Balance of Death Page 13

  “Victor you piece of shit.” Drekavak exclaims as he holds the robed man in the air.

  “You cannot win.” Victor murmurs. Blood flows from cuts on his face.

  Just then the sky gets dark and the air gets heavy. Asta struggles to breath, and the wind picks up. The wind is warm against her skin. Just in front of Drekavak the wind powerfully swirls; the trees in the forest bend forward towards that point. Lighting snaps out periodically from inside the swirl. A face made of blue light begins to take from inside the tornado. Lighting strikes out from the top of the forming head and as it does the energy becomes a constant wave flowing from the top of the blue energy head: that looks like hair. Then a blast of energy shoots out as the rest of the being takes form.

  Asta is sent flying backward and her surroundings turn to darkness. She keeps falling until her arms flailing seem to slow as the black surroundings turn to black water. She holds her breath and frantically tries to get her bearings. Then the face from before Drekavak appears in front of her, as big as her whole body. “Lies, there is no way you are the one!” The face declares. It is clear that whatever this being is it has great power.

  Asta suddenly can breathe again as her surroundings turn back into black. Still suspended in the blackness she looks onto this being. “Thatos?” Asta asks.

  “What a waste!” Thatos declares.

  Shockwaves run through Asta’s body, and the image of Drekavak’s limp body being carried into the sky by Thatos flashes in front of her.

  Asta suddenly wakes up hovering in a massive carriage. The room is decimated, and potent red chakra surrounds her. As she wakes up more and more her body lowers to the ground, and this unfamiliar potent scarlet red chakra draws back into her. It is much darker than her normal rose red chakra. After a brief moment a death dealer speeds in. “What is going on?” The death dealer asks.

  “Nothing don’t worry.” Asta responds. Clearly still deep in thought as she is on her knees in the middle of the room.

  “I was just walking through the carriage when suddenly I felt some powerful chakra and I passed out.” The death dealer explains. The potency of the foreign chakra alone was enough to render a death dealer unconscious.

  “That was my fault. Ensure our driver is okay and keep things moving.” Asta instructs. Fully awake now she knows they are on their way to meet with the clans.

  They are just north of Valgue. Past the border of the Wrathbrook region. They ride in a massive luxurious two tiered carriage. This behemoth of a vehicle hovers over the semi-kept roads that get worse the further they get from the Amnekian controlled Wrathbrook region.

  Roads running through the central lands are rare, and no publicly available instant transportation hubs exist. Much of the central lands are still wild and most who live in them don’t have any affiliation with Amneka at all. The central lands are home to many things Amneka wants; some of the most vast untapped resources, the largest body of water in all of the realm, areas near the sea have sprawling and fertile flat lands for hundreds of miles making it ideal for farming, amongst many other strategic and economic advantages.

  As Asta’s driver navigates towards her rendezvous point with Thromb; on the last leg of her two-day journey. She finds her mind conflicted with thoughts of Daeva. Her mind turns to worry when conjuring thoughts of Daeva meeting his end. As much as she would like to tell herself it is because he is a useful tool for controlling the circle deeper reflection shows a different consideration. One that she has tried to bury deep after the loss of Drekavac who was as a parent to her.

  Her years of torture and slavery under the now defunct Azure Depths Industries; a cross realm slave mining company that operated between Ahrahmsahn and the west-most part of Prósdesi in the region of Lucabia. Have taught her brutal lessons of the world and how it operates; ones that now sit over 70 years in her past, but she refuses to forget them. As she contemplates; the carriage comes to a halt.

  She can feel the carriage lower as the crystals reduce their discharge. The driver runs around the huge carriage dropping large Steel legs; as he makes his way around dust flurries through the air: from the force of the crystals holding the carriage above the ground. The driver eventually completes his way around the carriage and returns to the cab shutting off the gravitational output. The carriage lowers onto the legs.

  A few moments pass before one of Asta’s death dealers steps out to stretch her arms. Wearing the traditional garb of a death dealer; expressionless mask, a hood with sleek armor, various blades at her hip, legs, and back.

  After the death dealer Asta steps out. At first glance her outfit seems innocuous. A light material drapes down her body to just below her waist; with a plunging neckline exposing much of her cleavage. Yet upon closer inspection, underneath that over garment her abdomen is lined with biston hide. Her breasts supported with the same material. Even shoulder cuffs down to her forearm made from biston hide. Asta’s brown hair lays around her shoulders, chest, and back. Her expression seems a bit more conflicted and contemplative than her usual driven demeanor.

  She looks onto the complex where she is to meet Thromb. This marks a huge step towards furthering her goals. A modest L shaped stone building; it looks a little more than a couple farmhouses pushed together. In the courtyard a few places to tie up a mount with feed troths-a modest roof providing some protection against the elements for the mounts; a small fence tracing the courtyard; various piles of grain. Farm and land cultivation tools strewn about. This place stands as one of the last refuges for travelers to stay as they head further into the untamed central lands of Prósdesi. Asta heads into the main entrance to this little inn. Inside there are short wooden beams holding up the ceiling that is being insulated with hay. A fire place with a pot of food cooking, a bar, and a few tables with chairs. A quaint spot that is clearly frequented by travelers, but clearly the credits earned aren’t put into the aesthetics.

  This establishment looks more like an enlarged personal living room then an inn eatery. Asta spots a robed man sitting with perfect posture. He is wearing his robes very deliberately; well crafted robes tight to his body with a large robe at his waist holding them together . He is sitting at a table with two other men wearing robes that only cover one diagonal half of their torso, reaching from their waist to their left shoulders.

  As Asta approaches Thromb studies her. “You must be the storied Asta; holding claim to the destruction of the largest Gladiator Arena in Lucabia; The Assassin who ended Talonmoor’s magistrate and destroyed the docks single handedly.” Thromb remarks.

  Asta pulls out a chair and joins the men at the table; “Legends are just the most meaningful portion of an event to the one telling it. Much as the truth is commonly recognized only as it conforms to one’s predilections.” Asta retorts. Being a little over 100 years old she has greater experience in the dance of conversation than Thromb.

  Thromb sits back lifting his leg returning it to the floor. “Share with me then the whole of why you orchestrated this encounter?” Thromb asks.

  As Asta begins forming her next words she feels the pressure of this meeting. She has been working for a long time to coordinate with the clans. “I seek to work together towards mutual gain. I have much that could be of great value to you. Especially in the coming culmination.” Asta can see Thromb’s discomfort as she talks of the culmination. This makes Asta anxious to gain his trust before it may be beyond her reach. “I am now the will behind the circle of śmierć, and hold only contempt for the Amnekian empire.” Asta assures.

  “And, what does the will of the circle of śmierć want from the Shanshe clan?” Thromb presses.

  “To see us come to a mutually beneficial agreement.” Asta responds. After her words she looks over to the inn owner behind the bar; she now realizes she speaks callously, and clenches her jaw angered by her own lack of awareness. Something she will deal with later, but for now she must focus on the task at hand.

  “What would be the terms of such an arrangement?�
�� Thromb’s curiosity peaked.

  “The circle’s reach is far and deep within the establishment of Amneka; I would give you full access to what resources and information it holds.” Asta pauses to let Thromb absorb the weight of her words. Thromb is skeptical, but knows that this could prove invaluable to the clans. “All I would ask is the ability to learn from your honorable clan.” Asta giving voice to words she has worked years to broach with an important clan member. She feels a rush up her spine knowing her efforts have gotten her here.

  Thromb sits resting his chin on his hand glancing down and to the right she can see he sits conflicted, so she reaches into the plunging neckline of her kimono. The three men raise their heads studying her movements. She pulls out a scroll held in an elegant casing with jade snakes carved around the outside. Asta slides the scroll over to Thromb; he picks it up popping open the casing. “Those are the dates Amneka is planning on beginning the culmination from the man leading it himself.” Asta proudly declares.

  Thromb glances at her as she talks reviewing the text on the scroll. This seems too good to be true; Thromb doesn’t like all of this coming together absent his actions. Embarking on a course of action he is not the catalyst to; leaving him to guess the intent and calculations of said catalyst. Thromb has many questions but composes himself; “How did you come to be the leader of the circle. How do I even truly know you are?” Thromb unsure. While Aeshma’s don’t deny this, they don’t directly corroborate it either.

  “There are a number of ways I could demonstrate that for you, but how about just setting up a meeting with the Kentro. Once we come to terms.” Asta counters.

  Thromb likes the opportunity before him, but knows there stands barriers not least amongst them the clans only teach their disciplines to those within the clan; such people stand as family to him. “There are problems with your request.” Thromb says with a sigh. “The clerics only allow us to teach even the most basic Soten principals to those within our clans.” Thromb says as he ponders the solution.

  “Then I shall join.” Asta without hesitation replies. Not fully realizing what it means to be a clan member.

  “The clan stands as a family, and no matter what prize you offer it cannot buy trust and bond of family.” Thromb is obdurate. “Yet.” With a pause as he forms his thoughts. “A ruse of entry: fooling the daft cleric. In order to teach fundamentals of our Soten isn’t inconceivable.” Thromb measures Asta’s response.

  Asta holds in her excitement. She is getting close to the realization of advice given to her by Drekavac, himself, so long ago. As this falls far short of the deal she proposed she doesn’t want to give way to comprise early- weakening her position. “Your terms are sufficient; With the understanding that-as our arrangement continues to bear fruit for you- they are amenable.” Asta persuades.

  Thromb suspicious of her still nods his head in agreement. “Why go through such trouble to learn Soten?.” He figures with such dedication she may very well have simply committed herself to the clans.

  “Knowledge is power. With Soten that is very literally the case.” Asta responds.

  “Yet there are those that could teach Soten even some outside the realm. What has set you upon this path?” Thromb questions.

  “I have powerful enemies, and I have had little success with second rate chakra wielders.” Asta cryptically replies.

  With the dates of the culmination stingily close: a thing he would not have known if not for Asta. Thromb must capitalize on any advantage against the imposing might of Amneka. He considers Asta a well calculated risk. “I will see you in Qilong city in twenty days.” Thromb accepts her terms. A trek from here would take at least that much time; especially for someone who is unfamiliar with the terrain.

  Asta is not interested in waiting that long; “I can be there in 8 days.” Asta waiting for Thromb’s reaction.

  “That carriage you have is fancy, but it will not get you 9,000 miles in 8 days. Do you have transport hubs in the central lands?” Thromb would not expect transportation hubs anywhere near Qilong City.

  Asta smiles; “When is the soonest we can meet in Qilong city?” Asta disinterested in distracting from the main point.

  Thromb takes a moment to calculate how long he will need to finish a few important things before meeting with Asta; amongst them is speaking with Aeshma and getting some background information. “I want you to setup a meeting with me and Daeva. I can meet with you a few days after that.” Thromb bargains.

  Asta expected difficult terms and will not let anything get in her way. She must learn Soten. “Very well, it will be in north east Phalyados. I would aid you in travel if you have no expedient means.” Asta is beginning to get frustrated with Thromb delaying the beginning of her training in Qilong city. Still the difficulty of getting Daeva to meet in the midst of the war he is fighting will prove challenging.

  “Let us have our meeting in three days time.” Thromb decides. He intends on controlling these developments so they bolster his current plans not distract from them. He will need some time to contemplate how best to move forward, and introduce these terms to the other clans. “Then I will see you in Qilong city in 8 days where we can finalize the terms of our arrangement. You are a bold woman I hope your boasts mirror the truth.” Thromb hoping to impress upon her the significance of her words spoken before the sage of the Shanshe clan.

  Asta leans forward on the table; her gorgeous eyes widen as she stares into Thrombs’. She is going to make her plans reality. “One day soon you will be happily sharing with me techniques of the great clans; with your concerns crushed by the weight of such truths.” Asta relays before standing and taking her leave.

  In Poetovio. Kredulus’ enforcer Cotus Berrilus is leading a small regiment of men. A line of carriages travel carrying men from various syndicates throughout the circle. In the back of one of them is a group of armored men jammed in together. Their armor and the space they occupy aren’t designed for comfort. However, as the journey pressed the men’s desire for comfort fought their pragmatic environment; until a homeostasis is met and the men each in their own way found a bearable position.

  One man Luc sits with is foot on another who is laying on the floor sleeping. Luc is smoking a cigar and boisterously regaling the men with various stories. While this is going on Rohan sits in a corner keeping to himself mostly with another man next to him trying to get some sleep. As they continue down the road the carriage jostles massively. Sending everyone tossed from one side to the other. Once the men inside are all scrambled the carriage resumes its normal bumpy but predictable ride.

  The man next to Rohan is woken as another one of the men is thrown into his lap. As they try to regain their comfort the man next to Rohan cusses; “What the fuck are these idiots doing?” Sony the man next to Rohan says.

  Rohan glances over at him; his question reminding him of a happy memory lifting his mood. “The carriage is supported by gravity emitting crystals, if one of the crystals gets overcharged it pops.” Rohan almost involuntarily blurts out-in his thick accent-as he sits there staring off remembering his family as he rocks back and forth with the carriage’s movement.

  “How do you know that?” Sony questions.

  Rohan smiles. “Actually my daughter taught it to me. She is very smart and interested in all this.” Rohan nodding his head. “She is destined for wonderful things. I know it.” Rohan finishes.

  “That’s pretty cool.” Sony admiring his ambivalence to their situation, and faith in his daughter.

  Luc over hears Rohan enough to understand he is talking about crystal technology. “Rohan over there is my man, but he does get us into some shit sometimes.” Luc muses. “Tell our pirate brethren about the border guards, and that one guy.” Luc goats.

  “Why don’t you take a rest.” Rohan resists.

  “Shit I’ve been sleeping all day!” Luc exclaims.

  “How 'bout you shut up and give us a chance to then.” Rohan counters. As the men in the carriage chuck
le. Luc with a smirk moves past the comment.

  “Okay so get this men.” Even though irritating at times his stories are a welcomed distraction to the discomfort and the battles that await them. “We frequently smuggle goods across the border. Our syndicate leader Ahiti moves certain things for our radian Kredulus.” Luc trails. “Anyways, in the process of this we usually just pay off the guards, however, there was this one do-gooder that just wouldn’t take our payment, so we had to tune him up. Long story short one of our new blokes was having a bit of fun with him. He starts going on about this guards family, and even starts talking about the guard’s daughter. Well of course Rohan has issue with that. Rohan yells at the man ‘Enough’. But, this new guy keeps on pushing. Laughing off Rohan’s comments. Next thing you know Rohan has broken the blokes fingers and nose. As the new guy lays there bleeding Rohan is lecturing him about boundaries and so on.” Luc pauses as the men in the room nudge each other commenting on various parts of the story. “Anyways, anyways.” Getting the group’s attention. “Of course, all I am thinking about is how the fuck are we going to get this guard to play ball. Well lo and behold as soon as Rohan finishes his lecture the guard looks him dead in the eyes and says ‘I’m in’.” Luc throws his hands in the air. “What the fook is that right? I’m telling you Rohan is the badest hand to hand fighter you’ll ever meet, but how the fuck he ended up working for Ahiti or any syndicate baffles me!” Luc closes.