Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 40
“Getting people to talk is my strong suit,” he replied.
“Talking is your strong suit,” Bud chimed in. “Just stick to the plan.”
“When do I not?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
That left Corann and Hozark with the smaller crate. One they would carry by hand. And that crate would be taken to the heart of the stronghold. To the visla’s chambers. There, she would unleash the power of the claithe if necessary and do whatever it might take to reclaim their captive brother from this place.
“Be safe, and be smart,” Hozark said. “The workers here have no reason to expect an attack, but they are also very familiar with the Council members and their aides, so be cautious what you say and to whom. Remember your role, and stick to your part of the plan.”
The group nodded as one and headed off in different directions. The basic layout of the place wasn’t much of a secret, since it was simply occupied when the Council took over this world. Yes, modifications had been made over the years, but the foundational design was the same.
The interior of the stronghold possessed a multitude of outdoor courtyard spaces, some quite large, a holdover from the old days when pirates would host great feasts and festivities, the smaller ships actually landing in some of the larger ones to offload alcohol, food, and entertainment.
That aspect was largely unchanged, and the route toward the inner chambers the visla would most likely be using was as they’d expected it to be. What they hadn’t expected was the cries of a beast ringing out through the walls. And this was not a guard animal; it was obviously captive and in pain.
“Is that a Zomoki?” Hozark mused as he and Corann moved along as if nothing was wrong.
“I believe so. But what could they be doing to such a beast to cause that reaction?” she replied.
Neither had a clue, but that question was soon answered when they passed out into one of the courtyards on their way to their destination. It was the fastest route, avoiding twists and turns of the corridors inside. It also lay bare the mystery of the crying beast.
Zomoki were there. Medium-sized specimens, but quite large regardless. Hozark and Corann shared a look as they passed the still creatures. Both of the Zomoki lay there with eyes open but not seeing. They would never see again, it was quite clear.
Someone had killed them. But not an outright slaughter. No, these magnificent, magical animals had clearly been experimented on. And while they were still breathing, from the looks of it. Just like the dead Wampeh Hozark had seen at the smelting facility. Now the cries of their cousin made sense, but the machinations at work did not. Someone was engaged in dark things, but to what end, they could only guess.
The two Ghalian carefully avoided the deadly Zomoki blood that had dripped onto the stones and made their way to the far doorway leading back into the halls.
Inside the hallways once more, Hozark and Corann made good time toward their goal, walking with purpose, but also the casual demeanor of one not at all concerned about anything.
Anything like breaking into a Council stronghold to fight off guards, mercenaries, and a visla, for example.
“Hold there,” the nearest guard said when they arrived at the doors to what had to be the visla’s chambers. “What are you doing here? This area is off limits to all but the visla’s staff.”
“Oh, we’re here to see the visla,” Corann said in her sweetest tone. “We have a valuable delivery for him.”
“No one makes deliveries here. Only at the depot.” He turned to the other guard. “Scan them.”
The guard summoned up a scanning spell, reciting the words with the bored tone of years of repetition. But the intent behind the words was there, and that was what made a spell work, ultimately. A faint green glow encompassed the two interlopers and their cargo, then abruptly flashed bright red.
The guards drew their blades at once.
“Show me your hands!”
“What seems to be the problem?” Corann asked in her motherly way.
“You’re wielding magic, that’s what.”
“Oh, young man. We are not wielding magic. We’re delivering it,” she said, slowly opening the top of the crate to expose the contents within.
“Is that––” the guard said, his eyes going wide with disbelief as he lowered his blade, a hand reaching out in disbelief.
Inside the crate, a thick braid of golden hair lay coiled with several other items of great value. Items sacrificed from the Ghalian vaults that were now playing their part as intended.
“Don’t touch!” Corann chided, smacking his hand like a mother would a child reaching into a cookie jar.
Little did the man know, the contents were set to burn in a magical fire if anyone but she or Hozark were to touch them. A safeguard in this deadly place.
“Yes, it is Ootaki hair,” Corann continued. “Not first cut, mind you, but a respectable length just the same. We were told to deliver this.”
This particular Ootaki hair had fallen into the order’s possession during an assassination not too long ago. Once the target had been eliminated, it would have been foolish to leave so potent a source of magic for his replacement to find. And so, it had been stored in the Ghalian vault.
Until now.
The Ootaki magic had set off the scanning spell alarm, as intended. And as their real weapons were masked by strands of that same hair, the impression was maintained that it was simply the braid making the alarm trigger.
Corann kept her distance, though, being sure not to touch the golden braid. If she were to handle it while wearing the claithe, there was no telling what might happen.
It was a very weak bit of magic-storing hair they had brought from the Ghalian vaults, but even an old and largely drained length of it could still have unknown effects on the unstable weapon, and that was the option of last resort.
“I’ll take it to them,” the guard said, coming to his senses.
“We were given explicit orders to deliver it personally. Where is the visla?”
“Which one?”
Corann flowed with the startling revelation that not one but two Council vislas were present. “The visla, of course.”
“Like I said, which one? Visla Torund or Visla Ravik?”
“Visla Torund, of course. Is he available, or is he with that captured assassin we’ve heard word of?”
“How did you hear about that?” the guard asked.
“The guards at the landing site were talking about it. Is it true? So exciting––it’s a rare thing to capture one alive, you know.”
“They should’ve been keeping their mouths shut,” the guard said. “But no, that one’s held in the upper cells.”
Corann and Hozark shared the briefest of glances. That was what they needed. Aargun’s location. All they had to do was slay these meddlesome guards and they could––
“In any case, the visla is in a meeting in the topmost courtyard with the other Council representatives at the moment,” the guard added.
“A meeting?”
“Yeah. Weird, we don’t usually have so many here at the same time,” the other guard said.
“Shut it,” his counterpart hissed. “We’re not to talk about that.”
“Oh, right. Sorry. I just figured since they’re delivering Ootaki hair it would be okay. I mean, he’ll be thrilled to get that, right?”
“He will, I’m sure,” Corann said, again catching Hozark’s eye. “We’ll bring this to him in the courtyard, then. It’s one of the upper ones, you say? On the terraced rock areas?”
“He’s not to be disturbed. But you can wait here.”
She looked at Hozark a long moment. Aargun was close. Within reach. But there was not one but two vislas from the Council present, as well as who knew how many other representatives of the other members. It was an opportunity they simply could not miss.
“We were told to keep direct contact with this crate at all times,” Hozark said in a bookish way. “So we can’t just leave it here until he’s done. But is there a kitchen nearby where we might get some food while we wait?”
The guards looked at one another and decided this pair was harmless enough. And if they were bringing such an item to the visla, they’d best be treated well, if not as honored guests.
“Down this hall, take a left at the intersection, then the third doorway on your right. There should be someone there to help you find whatever you crave.”
“Thank you so very much. You’ve been an absolutely lovely pair to speak with,” Corann said, even going so far as to pinch the man’s cheek.
She and Hozark lifted their crate and headed off in the direction the man had bade them. Once out of sight and earshot, they drew close and quickly adjusted their plan.
New things were afoot, and they were going to improvise.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The two disguised Wampeh carried their crate of riches down the hallway toward the kitchens, following the guard’s instructions, but abruptly changed course when they were out of his line of sight, heading toward the smaller, upper courtyard where he had said the unexpected meeting was taking place.
Hozark pulled out his skree from the crate and called out to all three of their counterparts, notifying them that Aargun had been located and to pull back from their current locations and convene at the uppermost courtyards in the rocky estate.
It was a dilemma, of a sort. The goal of their incursion was near. Aargun was alive and being held in the upper cells, likely rather near the location of the meeting, if previous layouts of the stronghold were still accurate.
But this was an opportunity to do more than save an aspirant and slay his captor. This was the chance to actually find out what was going on in Council affairs. Affairs that appeared to encompass this kidnapping, as well as the torture of, and experimentation on, Zomoki.
It was too important an opportunity to risk missing that information. And with the visla engaged with other Council members, Aargun would be safe in his cell. For now, at least.
“We determine the number of adversaries, their power, their weapons, and any ingress or escape points. Then we strike,” Corann said. “We have the advantage of surprise. And there are three of us present,” she added with an anticipatory grin.
“They will never expect that,” Hozark agreed. “This is most unusual.”
“And unusual times call for unusual actions, Brother Hozark. Now, let us draw closer and see what we might discern of this meeting.”
The duo knew it might take the others a little time to reach their location, but they could not wait a moment. Too much valuable information might be revealed, and there was no telling when the meeting might end.
“I see four participants in the discussion. Two appear to be vislas; the others are emmiks,” Hozark said, reaching out with his power as he peered out the small window that gazed out onto the courtyard from their location.
“Others?”
“A dozen Tslavar guards, most near the lesser of the magic users. Only one of the guards is near the vislas. Hooded, but the shape of weapons is clear through their cloak.”
“Typical visla overconfidence,” Corann said, feeling the power of the claithe resting on her wrist beneath its covering.
She reached out, carefully, sensing the magic in the air. Yes, there was a substantial amount of it out there, and any head-on fight before their backup arrived would likely result in all of their demise. There were simply too many powered people to deal with at the same time as their guards, even with the element of surprise.
But if they could get closer, somehow, close enough to overhear the conversation, then they might at least glean precious intel while waiting for the others. And from that distance, if they had to, they could likely strike one or more of the key players down, rendering them unconscious and leaving them free to deal with the lesser combatants.
A plan was hatched, and while it was somewhat audacious, that was the nature of their life. A pair of clean cloaks of the basic type Council staff used were pulled from the crate and slipped over their salvager garb. The two then stashed their crate in a nook in the wall.
Some might notice it, but none were expecting trouble in this place, so they would almost certainly just walk by, assuming it had been placed there for a reason.
Hozark took the Ootaki braid and wrapped it around himself. He was still very low on internal power, but the small amount still remaining in the hair would help him power more spells if they were needed.
He made a note to himself that he and the other members of the Three really must put some resources into fully recharging the remaining cache of Ootaki hair in their possession. Its use was not called upon often, but this occasion reinforced the usefulness of it.
With the hair safely secured on his person and safe from Council discovery, Corann led the way back to the kitchens below.
“Drinks and refreshments for the emmik,” she said in a commanding voice. “Chop-chop.”
The staff knew they had visitors, so the appearance of what had to be one of their aides, judging by her cloak, along with her tone of voice––that of one used to ordering staff around––set them to work at once without question. In just a few minutes a large tray was brought forth.
“Hand it to me. I will bring it to them. Now, back to your work,” she said, then spun and stormed out without paying them another thought.
It was almost as if she had actually served in this capacity before. And on several of her deep cover contracts, she had.
Hozark was wearing his sword, but beneath the cloak, secured as it was, its shape was barely noticeable. He took the tray from Corann and acted as her porter. They would quietly and humbly offer refreshments to the attendees, then strike when the moment was right, dealing a blow to the Council, then freeing their Ghalian brother.
“The others must be close,” Hozark said.
“No time to waste,” Corann replied, then opened the door to the courtyard and stepped out into the light as if it were a totally natural thing to do, walking into the lion’s den, so to speak.
It was not a huge space, perhaps twenty meters across, but it was large enough. Not so large as the adjacent courtyard nearby. That would have been overkill for a gathering of this intimate size.
The guards turned, as did one of the emmiks, taking note of the new arrivals.
One of the Tslavar entourage stepped away from the others and met them halfway to the group. “What are you doing here? This is a private meeting.”
He had stopped them just out of clear earshot, and neither assassin dared utter their enhanced hearing spells with the man staring right at them.
“I was told to bring refreshments,” Corann replied with her warmest, kindest smile.
“You’re not part of Uratza’s staff,” he said, eyeing the interlopers more keenly.
“No, we are not. We were pulled from our other tasks to assist,” she said, not daring to go so far as to claim to be part of one of the participants’ entourage.
There was no telling which of them this guard was attached to, or whom he knew among his peers.
The guard looked over the tray in Hozark’s hands, then cast a scanning spell. The food and drink was clear of poisons or enchantments. It was just food and beverages, it seemed.
Corann took one of the smaller, less ornate cups intended for the staff and offered it to the man. “Here, you must be thirsty.”
He reached to accept the offering, then abruptly stopped.
“What’s that on your wrist?” he asked, grabbing Corann roughly by the arm, her sleeve pulled up by the act, revealing not only her claithe, but also her pale, Wampeh skin.
The look of shock on his face was immediately replaced with alert action as he shouted out, “Ghalian!”
Or, attempted to shout out, for Corann slit his throat with a concealed blade before he could complete the word. But it had been enough. The other guards raced to his aid.
It was twelve-on-two, which was ridiculously unfair to the twelve under any other circumstances, but power users were present, and they were the real threat.
“Stop the assass––” a guard shouted, then fell as a thrown dagger pierced his skull.
Hozark recognized the handiwork, and a moment later Demelza was in the fray, Bud racing in right behind her, the two’s arrival allowing the Ghalian masters to focus entirely on the magic user threats.
An emmik was the first to act, casting a violent death spell, hoping to shatter Corann and Hozark’s bodies. Even if they’d recently fed, it should be enough to cripple them, at least.
But he hadn’t counted on one thing. Corann’s claithe.
The Ghalian master countered his spell, drawing the power within her and obliterating the casting while crushing the man who had sent it her way, leaving him in a writhing, broken heap on the stone.
It was far more powerful magic than she had intended to use, and costly, especially with others to still contend with. But the effect was immediate, and it made quite an impression. Even the strongest power users feared the dangerous device.
“A claithe?” the shorter, dark-haired visla said, the realization of just the sort of weapon his would-be killers possessed flashing across his face.
Rather than fight, he turned and ran, as did the remaining emmik, both fleeing into the stronghold.
“Ravik, you coward,” the remaining visla shouted after him. Torund, it would be.
“Laskar! There are an escaping visla and an emmik heading toward the inner sanctum,” Hozark quickly transmitted over his skree. “Stay safe but track them and find where they go. We cannot let them escape. We will come as soon as we can.”
He would have said more, but Corann was weakened from the sudden, massive draw of power. And they still had another threat to deal with. A visla, no less. And he still had his one guard, the lone lackey who had not rushed into the fight with Demelza and Bud.
Slowly, the guard lowered their hood, revealing a pale woman with long black hair and silver eyes. Eyes Hozark knew all too well.
Samara stared at the disguised man with a knowing look, a faint smile cracking the corners of her lips. She knew Hozark. She’d know him anywhere, disguised or not.
