“Yes,” Rindu said. “I would hope it was the same one. I do not like the thought of more than one of those creatures in the world.”
“It was very difficult to kill,” Nalia said. “It moves as something boneless, a snake perhaps. Its hide is tough to cut, as well. I inflicted several slashes that would have opened wide the flesh of normal people, even most of these mutants, but they merely scored this creature. It was distracted when Ix appeared beside it to kill another of its fellows. It was then that I was able to truly hurt it. Still, it took me almost a minute to injure it enough to land killing blows.”
Nalia looked to Ix. “Perhaps I, too, must thank you. Had you not taken its attention, I might still be fighting it.”
Ix nodded, taking the indirect thanks without forcing Nalia to actually say it. Sam was glad she didn’t say anything sarcastic, as was her nature.
After checking themselves and their mounts thoroughly for injuries, and mending those they found, they traveled another hour before stopping and teleporting back to Whitehall. Not wanting to waste daylight, they split up to wash and change out of their blood-soaked clothes and met again at the traveling point half an hour later.
Sam was nervous about teleporting back to where they had left off, with thoughts of other packs of mutants, even ones with traps to set, intruding in his mind. They arrived safely, though, and their travel was uneventful until evening when they stopped for the day.
Things had changed. Sam felt it, but he could see it in the faces of his friends. Tired, resigned looks and slumped shoulders confirmed they saw it the way he did. Even the safety of teleporting each day was gone. They would be facing danger at every moment, and Sam wasn’t sure they even knew all the threats arrayed in front of them. He hoped they didn’t find out the hard way.
Chapter 11
Vahi leaned toward Chetra Dal as the old man gave him instructions on his mission.
“Unfortunately, we will have to split up the bhorgabir, at least at first,” Dal said. “We do not know where our adversaries are and until we do, we must have a bhor with each group of soldiers or mutated creatures to oversee things.”
Vahi understood but wasn’t sure he agreed. The bhorgabir usually worked alone, not in groups. Because of the special challenges of the current mission—to find and destroy the small party that eliminated Ayim Rasaad—he thought it would be advantageous for the bhor to work together in a small unit. Together with the other bhor, not with the unthinking mutants Baron Tingai had been creating. Chetra Dal didn’t see it that way, and Dal was the leader.
The bhorgabir were created for one purpose only: to kill through stealth and assassination. They were the ultimate assassins, developed during the Great War and used by both sides to kill key personnel in the opposing armies or governments.
All of their abilities were specifically planned and developed to make them unequaled in killing quickly and silently. They were tall and lanky, with extreme flexibility that allowed them to do everything from squeezing through small spaces to evading attacks in ways that seemed impossible. The skin covering them had been created to be as tough as boiled leather, allowing them to move freely but still giving them the protection of armor. Thanks to very large eyes and pupils that gathered even the smallest amount of light, the bhor could see in almost total darkness. Their ears were as keen as most animals’, due not only to physiological manipulation of the hearing organs, but also anatomical enhancements to the structure of their earlobes. Even their sense of smell was enhanced, olfactory organs modified using canine subjects so that they could smell as well as a hound.
The original donors of the genetic material used to make the handful of bhorgabir were also selected for their intelligence, and even that was enhanced through the high technology existent on Gythe during the time of the war. The brain centers for puzzle-solving, strategy, and improvisation were augmented, creating assassins that could not only follow orders but react to changing circumstances to complete their missions successfully.
Physically, the bhorgabir were also created to have great strength and dexterity. But their creators did not stop at endowing their tools with the raw materials for becoming the perfect assassins. They also instituted a regimen to train specific abilities and refine them so that the bhor were in truth the perfect weapon. This training included an entire culture for training subsequent bhor. Because they were allowed to retain the ability to reproduce, a social structure was set up so that subsequent generations were trained to be as lethal as the original mutants.
In fact, so thorough and efficient were their cultural and social structures, the bhorgabir survived long after the governments that created them had disappeared. When the war came to a climax and most of the population of Gythe was destroyed, a small group of the bhorgabir survived.
Over the centuries, the mutant assassins reproduced and continued to train their young in the arts of assassination. They were not prolific. Their few offspring were just enough to maintain the small number of bhor, neither increasing nor decreasing their population.
The bhorgabir always chose the best of them for a leader. This was not necessarily the best fighter or the strongest or the quickest. Instead, they chose the best all-around assassin and the entire community followed the new leader, including the previous one. The current leader, Vahi, had been a clear choice since adolescence. He happened to be the fastest, strongest, and quickest, but what solidified his leadership was that he was also by far the cleverest and most devious of them.
Vahi had been leader of the bhor for almost ten years. He was the one who brokered the deal with Ayim Rasaad and Chetra Dal to serve them. The bhor had no interest in money or power. They simply wanted a place of their own, a land to call home where they could raise their young, train, and continue to become better assassins. Dal had promised them this for helping to eliminate his opposition.
Vahi thought of the remaining bhor. There were only twenty-three of them altogether. Would Chetra Dal keep his word? When the last artifact was obtained, the fledgling government was destroyed, and Dal had taken control of Gythe, would the bhorgabir be able to live on the land they were granted, building a society that would proudly stand as the greatest assassins in this world?
“I am making you responsible for the deaths of these troublemakers, Vahi,” Chetra Dal said, breaking Vahi from his thoughts. “I will not allow them to thwart my plans for getting the third artifact. I have planned too hard, waited too long. You must stop them from getting to it before I do. Is that clear?”
“It is clear,” Vahi said. “Between the mutants my brethren are commanding and my small group here, we will eliminate the Zouy, the Sapsyr, and the man from the other world. Once we find them.”
“That is all I ask,” Dal said.
Vahi slipped silently through the corridors of Mwantgeray, lost in thought. Chetra Dal’s fortress was named appropriately. The bhor spoke Old Kasmali, of course, since that was the language in vogue when they were created. Set apart since the destruction of the old world, they maintained the pure language, though in their infrequent dealings with outsiders they had learned modern Kasmali as well. The name meant “death magic” and from what Vahi had seen of Ayim Rasaad’s and Chetra Dal’s power, it fit the fortress well.
Even without paying attention, he slunk naturally, unnoticed by any of those he passed. He found himself in front of the complex of rooms the bhorgabir were occupying. He missed his village, tucked away safely in the mountains to the south. He wondered if his people would ever be able to go back there, would ever be done with the warfare and power struggles that made up their existence. It was what the bhor were created for, but sometimes he longed for a simpler life. As well dream of catching a star from the night sky with a net.
“Tenu,” he said to the first bhor he saw as he entered the complex, “gather everyone. We have new orders.”
The other bhor, an inch or two shorter than Vahi but thicker around the middle, nodded and headed deeper into the warre
n of corridors.
Vahi turned left at the first intersection and walked down the hallway to the second door on the right. He opened it and entered a large chamber that was used for meetings and sometimes training. He set about lighting the braziers and torches. It wasn’t necessary—all the bhor could see well enough in almost complete darkness—but for some reason he wanted the light for this.
As his fellow assassins filtered into the room, Vahi greeted each of them, asking how they were, what news they had. Chetra Dal had been using them for reconnaissance and the occasional killing. They all reported to Vahi when they returned from their assignments, but the questions gave him something to talk about, something to distract him until they all arrived.
He saw Tenu slip in behind two others and took the opportunity to take a quick count of how many were there. Eighteen present. There were still two bhor out on assignment and three more somewhere in the fortress. They would have to hear what he was about to say at a later time. It was time to start.
Vahi raised his hand and the room became instantly silent. He nodded. “I have called this meeting so I may tell you the plans Chetra Dal has for the bhorgabir. Plans beyond the individual missions I have been assigning. He is coming close to the completion of his plans and would have our help. The kind of help only the bhor can provide.”
Looking around, he spotted Lika. He thought once that he would take her for his mate. He still might. Bhor did not love, not in the conventional sense. He had read about such things and did not think his people were capable of it. Still, she was desirable, with her sleek body and delicately turned ears. If any part of a bhor could be called delicate. He enjoyed her company and delighted in looking at her hips, perfect for reproducing. Her dark eyes found his and her mouth opened slightly, showing the points of her sharp teeth. He looked away so he was not distracted.
Hila, his second-in-command, stood near the back, eyes fixed on his leader. He would be leader, if not for Vahi, but he held no hard feelings. All bhor always did what was best for the community, whether that meant sacrificing their lives or sacrificing opportunities to serve. Vahi had no stauncher supporter nor any that opposed him. It was not the bhorgabir way. The leader nodded to Hila and continued.
“The enemies of Chetra Dal are becoming more of an annoyance. They are in search of the last artifact and are determined to snatch it from our master’s grasp. We are to shift our activities from spying and consulting to that of leadership and combat.
“Starting today, each of you will be assigned a force of the new mutants.” Vahi sneered at the idea of the creatures created by Baron Tingai. They were so obviously inferior to the bhor or anything created during the Great War that it was hard to even think about dealing with them. Many of the other bhor grimaced like they had eaten something sour.
“One or two of us will lead each of the units of these forces,” he continued. “Our job is to hunt down these opposers and destroy them.” He scanned the chamber to see the reaction of his people. Even the sour looks from a moment ago were disappearing from them, replaced by a cold, neutral expression. They had been created for seeking out and destroying their enemies. This assignment was nothing new. The only difference was that they had to lead Tingai’s creatures. They would do their jobs to the best of their abilities. That meant they would be successful. A purposeful creation and a lifetime of training had forged the bhor into weapons. Nothing would stop them. Not even the counterfeit mutants they were saddled with.
“I will draw up a schedule and assignment list. We are to mobilize immediately. I will be informing you individually where you will go and what you will do. Prepare yourselves. By this time tomorrow, no bhor will remain in the fortress. You are dismissed.”
As the other bhor were leaving, Hila approached Vahi. “You do not agree with Dal’s orders.” It was not a question.
“You know me too well, Hila. No, I do not agree fully with them. Are we not bhorgabir, the finest assassins who have ever lived? Are we not the embodiment of all that is martial, the very personification of death?”
“We are.”
“Then why must we be burdened with these new mutants?” The scorn he invested in that word was nothing compared to the disgust he felt. “Tingai’s creatures. The man is an imbecile, trying to emulate the genius of those who created us and the other weapons during the Great War. We should be allowed to handle these opposers in our own way.”
“Have you mentioned this concern to the master?” Hila asked.
“Yes. He says that we are bound to him, that we must obey him unquestioningly. We were not meant to be on such a short leash. Of old, we were given an objective and allowed to develop a solution, what we thought was the best course. I do not like being told how to do something.
“These enemies, the small group of them, killed Ayim Rasaad. They are as skilled a gathering of opponents as we have ever faced. It is not the time to split the bhor up and dilute their power by adding inferior creatures. We are all capable, but we are even more formidable when acting as one unit. I understand that we do not know exactly where our targets are, so we must be spread thin, but it concerns me that we are being separated from each other.”
Vahi looked into Hila’s eyes for any sign of emotion. There was none. The bhor rarely showed feelings of any kind. “I disagree with these tactics. I fear that if we dilute our strength, our people may not survive the folly. But Dal is right about one thing. We are bound to him by oaths stronger than our own lives. We will do what we must, but I think it is the wrong way to do it. No other bhor will hear of this.” He knew Hila would take that as a command.
“Of course not. Community first. It is the bhorgabir way.” He turned and left the room.
Vahi looked at his hands, his greatest tools aside from his mind. He wondered if they would be enough to allow him to survive the task he had been given.
Chapter 12
Torim Jet stood on the balcony of the small library he had been reading in and looked out over one of the parks below. Soft light slanted in from the west where the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. The air was chilly, but he wasn’t high up in the keep, so his heavy clothes and cloak kept most of the cold out. The grounds were beautiful, but the snow covering almost everything visible reminded him of his former home, of the temple at Kokitura Mountain.
It had only been nine years since the Gray Man had killed all the Zouyim monks in the temple and destroyed the buildings themselves, but it seemed like much longer. Vivid images still played in the old monk’s mind, pictures of the bodies he had seen when he returned to the temple from a mission. He had lost some part of himself, of his mind, that day.
In the time after that, constantly trying to avoid the Gray Man’s assassins, he came close to losing his mind completely. He was so far removed from reality that when Rindu and his friends stopped in Tramgadal, the small village at the base of Kokitura Mountain, he did not recognize them and attacked. Luckily, Rindu recalled Torim to himself before he caused any harm.
Since he had found out about the Gray Man’s demise, it seemed to him that the disjointed, swirling thoughts that had plagued him for so many years were settling. He was regaining himself, his balance. That was good because he had much work to do. The temple must be rebuilt and the Order restored. There was only him and…
Palusa Filk walked out onto the balcony with the older monk. She stepped up next to him and looked out over the park. “It is beautiful,” she said.
He laughed and saw her flinch as though expecting some kind of outburst.
“I was just thinking of the discussion we had all those years ago when we were on the mission that ended with us finding two of our fellow Zouyim murdered by the Gray Man’s assassins. We were discussing beauty. It struck me as ironic that you would comment on the beauty of the parks below.” Her shoulders relaxed.
“Yes,” she said. “I remember the conversation. But what are you thinking about now, out here in the cold?”
“I was thinking abou
t Kokitura Mountain and our temple home there.”
“Yes, it is on my mind also. We must rebuild it and begin to increase our number again.”
Torim Jet looked at his young companion. He remembered her as a child and also as the young adult she was before the temple was razed. “With all that is going on at this time, it feels selfish to wish for the temple to be rebuilt. There are hard times ahead, perhaps even full-scale war. Will any of us live to erect the structures once more, let alone train the new disciples? Will we even be able to find new disciples? We have Bao Ling, the little girl Ix brought us from Zhong, but will there be more?”
“There will be, Master Jet. There are those in the world yet who are of good heart and who have the necessary affinity with the rohw. We will find them, or they will find us.”
He looked at Palusa Filk, really looked. It was so recently that he’d found her again; perhaps he was guilty of still seeing her as the young disciple she was when the Gray Man forced the few surviving Zouyim to split up and go their separate ways. She was not that young girl anymore, but a woman, a full Zouyim sister who had faced hardships and danger and had maintained her training and honor over all those years.
She noticed him focusing on her. “What is it?” she said.
“When I last saw you all those years ago when the temple had just been destroyed, and briefly in the meeting mere months later, you were a young girl, a disciple. I just realized that you are a wise Zouyim sister, a full monk and a shining example of what a Zouy should be. It makes my old heart glad to know that there are such as you still with us and as you say, it makes me hopeful that there are more. That there will be more.” He put his hands together in a formal salute and bowed to her. He smiled when she flushed a soft crimson.
“Thank you, master,” she said. “I appreciate your praise and will do my best to be worthy of it.” She tilted her head to the side, and her eyes focused on nothing. “To be truthful, I find it exciting that we have the privilege and the challenge to begin anew, to shape the lives of the young to become our brothers and sisters. It is a great honor, one I do not take lightly.”
Resonance: Harmonic Magic Book 3 Page 9
