The Ghosts Omnibus: The Kyracian War

by Jonathan Moeller

  He laughed.

  Caina looked at him. "It wasn't funny."

  "No," said Corvalis. "But, gods...that was three years ago?" Caina nodded. "That was right before Claudia convinced me to leave the Kindred. My father was furious when someone killed Maglarion. I'd never seen him so angry." He laughed again. "And all the time it was you."

  "Well," said Caina, pushing aside the memories. "I am pleased I could discomfort him on your behalf."

  "Basil praised you," said Corvalis, "but if you killed a man like Maglarion, then he was too modest by far."

  "I was lucky," murmured Caina, resting her head back on his chest. She had defeated powerful foes...but had she been lucky. If she had been a half-second slower, if she had been a touch less clever, then she would have been killed.

  Along with millions of others.

  Someday, she knew, she would be killed. Someday she would be too slow, someday she would face a foe she could not outwit.

  But not today.

  "Let's not talk about the magi," said Caina, "or about killing. I am weary of them both."

  "I'll have to go," said Corvalis, "before dawn. Else there will be talk."

  "Let them talk," said Caina, smiling. "A mercenary seducing his employer's daughter? What better disguise do we have?"

  They drifted to sleep.

  ###

  Dreams filled Caina's mind as she slept.

  She often had nightmares. She had seen too many terrible things not to have nightmares. Sometimes she saw them over and over again, or her memories blurred together in a scattered haze of twisted images.

  And occasionally she dreamed of the Moroaica.

  Caina stood in a field of gloomy gray mist, wearing a blue gown with black trim. Six paces away stood a Szaldic woman of about twenty, clad in a crimson gown, her hair and eyes black. She looked young, younger even than Caina, but her eyes were heavy with age and power.

  She called herself Jadriga, but the Szaldic legends named her the Moroaica, the ancient sorceress of terror and might.

  And her spirit was trapped within Caina.

  "You," said Caina.

  "So I am," said Jadriga.

  "What is it now?" said Caina. "Trying to convince me to join your great work, whatever it is? Or to warn me about another of your disciples?" She frowned. "The Masked One that attacked me in Cyrioch. He was one of your disciples."

  "No," said Jadriga. "He is an old, old enemy of mine. I'm surprised he found you. Still, I should not have underestimated him."

  "Then what is it?" said Caina.

  The Moroaica stared at her for a long time, and to Caina's astonishment, sadness flickered over the pale face.

  "Child of the Ghosts," murmured Jadriga. "You should beware love. Betrayal is a blade that cuts deeper than any other."

  She gestured, and the dream dissolved into mist.

  ###

  Two days south of Cyrioch, Lord Titus's column crossed Cyrica’s low mountains and entered the Sarbian desert.

  And for the first time in her twenty-one years, Caina left the Empire of Nighmar.

  Cyrica had been hot but wet. The desert was dry as a centuries-old bone. The road led southwest, the arid wastes stretching in all directions, bleak and empty.

  "If this is your homeland," said Caina to Saddiq, "I understand why your people seek employment elsewhere."

  Saddiq chuckled, his voice a basso rumble. "The desert is a harsh mother, mistress, and she raises harsh sons. There are only two things to do in the desert. We can fight each other, or we fight outlanders in exchange for pay. One is more profitable than the other. But when we are bored, we fight each other."

  "I wonder if the Catekhari sent an ambassador to the Sarbian tribes," said Caina, "and offered to sell them the weapon."

  Saddiq's white teeth flashed in his dark face. "More likely that my kinsmen would agree to purchase the weapon...only to ambush the Masked Ones, steal the weapon, and use it to extort tribute from the Empire, Anshan, and Istarinmul."

  "Do you think the tribesmen will attack us?" said Caina.

  “I doubt it," said Saddiq. "There are too many of us, and the tribes prefer easier prey. But if they choose the path of folly, we shall simply have to teach them wisdom."

  Saddiq proved correct. From time to time to the scouts saw Sarbian horsemen in the distance, but the tribesmen always moved one.

  Four days later the caravan crossed the desert and entered the borders of Anshan.

  ###

  "This is egregious," grumbled Lord Titus.

  "Think of it, my lord," said Halfdan, "not as an escort, but as an honor guard to see you safely through the Shahenshah’s lands."

  Caina watched the exchange. Halfdan stood alongside Titus's horse, and Lord Titus seemed to know that Halfdan was a Ghost. Certainly he seemed more willing to accept a jewel merchant’s advice than Caina would have expected from a lord of high Nighmarian birth. Corvalis stood a discreet distance behind Halfdan, hands near his weapons.

  The objects of Lord Titus's ire waited twenty paces away. Four hundred Anshani cavalrymen, armored in scale mail and spiked helmets, spears resting in their hands, long oval shields upon their arms, and bows and quivers hanging from their saddles. Their leader, an Anshani khadjar, wore a cloak of brilliant crimson silk. The other horsemen were anjars, lesser nobles who owned enough land to equip themselves with horse and armor. The Imperial Legions produced the finest infantry in the world, but the Anshani nobles fielded the best horsemen.

  If it came to a fight, Caina was not sure who would win.

  "It is still egregious," said Titus. "Are we brigands, that the Shahenshah should send soldiers to dog our path?"

  "It is part of the Emperor's agreement with the Shahenshah," said Halfdan. He sounded as if he were soothing a truculent child. "The Shahenshah agreed to allow the Emperor's Lord Ambassador to cross his lands with a cohort of the Imperial Guard. But until we leave the boundaries of Anshan, a guard of the Shahenshah's soldiers will escort us."

  "To make sure we stay out of trouble," said Titus.

  "In essence, yes," said Halfdan. "But it would be impolite to say so."

  "No one," said Titus, "will match a Lord of the Empire for courtesy. Very well. Let us greet our...escort."

  He spurred his horse forward, accompanied by his bodyguards and a squad of the Imperial Guard.

  ###

  The column traveled south across the grasslands, and then came to the Great Western Caravan Road.

  Caina had read about it in her father's books as a child. The road began in Anshan and traveled through the hills and mountains at the heart of the Shahenshah's domain. It cut through the western grasslands, the Red Forest and the petty domains of the free cities, and reached the gates of New Kyre. There were many romantic tales about dashing highwaymen preying upon the merchants of the Road, highwaymen who sometimes abducted the merchants’ petulant daughters and won their hearts with roguish charm.

  Caina suspected the reality was rather more prosaic.

  "All those grain wagons," said Corvalis. A constant line of grain wagons traveled west along the Road. "Where are they going?"

  "New Kyre," said Caina, walking at his side. She had given up riding in the wagon. Claudia rode in the wagon, and she constantly offered suggestions on how the teamsters could handle their animals, how the Imperial Guards could clean their weapons, and how the merchants could store their cargoes. If she was masquerading as a merchant's spoiled daughter, Claudia was doing a fine job.

  Caina suspected she was not masquerading.

  "Why New Kyre?" said Corvalis.

  Halfdan spoke up from the wagon. "New Kyre controls only a few hundred square miles outside of its city walls. Half a million people live in New Kyre, and the city cannot possibly feed itself. So they must import grain. Their fleets carry grain to their harbors, and they buy the rest from Anshan. Anshani khadjars have made vast fortunes selling grain to the Kyracians. Cyrican lords, too, before the war started."

 
"A pity," said Claudia, "that the Legions cannot strike these grain caravans. The Empire could strangle New Kyre and end the war."

  "If we did that, my daughter," said Halfdan, "that would mean war with Anshan. The Shahenshah allows those caravans to pass through his lands, and his khadjars reap great profits selling grain to the Kyracians. Were the Empire to attack a single Anshani caravan, the Shahenshah would declare war upon the Empire...and the Emperor would lose any chance of forcing the war to a truce." He wiped some sweat from his brow. "Though such concerns are far above a simple merchant of jewels."

  ###

  The next day a second caravan joined the column.

  And unlike the others, it was not carrying grain.

  The caravan had a dozen wagons, and though none of the wagons were particularly full, the oxen nonetheless appeared burdened. A quick look at the wagons told Caina why. They carried stacked ingots of crimson steel.

  “That’s red steel from the mines of Nhabatan,” murmured Caina to Corvalis.

  Corvalis frowned. “If I remember rightly, that’s the only place where red iron can be found.”

  “Aye,” said Caina. “It’s incredibly valuable. Which explains the guards.”

  A score of men in elaborate gray plate armor surrounded the wagons. Their breastplates were adorned with elaborate, stylized reliefs that looked almost Maatish. Despite the bulky armor, the men seemed to move without encumbrance. Each man also wore an elaborate helmet fashioned from red steel. Caina took a step closer, hoping to get a better look…

  And then stepped right back, bumping into Corvalis.

  “What is it?” said Corvalis as Claudia joined them.

  “I think,” said Caina, voice low, “I think their armor is enspelled.”

  “You’re right,” said Claudia. “I suspect that armor is Catekhari.”

  Caina blinked. “So Catekhari soldiers are escorting this caravan?” That warranted further investigation. “Come with me.”

  She walked to the front of the long column, Corvalis and Claudia following her. Lord Titus sat on his horse, flanked by his bodyguards. Halfdan stood nearby, ready to advise Titus. A middle-aged man wearing a fine tunic of white linen and sturdy sandals stood before the lord’s horse. A leather belt wrapped around his waist, holding a sheathed short sword and dagger, and he had a hawkish, weather-beaten face.

  “Khaltep Irzaris at your service, my lord Titus of House Iconias,” said the man with an elaborate bow, “a humble merchant of Catekharon.”

  “A curious coincidence,” said Titus. “My party and I are traveling to Catekharon at the invitation of the Scholae.”

  “Perhaps we can travel together, my lord,” said Irzaris. “The Red Forest is only a few days ahead, and bold bandits sometimes prowl beneath its branches. There is safety in numbers.”

  “Indeed,” said Titus. “Though I am curious about what sort of wares the Masked Ones might purchase. One would assume they simply conjure up spirits to provide whatever they need.”

  “Perhaps, my lord,” said Irzaris, “but for all their power, the Scholae are still men of flesh and blood, and enjoy meat and wine and comely slaves. And the Sages of the Scholae are artificers without peer, but still require raw materials to create their enspelled artifacts.” He gestured at his wagons. “The red iron of Nhabatan is rare, but the Scholae prefers to use it for their work. So if a daring man makes the long journey from Catekharon to Nhabatan and back, the risk is great, but the profits are greater.”

  “Very well,” said Titus. “You would be welcome to travel with us.” He glanced at Halfdan. “This is Basil Callenius, a master merchant of the Imperial collegium of jewelers. He will find a place for you in the line of march.”

  Irzaris bowed again. “Thank you, my lord.” He strode to Halfdan. “May you find profit and shelter, Master Basil.”

  “And you as well, Master Khaltep,” said Halfdan. “These are my daughters, Irene and Anna.”

  Irzaris’s smile widened a bit when he saw Claudia. “Master Basil, you are indeed a bold man to take your treasures with you upon the road.” He bowed over Claudia’s hand, kissing her knuckles, and did not release her fingers right away. “Though I am sure you have chosen strong husbands for your daughters.”

  “Alas,” said Halfdan, “my daughters are yet unwed.”

  Claudia looked appalled. She had been a magus and the bastard daughter of the First Magus, and only a bold or suicidal man would attempt to seduce such a woman. But a rich merchant’s pretty daughter made for a tempting prize.

  “Indeed?” said Irzaris. “I grieve to hear it. It is a cold and cruel world. Perhaps, Master Basil, you would allow me to keep your daughters company during our journey to Catekharon?”

  “Please, Father?” said Caina, putting just the right note of petulant pleading into her voice. “The countryside is ever so dull, and some conversation would be welcome.” And it would give her the opportunity to learn more about Catekharon and the Masked Ones.

  Claudia’s lip crinkled in disgust.

  “Oh, very well,” said Halfdan, playing along. “Though I certainly do not have the time to chaperone the two of you.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Caina, looking at Corvalis. “Cormark will chaperone us. Won’t you, Cormark?”

  Corvalis bowed, his expression grave. “It would be my solemn honor, mistress.”

  ###

  Three days later the column left the grasslands and entered the Red Forest, while the Anshani horsemen rode away to the east.

  “This is the boundary of the Shahenshah’s domain, you see,” said Irzaris, walking alongside his wagons. “The lands east of the Red Forest swear to the Shahenshah. The various petty princelings of the free cities rule the lands west of the Red Forest.”

  Caina nodded, keeping her eyes wide. Irzaris, she suspected, was more attracted to Claudia, but Claudia’s icy disdain for the man never wavered. Caina had found that men of wealth and power enjoyed a woman who hung on their every word…and so she hung on Irzaris’s every word.

  And learned a number of useful things.

  “So we are in danger,” said Caina, “of being attacked?”

  She looked around the forest and made a show of shivering. Huge redwood trees, larger than any Caina had ever seen, rose around the road. Some of them stood at least three hundred feet tall. Their roots transformed the ground into a wrinkled mossy sheet, and their vast branches cast patterns of light and shadow across the road.

  Irzaris laughed. “Not particularly, my dear. The free cities ignore caravans. If they attack too many they will earn the ire of the Emperor or the Shahenshah. Or, worse, of the Assembly of New Kyre. The Emperor and the Shahenshah can only make war upon the princes of the free cities. New Kyre can do far worse to them.”

  “What’s that?” said Caina.

  “Drive them bankrupt,” said Corvalis.

  Irzaris laughed. “Well spoken, Cormark. Master Basil is fortunate to have such a wise man in his service. Perhaps you should check on your master? The women will be safe enough with me.”

  Corvalis shrugged. “I am sorry, Master Khaltep, but Master Basil bade me to guard his daughters until we stopped for the night.”

  “Your vigilance does you credit,” said Irzaris, with only the faintest hint of irritation in his black eyes. He had never stopped trying to get Caina and Claudia alone. He turned to Claudia. “What do you think of the forest?”

  Claudia looked away. “I suppose the trees are large.”

  “Truly,” said Irzaris. “Men come from all nations to marvel at the great redwoods.”

  “Why haven’t they been cut down?” said Caina. “Surely such fine wood would fetch a high price.”

  Irzaris shrugged. “A dozen different cities claim this forest for their own, but I fear the real reason is mere superstition. Men say that spirits guard the forest, and will rise in wrath should any man assail the trees.”

  “I’ve heard Ulkaari men say that demons haunt their forests,” sai
d Corvalis.

  “And I had have heard the most dreadful tales from Szaldic slaves,” said Caina, “of a terrible sorceress called the Moroaica.”

  Irzaris laughed. “Simple superstition, my dear. You mustn’t let the idle words of illiterate slaves trouble you. There’s no such thing as the Moroaica or demons.”

  Caina caught Corvalis’s eyes and saw the amusement there. Baiting Irzaris had become something of a game between them.

  “I am glad, sir,” said Caina, “that you travel with us. It indeed makes me feel better.”

  “Good,” said Irzaris, looking at Claudia. “Would you like to take a ride into the trees, my dear? Some of them are truly magnificent.”

  Claudia frowned. “I would fear robbers.”

  “Did not your sister say she feels safer at my side?” said Irzaris. “There would be no danger.” He kissed her hand and lowered his voice. “I would please me greatly to show you a…most magnificent tree.”

  Claudia’s face crinkled in disgust.

  “Sister,” said Caina. “We must have lunch with Father. Do you not remember? He is taking his midday meal with Lord Titus, and Father bade us to join him.” She paused. “And I hear Lord Titus has unwed sons.”

  Claudia shot her a grateful look.

  “Ah. Perhaps later, then,” said Irzaris.

  “It is a pity,” said Caina. “My sister said she was so looking forward to seeing the trees.”

  Claudia’s grateful look turned just short of murderous.

  “Mistress,” said Corvalis, “your father will be wroth if you are late.”

  “Yes. Good day, Master Khaltep,” said Claudia, striding away. Caina and Corvalis followed them, and Irzaris turned his attention to his wagons.

  Once they were out of earshot, both Caina and Corvalis started laughing.

  Claudia whirled to face them. “What the devil do you find so amusing?”

  “Irzaris,” said Caina.

  “The man is a fool,” said Corvalis.

  “Actually, I think he’s clever,” said Caina. “He’s been trying to worm his way into Claudia’s blankets for three days…and he’s never once mentioned the weapon of the Masked Ones.”