Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask (2 page)

“Preceptor!” he shouted, interrupting Jurius’s rant. “Preceptor!”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Yes?” said Rhazion. “It’s…Vanius, isn’t it? What is it?”

“Preceptor, his dagger,” said Jurius. “There is a necromantic spell of surpassing power upon it! We are all in danger! Preceptor, we must act as once, we…”

The sound of scores of magi casting the spell to sense sorcery drowned out his words.

A heartbeat later the magi rocketed to their feet. 

“What is that?” thundered Rhazion, and Caina saw the hint of fear on his face. “Where did you get that?”

Jurius began to laugh. “Do you not know, wise preceptor? Perhaps you should have paid closer attention to your studies of history! Permit to be your tutor!”

He yanked the dagger from it sheath and raised it high.

Caina had never seen a weapon quite like it. It had been forged of peculiar black steel, the blade marked with five glyphs of glowing green light. A rough emerald-colored crystal had been embedded in the base of the blade, just above the hilt.

She did not recognize the weapon…but she recognized that crystal. It was a thing of necromantic sorcery. It held the lives of its victims, and fed that stolen power to its wielder. She had seen one n the torque of the Kindred Elder of Cyrioch, and a far larger one atop Haeron Icaraeus’s mansion in Malarae.

A bloodcrystal. 

“Behold!” shouted Jurius. “The Empire falls…and the Kingdom of the Rising Sun rises anew!” 

“Kill him!” said Rhazion, and a score of magi began casting spells. Corvalis drew his sword, and the magi near Caina began summoning power. She jumped to her feet, reaching for a throwing knife in her sleeve.

Jurius laughed, high and wild, and swept the dagger over his head. 

Caina felt a surge of sorcery from the weapon.

All around Jurius, the floor boiled with gray smoke, like dust swirling in a hurricane. 

Dozens of human-shaped wraiths rose from the smoke, fashioned  of dust and dense gray smoke. The creatures had no features, their bodies rippling and undulating. Yet Caina felt power within them, raw necromantic force. 

“Kill them all!” said Jurius, and the chaos began.

The shades surged forward. Screams and shouts echoed through the hall, and the lords and the merchants fled for the doors. Caina saw one of the shades touch a plump merchant, its arms sweeping through the man’s chest. 

At once the man shriveled into an emaciated corpse, like a husk left to dry for a thousand years in the desert, and collapsed to the floor. 

More men and women died as the shades continued their attack.

Caina yanked the throwing knife from her sleeve and flung it at Jurius with all her strength. The weapon struck his neck and bounced away from his skin in a spray of sparks, deflected by a warding spell. The renegade magus did not even notice the attack.

And still the gray shadows continued their attack. 

“Die!” screamed Jurius. “Die, all of you, and rise anew as servants of great Anubankh!” 

“Stand fast!” thundered Rhazion. “Brothers and sisters of the Magisterium, stand fast! Cast the third and the ninth warding spells! Quickly!” 

Caina’s eyes swept the chaos, her mind working through plans. She did not know what kind of creatures Jurius had called up, but they were obviously deadly. And just as obviously, they were under his control. If she could kill him, or get that strange Maatish dagger away from him, the magi would overpower him. 

She turned toward Corvalis, and one of the shadows lunged at her. 

The creature flowed through the table as if it did not exist and reached for her. Caina jumped back, but she was wearing high-heeled boots and a long skirt, and she stumbled. 

The shadow lunged at her, and Corvalis slashed it with his sword. His blade passed through the creature without harming it, and the shadow’s head rotated to face him. The shade flowed towards him, and Corvalis backed away, sword raised in guard. 

Caina yanked the curved dagger from the sheath at her belt.

The dagger gave off a silvery gleam, its blade carved with Kyracian characters. The dagger had been forged with ghostsilver, a rare metal proof against sorcery.

And it also had the ability to harm creatures of sorcery.

Caina raked the dagger through the shadow. The blade flashed with white light, the handle growing warm. The shadow hissed, dissolved into swirling gray smoke, and dissipated into nothingness. 

“I have to get one of those,” said Corvalis.

“They are useful,” said Caina.

She saw that Vanius had joined a group of magi standing near the columns. They cast spells in unison, responding to Rhazion’s bellowed directions. White sparks burst from their fingers, arcing across the hall to slam into the shades. The shadows rippled and vanished beneath the sparks, but still more rose from the floor. 

Jurius attacked a group of fleeing merchants. A Magisterial Guard charged at Jurius, but his strikes rebounded from the renegade’s wards. Jurius slashed his strange dagger, and the blade opened a scratch, a tiny scratch, on the Guard’s jaw.

The Magisterial Guard collapsed, dead in an instant.

As he fell, gray smoke billowed from the joints of his armor, forming itself into another shade. Jurius howled with glee and attacked two merchants fleeing towards the doors. The lightest scratch from his dagger killed them both, and new shades rose billowing from their corpses.

“Gods,” said Caina, “he’s making more of them.” She saw a wave of the gray shadows advancing towards the magi gathered on the dais. The magi unleashed volley after volley of the white sparks, ripping the shadows to wisps of gray smoke, but more of the creatures rose from the floor. “He’s making them faster than they can destroy them.” 

She felt Corvalis’s hard hand close around her left arm.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he said. “We can’t fight those things, not even with your dagger. We need help.” 

A dark thought flashed through her mind. The magi were the Ghosts’ enemies. If she withdrew, if she left the magi to their fate, Jurius and his dust-colored shadows might wipe out Malarae’s entire chapter…

Caina shoved aside the notion. She would not leave anyone to die at the hands of those creatures, not even the magi.

“No,” said Caina. “We can’t leave. Jurius and his damned pets will kill the magi…and then they’ll swarm through the city. If those things can kill with a single touch, they’ll kill hundreds of people before they’re stopped. Thousands, even.”

“Perish!” said Jurius, his voice ringing over the melee. “Perish, and rise as the servants of great Anubankh!”

“Then how do we kill him?” said Corvalis. “Your ghostsilver dagger can pierce his wards, but the shadows will swarm you long before you can get close enough to use it.” 

“Easy,” said Caina. “We get his attention, lure him away from the others, and then deal with him.”

Corvalis blinked, and grinned at her. He had a reckless streak, enjoyed challenging himself…and Caina found that she shared that trait.

“Well,” he said, “lead on.”

Jurius strode towards the dais, the dagger raised over his head, ignoring the remaining lords and merchants. The great mass of shadows flowed towards the dais, forcing their way forward despite the spells of the magi. Caina glanced at the food covering the table, plates of bread and cheese, carafes of wine, a pork roast skewered on a steel spit over a metal pan of grease.

A metal pan that sat over a low fire to keep the roast warm. 

“Your coat,” Caina said.

Corvalis shrugged out of his coat, and Caina grabbed the coat, wrapped it around her hands, and seized the grease pan. Even through the fabric she felt the heat of the steel.

“Jurius!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

The renegade magus glanced at her, a sneer on his face. 

Caina threw the pan at him. He was warded against steel, and the pan bounced away without touching him. He was not, however, warded against hot pork grease, and it splattered across his robe and neck and face.

Even over the chaos, Caina heard the sizzle of scorched flesh, followed by Jurius’s agonized scream. Jurius stumbled back, left hand raised to clutch his burned cheek.

As one, every shade in the hall turned towards Caina.

“I think you got his attention,” said Corvalis.

“Kill her!” screamed Jurius.

“Run!” said Corvalis. 

Caina ran, her heels hammering against the stone floor. A narrow door stood on one side of the hall, leading to the living quarters of the magi. Caina threw open the door and hurried inside. Beyond she saw a narrow hallway stretching into the chapterhouse, lined on either side with wooden doors. 

She slammed shut the door behind her.

“Either side of the door,” said Caina. “Now.”

Corvalis nodded. Caina went to the right side of the door and Corvalis went to the left. A heartbeat later the first shadow flowed through the heavy wood, and then another, and then another, and dozens of the things poured into the corridor. The creatures, whatever they were, should have seen her. But Caina suspected they were slaved to Jurius’s will.

And a man with severe grease burns across his face and neck would not be thinking clearly.

The door burst open, stopping an inch from Corvalis, and Jurius ran into the corridor, screaming curses.

Caina let him pass, then stepped forward and drove her ghostsilver dagger into his back with both hands. 

Jurius stiffened, a scream bursting from his burned lips, and Caina felt the dagger’s handle grow hot beneath her fingers as it penetrated his ward. Jurius spun, ripping the dagger from her grasp, and slashed at her with his black blade. Caina dodged, the deadly weapon passing inches from her face. 

The shadows flowed back towards them. 

Corvalis slammed a fist into Jurius’s head. The blow knocked Jurius off-balance, and he fell backwards, the black dagger clattering from his hand.

He landed atop the handle of the ghostsilver dagger, driving it deeper into his flesh.

The renegade screamed once more and then went still, his eyes staring and glassy.

The shadows shivered and vanished into nothingness.

Caina stepped away from the wall, her pulse thundering in her ears. 

Corvalis let out a long breath. “Good thing those creatures dissipated.”

“Actually,” said Caina, flipping Jurius’s corpse over, “I think they dissipated when he dropped the dagger.” She ripped the ghostsilver dagger free from his back, the blade glistening with blood. “We have to go. Any minute the magi are going to come through the door after him.” She knelt. “But we can’t leave this behind.”

Caina sliced a strip free from Jurius’s robe, wrapped her hands in it, and picked up the Maatish dagger. 

She suspected touching the weapon with her bare skin would be a tremendously bad idea. 

Even through the black cloth, she felt the dagger’s raw arcane power, felt it vibrating up the bones of her arm. 

“I doubt we can leave through the main doors,” said Corvalis. 

“No,” said Caina, straightening up. “Into one of the bedrooms, and out through the window.”

He sighed. “I hoped to take you to a fine banquet, and now we are fleeing through the window like common thieves.”

“At least,” said Caina, “I didn’t burn down any buildings this time.”

They retreated to one of the bedrooms, went through the window, and made their escape. 

Chapter 2 - History of the Dead

The next morning, Malarae buzzed with rumors of the attack upon the Magisterium’s chapterhouse. 

Owning Malarae’s only coffee house made it easy for Caina to hear the rumors herself. 

But she had created the House of Kularus for that purpose. After the incident in Catekharon a year past, Caina had acquired a dead merchant’s entire stock of coffee beans. Coffee had been unknown in the Empire, but common in Anshan and Istarinmul. Anshani and Istarish merchants and nobles gathered in coffee houses to discuss business and exchange gossip…and to prepare clandestine plots. A clever spy found all sorts of useful information in a coffee house.

So Caina had started her own. 

Corvalis disguised himself as Anton Kularus, a caravan guard and mercenary turned merchant, and opened the House of Kularus using Caina’s coffee beans. Her plan had worked – coffee became popular among the nobles and merchants of Malarae, and they now gathered to discuss business and exchange gossip beneath the roof of the House of Kularus. 

And to prepare clandestine plots, of course.

That the House of Kularus had become wildly profitable was almost an afterthought. 

Caina stood near the doors to the kitchen and watched the crowds. Five stories of balconies encircled the main floor, holding booths where patrons could converse in privacy. Tables filled the floor, and merchants and nobles alike sat at the booths and tables, the low murmur of conversation echoing off the walls, the air rich with the smell of roasting coffee beans. 

A short Anshani man in the crisp black livery of the House of Kularus approached her and bowed. “Mistress Sonya.”

“Shaizid,” said Caina. Shaizid had been a slave in Catekharon, in charge of making coffee for the Sages and their guests. Caina had asked for his freedom after defeating Mihaela, and Shaizid had followed her north to Malarae. Now he managed the House of Kularus in her name. “Has there been any talk about the incident at the chapterhouse last night?”

“The topic is upon every tongue, mistress,” said Shaizid. 

“What do people think happened?” said Caina.

Shaizid shrugged. “I have heard a dozen contradictory tales, as often happens in such affairs. I have heard one man say that the magi tried to depose their preceptor. Another man said an assassin tried to kill the preceptor using sorcery, but the magi overpowered him. A third man claims that the assassin was found in a hallway, stabbed in the back.”

“Ah,” said Caina. “That does seem unlikely.”

Shaizid’s eyebrows crept up a bit. He knew that she had been at the preceptor’s banquet last night…and he knew her well enough by now to guess what had happened. “I am pleased that you are unharmed, mistress.”