Sicarion laughed, spinning his dagger in his left hand. “The mighty Kylon Shipbreaker, eh? Not so mighty without his sorcery.”
“Then lay aside your own power,” said Kylon, “and face me.”
“And why,” said Sicarion, “should I possibly do that?”
He charged at Kylon. The shadowy nimbus swallowed him, draining away his arcane strength.
###
The three remaining suits of black glypharmor charged at Caina.
“Can this thing jump?” said Caina.
“I…I think so,” said Ardasha, and Caina felt the dead woman’s terror and exhilaration. “I…”
Caina raced to meet her foes and jumped. Her legs of steel threw her into one of the terrific leaps she had seen Kylon and Torius perform in battle against their foes. She soared over the suits of black armor and landed behind them with a thunderous crash. The entire Hall shuddered, the floor splintering beneath her, and the shock knocked hundreds of men off their feet.
The men in the black glypharmor reeled, and Caina went on the attack. Her foot slammed into the back of a knee, and the glypharmor’s leg folded. Caina hammered her fists upon the helm, and it exploded in a spray of twisted black metal and crimson blood. The glypharmor helmets were two inches thick, impervious to almost all weapons, but Ardasha’s wrath drove Caina’s fists of solid steel.
They struck home like the thunderbolts of the gods.
The glypharmor fell with a clang, and the remaining two suits attacked Caina. She caught a descending fist in her grasp, spun, and twisted, driving her weight past the black armor. The black glypharmor spun as she twisted, forced to turn by her weight and speed, and the sight of the hulking black titan hopping on one foot was so comical Caina almost laughed. She drove the glypharmor into the second suit, and both tangled together, the men inside struggling to pull their armor free from each other.
One fell, and Caina’s boot hammered down with deadly force.
The remaining black suit attacked Caina, fists swinging like a drunk in a bar fight. She backed away, dodging and blocking with cool precision. Mihaela had never trained her men how to fight while wearing the suits. The glypharmor offered so much raw power that it hardly mattered. But facing a foe who knew how to fight unarmed, who knew how to make use of the armor’s strength, was another matter entirely.
Caina backed away, and at last the black glypharmor overstepped. She seized the armor’s wrist, her boot lashing out. Her opponent’s leg folded, and the black armor toppled forward.
Right into the canal’s molten metal.
Droplets of burning steel splashed everywhere, cooling into beads of hard metal. A hideous scream rose from the black glypharmor, and Caina saw the cuirass and helmet swing open as the mercenary inside tried to escape. That was a mistake. The molten metal rushed into the gap, and the mercenary just had time to shriek before the heat set him aflame and the metal consumed his flesh.
The glypharmor sank, rippling and folding like candle wax.
Caina leaped over the canal and landed on the far side. “Mihaela!” Her voice boomed out with Ardasha’s. “Come and face us!”
She saw Mihaela disappear into the final suit of black glypharmor, the hieroglyphs on its sides flaring with power.
###
Torius parried Corvalis’s frantic attack, and step by step the battle magus drove him back. Torius’s blows came faster and faster, driven by the psychokinetic power of battle sorcery, and Corvalis could barely keep up. Sweat poured down his face, his arms burning with fatigue. He could not hold Torius back much longer…
Then he tripped over the outstretched arm of an unconscious Sage, lost his balance, and fell upon his back.
Torius yelled in triumph and drew back his black sword for the killing strike.
In that instant Corvalis saw the red glypharmor leap into the air and land in a crouch.
The floor heaved and shook from the impact, the molten canal rippling, and dust fell from the ceiling overhead. The Hall of Assembly groaned, and for an instant Corvalis feared the entire Tower of Study would collapse upon them.
And Torius stumbled in the midst of his killing stroke.
Corvalis rolled sideways and the sword missed his shoulder by an inch. The blade clanged off the stone floor with a spray of sparks, and Corvalis saw a splinter fly from the weapon.
Torius was strong, and his sorcery lent his muscles even greater strength.
Too much strength, perhaps, for his sword to endure?
Corvalis sprang back to his feet and backed away as Torius pursued.
Step by step, he let Torius drive him towards the wall.
###
Kylon met Sicarion’s attack without hesitation, the dark aura washing over him.
He laid aside his power and fought with muscle and steel. During the battle of Marsis, the stormdancer Kleistheon had refused to lay down his power when fighting the man who would become the Champion of Marsis. But the Champion, no doubt a student of the Ghost herself, had outwitted Kleistheon and destroyed him with his own sorcery.
Kylon would not make the same mistake.
He had practiced with the sword every day since the age of five, and even without sorcery, he knew how to make his blade sing. He blocked Sicarion’s thrusts and beat aside his swings. Sicarion’s confident sneer melted away, his mismatched eyes narrowing in concentration. Ancient and powerful he might be, but he was an assassin and a necromancer, not a warrior.
Kylon was a warrior.
His sword raked across Sicarion’s shoulder, and the assassin stumbled back. Before he could recover Kylon whipped his sword around. Sicarion jerked back at the last moment, but not before Kylon’s blade opened a bleeding gash on his forehead.
For the first time a hint of alarm appeared on the grotesque face.
“For Andromache!” roared Kylon as the battle raged around him. He would cut down this vile creature, this devil that had corrupted Andromache and started a war in the Moroaica’s name. “For Andromache! For New Kyre!”
Sicarion raised his dagger. The aura of shadow around him shrank, compressing into a single sphere of darkness around the serrated dagger.
And the sorcery of air and water flooded back into Kylon. He lifted his sword, ready to ram it through Sicarion’s heart…
Sicarion thrust out his hand, and the sphere of darkness leapt from the dagger’s blade and slammed into Kylon’s chest.
###
Caina sprinted across the Hall.
Mihaela charged to meet her, the dark mass of her glypharmor ablaze with white light from the hieroglyphs.
“I killed you!” boomed the Seeker. “I killed you both! Do you think you can stop me? Do…”
“Stop talking,” said Caina, and threw a palm strike at Mihaela’s helmet. But Mihaela’s arms snapped up and deflected the blow, and she stepped into the attack, her steel fists raining a volley of punches upon Caina’s cuirass.
Ardasha’s scream filled Caina’s head, and the hollow shriek of stressed steel thundered in her ears. The cuirass was three inches thick, impervious to sword and arrow and spear and siege engine. But Mihaela’s fists were solid blocks of steel, fueled by necromancy and psychokinetic force.
The punches knocked Caina back, the sheer force overwhelming even the glypharmor’s power.
“Damned Ghost!” shrieked Mihaela. “Die!”
She shoved, driving Caina towards the molten canal. Caina hammered at Mihaela’s helmet again and again, but could not get enough leverage for a proper strike. Step by step Mihaela forced Caina towards the canal…
Caina let her legs collapse beneath her. She fell upon her back, but Mihaela stumbled forward, arms clawing for balance. Caina drove a fist into the back of Mihaela’s knee. The strike sent Mihaela tumbling upon her face. Caina rolled to her knees and drove both her fists at the back of Mihaela’s cuirass, hoping to crush both it and her. But Mihaela rolled at the last second, her leg swinging, and the edge of her boot caught Caina’s helmet.
&n
bsp; Caina’s head exploded with pain, and even the glancing power of the blow sent her to the floor. Another few inches and the strike would have crushed both her helmet and her skull. Mihaela scrambled to her feet, and Caina did the same.
Mihaela stared at Caina for a moment, and then charged.
###
Corvalis raced backwards, sword and ghostsilver dagger working to fend off Torius’s furious assault. His breath rasped through his clenched teeth, and his weapons felt as if they had doubled in weight during the last few moments.
Torius had almost driven him to the wall.
“Pathetic,” said Torius. “You are skilled for a Kindred rat, brother, I’ll admit that. Any other man would have perished at once.” His movements were almost lazy as he beat aside Corvalis’s attacks. “But I am a magus of the Magisterium, and you are only a shadow-dwelling rat. And do you know what rats do when you pull away their precious shadows?”
Corvalis’s back slammed against the wall, the ghostsilver dagger falling from his numbed fingers.
“They die,” said Torius, drawing back his sword.
It blurred forward with superhuman speed.
But Corvalis had anticipated that, and his legs folded the moment the black sword started to move. The blade shot over his head as Corvalis fell to the floor.
Torius drove his sword into a wall of solid stone with all his strength and power.
The blade shattered with a hideous metallic screech, black splinters flying in all directions. Torius screamed and dropped the broken hilt, his armored hands flying up to cover his face.
Corvalis rose, sword gripped in both hands, and hammered the blade upon the crown of Torius’s head. He felt bone crack, saw Torius fall to his hands and knees.
Corvalis swung his sword for Torius’s neck with all his remaining strength.
His half-brother crumpled into a motionless heap of black armor, his blood pooling upon the floor.
Corvalis let out an exhausted breath, his arms trembling, and scooped up Caina’s ghostsilver dagger.
“The Magisterium,” he said at last, “should teach their battle magi to wear helms.”
Torius, being dead, did not respond.
###
The blast of shadow slammed into Kylon’s chest and threw him back a dozen steps. He landed hard atop the corpse of a slain mercenary, an icy chill washing through him. But this was not the chill of frost and snow. Cold tendrils of necromancy sank into him, sucking away his life and warmth. Veins of shadow crawled over his chest and arms, like black roots sinking into his skin.
“And so ends the mighty exploits of the great Kylon Shipbreaker,” said Sicarion. “Pity, really.”
He walked closer.
Kylon shuddered. The spell was sucking away his physical strength…but it had not touched his sorcery.
Unfortunately, he did not have the strength to stand.
“You have a good sword arm,” said Sicarion. His scarred lips twitched into a grin, his yellow teeth gleaming. “I think I’ll take it for my own.”
Kylon saw a set of throwing knives resting in the dead mercenary’s belt. He remember how the Ghost had used throwing knives in battle with remarkable effectiveness.
Kylon didn’t think he could stand…but he thought he could throw a knife.
Sicarion raised his sword.
Kylon snatched a throwing knife and drew on the sorcery of water. White mist swirled around the blade, and he flung the weapon with all the force he could muster. His aim was off, but the power of water drove his arm, and the blade sank to the hilt in Sicarion’s stomach.
The scarred assassin stumbled back with a strangled scream, his eyes going wide. No blood came from the wound, and a rime of frost spread over his leather armor. Sicarion ripped the weapon free from his belly with a curse, and cursed again as the fingers of his left hand turned black with frost.
And the icy chill settling into Kylon vanished, the black veins of shadow disappearing.
He surged back to his feet, the sorcery of water filling his limbs with renewed strength. Sicarion twisted aside at the last moment, and Kylon’s mist-wreathed blade slashed through his leather armor and tore a gash down his torso, ice spreading over the wound.
Sicarion flung out his good hand, and a bar of shadow stabbed from his fingers. Kylon raised his sword to block it, and he felt Sicarion’s cold power strain against the sorcery of water. He stumbled, hands wrapped around his sword hilt as he struggled to hold Sicarion’s spell as bay.
Sicarion whirled and fled, vanishing into the chaos as the mercenaries battled the Imperial Guards.
###
Caina blocked another punch, and then another, trying to line up for a blow at Mihaela’s helmet.
She realized that she was overmatched.
Caina knew far more about hand-to-hand combat than Mihaela. But Mihaela had created the glypharmor and knew it inside and out.
And that meant she knew the armor’s weaknesses.
The glypharmor had protected Caina so far, but she tasted blood in her mouth and her body ached from the battering. Mihaela’s blows had left a dozen dents in the crimson steel, and Caina heard an ominous squealing noise every time she moved her arms. She had managed to land a dozen solid blows on Mihaela, but the black glypharmor had not slowed at all.
“It hurts,” whispered Ardasha, “it hurts so much.”
“We’re not finished yet,” said Caina, but her words sounded hollow.
Mihaela lunged at her, and Caina dodged away. One of the hieroglyphs on her legs sputtered, and for a moment she stumbled. Caina brought her arms up block the coming attack, but instead Mihaela stepped back, the black glypharmor’s stance radiating wariness.
Caina didn’t understand. If Mihaela had struck, she could have ended the fight then and there. Why hadn’t she pressed her advantage?
Mihaela took a step to the left, and Caina understood.
She was keeping herself between Caina and the Forge. She knew Caina would try to destroy the Forge. If Mihaela blocked the way, she would need only wear down Caina bit by bit.
But the Forge was perched right at the molten pool’s edge. The thing was enormous, but if Caina hit it hard enough, perhaps she could knock it into the metal.
“Yes,” murmured Ardasha, her voice trembling. “Yes, end it. Let me die. Please let me die at last.”
Caina feinted, throwing a palm strike at Mihaela’s face, followed by a sweeping kick for her legs. Mihaela jumped back, but the movement forced her to the left.
And it gave Caina the opening she needed.
She sprinted forward. Mihaela’s metal fingers raked at her shoulder plates, but Caina tore free, driven by Ardasha’s weakening fury and red glypharmor’s colossal mass. She barreled out of the Hall of Assembly and towards the Forge’s gleaming steel coffin.
“No!” shouted Mihaela, and Caina heard the thunder of her pursuit.
But she was too slow. Caina leaped, the power of her steel legs throwing her through the air like a catapult stone, and slammed into the Forge with all of Ardasha’s strength and the red glypharmor’s weight behind her.
The Forge clanged like a tremendous gong, its hieroglyphs pulsing with white fire. Fingers of blue-white lightning erupted from the hieroglyphs, pouring into the red glypharmor. Ardasha screamed in pain, and Caina heard herself screaming with her.
But the Forge began slide backwards into the molten pool. Caina strained against it, pushing with the red glypharmor’s arms. Just a little further…
“No!” shouted Mihaela, her footsteps growing closer.
And all at once Caina knew how she could destroy the Forge and defeat Mihaela.
It would only cost her life.
Well. She had died once already today. What was one more time?
Caina whirled, her back against the tottering Forge as Mihaela sprang for her, hands reaching for her helmet.
She reached out, seized Mihaela’s shoulders, and pulled the black glypharmor towards her even as Mihaela’s st
eel fingers wrapped around her helmet. Mihaela’s own momentum drove her forward, slamming Caina against the Forge.
The Forge toppled backwards into the molten pool, Caina on top of the closed steel coffin, Mihaela pinning her in place.
“Damn you!” shrieked Mihaela, her steel hands closing around Caina’s helmet. “Damn you, damn you, damn you!”
The Forge’s hieroglyphs sputtered and flared, shooting sparks into the molten steel. Even through the red glypharmor, Caina felt the heat radiating from the liquid metal. Mihaela snarled and tried to pull away, but Caina gripped her shoulders, pinning her in place. This horror ended now. The Forge would burn, Mihaela would burn, and Caina would burn with them, but it was worth it if she could stop Mihaela …
“No!”
Ardasha’s voice rang in Caina’s head like a trumpet.
“No! I am dead. I am already dead!” said Ardasha. “But you still live. Go, Balargiar! Look after Shaizid, I beg you.” The dead woman’s voice grew hard. “I will break Mihaela’s precious Forge!”
The red glypharmor’s cuirass swung open, the helmet sliding back. The heat exploded over Caina in a torrent, and her awareness of the red glypharmor and Ardasha's presence drained away. Above her she saw the black glypharmor swinging open, saw Mihaela’s furious face as she clawed her way free.
“Go!” said Ardasha, her voice fading from the inside of Caina’s head.
Caina scrambled to her feet and raced across the rocking steel coffin, the heat searing her face and filling her lungs with pain. Mihaela stumbled after her, snarling and spitting in fury. Caina reached the edge of the Forge and jumped, the molten metal rippling beneath her. For a terrible moment she thought she would plunge into the liquid steel.
But she struck the edge of the pool and rolled across the cracked stone floor, coughing and wheezing from the heat.
Mihaela landed next to her. Caina got to one knee, reaching for her remaining throwing knives, but Mihaela was faster. The rod of a Sage glimmered in her hand, and invisible force slammed into Caina and pinned her against the floor.
The Ghosts Omnibus: The Kyracian War Page 90
