, almost entirely forgetting his real self. The boy had remembered learning a mind technique that had been taught to him by Miri, that by using a mental trigger he could completely forget his inner psyche, and all he had to do was to remember that one word in order to recall his true mind back to the way it was. When the dinner began, Rion sat alongside his mother, telling her that he had a wonderful time with Isryk and Kardra that day. The boy’s smile and newfound exuberance seemed to impress the matriarch, but nevertheless she used her mental tendrils to probe his mind as a matter of habit. Cirine’s mindsense didn’t find anything suspicious, for Rion’s true self had been buried under so much of Isryk’s stories that it quickly began to bore her. After she had withdrawn her mental probes, Rion let out a silent sigh of relief as his Efrin persona enjoyed the rest of the evening.

  It was the very day after that Rion interrupted a staff meeting that his mother had been holding to please, please beg her if he could go visit the Great Library with Isryk at the city center. The boy had heard so much about it from the teller that he was practically on his knees, pleading with her to allow him to go that day. Kardra had been aghast when the boy ran past her during his breakfast, and she ended up having to apologize to his mother for the interruption when she ran after him and came face to face with the matriarch. Cirine was initially suspicious as she used her mindsense once again to probe the boy’s intentions, but she was soon satisfied when all she could discern in her son’s thoughts were pure eagerness and curiosity. Glancing at the terrified Kardra, she bade her son to rise and gave him an approving smile. Yes, he could go to the library that day.