Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God (Path of Transcendence Book 2)

by Brian McGoldrick

  Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God

  Brian McGoldrick

  Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God

  Brian McGoldrick

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2016 by Brian McGoldrick

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Edition: February 2016

  Contents

  Title Page

  Book Summary

  The Dragon God's Pawn

  A Slave's Welcome

  What Is Your Connection To Talon

  You Cannot Kill Her

  Thrall, Son of Rig

  Awakening Psi

  The Gor'achen Arena

  The Clan Mistress' Request

  Assassin

  The Ogre

  A Little Revenge?

  Power, Pain, and Prices

  Another Assassination

  Prey or Predator?

  Purpose

  Window and Door

  Jailbreak

  Unrest

  Boran Second Father

  Book Summary: Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God

  Betrayed by the person he trusted most, Brand, formerly Mark McGuinness of Earth, has been enslaved and given to a DokkAlfar Wytch, Elan'fer'sha. Trapped deep within the heart of the Great Citadel of Gor'achen, he is thrown into a gladiatorial stable and marked to be the new Champion for the stable.

  In the gladiatorial stable of Elan'fer'sha, Brand meets a mysterious human Smith, with Power far beyond anything he has ever seen used before. Given no alternative by the Smith, Brand forms a compact with Elan'fer'sha. Somewhere within Gor'achen lie partial answers in Brand's quest for vengeance. If he can truly become Gor'achen's Champion, he may open a road to the Wytch's future.

  While learning from the Smith, Brand works with and against Elan'fer'sha, as he tries to move farther along the Path to Power. Will Brand achieve his goals or will he fall in the blood drenched arenas of a DokkAlfar empire?

  The Dragon God's Pawn

  *** Palace of the Dragon Gods - Taereun ***

  Centuries in the Past

  As the thick gold doors swung silently open, the only sound in the ancient hall was a bellows-like breathing. Shadows concealed the far end of the room, which stretched more than three hundred yards in length. Running down each side of the hall's sixty yard wide expanse, massive pillars, covered in gold foil, reached upward toward the gloom-shrouded ceiling. The floor of the room was paved with green marble, so polished that even the dim light from the open door caused it to shine.

  *For what purpose do you disturb my slumber?*

  The “voice” thundering in his mind caused the LjosAlfar in the open door to drop to his knees and bang his forehead on the marble floor.

  “Apologies, My God! I did not mean to disturb your rest, but you commanded that we inform you when the child was ready for implantation and the target for replacement would be accessible.”

  Dressed in jewel encrusted robes made from cloth of gold, the LjosAlfar banging his head on the floor could have sent thousands to their death with a gesture. Normally, he was the lord of all he surveyed, but before the being at the far end of the throne hall, he was of no more import than a gnat.

  Light filled the audience hall, brilliant, actinic, merciless, and uncompromising. The being who rested on the revealed dais at the far end of the great hall was one of the Dragon Gods worshiped by the LjosAlfar. Over a hundred and fifty feet in length, its serpentine tail was wrapped around its powerful body. Enormous golden wings lay atop its body, like a blanket covered with delicate fish scales. The head that rose into the air atop a sinuous neck had a mouth large enough to swallow the LjosAlfar whole. In a mix of red, bronze, and gold colors, thick scales, harder than diamonds, covered the Dragon God from nose to tail.

  *Bring the child to me.*

  “At once, My God!”

  The LjosAlfar made a come-hither motion with his left hand, and a guard dressed in silver chainmail escorted a young LjosAlfar child into the hall. Staring in wide-eyed awe at the Dragon God, the child fell to its knees. Behind the child, the guard fell to his knees as well, banging his head on the ground like the cloth of gold clad LjosAlfar.

  The child was less than twenty-five years of age, similar to a nine or ten year old human child in physical development. The child's simple white smock did not conceal its androgynous beauty. For non-Alfar, it is difficult to determine the sex of an Alfar child at a glance, and this one's more than average beauty would make it nearly impossible.

  *Are you ready to begin your task, child?*

  The child prostrated itself on the floor.

  “This one lives only to serve the mighty Dragon Gods.” The child's high pitched voice held a firmness that would not be expected from one of its youth. From the fanaticism in its eyes, one could believe the child would give its life for the Dragon God without hesitation.

  *Come forward, child. I will make the final preparations to you.*

  A brilliant smile lit the child's face, and it scrambled to its feet. Unable to restrain itself, the child practically ran toward the front of the hall.

  Narrowing its eyes, the Dragon God watched the child's approach, and its rigid scaled mouth almost seemed to smile. Though the Dragon God appeared pleased, one who could read the minimal facial expressions of Dragons would know that it was not a contentment that contained any beneficence toward the child.

  Reaching the foot of the dais, the child again dropped to its knees, with its hands clasped in front of its chest. Its upturned worshipful eyes were glued to the head of the Dragon God that looked down on it from above.

  *Prepare yourself, child. You will suffer pain.*

  The Dragon God growled a Word in a language that could never be safely spoken by mortal mouths and tongues. With the Word, a shimmering silver-blue spell pattern appeared in the air between the Dragon God and the child. After carefully inspecting the pattern, a tension appeared in the Dragon God's neck and head. While shrinking as it moved, the pattern streaked into the child's body.

  “AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!” The child's already high-pitched voice rose three octaves as its agonized shriek filled the hall. It kept screaming, until its lungs were empty. Gasping for more air, its scream continued, until unconsciousness claimed the small body.

  Several hours later, the unconscious body of the child floated into the air and down the length of the hall, to be deposited at the feet of the LjosAlfar in the cloth of gold robes.

  *Commence the plan.*

  The LjosAlfar knelt again, once more banging its head on the ground.

  “As you command, My God!”

  *** Plains of Gethrand - Taereun ***

  Centuries in the Past

  A small stone airship fled before three pursuing crystal airships. While armed, the stone airship was not a warship, but its pursuers were all built for combat. The hopeless flight of the stone airship began in the mountains visible on the western horizon, but three crystal airships forced it out over the barren plains.

  Volleys of fireballs were being launched from the crystal airships, but at that point, none had yet done any significant damage to the stone airship.

  “Lord Elder, our scouts report a squadron of seven DokkAlfar cutters
on an intercept course with the target.” Like all the officers of the LjosAlfar Sky Navy, the airship's Captain wore a silver breastplate over a sky blue uniform.

  The Lord Elder, the LjosAlfar who had woken the Dragon God, turned to the airship's captain. Unlike his subservient demeanor, when facing the Dragon God, the Lord Elder's face was then a portrait of righteous domination.

  “Perfect. Bring down that DokkAlfar scow.”

  Standing silently at the Lord Elder's side, the child who was prepared by the Dragon God watched the flight of the stone airship, without the slightest hint of any emotions crossing its face.

  The three crystal airships began to fire on the larger stone airship, but they were no longer missing or merely singeing the hull. Shards of stone were blown off the DokkAlfar airship, with every concussive detonation of the fireballs. Within only a short time, the stone airship became unstable in its flight and began to angle towards the ground.

  With the DokkAlfar ship already nearly crippled, the fire from the crystal airships became far more discriminatory. The fireballs judiciously destroyed the sails and the control surfaces for maneuvering the stone airship in flight.

  As the stone airship impacted the ground, control vanes and masts broke away, and huge fractures appeared in the hull. Miraculously, or maybe not so miraculously considering the amount Power used in the construction of an airship, despite the damage, the hull did not break up.

  The Lord Elder's voice matched the chill in his face. “Take landing parties down there and kill everything that lives, except for the designated child.”

  “Yes, Lord Elder!”

  As the crystal airships circled the wreckage, the ship's Captain personally led the assault team that jumped over the ships railings. Teams from the other crystal airships followed.

  The Lord Elder listened impassively to the clamor of combat rising from below, as he stared off into the distance.

  “Father …”

  Smack!

  The Lord Elder spun toward the child, his vicious slap sending the child sprawling to the deck.

  Its jaw laid open to the bone by the large diamond in the Lord Elder's ring, the child stared up at the Lord Elder, still without any sign of expression.

  “We are no longer parent and child! We can never be parent and child again! If you even think such thoughts among the DokkAlfar, you will be exposed and tortured for information!”

  “Yes, Lord Elder.”

  The child rose to its feet, without ever voicing the question it had begun to ask.

  “You were chosen because you can utilize the Umbra. From this day forward, until the Day of Reclamation, you are DokkAlfar. Do not think otherwise. Do not act otherwise.”

  “Yes, Lord Elder.”

  After a time, when the sounds of battle had died, the Captain returned to the airship, with a sack slung over his shoulder. He stood at attention before the Lord Elder on the quarterdeck, with the sack at his feet.

  “As you commanded, I have the designated child.”

  “Open the sack.”

  As the sack was pulled down, the face of a DokkAlfar child was revealed. Except for the expression of hostile arrogance, it could have been the twin of the child standing at the Lord Elder's side.

  The child spat out sentences in the DokkAlfar language, but none of the LjosAlfar present could understand the tongue.

  “Silence that filth!”

  At the Lord Elder's command, the Captain struck the DokkAlfar child a vicious blow, with the back of his hand.

  The DokkAlfar child bounced off the deck with the sound of breaking bones. Its already shattered jaw flopped around like a slab of meat. In shock and barely conscious from the force of the blow, the DokkAlfar child did not resist when the Lord Elder placed a golden net over its head.

  After placing a similar on the head of the LjosAlfar child, the Lord Elder knelt between them, and exercised his powerful psi. As the massive amount of information, comprising the entire life of the DokkAlfar child passed through his mind, the Lord Elder's lips drew back from his teeth in a rictus.

  The LjosAlfar child's fists and jaw were tightly clenched, as it vainly sought to remain stoically silent under the painful impact of a life and mind not his own. After few moments, the LjosAlfar child began to scream like a damned soul, until it finally fell into unconsciousness. If not for the Lord Elder's hand tightly grasping its skull, the LjosAlfar child would have fallen to the deck.

  As he finished the transfer of knowledge, the Lord Elder looked down on the corpse of the DokkAlfar child.

  “We will throw this refuse into the Troll Jungles on our return to Mount Tian.”

  “As you command, Lord Elder.”

  “Take the implant and place it appropriately in the wreckage. Break its bones, but do not leave any life threatening injuries.”

  “As you command, Lord Elder.”

  After the Captain took the LjosAlfar child, the Lord Elder stared out toward the south, where the Pangu Citadel rested. The Jotun called it The Labyrinth of Yggr, but in truth, it was the property of the Dragon Gods.

  A Slave's Welcome

  *** Gor'achen Citadel (Over Tallifer) - Battleground of the Damned ***

  Return: Day 137

  Pain greets me along with consciousness. I am naked, laying on hard stone; my favorite way to wake up in the morning, if it even is morning.

  Nearby, I can hear the sound of multiple people breathing, the deep even sound of people breathing in their sleep. A few people, men from the sounds moan or grunt in their sleep. In the distance, I can hear the sounds of shouting and wood clattering on wood.

  Cracking my eyes open, I carefully scan the area in my field of view. I can see three other men in front of me, all human. Like me, they are sprawled unnaturally on the reddish stone floor. There are still five or six more outside my line of sight. So, there are nine or ten of us total. We are all in a cell with a passageway in front of it. On the other side of the men in front me, a grate of thick iron bars separates us from the corridor. Looking behind me, I find six sleeping men and a wall of the reddish stone.

  Ten naked men in a barred stone cell is anything but my idea of paradise. Not to mention, every man in this cell is obviously bigger and heavier than I am. These men would put the bodybuilders of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries to shame, and their beards are almost long and thick enough to make Dvergar appreciate them. I wonder where they are all from.

  I do not remember anything after that DokkAlfar cunt told me she would use me. Whatever happened, it must have rendered me instantly unconscious.

  As I try to circulate ki through my battered body, the pain that flares outward from my neck is almost enough to bring me to my knees. Stopping, I grab the collar that is still secured there, but it is too strong for me to force it open.

  “Steel is pain. Steel is cruelty.”

  I try to form the spell pattern to alter my vision, but the same kind of pain as I had trying to use ki tears through my body.

  My Power is being hijacked and turned against me by this collar. I do not have any clear idea on how it is being done. From what I learned in the Lands of Despair, I know a few ways to do it in theory, but I doubt any of those are related to the method being used by the collar.

  With this collar on my neck, I am virtually powerless. This is the price of trust. Of all the people in existence, I never would have believed that Jinmu would betray me. Looking back it is obvious. I knew he was acting differently.

  There are none so blind as those who will not see. The most deluded people are those who choose to ignore what they already know. I should have never forgotten that quote for a second. I burned it into my mind when I was twelve years old, and I willfully ignored it where Jinmu was concerned. I am an idiot who deserves to be exactly where I am.

  Fucking Jinmu. Fucking DokkAlfar. Fucking DokkAlfar Priest-Wizard. Fucking DokkAlfar bondage cunt. I am going to kill all of them. They are going to suffer for my willful idiocy.

&nbs
p; I cannot keep myself from laughing morbidly, as I sit with my back to the wall near the bars of the cell. Even if I cannot use my ki, I can still meditate, which will let me rest more while staying aware of my surroundings.

  After a time, perhaps a few hours, the sounds of wood battering wood and shouting quiet down, and I hear the sound of footsteps drawing closer. Opening my eyes, I see five males moving down the corridor, four DokkAlfar and one human.

  The DokkAlfar are wearing black leather boots, pants, and shirts with a silk-like sheen, and breastplates over their shirts. They are probably adepts, but they do not have the air of soldiers. They strike me more as security guards or jailers. Instead of swords or other weapons designed to be killing weapons, they are carrying heavy truncheons.

  The human is different. That man is a killer, with oceans of blood at his feet. He has numerous scars, and several of them appear to be from wounds that should have killed him. I do not what his style might be, but he moves like a man who has lived his life submersed in martial arts. Besides his obvious level of training in his movements, the man has a herculean physique and stands half a head taller than the DokkAlfar in front of him.

  Wearing a pteruges, the leather skirts worn by Roman and Greek warriors, over a loincloth, his only other clothing consists of sandals and a vest. He has a collar around his neck like all of us in this cell, but there is no telltale glow from its sigils. His Power should not be closed off to him, as mine is.

  After sweeping his eyes over the others still sleeping in the cell, the man focuses his attention on me. Our stares lock together. His eyes are like cold empty obsidian pits that soak up all the life and warmth that lies before them. Even for me, the weight of his gaze is not negligible. Merely human as I am, I do not know if I could beat that man.