Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge (8 page)

“That he believed the Moroaica will cast her great work in New Kyre within weeks,” said Halfdan, “and that he has found a way to kill the Moroaica.”

Caina blinked, unsure that she had heard correctly.

“Truly?” she said. “To kill her permanently? She will not be able to take another body?”

The creature known as the Moroaica had once been a timid, frightened girl named Malifae. The dark necromancy of ancient Maat had twisted her, transforming her into one of the Undying, to serve as the concubine of an undead pharaoh for all time. But the pharaoh had also been buried with a complete library of the sorcery of the Great Necromancers of Maat, and Malifae had been studious. She had destroyed the pharaoh and freed herself from the tomb, and then razed the Kingdom of the Rising Sun in vengeance for what had happened to her murdered father. But that was not enough. She was undead, her free will gone and her heart frozen, and she had continued her quest for vengeance across the millennia, finally deciding to make the gods pay for the sufferings of mankind.

So the spirit of Horemb, the Moroaica’s long-dead father, had told Caina. 

“Yes,” said Halfdan. “Talekhris claims to have found a way to destroy her at last, a way that will keep her from ever taking a new body.” 

Corvalis snorted. “I don’t suppose the letter happened to say how to do it?” 

“No,” said Halfdan. “But apparently the Moroaica becomes vulnerable during the casting of her great work. Talekhris claimed he would tell me more when he met with us in person. He will arrive tonight and meet us here, accompanied by Harkus of the Venatorii. And then,” he spread his hands, “and then we shall see.”

Caina said nothing. 

“When Ranarius and Sicarion find you,” said Halfdan, “you will have a better chance with aid at your side. Talekhris’s sorcery is mighty.”

“It hasn’t stopped Sicarion from killing him twice,” said Caina. 

“No,” said Halfdan, “but consider. The Moroaica did not send her servants after you out of spite. She sent them to stop you.”

“She fears you,” said Corvalis. “She was inside your head for nearly a year. She knows you…and she knows that you can stop her.”

“I could command you, but I won’t,” said Halfdan. “I trust your judgment. But the end is coming, Caina. We can stop the war with New Kyre. And if Talekhris is right, we can finally stop the Moroaica, put an end to all the evil she has worked over the millennia.”

Caina bowed her head. She had seen Jadriga’s rage firsthand, the bottomless fury of the creature that had once been Malifae. Jadriga would stop at nothing to destroy those she blamed for the suffering of mankind. She would declare war upon the gods themselves, and her failure might burn the world to ash. 

But Caina thought of the butchered slaves in Nisias Druzen’s mansion, the men and women and children killed to get at her.

Yet if Caina did nothing, the war would continue and kill far more men and women and children. 

And if the Moroaica finished her great work, the entire world would burn.

“Very well,” said Caina. “You’re right, both of you. I will come with you to New Kyre.”

“Good,” said Halfdan with a smile. He got to his feet. “I will need to meet with the captain of our ship, a smuggler named Maltaer…”

“Maltaer?” said Caina.

“You know him?”

“Aye, I met him in Rasadda, years ago,” said Caina. “Though he shouldn’t recognize me. I was wearing my mask and shadow-cloak at the time.”

Halfdan nodded. “Both Lord Titus and the Speaker of the Assembly trusted him enough to keep his mouth shut. Though he was paid enough to do it.” He glanced out the window. “It is earlier than I thought. Let us have some of Zorgi’s fine fare, and then I will find Maltaer and tell him to prepare for our departure. I would prefer to take Corvalis with me, if you don’t mind. The alleys of Marsis’s dockside district are a dangerous place.” 

Corvalis snorted. “Have I no say in the matter?” 

Halfdan laughed. “Since your heart plainly belongs to her, no.”

“It’s fine,” said Caina to Corvalis. “Go with him. I will stay here and keep watch for Talekhris and Harkus. I know them both on sight.” 

“And if Sicarion and Ranarius come for you while we’re gone?” said Corvalis.

“Then I will run very fast,” said Caina. “And far enough that no one else dies on my account…”

“Those deaths in Mornu,” said Halfdan, “were not your fault.”

Caina scowled. “They died because of me. Ranarius killed them to get at me.”

“He did,” said Halfdan, “but their blood is on his hands, not yours. You’ve seen deaths before.”

“I know,” said Caina. “But…not like this. Never people killed simply to get at me. To turn them into bait for me.” She raked a hand through her hair. “This has never been about me.”

“If you make enough enemies,” said Halfdan, “sooner or later they make the fight about you. And you, my dear, have saved so many lives and defeated so many foes that you have acquired some powerful enemies.”

Caina nodded. 

“And the best way to avenge those deaths,” said Halfdan, “is to make sure Sicarion and Ranarius pay for what they have done.”

“You’re right,” said Caina. She paced to the window. “But those people, Halfdan…they weren’t enemies of the Empire, or slaves, or soldiers. They just got in the way. And Ranarius killed them for it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. The Moroaica and the others. They have to be stopped. The war has to be stopped.”

Again she wanted desperately to go to Malarae, to go home. Last year she had wondered if she had been a Ghost nightfighter for too long, if it wasn’t time to step back. Now she knew it in her bones. She wanted to return to Malarae, to run the House of Kularus, and leave death and fighting behind.

But not before the war ended.

And not before the Moroaica was stopped.

“I regret many things in my life,” said Halfdan, “but there is one decision I have never regretted.” 

He picked up wrapped bundle from beneath the table, a cloth-wrapped pole about eight feet long.

“When we found you eleven years ago,” said Halfdan, “I almost gave you to the temple of Minaerys, or to one of the noble families friendly to the Ghosts.” He started to unwrap the bundle. “I only made up my mind to have you become a nightfighter at the last minute. But I have never regretted it. You stopped Maglarion, you defeated Kalastus, and you have saved more lives than I could count.”

He pulled away the cloth, and Caina saw that he held a spear.

A spear with a ghostsilver head, its wooden haft scorched. With a shock of memory Caina remembered driving that spear into Maglarion’s great bloodcrystal, remembered the ancient necromancer’s screams of rage and fear.

“The ghostsilver spear,” said Caina.

“Aye,” said Halfdan. “If we are to face the Moroaica, a weapon resistant to sorcery will be useful.”

“Better let Corvalis wield it,” said Caina. “I’m not skilled with a spear.”

Halfdan nodded and passed the spear to Corvalis, who took it, tested its balance, and grunted in approval.

“And, Halfdan?” said Caina. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “You are welcome. Now let us eat. There is no sense facing mortal peril on an empty stomach.”

Chapter 5 - Death Warrant

Ark and Muravin walked into the House of Kularus. 

Five levels of balconies rose from the central floor, filled with merchants and nobles drinking coffee and conversing in low voices. The scent of roasting coffee and baking cakes filled the air, and the soft murmur of conversation reached Ark’s ears.

“I do not see the others,” said Muravin.

“They won’t be on the main floor,” said Ark. “Too public.” 

Most of Malarae knew the House of Kularus as Malarae’s only coffee house, owned by Anton Kularus, a Szaldic mercenary formerly in Lord Titus’s employ. Kularus had helped save the Sages of Catekharon and Lord Titus’s embassy from Mihaela’s mad plot, and in exchange, the Sages had rewarded Kularus with a supply of coffee beans. Kularus had used the beans to found Malarae’s only coffee house, and had quickly become a wealthy and respected man. 

Ark knew the real story.

“Anton Kularus” was only the alias used by Corvalis Aberon, the former Kindred assassin Caina had taken as a lover. Caina had defeated Mihaela in Catekharon, and had asked for the coffee beans and the freedom of one slave as a reward. With those beans, she had started the House of Kularus, using Corvalis as a public face…and the nobility and merchants of Malarae gathered in the coffee house to drink and scheme, as they did in Anshan and Istarinmul.

And as they did, the Ghosts were there to listen.

The slave Caina had freed in Catekharon hurried over. He was of Anshani birth, short with dusky skin and thick black hair. He wore a black jacket over a black shirt and pants, and despite his timid posture, Ark had heard the little man barking orders to his cooks and maids like a Lord Commander leading his Legion in the field. 

“Master Arcion, Master Muravin, welcome,” said Shaizid. The manager looked anxious. “Is there…is there any news of Mistress Sonya?” 

“None,” said Ark. 

“These things I have heard, they cannot be true,” said Shaizid. “Mistress Sonya would never do such things. If not for her, I would still be a slave in Catekharon.”

“I don’t think she did, and I mean to prove it,” said Ark. “Where are the others?” 

“In the cellar, awaiting you,” said Shaizid. “This way, please. The others just arrived from Caeria Ulterior.”

Muravin grunted. He had gone with Caina and Corvalis to Caeria Ulterior, and knew the Ghosts of Calvarium. 

Shaizid led them across the floor, through the kitchen, and to the cellar. Two men and two women awaited them there. Ark recognized Theodosia at once. Next to her stood a nervous-looking young woman in a simple gown, wearing a belt with many pouches. To judge from her blond hair and bright green eyes, Ark suspected she was Corvalis’s younger sister Claudia Aberon, a magus who had left the Magisterium and joined the Ghosts. A man with the look of a Nighmarian lord stood next to her, his black hair dusted with gray, and to judge from his posture, he knew how to use the sword at his belt. Likely that man was Martin Dorius, Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior, whom Caina had more or less coerced into joining the Ghosts. 

Ark had never met the man standing in the center of the cellar. He was in his middle forties, tall and lean and gaunt, with eyes like pools of blue ice. His hair was so blond that Ark mistook it for white at first, and his black coat had been trimmed with red. A sword and dagger waited in sheaths at his belt.

This had to be Lord Aeolus, one of the high circlemasters.

“Ah,” said Aeolus in his cold voice. “The Champion of Marsis has come. Good. Now we can discuss how to defend our Emperor…and to deal with the traitor in our midst.”

###

Claudia Aberon had seen frightening things.

Her father’s fury. The golden light of the earth elemental washing over her, turning her living flesh to cold stone. Caina and Mihaela battling each other using suits of glypharmor, and the sorcerous fury of Rhames in the ruined heart of Caer Magia.

Lord Aeolus unsettled her at least as much of any of them. Halfdan was a high circlemaster, but he cloaked his ruthlessness and intelligence with rough charm. Aeolus made no such efforts. 

She shied a little closer to her betrothed, Lord Martin Dorius. The Lord Governor of Caeria Ulterior was a reassuring presence, a man who would not quail before anyone, whether an ancient Maatish necromancer or the chief circlemaster of the Ghosts. That thought made Claudia feel better. She had faced a Maatish Great Necromancer wielding an artifact of tremendous power and survived.

Yet Aeolus still unsettled her. 

“I refuse to believe,” said Ark, “that Caina Amalas had anything to do with these murders.”

Aeolus lifted a pale eyebrow. “Do you doubt the evidence of your own eyes, Champion?” His voice was as cold and emotionless as his eyes. “She murdered nineteen of our brothers and sisters across Malarae in a space of a day, and then killed seven of your workers, all of them Ghosts. From what I have heard, you identified the attacker as Caina Amalas, as did your wife, and both of you know her well. Were you mistaken?”

Claudia saw a vein pulse in Ark’s temple. He was a big man, bigger than Martin, with arms like tree trunks and the stance of a Legion veteran. She had heard bits and pieces about his time with Caina, how Caina had rescued his wife and son from slavers.

“No,” said Ark, “I’m not blind. It looked like her. But it only looked like her. It wasn’t really her.”

“Why not?” said Aeolus.

“Because,” said Theodosia with a disdainful sniff. “She would not betray us like that.”

“And she hates sorcery,” said Ark. Claudia knew that well. “The creature I fought cast a spell. Caina has no ability at sorcery.”

“Perhaps she learned,” said Aeolus. 

“In the two weeks since I saw her last?” said Theodosia. “Forgive me, Lord Aeolus, but while Caina is clever, no one is that clever.”

“She may have been practicing the arcane sciences in secret for some time,” said Aeolus. 

“That is unlikely,” said Ark.

“Is it?” said Aeolus. “According to Halfdan’s letters, she was possessed by the spirit of the Moroaica for nearly year. He claims that the spirit could not control her, but I have my doubts. What if the spirit never left, and controls her still? Or what if it corrupted her mind and bestowed some of its powers upon her?”

“That is ludicrous,” said Ark.

“I agree with the Champion,” said Muravin in his rumbling voice. He had changed little since Claudia had seen him in Calvarium a few months past. “She is a woman of valor, and saved my daughter from death. No evil sorceress would do such a thing.”

“Your loyalty to the woman is commendable,” said Aeolus, “but misplaced. Treachery can occur in the most unlikely of settings, and no heart is above corruption.” His blue eyes moved over each of them. “And I fear you underestimate the warping power sorcery can have upon the mind. A skilled practitioner of the arcane sciences can reshape a victim’s mind to his liking.”