Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  The pit…the pit looked different.

  The crawling shadows had swollen, and now filled the pit like a vortex of polluted water. From time to time tentacles of shadow, like coiling ropes of smoke, lashed out, stopped only by the force of the warding sigils. A steady rumbling groan echoed through the chamber, rising and falling with the cadence of Jadriga’s voice.

  The sheer malevolence, the sheer power, radiating from the pit made Caina tremble. How could Jadriga possibly think to control such creatures? Dread flooded through her. Jadriga was bad enough. The things stirring in the pit were even worse.

  But Jadriga’s back was to Caina. Between the cloak and Caina’s stealth, she hadn’t noticed anything.

  Caina lifted the crossbow and crept forward. She had never been as good with a bow as with a throwing knife, and she needed to get closer. Jadriga continued her thunderous chant, brandishing her black staff as she did so. Closer and closer Caina came, one step at a time.

  Now.

  She took a deep breath, lifted the bow, and squeezed the first of the two triggers. The weapon jerked, the stock slamming hard against her shoulder. She’d been aiming for Jadriga’s heart. Instead the first poisoned quarrel slammed into Jadriga’s back, just above her hip, pinning the crimson cloak in place.

  Jadriga’s chant ended in a startled gasp, and she stumbled, grabbing at one of the pillars for support. Caina raised the bow and aimed again. Jadriga shoved off the pillar and whirled to face Caina, black eyes narrowed. She raised her hand, green fire crackling around her fingers.

  Caina just had time to throw herself out of the way. An instant later a rippling distortion of the air exploded from Jadriga’s hand. It tore past Caina with incredible speed, howling like a gale. It slammed into the wall with such force that the floor trembled, that the entire chamber ringing like a bell. If it had struck Caina, it would have torn to her to shreds. It could have torn all of Hiram’s and Ducas’s men to shreds.

  Agria hadn’t been able to do anything like that.

  Caina rolled to one knee, bringing the bow up. Jadriga pivoted to follow her, hand gesturing for another spell. Caina braced the bow and fired. This time the quarrel slammed into Jadriga’s chest, just below her left breast. Again Jadriga groaned, and she fell to one knee, breathing hard. Her pale skin had taken an unhealthy gray tinge beneath the swirling black paint. The poison. It might not have killed her outright, but it was affecting her.

  And blood, not smoke, pumped from the wounds.

  Jadriga hadn’t bothered to ward herself against steel.

  Caina flung aside the bow and raced towards the pit as Jadriga staggered to her feet. Caina yanked free a throwing knife and flung it. The blade ripped a gash in Jadriga’s arm. Again she threw a knife, and again, one blade plunging into Jadriga’s thigh, another tearing a crimson line across her jaw. Jadriga staggered with the impacts, finally leaning against one of the pillars for support, and raised her hand for another spell.

  The next knife buried itself in the center of Jadriga’s outthrust palm.

  Jadriga just had time to hiss in pain, and then Caina slammed into her. Her free hand yanked the poisoned ghostsilver dagger from her belt, reversed it, and drove it into Jadriga’s throat. The black eyes went wide with pain, blood bubbling from her mouth, lips peeled back from her bloodstained teeth in a snarl.

  It should have been over. Jadriga had taken enough wounds to kill any normal woman, and enough poison to kill a dozen. Yet her eyes still blazed with pain and wrath, and somehow she still remained on her feet. She thrust out her undamaged hand, slamming it into Caina’s chest, and the surge of power came. Force hammered out, flinging Caina back. She hit the ground hard a dozen paces away and rolled, coming to a stop just in time to see Jadriga wrench the ghostsilver dagger from her throat. Caina snatched another knife from her belt and flung it. Jadriga fluttered her fingers, and the knife shattered in midair, twisted splinters raining upon the floor.

  The wound in Jadriga’s throat began to shrink, the torn skin knitting itself closed of its own accord. Caina drew the daggers from her boots and raced at Jadriga. Again Jadriga waved her hand, and again invisible force struck into Caina. This time it flung her into the air, spinning her like a top. Caina hit the ground with bone-jarring force and rolled. She managed to stop her tumble and stagger back to her feet, every muscle aching, the room spinning around her.

  The wound in Jadriga’s throat had vanished, leaving only a livid pink scar.

  “Enough,” said Jadriga, her voice rusty, but recognizable.

  Caina ran at her, daggers ready.

  Jadriga flicked a finger. This time the unseen power seized Caina and lifted her into the air. The daggers disintegrated into dust in her hands. The invisible power held Caina pinned in midair, her arms and legs spread out. She struggled, but it was like struggling against a mountain.

  “Enough,” said Jadriga, her voice smoother this time. She yanked the throwing knife from her thigh and tossed it aside without expression. Blood gushed from the wound, which began to close at once. Jadriga beckoned, and Caina floated towards her.

  A ghost of an icy smile flickered across Jadriga’s lips. “Caina? Yes, of course. That cloak explains why I couldn’t hear your thoughts. And only you would have had the courage to challenge me in person.”

  “This is folly,” said Caina. “Your spell will release not one but hundreds of fallen angels. You cannot possibly control one, let alone all of them. They will destroy you.”

  “Ah. You spoke to Tanya, I see,” said Jadriga. She grimaced and wrenched the crossbow quarrel free from her chest. It made a mess. “She only parrots the faded lies of the extinct Solmonari.” Caina wrenched against the invisible restraints, hoping that the pain would make Jadriga’s will waver, but the spell did not so much as tremble. “The Solmonari were weak, fearful of that which they could not possibly understand.”

  “The Opening of the Way will kill thousands,” said Caina.

  Jadriga shrugged. “They are of no concern.” She looked at the writhing pit and sighed. “It may please you to know that the Opening of the Way will not happen, not now. The spell is difficult and delicate, and when you shot me in the back you disrupted my concentration.” She shook her head. “Five years of work, ruined.”

  Caina felt a wave of relief. Whatever else happened, the fallen angels would not escape. The Opening of the Way would not kill thousands. And Nicolai would not die. Ark and Tanya would get their son back.

  Assuming Jadriga did not kill everyone out of spite.

  “I suppose Naelon is dead?” said Jadriga, glancing back towards the archway.

  “And Agria, as well,” said Caina.

  “Incompetent fools,” said Jadriga. She sighed again. “I asked them to make sure no one disturbed me. No one. And they could not even manage that. Fools and weaklings. Messana and Vorena would not even fight. They are hiding in Tanya’s old rooms, waiting for me to save them. Weaklings, and cravens beside. I should leave them here for your friends.” She took a deep breath and yanked out the second quarrel. The wound from the first one had almost vanished. “Ah, but that hurts. It is well that you and I know how to endure pain.” She shook her head. “You know, it has been centuries since someone confronted me to my face so boldly. And even longer since anyone wounded me as badly.”

  “I’m so glad I impressed you,” said Caina through gritted teeth. She wondered vaguely why Jadriga hadn’t killed her already.

  “You should be,” said Jadriga, looking again at the archway. “My business here is at an end. The Opening of the Way is broken, and it would take years to prepare again. Undoubtedly the Ghosts have killed most of Naelon's organization, and obtaining replacement slaves would be inconvenient. And no doubt the Ghosts will keep careful watch over Black Angel Tower in the future. You brought Legionaries, I see.” She shook her head. “I should kill them all…but perhaps not. Dread and rumor can be as useful a defense as a shield, eh? How the Szalds will whisper about the Moroaica! But what a
waste this entire effort has been. Still, there is one consolation in it for me.”

  “What’s that?” said Caina.

  Jadriga smiled. “You.”

  “What?” said Caina.

  “You understand pain,” said Jadriga. “You were strong enough and clever enough to disrupt the Opening of the Way. Brave enough to confront me in the flesh. You will make a most worthy student.”

  “But I’ll never learn from you,” said Caina.

  “Dear child,” said Jadriga. “Do you think I’m going to give you a choice?”

  Caina felt a wave of panic. She had accepted that she might die. She had accepted that she might die in considerable pain. But she had never thought Jadriga might choose to enslave her, might decide to warp her into someone like Agria Palaegus.

  “Is that what you did to Agria and the others?” said Caina, struggling against her invisible bonds.

  “Of course not,” said Jadriga. The last of her wounds vanished, and she walked towards Caina. “They came to me of their own will. And you will, too. Once I am done with you.”

  “No,” said Caina.

  “Yes,” said Jadriga. She reached up and drew back Caina’s cowl. “All it will take is a little rearranging of your mind and thoughts. There will be considerable pain, but you are strong enough to endure it.” She pulled away Caina’s mask and tossed it aside. “And deny it all you wish, but in your heart, you want this. I will teach you how to become so strong that no one can ever harm you again. Anything you desire shall be yours. Even any man, if you desire companionship. And I can show you how to heal your scars so that you might bear children, strong sons and beautiful daughters.”

  Caina did want that. Especially the last part. She wanted it very much. But she remembered Vorena standing over her son’s body, bloody dagger in hand, remembered the slaves sitting with blank looks on their faces, remembered Zorgi and Katerine weeping for their lost son.

  “No,” said Caina. “Get away from me.”

  Jadriga shook her head. “My child. It is not as if you have a choice.”

  She reached up and touched cool fingers to Caina’s forehead. Caina tried to push away, tried to punch or kick, but the irresistible force of Jadriga’s sorcery held her fast. Then she felt the surge of power, and Jadriga’s will plunged into Caina’s mind like an iron spike.

  Caina screamed. The force of Jadriga’s will ripped into her head, a hand of cold steel closing about her thoughts. Caina tried to fight, tried to resist away the mental assault, but Jadriga was simply too strong. To her horror, she could see into Jadriga’s mind, glimpsed the other woman’s thoughts. Memories ancient and iron-hard, drenched in the blood of uncounted thousands.

  “Give in, child,” murmured Jadriga, her palm pressing against Caina’s forehead. “It will simply be easier that way.”

  Caina screamed and screamed, the room blurring as her focus and her thoughts unraveled. She heard Jadriga’s voice thundering inside her skull.

  And then another voice.

  Lydia’s voice.

  No!

  Jadriga’s eyes widened in sudden alarm.

  Lydia’s shade stood between them, and then the specter plunged into Jadriga’s chest. Jadriga reeled back with a strangled shriek. Her mental presence vanished, and Caina fell to the floor in a heap. She clawed back to her feet, dizzy and reeling from Jadriga’s mental assault.

  You killed me!

  Jadriga herself staggered back, eyes bulging, face twisted in pain, palms pressed to her temples. She looked as if she was locked in some brutal internal struggle. It was Lydia, Caina realized. Jadriga had lowered her mental defenses to invade Caina’s mind, leaving her vulnerable to Lydia’s attack.

  You ruined my mother!

  And it was Caina’s last chance.

  She reached down, snatched up the bloodstained ghostsilver dagger, and sprang at Jadriga. Jadriga raised her hands to cast a spell, but Lydia had distracted her too much, and Caina was too fast. She crashed into Jadriga, driving her back, her arm pumping and driving the blade into her chest again and again. Blood splashed, and Jadriga fell back, grabbing at a pillar for support, stumbling over the green warding sigils.

  You will not hurt her!

  Jadriga howled, and thrust out her arm. Power hammered out, caught Caina in the stomach, and flung her to the floor. Jadriga’s eyes blazed, and she lifted her hand, green light crackling around her fingertips.

  Behind her, the pit began to boil.

  Jadriga frowned, looked to the side. Blood trickled down her arm, falling to the floor. It oozed past the glowing sigils in a steady stream.

  Drop by drop, her blood trickled into the pit.

  And tentacles of shadow rose from the depths.

  Jadriga whirled in alarm, the green fire around her fingers brightening. But it was too late. The shadow-tentacles wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her torso, binding her legs together. Jadriga tried to fight, tried to break free, tried to cast a spell, but it was useless.

  The fallen angels were too strong for her, just as Tanya had warned.

  Then the tentacles contracted, dragging Jadriga towards the pit. She screamed once, grabbed at the edge of the pit, tumbled over the broken edge, and vanished. Harsh red light flared from the pit’s depths, and the chamber shuddered and groaned.

  And then silence. The tentacles vanished, and the sense of malevolence slowly faded. The warding sigils around the pit winked out one by one. Caina climbed to her feet, her body aching, her head pounding, and limped to the edge of the pit.

  Deep in its depths, she saw the hellish light, felt the distance presence of a powerful, hateful force. But it was far away.

  The fallen angels were secure in their prison.

  And Jadriga was with them.

  Caina turned away.

  Lydia Palaegus stood behind her, no longer sorrowing, a smile lighting her face. Her father stood behind her, hand resting on her shoulder. Other shades stood behind them, hundreds, thousands, filling the chamber. All of them smiling, all of them at peace.

  The shades of Jadriga’s victims, Caina realized. The unavenged dead. Or, rather, the newly avenged dead.

  Thank you.

  “Our deaths have not been in vain,” said Lord Martin Palaegus, his voice thin and wavering. He stooped and picked up his daughter. “Terrible evil has been averted. Millions yet unborn would have suffered, if the Moroaica had opened the great prison.”

  “I thought…” said Caina. “I thought you stayed because you had been murdered, because you were unavenged…”

  “No,” said Lord Palaegus. “To stop the Moroaica. That is why we stayed. To stop the evil she would have done. And you have stopped her. Thank you.”

  “No, thank you,” said Caina, shaking her head. “I would have died here, if not for Lydia. And Jadriga would have twisted me into a creature like her, if not for Lydia. Thank you.” She looked at the thousands of specters with something like awe. “Farewell.”

  Farewell.

  “Until we meet again,” said Lord Palaegus, “in the green country where strength does not fade and the tree does not wither.”

  Lydia lifted her hand and smiled. The shades wavered, shimmering like mirages caught in the sun. And then they were gone. The chamber was empty and dark, the only light coming from the massive braziers in the walls, and the faint bloody glow in the pit.

  It was over. It was finally over. Caina could not remember the last time she had been so tired.

  But there was still work to do.

  Caina retrieved her mask and cloak, collected her remaining weapons from the floor, and walked to the stone slab. Nicolai lay there, untouched from the fury of the battle. Caina unlocked the collar from his neck and threw it away. Nicolai drew in a shuddering breath and looked up, panic his eyes.

  “Mother?” he said. “No! I…I…” He frowned. “You’re not the Moroaica. You’re the man my mother met yesterday.”

  “Yes,” said Caina. “The Moroaica is dead. And your mother
and father are waiting for you.”

  Nicolai’s eyes widened. “But…my father. My father is dead. He died when I was a baby.”

  Caina shook her head, too tired to argue, and scooped the child up in her arms. Nicolai made no effort to resist. She carried him out of the pit chamber, past the room of numb-faced slaves. She would return for them soon enough. The corridor’s black walls were now smooth and dark, the green light gone. Ark lay slumped against the wall, Tanya at his side, clutching one of his hands in both of hers.

  Tanya scrambled to her feet as Caina approached. Ark tried to stand, failed, and settled for drawing his sword.

  “Caina?” said Tanya. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Nicolai?”

  “He’s fine,” said Caina, passing the child to Tanya. She sagged to the ground, staring at her son in shock.

  “And…and the Moroaica?” said Tanya.

  “Dead,” said Caina.

  Or close to it, at least.

  “I don’t…I don’t…” whispered Tanya. She was crying. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it. This…this has to be a dream. You couldn’t have killed the Moroaica…it’s not…it’s not possible…”

  “It is,” said Caina. “You have your son and husband back. You’re free.”

  Tanya clutched Nicolai and began to sob. Ark dragged himself to their side, caught both his wife and his son in his arms. There were tears on his face, she saw, on that hard, cold face. She had seen him in rage, in pain, in grief.

  But she had never seen him cry. Not even once.

  “Thank you,” said Ark.

  Caina grinned behind her mask, and went to help pry the portcullis open.

  Chapter 26 - Reunion

  As it happened, it took close to three hours, not one, to hammer an opening in the massive portcullis. In the end Ducas dispatched some men back to the barracks to retrieve hammers and crowbars, and only then did they at last force an opening. The Legionaries swarmed into the corridor, following Hiram’s and Ducas’s shouted orders. More than one of the dead mercenaries had carried rune keys, and the Legionaries set to work freeing the slaves.