Fate's Test: The City's Blades Book 2

By T. J. Dipple

Tren has taken the mantle of God of Life but he is still getting used to his powers.
Slavery is now rotting the heart of Kavernhive, a power gap left when The Blades defeated the assassins' guild.
To top it all off Bane's aura of Chaos is flaring more and more often. His leader is so far unaware of what he is, but Tren can feel it.
The power will only stay dormant for so long.

Far to the south in the Noman Isles a Lord is murdered and his missing heir is blamed.
Then the Overseer is found dead and heading up the investigation is Link.
Why was the Overseer killed? Who is the new Regent in power, and why does he seem determined to replace the guards of Noman City with his own force?
Things in Noman City go from bad to worse for the guard. Their only hope is the news they've been waiting for from Kavernhive.

The Blades are coming.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirador Publishing
• Release date: Dec 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781910105320

T. J. Dipple

T.J. Dipple was born in Birmingham, England. He graduated from Newman College of Higher Education with a degree in History and now works as a full-time science communicator. He now lives in Stourbridge with his wife and daughter. His debut novel 'Reaper's Challenge' is also available through Smashwords.

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BOOK TWO

T. J. DIPPLE

First Published by Mirador Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 by T.J.Dipple

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers or author. Excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

First edition: 2014

Any reference to real names and places are purely fictional and are constructs of the author. Any offence the references produce is unintentional and in no way reflect the reality of any locations involved.

A copy of this work is available though the British Library.

IBSN : 978-1-910105-32-0

Also by T. J. Dipple

Reaper’s Challenge

The City's Blades

Book One

Prologue

The Haze danced over the city revelling in its own strength. It was a conscious thing, made up of many but they all had a single purpose; to bring Life to Kavernhive. When the sun set they emerged, healing the dying, keeping the people of Kavernhive alive.

Their Creator was Vitalik, the God of Life. They were his way of fighting against Death, of giving hope to the people. As long as they remained there would always be Life. Strengthening them had cost The Creator his own life, but his essence remained. It had been over a year since The Creator joined them, and his power had made them strong. The power of Life throbbed through the city. Daylight still eluded them, but it was only a matter of time before their essence would spread into the light.

Their new master was young and inexperienced. He used only a fraction of their power and still failed to communicate with them in the correct manner. But he was learning.

Everyday he tried again, and he was getting closer, understanding himself better, and they liked him for it. They kept a close watch over The Creator's humans, the Guards known as The Blades. In the past year the Guards had done much. Their Captain, the one fuelled with Chaos, had become a Guard Leader, a new rank to the city, and one The Creator approved of. The Blades had even adapted to having a wizard within their squad; something The Creator found amusing.

Despite this, the city was not safe. Since The Day Killers, known to the humans as the assassins' guild, had been removed, a new evil had settled in Kavernhive; an evil that made The Haze angry.

Slavery.

It had been slow at first. Steadily the numbers increased and now they could feel the Life being drained out of the slaves in the underground strongholds, where they could not reach. Their new master was listening with them and they knew they could trust him to find those responsible.

Out in the world something else was stirring.

The new master could not feel it yet, but he would. A power had come into the world that had not walked in full form since the beginning. The Haze felt fear at this power despite its new strength.

They hoped their new master would be ready to face it.

Part I

Chapter 1

The slavers' den was dark and damp. The air stank of desperation, sweat and blood. Sounds of screaming, fighting and whipping filled the stale air. Frightened men were marched through the worst of it to encourage the feeling of hopelessness. They were made to watch as a man had his throat torn out by a pack of dogs; in the next pit two slaves were made to beat each other to death with clubs. All the while the pit wardens smiled and whipped the newest slaves who did not look disgusted or scared enough.

Tren, who was known as Recruit by the rest of his squad, stepped cautiously along with the crowd, making sure that he did not attract attention. The iron shackles around his hands and feet were no longer cold; his anger at the abomination of the slave den was too great to concern himself with his own predicament. All around he could feel the Life being drained out of the slaves, even those who would not die for years.

A life in slavery was not life and it made him sick to his stomach.

He never thought of himself as a God really, but that was what he was. Over the last eighteen months Tren had felt his powers and abilities grow and grow. He could sense the Life of those around him. He could manipulate The Haze that settled over Kavernhive at night. He could even send the other Gods away with a wave of his hand.

He shuddered at that last memory. They had let Vitalik, his predecessor die at the hands of Reaper, God of Death. Tren and The Blades had known Vitalik as Lieutenant Lifa, a grumpy old man who had tricked them all into thinking he was a regular Guard. Since his death, Tren had seen nothing of the other Gods; Time and Fate kept their distance and as far as he knew, Reaper was still recovering from his defeat. The only one of them he would allow within the city was the Goddess Chance, an ally he desperately needed.

The crack of a whip brought him out of his memories. It had been eighteen months since Lifa had been killed and still it gave him nightmares.

The man next to him moaned as one of the wardens walked by. Tren groaned inwardly at what was coming.

The large man stopped and looked at them. His head was shaved and he had a tattoo that covered from his left ear to his broken nose. He grinned with a mouth missing a few teeth and unfurled his whip from his belt. Tren kept his head down and stayed quiet knowing that to look at the bully would only provoke him. The man next to him was not as smart.

The whip cracked against the new slave's chest, the rough cloth of his clothes did nothing to stop the leather drawing blood. The man fell and a second blow came, followed by a scream.

Before the third blow a hooded man moved between the slaver and his victim. Even under the hooded cloak Tren could recognise the build and the confident stance of a man who did not think he could be beaten. More than that, Tren could see the black and red flecked aura of Chaos surrounding the Guard Leader.

Bane.

Tren groaned again as the slaver told Bane to move. The man's accent was thick and it was obvious he came from the Noman Islands, far to the south. His was the third different accent Tren had heard since he was captured.

Move you swine! the warden roared.

No, Bane growled. Tren did not have to look to know Bane was flexing his large fists despite the shackles holding him. Go and find someone who can fight back.

The warden grinned. Like you?

Tren saw the hood bob up and down. Aye, Bane said. He pointed both shackled hands at the whip. Like me, but if you attack me with that, I'll feed it to you.

The warden laughed and brought the whip back to strike. Before it could crack his face open, Bane caught it. Tren could see the chaotic aura flare and shift. Catching the whip had to have hurt, but Bane showed no emotion as he pulled the warden to his knees and jabbed both shackled hands into his face. True to his promise, Bane wrestled the struggling warden to the floor, pinned him with his knees and was shoving the handle of the whip into his mouth before the other wardens pulled him off.

Bane resisted but, shackled as he was, it was not long before he went down under a rain of blows. The warden he attacked was choking and Tren could see the Life draining away. He had no sympathy; any man who treated people like cattle deserved everything he got. Unfortunately, the whip was removed before it killed him. The warden vomited and was carried away gagging and cursing. Cheers rang up amongst the slaves, both new and old. Tren smiled; hope never quite died.

Quiet! another warden shouted, which earned him a barrage of insults from the slaves. He cracked a barbed whip at the nearest face to him and the splatter of blood that resulted stopped the noise. The wounded man clutched what was left of his ruined face and screamed.

Tren looked away. What was happening here was disgusting, inhumane and to make it worse, it was happening in his city. It had been during The Haze Killings eighteen months earlier when The Blades had destroyed the guild of assassins. Other groups had begun to fill the power gap left behind. The slavers, in Tren's opinion, were by far the worst and most successful.

Orphans, homeless and sometimes simply people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time had been going missing. After several weeks of investigation it emerged that the victims were taken to one of three strongholds within the city, all of which were underground. From there they would be transported out of Kavernhive to be sold.

Larn will want him, one of the other wardens said. From the way the rest nodded it looked like he was someone important. He gestured in Tren's direction. Slave, carry him.

Tren moved forward. He doubted the man gave the order to anyone in particular and true enough, as Tren moved there were no objections as he hefted Bane to his feet. The Guard Leader groaned and the slave line was made to move again.

How was that, Recruit? Bane muttered under his breath.

Brilliant, sir, he replied, taking his leader's weight. This was supposed to be reconnaissance though.

Balls to that, Recruit. We had an opportunity and I took it. Tanner and the others will have followed. They'll get us out.

What if we're dead before they get here?

Then at least we can take a few of the bastards with us, Bane spat. I can't think of everything and the longer this goes on the worse things get. I never thought I'd rather the assassins but...

I know, sir, he interrupted. This place is wrong.

Good man, Bane said. You can let go of me now, Recruit. They can't hit as hard as they think they can. Does this cavern run anywhere near your orb?

Tren shook his head. No, I would have felt it if it were close. I don't like that I couldn't stop this from happening.

These things happen, Bane told him. People will be bastards if they're allowed to be. It's up to us to stop them.

Tren glanced around at the bent shapes of the rest of the slaves. A lot of them have already given up.

Bane stretched and stood at his full height, earning glances from a few of the wardens. Then it's up to us to make them believe again, he said. Besides, I don't know what you're moaning about us dying for, you're God of Life; can a mortal even kill you?

I don't really want to test it to see.

There's your problem, Recruit, no conviction. Are you going to heal me?

Banshee told me not to.

Bane stopped mid-step causing the man behind to bump into him. He started walking again. His eyes burned at Tren. What?

I think her exact words were 'Don't let that arrogant idiot rely on your healing, Recruit. It'll make him lazy. If he does it again tell him I'll put his balls on an anvil and make sure he can't be healed'.

She said that?

Tren shrugged. I had to clean up the language.

Bloody woman, Bane grunted. You can ignore her orders this once, Recruit, we'll just tell her I didn't get injured.

Tren shook his head while hiding a half smile. Can't do it, sir. Every time I do, it weakens what Lifa did. Not by much, but enough. Like she says, you'll just have to start being careful.

Bane cursed. You get more like Lifa every damned day, Recruit.

I'll take that as a compliment, sir.

Don't, Bane muttered.

The line halted in front of a platform. A door opened and a tall, well-dressed man stepped out. He wore brown riding boots with matching leather trousers. A brilliant white shirt draped over his upper body and was partially covered by a brown leather waistcoat. Tren saw the signs of a fighter, rather than a brawler. The man's movements were fluid and graceful. He saw Bane bristle as he made the same observations.

Your lives belong to me. The man's voice had the sound of nobility about it, or at least a life of privilege. I am Larn Randell, but if I address you, you will call me Master. What will you call me?

Master, the slaves repeated and dropped to the ground as the whips cracked. They all bowed, Tren with them. Only one man remained upright.

One of the wardens moved closer with a whip but the Guard Leader held up his hands. Remember what happened to your friend who tried that?

The warden hesitated as Bane stared at him. Tren could feel the power rippling beneath Bane, fighting to get out. It had been getting stronger ever since their encounter with the other Gods. Something had awakened within Bane, and although Tren had promised to protect him, he was not sure the power was a good thing.

The warden was saved having to make a decision by Larn Randell gesturing for others to bring Bane to him. He was dragged up onto the platform.

Whilst Larn looked Bane up and down, one of the wardens said something to Larn. He spoke too quickly for Tren to hear what was said, but Larn nodded. You will bow to me, slave.

Bane spat at the man's feet. I said this to someone once before and it still rings true. I don't bow to my King, so what makes you think I'll bow to you?

Larn addressed the crowd of slaves, some of whom had cheered at Bane's words. Others, those who had been there longer, kept their heads down.

You think this man is strong? the slaver asked them while gesturing at Bane. This man is like you. He is nothing. You are mine, you will eat when I say, you will sleep when I say, you will shit when I say and you will bow when I say.

A whip cracked against the back of Bane's knees and he dropped.

You will bow, or I will make you, Larn said.

Bane looked at him through his matted, dirty shoulder length black hair. You're one of the new nobles aren’t you?

Larn frowned. You do not address me unless I ask it, and when I do, you call me Master.

The whip cracked against Bane's back. He grunted and nodded. Aye, I thought so. You're one of the new bloods trying to get rich off Kavernhive's fame. Lots of money, but no power since the King put your kind on the edge.

The whip struck again. Larn raised a hand to stop them and leaned closer to Bane. Tren could hear them, the room was so quiet.

You know nothing of me, slave. You keep your mouth shut and do as you are told or I will cut out that tongue of yours.

Bane leaned forward. You think threats are going to work? he hissed. I know how your power works, slaver. I know how you create it, and I know how to break it.

He surged upwards and broke Larn's nose with his forehead.

The slaver fell back from the unexpected blow. Neither the slaves nor the wardens knew what to do; they were stunned into silence. Larn had no such hesitation. He drew the rapier at his side.

Forward! Tren shouted and began pushing other slaves towards the platform shouting louder as he did. It worked. The slaves broke from their stupor and surged into the wardens as one, overwhelming them in their desperation. Tren got to the platform as Larn went to cut Bane's throat.

Bane used the shackles to deflect the thrust and elbowed Larn in the nose again. The slaver drew back with blood running from his nostrils. He grinned when he saw the rapier had drawn blood on Bane's cheek. Then he moved in again. Tren managed to get onto the platform, but Larn and Bane were already clashing again. Bane may have been unarmed, but he was heavier than the slaver. He threw himself at Larn, ensuring that he missed the point of the rapier. Both men went down. Larn pushed himself away from the Guard Leader and then glanced around the room at the chaos. He looked back to Bane. Tren could see the temptation to fight, but he must have realised he had lost because he turned and fled.

Then Larn just stopped moving.

Tren turned. In the confusion he had not noticed the doors behind them had been broken through. The Blades and The Valkyries were making their way through the crowd. At the back of the room the wizard, Scholar, was focussing his power on preventing Larn from escaping. Bane was never one to miss and opportunity. Tren turned around in time to see him take Larn's rapier away and add another blow to the slaver's face.

It was over quickly. The wardens could control the slaves when they were docile, but there were not enough to deal with the masses of men and women once they were riled. Tren knew that Bane's chaotic power had something to do with the reaction; it had probably given them courage. Either way, it had worked and the wardens were now either dead, or held by The Blades.

*

Bane held the slaver down, which was an impressive feat given his wrists were still bound by the iron shackles, as Tren hopped up onto the platform.

See that, Recruit? Bane told him and nodded to the others. I told you they'd follow. Tanner!

Sir? the lieutenant looked up from arresting one of the wardens.

Get this filth to the prisons and then send for help from the barracks. We need these people processed and put somewhere not on the streets. I don't want either of the other two slaver scum getting hold of them.

Already done, sir, Tanner replied and left the warden with Cobbler, who hoisted him off the floor and towards the entrance. Capper is on his way to the barracks and Mustrig's squad knew where we were going. We'll have help before the next bell.

Well done, Lieutenant, Bane said proudly as he admired their work. First round at the tavern is mine.

Who are you? Larn asked through gritted teeth. You'll be sorry. I have friends...

Bane looked at him. We're The Blades, and you're coming with us. I can guarantee you my friends are higher up than yours. Tanner!

Sir?

Get this idiot to the prisons and let him stew for a while. We'll have questions for you about who is organising your little ventures, Bane said addressing Larn again.

Larn stared at Bane indignantly as Tanner pulled him up.

Oh, Lieutenant, Bane said before Tanner dragged Larn away.

Sir?

If you find the keys, me and Recruit would like to be out of these shackles at some point today.

I'll look into it for you, Tanner said, grinning. We might be able to find something.

Tanner dragged Larn away and Tren shuffled towards Bane. One down.

And two of these bloody pits to go, Bane responded shaking his head. We need to stop someone stepping in to fill Larn's boots and close down the two other slavers. Someone is behind this, Recruit. It's worse than the assassins ever were and I don't like it. Not in my city. Are you sure you can't sense them?

Tren shook his head. I don't think it works like that, he said. Do you think there is someone above Larn?

Bane nodded as they stood watching the slaves being herded out of the pit. There would have to be. Something of this scale does not just happen because a rich idiot has a need to feel in charge. There's purpose here somewhere, Recruit. We just have to find it.

Tren nodded and sat down on the platform, the shackles binding him reminded him of the faces of the slaves he had seen on the way in. The ones that had been there longest were bent and broken by what the wardens made them do. Tren was long past feeling guilt for letting it get so far. Now, he was angry. As the slaves were escorted to safety the power of Life throbbed inside of him with apprehension. It wanted him to get revenge.

***

Lord Hurkar Tallan of Noman City scribbled his signature on the last of the requisitions and handed the pile back to his Overseer.

Make sure the funds are available, he said and pushed his chair out from the desk. The smaller man nodded and bowed slightly at the order. Winter will be a busier time than usual I feel.

Everything will go according to the schedule, Overseer Praan promised. The new construction company has brought in fresh workers and we are already ahead of schedule. The granaries are full, the smiths have all the metal they need and the new buildings on the south-western quarter will be ready long before the snow settles.

Hurkar nodded in satisfaction. He stood a foot taller than Praan and had the build of a Guard. By King Reynold's order, every man who could, or would one day be Lord of one of his cities, had to do at least a year of real service in the Guard, or the army. By real service, it meant no pampering, no grand tents on border patrols and no special treatment. Most of his friends thought it silly, but it had its uses. He was prepared for most things and best of all he could protect himself if his personal guards failed. The people loved him for it; they saw him as one of them, despite his noble birth.

Praan backed away slowly, bowed again and then left Hurkar to himself.

It had been a good day, and now that he knew his projects would be completed ahead of schedule he could relax. His wife would already be getting herself ready for the ball that evening and, most likely, by now would be wondering why he was not doing the same.

It was his son's thirtieth year, and the celebration would be huge. Not just at the castle, but across the city; his son was almost as popular with the people as he was. Hurkar left his study and made his way to his chambers.

Where have you been? His wife was standing in front of a full length mirror as her lady's maid put the finishing touches on her gown. "You had better not be late, Hurkar. It is Makra's big day. He might forgive you for being late, but I won't."

Hurkar smiled inwardly, but knew better than to let it show. I won't be late, Tess, he assured her. Praan had a few things for me to look over. I have two bells to get ready and last time I checked it did not take me that long to dress myself.

Don't be smart, she pouted. Makra is being dressed and I want us to sit as a family before the celebrations start.

Yes, dear, Hurkar said as he poured himself a glass of wine. You look lovely by the way.

Don't try and charm me, she snapped, then smiled despite herself and smoothed out the long silk dress. But thank you.

He grinned and sipped the wine. It was smooth as it went down and before he knew it he had drained the glass. He sat down on the bed and watched as Tess's maid finished her tinkering with the dress. The room turned warm and he felt beads of sweat form on his head and back.

He looked at the fireplace, but it was empty, there was no fire to give heat.

What is it? Tess asked from the mirror. You look like you've seen a ghost.

He felt his throat close up and he tried to talk. All he could manage was a choking splutter as spittle ran down his chin. He looked at his wine glass and tried to stand but his muscles failed and he fell to the floor.

Tess was there in an instant holding his head and stroking his face. What is it, Hurkar, what happened?

He tried to speak again, but breathing had become difficult and all he could do was raise his glass to show her. Panic set in as he felt pain in his guts.

Somebody help! she cried. The maid burst back in with two of his men. Tess's wails broke his heart as the poison made his world become darkness. Help him!

Chapter 2

Tren sat with his legs crossed in front of the source of The Haze. The glowing orange orb illuminated most of the underground cavern. Within the beating heart of Kavernhive, Tren could feel every single one of the souls trapped within. It was Lifa's greatest creation as God of Life. It was also what he had died protecting during The Haze killings and their battle with Reaper.

The meditation he was about to enter came with being a God, or as he saw it, carrying the power of Life within him. He allowed the power to spread out from him so that it seeped into the air. Then he pushed it out. One thing he had learned so far was that Life did not need him to guide it. The essence of Life would find its own way, but it did need somewhere to rest, and that was within him. He kept it safe, stopped it from burning out and gave only a very small measure of direction to it. In this state, Tren could feel everything and everyone.

He could feel the life of a tree on another continent and he could sense the people walking the streets of cities he had never seen or heard of. The power of Life reached out to those who needed it. In some cases it helped them fight off an illness. In others, like it had with him, it stopped them from putting themselves in a situation that would kill them. When it was done, Tren took a breath and pulled the power back. The whole process took no longer than half a bell, but he had only learned how to do it three months ago and already he was getting faster. One day he hoped to be able to do it without thinking.

With one job done he turned his attention to his real purpose of being in the chamber and probed The Haze Orb with his mind. He pushed through the thousands of souls that resided within. The generations of souls all called to him, wanting him to join them, but he pushed through to the strongest soul he could find; he was getting better at this too. In his mind he saw Lifa's old face and knew he had found the old man's soul. He pushed the images of Bane during their infiltration of the slave den to Lifa's soul, focussing on the chaotic aura that seemed to be getting more and more active. The soul within the orb stirred but gave Tren no indication of what he should do, or even what it meant.

He is concerned.

The woman's voice broke Tren's concentration and he lost Lifa's soul. When he