Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask (35 page)

But it was for Thalastre’s sake that he kept walking forward. 

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The gates of Caer Magia loomed before them, silent and grim.

They looked unchanged from Caina’s last visit. Yet Caina saw no hints of motion beyond the doors, no signs of the wandering undead or the Dust Shades. 

And unlike her previous visit, she saw a faint green glow within the city. The wards around the basilica, she suspected.

“I’ll go first,” said Caina. 

“A risk,” said Jadriga.

“It is,” said Caina, “but the undead can’t see me, not with a shadow-cloak.” She paused. “Not even you could sense me in Marsis, when I wore a shadow-cloak. Neither will Rhames.”

“He will not be able to detect you with sorcery,” said the Moroaica, “but he will be able to see you. The Undying are substantially more powerful than lesser undead.”

“Then I’ll be careful,” said Caina.

She looked to see if Corvalis would follow her, and then realized that Corvalis would stay to make sure Maena did not harm Claudia. Maena hated Caina, but only because Caina had killed her previous body. Her loathing of Decius Aberon’s bastard children transcended mere hatred.

“I will return quickly,” said Caina.

Corvalis nodded, and Caina slipped through the gates and into Caer Magia.

The plaza beyond the gates lay empty. Caina saw no trace of either the walking corpses, the undead Magisterial Guards, or the Dust Shades. In the distance, she saw green fire flaring and sputtering around the great basilica, the domed Chamber of Ascension pulsing with light in time to the ebbing and flowing of the malevolent aura.

Rhames was hammering his way through the wards.

Caina slipped back through the gates.

“What did you find?” said the Moroaica.

“Nothing,” said Caina. “The plaza’s deserted. I didn’t see the cultists, or any of the undead.”

“Then it is as I feared,” said the Moroaica, “and Rhames has taken command of the undead. We shall have to fight our way through the cultists and the undead both. The cultists will fight to the death to defend him. I suspect he has trained them to regard him as a living god.”

Sicarion laughed. “Good. That means there is all the more killing to do.” 

“Come,” said Jadriga. “Let us proceed. Be wary. Rhames was ever a cautious man in life. He may well have laid an ambush for us.”

Caina scowled behind her mask. “I thought you said you hoped to take him unawares.”

“I did,” said the Moroaica, “but do not the Ghosts teach that it is a fatal error to underestimate a foe?”

She had a point.

The Moroaica led the way into the city, Claudia, Maena, and Sicarion at her side. Caina followed, ghostsilver dagger and throwing knife in hand, Corvalis at her right. Kylon, Martin, and Harkus brought up the back. The Venator held his crossbow ready, while Kylon moved with the fluid, deadly grace of a stormdancer.

They entered the plaza. It was silent and empty, the basilica pulsing with green light. Caina scanned the alleys and the doorways, looking for any sign of waiting attackers. She saw nothing, and turned her attention to the rooftops. No one ever looked up, after all.

But no one moved across the roofs of the black houses.

A pulse of potent sorcery washed through her, so powerful it felt as if needles crawled up her skin. She wondered if Rhames had thrown an attack at them, but then the dome of the basilica crackled with green fire.

The wards around the Chamber of Ascension were collapsing.

“We must hasten,” said Jadriga. “The time for stealth has passed.” 

She strode forward, boots clicking against the black flagstones, Sicarion a silent shadow at her side. The dead city was utterly silent around them, and the ghostly fire sheathing the basilica threw stark shadows over the streets. 

Then Caina saw movement ahead.

Men poured out of the alleys, blocking the street leading to the basilica. Caina recognized them from the camp. They were Rhames’s cultists, clad in fur and leather, swords and spears and clubs in hand.

And they were dead. Maatish hieroglyphs glowed upon their foreheads and chests and arms, shining with emerald fire. Their eyes were glassy, reflecting the green glow.

“Gods,” said Caina. “He killed them all.”

“Yes,” said Jadriga. “Behold the gratitude of a Great Necromancer of Maat. Most likely he promised them all immortality. And the Great Necromancers were scrupulous about keeping their word to the letter.” 

The undead Magisterial Guards appeared behind the cultists, and the walls of the nearby houses rippled. Dust Shades drifted through the walls, passing through stone and undead flesh alike with ease. Between the animated corpses and the gray shadows, hundreds of undead creatures blocked the way to the basilica.

Rhames might not have expected Jadriga, but he had prepared for trouble.

“Brace yourselves,” said the Moroaica. “This will hurt a little.”

She cast a spell, green fire burning up her arms, and flung out her hands. A wall of green light shot out from her, and pain burst through Caina as the light touched her. She flinched, but the pain faded away, and again she felt the sensation of sorcery sinking into her bones. Claudia shrieked and lifted her hands to her temples, while Harkus cursed and pointed his crossbow at the Moroaica.

“A protective spell,” said Jadriga. “The Dust Shades will no longer be able to kill you with a single touch. But beware. If they touch you for more than three or four seconds, they will be able to force their way through the ward.”

“How are we going to get past them?” said Caina. “There are far too many to fight. Perhaps we can circle…”

“No need,” said the Moroaica, flexing her fingers. Sorcerous force blazed around her with tremendous power, and Caina felt her summoning more and more. “I shall clear the path. Keep the enemy from reaching me.”

She drew still more power and gestured.

A massive hammer of psychokinetic force fell into the waiting undead. A score of the animated corpses vanished, ripped to bloody pulp, and dozens more went tumbling into the air. Wind howled past Caina, and the street trembled beneath her boots. 

The corpses and the Dust Shades charged, the corpses running in eerie silence, the Dust Shades flowing overhead like storm clouds.

And the Moroaica unleashed her power.

Bursts of invisible force ripped the corpses to bloody mist. Gouts of green fire erupted from her fingers, slicing the Dust Shadows apart. Blue lightning fountained from the street, its crawling fingers wrapping around the corpses and destroying the spells that animated them. The air buzzed and hummed with power, Caina’s skin crawling as waves of nausea rolled through her.

She had never seen so much destructive sorcery unleashed in so short of a time.

Yet even through the wrath of the Moroaica’s spells, ragged knots of undead still charged at her.

Caina slashed at a Dust Shade with her ghostsilver dagger, her blade shining white as it passed through the gray mass of the shadow. Corvalis and Lord Martin fought at her side, striking any corpse that drew too closer, rocking the creatures long enough for Jadriga’s blue lighting to destroy them. Claudia threw volleys of white sparks into the gray shadows, turning them to smoke, while Maena shouted and cast a spell. Another lesser earth elemental rose from the street, fashioned of dirt and jagged black flagstones, and smashed the corpses one by one. Sicarion danced through the Dust Shades, his blades shining with a green glow, while Kylon carved a swath through them. Harkus had his silver rod in hand, destroying Dust Shades with pulses of silver light. 

And through it all Jadriga cast spell after spell, her power manifesting to destroy the undead.

The noise was tremendous. The streets echoed with it. If Rhames hadn’t know they were coming, he certainly did now. Caina slashed through Dust Shade after Dust Shade, the Moroaica’s power blazing around them. They had destroyed scores, hundreds of the creatures, yet still more came. How many could Rhames throw at them? Would he simply fling wave after wave of undead at them until their strength wavered?

The light faded, and the noise died away. Caina looked around, breathing hard, seeking for a new foe.

But there were none left.

The street lay in ruin, its surface pockmarked with smoking craters. Most of the houses had been destroyed, their front walls ripped away to reveal empty rooms, fires dancing within the shattered shells. Corpses and the remains of corpses carpeted the ruined street, and the stink of burned flesh filled the air.

“Gods,” muttered Corvalis. 

Caina nodded. So much power, and the Moroaica still feared Rhames. 

Another burst of green light came from the basilica.  

“I suspect,” said Jadriga, “that Rhames is now aware of our presence.”

They followed the Moroaica up the street and to the square before the great basilica. Ripples of green light moved up and down the basilica’s black walls, the sorcery in the air so potent that it felt as if Caina’s bones vibrated within her flesh.

The basilica’s doors lay in smashed ruin upon the steps, the last of the warding sigils blasted away.

Rhames awaited them within.

Chapter 25 - The Chamber of Ascension

The Moroaica led the way into the great basilica.

The vast hall within looked much like the halls of other Magisterium chapterhouses Caina had seen. Thick, square pillars supported a vaulted ceiling, a balcony running along either wall. At the far end, Caina saw a wide doorway into a vast chamber, no doubt the Chamber of Ascension itself. A steady, throbbing green glow came from the entrance.

The light illuminated the strange shapes dotting the hall.

“Who are they?” said Claudia, her voice a frightened whisper. “What are they?”

Caina had seen more forms of sorcery than she cared to remember, but even she had never seen anything like this. 

Dozens of figures stood throughout the chamber, human men and women in the robes of high magi, their faces frozen in agony. At first Caina thought they were statues. But these figures, whatever they were, looked to have sculpted out of shadows. Yet despite the utter blackness of the shapes, Caina saw their expressions, saw the horror and despair in their faces.

“The high magi,” said Jadriga, walking through the figures. “The creators of the Ascendant Bloodcrystal.”

“Are they…are they still alive?” said Harkus. Even the grizzled Venator looked shaken. Kylon moved as if he expected the shadow-statues to come alive and attack.

“Certainly not,” said Jadriga. “They are…scars, let us say. Wounds. They were here at the moment of the bloodcrystal’s activation, close enough that when the crystal drained away their lives, it did so with sufficient violence as to create those echoes. Do not touch them. The effects would be deleterious.”

Sicarion pointed at one of the shadow-statues and laughed. “I remember him. He expelled me from the Magisterium for murdering one too many initiates. Said I was unworthy of wielding a magus’s power.” He laughed again. “And now he is dead and I am not.” 

“Pity,” said Caina.

Sicarion grinned at her. She had seen him wear that same smile as he killed, as he carved body parts from his victims to repair his own damaged flesh. If he killed her, he would smile the same smile as his serrated blade sank into her heart. 

“You can fight each other,” said Jadriga, “after we defeat Rhames.” She paused for a moment and took a deep breath, gazing at the glowing doorway. 

She was terrified. The Moroaica was millennia old, the most powerful sorceress Caina had ever encountered, and could claim another body if she perished.

And she was utterly terrified of the creature that awaited her beyond the doorway. 

Jadriga lifted her chin.

“Come,” she said, and strode towards the doorway.

Caina and the others followed into the Chamber of Ascension.

It was a vast round chamber, large enough to hold the Magisterium’s chapterhouse in Malarae. The domed ceiling rose high overhead, a single oculus at its apex displaying the night sky. A high balcony circled the chamber, the walls adorned with reliefs glorifying the Magisterium and showing the magi ruling over lesser men. A small dais occupied the exact center of the chamber, ringed with more of the strange shadow-statues.

The Ascendant Bloodcrystal floated a few feet over the dais.

Caina stared at it, enraptured. 

She had seen bloodcrystals before. They were usually rough, ugly things, like pieces of half-melted black or green glass. Maglarion’s great bloodcrystal had been a hulking thing the size of one of the Henge’s menhirs, grim and black and hideous.

But the Ascendant Bloodcrystal was beautiful.

It was a tapering shard of faceted black crystal the length of Caina’s arm, revolving slowly in the grip of a spell. Hundreds of Maatish hieroglyphs covered its facets, written in lines of green fire, brightening and dimming as the crystal revolved. Even from a distance, the bloodcrystal looked intricate beyond belief. Maglarion’s great bloodcrystal had been the crude, childish work of an amateur. This was the masterwork of sorcerers of unequaled skill and power. 

And she felt the hideous power radiating from the thing, felt it thrumming inside her head. It was almost as if she heard a song radiating from the crystal, a song beautiful and terrible.

A song powerful enough to crack the earth. 

“Ghost!”

Rhames’s deep voice cut into her thoughts, and Caina tore her eyes from the beautiful and terrible thing. 

The Great Necromancer walked around the dais, accompanied by the towering shape of his seset-kadahn. The glow from the bloodcrystal cast harsh shadows over Rhames’s withered face, his eyes like pits into an abyss of green flame.

“I am indeed impressed,” said Rhames, placing himself between the crystal and Caina. It was incongruous to hear that resonant baritone coming from the withered, centuries-dead face. “Few indeed could escape the hieroglyph of greater binding. I wonder how you found the…”

His voice trailed off as he saw Jadriga.

The Moroaica glared at him, hands knotted into fists at her side.