Ghost in the Tower

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Can you banish it?” said Caina.

  “No,” said Ariadne. “It’s too strong. If I had a team of magi with me, I could probably drive it back to the netherworld, but…”

  The earth elemental shuddered, pulling the tentacles back into the mass of its body. Part of Ariadne’s mind, the part that enjoyed designing buildings and the practical problems of engineering, wondered how the elemental’s body could be both liquid and stone-hard at the same time. The part of her mind schooled in sorcery pointed out that the earth elemental lord was powerful enough to cause physical matter to have contradictory properties at the same time.

  And the rest of her mind knew that if she stood still long enough, the elemental would kill her and Caina and the others.

  “Can you strike at it?” said Ariadne to Kylon. He had a valikon, and he was the only one fast enough to avoid the tentacles and hit the elemental.

  “Maybe,” said Kylon. “But it’s too fast. I don’t think I can finish it with one hit.”

  “Then we had better run,” said Markaine.

  “Agreed,” said Caina. “Go!”

  Ariadne hurled one more banishment spell, the spark leaping from her fingers to strike the elemental. It was not powerful enough to shatter the sorcery that had summoned the elemental, but it was strong enough to disrupt the creature. The elemental staggered again, the stone tentacles lashing.

  “Go!” said Caina, grabbing her shoulder.

  Ariadne nodded and joined the others as they raced towards the stairs. Kylon urged Sophia up first, and then Caina and Ariadne. He brought up the back with Markaine and Calaver, and they raced up the stairs, their boots ringing against the stone steps, the iron railing cool and smooth beneath Ariadne’s free hand.

  She saw the elemental lord shudder and pull itself together.

  The stairs entered yet another round stone chamber a great deal like the first one, save that it didn’t have a Mirror of Worlds. Two archways led into corridors on either side of the chamber. The one on the right led to a room that held rows of statues standing upon plinths. The one on the left led to a…

  Ariadne blinked in surprise.

  A library?

  In that chamber, she saw bookshelves holding rows upon rows of books. Well, Ariadne enjoyed books herself, why shouldn’t the Cataphract do the same? And with coaxial dimensional folding, the Cataphract could have built himself a library as large as he wished.

  “Which way?” said Kylon.

  “I can’t see stairs in either direction,” said Caina, looking back and forth.

  “The library,” said Markaine, pointing with his black dagger. “There will be more cover there. If we’re going to have to fight the damn elemental, better to have a more advantageous battlefield to do it.”

  “Agreed,” said Caina. “Let’s move.”

  For an instant, Ariadne wondered if she should be the one giving orders. She was a high magus of the Magisterium. Then she laughed at her own pomposity. Despite the difference in their ages, she suspected Caina had far more experience with this sort of mayhem. And Caina was a valikarion. They would not have gotten this far into the Tower without her abilities.

  Ariadne looked down the stairwell. She saw the earth elemental reshaping itself, flowing up the spiral staircase. Ariadne hoped that the stairs would collapse beneath the elemental’s weight, but the Cataphract’s engineering and spellwork had been too good for that. It was a cumbersome process, but the elemental hauled itself up step by step.

  “Let’s go,” said Kylon.

  “If we can get past the library,” said Caina, “I think we can lose the elemental. There are so many warding spells that it will be hard for the elemental to follow us.”

  They hurried forward, weapons ready. Ariadne pulled together arcane force to work the banishment spell again, but it proved unnecessary. This corridor, at least, had no Mirrors in the walls. Ariadne also kept an eye on Calaver Aberon. She thought the young man was sincere…but she had not survived this long in the brutal internal politics of the Magisterium without a measure of paranoia.

  The corridor opened into the library, and Ariadne came to a shocked halt.

  “Gods,” said Ariadne, stunned.

  The chamber beyond was immense. Ariadne had visited Malarae several times during her years as a magus, and she had seen the great basilicas where the magistrates of the Empire issued their judgments and heard petitions. The library was as large as one of those basilica halls, its vaulted ceiling rising far overhead. Ariadne thought the arches of the ceiling rose at least three hundred feet. The walls of the chamber were lined with ten levels of balconies, and every one of those balconies was stuffed with bookshelves.

  “Aye,” said Caina. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books. Not ever.”

  “This place must hold every book ever written,” said Sophia.

  “Maybe,” said Ariadne.

  Long tables stretched before them, holding books sealed in glass cases. Ariadne worked the spell to sense the presence of arcane forces, and the results almost overwhelmed her. There were potent warding spells on the towering rows of bookcases and the glass cases, spells of preservation and binding and protection. No flame would ignite in this immense library, and the spells on the shelves and the cases kept dust and decay and the other foes of books at bay.

  “Caina,” said Ariadne. “You’re right. There are so many warding spells in here that they might confuse the elemental.”

  “Will they obscure us from the thing’s sight?” said Calaver.

  “No,” said Ariadne.

  “That’s something you should have thought of before you summoned it,” said Markaine.

  Calaver scowled but didn’t argue.

  “This way,” said Caina, pointing at one of the balcony pillars. A stone stair spiraled upward, climbing to the highest levels. “We need to keep going up. I think we’re on the right path. That aura of power is somewhere above us.” She waved a hand at the distant ceiling. “There must be another stairway up there.”

  They crossed the library floor, reached the spiral staircase, and climbed upward. Ariadne’s fingers itched to search through the books, to peer through the titles. Many of them she recognized. Some of them were the standard works on sorcery that every novice of the Magisterium received during their novitiate. Others were rarer, more obscure works, some of which Ariadne had read, others she had only heard of, and some that she had never seen before. There were books in High Nighmarian but also works in Caerish, Istarish, Anshani, Kyracian, Cyrican, Alqaarin, Saddaic, and other languages and alphabets that Ariadne did not recognize.

  “How the devil did the Cataphract find all these books?” said Ariadne.

  “The next time you see him, you can ask him,” said Markaine.

  Calaver frowned at him. “You’ve spoken with the Cataphract?”

  “Yes,” said Markaine. “He spoke in riddles and allusions and didn’t make very much sense. Quite irritating, really. I suppose the magi enjoy that sort of thing the way a drunkard enjoys wine.”

  Calaver scowled. “My father, perhaps. I prefer a sword and an enemy to kill, not games.”

  “Ah, you’ll get along splendidly with the Kyracian, then,” said Markaine. “We…”

  Caina came to a sudden stop, raising her hand. “Quiet.”

  They had reached the ninth level of the balconies, and the floor of the library seemed very far below. From the tenth level, Ariadne heard a faint voice. A man’s voice, she thought, speaking at length.

  “Decius?” whispered Ariadne.

  “Maybe,” said Caina. “I don’t know…”

  She went rigid, her eyes going wide. Her face turned almost bloodless, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a snarl. Ariadne had never seen that expression on Caina’s face before, a mixture of rage and hatred and a touch of fear. There was almost something primal about it, and in a strange way, it made her look like a child in pain.

  “Caina?” said Kylon.

  “Magl
arion,” spat Caina, her voice full of venom.

  ###

  Caina could not make out the words, but she recognized the voice.

  She would recognize Maglarion’s voice no matter how long she lived.

  It was burned into her memory from some of the worst days of her life. Sometimes when she had nightmares, that scholarly, grandfatherly voice echoed inside of her skull.

  For a moment, fear and rage locked up her mind in something like panic, but she forced it aside.

  Caina could not let the shadows of her past rule her thinking, not the way she had in Risiviri when Talmania had confronted her with the enspelled skulls of her mother and Maglarion. That had nearly gotten them all killed when Antonin Crailov had attacked the theatre in Risiviri.

  No. Caina couldn’t panic, couldn’t let emotion rule her mind. She had to be cold and logical.

  “Maglarion?” said Kylon, startled.

  “The necromancer that took Laeria as a disciple,” said Ariadne.

  Did she hear the voice of a phobomorphic spirit, one that had taken the form of Maglarion? No, that seemed unlikely. During their previous skirmishes with the phobomorphic spirits, none of them had taken the shape of horrors from Caina’s past. Sicarion, yes, but she suspected the phobomorphic spirits had been reading Kylon’s mind, not hers. Most likely the phobomorphic spirits could not view Caina’s thoughts.

  Which meant if she heard Maglarion’s voice…

  “Oh, hell,” said Caina. “I think Talmania Scorneus is here.”

  Ariadne went rigid, a snarl flickering over her expression before she mastered herself. Calaver blinked, his sword coming half-up.

  “Talmania?” said Ariadne. “How do you know?”

  “That spell with the skulls that she likes so much?” said Caina. Ariadne nodded. “She used it on Laeria’s skull out of spite, and on Maglarion’s because she needed some of his knowledge to search for the relics of Rasarion Yagar. She must be here right now and have Maglarion’s skull with her.”

  “Wait,” said Calaver. “The Maglarion? The renegade necromancer?”

  Caina gave him a suspicious look. “You know him?”

  “I know of him,” said Calaver. “Just rumors. I think my father tried to invite him to Artifel a few times, but he never came. There were rumors that a group of magi joined him to start a school of necromancy about fifteen years ago, but those magi disappeared. No one knows what happened to them.”

  Black memories burned through Caina’s mind of that dark vault beneath the hills, of Maglarion’s lecturing voice filling her ears, of how she had screamed into the gag as the blade sliced deeper and deeper into her flesh.

  “They died,” said Caina, voice flat. Again, she shoved back the storm of emotion and dark memory. “But that doesn’t matter now. Talmania Skull-speaker is here.”

  “Is she working with Decius?” said Ariadne.

  “She must be,” said Kylon. “It would be a hell of a coincidence if she happened to turn up at the same time.”

  “She wouldn’t work with my father before,” said Calaver. “Everyone knows the First Magus tried to assume leadership over the Umbarian Order. The provosts laughed in his face, and Rania and Talmania tried to kill him.”

  “That was two and a half years ago,” said Morgant. “Maybe the First Magus is desperate enough to ask for help again. Fat old bastard could be desperate enough to swallow his pride and beg.” He snorted. “He looks like he enjoys swallowing things anyway.”

  Calaver snorted at that.

  Caina beckoned. “Keep quiet.”

  They ascended the stairs to the highest balcony. Shelves rose on Caina’s left, laden with books. To the vision of the valikarion, the shelves glowed with protective and warding spells. About forty feet further down the balcony, another shelf-lined corridor opened up on the left. Caina heard Maglarion’s voice echoing from that direction.

  “Wait here,” she whispered. “I’m going to have a look.”

  Kylon frowned. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I can move quietly,” said Caina, “and if Talmania has any sensing spells ready, they won’t be able to detect me. You fought her at the Red Horse Palace, Kylon. You know how powerful she is. If we can’t take her off-guard, we won’t be able to beat her. If she has any chance to prepare a defense, we’re finished.

  Kylon grimaced but nodded.

  “What about the elemental?” said Morgant.

  “It wasn’t climbing those stairs all that quickly,” said Caina. “I think I can have a look at what Talmania is doing and get back before the elemental catches up to us.”

  “Maybe we will be fortunate, and the elemental will attack Talmania for us,” said Sophia.

  “Maybe. I’ll be right back,” said Caina, and she glided forward, her boots making no sound against the balcony’s floor of green marble. A flicker of old memory went through her. Halfdan had taught her how to move in silence not long after he had rescued her from Maglarion’s lair, and Caina had used the skill countless times since.

  Granted, she had never employed stealth in an enspelled tower caught halfway between the material world and the netherworld while listening to Maglarion’s enspelled skull drone on and on.

  She reached the corridor and dropped to a crouch, peering around the edge of the bookshelf. The corridor was wide, and it led from the vast basilica-like chamber to another large room. A row of display cases ran down the center of the corridor, each one holding a book. The room at the other end of the hallway looked like a smaller version of the basilica-like chamber, with only one level of balconies and many display cases lining the floor.

  Maglarion’s voice came from in there.

  Caina eased forward in a crouch, moving from display case to display case.

  She drew close enough to hear Maglarion’s voice.

  “I entered the Tower of the Cataphract on several different occasions,” said Maglarion. “The key to evading the Cataphract’s defenses is to sheathe yourself in masking and obscuring spells to prevent the spirits of the netherworld from detecting you. The bulk of the Tower’s defenses rely upon summoned elementals and phobomorphic spirits, and should you evade them, you have free access to most of the Tower.” That familiar sardonic note entered his voice. “The difficulty, of course, is that it is challenging to evade any warding spells while so protected.”

  “Does he ever stop talking?” said a man’s voice, a melodious tenor.

  “It is, on occasion, a risk of the spell,” said Talmania Scorneus. Caina’s hand tightened against her valikon. “But the purpose is to sift through his memories. Which have proven useful so far. Keep looking.”

  Caina risked looking over the top of the display case.

  She spotted Talmania Scorneus walking down the aisles of cases in the next room. The Umbarian provost was dressed as she had been in Risiviri, in the long black greatcoat favored by the Umbarian magi. The Amulet of Rasarion Yagar rested on her chest, and Caina caught a glimpse of the Ring on her finger. In the same hand, she held a yellowed human skull, the bone carved with hundreds of tiny symbols that glowed with green light. By a mighty feat of necromantic science, Talmania had somehow captured Maglarion’s memories in that skull and could converse with the sorcerous construct as if Maglarion was still alive.

  It was a vile thing. Caina vowed to destroy it if she could. Not just because she had hated Maglarion and killed him before he could murder everyone in Malarae. Maglarion had known deadly and dangerous secrets of necromancy, secrets that should have died with him.

  Talmania’s appearance unsettled Caina. She looked a great deal like Caina – lean, sharp-featured, with black hair and cold blue eyes. Of course, Ariadne looked a lot like Talmania herself, which meant that she also resembled Caina. Then again, Caina, Ariadne, and Talmania were so similar in appearance that they almost looked like the same woman at different ages. To judge from the phobomorphic spirit that had taken the guise of Hyraekon, the patriarch of House Scorneus had passed his looks to bot
h his daughters and his grandchildren.

  Another Umbarian magus stood a few paces from Talmania, frowning at the display cases. He was tall and slender, with a fine-boned face that was strikingly beautiful, almost feminine, beneath a close-cropped beard. He had pale blond hair and bright gray eyes that looked oddly pinkish and wore a golden medallion with the winged skull sigil of the Order against his chest.

  “Provost,” said the Umbarian magus. He had been the source of the tenor voice Caina had heard earlier. “This book is in Ulkaari.”

  Talmania crossed to one of the display cases and turned the skull towards it. “Maglarion.”

  “No,” said the skull after a moment. “That is not the tome that you seek. Most probably, however, it is in this room.”

  A tome? Had Talmania come here to find a book? Caina had wondered if one of the remaining relics of Rasarion Yagar had been hidden in the Tower of the Cataphract. Talmania had the Ring and the Amulet, and the Sword was slung over Caina’s back. Given all the books and the other relics that the Cataphract had no doubt squirreled away over the centuries, perhaps he had hidden the Dagger and the Diadem of Rasarion Yagar here.

  Though if Talmania found Caina, the Umbarian provost would kill her and take the Sword. When Antonin Crailov had failed to escape from Risiviri, Talmania had probably figured out that he had failed and that Caina had taken Rasarion Yagar’s Sword. And if Talmania found Caina, no doubt she would seize the opportunity to both kill Caina and claim the Sword.

  But perhaps Caina could turn the tables. Talmania and the second magus were focused on the search for the book. Caina and Kylon had weapons that could penetrate any sorcerous defense. If she and Kylon crept up behind Talmania and stabbed her in the back, that would be that. Talmania’s plot to resurrect the Iron King would die with her, and Caina could take the Ring, the Amulet, and the Sword to Iramis.

  And as far as Caina could tell, Talmania didn’t know that anyone else was in the Tower. If she and Kylon ambushed Talmania, a lot of potential evil would be ended here and now…

  Then Caina heard a crashing noise behind her, followed by shouting, and both Talmania and the other magus whirled.