Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1 (16 page)

Being a master assassin, she could change almost everything else about her appearance. She could be just shy of beautiful or she could be hideously ugly. She could be fat or slim, walk with any number of gaits, be any number of people. She had even posed for long periods of time as a man. Several times, in fact.

Though she could change her appearance, her natural looks were perfect for her profession. She was not too beautiful so as to draw attention, but not so ugly that she was memorable.

Shaking her short black hair and running her fingers through it, she checked her clothing. She wore her normal work garb: loose black pants and a tunic to match, covering her firm, athlete’s body. She patted herself to ensure her weapons were sheathed and seated securely. Knives were strapped to her calves and on her forearms. She bunched her shoulder blades together to feel the sheathed throwing knives in the center of her back. She felt the ring daggers secured on both thighs, the only weapons she typically did not conceal unless she was playing a role. They were distinctive, but it was a matter of pride to use her clan weapons.

Nodding, she placed her figurines in their storage box. They were the only things in the world that mattered to her. Other than her weapons, of course. Her weapons, the finest available, could be replaced, however, all but the ring daggers. The figurines had belonged to her brother. Picturing his child’s face, she closed the lid on the box and left the room to heed the summons. The Gray Man did not tolerate being kept waiting.

The dark gray stone radiated cold through her thin, soft-soled shoes. The drafts that circulated through the corridors made the wall torches flicker and raised goose bumps on her arm, though she wore long sleeves. She hardly noticed, being occupied in wondering why the Gray Man had summoned her, if he had a job for her. It was definitely not for her sparkling conversation, she thought.

Ix had only been back a week since the last assignment, but that was fine. She had nothing else to do. Her work was all. When she was not actually working, she was training to do her work better. That was the way when you were the best. The last young hero trying to make a name for himself by killing the master assassin Ix had been years ago. There would be others. It was a hazard of the kind of fame she possessed, but there was something to be said for doing a job well, doing it perfectly. She strove to become better and better. What else was there? Nothing. Not for her.

Her ears pricked at a sound a good three corridors before she saw the source of it. Clomping his way down the hall was Shordan Drees, the Gray Man’s Head of Forces. The man was a mountain of muscle. It seemed to her that he was at least twice as tall as she was, but truthfully, she was at a level where she could stare right into his solar plexus, a useful thing when he got a little arrogant. He wore a thick leather tunic over leather pants, which were in turn tucked into very sturdy leather boots. He must have been lounging when he got the summons or he would be in the normal chain mail armor that he wore when at the fortress. When outside the fortress, he normally wore banded mail or plate mail.

From the top of his short brown hair to the end of his scruffy, wire-whisker covered jaw, he looked as if he’d been chiseled out of a hunk of rock. Chiseled badly. By a talentless artist. Or a child. A brain-damaged child. His nose was bulbous and crooked from repeated breakings, one of which she was responsible for. His wide mouth split into a cavernous hole as he smiled at her with his crooked teeth. His tiny brown, piggy eyes, stared out at her, though maybe they just seemed small because the rest of him was so massive. He raised one mammoth arm in greeting. It was bigger than most men’s legs, straining the leather as he moved that tree trunk arm of his.

“Hi Ix. I see Gray has summoned you too” he boomed.

“Obviously.”

He chuckled. “Well, then, we’ll go together.”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it.”

They made a strange pair. The assassin, light on her feet, making no noise at all and the walking boulder, stomping and crashing down the hallway. Ix took the opportunity to cast sidelong glances at him to see how he was armed this evening. Five, no six, large weapons were strapped to various parts of his body. She was sure there were a few smaller ones hidden somewhere in his clothing, too. No, maybe only one or two. Shordan Drees was not much for subtlety. Crush and smash, then ask questions later. That was Shordan.

The unlikely duo arrived at the door to the Gray Man’s study. Ix waved her arm nonchalantly toward the door. “After you,” she said. Shordan swung a meaty hand at the iron-bound wood. It sounded like a mallet hitting a tree.

“Come in, Shordan” the voice said from the other side of the door. It was unmistakably the Gray Man’s voice. Even through the thick wood door, she could hear its rich tones, its resonance. It caused her insides to vibrate slightly. Was that just her, because of her unique affinity for vibrational energy, or did others feel it, too? She would have to ask Shordan sometime.

The pair entered the study. As she was able to maneuver around Shordan’s bulk, she saw that the Gray Man was not alone. One of his Collectors was with him, standing as if he was in pain. Yes, from his body posture, Ix could see that he had injuries on his left leg, left upper arm, and right shoulder, as well as some other minor injuries to his left side. His face still retained bruises, though it was obvious from their fading that the injuries had occurred some time ago. The man did his best to stand straight, at attention, but Ix had made a profession of noticing the small details. Details were life…or death.

She shifted her attention to the Gray Man and saw him staring at her. The light from the braziers set around the room reflected off his pale bald pate. Completely hairless, his pasty gray-white skin shone in the flickering light.

At first, if one was to see the Gray Man in dim light, he would look like anyone else, perhaps with just a little less color. He could be just a pale man with a rounded face, soft chin, narrow nose, and average mouth. In fact, he would be totally unremarkable. Until the observer reached his eyes.

His eyes were gray, the color of charred meat, darker than any gray eyes Ix had ever seen. The most distinguishing feature of his eyes, though, was not the color. It was not even the intensity of the gaze when the eyes locked onto something. No, the frightening part of the Gray Man’s eyes were that the pupils and the iris were ringed completely in a blood red band. The entire sclera was as red as if the eye was bleeding internally and filling with blood.

The Gray Man blinked slowly and then turned those eyes on Shordan. What had he seen in her? Why did he stare? It seemed to her that he was announcing to her that he saw her thoughts, saw that she noticed the injuries on the man. He wanted her to take note that he was observant, too, that he didn’t miss any detail.

Shordan blithely carried on as if the man in front of the Gray Man was not important. “So, my lord, what service can we provide for you this evening?”

Steepling his fingers in front of his lips as he sat in a cushioned, ladder back chair, he glanced at the Collector and said, “This is Drewit Chandra, one of my Collectors in the regions to the far south. Drewit, tell these two what you told me.”

Bowing awkwardly because of his injuries, Drewit stood up straighter, saluted, fist to heart, and said: “Yes, my lord.” Turning to Ix and Shordan, he began.

“I and my group of Collectors, the 14
th
Unit, were following up on some rumors of a camp of some sort that was deep in the Rangi Forest. Our best trackers had scouted the area and found that the rumors were true. There was a large compound that consisted of many buildings. We believed that it was the one we had been looking for, the outworld scholar who is our highest priority.

“We watched the camp from a distance for a week and counted the total number of people there to be 13. We had 48 Collectors, all of whom came to ensure we could capture the scholar without trouble. We infiltrated the compound late at night when everyone was asleep. The three men keeping watch were dispatched without sound or complication and the force moved into place.

“Before we got to the main building to capture the scholar, though, two…uh…people…attacked us.”

Shordan Drees interrupted. “Are you telling me that two of the 10 remaining people attacked a force of almost 50 Collectors? Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

The Collector blanched. “Yes sir. I remember thinking it was suicidal to do so. Nonetheless, the two, a man and a woman, attacked us. I was ten paces away from the men who were attacked first by the woman. It was dark, but she appeared to be wearing underclothes and, yes, it was definitely a woman. I watched as in less than two breaths, she had killed four armed Collectors who were attacking her simultaneously.

“I saw only flashes of the man fighting because I was focused on trying to go after the woman, her being closer to where I was. As I rushed forward to attack, the head of one of the men she had just killed hit me in the face with such force that it broke my nose.” Drewit touched his nose absently, gingerly.

“After a few seconds of trying to clear my vision from my watering eyes and the blood splatter, I charged once again. As the woman spun one of our knife experts, the errant blades slashed me in the leg and side. Then, the knife expert too found herself without a head.

“Each time I attacked, I was repelled. Not by the woman or her swords, which had hooks on one end and a cruel razor-sharp point on the other with a crescent guarding her hands, but by other Collectors who were closer to her than I. I suffered a few more minor injuries and was knocked to the ground as she kicked another Collector so hard that the man flew through the air, landing on me.

“Looking around as I got up for the last time, I saw the futility of the effort. There was a bare handful of Collectors left, and they were being rapidly slaughtered by the pair. I decided that this must be reported and that if I stayed, it would serve no purpose, so I fled. I obtained the three manu birds from our camp and rode them nonstop to arrive here as quickly as I could. All three died from the journey and I made the last ten miles on foot.” He looked toward the ground, abashed at the confession.

“You ran from combat though you were able to still fight?” Shordan shouted, drawing a short sword. “Cowards should be dead. If not honorably in battle, then slaughtered as the cravens they are.” He moved toward the man to strike him down.

“Stop,” the Gray Man said in a normal tone.

It was as if Shordan had hit a wall. He stopped, motionless, frozen in place.

Ix saw Shordan’s eyes widen, his whole body tense. Then, though his body did not move at all, she saw him relax. Instantly, whatever it was that held him was released. He slammed his sword back into the scabbard at his waist, glaring at Drewit.

The Gray Man spoke. “You did well, Drewit. I do not throw away resources for no reason. The information you bring me is valuable. Go, see the healers and have your injuries looked at. I can feel infection in at least one of them from your long journey back here. We will speak later of exact locations and of promoting you to lieutenant of the 14
th
Unit. We will have to select men to repopulate the unit.”

The man stood straighter, though it was apparent that his injuries were aching. “Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.” With salutes to the Gray Man first, then Shordan, then Ix, he left the room.

For long moments, the Gray Man stared at nothing, fingers still steepled, tapping his upper lip. Ix and Shordan waited soundlessly. Finally, those red rimmed eyes latched onto Shordan, and then on Ix.

“This is the man I have been searching for, the one from my world. It has been too long that I have been trying to capture him. He has, it seems, been able to employ protectors. The woman is Sapsyr, no doubt, but the man? Perhaps he is one of the errant Zouy, or maybe just a fighter of extraordinary skill. Either way, we must get them out of the way.

“This man, this scholar, will have information I need. If what I believe is correct, he has been collecting items and knowledge much as I have been, but probably more importantly, he himself is a storehouse of knowledge. How did he come to this world? I must talk to this man.

“You, my friends, now have a new priority. I want this man captured. I want him brought back here. As for any others, you can use your discretion. If you can capture his protectors, they may be useful. As skillful as they sound, though, it may be better just to kill them. Do you understand?”

Shordan Drees drew his massive body even taller: “I will talk with the Collector for the exact location and specifics on the protectors and set out immediately.” Clapping his fist to his heart, he left.

Ix stood for a moment. “I am assuming that you want me to scout ahead and take care of this matter before the oaf can even reach the compound?”

The Gray Man’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Oh, Ix, you have such a good rapport with your fellow soldiers. Yes, you are correct. With your unique talents, you are able to reach the area much faster than anyone else can.

“Do not underestimate these foes, my dear. I know you are the best at what you do, but you have never pitted yourself against both a Sapsyr and a Zouy. They may very well be too much even for one such as you to handle.

“If you can snatch the scholar without engaging the protectors, do so. He is the one I want. The others can be dealt with later. Is all that clear?”