The Grey Ghost: Book Two of the Archaic Ring Series

by Reed R. Stevens

  This once great city now lay in smouldering ruins, reduced to an ashen skeleton that bled massive gouts of smoke up into the sky as sweeping winds fanned the restless embers that lay scattered along the horizon. Obscured by dense clouds of billowing smoke, eviscerated bodies specked the streets like small stones along a mountain path.

  Netherwolf City had been utterly destroyed.

  The man responsible for this devastation stood amidst a field of butchered corpses, drinking in the metallic scent that moistened the air, a satisfied smile on his lips.

  A little over a month had passed since Brecht led a small band of fellow disciples out of the sect’s territory in order to hunt down the cultivator that killed his younger brother. He’d been entrusted with this task by his grandfather, who had been permitted by the sect master to pursue the matter of Zaern’s death at his own discretion. His grandfather took advantage of this by delegating the task to Brecht, careful not to set a specific time limit on the mission so that his grandson could have free reign in the outside world. If Brecht managed to ascend to the next stage of cultivation, then his grandfather would officially take him on as a core disciple. This was a very lofty position within the sect, a great improvement over his current standing as a member of the inner court.

  In no rush to see his brother’s killer brought to justice, Brecht had settled down in Netherwolf City for the past several weeks so that he could help himself to the robust vitality that these renowned warriors had to offer. After killing their chief and stripping the tribe of all its treasures, they had a small percentage of the city’s population delivered to a discreet location in the dead of night. Along with his followers, he had enjoyed a wonderful evening of gluttony that saw them refine over twenty people each in a matter of hours. Once they’d gotten a taste of such a euphoric stint of refinement, they went on to repeat this process at the end of each day.

  The rocky tensions within the city had been especially entertaining. Crowds of prominent citizens had fought to determine who would be subject to the nightly genocides, until finally the desperate warriors could no longer endure and decided to bet everything on a single instance of revolt.

  Several hundred girls had been taken hostage in order to assure that the masses complied with Brecht’s demands, but who would have thought that those prideful warriors would only be able to hold out for a month before they decided to risk the lives of those pitiable children. A mass exodus took place, where everyone in the city fled into the surrounding grasslands.

  It’s not that the warriors didn’t try to rescue their daughters and sisters. Several thousand of them had made their way to the large tower at the centre of the city, a tall and imposing structure where their former chief used to reside. This was where Brecht had held their relatives hostage.

  Wasting no time, he’d led his men to confront these warriors in a violent clash that resulted in a winding trail of corpses that stretched all the way out of the city and into the surrounding fields. Well over a thousand people were killed in the confrontation, though the tribesmen managed to save most the girls in the end. The final stand was riveting, as Brecht himself had several close calls as he faces the huge host of weaker warriors. He and his men had kept a close proximity to one another in a loose formation that helped them limit their losses to a mere seven disciples.

  At the end of the fighting, the surrounding lands had been a macabre symphony of ghastly moans and tormented screams. The tribesmen managed to save the girls in the end, and the majority of the army of relatives managed to escape, though not before they left behind a good supply of their more powerful warriors. By injuring as many as possible, he and his men had gained a few more days of cultivation despite of the sudden turn of events. They had picked through the fields of fallen enemies and carefully refined each and every warrior that still drew breath.

  Absorbing another person’s inner essence required a delicate hand and a patient mind, especially when cultivating en masse. Brecht made sure to monopolize the best resources for himself, though the others were too lost in the ecstatic feeling of refinement to put much thought into it.

  Finally…

  Surrounded by his remaining brothers, he slowly revolved his inner essence in accordance to the Blood-Burning Heart Technique, the core cultivation method passed down to all members of the sect. Slowly, the blood that covered every inch of his robes began to evaporate like morning dew beneath a scorching sun. Even the scarlet that soaked his flowing hair began to visibly recede, his hair damp where it hung about his shoulders.

  A monumental change took place within Brecht’s dantian. In accordance with his core cultivation method, the golden brilliance that burned within his chest exploded outward with such strength that it was visible to the naked eye as a striking, blinding radiance. Great waves of energy emanated from his body, which spurred the surrounding grasses into a craze of motion as if some great bird were landing in their midst.

  Just as it seemed as if the rabid energies might escape from Brecht’s control, the violent winds died down and the powerful ripples in the air began to recede into his chest.

  Within his mind’s eye, Brecht could see that his dantian had taken on a scarlet hue, doubling in size yet quadrupling in density. As raw power coursed through his veins, he could feel himself growing stronger, his body sturdier. Not only that, his spiritual sense expanded to a radius of several hundred paces.

  With a thought, he gathered a sphere of inner essence around his right hand and willed it into the air. Watching the ball of scarlet energy floating in place without making any contact with his skin, he broke out into a wild fit of laughter. He had finally broken through to the Integration stage, a realm that only the true heroes of the land could ever hope to attain. He could now practice the legitimate techniques of the upper echelons of the sect, the ones that called for the manifestation of inner essence without a direct link to one’s dantian.

  Gaunt, a disciple of the inner court, broke the silence by clasping his hands and bowing respectfully. “Congratulations on your breakthrough, senior brother!”

  Following Gaunt’s lead, the surrounding disciples echoed his words with higher degrees of reverence. “Congratulations on your breakthrough, senior brother!”

  “It was only a matter of time,” Brecht smiled. He had been stuck at the peak of the Profound Entry stage for over a year. He had to thank the good people of Netherwolf City for their selfless contributions to his recent achievement.

  “What now?” Gaunt’s greasy hair hung limply at his neck as he scratched at the stubble that shadowed his willowy face. “Shall we find another city to settle down in?”

  Brecht could sense that the young man was a hairsbreadth away from breaking through to the eight level of the Profound Entry stage, but this was of little concern to him now that he’d satisfied his own cultivation needs. “We’ll hold off on training for now. We’ve been away from the sect for quite a while, yet haven’t made any progress in finding the one that killed Zaern. We don’t want my grandfather to think that we didn’t take his assignment to heart, do we?”

  The others kept their thoughts to themselves, awaiting his orders with compliant gazes.

  “As you know, junior brother Axis arrived a few days ago with an update on Serp’s investigation. They should be camped just outside of the city of Greenwall, in Flora province. We’ll head north and meet up with them.”

  “You mean for us to cross into the kingdom of Verdure?” Gaunt did a poor job at masking the unease in his voice.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem now that I’ve broken through. As long as we keep our heads low we should be in and out of the province in a matter of days.”

  “You really think that Serp’s located the person we’re looking for?” A slim disciple crossed his arms, skepticism on his youthful face. “That this person is in Greenwall?”

  “Axis said that they had reason to believe so. Unfortunately he was killed in battle against the Netherwolf tribesmen, so we can only g
o and see for ourselves.”

  Brecht had a feeling that Serp was holding out on some crucial information. Perhaps that sleeveless brute was bitter about being a vanguard for this mission? It hardly mattered at this point, not after his breakthrough to the Integration stage.

  At a steady pace, it would take several days to reach their destination. During resting periods, he would study the scroll that his grandfather had given him at the onset of his journey, a powerful martial skill that was only available to elders and core disciples of the sect. Now that he met the requirements to practice it, he wouldn’t waste any time in mastering the technique.

  Turning on the spot, Brecht flourished his sleeve and led his men away from the lifeless fields around the dying city. His lips curved upward at the lightness of his steps as the scent of blood and ash began to fade with the distance.

  Chapter Thirteen: Interrogation

  Master-slave contract?

  The last words spoken by the host kept on running through his mind. What was the significance of the way that peculiar scroll had self-immolated? He had a bad feeling about the black tattoo that’d appeared around the girl’s neck, and also couldn’t help but think of how he’d almost picked up a similar roll of parchment earlier in the day. Based on what he’d seen at the auction, the special scrolls required the blood of two people to activate, that of the ‘master’ and the ‘slave.’ Hadn’t his finger been bleeding at the time? If that scroll had already been marked with someone else’s blood, then was there a chance that he could have wound up with a similar tattoo imprinted around his neck?

  And what the hell’s up with that voice I heard?

  Nolan supported the girl as they made their way down the southern district’s main road. He kept a vigilant eye out for any pursuers, his spiritual sense extended many metres in all directions. Though it was hard to tell in such a bustling atmosphere, he was fairly certain that they hadn’t been followed from the slave auction.

  “C-can we stop for a minute?” The girl’s eyes were glossy with despair. “Please…my neck still hurts.”

  Nolan spotted a few stone benches around a large food stall. He gently set her down upon the nearest seat and then went to stand in line. He returned a minute later and handed her a meat skewer.

  The girl hesitated before accepting the food. Her pink t-shirt and faded jeans seemed a few sizes too large, which made him think that the weight loss was recent.

  She avoided eye contact all throughout the meal, focused on wolfing down the meat as if it might get taken away at any moment. After that, she stared around with a lost expression. She occasionally glanced up and down the street, her minty irises a mist of hopeless confusion.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Her gaze snapped to full attention. “You speak English?”

  “I just did, didn’t I?”

  “What country is this?” She grabbed his shoulders. “Nobody speaks English here.”

  “About that…”

  “I think I was kidnapped. I passed out in my bedroom and then woke up in a cage in some warehouse. They kept me locked up and hardly fed me. These are the same clothes I had on when I fell asleep in my room! They never gave me anything else to wear.”

  She broke down crying, which drew a few stares from those nearby.

  “I just want to see my family. I want to go home…”

  Nolan lightly pushed the girl off of his arm, grabbed one of her shoulders and fixed her with a sympathetic stare. “Listen, you don’t have to deal with those scumbags anymore, okay? If you’re hungry, you can eat. If you wanna clean yourself, you’ll be able to. I’ll make sure of that, I promise.”

  She stood up a bit straighter. “I need to go to the police and contact my family.”

  “You can’t.” She got up and tried to run, but he grabbed her arm before she could take more than a single step. “Hold on a minute, please.”

  The girl ignored him and tried to break free of his grasp.

  She thinks I’m some sketchy person too?

  “Just stop for a minute and let me explain.”

  The tattoo around her neck began to emit a faint golden glow. “Ah!” She gasped and fell to her knees, grabbing at her neck in shock.

  Behind them, two middle-aged men began muttering to one another. “It’s hard to believe that in this day and age there’re still people that don’t know how to discipline their slaves.”

  “Mine have never dared to complain in front of me, let alone in public.”

  “I say, what peculiar clothing he’s dressed her in.”

  Nolan let go of the girl’s arm. “Sorry, but we’ve gotta go.”

  As he led the girl away from the food stall, Nolan realized the terrible truth behind the master-slave contract along with the purpose of the odd, black tattoo.

  “You—what did you do to me?”

  Nolan spotted a woman selling handwoven garments at a nearby stall and quickly went to purchase a plain black cloak. He handed it to the girl, who draped it over her shoulders with uncertainty.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what happened. They were selling you off as a slave, so I placed the highest bid so that I could free you. I didn’t know anything about that weird scroll or the tattoo around your neck, but you were about to be sold off to a brothel. I had to do something.”

  “Tattoo? What tattoo?”

  “Well, after that scroll burnt up a black tattoo appeared on around neck.”

  She felt around with flustered hands. “Where is it? What does it look like?”

  “It’s just a plain circle, like a belt.”

  “How could that be true?” She ran over to a roadside store to check her appearance in one of its windows, panicking the moment that she beheld her reflection. “You weren’t lying. How can a piece of paper give someone a tattoo?”

  “I’m not sure.” How was he supposed to tell her about the Interspatial Migration? It felt kind of cruel, freeing her from traumatising captivity only to reveal to her that the real reason she woke up in that cage was because everyone on Earth had been sent to another planet. To follow up by saying that this is a medieval world that basically had magic, and that most people from Earth had died a while ago, would be too much.

  He sensed a man approaching while leading along a baby boar. This animal had six legs and was larger than a horse, though it was strangely docile.

  Fuck! I can’t just not say anything.

  He pointed ahead. “Look over there.”

  Her eyes trailed across the strange animal, and she did a double take. Her face lost its last bit of colour. “Where are we?” she asked. “What country is this?”

  “Just look around you for a minute. Hopefully you’ll realize it on your own.”

  The girl took his advice.

  Hundreds of people filled the cobblestone street, which was dotted with dozens of stalls where ordinary civilians had chosen to advertise their wares for the day. This was how most people in this society conducted their business.

  Buildings of all sizes lined either side of the road, mostly made of stone. Flowing banners and wooden signs hung above each establishment, which denoted what sort of business they dealt in. There were a few areas of the road that the crowds didn’t infringe upon, sections kept clear for carriages and animals of burden, and also anyone that chose to sprint to their destination.

  “Everyone is dressed so strangely…”

  “You might have a hard time believing it, but this isn’t Earth. We’re in another world, in a kingdom called Verdure. Hoh, man, if you think I’m full of shit now—”

  “Do you have to tease me like this? Please, I’ve been through so much. Just tell me where we actually are.”

  “I will, but you’ll have to try to keep an open mind, okay?”

  Nolan sat the girl down at another bench and tried to explain the situation as coherently as possible. He told her about the Interspatial Migration, how all of the people on Earth had somehow been transported to anot
her world, and then gave a brief summary of his experiences since he arrived in Venara. He patiently answered her questions, which were more skeptic than curious, though he eventually got through to her. What helped him sell his story was the lack of any cars or other technologies within the city, along with the fully armoured guards that patrolled the streets. She started to believe him the moment she saw the huge cow-bodied canines that were common in the surrounding countryside.

  He could tell that she was still wary of him, rightly so considering that he wore a cloak and covered his face with a mask. That, and the fact that he’d just bought her at a slave auction. I guess I could do without the mask, he thought, storing it away in his spatial bag. Hopefully he’d appear more approachable to her.

  After explaining everything to the best of his ability, he led the girl back down the road in the direction of the inn. She didn’t say a word up until they met up with Jason at the designated food stall, where she exchanged a small greeting during a brief introduction.

  “Have you seen Nyla and Quin at all?” Nolan asked as they approached the entrance to the inn.

  “If they’re not in their room then they’re probably still out somewhere. Honestly, and we’re supposed to meet up with Kam in like twenty minutes…”

  They hurried for their room, eager to get the girl situated and to properly explain the situation to her. Wait, is that…? Nolan held up a hand to stop the others.

  “There’s someone in our room,” he whispered. “And I don’t recognize their life signal.” He told Jason and the girl to stay back, calmly approached the door as his spiritual sense locked onto the person on the other side. Fifth level of Body Nourishment? The life signal was pretty strong compared to the other people Nolan had met with the same level of cultivation. In order to subdue their guest he’d need to give it his all from the get-go.

  He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him and then turning to face the strange man who sat on one of the wooden chairs loosely gathered around the room’s lone table. His brown hair showed signs of a recent trim, a cheap set of burlap robes on top of a strong physique.