Ghost in the Maze (27 page)

“Less blood than I expected,” murmured Anaxander.

Caina shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice stabbing people.”

“Ciaran!” said Nasser.

Caina turned her head and saw the nagataaru.

Lots of nagataaru. 

Dozens of black streaks moved across the sky, rippling like banners caught in the wind. More and more of the black streaks became visible, dozens of them, hundreds.

Thousands.

Soon it seemed as if a wall of darkness and purple flame surged across the netherworld toward them, like wave of malevolent energy.

“Run!” said Caina, getting to her feet.

“I don’t think I can stand,” said Nerina. “I…”

In one smooth motion, Azaces scooped her up, flung her over his shoulder, and sprinted for the gates. The others started running, and Caina hesitated for a just a moment, staring at the oncoming wall of darkness. The darkness swallowed up the frozen rift, blocking out the ghostly image of burning Iramis. There had to be millions of nagataaru coming toward them.

Billions, even.

“Ciaran!” Nasser’s bellow snapped her out of her shocked reverie. 

She turned, shoved the ghostsilver dagger into its sheath, and ran with everything she had. In the distance, across the gray plain, she saw a ring of ghostly white light. The gates back to Callatas’s laboratory and the Maze, the gates the carchomorphic spirits had used to attack. Caina feared that the carchomorphic spirits would await them, but apparently the spirits had taken too much damage to reform. 

Not that it mattered. The nagataaru would surely kill them if…

The voice thundered out of the sky, so loud that it made Caina’s bones vibrate. It boomed inside her skull, filling her thoughts.

BALARIGAR.

Caina ignored the voice and kept running. 

YOU HAVE CLAIMED THE MANTLE BY DEED AND BLOOD, EVEN IF YOU KNEW IT NOT. BUT DO YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP ME? DO YOU THINK THE KNIGHT OF AIR AND WIND CAN SAVE YOU?

The others stopped at the edge of the ring of light, and again the voice thundered from the twisting sky.

THE AZURE SOVEREIGN CANNOT SAVE YOU. HE IS BOUND WITHIN HIS PRISON OF MATTER, HIS POWERS CHAINED, HIS MIND SLUMBERING.

None of the others could hear the voice, Caina realized. That terrible voice was focused upon her. 

“Which gate?” said Nasser.

“Doesn’t matter,” panted Anaxander. “They all go to the same room. Pick one and go…”

“Wait!” said Caina. “Time moves so much faster here. If we all go through the same gate…”

“Then we’ll all reappear in the mortal world in exactly the same place and exactly at the same time,” said Nasser with a grim shake of his head. “I imagine that would be messy.”

“Each one of you pick a different gate and go,” said Caina. 

BALARIGAR! I AM THE PRINCE OF THE NAGATAARU. DO YOU THINK TO STOP ME, MORTAL WORM? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY MORTALS I HAVE DEVOURED? HOW MANY DEAD WORLDS I HAVE LEFT IN MY WAKE? 

“You needn’t tell me twice,” said Kazravid, and he dashed to the nearest gate. He stepped through the rectangle of pale light and vanished, and beyond Caina saw him frozen in mid-step in the chamber of mirrors. Strabane took the gate to the left of that one, and Azaces carried Nerina through the next gate. 

Anaxander ran through one of the gates as Laertes stepped to Nasser’s side. “After you, my lord.”

Caina frowned. “Wait. My lord?”

Nasser grinned. “None of us are simple thieves, are we? But that is a discussion for a time when a giant wave of demons isn’t about to devour us.” He stepped through another gate and vanished, and Laertes took the gate to Nasser’s right. 

And Caina was alone in the netherworld, watching the wave of darkness surge towards her. 

YOU WILL FAIL, BALARIGAR. THE AZURE SOVEREIGN IS BOUND. THE KNIGHT OF WIND AND AIR IS CRIPPLED. THE PACT IS SEALED. THE WAY SHALL BE OPENED. YOUR WORLD SHALL DIE.

“And the star,” said Caina, a sudden impulse seizing her, “is the key to the crystal?”

The endless wall of shadow pulsed with purple flames, and Caina felt the rage of the horde of nagataaru pressing against her like the heat from a furnace. 

THE CRYSTAL SHALL NEVER BE UNDONE! THE AZURE SOVEREIGN SHALL NEVER BE RELEASED! THE PACT CANNOT BE UNMADE!

“Thank you,” said Caina. 

For a moment the endless fury flickered with bafflement.

“I didn’t know any of that,” said Caina, though she knew not what it meant, “but thank you for sharing. That was most considerate.”

The fury redoubled.

YOU SHALL PERISH!

“Not today,” said Caina, and she ran through one of the remaining gates. 

Again she had the sensation of being squeezed, of falling endlessly through a swirling wall of gray mist.

And then she fell out of the mirror and back into the chamber where they had fought the carchomorphic spirits. All around her the others stumbled out of their mirrors. Caina turned towards the mirrors, reaching for her weapons. Perhaps the nagataaru would pursue them into the mortal world. 

The glass of the mirrors turned solid black, blocking both their reflections and the image of the netherworld beyond…but nothing emerged from the gates.

Caina let out a long, ragged breath and started to laugh.

“I advise against that,” said Nasser. Caina turned and saw Azaces kneeling over Nerina, one of the vials of Elixir Restorata in his hand. “The consumption of the Elixir produces a rather substantial energy discharge, a side effect of the healing process. Enough to kill everyone in this room, certainly.”

Azaces hesitated, the silvery vial motionless in his hand.

“He’s right,” said Caina. “I saw a vial of Elixir Rejuvenata used once. The results were explosive.” That vial had been flawed, but she saw no reason why the Elixir Restorata would work differently. “The experience will leave her groggy and disoriented. Can you carry her?” Azaces nodded, and Nerina moaned, her eyelids fluttering. “Then carry her. We need to go.” 

“Will that shapeshifting ring of yours show us the way out the Maze?” said Kazravid. 

“I doubt it,” said Caina, drawing back her cowl. She reached into her coat, drew out her mask, and tugged it over her head and face, and then pulled her cowl back up. “It’s a bracelet now, actually.”

“Then how are we getting out?” said Kazravid.

“I remembered the way,” said Caina. 

Kazravid flinched. She had answered him in her disguised voice, the rasping growl of the Balarigar. “How did you do that? Change your voice? Are you sure you are not a sorcerer?”

“Practice,” said Caina. “Now shut up, all of you, and follow me. We’re not safe yet. Those Immortals will figure out what happened soon enough.” 

She set off at a dash through the corridors, Azaces bearing a limp Nerina in his thick arms, Nasser at Caina’s side, the others following. They hurried through the tunnels and soon returned to the chamber of the menagerie. The creatures were agitated, pacing back and forth in their cages, snarling and hissing and making unearthly moans and groans.

The pyrikon started to glow upon her left wrist again, and Caina had an idea. 

“Go through the doors, all of you,” she said. “Leave them open a crack, and slam them the minute I come through. If I don’t come through, run.”

“You are sure about this?” said Nasser.

“Quite,” said Caina, heading towards the nearest cage door. The pyrikon started to reshape itself around her left hand, forming itself into the long key once more.

“Oh, dear gods,” said Anaxander. “You’re not…”

“Move!” roared Laertes, pushing the magus towards the double doors to the Maze. 

Caina ran from cage to cage, releasing the locks as the others sprinted back into the Maze proper. The misshapen beasts stared at her in silence, as if unable to believe she would be so stupid. She opened the locks, but left the cell doors closed. At last she finished and sprinted for the doors.

About then the creatures figured out what she had done.

The horse-sided daevagoth burst from its cage and chased after her, the enormous scorpion-tail waving, and the other beasts followed. Caina dashed across the chamber and leapt through the narrow gap left between the doors, the pyrikon folding itself back into a bracelet. Strabane and Laertes shoved the doors closed after her, and they closed with an echoing clang.

A heartbeat later something heavy slammed against the doors with a thump.

“I think you made them mad,” said Strabane.

“Aye,” said Caina. “And when those Immortals start hunting for us, they’ll find something a little more unpleasant instead. Go!” 

She led the way through the tunnels of the Maze. The poison mist swirled up to stop them, but it pulsed away from the power of the pyrikon. At last they came to the stairs leading up to the tower of white stone. Caina heard shouting and screams echoing from above. That made sense – from the perspective of the guests, Anburj had only summoned the Immortals into the Maze a few short moments ago. Callatas cared nothing for the safety or comfort of his guests, and he would have made no effort to disguise the movements of the Immortals. 

Perhaps the chaos in the courtyard offered Caina and the others their best chance of escape. 

She raced up the stairs and into the round chamber at the base of the tower, looked out the door, and saw the Immortals charging.

Hundreds of them filled the courtyard, scimitars and chain whips in hand, shoving and pushing their way through the guests.

And every last one of them converged upon the garden surrounding the tower of the Maze.

Caina pulled the bronze doors shut, barring them in place. A moment later the thumping and pounding began, the doors creaking. They would hold for some time, but sooner or later the Immortals would force their way inside. 

“Why did you do that?” said Kazravid as he climbed up, staring at the closed door. A heartbeat later another thump echoed through the tower. “Oh.”

“We’re trapped, aren’t we?” said Anaxander. 

“Do not give up,” said Nasser. “There is always a way out.”

“Oh, is there?” said Kazravid. “Then you had better think it up quickly, hadn’t you?”

Caina turned back to the others. Could they retreat back into the Maze and hide there? The poison mist would keep the Immortals from following. But sooner or later Callatas would dispel the mist to allow his men to enter. Or he would simply descend into the Maze himself and kill them all. From what Caina had seen of the Grand Master’s sorcerous potency, she had no wish to face him in anything resembling a far fight. 

“Up,” she said.

“Then we shall simply be trapped on top of the tower,” said Laertes.

Nasser smiled as he understood Caina’s intent. “It is taller than the outer wall.”

“So?” said Kazravid. “Then we’ll merely have a good view as we die.”

“You told Nasser you could shoot an arrow with a rope and grapnel attached,” said Caina. “Was that just an idle boast?”

“Of course not!” said Kazravid. “Kazravid of Anshan does not make idle…oh.” His eyes widened. “That might work!” 

“Then run!” said Caina.

She sprinted up the spiral stairs, shadow-cloak billowing behind her, and Nasser and the gang of thieves followed. Caina burst onto the tower’s round, flat roof, the gleaming bulk of Callatas’s palace rising to her left, the outer wall and the rest of the Emirs’ Quarter to her right. An ornate iron railing encircled the tower’s flat roof. Chaos ruled in the courtyard, the guests shouting and arguing and trying to flee, and a knot of nearly fifty Immortals had gathered at the base of the tower.

“Gods,” said Anaxander, “they’ll just shoot us down. Or Callatas will blast us to ashes.”

“Then hasten!” said Nasser.

Kazravid did not hesitate. From his quiver he drew a prepared arrow, its head a barbed grapnel. In one fluid motion he raised the bow, drew, and released. The arrow hissed in a high arc overhead, a coil of slender rope following it, and hit the ramparts of the outer wall. The grapnel struck fast, and Kazravid knotted it around the iron railing. 

“We can slide down the rope to the outer wall,” said Kazravid.

“Well and good,” said Strabane, “but even a blind archer could shoot us full of crossbow quarrels while we do it.”

“Unless they’re distracted,” said Caina, buttoning up her coat. It was damnably warm, but it hid the white of her shirt. Then she reached behind her coat and drew out a coiled rope and collapsible grapnel of her own.

“What kind of distraction are you planning?” said Nasser.

“Simplicity itself,” said Caina. “I’m the Balarigar. They want me dead more than they want you dead.” 

For the very first time since she had met him, Ibrahaim Nasser looked alarmed.

“Do not,” said Nasser. “There is no need to sacrifice yourself like this…”

“Too late,” said Caina, hooking the grapnel to the iron railing. She started uncoiling the rope, counting off the feet. It was slender yet strong enough to bear her weight, and she was grateful she had possessed the foresight to tie knots into the rope for every foot of length. “I’m going to make a lot of noise. When I do, get to the outer wall and run as fast as you can.” 

“But,” said Nasser, “you must…”

Caina jumped onto the iron railing and caught her balance.

“Callatas!” she roared at the top her lungs, her voice echoing over the courtyard and the gardens. “Come and face me, Callatas! For I am the Balarigar, and I have come to make you pay for your crimes!”

Kazravid made a choking noise and hurried towards his rope. 

“There,” said Caina, making the calculation in her head, the rope loose in her hands. “That ought to get their attention, don’t you think?”

“You are entirely mad,” said Strabane. 

“Almost certainly,” said Caina. “Go! Nasser, good luck.” 

She sprinted forward and jumped off the edge of the roof, the rope in both hands. Caina plummeted forward, her cloak billowing around her, the gardens rushing up to meet her with terrifying speed. If she had miscalculated, if she had misjudged the length of her rope, she was going to come to a very abrupt death. But as the arc of her fall carried her past the tower, the rope began to curve around the tower’s length. The rope swung Caina around the tower like a pendulum, and by her fourth revolution she reached the end of the rope.