“Two floors above, my lord. The explosives are two floors above. Just above our… targets.”
“Which room?”
“The central foyer, my lord. Please, don’t kill me. I’m a good citizen. I was just following orders!”
“Of course you were. Now the trigger?”
The man pointed a trembling hand at a red switch that seemed jury-rigged to the counter. A clear case could be seen covering the button.
Val frowned, then spotted the wire. “So it’s a wire lead, and not a radio signal.”
The man blinked. “Electromana signals are too imprecise. Though we are close enough, had we chosen that route, the bomb would have been triggered within minutes of first installing it.”
Val nodded. “Logical. But why would you secure the detonation switch with a cover if your whole purpose is to set off the explosives?”
“Because Craven wouldn’t waste the opportunity to savor his enemy’s death on the likes of us,” the man said, before his eyes bulged in sudden terror, realizing what he had just confessed to.
Val nodded. “But I'll bet you could still remove it and follow orders to detonate, if your master decided to keep his hands clean of this whole affair." Akel's lowered head was all the answer Val needed. "Final question. Where is Craven holding my wives?”
The man paled. “Please, my lord. Please, we had nothing to do with...” His eyes bulged as Val clamped a hand over Akel's mouth and smashed both the man’s knee caps with his armored fist.
He waited patient moments as his prey writhed and screamed into Val’s palm before finally collecting himself enough to whimper quietly.
Val then wrapped both hands about Akel’s throat, forcing the terrified man to meet his gaze. “Final time. Where are Bethany Calvar and Angelica Blackenthorp being held?”
“Craven Estates. Here in the city!” the man sobbed.
Val smiled. “I told you what I’d do to you if you lied, yes?”
The man’s eyes widened. “No, please, my lord. I told you the truth. I swear it!”
Val nodded. “I believe you,” he said, squeezing the suddenly struggling man’s throat with all his terrible strength, allowing himself a single moment of unbridled fury as he roared his hate before tearing free the man’s jugular in an explosion of blood and gore.
Two more of your enemies have perished to your wrath. Nothing says death like 22 strength boosted another 60%! Experience earned!
Val ignored the voice, stilling his growing panic, sparing the still-open monitor a cold glance and swearing in his heart to save the girls that only now he could admit to loving almost as much as he did his Julia. He was grateful Bethany's screams had stopped, terrified Craven intended even worse.
But first, he would do what he had to, to save his sister. To save his sister and cause such panic and horror within his enemy’s ranks that they actively worked to ensure their own destruction, too busy chasing the consequences of their treachery to sense the storm brewing behind them until it was too late.
Far, far too late.
But for now...
Careful hands touched the wires leaving the switch box, using his magic in the safest way he knew how. He did not seek to intellectually understand the deadly trap putting his sister at risk, but to make it an extension of himself.
You have successfully used Dominion Catalyzation not to repair, but to sense! Your questions are answered! The switch connects two wires, triggering a pulse that will catalyze a massive Elementium/Silbion conflagration! It will obliterate the entire hotel, and the adjoining buildings as well! Craven was taking no chances with you. Too bad his knowledge of explosives is primitive compared to your own!
Val took a shuddering breath, terrified at the consequences if he messed up, though he was almost certain he was making the right choice.
The sharp crackling hum of his Psiblade could be heard in the empty room, Val slowly lowering his blade through the wire, fearing the worst.
He gave a sigh of relief so great he almost collapsed when the world failed to roar with the sound of his sister’s death.
Wasting no more time, Val pocketed his cube and grabbed the switch, racing free of the building as fast as his feet could take him.
49
Val slipped quietly out the building the same way he had entered, a back entrance ignored by office drones and visitors just as thoroughly as it would be back home.
Val wasted no time, slipping from shadow to shadow, utterly ignored by the anxious gazes of urban Jordians racing about their day, quickly making his way to the quiet-looking hotel that held so very many secrets.
The same sleepy receptionist was smiling blankly at the doorway as if awaiting guests, for all that his eyes slid right over the play of light and shadow as the door jostled open.
Sighing as it seemed the prospective guest was not interested after all, the young man rubbed his eyes before glancing back down at whatever he was studying, and Val paid the possible Jordian graduate student no mind.
Val could already sense the chilling coalescence of shadows and sentient gloom quietly waiting for him on the second floor landing.
The receptionist was clueless cover.
Those hungry for the bounty were already in position to strike.
Val smiled, ignoring the stairway entirely, heading down the hallway behind the reception area to the stairs in the back of the hotel. Just one more shadow in the dimly lit corridor, as much an extension of the building as a man desperately racing to keep his sister safe.
Perception check made! Quickness check made!
Crashing to the ground and rolling forward as a stream of darts hissed through the air. His foot lashed out.
A young voice cried out, a shinbone cracking under the force of Val’s snap-kick as he flipped back on his feet and twisted to his side, his crackling Psiblade over the young man sobbing as he crumpled to the ground, holding his broken leg. Val quickly summoned his forceshield, extending it to its full 4-foot diameter, ready for attacks from angles unseen as much as a dance with Psiblades.
Val did not strike the terrified lad looking right back at him, chilled to see traces of himself in the boy’s gaze.
“How old are you?” Val blinked, surprised by his words just as much as the boy was.
“Nineteen.”
Val hissed. “You’re just a boy. Why the hell are you even here?”
“So you wouldn’t be killed out of hand, Valor Dauda Hunter,” said a voice chill as death. “Now back away from my son.”
Val smiled even as his heart raced, the shadowy presence he had sensed flowing out of darkness revealing the deadly gaze of a mother who would do whatever it took to protect her child.
Val nodded his head, stepping away. “Hello, Aunt Jade. You are looking well.”
Val’s heart was pounding. He understood the game as well as she.
And he had no intention of hurting his mother’s sister or his cousin.
Jade’s eyes widened when Val tossed a purple potion at her, hissing as Val raced past shield raised to ward any blow, then he was behind her.
“Jade!”
Val recognized that voice, shadow uncloaking to reveal Timothy, her husband, now hovering over their son.
And he would have been in perfect position to cut Val down, had Val let himself be distracted.
“It’s a potion of regeneration, not death,” Val coldly explained to his aunt who had reflexively raised her force-shield to parry the crystal vial that fortunately didn’t break. “It will heal your son’s cracked bone.”
She swallowed, her haunted gaze turning rueful. “Well-played,” she whispered, as Timothy’s dark gaze locked upon Val’s own.
“So the plan was to cut me down while you and your son distracted me,” he said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice. His gaze hardened. “Violating the accords you yourself had counseled me to follow.”
“We have no choice!” Faith hissed. “Don’t you understand, Valor? This has gone beyond mer
e contractual obligation. Craven has made it painfully clear that he can pierce our veils! All of us are at risk, Valor. Don’t you understand? If we give the High Council the slightest reason to consider us anything but neutral… it will be all the pretext they need.”
Val flashed a bitter smile. “All your fierce independence surrendered to fear. All of you now nothing more than pawns, serving a master who despises you.” Val glared at his uncle. “You know damn well that with bastards like these, the minute his own dread fades, it will breed contempt that will kill you in the end. In short, Timothy, baring your neck to this bastard will only encourage him to tear it out."
Timothy’s eyes crackled with sudden heat. “I have been forced to watch Craven and his cronies run this planet to the ground since the moment Tytus’s dreadnought exploded like a supernova! I’ve seen all too often what happens to those who dare to cross them.” He took a shuddering breath. “But what I have never seen him do is break his oath, once given. And he has sworn to trouble us no further, should we honor our contract, even as it galls us to do so.”
“And he has sworn to have Jordia’s Dauda branch declared pariah and oathbreakers by the Galactic Council if we do not fulfill our contract, never mind that it breaks the third tenet of the accords!” Jade said, shaking her head bitterly. “Only because you are both Dauda and a contender can Craven even dare such a threat. And only because you dare to walk the Path of Kings is there a chance the Galactic Council would actually censor us, all but assuring the death of our clan, even if by other members of our own tribe, eager to remain in good standing and avoid suffering the same fate!"
Val blinked, chilled by the weight of her words, sensing how deeply Craven was playing them. Playing them all.
“We didn’t make the decision, Hunter,” Jade said as she carefully fed the vial to her son who cried out in fresh pain, biting his lip, before sighing in sudden relief. “All we could do was put ourselves in this squad, to make sure you were not killed out of hand.”
Timothy flashed a bitter smile. “Because should you escape, making use of your remarkable knack for summoning priceless objects out of thin air, then the fault will be Craven’s alone, and we will be utterly free of blame.”
Jade smiled. “And Craven will be seen as incompetent and our clan above reproach, at which point we will be well within our rights to refuse a second contract for the same target.”
Val flashed a sad smile. “And what if I were to tell you that Craven is probably aware of all of this, and is playing you all for fools, even now? What if I were to tell you that he has absolutely no intention of reporting anything to this Galactic Council, especially should things come to pass as he intends?”
Timothy’s gaze hardened and Val felt the sudden weight of a dozen pairs of eyes hidden in shadow, coming for him even now. “You have one minute to explain yourself, Valor.”
Val chuckled ruefully. “Because even you were just another level to the bluff. I bet I have a dozen Psiblades and, what, compressed air guns firing darts covered in some sort of narcoleptic?”
Timothy dipped his head in approval. “I see Hanna raised no fools. Now, please, Valor. If you have nothing further to add? I will give you one minute to ready yourself, and I will trust in your skills. But then we must proceed.”
Val turned around, gazing almost sadly at the score of eyes peering intently at him from the shadows, hidden from him no longer. “Actually I do,” he said, slowly extracting one of his dwarven cubes from storage. “This here holds the key that will set your entire clan free of enemies that have every intention of striking you all down to the last man, woman, and child.”
The hallway rung with silence so profound Val could hear his own breath. He slowly put away the cube. “But no dwarven cube, no matter how pretty, compares to the real thing.”
He did not hesitate to walk towards the crowd of silent Dauda ready to bring him down. “You could try to take me down, or you could follow me, and see firsthand exactly what Craven intends for you.”
Beautiful jewel-like eyes widened, the air alive with quiet murmurs.
“What is it exactly you wish to show us, Val?” Timothy asked.
Val smiled, glancing behind him. “Proof of Craven’s intentions, two floors above the room you’re holding my sister. Or should I say, where Jonas and Micah are holding her, ready to knock me out with tranquilizing mist, the moment I enter.”
Timothy blinked at that. “May I ask how you put the pieces together?”
“Follow me, and see for yourself.” Val didn’t hesitate to walk right past the Dauda gazing at him in consternation, bemusement, or sheer awe at his gall. He had deliberately sheathed his Psiblade, as had those few Dauda who were similarly armed.
“You can always stab me in the back, if you like,” he said, slipping past them and opening the door to the staircase. “But you might want to hold off on that.” And before anyone could say anything, he was racing up the stairs.
“Calmly!” Timothy snapped when several shouted in consternation, afraid Val was getting away. “Cloak yourselves, and let’s see this through.”
But Val had already embraced Shadowmind. He was as much the shadowy stairwell as the boy sprinting ahead, and he knew he could lose them effortlessly.
But that was the last thing he wanted to do.
The gloom smiled as angry, furtive glares tried to pierce the dimly illuminated hallway leading to the room holding such secrets and peril.
It was only after closing his eyes, sensing the terrible secrets roiling like a thousand coiled snakes a heartbeat away from striking, that he sensed just how perilous their situation truly was.
He had been a fool to think the two idiots a building away were anything more than easily disposed of tools.
Craven wasn't stupid. He wasn't so arrogant as to need to pull the switch, only to see the deed done by hyperion live-feed after no doubt giving his 'valued associates' the honor. Far better for him that tools and targets alike die in one hideously potent blast. Leaving no loose ends, or minds that could ever be read.
For all Val knew, they had been unwitting pawns in a gambit to see him right here, right now, death just a heartbeat away.
He could feel the blood roaring in his skull, panic just a heartbeat away. There were dozens of containers filled with explosives, each with different materials and concentrations, all of them at risk of being catalyzed with a single shift in the electromana field. Even the neutralization of one container risked suddenly catalyzing another.
Val squeezed his fists tight, determined not to panic, to see his target not as individual units but as one great and terrible whole that needed the application of a dozen different degrees of force and pressure, all at the same time.
With a deep, shuddering breath he immersed his sense of self with the deadly containers, slowly touching them all with his will, stabilizing exothermics so volatile they could have easily exploded without any switchbox at all.
Only then did he squeeze tight and lock his will upon them, surprised at how difficult it had been.
He took a shuddering breath, back to himself, blinking at Timothy’s angry glare, Psiblade just inches from Val’s face.
“No more games, nephew. This ends now. You’re coming with us.”
Congratulations! You have managed to keep from being near instantly converted to superheated ash! With a dozen different caustic combinations and concentrations in use, some with chunks of actual Altersian crystals in the mix, it’s almost like they were expecting someone incredibly foolhardy to try to stabilize the brew before setting off unexpected cascades that would have seen the interloper turned instantly to meat soup!
Either that, or you're just fated for endless excitement!
Stabilization is now Rank 4!
Timothy’s gaze hardened. “Now, nephew.”
Val forced himself to speak. “I was a fool,” he whispered.
“You were. But if I had your gifts, I might have done the same.”
Val
shook his head. “No, not that. I mean all of this. I thought I knew just what to expect. Now I fear I underestimated that bastard.”
Timothy frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Val shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, now. All that matters is that before you try to cart me off to my execution, you open that door and look at what's been waiting for you since the moment you took that contract.”
Val turned his gaze to meet a dozen suspicious eyes. “What has been waiting for all of you, the moment you trusted a monster to keep his word.”
“Enough!” Timothy snapped. “You’re coming with me.”
Val flashed a grim smile, slowly putting his hand on the door. Timothy glared, but did not strike. Val stepped back slowly, calmly, no jerking unexpected movements, praying Timothy wouldn’t cut him down. Hardly warranted for the inconvenience of having to shift a few steps closer to Val who, with a calculated twist of the knob that crumpled with his 22 strength, was pushing open the flimsy door and gesturing for Timothy to enter.
“Go ahead. Take a look at what awaits all those who trust the word of a Highlord, and ask yourself again how I know the names and faces of the pair guarding Faith just below this room.”
Timothy furrowed his brow, only entering when Val, hands raised, led the way, his uncle’s Psiblade at his back.
He held back a smile at the hisses and curses suddenly filling the central foyer of that suite.
“By Phoebe, there are dozens of sealed containers in here!” said one voice amongst the dozen gazing inside.
“Yes there are,” Val said, cube once more in hand. “Now if any of you skilled in the use of exothermics were to examine the contents in any one of these containers, you would realize just how perilous your situation was.”
Timothy frowned, wasting no time. Perhaps it was a measure of trust that he bothered to turn around and catch Val’s gaze. “Is it safe?”
Val nodded. “It’s stable for the moment. I cut the cord the switch was secured to.” He held up the detonator, a few inches of cord still dangling from it. “And if you look at the wires connecting all those chrome barrels… you’ll see it perfectly matches the cord used on the detonator.”
Oblivion's Crown Page 63
