Caina took a deep breath, thoughts tumbling through her mind.
"Power," she said. "It's about power. Power is the only thing Maglarion cares about. I remember...I remember him talking about bloodcrystals."
"What exactly is a bloodcrystal?" said Julia.
"A product of necromantic science," said Halfdan. "A necromancer can use blood to create a kind of crystal, when then can store stolen life energy. Sort of like a...reservoir of power the necromancer can tap at will."
"Or a drain," murmured Caina. "A sponge."
All those people drinking from the fountain. So much death, all at once...
"A drain?" said Halfdan. "What do you mean?"
"Maglarion made bloodcrystals that absorbed the power from any death within a certain radius," said Caina. "I watched him demonstrate." She remembered her father, sagging in the slavers' grip as Maglarion buried the dagger in his chest. "He killed my...he killed a man ten paces from a bloodcrystal, but the power released from his death drained into the crystal. Made it larger, made it start to glow. It astonished his students. They had never seen anything like it." Thoughts clicked together in her head. "He must have learned how to do it from my father's Maatish scroll, from the necromancers of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun. And he must have spent the last seven years learning how to make plagueblood. And...and..."
And just like that, the answer came to her.
It was so simple.
So simple, and so horrifying.
"I know what Maglarion wants," she said.
They stared at her.
"Power," said Caina. "He's going to use the plagueblood to poison Malarae's aqueducts, to kill thousands of people at once. He'll use his bloodcrystals to trap the sorcerous power released by their deaths, to make himself stronger. That's why he allied himself with Haeron Icaraeus. He doesn't care about Lord Haeron, he doesn't care about the Empire, and he doesn't care about anything except arcane power. But allying with Lord Haeron gave him access to all the slaves he needed for his experiments."
Halfdan swore. "And it put him in the largest city in the Empire. Where he could poison thousands of people at once, absorb the most power. You said that Maglarion claimed he could make the plagueblood contagious?" Caina nodded. "The vial he gave to Rekan was probably contagious. Gods, if that had gotten into the fountain, if the victims had spread the plague...he could have killed tens of thousands."
"That storm," said Riogan. "That's why he ordered the magi to conjure that storm tomorrow night. He's going to use it as a distraction while he poisons the aqueducts."
"The Naerian Aqueduct," said Halfdan. "You said he mentioned that to Rekan. The Naerian Aqueduct feeds the most populous districts of Malarae. If he pours the plagueblood into the aqueduct...he could kill half of the population."
"No," said Caina, shaking her head. It made perfect sense, but...she was sure they were missing something.
Only she couldn't see what.
“Tomorrow, then,” said Halfdan. “We’ll take Tomard’s company of Civic Militia, set a trap for Maglarion where the Naerian Aqueduct enters the city. If we ambush him, Riogan can kill him with the ghostsilver spear before he poisons the aqueduct or bring his powers to bear against us.”
Theodosia nodded. “I will let Tomard know. You’ll put in a good word for him with the Lord Commander of the Civic Militia, won’t you? He’s still in trouble over that watchtower Caina burned down.”
“It was necessary,” said Caina, still staring at Rekan’s corpse.
What was she missing?
“I shall,” said Halfdan. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow night's going to be busy.”
Caina nodded and got to her feet.
Everything they said made perfect sense. The bloodcrystals fed on the power of death, and the quickest way for Maglarion to kill a great number of people was to upend a vial of plagueblood into the Naerian Aqueduct.
Yet why did she feel as if she had overlooked something of grave importance?
She did not sleep well that night.
Chapter 31 - The Storm Comes
The Naerian Aqueduct surged down the foothills.
It was an astonishing feat of engineering. One of Emperor Alexius Naerius’s distant ancestors had redirected one of the mountain streams, the Legion's engineers carving a fresh channel down the foothills. A great stone conduit had been built to carry the water into Malarae, rising ever higher on stone arches as the hills descended. At its highest point, the aqueduct rose a hundred and fifty feet on its arches.
The Ghosts waited in the foothills, overlooking the conduit.
“Why here?” Caina had asked Halfdan.
“The Naerian Aqueduct feeds a lot of fountains,” said Halfdan. “If Maglarion dumps the plagueblood into the water here, it will reach every last one of them.”
Caina hoped Halfdan was right. If he was not, a lot of people were going to die.
Fifty militiamen from Tomard’s company waited on the rocky hillside, concealed behind boulders. They would deal with any slavers Maglarion brought as bodyguards.
And hopefully they would distract Maglarion long enough for Riogan to use the ghostsilver spear. He waited besides Caina, motionless as death itself, the spear ready in his hand. Caina stood besides him, wrapped in her shadow-cloak, flexing the muscles in her arms and legs to keep them from stiffening.
A boot scraped against stone. Caina turned, reaching for a throwing knife, and saw Tomard crouching behind Halfdan.
“The lookouts say someone’s coming,” said Tomard. “About thirty men. Istarish slavers, by the look of them. And a tall fellow in a hooded cloak.”
Caina’s gloved hands curled into fists.
Maglarion.
Riogan shifted his grip on the ghostsilver spear.
“Surround the slavers,” said Halfdan, voice low. “Give them once chance to surrender, and if they don’t, kill them all. And the man in the cloak…our nightfighters will deal with him.” He gestured at Caina and Riogan. “Don't fight him unless absolutely necessary. He’s a necromancer, and extremely dangerous.”
“First demon-infested corpses, and now necromancers,” muttered Tomard. “I should have listened to Mother and become a carpenter.”
He hurried off to join his men.
A short time later the slavers arrived. Thirty of them, as Tomard had said, armored in steel-studded leather, swords and daggers in their belts. A tall, cloaked figure led them, one hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed dagger. Caina frowned. That didn’t look at all like Maglarion. In fact, it looked like...
The figure pulled back the hood, revealing long white hair and pale, lifeless eyes.
Ikhana.
Tomard’s men surged to their feet, weapons in hand. The slavers yelled in alarm and drew their swords. Ikhana looked back and forth, her empty expression never changing.
“We’ve got you surrounded!” Tomard’s voice rang out. “Throw down your weapons and surrender! You’ll only get one chance!”
Ikhana shivered, her eyes going wide, a strange look coming over her face.
Lust.
“Kill them!” she screamed, ripping the black dagger from its sheath at her belt. “Kill them, kill them all in the name of the Master!”
The slavers yelled and charged the militiamen, brandishing their weapons. Tomard bellowed a command, and the militiamen stood their ground, lifting their shields to form a solid wall of oak. The slavers crashed into them, swords clanging against armor and shields, and militiamen and slavers alike fell to the rocky ground. But the shield wall held, and more slavers died than militiamen.
And then Ikhana joined the battle.
She leapt forward with terrifying speed, moving with a grace and power that made Riogan look clumsy by comparison. The black dagger blurred in her hand, its edges burning with green fire. She struck left and right with the weapon, the glowing edges only scratching two of the militiamen.
Yet both men fell, screaming, and shriveled before Caina's eyes. One moment they were vig
orous men in their thirties. A heartbeat later they were fifty, and then twice that. And then only bones and dust remained in their armor.
Ikhana's dagger did, indeed, steal life.
Ikhana screamed in ecstasy, her eyes alight with wild glee, the dagger blazing with ghostly fire. She wheeled and killed another militiaman with a slash, laughing, and sprang at Halfdan. Halfdan backed away, sword held in guard, and Caina raced towards them, dagger ready.
But he would be too slow, Caina saw. Halfdan was a competent fighter, but Ikhana moved like lightning.
And she could kill with a single scratch from that dagger.
Ikhana danced past Halfdan's guard, dagger raised for the kill...
Then Riogan was there, the ghostsilver spear stabbing and thrusting. Burning dagger met ghostsilver blade a dozen times in half as many heartbeats. Riogan whirled the spear, the butt swinging for Ikhana's head, but she glided backwards, and stabbed for Riogan's belly. He dodged backwards, completing the spear's spin in time for the blade to deflect the black dagger.
Ikhana glided back, her face alight with glee, laughing all the while.
It gave Caina all the opening she needed to throw a knife.
Ikhana staggered as the blade buried itself in her shoulder. Caina flung another, and another, knives striking Ikhana's chest and throat. Ikhana staggered, pale eyes blazing with fury, and went to one knee.
Then a slaver stumbled past her, sword raised to block a militiaman's blows, and Ikhana buried her dagger in his hip.
The man screamed, but not for long, as green fire flashed through his veins and crumbled his flesh and bone to dust. The knives fell from Ikhana's flesh as the ghostly flame flashed through her, healing her wounds. Riogan raced at her, spear gripped in both hands for a deadly thrust, but Ikhana leapt to her feet and stabbed for his face. Riogan twisted aside, the blade missing his jaw by inches.
"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 Gua
rd, 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.
The Ghosts Omnibus One Page 31
