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

by Brian McGoldrick

  The slaves in the work gangs are a sorry lot. Naked except for their collars, their bodies are covered in whip scars. Many have scars from being tortured with open fire or burning hot metal, as punishments for the smallest infractions. Some have missing fingers, toes, eyes, ears, noses, or even entire limbs, and many have been castrated.

  After a few minutes I reach the compound of Clan Vardne'tar. I already know that there are three entries to the compound, but the question is which one will that Orton'vardne'tar uses to leave. All of the gates are currently closed, so there should be at least some noise when he leaves the compound. I have no choice but to patrol around the Vardne'tar compound, until I spot him leaving.

  The information given to me stated the Stoics' meeting would take place at the exact midpoint of the night. I do not think that this plane has a true day and night cycle, but the DokkAlfar have no trouble keeping track of time. While I am not a DokkAlfar, I can still keep track of the general time, and it is still a couple hours before what should be the middle of the night.

  These stoics are far from the first secret society I have hunted, and I cannot imagine they will be the last. Why is it that secret societies and conspiracies almost always seem to have their meetings at night? Does the dark give them some feeling of safety from being spied upon? If nothing else, it makes it easier to identify and follow the conspirators.

  There is only a little more than an hour left before midnight, when I finally see Orton'vardne'tar come out of the side gate. He was not the first Vardne'tar clan member to leave the compound since I arrived, but the others are none of my concern. Orton'vardne'tar does not appear to be paying attention to anything around himself, and walks off in a casual manner.

  Despite the time, there are still plenty of DokkAlfar wandering the streets. The nightly social activities will not end, until the morning. Their activity makes it much easier to follow my prey. Even walking in the Shadow of the Od, I am not completely invisible, and the general activity makes it easier to blend into the shadows, without being noticed.

  If my body was strong enough to channel the Od, without being ripped apart by the Power, I would probably be able to move deep enough into the Shadow of the Od to become completely invisible. Unfortunately, I am still a long way away from the inhuman capabilities of Thrall or my old Half-Dvergar body.

  Orton'vardne'tar seems to just be wandering around at random, but every turn takes him onto a street with lesser numbers of DokkAlfar. When he turns onto a street with no DokkAlfar looking toward him, he abruptly steps into one of the alleys between the compounds.

  His move is so abrupt that it catches me by surprise. That may be his intention to throw off any possible pursuers or get them to revel themselves. Despite their social tendencies, the DokkAlfar never lose their hunger for domination over others, and all the clans have their spies watching other clans and their own clan members. For a DokkAlfar to assume that no one is spying on him or her at any time would be the height of foolishness.

  I stay in the shadows on the opposite side of the street from the alley, where Orton'vardne'tar disappeared, and look down it while passing. Another benefit of walking in the Shadow of the Od is that the shadows of the normal world, or even complete darkness, are nothing more than patches of dimer greyish light to my eyes.

  Orton'vardne'tar is about thirty feet or so down the alley. He is hiding in the shadow of a stack of crates, while watching for anyone entering the all alley in his wake. Despite none of the compound entries near this alley being lit up, there are no good hiding places with a view of the alley.

  I keep walking until Orton'vardne'tar no longer has a line of sight toward me and cross back to the alley side of the avenue. There are no obvious wards on the compound wall for the first twenty feet of its height, and I climb the wall to just below the beginning of those wards. Outside the grip of the dimension's normal gravity, I am moving on all fours. The infinitesimal gravity of the wall itself allows me to cling to to its surface like a lizard or an insect.

  Reaching the corner, I peek around, and Orton'vardne'tar does not seem to notice me. For a few more minutes, he watches the entry to the alley, before moving again. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, until he reaches a stairwell leading down to a sewer access gate.

  As Orton'vardne'tar's head disappears from sight, I scamper along the wall covering more than twenty feet with each step. Still, I hear the rattling of a key in the lock and the screech of the gate opening, before I reach the stairwell. Leaping from the wall, my feet make no sound, as they touch the ground.

  Clank.

  The gate is already closed, when I look over the wall, and the key is rattling in the lock again.

  Once the soft sound of Orton'vardne'tar's steps fade, I drop into the stairwell.

  Steel is cruelty. Steel is pain. My mana flows into the lock, as I search out the metal's weaknesses, and I drive the most appropriate symbols of breaking into them.

  Clunk.

  I catch the falling fragments of metal before they can clatter on the ground and drop into the dimensional storage in my belt. There is nothing I can do about the squeaking for the gate, as it opens, but I cannot give Orton'vardne'tar too much time to open the distance between us.

  I leave the gate open, so as to not make more noise, and quickly move down the stairs. Pausing at the bottom, I soak up the input from all of my senses, seeking any hint of Orton'vardne'tar waiting in ambush.

  Orton'vardne'tar is supposed to be in the First Circle of Coalescence, but he is a DokkAlfar. Being in the First or Second Circle of Coalescence does not mean that someone will automatically be stronger than me. According to Thrall, Coalescence does not make someone magically transform by moronically superhuman amounts, it enhances their base. Each Circle of Coalescence roughly triples a persons Power and physical abilities, and that does not magically happen at once. As you progress through each Circle of Coalescence, you slowly grow stronger. At the low circles, the differences in strength can still be more or less dealt with depending on your own base levels.

  For all his size and mass, the Throd'nahk's base is apparently only a fraction of my own. My use of ki has strengthened my body to a ridiculous degree in an even more ridiculously short period of time, and actively using ki to further boost my physical capabilities puts me considerably above the normal ranges of physical ability that mana based combat adepts have.

  Orton'vardne'tar is a DokkAlfar. His base Power should not be less than my own, even though his physical abilities probably do not equal mine. Overall, he has the advantage. As much as I want to fight him, I cannot do it. I am here to murder Orton'vardne'tar in such a way that it will look like an execution performed by the Left Hand Order of Yggr's assassins.

  I catch sound of the faint tapping of footsteps moving away and exit the tunnel form the access stairs. In the distance to my left, I see Orton'vardne'tar rapidly moving down the walkway next to the sewage channel. A plain brown robes conceals his body, and a hooded cloak hides his head. Secret societies can be so fucking predictable in their actions.

  Covering twenty feet at a stride, I rush down the sewer in Orton'vardne'tar's wake. Before I can close the distance, he has already reached a shimmering teleport gate in one the arches on the wall and disappears.

  Fuck me! According to the information provided by Aluras'bektsh'tar, the stoics never return through the gates they use to reach their meetings. If I want to kill Orton'vardne'tar, I will have to follow him to the Stoics' meeting place.

  I do not hesitate and chase him into the portal. The energies of the spell swirl around me without fully taking hold. It feels like the teleport spell is trying to rip me apart. What the hell is happening? Is it the Shadow of the Od?

  As I let myself drop back completely into the dimension around me, the Power in the gate takes hold of me. With a wrenching sensation, I appear in the a small room.

  Orton'vardne'tar and two other DokkAlfar are inside the room. While Orton'vardne'tar has his back to me, the othe
r two are facing me. Both of them are wearing the exact same armor as I am, right down to the patterning to make it form fitting. They are probably real Left Hand of Yggr assassins.

  Drawing both my short-swords, I drive them into the left side of Orton'vardne'tar's back, as he starts to turn around. He was probably not expecting and attack from behind and did not react in time. While the tableau is frozen, Orton'vardne'tar stares at me over his shoulder in shock, as blood begins to flow from the corners of his mouth.

  As Orton'vardne'tar begins to crumple, the two real assassins begin to lunge toward me, while drawing their own short-swords. I sheer my swords through Orton'vardne'tar 's body, tearing up his organs at the same time as I rip the blades out.

  The assassin to my right has to move a bit further than the one on the left to attack me. I step past the one on the left and thrust at his back, with my right blade. As he turns and parries with his own right sword, I slice his right wrist, but the blade barely gets through his armor. I did not realize how tough this armor actually is. What kind of leather is it made from?

  As the assassin keeps spinning, his left hand sword stabs towards my neck. Neither of my blades is in position to block his, and the second assassin is coming at me with a lunge over the corpse of Orton'vardne'tar. I shift toward the left about ten feet.

  This room is too small to maneuver much, less than twenty-five feet square. The Left Hand Order or Yggr uses any sentient race that will serve Yggr, but these two are human. They are not ki users, but their speed is equal to or better than my own, when I am not actively using my ki. If it was not for almost instantaneous movement over twenty to thirty foot ranges the using the Shadow of the Od allows, their movement speed would be equal to my own. They are probably already within the Circles of Coalescence, but not too far along. I need to engage and drop one of them quickly.

  My ki floods through my body, enhancing my strength, agility, and speed. The second assassin continued the movement he started with his lunge, and I step to the side of the first. In barely more than a second, we exchange over a dozen strikes and parries each. Neither of us has the advantage, his skill is similar to my own.

  I can feel the energies of the active teleport gate behind me and shift backwards. The gate is not directly against the wall, and I use it to shield my right side, while the wall prevents them from attacking me on that side. Both of them pause, staring at me from outside my reach. They are well within my attack range, but to attack them I will have to move from this position.

  What the hell are Left Hand of Yggr assassins doing here to begin with? Are they here to guard or to kill the Stoics? Listening carefully, I can here the faint sounds of metal on metal and the echoes of detonating energies. So, it must be an attack. Orton'vardne'tar would probably have been dead whether I followed him or not.

  Two versus one, and they are both Coalescent. They should have no way to know who I am, but they instantly knew I was not one of them. The assassination is already completed. While I could leave through the teleportation gate, I want to fight and kill them.

  I attack the one with the cut on his forearm. My step virtually warping me next to his left side, I aim a left thrust at his heart. As he blocks the attack, I slip past, the edge or my right blade opening up a proper slash in his right forearm. This time I feel the blade hit the bone, but it does not slow his attacks down in the slightest. We exchange another seven thrusts and parries, as we separate.

  The unwounded one is already coming after me, and I move to the wall on my right. He spins toward me, but he does not press his attack. Even though my movement have reached the point where they are close to teleportation, these assassins immediately pick up on where I will end up. Their awareness and powers of observation are impressive, to say the least.

  The two assassins are close enough that they will easily be able to cover one another. The wounded one is close to my height and build, but there is still no sign of the wounds slowing him down. The unwounded one is taller, with longer limbs, and he has more reach.

  Even though the assassins cannot see it, my teeth are bared in a predator's grins. I move to the side of the tall assassin with his body blocking the wounded one. I have a second, maybe a fraction longer.

  This assassin is a better swordsman than the other one. He is stopping my attacks before they get close, while I am catching his just before they strike home. But that is fine. My right foot snaps toward his knee, but he raises his leg enough to block my kick.

  Crack!

  “Aaargh!”

  My right toe shatters the assassin's left shin bone. He is a fool. He should have tried avoid or parry my kick, not take it head on with a shin block. His body is not even close to tough enough to withstand strikes from my hands or feet. There are very few places in the Battleground of the Damned where they train their bodies to be weapon and armor. Most places are focused around weapon based styles of fighting. They use Power and armor to defend themselves.

  I move away, without trying to finish the assassin off. The shorter assassin is already between me and his partner, but the taller one is pretty much disabled. The bone did not break clean through, and the greenstick fracture has his shin bent near the middle. It looks painful, but other than the one yell, he has not made a sound.

  Stepping forward, I engage the shorter assassin. He is actually helping me by trying to stay between me and his partner. I almost laugh, as I circle around keeping the taller assassin from being in a position to attack me. With my ki filling my body, enhancing my speed and strength, the shorter assassin is no longer my equal. Unhindered by attacks from his hobbling partner, my swords find the holes in the shorter assassin's defenses, and the wounds on his arms pile up in seconds.

  When I sever the muscles in the assassin's biceps and his forearm drops limply, I batter his good hand aside and bury my second blade in the side of his neck. As I tear my blade back out and shift back toward the wall, I watch the blood fountain from his severed artery.

  Even though he is already dying, the assassin still tries to attack, lunging toward me with a sliding step that crosses nearly fifteen feet. I parry his sword with one blade and sever his hand at the wrist with the other.

  The assassin hisses with pain, as his eyes flicker toward his falling hand, before glaring at me. With the masks in these suits of armor, the only thing we can see are each other's eyes. I match the assassin's hate filled eyes with eyes full of disdain and contempt.

  As the shorter assassin collapses to the ground dead, the taller one is coldly appraising me. He is resigned to his death, but he has not given up. He is looking for a way to take me with him.

  I do not give him the time. As I move to his left side, I tie up his left hand blade with my right and stab him in the kidney with left hand blade. Despite the toughness of the leather, the point of my blade easily pierces it, and the assassin stiffens from the sudden agonizing pain. His leg begin to collapse, as he turns his head to stare into my eyes.

  “Who are you?” The words are barely more than a hissing whisper.

  “A soul of the Damned.”

  My right hand blade pierces the assassin's chest rupturing his heart. The life fades from his eyes, and he slides off my blades to fall face down on the floor.

  I can still hear the sounds of conflict, but they are fainter. Even in the bare couple dozen seconds that our fight lasted, one side or the other has started to achieve supremacy.

  Grabbing Orton'vardne'tar's corpse by its collar, I step into the still active teleport gate. With the same wrenching sensation as when I arrived, the room disappears from my sight, and I find myself in a back alley. The walls are not those of the compounds of the First Layer and there is no red-tinged light. Looking up, there is a cavern roof over my head. Where am I? Which Layer is this?

  Dropping Orton'vardne'tar's corpse on the ground, I put the broken Yggr signet next to it.

  The only dimensional storage device on the body appears to the belt. I take it and drop it into my own belt.
>
  Before anyone else has a chance to follow me through the teleport gate, I quickly move away from where I appeared, and slip into the Shadow of the Od. Climbing to the top of a building with a view of where I teleported to, I wait and watch. After about twenty minutes, there is no sign of any pursuit. Did I get away cleanly? I do not think that it could be this easy.

  Moving to a main road, I look around for some clue as to where I am. This is not the Third Layer, the buildings do not resemble those outside the Blood Rose Stable. The surrounding buildings and road are too well maintained for this to be the Fourth Layer, and the Fifth Layer is the slave pens and the breeding aeries for the gryphons and hippogryphs. It has to be the Second Layer.

  If I find the access to the Third Layer, I can make my way back to the Blood Rose Stable. Thrall should become aware of my presence, once I reach the entry.

  With the exception of the First Layer, each layer inside Gor'achen is its own pocket dimensional space. The access ramps between the layers must warp space to be able connect these individual dimensional pockets. On the entry on the First Layer, the entry to the ramp is near the central plaza, but there are no structures leading down from the roof of this cavern. So, where does the tunnel from the First Layer connect to this one, and where is the tunnel entry connecting to the Third Layer? Asking Thrall about how the access tunnels are situated never crossed my mind. I suppose I never really cared much about them. I need to find their location on this layer.

  Near the middle of the layer, there are two tunnels situated side by side. Both slope downward, but one leads to a higher layer and the other to a lower layer. The tunnel that leads to the First Layer is guarded by DokkAlfar soldiers. The tunnel leading to the Third Layer is guarded by human soldiers. Although both are armed and armored with what appear to be the same armor and weapons, the difference in quality is blatantly obvious to a Smith. The DokkAlfar equipment is made from a high grade alloy of the oily black metal, and the humans are in a low grade alloy of the oily black metal.