Sword and Sorceress XXVII (32 page)

Only to stumble when he found Caina’s
boot pinning the hem of his robe. As impressive as the crimson and black robes
looked, only an idiot would try to fight in one, which Caina proved when she
drove her dagger into his throat.

The fight was over moments later, with
four men dead, and one survivor trying to crawl away, Caina’s knife embedded in
his calf. Lucan flipped the survivor onto his back, and Caina saw the face of
the man who had clapped his hands to finish the spell.

Burning that woman alive.

“Lord Mauldron,” said Lucan to the wounded
man. Mauldron was in his fifties, his face grizzled and jowly, eyes bright with
pain and terror. “You’re keeping disreputable company these days.”

“Lord Lucan?” said Mauldron. “Did...did
your father send you?”

“The Ghosts sent me,” said Lucan.

Mauldron wheezed a laugh. “The Ghosts?
The Emperor’s mythical spies? There are no Ghosts, only shadows and stories.”

“Shadows,” said Caina, voice low, “that
carry knives.”

“You,” gasped Mauldron. “I heard of you!
The Ghost Countess. But you were a story...”

“Shut up and listen to me,” said Caina,
surprised at how calm her voice remained. “I know about the Sevenfold Pyre. I
know you’re trying to resurrect Ravodan. And I know that you are part of a
group—a cult or a secret society. You couldn’t pull  this off on your own. You’re
going to tell me who your leader is and where I can find him.”

Mauldron sneered. “I don’t need to tell
you anything. The Master will summon the spirit of Ravodan, and take the spirit’s
powers for his own. The Master will bestow great rewards on his followers,
and...”

Caina stooped and twisted the knife in
his calf, and Mauldron shrieked.

“Who is this Master?” said Caina.

“Your death,” said Mauldron.

Again Caina twisted the knife, and
Mauldron screamed.

Lucan frowned.

“Not good enough,” said Caina. “Tell me
his name.”

“No,” said Mauldron, sweat dripping down
his face.

Caina drew another knife and pinned
Mauldron’s right hand to the floor. His scream echoed off the ceiling, much as
the woman’s had done.

“Tell me,” repeated Caina, “his name.”

“No,” sputtered Mauldron, “no, I won’t...”

Caina pinned his other hand to the
floor.

“Stop this,” said Lucan.

Caina ignored him. “Tell me about the
Master,” she said when Mauldron’s screams died down, “or I’ll start cutting
things off.”

“Kuroz,” said Mauldron, shuddering. “The
Master’s name is Kuroz.”

“I know him,” said Lucan, still frowning
at Caina. “He’s an Ulkaari shaman. He makes money scamming weak-minded nobles,
impressing them with parlor tricks and mummery.”

Caina pointed at the pyre. “That’s no
mummery.”

“He has some arcane talent,” said Lucan,
“and sometimes summons up creatures from the netherworld. One of them must have
told him about the Sevenfold Pyre.”

“Yes,” whispered Mauldron. “The Master
has power. And when he claims Ravodan’s power, he will be even stronger. And we
shall be richly rewarded.”

“I’m sure,” said Caina. “Where is he?”

Mauldron hesitated.

Caina seized the knives buried in
Mauldron’s hands and twisted.

“The temple of Elerion!” said Mauldron,
once he stopped screaming. An abandoned temple to Elerion, the old Caerish god
of the sun, stood in the center of the town. And well within the heptagon of
the Sevenfold Pyre, if Caina’s calculations were correct. “He will summon
Ravodan’s spirit there! I swear it! Please, please, no more!”

“No more,” agreed Caina, and opened his
throat.

She straightened up, saw Lucan staring
at her.

“What?” she said.

“You went too far,” said Lucan.

Caina scowled. “I did what was
necessary.”

“You’ve come to deal out pain far too
casually.”

Caina gave him an incredulous look. “You
saw what he did to that woman.”

“Mauldron deserved his fate,” said
Lucan. “I don’t care what happened to him. I care about what it will do to you.
Your hatred of sorcery is upsetting your judgment. You’ve told me about some of
the nightmares you have. What...”

“Enough!” said Caina, her temper
fraying. “I have seen too many people killed by sorcery. I will stop it from
happening again!” Her hands balled into fists. “If I have to kill every magus
in the Empire, if I have to butcher every last sorcerer in the world, I will do
it, I will...”

Her voice cut off.

The man in the hooded cloak she had seen
at the warehouse stood behind Lucan, beckoning. She snatched one of her
throwing knives from Mauldron and flung it. The blade struck a pillar and
clattered to the floor.

There was no one behind Lucan.

“What is it?” said Lucan, sword raised
in guard.

“Nothing,” said Caina, blinking. “I...thought
I saw someone. Again.” What was wrong with her? Had the presence of powerful
sorcery unhinged her mind?

Or perhaps Lucan was right, and her
hatred of sorcery had deranged her...

She pushed the thought aside. Now was
not the time to worry about it.

“We should go,” said Caina. “If we don’t
stop Kuroz now, more people than these women will die.”

“You’re right,” said Lucan. “But we
should talk more later.”

Caina started to disagree, then
remembered the strange vision of the hooded man.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But
later.”

She retrieved her knives, and they left
the cellar.

#

The temple of Elerion, like the rest of
Caer Belaen, had fallen into disrepair. Once it had been a stately edifice of
white marble, with columns lining the central sanctuary. Now the half the roof
had fallen in, and  broken columns ringed the temple like jagged teeth.

Within the sanctuary, Caina saw the
flickering glow of flames.

“Kuroz is already here,” muttered Caina.

“Fortunately,” said Lucan, “that rubble
offers plenty of cover.”

They crept from fallen column to fallen
column, and soon reached the edge of the sanctuary. A half-dozen men stood near
the weathered altar. Five wore the red-and-crimson robes Caina had seen
earlier. The sixth wore the ragged leathers and furs of an Ulkaari shaman, his
pale arms and head marked with elaborate ritual scars. Kuroz himself, no doubt.
Lucan had said that Kuroz made his coin scamming foolish nobles, yet Caina felt
the presence of powerful sorcery as she looked at him.

Kuroz might have been a charlatan, but
his powers were no fraud.

A heptagon had been painted on the
sanctuary’s stone floor, a black candle resting upon each of the seven points.
Three of the candles had been lit, while the other four remained dark.  Even as
Caina watched, one of the candles burst into flame.

Her mouth thinned into a hard line.
Kuroz’s acolytes had just murdered another victim.

“Master!” said one of the robed
acolytes. “Another candle!”

“Yes,” said Kuroz, his voice rich and
deep. “Soon, my friends, we shall have the power to return Ravodan’s shade to
the mortal world. His powers shall be ours, and you will be rewarded.”

Caina felt her mouth twist. No doubt
Kuroz intended to  reward his followers with a quick death. Sorcerers never
shared power voluntarily.

Lucan crouched next to her, his lips
close to her ear.

“Those acolytes,” he whispered. “They look
like merchants, or minor nobles. I doubt they’ll be any threat.”

Caina nodded. “Kuroz is the dangerous
one. If we take him down, the others will flee.”

A fifth candle blazed to light. Caina
shivered with rage.

“I’ll distract them,” said Lucan. “Once
I have their attention, you take Kuroz.”

“It is almost done,” said Kuroz, raising
his arms  with a showman’s flair. “I will pull Ravodan into this world once
more, and we shall be numbered among the great!”

“Go,” said Caina, slipping a knife into
her hand. “Before he kills anyone else.”

“Prepare yourselves!” said Kuroz,
beckoning to his followers. “Soon you shall see me transformed, and...”

Lucan strolled into the ruined
sanctuary, sword in hand.

Kuroz’s speech trailed off, a frown
coming over his scarred face, and the acolytes gaped at Lucan.

“Gentlemen!” said Lucan. “I wish to join
your little cult. I, too, enjoy setting things on fire.”

“You mock us?” said one of the acolytes.
“We shall rule the world, and you dare to mock us?”

Caina circled around the base of a
ruined column. If she could just get a little closer to Kuroz, she could put a
knife into the shaman’s throat before he could react.

“Rule the world?” said Lucan with a
laugh. “You’re a collection of failed merchants who burn helpless women. And when
you’re done, Kuroz will kill you all anyway. So, yes, I dare to mock you.
Though it really doesn’t take much daring.”

Caina moved past the broken column. She
was in plain sight now, but Kuroz and his acolytes remained fixed on Lucan.
Kuroz’s fingers started to move in the beginnings of a spell. He, unlike his
followers, was no fool.

“Kill him,” said Kuroz.

The sixth candle burst into flame.

“I’ll give you one chance,” said Lucan,
pointing with his sword. “Leave, now, and I’ll let you live.” Caina blinked in
surprise. She would never have considered offering mercy to the acolytes.

Perhaps Lucan had been right.

The acolytes pulled daggers from their
belts and charged Lucan, screaming.

Apparently the acolytes felt no need for
mercy.

Kuroz began muttering a spell under his
breath, gesturing. Caina straightened up, took a quick step forward, and flung
the knife in one smooth motion.

The blade slammed into Kuroz’s throat.

Or it would have, had it not
disintegrated into glowing splinters an inch from his neck.

He had warded himself against steel
weapons.

Kuroz whirled to face Caina, his spell
interrupted. On the other side of the heptagon, Lucan battled the acolytes, his
sword flashing in the glow of the candles. A grunt, the clang of blade on
blade, and one of the acolytes fell dead, his blood pooling on the flagstones.

“Who are you?” said Kuroz.

Caina slipped another knife into her
hand. “I know about the Sevenfold Pyre, and I know you want to resurrect
Ravodan.”

Kuroz laughed, his eyes glinting. “Ravodan
was a fool! Else the Ghosts would not have slain him. Yet his power remains in
the netherworld, waiting for anyone strong enough to claim it! You are a Ghost,
yes? One of those meddlers and schemers?” Another acolyte fell dead. They were
unskilled and unaccustomed to fighting, while Lucan was neither. “Another fool
poking into things she does not understand.”

“You would know,” said Caina, taking a
cautious step closer. Kuroz might have warded himself from steel, but she
doubted he possessed the foresight to shield himself from stone. If she picked
up a piece of rubble, she might be able to brain him. Or if she got close
enough, she could simply strangle him. “Pyromancy drives its wielders mad.”

“I thought as much, once,” said Kuroz. “But
then I discovered the secrets of fire sorcery. Now I see the world clearly. All
the world is fuel, fuel I will burn to enhance my power.”

Shouts rang out, and another acolyte
fell.

“You will not,” said Caina. “You will
murder no more innocents.”

“Oh,” said Kuroz. “I will.”

He thrust out his palm, flames crackling
around his fingers. Caina threw herself to the left as a blast of flame erupted
from his hand. The fire missed, but the heat of it struck Caina across the
face. She scrambled back to her feet at Kuroz began another spell, fresh fire
shimmering in his hand, his eyes lit up with madness.

And as she did, the seventh candle
ignited.

Arcane power thrummed in the air, and
the ground trembled beneath Caina’s boots. A beam of crimson light erupted from
the heptagon, stabbing into the sky. Darkness writhed and swirled within the
light, and Caina felt a sense of distance as she looked into it.

As if the darkness was a portal to
another place.

A scream rang out, and the final acolyte
crumpled to the floor. Lucan stepped over the bodies, blood dripping from his
sword.

“Splendid,” said Kuroz, flexing his
fingers. “You’ve saved me the trouble of killing them later.” He pointed at
Lucan, fiery light glimmering around his hand.

Caina ducked, seized a fist-sized chunk
of stone, and threw it. It smacked into Kuroz’s jaw with enough force to send
teeth flying, and the shaman stumbled to one knee with a cry of pain. As she
suspected, he had failed to ward himself against stone. She raced forward, but
Kuroz was faster. He flung out his hands with a snarl, and a sheet of fire
erupted from the ground. Caina skidded to a stop and veered right, but the fire
spread in front of her.