Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge (26 page)

She ran into the chaos, dodging around an Imperial Guard who lay dying upon his own sword. The Emperor had to be nearby. Assuming that Sicarion hadn’t yet killed him. 

Caina spotted Alexius Naerius, Emperor of Nighmar.

The old man stood rigid, his face drawn. He looked like a man awaiting a deserved death with dignity, a condemned criminal who had made his peace with his sentence. Halfdan walked towards him, sword and serrated dagger in hand, and the spasm of grief and remorse and pain shot through Caina. She heard a strangled groan as Corvalis came to a stop alongside her, his green eyes fixed on Halfdan. 

No. Not on Halfdan. On Sicarion, using a sorcerous bauble to steal Halfdan’s face. Just as he had used Rhames’s mask to steal Caina’s face, to stab Halfdan in the back…

A thread of rage pushed its through Caina’s crippling sorrow, and she used it to force herself forward another step.

Halfdan stopped before the Emperor and raised his weapons to kill.

“Sicarion!” Caina screamed.

And Halfdan paused.

###

Sicarion turned in surprise, ignoring the trembling Emperor for the moment. No need to worry about a threat from him. The old man looked on the verge of death. 

Sicarion saw who had called his name and felt himself smile.

Caina Amalas and Corvalis Aberon stood a dozen yards away, both looking the worse for wear. Caina’s face twitched and jerked, her blue eyes full of tears. Corvalis clutched a ghostsilver-tipped spear, and he could have cast the weapon and skewered Sicarion.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The fear was too much.

He would stand there until Sicarion strolled over and cut his throat. 

Oh, but this was going to be sweet. Which one to kill first? Corvalis or Caina? He decided on Corvalis. Caina had caused him so much trouble, and it would be sweet to kill her lover in front of her.

Sicarion headed towards Corvalis.

###

“I know what you did!” shouted Caina.

Halfdan walked towards her, weapons in hand. 

“Treacherous child,” he hissed. “I took you in, I trained you, I made you what you are, and you cannot save the Emperor. You couldn’t even save me! I am ashamed, so ashamed. I wish I had left you to die in the darkness beneath the hills…”

She heard Sicarion’s rusty, rasping voice coming from Halfdan’s lips.

“You do?” he said, amused. “Do enlighten me.”

“You are unworthy of the name of the Ghosts!” said Halfdan.

“A phobomorphic spirit,” said Caina, her voice shaking as she fought to hold back the tears. “Bound in that amulet. It reflects back our darkest fears, deepest regrets. It’s not…it’s not…it’s not real!”

“Pathetic,” said Halfdan. “Crying like a child.”

“Very clever,” said Sicarion.

“It’s not real!” shouted Caina, failing to convince herself.

Sicarion laughed. “It doesn’t matter. The emotions might be created through sorcery…but they are real enough, and strong enough, and you cannot overcome them.” Halfdan spread his arms, face alight with hellish glee. “Go on. Put a knife through my throat. Right now. I won’t stop you. Come on, mighty Balarigar! Let’s see how strong you really are.” 

Caina snatched a throwing knife from her belt.

“I knew you would betray me,” said Halfdan. “After everything I have done for you, this is how you repay me? You let me die? You raise a blade against me in anger?”

Caina sobbed. It wasn’t real! But the grief and sorrow filled her, and she wanted to collapse to the ground and weep until death claimed her.

But the thread of rage still burned through her heart.

She screamed and flung the knife. 

The weapon clattered to the ground a few inches from Halfdan’s boots. 

“Pathetic,” spat Halfdan.

“I thought not,” said Sicarion. “I’m here to kill the Emperor, but let’s have a little fun first, shall we? I’ll kill Aberon in front of you, and you can curse yourself for it. Then the Emperor. I’ve never killed an Emperor before. And then, Caina of the Ghosts, only then will I give you the mercy of death.”

He laughed, long and loud, and Halfdan started towards Corvalis, drawing his weapons back.

“Corvalis!” shouted Caina. “Run. Run!”

“Claudia,” croaked Corvalis, shaking. “I…I tried, I looked for you…”

It was no good. 

Pure terror joined the emotions raging inside of Caina’s head. She had no particular wish to die, but the prospect did not frighten her. But the thought of seeing Corvalis die terrified her. She had to do something. She had to stop Sicarion.

Caina took a step forward, and Halfdan shouted curses at her. Useless, it was useless! Corvalis was going to die, the Emperor was going to die, and she had failed them both as she had failed Halfdan…

She wanted to collapse, to wait until death took her.

But the thread of rage would not let go.

She bowed her head, trying to think of something, anything, she could use against Sicarion. Halfdan screamed in fury and pain, and she heard Sicarion’s mocking laughter. A trio of dead Imperial Guards lay on the ground nearby, blood soaking into their purple cloaks and reflecting in the gleaming surface of their shields.

Caina blinked.

Shields that had been polished to a mirror sheen…

The phobomorphic spirit within the amulet showed anyone who saw Sicarion their worst fear.

So what would happen if Sicarion saw himself?

Caina didn’t know, but she wanted to find out.

She tore her eyes from Halfdan’s furious face and wrenched the shield from the grasp of the dead Imperial Guard. The thing was heavy, and Caina held it before her, fingers grasping the cold metal of the edges.

“Sicarion!” she yelled. “Look at me. Damn you, look at me!”

Halfdan stopped a few paces from Corvalis and looked at her, still berating her.

Then he stopped, frowning, and titled his head to the side.

Caina held the shield before her, arms trembling, heart hammering against her ribs.

“No,” Sicarion muttered.

Halfdan stepped back. 

“No!” Sicarion shouted, and for the first time Caina heard fear in his rusty voice. “No! I killed you, you miserable bastard! I watched you die, I laughed as you bled out on the floor, I…”

Sicarion kept ranting, his threats mixing with Halfdan’s curses, and Caina lifted the shield before her eyes. She still felt the fear, still heard Halfdan, but the terror that gripped her faded somewhat.

She sprinting forward, screaming, and drove the shield into Halfdan. His face impacted against the shield with a crack, and Sicarion roared in sudden fury. Caina raised the shield over her head. A stab of grief shot through Caina as Halfdan’s betrayed eyes drilled into her, but she was already in motion.

She brought the shield down on the top of Halfdan’s head.

He stumbled back and dropped his weapons, the impact of the blow knocking the shield from Caina’s hands. She flung herself at him, clawing at his chest. The damned amulet had to be there, even if she couldn’t see it. 

Something cold and pulsing with sorcery brushed against her fingers, and she yanked.

The amulet came off in her hand, the gold chain snapping, and Halfdan disappeared. Sicarion reappeared, blood streaming from a gash atop his scarred head, his face bruised. 

Sicarion threw himself at her with a yell, and Caina went down with the scarred assassin on top of her, the amulet tumbling away.

###

Tanya disappeared, and Ark blinked.

The grief and pain were still there, but they faded like mist in the morning sun. Nothing he had seen had been real. With Caina’s help, he had rescued Tanya and Nicolai from the darkness below Black Angel Tower. Tanya and Nicolai and Natasha were safe in Malarae. 

A lie. It had all been a lie, pumped into his head by some mind-controlling sorcery. 

He turned his head and saw Caina fall, a hideously scarred man atop her.

###

Caina clawed at Sicarion’s face to little effect. The assassin’s scarred, mismatched hands clamped around her throat, squeezing the breath from her lungs. Black spots appeared before her eyes. 

She yanked a throwing knife from her belt and slammed it into his side. The blade plunged through his leather armor and bit into his flesh, and Sicarion screamed. He struck her across the face, the back of her head bouncing off the ground, and white light flashed across her vision.

He ripped the throwing knife from his side and raised it high. “I’m going to…”

The ghostsilver spear plunged into Sicarion’s left side and burst out of his right in a spray of gore. The impact threw Sicarion off Caina, and he rolled to the side, snarling. Caina coughed and saw Corvalis standing a dozen yards away, his arm outstretched from his throw. Sicarion scrambled to his feet, the spear jutting from his torso, and began casting a spell, darkness and green fire dancing around his fingers. Caina coughed again and tried to sit up, hoping to throw a knife before Sicarion finished his spell…

“Die,” he snarled, “die, die…”

The green fire brightened.

Sicarion’s head popped off his shoulders and rolled away, crimson blood spurting from the stump of his neck. The corpse swayed for a moment and fell to the ground, the green fire fading away. Ark stood over Sicarion’s body, his Kyracian sword gripped in both hands, blood dripping from the blade.

“You should not,” he said, voice quiet, “have touched my wife.”

Caina sat up, and Corvalis helped her to stand.

“Are you all right?” said Corvalis.

“Not particularly,” said Caina, rubbing her throat, “but I’ll manage. You?”

He nodded, and Caina heard a squelching sound as Ark ripped the ghostsilver spear free and cleaned it on Sicarion’s cloak. He handed the weapon back over to Corvalis. A stunned silence fell over the Agora, men and women picking themselves up and shaking off the remnants of Sicarion’s dark dream. 

“That throw,” said Ark, “was almost worthy of a Legionary. Almost.”

“Thank you,” said Corvalis, taking the spear back. “What did you do? You hit Sicarion with that shield and started fighting him…and then the fear just vanished.” 

“I made him look at himself,” said Caina. 

“With a face like his,” said Ark, “that would make anyone despair.”

Sicarion’s corpse had started to fall apart, blood pooling beneath it. He had been held together by necromancy, his sorcery binding replacement parts to his scarred flesh. But with his death, the spells had been broken…and now his corpse was breaking down into its component parts.

The smell was unpleasant.

Caina heard herself laugh. It sounded reedy and half-mad, and she forced herself to stop. “The shield. The Guards polish their shields to a mirror shine. Enough that Sicarion could see himself. I wonder what he saw.”

“His own death, probably,” said Corvalis. “Which met him soon enough.” 

Caina looked around the Agora. The Imperial Guards were drawing themselves back into formation, seeing to the dead and the dying and guarding the Emperor and the nobles. The Emperor himself stared at Caina with a stunned, ashen expression. 

She would have to explain herself.

Later. Right now she had to join Talekhris and find the Moroaica. 

A boot scraped against the stone, and Caina saw a man in the gray leather of a stormdancer approaching, a lovely young Kyracian noblewoman at his side.

“Kylon,” said Caina.

“Caina,” said Kylon, gazing at Sicarion’s dissolving corpse. “The Ghosts finally killed him.”

“Kylon,” said the woman. Caina guessed she was Thalastre. “This is…this is her? The Ghost? But she threatened the Emperor, she…”

“An illusion, I think,” said Kylon.

Thalastre bowed. “I am Thalastre of House Kardamnos, and it is my very great honor to meet you. I owe you my life. Several times over. I…”

“It is an honor to meet you, but we have to hurry,” said Caina. “Kylon, the Moroaica is here in New Kyre. Probably somewhere near the Pyramid of Storm. She’s about to cast her great work.” She saw Talekhris hurrying over as fast as his injured leg would allow, Harkus and three of the Venatorii following him. “I don’t think she’s started yet. We…”

“Seize that woman!”

Caina turned as Lord Corbould, Lord Titus, and a pale-haired man she did not recognize hurried to the Emperor’s side.

“That is her, your Majesty,” said Corbould, pointing at Caina. “That is the woman who murdered my son, who attacked us here!” 

“It would appear so,” said Titus, “though she looks…rather different that she did a few moments ago.”

“The wear and tear of combat could explain that,” said the pale-haired man. 

“This is madness,” said Ark, gesture at Sicarion’s liquefying corpse. “That was your attacker, my lords. He used a sorcerous relic to appear as this woman.” Martin and Claudia hastened over, and Caina saw Claudia gather up the phobomorphic amulet and Rhames’s mask from Sicarion’s belt. “If not for her help, we would all be dead.”

“Dozens of witnesses saw her murder my son,” said Corbould, “and thousands more heard her admit it a few moments ago. I want her arrested.”

“I take exception to that, Lord Corbould,” said Kylon. “She is valiant and clever. She would no more lift her hand against the Emperor than you would.”

Corbould’s lined face tightened. “With respect, my lord Archon, this is an internal matter for the Empire.”

“I, too, have seen her valor,” said Lord Martin, scowling at Corbould. “Without her help, the cultists of Anubankh would have destroyed Caeria Ulterior, and much else besides.”

“Yes, I shall be glad to heed the counsel of a military incompetent who got himself banished to Caeria Ulterior,” said Lord Corbould. “Imperial Guards, take her. Kill her if she resists.”

A score of Imperial Guards headed towards Caina, swords drawn.

“With respect, my lord Corbould,” said Martin, “does not the Emperor command the Imperial Guard?”

All eyes turned to Alexius Naerius, and the Guards hesitated. 

“Whatever you want to do to me, for the gods’ sake, do it quickly,” said Caina. “We cannot hesitate. New Kyre is in terrible danger.”