The Vespus Blade

by Scott Baron

  While there was humidity to the air in the main city below, as well as along the coast, the condensed nature of it rising up the mountain made for a downright moist environment.

  Condensation dripped from the Malooki’s glowing, faintly blue hair. The animals shook abruptly, sending a spray flying.

  “Yeah, this place is right up that guy’s alley,” Laskar said, wiping the surprise blast of water from his face with disgust. “Freakin’ amphibians. It’s just weird, is all I’m saying. Like, why can’t he choose one or the other?”

  “Because that’s the way he grew up,” Bud replied. “Just like you and I were raised to breathe air and use konuses for magic, this guy was brought up breathing both above and below water. Just like how power users cast like it’s nothing, while the rest of us have to use konuses.”

  “Hey, I have magic of my own,” Laskar griped.

  “Sure, buddy. Sorry. And your tricks come in handy at times, making fires and lights and stuff. But I’m talking about real magic. The powerful stuff.”

  “Stuff like that?” Laskar asked as a glow became visible up ahead.

  “What is that?”

  “Looks like a bubble of power. Light. Warmth, even.”

  “But how?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough, I guess,” Laskar replied as his Malooki kept walking right toward the increasing brightness.

  He was right, in a way. It was akin to a bubble in some respects. But rather than popping and disappearing into nothing when pierced, this bubble remained intact when the visitors’ mounts rode through it.

  A rush of heat and light washed over them as the air abruptly shifted from damp and misty to clear and sunny. This was the city they had been seeking. A glowing pearl of warmth and comfort tucked away at the very top of the inactive volcano.

  And above it, a clear vortex of fresh air opened up to the sky. A window of blue without a trace of fog or mist.

  “Now that’s some impressive magic,” Uzabud said as he marveled at the sight.

  “Not magic, friend,” the man walking toward him said.

  The Malooki veered his direction instinctively. The Malooki wrangler down below’s counterpart, obviously.

  “Not magic?” Laskar asked. “Then how is it doing that?”

  “Well, there is some magic, truth be told,” the man said as he took the animals’ reins and led them to the stables. “But that just buttresses the phenomenon. What really causes it is the shape of the hills. Ya see, it acts as a wind vortex, spinning around the volcano. By the time it reaches the top, it flares out, pulling the mists apart. All we do is add a little magical push to keep the hole open.”

  “So you always have clear skies up here?” Bud asked.

  “Mostly. Of course, if there’s a solar flare up, we reverse the effect to pull the mists in tight. They block it out, you see. But it’s the sun’s lesser power that buffets our atmosphere up above most days that gives this place that nice glow I’m sure you noticed.”

  “I was wondering about that,” Bud admitted.

  “You’ll see it better when the sun falls below the horizon. And tonight should be a pretty good show. It’s a dancing aurora some nights, and it’s a sight to see.”

  “So, it’s a magical power?” Laskar asked. “Can it be harnessed?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s just a reaction between the sun and our planet’s far lesser innate power. Nothing anyone can use, but it does create a lovely, rippling glow many nights.”

  “So, it’s useless, then?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. Just not useful to man, is all. But it sure is pretty to look at. And who doesn’t need that from time to time?” He thought a minute. “Though I do recall hearing someone say Ootaki could store a tiny bit of the power, but so little it would take them decades for it to amount to anything significant.”

  “Huh,” Laskar said as he dismounted. “Interesting.”

  The two visitors thanked the man, then asked if he had by any chance seen a friend of theirs. A blue-green fellow they were supposed to be meeting in a few days.

  “Perhaps he got here a few days early,” Bud said. “Anyone like that up here?”

  “Not that I’ve seen,” the man replied. “But I was down below most of the week. You might want to check the Blue Wind Tavern in town. Most travelers wind up there eventually.”

  Bud and Laskar tipped the man, then headed off into town to survey the area and see about accommodations for the night, as well as finding this Blue Wind Tavern to get something to eat and rest their weary bones.

  In fact, the more they walked, and the more dead ends they came across inquiring about the amphibious man, the more the latter sounded like a good idea. Soon enough, they gave in to the temptation.

  The Malooki might have saved their muscles from the exertion of hiking, but their backs, legs, and buttocks were unaccustomed to riding, and an entirely different type of soreness had settled in.

  “There it is,” Bud said with relish. “At last. The Blue Wind. Looks like my kind of place. And let me tell you, I am sick of walking.”

  The two men sauntered into the establishment, where, to Bud’s delight, it did indeed appear to be his type of tavern. They took seats at a communal table and warmed themselves with food, drink, and festive conversation with a rather gregarious group of travelers who had been atop the volcanic mountain for nearly a week.

  “A Fakarian? Nah, we’d have definitely seen one o’those fellas ‘round here-parts,” a stocky fellow with bristling quills for hair said. “Any o’you come across one o’them fishy types? The blue-green ones?”

  His comrades likewise voiced their lack of contact, further driving home the likelihood that Tikoo was nowhere to be found up atop the mountain. But they would still carry out their full survey.

  These men and women had essentially done their legwork for them, meeting and greeting just about everyone in their time up top. But there was still nothing to replace looking with one’s own eyes, and that was something they would most definitely do.

  In the morning.

  Night had fallen, and the temperature outside had dropped sharply. To go out now would be courting substantial discomfort. As such, all of the residents and visitors were indoors for the evening, and gambling and merriment were the order of the day.

  After hours of festivities and good company, it had gotten quite late, and in the course of many conversations, it had become increasingly clear that the odds of Tikoo being anywhere nearby were slim to none.

  “It’s late, Laskar. We should go find lodging.”

  “Why don’t we just stay here?”

  “Because this place is where visitors stay. They’ll charge us double.”

  “So? It’s not our coin, anyway.”

  “But we can’t be frivolous with it,” Bud replied, glancing across the bar where a lovely, pale-green woman flashed a brief smile, then looked away.

  “It’s cold, and it’s late, and I’m tired. Come on, Bud. Let’s just stay here. Just this one night.”

  The woman at the bar was staring at Bud more assertively now, and when he smiled at her and gave a little nod, she smiled back.

  “You know what? You’re right. Why don’t you go get a room? I’ll be along later,” Bud said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” the former pirate said with an enthused grin. “I don’t think one night will be an issue.”

  “And we could use the sleep.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Sleep. Right. That’ll be happening. Sure,” Bud said, slipping some coin to his friend. “Go get your room. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  While the two travelers had ventured up the mountain into the mists, Demelza had spent the day being productive in the town down below. Extremely productive, in fact.

  With no chilling fog to deal with, she made good time across the flatlands, visiting farm stands, shops, merchants, and trading outposts in a great many of the neighborhoods mak
ing up the city. In her disguise, the beguiling charms of the buxom dancer Alanna were enough to loosen the tongue of many resident tough guys.

  And several of them said the same thing. Her friend the Fakarian? They’d seen someone matching that description recently, but they’d not been around for a few days. Perhaps she would like to join them for a drink to talk about their helping her find the person––after they got to know one another better, that is.

  With great skill, she extricated herself from their interest––often with a digestive distress spell applied just at the right moment to allow her to slip away when her suitors stepped off to use the restroom.

  It seemed that on this world, her gypsy dancer persona was a hit. And in the quest for information, dance she would.

  Establishment after establishment, she drank and caroused and danced with abandon, drawing the attention of everyone present. For an assassin, it was pretty much the opposite of her usual tactics, but in this case, the most visible, most desired person was able to control those around her, all vying for her attention.

  And what got her attention? Information about her friend.

  Drinks flowed, and more than one burly fellow wound up under the table as she bested them shot for shot. Of course, her shots were vanishing as soon as they passed her lips, the alcohol re-materializing in an alleyway on the other side of the block. Hozark’s trick spell was proving quite useful in a place like this.

  It wasn’t just a house or town of ill repute. It was an entire world.

  This was becoming a rather interesting experience, she mused. And one that was testing her skills, but in a most enjoyable manner. And Hozark had taken her under his wing, as much as one of the Five ever would, of course. It seemed that working for the leaders of the order had quite a few benefits for a woman eager to learn and improve her craft.

  She was a full Ghalian, but that didn’t mean there was not room to better herself.

  Hours and hours were spent prying information from inebriated people who took a fancy to her. By nightfall she had left a trail of lustful and unconscious men and women in her wake.

  Most had succumbed naturally to the copious quantities of alcohol they were attempting to ply her with to gain advantage. But the liquid cut both ways, and she was getting quite a lot of information from the men of ill repute who took refuge on this world.

  Unfortunately, while Hozark would undoubtedly be interested in some of what she’d learned, almost none of the information pertained to Tikoo. Yes, he had definitely arrived on Kraam, as their information had led them to believe. But once there, he was visible but for a short time, then became increasingly elusive until he seemed to drop off the map entirely

  The man knew his craft. He was an agent of the Council of Twenty, and as such, he was incredibly slippery, it seemed. And of the few Demelza questioned who had actually seen him, none, it seemed, knew his current, or even most recent whereabouts. Or, at least, so they claimed.

  Demelza glanced up at the sky and the dancing aurora illuminating the mountaintop. It was a lovely place, she thought, and under different circumstances, possibly a good location to rest and revitalize, far from the scrutiny of any who knew her.

  But tonight, she was not Demelza of the Wampeh Ghalian. Tonight, she was Alanna the dancer, and without another moment’s reflection, she strode off to yet another establishment, ready to dance and drink and cajole yet again. Someone, somewhere had to have a lead. The question was, would she find them tonight?

  Morning would bring with it an entirely different set of locals to pry information from, and with a very different persona. Alanna was good for this sort of evening work, where heavy drinking was involved. But for those with sharper brains, not addled by alcohol, the guise of Indirus the crippled widow tended to prove more effective.

  Of course, that character had a backstory worthy of a world of scum and villainy, and was by no means a pushover. Indirus was a pirate’s woman. A raider. One of the Warhammer fleet that had burned so brightly, but for such a short while.

  They’d all died at the hands of the Council of Twenty nearly five years past, the Council’s plans for expansion proving far more important than any short-term alliance with a band of rebel pirates.

  After they’d done their part and helped the Council claim their prize––in this case, a resource-rich world at the far end of the Bogadeh system––they had received their reward.

  Death at the hands of their employers.

  Of course, the Council made it seem like they had perished in noble combat, and with none to witness their true fate, no one knew how the Council reneged on their offer of an entire world for them to call their own, opting instead to unleash a deadly poison through their ranks, hidden in their casks of celebratory alcohol.

  When the men were dead or dying, it was then child’s play to destroy their ships in such a way that made it seem to have been combat related.

  But rumors got out. No facts, of course, but some rumors. And a widow of one of those brave men would always be given a certain respect, even by the roughest sort.

  But that would be in the morning, and Demelza couldn’t let herself slip into the mindset that shifted her entire physical demeanor to inhabit that character. Not now. For now, she was Alanna, wild woman of abandon and no reservations. Tonight she would dance and frolic and leave a trail of damaged men and women behind.

  And in the morning, she would be gone.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  While the others were enjoying, to varying degrees, their labors within the great expanse of the city and its mountaintop cousin, Hozark was on a more difficult path. One that took him through the filthy shantytown along the shoreline as he sought out their amphibious target.

  He might very well still be on the surface. There were plenty of hidey-holes, nooks, and crannies where he could tuck away and stay out of sight while maintaining contact with whoever happened to be within his network on Kraam. But Hozark had a sense of the man. A feeling. This one was a wily one. This one was crafty.

  Having the sea at his back would provide the water-loving Fakarian with a degree of comfort he would be unable to achieve within the city proper, and certainly not atop the high volcanic mountain looming above. Hozark had thought it a near impossibility that he would be found that far from the water. That was why he had sent Bud and Laskar there.

  Yes, the unlikely duo might actually find him, and yes, he and Demelza might have to make a hasty ascent of the mountain, but there was more to this mission than just capturing the Council agent.

  There was intelligence to gather, and those a little bit farther from the man’s normal haunts might be more inclined to loosen their lips. And Bud had proven himself rather talented at making new friends and prying loose information from them without their even realizing it.

  The dampness of the shoreline was only slightly uncomfortable, largely due to the relatively warm temperature of the waters in this region of the planet. It was why the sealife was so plentiful, which in turn provided a steady food source for the hungry mouths come to rest and hide out on Kraam.

  Unlike the main city’s marketplaces and bazaars, the water’s edge was populated by fishmongers and vendors of less savory wares than you might find in the city proper.

  This was where the roughest men and women spent their time on the surface. But Hozark was following his instincts, and his instincts told him he needed to dig deeper still. Or, swim, as the case may be. For deep in his gut, the assassin was all but certain his prey was lurking beneath the warm waters, hiding out in one of the cavernous undersea townships.

  And that was where the truly dangerous types congregated.

  There were fourteen caverns surrounding the island. Fourteen places Tikoo could be hiding out. But Hozark immediately eliminated eight of them for being either too remote for the Council agent’s purposes, or not possessing more than one entry and egress.

  Escape routes were a valuable tool of the assassination trade. Vital, in fact. B
ut assassins were by no means the only craftsmen of nefarious skills who utilized them. And it was utterly unthinkable that a Council agent would corner himself in a sequestered cavern of his own free will.

  That left six possible locations where the Fakarian might be hiding out. Hozark had picked up some chatter from locals on the surface before descending into the first of them. It seemed that four of the potential hideouts possessed multiple surface tunnels leading to their depths.

  That degree of ease of access led the Ghalian to the conclusion that Tikoo would be hiding out in one of the remaining two. Yes, those two also possessed surface accessways that did not require one to pass through the waters around them, but from what he had sussed out, those routes were both dangerous as well as hidden. Precisely the sort of thing that would prevent most from venturing down below.

  And it was precisely there that Hozark went.

  The largest of the two was going to be his best bet, he reasoned. More people and a larger underwater tunnel for ships possessing the rather uncommon magic required for subaqueous travel to more easily arrive unseen. And a larger tunnel meant larger ships. Potentially Council vessels, even.

  The easy water egress would also put Tikoo at ease. Having a water escape route so handy would give him a confidence that Hozark could exploit. Very few possessed the spells for this environment, nor the requisite training and skill to wield them underwater.

  The issue was that spells were tied to spoken words, the combinations of the gibberish-sounding phrases slowly stumbled upon and refined over tens of thousands of years as the people of the diverse worlds scattered throughout the galaxy learned what they did by trial and error.

  Somehow, the arcane combinations failed spectacularly, setting back that chain of knowledge for generations. But others were rapidly developed and shared, such as the spells for levitating items. It was the reason the wheel had never been invented. Being able to float items rather than roll them, the round device had simply never been needed.