by Scott Baron
Magda, the youngest daughter of the serving matron, timidly knocked on his door. “Visla?”
“Come,” he called out through the room.
The round-faced girl quietly crossed through and out to the patch of sun where he was sitting. “Your lunch, Visla.”
“Good girl. Leave it there,” he said, gesturing to the small table.
She did as directed, then gave a small bow and left.
Maktan rose and stepped over to the plate of delicacies. So many delightful things to choose from, he marveled. It was good being the head of the household. It was even better being on the Council of Twenty. Everything was coming together as planned. The pieces were lining up for his ultimate power grab, and once he positioned himself just right to seize control––
The blade that pierced his body was so fine he almost didn’t feel it enter from behind. It slid in so effortlessly, yet he could tell at once it was not enchanted. Merely honed to a razor’s edge.
But it had not been plunged in with reckless abandon. The tip had stopped mere millimeters from his heart. He knew then it could only be one person.
“But I didn’t sense you,” Maktan said, strangely resigned to his fate. “I was prepared. I cast every detection spell imaginable. Not even the Quommus could have shielded you from my power.”
Behind him Hozark smiled a cold grin, his teeth showing white while the rest of him was a patchwork of green leaves and brown branches. A man-shaped dent was visible in the climbing vines on the wall where he had been standing. Judging by the slight discoloration of the plants, he must have been in position for days before making his move.
Of course he had.
“You may have observed our ways,” he said quietly, “but you failed to learn the lessons behind them.”
“I learned them well. Deceive the eye and walk right up to your target. I’ve seen you do it.”
Hozark chuckled. “And now you prove my point. The lesson was not the deception. It was the distraction. Here you are, so busy protecting yourself from any magically camouflaged attackers that you failed to notice the man simply standing mere feet from you.”
“Of course. The Quommus.”
“No. It is far too large and unwieldy for one to carry.”
“But it was made out to be the ultimate magical protection.”
“And it is. For a building, perhaps. One day the order will find a use for it.”
“So, no magic?”
“Not a drop.”
Visla Tozorro Maktan couldn’t help but chuckle, even knowing he was about to die. “Well done, Hozark. You know, I––”
Hozark shifted the blade into his heart, ending him on the spot, denying him the satisfaction of a dying speech. He did not even drink from him, instead letting all of that power drain out onto the stone floor.
This was not a matter of Ghalian business. This was personal.
Hozark heard a voice in the next room coming from its open window. A young boy, no older than perhaps sixteen or so. Maktan’s son. The assassin froze in place, utterly silent until the voice faded.
Yes, he could end the Maktan line here if he so chose, but the boy was but a mere teenager, not yet a man. There would be no honor in killing him, no matter what power he might contain. And who knew? Perhaps the boy would not follow in his father’s footsteps. Perhaps young Yoral Maktan would grow to be a good man.
Silently, Hozark slipped out of the grounds to his waiting shimmer ship. He flew it over the visla’s collection of fancy vessels, then carefully docked it atop the dusty, unused craft that had been abandoned at the far end of the landing area. He descended into his friend’s mothership with a sense of homecoming. Bud would be glad to have it back, though it had taken a bit longer than expected.
Hozark then fired up the Drookonus and lifted off, leaving the Maktan estate, never to return.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Uzabud and Henni had taken up residence with Corann for a while after the final battle with their traitorous crewmate. Days, or even weeks, were normally allowed, but, a stay of this length by a non-Ghalian would have normally been unheard of.
However, as Demelza was with them, and given the remarkable powers Henni was manifesting, allowances were made. This pair had more than earned the trust of the Ghalian.
Master Prombatz and Aargun had been regular visitors, coming to Corann’s home every few weeks. Normally it would not have been thought of, having two of the Five in the same place with any regularity. But as Bud was in a bit of a funk at the loss of his mothership, borrowing Corann’s little craft just didn’t feel the same.
Lalaynia even offered him his old spot on her crew again, which he politely turned down. “I’m just gonna sit and be for a minute,” he told her.
“You sure you’re gonna be okay, Bud?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he’d replied.
But Lalaynia was worried about him. Bud had been moments from death, and that sort of thing can change a man. Shift his priorities. It was only natural he would need some time for introspection.
“You keep an eye on him,” she said to Henni as she prepared to head back up to her ship. “His head’s not on quite right.”
“Is it ever?” Henni replied.
Lalaynia wrapped the girl in a fierce hug. “Be good, kiddo.”
“Never,” she replied.
Lalaynia departed, knowing that Henni, for all of her sass and spunk, would not let any harm fall upon her friend’s head.
As for Henni, Corann had been fascinated by her new powers and was doing all she could to help guide her in their use. Visla Palmarian even came for a visit, along with an almost unrecognizable Happizano. Cleaned up and in his finery, he looked every bit a visla’s son.
Then he opened his mouth, streaming out an excited update on all the things he’d learned since he had gone home. Same old Hap, they were all glad to see. Visla Palmarian spent a few days helping Henni focus her power while the Ghalian trained his son in the finer aspects of knife work and martial skills. When they finally departed, it was only after extracting the promise that Henni would come visit them on Slafara.
“Soon,” she said, nodding toward Bud.
Visla Palmarian got the hint.
It was unknown when the former pirate would feel up to venturing out, but when that day came, they would take the visla up on his offer. For now, however, they were content to enjoy the warmth of Corann’s hospitality.
Bud was lounging on a reclining seat while Henni practiced launching spells and knives at a target in Corann’s training room when he suddenly leapt to his feet.
“What’s up?” Henni called after him as he ran from the room. She scooped up her knives and followed in a hurry.
Bud raced the short distance to the landing field nearby, tears welling up in his eyes. There she was. His ship, settling down gently, looking a bit dirty from neglect, but still beautiful to his eyes.
Hozark strode from the ship, tall and at ease, a great weight clearly lifted from his shoulders.
“Hozark, you should have told me. I would have helped!”
The Ghalian smiled. “I like surprise endings, Bud.”
“Of course you do. You’re an assassin. Your entire life is pretty much the epitome of a surprise ending.”
The two laughed, Hozark’s relaxed goodwill spreading to his friend. Bud had his ship back. At long last, all was right in the world. Henni arrived a moment later, leaping up onto Hozark with a giant hug.
“You’re okay!”
“Yes, Henni, I am okay.”
She stared at him, her eyes sparkling. “No, I mean it,” she said, looking not at him, but into him. “You’re okay.”
He grinned at the violet-haired imp. “Yes, Henni, I truly am.”
“Sweet! Come on, then, the others will be glad you’re back.”
Hozark nodded and began the short walk to Corann’s. Bud, however, hung back.
“What’s on your mind, Bud?” Henni asked a
s he stood silently staring at his ship.
“I was just thinking,” he said, turning to her with a gleam in his eye. “I kinda lost my last navigator.”
“Yeah, but he was an asshole anyway.”
“True that,” he replied, hesitating a moment. “But I was thinking, you’re actually pretty good with those charts.”
“He finally admits.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been a good impromptu navigator in the past. So, I was just thinking. I mean, if you’d consider it…”
Henni took a half step back, looking at him with shocked eyes. “Are you asking?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat.
Bud’s cheeks flushed slightly. “I am.”
The smile on her face spread from ear to ear as Henni jumped on him, squeezing tight. “I accept!” she said, her eyes welling up with tears of joy, along with happy sparkles of power. The day had taken a most unexpected turn, and for the better.
As the two walked back to join the others, their fingers touched, and soon slid together, as naturally as breathing. Walking hand in hand, the locals they had come to know so well nodded greetings to them with satisfied smiles. They had long wondered when the two would finally admit it and get on with it. It had been obvious to everyone else, after all.
Hozark found Demelza training with Corann in the home’s underground sparring room. It was subterranean to provide additional shielding from not only the magic occasionally used, but also the noises of combat. Why expend magic on muting spells when you could just dig a deep hole, after all?
“Master Hozark,” Demelza said, greeting her friend with a slight bow.
“Good to see you back in good health,” Corann noted, putting her sword down.
Demelza also put her weapon back on the rack, wiping the sweat from her brow as she did. It had apparently been a rather intense training session, but then, Master Corann was not one to do things by half measures.
The two masters shared a glance. Corann nodded almost imperceptibly. The smile on Hozark’s lips was the only outward sign anything had been communicated at all.
“I am confused,” Demelza said. “Am I missing something?”
Hozark’s smile spread. “Only on your belt, sister,” he replied, holding out a carefully wrapped parcel to her.
It was long, and the bindings around it were not ordinary. This was Ghalian ceremonial ribbon. And not for a mere assassin; this bore the marking of a teacher of the order.
Demelza’s eyes went wide. “But the Five have not gathered.”
“They did not need to,” Corann replied. “Hozark, Prombatz, and I have all spoken for your outstanding martial skills, your performance under the most difficult of situations, and most importantly, your knack for imparting knowledge to others.”
“I-I do not know what to say,” Demelza replied.
“Then say nothing and open your gift,” Hozark replied. “And congratulations, Teacher Demelza.”
It was unheard of, being promoted the way she had been. Despite her training, Demelza felt almost overcome by emotions. Even more so when she unwrapped the parcel.
Within it was a scabbard, well-worn and in no way decorative. A functional blade, not a ceremonial one, then. She nodded, appreciating the utility of the item. Hozark and Corann looked at one another as Demelza put her hand on the grip, knowing what would come next.
“No! It can’t be!” Demelza blurted as her skin made contact.
“It is,” Hozark replied.
“But Master Orkut is dead,” she said, pulling the glowing blue vespus blade from its sheath and admiring the powerful weapon.
“Yes, he is. But a great teacher, a great Ghalian, should have an equally impressive weapon,” Hozark said.
It only took Demelza a moment before the familiar feel of the magical blade connected with her. She knew this power. Knew it quite well, in fact. This sword had very nearly taken her life on more than one occasion.
“Samara’s vespus blade,” she gasped.
“Your vespus blade,” Hozark said. “She was quite impressed with you, you know. She told me as much. And I am sure it is you she would want to have it.”
Demelza spun the sword, feeling the perfect balance of its metal as well as the magical power thrumming within it. With but a few moves, it already felt as if it had been made for her hand. A part of herself. A smile spread across her lips as she looked at her friend and brother with cheer in her eyes.
“Master Hozark, would you be up for a bit of practice?”
Hozark grinned and drew his own vespus with a flourish. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Epilogue
Hozark had left explicit instructions when he had departed for whatever mysterious task he had in mind. And now that he had returned, the master Ghalian was glad to learn that his orders had been carried out as planned.
While he was away, a young boy had been brought to the training house. A potentially powerful new Ghalian recruit. He was just a boy, no more than ten years old. A mere child. But they all were when they first began the long journey to becoming a Ghalian.
Hozark walked to the utilitarian bunk where the boy had been told to sleep. He had been there for just a few days, but the initial stress was already beginning to show. The transition to life in the training house could be quite difficult at first. Hozark remembered his own arrival as a boy very vividly. It had been rough, to say the least.
He stared at the boy, assessing the new recruit. He was a thin one. Tall, but wiry. His leanness, however, did not seem to be from any mistreatment. He was just naturally slender. Genetics were funny like that.
The orphanage he had been taken from had fed him more than adequately, and had educated him as well. It was a good life, for an orphan. Apparently, when the Wampeh had been brought there as but a newborn ten years prior, a healthy endowment had accompanied him for his ongoing support.
He was a Wampeh, yes. And he possessed the gift, no doubt. But there was something in his eyes. A flash of a churning tide. He was emotional. Perhaps too emotional for a Wampeh who was to be forged into a deadly assassin. But Hozark had been much the same at that age and had become one of the Five. Time would tell.
“Come with me, boy,” Hozark said, then turned and walked.
The boy fell in behind him, following quietly.
Hozark took him to one of the smaller training chambers and instructed the boy to stand tall and still. He did as he was told, though his eyes showed great uncertainty.
“You shall be training with the others from now on, and it shall not be easy,” Hozark said. “If you are to succeed in this endeavor, remember these words. Your mind is your greatest weapon. And it is yours alone to wield. Learn to control it, and you shall do well. Fail to do so and you will not survive.” He paused, a slight hint of a smile tickling the corners of his mouth. “But between you and me, I think you have it in you. Do not prove me wrong.”
The words were familiar to Hozark. They were the first, and only, words of kindness he had heard from Master Fahbahl when he had first arrived in a training house when he was a boy. And now he was repeating them to this newcomer. This soon-to-be aspirant Ghalian.
“I shall be here from time to time in this training house,” he continued, “and I shall help you practice and grow, as best I can. Should you try your hardest, I am confident you can achieve great things.”
“You really think I can make it?” the boy said, coming out of his shell ever so slightly.
“I am certain of it,” Hozark replied. “Now, I believe you have a lesson to attend in the next training room. Run along, Bawb. Do not give up. Be strong, and I assure you, great adventures will await you.”
The boy looked back once as he walked away and gave the Master Assassin a little smile, then hurried off to his lesson.
Hozark couldn’t help but feel a twinge in his chest. But the pain he felt was not from any old injury. Not of the physical variety, at least.
He felt that way because he was flush with
both sadness and pride.
Samara was gone, having done all she could to protect the boy, blackmailed into Maktan’s service when his existence was discovered. She’d ultimately given up everything for him, and now she was gone. But in a way, she still lived on. For while young Bawb possessed the same temperament as his father at that age, as any who had known Hozark in his youth would attest, the boy also had his mother’s eyes.
Thank you for reading
I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it. To help keep those fires of writerly creativity burning bright, if you could, please consider leave a rating/review on Amazon or Goodreads. Just a few moments of your time could really help this indie author.
Thanks for reading!
Also by Scott Baron
Standalone Novels
Living the Good Death
The Clockwork Chimera Series
Daisy’s Run
Pushing Daisy
Daisy’s Gambit
Chasing Daisy
Daisy’s War
The Dragon Mage Series
Bad Luck Charlie
Space Pirate Charlie
Dragon King Charlie
Magic Man Charlie
Star Fighter Charlie
Portal Thief Charlie
Rebel Mage Charlie
Warp Speed Charlie
Checkmate Charlie
The Space Assassins Series
The Interstellar Slayer
The Vespus Blade
The Ghalian Code
Death From the Shadows
Hozark’s Revenge
The Warp Riders Series
Deep Space Boogie
Belly of the Beast
Odd and Unusual Short Stories:
