Free The Path to Loss (Approaching Infinity Book 4) by Chris Eisenlauer Page A

Fa on at least slightly more equal terms, and an overwhelming compulsion to be subservient. The result was an endless stream of conflicting thoughts that preoccupied him until the bank he was on spread out, rose up to form a canopy over the lava flow and join the other bank. He was shocked to find himself in a cavern of enormous size with people—all of them women as far as Peshil could tell—engaged in tasks ranging from food preparation to napping. A scrawny, wizened man with corpse-gray skin sat upon an elaborate couch, which was more like a throne, and which was placed before the effigy of the dragon Peshil had just encountered.
    Peshil approached cautiously, stepping carefully among some of the women, who stared at him vacantly. As he drew closer, the man upon the throne sat up straighter, seemingly tugged by his nose as he sniffed at the air. Fresh familiar laughter filled the chamber.
    “That might account for your nerve. You’ve had a taste. I can smell it in you, in your sweat,” the man said.
    “Then there can be no doubt. You are Chan Fa and all the rumors are truth,” Peshil said.
    Chan Fa shrugged, his eyes gleaming, his smile revealing perfectly healthy teeth—his canines strangely overdeveloped—which seemed contradictory for someone of his obvious years.
    “So was it a ruse?” Chan Fa said.
    “A ruse?”
    “The danger to Thrax Palonis. You’ve had a taste and you surely know what it’s done to you. Have you come here on a pretense only to try your hand at Chan Fa?”
    “No.”
    “Good. Let us hope that your story is believable, because no matter how many you’ve put away, no Shield may raise a hand to Chan Fa.
    “You can only summon your Shield if I allow it, but even then the most you could do is run away. If I allow it .”
    “Let me show you, Chan Fa, what has come to Thrax Palonis.”
• • •
    “I have seen your forebears create fictions with their light and you could be doing the same now.”
    “So. . .?”
    Chan Fa shrugged. His eyes never left Pehsil’s and his expression was a skull’s grin, mirthless. “For Thrax Palonis, it would be better to confirm the truth or falsehood of your claims. For me, it’s an inconvenience. If you’re lying, it will not serve you or any conspirators in the end. No Shield can make a direct use of his or her powers against me. Mine is the King Shield, you see. Superior by design.”
    “And yet, you have sought to become even more superior,” Peshil said, lowering his eyes slightly as he finished, and shocked by his own audacity.
    Chan Fa stared at Peshil in silence. Finally he spoke again. “When the first of us came across the Shields, not yet hatched in this place,” he said waving a hand, “already the rumor of supremacy through cannibalism was present, even prevalent. It was said that if a single Shield were to consume all other Shields, he—or she—would become a god.”
    “A god? But the existence of such is childish superstition, long ago banished from Thrax Palonis.”
    “Maybe. But that didn’t stop the lot of us from trying.”
    Now Peshil stared incredulously, trying to penetrate what he assumed must be Chan Fa’s jest. When Chan Fa’s expression didn’t change, Peshil asked in a low, humbled tone, “What happened?”
    “We fought. And ate. But everyone learned that none could beat Chan Fa, the Everliving. All who came against me found themselves powerless and subsequently devoured.”
    “Why did you stop? Was godhood no longer appealing to you?”
    “ They stopped because they wanted to live. I stopped because I knew something they did not, a secret I used to care about protecting.”
    “And what’s that?”
    Chan Fa motioned with his hand. A woman, perhaps thirtyish, approached with a bowl holding a variety of mushrooms. He reached in, took one, popped it in his mouth. He then fondled her naked left breast and gave her a slap on the behind to send her on her way.
    “This place, the statues, they power our