Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God (34 page)

Across the Bogwater River, the ruined city is overgrown with trees and vines. It is impossible to tell how big it was in the past or know who built it. Time has taken its toll, and much of the city has crumbled and been completely subsumed by the forests.

A row of mana-cannons faces the ruined city, and others are scattered about in strongpoints facing the river and forest. The denizens of the city are far more dangerous than anything likely to come from any other direction. Filled with the living dead, the depths of its vaults have never been fully explored, but thousands have died trying.

If the teleport gate in the center of the mana-cannon emplacements was not the most direct link to the Seventh Tallifer Trade Corridor, the location would be abandoned. There is another gate five days to the north-west, but it does not have easily accessible links to Tallifer. It is also not near any river or body of water. The valuable beast parts and herbs from the Swamp of the Lost are all shipped up the Bogwater River, after being collected in Bogwater.

This gate is closed to me. There are at least forty DokkAlfar standing watch or wandering around the gate compound. Rows of tents have been pitched in a staging field near the gate, and human soldiers from Bogwater and Tallifer are standing in fearful groups. The humans are still armed, but they are obviously subservient to the DokkAlfar. Judging by the design of the DokkAlfar armor and the white eye badges pinned to their left breasts, they are the followers of Yggr.

If I were alone, I could probably slip through the gate, or in the worst case, fight my way to it. With Perzey in tow, there is no way to make it through to the next zone. We are going to be taking the long route through the badlands.

The kaleidoscopic radiance disappears, and an ocher-brown land stretches out before us. The coarse gravelly sand is ocher-brown. The spires of barren stone are ocher-brown. Even, the sky has an ocher-brown tint, from the dust in the air. The cactus like plants and sparse scrub brush are more yellow than green. This is the Seventh Trade Corridor Badlands. I do not know of a single settlement, anywhere within the Badlands. This place is inimical to human life. Even races like orcs and goblins would have a hard time surviving in the Badlands.

Even though the Badlands are not on the actual trade corridor, they are named after it, because the Seventh Tallifer Trade Corridor is one of the few named entities that is well known. Tallifer and the Twelve Tallifer Trade Corridors are known almost everywhere. In the Southern Reaches, many unpopulated or sparsely settled zones are named after the nearest trade corridor. There are only few dozen settlements in this part of the Battleground of the Damned, and Bogwater is one of the largest and best known. Still, Bogwater is not well known enough that its name is recognized throughout the Battleground.

“Perzey does not like this place. The air smells bad.”

My laugh is grim. “Don't drink the water, or you'll wish it was just Mexican water.”

“Mexican water?” Perzey's voice is hesitant and confused.

Turning to face, I see a blank look on her face, except for her eyes. Her eyes are filled with fear, nearly insane fear.

“Mexico, the country to the south of the United States, don't you remember it?”

Perzey shakes her head violently, with her hands over her ears. “Perzey does not remember Mexico. Perzey does not remember United States. Perzey does not want to hear those words.”

“Who is Helen?”

Perzey's eyes open wide, and her pupils contract. Still shaking her head, she tries to keep her vision focused on me. “There is no Helen. Helen does exist. Helen is a coward. Helen is dead.”

I cannot keep the malicious smile off my lips. “Who is Rachael?”

“No. No. No. No! No! NOOOO!”

Perzey draws her swords, swinging wildly at me.

Crack!

“Ooofff!”

Perzey is bounced off the sand drifted stone, with the force of my slap. Turning her head towards me, she has blood flowing from her mouth and nose, and tears fill her eyes.

Flipping her onto her back, I keep her down, with a hand around her throat. My grip is not forceful enough to choke her, but she still tries to shrink away from me, fear driving all other emotions out of her eyes.

“Tell me, Perzey! Who is Helen? Who is Rachael?”

“Helen is a nightmare! Helen is dead! Rachael is dead! Perzey is Perzey! Perzey! Perzey! Perzey! Perzey! Perzey! Perzey! PERZEY!”

Her hands desperately clutching my wrist, Perzey sobs helplessly. I pull her up from the ground, and she wraps her arms around my chest. Despite the mail covering me, Perzey buries her face against my chest. Her body shivers, as she draws gasping breaths between piteous wails.

“Perzey, listen to me. If you forget the nightmare, you will become weak. You are Perzey, but you can never forget Helen and Rachael. You have to remember how pathetic and weak they were. You can never let yourself become a coward like them.”

“Perzey doesn't want to remember. Perzey hates them!”

“Hating them is good. Hating Earth is good. You have to remember how weak and disgusting everything about Helen and Rachael is.  If you live like them, you will die like them.

“You are going to fight and kill, when I tell you to. You are going to learn to use all the skills and abilities lying dormant in your body. If you listen to me, you are going to become strong.”

Perzey's death grip around my chest loosens, as her crying eases. “Brand owns Perzey. Perzey will follow Brand. Perzey will become strong like Brand.”

I cannot keep from grinning.

The gleaming white walls and colorfully painted towers of Tallifer fill the horizon. Home to more than two million people, it is the largest trading hub in what is called the Southern Reaches of the Battleground. As the residents say, all trade comes to Tallifer.

The main harbor might be bigger than the Port of Los Angeles, and it is certainly busier. Dozens of ships are arriving, as I watch, and dozens more are departing. Tallifer is another merchant city. This one ruled by the Council of Five, made up of the leaders of the five greatest merchant houses in the city.

Our ship is from one of the Tallifer merchant fleets. After crossing through the badlands, we had an uneventful trip through a small mountain range to reach a trade station on the Seventh Tallifer Trade Corridor. After an easy three day sail through two teleport gates, we should have finally caught up with Jinmu's group.

As the ship nears the harbor, we should be nearing the range of the party chat.

*Jinmu, do you hear me?*
I use the raid channel, in my party charm.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, we are sailing past the defensive islands, into Tallifer's harbor.

*Jinmu, are you here?*

*Brand! We heard rumors about a DokkAlfar attack on Bogwater. Was that what delayed you so long?*
Sigurd sounds agitated.

*Shit happened, and we had to take detour.*

As soon the ship is docked, I disembark, with Perzey following at my heels. This harbor alone has more people working or engaging in business, than the entire population of Bogwater. The huge warehouses lining the docks are nothing more than the antechambers of the real storage areas. Dug into the bedrock of Tallifer Island, some warehouse have ten or more underground storage levels.

Sigurd told me that Jinmu is not in Tallifer at the moment. They have recruited more former players, who Jinmu is training in tactics on a nearby island. Only Sigurd and Xenia are currently in town, waiting for my group to show up.

The only thing that bothers me more than being swarmed by people is fire. My carefully controlled aura keeps the masses from getting too close. There is a buffer of a few feet around Perzey and myself. Some of the people affected by my aura look at me askance, but most of them do their best to not see me.

Even with the warehouses only a few dozen yards away, the cylindrical towers of Tallifer still soar into the skies above them. One of Tallifer's nicknames is The City of Cylinders, because of those towers. They are tall enough to rival the skyscrapers of Earth.

Around half a mile ahead of us, there is an extremely large, pink warehouse, where Sigurd is supposed to meet us. That obnoxious pink is the house color for one of the families on the Council of Five, and they paint everything owned by the house in that shade. It reminds me of the hideous color known as “Boca pink” on Earth.

There is no sign of Sigurd or Xenia, when we reach the warehouse. Perzey and I do not talk while we wait. Even after being together for more than a month, we have very little in the way of conversation. I am not talkative by nature, and Perzey seems to live mostly inside her own head. The only time we talk much is when I train her.

Along the docks, there are people in clothing and armor from dozens of zones. The kaleidoscope of colors and styles represents most of the Southern Reaches, from what I recognize. There are also others that are from the Western Reaches, but I have no clue where many of them hail from.

As Talon, I spent most of my time in the Southern and Western Reaches. The Southern Reaches near the Western Reaches is where Thug Horde was based. Even though their main strongholds are fairly far from Tallifer, I am sure that there are some of them lurking around the city. The big question is why that raiding force was following one of the Nameless' DokkAlfar in the Swamp of the Lost.

“Brand!”

Sigurd's voice draws me out of my contemplation. He has changed, since I last saw him. The lost and beaten demeanor that he had, when I found him in the cell, is gone. His back is straighter, and his smile is reminiscent of the almost constant half-smile he had as John. The way he walks seems more natural, as well.

“Perzey!” Xenia's voice and attitude are overexuberant, but there is a coldness in her eyes. With her arms spread wide, she runs up to Perzey.

I was not sure about Xenia at first and did  not have enough time to be certain. She is a sham, who does everything with an eye to the effects it will have on others. She is a prima donna. She always has be the center of everyone's world.

Perzey slides past Xenia, hitting her in the stomach with a closed fist. Grabbing her a fistful of hair with the other hand, Perzey jerks Xenia's head, forcing her to collapse to her knees.

“Do not touch Perzey. Perzey does not like Xenia. Xenia has too many faces.” The blatant malice and hostility in Perzey's voice is enough to shock anyone who has not been around her recently.

“Perzey, let go of her.” Sigurd steps forward, his hand ambiguously half-reaching for one girl or the other.

Perzey's head snaps around to glare at Sigurd, and her thumb presses into the V below Xenia's throat. She spits at Sigurd's feet.

“Dickless pretty boy. John lusted after Carmen. Carmen ignored John. John was just a physical therapist. John was not a doctor. John was a joke to Carmen. Xenia is afraid. Xenia spreads her legs for Sigurd.” Perzey's smile is almost as malicious as one of my own would be.

Xenia is attempting to claw Perzey's hand away from her chest, but Perzey's fingers are solidly hooked in her armor. The pressure does not look to be enough to kill or impede Xenia's breath, but Xenia is still gasping for air.

Sigurd looks like he was kicked in the balls. “Let her go, Perzey. You're friends. Helen …”

“Helen is dead! Perzey hates weak Helen! Carmen was a slut! Carmen a whore. Carmen fucked the man Helen loved. Carmen had the man Helen loved fired for sexual harassment. Helen hated Carmen. Helen was too cowardly to face Carmen. Perzey is not a coward! Perzey is not weak! Perzey hates Carmen. Perzey hates Xenia!”

Not grinning or smirking is one of the most difficult things I have ever done. There is so much hidden hatred and viciousness inside of Perzey targeted at those she falsely called friends. It warms my heart to see such a good example of friendship and camaraderie.

Their little display is drawing a lot of attention from the surrounding crowd, but almost all of them appear confused. They cannot understand what is being said. After all, English is a language that is only known by the Possessed.

Only five of the people paying attention seem to be able to understand what is being said.  The way that their expressions change and their eyes shift make it obvious they understand the language. Four of them are grouped together and have a slightly haunted appearance. The last one is alone and strikes me a scavenger or maybe a weak predator.

“AAAARRRRGGGHH!”

Sigurd falls to his knees, after being kicked in the balls by Perzey. Some of the watchers are covering their own balls, while wincing. Others, especially the handful of women, are laughing. The scavenger is staring like a hyena sizing up the lion it wants to steal from.

“Stupid Sigurd. Perzey is not weak like Sigurd. Perzey is learning to be strong from Brand.”

Sigurd looks at me accusingly.

I smile and shrug.

Perzey uses her grip on Xenia's armor to shake her.

“Is this all Xenia has? Big body. Big tits. Small courage.”

Perzey throws Xenia onto her back.

While Perzey stands over her, Xenia stares upwards. Her face is filled with confusion and fear, as she gasps for breath. There should be no reason for her to be so out of sorts, since Perzey was not trying to kill her.

“Why are you doing this? We were friends!” Xenia's eyes gleam with unshed tears.

Perzey shakes her head. “Xenia betrayed Helen. Perzey was never Xenia's friend.”

Perzey looks at me, with an innocent smile on her lips. “Perzey wants to kill Xenia.”

“No.”

Perzey frowns for a moment, before smiling even more dazzlingly. “Pretty please.”

“No.”

With a pout, Perzey turns away from me. “Brand sucks.”

All of the people who understood English are looking in my direction. The scavenger seems to have found something he does not like. His stare is decidedly hostile. The other four have a mix of apprehension and disgust on their faces. The only female among is staring at what is visible of my face, with her own face a mask of blatant horror.

I smile at the girl and laugh, when she turns away with a shiver.

“Get up. You're embarrassing yourself.”

Sigurd looks up at me, with a scowl. “Have you ever been kicked in the balls?”

“I've been castrated, before being crucified.”

Sigurd stares at me for a moment, before his face pales. His voice is barely a whisper. “You're not bullshitting.”

Obviously in pain, Sigurd forces himself to his feet. Perzey has started to tap into the true potential of her body. With the addition of some barehanded combat training, she hits hard. While I am not teaching her Shadow Fist, she is learning Urehara Style martial arts.

Xenia is still on her ass, looking up. While her eyes are slowly moving between the three of us, she has a vacant look in her eyes. She has probably just had a few delusions shattered and is not dealing with it very well.

With the show over, the onlookers have started moving again. The group of four who understand English have disappeared, but the scavenger is still watching us. He has moved out of the flow of traffic and is leaning against a stone piling near the water.

Perzey saunters up to me and leans against my side.

“Perzey is bored. Perzey wants to fuck.”

“Later.”

Perzey glares at me for a moment, before pouting.

Perzey's banter with me makes Sigurd stiffen, before he takes Xenia's hand and drags her to her feet. Sigurd's eyes are turned away, but Xenia's are filled with confusion and fear as she looks at him. The changes in Perzey have pulled the carpet from beneath their feet, and probably, neither of them is sure how to react.

*Do you know where to find the best Smiths in this city? Do not speak normally. Use the raid channel for anything important. We are being watched by someone who is not friendly.*

Sigurd spins around to stare a me for a moment, before obviously searching for the the watcher, like an idiot. He is not someone who is properly equipped mentally to survive.

*And now the scavenger knows that you know he is here. That was a truly brilliant move.*

Sigurd turns so red, his blush is blatantly obvious through is dark tan.
*Sorry. I wasn't thinking.*

*Not thinking is a fast way to get dead. This is not Earth. This is a giant battlefield constructed by a group of self-proclaimed gods, so that they can enjoy the misery and suffering of everyone they have trapped within. The people here are used to death coming out of nowhere. If you want to live, you need to learn to think and not react like a complete noob.*

Xenia glares at me. Fear, hate and outrage are all mixed up in her eyes.
*You are such an asshole. Who do you think you are? You act like we're dirt. You're not any better than us. You're just a scarred freak.*

*So, is this the true face among Xenia's many faces? I wonder what you'll do when you run into some DokkAlfar, or even more Thug Horde trash for that matter. Next time you see Jinmu, kneel down and kiss his feet. If not for him, I would have left you in your cells in the Shit Hole.*

Xenia tries to hold my stare, but her eyes almost immediately start to wander. She flushes crimson at Perzey's laughter, turns away in a huff.

Perzey never heard what was said in the raid chat and must have made another assumption. She is too caught up in her delusions of strength. There is no victory here. It is not my strength that caused Xenia to run form a confrontation. It is Xenia's own weakness. Almost everyone from Earth is pathetically weak.

*The best Smiths, do you know where they are?*

*Follow me*
Sigurd turns and leaves the docks, following a road between two warehouses.

Perzey grabs my hand, practically skipping along at my side.

Since Tallifer is built on an island, the Council of Five refuses to allow expansion beyond the current walls. All of the land outside the walls is dedicated to agriculture, to minimize the city-state's need to import food. To overcome the lack of available land the city is built vertically, and even trade and manufacturing type business mostly reside in the towers. The Smithy that Sigurd leads me to is no exception. Built on the seventeenth level of one of the tradesman's cylinders, the Smithy takes up the entire east quarter of the floor.

Through the open gates, the main work area of the Smithy can be viewed. Sixteen forges and four smelters fill the space. A system of hoods over the forges and smelters, and flues resembling heating ducts vents the smoke to the outside of the tower. A couple dozen apprentices and eight Smiths of either the journeyman or master level are industriously laboring away.

The Smiths' hammers have auras around them, varying in in shades between golden yellow and orangish red. Most are only a faint sheen, but two Smiths have brilliant glows surrounding the heads of their hammers. Sparks spray outward in polychromatic bursts, every time one of the Smith's hammers strike the incandescent metal on their anvils. The apprentices who are forging appear to be working on tools, utensils, and horseshoes. That must be nothing more than training, since these are obviously Smiths and not common blacksmiths.

Real Smiths use mana in their forging. They are considered to be Makers, the types of Power wielders who actually create Items of Power.

Beside me, Sigurd seems a bit nonplussed, as he stares at the Smithy. I think he does not really understand what he is looking at. Xenia, on the other side of Sigurd, has a contemptuous look on her face, as she stares down her nose at the sweaty, soot stained Smiths.

Perzey is a surprise, she is staring raptly at the Smiths swinging their hammers.

“Strong.” The whispered word is barely audible over the cacophony of the Smithy.

A massively muscled man, with salt and pepper hair, comes out of an office to the side of the entry. His is a couple inches shorter than me, but he probably weighs close half again as much. Very few humans ever develop the kind of muscle mass that this man has. The force of his presence far exceeds his physical size. His eyes seem to dismiss the others and settle on me, as they carefully measure me from head to toe. Those chill blue eyes give the impression of being able to see though to the very soul.