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

by Ryan DeBruyn

  Ogma and Dara came into the room from a different entrance. Azrael, Jophi, and especially Verimy perked up. Verimy opened his mouth, ready to speak until Oberan followed closely after them. His trainer’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

  Dara and Ogma both sat, and neither wanted to meet the eyes of the group. Could Dara have broken? Seeing her now, it made sense, but why wouldn’t she meet Verimy’s eyes?

  Oberan sat down and smiled. “It’s great to see everyone.” His tone carried such thick sarcasm, Azrael felt he could pull out his sword and cut it. Oberan looked around the people sitting at the table and chuckled before leaning forward and growing severe. “I will give freedom to the person who tells me what happened to the cell block you resided in.”

  Oberan looked around. Azrael’s mouth had fallen open. He was genuinely shocked at first. But quickly remembered Apep. He attempted to hold that initial expression and emotion, doing his best to act the part. Apep must have failed to tap the veins and been destroyed by the Pit. That didn’t bode well for the backup plan, but Azrael was confident he was the only one who knew about the dungeon core. So he held his look of confusion as the surprise of the accusation came down.

  Oberan sneered. “The dungeon claims that there was a disruption in the power flow through that area. However, I find it extremely suspicious that it happened in your cell block and when you were all conveniently out of the cell. I want to know how you all accomplished it, and I want to know now!”

  There was something in his voice this time that went beyond authoritative. Was Oberan worried about something? Azrael began putting pieces together in his head. The Pit didn’t know what had happened, or wouldn’t tell Oberan the truth. Did the Tuathan leader have full control of the arena?

  Azrael ventured, “How would we know more than the dungeon? I have read that dungeons reorganize their interiors all the time—” He cut off from the glare Oberan bestowed on him. Azrael knew when speaking more would undo what little he had just gained and stayed silent. Oberan transferred that glare from person to person. Did he linger longer on Jophi; on Verimy? He barely glanced at Bat, that was for certain, dismissing the blue-skinned, long-eared batman as inconsequential.

  Little does he know that the batman is so useful.

  They were all escorted from the room after a few more minutes of awkward silence and locked in individual cells on the third floor. To Azrael’s surprise, their group now included Ogma and Dara. Those two were in cells that looked lived in. Azrael was left to conclude that this had been their place of residence for a while.

  He entered the double gate mechanism of his new cell and studied the bars. These weren’t the cheap wood fixtures of the second floor. No, these cells each appeared to be carved from a single piece of wood. The enchantment runes were artistically added, creating spirals and loops so beautiful Azrael felt he was in an apartment more opulent than his quarters in the Sovereign Halls.

  On the flip side of the beauty was the sheer power he could feel coming off of the bars. This floor definitely had added security as it put his group closer to Oberan. Was he trying to keep an eye on them? Nothing he could do about it, either way.

  The bed frame in the cell seemed to grow out of the ground, and the interior had memory nanobot gel. A glance told him the washroom looked like an elven treehouse, with living tree branches providing water faucets and the floor so perfectly elegant Azrael couldn’t decide if it reminded him of an artist’s walking cane or a luxury carved yacht.

  Verimy and Dara were across the hall and had immediately begun talking through the use of their hand gestures that Azrael had never fully mastered. Still, from what little he knew, love got conveyed as well as anger and disdain on both sides—typical lovers?

  Jophi and Ogma spoke openly, and Azrael tuned in to Ogma, mid-sentence, “—did the Cathodiem Guild respond? No, Jophiel, they have ignored every missive I’ve sent. Your father is absent from every news article out of Atlantis. I can’t tell if they are making a move or if he is still at court.”

  Jophi’s mouth formed a small smile, and she looked at Azrael, before mouthing, “My father is coming.”

  That seems like a bit of a stretch.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Ogma, do you think you can talk to Octorian? Convince him that having groups on a single task everyday will be more efficient?” Azrael asked, after deciding to be open with their plans of escape.

  Ogma might betray them, but without the help of the Firbolg Tuatha De Danaan Guild member, they would fail, regardless. It had taken Azrael listening to Jophi and Ogma talking for an hour before coming to the risky decision to include him. Dinner in the mess hall would be very soon, and if he could get Octorian to adjust their tasks, they could begin planning.

  Ogma looked to Azrael, then Verimy, Dara, and Jophi. “Jophiel, is this child the leader?” he asked.

  Dara glared at Verimy and made some hand gestures that conveyed her own outrage with that point. Azrael shook his head. Here it goes again…

  To his surprise, Jophi smiled and shrugged sheepishly. “Despite my original misgivings, he has proven to be quite apt.”

  Verimy indicated Jophi with an open palmed gesture to Dara. “I agree with Jophiel. Dara, Azrael has proven he should lead.”

  Well, that’s a surprise.

  Ogma nodded to himself a few times. “What task specifically do you think has the best chance of a successful escape?” Ogma asked. Azrael hadn’t yet mentioned an escape. The man was quick to see through what was left unsaid.

  “Hypothetically, woodcutting and stone gathering. They are never in the same area, so no permanent deterrents have been set up,” Azrael responded, not bothering to hide the current consensus.

  “We should just wait for my father to arrive. I am sure I can convince him to take everyone out of this place,” Jophi interjected.

  “Jophiel, honey, don’t be a fool. You have no idea if your father is en route to Tech Duinn. I have failed to provide you with any political protection at all. Oberan treats me like a prisoner. If you can escape, then you should,” Ogma stated. His voice dripped with world weariness.

  Maybe she will listen to Ogma, at least.

  “Are you two taken out for slave labor, fights, or anything? Or do you just sit up here in these cells?” Azrael asked Dara and Ogma.

  “Dara and I are honored guests. I am allowed out to eat dinner and watch fights,” Ogma said.

  “I have been eating with Oberan on the fourth floor every night,” Dara added.

  Verimy stood up, face red and fists balled. “You what? Why?”

  “Honestly, he has many women at his table. None of them speak. It is a very depressing affair. I think he is lonely, and the others are prisoners as well. But I truly can’t say. Haven’t seen any of them outside of that room,” Dara responded.

  The two began speaking in angry hand motions, turning the conversation private in a way Azrael envied. “Enough! Guards will escort us to dinner soon. Do you think you can convince Octorian or not?” he asked.

  Ogma shrugged. “I have never spoken to the man. I will test the waters tonight.”

  ***

  Azrael, Verimy, and Bat sat together at a table on the first level. Was it Azrael’s imagination or were they getting a great deal more stares? Had something changed?

  Jophiel and Dara were both escorted from the cells by Gyr. Azrael assumed it was to join Oberan at his dinner on the fourth floor. He disliked being split up, but from his first read of the man, Azrael assumed Oberan was into other men. Perhaps he didn’t have a preference? More likely the large gathering of women at dinner was a bit of a show. Azrael wasn’t worried for the two ladies, because he was pretty confident in his initial read.

  Azrael watched Ogma at the head table and he didn’t see him talk to Octorian once. Rather, Ogma spoke to others. Which was a huge improvement from his sullen disinterest of previous meals. Was he playing the slow game? Azrael couldn’t afford the time that would waste. He onl
y had nine days.

  Azrael checked his character sheet while he ate quietly. He had dropped his two skill points into Bloodletter but still had to place his stats.

  Azrael Sovereign Level 19

  Class: Sovereign (Revenant)

  Class Skills: Soul Strike (V), Soul Cloak (V), Soul Storage (V), Bloodletter (IV)

  Health Points = 270/270 Points

  Ether Pool = 190/190 Points

  You have 2 stat points and 0 skill points to distribute.

  Stamina – 27

  Strength – 21

  Agility – 35

  Dexterity – 35

  Intelligence – 19

  Wisdom – 18

  Charisma – 16

  Luck – 12

  Skills:

  Analyze – Strong 4

  Butcher – Weak 21

  Combatant – Strong 31

  Endurance – Strong 12

  Martial Arts – Strong 44

  Meditation – Weak 12

  Obfuscate – Strong 12

  Sneak – Weak 22

  Stone Cutting – Weak 18

  Swordsmanship – Greater 43

  Tracking – Weak 12

  Octorian stared into his plate. At past meals, Octorian would be charismatic and bold at the head table. Tonight, he was disconnected. Azrael glanced up the top table for a hint at why the elf was checked out. Each Arena Champion who sat at the table had defeated the tenth challenge, a Treant mini-boss. Octorian was the only one to have challenged the fifteenth, some kind of massive horse creature. The Goblorc to Octorian’s left was the next highest and had failed to complete the fourteenth challenge. The mob saved his life and he was working his way up the challenges again.

  The Goblorc was tall and muscled like an elf. It had pointed ears and teeth but carried with it a beauty that the orc race and the Goblin race failed to have on their own. Goblorc’s were that perfect combination between the two, bringing an Elven appearance to two races that many people found terrifying. Regardless, the body language of this particular Goblorc seemed strange. Today, he was acting the way Octorian often did. False benevolence dripped from his gesturing arms and half smiles. He acted like he was the current champion.

  Octorian looked up and his mouth twisted into a sneer. Then he went back to eating sullenly. Something was strange, and Azrael couldn’t place it. Ogma carried on conversations with anyone who would listen, but Octorian continued to ignore everything around him right up until the end of the meal.

  ***

  Azrael’s luck finally ran out and the toad noosed him onto the end of a polearm. He waited for torture, waited for Torin to slam him into walls, the floor, or to attempt to humiliate him. Instead, Azrael was directed calmly to a cellblock at the back of an orderly line of arena initiates. He wondered if the angry orc was going to lock him up in a cell and pretend to have misplaced him. Instead, he was directed to the center of the room.

  “Is that the Sovereign Son?” one of the initiates yelled from a second story cell.

  “The initiate who traded his name for a spot on the second or third floor?”

  “The Katydid that pretends to be better than the rest of us. Oberan’s little pet?”

  The stares at dinner began to make sense, as the insults continued to fly. The rage built and pieces of broken beds were lobbed at him and Torin. The toad knocked the poorly-aimed projectiles out of the air with its hands, and Azrael’s Soul Cloak effectively stopped any from hitting him. However, the sentiment carried through.

  Torin brought Azrael to ten other blocks on the first floor and showed him the general feelings towards him and his group. Did Torin expect the insults about Azrael’s parentage, his looks, and his morals to hurt him?

  There is no shame in living at any cost. That’s the first lesson of the Sovereign Halls. Does this warty toad fail to understand that?

  On the way back up to the cells, Torin added its customary physical torture to the mental one it had attempted. Azrael barely felt the pain this time. If the moron was stooping to mental attacks and name calling, then the toad was already desperate.

  He wouldn’t be broken by such a weak creature. He watched his health drop below one hundred and spat out a mouthful of blood from his severely ravaged lips. He wouldn’t lose this way.

  Dara, Jophiel, Verimy, Ogma, and Bat were already in their cells when Azrael was dropped into his. His health points and hamburger skin told the story for everyone.

  “What happened to him?” Ogma asked, clearly unfamiliar with such treatment.

  “That orc guard has taken it into his head to torture Azrael and our group whenever he can. I think Azrael told us that the guard bet against him in the Battle Royale and still holds a grudge. Luckily, he holds himself back from severe injuries, only stacking minor wounds in his torture,” Jophi responded, her voice worried.

  A growl escaped someone, and its depth and bass made Azrael think it was Ogma. He couldn’t sit up right now to check, though. “Give me a sign you can hear me, Azrael,” Ogma said, the growl cutting off and confirming its origin.

  Azrael raised an arm and forced a thumbs up on his heavily-skinned hand.

  “All right. I promise to try to make someone aware of this guard if I can. Still, we must discuss Octorian and my attempts tonight,” Ogma continued after Azrael’s confirmation.

  “Octorian will face the Enbarr again tomorrow. No one, not even himself, expects a victory. After being saved by the crowd eight times, many of the other champions think his luck has run out. This was the reason for his somber attitude and distance tonight. I did manage to get all the champions to reminisce about their days doing slave labor and how inefficient it was to do varying tasks. Whether Octorian heard that conversation is anyone’s guess. Frag the Goblorc is technically next to the position if Octorian dies tomorrow. I can only promise to try again,” Ogma intoned.

  Azrael let his frustration and weariness with that answer pull him into unconsciousness and slept right there on the cold stone floor.

  Chapter Thirty

  The following day, Azrael woke covered in sweat. He shouldn’t have spent the night on the cold floor, especially after the abuse Torin had put him through. He took a shower to avoid getting any unsavory debuffs. There were some bad debuffs out there, that took quite a while to dissipate even with the system’s help.

  He was even more disappointed to see the damage and blood on his clothes. He didn’t have Apep anymore to provide new garments. He wondered if there was a way to transfer Torin’s dislike from him and his group. His current clothes were practically rags again, and he had fed all of his backups to the dead dungeon core.

  After his shower, he dressed in his dirty rags again and promised to find an opportunity to stock back up on gear. Louis happily brought breakfast to each individual cell, actually handing the trays off of a cart to each occupant. Somewhere along the way, his fear of Azrael had vanished. “You’ve done pretty well out there, lad. Are you excited to watch the Arena Champion versus the Enbarr tonight?”

  Azrael stepped back—a single eyebrow raised. “What do you mean, Louis? Do the combatants get to watch this contest?”

  “Tradition is to allow everyone to watch the Champion’s fights. Your group should be included this time. Who knows though?” Louis said as he handed Azrael his tray of food. To his surprise, it was overflowing with much more food than he had expected. He gave the gnome a questioning look and got a smile in return.

  I will take any benefit I can get!

  “I have been brought to watch every fight in the arena,” Ogma stated as he looked around at the others. “I don’t think combatants get to watch every fight. Mostly because of the labor crews, but you should have been taken to see the other Initiate tournament bouts if nothing else. You weren’t?”

  Azrael shook his head. “Our best friend Torin told us that the other teams are watching our fights, but that we won’t be brought down.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Oberan at all,” Dara stated in
her motherly way. “He always brags about the fairness of his competition at his dinners. I am not saying he isn’t a horrible, greedy man. But he truly believes he is fair in his own way.”

  Azrael felt his heart stutter—another unknown out to get him?

  “What’s the name of the team you’re fighting in the round of sixteen?” Ogma asked in between bites of breakfast.

  Arena Chain Quest

  Single Elimination Tournament

  Win the Round of 16

  ● The dungeon created a competition for new combatants. Win the round of 16 to gain benefits and concessions from the arena. The better the score during the contest, the higher the rewards!

  Sovereign Son VS. Plotz

  Rewards:

  Etherience

  Points to buy Class-Appropriate Gear

  Failure:

  May result in death

  Verimy supplied the name to Ogma as Azrael read over the quest. Ogma tapped his chin in response. “I think I remember them. They have lost two fights so far, but won both matches. One of their combatants was killed by crowd decision after their loss. The second combatant was saved.

  “The one that was saved is a werewolf assassin. His combat is terrifying to watch. He has some sort of teleport or shadow step ability. The other fighter I saw was a templar. He used his fist blades in efficient martial forms. The fourth and final combatant we haven’t seen yet. My guess would be he is the strongest of the group. At least based on what I have seen of the escalation of their fights.”

  Azrael took that in. At least he knew what he would be facing. He looked around at his group and considered if they were any closer to an escape. No, they weren’t. If he saw an opportunity to get out of here, he needed to take it. At least they would still have the gear for the tournament if they left through the team room and the tunnels Bat found.

  The guards came shortly after, and Azrael was escorted back to the stone gathering yard. Bat and he had already been here and together had theorized a few escape options. Azrael reassessed it now, looking for anything they might have missed. The task was simple from a mental standpoint. But absurdly challenging physically.