Ghost Omens

 GHOST OMENS

Jonathan Moeller

Description

Caina Amalas is a nightfighter of the Ghosts, one of the Emperor's elite spies and assassins, and a bitter enemy of the magi. Claudia Aberon was once a proud sister of the Imperial Magisterium, but is now a desperate fugitive, sheltering from her father's wrath with the Ghosts.

And when rumors spread that a dead Emperor has returned from the grave, Caina and Claudia must work together to defeat the threat. 

Because the shadows of the past do not lie quiet...

Copyright 2013 by Jonathan Moeller.

Published by Azure Flame Media, LLC.

Cover image copyright Prochasson Frederic | Dreamstime.com & Konstik | Dreamstime.com.

Ebook edition published October 2013.

All Rights Reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law. 

Ghost Omens

My name is Claudia Aberon, and I am a failure.

Over and over again I have failed.

My father is Decius Aberon, the First Magus of the Imperial Magisterium. When I was a child, I idolized him, thought him the wisest and the strongest man in the world. I wanted to become one of the high magi and help him in his great duties. So I studied and learned, and became a sister of the Magisterium. I hoped to use my sorcerous powers for the good of the people of the Empire.

And then I learned what kind of man my father he really was. I saw the murders and the cruelties he wrought, how he constantly schemed to make himself into the tyrant of the Empire.

The things he had done to my brother Corvalis. 

I had failed to see him for what he really was. 

I fled with Corvalis, hoping to start a new life outside of the Empire, one where I could use my powers for good. Instead I was captured, and transformed into stone by one of my father’s lackeys. 

I had failed to escape him. 

Corvalis rescued me with the aid of the Ghosts, the Emperor’s spies and assassins. We joined the Ghosts, and again I hoped to use my powers for the benefit of the Empire. 

And when the time came, I made a decision...and I failed. Horribly. If not for Caina Amalas, I could have started a war that would have drowned the world in blood. I trusted the wrong person, and I could have been enslaved, my soul forever bound to power a suit of sorcerous armor. 

Because of my arrogance, my pride.

I am a fool...and I am a failure.

###

My brother was in love with a woman who terrified me.

I climbed to ship’s deck and looked around. We had traveled by caravan from Catekharon to Cyrica Urbana, and then chartered a merchant ship to take us to Malarae, the capital of the Empire. The sailors went about their business and ignored me, though a few cast appreciative glances in my direction. 

If they knew what I really was, they might run screaming instead. 

Corvalis stood near the bow of the ship, talking with Caina. 

My brother was tall and strong, with close-cropped blond hair and hard green eyes. He was dressed like a merchant’s guard, with chain mail, a leather jerkin, and a fine sword and dagger at his belt. He did not often smile, but he was smiling now, and he laughed at something Caina said.

She was three or four years my junior, trim and lean with long black hair and eyes like chips of blue ice. She wore a blue gown that matched her eyes, too tight and low in front. But that was all part of the disguise. She was masquerading as Anna Callenius, the daughter of master merchant Basil Callenius, and she could play the part of the spoiled merchant’s daughter perfectly.

Which was nothing like her real self.

Caina turned, looked at the sea, and glanced at me. Then she looked away again. Even that brief glance at been enough to chill me. It made me feel measured, weighed. Like she was contemplating where best to put the knife.

A creak on the deck reached my ears, and Halfdan stood next to me.

He was a circlemaster of the Ghosts, but wore the furred robe and cap of a master merchant, part of his disguise as Basil Callenius. Strands of iron-gray hair jutted from beneath his cap, and a gray beard shaded the line of his chin and jaw. 

We regarded each other in silence. 

“Are you going to have me killed?” I heard myself say. 

Halfdan frowned. “That would be wasteful.”

“I betrayed you in Catekharon,” I said. 

“That,” said Halfdan, “is overly dramatic.” The deck shuddered beneath us as the ship rode a large wave. If the ship reached harbor, I vowed, I would stay on dry land for the rest of my days. “You were trying to achieve the goals of the Ghosts. You just went about it the wrong way.”

“By disobeying you and Caina,” I said. 

“Well, yes,” said Halfdan. “That is more serious. But some of it is my fault. I misjudged you. I thought you could handle yourself better in a dangerous situation. I fear I was in error.”

“I know,” I said. His words stung, but they were true. I hated combat, made bad decisions in the heat of the moment.

Not like Caina. 

“But there are other ways to serve the Ghosts than in the field,” said Halfdan. “Nightfighters go where they are most needed. But the Ghosts must keep watch over the entire Empire, in every province. Better to stop problems before they become disasters.”

“So I shall become a kitchen drudge in some provincial town?” I said, and regretted it at once. Perhaps that was what I deserved.

“Again, that would be a waste,” said Halfdan. “You are too intelligent for that...and your sorcerous abilities will be useful. The Magisterium is our most implacable foe, and we have too few Ghosts who can handle them. I think we will try to make you into a nightkeeper, one of the Ghosts who work in the shadows, preparing tools and weapons and information for the nightfighters.”

I wondered if I would fail at that, too.

Caina walked towards us, Corvalis hovering behind her, just as a bodyguard should.

“Father,” said Caina. Her eyes flicked towards me, once. “We appear to be heading to land.”

“We are,” said Halfdan.

I frowned. “I thought we were still three or four days from Malarae.”

“True,” said Halfdan. “We just entered the Bay of Empire. But the water casks have sprung a leak, and the captain wants to put ashore and get new ones.”

“We won’t run out of water, will we?” I said, alarmed. My father sometimes had people who displeased him thrown in deep pits to die of thirst, leaving the pits uncovered so he could watch their suffering.  

“No,” said Halfdan. “We’ll put ashore at Mors Septimus.”

Caina frowned. “A town with a funeral cult?”

“Aye,” said Halfdan. “It’s from the Second Empire, built in honor of old Emperor Septimus, who fell fighting the sorcerer-kings that ruled the coast. The town is built around the ruins of his funerary temple. It’s a small place, but the harbor is large enough for a few ships, and the Emperor’s navy keeps an outpost there.”

“What’s left of the navy,” muttered Corvalis. Kylon Shipbreaker had disposed of the rest.

“There’s a Ghost circle there, headed by a man we’ll call Mordecai,” said Halfdan. “I will check in with him, see if there’s any news from the wars.” He glanced at Caina. “And you can make sure the rats haven’t eaten your coffee beans.”

She laughed. “If they have, they’ll be awake, then.” She had insisted on taking Khaltep Irzaris’s coffee beans from Catekharon, claiming she wanted to use them to open a coffeehouse in Malarae to act as a front for Ghost spies. I wondered if the plan would work. 

“So,” said Halfdan. “A short, pleasant stop, and then we’ll be on our way.”

###

But when we arrived at Mors Septimus, I thought the place looked anything but pleasant. 

The harbor was large enough for five or six ships, though the other quays stood empty. A small town spread beyond the water, and a hill rose in the distance, topped with the crumbling ruins of an ancient mortuary temple. In the early days of the Empire, the Legionaries had worshipped dead Emperors as gods, calling upon their spirits to grant them victory. The practice had died out during the Third Empire, but the mortuary temples remained, as did the towns that had grown around the temples. And in some of the mortuary towns people still prayed to the dead Emperors, offering sacrifices in their names. 

Caina crossed to the railing and frowned as the ship pulled up to the quay. I knew her well enough by now to recognize that look. Something had caught her attention, had intrigued the cold machine that served as her mind.

I dithered for a moment, rebuked myself for cowardice, and went to join her.

“What is it?” I said. 

I expected her to ignore me, or to send me back to my cabin, but instead she pointed. “Look. A mob is waiting for us.”

A crowd of about forty or fifty people had gathered on one of the streets leading away from the docks. Behind them rose a tall, ramshackle inn, an unsavory place that likely catered to sailors and whores. A pretty young woman stood on a crate before the crowd, and to judge from her expression and wild gestures, she was making a speech. 

“I wish we were closer,” said Caina. “I’d like to hear what she’s saying.”

I glanced at her. “You think it means trouble?”

“Maybe,” said Caina. “I would not put it past Kyracian or Istarish spies to try and stir up revolts.” She shrugged as Halfdan and Corvalis joined us. “Or maybe she’s holding an auction.”

Corvalis looked at the crowd and barked his harsh laugh. “Or maybe she’s a very enterprising whore and is trying to get the highest bidder.” 

The woman said something, and the crowd cheered in answer.

Our ship thudded against the quay, and I could just make out the woman’s voice.

“Behold!” she shouted. “The visions shall come to pass! The corrupt Emperor shall be cast from his throne, and dogs will feast upon his flesh! I have seen the omen! You all have seen the omens. Great Septimus shall rise again, and retake his rightful place upon the throne of the Empire!”

The crowd cheered again. The woman disappeared into the inn, and her audience dispersed into the streets, some of them still chanting the name of Septimus.

“Well,” said Halfdan, “isn’t that interesting?” 

Corvalis frowned. “They really think Septimus is going to overthrow Emperor Alexius? What, are they going to dig up his bones and carry them to the Imperial Citadel?”

Caina and Halfdan shared a look.

“It’s...happened before,” said Halfdan. “In times of war and upheaval. A cult centered around one of the dead Emperors becomes convinced their Emperor will return to life and lead the Empire to glory and victory.”

“It’s often a ruse for charlatans,” said Caina.

“Aye,” said Halfdan, “but the ones who believe it are often the most dangerous of all. It is just as well we stopped here. Let us pay Mordecai a visit and see what we can learn.”

###

I followed Halfdan, Caina, and Corvalis as they made their way through the streets of Mors Septimus, and we came to the magistrates’ hall. It had been built in imitation of the great basilicas of the Imperial capital and Artifel, though on a much smaller scale. It looked rather like a barn dressed up with marble. We circled to the back of the hall, where a small scriptorium stood, its door propped open to admit the breeze. Inside a thin, balding man in the dusty coat and trousers of a scribe sat at a desk, writing on a sheet of paper.

“If you have a petition, come back tomorrow,” said the scribe, not looking up from his writing. “The magistrate is busy dealing with the seditionists, and he doesn’t have time to address every petty problem.”

“Is that any way to greet an old friend, Mordecai?” said Halfdan.

The scribe looked up, his heavy eyes blinking. Then he grinned, walked over, and gripped Halfdan’s hand. 

“Basil Callenius! You rogue!” said Mordecai. “Gods, but I’m glad to see you.” He looked at me, at Caina, and back at me. “And you’ve wed? I am jealous. If I were fifteen years younger...and a million denarii richer...I would steal her away from you.”

I opened my mouth, felt warmth flood into my cheeks, and closed it.

“Not at all,” said Halfdan. “These are my daughters, Anna and Irene, and this is my guard, Cormark.” 

“A pleasure,” said Mordecai. “You received my letter, then? With the wars against Istarinmul and New Kyre, and all the talk of revolt in Cyrica, I wasn’t sure I could get the attention of the circlemasters, but…”

“Actually,” said Halfdan, “the situation in Cyrica has been resolved, and I was on my way back to Malarae. We stopped here to take on fresh water...and saw something interesting in front of the inn.”

Mordecai scowled. “Tonia was giving another of her little sermons, I expect?”

“What is going on?” said Halfdan. “Mors Septimus is hardly a major town, and a few townsmen gathering together is not cause for concern...but you and I know that a few sparks in the right place at the right time can cause an inferno. And the last thing the Empire needs right now is another inferno.” 

“This business began when the innkeeper remarried,” said Mordecai. 

“Tell me more,” said Halfdan. 

“The Emperor’s Helm Inn, the one by the waterfront,” said Mordecai. “A man named Levinius owns it, and he inherited it from his father, and his father from his father, going all the way back to the Second Empire and Septimus himself, I suppose. Levinius’s wife died a few years ago in childbirth, and the baby soon after.”

“The poor man,” I said.

“As you can imagine, he wasn’t the same after that,” said Mordecai. “A few months ago a woman named Tonia came to Mors Septimus, allegedly on a pilgrimage to visit the ruins of the mortuary temple. She’s a pretty young thing, Levinius was lonely...and they wed a few weeks ago.”

“How much older is Levinius than his new wife?” said Halfdan.

“At least thirty years,” said Mordecai.

Caina shrugged. “Maybe she simply wants to keep the Inn once he dies.”

“That was my thought,” said Mordecai. “At least at first. Then she started proclaiming that she saw visions, that Septimus appeared in her dreams and told her that he would return to lead the Empire anew.”

“A madwoman, then,” said Halfdan.

“Yes...until half the town claimed they saw the same visions,” said Mordecai. “If she is a madwoman, she is contagious. Now she holds meetings twice a day at the Inn, proclaiming that Septimus will return to lead the Empire out of its current woes.”

“You think she means to start a revolt?” said Halfdan. 

“If so, it’s a poor way to go about it,” said Mordecai. “Mors Septimus is not a large town, and warships from the Imperial navy stop here regularly. The crew of one ship could put down anything Tonia tried.”

“What does Levinius think of all this?” said Caina.

Mordecai snorted. “His wife is young and beautiful. He’ll do whatever she tells him. If she told him the moon was made out of cheese, he’d likely get a ladder and a knife to carve her a slice.” 

Halfdan nodded. “Perhaps Tonia is merely mad. Or perhaps she just likes attention. Nevertheless, there is something odd here. I will speak with the captain of our ship and have him delay while we look into this matter.”