The Vespus Blade

by Scott Baron

  “I learned why,” Hozark said. “It would seem Orkut has family he wishes to keep safe from possible reprisal if it should be known he is working with the Wampeh Ghalian. Apparently, one of his sons possesses his father’s gift, and he has been trained in the crafts.”

  “Another bladesmith of Orkut’s line? No wonder he went silent,” Varsuvala mused.

  “Indeed,” Hozark replied. “He hopes his family will be able to live a normal life, free of the dangers associated with working for our order. But should the old man fall one day, and we truly be in need, the five in this room now know of his son’s existence. Of his gifts.”

  “And it shall be kept in the closest of confidence,” Corann said. “Only the Five.”

  “Agreed,” the others said. And so it was that Orkut’s son was out of harm’s way. For the time being, at least.

  “Now, Hozark. About this last contract. We know you had an unexpected run-in with our presumed dead sister. But you also learned something else?” Corann asked.

  “Yes. My two recent contracts appear to have been quite well acquainted. But more than that, they were involved in some shady affairs with one another for some time.”

  “Visla Horvath was working with Emmik Rostall?” Falsam asked.

  “Indeed. And he was sending magically charged weaponry to Visla Horvath before I even engaged him.”

  “Fascinating,” Corann said. “It seems there is a quiet power struggle at play within the Council of Twenty. And it seems these two were making serious moves to snatch up more control.”

  “Yes and no,” Hozark interjected. “You see, there is more. A rumor. Word that there is another pulling their strings, and quite possibly without their even knowing about it.”

  “Do we know whom?” Corann asked.

  “A few names have been bandied about, even Maktan.”

  “Maktan?” she said. “He’s one of the most docile of the Council of Twenty. In fact, he’s always seemed rather benign. For a Council member, that is.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Hozark noted, citing a Ghalian adage they lived and died by.

  “As we know quite well,” Corann replied. “But whatever is at play, his Ghalian advantage is no more. Samara is dead once again, courtesy of your friend’s ship blasting her from the sky.”

  “Uzabud’s new partner, yes. Quite a shot, that one. But I still have my doubts about her demise.”

  “Caution is prudent,” she replied. “But let us also not forget that the details of the event have been corroborated by our agents in the system. Her ship was destroyed trying to flee after you executed her employer. She was shot from the sky as she attempted to flee her lost cause.”

  Hozark nodded slowly. “This is true, Corann. Yet, again, I still have my doubts.”

  “Of course. This is Samara we are talking about, and you do know her better than anyone else,” she said, careful not to twist the emotional knife still stuck in Hozark’s back.

  Samara had faked her death and vanished, and none would take it as personally as he.

  “She always was a rather talented swordswoman,” Corann said, shifting the topic. “One of our best, in fact. I take it your new vespus blade proved worth the effort to procure?”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “I can imagine quite a lot, my friend. But we have matters at hand we do not need to imagine. Several high-end jobs have just been accepted by the order. Risky, difficult, and Council-affiliated targets, most requiring a master’s touch.”

  At this news, the others perked up. “Oh, really?” Falsam said, relishing the thought of a new contract.

  “Indeed,” she replied. “I will get each of you details for your contracts, and we shall begin at once.”

  Chapter Five

  “Master Hozark, your presence is requested at the entry hall,” a young aspirant informed the seated master as he studied one of the ancient scrolls of Ghalian spells.

  “Oh?” Hozark said, looking up at the young woman.

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?” he replied.

  “Something most unusual,” the young Wampeh replied. “There is a man. He entered the foyer and has been pounding on the inner doors for nearly five minutes.”

  “And no one has disposed of him?” Hozark asked. “You realize, it is somewhat out of the norm to request one of the Five for so simple a matter, do you not?”

  “Ah, apologies, Master Hozark. But, well, that’s the thing,” the youth replied. “You see, this man. He is calling for you.”

  Hozark’s face remained neutral, not betraying his surprise. “This man. Does he happen to wear any pirate’s garb in his attire, by any chance?”

  “Actually, he does. How did you know?”

  “Uzabud,” the master assassin said, sighing quietly. “What in the worlds are you doing here, old friend?” He turned to the young Wampeh. “Thank you. I shall handle our guest from here.”

  “As you wish, Master Hozark,” the youth replied, leaving him to deal with the unexpected intruder, allowing her to return to her regular duties.

  Hozark quickly strode through the halls to the entryway. As was the case in every Wampeh Ghalian training house, it was a false entry, of course, and warded to boot. There was no worry whatsoever of anyone actually breaching the interior of their facility.

  Still, most gave up and walked away upon a lengthy lack of reply from the property’s overseers. But Uzabud was camped out in the foyer and didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He was stubborn, for certain, but not impulsively foolish.

  For him to actually fly all the way to this world and come to the training house’s door was beyond unusual. And unusual could be fatal, where the Wampeh Ghalian were involved. Especially if one were to be perceived as intruding on their privacy.

  Fortunately, the young aspirant had notified Hozark rather than another of the masters, likely avoiding what could have been a rather unpleasant end for his friend. After so many years working together, that would have been a terrible shame.

  The unusual thing about this was they had actually only parted ways a short time before. Mere weeks, in fact. Their last job together had gone a bit sideways, even though Master Horvath had fallen as intended when the contract was completed.

  But at the end of it all, Samara, back from the dead, much to Hozark’s surprise, had thrown them for a loop before meeting her death once again. It was an unusual turn of events, and a particularly difficult job, during which Bud had performed admirably.

  Despite his somewhat checkered past, Uzabud had always been a rock-solid and trustworthy asset, and one Hozark could call upon without any concern for his abilities or discretion. For him to now show up unexpectedly at the secret training house that only a handful of non-Ghalian even knew existed hinted that something of great urgency was afoot.

  And Hozark would be finding out what that was far sooner than later.

  “You know, dropping in on a Ghalian training house unannounced and pounding on the doors is a good way to get yourself killed, Bud,” Hozark said as he approached his friend from behind in the entryway.

  Uzabud spun at his friend’s voice. “How did you get over there? I didn’t see you come in.”

  “I have my ways, my friend,” the assassin replied with a little grin.

  Despite the many skills he’d learned in his stint as a pirate and overall man of action and adventure, Uzabud was nevertheless an unpowered man. He had no magic within him whatsoever, and no knack for sniffing out wards and illusions on his own.

  And his konus was not attuned to the particular spells used to detect hidden doorways such as the one Hozark had just used. Even if it was, it wouldn’t have mattered. Not here, anyway. This was a Ghalian compound, and anyone short of a visla would be very hard-pressed finding the actual entryway.

  “So, you’ve come all the way to this place seeking me out. You could have simply skreed me, you know. Or reached out to Demelza. She’d have relayed your message.”


  “I did call you, but you didn’t answer your skree. And I had no idea Demelza was still with you. I thought she’d have gone back to serve Orkut by now. She was pretty anxious to have him make her that blade.”

  “Yes, but there were valuable things for her to learn before returning. And so long as she is away from his service, she and I are bound to work with one another, as Orkut required of me when he completed my vespus blade, as you know.”

  “So why didn’t you just answer the call, then? It’s not like you were on some top-secret assignment,” Bud said. “You weren’t on another job, were you? I mean, if you were, you know you could have called me if you needed a hand.”

  “I was not on a contract, Bud,” Hozark replied. “And inside of these walls, I do not carry my skree with me at all times. To do so is distasteful. But I would have seen your message soon enough, so why the impatience?”

  “I’m sorry, but there was just no time to wait, Hozark. Something’s gone wrong.”

  “Normal, for our lines of work.”

  “Yeah, sure. But this time, it’s something different. Laskar has been taken prisoner.”

  Hozark shook his head. Uzabud’s new copilot and partner grated on his nerves more than a little bit. Yes, Laskar was a skilled pilot, and he had proven his worth on their recent, disastrous job. But his cocky overconfidence grew tiresome quite quickly.

  “Taken prisoner, you say? Once again, you illustrate the reason that you and I do not normally have partners, Bud. We are men of action, and of a particular type. We work far better alone, you and I.”

  “Normally, yes. But he’s proven himself to be a really good asset. I mean, you saw how he flies. And the guy is fearless.”

  “True,” the assassin replied, “but, again, it is precisely this sort of incident that drives home why we do not have partners.”

  “You and Demelza have made a good team,” Bud noted.

  “Yes, she is quite skilled. But this is temporary, and it was not by intention. I was saddled with my partner at the direction of Master Orkut. I’d not have accepted her otherwise. You, on the other hand, selected yours of your own free will.”

  “And he was captured.”

  “Indeed, the fool,” Hozark said with a bit of disdain.

  “Sure, he’s a bit of a pain at times, I’ll admit. Hell, I know I’ve wanted to smack that cocky grin off his face more than once. But this is different. He was gathering information on what Visla Horvath and the Council of Twenty were up to when he was caught, Hozark. How Samara came to not only be alive, but working with her former enemies. He was digging up intel for you.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “After what happened on the job at Visla Horvath’s compound, he felt he owed you one and wanted to do something to be helpful. So he was snooping for dirt on who else Visla Horvath had been coordinating with, in hopes it would prove useful to you.”

  Hozark sighed, shaking his head. “And just as I was satisfied disliking the man, he has to go and do something like this,” the master assassin said, pondering the situation a long moment. “I see where this is going, Bud. You have an abundance of skills, and a treasure trove of unsavory contacts and shady friends from your pirating and smuggling days. If you’ve come to me, it must truly be bad.”

  “It is. Trust me, it is.”

  “Very well, then,” he sighed. “How bad is it? Where exactly is he?”

  “Uh, yeah. That’s the problem,” Bud said. “Laskar’s being held in Visla Sunar’s estate. On Ahkrahn.”

  Hozark sighed. It was even worse than he’d imagined. “It’s never easy with you, is it, Bud?”

  “But that’s why you love me.”

  “A Ghalian loves no one,” he replied with a straight face. “But let us see about retrieving your friend. Ideally, before his head is separated from his neck.”

  Chapter Six

  Hozark watched the two young Wampeh locked in battle. Each was in their early twenties, fighting with great focus as they moved through a flowing combat session, sparring at top speed with both blades and konuses. The weapons, unlike those used by the younger trainees, were honed to razor sharpness, though their konuses were operating at a somewhat reduced level.

  To feel the brunt of one of their magical attacks would likely not be fatal, but it would certainly cause damage. The blades, however, could prove deadly, though they were moving for mostly less than fatal strikes. It was training, after all, and though the healers could remedy any damage incurred, none wished to have to visit them.

  The pair were the most senior of the training house’s students. Both young men had grown up in the facility, steeped in the order’s deadly arts nearly their whole lives. They had done smaller hits for the order for years, but nothing of high difficulty. Now, however, it was time for them to take the final step. To be assigned their graduation contracts.

  They had been ready for some time, but the order waited until the right job presented itself for the final test. Wampeh Ghalian, even senior students, normally went on contracts alone, but for their final test, they would be accompanied by one of the masters. One who would remain close and keep a watchful eye on them, either disguised or under cover of shimmer cloak.

  Hozark had recently been with a particularly talented student named Enok on his final test. A test where things had gone horribly wrong. The target, an emmik by the name of Rostall, had surprised them with a rare and utterly unexpected weapon. One that could kill a Ghalian on contact.

  The Balamar waters were a healing fluid, beneficial to all they touched. All but Wampeh Ghalian. For them, the rare waters would not heal, but rather immolate them instantly, reducing them to ash. They were incredibly rare. And yet, somehow, Emmik Rostall had a small vial in his possession.

  Enok had stood his ground without flinching as Rostall randomly splashed suspected assassins hiding in his guards’ ranks. He didn’t possess enough to spray all of the men, and it was an incredible fortune he was throwing away in the process. But luck was not on Enok’s side that day, and he was one of the randomly selected targets within the emmik’s reach.

  He died instantly in a plume of flame.

  Hozark had been standing beside him, observing the student on his final test. But there was nothing he could do to save the youth from this unforeseen event. It was so utterly unexpected. Those waters were worth a fortune. And yet this lower-level emmik not only possessed them, but chose to use them so freely.

  Hozark had ultimately completed the task, killing Emmik Rostall and taking the deadly waters for himself, originally intending to lock them in the order’s vaults.

  But then his former lover had proven herself very much alive, and in the employ of a Council of Twenty member. At that news, he kept the waters for his own final option. He just hoped he would never need to employ them.

  Given what had happened so recently, Hozark would not be the master accompanying either of these particular students. But he wished to observe their final training session just the same. If he could impart any additional knowledge to them before the undertaking, he would gladly do so.

  When he quietly joined them in the training chamber, Demelza had just stepped into the mix between the two, refocusing their attacks and subtly nudging them toward more effective style variants against one another.

  She was not a master, nor even a teacher. In fact, she had been out of the order’s grounds for some time, but in this moment, her skills shone through.

  Each of the youths had their own particular style, but she adapted to each, and modified both her own response,s as well as the manner the other student fought, to better combat them. It was masterful, the way she fluidly guided them in improving their own forms.

  Demelza had gone from merely observing and directing the combat to being a full-fledged participant, making the whole event into a three-way battle with magic and blades alike.

  She blocked and countered, using her konus while saving the internal power she’d recently taken from Visla Ho
rvath. To waste her stored magic in training would not be acceptable. To utilize one of the order’s many konuses, however, was not an issue whatsoever. They were far, far easier to come by than a visla’s power, and she didn’t know when she’d drink from one of those again.

  Hozark watched the combat with silent appreciation. The man at his side, however, was not so tactful.

  “Holy shit, man. She’s kicking ass!”

  “Bud, please,” Hozark said.

  But the disruption had been enough, and the three combatants ceased their attacks and counters as if by silent agreement and stepped back, bowing slightly to one another.

  “Thank you, Teacher Demelza,” Aargun, the older of the two, said.

  “You are welcome. But please, I am not a teacher in the order. Merely a sister Ghalian.”

  “We appreciate your tutelage regardless, Sister Demelza,” the other youth said. “Your unusual style has proven most enlightening. I think both Aargun and I will benefit from your instruction, whether you are officially a teacher in the order or not.”

  “Her skills are indeed impressive,” Hozark noted. “I have seen her in true action, and rest assured, despite her non-teacher status, her skills are more than adequate for her to bear that title. If she so desired, that is,” he added, flashing her a little look.

  The two students nodded respectful bows to Master Hozark, mopped the sweat from their brows, then took their leave.

  “Hey, Demelza,” Bud said. “Sorry to interrupt. But wow, that was really cool.”

  “Uzabud. This is a surprise. We only parted ways a short while ago, and yet, here you are. You are well, I see.”

  “Well, yes and no.”

  “Yes and no?” she repeated.

  “He has lost Laskar,” Hozark clarified.

  “Oh, I am sorry to hear that. He was a brave companion.”

  “He’s not dead,” Bud said.

  “Ah, a pleasant mistake on my part.”

  “He’s not dead. But he is being held on Ahkrahn,” he added.