The Interstellar Slayer: Space Assassins 1 by Scott Baron

Author:Scott Baron [Baron, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-22T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The surface of Xymotz was far more hospitable than Hozark would have expected of such an unusual world. Rough edifices and unbearable climate were logical, given what he knew of the place, but, instead, the surface was quite peaceful. Peaceful, and clean where one expected anything but.

It seemed that the magic used to support the funnel was only a small portion of the protective spells layered upon the hidden civilization, and the bulk of them––the hardiest, at least––were reserved for the surface dwellers’ comfort and quality of life.

“Fascinating,” the Wampeh mumbled as he stepped from his ship and strode into the quaint, yet relatively spread out city.

It took up far more space than he would have expected, to be honest. Underground dwellings would make sense, given harsh environs, but with the tranquil skies within the magical bubble, there had simply been no such need, and buildings climbed up several stories as a result.

There were some subterranean fabrications, naturally, but it seemed as if they were mostly used for storage rather than habitation.

Hozark sniffed the air, not with his nose, but with his Wampeh Ghalian senses.

“Yes, a trace,” he noted with a little smile. “And this time, I think I know who the owner is.” He pulled his skree from his belt. “Uzabud, if you can hear this, I have reached the surface safely and am en route toward what may very well be our target. I will check back in with you later. If you do not hear from me in three days, assume me dead.”

It was a morbid thing to say, but he’d run with the former pirate a long time, and they both knew full well that their demise was always a possibility on any mission. Even the seemingly easy ones. You just never knew.

It would be a stealthy hunt, but not his most difficult. Orkut was of particularly notable appearance, his race possessing a deep violet skin color far darker than the light violet of some of the residents of Slafara and other Council worlds. So dark it bordered on actual purple among some of his kind. Compared to the other inhabitants of this world, he would stand out. Yes, finding the swordsmith should be at least somewhat easy. That is, if he was there in the first place.

But the people of Xymotz were a tight-lipped bunch, and it took several hours of cajoling and buying rounds of drinks, all under the guise of Alasnib the trader––one of Hozark’s favorite personas for this sort of infiltration and intelligence gathering operation––before he managed to learn the likely whereabouts of the one man fitting that description.

Of course, the drunk had not told him so outright. Even inebriated, which took quite a lot for the hard-drinking locals, they were a cautious bunch. Even the smallest nuggets of information were only gleaned by careful listening rather than outright spilling of details.

Fortunately, Alasnib, while a heavy drinker himself, was also protected by a most unusual spell. One that displaced whatever went into the caster’s mouth and deposited it some hundred meters away.

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