Hozark's Revenge

by Scott Baron

  There were five of them. Large, muscular, covered with a wiry, pale hair that had never seen the light of day. The skin beneath was gray and tough, leathery, and likely as strong as many forms of lesser armor. All four legs were on the ground, long claws clattering as they walked. The largest two reared up on their hind legs, enormous fangs exposed and ready to tear and rip and kill.

  For their bulk, the creatures were impressively fast. And as Samara and Hozark drew their vespus blades, taking swipes at the beasts to defend themselves, it became clear the attacking creatures were quite nimble as well, despite their size.

  Hozark instinctively stepped into the clearest space, Samara doing the same as both positioned themselves back-to-back as defense against the approaching beasts. Neither dared use even the slightest bit of magic while stuck down beneath the ruined buildings as they were. They did not know how stable their surroundings were, and they did not wish to tempt fate by casting to find out.

  A set of long talons flashed out as one of the circling creatures abruptly changed course, barely missing Samara’s face. Her swinging blade’s reply found only empty air.

  Hozark’s back pressed hers in a way she knew so well, the shift telling her to move to her left while he circled with her for an attack. They moved in unison, Hozark’s vespus blade transcribing a deadly arc where one of the beasts had just been. But the creature somehow managed to spin away from the weapon faster than it should have been able to. Nevertheless, Hozark had managed to make contact, albeit slight.

  The animal roared once more, the others settling into a series of agitated clicks and grumbling sounds as they moved around their prey. One circled close to the illumination spell’s brightest point, and at that moment, Hozark realized what they were up against.

  “We need noise,” he hissed.

  “Noise? It will bring this place down upon our heads.”

  “And theirs. Trust me, Sam.”

  She only hesitated a moment. Despite their trying to kill one another not so long ago, she would nevertheless trust him with her life.

  “Very well. Say when and I shall cast.”

  “The loudest spell you can think of,” he said. “Then follow close.”

  She nodded once just as the beasts began moving closer for a group attack.

  “Now!” Hozark shouted.

  Samara cast a shrill alarm spell so powerful it often made intruders flee out of sheer panic. Hozark took off running at top speed, which was really saying something, and Samara stuck to him like glue, casting the entire time. The creatures, rather than pursuing, were writhing and bellowing in distress, clawing at their heads while the ceiling above them began to crumble.

  Hozark ignored all of that and was casting a protective spell above them both as they ran. It would not be enough to support the weight of the chamber if it caved in, but it would keep them from harm should any large chunks fall in their path, as several had just done.

  They had just made it to the doorway at the far end of the chamber when everything rumbled as the ceiling gave way, dropping tons of debris into the space. Hozark powered ahead at full speed, charging up the stairs the door had led them to. It was blind luck, but he had chosen the exit that led upward, and the two of them now bounded toward the surface, taking the steps three at a time.

  The stairwell was tall, and unlike the prior one discovered in the adjacent building, this one kept going up. It was a good thing, as the walls were shaking fiercely as a portion of the structure sank down into the shattered level below. Up and up the two ran until a faint light was apparent through the heavy dust.

  Hozark shifted his spell and cast a force push directly ahead of them. The broken stone that was partially blocking the exit shattered and flew free as the two assassins burst from the opening, trailing a whirlwind of dust behind them. Moments later the stairwell collapsed, spewing out a cloud of sharp bits of stone.

  The two dove to the ground in a heap together, the majority of the flying chunks whizzing by clear over their heads. Those that came lower were deflected by the duo’s joined spells, the mixed power once again shielding them from harm. The rumbling slowed, then stopped, and the air began to clear.

  “How did you know?” Samara asked.

  “Dark dwellers. They had no eyes.”

  “Ah.” She nodded, then the two awkwardly released their hold upon one another and rose to their feet.

  They were free. Safely returned to the destruction of the surface. It seemed the Council ships had been quite indiscriminate in their attack, judging by the carnage wrought. Not too far off, however, Hozark saw the dyed hair and familiar face of one of the Ootaki he had helped relocate there.

  She was a dusty mess but appeared unharmed. More importantly, when she saw Hozark, she smiled and gave a little nod before running off. Her people were safe, it seemed. At least for the time being.

  Samara had also seen the woman but was not privy to what she really was. Just a survivor, so far as she could tell from that distance, though up close, given her own Ghalian skills, she’d have likely noticed the woman’s power despite the dyed hair.

  Samara and Hozark dusted themselves off, each assessing their bodies for injuries. They were both intact and unharmed. And more importantly, they were no longer bound by their truce.

  The two paused, sharing a long look. Then by silent agreement, they relaxed their postures. They would fight again, but it would be some other day. For now, they would let this go. But there were things that needed to be said. Questions that lingered unanswered.

  Samara could tell Hozark was mulling over his many questions in his mind, so she did the one thing she could. She simply turned and walked away. And, reluctantly, he let her.

  A moment later, she was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Impressive. Well done,” Visla Jinnik said as he cast a very minor spell. He was able to do so only because he had found, after a bit of trial and error, that his control collar did not perceive this one as a spell used as an attempt to escape.

  Henni had been focusing on her shielding spell. He had taught it to her days prior, but only now was it really starting to click. She pushed back his probing attack with relative ease, though to be fair, it was nowhere near what he’d have been able to do if not constrained by his thick golden collar.

  “It’s making more sense,” she said. “The whole intent part of it. I think I’m getting it, finally.”

  “You most certainly are,” the visla said with a sense of pride.

  She had been picking up his lessons faster in recent days, and their captors, for whatever reason, seemed to be allowing them more time between draining sessions.

  Henni was only minorly reduced in power and strength, though she slept like the dead every time she was brought back to her cell and woke fully restored.

  Jinnik, on the other hand, was showing the wear and tear of the constant reduction of his magic. He mused that if not for the extra little bit of recharge time they had both been fortunate enough to enjoy, he might not have been able to last much longer.

  Even for a power user with as vast a reservoir of magic as he, eventually the well would run dry if not allowed to replenish. Whether Niallik realized this and ordered more respite for him, or if it was merely a pleasant coincidence, he did not care. What mattered was he was finally starting to slowly climb out of the deep pit of exhaustion that had claimed him for far too long.

  He was missing his son terribly, and he would do anything necessary to reunite with him once more. But taking this rowdy young woman under his wing had given him something his confinement had been lacking. A sense of purpose. And in nurturing her blossoming powers, he found his parental instincts kicking in once again.

  That this unlikeliest of cellmates had actually been helping protect Happizano was an additional motivation to help her. She had done right by his boy, and he would aid her in turn to the best of his ability.

  Jinnik relaxed his grip on his spell, allowing Henni to take a
brief respite from her defenses. But rather than pause to catch her proverbial breath, the feisty, violet-haired young woman immediately tried to cast an attack spell. It wasn’t anything significant, her collar would not allow that, but had she succeeded, it would have made an impression.

  Unfortunately for her, the spell misfired and fizzled out into nothing.

  “Damn it! Why won’t that work?” she griped. “Every time it’s the same thing.”

  “You excel at defense, and your magic has true potential. But it would seem your talents do not lie in the offensive arts.”

  “But magic is magic. If the power is there, then it should be able to work, right?”

  “It should, yes. But, for whatever reason, your powers seem restrained from offensive casting. I’ve never felt a magic of your kind before, so I am afraid I cannot be of any more help than that. But with practice, I think you might yet succeed in your attempts.”

  What he did not tell her was that he sensed more than just her unusual flavor of power. As he trained her and got a feel for her gifts, Visla Jinnik had become more and more of the opinion that her power could possibly be of a magnitude rarely seen, if only she could learn to tap into it.

  Controlling her power was the difficult part, however, but for that he had a radical solution. It was possible, he believed, that if they were continued to be allowed longer rest periods to regain their strength, he might be able to break one of their collars. To gain their freedom.

  So far, the increased power he had recuperated was minimal. Henni, however, was only ever slightly drained, and she recovered quickly. If he could just get a few more days of this additional rest, he hoped he could show her how to join power with him. To combine their casting.

  It would be difficult for a novice such as she was, but given his exceptional skills and her innate strength, it just might work. And if it did, they could force off one of their collars and fight their way to freedom.

  Of course, if they could do so, it would make the most sense to free Jinnik as he had no problem whatsoever with offensive spells. But it took him a long time to recover, and if they were discovered too soon after the attempt, he would be too weak to defend them both.

  Henni, on the other hand, had a different skill set. She may not have been able to cast terribly well, but if they managed to free her of her restraints and could place something sharp in her hands, there was a very good possibility she could take down enough guards to give them a fighting chance at escaping.

  It was something he would continue to ponder as his power slowly returned. For now, however, it was just a hypothetical. But one he felt could very possibly become a reality.

  Later that evening, the guards came into the cellblock to haul one of them off to be drained yet again.

  “Be strong, Henni. I shall be back soon,” Jinnik said as they entered his cell and muscled him to his feet.

  “Oh, you’re both coming with us,” the nearest man said with a menacing laugh. “Niallik wants to try something new.”

  “Wait, what?” Henni blurted as additional men joined them, pouring into her cell and scooping her up like so much baggage.

  “Leave her out of this,” Jinnik demanded.

  “You’re in no position to make orders,” the guard said, not intimidated in the slightest. “Now, get moving.”

  The pair were then marched out of the cellblock and down the corridor. Soon enough they would find out what fresh hell Niallik had in mind for them.

  It was two hours later the pair of prisoners were dragged back to their cells, damp, exhausted, and drained.

  Jinnik was dumped onto his cot in a heap, falling fast asleep as soon as his weary body hit the thin mattress. Henni, likewise, seemed to pass out immediately.

  The guards snickered and sealed the cells, then left the two alone in the dim chamber. Jinnik was out cold. Henni, on the other hand, was still only partially drained, though she had played it up in hopes of perhaps gaining an advantage at some point. Her mind was a bit fuzzy still, and the power they had managed to pull from her was enough that she actually felt it this time. But it hadn’t rendered her unconscious for some reason. Maybe it was because Jinnik was involved. Had he somehow helped her fight it off?

  She didn’t know, and until he woke up, there was no way to find out. Henni glanced over at the slumbering visla. His cheeks were sunken and his skin ashy. He was utterly drained. It would be some time before he roused, so she did the one thing that made sense in that situation.

  She took his lead and went to sleep, hoping they would both wake refreshed. She knew it was a long shot, but it was all she had. And after what Niallik had done, she needed to focus on something positive. Anything at all.

  With thoughts of escape and revenge swimming in her head, Henni quickly drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Niallik was pacing.

  The weapons makers were always nervous when she started pacing––more than once they’d faced her wrath when her feet finally stopped moving. But this time it seemed like she was agitated in a good way.

  She was utterly fixated on the small, magically sealed vial in her hand, staring at the swirling mixture of power barely contained within it as she moved. So deep in thought was she that, despite their pressing timeline and fear of Visla Maktan’s displeasure if they delayed, none of the workers dared interrupt her.

  Only after a good twenty minutes of her disconcerting focus did she finally stop moving, looking up from the vial in her hands to the expectant faces of her lackeys. A little smile crept onto her lips.

  “I believe I understand how we can utilize this power,” she said with clear relish. “Prepare a konus to be charged.”

  The master smelter and weaponsmith took this as his cue to finally speak. He was a tough fellow, having made implements of death and destruction for many in his day. But this job put him on edge like no other. They were playing with a power none of them fully understood, and the risks were daunting.

  “That is excellent news, Niallik,” he said, attempting to look strong in front of his lackeys, while also being careful of the woman’s dangerously fluctuating mood. “But since my people have more experience bonding magic to metal, perhaps we should let them take a good look before we proceed. The magic you managed to extract from the girl is of a type none of us have ever dealt with before, and I think it would be wise to––”

  “You know our timetable,” she cut him off, her eyes again fixed on the swirling, magical fluid in the vial. “Prepare the crucible at once.”

  There was no openness for discussion in her voice. Their task was clear, and that was all there was for it.

  “Um, yes, of course. We’ve got the metal nearly ready to pour. I’ll have them bring it to full temperature immediately. We should be ready shortly.”

  She smiled at him. It was both pleasant, yet unsettling. The painstakingly extracted, and likewise difficult to contain, power in her hand, had seemed an impossible task for Visla Maktan’s previous head of staff. But Niallik had a different way of doing things, and her reputation was well known. She would get the job done. No matter what.

  Unfortunately, no matter what often came with a steep price, and not just in coin.

  Yet she had managed to do what no one else could. She had pulled an enormous amount of power from the captive Visla Jinnik without killing the man. And the newcomer, the one with the strange power unlike any had seen before, had finally given up a bit of her power as well.

  It was out-of-the-box thinking that led to her breakthrough. Of course, she knew the visla had been helping the girl tap into her power. There was no way she would leave an asset like that unmonitored, unlike her predecessor. And observing how he interacted with her, using his own magic to help her focus hers, and despite his being exhausted no less, led to her breakthrough idea.

  She had been struggling uphill when there was an easier way to tap into them both. Their willing merger of power, no matter how slight it
may have been, provided her the opening she needed. They could be used against one another, and without even realizing they were doing so. Draining both of them together was the key.

  The girl would only give up the slightest trace of power when submerged in Niallik’s rather specialized tub, but the visla had already succumbed to more conventional methods of extraction. She had continued to use the chair on him, as it worked quite effectively, but when she put him in contact with the liquid while working her magic on Henni as well, the visla’s power seemed to flow far easier.

  And, to her great delight, with the ease of extraction came a significantly reduced toll on the man. It was almost as if he were suddenly a willing participant, and as such she was able to pull far more magic from him as a result, the additional power flowing out, but without much of a detrimental effect on the man.

  He would need additional rest to replenish his potency for the next session, no doubt, but the increased extraction rate of his power from this new process more than made up of the relatively minor delay of his lengthened recovery period.

  It had been quite a coup on her part. But in addition to that, she had succeeded in pulling more of the strange girl’s power with it. Henni’s magic had blended with Jinnik’s in the extraction process. Niallik had expected that to some degree and had planned on simply filtering and separating them into their respective containers.

  But the magic seemed to resist her efforts, the swirling forces having apparently developed some sort of bond in the process, stymieing her efforts. Visla Maktan could undoubtedly force the two diverse powers apart––he was a man of exceptional strength––but Niallik knew her glory, and thus reward, would be diminished if she had to wait for his assistance to complete her task.