by Scott Baron
“Hard labor the king had you doing.”
“But honest labor.”
“You would not wish to petition the new king for your old position back? He might have use for a man of your experience.”
Clay paused, nodding a greeting to the recently hired help as they walked past. He had his suspicions they were on King Horgund’s payroll, but then, he was just a laborer himself. What could he possibly say or do about it?
“I’m happy here, Cap’n. This life suits me. Far less stress, the food is good, tha air is fresh, and tha company is warm,” he said, glancing at one of the farmer’s daughters as she worked with the animals.
Sheeran smiled, knowingly. “I see. So, King Charlie’s punishment suits you, then.”
“It does, at that.”
“And have you seen him, then?”
“No, I haven’t,” Clay replied in a loud voice. “Hey, you lot,” he called out to the workers. “Any of you seen King Charlie around these parts? The Cap’n here is trying ta find ‘im.”
A murmur rose in the ranks, but none had seen the runaway king.
“Sorry we can’t help ye, Cap’n.”
“No worries, Clay. We will ride the land from end to end until we find him. King Horgund has a few others searching as well, but Owen and I know these parts well, and he has given us free rein in our task.”
“Well, I don’t know how much I’d believe the rumors,” Clay said, “but I heard ‘e was spotted up north, close to the border. But that’s quite a long ride. Unless his dragon flew him there atop her back, of course.”
Sheeran locked eyes with him. “The beast is gone. There has been no sign of it since the day King Horgund’s army arrived. The king himself told me it was taken care of.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Apparently, the king has a powerful wizard working alongside him, though I haven’t seen him with my own eyes.”
“Well, that is news. A wizard, you say. A strange time we’re livin’ in, eh, Cap’n? Wizards and dragons roaming our lands.”
“On that, we are in agreement,” Sheeran said.
“And what of the queen? Rumor has it she was captured visiting the farm just over those hills.”
“You heard right. She was taken the same day the dragon went missing.”
“Killed?”
“No. The king’s wizard had her placed in the dungeon. I have not seen her, but word in the castle is she is still alive.”
“Who keeps an innocent woman in a dungeon,” Clay grumbled.
The workers nearby looked at him curiously.
“What? You lot may be new to this farm, but the queen always treated us well. Their quarrel was with the king, not her. Do you louts think it’s okay to lock innocent women in a dungeon?”
“She’s a deposed king’s queen,” one said. “It’s only natural.”
Clay sighed, defeated. “I suppose you’re right. An’ I have no love for tha king. It’s just, the queen was nice ta me.”
“Well, you’ll be pleased that she lives, yet, then,” Sheeran said. “Be glad for that, for her king will undoubtedly not be so lucky once we find him.”
“And her beast? The big fur ball?”
“Dead, from what I hear,” Owen interjected.
Clay’s shoulders sagged slightly. He was a massive man, and the queen’s visits meant the rare canine large enough to play with him. It was a silly thing, but he would miss his furry friend.
“Well, I wish ye both luck on your quest. Can I offer ye something ta drink before ye ride out?”
“Appreciated, Clay, but we are well-provisioned for our task. Now, come along, Owen, we have much ground to cover before sunset.”
Sheeran and his young aide nodded their farewell to the farm workers and trotted off down the road. Clay and the others went back to work, laboring with talk of the new information fresh on all of their lips.
The skies eventually began to darken, and all left the fields to clean up, Clay taking up the rear.
“Come, it’s supper time,” the farmer’s daughter said, brightly.
“I’ll be right there,” he replied, a warmth in his eyes as they met hers. “I forgot my spade out in the field.”
“Clay, you know how father gets about his tools.”
“Aye. Go on and start without me. I’ll be back soon.”
She turned and went inside, while the large man trotted off into the fields as darkness fell. He retrieved his spade, which was exactly where he left it, along with a small bag of the day’s harvest, then made his way to the small, disused hovel at the edge of the fields.
He placed the bag at the door and leaned against the wall, nonchalantly.
“They’re gone,” he said to the air. But he knew the air was listening. “The queen lives, but is in the dungeons. No sign of the dragon, and King Horgund has search parties riding the kingdom. I said to try north, but I don’t know if it’ll help any.”
He pushed off from the wall and walked back to the farmhouse, his spade in hand, but the sack of food left behind. The door opened a crack, and a pale, white hand pulled it inside.
“Well,” Bawb said as he closed the door behind him. “It seems we have a bit of news.”
Chapter Forty
“So these won’t work?” Charlie asked as he stripped the weapons from the dead man at his feet.
“No,” Bawb replied. “These are common soldiers. Look at the colors.”
“I can’t really see them very well in the dark, Bob. You’re the one with the super Wampeh eyes.”
“Use your magic, Charlie.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Charlie reached within himself and pulled a strand of power, then used it to cast the seeing spell the assassin had taught him. Ser Baruud’s night vision spell was good, but Bawb’s was even better. Of course, it was only natural an assassin should know all the best tricks for things of that nature, he figured.
He looked at the men they’d slain and dragged into the woods. Bawb was right. The uniforms weren’t the ones they needed to blend in with the other castle guards. Of course, the men all knew one another, and the uniforms would only buy them a moment, but a moment would be all they needed.
“Shit, you’re right,” he grumbled. “We need to take a pair of the castle’s guard.”
“As I said.”
“But we’re outside the castle, Bob. How often do the castle guards come out here? And away from the walls, where we can ambush them, no less?”
“It is problematic,” Bawb agreed.
“So what’s the plan?” Charlie asked as they hid the bodies in a shallow grave. Just two more men gone missing in the night.
“I fear we may have to adjust our strategy. I assume there is still no contact from the Wise One?”
“Nothing. It’s incredibly faint, but I can feel our connection. I know she’s still alive. But beyond that, I can’t reach her.”
“Then it falls entirely upon us. I will have my spies dig up what information they can. We should know more by tomorrow night. For now, we need to leave this area. We are too close to the castle for prudence.”
Charlie looked toward what had so recently been their home, but knew his friend was right. Without means to disguise themselves, going inside would be suicide.
The following night, Bawb returned from a nocturnal reconnaissance, a little blood on his hands.
“Trouble?” Charlie asked, seeing the telltale red.
“No,” Bawb said, wiping the remnants with a rag. “I had words with one of the mercenary spies King Horgund had lurking around the woods.”
“Lurking. Now that’s funny.”
“How so?”
“Not funny, funny. Just funny. Like, the poor guy probably thought he was the most dangerous thing out there, when he should have been afraid of what else was out there in the dark.”
Bawb sat on the floor and rubbed his hands together, warming them after his excursion in the cool night air. Charlie held up his hand and cast, igniting a s
mall, blue flame. The size, and color, cast so little light, there was no fear of the dim glow drawing attention through any cracks in the hovel’s walls.
“Thank you, Charlie. The water in the stream was a bit cold,” Bawb said, warming his hands.
“My pleasure. I know it’s got to be tough not having your gear for so long. I mean, you have all of these spells to keep you warm, or dry, and all that other stuff. But now you’re stuck out here with me and can’t access any of it.”
Bawb grinned. “You know, the Wampeh Ghalian are not allowed to so much as touch a weapon or magical item for the first three years of our training.”
“You never told me that.”
“There are many things I have not told you, Charlie. And I swore an oath to keep these things secret from all in the galaxy.”
“But we’re not in that galaxy anymore.”
“A convenient loophole,” the Wampeh agreed. “And seeing as Ara is gone, along with the spell she was working on to return us to the right time, and right galaxy, I feel a little sharing of this knowledge is acceptable. I don’t think I shall ever see my home system again.”
“But it’s not that bad here, is it?”
“No, not at all. But nevertheless, it is a far different thing to visit a place, knowing you can return home at any time, than being stranded there.”
Having been in precisely that circumstance for several years in the distant galaxy, Charlie knew exactly how he felt. It was only when they were thrown back to Earth by a convergence of unlikely factors that he returned to his planet of origin. Just as he had finally accepted he would never come home again, that’s exactly what happened.
Well, not exactly. He had arrived a few thousand years too soon. But aside from that little glitch, Charlie had made it back. And now he was king. Or, was king.
“Any more word on Hunze?” Charlie asked.
“As expected, she is still safe in the kitchens. Thomas and the others have her working with them as part of the staff.”
“At least there’s finally a bit of good news,” Charlie said with a sigh. “But what else have you learned?”
“Most of the staff have remained in their same positions. The guards have changed, naturally, but King Horgund did not want to restaff the entire castle. Especially not as his mistress is so near to giving birth that her lady-in-waiting never leaves her side for a moment.”
“A baby in the castle.”
“Yes. And likely born in your former chambers. I’m sorry, but they have taken over your rooms and destroyed much of what was in them.”
“It’s just stuff, Bob. Things can be replaced. Not people. Which is why we need to figure out a new plan to get in there, get our gear, and rescue our women.”
“Hunze is not my––“
“You know what I mean. Now, do you think Gwendolyn could maybe slip some poison into Horgund’s food? Give that bastard a taste of his own medicine?”
“I do not believe she will make a move against the new king. And besides, that is assassins work. And if the king truly does have a wizard at his side, poisons would be detected, anyway.”
“So we’re stuck with some asshole living in our house, eating our food, imprisoning our friends, and having a happy little family life. Just great. And now he’s getting an heir, too. Next thing you know, he’ll try to take the girls as concubines and pop out more of them.”
A dark look crossed Bawb’s face. “This will be his first child,” he said, an icy tone in his voice. “And I intend to see to it that it will be his last.”
Charlie had seen that look on his friend’s face before. For a split second, he almost felt sorry for Horgund.
“I’m afraid it is a bit premature, but I need to harvest a most particular tool,” the pale man said. “We need to make an outing.”
“Harvest?”
A knowing smile crept onto the assassin’s lips. “You’ll see.”
Chapter Forty-One
The path was hard to see, even with the help of the vision-enhancing spell, and Charlie found it difficult to keep up with his Wampeh friend. The man became a part of the night, moving with great speed and stealth in the dark as his sure feet followed the near-invisible path that he alone knew so well.
They were going fast. Far faster than either would have preferred in the murky light––or lack thereof––but Bawb was making the trek without his familiar shimmer cloak, and despite his razor-sharp senses scanning for any sign of danger, he couldn’t help but feel almost naked as he walked the familiar trail. And so, they sped on.
They finally arrived at the base of a rocky, granite face where the back side of a hill had sloughed off millennia prior. Charlie followed Bawb through the fallen rocks to an almost invisible crack running up the face.
Without hesitation, the Wampeh jammed his hands in and began climbing.
Just like bouldering back in J-Tree, Charlie mused. Only this climb was quite a bit higher, and they had no crash pads to cushion their fall should they tumble. So don’t fall, he told himself, then followed his friend up the stone face.
After the first ten meters, the climb became far easier, with multiple outcroppings of dirt and vegetation breaking up the ascent. They made good time, until they reached the halfway point. There, Bawb stopped.
“What is this place?”
“A natural growth,” Bawb replied. “Saplings took root here some time ago, and managed to find purchase in the soil and rock.”
The tiny cluster of trees seemed to have done well from the slight elevation, the location affording them more direct sunlight than if they were competing for its rays with a forest full of neighbors. But one tree in particular stood out, even in the dim light of the moon.
It had a warmer color to its bark, and its leaves were likewise a deep, rich green. It almost radiated health and strength. And Charlie recognized the feeling tingling his senses.
“The waters?”
“Yes,” Bawb said, examining one of the tree’s low branches.
“You’ve been feeding this tree with the Balamar waters we brought from the wasteland?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ll combust if you touch them.”
It was true. While the waters were healing to the skin of nearly all they touched, Wampeh were a different matter entirely. In fact, if splashed with the liquid, they would combust, much like vampires reacted to holy water in those old-timey videos.
Bawb chuckled at his friend’s concern. “I was very careful, Charlie.”
Nevertheless, Charlie shuddered at the thought of his friend going up in flames. The healing waters he and his ship’s second-in-command, Rika, had stumbled upon shortly after crashing on the first alien world a human had ever set foot on had such amazing healing properties for non-Wampeh. In fact, having drunk deep of them, he had found himself almost invulnerable to smaller injuries.
Cuts would heal in a day. Bruises in hours. The waters were safe for most species to touch, but would kill almost any creature from that galaxy that was foolish enough to drink them. But Charlie and Rika were not from that galaxy.
The memory of his friend twisted a knife in Charlie’s gut. He hadn’t thought about her in ages. But there was good reason. While she hadn’t been killed, exactly, their slave trading captors had lobotomized her, and not even the healing powers of the Balamar waters could restore her mind. The pilot and mech driver became a shell of herself, sold into slavery, never to be seen again.
Charlie shook his head clear. Not the time to get sentimental.
“Good thing we keep the waters very well hidden. I would hate to imagine the staff accidentally serving you a glass of it,” he managed to joke.
“Yes, that would be...unfortunate.”
The assassin pulled a sharp blade from his hip and carefully carved the branch he had been examining free from the tree. Something was different about that one, and when he looked closer, Charlie could see what appeared to be a lone, long, strand of Ootaki hair, golden as ever, p
oking out through the wood itself. It seemed as though the hair was coming from inside the branch, the tree growing and healing around it where it came out.
The remainder of the strand had been carefully, and tightly, woven around the wood. It seemed amazing it had survived the elements up in the exposed location, but Ootaki hair was far stronger than it looked, and required a sharp blade to cut.
“It was feeding off of the sunlight up here,” Charlie realized. “Totally exposed, all day long, with nothing to block it from absorbing the rays.”
“Correct.”
“And you had it running inside of the branch, feeding the wood with the absorbed power from the sun’s energy. That, plus the waters, means you healed the branch and made it stronger than ever. And we saw with Hunze and Ara that this system’s sun is very nourishing to their power.”
“Again, correct,” Bawb said with a smile. “Very good deductive reasoning, Charlie. But you missed a few of the finer points.”
“Such as?”
“Such as I had Ara help me reforge a charged konus into a power rod. It was delicate work, but with her abilities, it was a success. That is what I implanted in the core of the branch, wrapped in the most powerful of Ootaki hair.”
“Of course. Helping it heal, while absorbing power from the sun and channeling it into the heart of the wood, and therefore, the embedded konus.”
“Exactly. But there is one final detail.”
“Oh? It gets better?”
“You know Hunze, Charlie. Her hair has never been shorn.”
“Making it the most powerful it will ever be.”
“Yes. The first cut. And the Council of Twenty has been feeding power into it her entire life.”
“Impressive, I know. But even as a first cut, it’s still just a strand.”
“Yes, but not just any strand. A freely given one.”
Charlie knew the implications. Ootaki hair was powerful on its own, and even more so if fed additional magical energy, as the Council had done for decades. But as potent as it was, and even if they managed to capture an Ootaki before they’d had the first cut of their hair, the locks, when taken, would lose a large portion of their power.
