Space Assassins: The Complete Series 1-5, page 89
“Why? You guys run everything,” Happizano asked.
“Because, young Jinnik, sometimes even the most powerful of us might find themselves in a difficult situation. One where they might be pressured to reveal things. Things such as the whereabouts of the most secret Ghalian healing facility.”
“You mean there are people who could catch you?” he asked with a bit of disbelief.
“None are infallible,” Hozark replied.
“Infall...”
“Infallible. It means incapable of making a mistake.”
“A word for the careless and weak-willed,” Laskar said with a self-satisfied chuckle.
Hozark stared at the cocky copilot a moment, then turned back to the boy. “And trust me, Happizano, no matter one’s confidence and skill, everyone makes mistakes.”
Laskar snort-chuckled. He obviously knew that to be the case, but one such as he didn’t make many mistakes. At least, so he believed.
Had Bud been with them, he’d have certainly given his copilot a hearty ration of shit for his overconfidence, but he and Demelza were working with Corann to install upgraded defensive spells to his mothership while prepping for whatever potential fight would undoubtedly come their way.
Demelza had initially planned on joining the trip to the Ghalian healer as well. Aargun had trained with her shortly before his injuries, after all, but Corann had personally asked her to stay behind and work with Uzabud in his labors.
Having one such as her helping the former pirate would make certain the somewhat novel Ghalian spells were properly locked in place. Bud was talented, no doubt, but given the nature of their most recent conflicts, the leader of the Five wanted to take absolutely no chances.
Demelza knew her point was entirely valid, and she would undoubtedly visit Aargun soon, as she had a few times since his initial injury. Master Prombatz would understand her absence, and she knew the injured Ghalian would as well.
Sometimes, duty took priority, and this was one such time. And so it was that only Hozark, Laskar, Happizano, Henni, and Prombatz were aboard the craft as it flew to its secret destination.
Additional spells were layered over the ship’s hull, ensuring no form of tracking magic could attach to the craft and reveal its course. But even so, the pilots took multiple additional jumps to random systems and the places between.
It may have seemed excessive, but they were heading to the location of the most vulnerable of their brothers and sisters. The seriously injured.
Minor wounds could be healed just about anywhere, and a great many healers were on the Ghalian payroll for just such emergencies. But for truly severe cases, only one place would do. A facility hidden in plain sight on an innocuous world, holding the most severely injured assassins. Those who might not survive their hurt, regardless of the skills of those treating them.
Aargun had been one such patient, but despite the severity of his wounds, the young man possessed a strength uncommon even among his older peers. His eyes and tongue would never grow back, and he could not continue on his lifelong path toward being a Ghalian assassin, but he would live.
And that was more than many could say.
The ship touched down within the compound at its relatively small landing facility. The passengers would unload, then the craft would relocate to the larger landing field at the outskirts of the city until it was needed once more.
“Now, while I am sure you are cognizant of the situation within these walls, I would nevertheless remind you three that this is a place of healing,” Prombatz said as they walked into the building from their shielded arrival site. “As such, please act accordingly. Some of the patients here are suffering more than just physical injuries, so, please, be respectful of their circumstances.”
The three non-Ghalian nodded their understanding and followed the master assassin into the belly of the building. Hozark came behind, taking up the rear of the procession.
It was a well-lit place of healing energy, and the many open and airy rooms were populated with pale killers in varying state of recovery, their mending improved by the magically charged air of the location as well as the skills of the staff.
From within those walls, even the most basic information about the city, the world, and even the system they were in, was blocked by the spells locked in place above. Not even the color of the sun could be discerned.
“They’re all so young,” Henni noticed, pointing this out in a hushed voice.
“Yes, a great many are,” Prombatz replied. “But not all. While the benefit of age and experience often confers a bit of protection from some injuries simply by muscle memory, we are all vulnerable, nonetheless.”
Henni and the others nodded their understanding, but the age and skill differential of those at this facility compared to the assassins they had been traveling with was a stark reminder that not all Wampeh Ghalian were as seemingly invincible as the top-tier killers they had been spending so much time with.
Prombatz led the way down the corridors to the room he had visited so many times in the months since his young aspiring student’s injuries. The staff nodded to him as he passed, giving the master Ghalian and his guests a respectful bit of space as they made their way to Aargun’s room.
The wounded aspirant Ghalian was seated in a large chair, basking in the warmth of the sun’s rays filtering through the spell-shielded window. The magic was carefully placed to alter the color and heat to ensure no burning of patients no matter how long they rested in its comforting light.
Across the room, a table held a few weapons, and a wooden block rested against the wall. The assassin’s favored weapons, never to be used on a contract again.
The wounded man turned his head slightly as the visitors approached. He may have lost his eyes and tongue, but his remaining senses had sharpened even further for the lack of them.
“Aargun, I have brought friends today. Those who travel with Hozark and Demelza. She sends her regards, by the way, but another task required her presence today.”
Aargun nodded his understanding.
“Hello. I’m Happizano,” Hap said, unsure exactly how to greet the man. Should he shake hands? Or give a little bow? Ultimately, he opted for just a simple verbal greeting.
Aargun’s eyes were covered with small bandages, but he turned and gave a little nod directly to the boy. Laskar watched with fascination, and he wondered exactly what the blind man could still do despite lacking vision.
He’d seen some amazing feats by the assassins he traveled with, and the odds of Aargun still being quite lethal was undoubtedly high. He would not be carrying out any contracts, but so long as he could hear clearly, he could most likely handle himself should any wish to cause him harm.
“I’m Laskar,” the copilot said, shifting silently to his left as he spoke.
Aargun tracked his movement despite lacking eyes and nodded a small greeting, confirming Laskar’s assumption about his senses.
“He seems to have an amazing sense of what’s around him,” Laskar said. “I wonder if he’s still got his Ghalian tricks up his sleeve.”
“He is blind and mute, not deaf,” Prombatz said. “And a Ghalian never loses his nature.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to speak about you in the third person,” he apologized.
Aargun nodded, an eyebrow slightly arched with mild amusement.
“I’m Henni,” the violet-haired woman said, walking up to him and putting her hands on his shoulders.
It was an unexpectedly personal greeting, especially from so standoffish a woman, but she and Aargun seemed to connect on some level, and her comforting touch was greeted with a little smile as he gently rested his hands on her waist. Henni smiled, squeezed once, then stepped back.
Laskar watched with a confused look on his face. “So, I guess you must be taking up some new hobbies,” he said, turning to Prombatz. “What sort of things do they have to help keep him busy in here? I’d imagine it must get a bit––”
A small knife flashed through the air and thudded smack-dab in the center of the wooden block across the room.
Laskar spun back to the blind assassin. Aargun turned his sightless face to the startled man and grinned.
“What the hell?”
Henni walked to the wooden block and pulled the knife free, sliding it back into the sheath hidden within her coat from where he had stealthily taken it.
“What?” she asked innocently.
“That was so cool!” Hap gushed. “Can you teach me that?”
“Aargun is not a teacher,” Prombatz said, “but I am sure he would be glad to demonstrate the technique for you further. However, I think you might be more interested in something else he has been working on.” He turned to Hozark. “I think you may find this quite interesting as well, brother.”
Aargun did not wait for a go-ahead, sliding on a konus then holding out his hands gently, furrowing his brow ever so slightly.
“What’s he doing?” Laskar asked.
“Wait and see,” Prombatz replied.
They all stood silently observing the blind, mute man, and it took nearly a minute for anything to happen, but when it did, all were shocked.
“How is he doing that?” Laskar asked, staring with true shock at the faint illumination glow hovering above Aargun’s hands. “He’s not saying anything. He shouldn’t be able to cast without saying the words.”
Aargun smiled as he relaxed, allowing the glow to fade. It was the most basic, beginner level of casting. A simple illumination spell taught to all children at a young age to help them cope with their fear of the dark.
And he was casting it without words.
It should have been impossible. The sounds, discovered and refined over millennia, were what made the spell, though it was the intent behind them that ultimately made the spell function or fail.
And, yet, here was a man with no tongue somehow casting. Sure, it was a beginner’s spell, but that was utterly beside the point.
Hozark and Prombatz shared a look. This was exceptional. Extraordinary, in fact. And it made the two masters wonder just what else might be possible that they did not yet know.
“We have long known that certain older magic could be cast silently. The ancient Zomoki could do so, for instance,” Hozark mused.
“But they’ve been extinct for centuries,” Laskar said.
“Yes, ever since the incident with Visla Balamar,” Prombatz agreed. “However, perhaps some aspect of their ability exists in other species.”
“And as Aargun was already an accomplished caster when this injury befell him, that may have given him the advantage that those attempting this from scratch might never have had,” Hozark noted. “A fascinating turn of events, Prombatz. And very well done, Aargun. You continue to do the order proud.”
The blind Wampeh could not answer, but the little smile that graced his lips spoke far more than words ever could.
“Now, would you be up to perhaps guiding a lesson for our young guests?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Aargun may have been blind, but that did not hinder the muscle memory of years upon years of training. He had always been proficient with blades, and as soon as one was in his hands, eyes or no, he felt at ease.
There was a certain comforting meditation that came with moving through familiar motions ingrained since his youth. And now he was teaching a pair of newcomers the art of the blade.
Technically, Aargun was not a Ghalian teacher and should not have been giving instruction, but, with Master Prombatz and Master Hozark’s encouragement, he was glad to show the basics to Henni and Happizano.
“Every blade has a center of balance,” Master Prombatz said, providing a voice for the mute assassin as he demonstrated the principle, balancing a knife on his index finger at the flat spot where the blade met the grip. “Some are more forward weighted, others more to the rear. Others still are perfectly central in their weight. All of this makes a difference in how you shall wield the weapon. Henni, what do you make of this?” he asked as Aargun held out the knife for the young woman to examine.
She took it and turned it in her hands. This one was not one of her own daggers, but a longer variety with a sturdy blade. The grip was not particularly rough, though, and she thought it might be a poor choice for so-called wet work.
She felt the balance of the knife, carefully noting how it rested in her hand.
“I think it’s probably more of a throwing knife than a stabbing one,” she said. “The blade’s not over weighted, but it’s still pretty substantial, and the point seems like it was designed to take a bit more abuse than some of the more delicate dagger styles.”
Aargun smiled and nodded his approval.
“Yes, that is correct,” Prombatz said for him. “Your instincts serve you well.”
Aargun drew a different knife from a sheath hidden somewhere on his body, as Ghalian assassins were wont to do. Typically, none saw them draw one, though, and those few who did, did not live long enough to tell of it.
That one recently bedridden, blind, and mute would still be hiding weapons on his person, despite being in as safe an environment as possible, might have struck an outsider as a bit odd, but Hozark and Prombatz would have expected nothing less.
“Happizano, what do you think of this one?” Prombatz asked as Aargun extended the knife, handle first, to the boy. Again, he moved with unerring accuracy.
Hap took it from his hand and studied it a moment. Unlike Henni, he didn’t possess the natural proclivity for violence and general stabby behavior, but he had been learning a thing or two from his new friends.
“I don’t really know,” the boy said. “But this one looks a lot smaller, so maybe it’s meant to be carried around?”
Aargun nodded, then gestured for him to go on.
“And? What else?” Prombatz urged.
“Uh, well, it seems to be balanced right at the middle,” Hap said, resting the knife on his finger as he’d just been taught. “And the tip is still pretty solid. So, maybe it’s for throwing too?”
Aargun smiled and nodded, then gestured toward the wooden block.
“Throw it?” the youth asked.
Aargun nodded.
“But I’ve never thrown a knife before.”
“Aargun has shown you the basics of the technique,” Prombatz said. “Now all you need to do is practice and develop a feel for it.”
“Go on, Hap. You’ve got this,” Henni said, eagerly watching.
“Yes, young Jinnik. Do not fear. We all required a bit of time to learn––”
The knife flew across the room and stuck in the wooden block. Not in the center, and skewed off at an angle, barely penetrating the wood, but it had stuck nonetheless.
Hap grinned brightly.
“Or in your case, perhaps a bit less time. Most impressive,” Hozark said, patting Hap on the shoulder.
Laskar let out an exaggerated sigh. “This is boring. Let’s see how that magic stuff works.”
“I am afraid that is not possible,” Prombatz said. “But improving your knife skills is.”
“I don’t see the big deal,” Laskar said, casually throwing the knife carried on his belt. It flew true, landing in the center of the target.
“You used magic,” Prombatz noted, a tad surprised.
“Well, of course.”
“He possesses a small bit of internal power,” Hozark explained. “Not much by any standards, but it seems to help him on occasion with certain things. Apparently, knife-throwing is one of them.”
Laskar seemed a bit put out by not being able to learn to use the strange power Aargun had tapped into, but he let it go. For now, at least.
“My turn!” Henni said, pulling the twin daggers from her sheaths and throwing them in quick succession.
The first flew true, sticking in the wood with a satisfying thunk. The second went a bit askew, bouncing off the wall to the side.
“Oops. Sorry.”
“It is of no concern,” Prombatz said.
Aargun reached out, and Henni placed her hands in his. He moved them one after the other, demonstrating the rhythm required for dual wielding. It took a moment, but Henni nodded her understanding.
“The key to successive throws is to––” Prombatz began.
“Yeah, I got it,” she said, retrieving her knives, as well as the one Hap had thrown.
Prombatz looked at Hozark with a raised brow.
Henni’s ability to read others seemed to function quite well with Aargun. Despite his lacking a tongue, she could discern what he was trying to impart to her without much difficulty at all.
It was a striking demonstration of the potential Corann had told him about. The possibilities of the odd, violet-haired girl’s powers. But for now, her talents still seemed limited.
“Henni, would you mind helping Happizano and Laskar with Aargun’s instructions?” Hozark asked. “Master Prombatz and I have things we need to discuss.”
“Sure thing, Hozark,” the young woman said.
The two masters stepped from the room, leaving them to continue their lesson with the unlikely instructor.
“This has been a good thing, Hozark,” Prombatz said. “It is therapeutic for Aargun to engage with people like this. He was always one of the more social of our students, and this is doing him much good.”
“Yes, I can see,” Hozark replied. “And it has also been a good lesson for our guests, beyond the martial skills they are learning. Seeing the other side of Ghalian life is important. Understanding that, no matter how skilled one may be, it is always possible to be on the losing end of a conflict.”
“Indeed.”
“Aargun seems to be recovering quite well. But have the healers ever figured out what exactly was done to him?”
Prombatz furrowed his brow slightly at the thought of what had been done to his young student.
“The details of his torture and the experimentation that was performed upon him are, unfortunately, lost. His eyes were the first thing taken from him, and shortly thereafter, his tongue. That much he relayed in writing when asked, but after that, he does not recall a thing.”
