The Vespus Blade Page 31

  The visla’s eyes went wide as the unusually charged sword pierced his protective spells one by one, then drove into his body up to the hilt. His casting ceased at once, the physical shock breaking his grip on his magic.

  Hozark did not hesitate, leaning in close, his jaws clamping down on the man’s neck. A great deal of the visla’s power had been expended fighting off Corann’s claithe, but a significant amount still remained. And that power was now flowing into Hozark. And as it did, his vespus blade grew brighter, replenishing itself just as its owner did.

  Samara was the better fighter, and Demelza would soon fall, she could see. Her opponent knew that to be the case as well, but when her eyes flicked away for an instant, a little smile forming on her face despite her impending demise, Samara realized the tide had turned.

  With a blast of power from her konus, she created space between herself and her surprisingly talented foe and turned to see what had happened.

  The visla was dead. Well, dying, anyway. Drained by her former lover while this other Ghalian distracted her. The visla was a lost cause, and so, this fight served no purpose any longer.

  Samara pushed out another stun spell, this time far greater, forcing Demelza back on her heels. She then turned and ran into the stronghold corridor leading to the adjacent courtyard at full speed, leaving the woman she’d been about to kill both dazed and confused.

  Hozark broke free the moment the visla’s heart stopped beating. Once the life had ended, no power remained, and no Ghalian actually enjoyed drinking blood. It was merely a means to an end. That end being taking another’s power.

  He glanced around at the carnage. The others had done well, he noted with pleasure. Bud was bloody, as was Demelza, but both still drew breath. And from what he’d seen, Demelza had stood firm against Samara in bladed combat and survived. It was no small thing.

  Corann had drained herself dangerously low on power, the claithe nearly killing her in the process, yet somehow, she was still standing. Unsteady, but standing.

  Hozark swept her up in his arms––something neither would ever speak of––and hurried her to the broken body of the emmik she’d crushed so violently.

  “Drink, Corann,” he urged, lowering her beside the emmik.

  The man did not have long to live, and his body had already begun shutting down, but his heart still beat, and he was an emmik. The power was still there for her to take.

  She bit into the man’s neck and drank greedily, her overtaxed body replenishing and healing as she did. The force of her feeding hastened the man’s demise, but she didn’t care, and when he went cold, she broke her thirsty embrace and rose to her feet, renewed.

  Corann looked at Hozark and flashed a bloody smile. “Thank you, Brother Hozark.”

  “No, thank you,” he replied.

  “The other Council members?”

  “Unknown. I skreed to Laskar to tail them, but––”

  The air around them stirred as a shadow fell across the courtyard as a small Council transport ship rose overhead.

  “It must have been in the adjacent courtyard,” Hozark said as he watched the ship pivot above them.

  A familiar pale woman was standing in front of the observation window beside the escaped visla. Ravik. This one was Visla Ravik. And Samara was with him.

  Was it possible he was the real mastermind behind all of this? It would take a lot of work, but they had names now. And eventually, they’d know for sure.

  “They’re getting away! We’ve got to get them!” Bud shouted.

  “Our ships are too far away, Bud. And we still have to make our way outside these walls.”

  “Damn!”

  “Let it go. We will find them eventually, my friend,” Hozark said, standing over the fallen body of yet another Council member Samara had been guarding. Guarding, but abandoned to protect another now, it seemed. It made no sense.

  To call it vexing would be an understatement.

  The ship above began to turn, and Samara and Hozark shared a final look as the ship lifted high into the sky.

  She had tried to kill him. Again. But Hozark found himself smiling nonetheless. Samara was alive. What it meant, he was unsure, but they would definitely find out.

  But for now, they had a Ghalian to rescue.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  “Where’s Laskar?” Bud asked as he limped after his friends into the surprisingly empty stronghold. “I didn’t see him out there when we were fighting, and I can’t reach him on skree.”

  “It is entirely possible he was discovered while chasing our quarry,” Hozark replied. “If he received my message, that is. I only hope he was not captured and taken aboard Visla Ravik’s ship. That would be a most unfortunate turn of events.”

  “We will look for him after we rescue Aargun,” Corann said, hurrying along the corridor.

  The stronghold was startlingly quiet, given what had just happened. But when word of a Ghalian assassin in the grounds got out, a great unease had spread throughout the grounds. When they heard that not only one of the visiting emmiks had fallen, but Visla Torund as well, that unease rapidly turned into all-out panic.

  Making it worse, Visla Ravik had fled, taking his ship with him. For a visla of the Council of Twenty to depart so suddenly, this Ghalian must be a terrible foe, indeed.

  None knew there were multiple Wampeh within their walls, fortunately, nor were they aware of the fact that a vespus blade was in use. But there had been buzz about a claithe being brought to bear on the Council’s men. A claithe. It was unheard of. A weapon of that power could kill them all in the right hands. Even faster in the wrong ones.

  And with the visla abruptly gone, the hired help suddenly had very little impetus to stand and fight an enemy who could grind them to a pulp with the snap of their fingers. That a claithe didn’t really work that way was of no concern to them, just what the end result might be. Namely, their death.

  The four bloodied combatants moved quickly into the depths of the facility, heading toward the likely location of the cells, when they heard a man’s voice cry out from just up ahead.

  “Maktan!”

  “What was that?” Bud asked.

  “I do not know, but we will find out momentarily,” Demelza said as they rounded the corner, her weapons ready.

  Laskar was there, crouched over the emmik who had fled at the sight of the claithe. His hands were covered with blood as he held the dying man, a look of confusion in his eyes.

  “What do I do?” Laskar asked.

  Hozark moved close immediately. “Step aside,” he said, then set to work attempting to stop the man’s bleeding.

  They had slain the others, but that had been in the midst of combat. But they still needed answers, and this man could provide them. If he lived. Hozark called upon the magic now flowing within him to try to staunch the emmik’s bleeding, but even as he worked, he knew it was too late.

  Before any of the Ghalian could even salvage the man’s magic, the light went out in his eyes, his power gone forever.

  “What the hell happened, Laskar?” Bud asked, staring at the dead power user with confusion. “The guy was an emmik. An emmik. Who the hell could have done this to him?”

  “I don’t know. I was searching, like Hozark asked, when I found him.”

  Hozark surveyed the scene. The signs were clear, this was a very recent kill.

  “It could not have been Visla Ravik, nor Samara,” he said.

  “Wait, Samara is alive?” Laskar asked.

  “Yeah, and Hozark’s ex just took off with Visla Ravik,” Bud replied.

  “She is not my ex.”

  “Yeah, whatever. I saw how she looked at you.”

  “You mean while she was trying to kill me, I assume?”

  “Hey, you Ghalian have your own kinks, I’m sure. I’m not one to judge,” Bud chuckled.

  “She is not my ex. Regardless, that is inconsequential at the moment. What matters is, who possesses the power to do this to an emmik?�
��

  “You just said Samara and Visla Ravik were here,” Laskar pointed out.

  “But we saw them depart, and this man was struck down after their departure.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The nature of the injury, as well as the quantity of blood lost, paint a clear picture. He was slain after they had already fled.”

  The group looked at one another with confusion. There had been two vislas and two emmiks in the meeting, but could another be on the grounds? And if so, one who would kill one of the Council’s representatives to protect, what, exactly?

  “He called out a name,” Bud said. “Just before we found you.”

  “Maktan,” Demelza added. “He cried out, ‘Maktan.’”

  “What does that even mean?” Bud asked.

  Hozark studied the dead man a long moment. He had died in their friend’s arms, and with his last breath, he had called out that name.

  “It means that as he died, he gave up the name of the one who slayed him, most likely to keep his own involvement in whatever is going on here secret,” Hozark said.

  “But Maktan?” Corann said. “It is just so unlikely.”

  “Who’s Maktan?”

  “Visla Zinna Maktan is a member of the Council of Twenty, Bud,” Hozark replied. “But it makes no sense. He is one of the most benign members of the Twenty. To be involved in the experimentation and vivisection of Zomoki? And the kidnapping of a Wampeh Ghalian? It just does not seem likely.”

  “Little does, in games of subterfuge and deceit,” Laskar noted. “And things are quite often not at all what they seem.”

  “Well said, Laskar,” Corann said. “Now, come. We still have unanswered questions, and rescuing Aargun might clarify a few of them. Everyone, weapons at the ready. If there is another visla lurking around these grounds, we must be prepared.”

  The group as a whole was on edge as they moved up the stairwell to the upper cells. Something very strange was afoot, and they were walking into it even more blind than before.

  The corridor at the top of the stairs was empty, the missing guards having apparently caught wind of what had happened below, as well as the fate of their comrades and employers. They entered the holding area with great caution, Hozark and Corann taking the lead, both ready for whatever might be lurking in wait.

  But no one was there. At least, no one who could do them any harm.

  A row of cells lined one side of the large chamber, and several shorn Ootaki lay cowering against the walls, pulling their thin coverings over themselves in a futile attempt to protect themselves from whatever torment might be coming next.

  There was blood at the opposite end of the room. Multiple types by the look of it. Blood, and a solid examination table, modified to allow for all manner of restraint, both physical and magical. It too was spotted with the blood of more than one race.

  A pair of pale-yellow Ootaki bodies lay underneath a thin cloth against the wall. Recent kills, by the look of it. Still warm, in fact. Perhaps that was what the meeting had been about. A discussion of whatever it was they had been trying to accomplish here.

  By the look of it, the Council was trying to find another means of tapping into Ootaki power besides their hair. Trying, and failing, apparently. But why kidnap a Ghalian?

  “Over here,” Laskar said. “I found him!”

  Corann rushed to the locked cell, and with the ease of one who had done so countless times, disabled the locking spells and opened the door faster than he ever could. Laskar had heard of the order’s efficiency at such things, but to see it in practice made him realize the tales had been understatements.

  “Oh, Aargun. What did they do to you?” Corann sighed as she examined the unconscious man.

  His blindfolded face was a mess of bruises, as was his body, the different shades of color each telling its own tale as to how long ago, and how severely he had been beaten.

  There were strange markings on his torso as well. Some sort of device had been used on him, the puncture marks not healing despite the Ghalian’s naturally speedy recovery time.

  Carefully, Corann unwrapped the blindfold, the material pulling free with a wet smacking sound.

  “His eyes,” Bud said, nearly gagging. “They took his eyes.”

  Corann gently pried his mouth open. Broken teeth where fangs would have descended met her gaze. As did the crusty stump of the man’s tongue.

  The three assassins looked at one another, a shared rage filling each of them. They knew torture was a risk of their profession, but this had been something more. Whoever did this had been experimenting on their brother. Him and the poor Ootaki as well.

  What had been done to him was not to gain information. It was to prevent him from ever revealing who had done it to him should he survive.

  Like the Zomoki they’d found down below, these people had been subjected to all manner of experimentation. And someone would pay.

  But for now, the survivors needed to be tended to. Aargun would live, and most of his physical wounds would heal, in time. The mental damage, however, might never.

  As for the surviving Ootaki, they would be taken and delivered to one of the secret enclaves of their people, free people, where, hopefully they would regain some semblance of a normal life, if ever they could let go of what happened to them.

  The remaining Zomoki had been too badly injured to save, and so it had been put out of its misery, swiftly and humanely. Corann then turned the power of the claithe on the stronghold itself, setting every last inch of non-stone surface ablaze with magical fire. It cost the remainder of her stolen magic, but it was worth it.

  Whatever was being done there, it was no more, and all traces were destroyed. She took the claithe from her wrist and placed it in its warded case for return to the vaults. Once they had gathered the shimmer ships and were all safely back aboard the mothership, she then went to one of the private rooms to sleep, allowing her body to recover from the drain of the weapon.

  It had done its job, but it had nearly been the end of her for it. The claithe would now return to its hiding place, hopefully never to be used again.

  The Council plans had been disrupted, and they had won. At least this battle.

  “Whenever you are ready,” Hozark said to the pilot and his sidekick.

  Bud and Laskar glanced at one another and shared a nod of solidarity. They’d survived, and their unlikely team was stronger for it.

  “You got it,” Bud replied. “You ready?”

  “Jump spells are locked in,” Laskar replied.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Master Prombatz was the first to meet the ship when Uzabud landed on the quiet world where Denna Finnleigh the healer resided, and it was he who personally carried the unconscious form of his young student into her home.

  The Ootaki were also ushered into the woman’s chambers, though their healing would likely require somewhat less effort than that of the poor Wampeh. Once they had recovered their strength, Finnleigh would ensure they reached their new secret Ootaki home safely.

  She had worked with the Ghalian in that regard for many years, and it was their shared distaste of slavery that partly led to such a long-lasting relationship between a healer and an order of killers. For not all killers were the same, it seemed. And these had saved not just Ootaki, but members of her own family as well, over the years.

  “What now?” Bud asked as he aimlessly strolled around outside the ship.

  They’d been on tasks for so long that it felt utterly foreign to have no concrete direction or goal. Yes, things were in the air, but for the moment at least, their jobs were complete. The Ghalian spies would be at work, but he and Laskar could most likely return to their normal lives, at least for a bit.

  “We are done here,” Corann said after the last of the Ootaki were taken inside. “Master Prombatz has his own means of transport and will meet us when he is ready. And Hozark, Demelza, and I have already retriev
ed our craft from the mother ship.”

  “And what about us?” Laskar asked.

  “The immediate threat has been neutralized, and their plans disrupted. A day will come when we revisit these goings-on, but for now at least, your work is done,” she replied.

  “But what about this Maktan person? I mean, you know he’s really the one pulling the strings, right? So it would make sense to take him out before he can cause any more harm.”

  “Dear Laskar, we are killers, yes, but not indiscriminate murderers. All we have at the moment is a name. A name spoken by a dying man, but no more. This Zinna Maktan is an odd fellow, no doubt, but he has never been one of the troublemakers within the Council of Twenty. Some strange things are afoot, no doubt, and he may be involved, but first we must investigate and verify before taking any further action.”

  “But he killed that emmik. You need to kill him,” he persisted.

  “Yes. But Visla Ravik was also present.”

  “You said he couldn’t have done it, though.”

  “No, he could not. But he is part of whatever was going on in the Actaris stronghold. We have much to learn, Laskar, and the best way to do that is to observe. For now, anyway.”

  Hozark walked over to the copilot and rested his hand on his shoulder. “You did well, Laskar. Admirably, in fact. But the threat has been handled. Why don’t you and Bud go and relax a bit? I know after all of this fighting, he could surely use it. And I would wager, so could you.”

  Laskar thought it over a bit, then nodded in agreement. “I guess I got caught up in the ‘go-go-go’ speed we’ve been living these past weeks.”

  “It happens to all of us. But have no doubts, when we learn more about this affair and have a plan, you will be the first ones we contact.” He took a pouch of coin from his pocket and tossed it to Bud. “Go and have some fun, my friend. And make sure this one enjoys himself as well.”

  Bud felt the weight of the coin in his hand and smiled. It seemed they would be living large for some time, and all it had cost them was a few weeks of fighting and nearly losing their lives. Not a bad trade-off, all things considered.