The Vespus Blade Page 5

  Chapter Nine

  Captain Dortzal’s ship was a fearsome thing to behold. Decades spent clawing his way to the top of the slaver/mercenary heap had seen him amass a small fortune, and along with it, the salvaged spoils of his many conflicts. He had also secured the good graces of a number of powerful vislas and emmiks, more than a few of them affiliated with or actual members of the Council of Twenty.

  The magical stores aboard his craft were abundant, and his crew was one of the most well-armed and well fed in the galaxy. His stable of Drooks were likewise treated to a lifestyle far superior to even the typically comfortable existence they were usually afforded.

  Of course, he did not actually need the Drooks. More than one grateful visla had provided him with a Drookonus in payment for his services. At this late stage in his career, he had nearly a dozen of the devices tucked away in his ship’s innermost vault.

  It was a cache he would never need to use, though. For his Drooks to run so low on magic as to require him to break into that secret stash would mean he had driven them to exhaustion, and that would mean he had encountered a foe that could either best him or flee from him.

  Neither event was likely.

  He was one of the biggest sharks in a vast sea, and short of falling on the Council’s bad side, he was more or less free to do as he pleased with no fear of reprisal.

  That was about to change.

  Captain Dortzal had been spotted in orbit above the planet of Augus, a trading world a mere three systems away. It was a fortuitous location. The jump would barely drain Hozark’s Drookonus at all.

  “Shall we?” he asked as he and Demelza settled into his shimmer ship.

  “Indeed, lets,” she replied. “I shall be back shortly, Uzabud. I will skree you for pickup when I’ve completed my task.”

  “I’ll be here,” the pilot said from the comfort of his ship. “Safe travels.”

  With that, Hozark released his docking spells and his little craft drifted away from Bud’s mothership. A moment later, he engaged his Drookonus and jumped.

  “There,” he said, pointing out the sizable craft orbiting the green-blue orb.

  “Bigger than I expected,” Demelza noted.

  “A sizable craft, yes.”

  “Good. The extra unoccupied spaces within should make it easier to go unseen during your incursion.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Hozark said as he slid his shimmer-cloaked craft up to the larger vessel’s hull and fastened to it with a delicately placed docking spell.

  Anything more substantial might trigger any one of a number of possible safeguards a ship of this sort might have in place. But this wasn’t Hozark’s first stealth insertion. Not by a long shot.

  He muttered the words of the umbilical spell, providing himself a small corridor of air from his craft to the ship’s hull.

  “I shall see you soon,” he said, then unsealed the door and stepped out into space, maneuvering himself quickly to the larger ship’s skin.

  He cast a sensing spell, ensuring no one was directly on the other side of the craft’s hull, before casting his breaching spell. Without wasting another second, he uttered the words that parted the ship’s body like an expert surgeon would a patient, slipping silently inside and sealing the breach in an instant.

  He slipped under his shimmer cloak as he worked, rendering himself invisible as he carefully restored the violated section of hull to its former state. A few moments later, none would ever be able to tell there had been a breach at all.

  Demelza carefully dissolved the docking spell and drifted away from the Tslavar ship, waiting until she was well clear of it before jumping back to the dangerous planet, where Bud was already waiting for her on the surface.

  “I am back,” she sent over skree. “Meet me at the rendezvous point in ten minutes.”

  “Will do,” he replied, warming up the little hopper ship for departure.

  She then dropped down into Ahkrahn’s atmosphere, carefully guiding the cloaked craft to the wooded area not too far from Visla Sunar’s estate. A recreational location that they had determined to be rarely frequented.

  Demelza sealed the craft behind her as she exited, then cloaked herself and took off at a run for the nearby clearing where Bud had been waiting.

  “I am aboard,” she said from inside the gangway while Uzabud stretched lazily outside, putting on a show for any prying eyes that might be watching.

  He was just another man out for a relaxing long lunch, or so it seemed. He turned and casually stepped back into his ship, sealed the door, and took off, all as slowly and relaxed as could be.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  “Perfectly.”

  “It’s Hozark. I’d be surprised if it hadn’t, to be honest.” He steered the ship into space, heading to a nearby moon, where he’d left his mothership safely tucked away, awaiting their return. “So, I guess this is it, then.”

  “Yes, this is it.”

  “Damn. I still can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “It will be fine, Uzabud. Hozark’s plan will work. You will be taken prisoner in no time.”

  “I know,” he said with a groan. “That’s what worries me.”

  The pair loaded into the Fahkran skimmer docked on the hull. Uzabud then released the binding spell and pulled away into space while Demelza donned her shimmer cloak and settled into a comfortable spot near the doorway the enemy would breach through. While they were busy with Bud, she would slide into their craft unnoted.

  “Jumping,” he announced, then cast the spell that would take them to the same system as Captain Dortzal’s ship. Bud just hoped Hozark had been successful in his end of the task.

  Hozark had not wasted a single moment upon his entry into the Tslavar ship. No sooner had he sealed the breach than he was on the move, taking a little bit of time to observe Dortzal as he ordered his men about, then stealthily making his way to locate the precise location of the captain’s private quarters. That would be where he made the kill.

  Of course, he was a master assassin and could eliminate Captain Dortzal pretty much anywhere on the ship, but the quiet seclusion of his personal rooms would be best. Once in his quarters, no one would dare interrupt their captain for anything short of an emergency, and that would give Hozark enough time to not only steal the man’s physical identity, but also take a moment to practice his speech patterns and body tics and movements.

  Fortunately, none of the captain’s crew were remotely strong enough in natural magic to detect the Wampeh disguise. In fact, until they landed on Ahkrahn, he would be quite safe from prying eyes.

  Once on the surface, however, it would be another matter entirely, for a sufficiently powerful visla might have a chance of piercing his disguise, and Visla Sunar was just that sort of man, if he chose to channel some of his Ootaki hair magic to those ends.

  Hozark would worry about that when the time arose. Odds were Sunar would not waste valuable magic boosting his own innate gifts while safely within his innermost walls. It was a bit of a gamble, but given the security of his compound, it seemed a fair bet. Innate magic users knew its true value, and they tended to hoard rather than squander it.

  For now, he had a captain to dispose of and a crew to deceive.

  The captain walked the corridors, passing the shimmer-cloaked assassin without sensing a thing, then entered his chambers and shut the door. This was the time to act, but quite interestingly, Hozark was fortunate to have observed a rather unusual interaction.

  It seemed the captain had taken a shine to a very young and very green new crewmember. The lad couldn’t have been in the mercenary game more than a few months, and for whatever reasons, be they savory or not, Sunar seemed to favor the young man.

  It was perfect, and precisely the sort of thing Hozark could exploit.

  Chapter Ten

  “What the bloody hell do you want? This better be important!” Captain Dortzal growled, shirtless and with damp hair, as he pul
led open the door to his quarters.

  “I...I’m sorry, sir. It’s just, I was unsure about how you wanted...” The young Tslavar hesitated as his gaze flicked to the many scars on the captain’s muscular torso. His cheeks went a bit deeper green. “Uh, never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you, sir.”

  A little smile teased the corners of Dortzal’s lips.

  “No, you did the right thing, Tür. Come in, and let’s discuss this. In depth. I know it can be hard for you at times.”

  Tür swallowed hard and nodded, then quietly entered the captain’s quarters. The captain gave the youth an appreciative look as he passed, then sealed the door behind him, redoubling his muffling spells to ensure privacy.

  His intention was to keep prying ears from hearing what he did in his spare time. The unintended side effect was those very same spells muffling the lone, brief, desperate cry of a dying man.

  Hozark dropped the Tslavar disguise as soon as the little blade in his hand had snuffed the spark from Captain Dortzal’s eyes. Such a tiny thing, the blade. Not even enchanted. And yet, it had taken so much from him. Everything, in fact.

  It was something even the roughest of mercenaries often had a difficult time with. Ending someone with a knife. There was a visceral connection to it, watching the life fade from their face mere inches away. It was for that reason most opted for swords or magic in combat.

  But Hozark was a Wampeh Ghalian, and he had taken lives more up close and personal than this on countless occasions. It was only because the captain possessed no power of his own that he didn’t drain him, feeling him shift from a living person with hopes and dreams to an inanimate bag of meat and bones growing cold beneath his lips.

  Any observing the scene from arm’s length would have witnessed what appeared to be Captain Dortzal killing Captain Dortzal. Hozark had uttered the specialized spells and begun shifting his disguise to that of the dying man before his body hit the floor.

  Shirtless, his torso riddled with old scars, just as the captain had been, the assassin quickly stashed the body in one of the captain’s private lockers and cast a sealing spell upon it. No foul odor or inadvertent opening would give away its true contents. Not until long after the task had been completed.

  A knock at the door.

  Hozark double-checked his appearance in a looking glass, ensuring everything was just right, then answered the call.

  “Uh, Captain Dortzal?” the young Tslavar said, hesitantly.

  It was Tür. The real Tür, Hozark noted with a degree of amusement at the lad’s timing. He noted his eyes dart to the scars on his broad chest, each of them matching those of the real captain. Assuming the confident posturing of the dead man, he leaned into the role, an air of disquieting intimacy to his authoritarian tone.

  “What the hell is it?” he growled as he looked the youth up and down.

  “Uh, we just received word of a possible salvage, sir.”

  “You know I don’t care much for mere salvage.”

  “Yes, but this is different. There seems to be someone aboard. Someone from a distant system.”

  “No one knows they’re here?” the disguised assassin asked.

  “It seems not, sir.”

  A wicked smile spread across the ersatz captain’s lips. “Excellent. You’ve done well.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Relay my command to the bridge. We make for the distressed ship at once. Have Starnnik skree down and inform the men gathering supplies on the surface we will return for them straightaway. For now, they are to continue their tasks.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” the young man said, then turned and hurried off to his duties as his captain watched with an unsavory leer.

  Hozark closed the door and adjusted his disguise spells, locking them in place firmly. Was that a bit overboard? he wondered.

  Then he reflected on the way the real captain had looked at him only a few minutes before and realized that no, it was not overboard at all. In fact, it had been perfectly in character.

  So far, the plan was going smoothly, but he knew all too well how easily things could take a turn for the worse. But until that happened, it was full speed ahead.

  “Status?” Hozark barked as he strode into the command center.

  The men and women were mercenaries, but nevertheless, they snapped to attention as their captain entered.

  “We have the ship in range and have deployed a series of blocking spells to inhibit it from jumping away, Captain,” a woman with a long scar across her cheek said from her station. “It looks like they’ve only got minimal power to their ship. It seems to be run by a drained Drookonus.”

  “So, no Drooks to sweeten the score?” Hozark said. “A pity. Is this piece of refuse even worth our time?”

  “Well, there is one person aboard,” she replied. “Though he’s been rather pathetic in his skree communications.”

  “Pathetic?”

  “The usual, sir. Whining. Telling his sad tale. Begging for mercy. That sort of thing,”

  Hozark laughed, the captain’s gruff voice coming from his mouth, courtesy of his Ghalian magic.

  “No mercy. Not when there is coin to be had,” he said. He spotted the young crewmember across the command center. “Isn’t that right, Tür?”

  “Uh, yes. Never leave coin on the table, Captain,” he said, both thrilled and terrified to be singled out in front of the others.

  “Well said,” Hozark replied with a grin. “All right, then. Stun spells, but go light with them. No sense wasting resources over just one man.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” the weapons specialist said as he prepared to cast.

  The words flowed from his lips as the konuses mounted to his station delivered the magic needed to overwhelm the hapless man within the little derelict craft. The small spell was easily enough to render anyone unconscious. Anyone who didn’t know what was coming, that is. And Hozark had made sure that Bud and Demelza both had ample shielding power to protect them.

  They moved in quickly to secure the drifting ship and its crew, assuming its pilot to be incapacitated. But that was far from reality, for once the spell had hit the craft and dissipated, Demelza would collect the defensive konuses from her colleague and hide them on herself beneath her shimmer cloak.

  To the average observer boarding the little ship, it appeared as though Bud had been knocked unconscious. But he was alert. Playing a part. And Demelza? The assassin stealthily followed him into the invading party’s craft.

  “We have taken both the ship and its pilot,” Hozark was informed.

  “Good. Place him in holding and secure his craft. I know just the place to go to see if any coin is to be had for it.”

  No one was the wiser, it seemed, and the plan was getting underway just as they had hoped. Now they just needed to take their time, resupplying and acting completely normally to avoid drawing any suspicion from the crew. Then, and only then, they would head to Ahkrahn.

  “Ahkrahn?” the scarred woman asked when told their eventual destination.

  “Yes. It is time to offload some of our cargo, and Visla Sunar will give us a good price for our wares.”

  “Of course, Captain,” she replied, still a bit unsure.

  This could be a problem. Apparently, visiting Sunar’s estate was a bit more of an unusual occurrence than he’d originally expected. Hozark had to improvise, and fast.

  “We will be flying hard after this. I want my cells full and coffers overflowing in a month’s time,” he growled.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “But, given the tasks that await us, it is my desire that the crew have a little shore leave before we embark on such a strenuous task. That is why I have selected Visla Sunar’s estate as our destination. The cities around him are ideal for the men to recreate while I deal with the visla.”

  Heads turned ever so slightly at his words. The crew knew better than to tempt fate and express their disbelief and excitement at the prospect of shore leave on Ahkrahn. Co
mpared to most worlds they stopped on, this would be a downright luxurious respite, though one man couldn’t help but say something.

  “Your generosity is appreciated, Captain. And two shore leaves in so short a period? Thank you, sir. Thank you!”

  The others glared at the man, silently willing him to just shut the hell up before he made the captain change his mind.

  Shit. They just had shore leave? Hozark silently lamented. Incredible. Just my luck. Well, there’s nothing to do about it now.

  “Yes. A second respite break is warranted,” he said to the assembled crew. “But it is not out of the kindness of my heart, I can assure you.” His steely glare made it clear he was speaking true. “I noted an increase in productivity after the last shore leave. This pleases me, and I wish to see this trend continue. But do not mistakenly think this is about your happiness. It is about your work improving. Disappoint me, and it will be a long, long time before it happens again.”

  Silent nods met his gaze as the crew set back to work.

  Good. This is working out after all, he mused.

  All that remained now was the tedium of returning to orbit and completing their resupply. After that, the interesting part would begin.

  Chapter Eleven

  With one of his and Demelza’s previously delayed contracts completed, and the dead man’s ship now under his command, Hozark settled into the captain’s quarters to study the cargo manifest and familiarize himself with his new assets.

  Distasteful as it was, he was a slave trader, for all intents and purposes, and he had to act the part. And that included potentially selling or trading some of his cargo upon arrival on Ahkrahn. Fortunately, despite his often brutal ways, Visla Sunar was a businessman first and foremost.

  The slaves in his stables were always well cared for. Not for their benefit, of course, but because a healthy slave fetched a higher price. And it looked like he would be adding a few more to those numbers soon. The one question that lingered, however, was why Laskar had been moved to the innermost part of the visla’s compound.