by Scott Baron
“We are well aware,” Demelza said. “There is quite simply too much power in use here to hope a mere scent distraction with a familiar guard’s cloak would gain us ingress.”
“And some Zomoki are said to be able to see right through shimmer cloaks,” Laskar added.
“That is just a tale,” Hozark replied. “But undoubtedly one based on bits of reality. They do possess an excellent sense of smell, and that, combined with sharp hearing and even sharper eyes, means that nearly any shimmer would be inefficient if we were forced to utilize it so close to one of them.”
“Two, Hozark. There are two of them.”
“Yes, Bud, we know.”
“Two Zomoki. On either side of the gate.”
“We are aware.”
“There’s no way you can get past them.”
“I wouldn’t say no way. But given our time constraints, Demelza and I shall utilize an alternative means of entry.”
“Alternative? There’s only one way in. And what about me and Laskar? How are we supposed to get in without winding up Zomoki food?”
“You are not.”
“Excuse me?”
“No, Bud. You are not going to be eaten. Nor are you going to go anywhere near those Zomoki. You and Laskar will standby with the ship, keeping it ready for a quick escape, if need be.”
For once, Bud was not going to argue being left behind as the getaway driver. Hozark had taken him on plenty of dangerous contracts in the past, and they’d always managed to survive.
More often than not without coming too close to meeting a horrible demise. Given the odds they were up against this time, leaving the Wampeh to do his thing seemed like as good a job as any to the former pirate.
“What are you planning to do?” Laskar asked. “Come in from overhead? Drop into the walls from above?”
Hozark smiled his enigmatic grin. “Let Demelza and I worry about that. You just keep an eye on one another and be ready. If things go sour, they will do so with great speed.”
“Then let’s hope they don’t.”
“Agreed.”
Hozark and Demelza rose and walked off down the alleyway to prepare for whatever crazy plan they had in mind, leaving their friends to watch and wonder.
“You two be safe,” Bud said to their backs.
A moment later they were gone.
The moat surrounding the fortified estate was an enormous affair. Not some little swampy pool of stagnant water like might be found on some backwater estate, but rather, a massive, deep trough, swirling with the fresh waters channeled in from the nearby river.
It was over a hundred meters across at its widest point, and not much less at its narrowest, making any sort of improvised crossing device useless. And should a boat or hovering conveyance make an attempt to reach the other side, they would be struck down with immediacy and accuracy from the team of guards, both magical and not, stationed within the external walls.
And if for some reason one was foolish enough to try to swim across, hoping their smaller shape would go unnoticed, the deadly Nazgari living in the waters would rise up from below, snatching the hapless victim like they were merely a floating snack.
The Nazgari were rarely seen from the surface, though. They were bottom-dwellers, content to feed on whatever happened to settle down in their chosen domain. More often than not, that would be the bodies that had floated out of the dungeons via the wastewater system.
But with the illumination above silhouetting anything on the surface, they would also instinctively swim upward at great speed to take down living prey, whatever that creature might be.
And it was into that water that Hozark intended to descend.
“Are you certain about this?” Demelza asked as Hozark tightened the strap holding his vespus blade firmly to his back.
The weapon was still charged with a substantial amount of magic, and should things get truly out of hand, Hozark had decided it would be preferable to have it within reach than tucked away on their ship. If he needed the weapon, then it was a life-or-death situation anyway, and notice of its use would be the least of their concerns.
“I am certain,” Hozark replied as the two sat casually at the water’s edge, waiting for the tiny window of darkness to make their attempt.
It was going to be a first for Demelza. An underwater infiltration, and with another Ghalian, no less. She’d heard of the arcane magic used to provide one with a safe corridor through the water, but none could cast for long enough to sustain it for any significant time.
Normally, a second or even third caster might attempt to overlap their spells, creating a linked tunnel of force holding the waters at bay. But even that was a rather specialized bit of magic. One she did not know.
At her request, Hozark had attempted to teach her the very old and very difficult spell he would utilize to provide them air and safe passage, but Demelza was simply unable to manage the arcane magic.
“Do not doubt your talents,” Hozark said after her tenth failed attempt. “Only Samara and I had any aptitude for them back in our youth. We were always eager to master difficult spells. The rare ones. The arcane power few knew how to control. Master Garrusch shared our love of this sort of magic, and he taught us a great many unusual spells before his demise.”
“Including this one.”
“Yes. Including this one. And with it, we will possess a self-contained bubble of protective air, allowing our ingress through the stronghold’s outflow system.”
“Are you certain it will sustain for the two of us?”
“Without problem. If it were just me alone, I would use a different spell. One that allows for rapid movement through water––a very helpful tool, as I was recently reminded. But it only contains the caster, whereas this spell can expand to encompass a larger space. Namely, that in which we both reside.”
“And the Nazgari?”
Hozark’s confidence only wavered an instant. “We will be on the bottom, and will possess no scent of food. I believe we should be fine. It is only on the surface that we would present a tempting target for them.”
Demelza was not entirely thrilled with that lackluster reply, but this was Hozark she was dealing with, and if she was going to die in the belly of an underwater beast, at least it would be at the side of one of the greatest Ghalian masters of her lifetime.
“Very well, then. I am ready.”
“As soon as the sun sets, we will descend,” he replied.
It was a long, boring wait, but eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, providing not total darkness, but a dim enough ambient light to allow them to slip down the ten meters to the water’s edge unnoticed.
“Prepare yourself,” Hozark said, then began casting the spell around both of them.
A few moments later, he took her hand and stepped free of the safety of land and into the deep, dark waters. It hadn’t looked like there was anything around them on the surface, but as soon as they were submerged, the protective spell became quickly apparent.
Namely, when they didn’t drown.
They sank to the bottom rapidly, remaining close to the moat wall as they did. The only really dangerous moment was at the very beginning. They were against the side, and the light should not show a silhouette, but sometimes life laughs at your plans, and in this case, a Nazgari’s jaws would be the ones delivering it.
“Are you good?” Hozark asked as their boots touched the muddy bottom but remained within their protective bubble.
“I am.”
“Then we continue.”
The two walked quickly across the bottom of the moat, passing the occasional bone or partly eaten corpse as they did. It seemed not all of the emmik’s cast-offs became Nazgari food.
A blur flashed by them in the dark water. Hozark motioned for Demelza to freeze. The assassin did as she was bid instantly, not moving a muscle as the man in front of her drew his vespus blade within their little bubble of magic.
The blue blade was glowing faintl
y, but not crackling with power as it was wont to in battle. But it was ready. Not for a fight with the emmik, but to defend them from the creatures in the deep.
A massive mouth full of razor-sharp teeth lunged at them from the side, the spell bubble stopping it, at least for a moment. Hozark thrust the blade through the magical membrane slowly, sweat beading on his forehead from the concentration.
He had shifted his magical source for the spell from just his konus to his vespus blade as well. And as the blade was now part of what was powering the spell, it was able to pass through it without disrupting the casting.
The point sank into the Nazgari’s gaping maw, drawing blood, but not causing terrible harm. The creature jerked back in shock and quickly swam away. It was an instinctive reaction, not a rational one.
It had always been the biggest, baddest thing in its own little fishbowl, but suddenly, there was something else there with it, and it had a far more painful bite.
“Come, we must hurry,” Hozark said, pushing ahead but keeping the blade in hand.
It only took a few minutes to reach the other side, but locating the opening of the wastewater system’s opening required a bit more searching.
“There!” Demelza pointed out, spying the dark hole in the likewise dark rock wall.
“Good eyes,” Hozark complimented her.
There was a grate in place, but not so narrow as to prevent their entry. The opening was too small, however, for a Nazgari to pass, and they proved a far better deterrent than any blocking spells could ever be.
The pair quickly made their way through the winding network of tunnels, following the stronger flow of water and waste until they emerged in a small dungeon lagoon.
This was where those bodies had come from. The lowest point in the grounds. And the least frequented.
They climbed ashore carefully, scanning the area to ensure they were alone. Only when they were certain, did Hozark finally drop the spell.
The stink of the air around them hit like a damp fist. It was a familiar stench. The smell of death. Emmik Drazzix had apparently killed far more than anyone realized within these walls. But once they had the answers they sought, he would do so no more.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Moving their way up through the lower levels of the dungeons, Hozark and Demelza noted they were locked with only the most perfunctory of spells. A somewhat more robust warding system would have been expected, but it seemed the emmik was a bit overconfident in his security team.
That and the people in his dungeons would typically not be in any sort of condition to effect an escape.
There were, however, a few signs of a moderately recent scuffle, though those would be invisible to the average person’s eyes. For Ghalian assassins, however, the marks were telltale. Some violence had occurred here, and recently. More likely than not, a poor soul struggling for their life as the emmik’s guards hauled them off to their demise.
Climbing higher, they exited the dungeon levels into the most basic of storage and servants’ areas. Again, sparsely populated and infrequently traveled, and those who were in the area were easy enough to avoid, even without their shimmer cloaks.
“Do you smell that?” Hozark asked.
“An Akarian,” Demelza replied.
“I agree with the assessment. Are you up to date with your animal fighting spell practice?”
“Not as much as I would like to be. These are somewhat specialized predators, after all. But I believe myself more than adequately prepared.”
“Then we move quickly and without pause. Stun them if you can. Slay them if you must. We wish to preserve the appearance of a quiet house if at all possible.”
Demelza nodded and followed as Master Hozark led the way.
The beasts they caught wind of were Akarian death hounds, though they weren’t actually hounds, and they tended to wound and maim more than kill. But the name had more of a ring to it than Akarian injury critters, and so it had stuck.
Whatever they were, the animals were fast and bitey, and more than capable of crippling a fleeing attacker caught in their sights. It was what made them great guard animals. A violent play instinct that just so happened to lead to intruders being partially shredded but left alive for questioning, more often than not. They were unusual, though, and neither Hozark nor Demelza had run across one in ages.
It was looking like that out-of-practice magic was going to be put to the test, and soon.
The pair raced down the narrow hall, the musk of the animals growing stronger by the second.
“Now!” Hozark hissed as they passed the threshold from the hallway into a large gathering chamber.
The Akarian were at rest, not wound up and expecting company, and thus, the stunning spells directed at them flew true. But these were an unusual type of animal, and normal magic would not do. All a regular spell would accomplish was to irritate them. And an irritated Akarian was a dangerous one.
More than usual, that is.
“Two down, two still standing,” Demelza noted.
Apparently, an additional pair had been in the room. Four was just such an uncommon number of them to find in one place. Someone must have really been worried about stealthy intruders.
But the animals seemed a bit slow off the mark, and the follow-up spells hit them full force, driving them to slumber along with their friends.
“That was close.”
“Yet too easy,” Hozark said, wondering if someone had perhaps drugged the beasts. “Be alert.”
Demelza nodded once and took off at a run, following Hozark as he raced through the next chambers. A few guards were napping, so they slowed their pace and quietly maneuvered around them. No sense in having an alarm raised if it didn’t need to be.
Two rooms later, however, they came across a patrol. Four guards, Tslavars, all of them, rounded the corner and stepped into the chamber just as they entered from the other side. There was nothing to do for it but engage, and quickly at that.
Demelza cast her silencing spells, muting the sounds of fighting as best she could given such short notice, while Hozark tore into the mercenary guards, his vespus blade a streak of blue, laying waste to the poor men before they could even cry out.
“A bit much,” Demelza noted, looking at the dismembered guards.
“Yet effectively silenced,” Hozark replied, wiping the blade clean and resheathing it. “We must dispose of the bodies, quickly.”
He cast a cautery spell, sealing their oozing wounds, keeping the remaining blood on the inside rather than the outside, then heaved them up and placed the dead men’s remains in a pair of large footlockers against the far wall.
They appeared to be decorative only, as there was nothing stored inside of them. At least, nothing until they’d been filled with bits of dead people, though Hozark doubted that was the owner’s original intent.
“We are close,” he said as they came upon a more ornate series of doors and gaudier decorated rooms.
Silently, the two assassins slipped into Emmik Drazzix’s private chambers, both of them holding multiple powerful disabling spells on the tips of their tongues, ready to drop the man if they could before he could cast against them.
It would be a tough fight, but they hoped that, together, they could take him down. Then they could question him, and hopefully, finally, find out what was really going on. Who had actually set the contract in motion.
The man was there, as expected, but something seemed wrong. He was slumped over at his desk. And he did not appear to be moving.
Hozark moved to his side and carefully tipped his head back. What he saw shocked even him.
Emmik Drazzix had been drained.
“How––?” Demelza blurted in confusion.
“A Ghalian did this,” Hozark replied. “And recently. That explains the hounds.”
He leaned in and studied the wound. Had the man been allowed to live, it would have been healed, leaving no trace, his mind wiped of the event, leaving him to w
ake groggy and confused, and a little weak. But unaware he’d been drained.
But this man had been drained dry. Someone had taken all of his power in the process. And only one race possessed that ability.
“It is appearing more and more as though Samara in fact lives,” Hozark reluctantly admitted.
“And by the look of things, she is cleaning up loose ends,” Demelza added. “But at whose behest? She is obviously not working alone. She has no motive.”
A parchment on the desk caught Hozark’s eye. Carefully, he pulled it from beneath the others and studied it with great scrutiny.
“What is it?”
“A sloppy bit of work, for one,” he said. “The emmik’s personal papers were rifled through but left in a mess. As if someone, perhaps, interrupted the intruder. And this is the clue we’ve been looking for,” he said, holding the paper’s heavy seal for Demelza to see.
There was no name signing the order to hire the next person down the line for the contract, as with the other unwitting participants. But this was different. This had a seal marking the page. And not just any seal. A Council of Twenty seal. And a most specialized one at that.
“Is that a validity seal?” Demelza asked. “I’ve never actually seen one in person.”
“It is,” he replied. “And this tells us at least part of what we need to know. The chain ends here. Emmik Drazzix was the first man hired. And he was hired by an actual member of the Council of Twenty.”
“But we do not know whom.”
“That we do not,” Hozark replied, studying the paper and its seal.
The validity seal was a clever tool of the Council members. A specialized mark only the Twenty possessed. One that lay the full force of the Council behind whatever document carried it, but while keeping the drafter of the message anonymous. A trick employed by the ever-scheming Council members.
“Could it be a forgery?”
Hozark studied it a moment longer. “No. And what’s more, the power to set this seal is strong. There are only traces, and incredibly obscured, but it’s clear a visla sent this.”