Ghost in the Ring (Ghost Night Book 1)

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Or,” said Kylon, “we’ll fail, we’ll all be killed, and the boyar will take his revenge on Kostiv.”

  “The thought had occurred to me,” said Seb. “The thought has occurred to them as well. And it is not as if Lady Caina could fight hand-to-hand with a mavrokh and survive. You and I could, but she could not.”

  “No,” said Kylon. “But she doesn’t need to. She should have been killed a long time ago.”

  Seb frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I first met her during the battle for Marsis,” said Kylon. “She should have died there, but she didn’t.” It sometimes unsettled him to think of how close he had come to killing his future wife with his own hand.

  How different would his life have been then.

  For one thing, his life would have been much shorter, since Scorikhon would have possessed Andromache and then killed Kylon.

  Seb shrugged. “Luck ever rules the battlefield.”

  “It does,” said Kylon, “but she was both lucky and clever. And I’ve seen it happen again and again.” Catekharon and Caer Magia and the Craven’s Tower and the Inferno flashed through his memory. “You heard that speech she gave to Sophia. It wasn’t an exaggeration. I killed Cassander, but she was the one who outwitted him, twice. And if Razdan Nagrach won’t see reason, she’ll find a way to outwit him, too.”

  “And then you’ll kill him,” said Seb.

  Kylon shrugged again. “If I must.”

  “She does the clever things, and you kill her enemies when they try to stop her from doing clever things,” said Seb. “I suppose there are worse foundations for a marriage.”

  Kylon laughed. “I am pleased we have your approval.”

  Seb snorted. “My approval is of no consequence to anyone.” His amusement faded. “Many of us in House Scorneus are clever, too. But I don’t think any of them would lift a finger to help someone like Sophia Zomanek. Most of them would not approve of the Boyar’s Hunt, true, but they would not help.”

  “Caina would,” said Kylon, looking at the people in the common room. “She’s more ruthless than I am, but she has a stronger conscience.”

  “I believe that is a contradiction, Lord Kylon,” said Seb.

  “It’s not.” Kylon finished his beer and set the cup on the railing. “Once Caina learned why Sophia fled Kostiv, the conflict was inevitable. She wouldn’t have turned back. If I were alone, I could have walked away from Kostiv. The Boyar’s Hunt is an evil thing, but there are evil things everywhere, and a man cannot save the world from itself. But Caina…” He paused, arranging his thoughts. “If there is a way to stop the boyar, she will find it.”

  “Your confidence cheers me,” said Seb. “To be blunt, I wish I shared it.”

  Kylon smiled. “That will make Caina happy.”

  Seb looked confused. “Why?”

  “Because she prefers to be underestimated.”

  ###

  “That ought to do,” said Caina, looking over the dining room.

  The top floor of the White Boar had a private dining room, a large, rectangular chamber with a long wooden table and its own hearth. With the help of Rachov’s wife and daughters, Caina had prepared the table, covering it with white linen and setting out plates and silverware. One of Rachov’s daughters had also located a dress for Caina to wear, which she had paid for using coins taken from the ardivid’s soldiers. By the standards of Malarae, the blue dress would have been a common garment. By the standards of Kostiv and northern Ulkaar, it was one of the finest garments in the village.

  The dress would serve its purpose. Caina doubted that Razdan Nagrach had ever been out of Ulkaar, and if he had, he likely would not have traveled far. The Nighmarian nobles of the capital often considered provincial nobility to be little more than haughty peasants. That attitude had come back to haunt them, given how many of those “haughty peasants” had sided with the Umbarians, but Razdan Nagrach struck Caina as someone who would have taken that condescension to heart.

  She hoped to use that insecurity to her advantage.

  But the dining room was ready, and Caina was ready.

  She hoped that it would be enough.

  If it wasn’t…well, she had already started working out a backup plan. Kostiv’s narrow streets offered advantages against creatures like the mavrokhi, as did the high roofs. Hunting was common in Kostiv, and Ivan Zomanek had told her about the many different kinds of traps he made at his forge. Wolves hunted through scent, and if the mavrokhi did the same, Kostiv had a carpenter’s shop…

  “Is there anything else we need to do?” said Sophia, hovering at Caina’s elbow.

  Caina looked at the girl. “No. Not yet. Now, all we need to do is wait.”

  Sophia shivered. “Do you really think the boyar will come?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Caina. “I’m certain of it.” If she guessed right, Boyar Razdan would be unable to stop himself from coming to meet her. “And when he does…I want you to stay out of sight. Go into one of the inn’s upper rooms, close the door, and don’t come out again until I come for you. If the boyar sees you, he might lose his temper, and then we’ll have a fight right then.”

  It would be a fair fight, and Caina did not like fair fights. She had advantages in such a fight – the valikons that she and Kylon carried, Kylon’s and Seb’s skill at sorcery and swordplay, and the relatively cramped confines of the inn. But the mavrokhi would have speed and strength, and the boyar might bring every single one of his Hounds with him.

  No. For now, best to avoid a fight. Perhaps Caina would even be able to persuade Razdan to let them go.

  She doubted it.

  “I will, my lady,” said Sophia. She shivered. “I don’t want to see the boyar ever again.”

  “Good,” said Caina. “Go get some dinner, and then you should probably go to sleep.” She glanced out the shutters at the darkened town below. “Tomorrow is going to probably be a long day.”

  Sophia turned to go, and then hesitated. “My lady…thank you for all this. You didn’t have to help me.”

  “I haven’t helped anyone yet,” said Caina. “Good night, Sophia.”

  “Good night, my lady,” said Sophia. She left the dining room.

  Caina watched her go, and then opened a side door and stepped into the room she had rented for Kylon and herself. The furnishings were simple but clean, with a large bed, a wooden table, a small fireplace, and a pair of chairs. Given how cold Caina had been since they had arrived in Ulkaar, she looked forward to lighting a fire and sleeping beneath a pile of blankets.

  She would likely need to rest for tomorrow.

  The door to the balcony in the common room opened, and Kylon stepped inside, closing and latching the door behind him.

  “Sophia’s gone to sleep,” he said. “Seb’s keeping first watch. He’ll wake me at midnight to take his place.”

  Caina nodded. “That is wise.” It was possible she had misjudged Razdan Nagrach, and he would send an assassin to kill her in her sleep. Or the townsmen might panic and try to kill them to placate the boyar. The lives of their children were at stake, and nothing made people more irrational and more dangerous than threats against their children.

  That was something, Caina thought, she would never know. It left her with a twinge of sadness. Then again, she had seen the anguish written upon Magur’s face as he thought of his daughters’ fate in the Hunt.

  That was something else Caina would never have to know.

  “I think,” said Caina, “that we…”

  Before she could finish the question, Kylon crossed the room, grabbed her hips, pulled her close, and kissed her hard. For a moment, sheer surprise froze Caina, and then the surprise melted into something else, something far more pleasant.

  While she had been with Corvalis, Caina had learned something about herself that surprised her. A brush with death often put a fire in her blood, and as soon as she and Corvalis had been alone, she had all but jumped into his arms. The same thing was true with Kylo
n. There were many things about Kylon that she loved – his decency, his courage, his refusal to indulge in cruelty, the way his brown eyes were more amber-colored when she was close to him.

  But if she was honest with herself, it was his strength that aroused her. It was a side of herself that she only felt comfortable sharing with him.

  “We didn’t get to finish,” whispered Caina when they broke apart. Her heartbeat had quickened, and she felt a spreading warmth in her chest. “On our wedding night. The spell brought us here first.”

  “No,” said Kylon. His eyes glittered in the firelight from the hearth. “No interruptions here, I hope.”

  “What are you going to do about that?” said Caina.

  He showed her. It involved pulling off all her clothes and carrying her to the bed. In short order, he had removed his own garments and joined her, and Caina wrapped her arms around him, and then her legs, pulling him as close to her as she could manage. She pressed her face into his shoulder to muffle her cry as she finished. Perhaps the townspeople would overhear them, but for the moment she did not care.

  After they were done, Caina curled beneath the blanket and dozed, her head resting against Kylon’s chest, her mind and heart clearer than they had been since she had arrived in Ulkaar.

  Later she awoke and found that Kylon was not there. Caina blinked in surprise. Was it midnight already? He must have gone to relieve Seb at watch. She turned her head and instead saw Kylon on one knee by the fireplace, arranging some fresh logs with the iron poker. He hadn’t gotten dressed, and his skin seemed to glow in the light from the fire, the flickering light tracing the muscles of his arms and chest and legs.

  It was a compelling sight. Kylon must have felt the weight of Caina’s gaze, because he looked up from the fire.

  Caina smiled and tossed aside the blankets, propping herself up on her elbow.

  “I’m cold,” she said.

  “The fire should warm up shortly,” said Kylon.

  “I don’t care about the fire.”

  He put aside the poker, got to his feet, and joined her.

  After they finished Caina and Kylon lay on their backs, the fire throwing dancing shadows across the rafters of the ceiling. Caina caught her breath, her heart racing within her chest, and wiped the sweat from her face and eyes. It was just as well that Master Rachov’s inn had a good bath. She would need it before she was presentable again.

  Kylon rose, and Caina watched as he crossed to the table. There was a carafe and two cups there, and he poured them both some water and returned. She took the cup gratefully and drained the entire thing in two gulps.

  “It’s so cold outside,” she said at last, her voice a little shaky. “Strange that we were sweating so much.”

  “Not really,” said Kylon, and he gave her quick kiss as she lowered her cup. “We were busy.”

  “Yes, I suppose we were,” said Caina. “Most busy indeed. We are properly married now.”

  “Hmm?” said Kylon. “As if the ceremony before half of Iramis wasn’t enough?”

  “We hadn’t consummated it yet,” said Caina. She always tended to babble after the act was done, but she was lightheaded enough that she didn’t care. “That damned spell interrupted us. We spent the first night of our marriage wandering through some old sorcerer-king’s damned maze of castle, the second going through a frozen forest. Now we’ve consummated it.”

  Kylon smiled. “It wasn’t as if this was the first time for us.”

  “No, no,” said Caina. She kissed him again, a little harder this time. “And I wasn’t lying here trembling in fear of your touch.” She grinned at him. “If I was trembling, it was because the valikon isn’t the only sword you wield most skillfully.”

  Kylon laughed, and Caina let herself fall back on the bed with a contented sigh.

  For a while, they lay in silence. Caina luxuriated in the softness of the bed, the heat of the room, and the warmth of Kylon’s skin against hers. He could sense what she was feeling, she knew, so long as they were in physical contact. Caina supposed that gave him an advantage that most husbands did not have with their wives, but since she benefited from it, she would not complain when life was unfair in her favor.

  But what did she feel right now? Her emotions were a confused tangle. She felt a pleasant lassitude, a deep affection for Kylon mixed with fear for his safety, fear for what might happen to Kostiv…and the cold calculation in the Ghost-trained parts of her mind that always preceded a fight.

  “I am glad,” Caina heard herself say, “that you are here with me. But I wish you were safe in Iramis.”

  “I don’t,” said Kylon. “If you had been drawn here and I had been left behind, that would have been intolerable. I would rather that you were safe in Iramis and I was here…but I suppose that you would have followed me through twelve hundred miles of ocean, mountains, and war. To know that you would have put yourself in such danger would have been…difficult.”

  “And for me to know the same of you,” said Caina. She closed her eyes and laughed a little. “Just as well we were both brought here. Otherwise, we would have tried to find each other and likely passed each other in the night.”

  “Aye,” said Kylon. He was quiet for a moment. “I wish I knew why we were here. Or even how.”

  Caina shrugged, her bare shoulders shifting against the bed. “We’ll know once we return to Iramis. Annarah will know. Or one of the high loremasters. Then they can lock up this damned Ring of Rasarion Yagar, train Sophia as a loremaster, and that will be that.”

  “Do you think the boyar will listen to you?” said Kylon.

  Caina stared at the shadows on the ceiling for a while.

  “No,” she said at last. “At least, I don’t think he will. Kalgri and Malik Rolukhan wouldn’t have listened to reason either. Their nagataaru twisted their thinking. No doubt the mavrokhi do the same to their hosts. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he’ll listen. And if not…then I’ll understand him better.”

  “And to defeat a man,” said Kylon in a quiet voice, “you have to understand him.”

  “Yes,” said Caina. She shuddered a little as a dark memory cut through the pleasant warmth filling her body. “It reminds me of when Claudia and Martin and Nasser and I were waiting for Kalgri at Silent Ash Temple. We had set a trap for her, and we thought it would be enough. But we didn’t really understand her, not back then. We won the fight, but she recovered and returned at Rumarah.”

  Kylon’s arm slid around her shoulders and tightened against her, and Caina rested her head against his chest. Silent Ash Temple was a dark memory. Rumarah was a far worse one. She had almost died there…but she had not, and the ordeal had given her the abilities of a valikarion.

  Those abilities and the valikon she had taken from Silent Ash Temple might be what they needed to defeat Razdan Nagrach.

  ###

  The next morning Caina finished getting dressed and stepped onto the balcony overlooking the common room.

  Just as she did, a middle-aged man in leather armor ran up the stairs, breathing hard, his spear in hand.

  “Master Vasily,” said Caina, recognizing the townsman who had greeted them at Kostiv’s gate.

  Vasily blinked at her, no doubt surprised to see her wearing a proper dress. “Ah…my lady Arvaltyr,” he said in halting High Nighmarian as he caught his breath. “You should know. We have seen horsemen on the road from the castle, about seven of them. The boyar is coming to Kostiv.”

  Caina looked back as Kylon followed her onto the balcony.

  “The boyar?” he said.

  Caina took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s time.”

  Chapter 15: Ruin

  Razdan Nagrach, the boyar of Kostiv and lord of Castle Nagrach, led six of his pack brothers to the gates of his town.

  It was cold winter day, the sky gray and overcast, the fields barren and frosted with snow, the river frozen beneath a sheet of ice. Yet even this icy day was alive to Razdan’s senses in a way it would not have be
en a few short years past. He could smell the musk and sweat of his horse, could hear its heartbeat, could hear the rustling of its tail and the hairs stirring in its mane.

  Around him, he smelled Rudjak and Bashkir and the other brothers of his pack of Hounds, heard the rasp of their breath and the faint thrum of their heartbeats. More than that, he was aware of their location in a way that did not involve his physical senses. He could sense the mavrokhi spirits bound within each of them, could feel the powerful spirits lying primed and ready, like a deadly wolf ready to spring upon its prey.

  His enhanced senses were just one of the gifts of the mavrokh spirit stirring beneath Razdan’s thoughts.

  And all that the mavrokh asked in return for such powers was to be fed.

  It was a request that Razdan was more than happy to oblige.

  He slowed his horse to walk as they approached the gates of Kostiv. Two militiamen stood guard, and even from a distance, Razdan smelled their fear, smelled the sweat starting to roll down their backs as their lord and master approached. The reaction pleased him. What was more, the mavrokh could sense the presence of the men. The spirit did not perceive the physical world as he did, but it sensed the life forces of the men waiting by the gate.

  And it hungered to feed upon them.

  “I urge caution, my lord,” said Rudjak in a low voice. “Both the woman and her husband carry valikons, and the man is a Kyracian stormdancer. She would not have issued such a bold invitation unless she was certain of her safety.”

  “Bah!” said another of Razdan’s sworn szlachts and his pack brothers. Balmin was a big, ferocious man with shaggy black hair and a bushy black beard, and his horse all but sagged beneath his bulk. Very little of his weight was fat, and he was almost as dangerous in human form as he was when his mavrokh manifested in its power. “Are we not the Hounds of the Iron King? If this outlander bitch thinks to threaten us, let us teach her the meaning of her folly. She will not be so haughty once we have each taken our turn with her. Perhaps we can even make her run in our lord’s Hunt.”