Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 103
But they couldn’t stop to admire the boy’s progress. Samara was dropping all who advanced on her while the emmik overseer beside her was both casting spells as well as directing more troops their way.
A wave of mercenaries crashed down on the defenders, and many from both sides fell in the onslaught.
Bud was fighting for his life, using every last one of his pirate tricks to stave off a killing blow against superior numbers. Henni was doing the same, but the sheer quantity of assailants was just too great.
“Aaah!” the violet-haired girl cried out as a sword sliced into her side.
Bud spun and saw the rapidly spreading stain on her shirt. Rage and concern flooded his body, and despite being outnumbered, he began tearing through the men blocking the path between him and Henni with gusto.
It was a ballet of death and dismemberment, Bud using a sword in each hand as well as casting from his konus as he moved. He would be utterly drained and exhausted tomorrow. If they survived, that is. But for the moment, he was a whirlwind of ferocity on a rampage.
As Henni clamped her hand over her wound and struggled to fight off her attackers, a strange crackling of magic flashed in her eyes. That power unique to her and her alone. But she could not control it. Hell, she didn’t even know what it could do.
Struggling with the odd sensation, she caught a glimpse of Bud and the concern in his eyes. But then she had her hair snatched from behind, yanking her off her feet. Before she could react, a brutal stun spell followed immediately, slamming her to unconsciousness.
“Bring her!” the Council overseer instructed his men over his skree, safe in his vantage point beside Samara.
“No. Not the girl,” Samara said as she slew another foolish native trying to stop them. “This was to be an assault to disable that troublesome smuggler’s ship, nothing else.”
The emmik laughed. “So far as you were told, perhaps. But I have my orders.”
“I said no,” Samara replied, her gaze icy. “We are not kidnappers. We are not slavers.”
“We are today,” the emmik said, returning her hard stare. “You know who issued those orders.”
The angry tension hung crackling in the air between them a long moment, but Samara reluctantly relented, watching silently as the young violet-haired woman was rushed from the battlefield.
“Know your place, woman,” the man said as he cast several violent spells, clearing the path for his mercenary goons carrying their captive.
A roar rose up from the streets behind them.
“It would seem we have more company,” the emmik mused. “And they are between us and our ship. It would seem it is finally time for you to earn your keep, assassin. Get to work.”
Samara sighed, then shifted her grip on her blade, ready to take on the next wave of defenders. For a great many of them, it would be the final, albeit heroic, thing they would ever do.
Chapter Sixty
The fighting in the streets was at a fever pitch not far from Corann’s home, and the ground was slick with blood. Much of it had been spilled at the hands of the mysterious figure none of the locals recognized.
Disguised, Corann was in her element, mowing down scores of Council troops and their mercenary support goons. It had been such a long time since her early, bloody years, and she’d only performed precise, limited executions for longer than she cared to admit. But this? This felt like coming home in a way.
Abruptly, a signal went out to the skrees of the attackers, and as a unit, all seemed to begin falling back at once. But that was not so easy as it might have sounded. With the battle in full-tilt, simply turning and walking away was simply not an option. Especially as more reinforcements from neighboring towns began flooding into the streets to help their friends defend against the intruders.
Corann flowed through the crowd, careful to avoid the blows of not only the enemy, but also those of her own people who did not recognize her in her disguise. Her blades and spells made quick work of those foolish enough to cross her path, but she was attempting to do more than merely slaughter the enemy. She was looking for answers.
Someone had come to her world. Attacked her city. But now they were suddenly leaving, and without a prize in hand. It made no sense.
“The boy,” she realized.
Happizano had already been taken by the Council once, and they had attempted to re-take him a second time. It seemed impossible, but somehow, they had tracked him down to her world and were trying to capture him once more. To force his father to do their dirty work. And, she feared, to steal his nascent power, if they could.
She spun on her heel and raced back toward her house, hoping the others had held strong.
Bud was furiously mowing his way through the retreating Council forces, keeping Hap close at his back as he charged ahead toward the men carrying Henni’s unconscious form.
But the kidnappers had the advantage of not only numbers, but also the ease of passage granted by having the ranks of their fellow combatants part to let them pass while Bud had to fight his way through like a fish swimming upstream against a vicious current, his young ward close in his shadow.
“They’re taking Henni!” Hap cried out as he wildly slashed at a passing Tslavar mercenary with his knife.
The man stumbled as the blade dug into his leg, allowing Bud a clear shot to finish the man with his sword. The boy and the pirate had fallen into an unlikely rhythm, working together as a single unit. Happizano, it seemed, had stepped up to the challenge and then some.
A roar echoed out across the clashing ranks as a cluster of what appeared to be more elite fighters charged from the invading mass right toward Bud and Hap. It seemed they had come for Hap as well. Or, at least, they saw an opportunity when it presented itself.
“Stay close,” Bud said, steeling himself for a fight he knew he could not win.
He counted over a dozen armored men and women racing toward them. His options were limited, and there was simply no chance of escape. This was his last stand. And if it was to be, he was damn sure going to make one hell of a show of it.
Bud gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his weapons while drawing upon his most violent spells. There wasn’t much magic left in his konus, but it would be enough to take at least a few of the attackers with him.
A blast of violent magic ripped into the charging horde, tearing the outermost three to shreds while tossing the others aside as though they were rag dolls. Moments later, a pale duo raced through the survivors, ensuring that particular status was short-lived.
The glowing blue blade in Hozark’s hand cleaved heads from necks and limbs from bodies with laughable ease as the master assassin unleashed hell on the woefully outmatched mercenary force.
Demelza, likewise, was making quick work of those in her immediate vicinity as she and Hozark provided their friends with a little breathing room.
“They’ve taken Henni!” Bud shouted out, pointing to where the unconscious girl was being carried into the waiting ship.
Hozark reacted at once, tearing into the hapless fighters who happened to be in his way as he ran toward the ship. Standing in the open hatch watching the violet-haired young woman being loaded aboard, stood a familiar face. One with her own glowing blue sword in hand.
Samara sensed his presence before she even saw him, looking out across the battlefield until she finally locked eyes with her former lover.
“Why am I not surprised?” Hozark growled as he charged forward with all of his might.
Samara, however, did not move to engage. The emmik directing the attack whispered in her ear then disappeared into the ship. The former Ghalian sheathed her vespus blade and cracked a tiny, pained smile, then turned and followed.
The hatch sealed behind them, and the ship lifted off into the air without further ado. The other forces were clearly retreating to their own ships as well. Whatever their intent, they were done. But why Henni?
Hozark rushed back to the others, the fight thinned to a trickle as the attackers now wanted nothing to do with anyone on this world. He saw Demelza crouching next to Happizano, checking him for injuries. She flashed a quick thumbs-up to him, then shifted her attentions to Bud.
He sported a fair share of small injuries, but nothing life threatening. But his eyes spoke of a deeper harm. Henni had been snatched from his protection, and that cut as deep as any blade ever could.
“They took Henni,” Bud said, his voice quivering with angry emotion. “They took her, but they didn’t even try for Hap. Why would they do that?”
“I do not know, my friend. But we will find out,” Hozark replied.
A blood-streaked figure burst from the nearby side street and raced right toward them. Hap’s eyes went wide, and he began to wind up to throw his knife, but Hozark stayed his hand.
“Steady, young Jinnik. She is with us.”
Corann knelt by the boy and briefly revealed herself through her disguise spell. “Are you okay, Hap?” she asked before slipping her disguise back in place.
“Yeah, I guess. But how did you do that?”
“A Ghalian trick,” she replied, once more looking nothing like herself.
“Can you teach me?”
The disguised face didn’t show it, but Hozark could almost sense the smile beneath it. “That might be able to be arranged,” she replied, then turned to Hozark. “It was Maktan who orchestrated this.”
“Are you certain?”
“I extracted that bit of information from a captured Council fighter.”
“You did that in the heat of battle?” Bud asked incredulously.
“Let us say that I was quite motivated to find some answers. They attacked my world, Uzabud. And that cannot be allowed to pass.”
“The contract on Maktan was a decoy, Corann. Meant to draw us away. I assume they thought you would accompany us as well, leaving this place entirely unprotected.”
“Hey!”
“I am sorry, Bud. But you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Hozark turned back to Corann. “He knew of your homeworld, Corann. This goes beyond a mere contract now.”
“I agree,” she replied. “It is time to end him. At once.”
Across the rapidly emptying battlefield, Laskar came running at a rapid clip, his blade still drawn and blood smeared on his face. Blood that did not appear to be his own.
“The ship’s okay,” he gasped, winded. “They were trying to disable it. I managed to get close enough to engage the layered defensive shielding. But it still took a pounding. They sent some pretty serious casters.” He noted his friend’s off demeanor. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“They took Henni,” Bud said.
“Henni? Why would they take Henni?”
“I don’t know. But you said the ship is safe?”
“Yeah. It’s a little beat-up, but it’s intact.”
“Then we need to go after her.”
“We must remove the threat Maktan poses,” Corann said.
“Who’s that?” the copilot asked.
“Corann. She’s in disguise,” Bud replied.
“Really? That’s Corann? Wow, impressive casting,” he said, squinting at the camouflaged woman.
“Thank you,” the Ghalian master replied. “Now, we must move, and quickly at that if we hope to strike Maktan while things are still in disarray.”
“But Henni––” Bud said.
“We will retrieve her while we move to end this rogue visla’s threat.” She turned to the other assassins. “Notify the order. We shall strike at all of Maktan’s likely locations at once. We do not know where he truly is, but if the fates favor us, one of us will succeed.”
“But that might take some time to get in motion, and Henni needs us now,” Bud said.
“Yes, we know,” Hozark replied. “And that is why we shall pursue at once.”
Chapter Sixty-One
Gearing up to chase after the kidnapped girl should have been a difficult endeavor. She could be anywhere, after all, but Corann immediately reached out to all of her eyes and ears on and around the planet and learned something surprising.
The surface assault ship that had taken Henni had ascended to join up with the larger craft that had remained in orbit during the assault. And it seemed that it had encountered more than a few angry locals in its flight, thoroughly delaying its docking and delaying their jump away.
It was interesting that the overseeing ships had opted to remain in orbit. Apparently, the big wigs had decided to steer clear of the actual fighting but wanted to be present for the show. And that little mistake could very well be their undoing.
“We haven’t much time,” Corann said as she joined the others rushing into Bud’s mothership. “If the base ships retrieve their away craft, they will jump.”
“How many?” the pilot asked as he fired up his Drookonus and prepped the ship for launch.
“Three larger ships,” the Ghalian master replied.
“You get that, Hozark?” Bud asked over his open skree, not caring one bit if anyone was listening in. An ass kicking was coming their way, and he had no problem at all telegraphing it.
“I did. We shall make our own way as soon as we reach our vessels. It should not take us more than a few minutes to launch,” the assassin replied.
It was broadcast in the clear.
It was also a cleverly played misdirection.
Hozark and Demelza had actually already exited the atmosphere and were streaking toward the trio of Council craft. The Ghalian were using their shimmer cloaks to hide their approach, even though they tended to be less effective in space.
But with the chaos of the many smaller ships badgering the departing Council attack groups, it would provide them enough cover to draw close unseen. Or so they hoped.
Each would latch onto one of the larger vessels and make a silent ingress. It was a crapshoot which ship Henni would be taken to. They just had to hope their random selection was the right one.
Hozark dodged a few small craft that were in hot pursuit of one of the Council attack ships. They appeared to be pirate ships, though small in nature. But it was entirely possible they had been at the trading and commerce centers when this all broke out and decided to jump into the fray.
After all, where there was fighting, there was quite often profit to be had. But Hozark paid them no further mind. He had a far more specific task at hand, and it would require all of his attention.
He spun into a quick dive and approached the back of the Council ship nearest him, just as he knew Demelza would be doing on one of the other two base craft. He applied a trio of clamping spells strong enough to hold his ship in place should the larger craft unexpectedly jump while he was still aboard, then engaged the umbilical spell providing him an airway as he breached the hull.
He paused a moment, using a tiny rent in the hull to sense for crew or magical wards beneath him. None seemed to be present, so he cast the full force spell and parted the material enough to enter, then quickly sealed it back up and applied a camouflaging spell to the small breach.
He could have sealed it to the point where it would have been good as new, but when it was time for a rapid escape, the extra casting to force the repaired hull open again might wind up taking too much time. A weakened seam was far preferable in this instance.
Hozark paused and surveyed his entry point. It seemed he had boarded the ship within someone’s quarters. Someone with rank, from what it appeared, given the lack of bunks. This was good. This meant the odds of being spotted were far less than had he dropped into the crew showers or some such.
Hozark examined the uniform in the closet and quickly cast a disguise spell to alter his own appearance to mimic that of the crew. He also darkened his pale-white skin to a copperish tone, further helping him blend in.
There would be a full complement of crew from a wide range of worlds and races aboard a ship of this nature. He just needed to be like them enough to walk freely. A ship this size, the odds were he could go unnoticed for some time before his presence was questioned.
As for his vespus blade, however, that would draw attention. A non-standard weapon was most unusual. But in a combat situation, the crew would be armed. He simply had to alter his carrying style from the secure spot on his back, to the less secure position on his hip.
A minor glamour he cast on the blade would make it seem like just another sword, barring close inspection. With that final piece in place, Hozark stepped out into the corridor and began making his way through the ship.
The layout was a bit unusual, but familiar nonetheless. It was clearly a visla’s craft, judging by the degree of opulence built into the normally utilitarian structure. That meant that Maktan had to be close. He smiled at his good fortune. If all went to plan, he could rescue Henni and kill Maktan in one run. Two birds with one stone, as it were.
But first, he had to find the girl, and that meant the landing hangar where the assault craft would be returning.
Hozark walked quickly––but not too quickly––in that direction, moving with the urgency of someone on a task. Someone following orders.
He had given himself a low-ranking uniform, thus making him seem more like a peon doing as he was told. He was all the less likely to be questioned that way, and better able to talk his way out of any queries if he was stopped.
“Hey, you can’t go in there,” a guard said as Hozark reached the hangar door.
“But I was told to deliver a message in person,” the assassin said, even managing to make his voice waver in fear as he told the lie.
“That doesn’t matter. No one passes but the visla.”
“The visla is down here?” Hozark gasped.
“No, idiot. He’s in command.” The man’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What unit are you wit––”
The blade dove into his heart before he could finish the question, and his body was stashed in the nearest compartment before his blood could even stain the deck. Hozark was not wasting time. Not today. Not with Henni’s life on the line and Visla Maktan nearby.
