Slave Pits of the Tyrannical God (Path of Transcendence Book 2) (10 page)

The delicate platinum bracelet on Aluras'bektsh'tar left wrist was dimensional storage device, and the spear in her hand disappeared into it, to be replaced with a scabbarded short sword. After she fastened the short sword to her belt, Aluras'bektsh'tar negligently waved her hand in the direction of the orcs.

“Put the animals back in their cages! Canth, accompany me!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

As Aluras'bektsh'tar and Canth left the room, over twenty DokkAlfar guards stepped out of hidden recesses in the walls of the practice hall, and began to herd the orcs out though a different door.

Stalking through the near-silent halls of the Vardne'tar Manor, Aluras'bektsh'tar used secondary halls to reach the salon. Only a few slaves of the clan witnessed her passage, and she reached out with her powerful mind, destroying their memories.

The door to the salon that Aluras'bektsh'tar silently opened was a servant's entry. From her position at the back of the room, she had a clear view of the five people waiting for her. Even though there were chairs in the salon, all of the waiting supplicants were standing. They all had their attention fixed on the main door to the room, and their conversation was being conducted non-verbally. With the nature of the spell construct they were using, Aluras'bektsh'tar could listen in on their words without alerting them to her presence.

*The sigils developed by these Possessed animals to make up for their lack of psi are very interesting.*

*They are poorly designed, Mistress. The holes in the spell webs leave the animals excessively vulnerable to a number of psi assaults that their minds should be better protected against naturally.*
Canth's disdain was clearly projected in the tenor of his thought.

*True, but for animals like them, it is still amazing they even developed something with this level of efficacy. I will have to probe their memories and understand what led these Possessed to think of such interesting spell constructs.*

Canth's lack of a reply did not surprise Aluras'bektsh'tar. She often used the near silent male as a sounding board for her thoughts, and he would only give voice a reply, when he found fault with something she stated.

Aluras'bektsh'tar turned her gaze toward Canth, considering his elegant profile.
The Clan Elders are making too much noise about continuing my Line of Provenance. They fear that it will extinguished should I meet with an accident. I do not understand, how the pathetic fools think I would allow one of the disgusting males they keep advancing to stick his pathetic little male-thing in me. If only Canth had a recognized provenance, I would use him for impregnating myself, before casting him aside again. A progeny sired by a male of his prowess have much better prospects for being of use to me.

Turning her attention back to the supplicants, Aluras'bektsh'tar stepped into the room and paused, watching The Postmen. More silent than a ghost, Canth moved in next to her, while she calmly and coldly evaluated them.

All but one of them were Possessed, their minds and souls not matching with their bodies. The female Half-Alfar with a human on either side of her would be the one called Alva. From their positioning, she was the obvious leader of the group, but her relationship with the human male at her right was not a simple superior to subordinate relationship. Judging by his appearance the male should be the one called Graham. The pair of them were the founders of the Possessed guild called The Postmen.

The human female on Alva's left was clearly subordinate to the other two and was extremely nervous. She was not someone that fit any of the descriptions or images that Aluras'bektsh'tar's spies had collected.

The other two were a middle-aged adult human male and an early teenage human male. The middle-aged man was Herodotus, and he was the one who had arranged the meeting on behalf of The Postmen. Herodotus was holding the the teenage human male close to his body while stroking his cheek the way one would stroke a pet's head.

Aluras'bektsh'tar gently touched Alva's mind with her psi. There was no sign of the Half-Alfar being aware of her probe, and she inserted it deeper, enabling her to more easily listen to their conversation though Alva's perceptions.

Graham stiffened for an instant, before turning to look behind himself.

*Alva, behind us.*

Alva turned, her eyes widening at the sight of the two DokkAlfar watching her party. The rest of the humans turned a few seconds after.

*When did they come in?*
Alva's nervousness was obviousness, her voice held a slight tremor.

*I don't know. I had a feeling like there were predators behind us, and when I turned, they were standing there.*

Canth's cold eyes, as black as his midnight hair, raked over The Postmen. “You dare to remain standing? Kneel before the Clan Mistress of Clan Vardne'tar!”

Herodotus immediately fell to his knees and dragged the teenager with him. The other three Postmen looked from one to another.

Graham nodded.
*We'd best do as he says. These DokkAlfar are vicious savages. You never know how they will react, if they think you are being disrespectful to them.*

Following Graham's example, the two females knelt on one knee, with the other leg bent.

*This is ridiculous. Bowing to a pair of medieval savages like this is embarrassing. Even if we are trapped in this world, we are from Earth, a civilized world.*
The corners of Alva's mouth turned slightly downward, as her eyes squinted with her irritation.

*Alva, be careful! I warned you to watch your temper in here! You don't understand what kind of people we're dealing with. You spent almost all your time in the Empire of Ar. They're more or less urbane and have become so dependent on our information network that they treated you like a princess. These are DokkAlfar, the real power in the Battleground. No matter how strong it is in the Central Reaches, the Empire of Ar would never dare to offend them.*

*I KNOW, GRAHAM! This bitch's arrogant manner just annoys me. We have doctorates in engineering. We built real technology in this world, technology that applies sound scientific principles to their magic based mumbo jumbo. Even the Emperor of Ar doesn't dare try to make us kneel to him.*

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The Postmen were driven to the floor by blows that they never saw. Looking toward the black clothed DokkAlfar in their midst, they tried to focus their bleary consciousness on him.

“Do not kill them, Canth. I still have a use for them.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Aluras'bektsh'tar took a seat in a large arm chair, and Canth moved to stand at her right side.

“It is very rude to go on with your private conversations in my presence. Do you think that your little spell web is hidden from one such as I? Every time you speak, your little spell lights up like a lighting bolt in a midnight sky.”

Alva's self-righteous anger was plain to see on her face. Her clenched fists were shaking as she pushed herself onto her knees again. As she started to rise to her feet, she froze. Even though his face bore no expression, having Canth's eyes locked upon her, she was too terrified to move.

*Alva! Don't push our luck! I couldn't even see that bastard in black move.*

“Alva, my sweet, if you attempt to rise from your knees without permission, Canth will leave you crippled.” Aluras'bektsh'tar's voice was soft and friendly.

“What do you want?” Alva's voice was a low his.

SMACK!

Again, the black-clad Canth viciously struck Alva to the ground, without any of The Postmen seeing him move.

“Mistress! What do you want Mistress!?” Alva's voice was shaking, and unshed tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes.

Aluras'bektsh'tar smiled serenely. “Explain your plea to me.”

“My plea?” Alva voice mirrored the confusion in her eyes.

*Alva, she doesn't see us as potential business partners. In her eyes, we're nothing but beggars. Enumerate the deal for her.*

*Damn you, Graham. Damn her! We're engineers and business people, not some uneducated Battleground beggars!*
Despite her profanities, Alva's voice sounded, as though she was ready to cry.

*Get over your pride and do what she tells you to. We're in way over our heads this time. There's no way we can fight our way past that bodyguard of hers, let alone escape from a citadel teaming with tens of thousands of DokkAlfar.*

Alva stared at Aluras'bektsh'tar for several long moments, before resignation settled into her eyes. “As you probably know, we Postmen have created a network for sending letters and small packages anywhere in the Battleground of the Damned that we have terminals. As yet, we do not have any terminals in DokkAlfar territory. We would like to remedy that, but your government does not allow outsiders to own property within your territory. We are willing to offer you an interest in our operations inside DokkAlfar territory, in exchange for being our backer, so that we can acquire property and set up the necessary facilities.”

Aluras'bektsh'tar's serene smile did not change in the slightest. “You are too late. I have already received a more interesting offer. Herodotus, come kneel next to Canth.”

Herodotus rose to his feet, dragging the shivering teenager with him by his grip on the teenager's biceps. He looked towards the rest of The Postmen, a supercilious smile plastered on his face, until the teenager's body fell to the floor in bloody pieces.

Feeling the extra weight dragging in his hand, Herodotus held the severed arm up in front of his face. Staring at the blood dripping down from the cleanly cut biceps onto his hand, his face paled and he swallowed heavily.

“M-M-Mistress?” Herodotus' fear was obvious in his stuttering voice.

If anything, Aluras'bektsh'tar's smile became more serene. “I never gave you permission to bring your catamite with you. That was very bad manners Herodotus.”

Herodotus fell to his knees in the spreading pool of blood and other bodily fluids. The severed arm was still clutched in his shaking hand, as he slammed his forehead on the floor. “I apologize, Mistress. I did not mean to offend.”

Aluras'bektsh'tar laughed softly, the merry sound tinkling like bells. “This time, your catamite has paid for your offense.”

She turned her gaze upon Alva. “I can barely understand how most human animals think, but you spirits riding the Possessed are well nigh incomprehensible. You were thoroughly disgusted by this human's taking the catamite as his sex toy, while he was only eight years old, but you still tolerated it because of the social pressures of your world to accept the differences of others and embrace diversity. Because Herodotus was homosexual, you put him like others of his kind in positions of high authority in The Postmen, undermining your own authority, while rationalizing to yourself that you were doing the right thing, the politically correct thing.

“Since being trapped here by the traitor with no name, you have mercilessly wielded the power of your guild to enforce your will upon the Battleground of Slaves. With this human Graham as your second, the pair of you have the strength to defeat any group of five or more within The Postmen. Still, yet, you would always quail away from exercising your authority to enforce your beliefs and solidify your position within The Postmen.

“I cannot understand you.”

Alva glared at Aluras'bektsh'tar. “There's nothing wrong with educating the ass-backwards cultures in this place. You're nothing but uncivilized savages! Earth's first world nations have fair and equitable societies that respect the rights and values of everyone. The Postmen are real people from Earth. Even if we're trapped in these bodies, we can't give up on real culture, ethics, and morals.”

“Ha ha ha ha.” Aluras'bektsh'tar rose and moved to where Alva knelt. Squatting in front of the Half-Alfar, Aluras'bektsh'tar stroked Alva's cheek gently.

“I can see everything within your mind. You are an open book. You understand well the hypocrisy of your own words, but you still desperately spew them forth like they are the universal truth. I will tell you what the truth is: Power. The more Power you have; the more Power you can use to enforce your will upon the multiverse around you. Your pathetic little societies would fall in a few ten-thousandths, if they were ever faced with real Power.

“You will become my personal slave, little Alva. I will show you the truth of Power, the truth of the multiverse. I will crush your beliefs in your artificial morals and make you embrace the truth and glory of Power.”

BONG! BONG!

The Postmen grabbed their heads moaning, as a sound like a giant bell seemed to resonate inside of their skulls. Looking around, their faces were filled with pain and confusion.

*What just happened?*
The second woman's voice was rather high-pitched, and her tone was closer to whining that talking.

*I don't know. We never included anything like that in the design for the party charms.*
Alva's confused expression was turning into absolute bewilderment.

*You are very entertaining little animals.*

The soft voice was too melodious to have come from a human. It belonged to the DokkAlfar Aluras'bektsh'tar, but it was in their party chat-room. The Postmen's stares were drawn to the DokkAlfar's face, seeing the cold smile that did not touch her eyes.