Space Pirate Charlie: The Dragon Mage Book 2

by Scott Baron

  “What are you doing? Don’t waste your power,” Charlie urged.

  “Trust me.”

  The ships easily deflected the spells, their casters having no trouble with the Geist’s seemingly-desperate attempts. Charlie was about to make a crack along the lines of ‘told you so,’ when a great, shuddering flash blasted out above. Three of the ships exploded and plummeted from the sky. Two of them banked sharply into each other and spun to the ground, where they broke apart on impact. One of them, however, dropped like a rock.

  Bawb uttered what sounded a lot like a Drook spell, targeting the plummeting craft. A faint hover spell latched onto the hull, and while it hit the ground hard, it remained intact.

  “What the hell did you do?” Charlie asked, amazed. “I didn’t know you had spells that could smash through their defensive shields.”

  “I don’t,” Bawb said with a satisfied grin as he surveyed the destruction. “But I do know quite a few powerful stun spells.”

  Realization dawned on his human friend. “Holy shit. You weren’t attacking them with those long shots. You were making them focus on force shield defenses.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And those spells you cast earlier. The ones that drained those big-ass konuses. You left a bunch of stun fields hanging up there in the sky, didn’t you?”

  “Very perceptive.”

  Leila looked at the wreckage, confused. “But they should have been able to deflect those.”

  “Normally, yes. But with my barrage of direct force assaults, they shifted all of their attention to stopping that type of attack. With no other spells being cast and thrown in their direction, that would have been a tactically sound decision, normally.”

  “Only you left booby traps in the sky,” she realized. “And they didn’t see them cast because you did it a while ago. But the amount of power needed for them to stay in place that long with nothing solid to anchor them––”

  “Would be extreme, yes. Possibly enough to drain a konus, even,” he said with a smile. “And the sand in the air provided a small––but effective––aid to the process.”

  “You knocked out the Drooks.”

  “And the ships fell from the sky. Yes. Five of six are destroyed. As for the final one, those not killed outright by the deceleration will certainly be immobilized for a little while.”

  The larger ships behind the scout craft circled the area, holding a perimeter as they tested the defensive spells. Unsure how to proceed, several dropped to the surface a ways away and unloaded their ground forces.

  “It seems we will have a more conventional fight on our hands soon, and it’s only a matter of time before they figure out the aerial traps,” Bawb said as he fired off a series of diversionary attacks. “I fear that while they fell for the first series, these other craft will clear them once their men close in on the perimeter. They will assault us full-on shortly.”

  As predicted, a ground battle commenced, with magic flying as the Council troops swarmed toward the crashed Earth ship. The wreck provided decent cover, and Bawb and Charlie used it to their advantage to fling spells back at the attackers from relative safety. Bawb’s were deadly, while Charlie opted for diversionary ones until his foes were closer.

  The charging men were out in the open, but with the threat of the wrath of their Council leaders should they turn back, they ran headlong into the blender of defensive spells. Better to die in battle than at the dissatisfied hands of their masters.

  Bawb cast quickly, switching from slaap to konus as easily as breathing. Charlie had forgotten that he had topped up on Yanna Sok’s blood––and therefore her power––not long ago. The boost made him a far more formidable enemy than the Council had anticipated.

  Also shocking the assaulting troops were the occasional projectiles that pierced their shields and thinned their ranks from quite a distance. Charlie was never the top gun marksman in his brief stint in the military, but he had achieved high enough rankings, and today he made every shot count.

  Side by side the men fought while Leila cast the defensive spells they had taught her, keeping stray attacks from landing a lucky hit.

  A roar sounded above as one of the large ships sped past them, quickly banking around for another pass.

  “The ships have figured a way around my traps, it seems,” Bawb said, resigned to his fate. “It has been an honor fighting beside you both.”

  He did not stop casting, but he also made no attempt to seek additional cover in retreat. The legendary assassin was not going to be captured, that much was certain. Given the forces about to assail them, Charlie didn’t think that would be an option anyway.

  Chapter Sixty

  Once the Council ships had found the means to pass the Geist’s clever aerial spell shields, it was just a matter of minutes before all of them were through, carefully lining up their attacks, while their ground troops continued their assault.

  “We’re cooked,” Charlie said, reluctantly accepting the situation. “I might be able to overload the ship’s reactor. The blast would be rather impressive.”

  The others looked at him and nodded. At least they would take a lot of those bastards with them.

  A massive explosion rocked the air, followed by another, then another. Chunks of flaming wreckage dropped from the sky as the Council ships were torn to pieces by spell blasts far beyond their capacity to defend. The destruction lasted only a few moments. Then all was still in the air.

  For a moment, anyway.

  The massive shape of a familiar ship rocketed through the smoke and floating debris, its weapons now targeting the hordes of troops on the ground. The destruction was brutally efficient, and those not killed outright turned tail and ran, willing to face the wrath of their vislas rather than the certain and violent fate that had just swooped in on them.

  The Rixana made another pass, strafing the survivors for good measure before dropping her cargo shuttle then quickly pulling up to a safe position in low orbit.

  The shuttle dove in hard, avoiding the few shots from the survivors on the ground. Its doors opened, and two dozen men spilled out, strapped to the teeth with weaponry, their bandoliers bulging with tools of destruction. The few holdouts on the ground didn’t stand a chance. Within minutes, the pirate horde had wiped them out to a man, stripping them of all weapons, then double-timing it to the cover of Charlie’s crashed ship.

  “Marban?” Charlie said in disbelief as the men swarmed into the shadow of the wrecked craft.

  “Hello, little brother! Excellent day for a hunt, wouldn’t you say?”

  The men embraced there and then in the middle of a battlefield. Charlie would say it was just dust in his eyes that had made them damp, had anyone asked.

  “How did you––?”

  “Oh, we did some asking around after we last met,” Marban said. “You’ve really started something, it would seem.”

  “What do you mean? And why the hell would you risk yourselves like this? You’re pirates, not rebels. This isn’t your cause, and now you’ve put yourselves at risk.”

  “Not that we don’t appreciate it,” Leila interjected.

  “Of course. We’re grateful, no doubt. But still,” Charlie continued.

  Bawb walked over to the scarred pirate and took his hand in greeting. “It is good to see you, Pirate.”

  “And you, Assassin.”

  Bawb laughed. “Ah, so you know my calling?”

  “And your reputation, Geist,” he said. “From one of the brotherhood of violent men to another, it is an honor to fight alongside you.”

  “Is that even a thing?” Charlie asked.

  “No. But it sounds rather badass, don’t you think?” Marban replied with a hearty laugh.

  “I do, actually. Maybe we should start a club and make T-shirts if we somehow survive this. But you haven’t answered my question. Why risk yourselves, the Rixana, for us?”

  A look crossed Marban’s face. One Charlie had seen once or twice in the past. W
hatever he’d been before his pirating days, his sense of honor ran true and deep.

  “Because the systems are aflame with rebellion, and you were the spell that ignited the fire. The Council ships at the edge of the battlefield are rumored to contain the Council’s secret weapon. A terrible weapon they’ve had in the works for many, many years.”

  “The doomsday device?” Bawb asked, his eyebrow arched high.

  “According to the Council turncoat who joined our cause, yes. Something only a handful know of, housed and protected within a ship at the rear of their formation. We hope he will obtain its exact position for us shortly. Once we know which it is, we will blast it from the sky before the Council can utilize it.”

  “Solid plan.”

  “Yes. And knowing that weapon is here, the rebels in the other systems are free to fight without fear of it being unleashed upon them. So there it is. We either stop this now, or never.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is no going back to a life of anonymity, dodging the Council and working at the periphery of their sphere of influence. Because of you, word of the Council’s plans has leaked out. Their plans for war. Rebellion is spreading, and rapidly. It didn’t need much, to be honest, but you provided the reason for all of the oppressed systems to stand up to the Council. There’s even a slave uprising.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. When word that the impetus for all of this was not just a former gladiator, but also a slave, well, the discussions of slave labor versus paid labor gained momentum. It’s something many have advocated for a long time, arguing men would gladly work harder and more efficiently for safety, lodging, and a decent wage. When you factor in all the power costs of maintaining restraint collars and overall living costs, it actually comes out about the same. I notice you no longer wear a collar, by the way. Leading by example, I see.”

  “Alien emancipation. Who’d have thought?”

  “It’s early days, and that’s a whole other discussion, but slaves and rebels are fighting together, and the Council has found itself spread thin with so many fires to extinguish. They never expected to be this spread out, and as a result, even with superior weaponry, they no longer have the advantage of sheer force.”

  “Twenty brutes against several hundred? I bet they’re having their power tested at every turn,” Bawb noted. “A most intriguing development. This means the assault force hounding us would be led by Visla Maktan himself.”

  The pirate nodded.

  Charlie picked up a container of water, then locked eyes with Bawb a moment. The Geist nodded.

  “Hey, Marban, come with me a minute. I want to show you something.”

  “Lead the way, little brother,” he said, following Charlie into the ship’s hull. When they emerged a few minutes later, he seemed to have a distinct spring in his step, and to those looking more closely, his hair appeared to steam slightly in the sun’s rays, almost as if he’d recently been wet.

  “I have to admit, Charlie, you do not cease to amaze,” Marban said with a chuckle. “This craft of yours, I’d have liked to see it when it was intact. The design and tech-magic are confounding, but fascinating all the same. And I recall you once said that you actually helped design it.”

  “That was a lifetime ago.”

  “Nevertheless, I can appreciate the effort, despite its current condition.”

  “But it’s no Rixana.”

  “Well, no. But she’s a special ship, and one I’ve grown very attached to over the years,” Marban said. He glanced over at the hulking shape camouflaged by mirrors and debris. “I’m truly sorry to see you’ve lost your Zomoki friend, Charlie. She seemed a good sort and would have proven a useful ally.”

  Charlie nodded his somber agreement.

  Marban turned and surveyed the destruction of the battlefield with sharp, clear eyes, then spoke to his assembled men. “Okay, you lot. It’s going to get ugly pretty soon. Eat and rest. There is a good chance many of us will not see tomorrow, so let us all make a damn good showing of it!”

  A little cheer of agreement rippled through the pirates, and Charlie couldn’t help but feel a swelling of pride in his chest. His former crew of pillaging lunatics were backing a cause. And if Marban was right about the momentum the nascent rebellion had gained, there was actually a possibility they might win.

  “Hey Bob, what do you think about––” He looked around, but the Wampeh was nowhere to be seen. “Bob? Hey, has anyone seen a pale, bloodthirsty vampire dude?” he joked.

  No one had.

  “Leila, where’d he go off to?” he asked, concern growing.

  “I don’t know, Charlie. He must’ve slipped away while we were digging in with Marban’s men.”

  Charlie scanned the wasteland, looking for his friend. There was no sign of him.

  “Hang on,” he said, his eyes widening slightly. “Where’d that downed Council ship go?”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The surviving crew of the lone Council craft to escape destruction were astounded at their good luck when they abruptly woke and came to their senses. The pilots had survived, though one had broken her leg during the crash. Two of the three Drooks powering the craft were also unharmed, though the third would require serious healing to ever power a craft again.

  A contingent of troops had been aboard as well, all of them anxiously awaiting the opportunity to prove their worth in the assault. Unfortunately for them, all appeared to have broken their necks on impact. It was highly unusual for so many to die in that manner, but the pilots saw the flaming wreckage of the large vessels and decided it was high time to flee back to the others to regroup. They could figure out what happened to the troops later.

  “Craft Arvanus Three requesting passage,” the injured pilot said as they approached the waiting ships, all nestled safely on the ground at the very far edge of the wastelands.

  “You were to complete your assault, Arvanus Three.”

  “We tried, but all the other ships were destroyed. We lost one of our Drooks, and the troops aboard were all killed in our crash.”

  A long silence hung in the air, then her skree crackled to life. “Very well. Passphrase?”

  “Magnanus oralian,” she replied.

  “You are clear to pass, Arvanus Three. Your presence has been requested aboard the command vessel for debriefing when you arrive.”

  “Understood,” she replied.

  Sitting in plain view among the dead soldiers, safely camouflaged by his shimmer, Bawb was glad he let the pilots live. The passphrase would have been the end of his little venture. He was even more pleased with his choice when three more different phrases were requested as they flew deeper into the ranks of the waiting forces.

  The ship landed at the rear of the parked ships, safely behind the much larger vessels. The injured pilot and her associate stumbled from the craft, while a small team of slaves removed the bodies of the dead soldiers. The Drooks were left in place, their injured friend assessed and determined to be salvageable. He was no sooner removed from his seat than a replacement was sent to take his place. The ship would fly again, and soon, it seemed.

  Bawb, however, had other plans.

  When the slaves had cleared the craft, the Wampeh assassin cast a very light sleep spell, knocking the Drooks out without obvious signs of attack. Shedding the hood of his shimmer cloak, he bent their necks to the side, drinking deep from them one by one, until barely any power remained in their slumbering bodies. He then cast a healing spell, erasing the puncture marks on their necks.

  The Council commanders would be confused, but they would not know what had befallen their Drooks until it was too late.

  Bawb exposed his armlets and focused the Drook energy swimming inside of him, sending it into the power rod lodged in the decorative metal. Soon, the full power of three Drooks was safely stored away, ready for use at a later time.

  Silently, he snuck from the craft, his shimmer protecting him from prying eyes, his assas
sin skills silencing his every footstep.

  His plan was simple. Sneak onto the main command ship and slaughter as many as he could. Cutting the head off the beast was their best bet to stop the doomsday weapon from ever being triggered, and if that meant he took out Visla Maktan in the process, all the better.

  He had quietly dispatched a pair of guards and hidden their bodies when a startling roar filled the sky. Defensive spells were all cast toward the front of the fleet in the direction of the battle, but this was coming from behind. Behind, and above.

  The Rixana dove hard, all of her substantial destructive spells aimed at a single ship. The craft was positioned between two larger vessels, but the attack avoided those, singling out the slightly smaller craft, which promptly burst into flames and broke in half from the sheer ferocity of the barrage.

  “The doomsday ship,” Bawb muttered as he realized their inside man had come through. The Rixana had managed to down the craft with a single, audacious attack. But what if the contents could be salvaged? Bawb could not allow that to happen.

  With great haste, the Wampeh skirted the flaming debris and plunged headlong into the wreckage of the craft. If any of the doomsday weapon was still intact, he would be sure to destroy it before it could be retrieved. Much as he wanted Maktan’s life, this was simply more important to the greater cause of the rebellion.

  Judging by the distress in the faces of the men who had exited the nearby ships and were now racing toward the wreck, he would have to move fast. Whatever was in there, they all seemed greatly concerned for its recovery.

  With a disregard for safety, the assassin sped through the flaming wreckage. The front of the ship seemed to have taken the brunt of the attack. Nothing could have survived, he surmised. So, the back it was.

  Bawb raced through the shattered corridors, scanning everywhere for this weapon of ultimate destruction. He found a particularly thick door––rent partially open from the explosions. The very nature of its construction told him this was what he was looking for. Whatever was inside was the deadliest weapon ever seen, and he had to get in there and destroy it before the Council’s lackeys arrived.