"Come, come, little Ghosts," crooned Ikhana, beckoning with the dagger. "Do you know how many of your kind I have slain over the centuries? Come and die!"
"You talk too much," said Caina, letting the shadow-cloak billow loose over her shoulders.
She risked a glance at Riogan, saw him nod.
"Very well," said Ikhana, and she leapt at Caina.
Caina dodged the flame-wreathed dagger. Ikhana was fast, faster than Riogan, faster than Akragas. Caina blocked one stab, deflected another, dodged a third. Still Ikhana came, dagger moving faster than a serpent's tongue. Caina twisted to the side, cross-stepped...
...and let her billowing cloak slam into Ikhana's face.
Ikhana hissed, clawing the cloak aside. It only delayed her for a second, but it was enough. Riogan lunged forward, the ghostsilver spear plunging into Ikhana's belly. Ikhana howled in fury, falling upon her back as the spear pinned her to the ground. Caina kicked the black dagger from Ikhana's grasp, and its green flames winked out.
She looked around for more enemies, but the battle was over. Tomard and the militiamen had killed most of the slavers, and the few survivors had surrendered.
"Gods," muttered Riogan, still gripping the spear's shaft. "If I'd known she could fight like that, I would have had Halfdan make this damn thing into a crossbow bolt."
"But what if you missed?" said Caina.
Riogan grunted and started to pull out the spear.
"No!" said Caina. "Don't finish her. Not yet." She looked at Ikhana as Halfdan joined them. "Where is Maglarion?"
Ikhana laughed. Despite the spear buried in her belly, she showed no pain. "Not here, fool. As you can see."
"But he is beaten nonetheless," said Halfdan. He stooped over Ikhana and pulled something from her belt. A metal flask, and from the sudden crawling chill Caina felt, no doubt filled with plagueblood. "He will not poison the aqueduct, and he will not grow strong on the lives of the innocent."
"Is that what you think?" said Ikhana, and she laughed again. "That this was about the aqueduct? Fool, fool. Ever and always, you Ghosts are fools."
A flash of light came from the south, followed a few seconds later by the rumble of thunder. The storm, Caina realized. The storm the master magi had conjured for Maglarion.
She stared at the aqueduct, the water pouring through it.
Water...
"Perhaps you should be more forthcoming," said Riogan, giving the spear a push.
Ikhana laughed again. "Kill me, if you wish. The Master will only raise me up to serve him once more. He has more power than you know. And soon he will have more power than you can imagine. He shall be a god, and I shall be his right hand, to slay forevermore in his name."
"I doubt that," said Halfdan. "Maglarion treats his servants as tools, to be cast aside when they fail. And you failed, didn't you?" He lifted the flask of plagueblood. "He will not trouble himself over you, unless he kills you to cover his tracks. So I suggest you make this easier on yourself."
Ikhana sneered and said nothing.
Caina listened with only half an ear. Instead she stared south, to the storm clouds rolling in from the Bay of Empire. Lightning flashed and crackled, illuminating the clouds. A massive storm, one that would unleash torrents of rain upon Malarae, over the entire city...
The realization felt like a knife plunging into her skull.
"Oh, gods," she whispered.
Halfdan frowned at her, as did Riogan.
"The storm," said Caina. "He's going to poison the storm itself. That's why he had the magi conjure it. He's going to mix the plagueblood into the rain. He'll kill everyone in Malarae."
Her mind reeled. There were a million people in Malarae. Maybe a million and a quarter, with the crowds for the Grand Kyracian Games. How many slaves had Maglarion fed into his bloodcrystal over the last seven years? A few hundred? A few thousand? That much stolen life had given him the ability to heal mortal wounds in a matter of seconds.
And if a few thousand innocent lives had given him that ability, what kind of powers would he draw from the energies of a million stolen lives?
It made sense. Horrible, horrible sense.
"Yes," hissed Ikhana, eyes glittering. "The Master will transform the storm into a rain of plagueblood. He will kill everyone in Malarae. A million lives, snuffed out at once. The necromantic power released shall be vast beyond reckoning...and the Master shall draw it into his great bloodcrystal. The power will transform him. He will leave mortal flesh behind, to live as pure spirit, as pure power, forevermore." She laughed, high and wild. "He shall be as a god."
"We'd best get away from Malarae, now," said Riogan.
"No!" said Halfdan. "We must stop him."
"And how shall we do that?" said Riogan. "Maglarion could be anywhere in the city. We'll never find him in time to stop the spell. Best to get away with our own lives, now, while we still can. Why should we die with everyone else in Malarae?"
Everyone.
Caina thought of Theodosia, of Julia, of the stagehands at the Grand Imperial Opera, of Julia's maids and servants, of the nobles and merchants, of the teeming crowds she had seen every day in Malarae, of the uncounted thousands who lived in the city, filling it with noise and stink and life.
Dead. All of them.
"No," she said. "I know where Maglarion is."
They looked at her.
"Lord Haeron's mansion," said Caina. "I felt something there, some concentration of necromantic power. It must be the bloodcrystal he'll use to trap all those lives. It's there, in Lord Haeron's mansion. If we go now we might still make it in time."
“Madness,” said Riogan.
“Come or not, I don’t care,” said Caina. “But I will not let Maglarion kill everyone in Malarae.” She held out her hand. “If you’re not going to come, then at least give me the spear.”
Riogan stared at her for a moment, then growled a curse. “Fine! I’ll help you. Haeron Icaraeus’s life is mine. I can’t kill him if Maglarion does.”
“Go,” said Halfdan. “I can’t keep up with you two. I will send word to the Ghosts in the Imperial Guard, bid them send every available man to Haeron's mansion.”
Caina nodded and ran as fast as she dared down the rocky hillside.
***
Chapter 32 - The Final Spell
The Magisterium's messenger bowed low before Maglarion.
“The master magi send word, sir,” he said. “They have conjured the storm, as you wished. It should reach the city at any moment now.”
Maglarion smiled.
“Good,” he said. “Please extend my gratitude to the master magi. And tell them that they shall receive their reward in full, this very night.”
Oh, they would.
The messenger bowed once more and left, leaving Maglarion alone in the tower chamber. After a moment he started to laugh.
The “master” magi, indeed. During the height of the Fourth Empire, they would have been little better than half-trained novices. Still, Maglarion had put the fools to good use.
His smiled widened.
He had put quite a few fools to good use.
And he was at last ready. True immortality would be his. He would ascend in might, to live forevermore as power and strength.
There was just one thing left to do.
He walked to the great bloodcrystal and tore aside the tarps, filling the chamber with ghostly green light.
A year ago, the bloodcrystal had been half again Maglarion's height. Now it stood twenty feet tall and ten wide, its jagged top brushing the domed ceiling. Green flames blazed and writhed in its black depths. The faces of his victims appeared and disappeared in the green glow. Maglarion laid a hand on its rough surface, and felt the power pulsing within…the power that his, thanks to his link with the bloodcrystal. Power beyond the reach of weaklings like the master magi, power beyond the ability of a fool like Haeron Icaraeus to comprehend.
He looked out the south windows, saw lightning over the bay
.
Power that would soon increase beyond reckoning.
The long and difficult spell to imbue the clouds with plagueblood would drain a substantial part of the great bloodcrystal's reserves. But once plagueblood fell from the skies, once Malarae started to die, Maglarion would receive that power back a thousand times over. A million times over. The necromantic power released from all those deaths would surge into the bloodcrystal…and through the link, into Maglarion himself.
Maglarion would devour it all.
True immortality at last.
He supposed that he was about to destroy the Empire of Nighmar. The Emperor would die, along with most of the nobles. The provinces of the Empire would fracture into civil war and chaos…and pestilence, too, if travelers happened to carry Maglarion’s plague from the desolate capital. But the death of the Empire did not matter in the slightest. The Empire was peopled with mortal men and women, men and women whose lives had no meaning and no purpose.
The only purpose to their existence was to be consumed as Maglarion saw fit.
Raindrops splattered against the tall windows.
Almost time now.
And no one could stop him.
The Ghosts could try, of course, but he had misled them. Sending Rekan to the fountain in Graywater Square, and Ikhana to the Naerian Aqueduct had been nothing more than diversions. If they succeeded, well and good – his bloodcrystal would absorb the resultant deaths. Of course, he was reasonably sure that the Ghosts had killed Rekan, and that they would kill Ikhana.
No great loss. Especially since their deaths would keep the Ghosts away during the final spell.
He crossed to the wooden podium before the bloodcrystal. A dagger rested on it, along with the ancient Maatish scroll that he had taken from Sebastian Amalas’s library seven years ago. He looked over the hieroglyphs, refreshing the ancient spell upon his mind one final time.
Footsteps sounded against the tower stairs.
Maglarion shivered in anticipation.
He turned as Lord Haeron Icaraeus entered the chamber.
“You wished to see me?” said Haeron, his voice holding a threatening edge. After all, one did not summon Lord Haeron.
“Yes, my lord,” said Maglarion. “I have good news for you.”
He fell silent.
“Well?” said Haeron. “What is it?”
“I have devised a means for using plagueblood to kill the Emperor,” said Maglarion.
That part was true.
Haeron blinked, and then smiled. “You have? Excellent! And I will not be suspected?”
“I can assure you, my lord,” said Maglarion, “that no one will suspect you in the slightest.”
Which was also true.
“When can you do it?” said Haeron.
“Why, I have already begun” said Maglarion. “The Emperor will probably die by sunrise. Certainly before night comes again.”
Haeron frowned. “So soon, you say? But…I’ve barely had time to prepare. My support is strong among the Restorationist nobles, but I need additional allies among the Militarists before I can crush the Loyalists.”
“My lord,” said Maglarion. “You are a man of destiny, fated to bring great change to the Empire. And power comes to those bold enough to seize it.”
Haeron gave a sharp nod. “Yes. Yes. It is as you say. Very well. How precisely will you kill the Emperor?”
Maglarion lowered his voice. “Are you sure you want to know?”
He was going to enjoy this.
Haeron scowled. “Tell me, sorcerer. Now.”
“Very well,” said Maglarion, beckoning Haeron to the podium. “Do you know what this is?”
“A Maatish scroll,” said Haeron, voice impatient. “You’ve explained this to me already.”
“Plagueblood was an…innovation of the Maatish necromancer-priests,” said Maglarion. “With it, they terrorized their enemies and their subject peoples, and kept the Maatish empire under an iron fist for centuries. They had a spell, you see,” he gestured at the windows, “to charge the rain itself with plagueblood. If a city rebelled, they conjured a storm over it, infused their rain with plagueblood, and sat back to watch the city die.”
He watched the thought worm its way through Haeron's mind.
Haeron's reaction was most entertaining.
“Are you insane?” thundered Haeron. “Our agreement was for you to kill the Emperor, not everyone in Malarae! I want to rule over the Empire, not a graveyard! I forbid this!”
“As you wish, my lord,” said Maglarion. “It’s just as well, since I cannot proceed. I’m missing a final catalyst for the spell.”
“What catalyst?” spat Haeron.
“Royal blood,” said Maglarion. “The spell to infuse storm clouds with plagueblood requires an offering of royal blood. Which is why the Maatish necromancers used the spell rarely, of course. The pharaohs, and their families, were loathe to give up their blood.”
Haeron snorted. “Just as well, then, that you will find neither kings nor pharaohs in Malarae, sorcerer. The Emperor and the nobles rule the Empire, not a king. Trouble me no more with this nonsense.”
He turned to go.
“My lord?” said Maglarion. “One more question.”
“What?” said Haeron, glaring over his shoulder.
“Did you not tell me that in ancient times, the House of Icaraeus ruled over Cyrica as kings?”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Haeron, turning around, “why…”
He saw understanding come over Haeron, saw him turn to run.
Too late.
Maglarion flicked a finger, wrapping Lord Haeron in bands of arcane power. Haeron froze in mid-step, trapped in the grip of Maglarion’s sorcery. Maglarion gestured, and Haeron floated towards him.
He retrieved the dagger from the podium and a goblet from the worktable, and strode towards Haeron. On impulse, he released the portion of the spell that bound Haeron’s mouth. He wanted to hear what Haeron had to say.
Maglarion did want to enjoy this.
“Release me!” bellowed Haeron. “I demand that you release me at once. You’ll regret this, sorcerer. I’ll watch you die for days!”
First would come bluster.
Maglarion ripped open Haeron's sleeves.
"I tell you, release me!" said Haeron. "I can make it worth your while, once I am Emperor. Power, riches, lands, whatever you desire, it is yours!"
And then bargaining.
Maglarion walked towards the bloodcrystal, Haeron floating after him, still struggling against the invisible bonds.
"Let me go!" shrieked Haeron, eyes wide as he stared at the dagger. "Let me go, let me go, let me go!"
And then begging.
Maglarion turned, green flame crackling around his fingers, and cut Haeron's left wrist, catching the blood in the goblet.
And last came the screaming, the terrified, frantic wails of a trapped man with no escape.
"Why do you scream so?" murmured Maglarion, watching the goblet fill. "You told me so yourself. The strong do as they like, and the weak suffer." He smiled. "It is only the natural order of things."
Haeron shrieked and sobbed and begged all the more. Maglarion ignored it, painting sigils in blood upon the floor, encircling the bloodcrystal's dark mass. At some point Haeron fell silent. No doubt he had died from blood loss. His usefulness to Maglarion had ended.
He released the spell, and Haeron's corpse crumpled to the floor. A flick of his fingers, and the body slid across the floor to the wall, conveniently out of the way.
One more sigil painted around the bloodcrystal's base.
And then it was finished.
He was ready. At long last, he was ready.
True immortality would be his.
Trembling, Maglarion crossed to the podium, tossing aside the bloody dagger and goblet. He cleared his mind and focused, drawing the words of the final spell to the forefront of his thoughts. Then he began to chant, drawing arcane power into himself, mo
re and more, until he thought he would burst from it.
The bloodcrystal pulsed with green flame, matching his heartbeat. The massive thing shivered, sweating drops of black plagueblood. The plagueblood floated into the air, whirling around the bloodcrystal, faster and faster, wreathing it in a halo of liquid darkness.
Maglarion shouted and clapped his hands.
Power screamed out.
And the bloodcrystal erupted in answer.
A pillar of emerald flame exploded from the bloodcrystal. Maglarion’s spells protected him, but the force tore away the domed ceiling, blasted out the windows, and ripped away most of the walls. For a moment shattered debris tumbled in every direction, and then the tower chamber stood open to the air, the storm raging around Maglarion.
The column of emerald flame stabbed into the sky, piercing the storm clouds themselves. The lightning arcing from cloud to cloud took a greenish tinge, the air crackling with necromantic power. More plagueblood swirled around the bloodcrystal’s mass.
Maglarion’s shoulders shook with exertion, his head ringing, but he laughed. When he finished the spell, the spinning cloud of plagueblood would ascend the pillar of flame, mingling with the storm. Plague-tainted rain would fall upon Malarae, killing those it struck, filling the aqueducts and the cisterns with death.
Within a day Malarae would die.
And their deaths would lift Maglarion to true immortality at last.
Exultant, he flung out his hands and began screaming the spell's final words.
***
Chapter 33 - Blood And Vengeance
Haeron Icaraeus’s mansion loomed in the darkness, visible even in the pouring rain. Liveried guards stood at the gates, while Caina saw Kindred assassins prowling the grounds.
Her skin tingled and crawled, reacting to the sorcery-fueled storm raging overhead. And she felt something else, a nexus of dark power swirling within the mansion, stronger than anything she had ever sensed before. It was like looking at the sun…if the sun gave out black light, light that froze instead of warmed.
“So it's in the mansion, but you don't know where,” growled Riogan.
“We’ll sneak past the guards,” said Caina, thinking fast. “Once we’re in the mansion, we find Maglarion and kill him before he casts his spell.”
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