Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God (Path of Transcendence Book 2) (22 page)

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.

The humans standing watch on the tunnel to the Third Layer are doing no more than cursorily glancing at those passing through the tunnel, while the DokkAlfar guarding the tunnel to the First Layer are rigorously checking the papers of every DokkAlfar that does not appear to be a noble. No one who is not a DokkAlfar is attempting to enter the tunnel to the First Layer.

The actual mouths for both tunnels are about twenty feet below the road, and ramps slope downward from the guard posts. By using the Shadow of the Od, I slip and over the low wall surrounding the tunnel to the Third Layer and enter the tunnel unnoticed.

The tunnel itself is only dimly lit, and there are not many people crossing between the layers at this time of the night. After about a hundred and fifty feet, I reach the exit to the Third Layer and climb out the same way as I entered.

Once I get my bearings, I see that the tunnel entries are on the far side of the arena from the Blood Rose Stable. The streets here are much more crowded than those on the First Layer or the Second Layer, and the crowds are much more hostile and predatory than in the better class layers.

Even though I stay in the Shadow of the Od, some of the predators and prey notice me. Unlike the DokkAlfar above, the denizens of the Third Layer are used to living on the edge, where missing the wrong clue could cost them their lives. The ones who notice me shudder and look away, pretending that they never saw me.

Once I am near the ramp leading up to the Blood Rose Stable, I disappear into the back alleys again. As near as I can tell, no one sees me enter the tunnel leading to the stable gates. As I draw near, the gate Elan'fer'sha used when we were taken out for the match opens, and I see Thrall's bulky shadow in the dark corridor beyond it. He closes and locks the gate behind me, without ever laying a finger on it.

“Did you watch me?”

Thrall shakes his head. “There are too many wards and barriers inside the Great Citadels. Even someone with my Power cannot easily track or observe what takes place in too many places.”

“The target entered the portal to the meeting, before I could make the kill. The Left Hand Order of Yggr had assassins at the meeting place, and I could hear the sounds of combat. Something very wrong is going on.”

Thrall smiles. “Events are starting to move again. Soon, the Transcendents will be forced into acting.”

“Is that what you are hoping for?”

Thrall stares at me for a few moments. “When you have the chance, you should find a way into the Fifth Layer slave pens. There are two slaves there you should want to talk to.”

Elan'fer'sha stares at me coldly from behind her desk, simmering anger visible in her eyes. Her emotional states seem to be shifting radically. When we were doing nothing but fucking so she could drain off my Power, I did not notice it, but now that I am interacting with outside the realm of pain and pleasure, it is becoming obvious. Her sometimes radical mood swings remind of Menton's, just not as extreme. She uses the Umbra just as Menton does, and even if she was properly trained in its use instead of absorbing the knowledge from the memories of someone else, the Umbra is probably corrupting and consuming her.

“Aluras was not happy with how you handled the assassination. You actually entered the Stoics' meeting place, and you failed to leave the item with the body.”

“She doesn't care that I killed two Left Hand Order assassin's?”

Elan'fer'sha laughs nastily. “The clans and the Left Hand Order have been in a covert conflict for millennia. As long as you do not link the killings to her, you can kill every single member of the Left Hand Order you encounter.

“The real problem is that you did not carry out the assassination as instructed.”

I shrug. “Shit happens, and I had to improvise or give up.”

Elan'fer'sha smirks. “Unfortunately for you, until you perform an assassination as prescribed, Aluras wants me to keep you confined within the stable.”

I am pissed, but I do not let it show. Again, I shrug. “It doesn't really matter. After that little jaunt, I found some things that I need to get guidance from the Smith to work on. I'll be occupied for a time with new training.”

Irritation flashes in Elan'fer'sha's eyes. It seems she really cannot control her emotions. How much physical and mental damage has she done to herself by using the Umbra?

Elemental Powers were never meant to be controlled by mortals. During the Great Fuck Over, time after time, I learned first hand how destructive Elemental Powers are to mortals. Also, the Umbra and the Radiance seemed to be orders of magnitude more destructive than other Elemental Powers.

“Is there anything else?”

Elan'fer'sha frowns. “In twelve days, we will face the Fiend Stable in the arena. Fiend Stable's champion is the Ogre. You will be the first up, and the Ogre will certainly be the first up for the Fiend Stable. Do not lose.”

I snort and stand up. “I'm not going to die in the arena. I'm going to find the people the Smith said I should find, and learn what I need to from them. Along the way, I'll open up your path to vengeance.”

Something other than anger or irritation fills Elan'fer'sha's eyes, but I am not sure what it is. Maybe because of her mercurial emotional swings, her emotions can be hard to understand. I have a strong suspicion that other than anger or hate, Elan'fer'sha's apparent emotions do not match what she is really feeling.

After I turn toward the door, her face changes again. She seems filled with a soul deep sadness and longing, but I cannot even guess what is from of for.

* * * * *

Thrall is working at his forge, when I return to his domain. Since I have been here, I have seen him forge and destroy dozens of weapons and pieces of armor. It almost seems like an obsession with him, but I do not know what he is after. The times that I tried to ask him about it, he ignored my questions and changed the subject.

Physically, Thrall's proportions are a dead ringer for the larger man in the carving, but I have the feeling that it is not a subject I should broach with him. At least, I should not yet broach the subject.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang

Thrall's skill is superlative. He uses the hammer in pure single strikes. There is no secondary dropping of the hammer head on the anvil. There is no pattern of swings to slowly beat the metal into shape. The force contained in the his swing is all focused into the head of the hammer, and the air is visibly distorted the around the hammer's head. Each blow of his hammer achieves the desired result, and he moves to the next section of the metal he is working.

With the speed at which Thrall shapes the metal, it has barely cooled, before he holds it up to inspect it. Nodding to himself, puts the now blade shaped piece of metal back in the forge.

Thrall turns to look at me. “There is something you want to talk about.”

“I think I already know the answer, but you are Transcendent, aren't you?”

Thrall nods but does not speak.

“Can a Transcendent use the Umbra without being corrupted by it?”

Thrall's eyes narrow and a deep frown settles on his face. “Transcendents can wield Elemental Powers without suffering harm, but the Umbra and the Radiance are special. They are not like other Elemental Powers, and even a normal Transcendent will be destroyed by them over time. The only way to use one of them without fear is to walk the Paths of Elemental Transcendence and forever bind yourself to one or the other.”

At Thrall's words, a frown settles on my own face. “How long can a non-Transcendent use something like the Umbra, before it destroys them?”

Thrall's eyes narrow slightly, and his glance flickers in the direction of Elan'fer'sha's study. “You mean how much longer can Elan survive?”

“Yeah.”

Pursing his lips, Thrall scratches his chin for a few moments, without meeting my eyes. “The tattoos on the DokkAlfar's Umbral casters are a similar to sigils. They allow them use the Umbra, while reducing the damage to their patterns, but they are still slowly warped and corroded over time.

“Elan has been overusing the Umbra for too long now and is running out of time. If she never touches the Umbra again, she might last a decade or two. With the way she is going, she will be dead in three years, at the most. Even if she were to miraculously Transcend today, she probably still would not survive long enough to achieve Elemental Transcendence. The Umbra and the Radiance are Powers that are inimical to all life, and Transcendents are still among the living.”

Elan'fer'sha has to be pushing herself in her quest for vengeance. I understand the desire for revenge. I have indulged in it more than a few times, but I have never let it completely consume me. Even now, I will have my revenge on Jinmu, on Mei, on her friends, and on The Nameless, but I do not intend to obsessively hunt them down. As for Elan'fer'sha, I no longer want to kill her. I would rather fuck her some more.

“Do you know who she is looking for?”

Thrall shrugs, slightly. “I have several suspicions, but I have no way to be certain, without tearing their minds apart. DokkAlfar have incredibly strong innate psychic shields, and even with my Power, it is difficult to read more than their surface thoughts.”

“How hard would it be to kill all of you suspects?”

“You have changed. Elan has changed. The pair of you feed off one another, each twisting the other. How you continue to change is still in your hands, but she has already sealed her fate.”

Thrall turns back to his forge and stares at the heating metal. “They all hold high positions in clans or the Jotun Church. Killing them all would be almost impossible. You do not have the talents necessary to become a skilled enough assassin.”

My laughter is morbid. “You're right. I don't like sneaking up on someone and stabbing him in the back. I want to face him head on and destroy him. I'm not cut out to be an assassin, but I still need to function as a half-assed one for a while longer.”

I take out my Blood Iron axe. “I need to practice. I'm still not comfortable with the mass of this thing, and I have to face the Ogre in twelve days.”

“The Ogre is stronger than the Throd'nahk. It is not an ordinary ogre. Among the ogres, there are four bloodlines that are their equivalent of nobility. Each bloodline has Power that is based on one of the Four Prime Elements: Air, Earth, Fire, and Water. It is not an Elemental Power, just an Elemental affinity. This ogre is from the water bloodline. Its martial style is ice based, and its physical strength will far exceed your own.”

I cannot help but grin. “That only makes it more interesting.”

“The Ogre uses a giant axe. Your armor will barely mitigate the impact of its blows. If you fight without its weight, you might get just enough of an advantage in agility to make a difference. What you know of Shadow Fist will give you an absolute advantage in movement.”

Thrall take the white-hot metal out of the forge again.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

“PUNY HUMAN, THE OGRE IS GONNA EAT YA!” The screaming harridan is an orc bitch, an ugly one, but then they are all ugly. She must be a supporter of the Fiend Stable, which owns the Ogre.

The crowds are even wilder and more vicious than before the first battle I participated in. There have been two matches since then, but Elan'fer'sha did not have me fight in either of them. Tyrend said the supporters had become almost crazed, after our performance in my first battle. But this is completely beyond what I expected.

“Grab that fucking bitch! This swinging dick gonna shut her mouth good!”

At the bull orcs words, a half-dozen orcs surrounding him lay into the crows around the loudmouthed orc bitch. There seem to be more than a hundred others, both orcs and humans, with the orc bitch, but the surrounding sea of Blood Rose Stable supporters join in the brawl. By the time our procession is passing the orc bitch, the fight is over and the Fiend supporters are being thoroughly stomped.

While two of his cronies hold the orc bitch, the bull orc brutally slaps her on both sides of her face. Blood and broken teeth fly out of the bitch's mouth, and it looks like her jaw is broken in multiple places.

The bull orc pulls out a knife that makes a Bowie knife look like a pen knife. “Get me hard in a double-fist of heartbeats, or me gonna fuck you with me knife, instead of me swinging dick.”

While the crowd laughs and jeers, the orc bitch quickly starts to suck the bull orc's dick, with a strange sheen in her eye. Less than thirty seconds later the orc bitch's howls of pleasure are audible over the general cacophony.

I cannot stop grinning. The crowds energy and bloodlust are hyping me up. When I raise the Blood Iron axe over my head, the crowds roars get even louder.

“BRAND! BRAND! BRAND! BRAND! BRAND!”

“You made an impression in your last match.” Tyrend laughs, as he moves up next to me. “This time it won't be so easy, but the bigger the mess you make out of the Ogre, the better they will love it.”

My own laugh is nasty and cruel. “I'm going to love it more than they do. Going toe to toe with an ogre is going to be a thrill. I want to see how long it takes me to break the fucker.”

“At least your confident.”

“What? Don't you think I'll win?”

Tyrend laughs again. “No, I expect you to win, but I doubt it'll be easy.”

“I hope it's not. I don't know what my limits are anymore. I want to find out how far I've come.”

Tyrend looks at me slightly askance. “Our lives are on the line, and you want to test yourself?”

“We're not dying here. At least, we're not dying today.”

Tyrend falls back and starts talking with Graham, but I cannot make out the words. They are probably both worried about this battle. The Fiend Stable acquired the Ogre near the end of the last arena season, and the Blood Rose Stable sent out trash to face them after that. Because it lacked points the Ogre could not be put up in the championship battles, but it had crippled or killed a couple of the other contenders that would have given Cletus a hard time. If Elan'fer'sha had not acquired me, this might have been a suicide match for the Blood Rose gladiators.

As we enter the tunnel to the arena's underground ready room, the noise of the crowd dies out to a dull background murmur. The smell of old blood, piss, and shit is almost comforting. After I spent so much time mired in the foul stench of battlefields as Talon, these odors are almost more normal to me than fresh air.

Even though I pay little attention to them, Elan'fer'sha always keeps broadsheets regarding the arena leagues available in the gladiators' mess hall. Their resemblance to a modern Earth sports magazine is rather amusing. Since learning about my fight with the Ogre, I took the time to look through them for information about the Ogre and the Fiend Stable.

In every match since acquiring the Ogre, Fiend Stable has put it up first in the duel of champions and used all of its other strong gladiators in the general melee. At the end of the last season, after three stables had their main fighting strength destroyed, the last two used throw away lineups in their matches with the Fiend Stable. The same pattern has continued this season, until now. Elan'fer'sha is putting her prime lineup of gladiators in the arena. After the prematch entertainment, I will be the first one to fight.

As a Half-Dvergar, I have fought and killed thousands and thousands of ogres. I have also fought and killed the four Elemental types of ogres, but they pushed me to the limits of my superhuman abilities. Every single battle against an Elemental type ogre was as brutal as anything I ever faced. Their strength was greater than my own, and their control over their Element gave them incredible flexibility in their attacks and defenses. Since I am no longer a Half-Dvergar, will my new understanding of Shadow Fist be enough to win?