Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes

by Jonathan Moeller

  “You put your finger upon the problem,” said Sinan, “and those who return successfully are often killed by…errors in the preparation of the Elixir. Phoenix ashes are a potent substance, and the slightest error in the formula can cause explosive results.”

  “And that’s why you haven’t killed Mahdriva yet, is it?” said Caina, looking at the weeping girl. “You can’t add the ashes of the last child to the mixture until after the phoenix ashes.”

  “Very good,” said Sinan. “You are most clever. That will serve me well.”

  Caina did not like the sound of that.

  “Physically entering the netherworld is a challenge, to be sure,” said Sinan, walking past her, “but not beyond the abilities of a skilled Alchemist. For alchemy is the arcane science of transmutation, and with the proper materials, entry into the netherworld is possible.”

  He stopped before the mirror.

  “The mirror?” said Caina. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It is our entrance to the netherworld,” said Sinan. “Observe.”

  He picked up an empty jar from the table, considered it for a moment, and threw it at the mirror.

  It struck the mirror…and the glass rippled, the air shivering with arcane force. The jar sank into the mirror and vanished. For a moment Caina had a brief glimpse of a strange landscape of misshapen hills and colorless grass.

  And then the mirror went still, though Caina still saw the strange rippling behind the glass.

  “You see?” said Sinan. “An Alchemist can transmute a mirror of sufficient quality into a gate to the netherworld, though the elixir is rather complex, and the mirror is destroyed after the spell is finished.”

  “I congratulate you,” said Caina. “So why aren’t you in the netherworld now?”

  Sinan turned from the mirror and raised an eyebrow. “Because the netherworld is dangerous. I have come too close to immortality to risk my life now.”

  “He’s been waking up Imperial Guards,” said Tanzir, “and sending them through the mirror one by one. None of them have returned.”

  “Perhaps you’re impatient,” said Caina. “I can’t imagine that retrieving phoenix ashes is an easy task.”

  “It isn’t,” said Sinan, “but that is irrelevant. Time has no precise application in the netherworld. A thousand years there could be just a moment in the material world. If they had succeeded, they would have returned almost immediately, at least from our perspective. They haven’t returned, so I assume they failed.”

  “They’re dead,” said Caina. “You sent those men to their deaths.”

  Sinan shrugged. “If they wanted to live, they should have returned with the ashes. But I should not be surprised. Soldiers are dumb brutes, used to following orders, to letting others do their thinking for them. To retrieve the ashes, I need someone of…greater cunning. Some clever and subtle.”

  He smirked at Caina.

  “Me,” she said.

  “Your arrival was fortuitous,” said Sinan. “You will go through the mirror and retrieve the phoenix ashes.”

  Caina laughed.

  “You find this amusing?” said Sinan, lifting the strange fork.

  “I find it idiotic,” said Caina. “You’re a murderer, Sinan, a man who would bathe in the blood of a child to extend his wretched life by a few months. I am not going to help you.”

  “I can compel you,” said Sinan.

  “How? Torture? A spell? An elixir to break my will?” said Caina. “You need my wits intact, and I’ll do you no good injured or dead.”

  “No,” said Sinan, “you won’t.” He pointed the fork, and a blue spark flared to life between the tines. “But the Imperial Guards have proven that they are of no use to me.”

  Caina felt a surge of arcane force.

  A lance of blue-white lightning erupted from Sinan’s fork and slammed into the nearest Imperial Guard. The fingers of lightning curled around the black armor, and the man’s eyes popped open. He screamed in agony, his limbs thrashing in a mad dance. His skin blackened and charred, and he erupted into flames and went motionless.

  Sinan lowered the fork.

  The stench of burning flesh was hideous. Mahdriva gagged, and Tanzir looked like he was trying to keep his dinner down.

  “You murderous dog,” spat Caina.

  “You will cooperate with me,” said Sinan. “Or I will kill the Imperial Guards one by one. Those men have wives and children, yes? I will leave them as widows and orphans unless you help me.” He pointed the fork at Tanzir. “Or perhaps I’ll kill the emir. Ashria wants the little piglet dead anyway, and I would prefer to stay in her good graces. Though I imagine the stench from all that burning fat would be considerable. You Ghosts want him alive, don’t you?”

  “Don’t do it,” said Tanzir. His voice trembled, but he met Caina’s eyes. “Sonya, don’t do it. Let him kill me. It’s not…it’s not worth it, not to save my life. Don’t let this bastard get his Elixir. Let him…let him kill me…”

  “You,” said Caina, “are far too ready to die, Tanzir Shahan.” She stepped forward, and the hulking Immortals stirred, but Sinan lifted a hand. “I’ll do it.”

  Sinan smiled. “You shall?”

  “I will go into the netherworld and retrieve those damned ashes for you,” said Caina.

  Because she could think of no other way forward. She would not let Sinan kill Tanzir, and she certainly would not let the renegade Alchemist murder all those Imperial Guards. Going through the mirror might buy time. Corvalis was coming with Tomard and several hundred militiamen, and even the deformed Immortals could not fight them all. Corvalis would find a way past the mist, and they would defeat Sinan.

  At least, Caina kept telling herself that.

  “Splendid,” said Sinan.

  “So,” said Caina. “How exactly does one obtain phoenix ashes?”

  “First, take this,” said Sinan, lifting a satchel and handing it to her. Caina opened it and saw a metal flask carved with arcane sigils. “That will allow you to carry the ashes safely. The gate,” Sinan pointed at the mirror, “will transport you to a region of the netherworld near the Sacellum of the Living Flame.”

  “And what is that?” said Caina.

  “It is what the worshippers of the Living Flame call the structure housing the phoenix ashes,” said Sinan. “No one knows what it is called, not truly. It is a….place, for lack of a better word, that one of the greater elemental princes created. The phoenix spirits come there to die and be reborn.”

  “And their ashes are inside,” said Caina. “I assume there are guardians? Something has to kill all those Alchemists who try to become Masters.”

  And the Guards that Sinan had sent to die.

  “There are,” said Sinan. “Spirits bound to guard the Sacellum. They are not fond of visitors from the material world. Since you will be there physically, they shall have the power to harm you. Additionally, the netherworld has its own peculiar hazards.”

  “Such as?” said Caina.

  “The netherworld is a place of thought and spirit,” said Sinan. “Your mind can reshape the environment there, if your thoughts are disciplined enough. Which can pose a problem. Your thoughts…the netherworld itself acts as a mirror to them, and your memories can take form and attack you.”

  “How pleasant,” said Caina.

  There were many dark memories in her thoughts…and she had no particular desire to see them played out again.

  “Your shadow-cloak may give you an advantage,” said Sinan, “and prevent the creatures of the netherworld from seeing you. But some of the more powerful spirits will be able to see through it.”

  “Sonya, please,” said Tanzir. “Don’t do this. I…”

  “Silence,” said Sinan. “Ghost, proceed immediately.”

  He gestured at the mirror with his free hand and cast a spell. Caina felt the pulse of arcane power, and the mirror rippled, her reflection writhing and bulging. It was like looking at a wall of rippling mer
cury.

  “Go,” said Sinan. “The gate is ready.”

  “Just walk through the mirror?” said Caina.

  “Oh, the Ghosts are indeed masters of perception,” said Sinan. “Stop stalling and go. I grow impatient.”

  Caina took a deep breath, pulled up the cowl of her shadow-cloak, and stepped towards the mirror. The wall of glass writhed in silence, and she felt the aura of sorcery radiating from it. And through the mirror she glimpsed a vast dark plain stretching away in all directions, dotted with strange, misshapen forms.

  The netherworld.

  She held out a hand, and it passed through the glass as if it were not there.

  Caina stepped into the mirror, and gray mist filled the world.

  Chapter 19 - The Netherworld

  Caina walked through an endless world filled with featureless gray mist.

  The strange place was utterly silent, and the mist swallowed even the noise of Caina’s footsteps. She saw nothing but mist in all directions.

  It reminded her of the place she had seen in her dreams when the Moroaica had still inhabited her body.

  In fact, she was certain it was the same place. Those dreams had not been dreams, but the spirit of the Moroaica speaking to her. Perhaps both their spirits had been drawn here during those strange dreams.

  Then the mist vanished, and Caina found herself someplace else.

  Somewhere strange.

  She looked around in silence for a moment.

  “Gods,” she said at last.

  A plain of rippling, knee-high grass stretched away in all directions. The strange grass was utterly devoid of color, and waved in a wind that Caina neither heard nor felt. Her shadow-cloak rippled behind her, blowing in the nonexistent wind.

  Strange things floated overhead. Pieces of land, as if scooped from the earth by a giant hand. Images of stone and obsidian, showing men and women and creatures Caina had never seen before. Uprooted trees, some hanging upside down. Towers and stairs that went nowhere. Black clouds filled the sky, moving against the direction of the peculiar wind. An eerie green glow lit everything, and from time to time a burst of silent emerald lightning jumped from cloud to cloud.

  There was absolutely no sign of the Imperial Guards Sinan had already sent through the gate.

  From time to time the terrain…changed. The plains shifted to barren black trees, or a stagnant gray swamp, or a desert of black glass. Yet through it all something remained constant. A road of gleaming black stone wound over the plains and ended…

  It ended at the single largest building Caina had ever seen.

  She could not have said what it was. It was built from the same gleaming black stone as the road, and looked like some monstrous fusion of basilica and pyramid and fortress. It could have held the Praetorian Basilica. It could have held the entire Imperial Citadel, perhaps even all of Malarae. From within the strange building, through its vast windows, Caina saw the harsh orange-yellow glow of fire.

  The Sacellum of the Living Flame.

  The sight was so daunting that she had to look back away after a moment, and she saw a square of pale light behind her. After a moment she realized it was the gate back to the material world. Through the pale glow she saw Sinan and the Immortals, watching her.

  Perfectly motionless.

  Had something happened to them? Then she remembered what Sinan had said about time moving at a different rate in the netherworld and understood. The others hadn’t frozen. She was simply moving much, much faster than them, so fast that they appeared frozen from her perspective.

  Perhaps if she watched for a thousand years she might at last she Sinan draw breath, see a tear fall from Mahdriva’s cheek.

  She had hoped that Sinan had been wrong about the time difference, that she could simply wait just beyond the gate until Corvalis arrived. And if she returned empty-handed, Sinan would kill her…or start killing Imperial Guards until she decided to cooperate.

  It seemed Caina had no choice. The best plan was to claim the phoenix ashes, return to the Lord Ambassador’s residence, and delay.

  Best to get on with it, then.

  Caina gazed at the Sacellum of the Living Flame. She did not want to go anywhere near the monstrous black structure. She didn’t even want to look at the thing. Something about its unfathomable size and the peculiar angles of its construction conspired to send a stabbing wave of pain through her head whenever she looked at it. Mortals had never been meant to gaze upon the Sacellum, let alone enter it.

  But there was no other choice.

  Caina took a moment to steady herself, then moved to the gleaming black road and started walking.

  The strange landscape altered and shifted around her, changing from the gray grassland to the dead forest to the bleak desert and back again. Her shadow-cloak billowed behind her no matter what direction she faced, even though Caina neither felt nor heard any wind. The netherworld was utterly silent around her, and even the green lightning flashing overhead never generated any thunder. The only sounds were the click of her boots against the gleaming black stone, the slow draw of her breath, the steady drumbeat of her pulse in her ears.

  The landscape changed again, and this time it became a ruined, empty city. Some of the buildings were black, and reminded her of the slums of Rasadda. Others gleamed white, like the whitewashed houses of Cyrioch. In fact, she was certain she had seen one of those houses before – it looked like the occultist Nadirah’s house.

  Was the netherworld reflecting her memories back at her, like Sinan had said?

  That was a disturbing thought.

  A golden glow overhead caught her attention.

  Caina looked up, hands dropping to her weapons, and saw the winged man.

  He soared overhead, great wings spread behind him, and Caina realized that both the man and his wings were wrought entirely of golden fire. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and Caina watched as he shot over the plain like a comet. The winged man rose higher, spiraling over the Sacellum of the Living Flame…and then vanished into it.

  A phoenix spirit.

  The creature hadn’t noticed her. People never looked up…so did that mean winged spirits never looked down? Or perhaps it had seen her and dismissed her as a threat.

  Or it assumed the guardians Sinan had mentioned would dispose of her.

  Caina kept walking.

  She saw the dead Imperial Guard a moment later.

  The man lay upon the black road, blood pooling around him, his cuirass torn away. The blade of his sword jutted from his back, shiny with his blood. At first Caina thought someone had overpowered him and run him through with his own sword.

  Then she drew closer, and saw the Guard’s hands clenched around the sword’s hilt.

  He had fallen upon his sword.

  Why had he killed himself?

  Caina looked around, seeking some reason that would explain the Guard’s suicide, but she saw only the changing terrain.

  Yet something had compelled the Guard to kill himself. The Imperial Guards were the toughest soldiers in the Empire, superbly trained and disciplined combat veterans selected from the Legions. They were the sort of men to die only after surrounding themselves with a ring of slain foes.

  Caina drew a throwing knife in one hand, her ghostsilver dagger in the other, and froze.

  The curved blade of the ghostsilver dagger shone with pale white light, the air around it rippling and dancing. Ghostsilver was proof against sorcery. Did that mean it would be effective against the spirits of the netherworld? Caina doubted her throwing knife could harm a spirit…but the ghostsilver blade might prove more potent.

  Still, the light might draw unwelcome attention. Caina sheathed the dagger, keeping her hand on its handle, and resumed walking.

  A short time later she saw a dark, round shape lying on the black road. Caina drew closer and stopped with a whispered curse.

  It was the helmet of an Imperial Guard, the head still inside, neatly severed at the neck. The sightless
eyes gazed up at Caina, the mouth open in a silent scream. There was not a drop of blood in sight.

  She looked around, but there was no trace of the Guard’s body.

  Caina put one hand on the helmet, titling the head to the side. The cut across the neck was smoother than anything she had ever seen. Even a skilled executioner, wielding a razor-sharp sword, could not cut through a man’s neck so cleanly.

  “Gods,” muttered Caina, straightening up. She didn’t know what had done this, and she didn’t particularly want to find out.

  But there was nowhere to go but forward, so she kept walking.

  The Sacellum of the Living Flame grew closer, the huge, fire-lit black mass filling the eerie sky like a burning mountain. The landscape rippled and flowed around her, changing from one form to another. More and more, the terrain became an empty city, and Caina found herself recognizing many of the buildings. Marzhod’s tavern in Cyrioch was one. Another was Zorgi’s Inn at Marsis. A third displayed the façade of the Grand Imperial Opera.

  That disturbed her. Sinan claimed the netherworld would reflect her thoughts. Was that why she had started recognizing the buildings? Maybe the netherworld wasn’t quite like a mirror. Maybe it was more like wet clay, gradually molding itself to the shape of her mind…

  Then the terrain changed again, half of a room appearing, and with a shock Caina saw herself.

  She lay naked in a bed, Corvalis atop her, both of them groaning and panting. Caina recognized the room from the Inn of the Defender at Cyrioch, where she and Corvalis had spent the night together for the first time.

  Then the room vanished, along with the bed and its occupants, becoming a dead forest instead.

  Caina stared at the forest, too shaken to move. Remembering her past was one thing. Seeing it played out before her eyes was something else. That had been a pleasant memory, true…but she had others far darker.

  Maybe that was why the Imperial Guard had killed himself.