by Scott Baron
Bud didn’t care. He barreled out of the ship without another thought, armed to the teeth with both blades and konuses. He even carried a more powerful slaap, though he was admittedly out of practice with the weapon.
He ran toward the gaping entrance to the tunnel network connecting the different parts of the fortress, scanning the ground while keeping an eye out for Council goons.
“There you are,” he said as he spotted what seemed just like a random little mark on the bottom most stone at the tunnel entrance and went charging in. “Thanks, Hozark.”
The Ghalian had left him a secret sign. A basic directional marker that would steer him toward the most likely area to find Henni based on the assassin’s initial survey. The place was quite expansive, and without their scouting it could take a very, very long time to just locate the portion of the supposedly abandoned structure that was inhabited.
Still, it would be a lot of ground to cover even knowing roughly where to look. But Bud was extremely motivated. And once Lalaynia and her team finished tearing into the parked ships beside the stronghold, they would be able to help narrow the search.
She had been quite excited when they popped into orbit and scanned the target below. The ships on the ground weren’t marked, but she knew right away what they were. More importantly, she knew what they were worth, and if they could leverage the element of surprise, she could not only help her friend, but also land an extremely nice haul for themselves in the process.
That is, if they could overcome the Council forces without destroying the ships in the process.
Fortunately, only a few smaller craft managed to make it into the air before her pirate raiders charged the startled guards at the other ships’ entrances. They had seen the craft above, but to imagine anyone foolish, or crazy, enough to attack on foot was simply not in the realm of possibility.
But Lalaynia was the sort of woman who did the impossible regularly, either because no one had bothered to tell her it couldn’t be done, or because she simply didn’t care. She’d garnered quite a reputation for it over the years, along with a lot of respect, as well as quite a few bounties on her head.
“Lalaynia, I’m going in. Call when you’re moving, and I’ll direct you to me,” he called over his skree.
“Sorry, what was that, Bud?”
The reply came through with sounds of screaming in the background. Obviously Council forces. The pirates were a disciplined bunch and never screamed. This was a good sign.
“I said I’m going in. Reach out when you’re on the way.”
“Will do. Good luck in there.”
Bud didn’t wait a moment longer, plunging headlong into the dimly lit tunnel system and connecting corridors. With a short sword in one hand and a dagger in the other––better for confined fighting such as hallways––along with a powerful konus on his wrist, he was ready to take on anyone who stood in his way.
And he was looking forward to a little payback.
Hozark and Demelza were also armed to the teeth, though they were far more calculating in their movements. As they’d gotten a head start on their friend, they were already deep into the fortress grounds.
The pair had split up, each taking a different level as they hunted down their target. Once they’d penetrated to the innermost chambers, the fighting started. The bodies piling up at their feet were clearly mercenaries working for the Council, but their uniforms bore no identifying markings. Maktan’s secret army, it seemed.
Interestingly, this must have been a very off-book site, because they did not encounter any actual Council troops at all. Maktan was keeping this place secret. The new weapons he was churning out were going to be reserved for himself alone.
Hozark engaged a half dozen well-armed and well-trained guards as he descended a flight of stairs to the next level. They were tougher than the ones he’d fought before, though they fell before him just the same. But this piqued his interest. A moment later he found what they were guarding.
The chamber was full of newly charged konuses. And a great many of them contained traces of Henni’s power. Yes, she was definitely here. Or she should be, if they weren’t too late.
Hozark increased his pace, slaughtering the men and women foolish enough to engage him with the false confidence of greater numbers. He quickly showed them the folly of their ways with a flash of his glowing blue blade.
The death and mayhem was confined to only the areas the intruders had charged into so far. Otherwise, all of the attention was focused on the fighting going on outside. The element of surprise was still on their side. But he knew that would only last so long and moved even faster, hiding fallen bodies when he could, but mostly killing everyone who might discover them and raise an alarm.
It was brutal, but deadly efficient.
It was also taking too long.
Hozark clashed with another group, but these seemed to have a different look to them. They weren’t just troops in the stronghold. These had the air of men with position.
He slowed his assault and toyed with them a moment as he ascertained which was likely the highest ranking of the lot. Judging by the clothing, as well as the way the others looked to him, the stout fellow nearest on his right was the likeliest one.
Hozark dropped him with a quick blow to the midriff, driving the air from the man’s lungs. He then spun to the others, removing heads and limbs from their bodies before their leader had even dropped to the ground, gasping for breath.
By the time he regained it, the corridor was silent. And a Wampeh Ghalian was towering over him, blood dripping from his sword, as well as his fangs.
Hozark did not actually drink from the fallen men. They had no power of their own, and to do so would have been not only time consuming and disgusting, but pointless as well. But he had dipped his fangs in the blood that had accumulated on his hands in battle. All the better to terrify his new captive.
It was an old trick. But old tricks worked for a reason. The visceral fear of being in the grip of an alpha predator made most people’s brains short-circuit to a degree, and that could be used to his advantage. Scared people talked far more freely.
Hozark lifted the man to his feet, summoning a little spell with his konus to aid him in doing so with just one hand. The effect gave the impression he was so strong he could lift the burly guard as if he were but a child.
The poor man pissed himself immediately.
“You have but one chance to live,” the Wampeh hissed. “Tell me where the prisoner is kept. If you lie to me, you die. And horribly.”
The guard had already made up his mind that no prisoner was more important than his life. And if Maktan decided to kill him later? So be it. For today, at least, he wanted to draw as many more breaths as he could.
“D-down the hallway. Turn right and then left. There’s an archway. Go through and cross the chamber. The left-hand corridor will take you there.”
Hozark lowered the man to his feet.
“If you have lied to me, I will return for you,” he said, then hit him with a stun spell.
The guard crumbled to the stone. He would be out for at least a half hour, and that was far more time than Hozark needed to confirm whether he’d told the truth.
The uniforms of the men he slayed as he drew nearer his goal were clearly those of a different set of guards. Specialized. Better armed. And he had killed a pair of the green-and-black-skinned weaponsmiths he had seen previously when back in the hidden facility on Gravalis some time ago.
He was on the right path, he was certain of it.
Up ahead he saw a reinforced door. Strong wards were layered upon it, more to keep whoever was inside from getting out than the other way around. This had to be it. A strong cage to hold a strong prisoner.
Hozark focused and pulled from his arcane learnings, carefully disarming the wards one by one. Finally, the last of the defensive spells fell. With a sense of completion, he swung the door open. What he saw was not what he expected.
“Oh, hello,” the tired-looking man chained in his cell said. “It is so very good to see you.”
This was not Henni. Not by a long shot. But it was another he had been seeking.
“Hello, Visla Jinnik,” Hozark said. “What do you say we get you out of that cell?”
Chapter Fifty
The wards holding Visla Jinnik within his cell had been a slight challenge for Hozark at first. It seemed whoever had set them in place had looped them into the containment spells in the man’s control collar. He had to admit, it was a rather novel use of those spells. The person who had come up with the method definitely thought outside the box.
But outside the box was precisely what he needed right now. More specifically, to get Visla Jinnik outside of his magical box. Rather than fiddle with it, wasting valuable time, Hozark ran back to the unconscious guard and hefted him over his shoulder, then raced back to Jinnik’s cell, dumping the man in a heap on the stone floor.
“Dead, eh? Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving––”
“He is not dead,” Hozark said, slapping the slumbering man with an awakening spell.
“What? Where am––” the man abruptly fell silent as the fog lifted and he remembered what had happened to him. Then he noted he had been moved.
“You are to open this cell. Drop the containment spells,” Hozark demanded. “I do not need to remind you the price for noncompliance.”
It was a statement, not a question.
At this point, the guard, once cruel and haughty in his perceived power over his prisoners, was reduced to a groveling mess at the feet of a far more apex predator than he.
“Of course. B-but I need a konus. I’m unpowered.”
Hozark pulled one of the konuses he’d taken from the guards he had killed on his bloody path to this place. Never leave weapons that might be used against you behind, if you can. At least, not if they are relatively powerful. So he took them.
These konuses were fairly weak, but they contained traces of Henni’s power. Likely the first iterations as they experimented with her unusual magic. He handed it to the guard, the blood of his comrades still wet on the metal. The man fought down his bile and slid it onto his wrist, then cast the unlocking spells.
“Now the collar.”
“I can’t do the collar. Only the bosses can undo it.”
Hozark stared at the man a moment. It was clear he was in no mindset to lie. “Very well,” he said, pulling the konus from the man’s arm and sliding it back into his pocket.
Visla Jinnik, though restrained by his control collar, at least had the strength to stand. Soon, though Hozark did not know precisely when, it would likely engage, trying to keep him from fleeing. But he would deal with that when they came to that point.
“Can I borrow that?” Jinnik asked, pointing to the dagger on Hozark’s left hip.
“Of course.”
He handed the blade to the visla, having a pretty good idea what was about to happen. He was not mistaken.
It was a bit of a disappearing trick. Namely, the length of the blade disappeared into the guard’s chest, piercing his heart, dropping him stone dead. Jinnik hadn’t struck Hozark as the vengeful, killing type when he had engaged him and Demelza to find Hap. But imprisonment and torture can change a man.
The visla pulled the blade free and wiped it on the dead guard’s clothes, then handed it back to the assassin. “Thank you,” he said, and left it at that.
Hozark saw the wobble in his step and moved close, catching him before he fell. Apparently the visla had been drained more than he had thought when he first laid eyes upon the imprisoned man.
“We must get you out of here,” Hozark said, walking Jinnik to the door, the exhausted man’s arm draped around his shoulder.
He hurried him along, back through the route he’d just passed. This wasn’t what he had planned, but the likelihood of finding Jinnik had been a possibility. He would have to leave the recovery of Henni to the others for the time being, until the visla was safely tucked away on his shimmer ship.
Hozark’s vespus blade leapt to his hand as he neared a corner in the corridor. The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps was clearly echoing off the stone walls.
“Holy shit!” Bud exclaimed as he nearly barreled into his friend.
Hozark stayed his sword, carefully resheathing it. Fortunately for Bud, Ghalian training had honed his reflexes so finely that the odds of accidentally striking an ally were slim to none. Still, in this particular setting, charging headlong into a deadly assassin could still have some pretty negative consequences despite all that training.
But not today.
Bud looked at the man and saw the control collar on his neck. Another slave, it seemed. But that wasn’t his concern. “Did you find Henni?”
“No. Demelza is still searching another section of the grounds, but they are vast.”
“I’ve been checking everywhere but no luck. I saw you’ve been here, though. Nice trail of bodies you left back there.”
“I was in a bit of a rush myself,” Hozark said.
“I know where Henni is,” the man draped over the assassin’s shoulder said.
That got Bud’s attention. “You do?”
“Yes. Or, at least where she is most likely to be. Our old cell. I watched when they moved me. If you follow this corridor and go down two levels then turn left, there will be a large banquet hall. Cross through it and take the right-hand exit. Go down one more level and you can’t miss it. The cells are right there.”
“How do you know all of this? Who are you?”
“I am Visla Dinarius Jinnik.”
“Hap’s father? So, you’re a visla, then.”
“Yes, but weakened and restrained, I am afraid,” he said, touching the collar on his neck. “Now, hurry. Henni is learning to harness her magic, but she is vulnerable and still needs assistance.”
Bud and Hozark shared a look. If Henni was truly learning to control her power, she could be a very dangerous woman, indeed. Hozark tightened his grip on the weak man’s arm.
“Find her, Bud. I shall take care of the visla.”
Bud nodded once and took off at a run, his blades ready for anyone foolish enough to get in his way. The visla, however, slipped to the ground, exhausted and in pain. Hozark bent to examine the man, hoping his friend would be successful in his rescue attempt on his own.
Bud followed the visla’s directions in a flash of speed and metal, the guards he came across dead and falling to his sword and dagger before they even realized he had been running at them. It was the epitome of a blitz.
A lesser fighter might have missed the vital points of their opponents, but Bud had been a pirate a long time, and had been traveling with a Wampeh Ghalian for quite a while as well. His blades flew true, leaving death in his wake. Eventually, he would tire and have to fight more conventionally, but for the moment his adrenaline was high, and damn near nothing would stop him.
Chapter Fifty-One
In her cell, Henni could feel the conflict brewing within the stronghold. She didn’t know how, or who was fighting, but her newly heightened senses were screaming out that there was death all around.
Despite her recent training, she felt a bit of panic build within her. The control collar around her neck responded, shocking her, which only served to ramp up her emotions even higher. The collar reacted in kind, increasing its shock spell until it was excruciatingly painful.
Henni writhed in pain on her cot, pulling at the collar with rage. She had been a slave once before, and she had escaped. There was no reason she could not do so again. And this time, she knew she had the power.
She turned her attention inside of herself, doing her best to ignore the pain and focus on her power. She latched on to it, holding it tight and building its strength. Then, with a mighty push, she unleashed it through her hands and into her control collar.
The metal turned orange hot, but somehow her skin only blistered slightly, her magic protect
ing her as she melted and contorted the golden band around her neck. She pulled with all of her might, her muscles straining from the effort. The collar thinned at one point, its magical bond failing. Henni could feel it. She knew her freedom was within reach.
With a shriek, she pulled even harder, the tendons in her hands and arms standing at attention from the incredible force. A shockwave blasted out within her cell, shattering the magical cell wards and knocking the chamber’s door off its hinges.
Henni looked at the remnants of the control collar cooling in her hands in a bit of shock.
“I did it,” she whispered. “I actually did it.”
The violet-haired young woman rose and strode to the doorway. There it was. The way out just down the hall. The stairs they had dragged her up more than once. She was still unarmed, but despite that, she felt confident, somehow. Free. And she was angry.
She took off running, barreling up the staircase two at a time. She swung her fist hard out of pure instinct as she smacked right into a man’s chest, punching him hard in the jaw.
“Ow! Dammit, Henni!” Bud said, rubbing his face. “Where did you learn to hit so hard? And where the hell did you come from?”
Henni’s eyes went wide. “Me? Where did you come from?”
“I came to rescue you, dumbass,” Bud groused, his eyes filled with joy.
Henni hesitated just a second, then wrapped her arms tight around him. Bud returned the embrace, holding her snugly in his arms.
Finally, they released their grasp, their eyes a bit moist, and not from any smoke in the air. Bud pulled a bundle from his small hip pack. A roll of leather straps and their accompanying shiny bits held out in his hands.
“My knives!” Henni exclaimed, eagerly taking them from him and securing them to her body.
Now she felt at ease. Whole. And ready for anything.
Footsteps rang out in the corridors, and from the sound of it, there were a lot of them.
“You ready for this?” Bud asked.
“Ready? I’m looking forward to it.”
