by Scott Baron
The pup let out another pained yelp, and Leila’s eyes flashed with rage. Charlie knew without a doubt that things were about to going to get violent. The only question was how much.
Leila acted on instinct. An angry mama bear protecting her young. She startled the Tslavar with a brutal kick to the groin, followed by a knee to the face as he fell. She didn’t stop, driving forward toward her pup.
The fallen man’s associates weren’t as disorganized as they seemed, and quickly cast repelling spells the moment the surprise wore off. Charlie figured it made sense. Ruffians of that nature were likely used to impromptu fights.
Leila quickly cast a series of defensive spells, barely catching the onslaught from the counterattacking men.
Nice, Charlie admired. She picked those up really well. He made sure his pistol was securely fastened––it would be bad, indeed, if he lost that in a brawl––then stepped into the fray, casting a simple series of mild spells to break things up.
“Hey! Just give the lady her dog back, and we’ll be on our way,” he said.
“Like hell we will, offworlder. I’m going to feed it to my––”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence. Leila knocked him stone cold with a kika rahm spell.
“Where’d you learn that?”
“Saw you do it,” she replied, casting another defensive spell.
The ruffians attacked en masse, leaving Charlie no choice but to cast more forcefully than he wanted. This was not good. They were drawing attention.
“We need to leave,” he hissed to Leila. “We can’t make a scene.”
“Too late,” she growled, hurling another spell, though easily deflected by her intended target.
Charlie saw what she was referring to. Five more of what he assumed were the men’s friends were rushing to join the fray. Two of them carried short swords, a third carried a club, and the remainder wore slaaps. Things suddenly went from inconvenient to dangerous.
Charlie didn’t hesitate. To hesitate facing those odds would be to let the opponent settle into a comfortable attack. His gladiator training kicked in full force without him even thinking.
A whirling series of attack spells bombarded the farthest men, while defensive spells blocked the near ones. To an onlooker it would seem like he had pinned himself into a corner, but Charlie turned the spells, casting the opposite pattern, drawing the overzealous attackers into striking range.
Now we play. He smiled menacingly.
Fierce blows rained down on the men, Muay Thai kicks to the legs dropping them low enough to spin into round kicks to the head. Charlie unleashed his training as if his life depended on it. Given the disparity in numbers, it very well could.
Banduzriha! he cast with his mind. The combination of spells shouldn’t have worked, but for some reason it felt right to him. The resulting impact sent two men tumbling through the air. They wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.
Charlie dove under a sword, landing a solid punch to the groin of the man holding the pup. He dropped the animal, gasping for air. Charlie caught the scared critter and tossed it through the air.
“Leila! Catch!”
He turned back to the fight, entirely confident she had the reflexes and instincts to reel in the pup unharmed.
With several of their colleagues down, the attackers now launched new assaults in earnest. Gone were the injuring spells, replaced with killing ones. Charlie defended them with counters of his own, but they were too many. He had one option left. He just hoped it would work.
Dipangu! he silently cast, smothering the men with the stench of feces. As expected, they didn’t realize it was a spell, but instead, allowed their focus to be broken just for a moment while they looked for the source of the smell. The opening was all Charlie would get. Fortunately, it was all he would need.
He vaulted the fallen men, launching himself into the midst of the remaining attackers, effectively nullifying their spell-casting ability. To cast against him was to risk casting against their friends as well.
Charlie switched tactics, letting his training flow. He disarmed one man, taking his sword and crushing his knee, then literally disarmed another with the captured weapon. He moved like a man possessed. Less than a minute later, a small pile of dead men lay strewn around him.
Charlie breathed hard, forcing himself to slow his respirations. He looked at Leila. She was okay.
She looked at the fallen men, then at Charlie. Their shared look said it all. So much for going unnoticed.
The pair quickly gathered up their things and fled the scene, hopeful their violent encounter would pass as just another brawl in the rough-and-tumble town.
It would not.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The charred animal Ara had procured for dinner looked terrible. Bawb, however, didn’t seem to mind, making quick work tearing into it, flinging aside the burnt pieces as he filled his belly with proteins and fat.
“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” he said, noting the expressions on Charlie and Leila’s faces.
Ara had been quite successful in her hunt, returning not only sated after a respectable feast, but also bringing back the smoldering remains of some sort of animal, though Charlie had no idea what it actually was.
Bawb wasn’t concerned by such trivial details.
“I hope you killed it before roasting it,” Leila said, pulling out her handy knife and carving off a steaming piece.
“Of course,” Ara replied. “I may be a Zomoki, but I am not some brutal killing machine who takes pleasure in tormenting my food.”
“That would be a cat,” Charlie joked as he sliced off a piece for himself.
“What is a ‘cat’?”
“Small, furry animal about so big. Long tail. Claws. Likes to play with its food before killing it, and even then, they sometimes just do it for fun.”
“Ah, much like a domorsk,” Ara said. “Nasty creatures, those. Cruel just for the sake of it. Those I do not grant a swift demise.”
Whether that meant being torched alive or some other terrible fate, Charlie didn’t want to know. “It’s not bad,” he said, chewing slowly. “Though it could use a little something to punch it up a bit. If only Tuktuk had come along.”
“I am sorry I did not think to pack a selection of spices for you, Charlie. I hang my head in shame.”
“Funny, Ara. But now that you mention it, I will pick some up before we leave––if it’s feasible.”
Bawb looked at the squirming pup in Leila’s lap.
“And tell me again, exactly how many men did you kill?”
“No more than I had to. And besides, it’s a rough planet.”
“And all for that,” the Wampeh said, gesturing toward the little animal as he suckled Leila’s makeshift bottle. “It hardly seems worth it.”
“Don’t listen to him, Baloo,” Leila cooed to the pup, scratching its ears.
Baloo stopped drinking the watered-down milk long enough to give a tiny yowl that sounded quite a bit like his name, then tucked back in to finish his meal. The smell of meat intrigued him at first, but the lure of warm milk was far more tempting. “Instincts,” the animalist had said when the others noted his interest in meat despite his extremely young age.
The Geist had noted the little beast seemed to be of some off-world species he hadn’t encountered before. Given his age, as well as slight malnourishment, he gathered that traders had captured his mother in some other system and taken the youngster from her fairly recently. Leila was inclined to agree.
“I shall keep an ear to the ground when I scout the town this evening,” Bawb said. “Perhaps I might even ascertain the animal’s planet of origin and species.”
“I’m not giving him back,” Leila said, holding the warm ball of fur protectively.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Whoever took his mother obviously does not care for the well-being of these creatures. It is inhumane to pry an infant away at such a young age.”
Charlie gave
him an amused look. “Interesting outlook for an assassin, Geist.”
The Wampeh fixed a calm gaze on his human friend.
“Being as intimate with death and its many faces, I think I might be in a better position than most to understand the value of life, as well as the crime of harming those too young to defend themselves.”
“No one is going to hurt Baloo,” Leila said.
The pup yowled at his name.
“That’s right, Baloooo,” she howled back at him.
The Wampeh smiled his pointed-tooth grin. “Leila, given the size of that boy’s paws, I do not think anyone will be able to hurt him before long.”
He licked his fingers clean and rose to his feet and placed the castoffs from his meal into their communal waste bag. He then poured some water into a rag and wiped his hands and lips clean. His camouflaging cloak slid on silently as he turned toward the night.
“I will return in several hours. Ara, I assume you will smell me coming?”
“You’re very good at hiding your scent, Geist, but yes, I will sense your arrival.”
“Good. We are camped far enough from town that none should stumble upon you. If others approach, slay them without hesitation. This is not a friendly planet, and you have drawn attention to yourselves. Exactly how much, I shall soon learn.”
With that, Bawb melted into the shadows.
He made good time heading into town, running at a casual pace that let him stretch his legs for a change. Their flight and subsequent hiding had been physically demanding for the man so accustomed to maintaining peak levels of prowess. Unfortunately, not all of their bolt holes afforded the freedom to train as he would have liked.
Wind flowed through his hair as he ran, and his blood sang as it coursed through his veins. This was how it was meant to be. To revel in the abilities of his body. So many wasted their lives never seeking their limits. Bawb had sought, found, and exceeded them, and couldn’t imagine living any other way.
He slowed his run to a casual walk and steered onto the main road as he grew closer to the commerce area, making himself extremely visible so as to blend in with everyone else all the better. Just another man walking the street. No dodging or skulking, nothing at all sinister in his manner.
The assassin had learned many years prior that one of the best ways to become invisible was by becoming the opposite: something highly visible but also something others would not take note of. Adjusting his gait to mimic that of a less athletic man, he allowed his broad shoulders to round slightly, masking his muscular build. From there, he was just another man on the street, occasionally stopping to buy a trinket or snack from a vendor, laughing at their silly jokes, and generally being a completely average guy.
“The Council knows we are here,” he said when he returned to the camp late that night.
“How? We haven’t been here long, and skrees don’t send beyond the system,” Leila said.
“The show you put on in town apparently caught the eye of a Council spy. Not a very good one, either, I might add. The locals all know who he is, and several noted him watching your brawl. He headed straight for his ship after you left town. It will take him a few days, but once he has reached a Council outpost, they will be able to skree across far greater distances.”
“And you found all of this out, how, exactly?”
The assassin smiled amicably, assuming the guise of a friendly trader in mere seconds. “People talk freely to Binsala the jovial trader. Especially when he is loose with his coin and eager to hear their stories.”
“It’s scary how well you do that, Bob.”
“Thank you,” he said, slipping back to his normal demeanor. “In any case, a liberal spreading of coin––courtesy of Yanna Sok––loosened tongues a bit further. We have time before the Council arrives, but not as much as I would hope for.”
Charlie groaned. “Great. And just when we were off their radar.”
“What is radar?”
“It’s a tech thing. It’s how you track objects in the sky from great distances.”
“Fascinating,” the assassin said.
The Zomoki seemed intrigued as well. “That is a tech-magic that could prove most useful, Charlie.”
“Only I don’t have one,” Charlie replied.
“Does your ship? Perhaps we could retrieve it when we reach the wastelands.”
“Yeah, it has one, but the unit is built in, and it’d be impractical to try to remove the whole thing.”
“Too bad,” Ara said. “It might have afforded us a measure of warning when the Council arrives. But if we distance ourselves quickly enough, they may lose our trail. Sadly, there are only so many worlds within reach of this system, and they will know that. By trial and error, they should be able to find us if we stop jumping.”
“And only a few worlds until our destination.”
“Exactly.”
“Well then, we’d best get there and get to work firing up that plasma cutter if we’re going to get these collars off before they get close enough to activate them.”
Despite the threat looming over their heads, the group slept well that night. Constantly looming danger had left them numbed to all but the worst of it, and unless they were facing an imminent threat, sleep was far more vital than worry.
The following morning they packed up, cleared their campsite of all traces, then vanished into the sky.
Chapter Forty-Nine
A new day and a new world greeted the travelers, and a fresh breeze left a slight chill in the air. They had arrived in the dead of night, though their hiding spot nestled safely between a pair of low hills surrounded by tall trees was located several miles from the nearest town. The odds of anyone stumbling upon them were incredibly slim.
Bawb had left at first light, heading for a distant township to inquire of an old acquaintance of his. They were low on dried goods for the difficult trip into the Balamar Wastelands and would have to source more before making that final jump. The Wampeh hoped the debt owed him would help take care of those needs.
“I’ll be back before nightfall,” he had said, then pulled up his hood and vanished into the morning mist.
“It’s creepy when he does that. Am I the only one?” Charlie asked.
“You’re not alone,” Leila noted. “But he’s on our side, so I’ll just look at it as a good thing. Not every day you get a stealthy assassin watching your back. I sleep better with him around.”
“And I’m chopped liver?”
“You’re not a lunchtime food. Why would you even suggest that?”
“No, it’s an Earth saying,” he clarified. “Nevermind. We should see what food we can source while Bob’s doing his thing. It’ll be hours before he’s back. Maybe we can scrounge up something tasty in the meantime.” He looked up at their resting dragon friend. “And how about you, Ara? You feeling okay after that last jump?”
She shifted on her haunches and sighed. “Fine. Just a little tired, is all. We didn’t travel terribly far, and the Balamar Wastelands are an easy trip from here. A little rest and a good meal and we should be able to jump by tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“Like I said, the last one wasn’t very far.”
“Great. Then you rest up. Leila and me, we’re going to see about finding us some food. Any preference?”
“Oh, I’ll hunt a bit later. I feel the need for fresh meat, and the flight will do my wings good. Too much lurking around on the ground, not enough flying. It will feel nice to stretch a bit.”
“Okay. We’ll be back soon. Come on, Leila.”
“Hang on. Not yet.”
“What? Why?”
“Baloo’s hungry.”
“You can feed him while we walk.”
“I can, but then he may get a jostled tummy, and I don’t want to be vomited on again. Once was enough. That stream was cold.” she said, holding the makeshift nipple of the Boramus milk bottle to the pup’s eager mouth. “Eat up, little one, then we’re going fo
r a walk.”
Charlie scratched behind the warm little beast’s ears. He really was a cute critter, he had to admit, and Leila’s mood had been incredibly boosted by having the new addition to their team.
“You just about ready?” he asked ten minutes later.
“Yeah. He should be fine now. Nice and digested––or at least digested enough to not make a mess on me.”
“Great. Away we go, then. Back in a bit, Ara.”
“Mm-hmm,” the dragon murmured, then lazily closed her golden eyes as she soaked up the sun’s warmth.
Charlie and Leila made good time to the nearest marketplace, and while they were unable to source any goods suitable for their trip to the wastelands, they did come across a few other useful items in the course of their excursion.
As an added bonus, their little furry companion was a hit with everyone they traded with, and by the time they made the return trip to their camp, Baloo had amassed quite a collection of toys and treats, all donated with pleasure to the amicable little furball.
“He’s going to be better fed than we are,” Charlie said as they dropped their loads with the rest of their gear. “Hey, Ara. You seen Bob yet? It’s getting kind of late, and he said he’d be back before nightfall.”
The Zomoki shifted and opened her eyes.
“He’s not back in camp, but I do smell him nearby. I believe he is down near the stream, washing off the blood.”
“Blood? Oh, man, did he eat someone again?”
“I couldn’t say,” she said, an amused look in her giant eyes. “But knowing his skills, I’d think the blood would have wound up inside rather than outside if that were his intention, don’t you think?”
“Point taken. But he’s not hurt, right?”
“Not that I can smell. The blood is definitely not Wampeh.”
Charlie breathed a small sigh of relief. Bawb could certainly take care of himself, but that didn’t mean unforeseen problems couldn’t arise out of the blue. And odd as the Wampeh was, Charlie found himself growing rather attached to the assassin.
“Ah, you’re back,” Bawb said when he strolled into the camp fifteen minutes later.
