Ghost in the Ring (Ghost Night Book 1)

by Jonathan Moeller

  She turned and ran from her room. Sophia sat in the common room, her face tight with fear.

  “My lady?” said Sophia. “Is it…”

  “Yes, I think it’s time,” said Caina. “Stay here until one of us comes for you.”

  Sophia nodded, and Caina ran from the White Boar, down the main street, past the various obstructions, and to the northern gate. The gate stood open, the moonlight glimmering on the dark forest outside the walls. Kylon and Seb stood over the gate with Magur and Valexis, and Caina ran up the stairs to join them.

  “What’s happening?” said Caina.

  Even as she spoke, a chorus of howls rang from the forests outside the wall. They were deep and cold and chilling, far deeper and more terrible than the howls of any normal wolf.

  “The boyar,” said Magur in a shaking voice. “He has come to take us.”

  Chapter 18: The Boyar’s Hunt

  Razdan Nagrach raced through the frozen forest on all fours, the cold wind from the south ruffling his fur, the rage of his mavrokh spirit making his blood sing. The mavrokh had already enhanced his senses, and when he took the form of the Hound, the world came alive. He could smell every trace left on the ground, the leaves of the trees, the stink of the town to the south. He could smell his pack brothers as they followed him to Kostiv where the townsmen huddled inside their houses, hoping that the valikarion woman and her foreign husband could save them from Razdan's wrath.

  They would not.

  Razdan was the lawful boyar of Kostiv, and the lands and the people belonged to him. He would do with them as he pleased, and right now it pleased him to kill the valikarion and her friends and then rebuke the townsmen who had aided her. Razdan had not yet decided how to administer their punishment. Perhaps he would devour Magur’s sons in front of him and force him to watch as his pack brothers took the burgomaster’s daughters. Maybe he would devour the acolytes of the Temple as Brother Valexis watched…

  No. Razdan rebuked himself, forcing the hungry rage in his blood to obey reason. The valikarion first. Caina and her husband and the battle magus had to die. They threatened his rule, and he had to kill them first.

  Then, once again, he could do as he pleased with Kostiv.

  Razdan moved to the edge of the trees, his sensitive eyes picking out the firelight from within the walls of the town. He heard the rustle as his pack brothers moved around him, though to human ears the Hounds of the Iron King would have been silent. Razdan could hear his pack brothers, he could smell them, but what was more…he could hear them inside of his head.

  Their mavrokhi granted them the gift of silent communication.

  “There are a few men upon the walls, my boyar,” said Rudjak’s voice inside of Razdan’s skull.

  “Yet the gates are open,” said Balmin, his rage and hunger flooding the silent communication. “Why? Do they think to trick us?”

  “Perhaps the townsfolk have realized the folly of opposing their rightful lord,” said Bashkir.

  “Perhaps,” said Razdan, though he had his doubts. Even in the more tamed parts of Ulkaar, in the south near Risiviri and the villages of the Inner Sea, the gates of a town were always closed at night. Too many undead and malevolent spirits wandered the forests, to say nothing of opportunistic bandits.

  Maybe Bashkir was right, and the townsmen sought his mercy.

  Or maybe Caina had persuaded them to leave their gates open for some reason.

  “Let us rush inside and slay them all!” roared Balmin, his mavrokh’s rage thundering inside his voice. Razdan’s own mavrokh stirred in response, and Razdan wanted to hear the sweet screams of fleeing prey, to taste their raw flesh, to feel their hot blood pour down his throat as he feasted.

  Once again, he forced reason to assert itself.

  “Not yet,” said Razdan. “Let them know we are here. Let them hear our howls and feel their blood turn to ice. Let them know fear!” The howl of an enraged mavrokh was a terrible thing, and it chilled even the blood of a strong man. If some of the bolder townsmen had decided to aid Caina, perhaps that would dissuade them.

  Balmin threw back his head and howled, and the other Hounds followed suit. The music of their hunting cries filled Razdan’s blood, and for just a moment he gave himself to the mavrokh’s furious instincts and joined in the chorus, his own howl ringing over the empty fields around Kostiv.

  ###

  Kylon listened to the howls with half of an ear.

  They were horrible noises and seemed to reach down his throat and grasp his heart. Varlov’s howl at the Sanctuary Stone had been a terrible sound. Hearing sixteen mavrokhi loose their howls at once was a far more intimidating noise.

  It wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as sensing the presence of their mavrokhi spirits, though. Because Kylon could sense them at the edge of the fields, creeping forward like wolves preparing to spring upon sheep. He sensed their rage and hunger for flesh, their desire to run down prey and gorge themselves upon their victims.

  All that fury was directed towards Caina.

  Kylon’s hand balled into a fist. They would regret that.

  “How many?” said Caina in a quiet voice.

  “Sixteen total,” said Kylon. “Just as we guessed. The boyar and all his so-called pack brothers.”

  “Good to know we warrant such a response,” said Seb. “I would have been insulted otherwise.”

  “I could have done with a little insulting,” said Caina.

  One of the mavrokhi moved close enough that Kylon made out the creature in the moonlight. As before, the mavrokh looked like a huge wolf the size of a horse. Varlov had walked on his hind legs, but this time the mavrokh prowled forward on all fours. Despite its bulk, the creature looked sleek and deadly, a perfect machine of flesh designed for killing. The jaws looked as if they could bite through a steel bar without much difficulty, and the claws looked like they could shred plate armor like wet paper.

  “I don’t know why we bothered to keep the gate open,” said Seb. “Those things could go over the walls without much trouble.”

  “We left the gate open because we want them to come into the town,” said Caina. “It’s time. Seb, come with me.” She looked at Kylon and took a deep breath, seeming to search for words. Instead, she touched his hand, and her emotional sense flooded over him, a mixture of fear and grim determination and love for him and fear for him. More than anything else, she was afraid something would happen to him in the fight.

  But the ice-wrapped rage was there, the fury backed by cold calculation that had brought down Rezir Shahan and the Inferno and Cassander Nilas.

  “I’ll see you when this is all over,” said Kylon.

  “Yes,” said Caina. She gave a sharp nod, and then flashed a smile at him. “Good hunting.”

  Kylon squeezed her hand once more and stepped back as the mavrokhi howled again. He turned and called the sorcery of water and sorcery of air, filling his limbs with strength and speed.

  Then he took three running steps and jumped.

  The sorcery of water lent him strength, and Kylon jumped from the wall. He landed on the steep rooftop of one of the houses overlooking the street, and he hurried south, jumping over alley after alley until he passed the makeshift barricade the townsmen had built across the street.

  The howls rang out behind him.

  A few snowflakes started to blow past, the cold wind from the south tugging at his hair.

  ###

  Caina took one last look at Kylon as he ran across the rooftops, and she turned her attention to the bleak fields outside of the town.

  Hopefully, this would not be the last time she saw Kylon.

  “Come on,” she said, and Seb followed her as she ran down the narrow stairs to the street. The remaining militia on the walls fled, scattering to their positions. Caina did not have Kylon’s ability to sense emotions, but she could see their terror.

  She hoped their nerve held. By the Divine, after listening to those howls, she could understand their fear.

/>   More howls rang out from outside the walls.

  “How frightfully overdramatic,” said Seb as they ran for the barricade.

  Despite the tension, Caina laughed. “Do you think he’ll make a speech first? Talk about his irresistible power and offer us one last chance to submit?”

  “I do hope so,” said Seb. “There are a variety of rude gestures I would like to employ in answer.”

  They reached the barricade, and Caina saw the flare of sorcery as Seb worked a spell of psychokinetic force. He jumped, reached the top of the barricade, and vaulted over it, landing on the other side with a clatter of armor. Caina lacked psychokinetic sorcery, so she climbed the barricade the old-fashioned way.

  The howls made it easy to hasten.

  She stood atop the barricade and looked around as a few snowflakes blew past. Seb waited a few yards behind the barricade, his power held ready. From this angle, Caina couldn’t see Kylon, but she saw the silvery-blue aura of his own sorcerous power.

  He hadn’t called his valikon. Not yet.

  In front of the barricade and to her right stretched the alley, now lit by torchlight, militia archers waiting atop the roofs of the nearby houses, bows gripped tightly in their hands.

  Behind the barricade waited their other preparations, silent and motionless.

  Caina braced herself atop the barricade and faced the northern gate, the wood of an overturned wagon creaking beneath her boots.

  ###

  Razdan watched the gate as he prowled closer, his pack brothers quivering around him.

  There had been a few people standing on the walls, but they had fled from the hunting song of the Hounds of the Iron King. Perhaps Caina had thought to mount a defense there, to hold them at bay, but that would have been futile. The mavrokhi could have climbed the walls with ease thanks to their dagger-like claws, and with enough of a running start, the Hounds could have cleared the walls in a single leap.

  But if Caina had thought to hold them at the walls…then why leave the gate open?

  Of course. It was obvious.

  The main threat to Razdan was not Caina herself but Kylon of House Kardamnos. A valikon would be deadly in the hands of a Kyracian stormdancer, but Kylon was still a mortal man. If one of the mavrokhi got their jaws around his throat or even his leg, the fight was over. At all costs, Caina had to keep the mavrokhi from surrounding her and her husband. That meant she would try to funnel them into a narrow, enclosed space where the mavrokhi would have to come at their enemies one by one.

  Contempt flooded through Razdan, and his mavrokh spirit snarled with hunger. Was this the best that the great and mighty Balarigar could do? Pathetic! How he would enjoy tearing her limb from limb! He…

  No. Caution. Caution! He could exult in his kill once she was dead.

  “Enough,” said Razdan into the thoughts of his pack brothers. The howling trailed off. “Enter the town. Remain cautious, and follow my lead. The valikarion is a cunning foe, and she might have tried to prepare traps for us.”

  He loped forward, his claws grasping at the frozen ground. His pack brothers raced after him, and they flowed towards the gate in a tide of fur and fangs and claws. Razdan scanned the walls for any sign of danger, his ears and nose straining. His mavrokh spirit reached out with its senses, and it felt terrified townsmen huddling within their houses, but no one upon the walls.

  The Hounds of the Iron King poured into the main street, and Razdan came to a surprised halt, the mavrokhi growling and snarling around him.

  A barricade had been raised across the main street to the market.

  Caina stood atop the barricade, her valikon burning in her right hand.

  ###

  The mavrokhi came through the gate, and Caina’s fingers tightened against the hilt of her valikon.

  The things were huge, sleek and muscled and terrifying, and their yellow eyes glowed like poisoned flames in the darkness. Their claws rasped against the street with a sound like steel grating against stone, and slime dripped from their muzzles as they advanced. Every one of those yellow eyes glared at Caina, and the weight of their gaze made her skin crawl.

  “Razdan Nagrach!” shouted Caina, pointing her valikon at the Hounds. “Have you come to die?”

  No answer came from the mavrokhi. Caina knew the creatures could talk in their wolf-forms, but so far, they remained silent. Likely she had puzzled them. Standing atop a barricade and taunting them like this was suicidal. At least, she wanted them to think it was suicidal.

  She hoped it did not turn out to be actually suicidal.

  Caina made herself laugh, filling the sound with derision. “Are these the great Hounds of the Iron King? Are these the fearsome mavrokhi? I have seen more frightening dogs prowling the alleys of Istarinmul!” A growl came from several mavrokhi. “Perhaps the mavrokhi spirits are not to blame. Maybe they couldn’t find any better hosts! Little wonder the Iron King was defeated if he was defended by flea-bitten curs like you!”

  This time nearly all the mavrokhi snarled at her. Only one of them, the largest one, remained silent. Likely that was Razdan Nagrach himself. Perhaps the boyar wondered what she was doing.

  “Then come!” said Caina. In one smooth motion, she stepped off the front of the barricade, throwing her valikon backward as she did.

  She heard the clang as the weapon struck the street behind the barricade.

  Caina dropped down the front of the barrier, landed on a wagon wheel jutting from its side, kicked off that, and managed to land with her dignity mostly intact. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she took a few steps towards the mavrokhi with no weapon in hand. They moved closer, and even with the cold wind and the snow whistling past her, she smelled the creatures, the reek of rotting flesh and musky fur filling her nostrils and twisting at her stomach.

  Every instinct screamed for her to turn and flee. Instead, she kept walking towards them.

  “You want to hunt, dogs?” shouted Caina, flinging her arms wide. “Then come and hunt! Catch me if you can!”

  The mavrokhi snarled and surged forward, and Caina whirled and sprinted as fast as she could down the torch-lined alleyway, the archers waiting above her.

  ###

  His pack brothers started to charge, and every fiber of Razdan Nagrach’s being screamed for him to join them, to run that arrogant whore down and rip her heart from her chest, to rejoice in her screams as fangs and claws ripped her flesh to bloody strips…

  “Stop!” he shouted into the thoughts of his Hounds. “Stop! Stop, you idiots!”

  The mavrokhi came to a halt uneasily.

  “Lord boyar?” said Balmin, a snarl of challenge filling his thoughts. Balmin’s blood was up, and if he did not kill something soon, he was going to turn his wrath against his boyar. Razdan would dispatch him with ease, of course, but fighting amongst the pack while facing a valikarion would be a dangerous mistake.

  Perhaps that was what Caina intended all along.

  “Look!” said Razdan. “Do you not sense it? She fled into that alley! Can you not see the torchlight? Can you not sense the men on the roofs? She is trying to lure us into a trap!”

  Balmin growled again and then fell silent as his brain caught up with his killing fury.

  “A trap?” he said at last.

  “Have we not done the same?” said Razdan. “Have we not flushed the prey in the direction we wished them to flee? That alley leads to the market, and it is narrow enough that we shall have to go single-file! If we pursue her, likely we shall blunder into the Kyracian and the battle magus. That feeble barricade will not stop us. Instead, let us proceed down the main street to the market. Then we can catch our foes from behind.”

  The mavrokhi roared their approval, and Razdan and his pack brothers raced for the barricade.

  ###

  Kylon watched the mavrokhi, his heart in his throat.

  If they went after Caina, if they chased her down that alley, he was going after them. If they chased her, the plan could be damned
. Kylon would race to the alley and interpose himself between the mavrokhi and Caina. The alley was narrow enough that they would have to come at him one at a time, but it would be easy for the mavrokhi to leap over him and come at him from behind.

  Plan or no plan, there was absolutely no way in hell he would allow the Hounds to pursue Caina down that alley.

  But they didn’t.

  The Hounds ignored Caina’s flight and the torchlit alley and the archers waiting along the rooftops. It was obviously the direction she wanted the mavrokhi to run, and the Hounds ignored it. Instead, the wolf-creatures raced towards the barricade, preparing to leap over it and intercept Caina at the town’s market.

  Kylon braced himself, preparing to move.

  ###

  The barricade would have been a strong obstacle to mortal men, but to the Hounds of the Iron King, it might have well been a lace curtain. Razdan raced forward, seized the side of an overturned wagon, and leaped, the power of his mavrokh carrying him over the ramshackle barricade and onto the other side. He landed in the center of the street, his paws gripping the cobblestones for balance as he skidded to a stop.

  The street was deserted. Razdan had half-expected Caina to have militiamen standing here to fight him, or maybe Kylon and that battle magus, but there was no one. Razdan sensed townsmen huddling behind the windows of the nearby houses, cringing in fear of his wrath.

  Then the smell flooded his nostrils.

  It was a vile aroma, so strong that it made his stomach twist, and it smelled vaguely like a rotten pine tree. The cobblestones were damp beneath him, and he realized it wasn’t from the flurries of snow that were falling from the sky.

  Turpentine. She had doused the street in turpentine.

  Why the devil had she done that? Did she think to set them on fire? Igniting the turpentine would hurt them, but it wouldn’t be enough to kill them, and their mavrokhi spirits would heal the burns in short order.