Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God (Path of Transcendence Book 2) (21 page)

I do not have any specific spell patterns to deal with locks, but Roderick did teach me the symbols of metal breaking. I have the feeling there are probably more symbols than I know, the pattern progression feels like there gaps in the sequence. No matter how well forged, all metal has flaws and sheer points that can be used to break it. Making those flaws vulnerable is the purpose of the symbols of metal breaking. Because of the techniques Makers use to create their works, they know best how to destroy what they create.

Filling the lock with my mana, I feel out the shapes of the tumblers and bolt. If a Smith is given enough time to examine anything made from metal, it cannot possibly hide its secrets from him. This gate is not patterned, but I knew that just from looking at it. The Smith that forged it was sloppy in his work, probably not caring about the quality of something as mundane as a gate. Or maybe, the Smith was a slave. A slave would be completely lacking in the motivation to make his work top quality. There are multiple flaws strewn throughout the tumblers and bolt.

Focusing on the symbol that seems the most appropriate, I imprint it into the flaws metal of the bolt.

Clink. Pop. Clink. Clink. Clink. Screech.

With a palm strike against the face of the lock, the shattered fragments of the bolt clatter softly on the stone of the pavement. The soft screech of the unlubricated hinges is clearly audible over the soughing of the wind.

I wait again, listening for the sounds of anyone who might have been attracted to the noise. After a minute or so, no one has come to investigate, and I take the next flight of stairs from the well where the gate is up to the street level.

The maps Aluras'bektsh'tar provided of the First Level were extremely detailed. With only one exception, the sewer entries are all in the back alleys, between the compounds of the clans and the government buildings. The high and mighty DokkAlfar clans have no desire to be offended by the presence of sewer entries where they can see them.

Reaching the point where the alley exits onto the street, I still cannot tell where in the First Layer I am. Moving into the Shadow of the Od, I move as quickly as possible from shadow to shadow along the main avenue, until I reach a corner with a stele that is inscribed with the names of the roads. Now, I know where I am.

Outside of the back alleys, there are dozens of DokkAlfar wandering the streets. The Front gates of many of the mansions and compounds are brightly lit, with liveried servants obsequiously greeting arriving guests.
According to Thrall, carousing, orgies, and torture parties are part of the daily life of the clans in Gor'achen. I already knew that Alfar as a species are extremely social, and the DokkAlfar here are no exception. Elan'fer'sha, living as a near outcast, because she is a Wytch, is an exception to the norm.

In places there are crews of slaves working under the watchful stares of whip masters. Most of the whip masters in charge of the slave labor gangs in Gor'achen Citadel are themselves technically slaves, but they have risen to a position, where they have greater status than most non-citizens. Some of them use their hard earned power to abuse the nominally free non-citizens, when the chance arises, but most of them confine their brutality to the slaves under their charge.

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 other 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.