Tech Duinn: An Ether Collapse Series (Ether Flows Book 1)

by Ryan DeBruyn

  TECH DUINN

  Book One of the ETHER FLOWS Series

  Written by Ryan DeBruyn

  © 2020 Ryan DeBruyn. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Newsletter

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About Ryan DeBruyn

  About Mountaindale Press

  Mountaindale Press Titles

  GameLit and LitRPG

  Acknowledgments

  For the readers. With whom none of us writers could do what we love.

  Newsletter

  Don’t miss out on future releases! Sign up for the Mountaindale Press newsletter to stay up to date. And as always, thank you for your support! You are the reason we’re able to bring these stories to life.

  Prologue

  Center of Milky Way Constellation Grouping – 10 years earlier

  Danu stood on the observation deck of her battleship and surveyed the cataclysmic scene through the port window. She checked her updated calculations on her tablet screen and smiled. Everything was within acceptable limits—as she expected.

  A massive blue streak of lightning took her attention away from her numbers. The huge bolt struck close to her ship and she hastily adjusted a few calculations. Her crew behind her slid the ship backwards in response. She smiled at the raging storm that spread out before her. The vibrant colors stood out starkly in the darkness of space. Clouds of crystalline ice exploded from forks of blue lightning, creating a mist. A growing dark black rock swirled in that mist and lightning collided with it, causing the rock to liquify to magma. The crystals of ice crashed with these fragments of liquid red, turning to steam and reinforcing the mist. This process would repeat itself until her new planet formed.

  A sob forced her to look away from her beautiful creation. Beside her stood her second son, Ogma. As usual, he was unkempt. His ruddy brown mane of hair intermingled into his long fiery red beard. She sniffed haughtily at his appearance. Was he trying to look homeless?

  Heat suffused her face and she spat, “Stop blubbering. This is a moment of triumph. Your brother is ascending!”

  She shook her head and returned to her notes. The sad sack beside her wouldn’t ruin this moment for her. Then she sighed and tried to cheer him up. He was her son after all. “All our work is paying off. The Tuatha De Danaan Guild will become the most powerful force in all the Etherverse. One day we will even supplant the Gaian Military and the other superpowers.”

  Her son sniffed once, and she shrugged. At least she’d tried. Returning her attention to the swirling vortex of cosmic energy brought a broad smile to her face. “Today your brother, my first son, Dagda, becomes our first Planetary God!”

  In my pocket, she added internally.

  The crew behind clicked away at their stations, continuing to take their readings and adding the numbers to her calculations. She sensed her steward, Oberan, approaching and waited. He bowed low. “Mother, the Lady Brigid is watching the display as well.” He indicated a ship visible off their starboard, then continued, “She has requested to communicate with you about the Guild debt.”

  Danu took a deep breath before finally responding with a sneer, “Patch her through, Oberan.”

  The image of the muscular, fiery redhead flickered onto the viewing window. Brigid was the adventuring warrior type and Danu’s least favorite officer in the Tuatha. She admitted that her hatred stemmed from Brigid always challenging her on every decision. The woman even lobbied for her removal from her leadership position.

  “Mother,” Brigid used the honorific with the barest dip of her head. Every action of the woman conveyed her lack of respect for Danu. Danu ground her molars, letting Brigid continue. “You have spent every Crystal the guild possesses to set up this display in space. While I can see its offensive capabilities if used near a planet—I don’t see any other way it will crush our enemies.”

  Danu forced a smile—the meathead was always so direct. Brigid didn’t understand the subtle plans Danu had in motion; the angry-looking woman preferred swinging her forge hammer or standing toe to toe with her enemies on a battlefield. Sighing theatrically, Danu responded, “While the Guild has invested heavily in this endeavor, I assure you that my years of lobbying on Gaia weren’t for nothing. I have studied this problem from every angle. And might I remind you the rest of the council agreed?”

  Brigid shook her head and retorted, “Mother, you cannot take full credit for the changes to the stagnating Atlantean System. The Atlantean Council all had agendas, and you piggybacked off of them. Each Guild that formed from this new opportunity is moving, and we are watching a storm in space!”

  Danu breathed in through her nose. Shaking her head, she snapped back, “Ah, Lady Brigid. The new formation of Guilds is only the first step of a much greater plan. You are right that other groups are forming and using Guilds to build a power base or conquer small Territories. We, on the other hand, have thought bigger—an entire planet—and, in time, a collection of planets! It might be hard for a dungeon diver like yourself to understand.”

  Brigid’s face grew fiery. Danu understood the state of her family—the Guild. She knew they were nearly bankrupt. It had taken everything they had to purchase all of the Planetary Essence that this power play had required. Danu held up a hand to forestall a response. “Lady Brigid, today is only the beginning. The Atlantean System has also added class templates. The Council is working tirelessly to create optimal paths for our recruits to take. In time, we will try to conquer the Ancestral Quest and lock those classes to our Guild. Atlantis was not built in a day, child.”

  The muscular redhead’s face grew darker still and her nose crinkled as she bowed jerkily, “As you say, Mother. If this fails, be prepared to face the Guild Council, and the united officers.”

 
Brigid winked off the screen after her empty threat. Danu had nothing to fear from the Guild Council. First, this was going to work, and secondly, no one would dare cross her when her son may one day ascend further. A God of their very own.

  Danu breathed in a deep lungful of air. These were her Guild’s first steps on its rise to power. Yes, they would need to rebuild, but with an entire planet under their control, that would be exponentially faster.

  Ogma had stopped crying, at least. She wrinkled her nose. That was right, he had a thing for Brigid. No matter. She had a marriage alliance with Cathodiem in the works.

  “What shall we name your brother’s planet, Ogma?” she asked.

  Ogma looked at her, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Tech Duinn,” he whispered.

  She tilted her head and muttered the translation, “The house of the dead?”

  That fit her plans rather well. If only her teachers at the Atlantean Academy could see her now!

  Chapter One

  Azrael’s ribs reverberated a thud through his body and his eyes flew open as pain from the booted kick reached his brain. The low hanging sun informed him of the early hour. He jumped to his feet and tried to catch his breath. He scanned the clearing; there was another threat out there. A slash across his arm told him he had run out of time.

  His hand shot up to cover the shallow wound, and he stated, “Come on. Don’t you think this is too much? A simple ‘it’s morning, wake up’ would be sufficient!”

  Verimy shook his head sadly. “We trained you for years at the Sovereign Hall! You are better than this, Azrael!”

  His wife, Dara, cleaned her bloody dagger while hiding a smile. “We are holding back, Azrael, but you really have to get better at staying mindful of your surroundings. Even as you sleep.”

  He winced as he prodded his ribs and sucked in a breath when he found the tender area. “Yeah, but now I have to walk around with my chest hurting for the next hour as the bones heal! Holding back or not, you both know I don’t have a class yet!”

  Verimy shrugged. “A class doesn’t give you awareness. Still, the system heals and you must learn. Just because the Sovereign Halls were destroyed doesn’t mean your training should stop—the ends justify the means.”

  Azrael spat—he had always hated that saying. The stupid thing had been carved into the training arena on Lars, the planet he had grown up on. Yeah, he knew that he was lucky to have been allowed to grow up in the Territory his entire life, and that he had received constant training for four years. Still, sometimes he wondered what his childhood would have been like if he hadn’t started training at the age of three.

  Yet his ‘luck’ led to his capture and subsequent enslavement by the Tuatha. So that credo was absurdly ironic. His captors definitely followed the same justifications.

  He twirled his ring. The dappled sun from the trees overhead glinted off the moon crossing a sword. The iron ring was his one remaining keepsake from the Sovereign Halls—a signet ring of the Sovereign King himself. A father he had never met.

  “Do you two still hope that the Sovereign King is coming to rescue us too?” He sneered.

  Dara’s mouth fell open and she quickly covered it with her hand.

  He knew he had gone too far. “I’m sorry, Dara, Verimy,” He nodded his head at the man to include him. “I am just tired of all this hiding. I’m sick of waiting for my eighth birthday. We don’t even know exactly when it is!”

  It didn’t help that he wasn’t even sure if the Sovereign King was his father. What did he know? Well, his mother dropped him just inside the gate of the Sovereign Halls around a week after his birth. His early trainers had turned their noses up at him. Until he became the best in every class…

  Why were the training grounds of the Sovereign Elite taking orphans in? Well, that would be his bastard father’s famous libido.

  Based on the sheer number of Sovereign Sons Azrael trained with, Erebus Sovereign had an insatiable appetite for the pleasures of the flesh. Erebus must have indulged himself at every opportunity to sire more than thirty ‘students’ a semester.

  Azrael’s first nursemaid had supposedly given up three of her children to the Sovereign Halls. Azrael wasn’t stupid, and he assumed that not every student was a true son of the Sovereign. Erebus had to be taking in children that weren’t his.

  Not that Erebus was actually the one who supported them. No, he created a training ground in one of his Territories called the Sovereign Halls—Sovereign like his last name, get it?

  Azrael shook his head, clearing his mixed feelings for his father and the Empire he represented.

  He hadn’t always felt this conflicted. Since the very first day of his classes, Azrael had pushed with everything he could to make his father proud. To join the elite soldiers the Sovereign Halls created for Erebus.

  Why, then, had his father allowed one of his planets to be ransacked? Especially one as important as Lars.

  He studied the prison planet of Tech Duinn. The ashy leaves and slightly mushy ground were under the unflappable control of the powerful Tuatha De Danaan guild.

  Verimy cuffed him. “Stop standing around. You have morning duties and training to do. Erebus doesn’t help those that don’t help themselves!”

  He turned his back on Dara and Verimy and rolled his eyes—another stupid saying of the Halls. He jogged to the double buckets and staff that always started his day. He weaved through the trees, practicing his foot techniques. The trick was to maintain balance and ensure minimal shifting from the buckets. The route to the streambed was about speed and control.

  He rinsed off the light sweat he built up during the sprint in the shallow water. The way back was always more difficult. He tried to mimic Dara’s feminine voice, “This type of training is good for you. Once you get your class, your skills will grow faster. It’s all part of the plan.”

  He kept his time to a minimum at the stream. Took a swig of water from the bucket and refilled it. Then jogged back the way he came. Today he chose to twirl the buckets above his head as he ran. The circular pattern was hard to maintain. But if he did it correctly, the added gravity would hold the water firmly inside the containers.

  “Do you remember the exact day he was left by the gate?” Dara’s voice filtered through the trees to him. A slight falter in his controlled spin of the buckets caused water to slosh to the ground. He adjusted his wrist and recovered before any more liquid escaped.

  “No… I only remember… when the… ordered… to keep him,” Verimy’s response was fractured as Azrael’s spinning increased the whir of the bucket.

  “Well, he is going to be eight any day now—”

  Whatever else Dara was going to say cut off as he stepped on a branch. Imbecile, he scolded himself. He was too focused on listening and hadn’t minded his surroundings like he was supposed to.

  No one knew his exact age when he arrived at the gate, so while he was definitely seven, the precise time of his birthday was still unknown. But did they know more than they had shared?

  Verimy called, “I thought you were top of your class in forestry. I taught you myself. What was that horrendous—” Verimy rounded the corner and froze. He stood there blinking at Azrael and his spinning buckets of water. His eyebrows rose and he coughed. “Combining training methods, are you? I think that means you can answer additional questions during sword katas!”

  He travelled the rest of the way to the fire pit and went through the methodical process of slowing down the spin. Dara watched him the whole time. She offered, “If you don’t keep your wrists level it’s going to spill.” He bit his tongue in concentration and managed to place the buckets down with only the tiniest amount of water escaping.

  He had enough time to take a deep breath before his training sword hit him in the stomach. “While Dara checks the traps and gets some food prepared, let’s go through your forms.”

  Verimy wasn’t the Swordmaster trainer that Azrael had learned from. But he knew enough to correct improper
footwork and sloppy wrist movement.

  “Where are we?” Verimy asked as he walked in front of Azrael, unstrung bow ready as a ‘correction’ stick.

  “Trainer. We are on the outer edge of the Muradin Territory. It is a Territory under the control of Lord Ogma.”

  “Why don’t we stay within the Territory borders?”

  “Trainer. The Territory’s forest is regulated by ‘The King’s Forest’ decree. No hunting within its zone will provide Etherience or loot. The town itself is taxed. Each ‘building’ must pay a tithe to occupy the land. So, we camp outside and make quick trips into the city to sell our goods.”

  His trainer paused and squinted at Azrael as he slowly moved through his first form in the kata, Glas Wen. This form maintained a low posture and upward strikes. He, in turn, studied his trainer and examined his feelings towards the man and, by extension, Dara.

  In a way, they were like surrogate parents. Without them, he may have died during the assault on the Sovereign Halls, or again on the spaceship journey here, and again several times over from local predators, both humanoid and monster. Perhaps they genuinely did care—a slap and stinging in his shoulder told him Verimy noticed his distraction.

  Do you really think they aren’t going to get something out of all this?

  “What is the function of the Sovereign Sons?”

  “Trainer. To protect the citizens of the Empire. To defend those who need it, and destroy those who deserve it. To use the ancestral Sovereign class to maintain peace, order, and justice.” Azrael recited the words from memory, and repetition.

  Sovereign class from his last name—just like the training school, real original.

  “What is our current plan to get off this rock?”

  Azrael clenched his jaw. “To wait for my father to send his army to rescue his citizens from the arenas and wildernesses of this world.” He received a hard cuff from the supple wood of Verimy’s bow. The cuff meant he had performed something improperly, but he knew he hadn’t. So, this cuff was for his answer.