Space Pirate Charlie: The Dragon Mage Book 2

by Scott Baron

  “Oh, most certainly. The thing is, we are much too far away for them to get an accurate location any closer than a very general vicinity. That could be dozens, if not hundreds, of systems. And they do not possess the ability to jump as far as I do. They can travel quickly, yes, but not like a Zomoki.”

  “Well, I guess all we can do is sit here and wait, then.”

  Leila rose and walked to him. “There is one other thing we can do to pass the time,” she said with a curious look in her eye.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I––”

  “And I already asked Bawb, and he said he would be willing to participate.”

  “Wait a minute. What exactly are you talking about?”

  A shower of ice and water sprayed Charlie and Bawb, the klaatu endatha spell having been applied a bit too forcefully for their particular environment.

  “Okay, I guess she has that one memorized,” Charlie said with a grim laugh as he shook the coating of ice from his hair. “You ready to move on to the next one, Bob?”

  The Wampeh, likewise, was brushing the layer of ice from himself. “I think we should fine-tune this one a bit first. Control is crucial, even with defensive spells.”

  Leila looked quite pleased with herself, and Ara was downright amused.

  The two men had been drilling her in the art of rapid-fire defensive casting, first spending the entirety of the prior evening having her memorize a very simple list of spells––while not wearing a konus––then progressing to her first stumbling attempts the following morning after breakfast and a piping-hot cup of coffee.

  All were grateful that Charlie had the forethought to snag all of the prepared beans available in the kitchen as they frantically loaded up supplies before fleeing the visla’s estate. For him it was the soothing flavor and heat in his belly. For the others, the coffee seemed to have a more tangible effect. Namely, the strength of their magic.

  “When do I get to learn some offense?” Leila grumbled.

  “The infant must crawl before it learns to walk,” Bawb said. “And in the event of your coming up against a powered opponent, these defensive spells, while seemingly basic, will protect you from nearly all attacks, at least for a while, so long as you maintain your focus.”

  “He’s right,” Charlie added. “When I was fighting in gladiatorial bouts, I would win because of unconventional tactics, which most often consisted of heavy reliance on defensive spells. It frustrated people to no end that they couldn’t seem to land a shot. And when that happens, they get careless.”

  “And careless means vulnerable,” Bawb said. “This is why we focus on these particular spells. It is not for any lack of ability. Far from it. You have picked up more in a day than many are able in weeks.”

  Charlie looked at the section of their ice cave she had pulverized with an overly ambitious defensive spell. “Yeah, that’s some powerful casting you just managed.” He turned to Ara. “Hey, do you think it would be okay to show her my rhythmic combinations?”

  “I’m sorry, your what?” Ara said.

  “You know. How I join a few spells together in a sing-song casting. Don’t you remember? It’s what I accidentally did during our bout.”

  “So that’s what it was,” the dragon said. “I had wondered about that. It was an abnormally powerful spell, even with you tapping into my power. Especially as you’d never done so before. But you say you combined them?”

  “Yeah, I’ll show you. Bob, cast a kika rahm at me. A good one.”

  “Are you certain about this? That can deliver a rather solid blow.”

  “Yeah, you’ll see.”

  “Very well.”

  The Wampeh set himself, then cast. “Kika rahm!”

  But Charlie had already begun the rhythmic incantation joining a yap zina leg sweep spell and an eeflanguley ramming spell. The effect was impressive, utterly negating the assassin’s spell while simultaneously taking him off his feet and tossing him backward several steps.

  “Fascinating,” Bawb said with a wide grin. “This is an application I have never seen. And, Charlie, I have trained with many, many masters.”

  “Well, it’s something I just sort of stumbled upon one day. You see, I sing things to myself to help me remember them. A mnemonic device.”

  “What spell is ‘mnemonic’?’”

  “It’s not a spell, it’s a mind trick to help you make quick associations to remember things. Only I was doing it with words I didn’t understand. Still don’t, actually. And one day, someone will have to actually explain to me why magic words don’t translate.”

  “No one knows,” Bawb said. “It is just the way it is.”

  “Well, anyway, I guess it’s a little like German. You combine words to make one longer one.”

  “But that does not work. Spells do not function that way.”

  “Normally, no. But some of them apparently do if you sing them just right.”

  “The evolution of spells in this galaxy,” Ara said. “What were mere sounds became spells. And now you’ve stumbled upon an unusual aspect of them.”

  “A magical Easter egg.”

  “A what?” Bawb asked.

  “Hidden stuff. Bonus material,” he replied.

  The Geist regarded Charlie with a newfound respect. Also with a bit of wariness. Charlie noticed the shift in attitude.

  “Don’t worry, Bob. I’ll show you both all I know.” Or at least almost all, he added to himself.

  “So, what say you we get back to work? Leila has a lot of catching up to do.”

  The group trained all day, well into the night, and by the time the following morning greeted them with a pale brown sun, Ara, though still a bit weak, was ready to jump once more.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The first week or so of their flight from Visla Maktan and his Council of Twenty allies had gone about as smoothly as anyone could have expected. By the end of the second week, the group had become comfortable with one another as Leila’s abbreviated training was picking up speed and they made longer jumps, putting more distance between themselves and their pursuers.

  By week three, however, tensions began to grow, the stress of the whole thing finally starting to wear on them all. That was how they came to be noted by one of the Council of Twenty’s many spies.

  The day had begun like all of the others in recent weeks: waking, eating, spell training for Leila, sparring and combat training for all three of them, then a cautious foray into the trading market of their current planet.

  Ara had selected a warmer world. One where her companions could not only source food and rest more comfortably, but where the Geist might also find a meal of a more special variety.

  “I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” Leila said. “You’re talking about eating people as if it were no big thing. Like they were no more than livestock.”

  The Wampeh shared a glance with Ara, the Zomoki holding her tongue this once.

  “They are not livestock to me,” Bawb said. “It pains me that you would think I perceive them as such after the time we have spent together.”

  “Well, it pains me too, Bawb. But the way you and Ara have been talking about finding you a power user to feed on hasn’t exactly done much to put my mind at ease about the whole thing.”

  “You misunderstand, Leila. Ara and I were merely strategizing, determining the best possible course of action to help ensure we are as prepared as possible for the eventual conflict with the Council’s forces.”

  “And eating people helps how, exactly?”

  “You know the physiology of my kind. The abilities we possess.”

  Leila blanched.

  “You’re not serious, are you? I mean, we’ve all heard rumors, sure, but those are just stories. Tales told to children to make them behave, lest the Wampeh come to get them. But they aren’t true.”

  Bawb smiled, the tips of his fangs poking out between his lips like tiny, shining points of light. It was a
mildly unsettling effect he had spent some time developing.

  “It is a rare ability, yes. But I can assure you, it most definitely is real.”

  Charlie trudged back into their campground located several miles outside of the city, pulling a small cart he had constructed. His trading had gone well, and he returned with a good sampling of local baked goods, as well as a few baskets of produce. They would eat well for a few more days, though they hadn’t enough coin to procure meats of any sort.

  Soon they would be off once more, growing closer to their ultimate goal. In just a few more jumps, they would finally arrive at the Balamar Wastelands. All they had to do was keep their cool until then.

  “What’s up?” he asked, noting the tension in the air. “Everything okay?”

  “No, everything is not okay,” Leila replied. “Bawb is going to eat someone.”

  “Really?”

  “No, I’m not going to eat anyone,” Bawb replied.

  “Good, because––”

  “Just drink some of their blood.”

  “See?” Leila blurted. “It’s not right. And––and what the hell is that thing you’re pulling?”

  “This? Just a little cart I whipped up. I figured it’d be easier than carrying everything. It’s a long walk, you know.”

  Bawb examined the simple conveyance with interest. “Most intriguing. But why didn’t you simply use a portage spell?”

  “Because I don’t know any, and all of the carts already powered by them belong to other people. Folks aren’t too appreciative when you take their stuff, you know.”

  “You could have paid for a casting. It is commonplace.”

  “But this was free. It saved us some coin, and we need every bit we have.”

  “Yes, I agree, but this thing you rigged, it will draw attention.” He looked at the parallel lines it had left in its wake. “And it leads others to us.”

  “What, the tire tracks? That’s just what they do when they roll. Don’t worry, traffic will wipe out the trail in no time.”

  “But no one uses this means of portage, Charlie. And those tracks may yet be visible for some time,” Bawb said, kneeling to examine the round discs of wood. “Still, I admit, you have created an interesting device. Perhaps at some future time it may even be of use. But for now, we must avoid drawing attention to ourselves.”

  I guess I finally did reinvent the wheel.

  Leila stepped between them, a fire in her eye. “You still haven’t addressed the whole drinking-people’s-blood issue. He actually wants me to believe he can suck up people’s power through their blood.”

  “Oh, he can,” Charlie said, casually, as he took a bite out of what passed for an apple-like fruit on this planet. “I saw him do it once, actually. A few years ago, back before we were friends.”

  Leila turned an even paler shade of green. “So it’s true?”

  “I told you as much,” Bawb said. “And it is something I only do on rare occasions. Contrary to public belief, blood is not the most appealing of things to drink, and of my kind, I have yet to meet anyone who actually enjoys it.”

  “But you still do it.”

  “Obviously. The benefits far outweigh the temporary unpleasantness. To incorporate another’s power into my arsenal of skills has saved my life on many occasions.”

  “So why don’t you drain me? Or Charlie? Or Ara, even?”

  The Geist smiled. “You are nearly entirely unpowered, Leila. The skills to wield a konus are there, no doubt, but to drink from you would be of no benefit. And besides, I consider you a friend, and it would simply be rude.”

  “And Charlie? Ara?”

  A different sort of smile shifted on the assassin’s face. “We have an…agreement. And, much as you have grown on me these past weeks, they, too, I now consider friends.”

  The Wampeh scooped up a handful of dried berries and popped a few in his mouth.

  “Now, Charlie, what did you see while you were gathering supplies?”

  “Not much, actually. There were a few lesser casters in the marketplace, but no one who stood out as particularly powerful.”

  The Wampeh’s shoulders sagged slightly. “This is disappointing.”

  “But,” Charlie continued with a grin, “I did hear there is a trader at the far end of the marketplace whose employer comes from a black sun system. And that person is rumored to be a very powerful one indeed. So much so that they never even have to show their abilities. Others kowtow to them as the defacto overseer of the region on rumor alone.”

  “Hmm,” the pale man mused. “I have seen this behavior before. Far too often men like this are pretenders. Users of hidden magical stores to give the impression of power.”

  “Well, that may be the case, but not so here.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  “About the power? I’m not. But the rest of your statement? This is no man putting on airs. Of that I’m sure.”

  “Again, how?”

  “Because he is a she.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Bawb had only taken one relatively small container with him when they had hastily departed from Visla Maktan’s estate several weeks prior. Today was the day the others finally saw what was inside it.

  “You packed fancy clothes?” Charlie asked, eyeing the finery the Wampeh was unpacking. “Running for our lives, and that’s what was important? Not food, or weapons, but clothes?”

  “The clothes make the man, Charlie. And these are quite dear to me,” he replied, slipping out of his road-worn attire and into the intricately embroidered ensemble. The top was close-fitting, but not in a showy way. The trousers were likewise tailored, designed to enhance the man’s assets, while still allowing the assassin freedom of movement.

  Charlie had no doubt there were hidden pockets sewn in for him to hide knives or other weapons, but when his pale friend was fully clothed in his new outfit, he had to admit, the guy cut a dashing figure.

  “You have your comms unit?” he asked.

  “No. I will carry the skree we procured. Your tech-magic would only raise suspicions.”

  “He has a point,” Leila agreed. “Blending in is important.”

  Charlie looked the Wampeh over. After several years living in the galaxy so far from home, he was finally developing a familiarity with the way things worked, at least most of the time. And Bawb did, in fact, look like he belonged on the strange world, though not as a commoner, for certain.

  “So, shall I assume you are planning on a not-so-stealthy assault on this power user?” Charlie asked.

  “You assume correctly, my friend,” he replied with a particularly cheerful smile. “I shall present myself as a well-off trader, come to discuss potential business.”

  Leila stepped over and adjusted the fall of his shirt, smoothing a stray fold. “I have to admit, Bawb, you clean up well.”

  “Thank you, Leila. Now, let us hope this woman agrees with you.”

  “Are you sure you’re her, uh, type?” she asked.

  “I am hopeful. However, should she prefer the fairer kind, I may return to ask for your assistance.”

  “I’m sorry, you what, now?”

  “Just kidding,” he said with a grin. “If that is the case, I will resort to less pleasant tactics.”

  Charlie and Ara shared an amused look.

  “You heard that, right? That’s validation. Bob actually made a funny.”

  “Yes, I heard it as well,” Ara agreed with a toothy smile.

  “No one will ever believe you,” the Wampeh said. “And if they did, they’d never live to tell the tale,” he added with a wry grin as he slipped out into the night.

  Ara rose to her feet, surprisingly quiet for a creature that size.

  “I’m going to forage for something more substantial than fruits and vegetables. I will return shortly. Keep your skree handy. He should be fine, but nevertheless, it is wise to have an ally standing by just in case.”

  She then turned and, with a flap of he
r wings, rose into the night sky and quietly blended into the dark.

  The walk had been uneventful, and Bawb soon stood at the entrance to the most powerful woman in the region’s palatial home. The grounds were lush, and the shrubbery surrounding the estate seemed innocent enough to the casual passerby. To the Geist, however, the dual purpose was easy to see.

  Sharp thorns adorned the branches of the low trees, planted not for decoration, but for defense. The outer shrubs were innocuous, but the layer of green on the innermost layer was anything but.

  “Imonus vines,” he noted, the distinct smell of the poisonous plant woven through the other greenery wafting to his hyper-sensitive nose.

  A slight bending of the light from key positions on the roof and building perimeter gave away the shimmer-cloaked guards monitoring from hiding. They should have spent more on their shimmer spells, he mused, but with his keen eyes and years of experience, he doubted any but the absolute finest shimmers would fool his piercing gaze.

  Acting as casually as he could, Bawb adopted the slightly inebriated, loose-limbed walk of a trader on shore leave after a long journey. It was something he had used often, as drunks were universally seen as harmless annoyances rather than deadly threats.

  He knocked on the door, then leaned on the signaling panel, acting oblivious to the notification tone it was undoubtedly chiming nonstop inside the building. A minute later footsteps could be heard hurrying to the door, which swung hastily open.

  “Yes?” demanded an irritated man, whose ornate cloak did not entirely cover his dual slaaps and heavy-duty konus. “What do you want? The hour is late.”

  “Is it? I’ve been in the black so long, time rather loses meaning, if you know what I mean.”

  The guard looked the Wampeh up and down. He had a muscular build, but his finery and affect suggested one who was fond of the comforts of power rather than the exercise of it. A trader, then, and one with substantial wealth, it appeared.

  “What is your business with the emmik? Have you come to seek trade?”

  “You are perceptive, my friend. Binsala is my name, and trading is indeed my game. Now, if you’ll please take me to see the man of the house, I’d very much like to see if we might engage in some mutually beneficial business.”