Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 05 - Ghost in the Stone (18 page)

Marzhod nodded. “I’ll try to find a high-ranking Kindred our friendly occultist can terrorize. And perhaps I’ll get lucky and find that chicken with the golden eggs.”

Marzhod left, and Caina and Theodosia headed for the Inn of the Defender. 

“What did you think,” said Theodosia, “of the occultist?” 

“She’s dangerous,” said Caina, “and powerful. I told you about Nicorus, the outcast magus in Marsis?” Theodosia nodded. “He’s strong, but I think Nadirah is stronger.”

“Then why help us?” said Theodosia. “I assume Marzhod is paying her?”

“Probably,” said Caina, “but there’s more than that. She wanted to meet me because of what I did to the Moroaica.” Theodosia nodded. “And she seems convinced that some sort of sorcerous disaster is going to befall Cyrioch. She can’t go back to Anshan, so  she needs to save Cyrioch, or…”

Caina fell silent.

“What is it?” said Theodosia.

“Corvalis,” said Caina, voice low. 

They stood on a wide street, carts and pedestrians hurrying back and forth. Caina spotted Corvalis heading at a steady pace towards the Plaza of Majesty. He hadn’t spotted them, or if he had, he hadn’t recognized Caina or Theodosia. He would assume they were just another pair of Sarbian desert men.

“I think,” said Caina, “that I can get some answers.”

Theodosia nodded, and Caina started after Corvalis.

Caina made sure to stay a good distance behind Corvalis. He walked at a steady pace, the stride of a man on business but not in any particular hurry. He glanced around every so often, when he did, Caina made sure to look elsewhere, to walk alongside a cart until Corvalis’s attention passed. 

He was following someone, Caina was sure of it. 

She maneuvered closer to Corvalis, hoping to catch sight of whoever he was following. He was trailing a wagon pulled by a pair of plodding oxen, three men sitting in the back. Two wore the rough clothes of freeborn laborers, while the third sat with a hooded cloak despite the day’s heat. 

The cloaked man turned his head, and Caina caught a glimpse of a dark face with a well-trimmed beard.

Mhadun, the magus the Kindred had hired.

And the other two men, Caina was sure, were Kindred assassins. 

So why was Corvalis following the Kindred?

Caina hoped to find out. 

The cart rolled into the Plaza of Majesty, the Magisterium’s chapterhouse rising on one side, the pyramidal black temple of the Living Flame on the other. For a moment she thought Mhadun and the other Kindred would make for the chapterhouse’s gates, but instead they turned right, driving down a back street alongside the chapterhouse’s wall. After a moment Caina realized where they were going. Many of the Magisterium’s chapterhouses had a secret entrance, going to a tavern or warehouse controlled by the Magisterium’s agents. The magi used the entrance to come and go unseen. 

Mhadun was going to that entrance, and Corvalis was going after him. 

Caina picked up her pace. 

East of the Magisterium’s chapterhouse stood a maze of small palaces and mansions, home to Cyrioch’s lesser nobility and wealthier merchants. The wagon rumbled along, and Caina saw it turn into a narrow alleyway between two opulent mansions. Corvalis ducked into a doorway, waited a moment, and started after the wagon.

And as he did, Caina saw a shadow move across a nearby rooftop. A man in a hooded cloak, and Caina glimpsed chain mail and a sheathed sword beneath the cloak. The hooded man gazed into the alley and beckoned. Other men rose from concealment upon the roof, and Caina saw a shorter figure in their midst, a man clad in studded leather armor.

It was Sicarion. 

Apparently he had hired new thugs. And if he had hated Corvalis before, the fight at the Palace of Splendors would have only inflamed his wrath further. Corvalis was walking into a trap. 

And he would not walk out of it alive. 

Caina hesitated. Corvalis was not a Ghost, and she had no obligation to defend him. And he had lied to her when he said the Ghosts would be safe if they ignored him. But perhaps he had been mistaken. And if Caina saved his life again, he might share what he knew.

Her mouth hardened into a firm line.

And she would leave no one at the mercy of a man like Sicarion. 

Caina waited until Sicarion and his thugs were out of sight, then hurried to one of the small mansions on the opposite side of the alley. Unlike the palaces of the great nobles, the smaller mansions had no courtyards and stood pressed against each other. A corroded copper drainpipe ran down the side of the mansion, and Caina took a running jump, grabbed the pipe, and started pulling herself up. It was a hard climb, but she practiced unarmed forms every day, and her arms and legs were strong. 

After a few moments she reached the roof, breathing hard, sweat dripping down her face. The rooftop was deserted, and Caina hurried forward, making sure to keep low and out of sight. The alley ended in a small courtyard shared between four mansions. Mhadun’s wagon and oxen stood abandoned in the center of the courtyard. She spotted Corvalis examining the wagon.

She also saw two men perched on the rooftop, crossbows in hand, taking aim at Corvalis. Was Sicarion going to shoot Corvalis in the back? Sicarion was a capable fighter…but he like to gloat. He liked to watch the sufferings of his victims. A quick, efficient murder did not seem his style.

Sicarion marched into the courtyard, flanked by two of his thugs. 

Corvalis whirled, drawing his sword and dagger. Sicarion stopped a dozen paces away and lowered his hood. The pattern of scars on his hairless head had changed since the Caina had last seen him. 

“So,” said Corvalis, “you didn’t bleed to death when you fell from the window.”

“I am hard to kill,” said Sicarion. “Do you like my new ear? I can hear better through it.”

“Why are you chasing me?” said Corvalis. “You weren’t looking for me at the Palace of Splendors.”

“No,” said Sicarion. “If you must know, I’m here to execute a wayward disciple of my mistress. She cannot abide disloyalty. Finding you here is merely a pleasant bonus. After I kill you, I can attend to the disciple.”

Caina wondered if Nadirah was Jadriga’s renegade student. The occultist did know a great deal about the Moroaica. 

“If you can kill me,” said Corvalis. 

Sicarion barked a rusty laugh. “That’s not in doubt. That intrepid Ghost isn’t here to save you this time.” 

The crossbowmen on the roof took aim. 

“And your precious mistress isn’t here to defend you,” said Corvalis.

“Oh, no worries, my friend,” said Sicarion, a grin crawling over the scarred patchwork over his face. “I don’t need her to settle with you.”

The crossbowmen straightened up…

“Corvalis!” shouted Caina, pointing. “Crossbows! On the roof!”

Corvalis’s pale green eyes flashed towards her, and then to the crossbowmen.

So did Sicarion’s mismatched gaze.

“Kill her!” bellowed Sicarion, pointing with his sword. “Shoot her now!” 

The crossbowmen whirled to face Caina, raising their weapons. Sicarion sprang at Corvalis, his sword moving with the speed of a striking serpent. The other two mercenaries followed at heartbeat later, and Corvalis met them with his sword and dagger. 

But Caina had more immediate problems. 

The crossbowmen squeezed their triggers as Caina flung herself down. The quarrels shot past her, so fast she could not see them. One tugged at the sleeve of her robe, and she felt a burning pain as the razor-edged quarrel sliced her arm. 

But she had endured worse pain, and Caina rolled to her feet and snatched a throwing knife from her belt. She flung the knife over the alley. The crossbowmen cursed and ducked, which gave Caina an opening. She sprinted for the edge of the alley and jumped, sand-colored robes billowing around her. 

Below, she heard the clang of blade on blade, the bellowed curses as Corvalis fought Sicarion and his thugs. 

Caina hit the roof on the far end of the alley. The nearest crossbowman came at her, swinging the stock of his heavy weapon like a club. Caina sidestepped, pivoted, and brought her heel around in a vicious kick. Her boot slammed into the mercenary’s right leg, and the man collapsed. His momentum carried him forward, and the mercenary tumbled over the edge of the roof with a scream.

A heartbeat later Caina heard the vicious crack of shattering bone. 

The second mercenary threw aside his crossbow and yanked out his broadsword. But he didn’t have time to pick up his shield, and Caina drew a dagger and stepped inside his guard. The mercenary dodged, and Caina’s dagger drew a red line across his jaw. 

The mercenary whipped his sword around, and Caina ducked. The clay roof tiles shifted beneath her boots, and she stumbled, sliding towards the edge of the roof. The mercenary came after her, his sword stabbing for her chest. Caina rolled aside, and the blade clanged off the tiles. 

She seized a broken tile, rolled to her feet, and flung it at the mercenary’s face. The man growled and lifted a hand to ward off the debris, and Caina’s arm snapped forward. Her dagger sank into the mercenary’s neck, and the man went limp, blood pouring over Caina’s fingers. He sagged, and Caina ripped her blade free and looked at the courtyard. 

One of the mercenaries lay dead on the ground. Corvalis, Sicarion, and the remaining mercenary spun in battle, swords and daggers clanging. Corvalis focused his attacks on Sicarion, probably to keep the scarred man from casting any spells. Yet the surviving mercenary attacked Corvalis with vigor, keeping him from landing a killing blow on Sicarion. 

Caina saw another copper drainpipe running down the side of the mansion’s wall. She shoved her dagger into its sheath, retrieved her throwing knife, and rolled off the edge of the roof, hands gripping the drainpipe. It gave an alarming creak, but Caina hurried down the wall. 

A scream rang out, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground, and Caina glanced down. Corvalis had killed of the second mercenary, and now he faced Sicarion alone. Their blades blurred as they spun around each other, Corvalis’s face a grim mask, Sicarion’s lips peeled back in fury. 

Caina descended as fast as she dared. If she got to the ground and aided Corvalis, they could stop Sicarion…

Sicarion thrust out his hand, and Caina felt the harsh tingle of sorcerous power. The air around him rippled, and a blast of invisible force exploded in all directions. The oxen stamped in fear and strained against their traces. The edge of the psychokinetic burst caught Caina and almost knocked her from the pipe. She clung to it with all her strength, her boots scraping against the wall. 

And the blast knocked Corvalis down. 

Sicarion began another spell, green light shimmering around his fingers, and Caina felt the cold tingle of necromantic sorcery. She slid down the pipe as fast as she dared, hoping to stop him before he finished the spell. Caina hit the ground, knees buckling to absorb the impact, and Corvalis staggered to his feet.

Sicarion shouted. A pulse of green light washed from his fingertips, and the dead mercenaries began to move. 

The corpses got to their feet, jerking like puppets pulled on invisible strings. Sicarion had done this before. In Marsis, she had killed several of his men, only for Sicarion to use necromancy to animate their corpses. 

“Dead men again?” said Corvalis. 

“If you hadn’t killed them,” said Sicarion, “I would have no need to reanimate them. Kill him!”

The dead mercenaries surged forward with eerie speed. Sicarion circled to the side, trying to flank Corvalis. Corvalis met the animated corpses, blades flashing. But against the dead men, he was at a disadvantage. The moving corpses were shells of flesh animated by Sicarion’s necromancy, and a blade could not kill something already dead.

Caina reached into her robe and yanked out a curved dagger, the silver blade marked with characters in Kyracian script. It was forged from a rare metal called ghostsilver, harder and lighter than steel. Ghostsilver was proof against sorcery, and could disrupt any spells that it touched. 

She buried the curved blade into the neck of the nearest dead man. 

There was a sizzling noise, and the dagger’s hilt grew hot beneath Caina’s fingers. She wrenched the weapon free, black smoke rising from the wound in the corpse’s neck. The dead man went into a twitching dance, and Corvalis swung, his sword in both hands. The blow took the corpse’s head, and the dead man collapsed in a motionless heap. 

Sicarion snarled and flung himself at Corvalis, and the remaining dead man attacked Caina. She backed away, dodging under the corpse’s blows. Caina lashed out with the ghostsilver dagger again and again, smoke rising from the small cuts she opened on the corpse’s face and arms. The dead man twitched with every strike, the ghostsilver disrupting Sicarion’s necromancy. 

Then Caina landed a solid hit on the corpse’s thigh, and the dead man’s right leg collapsed. She turned and buried her weapon in the corpse’s neck. The hilt grew hot, almost too hot to hold, and black smoke poured from the dead man’s nose and mouth. There was a snarling noise as the necromantic spell collapsed, and the corpse slid in a heap to the ground. 

Caina spun, intending to aid Corvalis against Sicarion. 

But Corvalis was not fighting Sicarion. Sicarion’s spell had also raised the mercenary that Caina had knocked from the mansion’s roof. The corpse’s legs were broken, its face a bruised pulp, but it still attacked with vigor, driving Corvalis back. Sicarion turned to face Caina, shadows and green light flickering around his fingers, and Caina felt the sudden spike of sorcerous power.

She grabbed a throwing knife, intending to interrupt his spell.

But she was too late. 

A bar of shadows rimmed in green flame burst from Sicarion’s hand and slammed into Caina’s chest. She staggered back with a scream, a horrible cold chill spreading through her limbs. Sicarion grinned as darkness filled Caina’s vision, the world growing distant and remote…

Corvalis beheaded the dead man and stepped in front of the bar of shadow. His scream filled her ears, and at once the cold darkness vanished from Caina’s body. The shadows and green flame swallowed Corvalis.