The Ghalian Code: Space Assassins 3

by Scott Baron

  The assassin sighed. “You have a choice, young Jinnik. Do you wish to walk, or would you rather be carried?”

  The boy was about to mouth off in protest when the strange man flashed a pointy-toothed smile. Then Happizano realized who he was dealing with. What he was dealing with.

  “Uh...”

  “I thought so,” the Wampeh said. “Let us make a quick adjustment, so you are not so conspicuous.”

  He pulled from his konus and cast a very, very basic disguise spell. One of the simplest and least invasive he knew. It would not last long, and it only changed the boy’s complexion from violet to orange, but it would not hurt at all, and given their rocky start, he thought that to be the best option to go with.

  He stepped back and looked at his handiwork. It wasn’t fantastic by any stretch of the imagination, but it would have to do.

  “Good enough,” he said, then quickly adjusted his own coloring to match the boy’s. “Now, with me, and hurry.”

  Hozark led the way, sweeping the hallway for hostiles while appearing as casual as possible. Just a man and his son walking down the corridor. Nothing to see. Nothing worth noting.

  They took the stairs heading down toward the main entryway. It was the most exposed and heavily trafficked of the potential exits. But it was also a direct line to their ship. And from what Hozark had seen while they were making their entry, the guards were interested in who was coming in, but they were paying no mind to who was going out.

  “Hey, there they are!” a young woman’s voice called out.

  “Yes, I see. Keep it down.”

  “You keep it down.”

  “Woman, you’ll be the death of me,” Bud grumbled.

  “Keep up with that lip and I just might be,” she shot back.

  Happizano looked up at Hozark, a bit concerned.

  “They’re with you?”

  “Yes. Though they are typically more professional in their behavior,” he said, loud enough to make his point clear to the quarreling pair.

  Henni and Bud both clammed up, each silently blaming the other for Hozark’s displeasure. But whoever’s fault it may be, there was a job to do.

  “You two need to take the boy back to the ship,” Hozark said.

  “Wait, what are you going to be doing?” Bud replied. “And where’s Demelza?”

  “She is still engaged in the search. And I have one more thing to check. The emmik’s personal offices. There may be further useful intelligence there as to what they truly plan for Visla Jinnik. The opportunity is too good to pass up.”

  “What are they doing to my dad?” the boy asked, a flash of concern darkening his face.

  “Nothing much. But now is not the time to discuss that. We will have plenty of time once we are well clear of this world,” the assassin replied. “Bud, if you would, please.”

  “Right. Come on, kid. Follow us.”

  “And Uzabud. Do hurry. The spell will only last approximately five minutes longer, give or take. We do not want him shifting back to his natural coloring before he is far from these walls.”

  “We’re on it,” Henni chirped. “Let’s go!”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The faux lovers and the orange boy they had not arrived with made for the exit in a hurry. They were so close to achieving their goal, it was tangible.

  “Hey! You two!” a voice called out as they rushed across the lobby area toward the beckoning light of freedom.

  They turned. It was the woman who had helped them when they arrived.

  “We have to say something,” Bud said in a stage whisper as they steered over to greet her.

  “Hi!” Henni said, all smiles and sunshine. “Yes, we found the right place. Thank you so much for all of your help.”

  “So, she was able to get you scheduled?” the woman asked.

  “Yes. We’re to be bonded in nine days’ time,” Henni replied.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. You know, I can tell you two will make it last. I’ve seen hundreds come through these doors, and I’m never wrong.”

  “From your lips to the gods’ ears,” Bud said, tamping down the frustrated scream that he felt welling up inside of him. “Well, we really must be off. Things to do, people to invite and all that.”

  “Yes, much to do,” Henni agreed. “Thank you again for all of your help.”

  They turned to leave and had taken a few steps when the woman spoke again.

  “Wait a minute. Didn’t you two come by yourselves?” she asked, a curious expression on her face.

  “Oh, you mean him,” Bud said, clapping the boy on the back with a big, friendly smile. “This is our neighbor’s son. She knew we were busy and trying to get a date locked in, so she sent him here to get come information for us about what options we might have. It was a lovely gesture she hoped would take a little off our plates.”

  “Your neighbors did that for you?”

  “We have always been quite close with them,” Henni noted. “And when their boys were young, I babysat them for a spell.”

  “How utterly delightful. It’s so rare to see that true neighborly care these days. I mean, you’re young folk, but back in my day, it was so much more common to help one another without even asking.”

  “We really are lucky,” Bud agreed, mentally counting down the minutes until the boy’s magical disguise would fade away and their charade would be up. “Well, it really was fantastic chatting with you, and thank you again for all of your help. But we really do need to get him back to his parents. I think he’s been gone far longer than they’d expected, and they must be a bit worried.”

  The woman smiled warmly. “Of course. I know how it is to have a young one out in the world. You two take care, and congratulations again.”

  Bud and Henni smiled and waved, ushering Happizano ahead of them as they moved casually, but quickly for the exit.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “A minute, tops,” Bud replied.

  “Shit. We’re not going to make it.”

  “We are going to make it. Come on. Kid, you go in front,” he said, gently steering the boy to the lead of their departing group. “This is going to be a wonderful ceremony!” Bud said loudly as they approached the guards. “I think we may even have a visla in attendance!”

  He was talking far too loudly, and people were looking. Including the guards. But that was what he wanted. The more they looked at him, the less they would be looking at the boy, who had already begun slowly changing back to his normal skin coloration.

  Bud had dropped the V word. Visla. And for someone to have a power user of that magnitude attend one of their ceremonies, they must be quite important. All eyes were on the supposed lovebirds, and Happizano stepped through the exit and out into the orange glow of the city’s light unmolested.

  He was also nearly entirely back to his normal coloring, but he was in the lead, and facing away from the guards. So long as he didn’t turn around, the guards would have no idea who had just walked right past them to freedom.

  Bud closed the gap once they were clear of the exit and placed his hand firmly on the boy’s shoulder, steering him toward the waiting ship’s landing area.

  “Do not look back. Just keep walking. I’ll direct you,” he said, quietly. “Henni, keep an eye out for––”

  “I know.”

  The little woman had already begun her scan, casually moving in front of the kidnapped boy, watching the crowd for any sign of recognition or threat. They didn’t have too far to go, but anything could happen before they were safely aboard their ship.

  They moved quickly, an impromptu unit functioning far better than any might have imagined. The necessity of the situation had forced them to cooperate, and in that one, blessed moment, they were operating as smoothly as any team.

  Still inside the estate, the leader of the group had cloaked himself in his shimmer once more and was making his way quickly through the most private chambers of the emmik’s estate. He was a man on a miss
ion. A secondary mission, after the rescue of the visla’s son.

  Emmik Urtzal was a piddling little nobody. So why had he so suddenly become a trusted co-conspirator in this little plot? Something was going on. Something far from normal.

  If Visla Ravik had brought Urtzal into the mix, it would make sense that they would have shared forces in their ambush at Zargota. But to elevate the man to a near equal status, allowing him to be the one to keep the young Jinnik secured, well, it was beyond unusual.

  Unless someone even more powerful than Ravik was pulling the strings. Someone dictating their actions with an entirely ulterior set of motives. It was a great mystery, and it was seeming to tie in to more than one loose thread that was just begging to be pulled.

  What would come out in the unraveling, though, was anyone’s guess.

  Hozark felt for wards and traps as he approached the emmik’s private offices. Nothing touched his sensing spells as he passed through the door. With eyes trained for this sort of thing, the master assassin scanned the room, looking for any signs or clues that might give him a modicum of clarity as to the real machinations behind these overlapping and increasingly wild plots.

  Someone was manipulating power users, and not just the visla. Ootaki and Drooks alike had been used for some strange tests. Zomoki had been experimented on and slain. And even a young Wampeh had suffered a similar fate. While it was highly unlikely the emmik knew of these events, it was looking like he was tied in with people who did.

  And Hozark was going to find out how.

  The exposed spaces held nothing of use. He searched high and low, but nothing was conveniently left out in the open for him. It rarely was, but on more than one occasion, he had actually stumbled upon crucial items with a little help from blind luck.

  The safe was easy to locate, and its warding spells almost child’s play to disarm. But all that was inside was some coin, a few charged konuses, and some image discs that appeared to contain blackmail images of a few high-ranking members of the planet’s elite.

  It was becoming clearer how Urtzal managed to maintain a grip on this world despite his rather middling power. Hozark shifted his search to the large desk that sat at the far end of the room. It was an ornate piece of furniture, and it possessed a small amount of magic, the maintenance spells it was imbued with keeping the wood at a permanent glossy luster.

  Unlocking the drawers was not an issue and barely took two seconds for Hozark’s practiced fingers. He slid the central compartment open slowly.

  “Can it be?” he wondered as his eyes fell upon a validity seal. There was simply no way a non-member of the Council of Twenty would be allowed to utilize such a powerful item. Not powerful magically, but because of what the seal could make its recipients do.

  Hozark reached out to pick it up.

  The trapping spell slammed into him with blinding force, locking his limbs in place, stopping him from moving so much as an inch. Hozark was unable to even speak, rendered helpless by his inability to cast a single spell. His eyes, however, still worked.

  He peered down at his shimmer cloak. The magical trap was stripping away the protective camouflage, leaving him exposed in the chamber. The power was shocking in both its strength as well as its specificity against Ghalian tricks of the trade.

  And worse than that, Hozark realized, this was no emmik’s magic. This was a visla’s. And it was very strong. And very recent.

  A great deal of magic had been poured into this ingenious trap. Not in the room, not in the door, not even in the wards on the desk itself. This was a carefully disguised trigger spell connected to a massively powerful catch-trap. Whatever visla had set this was not only incredibly powerful, but strangely familiar.

  Hozark relaxed his body against the spell. Fighting it would do no good. He needed to use his mind, not his muscles if he hoped to escape. But what of this magic? It was as if he had––

  Suddenly, it dawned on him. Where he had sensed this power before. The secret weapons smelting operation on Garvalis. Where he had once before fallen prey to this same magic user’s clever traps.

  Despite his dire situation, Hozark nearly smiled. It was a break. Information. Something that tied all of this together. Now all he had to do was live to tell the others.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Footsteps ringing out in a corridor normally wouldn’t concern the master assassin. He was one of the Five, after all, and was wearing his shimmer cloak, no less. He had dealt with far worse than a small group of guards on countless occasions.

  And yet, today, they might quite possibly be his end. It was almost amusing in how ridiculous it was. For one of the greatest assassins in the galaxy to fall in such a manner. But he had been outplayed. Tricked and trapped by a very, very clever visla.

  And now he was frozen in place, unable to cast even the slightest spell, let alone reach the vespus blade riding on his back.

  Seven guards rushed into Emmik Urtzal’s offices, weapons at the ready. Obviously, there was a magical alert also tied to the trapping spell, Hozark noted, ever watchful and aware, even as his doom closed in.

  The men were Tslavars, all of them, and Hozark had a feeling this lot would just as soon slay the Wampeh Ghalian as capture him for questioning. They could always say he had nearly escaped the trap and they were fighting for their lives, after all. And with a Ghalian assassin, who would doubt them.

  With his shimmer cloak failing, they saw the man clearly. And, as he had been ready for a fight, his vespus blade was partially exposed for quick access should he need it. Their eyes fell upon the faintly glowing weapon.

  “He’s got an enchanted sword,” one of them said, drawing his own blade.

  “Aye. And when we’re done with ’im, there’s no need for anyone to know about it. We can fetch good coin for a Ghalian’s weapons on the black market.”

  “Even split?” another Tslavar asked.

  “Even split. Now, come on. Let’s slice us off a piece of Ghalian, shall we?”

  The man’s head parted from his body and fell to the ground in a sickening, wet thud. The line of the cut was clean and precise, made by the fine blade seemingly floating in the air.

  A moment later, the stocky Wampeh wearing a shimmer cloak slid it from her head and released her grasp on the spell. They had threatened Master Hozark and planned to slay him in a most cowardly manner. She wanted them to see her when she took everything from them, and the gleaming blades in her hands were nearly humming in anticipation of her bloody work.

  Master Orkut’s weapons were undoubtedly the finest she had ever been fortunate enough to wield, and every cell in her body cried out in longing for a fight. An opportunity to free these beautiful, deadly pieces of art to do their terrible work.

  “Well?” she said, cocking an eyebrow at the six remaining Tslavars.

  If they had been wise, they would have sent one for backup while the others tried to keep her trapped, or at least slowed her down. But these were overconfident men, and a five-on-one fight seemed like plenty good odds to them.

  They weren’t.

  Demelza spun into action, sword in one hand, long dagger in the other, the pair slicing through flesh and armor alike. The closest of the Tslavars fell to one knee. Not because he was kneeling, but because his other leg had been cut off mid-thigh. His cries ended abruptly when her dagger pierced his skull as easily as a soft gourd.

  The remaining four attacked her all at once, hoping to overwhelm her with their superior numbers. But Demelza was used to fighting multiple opponents, and far more skilled ones than these.

  Frozen as he was, Hozark nevertheless happened to be positioned in such a way as to see his friend fight, and he was pleased to be treated to quite a show of Ghalian prowess. Demelza had been training. Hard. And now it was showing.

  She was fighting the blades, not the wielders, and with her new, adapted style, she was almost toying with the men, prolonging the fight a moment just to allow herself the opportunity to try a few more of h
er new moves.

  But they were on a timetable, and Master Hozark was in a precarious position, so she feigned a stumble, drawing the four attackers in close for the kill. Little did they realize, the killing would be theirs. Her sword flashed out in one direction while the dagger swung an arc in the other. Seconds later, she and Hozark were the only living beings in the room.

  “Master Hozark, hold still. I will free you.”

  His eyes spoke volumes of both appreciation and mirth.

  “Ah, yes, of course. You have no choice but to hold still,” Demelza said as she began carefully countering the layers of catch-trap spells that had snared one of the greatest assassins alive.

  It was a time-consuming endeavor. Far too time consuming for either of their taste, but there was little that could be done about that. Slowly, however, Demelza loosened the strands of power binding her friend and mentor.

  “This is far stronger magic than Emmik Urtzal is capable of,” she noted.

  “Mmmhmm,” Hozark replied.

  “Let me see about that bit,” she said, pulling free the bonds over his mouth.

  They were particularly robust, and well-crafted. Whoever had set the trap knew full-well that their captive could cast deadly magic even while bound. And so they had ensured they would be unable. It was a masterful bit of casting, Hozark grudgingly admired.

  “It is the same magic I sensed back on Garvalis,” Hozark said when the final thread locking his jaw shut was removed.

  He moved his mouth a moment, loosening the tight muscles.

  “Garvalis? What could Urtzal have to do with that? You said those were weapons manufacturers.”

  “I know,” Hozark replied. “And yet somehow this man is somehow tied up in all of that.”

  He pulled power from his konus, forming the words of the unbinding spells he knew so well, layering them atop Demelza’s castings. It was still a lot of work to free the rest of his body, but with two of them working together, it would at least be faster progress.