Hozark's Revenge

by Scott Baron

And so it was that she prepared to power up a new batch of magical weaponry with the potent mixture of powers still combined. If she failed, she would simply put additional effort into finding a way to separate the two. But if she succeeded, it would be quite an achievement indeed, and the visla would undoubtedly reward her greatly.

  “We’re ready,” the weaponsmith informed Niallik a very short while later.

  They had been keeping the crucible hot and ready to smelt, knowing full well the woman’s propensity for bursts of inspiration. It was far better to exert the effort to keep the forges going in anticipation than to face her disappointment.

  Niallik followed him to the chamber they had been using as their main experimentation facility. There were other larger spaces available, but this one had thick walls and was far enough from the other goings-on that any magical bleed out would not taint their other work.

  The air had an acrid, metallic tang to it from the molten fluid awaiting its power. This was the most delicate and dangerous portion of the entire process. The adding of power to the just-poured metal, bonding the magic to the device being made as it cooled. On a good day it was challenging. With Niallik’s requirements, it seemed almost impossible.

  But the weaponsmiths were some of the finest coin could buy, and they had provided weapons aplenty to many unsavory causes in their storied careers. And if they could somehow make this connection work, the financial bonuses would be substantial, to say the least.

  Niallik handed the man the little vial of condensed power. She estimated it contained enough raw magic to charge at least a dozen konuses, if not more. But with the mix of Henni’s strange power in it as well, she really couldn’t be sure. She didn’t know what that one’s gift might do when put into a receptacle like this.

  “Prepare the channeling spells,” the man said, carefully positioning himself just beside the konus mold, the vial in one hand, the other outstretched and ready to cast the words that would drive just a little bit of the power he now held out of its magical containment and into the molten konus.

  “Ready,” the two handling the glowing-hot crucible replied.

  “Begin the pour.”

  The crucible tilted slowly, a fine stream of liquid metal pouring into the magically reinforced mold that would form the new weapon. As the metal flowed, he chanted the words he knew so well, using his own power to direct the volatile magic they were attempting to tame into the nascent konus.

  His decades of experience had given him a skill few possessed and the confidence required to wield it. But this magic fought back as he worked, and that was bad.

  The difficult thing was all magic beyond the very specific spells to charge the konus had to be kept clear of the workspace lest a catastrophic failure occur. It was a safety protocol that had been used for centuries, and it had been drilled into his head since his first day as an apprentice.

  But this magic was different. Squirmy. Trying to break free. He struggled to direct it into the konus, forcing it to bond to the hot metal as he’d done so many times before. The magic, however, had other ideas, and was fighting back like none he had ever felt.

  Niallik was the first to notice that something was wrong. Very wrong. Like the moment of calm on a beach before a tsunami, when the water suddenly pulled out to sea, leaving a silent void, the chamber felt eerily still.

  The weaponsmith was struggling with the spell, and it was a battle he was clearly losing. Without another moment of hesitation, Niallik lunged across the room, making for the doorway as fast as she could. Seeing her flee, the others immediately followed her lead.

  All but one. His hold on the unstable magical blend was tenuous, but he was going to keep trying if it was the last thing he did.

  It was.

  The structure shook from the blast, a fine dusting raining down from the ceiling as the containment spells did their work, slamming into place to contain the event, holding the building together. But only barely. It was clear that if not for the safety precautions Visla Maktan had cast while preparing this facility, they would certainly all have perished in the incident.

  Niallik and the others rose to their feet and dusted themselves off. The weaponsmith’s associates were in shock at what had just transpired. They were also quite afraid of how Niallik would react. Her entire vial of magic had been lost in the blast, after all, spilled and dispersed when the fraction of it being used took out the room. But, to their dismay, she was actually smiling.

  Had the entire amount gone critical, the whole facility would likely be a crater no matter how many containment spells Visla Maktan had left in place. But that had not happened, and she had just learned something incredibly valuable.

  Henni’s magic, it seemed, was exponentially more powerful than she had thought. It was unstable, just like its source, yet it was remarkable. It was unique. It was also incredibly dangerous, as they’d just learned the hard way. But if she could perfect the extraction process and learn how to properly harness the young woman’s magic?

  With it, Visla Maktan would be unstoppable, and the troublesome Visla Jinnik would finally no longer be necessary. And Niallik would become a very wealthy and very well-connected woman.

  Niallik turned to the master weaponsmith’s second-in-command. “Well, that was interesting. It looks like you just got a promotion. Congratulations.”

  “But I’m only the––”

  “You’ve been promoted,” she said again, fixing him with a hard stare. “Congratulations.”

  The man swallowed hard. “Uh, thank you, Niallik.”

  “Now, this is your chance to shine. Let’s see if you can step up and do what your former associate could not.”

  “But the power. It was destroyed in the blast.”

  Niallik seemed utterly unfazed by his words. It was a bit unsettling, given how much effort she’d put into extracting that vial’s worth of power. But she simply reached into her pocket and withdrew a tiny little tube no bigger than the tip of her finger. Inside was that same swirling mix of magic.

  “You saved some!”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Do you think I wouldn’t be prepared for such an event?”

  What she didn’t say was that this was her personal stash she had been planning on keeping for herself. It had been a bit of a chore, siphoning it away from the main container, but she’d managed, and if the power could truly do what she hoped it might, her little sample-sized vial would be worth a pretty sum.

  But that was far less important than completing a konus with this magic. Maktan would want results, and she simply could not delay. She handed the man the little vial.

  “Let’s try again, shall we? And this time, do try to not blow up the facility.”

  They made their way to one of the adjacent chambers. It had a more rudimentary setup in place, but it was still a fully functional smelting operation. In no time the man and his team got the magical fires stoked and the raw ore melting into molten liquid potential.

  Having seen what happened to his former superior, the newly minted weaponsmith was far more cautious with his casting, barely trickling the power into the newly forged konus as the metal just began to cool into its shape. He hoped that by waiting just that little bit of time, the magic would not react so violently as it had before.

  Even so, he struggled with the spell, fighting the unstable magic the entire time. But this was different. It was a challenge, yes, but it did not feel like a cascading disaster as it had been the prior attempt. Finally, after a great deal of work, the magic bonded to the cooling metal, sealed within and providing it a magical charge.

  “It won’t be ready for use until it is fully cooled, I would believe,” he said. “It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.

  “You won’t dunk it in water?”

  “I think it’s too unstable when hot,” he replied. “I understand you’re in a hurry, but given what just happened, I think––”

  “Yes, yes. Fine,” Niallik interrupted. “We’ve waited thi
s long, I suppose.”

  The hours crept by painfully slowly, but finally the device had cooled until it possessed but a tiny bit of warmth.

  “It’s ready,” the man said.

  Niallik picked it up and slid it onto her wrist.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one of the men to test it out first?” he asked.

  “Oh, no,” she replied, an excited look in her eye. “I’m quite prepared for this risk.”

  The rush of being the first person ever to wield a konus powered by this utterly unique form of magic was a thrill like no other, and she had no intention of letting anyone else steal her moment of glory.

  Carefully, and with only the smallest bit of intent, she cast a basic force spell at the heavy stone work table nearby. It slid across the room with ease, nearly smashing into the far wall.

  Niallik’s smile grew wider. “Oh, yes. This will do quite nicely,” she said, turning back to her new chief weapon maker. “Now, prepare yourself. After the next extraction, you’ll need to create more of these.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Demelza was not enjoying her flight to the next system in her quest for the Quommus. It wasn’t that the voyage itself was particularly long or daunting, or that her shimmer ship was at all uncomfortable for such a trip. The odor of her undesired, but necessary, companion, however, was something in a class of its own.

  The woman was called Itzalla, and she was a Nagalian, with the coarse hair the color of rotting sea grass and folds of rough, yellowish skin that were common to her race.

  Most of her kind who ventured out into mixed company were quite aware how pungent the trapped oils and sweat they produced could be to others and washed or used masking spells accordingly. No one held it against them, it was just their own physiology at work.

  This one, however, didn’t seem to care one lick about other people’s sensitivity to her aroma. And given that her diet consisted largely of low-quality foods of the greasiest nature, the effect was only exacerbated.

  But, despite that huge drawback, the woman was one hell of a navigator. And more importantly, the only one in three systems Demelza had found who could make any sense of the cryptic star charts she had cobbled together from the temple glyphs, runes, and sigils.

  She had originally tried to simply purchase a set of legible charts, consolidated and modernized for her quest. But the navigator, despite her talents, was living on a rather shitty world in an even shittier system. And she had a different price in mind.

  “I want off of this stinking rock,” she said.

  The irony of her complaint was not lost on Demelza, nor her nose. And her resolve, and price, were as readily apparent as her stench.

  “You wish to be dropped at another world? Provide me the chart and I shall do so.”

  “Nah, I don’t just wanna go from one dump to some other crap planet. I want to see what’s out there. To stretch my legs.”

  “We shall be in a ship.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ve been cooped up too long, and I want some adventure.”

  Demelza hesitated.

  “Or you can just find someone else who happened to have studied ancient system references, planet names, and antique star charts as a hobby growing up. I’m sure they’re easy to find.”

  Obviously, they were not. And given the woman’s personality, it was apparent why she had taken up such a solitary pastime in her youth. Like it or not, Itzalla was her best, and only, option.

  “You wish to accompany me, then?”

  “You betcha,” the woman replied. “These chart glyph thingies you found are wild. Never come across anything quite like ’em, and I’m looking forward to seeing exactly where they take us.”

  The Ghalian paused, weighing her options. There was only one.

  “Well, let us gather your possessions. We can then––”

  “Got all my stuff packed and ready,” Itzalla said. “Gimme five minutes and I’ll be aboard and all set to go.”

  And just like that, Demelza was saddled with an unwanted crewmate. Having an outsider taking up residence aboard her ship, even briefly, was far from ideal. But it seemed there was little choice.

  Itzalla quickly made herself at home in the small bunking space aboard the vessel. It was not a craft designed for a large contingent, and it would be a bit cramped. Ghalian worked alone, and this was a shimmer ship designed for silent infiltration and escape.

  But the occasional need to house an additional occupant had been taken into consideration in its fabrication, so the malodorous woman at least had her own quarters, however cramped they might be. It certainly beat sharing a room with her.

  Demelza began casting odor masking spells as soon as they boarded the ship. It was in no way her strong suit, but if they were to be cooped up together for any length of time, it was not a luxury but a necessity.

  “This is the navigation console,” the assassin said, showing her guest her place in the command chamber. “You shall work from here.”

  “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine,” Itzalla said, messily spreading her notes, scrolls, and charts all about the surface.

  “So, where do the markings guide us?”

  “Hold your Malooki. Give me a minute, here,” the navigator said as she shuffled things about.

  “You said you could guide me to the place named in the runes. The one called the ‘Red Jewel.’”

  “Well, yeah. But you can’t rush an artist.”

  “You are a navigator.”

  “And there’s an art to navigation. Like the saying goes, ‘Rush the navigator and you might fly into a sun.’”

  “I have never heard that saying.”

  “Well, it’s a thing. Trust me.”

  Demelza was beginning to have second thoughts about bringing this one aboard. But they hadn’t taken off yet, so it was still possible to rid herself of her passenger if she proved all talk and no skill.

  But Itzalla was skilled. Just a bit peculiar as well.

  “Oh yeah,” she said as she rearranged the seemingly chaotic pile in front of her. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “That is what?”

  “The first part of breaking this down into something we can actually use. I mean, all of the stuff you gave me is old. I’m talking really old. Names that haven’t been used in centuries. Some even longer.”

  “Yes, I am aware.”

  “But you had a couple of useful bits in there with all this mess. The ‘Red Jewel’ has to be a red dwarf star. Whether it’s the sun at the center of the system we’re looking for or is just a road marker isn’t clear yet. But it gives us something to work from. And then there was this other bit. Where did I put it?”

  She shuffled through the parchment until she came across the piece she was looking for.

  “Yeah, there it is. ‘The light burns bright, the two eyes of Orakis staring down from above.’ Kinda cryptic, but those old-timers were big on flowery language, ya know?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard. But can you decipher it?”

  “I’m getting to it. See, the two eyes of Orakis almost surely mean a dual sun system.”

  “How can you be sure it is a system and not mere solar markings on the map?”

  “Because of the way it’s worded. ‘Staring down from above.’ Get it?”

  Dizzying as the woman’s train of thought might be to follow, Demelza actually did. “Of course. Above signifies standing on a planet’s surface looking upward.”

  “Yep.”

  “So our destination orbits twin suns.”

  “If they haven’t gone and blown up since the time this was all written, then yeah.”

  “This is excellent work, Itzalla. Set a course and we shall depart at once.”

  “Hey now, hold on a minute. This all makes some sense, but these are ancient names and arcane symbols for planets and systems. It’s gonna take me a bit.”

  “But you can do it, yes?”

  “Of course I can. Some of the systems look familiar, and
once I backtrack a few and develop a proper key, I should have us a course plotted.”

  “How long will it take you?”

  “What did I say about rushing the navigator?” she snarked. “Tell ya what. Why don’t you go and grab us some food and I’ll see what I can do?”

  Demelza fought down the reflexive urge to smack the sass out of the woman and instead simply smiled and nodded. “Of course. Please, continue with your work. I shall return shortly.”

  The Ghalian strode from her ship into the fresh air outside and breathed deep. It was almost amusing, Itzalla’s penchant for smart talk. Almost. Had she known she was mouthing off to a Wampeh Ghalian, she likely would have minded her manners far more. But so far as the troublesome woman knew, Demelza was simply an ordinary Wampeh traveler seeking a navigator.

  And so Demelza trekked back into the marketplace to acquire some fresh food for her new guest. She would feed her and take her off of this planet, as promised, but she intended that their tenuous union be as brief as possible. She was a solitary being by nature, and her new navigator was cramping her style. But if all went well, she would reach her destination, and Itzalla would find a happy new home. At least she hoped so.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Itzalla had been good to her word, directing them to what appeared to be the next leg of the search, rather than the final destination. It had taken a fair bit of work on the navigator’s part, scouring countless star charts, cross-referencing ancient names of worlds that only kind of sounded like what was written in the sigils and glyphs from the temple markings. But Itzalla had finally done it.

  “Two eyes of Orakis. It references a deity who carried a big hammer and defeated all who threatened his realm. Which was a pretty hot and shitty one, legend has it. Just like that planet right there. Yep, that’s your system,” she announced proudly, kicking her feet up on the console and stuffing her face with bread smeared with warm Giggis cheese.

  It was not a snack most would choose, nor one most could stomach. But hers appeared to be of cast iron, as Demelza had learned over the few days in transit with her.