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

by Brian McGoldrick

  The DokkAlfar nearest the sewer tunnel, the last one to come out, takes out a slave collar. I may not know much about how the DokkAlfar slave collars work, but I am familiar enough with their patterns to know that this one is not normal.

  “Put this . . .” The voice is too high pitched. This is another female squad commander.

  My movement catches the DokkAlfar commander off balance. Even for DokkAlfar, when one is talking, it will take it fractions of a second longer to shift its mental gears to deal with something other than the the words it is speaking, like sudden violence. Wrapping the DokkAlfar's right arm with my left, I twist it into a painful submission lock, and she arches her back in an attempt to relieve the pressure on her elbow and shoulder. My right palm slams into her stomach, doubling her over and increasing the pressure on her joints, while carrying her along with me.

  Behind me, the DokkAlfar's squad scrambles to chase me, but they seem leery of attacking, most likely afraid of injuring her along with me. Their hesitance gives me the second needed to reach the edge of the basin and leap off. Sliding my hand up under her helmet, I release a wave of ki into the DokkAlfar's head, and she loses consciousness.

  Pain rips through me. My body feels like it is being torn apart. Dragging another being into the Shadow of the Od with me is more difficult than I ever imagined it could be. The pain does not end, but we are both in the Shadow of the Od. As my feet touch the surface of the sewage filled water, I begin to run again.

  Fwoosh! Boom! Crack! Boom!

  Barely missing me, spells detonate in the mouth of the outlet tunnel, as I disappear down it, and the energies wash over me without doing any damage. The water level is low enough that I have several feet of clearance above my head, and after less than a hundred yards, I reach a row of metal bars blocking the outlet. Beyond the bars, I can see the cloud filled sky and the sea of Trinity below. The red-tinged light makes this look a gate into hell.

  I still wonder what the source of the red tinged light is. The Furnace of Life and Death is emitting a combination of silver-white and purplish-tinged black light, so how come is the background light a bloody red color?

  The DokkAlfar is lucky her helm has strong straps keeping it in place, as I hold her by it when I release her arm. With the way I rattled her brain, she should stay unconscious for quite some time, so I do not need to worry about her causing problems.

  The bars blocking my way are almost as thick as my wrist, with less than a foot of space between them. The metal they are forged from is an alloy of steel and and Blood Iron. The DokkAlfar seem to use this Blood Iron allow extensive in their defensive construction but not for weapons and armor, which I do not understand. Blood Iron is stronger and harder than the black alloy they normally use, so why not use it for their weapons and armor?

  With the size of the gaps between the bars, I need to remove two of them, if I am going to fit through. Since waking up from my coma, I have developed an extremely thick and burly physique. The amount of bulk muscle I am carrying has my weight up near the three hundred pound mark, while I am barely more than a fraction of an inch over six feet tall.

  It would take far too long to corrode such thick bars, but there are many symbols of breaking, each with its own properties, and no metal is perfect. They symbol I use finds the flaws that exist in all solid objects and exaggerates them. In less than a minute, I have two bars weakened enough that a kick with a focused blast of ki is enough to shatter each one.

  With the bars gone, the gap is nearly three feet, but my shoulders still only clear it with an inch or so on each side. Even though I know that I have put on a lot of mass, I am still not really used to how thick and heavy my arms, legs, and shoulders have become.

  Still carrying the unconscious DokkAlfar by her helmet, I move onto the outer surface of the citadel and look around. There are a few gryphons with riders flying around, but if they are hunting me, they do not seem to be aware of where I am. Below and to my left, there are the open gates of one of the docks. I do not know which level they are for, but considering how far down the side of the citadel they are, it is probably the Fourth Layer or maybe the Fifth Layer.

  I start running down the side of the citadel. The outer surface is rough, filled with fissures, ledges, and chimneys, much like a mountain. I have never tripped over an concrete information about the source of the floating islands that were used for the bases of the citadels, but the ones I have seen look like the could be asteroids or pieces of mountains with their peaks flattened out. It really does not matter where they came from, but the roughness of Gor'achen Citadel's outer surface makes it easier to hide from any pursuers that might be trying to find me.

  The psychic probes are still following me, but their strength is attenuating as I move down the side of the citadel. During the Great Fuck Over, we always found it hard to do anything except confront the DokkAlfar armies in head on battles, and I think I finally understand why. With even a handful of psis who could monitor our movements, even if it was only once we were within five or ten miles of them, how could we ever surprise the DokkAlfar?

  The base of this citadel is somewhere around six to seven miles in height. The First Layer rises in tiers another half to three-quarters of a mile more above the curtain wall making the entire height of the citadel somewhere around seven to eight miles. This citadel is taller than Mount Everest, with a diameter of more than five miles at the widest point, and there are six more under the control of the Atran'ler Empire. With the possible exception of the Dvergar, there is no power with the Battleground of the Damned that can challenge the DokkAlfar.

  I move quickly, but there are more gryphons in the air, before I am half way to the docks that I am targeting. The riders of the new gryphons are obviously searching, and there is nothing besides myself that would make sense as a target. As I move farther down the citadel's base, the psi probes become more tenuous, and their search area becomes wider. It seems that I am far enough from the psi that he or she can no longer accurately track me.

  Using all the cover provided by the rough outer surface, I finally reach the docks. They are set back from the outer surface, and huge door can be used to close off the entry. Berthed at the wharfs, there are a mix of stone DokkAlfar airships and the wooden ones used by other races. Slaves under the close scrutiny of whip masters are loading and unloading cargoes from some of the airships, while others have their hatches buttoned up tight.

  Staying in the Shadow of the Od and using the shadows of the material world, I cling to the roof of the docks and slip in near the corner. The psi probes abruptly disappear, after I pass under the massive gate. I have entered a pocket dimension, but whether the dock is its own pocket or part of the layer behind it, I cannot tell.

  Not leaving the roof of the dock cavern, I move to the passage with the least traffic and sidle down the wall to enter it. Not a single being reacts to my presence, and I disappear from the docks as though I was never there. After less than fifty yards, the passage ends, and I enter the main cavern for this layer.

  Instead of moving down to the floor level, I climb upward to get a better look at the layout of the layer. It appears that I am in the Fifth Layer. From above the layer can be divided into four areas. Two of them are clearly demarcated by a fence and a wall, and the the other two more or less spread one into the other.

  The fenced area is a large military base. Three quarters of it is a training field, and the rest is made up of multistory barracks, smaller parade grounds, and administrative buildings. Other than guards and patrols, there is no visible activity in the military base.

  The walled area contains decaying buildings ranging from shacks to multistory, multifamily residences. Thousands of human and orc males are visible, all wearing slave collars. Most are sitting or wandering in groups, but others, again in groups, are involved the ages old sports of beatings and gang rapes. This must be the infamous general slave pen that Tyrend was originally thrown into.

  The third area is warehous
es, which are obviously where the incoming and outgoing goods are stored. Mixing with the warehouses before separating into its own area are a mix of residences, ranging from nice to lavish, and walled or fenced compounds. Some of the compounds appear to be residences, and others are guarded complexes that do not have an obvious purpose. Though, the guards on those complexes have an air of private security thugs about them.

  I need to find someplace to question this DokkAlfar, someplace where her screams will not be heard. There are wards all over the place, with the exception of the interior of the slave pen. Maybe, it would be better to take her someplace where no one will care if she screams.

  Staying high on the sloping wall of the cavern, I easily slip past the guards and move toward the back of the slave pen. There seem to be six or maybe seven major gangs in control of the pen, and the one that controls the area farthest from the walls looks to be the largest.

  With the collars on their necks, they have no control over their Power. Their raw emotions are filling the slave pen, like sewage in a cesspool: fear, hate, anger, lust, more fear, more hate, bloodlust, pride, arrogance, self-hatred, disgust, still more hate, still more fear. The nearly overwhelming intensity of them all makes my skin crawl. This place makes me feel like I am back on Earth.

  Most of the slaves are naked, but a few have tattered pieces of rope or cloth tied around their waists like a status symbol. Each of them has one or more other slaves following them, holding onto the rope or cloth. When there is more than one follower hanging on, there seems to be a pecking order determined by how they are holding on. The grips range from using the thumb and forefinger to a full handed grasp. Despite their self-loathing, even the catamites seem to have something resembling pride.

  Even though there have to be hundreds of thousands of slave in the pen, there are still many buildings that are completely unoccupied. Whether within or without the gangs, the slaves seem to mostly clustered together in groups, probably for security and strength of numbers.

  Finding a five story building with no traces of anyone inside, I quickly walk across the air and enter the top floor. Snapping the odd slave collar on the DokkAlfar's neck, I leave her lying on the floor and check the building. There is no one living inside, but I find some skeletons and a partially dismembered rotting corpse, with what appear to be teeth marks around the missing sections.

  Returning to the top floor, I sit down. For the first time in hours, I drop out of the Shadow of the Od, but the pain filling my body does not go away. My vision is blurry, and the pain is the same burning feeling as when I pushed my ki too far in the Swamp of the Lost. Only this time, I can feel the burning in my mind and soul as well as my body.

  After stripping her of her armor and clothing, I tie the DokkAlfar with her own harness and gag her with strips torn off her own clothing. With the slave collar on her throat, she will not be getting free, before I have time to react.

  Two females in a regular legion is more than unusual. Unlike most human polities in the Labyrinth of Yggr, the DokkAlfar have females in their military, but they are very seldom actual line troops. Most of them are either in dedicate magical support companies, or they are intelligence officers or strategists. Even though the DokkAlfar do not keep females out of the military, they are not stupid enough to risk the more vulnerable half the reproductive pair anymore than necessary in the chaos of battle.

  Women in the military may be a nice sentiment for equality between the sexes, but it is complete bullshit from a survival standpoint. A man can impregnate a couple hundred or more women in a year, but a woman can only give birth to one child a year. For Alfar, that one child a year is closer to one child in two and a half years, if they can get pregnant in the first place. While it sounds great in fantasy novels, putting large numbers of your females in wars means your nation or race is doomed.

  Pain wracks me, as I sit down again. I wonder how much damage I have done to myself this time. With someone else, I could look at their pattern and estimate, but I cannot see my own pattern. The only way I know to observe my own body is through meditation. I have to focus my mind and consciousness internally, and then, I can at least get a subjective view of my own body, mind, and soul.

  I cannot claim to have real medical knowledge, but when you have spent time as a medical test subject, followed by a decade more of regular hospital visits for observation, you can learn a bit about the human body from a medical standpoint. When you spend a decade killing people and studying to be better at it, you learn other things about the human body.

  My nervous system is a mess. The nervous system and the circulatory system are the channels that Power primarily flows through within a living body. I still do not really understand exactly what I am doing, when I use the Shadow of the Od. Thrall can only explain it in vague terms. It has something to with the relationship between the Trinity and the Od, and I am making use of my Power, primarily ki, to shift myself into the Shadow. According to Thrall, if I could use Trinity or the Od to make the shift, it would be almost effortless. Maybe if that was the case, I could carry another being with me and not damage myself.

  I begin to channel the flow of my Power through my body. With being used for anything, it baths my damaged nervous system with revitalize energy, healing it instead of straining it. Garion for all his vaunted healing, did not understand that the Powers of the Trinity will naturally accelerate the body of a creature that is born of the Trinity.

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

  Return: Day 288

  The DokkAlfar has been awake for quite a while, when I open my eyes. Her hate-filled stare burning into me brings a smile to face, but with the face mask on my armor, she has no idea of what expression I may be showing.

  Even though my slaps are light, they are still enough to rattle the DokkAlfar's brain, draw blood from her mouth and nose, and leave her face swelling. They also plant the shadow of fear beneath her hatred.

  My voice is cold and emotionless. “That was just to get your attention.”

  Grabbing the DokkAlfar by her hair, I drag her where we can see out the window and lift her high enough for a good view.

  “We are on the Fifth Layer, in the middle of the slave pen. Imagine what your death would be like, if I were to dump you out there. I'll take off some of their collars and let them abuse you. Think of how it would feel to die from being raped for hours on end, or if you're strong enough days on end. You'll have dicks in your cunt and your ass. Hell, they'll probably fuck you in your urethra. You'll get to suck on dicks. They'll even pop out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you. Or maybe they won't bother popping the eyeballs out and just crush them with nice hard dicks.”

  The DokkAlfar shivers, as the seed of fear I planted germinates into full blown terror.

  I throw her down on the ground and squat next to her. There is no hate left in her eyes, and certainly no defiance.

  “If you don't want to die that way, you better tell me a story. Tell me a story about a manhunt, and the orders behind it. That gold-haired squad leader I killed thought what would happen if she talked would be worse than what I would do to her. Unfortunately, I was lacking for time and just killed her. I still don't have the time to torture you properly, either. So if I don't believe you, I'm just going to throw you out there naked and bound, and be on my merry way. There are more hunters out there, and one of them will be willing to talk.”

  The DokkAlfar cannot see anything except my eyes, and my eyes have long since become cold and pitiless. Before I started playing Taereun: Battleground of the Damned, I was already brutal and remorseless, whenever I could escape the eternally watchful eyes of the social cameras. Since being one of The Damned, I have become lacking in any form or mercy or misplaced feelings of benevolence for those who wish me ill.

  As I remove the gag from the DokkAlfar's mouth, she shudders, when my gauntleted fingers touch her lips.

  “If you harm me, your situation will become truly hopeless, animal. I am un
der the direct command of the War Minster. I am a Company Commander in the Warlord's Fist Legion, her personal legion. Free me, now, and if you provide information on your fellow traitors, she might be inclined to give a quick, clean death.”

  As I thought, Aluras'bektsh'tar was preparing a trap for me. Eliminating the other bitch, who was probably an enemy of Aluras', was most likely just a bonus. She obviously would not tell anyone that I am her assassin, but what kind of game is she running?

  “Who do you think I am?” My hidden smile would cause this DokkAlfar bitch to piss herself, if she could see it.

  The DokkAlfar sneers. By letting her run her mouth, it seems her fear is fading. “Did you think your Nameless God cult was a secret? Cowards and fools worshiping a god too scared to reveal his name and allowing animals like yourself among their ranks, you will all be exterminated.”

  What the fuck? There is no indication that this DokkAlfar is lying. Just what the hell kind of crazy tale is Aluras'bektsh'tar spinning? A Nameless God cult among the DokkAlfar? It is not like there could not be one, but something feels seriously off about it. This sounds like some kind of crazy conspiracy theory, but I do not know anywhere near enough about DokkAlfar politics and society. Weird plots like this could be the norm for them. Considering how fucked in the head they are, this probably is normal for them.

  Aluras'bektsh'tar is the one who ordered the assassination. She is also the one who ordered her personal legion to capture me. Is this some twisted method to set up Elan'fer'sha? Why would Aluras'bektsh'tar want to set up Elan'fer'sha? Why would she need to? From what I can tell, Elan'fer'sha lives outside the normal society of the DokkAlfar because she is a Wytch. Would the fallout form setting up Elan'fer'sha not impact Aluras'bektsh'tar as well? Could this have something to do with Woden's appearance in the arena and Graham and Alva swearing loyalty to him? Even though Alva was Aluras'bektsh'tar's slave, could that impact Elan'fer'sha?