Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge (13 page)

Ranarius might have intended to trap them down here, but he had made a mistake. If he was killed, he could take another body, but not in time to stop Caina from finding the canopic jar and destroying it. All she had to do was kill him. 

But as the elemental thundered towards her, Caina could not think of a good way to do it.

She sprinted, the hulking stone giant following her. She glimpsed Corvalis scrambling to his feet with the ghostsilver spear, only for another blast of invisible force to knock him over. A surge of fear went through her. Ranarius could not hit Corvalis hard enough to kill him and control the elemental at the same time. But Corvalis could still crack his head against the ground. Or he could fall unconscious, and Ranarius could simply cut his throat. 

Odd that she felt more fear for Corvalis than she did for herself.

But she would not lose both Corvalis and Halfdan on the same day. She would not! 

The elemental stomped, its foot striking the ground so hard that Caina lost her balance and fell.

Of course, the elemental might kill her long before Ranarius killed Corvalis. 

Caina scrambled to her feet as a boulder-sized fist blurred past her head. The blazing golden eyes followed her as she ran, its head swiveling to track her movements. That wasn’t good. She had hoped her shadow-cloak would shield her from the elemental’s otherworldly vision, but the creature was apparently powerful enough to pierce her cloak. 

Or Ranarius had grown more skilled at conjuring elementals.

She saw Corvalis slam into one of the pillars, saw Ranarius stalk towards him, hands extended, face tight with strain. Ranarius had reached the limits of his strength, but it was still more than sufficient to kill both Caina and Corvalis. The elemental lumbered after her, its every step ripping stone tiles from the floor to add to its mass, the stones climbing up its limbs like armor.

Or like a lodestone pulling iron filings to itself. 

A lodestone…

An idea came to Caina, and she changed direction and ran at the elemental. Her sudden reversal caught the creature off-guard, and it turned to follow her. She ducked under a swing of a rocky fist, dodged another blow, and ran at one of the massive pillars. The elemental followed, and Caina whirled, putting her back to the pillar.

She saw Ranarius staggering toward Corvalis, grinning as he drew the Legionary’s broadsword. 

The elemental punched, and Caina dodged at the last second. The stone fist shot past her and sank into the thick pillar. The ground shook and heaved, sending her sprawling, but Caina regained her feet. 

The pillar began to splinter as the elemental tore its arm free.

And, for just a moment, the massive creature was stuck.

A moment was all that Caina needed.

She sprinted across the chamber and threw herself at Ranarius. The renegade magus just had time to shout, and then Caina slammed into him. They went down in a heap together, the power of his warding spells washing over her in a cold tingle, his armor clattering against the ground. 

He started to cast a spell, but Caina seized his ear, wrenched his head back, and buried the ghostsilver dagger in his neck. His scream of fury turned to a gurgle, and Caina wrenched the blade free and stabbed again, feeling a pang of regret for the nameless Legionary she had just killed.

Ranarius shuddered once and went still, his blood gushing over Caina’s hand.

She climbed to her feet, breathing hard, and a rumbling groan filled the chamber as the earth elemental collapsed into loose rubble, the spirit banished back to the netherworld with the death of its master. She saw Corvalis still leaning against the pillar, rubbing his throat.

“Are you all right?” said Caina. 

“No,” said Corvalis, stepping away from the pillar. 

“You’re injured,” she said, though she saw no wounds. “We’ll get out of here. Let’s just find that damned compass and send Ranarius to the final death…”

“It’s your fault,” said Corvalis, walking towards her, the ghostsilver spear in hand.

“What?” said Caina. “What are you talking about?”

“I cannot believe I fell in love with you!” roared Corvalis, his voice echoing off the ceiling. “Look at you! A scheming harlot, a liar and a murderess and a deceiver, and I shared a bed with you? You disgust me!”

The words struck her like physical blows, and Caina stared at him, stunned and more hurt than she knew how to express. 

Then she saw him change his grip on the ghostsilver spear, drawing the weapon back to stab.

“Corvalis,” said Caina, her voice a croak, “what…”

And through the pain, the cold part of her mind, the part Halfdan had trained and that had grown colder and harder through experience, realized that he was about to kill her.

She dodged as he stabbed, the blade just missing the space her chest had occupied a moment earlier. Caina stumbled and landed hard, and she was certain, utterly certain, that she would feel the spear plunge into her chest. There was no way a fighter of Corvalis’s skill would miss such an obvious opening.

Yet Corvalis paused, wrapping both hands around the spear’s haft for a two-handed thrust, and that gave Caina the time she needed to regain her feet. 

“Corvalis!” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Killing you, of course,” he spat, his green eyes glittering with hatred, “like I should have done years ago.”

She looked into his eyes, and the truth struck her.

Her fear vanished, subsumed by icy dread.

Ranarius.

“No,” she said, “you’re not Corvalis at all. I killed your last body, and so you took the nearest available one.” 

Corvalis laughed, his voice high and wild. “I have to admit, I like this one. The First Magus’s bastard is strong, if not particularly bright. Housing my spirit is probably the best purpose Corvalis Aberon could hope to achieve with his miserable life.” 

Caina said nothing. If she found and destroyed the canopic jar, would it expel Ranarius’s spirit from Corvalis’s flesh? Destroying Rhames’s last canopic jar had also destroyed the Great Necromancer. But Rhames had been undead, and Corvalis was still alive. Would Ranarius’s spirit inhabit Corvalis’s flesh until Corvalis was killed?

Caina didn’t know. 

She remembered her guilt-stricken confession to Corvalis a year past, her realization that she could kill him if her duty to the Ghosts required it, and she felt the darkness of the vault close around her like a cold fist.

“Why didn’t you possess me instead?” said Caina, hoping to buy time so she could think. “I had thought that would appeal to you. Given how much you enjoyed Maena Tulvius’s body.”

“I could not,” said Corvalis. “Your spirit is too scarred, too damaged. I could not take control of you, and I have no desire to become trapped in your head, as happened to the Moroaica.” He grinned. “And this offers more opportunities for enjoyment, as well. Perhaps I’ll cut the fingers from his hands one by one and force you to watch. Or I’ll simply cut this throat, and let you watch him die.”

“No,” said Caina, a plan forming in her mind, “you won’t do any of that.”

“Why not?” said Corvalis.

“Because you’re a coward and you can’t endure pain,” said Caina. Corvalis’s eyes narrowed. “And, more, because you’re an idiot.”

“Oh?” said Corvalis. “Enlighten me.” 

“You can’t possess me,” said Caina, “so you possessed Corvalis. But we’re the only living people left down here, and if Corvalis dies, you won’t be able to possess someone else before I destroy your canopic jar. And that means you don’t dare injure Corvalis. If you kill him, I destroy your canopic jar. And if you cut off his fingers or his ears or some other idiocy…you’re still inside his flesh. If he bleeds to death, if he’s in too much pain to function, you can’t function, and you can’t stop me.”

A spasm of rage went through Corvalis, and then he grinned.

“Or,” he said, stepping forward, “I will do whatever I want to you, and you won’t stop me.”

“You’re sure of that?” said Caina, pointing her ghostsilver dagger. 

“I am certain,” said Corvalis, spreading his arms. “Go ahead, Ghost. Come here and stab me. Cut my throat. Cut out my heart. I won’t stop you.”

Caina remained motionless.

“Your precious lover,” said Corvalis with a sneer. “I would not have thought an ice-hearted whore like you could love anyone, but I suppose you are just as weak as any other woman. So go ahead, Ghost. Cut down Corvalis Aberon. I won’t stop you.” 

Caina hesitated, and took a step back.

“I thought not,” said Corvalis, shifting the spear to his left hand. He raised his right hand and began to cast a spell. 

Caina spun and ran for the damaged pillar, her eyes sweeping back and forth. She had dropped the damned compass during the fight with the elemental. Where was it? 

Her eyes caught the gleam of metal, and then she felt the spike of arcane power.

Caina turned and caught the force of the psychokinetic blast in her torso, letting it throw her to the ground. It did not hit as hard as the previous spells. Maintaining the summoning spell on the elemental must have drained Ranarius, and Caina could only guess how much arcane force it took to possess a new body.

She came to one knee, and saw the compass. It lay at the edge of the rubble heap from the elemental, its needle pointing into the darkness. Caina seized the compass and sprinted into the gloom of the vault, ducking behind one of the undamaged pillars. 

“Do not bother running,” said Corvalis, strolling unconcerned into the gloom. “You might have realized my canopic jar is down here, but you’ll never find it. Not before I kill you. Why don’t you come to me? I can kill you quickly.” He laughed. “Certainly I can give you a quicker death than Sicarion. Really, you ought to be grateful that I found you first. At least I won’t cut off pieces of your corpse and graft them to my own limbs.”

Caina looked at the compass, and realized that she could not see it in the darkness. But she remembered where the needle had been pointing. She had her shadow-cloak, and knew how to move with stealth and silence. Ranarius had Corvalis’s shadow-cloak, but he had not bothered to raise the cowl, and he walked without any hint of stealth.

If Caina could stay away from him long enough, maybe she could locate the canopic jar before he found her.

She moved forward as fast as she dared, her boots making no sound against the stone floor, her eyes adapting to the dim blue glow coming from the enspelled crystals. She risked a glance at the compass, but could not make out the needle in the faint light. Ahead the massive bulk of a pillar yawned out the darkness, ghostly in the blue glow.

“Stop hiding!” shouted Corvalis, his voice tinged with rage and amusement. “You can’t run forever, and you won’t lift a finger to harm your precious pet assassin. Make this easier on yourself, Ghost.” He laughed. “Lie down and die, and I promise that Corvalis Aberon will join you momentarily.”

Caina bit back the insult that came to her lips and kept going.

She reached the pillar and circled around it, keeping her shadow-cloak close. Had Ranarius concealed his canopic jar here? Perhaps instead he had hidden it deeper within the vaults, maybe even in the chambers below Black Angel Tower itself. Caina would have to get close enough to one of the crystals to see the needle, though she risked revealing herself to Corvalis…

There.

A small stone jar stood at the foot of the pillar. Caina knelt and felt the tingle of powerful sorcery from within the jar. She pried off the lid and saw a human heart within, dried and withered. Sorcerous power radiated from the thing, and as she watched, it pulsed and flared with the green fire of a necromantic spell.

Ranarius’s canopic jar.

She raised the ghostsilver dagger to stab. 

“No!”

Caina turned her head, saw Corvalis sprinting at her, and too late she realized that the flare of green light from within the jar had revealed her position.

She stabbed down as Corvalis gestured. Invisible force slammed into Caina, and her blade bounced off the jar’s stone lip. The psychokinetic power threw her against the pillar. Her boot struck the canopic jar and sent it rolling away, the green light spilling across the floor.

Corvalis stalked closer, his free hand outthrust, his face tightened into a grimace of strain as sweat poured down his face. 

“You troublesome little bitch,” said Corvalis. “How is it that I have not killed you yet, and you have killed me four times?”

“Maybe because you’re an idiot,” said Caina, struggling against the force that held her pinned. She had endured far stronger spells, and with a little more effort perhaps she could break free. “Maybe because you were stupid enough to follow the Moroaica, and then stupid enough to get yourself killed when you rebelled against her.”

Corvalis hissed and drew back the ghostsilver spear with his right hand. “I am a master magus of the Imperial Magisterium…”

“You’re not,” spat Caina, struggling against the spell. The invisible force held her right arm and ghostsilver dagger pinned against the pillar, but her left arm was free. She fumbled at her belt, trying to get her fingers around the handle of a throwing knife. “Not any more. Do you think Decius Aberon gives a damn what happened to you? You’re a failure, Ranarius, a spirit bound to a chunk of rotting meat, a…”

“Shut up!” bellowed Corvalis. 

He strode forward, and Caina yanked a throwing knife from her belt, getting her fingers around the handle. 

“I wager,” said Caina, “that you don’t have enough strength left to work a warding spell.”

Corvalis sneered. “You wouldn’t use that on your precious assassin.”

“I don’t,” said Caina, “have to kill him to stop you.”

At least she hoped not. She felt the icy calm of her self-control, but terrible dread stirred beneath it like a beast waking from slumber.

Corvalis strode towards her, drawing the spear back to stab, and Caina flung the knife. The look of surprise on Corvalis’s face was absolute when the knife’s handle struck his windpipe. He stumbled, the spear in his right hand plunging for her belly. Caina seized the shaft of the weapon and yanked, and the blade struck the pillar. Corvalis slammed into her, still coughing, and Caina wrapped her legs around his waist.