Hozark's Revenge

by Scott Baron

  “Nicely said, Bud.”

  “Thanks, Laynia. And again, I really am sorry about yesterday.”

  Lalaynia nodded once but said nothing. Bud noted, however, that a faint smile was threatening to escape her lips.

  “What’s so funny? Lalaynia, what aren’t you telling me?”

  She let out a little chuckle and punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, Bud, how I’ve missed your antics.”

  “Uh, not exactly following you, here.”

  “Of course you aren’t,” she said, her grin broadening. “The thing is, while yes, I was upset with your shenanigans, your ridiculous little display in the tavern did actually manage to help your cause a bit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “While you were so focused on the muscle, a rather nondescript fellow from a cargo ship that just happened to be loading up nearby slipped outside to make a skree call to his ship. It also just so happens that one of my inside men has been prepping to do a little hijack job on that particular ship––it was a rather tasty cargo, after all––but when he overheard their conversation, he reached out to me, and I put the plan on hold.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Well now, that was quite interesting. Our little skree-calling friend alerted his captain that there was someone roughing up one of Ravik’s former goons in town. Someone who was looking for the girl.”

  “The girl?” Bud asked. “He said it like that? Like he knew who we were looking for?”

  “Now you’re getting it.”

  “Wait, you knew this yesterday?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then why the hell didn’t you say something?”

  “Because you were pissing me off, Bud. And with the way you were acting, all flying off the handle like that, I thought you deserved a night of shame to think on it.”

  Bud’s temper flared a moment but was quickly quenched. She was right and he knew it. He’d messed up, and there was no one but himself to blame for it. But now? Now there was something to go on. Actionable intelligence. Lalaynia watched the gears turning in her friend’s mind.

  “Yes, Bud. I can see you wondering, so I’ll spare you the suspense. My man on board their cargo ship is still embedded and is keeping tabs on them. The hijacking is on hold for the time being, so he’ll just be riding along, playing his part and reporting in as he can.”

  “And what about Henni?”

  Lalaynia rested her hand on his shoulder. “Bud, you have to relax and go with this. For all we know the lead will turn out to be a dead end. There’s just no way to tell. And for that reason we will be continuing on as we have been, following other leads and tracking down your violent little friend.”

  “Thanks, Lalaynia. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “I think I understand. And don’t you worry, if that ship winds up anywhere notable, our inside man will let us know as soon as he’s able. But it’s not one of Ravik or Maktan’s craft that he’s aboard, so for now it seems they’re just a simple cargo ship making its rounds.”

  “Ravik’s dead.”

  “Yes, I know that, Bud. But that doesn’t mean all of the resources that were under his control have just suddenly evaporated into thin air. Those crews and vessels are slowly being absorbed by the other members of the Council. And his brother, of course, though I don’t think that poor sap is going to manage to claim his familial seat the way things are going.”

  “Good. One less Council member from the Ravik bloodline would make the galaxy a better place,” Bud grumbled.

  “Come on, now. You know better than that. Sometimes the evil you know is far preferable to whatever might come next.”

  Much as he hated to admit it, he knew she was right.

  “So, if that ship doesn’t do anything interesting, will you still take them?” he asked.

  Lalaynia paused for effect, giving Bud a long stare. “I’ll wait, for your sake. But not too much longer. That score has been a long time coming, and it cost me a hefty amount of coin to set up. They’ll still be visiting other systems and loading the ship for a little while longer if my intel is correct. But when it’s full to the gills and ripe for picking, I’ll have to move on it whether we have word of your friend or not. You understand how it is.”

  “I do,” he replied. “Only a fool would let an opportunity like that pass.”

  Lalaynia smiled wide. “I knew you’d understand.” She clapped his back with a grin. “Now, why don’t you go socialize with the others. I’m sure it would do you as much good as it would them.”

  “I don’t know, Laynia.”

  “I do. Stop your moping and get your ass over there. That’s an order.”

  “An order? Are you suddenly my captain again and not my friend?”

  “Who’s to say I can’t be both?” she shot back. “Now go eat, drink, and be merry. Don’t make me force you.”

  Bud chuckled, resigned to his fate. “Okay, I’m going.”

  “Good. And don’t worry, if I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know. But breathe easy. Knowing your friend, I have a feeling she’ll be just fine.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Visla Dinarius Jinnik was still damp with sweat though he’d been lying on his low cot for a good half hour since being dumped back in his cell. He’d lain there for some time before sitting up to drink some water, at Henni’s insistence, then flopping back down for a bit longer.

  “Eat something,” Henni said through the invisible divider separating them.

  “In a minute. I just need to rest a bit longer.”

  “No, you need to eat something,” she insisted. “Now. And don’t give me any lip.”

  The visla, one of the most powerful magic users she had ever seen, was seemingly as weak as a child after yet another session at the hands of their captors. They were draining the man of his power, though not without some difficulty. One such as Jinnik would not give up his magic without a fight, no matter what tricks they might employ.

  Additionally, now that he knew his son was safe and out of the hands of his captors, he had begun resisting their efforts even more. Weakened as he was, he could not fight them outright, nor could he let them on to the fact he’d learned the true status of his boy. That would be bad.

  If they knew he was aware of their ruse, they would likely pull out all the stops and drain him to within an inch of his life, not only to take his power, but also to prevent him from rallying his strength to make an escape. Or worse, to take his revenge.

  Even with their restraint, however, the process was taking a toll. Every time he was returned to his cell after a session in the draining chair, Visla Jinnik looked just a little bit weaker. As if his base level of power was taking longer to restore itself.

  Henni looked at his ashy complexion as he forced himself upright to eat some of the food remaining on his tray from the morning. He did not look well at all.

  “They’ll kill you if they keep going like this. They’re taking too much,” she said.

  Visla Jinnik flashed a tiny smile. “Perhaps. But I must resist. I cannot allow them to use my power to harm others any more than they already are.”

  “But the chair.”

  “Yes, they will take it from me by force, but I won’t make it easy on them.”

  Henni fixed her sparkling, galactic eyes on him, a look of concern clear on her face. “If you fight them too hard, they just might kill you.”

  Jinnik sighed and chewed another bite of stale bread he’d saved from his earlier meal, then washed it down, a bit painfully. The last session had apparently taken more out of him than he cared to admit.

  “Perhaps they will,” he finally said, clearing his throat. “But I feel that it will not be an intentional act if they do. Not yet, at least. Whatever it is Visla Maktan has planned, he needs power, and a lot of it. And if he’s still got his men powering his weapons from me, that means he does not yet possess another means to do so.”

  “But what if they find
one?”

  “They very well may, eventually. They think you could be such a source, but it seems their process does not work on your unusual magic, and if they are unable to tap into your gift, they will still need me. For now, anyway.”

  Visla Jinnik slowly rolled his shoulders, stretching out the aching muscles of his neck and back, then rose to his feet and walked to the chair he’d left sitting at the invisible partition between their cells. The magic was still holding strong, he could feel. Whoever had cast the spell was keeping it refreshed.

  “Are you ready for some more practice?” he asked his violet-haired friend.

  “Now? Aren’t you tired?”

  “I am not the one training,” he replied. “So, what do you say we get to it?”

  Henni reluctantly moved to her now-familiar training spot––a small patch of the floor in the middle of her cell––and took a seat on the smooth stone.

  “Remember what you’ve been focusing on. Not only the words in your head, but the intent behind them. Push with your will, not the words alone.”

  Henni had been gradually expanding her reach with the powers contained in her diminutive frame, and Jinnik found himself thrilled at her progress. He had hoped to begin training his son in the finer points of harnessing his magic in the coming years now that he was finally old enough, but this hot-tempered young woman was proving to be a most rewarding pupil. And with his incarceration and enslavement, Visla Jinnik had found his ego deflated and his appreciation for the little things greatly enhanced.

  It was far from ideal, but it did make him a much better teacher than he would have otherwise been. And hopefully he would apply those newfound skills in training Happizano; should he survive his imprisonment, that is.

  Henni closed her eyes a moment to focus her inner strength. It was something the visla was trying to train out of her before it became a habit, for the simplest of things, such as closing one’s eyes in battle, could lead to a rapid demise.

  Her eyes snapped open just a moment later. She only required a brief moment to compose herself. It had been becoming easier and easier to tap into that magical state of mind now that Jinnik’s tutelage had keyed her in to what she needed to focus on.

  “Move the chair,” Jinnik instructed.

  Henni turned her attention to the chair in her cell. It was a clunky, solid item, no doubt made that way so angry prisoners could not hurl it at the guards when they came to retrieve them. Her eyes brightened in the dim light, the sparkling galaxies contained within glowing faintly.

  With a concentrated effort, she cast her spell, thinking push! as she directed the magic at the chair. But rather than the chair moving, Henni found herself sliding backward across the cell on her rear. Not exactly what she had in mind.

  “You are getting better,” Jinnik noted. “Very impressive.”

  “I was supposed to move the chair, not the other way around,” she groused.

  “Yes, well, you do not weigh much, now do you?” he said with a chuckle.

  “It’s not my fault I’m small.”

  “I know. Forgive my mirth. But do not worry, we will work on the anchoring portion of your casting next. Normally it is not required so soon, but most do not show your strength and acuity so quickly. It may be the Zomoki-like power you possess. Or you may just be good at it, I really can’t say.”

  Henni seemed a bit uncomfortable with his words, though she did a fairly decent job of keeping that to herself. Nevertheless, he was a man of both power and perception.

  “Something is unsettling you, Henni. What is it?”

  “To be honest, the Zomoki thing is kinda freaking me out a little. I mean, they’re monsters.”

  “The Zomoki you see today, perhaps. But once, not all that long ago, there existed another kind of Zomoki. The Old Ones. Wise and powerful creatures with whom a few vislas even formed lasting bonds.”

  “But they’re gone?”

  “Yes. Dead, all of them. The last of them killed in the Council attack on Visla Balamar. But let us not focus on the negatives of the past, but, rather, on the positives of the present. You can cast as they could. Silently, without a single word spoken aloud. Do you have any idea how incredible that gift is?”

  “Uh…”

  “It is utterly incongruent with a woman such as yourself. It’s what smells strange about you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry. I should clarify. I meant your magic. The smell of your magic. You see, some sense vibrations, others feel auras. You read people. Others, such as myself, can smell different flavors of magic.”

  “I never heard of that before,” Henni said, curious what more he could tell her about herself.

  “Oh, there are a great many gifts possessed by magic users. I will do my best to––” Jinnik abruptly fell silent. “They are approaching,” he said, knowing full well that he was not who they were coming for. He had been drained far too recently. They were coming for Henni. “Be strong,” he said as the guards entered the cell.

  Henni held her tongue, simply rising to her feet, obstinate and fearless as she was ushered from the chamber.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Henni’s captors were leading her down the familiar corridor to the smelting facility where the dreaded chair was located. Visla Jinnik had been drained by the terrible device on such a regular basis they might as well have inscribed his name on it.

  The young woman was not worried, however. They’d tried to use it on her on more than one occasion now, and they had achieved the exact same success rate.

  Zero.

  It amused her to no end.

  “So, are you guys gonna get fired if you screw up again?” she said, egging on the guards. “Or maybe they’ll just demote you to cleaning out the Bundabist pens.”

  Henni knew she was considered valuable to them, and as such she had quite a bit of leeway with her conduct. They couldn’t harm her lest they reap the wrath of Visla Maktan, and none wanted to risk that. So, she talked as much trash as possible, poking and prodding them with the glee only immunity could grant her.

  “With your horrible success rate you must be on your final warning by now, am I right?” she asked when the pair continued to ignore her. “I mean, the visla can’t be happy with your constant failures. They really do pile up, don’t they? I’d hate to be in your shoes when––”

  “Enough!” the lead guard blurted, drawing his hand back to strike her.

  “Don’t do it,” his comrade warned. “You know she’ll be pissed if you rough her up.”

  “Yes, she will,” Henni said with a nasty grin.

  The guard turned to her, casting an equally cruel smile. “He wasn’t talking about you,” he growled.

  For a brief moment, Henni was unnerved.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’ll see. Now keep moving!”

  They shoved her along down the corridor and into the smelting chamber, but rather than strapping her into the chair that Visla Jinnik knew so well, they steered her across the chamber to where a gray-green-skinned woman sat reclining on a low seat. She was wearing a color-shifting, skin-tight suit that almost resembled fish scales, and she appeared to have gills on her stout neck just behind her ear nubs.

  Her charcoal-gray hair had an oily sheen to it and was pulled back in a tight ponytail, leaving her broad forehead and black eyes exposed.

  “Ah, there she is,” the woman said in a coo that was both mellow yet also threatening.

  This one was unlike the usual guards and weapons specialists, and her smile was warm and inviting. But the vibe Henni was getting was not good. There was something dark about her, and though she only sensed the briefest flash of it, Henni didn’t like it one bit.

  Like Corann, she realized, placing her finger on her discomfort. This one’s got that same feel.

  When she’d met the leader of the Wampeh Ghalian, Henni had instinctively read her and had sensed the thousands who had perished at the woman’s hands. Her
sweet, motherly exterior hid what was essentially a bloodthirsty monster capable of incredible carnage.

  This woman was part of the visla’s operation, so, despite her pleasant demeanor, given the company she was keeping and her presence in this facility, Henni reasoned she must be similar to Corann in that respect.

  Henni reached out, willing herself to open up to the woman’s true self. She’d been honing the skill with Jinnik’s help, and though it was still entirely hit-and-miss, she was at least gaining the beginning of a degree of control. But with this woman it was nearly impossible to read her at all, save that initial flash.

  “Oh, such a thorn in my colleagues’ side,” the woman said, slowly rising to her feet.

  She was stocky in her build, solid, yet feminine in her movements. The skintight body suit she was wearing only seemed to accentuate her motions, while enhancing her frame. It was clear that she possessed a powerful musculature beneath that exterior.

  She moved close and reached out, her long fingers gently caressing Henni’s violet hair.

  “Such lovely locks you have,” the woman said.

  Henni felt a strange tingling on her scalp.

  “Hey, lay off, creep.”

  “Now, now. Don’t be rude,” the woman replied, then grabbed Henni by the head, her fingers pressing tightly against her head.

  Henni shuddered as she felt the woman’s magic probing her through the woman’s fingertips. It was a horrible violation, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Thankfully, a few short moments later, the woman let go.

  “What the hell?” Henni blurted, confused and a little disoriented.

  While her new torturer had been probing her with her dark power, Henni had been able to loop the connection back on the woman and had read her as well. For just the relatively short period her fingertips had been squeezing Henni’s head, the young woman could read her like a book. And what she saw was horrifying.

  This one was worse than the others. Far worse. A dark soul, indeed. And she had ill-intentions on her mind. She was not a reader in the sense that Henni was, that much was clear, but she did possess a somewhat similar gift.