Path of Transcendence Omnibus II, page 101
The black dragon works its jaws building up another load of venom. The fucker is not pissed off enough to completely obfuscate its reason. This time it is not taking chances. It intends to rip the dimensional bubble open in one shot and get to me. If I had respect for the little worms, I might be flattered.
I look at the swirl of black and silver in front of the Night Raven. We only need maybe five more seconds.
I use my whisper channel with Duncrik. *As soon as the rift fully forms take us in. That little worm is probably going to take out the dimensional bubble with its next attack.*
Filled with fear, hate and anger, Duncrik looks over his shoulder and glares at the dragon.
Staring hatefully at me, the black dragon opens its mouth.
BOOM!
As the blast of flaming venom envelops the dimensional bubble, its surface turns into a dense spiderweb of cracks that is worse than last time. The roiling flames take longer to dissipate, and the cracks keep spreading, until the bubble appears to be on the verge of collapse.
Slipping into the Shadow of the Od, I affix myself to the quarterdeck and draw my bastard swords. As I fill them with Trinity and Od, deep within the blades, the sentiences awake from slumber and reach out with tendrils of awareness. An air of sullen hate and unfocused rage fills the dimensional bubble.
As the flames scatter in the wind, the dragon dives at the Night Raven, with its Radiance-enwrapped claws poised to strike.
BOOM!
With a blinding flash of white light, the dimensional bubble shatters.
"RAAARRRRRRR!" "RAAARRRRRRR!"
The hatred and rage from my swords focuses on the black dragon, and the phantom images of a pair of Dragons enshrouds the Night Raven. Both of the phantom Dragons have exactly the same appearance, but they are slightly out of synch with one another.
"Traitorous!" "Betrayer!"
"Unloyal!" "Unworthy!"
"Kill!" "Die!"
Fueled by the hate and rage of the spirits with my swords, Trinity and Od flare up and roil around the blades. The Power of my swords mixes with my own, and I fight the spirits for control over it.
*NO!*
"RAAARRRRRRR!"
With both its wild telepathic projection and its roar filled with terror, the black dragon's tail lashes against the Night Raven, sending the airship sluing to the side.
"Port batteries target the black dragon and fire at will!"
Fwoosh! Crackle! Fwoomp!
As an erratic stream of Mana-cannon fire bombards the black dragon, the dimensional rift opens, and the Night Raven gets sucked in sideways, with no dimensional bubble for protection.
"RAAARRRRRRR!"
Caught between its hate and rage for me and its terror of my swords, the black dragon hesitates for a moment, but seeing me about to escape its clutches, it dives into the dimensional rift in pursuit of the Night Raven.
Crack! Crack!
Caught in the turbulent forces of the dimensional rift, the foremast and a mainmast snap off midway up their height, and tied to the broken pieces by the rigging, the Night Raven is jerked and spun around wildly.
As the pursuing black dragon closes on the Night Raven, I slash both my bastard swords in front of me and unleash two arcs of Power in the shape of black and silver crescent moons. Caught by surprise and hemmed in by the wild forces in the dimensional rift, the black dragon is incapable of dodging, and both crescents of Power tear into the scales over its belly.
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!"
A cloud of broken scales and blood sprays from the black dragon's belly, and its agonized scream sounds like something issuing from a human throat, rather than that of a giant lizard. The thing has been hurt, but it is nowhere near to being critically injured. Its neck and head swing around wildly, and its naked terror radiates into the dimensional rift.
I start gathering more Power into my bastard swords, and sensing the flow of my Power, the spirits within the blades add to it.
*Dacbold, how long until you can get the dimensional bubble back up?*
*Another few seconds! I have to wait for the ripper to complete the reset cycle for it!*
"Mana-cannon batteries fire as you bear!" With my Trinity carrying my words, the crewmen in the Mana-cannon batteries should hear me.
Fwoosh! Crackle! Fwoomp!
Erratic fire from the Night Raven's Mana-cannons pelts the black dragon, but more of the shots miss than hit.
"Hurt it!" "Hurt it!"
"Rend it!" "Tear it!"
"Kill it!" "Kill it!"
The spirits in my bastard sword focus on the black dragon, and the phantasmal dragon images slash at its Mind and Soul with illusory claws made from pure hate.
One again, slashing at the black dragon with both bastard swords, I unleash two more crescents of Power at the scaled bastard. The thing is so terrified by the forces wildly circulating in the dimensional rift and the phantasmal dragon attacks from my swords' spirits that it does not notice my attacks until they are right on top of it.
"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!"
Trying to block my attack with its Radiance-enshrouded claws, the black dragon nearly loses its left front leg. Just below the elbow joint, the crescent moons of Trinity and Od tear through its scales and flesh to shatter the bones. As the black dragon thrashes wildly, the nearly severed leg flaps around wildly.
*Done!* As Dacbold shouts into the whisper channel, the dimensional bubble reforms around the Night Raven. The rigging that was jerking and spinning the airship around is severed by the bubble, but the airship keeps tumbling wildly.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" My Trinity carries my shouts to the gun crews manning the Mana-cannons, and the erratic firing comes to an end.
The phantasmal dragon images disappear, and unable to penetrate the dimensional bubble with their awarenesses, my swords settle into a sullen state of brooding.
Tumbling end over end, the Night Raven passes through the dimensional rift, and the black dragon follows on our heels. Outside the bubble, with only the maelstrom forces of the dimensional rift to deal with, the black dragon calms down and glares viciously at me. It is probably just waiting for us to exit the dimensional rift so that it can attack with impunity.
*Dacbold, I'll let you know when we exit the rift. Shut down the ripper immediately. I want to try and cut off that little worm.*
*I'll be ready.* A vicious sense of amusement accompanies Dacbold's reply.
Even though the calculations for the passage were for a quickly formed, rough rift, it does not take us long to pass through it. In less than a minute, we are ejected from the rift at high velocity, and the weird cloudy greyish environment of the Aether appears around us.
*Now, Dacbold! Shut it down!*
"RAAARRRRRRR!"
As the rift collapses around it, the black dragon's terrified roars emanate from the shrinking opening. The opening into the Aether rapidly closes the point where the black dragon cannot pass through it, and the black dragon is lost to view.
"Is it dead?" Dacbold's voices reaches me from the companionway exit on the main deck.
I shrug. "No fucking idea. I doubt it. That thing probably has more than a few tricks up its sleeve to escape from there."
With the broken masts and the ruined rigging, Duncrik fights with the Night Raven for several minutes, before bringing her under control.
As our flight path stabilizes, I stare at what lies off our starboard bow, Gor'achen. Barely visible in the dimness of the Aether, the citadel hangs motionless in a bank of dark clouds. Distance is hard to judge in the Aether, but based on how large the citadel appears, it has to forty to fifty miles away. Using my Trinity to magnify my view, it appears silent and dead. There are no visible lights and no sign of movement.
Everyone above decks stares at the citadel in silence.
The Cost of Victory
*** The Aether ***
Return: Day 369
(Brand)
According to Duncrik, with the damage to the masts and rigging, it would be easier to tow the Night Raven with the longboats than to sail her in this condition, and he sets about putting her in order to somehow limp to port. Under his and the first officer's directions, the Night Raven's air sailors first cut away the broken and tangled rigging. After evaluating what remains of the rigging, they spend some time discussing how to jury-rig something that will get us to the docks in Gor'achen.
While they set about re-rigging the Night Raven, I retreat to my cabin, and as soon as I enter, I smell the fragrances of Elan and Angelique. They are both gone, but their memory and their presence remain. I had so little time with Elan and less with Angelique, but while we were all together, this was our home.
Home. I have no memory of ever really feeling that I had one. There might be such a memory from the first ten years of my life, but I can only recall a handful of specific events from that time. Neither Karin's townhouse nor my apartment on Earth were ever home; they were just the places I happened to sleep and game from. I do not know what I feel for Gor'achen and the Blood Rose Stable, but they are certainly not home. The closest thing in my memories to home is this cabin with those two girls, or the apartment in Tallifer with Perzey.
Perzey. Elan. Angelique. All three of them are gone now. They tried to follow me, and they died for it. They have been destroyed in Body, Mind, and Soul. There is no resurrection, no reincarnation, and no afterlife for any of them.
I sit in the chair behind the desk, but I feel restless. Without Elan or Angelique, the cabin is no longer a place of relaxation. Just being in the room, my repressed memories of the two girls swarm out of the shadowed depths of my Mind, and with the memories, comes the pain.
With the pain comes the emptiness left behind by Angelique and Elan's deaths. Somehow, I will deal with the pain. I do not know what I can do about the emptiness.
Pain is my oldest friend. Pain is my only friend. As long as I feel pain, I know I am alive. Pain fucking hurts! I am going to kill that little worm chasing after me. I am going tear Pan Long apart. I am going to torture God until he begs me to die, and then, I will torture him some more.
After a while, I leave the cabin again. Like the Battleground of the Damned, this ship is already a part of my past. If I survive killing that little worm, I will soon leave this airship and never return.
No. I will survive killing that little worm. If I do not survive, I will not be able to make Pan Long and God suffer.
Hidden within the Shadow of the Od, I move around the Night Raven like a ghost. Without being seen, I observe the men and DokkAlfar males. When Kanchek said I was loyal, he was wrong. I feel no loyalty or bonds with the people on this ship. I have led this group, but I have never been a part of it. As I watch them work, I realize that I do not even know the names of more than a fraction of them. To me, they are nothing more than tools and weapons. Valcrit and Kanchek are the only exceptions.
In the barracks for the marines, the new slaves, still on their coffle, lie listlessly on the deck. They were all once arrogant humans from Earth, and now, they are nothing but property belonging to others. If they do not adapt, they will suffer and die miserably.
Moving to the bottom deck of the Night Raven, I enter the brig. The air is foul with the stench of rotting meat and blood. Rusty brown and black smears, from when Elan tortured Stegnar'shen'fal and we fucked like wild animals, cover the walls and floor.
I open the door to Stegnar'shen'fal's cell, and the stench hits me like a physical blow. The rotting pile of skin on the floor reeks, but it is nowhere near as foul as Stegnar'shen'fal himself. His flesh has already begun to putrefy, and trails green, white, and red pus run down his body. It has only been a few days, since Elan started skinning him, but his body is consumed by infection. The pain from the infections spread across his body and should be an order of magnitude worse than being skinned.
"Elan really did a job on you. Are you enjoying the pain?"
Stegnar'shen'fal twitches and moans, but I do not think he understood my words. The pain has driven him into a state where he is only half aware, at best.
Creating a probe of Trinity, I try to slip it into Stegnar'shen'fal's Mind but fail. I did it with the Frog. Why can I not do it, now?
Being honest with myself about the Frog, I failed there, as well. My intent was not to display illusory images above its ugly head. I wanted to read its thoughts directly. My goal was to dig through its mind telepathically, but in the end, I failed. I can say that it was because I was numbed and dazed by Elan's death, but that would just be an excuse. The reality is, I fucked up. I could not focus properly for a telepathic probe.
Irritation and rage flare up from my Soul, and before I clamp down viciously on my emotions, I almost hit Stegnar'shen'fal. I do not like failing, but I am not normally so easily driven to the point of nearly losing control by it.
I change the structure of my probe and try to insinuate it into Stegnar'shen'fal's mind again, only to meet with another failure. This time I am ready for the flare up of my unstable emotions and keep them bottled deep within my Soul. Telepathy was among the techniques that Thrall showed to me, but I cannot seem to grasp the fundamentals of it.
"I never took you for a voyeur."
"You knew I was here long before I reached the brig." Valcrit's stony expression does not change, but an air of wry irony surrounds him.
Valcrit joins me in front of the open cell door and stares at Stegnar'shen'fal. "The Mistress seldom engaged in torture, but she was always an artist."
As the pain tries to force its way past the emptiness within my Soul, I barely manage keep from grimacing. "Elan had an old grudge against this piece of shit."
"It seems that you have one, as well. Abusing his Mind the way you are might be more painful than what the Mistress did to his body." Even though his expression does not change, I would swear that Valcrit is smirking.
With feigned indifference, I shrug. "I need something to keep me occupied. I need to keep it together until that little worm comes back. If I'm not thinking clearly when I face it, I'll die. After it's dead, I can have the luxury of falling apart and killing anyone that happens to tick me off. Using this sack of shit to practice telepathic probing is a good way to kill time."
As Valcrit turns toward me, his mask cracks a bit revealing a faintly surprised expression. "That was practicing telepathic probing?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Valcrit shakes his head. "That style does not suit you at all. When you learn to use Psi, your practice techniques should match your demeanor. Once you understand a technique you can use it in a different manner. You are not a sneaky person, and I doubt do well at it. You are aggressive and domineering. You attack head on and keep attacking until you or enemy fall. Instead of trying to go around Stegnar'shen'fal's defense, drive your probe through as though it was the point of your sword."
Following Valcrit's advice rather literally, I form my telepathic probe into the shape of a sword and thrust into the Psi shield around Stegnar'shen'fal's Mind. The shield does not break, but the point of my sword-like probe pierces through it.
Valcrit faintly smiles. "That is quite the direct approach to forming your probe, but with Psi, the imagery you use can often directly influence how effective your attacks are. The Mind is the realm of idea, and the Soul is realm of emotion. To fully grasp an idea, you must have a clear image of it, and your emotions regarding an idea directly affect how you envisage it. In a battle between relatively equal Psis, the one with the more concrete imagery will often be the victor."
Only half listening to Valcrit, I dig into Stegnar'shen'fal's Mind and dig through his memories. I am looking for information on Kra'cha'len, but Stegnar'shen'fal's memories are a completely disordered mess. Most of them are nothing but fragments. It is like someone put everything inside his Mind in a blender and pureed it. Even as I watch, his memories continue to break down in front of me. I do not think this is the result of Elan's torture. This is something else entirely. It looks like it was self-inflicted. Is it a form of suicide done through Psi?
Increasing my pace, I examine memory fragment after memory fragment, not finding anything related to what I am seeking. As I touch on one fragment, I pause and absorb the scene into my own Mind. After playing through the memory several times, I am certain of what I have found. The destruction of Elan's Line of Provenance was instigated by Stegnar'shen'fal. He had a number of methods to pass information to the Pan Long Empire and provided them with a travel itinerary for Elan's family. As an assassin under the direct command of the Imperial Bureaucracy, her father was considered a priority target.
Without every knowing it, Elan achieved her vengeance.
I dive back into Stegnar'shen'fal's Mind, but it is already too late. His memories and personality are the equivalent of a mental soup. The sentience once known as Stegnar'shen'fal is gone.
After I remove Elan's spell needles from Stegnar'shen'fal's body and store them away, I destroy the body with the Dark Od. With the torture rack now empty, I break it down and store it away, as well. In the end, other than my memories, all that I have left from Elan are a torture rack and needles.
"Stegnar'shen'fal was the one that arranged for Elan's family to be killed."
Valcrit's eyes widen. "Did the Mistress know?"
"No."
"I see." An air of melancholy surrounds Valcrit.
*** The Aether ***
*** Gor'achen Citadel ***
Return: Day 370
(Brand)
Unable to easily handle high velocity winds, inside the dimensional bubble, the Night Raven limps her way through the Aether. According to Duncrik she is handling like a crippled, one-winged pig, but it seems to be more of an exaggeration than fact. I have seen enough fat bellied, merchant airships to know that the Night Raven could still sail circles around them, but she is not going to have an easy time against other military airships.
