by Scott Baron
“I was there, Bob. He was.”
“No, he was not. Allow me to demonstrate.”
The Geist then showed one of the reasons he had earned his reputation when he slid his hood over his head and vanished without a word.
“Where’d he go?”
“I am still here, Charlie,” he said, removing the hood. For a moment he looked like a disembodied head floating six feet above the ground, then Charlie made out the slightest hint of his shape, blending with the background almost seamlessly.
“Holy shit, that’s active camouflage! Our government was working on something like that, but they never got it functional, from what I heard. But this? This is amazing.”
“It is called a shimmer. The spell, in conjunction with some form of enchanted covering, makes the wearer nearly invisible to those not specifically looking for it. And rest assured, I am always looking for it. The visla has a dozen guards with him at nearly all times when he is outside the estate’s walls.”
“And I had no idea.”
“No reason for you to have. But now I must return to my task. Be safe, my new friends,” he said, walking away.
“He’s gone, you know,” Ara said. “Left the planet.”
“What?” the Geist blurted.
“He was trying to force me to power his weapons––to no avail, I’m proud to say. He even had a pair of claithes among them.”
“His personal ones. He drained them putting down a rebellion,” Charlie noted.
“Terrible things, those. In any case, I was no use to him, so he had to start the process himself. Something is afoot, and he couldn’t wait. He departed aboard one of the larger of the transport ships, focusing his energy into the weapons within, personally delivering them to the other vislas and emmiks involved in their covert war.”
The Wampeh’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Then it is too late. I have missed him.”
Ara sized up the man and made a choice.
“Help us rescue Leila and make our escape, Bawb, and rest assured, Visla Maktan will come to you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Wampeh was disconcertingly efficient in his movement, though Charlie was unsure whether he felt more uncomfortable or envious as he watched the man quickly strip their victims of weapons and the few skrees they might use to call for help.
“You know, you fought quite well,” he said, pulling a slaap from a dead guard’s hand. “Especially given you’d already fought off nearly a dozen opponents, and underarmed as well. Your errors were more due to fatigue than tactical miscalculation, though there were still plenty of those to exploit.”
“Thanks,” Charlie replied. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment, I guess.”
“I mean no disrespect. And if we make a clean run upon rescuing your friend, I’d even be glad to show you a thing or two.”
“You want to train me to be an assassin?”
The Wampeh laughed. “Hardly. You stand out far too much for that, and even with years of training, I feel a shimmer wouldn’t keep you entirely out of sight.”
Charlie tightened the bonds of the few survivors of their fight.
“You should kill them, you know,” Bawb said.
“I agree with the Geist,” Ara added.
“I know, but I still don’t feel good about killing people, at least not when they’re already bound and gagged.”
“So untie them,” Bawb said.
“You know what I mean.”
The Wampeh flashed a wry grin. “It doesn’t mean my solution isn’t a valid one.”
Ultimately, they decided that since the visla was off-world, and the completed weapons had gone with him, the likelihood of anyone happening to come to the building was quite low. Regardless, Charlie and Bawb threw the bound survivors in a storage closet within the building.
Ara disposed of the others. Charlie didn’t ask how.
“Come close, Charlie,” she said when he exited the building. “Is that the newly designed konus you were speaking of, Geist?” she asked, eyeing the ornate device the human was carrying.
“Yes, that is it,” he said. “And it seems quite a good fit for Charlie, wouldn’t you agree?”
Her golden eyes scrutinized the magical device. Indeed it appeared to be one of a kind, a prototype of a new design, and one with immense potential if she was right.
“Place it on the ground before me, Charlie.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just do as she says, young one. You are about to witness something few have ever seen,” the Wampeh said, stepping back well clear of the area.
Charlie did as he was instructed, laying the konus on the soil at Ara’s feet.
“Now, stay back,” she said, leaning in, focusing her gaze on the ornate device.
A golden light flowed from her eyes into the konus, and Charlie could have sworn he felt a rippling of the world around him, a ball of magic pressure swelling out from the now-glowing konus. A moment later, Ara sat back on her haunches, satisfied with her work.
“Put it on, Charlie,” she instructed.
“But it’s still glowing hot.”
“You will not be burned. Trust me.”
At this point, he either trusted the dragon or he didn’t. The choice was obvious. Wrapping his fingers around the konus, he found the seemingly hot metal actually quite comfortable to his touch, the glow slowly receding into its mass as he slipped it onto his wrist.
“Whoa,” he gasped.
He had wielded magical devices before. Konuses, slaaps, even the extremely powerful konus belonging to the Geist. But this was different. The energy felt so much stronger. Deeper. Limitless. And more than that, it felt viscerally right, as if it were already a part of him.
“Interesting,” Bawb said, watching Charlie as he began glowing faintly.
“Hey, why is he glowing?”
“He isn’t. You are.”
Ara was right. Charlie realized the glow was actually coming from him, a transfer from the konus that was slowly absorbing back into his body.
“Guys, what’s going on here?”
“Something astonishing. The Wise One gifted a fraction of her energy to this device, and somehow, amazingly, you seem to have bonded with it. The konus will most likely only respond to you now. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Charlie laughed nervously.
“Well, it must be the Zomoki blood in me. It does strange things to a man.”
The shock on Bawb’s face was clear, as if he’d been slapped.
“Blood, you say? But that’s impossible. Zomoki blood is deadly for most who merely touch it. Fatal for all but the strongest of Wampeh to ingest it.”
“Well, I’m not a Wampeh, and I didn’t ingest it. Some got on a wound and mixed in a few years ago.”
“A direct blood-to-blood bond?” he asked, his gaze turning to Ara. “Is this true?”
“It is, it seems. Believe me, I was just as surprised as you at first, but it seems this man from another galaxy somehow survived the process.”
“Astonishing,” the Wampeh said, an odd look flashing across his eyes.
“Don’t even think it,” Ara warned.
“I would do no such thing.”
“Perhaps, but the temptation for a Wampeh with such skills as yourself might be too much to overcome.”
Charlie looked at them both, thoroughly confused.
“Uh, guys? What are we talking about, here?”
Ara shifted her gaze to the human. “We’re talking about our Wampeh friend, and the rare ability he possesses.”
“Absorbing people’s magical energy through their blood. Yeah, I figured as much.”
“You already know of this?” she asked with surprise.
“I saw him do it once before. A wiza––a mester, actually, as he pointed out. He crippled him in combat, then drank his blood.”
The Geist merely shrugged as if it were just another day at the office.
“The point, Charlie, is t
hat while my blood would kill him if he did ever prove so foolish as to attempt to drink from me––”
“I wouldn’t. And I told you, your scales are too hard, anyway.”
“As I was saying, while my blood would undoubtedly kill him stone dead, yours is now a mixture he might be able to metabolize and assimilate. The temptation of possessing even a fraction of a Zomoki’s power would be too much to resist for many.”
Charlie assessed the assassin casually leaning against the building. He didn’t know why, exactly, but the terrifying man was actually growing on him. More than that, despite his bloody occupation, Charlie detected a deep sense of honor coloring the man’s aspect.
“Bob, will you try to drink from me?”
The Wampeh looked at him calmly, betraying no emotion. “No, Charlie, I will not.”
“And do you give me your word on that. On your honor?”
He could have sworn the assassin flinched, just a tiny bit, but without hesitation, he replied. “You have my word, Charlie. So long as you live, I will not drink from you.”
So long as I live, eh? Nice loophole, he mused. But it’s as good as I’m going to get. For now, anyway.
“All right, then. I take you at your word, Bob.” Charlie slung the small bag containing the captured weapons and turned for the trail back. “I’m going to need to ask a favor of you.”
“Oh? Already, you place yourself in my debt?”
“If that’s what you want to call it, then fine. I owe you one.”
Bawb considered the offer a moment, silently staring at the human who so freely offered a debt of honor. “Very well,” he said. “What is it you require?”
“I want you to help me free Leila, the groundskeeper’s daughter. She’s being held in an underground storage room, but there are a whole bunch of guards there.”
“Then we shall slay them together,” the Geist said, warming to the idea.
“No, we need to try not to kill them. Many of them are actually okay guys. It isn’t their fault the visla stuck them on the shitty overnight detail. If we can, we need to take them out, but without drawing blood.”
The Wampeh looked disappointed but reluctantly agreed.
“You know, Charlie. This is looking like less and less of a fun deal we’ve struck.”
“Well, I’m sorry, Bob. It is what it is.”
“Very well, then. Let’s get on with it.”
Charlie turned to Ara. “Will you be okay here?”
“Yes. The collar is back to normal, thanks to you, so while I’m confined to the grounds, I am no longer bound to this spot.”
“Excellent. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Where will you be?”
“Just call out. I’ll hear you. We share the bond, after all.”
“Right, forgot about that.”
“How do you forget such a thing?” Bawb marveled.
“I’m a little preoccupied, okay? I’ve already near fried my head off jumping this barrier once, and now I get to do it a second time in the same night.”
Bawb the Geist seemed quite amused by that. “Charlie, you have a Zomoki-powered konus. I don’t think you’ll have much of a problem this time.”
“Oh, you’re right,” he said. “I forgot about that.”
“Amazing,” Bawb said, shaking his head. “Well, there’s no sense waiting around here. Shall we?”
Charlie took off at a jog without another word, the Wampeh assassin close on his heels, his soft boots not making so much as a sound as they ran. Charlie saw the wall approaching and wrapped his fingers around his collar, once again chanting the konus magusi spell. He easily vaulted the wall, landing smoothly on the other side.
“Hey, I don’t think the barrier is charged,” he said, removing his fingers from the collar.
A jolt of pain surged through his neck as his proximity to the low wall triggered the collar. He quickly scurried away, back toward the estate, rubbing his neck where it had zapped him the worst.
“You were saying?” Bawb said.
Charlie didn’t have to turn to look to know the man was smiling a pointed-fang grin.
“Come on,” he replied. “And remember, try not to kill anyone.”
“You take all the fun out of it,” he grumbled.
“So I’ve been told. By you, in fact,” Charlie said with a wry grin. “Now, follow me.”
The duo crept toward the holding area together, human and Wampeh working as a team for the first time in known history. An unusual alliance, and one that would prove both a boon and a curse for both men.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The restraints holding Leila’s wrists were not of magical origin. Of that she was certain as she worked the bindings holding her arms behind her back, fastened to the heavy chair. She’d been in the subterranean room for hours, though with no sun or moon to guide her, she couldn’t be entirely sure what time it was.
What she did know was it was getting late. Even without external means, her growling stomach told her quite clearly it was well past her normally late dinner time.
“Hey! Can I at least get something to eat in here?” she called to the closed door across the room.
There was no reply.
In fact, the only visitor she’d had since being brought to this place was the visla’s daughter, and that had been an entirely unpleasant experience.
It was interesting how Malalia––once a childhood playmate of Leila’s––had evolved into a more feminine––and more cruel––version of her father. When she questioned Leila about precisely what she had seen out at the building in the glen, she had been rather liberal in the application of pain-inducing spells to ensure a truthful answer.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know,” Leila had said between castings as the spells released their grip. “There’s no need to torture me.”
Malalia had merely smiled as the glow of her konus faded, her eyes shining, cold and icy. “I know you’ll tell me,” she had said. “And I know there’s no need, per se. But there are a few spells I’ve just been dying to try out.”
She cast again, the spell’s magical grip driving jolts of pain and shock through her captive’s restrained body.
By the time she was finished having fun with her test subject, Leila was soaked with sweat.
“I told you, I didn’t know what was out there. I heard something going on by what had previously been unused land and went to see what was happening.”
Malalia studied the exhausted woman impassively, as if examining an insect or tiny animal before deciding whether to squash it with her boot.
“I believe you,” she finally said. “Though I think my father will want to have a few words with you as well. You sit tight, now, and I’ll be back in a little while to continue our discussion. And, Leila, thank you for your cooperation.”
The visla’s daughter closed the door behind her on the way out, leaving Leila quite alone. That had been the last person she’d seen, and that was hours ago.
Her wrists were red and raw from her struggles against the rope binding them, but her efforts were finally beginning to pay off, as the slightest bit of slack had been worked into the restraints. It wasn’t much, but Leila flexed her muscles, strengthened by a lifetime of work outdoors handling wild animals, and pulled. Miraculously, she felt a flow of circulation restored to her hand as she managed to slip her thumb’s lowest knuckle past the bindings.
“Child’s play,” she said with grim amusement as the rest of her aching hand followed her digit to freedom.
She shook her numb limb, the welcome blood flow and rush of sensation returning to her fingers raising her spirits just a bit. When her hand felt under her control once more, she set to work undoing the other wrist’s restraint until, finally, she was free.
Leila quickly set to work searching the room for anything she could use as a weapon. The thought of having to fight her way out of a place she had called home her entire life made her physically ill, but she’d deal with that––and hopeful
ly find a logical solution––once she was out of captivity. Surely, they wouldn’t persecute one who had been such a loyal servant all those years. Or so she hoped.
The room, much to her chagrin, was nearly devoid of anything even remotely functional as a weapon. Beyond the rope that had tied her to the chair, she was essentially empty-handed.
“Fine. So long as they’re not powered, I should be able to handle them,” she grumbled as she moved near the door. “If I can tackle a full-grown bundabist, I should be able to take down a security guard. Especially the ones Maktan puts on night shift.”
As quietly as she was able––which for a woman who grew up stalking game around the compound was pretty quiet––Leila eased the door to the room open a crack and peered out into the hallway.
No one there.
It appeared as if the guards had thought her well enough under control to leave the inner area unmanned. That meant only a few of them in the upper hallway at the top of the stairs, and possibly just outside the exterior door.
Leila padded down the short hall, confirming her location in the outermost section of the farthest structure before mounting the stairs and heading toward fresh air. She heard talking at the landing above and crouched low as she reached the uppermost step, making as small a visual signature as possible. Yet another trick learned from years tracking animals that served her well tonight.
The two guards stood on the landing in front of the stairs, their backs facing the approaching woman. It seemed they were concerned only with people trying to break in, not break out.
Their slaaps were in the pouches on each of their hips, and so far as she could tell, only one of them wore a konus, which Leila intended to make her own very shortly. Better yet, facing outward as they were, they’d never see her coming.
If she played her cards right, she might even get clear without them knowing it was she who effected the escape. The odds were slim, and a hasty plan was devised to best disable the two men while providing her a good chance of going unseen. Satisfied it just might work, Leila moved.
She struck the man on the left hard below the ear. She hoped it would knock him out cold, but even if it didn’t, it would stun him long enough to take down the other man before returning her attentions to the first one.