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

by Brian McGoldrick

  The next door opens as easily as the first, and I dive to the side.

  Crack-boom!

  Blue-white light illuminates the corridor, leaving my dazzled eyes are filled with kaleidoscopic afterimages. The strong smell of ozone fills the corridor, along with a hint of burnt stone. If I had not reacted to the feeling of danger, before even realizing what it was, I would possibly be dead. The Power in that lighting was several levels above what the Throd'nahk was capable of producing.

  As I moved, I caught a glimpse of the room beyond. It is a trapezoidal room with a huge four-poster bed on the right wall. The entire floor is covered with a thick carpet, and a single chair and table are set up next to one of three windows, with a stack of books on the table. Two door on the wall opposite the bed were both closed, and bureaus were standing next to one of the doors.

  Despite the ringing in my ears, I can hear the clatter of metal clattering on stone coming from the stairs. It is at least a dozen pairs of feet, maybe more.

  I dive into the room and roll, moving in the direction of the bed. Standing in the corner next to the other closed door, the one farthest from where I entered, is a tall DokkAlfar female. Her silken robe is sky blue, with intricate sigils or formations embroidered on it in silvery metal thread.

  Crack-boom!

  The lighting bolt she launches thunders out the door again, barely missing me. Rising to my feet, I charge toward the Sinla'aveyka'tar in a zigzagging pattern. A third lightning bolt, not as powerful as the first two, streaks past me, before I reach her. As my left hand blade thrusts forward, a static electric field surrounds me. Muscle spasms cause me to miss, slicing open her shoulder instead of piercing her eye and brain.

  As Sinla'aveyka'tar tries to dodge past, my right hand blade slashes her leg, jarring against the femur. The leg buckles under her weight, and my left blade pierces her back.

  “ AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” Her shriek is high pitched and, the pain in it cannot hide the beauty of her Alfar voice.

  I withdraw my blade and stab with it again. Blood, bone fragments, and bits of brain matter scatter all over the thick carpet, as my burst of ki force explodes Sinla'aveyka'tar's skull.

  With no reason to be subtle any longer, I blast one of the windows open, with a another burst of ki force. Slipping into the Shadow of the Od, I charge out into the sanguine night and down into the back alley between the tower and the mansion behind it.

  Surprisingly, there are no hails or cries from the Aveyka'tar Tower. If I did not know what had just occurred, I would think nothing was wrong.

  Prey or Predator?

  *** Gor'achen Citadel - Battleground of the Damned ***

  Return: Day 287

  I do not enter the alley where I came up from the sewers. Something feels off. The slave work gang is still visible at the opposite end of the alley, but they did not have the relatively despondent air of earlier. Their movements indicated they were on edge and fearful. I slip past, staying in the shadows.

  For hunters to be waiting for me here, they must have been aware of where I exited the sewers, but who are they? Are they aware of who I am? Do they know what I have done? Or by chance, is this completely unrelated to the assassination?

  I was not too surprised, when there was no hue and cry at the Aveyka'tar Tower. It seems that Aluras'bektsh'tar never warned Clan Aveyka'tar about my coming. I think she wanted Sinla'aveyka'tar dead, and she also wanted me to be caught after the fact. These ambushers should be either Clan Vardne'tar or from the Gor'achen Legions.

  There is no sign of the ambushers, so they are either inside the compounds backing on the alley or in the sewers. It is time to find them and ask a few questions. Moving along the avenue, I look for another sewer entry in the alleys. The nearest one seems to be about two hundred yards away, but it is on a different tunnel. The tunnel I exited from is running perpendicular to the line between the two entries.

  Steel is cruelty. Steel is pain. With one eye seeing the world as patterns, I will not be easily fooled if the ambushers are concealed with spells.

  Turning the lock to rust, I push open the gate and enter the sewers. At the bottom of the access stairs, I turn to the right. There was a tunnel this way that continued on in the direction of this tunnel. When I reach the cross tunnel, I turn toward the tunnel that I used earlier.

  Pausing at the corner, I listen for any sounds of the ambushers. After several minutes, I do not hear anything. Moving in the Shadow of the Od, I scale the tunnel wall and move around the corner. Despite the light crystals, there are heavy shadows from the vaulted supports for the ceilings of the sewer tunnels. Concealed by those shadows, I slip forward, until I can see the ambushers.

  They are not concealed by spells. All of them are wearing chainmail, but two of the ten are carrying rune inlaid staves instead of glaives. The real world bears little resemblance to the idiotic rules of role-playing games. There are no universal rules or classes restricting casters from wearing armor or learning to use weapons.

  Those casters are the most dangerous, but they are on opposite ends of the ambush. With the ambushers split into two groups of five on opposite sides of the access stairway, the casters are at the outer ends of the groups.

  As long as I kill them all and destroy the bodies, there should be no problems. I take my endless quiver out of my storage belt, and sling it sling it on my back. Pulling Stone Feather Death from the bow storage pouch, I string it. It seems much easier to string, but that is more likely an increase in my strength than anything to do with the bow.

  Crack-boom!

  The left side of the far caster's chest almost explodes under the impact of the arrow.

  Crack-boom!

  The second arrow pierces the second casters helm, turning his brain into puree.

  Fuck me. I cannot keep a smirk off my face. Both arrows broke the sound barrier. Stone Feather Death is increasing its draw weight to match my increased strength. A normal Patterned weapon would never do that, nor would most named weapons. When I have the leisure, I need to probe this bow's past more deeply and establish a higher level thread link with it.

  The ambushers all spin in my direction, their glaives held at the ready. Surprisingly, they do not make any noise, and there is no sign of panic in them. Whatever else they might be, they are not cowards.

  I hunker as deeply into the shadows as I can, and knock another arrow to Stone Feather Death's string. Between the shadows of the material realm and the Shadow of the Od, it should be nearly impossible for them to see me. Even so, I am not invisible, not physically and certainly not psychically. Psi energy brushes past my mind a few times, before focusing on me. The cold malice in that psi probe would be enough to cause most beings to be chilled with fear, if not frozen with terror, but I am not most beings.

  “There! Half on each side! Take him alive!” Something sounds odd about the voice. Even muffled by the helm, the pitch and timbre seem off.

  The DokkAlfar who spoke points at the shadows, where I am hiding, and the group on the far side of the stairway jump across the sewage channel. As both groups start moving toward me, I launch the arrow at the arrow at the DokkAlfar that pointed at me.

  Crack-boom!

  “Aaargh!” The DokkAlfar's muffled exclamation of pain rises over the sound of leather soled boots on stone, as he pitches face down on the walkway. With my arrow lodged in his hip, he will not be moving very fast or very far.

  Putting Stone Feather Death away, I race along the ceiling of the sewer tunnel toward the oncoming DokkAlfar. Dropping from the ceiling, I pull my short-swords, while flipping in midair to land feet down on the walkway.

  The hammer falls, shaping the steel. The steel remembers the force. The steel releases the force. A dark grey aura surrounds my swords.

  Cling! Clang!

  “AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

  A stream of blood sprays from the lead DokkAlfar's groin, as he drops to his knees, clutching his mangled balls. My kick breaks his neck, while flippin
g his corpse head over heels into the DokkAlfar behind him.

  Having moved behind me, the DokkAlfar on the opposite side of the sewage channel are jumping over to my side. Running up the wall before they can attack my back, I jump over the two DokkAlfar in front of me. Twisting into a backflip, I land facing the rear DokkAlfar, who is spinning while slashing at me with his glaive.

  Clang!

  I stop the glaive with an x-block. Slipping inside the effective combat range of the glaive, I shoulder the DokkAlfar backward into the one trying to disentangle himself from the corpse. My knee hammers into his groin, and a wave of ki ruptures his internal organs.

  These DokkAlfar give the impression of being from the regular legions. From their physical abilities, none of them seem to have begun to Coalesce their Power. Four are dead, and one is crippled. The remaining five are all in front of me, and none of them is my equal. Their confidence is broken, and there is hesitancy in their postures.

  Stomping on the corpse of their comrades, if DokkAlfar think of one another as comrades that is, I charge into the closest one.

  Clang! Crack! Clang!

  I deflect the DokkAlfar's stab and snap a kick at his knee. He tries to use a shin block to stop my kick, but his tibia shatters under the impact. Even with hate and pain filling his eyes, this DokkAlfar does not make any sound. Instead, he targets my own knees with the butt of his glaive, but his eyes widen when I block the metal haft with my own shin. Pressing down on the haft of his glaive with my right sword, I drive my left blade up under his helmet, and the hate and fear leave his eyes, along with any other signs of life.

  As the body starts to collapse, I kick it into the rest of the DokkAlfar. This time, they all jump and dodge to avoid getting tangled up. Directly in the wake of the copse, I attack the nearest one, and the DokkAlfar at the rear jumps across the sewage channel. The DokkAlfar I attack tries to step back and slash me, but the one still behind him blocks his movement. Getting inside the effective combat range of his glaive, I thrust both my blades through his chest.

  Picking up the corpse, I keep charging into the DokkAlfar still in front of me. The DokkAlfar that jumped over the sewage channel jumps to my side at my back. Hurling the corpse, with my blades still embedded in its chest, at the DokkAlfar in front, I grab a fallen glaive and spin toward the DokkAlfar are my rear.

  Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

  “Aaarrrgh!”

  The DokkAlfar keeps up with my rapid attacks for almost two seconds, before my glaive cleaves into his leg, burying the blade in his femur. Shoving him into the sewer channel, as blood fountains from the severed artery in his leg, I grab his fallen glaive and turn back to the last DokkAlfar.

  The last DokkAlfar looks around and starts backing away. Even though they do not have a proper point for point work, these glaives still have just enough of a tip to open a chink in armor that their bladed edge can cut into. Underneath my mask, my grin is savage as I close and thrust low with the glaive. The DokkAlfar continues to defends desperately against my chain of thrusts, while backing away.

  I have the feeling that he is trying to stall for time. They had a psi coordinating them. Could he think there are reinforcements close enough to save him?

  I move onto the wall and jump behind the DokkAlfar. His movements are jerky as he tries to catch me, and my glaive slashes into his lower back, nearly cutting him in half. The surprised look in his eyes is already fading, as he falls to the ground.

  The DokkAlfar I dumped in the sewer channel is trying to climb up onto the walkway. Even though he will bleed out in a minute or so, I still behead him.

  Pulling my short-swords out of a DokkAlfar corpse, I flick the blood off the blades. With the dark grey force shimmer still surrounding the blades, simply things like bodily fluids cannot adhere to them.

  The crippled DokkAlfar stares over his shoulder, as he tries to drag himself up the stairs. Fear and hate are mixed in his eyes, as he watches me close with him. When he tries to stab me with a dagger he was holding against his forearm, I shatter the arm.

  “Aaarrrgh! Filthy animal!” The pitch is clearly audible and definitely off.

  As I rip the DokkAlfar's helmet off, long hair the color of pure gold falls gently through the air to frame a face that is not even close to androgynous. Like all DokkAlfar females, her beauty is so incredible that it almost makes my heart skip a beat, but it is a face filled with fear.

  “Why are you hunting me? Who sent you?”

  She shakes her head. “I can't tell you. Betrayal means death for myself and everyone in my Line of Provenance.”

  Keeping the DokkAlfar pinned to the ground with a knee and an arm lock, I pick up the dagger she tried to stab me with.

  My heart is steel. My soul is the forge. My thoughts are life to my blade. The blade of the dagger turns cherry red, and heat shimmer distorts the air around it.

  “If you don't tell me a story and make me believe it, I will bury this your guts. You'll die screaming in agony.”

  “If I tell you, my company's coordinator will know, and I will suffer an even worse fate.”

  If she is part of a company, that means she should be either a squad commander or a company commander. DokkAlfar squads are made up ten soldiers. DokkAlfar companies are made up ten squads. DokkAlfar legions are made up of ten companies. The DokkAlfar have a fixation on base ten organization, but I do not know how their military is organized beyond the legion level. I have heard larger groups called both task forces and armies, but there were no consistent sizes to either group.

  I shrug. “Your choice.”

  “NO!”

  Blood mixed with bits of her skull and brains splatter all over the stairs and my armor. Stripping the gauntlet off the corpse's hand, I find a two dimensional storage rings. One is unadorned and the other has what I think is a Gor'achen Legion insignia, which should mean that the female was an officer.

  Listening, I cannot hear any sounds of footsteps, but I am not waiting around to be cornered by a lager group. From the strength of the probes, the only way I can escape is to outdistance the psi users range or put wards that will block it between us. The easiest way to outdistance the probe would be to cross dimensional barriers, but to do that easily, I need to reach Thrall's teleport gate. The only problem with that is that I will lead my pursuers right to it. The next option is to use the tunnel between the layers. The second through the fifth layers are all pocket dimensions contained within the outer shell of Gor'achen Citadel. That would mean going back to the surface of the First Layer, where there is probably an ambush waiting for me at the tunnel to the Second Layer. I would certainly close off that route of escape, if I were trying to corral someone. My only real option might be going over the curtain wall surrounding the First Layer or through one of the sewer outlets.

  The Seven Great Citadels are feared by the polities of the Battleground of the Damned for the military might they project, but they are also loathed for the filth they dump on the cities below. When passing over the cities of the Battleground, citadels will often dump thousands of gallons of sewage filled water on the cities. Each citadel has a myriad of outlets for ejecting sewage and other wasters, and while the are almost certainly barred, they should not be guarded.

  The DokkAlfar and many of the non-DokkAlfar polities that are subject to them make extensive use of airships. There are multiple docks giving access to the citadel. On the First Layer, the docks are restricted to High Clan and military usage. The Second Layer's docks are for travellers, and the Third, Fourth and Fifth Layer's are primarily for cargo. As long as I can get onto the outer surface of the citadel, I can reach one of the other Layer's docks.

  Whoever is probing me is not trying to break past my shields, he or she is just tracking me. There have to be psi techniques to conceal your mind from probes like this. If I knew one, I might never have been found. The more I do, the more I find myself lacking in knowledge and techniques. I do not see any pursuers, but that does not mean they are not there.
Pausing periodically to listen for the sounds of pursuit, I move at random through the sewers, but I keep drifting toward the outer edge of the citadel.

  I think I am fairly close to the outer edge and looking for a sewer outlet, when I pause. The faint sound of hard leather on stone reaches my ears. There are pursuers in the sewers. If I can get my hands on one of them and drag him into a pocket dimension, I may be able to interrogate the fucking puke and get a better idea of what Aluras'bektsh'tar's game is. I would hate to have wasted my time assassinating that caster bitch, with nothing better to show for it.

  Finally, I can hear the sound of strong winds down a tunnel. I am standing in an octagonal room that contains a huge basin in its center. On five connecting sides, sewer tunnels dump into the basin a dozen or so feet below the bottom of their sewage channels. In the middle of one of the opposing walls, a much larger channel leads out of the room. The only problem is that there is no walkway in that tunnel, but that suits me better than if there was one.

  The sounds of pursuit are audible from three of the sewer tunnels, but the noise dies out in two of them. I am not sure what they are doing, but they are not getting any closer. Only the pursuers in the tunnel I entered this room by keep coming. From the sound of the footsteps, there must be two companies of them, but the fools are making it easier for me.

  I stand next to tunnel my pursuers will come out of, with my back to the wall. As the DokkAlfar soldiers leave the tunnel, they turn toward me, while moving into position to create a half-circle in front of me. Ten DokkAlfar, one squad, are facing me, and I can hear at least another squad of them still inside the tunnel.

  All the DokkAlfar surrounding me are waiting, with their weapons pointed at me, but not a one is saying a word to me. What are they waiting for? There is a faint energy that might be psi, perhaps telepathy. Someone is giving this group orders, but I cannot tell if the communication is with one or all of them.