by Scott Baron
“Excellent,” the master assassin said.
“Uh, guys? What the hell are you doing?” Laskar asked.
“Doing?” Hozark said, pulling the rope tight. “We are interrogating, of course.”
Laskar was confused, but a moment later all became clear. “Oh, that poor bastard,” he said with a malicious grin. “If that doesn’t make him talk, nothing will.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“What––where am I?” Arvin asked as the waking spell jerked him back to consciousness.
“Hello, sunshine!” Henni said, then slapped the man across the face.
“Ow! You little bitch! I’ll have you cut to pieces and fed to the––”
At the commotion, the Obanta lunged forward, letting out an angry roar as it did. Its restraining spells held it back, but the deadly claws slashed through the air less than a foot from the confused man’s face. A warm trickle of urine ran down his leg as his bladder released from sheer terror.
Henni trotted back to her waiting friends.
“He’s awake now,” she announced.
“Yes, Henni, I know. That was the purpose of the spell,” Hozark said. “You did not need to slap him to rouse him.”
“Oh, I know. I just wanted to,” she replied with a chipper grin.
She and the others had shed some of their layers as the protective spell holding the elements at bay was actually becoming a bit warm inside with so many bodies present. Or, if not warm, it was not freezing, at least.
The small, magical flame that Demelza had cast was also raising the temperature, ever so gradually. The flickering light made the crystals of the snow dance in a brilliant display that mirrored Henni’s unusual eyes. And the Obanta’s icy fur likewise gleamed from the illumination.
The captive man slowly moved his head, surveying his difficult situation. He was bound at the hands and feet, and had several loops of rope tied around his body, like some kind of kidnapper’s shibari.
The two table legs had been carefully placed between his knees and tied in place, the wood above and below the joint effectively splinting his lower extremities and preventing him from bending his legs, let alone walking. Yet he was standing, somehow. Supported by a tug from behind.
He turned, carefully, to ensure he did not accidentally fall forward into the Obanta’s reach, and saw how he had been bound. Terrified as he was, Arvin had to admit, it was a clever bit of handiwork. The trailing end of the rope ran from between his shoulders and back to a tall, thick ice stake driven into the frozen ground.
It wasn’t a normal rod, but more of an icicle in shape, growing thicker at the top and tapering down to a point. It was that wider aspect that was holding the rope firmly in place. It was solidly constructed and could likely hold his weight indefinitely.
If not for the small flame nearby, that is.
The magical fire was positioned not so close as to immediately melt the icicle. But the tiny drips of water periodically falling from it told the bound man that it would melt through it eventually, in time. And when it did, he would fall forward into the Obanta’s reach.
A flash of chill crept through Arvin’s body as the urine cooled against his leg.
The realization that the cold he felt was not just a strong breeze cutting through his clothing, but because he was completely nude made his entire body prickle with goosebumps.
In this place, freezing to death was a very real possibility if you weren’t careful, and more than one drunk had crossed the rainbow bridge after losing their way in the white.
But these people could have killed him, yet they hadn’t. It confused the trussed-up man, no doubt, but as his senses sharpened as the spell continued to do its work, waking him but also purging the spiked alcohol from his system, his self-control kicked back into gear. Despite the conditions, he was doing his best to hold it together, the assassins noted.
Hozark watched impassively as the man’s eyes finally cleared and his wits returned to him. Arvin glared at the Wampeh with hate in his eyes but said nothing. He looked at the motley group of captors, clearly doing mental calculations about his odds and how he might get even with them.
Though the man was rather deplorable, despite his somewhat cultured façade, and had become a captive for very good reason, Hozark nevertheless admired the fellow’s gumption.
The assassin shifted on his feet, making the snow crunch loudly for a moment to focus Arvin’s attention solely on himself without needing to speak. That accomplished, he slowly walked over to the bound man until he was nearly face-to-face with him.
Staying outside the Obanta’s reach, of course.
“Right about now, you are asking yourself, ‘What did I do to deserve this? Why me?’” Hozark said with a voice utterly terrifying in its calmness. “But none of that matters.”
Bud had seen him interrogate plenty of people in their day, but it never ceased to give him the willies the way he could just turn it on like that. And damn if the man wasn’t good at being scary. And in the most subtle of ways. But sometimes, more overt action was called for.
Hozark smiled at his captive, but did not allow his fangs to slide into place. This wasn’t that kind of an interrogation. At least, not yet.
“What does matter, what is actually the important question you need to be asking yourself, is, will you freeze to death first, or will the flame melt that ice and the Obanta get you instead. Honestly, I do not know which outcome is more likely, but if you speak clearly and honestly, perhaps we will not need to find out.”
“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want. Take your coin back––”
“We already did.”
“Then tell Daruvius our debt is cleared and he owes me nothing. Just let me go.”
Hozark let out his well-practiced chuckle. The one that said he knew far more than you did, and you were in far deeper shit than you could possibly imagine.
“What makes you think that is of interest to me?”
“You were sent to handle his debt. So let’s make a deal.”
“That is where you are mistaken,” the Wampeh said. “I do not even know this Daruvius Kahn.”
The realization quickly dawned on Arvin that this situation was far different, and far more serious, than he had originally believed. This had nothing to do with old debts and run-of-the-mill subterfuge. Something else was at play, but for the life of him, he couldn’t guess what. Of course, when you commit as many atrocities as he had, that sort of thing just came with the territory.
“What is it you want? Coin? I have plenty in my offices, and it’s all yours.”
“I do not seek coin.”
“Then what?” the man asked, confusion in his eyes.
“I merely wish for you to speak the truth. My business with you ends there, if you are completely honest with me.”
The rope slid an inch along the melting ice rod’s slick surface, jarring Arvin and making the Obanta resume its hungry pacing.
“Anything. Whatever you want to know, just ask!”
“Very well,” Hozark said, gesturing for the small young woman with the unusual eyes to stand by his side. “What I wish for is that you answer me this. You delivered a sealed note to Emmik Ozman. A note from the Council of Twenty.”
“I did. Yes, that was me!” he blurted.
“Of this I am aware. But, as you know, it was sealed with an anonymous validity seal. What I wish to know is who had you deliver that note? Who within the Council of Twenty sent it?”
Arvin’s demeanor perked up. This was something he knew the answer to and would have no problem revealing whatsoever.
“It was Visla Ravik,” he said. “He came here and hired me to make the delivery. Paid good coin too.”
Hozark looked down at the little violet-haired woman at his side. Her sparkling, galactic eyes were slightly squinted as she looked at the captive with an intense stare.
“He’s telling the truth,” she finally said, her facial muscles relaxing and her usual mischievou
s demeanor slipping back into place.
“Wait, you can really do that?” Laskar blurted out in shock, despite Hozark’s running the interrogation.
“With this one? Yeah. He’s actually really easy to read. Not like a visla or anything,” she replied.
Bud stared at the girl with a mix of wonder and concern. They really did have a reader among them. But if Hozark was right about her, then only those not on guard against that particular skill would be susceptible. And Uzabud had no desire to have anyone picking around in his head.
Hozark drew a wicked blade and held it up in front of the captive man’s face. He paused, letting the flickering light from the magical flame dance across the metal. Then, slowly, he began slicing the ropes until Arvin was free.
The man fell to his knees, his legs unable to function just yet after being bound in such a manner. It would take him several minutes before he could walk, no doubt, but Demelza’s flame spell he crawled toward in hopes of getting warm would last at least that long.
Hozark loomed over the nude man. “We know where you reside. And you know what we can do. Our eyes and ears are everywhere, and you cannot avoid them. Do not speak another word of this again and you will be free to live a long and happy life. Do we have an understanding?”
Arvin looked up at Hozark, and all the fight had gone from his eyes. “It’s a deal,” he said meekly.
Hozark didn’t say a word. He just turned and walked away. The others immediately fell in with him.
“Wait! What about my clothes?”
“They are gone. But you are accustomed to this world, and I would wager if you move fast enough you can make it back into town before any lasting damage is incurred.”
With that, the assassin and his team stepped out of the magical bubble and disappeared into the whiteout.
Normally, leaving someone to fend for themselves like that with no clothing out in the cold would be a death sentence, but Arvin knew this place, and as he was with the trapped Obanta, he could extrapolate which way town was, even if he couldn’t see it.
But the walk––or run, as the case might be––would not be pleasant.
The five travelers trudged along in the deepening snow, making their way back away from the town to where their ship lay waiting. They were making good time when Hozark abruptly stopped. The others did so as well, instantly alert at the sight of his slipping the blade from his hip.
He stared out into the white, squinting to see anything in the windswept snow, but nothing was visible.
An enormous claw lashed out from the snowy camouflage, barely missing the Wampeh as he jumped back, his blade already flying through the air into the snowy nothingness. But it wasn’t nothing, and the blade flew true. The bellow of the wounded beast confirmed his accuracy.
“Holy shit! An Obanta!” Laskar said, pulling out a blade for each hand, spinning around, desperately surveying the blurred white with wide-open eyes.
Hozark also had a blade in his hand. One of the several secreted on his person. He cautiously walked forward into the snow, peering at the small spattering of blue blood already disappearing into the icy crystals.
He resheathed his knife. “It is gone,” he said.
“How can you be sure?” Laskar asked, knives very much remaining in his hands.
“Obanta do not hunt when outnumbered like this. It must have been extremely hungry to even attempt such a thing. And now that it has felt this prey’s sting, it will not be back.”
“But what if it does return?” Uzabud asked.
“Then we deal with it,” he replied. “But I have no desire to harm the creature. It is wounded, yes, but from the amount of blood spilled, I believe it will recover. It meant us no personal harm. It is just a beast, doing as beasts do.”
Henni reached out and tugged on Hozark’s sleeve.
“Yes?”
“What if it finds Arvin before he makes it back?”
Hozark just smiled at her and turned toward their ship.
“Oh,” the young woman said, then quickly fell in behind him.
In just a few minutes they were back in the safe warmth of their craft, and once they had all had the opportunity to clean up and enjoy a hot shower, Uzabud lifted them off of the freezing world and up into the very different cold of space.
They had a new destination. A new target. And Visla Ravik was his name.
Chapter Thirty
The flight from the icy ball of misery that was Moolar made Uzabud happier by the moment, with his mood improving the more distance they put between themselves and the uncomfortable world.
He had performed well, but the sheer hell that was being cold to that degree had made him even more gun-shy of their next destination. Hozark was a bit quiet about where they were going, and in Bud’s experience, that could mean anything.
More often than not, trouble.
This time, however, Hozark’s reticence was for a different reason. He was trying to pinpoint the location Visla Ravik was actually using as his current base of operations. Sure, he had a main estate that he called home, but as one of the Council of Twenty, he was away from home as often as he was in residence, and that meant he could have taken Visla Jinnik’s son anywhere.
Young Happizano could be at any one of a vast number of facilities by this point, and if they infiltrated the wrong one and were seen, their odds of retrieving the boy alive slipped greatly. And his powerful father would not be amused by that whatsoever.
And as for the visla, word had reached Hozark that Visla Jinnik had indeed been out with the Council of Twenty’s forces, deploying his magic at their command, helping them secure troublesome colonies and worlds.
He had no choice in the matter.
If he didn’t play along, his son’s life would be forfeit. So, with a heavy heart, the man who never wanted anything to do with the Council was suddenly one of their pawns, albeit a pawn more powerful than nearly all of their members.
But what troubled Hozark was a strange bit of news about those goings-on. While Ravik was involved, the Ghalian spy network had not picked up word of the other members of the Council participating in his little raids.
It was entirely possible that he was simply given free rein to carry out his task without the rest of the Council needing to divert resources from their other endeavors, but the nature of the silence was troubling. The lack of chatter. How it seemed almost as if Ravik was acting on his own. Or, if not on his own, with the help of someone who had been very, very good at staying behind the scenes.
Ultimately, it was a quandary that would not see its resolution until they had rescued the boy and returned him to his father. Only then could they truly engage and get to the bottom of the nefarious plan, whatever it really was.
Uzabud set them down on a small, fecund world to rest their Drookonus and resupply their foodstuffs. Henni, despite her diminutive size, ate like two full-grown men, and Laskar was very loudly pointing out that they could quite possibly run low on supplies if things required them to stay out for a prolonged time with this very hungry extra mouth to feed.
It wasn’t even a question of her proving useful to the team and paying her own way. It was just the sheer quantity she ate that concerned him. When they were alone, the copilot mentioned his concern once more.
“It’s not normal, is all I’m saying. I mean, that girl eats more than you do, Bud, and I’ve seen you put it away.”
He could speak freely, as Henni was off with Demelza practicing some fighting techniques that might better work with her size handicap and speed advantage. When an actual Wampeh Ghalian offered to give her lessons, the over-enthused young woman leapt at the opportunity, almost literally, in her excitement.
That meant that the boys were alone for a while, and they did have a few things to talk about while their intel network did their thing.
“Perhaps it is her unusual magic,” Hozark pondered. “I am sure you both noticed it. There is something about her, though she does not seem able to pro
perly control her skills, for the most part.”
“Hell, from what I’ve seen, she doesn’t even know what she can do,” Bud added.
“She can read minds, man. That’s some creepy shit.”
“Are you gonna start calling me creepy now too?” Bud grumbled.
Laskar laughed. “Nope. That’s entirely the girl’s domain,” he replied.
“She cannot read minds, Laskar. How many times do I have to tell you?” Hozark asked. “Yes, she is an intuitive woman, but that is all.”
“That you know of. You’ve seen her eyes. You know what the legends say.”
It was true, Hozark had indeed seen the girl’s eyes. Big pools of emotion that just so happened to sparkle as if they contained hidden galaxies within. There were stories about an incredibly rare fluke of nature within some innate magic users that gave them exceptional powers. But those legends were hundreds of years old, and exactly what type of gifts those people were purported to possess had been lost to time.
And for all they knew, Henni might simply be a somewhat troubled young woman who just happened to have rather striking eyes. Or she could be something entirely different. But there was no sense in fretting about it now. Not when they had a job to do, and a pressing one at that.
“Whatever the case may be with Henni, there is nothing we can do about it at this time, so let us do what we can do and continue on our way,” Hozark said. “Bud, if you set us down by that main farming community, I’m sure we can obtain more than enough supplies to carry us through whatever we may encounter, regardless of our young friend’s appetite.”
“You’ve got it,” the pilot said, then took them in for their approach to the largest of the agricultural hubs they had seen while leaving orbit.
There were indeed vast fields of all manner of produce being harvested year-round on the pleasantly warm world. For Bud, it was a wonderful change from their prior stop. Laskar was also in good spirits as they headed out to acquire supplies, their pockets heavy with Ghalian coin.