Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God (36 page)

The secrets of steel. How can such a simple thing to say be so hard to understand? No matter how I try to see through, a lump of red hot iron or steel is still a red hot lump of iron or steel. I do not know what I am looking for and have no clue how to look for it.

I have seen hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of spell patterns, but Roderick says a spell pattern is not a real pattern. When he refers to a spell pattern, he derisively calls it a spell web. Just what am I supposed to see in the steel?

A presence near the door of the Smithy catches my attention, and I turn toward Jinmu. He is intently scanning the forges and smelters set up in the work area. His slight smile and gleaming eyes give his face an air of almost childish delight.

Beside him, Sigurd stares at the scars on my chest. In the hospital, I always wore shirt during my physical therapy. Even if he has seen pictures, there is a difference in impact between a picture and the reality. Seeing me watching him, Sigurd swallows reflexively, as he meets my eyes.

I move toward the gate to the smithy, and Perzey stops her practice, quickly running over to follow me like my shadow. Her control over her body has reached the point where she almost appears to glide when she runs. Even without using her air abilities, she is starting move like an embodiment of the wind.

Jinmu looks past me toward Perzey, his eyes weighing the changes in her. Returning his gaze to me, he smiles slightly.

“Your ideas seem to have succeeded.”

I shake my head. “Not in the manner that I expected. I don't think she will ever again be the person that was once a player. She has become a fusion of two minds. It will be interesting to see where it leads her in the end.”

“What happened to Harkins?”

I shrug. “No clue. After he attacked me, I slapped him around, and Perzey blew him off. I haven't seen him since.”

Sigurd stares at me, aghast. From his expression, it appears he is looking at a monster. My smile causes him to shiver. Was he afraid to ask about Harkins, or did Jinmu never tell him about the man following us?

The door to Roderick's office opens, and I turn toward him.

“Roderick, this is Jinmu. He is from my home world. We came here together.”

Roderick nods to Jinmu. “Another ki adept. In this part of the Battleground, only about one in ten thousand adepts ever have enough strength in ki to master it. Yet, both of you from a single world are so strong in it. Is everyone in your world like the two of you?”

Jinmu laughs. “In our world, we were the exceptions, the ones who did not truly belong.”

Roderick pats me on the shoulder. “Brand, you should take some time away from the forge. You are trying to force a breakthrough, and that will never work. Spend some time with your friends and clear your mind.”

I turn to look at my forge.

“I'll clean up. Come back tomorrow.”

I frown. “Alright, I'll do that.”

Roderick starts to walk toward the forge. “You frustration is obvious. Success will not necessarily happen overnight, but if you let its lack cloud your mind, you will never find it.”

Jinmu rests his hand on my shoulder. “Let's go to a restaurant. There are many place where I have not yet had the chance to sample the cuisine.”

While walking along the streets, we do not talk, not even using a party channel from the party charms. The restaurant that Jinmu leads us to is in the upper floors of a tower near the harbor. Just the furniture makes it obvious that this is not a cheap establishment.

A scantily clad hostess leads us to a table on the balcony. Being early afternoon, the lunch patrons are mostly gone, and it is too early for the dinner crowds. Barely an eighth of the tables are occupied.

“Did you come into a fortune while I was away?” I use English, since no natives will understand it.

Jinmu smiles. “Thug Horde has been very generous to us. There seem to be a lot of them wandering around this area.”

“Their main base is in the western part of the Southern Reaches. You didn't know that?”

Jinmu is a bit surprised. “No one I have talked to knew where they were based from. Do you know about this because of your history?”

“I tracked them down early on. During the days of the game, they ruthlessly murdered anyone they thought was an NPC to keep their base secret. Only players have ever really known about it. It's rather hard to keep your base hidden from people who can resurrect forever.”

Jinmu laughs, but it seems halfhearted. Something is off about his behavior. He is acting more or less like Jinmu, but there is none of the intense drive of the Jinmu I know.

“How long will it be before we advance to where Mei is, and how long will it take to reach her”

I cannot keep from frowning. “It's a bit hard to say. I want to master Smithing, before I move on. After that, it will be at least four years, but probably longer. The gate out of the Battlefield of the Damned is sealed and dead, but I think I know who may be able to help us open it. The problem is that it's at least a six month journey to Alkhalazen's Demise. I don't know how long it will take the Dvergar to make any arrangements they need. Then, it's another year and a half give or take to reach the gate. Once the gate is open, it's a solid two year journey, barring any obstacles.”

Jinmu looks down. “So long. I did not realize how long it would actually take.”

I shrug. “It was the roll of the dice. We had no idea where would enter Taereun. I was guessing it would be inside the Labyrinth, but I expected to wind up in the Chamber of Transition. The Four Bones Goblin Lair is really ass-fuck nowhere. To be honest, the sheer size and power of Tallifer, considering its location, has always amazed me.”

Sigurd's eyes are troubled. “Did you spend a lot of time here, when you played the game?”

I snort. “Not really. There are too many people here, but I passed through on business a number of times.”

Tallifer is in a decidedly warm climate. It is more subtropical than tropical, but there are very few cold days during the year. On the streets, normal Tallifer citizens do not wear much clothing, if they are not wearing armor. The waitress who comes to our table is a scantily clad as the hostess. Tallifer has nothing that resembles the moral codes of a puritan or even early turn of the millennium American culture. They know that sex sells, and the waitresses are probably available if you offer enough money.

Even though we are using English, I wait until the waitress is gone, before continuing. “What are you doing that you're running into Thug Horde?”

Jinmu faintly smiles. “Bounty hunting, mostly. We also do some courier work. We are required to post a bond for it, but the pay is good. I have one hundred forty-seven people under me. Not many, but it is a start.”

We spend the rest of our meal discussing strategy and logistics for Jinmu's work. He is building a mercenary force for the time being, and I give him what decade plus out of date information I have about the Southern Reaches.

When the restaurant begins to fill with the night crowd, we leave. Jinmu and Sigurd return to the harbor, and Perzey follows me back to the room I am renting near the Smithy.

Clang! clink. Clang! clink. Clang! clink. Clang! clink.

I have already internalized the physical aspects of repeated full power swings and no longer to focus on what I am doing. My mind is wandering, as I watch Perzey more than the metal I am forging.

Perzey is not a beautiful woman, but her body is still mesmerizing. She moves like her body has almost become one with the air. Grown from shoulder length to the middle of her back, Perzey's hair is a brown curtain dancing in the wake of her movements. She is getting better, but I will need to slap her around a bit more to put a sharper edge on her.

In the corner of my eye, something draws my attention back to the iron beneath my hammer. A burst of light was visible for a moment on the metal. It almost looked like a condensed version of the polychromatic sparks given off, when my hammer lands. I keep working the steel, but after a few minutes nothing more is visible. I return the cooling metal to the forge again.

Memories of the days and nights with Perzey drift through my mind. Before arriving in Tallifer, I would train her everyday. No matter how much I hurt her while training, she was passionately hungry for my touch in the night. No, it would be more accurate to say, the more I hurt her in the day, the more she hungered for me to fuck her brains out in the night.

I want to take the time to train her again, to see how well she fares, when I push her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch something in the metal again. No matter how intently I focus, I cannot catch another glimpse.

Angrily, I take the heated steel out of the fire placing it on the anvil again. Filled with rage, I swing my hammer down on the steel. The aura around the hammer's head is a deep bloody red, casting a strong sanguine glow on my anvil. I want to crush the metal, that refuses to give up its secrets

CLANG! clink. CLANG! clink. CLANG! clink. CLANG! clink.

Again, I see a flash of light within the metal.
Smithing is a Making art, and every person has their own way or Making. It comes from your soul.
Is this my key? Cruelty? Pain?

I picture the spell pattern Roderick showed, filling it with mana. Burning pain fills my eyes for a moment, blurring my vision. As my vision clears, I see a new world. Everything around me has become networks of light. Some things like the the anvil and the steel are relatively simple, with wide, heavy, bold rays and curves of light. Others like Perzey, the Smiths, and apprentices are incredibly complex masses that appear to be fractal patterns of light, with only a vaguely human shape.

Turning my eyes to the steel on my anvil, the base pattern is composed of broad streaks of silver-grey light. I do not know what they mean, but I can tell that it is the steel. Scattered inside of the silver-grey there are patches of other colored light. Are those the impurities in the metal?

Swinging my hammer, I focus on the other lights inside the silver-grey. With each blow one of those lights shatters in a polychromatic spray a dozen times more dazzling than when I was just swinging blindly.

CLANG! clink. CLANG! clink. CLANG! clink. CLANG! clink.

After fifteen hammer blows, the remaining impurities are specks too small for me to focus the force of the blows on them. I release the spell pattern and look at the silver-grey lump of almost pure steel.

“What are the secrets of steel?” Roderick's voice is soft, as he stands next me staring at the steel.

“Pain. Cruelty.”

“Then that is the core of your soul. What you Make will always be painful and cruel, a hard path for a Maker to walk.”

I raise my left arm, looking at the scars. Garion  told me they were self-inflicted. He was probably right. “It's the only way I know how to live.”

Thorrin Hammerfist stared out from the wall at the south end of Emer Valley, as it had recently been named in the First Alliance Council. Thug Horde's army had over 2,500 core members and nearly 3,000 from their tributary guilds.

Looking to either side, he had less than 2,500 people in total, and many of them were not top of the line combatants. Most of the people guarding this southern wall were newer players or players who had played Taereun for the chance to be craftsmen and traders. They had come to Emer, hoping for a safe place to hide, while others pursued The Nameless' quest.

The southern wall was still under construction. While the outer face of the wall was stone, the platforms behind it were still mostly hastily constructed from wood. The only crenelations along the wall were in the central part, where the stout wooden gates blocked the road.

Damn cocksuckers. It's almost like they knew the undead were going to attack. If nothing else, I'm going to take that piece of shit Menton with me.
Thorrin kept his bitter conjectures to himself. The Alliance's morale was so fragile the wrong word would completely shatter it.

From his position atop the wall, Thorrin's Dvergar eyes could easily see the smug smile on Menton's face. Menton, the guild leader of Thug Horde, was standing in front of his massed troops. Almost two hours had passed since they arrived, but so far, there had been no attacks and no demands. Menton was allowing the presence of Thug Horde wear away at the nerves of the Emer Valley's defenders.

I may be a Dvergar, but most of my Power is focused as a Smith. That bastard Meton is an Umbral Sorcerer. The difference in the Powers we use and how we use them is night and day. Still, there is no one else in the Alliance that has any hope of taking that fucker on.
Thorrin was waiting. He would not provoke the imminent confrontation, hoping to buy as much time as possible.

Thorrin turned his head as the sound of explosions reached his ears from the north.
Damn the undead must be attacking the north wall already. Our scouts said there were close 100,000 of them, but they were wrong. Talon told me that it's closer to a quarter million. No one else believed him, of course. They called him a liar. They're all idiots. As a scout or a fighter, Talon is better than any of them, but they're so arrogant they can't see it.

The idiots on the Steering Committee ordered me to come here, so that they wouldn't have to hear my opinions about how they intend to ruin the battle. They think that their game experience, in a “Fantasy” setting, is more important, than my training and experience in the real world military. Connor is better than I am. He has a lot more combat experience, and those imbeciles still ignore him. They don't have a clue how terrifying a real battle is, one where there is no coming back from death. Even with the north wall to fight from, they'll be lucky to keep their forces form breaking and running.

Looking back toward Thug Horde, Thorrin watched as their casters began weaving spells. Thug Horde was still outside the effective range of his casters and archers. Attacking now would simply demoralize his forces, when they saw their attacks were ineffective. Thorrin could do nothing but watch as the shields of wind and stone appeared in front of and over the enemy force.

“Hold your fire, until I call for it! Don't waste arrows and mana! Wait for my orders!” Thorrin's gravelly voice was easily heard at the far ends of the wall. Thug Horde was well able to hear it, as well.

I don't know what that bastard Talon's secret is, but I've never been able to bind him in a whisper charm. Hurry, Nessa. If you don't find Talon quick, it won't matter what happens at the north wall.

The Thug Horde forces began to advance under the cover of their magic defenses. When they reached an effective range for their own spells and archers, Meton still did not give the order to attack. When the front line of troops was thirty yards from the wall, Menton raised his hand. The advance stopped, and the stone shields settled into the ground.

A warrior, dressed in red lacquered plate armor, with a halberd in his left hand, stepped forward. He planted the butt of the halberd on the ground and raised his helm's visor. His face was filled with malicious glee, as he scanned the top of the wall.

“Surrender now! Everyone who does not surrender now will be killed!”

Turning, the warrior walked behind the stone shields again.

On top of the wall, many of the former players were looking to the people at their sides. Some were resolute, but they were in the minority.

“Stand firm! To kill you, they have take the walls. If you surrender, Thug Horde will make you slaves. Stand and fight like men!”

A handful of cheers answered Thorrin's words, but they were mostly from the members of Thorrin's Hammers.

“Begin.” Even though Menton's voice was only at a conversational volume, everyone along the length of the wall heard it.

“Casters, get your shields up! Now!” Thorrin's yell was audible along the length of the wall, as well.

Menton and twelve other casters began to weave spells. All of their spell patterns were being woven with black Umbral Power, and all of them were weaving the identical patterns.

The Alliance casters, scattered among the defenders, begin to weave spells of their own.

“Steel is stubbornness.” Thorrin's words were to quiet for anyone else to hear them.

Thorrin grabbed a spear that was leaning against the wall next to him. Staring at the spear, he exercised his Power. In his hands, the common looking spear took on a sheen of Power, and Thorrin's frown deepened.

At first, I couldn't use the skills of a Smith. Even though I have the superhuman body of a Dvergar, I would eventually fall behind, if I could not use my Power. It took weeks for me to realize such a simple fact, about why I could not use the skills of a Smith. The real Thorrin's secret of steel was different from my own. His secret was resolution. My secret is just plain old stubbornness.

Drawing back his arm, Thorrin hurled the spear at Menton, who ignored it. Striking the wind shield over Menton, the spear released a brilliant silver-grey light and penetrated. Menton tried to dodge, but the spear still left a gash in his left shoulder.

The red armored warrior spun toward Menton, his posture revealing his shock. “Archers! Attack the wall! Suppress that filthy dwarf!”

Dozens of spells and thousands of arrows pounded the defensive shields at the top of the walls, but they were not enough to break the spells of the defenders. Still, the defenders found themselves unable to retaliate effectively. All of their casters were tied up in the maintenance of the spells, and they lacked the numbers of archers needed to break the attackers' shields.

The attackers' casters reinforced the spells defending Menton, and Thorrin did not attempt to break them again. Instead, he took up his axe, a thick slab of metal weighing over a hundred pounds, but its massive weight paled next to his shield's. Forged for a Dvergar's superlative strength, the octagonal sheet of metal, three feet edge to edge and an inch thick, was so heavy the strongest of human adepts could not use it effectively.

Thorrin's gaze was drawn to a lone figure behind the Thug Horde army. Unnoticed, he was sauntering up to the oblivious Thugs in the rear.

Talon, you bastard, it took you long enough to get here.