Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask (29 page)

“Who?” said Claudia.

“I’ve made mistakes, as bad as what happened in Catekharon,” said Caina. “But I realized what I did wrong and moved on. I think it’s time you did, too. Trusting Martin like that…I think it was the right decision.” 

“Thank you,” said Claudia. “Thank you.” She sighed. “Though if we’re all dead tomorrow, I suppose it will have been the wrong decision.”

“If we are all dead tomorrow,” said Caina, “then it will have been despite our best efforts. Come.”

She climbed over the ruined door, and Claudia followed her.

###

An hour later Caina returned alone to her rooms at the Inn of the Seven Skulls.

Muravin had gone to gather her fake Magisterial Guards and prepare them for the assault. Corvalis had gone with Harkus and Talekhris to prepare the men of the Order for the coming fight. Komnene and Claudia had gone with Lord Martin as he gathered the militia. Claudia would defend Martin from any sorcerous assaults, if Maena tried another preemptive attack, while Komnene prepared for casualties.

Caina hoped there would not be too many, that they could deal quickly with Maena.

But she suspected otherwise. 

A shadow ran the length of the sitting room. Alexandra stood by the window, her hands clutched before her chest, the sun throwing a long shadow behind her. She turned as Caina approached, her blue eyes widening in surprise.

“Oh, mistress, you are safe!” she said. “All those terrible shadows filled the streets…there was so much screaming. I feared you would be killed.” She hesitated. “Your captain…is he…”

“No, he’s safe,” said Caina. “He is attending to a task I gave him.” 

“Good, good,” said Alexandra. “It would be dreadful if he were killed.”

“It would,” said Caina. “I am glad you are unscathed.” 

Alexandra shrugged. “It is the grace of the gods, I think. I was walking to the inn when the shadows appeared. Anyone they touched became a withered corpse at once. And yet the creatures ignored people unless they got in the way. I hid in an alley until they passed, and then I ran for the inn as fast as I could.” She hesitated. “Did I do wrong, mistress?”

“No, you did well,” said Caina. She was glad the girl was safe. Too many people had died already. “The shadows didn’t care about the people of Calvarium. They were coming for me.”

Alexandra’s blue eyes widened. “For you, mistress? But why?”

“Because,” said Caina. “Lady Maena Tulvius is going to steal a weapon of great sorcery from the ruins of Caer Magia, and I intend to stop her.” 

“But she will kill you,” said Alexandra. 

“She will try,” said Caina. 

Yet she did not feel as confident as she sounded. Attacking Maena’s camp was the best plan available, but it was still a grave risk. If they killed Maena, Caina suspected Anashir and Rhames and the cultists would come to blows. Of course, Maena might prove capable of withstanding the assault. Or Anashir and Rhames might decide to fall upon Maena while she was fighting and wipe out both her and the Ghosts in one fell swoop.

It was a risk, but Caina could think of no better plan. They had to act.

If they did not, Maena would take the Ascendant Bloodcrystal for herself, or she would deliver it to the Moroaica.

Caina was not sure which would be worse.

“Mistress,” said Alexandra, her eyes frightened. “Perhaps you should flee.”

“Pardon?” said Caina, shaking out of her dark thoughts. 

“Your enemies are so powerful,” said Alexandra, “and they must hate you so much, if they would conjure those…those shadow-things to kill you. Perhaps you should return and come back with aid.”

“Why?” said Caina.

“Because they will kill you,” said Alexandra, “and your captain.”

“The captain and I have our duties,” said Caina, “and we do as we must.” She thought for a moment. “If you know anything about Lady Maena and the occultist Anashir, now would be a good time to tell me.”

“Only that they are very dangerous,” said Alexandra, “and that they command terrible and unnatural powers.” 

“I know,” said Caina. “Thank you for all your help. Go to the magistrates’ hall, Alexandra, and stay there tonight. It will be the safest place in the town. Do not come out again until tomorrow. There will be fighting tonight.” 

Alexandra nodded. “Thank you, mistress. You were…you were much kinder than I thought a magus would be. Good luck.”

She turned and left the room.

Caina watched her go. If the girl was a spy, Caina had just given away a great deal of information. Yet Caina doubted she was a spy. And anyone with eyes and a brain could see that the militia of Calvarium was mustering for an attack. 

An attack that Caina needed to join.

For good or for ill, the question of the Ascendant Bloodcrystal would be resolved tonight.

Caina went to her bedroom to prepare.

Chapter 21 - Fists of Stone

Caina donned the garb of a nightfighter of the Ghosts.

Black trousers, black boots, and a black jacket lined with steel plates to deflect the blades of knives. Black gloves covered her hands, and a leather belt holding throwing knives, lockpicks, a coil of rope with a collapsible grapnel, and other useful tools, went around her hips. Concealed sheaths in her boots held daggers, and throwing knives went up her sleeves. A black mask covered her entire head, save her eyes, and her shadow-cloak went around her shoulders, wrapping her in darkness. 

Her curved ghostsilver dagger went in a sheath at her belt. 

And around her neck, beneath the jacket, she hung a leather cord. A golden signet ring, old and worn, dangled from the cord. It had belonged to her father, until Maglarion and her mother had killed him and she became the last living member of House Amalas.

It seemed right that she carried it, since she had become a Ghost in his memory.

When she was ready, Caina slipped from the Inn of Seven Skulls and made her way through the darkening streets to the northern gate.

###

Claudia’s nervousness washed against Kylon’s arcane senses. 

It made for an interesting contrast to the aura of raw power surrounding Talekhris. 

Kylon stood to one side of Lord Martin’s horse, Claudia and Talekhris waiting nearby. Behind them two hundred militiamen assembled, armed with spear and shield, short swords waiting in their belts. The forty men from the Order of the Venatorii stood nearby, their crossbows ready. 

“So you are truly a Kyracian stormdancer?” said Martin, giving him a wary look.

“Yes, Lord Governor,” said Kylon. He had not revealed his true identity. Martin had agreed to fight alongside him, but if he knew that the famed Kylon Shipbreaker had come to Calvarium, he would feel honor-bound to capture or kill him. “I suspect someone within Maena’s camp dealt a poisoned wound to my betrothed. The only hope I have of an antidote is within her camp.”

It wasn’t quite the truth, but it would serve. Lying did indeed grow easier with practice. 

“And you,” said Martin, turning towards Talekhris, “you are supposed to be a sorcerer of some kind?”

Talekhris smiled, leaning on his cane. Kylon sensed the power of the rod hidden within it. “I know a spell or two, my lord. I hope to be of use in the fighting if Maena brings her power to bear.”

“As do I,” said Claudia. Her terror fluttered against Kylon’s senses, but the former sister of the Magisterium held it at bay. It seemed she had learned a few things since the fighting in Catekharon. “Master Talekhris is a potent sorcerer, and Lord Milartes of House Aegios is a capable warrior. I have seen him in battle.”

Martin grunted. “If you say so. The plan is simple enough.”

“Plans always are,” said Kylon, “until they meet the enemy.” 

Lord Martin’s men and the Order would launch a frontal assault upon Maena’s camp. Claudia and Talekhris would stand ready to dispel any sorcerous attacks from Maena, while Kylon assisted the militiamen and the Order against the mercenaries.

And while they held mercenaries’ attention, Caina and Corvalis would slip into the camp and kill Maena. 

“Do you think it will work, my lord?” said Claudia, looking at Martin. Kylon sensed a flare of emotion from the young woman. She was rather fond of the Lord Governor, and it appeared he was of her. 

“Perhaps,” said Martin. “The strategy is sound. I suppose it depends on how skilled your Ghost nightfighters are at killing sorcerers.” 

“Oh, they are,” said Claudia. “My lord, I have never met anyone as terrifying as the Ghost nightfighter we are sending against Maena.” Her emotions changed to fear mingled with respect. 

“Aye,” said Kylon. Martin did not know that Caina was herself a nightfighter, and Kylon suspected that Caina preferred to keep it that way. “If anyone can kill Maena unawares, this nightfighter can do it.” 

“Well,” said Martin, his expression hardening behind his plumed helm. “Let us put that to the test, shall we?”

He gave the order, and the militiamen marched out.

###

Caina crouched on the slop of the Henge, Corvalis at her side. Their shadow-cloaks blurred with the gloom around them, and if Caina had not known exactly where to look, she would not have seen Corvalis. 

She had decided to have Muravin and the rest of the fake Magisterial Guards keep watch over the gates of Calvarium. If Maena tried to flee to the town, Muravin and the others would be waiting for her. 

And if Maena prevailed, someone had to carry word to Halfdan. 

A few hundred yards away, the camp of Lady Maena Tulvius blazed with firelight. Her men sat eating and drinking around bonfires. Clearly, they knew nothing of the chaos in Calvarium, and Maena had not bothered to warn them of the attack. Had Maena fled already? Or was this an elaborate trap?

Or perhaps Maena was simply not that clever. 

The mercenaries might have been idle, but there was no way to disguise the presence of three hundred men marching towards the camp. As Lord Martin’s militiamen and the men of the Order approached, an alarm went through the mercenaries. Caina saw sergeants shouting orders, saw the mercenaries scramble for their weapons. 

Soon the men drew themselves up in battle array on the other side of the trench, guarding the plank bridge. 

A figure in green hurried through the camp, and glimpsed Maena Tulvius heading towards the bridge.

Martin’s men formed a line on the other side of the trench, and the Venatorii loaded their crossbows. 

“Let’s go,” she murmured to Corvalis, and they made their way through the tall grasses.

###

Claudia took a deep breath, ready to cast a defensive spell. 

“Hear me!” shouted Martin, standing up in his stirrups, longsword in hand. He pointed the blade at the waiting mercenaries. “I am Martin of House Tulvius, Lord Governor of the Imperial province of Caeria Ulterior! In the name of the Emperor and by the laws of the Empire, I accuse Maena of House Tulvius of murder, insurrection, and necromancy. I hereby command Lady Maena to surrender herself to my custody, to stand trial before the magistrates in the Imperial capital!” 

An uneasy murmur went through the mercenaries.

“I command Lady Maena to present herself!” said Martin. “I offer one chance. Lady Maena committed her crimes through her own unlawful sorcery. If any of her followers lay down their arms and depart Calvarium at once, I will permit them to go in peace. But if they stand by her, I will show no mercy.”

The murmurs grew louder, the sergeants shouting at their men to stand fast, and then a thunderclap rang out.

The mercenaries parted, and Maena Tulvius strode through them. 

“What is this?” she said, her voice booming over the assembled men like thunder. Claudia recognized the spell Maena used to enhance her voice. “I trust you have a reason for this harassment, Lord Governor?”

“A dozen witnesses,” said Martin, “saw you commanding the Dust Shades that attacked Calvarium earlier today. Necromancy is forbidden under Imperial law, to say nothing of murder and insurrection. Surrender yourself to face justice.”

Maena laughed. “I don’t know what you are talking about, my lord.” Her eyes fell on Claudia, and narrowed with sudden rage. Claudia shivered. What had she done to make Maena hate her so? “Superstitious peasant vermin will believe anything. No doubt they drank too much and decided to blame their brawling upon mysterious shadows.”

“One chance, Maena,” said Martin. “Surrender now, or by my authority as Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior, I shall…”

“Shut up!” said Maena. “Gods, shut up! I am sick to death of this stupid game.” Her green eyes glittered, her hands hooked into claws. “But the game is over. The Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior! Bah! Your Empire is doomed, Martin Dorius. It is going to burn, and you are going to burn with it when the Moroaica finishes her great work! Better that you had died in the Argamaz Desert with the men you led to their deaths! It will spare you from the suffering that is to come.”

“So be it!” said Martin. “Centurion – proceed into the camp and kill Lady Maena. Kill anyone who offers any…”

“Perish!” screamed Maena, and she thrust out her hands. Green flame blazed to life around her fingers, and a column of flame-wreathed shadow erupted from her palms and shot towards Martin. Claudia began casting a ward, hoping to block the attack, but Maena was strong, so massively strong.

Then power thrummed through the air, and the bar of flame winked out.

Maena staggered back, fear on her face. 

Talekhris walked to Lord Martin’s side, leaning upon his cane, blue light flashing around his free hand. 

“You,” spat Maena. “The Moroaica’s ragged little nemesis. Come to die again?”

“The Moroaica has killed me many times,” said Talekhris, “and I respect her power. You, however, are nothing but her deluded slave.”

He gestured with his cane. Power snarled as he loosed a blast of invisible force at Maena, and she staggered back with a shriek of pain, a cloud of dust billowing around her, her hands raised in a warding spell.