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

by Brian McGoldrick

  If Kanchek is right, there would be no way to access this complex other than the teleport gates. I really do not care about getting in there, but until they move, I cannot move. I do not want to try to retrieve Elan'fer'sha, while Aluras'bektsh'tar is in Vardne'tar Castle, and the only time she will be certain to be gone is during the coup. If he coup is successful, it will probably be bad for me, but Elan'fer'sha is my priority.

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

  Return: Day Day 291

  “Brand! Something is happening.”

  Tyrend's yell is not loud, but it easily wakes me. After my years in the Land of Despair, I am a very light sleeper in almost all conditions. Kanchek and the Throd'nahk are not here. They are preparing their respective forces for the coming battle. I stand up and look at the mirror.

  An air of excitement is moving through the mass of beings in the room. Moving the focal point of the mirror, we see carts with weapons and armor being wheeled into the room. The items are nothing special, being made from common steel and not the DokkAlfar's black alloy, but they are a step up from what most of the beings currently have. Guarding the carts are several hundred men that are equipped with n high quality armor and weapon in a variety of styles.

  “Fucking gladiators.” Tyrend's voice betrays his complete shock.

  “You recognize them?”

  “Yeah. I see men from at least three stables, probably more like five considering their numbers. They're slaves like us. If they kill DokkAlfar, it's death by prolonged torture. What in Hel's frozen pits is happening?”

  “I think someone is trying make them believe he will change the rules.” Considering the numbers of beings in that room, Woden has probably had his minions recruiting for some time. It is unlikely that Gor'achen is the only place this is happening, but will there be uprisings anywhere else? I have a feeling that someone is fucking with Woden's plans for their own purposes.

  “TONIGHT WE STRIKE!” The voice booms throughout the chamber.

  The massed beings all start looking upward, toward the portico on the small side of the trapezoid, and I change the focal point of the mirror again. There are a mix of DokkAlfar, humans, and one other, a SvartAlfar, standing there.

  “The SvartAlfar!”

  “The gladiator?”

  “Yeah, that's him.”

  The SvartAlfar looks around, seemingly wary and a bit confused. Then, his eyes settle on the focal point of the mirror, and he seems to be staring at me though the mirror.

  “We are being watched!”

  Jailbreak

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

  Return: Day 291

  “What do you mean?” The questioner is a human dressed in robes, with his face hidden under a hood.

  The SvartAlfar's eyes never the mirror's focal point, but a look of pure contempt marks his face. “Pathetic animal. If you were more than a useless herd beast, you would be able to see the scrying lens in the air overhead. From within this sub-dimension, I cannot identify its source, but its presence is easily seen.”

  The human stiffens, but his anger is subsumed by terror. The SvartAlfar's raw malice would make almost any Earthling piss himself or herself. He turns to look at one of the DokkAlfar and nods.

  Through the mirror, I can barely feel the emanation of psi energy. Whether DokkAlfar the human is looking at or another one is using the psi, that DokkAlfar's control is extremely precise for him to have such a small amount of leakage.

  Except for the robed human, two DokkAlfar and the SvartAlfar, all of the beings on portico leave though passages in the back. The SvartAlfar continues to stare that mirror's focal point.

  “I do not know you are, but since we are not under attack, you should not be part of the Church or the Citadel Lord's forces. If you involve yourself in our business, you will suffer and eventually die. If you wish to survive, do not interfere.”

  Even through the mirror, I can feel the SvartAlfar's hate and hunger. I have never believed in an objective existence of evil. I have always thought good and evil to be subjective to the views of the individual and culture. The SvartAlfar may force me to changed my belief. That creature feels like evil, pure unadulterated evil.

  After a few minutes, the image in the mirror turns to a silvery-grey sheen. I try to center the focal point on Toki again, but something it blocking the mirror' Power. The cultists must have activated wards within that pocket dimension.

  “What happened?”

  “They put up some kind of wards. Go tell Kanchek and the Throd'nahk to be ready to move tonight. If the cultists make their move, we'll attack Vardne'tar Castle, when Aluras leaves.”

  * * * * *

  As soon it is nominally night, I begin watching the First Layer again. If the cultists have really been maneuvered into attack the Citadel Lord, they will have to assault the Lord's Castle to get to him.

  “Brand! We fucked up!” Tyrend charges into the ritual room, dragging Mikumi along behind himself.

  I do not try to keep the confusion off my face. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Citadel Lord isn't in Lord's Castle! He's at a conference in the Gor'achen Auditorium on the Second Layer! They're already under attack!”

  Changing the mirror's focal point to the Second Layer, we see dozens of fires and chaos in the streets. The Citadel Legionnaires and cultist troops are easy enough to identify, but there are thousands of beings not identifiable as either mixed up in the fighting.

  “That's the auditorium.”

  Tyrend is pointing at a building more or less near the center of the chaos. I has six sides, and a cordon of Gor'achen Legionnaires is surrounding it. Each of the six sides has a huge entry, easily wide enough to fit six ogres abreast. Alcoves surrounding the building contain statues of numerous DokkAlfar, but I have no idea who they are or were, nor what their significance might be.

  I cannot tell whether or not Aluras'bektsh'tar is in the auditorium. Wards are blocking me from putting the mirror's focal point inside the building, and I do not see any legionnaires with the Warlord's Fist badge among the defenders.

  “Mikumi, tell him.”

  Mikumi is radiating nervousness and insecurity, as she begins to speak. “Other than the Citadel Lord, we aren't sure who is attending that conference. We were able to find out that there are DokkAlfar from other Citadels but couldn't learn their identities. We did confirm that the security force is being commanded by the commander of the Warlord's Fist Legion. Also, a large number of slaves were brought in to work in the auditorium kitchens, and many tons of food were delivered.”

  “Did you know that your brother was one of The Nameless God's cultists?”

  Mikumi does not answer. When I turn to look at her, she flinches and does not meet my eyes. Her nervousness has become outright fear.

  Returning the mirror to the First Layer, I center it over Castle Vardne'tar. The gates are closed, and the walls are heavily manned. They look like they are ready to receive an attack, but many other castles and towers in the First Layer seem be in the same condition.

  I glance at Tyrend. “Tell Kanchek and the Throd'nahk to bring their men.”

  Mikumi stays behind, when Tyrend runs off the get the gladiators and DokkAlfar guards.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Mikumi flinches under my stare. “The Light Bringers sent me as their messenger.”

  “The Light Bringers? Is that your slave network's name?”

  She looks conflicted, and her emotions are fluctuating rapidly. After a few moments, an almost fanatical glint fills her eyes. “We're not a slave network. The Light Bringers keep the hope of the Radiance alive and work toward the day the followers of the Umbra will be cast down.”

  It sounds like she is part of some kind of secret society that is tied up with the Radiance. The Radiance and the Umbra, they are two sides of the same coin, and neither bears good will for anything that is of the Amalgamate.

  “Is
your brother a Lightbringer?”

  Mikumi frowns, as sorrow fills her. “He was not judged worthy of serving the Radiance.”

  “But a whore is?”

  Mikumi glares at me, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “I thought you were different, but I guess I was wrong. You murder people in the arena to satisfy the crowd's bloodlust, but you look down on me for doing what I have to to survive. You're no better than me. You're worse than I could ever be! I don't kill people!”

  I do not bother replying and turn back to the mirror. While I can feel the Power creating the image with my spatial awareness, I cannot actually see it. There may be a way to see images without using my eyes, but for now, I need my eyes to see an image.

  Inside the curtain wall, the main structure of Castle Vardne'tar stands in all its baroque splendor. When I move the focal point next to a window, I cannot see though it because of the wards. If I use enough Power, I might be able to break through the wards and open a gate inside the caste. If I cannot, we will have to fight our way in from one of the doors. The main doors and the kitchen doors are both open, but neither looks like a good option. A guard room, with its door open to the courtyard, is only a few dozen feet from the kitchen doors, and there should be one or more guard posts near the main doors.

  Taking my gear out of my storage belt, I dress in my black plate armor. The helm has been reforged so that it now has a nasal guard and a visor the covers my jaw and mouth. The changes to the armor's pattern have made it several times stronger than it previously was. My harness has my bastard swords attached for an over the shoulder draw, and the short-swords I was using as an assassin are setup for an underhand draw. In addition, a sheathe for the haft of my Blood Iron axe is secured straight down the middle of my back, and the the broad double-bitted head is standing up behind my head.

  Mikumi is looking at me with a mix of fear and something that I cannot identify. Even though I have only had my empathy for a short time, I have realized that I seem to have a different range of emotions from most humans. I think that I may be incapable of experiencing some emotions that are normal for others. It may be why I have a hard time understanding people when their actions go beyond the range of dislike, hostility, and a desire to hurt others. I do not believe this to be a bad thing. I am content with myself as I am.

  The sound of leather and metal shod feet echoes from the Smithy, and I turn toward the door. A group of hard, brutal men and DokkAlfar males enter the room. Whether gladiators or guards, every one of them has killed, and done so many times over. The gladiators are nervous, but there is no sign of real fear. Considering that they are slaves who are about to kill DokkAlfar, I would not fault them for being scared shitless, but after facing death in the arena time and again, they have become somewhat inured to the fear of death.

  “Kanchek and Throd'nahk, I'll leave the team setups in your hands. I need one person to stay in this room with Mikumi. If things go to shit, he's going to shut down the mirror. A team of eight will be left at the gate in Castle Vardne'tar. The rest will come with me to retrieve Elan'fer'sha, set them up in groups of four.”

  While Kanchek and the Throd'nahk organize the guards and gladiators, I move among them removing the collars on the gladiators' necks. The expressions on most of the gladiators' faces reveal their shock, when I open their collars without using a control rod. Kanchek watches me, but does not say or reveal anything.

  “We're ready.” The Throd'nahk's voice is steady, but he is full of uneasiness. He is probably worried about Elan'fer'sha being injured or killed during the rescue. I have known from the beginning that he lusts after her, but he will never have a chance with her. He appears to have tried to draw her attention by following her, but she has always been focused on her vengeance. As long as he does what is necessary on this rescue mission, it does not matter what he wants or feels.

  I prepare a new spell pattern. It is more of brute force Power channel to the mirror than anything. My Power flows out into the spell pattern, and I connect it to the mirror. My target is a window about twenty-five feet above the ground. There are no windows on the Castle proper below that height. Everything below about twenty feet or so is probably work areas and quarters for the servants and slaves.

  A backlash reverberates into me, as the mirror runs into the wards, but this not a simple rift meant to view an undefended area. I pour more Power into the mirror, and the probe drives into the wards. Despite feeling like I am tearing apart my body, mind, and soul, I keep my Power flowing into the mirror.

  I am not sure how much time has passed, probably less than a minute, when the ward suddenly breaks with a crackling sensation I can feel but not hear. With a bright flash, an new image forms in the mirror. It appears to be a small library, or maybe, a sitting room with shelves of books. Whatever it may be, at the moment, it is an unoccupied room.

  Changing the viewing window into a portal, I step into the room and move to the door. From behind me, the noise of the guards and gladiators entering the room makes it impossible to hear anything from outside. Drawing my bastard swords, I open the door and continue into the corridor beyond.

  At the moment the corridor is empty, but I can hear the sounds of running boots echoing from both directions. As I expected, my piecing the castle's wards has not gone unnoticed. Whether or not they know our exact point of entry, I cannot tell, but if we move fast and hard, we should keep them off balance. Gesturing to the men and DokkAlfar behind me with a come hither motion, I turn toward the back of the castle.

  I do not know the layout of Castle Vardne'tar, but I doubt that the dungeon access will be near the main entry. Most likely prisoners are brought in through the back gates, where they can cause less distraction, and quietly be locked away.

  Kanchek's smooth movements in my wake belie his heavy build, heavy at least for a DokkAlfar.

  “Gate Squad, stay here and do not let anyone gain access to this room!” The Throd'nahk gives orders to the gladiators chosen as the guards and follows the DokkAlfar with the rest of the gladiators in tow.

  “Who are AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”

  A DokkAlfar dies with sword in his throat. His corpse, dressed in expensive robes, falls to the ground in the doorway he was exiting from. The room revealed by the open door appears to be a bureaucrat's office. Stacks of paper are piled on the desk and the walls are lined with file cabinets. A quick check reveals no one else inside the room.

  Continuing down the hall, we reach a narrow hallway that ends abruptly in another narrow passage paralleling the one we are in. From its design, I think these are passages intended for the use of servants. Less than a hundred feet down the servants passage running parallel to the main one, we find a stairway on the inner wall. Flights of stairs lead both up and down. I race down the descending flight, with the guards and gladiators hot on my heels.

  Running headlong into a squad of Vardne'tar guards at the bottom of the stairs, I lash out with both swords. Battering the leading guard's glaive aside with my left blade, I drive the right though his stomach. Pulling my sword clear from the guards stomach, I kick him. My ki powered kick ruptures his intact internal organs and shatters his pelvic bone, sending him flying into the guards behind him.

  As several of the Vardne'tar guards fall to the ground in a tangle, the Blood Rose guards tear into them. These guards who came with Kanchek never stood watches in the barracks, so I never had much chance to evaluate them. Their skills are on par with the better gladiators, which is above the average level of the DokkAlfar soldiers that I have encountered. They make short work of the Vardne'tar guards. Their brutality almost makes it seem as if they have a grudge against the Vardne'tar guards.

  Finding a Vardne'tar guard that is still alive, I drag him up off the ground by his harness.

  “Do you know who Elan'fer'sha is?”

  The guard clamps his jaw closed and does not respond.

  Pushing up my visor, I smile nastily at the guard and dig around in a wound on his shoulder with the spike
d pommel of my sword.

  “AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!”

  “Do you know who Elan'fer'sha is?”

  “Get castrated!”

  Evaluating the pattern of the guard's armor, I focus one of the symbols of breaking on my swords pommel spike and tear it open over his groin. A pecker just as skinny as the rest of him is exposed and looks as though it is trying crawl up in his body cavity to hide.

  “I've been castrated. If you don't answer me, I'll let you experience the pain of castration for yourself.”

  Confused expressions flash across the faces of the gladiators behind me, before they school their faces back into menacing expressions.

  “Master, let me have him.” A DokkAlfar with pale lavender eyes is standing next to me. I have very seldom seen eyes that color on an Alfar.

  When I glance at Kanchek, he nods affirmatively. “Valcrit knows what he is doing.”

  When I hold out the guard, and he looks at Valcrit's lavender eyes, his face turns ghostly pale. Feeling the unleashed psi energies, I understand why. This Valcrit is a ridiculously strong psi. He is probably not on Aluras'bektsh'tar's level of Power, but his is well above the norm that should be attainable by a non-Coalescent.

  Just what the fuck is the Blood Rose Stable? I have been so focused on my own business that I seldom paid much attention to the rest of the stable. Most of the guards that stood watch in the barracks and training arena were nothing special, but this groups is different. With the exception of the Ogre and that group of shield specialist from my first battle, the Blood Rose Stable's gladiators are above the level of other stable's gladiators, as well. There are entirely too many beings that are considerably above the average levels of Power, talent, and skill that you find in the general population. I doubt this is Elan'fer'sha's work, so it has to have been done under Thrall's manipulations.