Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  The faint sound of a child’s laughter would not have come to her ears otherwise.

  Caina froze. Laughter seemed so out of place in this hellish pit that she wondered if it had been in her imagination, or if her mind had snapped from the horrors. But, no, there it was again. Caina resumed walking, listening. She passed the door Jadriga had entered. Further down the black corridor she found another door, massive and thick, banded with black iron. It didn’t look all that old. She reached out, tried the handle, and found it locked.

  This was folly. She ought to find a way to escape. But the laughter had been so out of place. Her instincts screamed that something important lay behind that door, something that she had to see.

  Caina made up her mind. She drew the rune-marked key from her belt, thrust it into the doorway, and turned. The lock released with a click, and the door swung open.

  And to her surprise, Caina found herself in a pleasant sitting room.

  It lacked the opulence of Agria Palaegus’s home, but was comfortable nonetheless. Her boots sank into a thick carpet. Couches and chairs stood scattered around the room. Glass spheres provided warm light, unlike the ghostly blue glow of the black corridors. Was this Jadriga’s living quarters? Somehow Caina doubted it. She suspected comfort meant nothing to Jadriga.

  She heard another laugh, and the murmur of a woman’s voice. It came from an open door on the far side of the sitting room. Caina crossed the room, keeping her footfalls silent, and peered through the door. It opened into a small library, the shelves lined with books. A woman in a black dress sat in a chair, a boy of four or five years in her lap. Another boy, this one about ten, sat at her feet. All three were pale, as if they had not seen the sun in a long time. The woman was speaking in Szaldic, and it sounded as if she was telling a story. Both boys laughed again, the younger one’s head turning. He had gray eyes, eyes the color of steel. They looked familiar. In fact…

  Ark’s eyes.

  Caina stared at him in shock.

  They looked exactly like Ark’s eyes.

  No. It wasn’t possible.

  The older boy saw her, and before she could react, he scrambled to his feet in alarm. The woman stood up, clutching the younger boy tight, while the older boy stepped behind her.

  “Who are you?” said the woman in Caerish with a strong Szaldic accent, staring at the silver dagger in Caina’s hand. “If you are one of Lord Icaraeus’s men, then the Moroaica will have your head for entering this room. You are frightening the children. Leave at once.”

  The woman was five or six years older than Caina, no more than twenty-seven at the most. She had long black hair, large blue eyes ringed in dark circles, and a face strained with fear and worry. She stood perhaps six inches taller, but other than that, she looked a lot like Caina. Remarkably so, in fact.

  And Ark had hated Caina when they first met, because she reminded him of his dead wife…

  Caina lowered the dagger. This was impossible. Ark’s wife and son were dead. The ship that had attacked Hruzac had never arrived at any port, Halfdan and Tigrane had said so.

  But Tigrane had only said that he didn’t know what had happened to the ship…

  “Tanya?” said Caina, scarce able to believe it.

  “How do you know my name? Who are you?” said the woman. “Speak! Or I shall call for…”

  “No!” said Caina. “No, don’t. I serve neither Icaraeus nor Jadriga. I’m a friend of Ark’s.”

  “Who?” said the woman.

  “Arcion, of Caer Maerist,” said Caina. “A retired centurion of the Eighteenth Legion.” She hesitated. “Your husband.”

  The woman looked as if she had been slapped, and Caina knew that she had guessed right. Tanya fell back into the chair, clutching at the child. Her son, Caina realized, her son and Ark’s.

  “Arcion’s alive?” Tanya whispered at last. “But…but that’s not…they told me they killed him, that he fought back and they killed him.”

  “No,” said Caina. “He’s alive.” At least, she hoped he was. If he had gotten killed after she had left him… “He was hunting when Icaraeus attacked Hruzac. He got back, found the village destroyed. He joined the Emperor’s Ghosts to find you. But know one knew what had happened to you. Everyone thought the ship had been sunk…”

  “It was,” said Tanya, her voice still numb. Both children stared at Caina warily. “After we were taken here, Icaraeus killed the crew and scuttled the ship. The Moroaica ordered him to do it. She didn’t want anyone to find their way here.” She began to blink. “He’s alive? Truly?”

  Caina nodded. “I saw him this very night. He’s here, in Marsis.”

  Tanya began to weep, shook her head, and scrubbed the tears away. Caina caught a glimpse of the strength that must have allowed the woman to survive the last five years. “But…who are you? You said Arcion joined the Ghosts. Then you must be a Ghost.”

  “I am,” said Caina, reaching up to draw back her cowl. “My name is…”

  “No!” said Tanya, alarm flashing across her face. “No, stop. I’m a fool. Stop!”

  Caina froze. “Why?”

  “That shadow-woven cloak,” said Tanya. “The Moroaica told me about cloaks like that. So long as you wear it, she cannot sense your thoughts, cannot invade your mind. If you take off that cowl, she’ll know you’re here at once. She’ll kill you. And if you tell me your name, she might pull it from my mind.”

  “I understand,” said Caina. “We have to go. Icaraeus and his men are guarding the main stairs. Do you know another way out? Jadriga is still resting from…from the butchery in the pit chamber. If…”

  “No,” said Tanya. “No! We cannot leave. The Moroaica has placed spells upon us. If we leave this apartment, she’ll know at once. She won’t kill Nicolai for it.” She held her son a little tighter. “She might not kill me for it. But she will most certainly kill you, and probably Peter as well.”

  “Peter?” repeated Caina, looking at the older boy. All at once she saw the resemblance. “You’re…the innkeeper’s son, aren’t you? Zorgi and Katerine.”

  “You…know my mother and father, sir?” said the boy. He even sounded like a younger version of Zorgi. “The Moroaica told me that my parents were dead, that I had to stay here.”

  Caina gave her head a sharp shake. “They’re alive. I saw them a few nights past. Katerine insisted that you were taken by the Moroaica. I should have listened to her. I…”

  She stared at Tanya. Her mind worked through the shock of finding Ark’s dead wife here. All the other slaves were chained in the outer chamber, left to sit motionless in puddles of their own waste. Yet Tanya, Nicolai, and Peter lived here in relative comfort, with no chains save Jadriga’s spells upon them.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” said Tanya, her soft voice cutting into Caina’s thoughts.

  “Do you?” said Caina. “You have the power to invade another’s mind?”

  “I have no sorcery,” said Tanya. “You’re thinking that I’m one of the Moroaica’s pets, like Lady Palaegus and the others. Which is why I have these comfortable rooms.” She shook her head. “You misunderstand. These rooms are not for me. They’re for my son.”

  “Your son?” said Caina.

  “Icaraeus did not attack Hruzac at random,” said Tanya. “The Moroaica sent him there to claim my son.”

  “But why?” said Caina. “Forgive me, but…what is so special about your son? Ark is a valiant man, but he is only a retired centurion, and you…”

  “Are only a Szaldic peasant woman from Hruzac,” said Tanya. “We are not the kind of people the Moroaica would care about. But my great-grandfather was. He was one of the last of the Solmonari, the magician-priests of the Szaldic nation.”

  Caina looked at Nicolai. “And that makes your son special. At least to Jadriga.”

  Tanya nodded.

  “Why?” said Caina. “Are you Solmonari yourself?”

  “No,” said Tanya. “They almost all were killed before the Szalds fled
into the Empire, and old age and the Magisterium killed those who were left. But my great-grandfather passed some of his lore, the stories of the Szalds, to my grandfather, who passed it onto my father, who then passed it to me.”

  “Lore,” said Caina. “Stories. Ark said that you knew many of the old Szaldic stories and legends.”

  “Did…did Arcion speak of me often?” said Tanya.

  “No,” said Caina. “It was too painful for him. He blamed himself for what happened to you and Nicolai.” In fact, Caina realized, he had never mentioned the name of his infant son. If Tanya was a painful subject for him…then the name of his infant son must have been agony.

  “I blamed myself, too,” said Tanya, voice bitter. “My blood. My lineage. That was what the Moroaica wanted.”

  “But that doesn’t answer the question,” said Caina. “Why does Jadriga want your son?”

  “Because she is the Moroaica,” said Tanya.

  “But what does that mean?” said Caina. “Is she truly the Moroaica of legend?”

  “No,” said Tanya. “But she inspired the legend of the Moroaica, of that I have no doubt.”

  “She inspired the legend?” said Caina. “But the legend has to be thousands of years old.”

  Tanya nodded, her eyes full of fear.

  “Then who is she, truly?” said Caina. “What is she?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tanya. “But she likes to…talk to me, sometimes. Or she is really talking to herself, and forgets that I am here. She rambles, and I think she has told me more than she intended. She speaks of battles and disasters that happened thousands of years ago as if she saw them firsthand. Sometimes she calls herself ‘Jadriga’, but I do not know if that is truly her name. It only means ‘warrior queen’ or ‘lady of war’ in the ancient Szaldic tongue. Other times she calls herself the Moroaica. She claims to have been a student of the last of the Great Necromancers of ancient Maat, the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, in the centuries before the Empire. Neither steel nor cold iron nor ghostsilver can do permanent harm to her. And the power of her sorcery is immense. She can twist and shape the minds of others at her whim, and pull their inmost secrets from their thoughts, and she can kill a dozen men with a single crook of her finger. And her students have caused chaos and misery for centuries.”

  “What does such a creature want with your son?” said Caina.

  “His blood,” said Tanya. Nicolai buried his face in her shoulder, and Peter stood close. “The blood of a male descendant of a Solmonari. She needs it for the Opening of the Way.”

  “I heard her mention that,” said Caina. “What is it?”

  “A ritual. A spell,” said Tanya. “It will free the thing imprisoned in the pit below Black Angel Tower.”

  “The thing?” said Caina. She remembered the horrible sense of presence radiating from the pit. “You mean the stories are true? There is a fallen angel imprisoned under the tower?”

  Tanya nodded.

  “But why would Jadriga want to free such a thing?” said Caina. “Does she worship it?”

  “No,” said Tanya. “The Moroaica worships nothing but herself. She wants to make it her slave, to pull it into her body, to use its power to augment her own.”

  “Is that even possible?” said Caina.

  “No,” said Tanya. “It is not. It will destroy her, and then it will be free to do as it pleases.” She took a shuddering breath. “And she is mistaken about something else. The legends are wrong, but the Solmonari knew the truth. There is not just one fallen angel imprisoned in the pit, there are many. Hundreds of them. They are legion.” Caina remembered the creature wearing her mother's face in her dream and shuddered. “They will be loosed into the world, free to roam wherever they please. But before that…”

  “That’s bad enough. What will happen before that?” said Caina.

  “My son’s blood will act as a catalyst,” said Tanya. “Immense power is needed to open the prison, and the spell will draw that power to itself by draining the life from every living thing for five miles in all directions. It will most certainly kill everyone in Marsis.”

  “That’s monstrous,” said Caina.

  Tanya nodded.

  “Surely she must know that the fallen angels will destroy her,” said Caina.

  Tanya shook her head. “As powerful as she is, as cruelly wise, in some things she is a fool. I think…I think that she has lived for so long, that she has such power at her command, that she has destroyed so many of her enemies, that she can no longer even conceive of failure. And she knows that the Opening of the Way will kill all of Marsis. But she doesn’t care. She thinks she can survive the release of energies, and the lives of the people living in the city mean nothing to her.”

  “When we will she cast the Opening of the Way?” said Caina.

  “I don’t know,” said Tanya. “Soon. The slaves…she slaughters them in the pit chamber. The blood of murdered innocents prepares the way, weakens the chains binding the fallen angels. My son’s blood is the final key, and she is almost ready. She told me that my service would be over soon. Another month, perhaps. Probably less.”

  “Your service?” said Caina, and then she understood. “That’s why she kept you alive, isn’t it? To care for Nicolai, since I doubt Jadriga could be bothered to do it herself.”

  Tanya nodded. “You don’t…you don’t know what it’s been like. To feed and care for my son, knowing that I was raising him for the Moroaica’s dagger.” She shook a little with the words. “Yet he is my son. How could I do otherwise?”

  “Why did she kidnap Peter?” said Caina.

  Tanya’s mouth twisted. “So Nicolai could have some company. The Moroaica is planning to murder my son, yet she felt it would be cruel to raise him without friends. So she will kill both Peter and myself, once she no longer needs us. Or perhaps she won’t even bother, since the Opening of the Way will kill us anyway.”

  “Not unless I find a way to stop her,” said Caina.

  Tanya shook her head, blue eyes full of pain. “You can’t stop her. No one can stop her. She is too powerful. We’ll die here, all of us. And so will you, if you linger. Go. Please, go now. I beg you, take Arcion and get out of Marsis before it is too late. Please, save him from this.”

  “Once Ark knows you’re here, he’ll rip down the walls if he has to,” said Caina.

  “No,” said Tanya. “You cannot tell him. You have to get him out of Marsis…”

  Her eyes went wide, her face tight with alarm.

  “What is it?” said Caina.

  “The Moroaica is coming,” said Tanya. “We can feel it.” Peter shied into the corner, and Nicolai began to cry. “You must run! Go!”

  “Is there another way out?” said Caina. “Icaraeus’s men are guarding the stairs.”

  “I don’t know,” said Tanya. “But there might be. The mercenaries throw the corpses into a shaft at the end of the corridor. It smells of salt brine. I think it might open towards the harbor. It…no, too late! She is here! You have to hide! If she sees you…”

  Caina needed no further encouragement. She whirled and ran into the carpeted sitting room. After three steps she heard the rattle of a key in the lock. Alarmed, she dove behind a couch in the corner, tucking herself between the wall and the furniture.

  The door swung open, and Jadriga, the Moroaica, entered the room. She was wrapped in a simple red robe, her hair wet, the black paint scrubbed from her face. Again Caina felt the aura of sorcerous power around the woman, like pins jabbing into her skin. She tightened her grip upon the ghostsilver dagger, mind racing. Yes, Jadriga commanded crushing arcane power. But so long as Caina wore the shadow-woven cloak, Jadriga could not sense her thoughts. And Caina doubted that Jadriga could cast spells if her throat had filled with blood.

  One blow. One solid blow. That was all it would take.

  “Tanya, my child,” said Jadriga in that calm voice. “Come here.”

  Tanya entered the sitting room, her face a mask, Nicolai riding
in her arms. Peter stood behind her, staring at Jadriga with frightened eyes.

  “Honored Moroaica,” said Tanya, her voice wintry.

  “Ah,” said Jadriga. A flicker of a smile passed her lips, but her eyes remained like black gems. “How I admire your defiance. Even after five years, you still resist. You are limited, small…and yet your pain has made you strong within your limits.”

  “I am so pleased to have your approval,” said Tanya.

  “Do you remember when I first brought you here?” said Jadriga. “You spent weeks sharpening that silver spoon into a knife, and you plunged it into my heart. Then you took your son and ran.”

  “How could I forget?” said Tanya. “You didn’t let me go ten steps. And then you punished me. For weeks.”

  Caina looked at the dagger clenched in her hand.

  So much for that.

  “You didn’t understand that weapons, mere weapons, cannot hurt me,” said Jadriga. “Not then. Now you are wiser. And I inflicted such pain upon you that your mind should have shattered…yet your defiance remains unbroken. It is a pity you have no talent for sorcery. You would have made a far more capable student than the circle of chattering fools I have gathered from Marsis. Captivity such as you have endured would break them.”

  “We can agree on something,” said Tanya.

  “Oh, my brave child,” said Jadriga. “How strong you have been. But soon you shall have the chance to rest. Soon your pain will come to an end.”

  “What do you mean?” said Tanya.

  “For years now I have poured the blood of the innocent into the great dark one’s prison,” said Jadriga. “For years I have weakened the chains binding him. And now, at last…I am ready for the key. The Way at last can be Opened.”

  Tanya stared at her. “No.”

  “Yes,” whispered Jadriga. “The chains have been weakened, the forces are in balance. Tomorrow night, at midnight. The blood of the Solmonari will fall upon the chains. They shall shatter. And then I shall forge new chains to bind the great dark one, and I shall make him my slave. His power shall become my power.” Jadriga closed her ancient eyes and shivered. “And then…the powers I will have at my command…”