Ghost in the Pact (7 page)

The Immortals landed at the edge of the roof, and Kylon spun before they recovered their balance, his boot lashing out. He struck another Immortal in the stomach, and the warrior overbalanced and fell, tumbling into the alley.

Before meeting Caina, Kylon had not spent very much time fighting on rooftops, but he had come to realize that for someone with the capabilities of a stormdancer, a rooftop made an ideal battlefield. 

The Immortals surged to attack him, and Kylon retreated, filling himself with the sorcery of air to make himself faster. He fell back, the valikon snapping back and forth to deflect thrusts and swings while he sidestepped and dodged. As he did, he drew upon the sorcery of water and frost, concentrating it in his left hand. The Immortals closed around him, and Kylon went on the attack. His foes responded, shifting their scimitars in preparation to block any strikes from his sword. 

So the nearest Immortal was surprised when Kylon punched him in the face. The surprise did not last long, because Kylon’s fist crushed his faceplate and shattered his forehead. The Immortal went down, and Kylon ripped his left fist free, the granite-hard glacial ice sheathing his hand and wrist glittering in the Istarish sun. 

Caina had given him the idea. He had seen again and again how she found ways to outmaneuver her enemies, turning their strengths into weaknesses. Her brain was a weapon as much as any dagger, and he had wondered what use that brain might make of a stormdancer’s powers. Then he had watched Nasser use his crystal fist to punch through an Adamant Guard’s armored cuirass, and Kylon had wondered if he could do the same thing.

It turned out that he could. 

He struck another Immortal in the head before the enemy realized his new tactic and adjusted. Kylon dismissed the spell holding the ice, and his frozen gauntlet shattered, the glittering shards melting as they feel to the tiles of the roof. He took the valikon’s hilt in both hands and charged.

Even for a stormdancer, ten Immortals might prove challenging, but by then he had help.

Nasser attacked on Kylon’s right, his gloved fist lashing out to catch an Immortal in the side of the head. The fist of living crystal crushed the Immortal’s helmet, and Nasser’s scimitar snapped around with lazy, almost contemptuous grace, deflecting the thrusts of the nearby Immortals. Kylon sparred with Nasser on a regular basis, and the last Prince of Iramis was one of the best swordsmen Kylon had ever faced. Morgant refused to spar with Kylon, or anyone, but the old assassin was no less effective. A slash of his enspelled black dagger ripped through an Immortal’s cuirass like a blade slicing through a sausage casing. The Immortal fell, the torn edges of his cuirass glowing white-hot from the power of Morgant’s blade, and Morgant wheeled, his black coat flying around him, and struck down two more Immortals in rapid succession. Caina had said that the spell on Morgant’s dagger somehow bypassed friction, allowing it to cut through nearly anything. Of course, the stolen heat from the bypassed friction stored up in the gem in the dagger’s pommel, but Morgant had a use for that as well.

He flicked his wrist, punching the dagger through an Immortal’s armored forearm, and released the stored heat. The Immortal erupted into crackling flames, cooking inside his own armor, and stumbled backwards and fell off the roof. 

Kylon, Nasser, and Morgant stood side-by-side, cutting down every Immortal that approached them. 

Yet they made no headway. There were too many Immortals, and Kylon found himself forced back step by step. 

###

“We’ll have to hold this side of the roof until Kylon and the others can cut a path for us to escape,” said Caina. “Will Mazyan fight?”

“We shall both fight,” said Sulaman in a quiet voice, lifting his scimitar. Caina gave him a dubious look. Sulaman was good at reciting the long, complex epic poems of the Istarish nation, but she had never seen him fight. 

Well, given the number of Immortals swarming towards them, there would be no shortage of fighting.

“Legionary,” grunted Mazyan, lifting his sword of silent flame, his eyes beginning to burn with the same fire. “Shield my back. I cannot fight them all at once.” 

“Aye,” said Laertes. “Mistress Annarah, kindly stay back. Ciaran. What will you do?”

Despite the grim situation Caina stifled a smile. In the heat of the moment Laertes had called her “Ciaran”, the alias she had used with Nasser and his allies until they finally realized she was a woman. Sometimes she suspected that Nasser and Laertes still thought of her as a man. 

Well, man or woman, the Immortals would kill them all if they could.

“What I do best,” said Caina. “Make trouble.”

Laertes barked the harsh, dry laugh of a veteran centurion. “Victory is assured, then.” He slapped the flat of his broadsword against the front of his massive shield and began shouting. “Come on, then! Come, you dogs! Are you dogs or are you men?”

The Immortals came. 

They leaped over the rooftops and charged, raising their scimitars and chain whips. Caina gripped her weapons, feeling useless. She could not drive a ghostsilver dagger through steel plate, and fighting fairly meant that something had gone wrong. She had killed Immortals before, but it had always been a close thing.

Then, before her thoughts could finish forming, Mazyan moved.

Samnirdamnus called himself the Knight of Wind and Air, and the djinn of the Court of the Azure Sovereign were air elementals. As Caina watched Mazyan flicker forward, she realized that had been no idle boast. 

Mazyan did indeed move like the wind. 

The burning sword disappeared as he charged, his power going to fuel his speed, but it reappeared when he attacked. The blade of smokeless flame cut through the Immortals’ armor and flesh and bone without resistance, just as Kalgri’s sword of dark force had done at the Court of the Fountain in the Golden Palace. In the blink of an eye Mazyan killed four Immortals. The rest spread out around him, hoping to encircle him. For all his speed, Mazyan’s power was still housed in a body of mortal flesh, and that body had limitations. 

Laertes dashed forward, slamming one Immortal across the side with his shield. The black-armored warrior staggered, and Laertes brought his broadsword around in a vicious chop, the heavy blade crunching into the Immortal’s neck. The Immortal staggered, and Laertes ripped his sword free, raising his heavy shield to block the lash of another Immortal’s chain whip. The length of chain rebounded from his shield, leaving gouges in the wood, and the Immortal raised his scimitar for another strike.

As he did, it gave Caina an opening. She circled to the left as Laertes charged, and as the Immortal raised his sword, she darted forward, driving her ghostsilver dagger into the gap in the armor beneath his armpit. The blade sank deep into his chest, and the Immortal staggered, his blow going wide. Caina ripped her dagger free, the ghostsilver’s gleam concealed beneath a layer of blood, and the next hit from Laertes’s shield knocked the dying Immortal to his knees. Mazyan went on the attack, blurring back and forth, slowing only when he called forth his blade of smokeless flame. Laertes covered him, and together they pushed the Immortals back.

Yet three of the Immortals charged towards Annarah and Sulaman, weapons raised. 

Caina cursed and sprinted for them. Annarah struck the end of her pyrikon staff against the ground, and a flickering corona of white light surrounded her and Sulaman. It was a ward against weapons, but Annarah could only hold it for so long, and the Immortals would batter down her defenses swiftly.

Sulaman stepped forward, and as he did, Caina saw a flicker of power around him. He was drawing upon his power of foretelling, though she could not imagine what use it would be in a battle. One of the Immortals stepped forward, raising his chain whip. Caina cursed and ran faster, and the aura of arcane power around Sulaman intensified. 

The Immortal swung his chain whip at Sulaman, and Sulaman sidestepped.

He didn’t move with inhuman speed like Kylon or Mazyan, nor did he move with the precision of a master swordsman like Nasser or the serpentine fluidity of someone like Morgant. Sulaman simply sidestepped, and the chain whip missed him by a yard. Again the Immortal lashed at him, and Sulaman ducked with ease, the whip whistling over his head. The motion made the Immortal stumble off balance, and Sulaman stabbed forward, driving the tip of his scimitar into the Immortal’s neck. The Immortal staggered, and Sulaman stepped back and retracted his blade. A second Immortal came behind him, swinging his chain whip around. 

Caina shouted a warning, but it was too late.

There was no way, no way at all, that Sulaman should have seen that strike coming. It should have hit him unawares, leaving him unconscious with a few broken ribs. Yet with perfect timing Sulaman ducked, and the whip missed him by a hair. The arcane aura around Sulaman brightened further, and he turned, opening a wound on the Immortal’s forearm. The third Immortal swung his chain whip, but Sulaman danced aside, the links missing him. His dodges were so perfect, so unhurried, it was as if he could see the future and know exactly where the blows would fall…

Then in a flash, Caina realized that he could see the future. He was focusing his vision into sort of a short-term precognition, letting him glimpse the next few seconds with crystalline clarity. Caina could think of a few situations where that might have proven useful. 

The Immortals had their full attention upon Sulaman, which made it easy for Caina to spring upon the back of the nearest one, her arm coiling around his armored chest. The Immortal started to stiffen, reaching to throw her off, but she drove her ghostsilver dagger beneath his helmet and into his neck. She felt hot blood spatter across her fingers, and she ripped her dagger free as the Immortal successfully managed to throw her off. Caina hit the roof, tucked her shoulder, and rolled, springing back to her feet in preparation for the attack. But the Immortal slumped to his knees, one had grasped to his neck, and fell over. Caina turned to aid Sulaman, but he had already dispatched the third Immortal. 

She spun to see Mazyan and Laertes holding their own, and then saw Kylon, Nasser, and Morgant driving back the Immortals. Even as she looked, Kylon punched at one of the Immortals, his fist landing with enough force to crush the top of a helmet. How had he done that? 

They were holding back the Immortals, yet she already saw more squads of the black-armored warriors running across the rooftops, and another group storming into the common room of the Desert Maiden. They would butcher their way across the common room, storm up the stairs, and swarm onto the roof. 

And then Caina and the others would be overwhelmed.

They had to get away now. There were already too many Immortals in the alleys to retreat that way. Could they climb down the sides of the Desert Maiden? Or maybe they could go over the streets themselves? It was a long gap, but maybe with some rope…

As Caina looked towards the street, a flash of crimson on the opposite house’s roof caught her eye. A figure in a dark cloak ran across the rooftop, the black cloak rippling back to reveal a female form sheathed in crimson chain mail and dark leather…

A bolt of pure terror shot through Caina, her skin crawling with revulsion. She had a searing memory of that room in Rumarah, the ghostsilver blade erupting from her chest, the mocking, malicious laughter that had filled her ears as she struggled in vain.

The Red Huntress had come. 

The serene crimson mask turned in Caina’s direction, and she felt the force of Kalgri’s attention almost as a physical blow. Caina drew breath to shout a warning, to urge the others to prepare for the Huntress’s assault, and Kalgri leaped into the air, the black cloak billowing around her like dark wings. 

But instead of landing upon the roof of the Desert Maiden, she plummeted into the street, landing behind the advancing Immortals. Caina glimpsed a blaze of arcane power, mighty warding spells wrapped around each other like overlapping layers of steel plate. With her eyes of flesh she saw a gold-trimmed white robe, brilliant and dazzling in the noon sun.

The robe worn by a Master Alchemist of the College. 

Grand Master Callatas himself had come for them at last. 

###

Callatas watched with disdain as Kalgri performed one of her excessively dramatic leaps and landed before him, the black cloak billowing around her. The woman had always possessed an overly developed sense of the dramatic, even when she had been a mere slave and not yet the vessel of the Voice. 

“Well?” said Callatas. 

“They are there, all of them,” said Kalgri. “The Balarigar…”

“Do not call her that,” said Callatas. “A Szaldic myth.”

Kalgri kept speaking. “The stormdancer. Nasser and his lackey. The old assassin, and the prince and his pet Oath Shadow.”

“Excellent,” said Callatas, lifting his left hand from the handle of his cane, golden fire snarling around his fingers. 

“And the loremaster,” said Kalgri. “Annarah herself.”

Callatas scowled. He could imagine Kalgri smiling behind that wretched mask.

“Was she not once one of your students?” said Kalgri. 

“A long time ago,” said Callatas. 

A long time indeed. Annarah had been one of his most gifted students, with a great talent for the Words of Lore. It was said that the wives of valikarion always made the best loremasters, and Annarah had proven the truth of that old proverb.

Then Callatas had gone for a walk through the streets of Iramis, and seen the dying girl, and…

He realized that Kalgri had taken a prudent step back, her posture tense, and the nearby Immortals had edged away from him as well. Perhaps some of the anger had shown on his face.

Callatas the Wise, the Iramisians had called him, but he had not known true wisdom then, only the sentimental proverbs of foolish children. He had learned better, first in the hellish darkness below Pyramid Isle, and then in his own researches, when he had at last summoned Kotuluk Iblis, the sovereign of the nagataaru, and made the bargain that would save mankind.