Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask (37 page)

Unless they found his canopic jar.

Caina took a step forward, intending to locate Corvalis or Kylon, when she felt a stab of pain between her eyes. The pain doubled, and then doubled again, so intense that Caina fell to her knees. A wave of agonizing tingles crawled up her arms and legs, as if needle-legged spiders covered her limbs, and her stomach twisted like a rag rung out by a washerwoman.

Was she reacting to Rhames’s spell? Or was it the Ascendant Bloodcrystal? With the Moroaica dead, had her protective spell lifted from Caina and the others?

The Moroaica.

Caina realized she heard Jadriga’s voice inside her head.

And with a horrified shock, she understood what was happening. The Moroaica had survived for centuries by moving from body to body, abandoning her mortal vessel when it was slain and claiming another. She had possessed Caina before, after she had died below Black Angel Tower in Marsis.

And now she was doing it again. 

But why? She had possessed Caina, but could not control her. Caina had been unaware of Jadriga’s presence for months. Why possess her now?

Unless she had found a way to take control of Caina’s body. 

Caina dropped to her hands and knees, breathing hard, every inch of her body wracked with pain. She tried to force herself to stand, tried to even sit, but her limbs refused to obey. A spasm went through her, and she fell upon her side.

The Moroaica’s voice echoed inside her head, the words coming into focus.

“The jar!” shouted Jadriga. “Get the jar! It is…”

Another wave of pain rolled through Caina. 

She heard Rhames laughing in triumph, and then everything went dark.

Chapter 26 - Father and Mother

Caina opened her eyes, sunlight flooding her vision.

She turned in a circle, stunned.

She stood on a street of gleaming stone, whitewashed houses rising overhead. In the distance she saw splendid temples and palaces of white stone, shining like jewels in the sunlight. Hieroglyphs covered the sides of the temples, and gold sheathed many of the stone columns.

She knew this place.

Maat, this was ancient Maat. She had seen it before, in the Moroaica’s memory. This was where Jadriga and her father had hidden from Rhames, until the pharaoh’s soldiers had found them anyway.

Caina turned, and saw the scene frozen before her eyes.

Rhames stood in his white robe and gleaming golden torque of office, his head shaved, black makeup lining his eyes. Soldiers in bronze chain mail stood nearby, carrying round shields and spears with bronze heads. Two of them held a Maatish girl of fifteen or sixteen years. She was stunningly beautiful, with long black hair and black eyes, her olive-colored skin without flaw. Two other soldiers held a plump middle-aged man on his knees, while a third soldier stood frozen with a bronze axe in his hands. 

The axe had just severed the middle-aged man’s head. An arc of crimson blood remained frozen in the air, surrounded in a halo of tiny droplets. The girl’s mouth was open in a wordless howl of grief and pain, her eyes fixed upon the slain man.

The Moroaica and her father.

“She can’t help it, you know.”

Caina spun. She still wore her nightfighter garb, her shadow-cloak billowing around her, and a throwing knife appeared in her gloved hand.

A short middle-aged man stood across the street, his sweaty hands kneading the front of his white tunic. Sweat gleamed on his bald head, and ink stains marked his hands and forearms. A deep, heavy sorrow filled his black eyes. 

And he was utterly identical to the beheaded man on his knees.

“You,” said Caina. “You’re Jadriga’s father, aren’t you?”

He bobbed his head in a nod. “Yes. Yes. You are very clever. My daughter thinks so, and she hates everyone. My name is Horemb. I am pleased to meet you in person.” He looked around at the strange, frozen city and shrugged. “Well, almost in person.”

“Caina,” said Caina, drawing back her mask and cowl. “My name is Caina. And you cannot truly be her father. You’ve been dead for twenty-three centuries, if not longer.”

“Closer to twenty-six,” said Horemb. 

Caina waved a hand at the whitewashed walls. “Then this is her memory, and I am only talking to the memory of her father.”

“No,” said Horemb. “Well, yes, this is her memory. But I am truly her father. Or his spirit. You see, the spells of the Great Necromancers sometimes had…peculiar results. Something to do with the nature of the Undying. If a blood relative died by violence within seventy-two days of the creation of an Undying, that blood relative’s spirit was bound to the Undying. And the Undying would remain unaware of it.”

“But the Undying were supposed to exist forever,” said Caina. “You mean the bound spirits would be forced to watch their children toil forever as Undying? Gods! That’s monstrous.” 

Horemb sighed. “It is. Or it was, rather. I fear my daughter put a rather…abrupt end to the practice.” He blinked. “It began with my wife. All of this.”

“What happened?” said Caina. 

“She tended a stall in the market, selling her baskets,” said Horemb. “One day a Great Necromancer demanded that she sell her baskets at a discount to the temple of Anubankh. She did not refuse. She merely tried to haggle, as always had been the custom of the Maatish people. And for that the Great Necromancer killed her on the spot and confiscated her merchandise.” There were tears in his eyes. “After that, I swore I would keep Malifae safe from the Great Necromancers.”

“Malifae?” said Caina. Understanding came to her. “Your daughter. Jadriga. That’s her real name. Malifae.”

Horemb nodded. “She has gained many names since then, but she is still my daughter. She has done terrible, terrible things, but she is still my daughter, my beloved daughter. And she could not stop herself.”

“What do you mean?” said Caina. “She cannot stop herself?” 

“She has no free will,” said Horemb. “The Undying have no free will. She has not had free will since Rhames turned her into one of the Undying.”

“No free will?” said Caina. “Of course she has free will. She has made choices that resulted in the death of thousands. She has grown and become stronger. She would destroy the world in this ‘great work’ of hers, if given the chance.”

“Forgive me,” said Horemb, “but I did not explain myself well. When I said Malifae no longer has free will…I mean she can no longer make moral choices. That part of her soul is frozen, just as this city is frozen around us.”

“What do you mean?” said Caina.

“A woman decides to travel to the city,” said Horemb. “She may travel by caravan, or by ship, or by river barge. Each decision will mean smaller decisions…what ship to take, or what barge to hire, or what clothes to pack. And each of those decisions will beget smaller decisions. But the first decision, the first choice, the choice to visit the city, has already been made. A living woman may change her mind and decide to stay at home. But one of the Undying…their first choice has been made. And it cannot be unmade.” 

“I see,” said Caina. “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?”

Horemb offered another nod. 

“She was made Undying,” said Caina, “while her mind was filled with rage and pain and sorrow. When she wanted nothing more than to take vengeance on those who killed her father.” Caina knew those feelings well. “And then she was made Undying, that was frozen within her. Forever.”

“You understand,” said Horemb. “Do you see, Caina of the Ghosts?” He spread his hands. “This…this is my poor Malifae’s spirit, not her mind. Her mind can grow, can learn new things. But this is her soul. Frozen this way, forever.”

“Watching you die,” said Caina, “and swearing vengeance.”

“She was brilliant, my girl,” said Horemb. “A genius. Rhames knew not what he had wrought! They buried the pharaoh with a complete library. And Malifae spent centuries there, learning the secrets of the Great Necromancers. Oh, they thought an Undying could never learn sorcery if the skill had not been learned in life, but she proved them wrong! She destroyed Rhames and the pharaoh and freed herself from the tomb after five centuries. And she brought her wrath upon the Great Necromancers and the Undying pharaohs in their pyramids, and she laid the dark empire of Maat waste. My daughter! If the Szaldic people had lived at the time, they would have named her the Balarigar, the breaker of chains and the liberator of slaves, and not the Moroaica.” He bowed his head. “But she did not stop there.”

“She couldn’t,” said Caina. “She couldn’t make a different choice. The Great Necromancer and the empire that had slain her father were dust, but the pain was still with her.” She knew that well, too. “So she continued her vengeance. She sought out those who reminded her of Rhames, who had committed his crimes, and destroyed them.”

Had not Caina herself done the same?

“And in time,” said Horemb, “she came to believe the gods themselves were responsible for what had happened to me, for the suffering of all mankind, and she determined to bring vengeance to the heavens.”

“Her great work,” said Caina. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? Her vengeance on the gods.” Horemb nodded. “What is she going to do? How could even a sorceress of her power think to make war upon gods?”

“A spell,” whispered Horemb, as if afraid to speak of it. “A great and mighty spell. You see, my daughter is a genius, and she has wielded sorcery for two and a half thousand years. Even if Rhames is stronger, he cannot match her knowledge and skill. Her spell will waken all of the great elementals that sleep upon our world, hundreds of them at once, and capture their power. With that power, she will raise every man, woman, and child that ever died as Undying, give them immortal forms free of disease and pain. And with that power, she hopes to rip open a gate to the highest heavens, to find the sovereign of the gods, and kill him to repay the sufferings of humanity.”

“That’s mad,” said Caina. “Utterly mad.”

“It is mad to blame the gods for our sufferings,” said Horemb. “We do it to ourselves, Caina of the Ghosts. The suffering of men is not the fault of the gods, but of us. We harm each other. We torment each other. The gods gave us to responsibility to care for each other…and instead we destroy one another. We have abdicated our responsibilities, not the gods.”

“Yes,” said Caina, “but her plan itself is mad. She cannot possibly do all that.” She hesitated. “Can she?”

“No,” said Horemb. “Such power is beyond the reach of anyone, even Malifae. But she has the power to attempt to fulfill her vision, and those powers will burn beyond her control. It will destroy the world utterly. Your Empire, Anshan, Cyrica, Istarinmul…all will burn. Our world will be a lifeless cinder, a warning to the sorcerers of other worlds to avoid such mad folly.” 

Caina considered for a moment. “Why are you telling me this? Or…how are you even able to speak to me?”

“Because Malifae tried to possess you,” said Horemb. “Involuntarily, I think, like a drowning man grabbing at anything to survive. She has possessed you once before, but was unable to control you. This time…I don’t think she’ll be able to possess you at all. Rhames weakened her too much. Very soon now her spirit will be expelled from your body, and she’ll move to another host.” 

“Oh,” said Caina. She hoped Jadriga did not try to possess Claudia. “That explains how you are talking to me. But why tell me this?”

“Because,” said Horemb, “you have to stop Malifae. You’re the only one that can stop her.”

“I’m a spy with a dagger and a shadow-cloak,” said Caina, “not a sorceress. I killed her once before, and that barely slowed her down. How am I supposed to stop her?” 

“Because you are the Balarigar,” said Horemb.

“That’s rubbish,” said Caina. “The Balarigar is a myth of the Szalds. I was fortunate enough to survive some enemies that ought to have killed me, and that myth took hold.” 

“A name can be given,” said Horemb, “or earned. And you…you are the same as Malifae.”

“I am not,” said Caina.

“You are,” said Horemb. “If someone had rescued her after Rhames had killed me but before she became Undying, she would have become a woman like you. And if you had become Undying after your father’s murder, you would have a woman like Malifae. You and Malifae are different sides of the same coin. You must stop her. You must. Else the world will die.”

“Well and good,” said Caina, “but none of that will happen if Rhames kills me first.” 

“He, too, is Undying,” said Horemb with a shiver. “If my daughter is frozen to take vengeance…he is frozen in his purpose to rebuild Maat to all its terrible glory. He, too, will not stop.”

“So,” said Caina. “If he won’t stop himself, then how do I stop him?” 

“You must find and destroy his canopic jar,” said Horemb. “That is the only way to permanently destroy one of the Undying. Malifae destroyed his other six canopic jars when she escaped the pharaoh’s tomb.”

“I know that,” said Caina. “How do I find the damned thing?”

“His seset-kadahn has it,” said Horemb.

“You’re sure?” said Caina. 

“Certain,” said Horemb. “In Maat, Great Necromancers who had become Undying gave at least one of their canopic jars to a seset-kadahn. The creatures are impossible to kill and equally impossible to corrupt. They will not betray their masters, not for any reason.”

“I’ve looked at Rhames’s seset-kadahn,” said Caina. “It doesn’t have the jar. The thing is only wearing a kilt and a bronze mask. There’s no place it could hide a stone jar large enough to hold a mummified human organ.” 

“The jar could be inside the seset-kadahn’s torso,” said Horemb.

“That…” Caina thought it over. “That…hadn’t occurred to me. It makes sense. The creature is undead, so it has no need of internal organs. Why not store a canopic jar inside its ribcage? Getting at it is going to be hard.” 

“It will be,” said Horemb, “but you can do it. You are the Balarigar.” 

Caina opened her mouth to answer, and saw a crack spreading across the street. A green light rose from within the crack, and Caina saw dozens more spreading across the white walls, rising even to fracture across the sky overhead. Harsh green light filled the city, painting the white walls with ghostly radiance.