Transcendence, page 29
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
“Of course not. That’s what slaves are for,” Olfred replied. I swallowed the ever-growing urge to break Sebastian’s other leg.
‘This man is really testing my patience,’ Sylvie said with a simmering anger that matched mine.
The three of us walked out of the tavern, the portly woman and the bearded man trailing closely behind. I practically had to carry the lanky conjurer as his limp leg dragged on the ground.
“You know… it took me months to be able to tolerate this tawdry outpost, but I don’t miss my old position,” Sebastian droned as we made our way down the dim streets of Ashber. “The people here, they do more than just respect me—they fear me. I’m a god to them.”
He patted my cheek condescendingly, peering into my hood and gazing at my face. “You saw my magic earlier, right? I can kill you with the snap of my fingers.”
Endure it, Arthur. Just for now.
When I didn’t respond, Sebastian struck my face a few more times, each slap getting a little stronger. “Are you deaf, or are you disrespecting me because of my leg?”
“Don’t mind him,” Olfred said, putting a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “The boy can’t speak.”
“Bah! Cladence, what’s the use of keeping damaged goods like him?” the balding conjurer spat. “How about I do you a favor and buy him off you? I have a few gents who have a thing for boys like him.”
“Tempting!” the Lance replied, stumbling on his own legs. “But he’s not mine. He’s my father’s, and the last time I pawned off one of his things, he cut off my allowance for a whole month.”
“S-See?” Sebastian hiccupped. “That’s the kind of thing I don’t miss. Family money is well and good, but it’s not truly yours. My wealth is my own. One hundred percent mine!”
Olfred nodded. “Truly enviable.”
We traveled toward the other end of town, through unnamed streets littered with worn-down hovels and alleyways filled with piles of garbage. All along the way, the drunk conjurer tripped countless times on the cracks and potholes that filled the neglected streets, and each time, he would loose a string of curses at me.
“You should thank the heavens you aren’t my slave. Something about you just pisses me off,” he spat. He glared at me through glossy eyes, unaware that if he had been sober and bothered to look carefully, he might’ve recognized who I was.
I could feel a violent fury building up, but it wasn’t mine. Sylvie, still hidden in the depths of my cloak, was on the verge of exploding by the time we finally arrived.
In front of us was a wide, single-story building of solid stone. At a cursory glance, the structure appeared to be more than two hundred feet across and several dozens of feet deep. Two guards sat lazily against the wall beside the front entrance.
I was sure no buildings this big had existed in Ashber when I lived here, which raised the questions: Did Sebastian have this built? And if he did, how many slaves had he captured that he required such a large prison?
The guards scrambled up to their feet, awkwardly saluting out of sync. “Sir!”
Their gazes flickered in suspicion between me, their boss who was leaning heavily against me, and the masked Olfred. One of the guards was already gripping the hilt of the crude machete-like sword that was strapped to his back.
“Open the damned doors, useless fools!” Sebastian barked. “We have a customer.”
“Yes, sir!” they answered—in sync, this time—before pulling apart the sliding metal doors.
I guess we’ll find out soon enough just how many slaves he’s holding here, I thought, and lugged Sebastian in through the entrance with Olfred just beside me.
The smell hit me first. A concoction of foul odors was amplified by the damp air, sticky from the lack of proper ventilation. Even Olfred recoiled visibly from the stench, but Sebastian merely waved his hands in front of his nose. There was little visible other than the flickering lights and the trapdoor on the ground a few yards to our right.
‘Something doesn’t feel right,’ Sylvie warned.
I feel it too—but then again, if you think about where we are, it’d be weird for it to seem normal, I replied, taking another step. My chest tightened and the hair on my skin stood on end, but I ignored my body’s protests. If I was going to come back and save the people held here, I had to know the layout and approximately how many were imprisoned.
“Did someone die in here again?” Sebastian said angrily.
A thin, scraggly man in a uniform of overalls and a dirty apron came running from one of the dimly-lit aisles. “Sir! My apologies for the smell. I was just cleaning up.”
Sebastian finally pried himself away from me, standing on his own with the help of the wooden cane that the portly woman had been carrying for him. “What’s happened?”
The beady-eyed conjurer began limping down the center aisle, checking on each of the prison cells. It was eerie how silent this place was. There were no wails of sorrow or cries for help. I studied every one of the slaves as I followed behind Sebastian with Olfred. Each one was clothed in rags, huddled in the far corner of their cell. When they looked over at us, I got shivers from the dark, vacant eyes they all shared.
Don’t look, I sent to Sylvie as she rustled up from inside my cloak.
‘It’s that bad,’ Sylvie replied, more as a statement than a question.
I gritted my teeth. They’re treated worse than livestock.
“It was one of the pregnant women,” the cleaner replied, putting down the mop he had been holding before following his boss. “She died giving birth.”
“The baby. Did it live?” Sebastian asked, unfazed.
“We’ll have to wait a few more days to know for sure, but it seems healthy as of now. It’s a girl.”
Sebastian nodded in approval. “Excellent. A newborn will be worth more than that tramp anyway.”
As the conjurer slowly hobbled through the aisles, I noticed the different reactions from each of the slaves. A few shivered uncontrollably as Sebastian passed by, while others glared spitefully; some just stared with distant, hollow gazes.
“The dwarves and elves are held further down, but”—Sebastian spun around to face Olfred, a lewd smirk on his thin, pasty face—“do you see anyone you’re just dying to get your hands on?”
Olfred raised a hand. “As a matter of fact…”
Before I could even react, the earth beneath Sebastian began enveloping him, covering his feet and creeping up his legs.
“Huh?” Sebastian blurted as he tried to pry himself from the rising earth.
I whipped my head toward Olfred. “What are you doing?”
The Lance remained silent as he continued his spell. It was slow, but he was doing it on purpose. I could see the conjurer grow wide-eyed with fear and confusion.
“What are you idiots doing? Get them!” The conjurer readied his wooden cane to fire at Olfred, but instead of a spell, he released a shrill scream of agony. The earth that had consumed his legs, and was continuing to rise up his body, began turning a dark red. A faint sizzle could be heard amidst his screams, and the smell of burning flesh reached my nose.
The spell Olfred had cast on Sebastian wasn’t just to trap him—it was to slowly torture him.
“Olfred!” I called, but to no avail. The janitor had scrambled as far away as possible from Sebastian; I could hear the footsteps of the two subordinates behind us.
“Damn it,” I hissed, spinning around just in time to catch the burly man’s arm before his dagger struck Olfred in the back. I doubted the feeble attempt would’ve done him any harm, but nevertheless, these two were problems.
“Out of the way!” the brute spat, swinging his other arm.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I drove a fist into the man’s arm. A sharp snap rang out and his hand fell limp by his side. The bearded man howled in pain, dropping his dagger to cradle his broken arm.
I caught the rusty dagger as it fell, and swept my leg just below the portly woman’s knees. She crumpled to the floor, and before she could get back up, I drove her companion’s dagger into her hand, skewering her to the ground.
I looked over my shoulder to see how Sebastian had fared against Olfred, but all I saw was a statue of molten lava in the shape of the thin conjurer. He was dead, encased in a tomb of hardened magma.
“What the hell!” I snapped, grabbing Olfred’s shoulder. “Even if you wanted him dead, you could’ve killed him without using deviant magic. What are you going to do if the Vritra sense what happened here?”
“Your worries are in vain,” Olfred said calmly, taking off his mask.
Confused, I activated Realmheart. I wanted to see just how much mana fluctuation the Lance’s spell had caused, and if it was possible we could remain hidden despite this setback.
But what I saw baffled me even more. Particles of mana moved erratically around Sebastian’s corpse, but there were also mana fluctuations all around us. Either a wide-scale spell had been used or a battle had recently taken place here.
I whirled around, my vision shaky and palms clammy. My instincts had already alerted me to what was happening even before I saw the familiar Vritra approaching me.
Chapter 36
Mother Earth's Embrace
The figure walked with a confident gait, his lanky arms wrapped messily in black bandages and dangling by his side. He had a slight hunch, which made him look a bit shorter than he actually was, but he still stood well over seven feet. Even before he had come close enough for me to make out his face, I already knew who he was.
How could I forget the retainer who had killed the Lance I’d replaced?
“Uto,” I said calmly, despite the storm raging inside me.
His dark lips split into a sinister smile. “Hello, boy wonder.”
“Retainer Uto.” Olfred greeted him with an unnaturally stiff bow.
I restrained the urge to spit in Olfred’s face. Despite the turn of events, I was actually relieved Uto was the retainer who had come. Unlike Cylrit or any other Vritra, his motive was obvious.
Uto ignored the dwarven Lance as he crept closer to me with outstretched arms. “You can’t imagine how excited I am to have you here.”
“Really?” I shrugged, playing along. “I was actually expecting a different retainer.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Olfred react.
“Oh?” Uto dipped his head so his gaze was level with mine, so close that we were practically touching. “You seem to know more than I thought you would.”
With Realmheart still active, I could clearly make out his aura, the brilliant nimbus of power crackling and popping chaotically like his very nature. But even without it, I could feel the pressure in the air around him—a palpable tension that was squeezing the air out of my lungs.
‘The two humans,’ Sylvie reminded me from within my cloak.
The subordinates of the now-petrified Sebastian seemed themselves frozen into stone as they stared wide-eyed at Uto. They didn’t know who he was, but they could feel the might of the being in front of them.
“Let’s take our fight elsewhere,” I said simply, turning my gaze back to the Vritra.
Uto tilted his head. “Fight? Why would you think a lesser like you is worth my time at all?”
“Because you’re here,” I answered, losing my patience. “If all you wanted to do was kill me or capture me, I’m sure Olfred and a few of your soldiers would have sufficed.”
The retainer didn’t answer. He simply gazed at me, looking… unamused.
Suddenly, he burst into laughter. “I can see why so many of you try so hard to keep your motives hidden. For times like these when it should be a surprise.” Then he made a dismissive gesture. “Lead the way.”
“Retainer Uto!” Olfred blurted. “Lord Rahdeas’s instructions were to deal with this one cleanly, to minimize the chance of—”
The Lance gave a nasal scream of pain before he even had the chance to finish his sentence. A black spike had shot up from the ground beneath Olfred, skewering his nose.
“Do you think I give a lesser’s ass what your traitorous master thinks is the best course of action?” Uto spat, then turned and walked toward the door.
Before following him, I checked on the two thugs, lying on the floor. They were unconscious but still breathing. I made my way toward the entrance I had come in from, checking on as many of the slaves as I could. The Vritra’s presence had overwhelmed their weak constitutions. Most of them were out cold; the ones who were conscious were probably no better off than the ones who weren’t. At the door, I turned back and took one last look at Olfred, who had erected a stone pillar below his feet to raise himself up enough to release his nose from the black spike.
Despite my suspicions, I had spent this short trip hoping they weren’t correct. Now that I knew they were, it was difficult to wrap my head around the emotions manifesting inside me. I had never been good at it in my previous life, and I thought I had gotten a little better in this life, but apparently not quite enough.
I broke one of the three beads Aya had given me, activating it before tossing it into the large trapdoor by the entrance. Olfred’s eyes grew wide when he saw this—he knew exactly what it meant.
OLFRED WAREND
I cursed, berating myself for the turn of events. To think she would be nearby. There was no time.
Rubbing my punctured nose—which had already begun to heal—I descended into the ground. The earth obeyed, parting beneath me and forming a path to the floor underneath the building, which served as a cover.
I dropped to the underground floor below, and several of the soldiers there shouted in surprise.
The underground level I had made was vast—far larger than the prison structure above it. Here, thousands of soldiers were able to rest on standby.
“Evacuate the premises immediately,” I ordered, my voice echoing off the large chamber walls.
A mixture of responses. Some of the Alacryan soldiers glanced at one another, while others blatantly ignored my command. Both they and I were fighting for the same cause, but because I had been born on this continent, they saw me as a traitor unfit to lead them despite my superior power and experience.
I repeated my order, this time causing the earth around us to quake. We had no time.
Soldiers began slowly filing toward the stairs leading back up to the surface. I tried to help by erecting a few more staircases, but when the light artifacts suspended from the walls started to burst one by one, I knew it was too late.
I cursed and erected a dozen magma knights around me, but the chamber had darkened to a near pitch-black state.
Shouts of confusion from the soldiers bounced off the walls that had once served as protection and concealment. Now I feared these men were in a prison.
I shrouded myself in a protective barrier of mana and sent pulses throughout the underground chamber in hopes of locating her.
“Come out, Aya,” I called, hoping to reason with her. “There will be another Vritra—a Scythe—coming soon. If you flee now, I can ensure that you’ll make it out alive.” I felt no remorse for the fate of these foreign soldiers; they were part of a bigger plan and time was running out. If Aya escaped and managed to notify the asura—Aldir—of my betrayal, it would be easy for him to kill me, simply by invoking the artifact I was bound by. At this point, though, I thought I might prefer that over what Aya might do here.
“So caring.”
Her whisper brushed against my ear—as if she were right beside me.
My magma knight promptly lashed out with its sword. A burning arc of lava launched in the direction of Aya’s whisper, but only crashed into the far wall. The lava scattered into glowing sparks upon impact, lighting up the darkened room for just a second. And that was when I noticed it.
Mist.
The entire underground chamber was submerged in a thick layer of swirling mist that almost seemed to have a mind of its own. And within this mist, chaos ensued.
Sporadic flashes of spells lit up the vast chamber as the soldiers retaliated against the intruder, but even those became less frequent as Aya got to work.
“I have to thank you for trapping so many Alacryans in one place,” she whispered again, this time beside my other ear. “It makes my job much simpler.”
“Enough with your tricks and illusions!” I roared. “Come out and fight me face to face! Have you no shame as a Lance?”
“Shame?” Aya’s voice echoed in unison from at least twelve different locations at once. “It’s a matter of common sense, dear. Why would I throw away one of the few advantages I have?”
There was a levity in her words that came off as arrogance in this situation. She was always like that—not an ounce of seriousness in her ever-present façade.
“You leave me no choice,” I replied through gritted teeth. “Eliminating a Lance will at least make up for my error.”
I slammed my palm down onto the ground, creating chasms all around the floor and walls of the chamber. The temperature within my newly created domain rose drastically as glowing magma spilled out from the chasms, filling the underground expanse with fiery red light.
The mist was slowly evaporating, and my senses sharpened. Aya’s spell worked much like the mist in the Forest of Elshire, but it also served as an anchor for her to freely and near-instantly move about.
Despite the increasing amounts of fire and earth mana surrounding me, it didn’t look good. My first instinct was to escape into an open space where I could at least avoid the mist, but that would mean abandoning the thousand or so soldiers trapped here. I was tempted to just raise the entire underground chamber to the surface, but doing that would destroy the building above us. I would not shed innocent dwarven blood if I could help it.
I scanned my surroundings. Most of the room was obscured by the mist, but the earth told me how many were on their feet and how many lay either dead or incapacitated. In this short time, more than a fourth had already fallen.
