Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  A sobering lesson.

  He had no chance of finding her now, so Kylon started running back towards the Great Market. He found himself admiring the Ghost's cleverness. She was a worthy adversary. Until today, he never would have thought any man or woman without arcane talent could have fought a stormdancer and lived.

  He found himself regretting that he would have to kill her.

  Because he would have to kill her. The Kyracians and their Istarish allies had not yet secured Marsis. And such a clever woman, free to create mischief...she would return, Kylon knew.

  He would kill her then.

  ###

  A short time later he returned to Andromache and Kleistheon below the ruined watchtower. The Market had emptied of soldiers, though thousands of slaves remained behind, guarded by squads of Rezir Shahan's infantry. Rezir, his bodyguards, and his big black horse were gone, no doubt to take command of the assault upon the Plaza of the Tower.

  "Ah," said Andromache, and the relief on her face touched him. "You've returned. We can move on the chapterhouse next. The Ghost is dead, I trust?"

  "No," said Kylon.

  Andromache blinked in surprise. "Why not?"

  "I failed," said Kylon. "The Ghost escaped, and almost slew me on the process."

  "You failed?" said Kleistheon, scowling. "You let that little wisp of a girl elude you? And you dare to claim the title of stormdancer..."

  "Enough," said Andromache. "Kylon, what happened?"

  He told them about his pursuit, her strange disappearance from his senses, and the explosion in the warehouse.

  "You blundered into such a trap?" said Kleistheon.

  Andromache ignored him. "A shadow-cloak."

  "What is a shadow-cloak?" said Kylon.

  "Elite Ghost agents wear them," said Andromache. "The Ghosts somehow know the secret of weaving cloth from shadow. Aside from the obvious advantages of stealth, the cloaks also shield their wearers from mind-altering sorcery. Including any divinatory spells."

  "Such as my spells," said Kylon. "Which explained why she disappeared from my senses."

  "Yes," said Andromache. "Do not be ashamed, brother. She managed to deceive even me. But we will not underestimate her again." Her eyes flashed. "We will take what we came here to claim...and no one, not even this Ghost, will stop us."

  ###

  Caina lurked in the shadows of a doorway, wrapped in her shadow-cloak, and watched Kylon run toward the Great Market.

  She counted to a hundred, but he did not reappear.

  Caina nodded and began changing, careful to keep the shadow-cloak in place. She cast off the armor of the Istarish soldier, and instead donned the clothes she had taken from the burning safehouse. Black boots, with hidden sheaths for daggers, and black pants. A black jacket, lined with steel plates to deflect knives, and black gloves. A leather belt that held throwing knives, a coiled rope and grapnel, and other useful tools, including two clay flasks of Radast's explosive elixir. Finally, she tugged a black mask over her face, hiding all but her eyes.

  It was garb of a Ghost nightfighter.

  Caina slipped from the doorway, keeping to the shadows.

  She was going to get Nicolai back. And if it was in her power, she was going to stop both Rezir Shahan and Andromache. Rezir, she suspected, desired only conquest and glory. But Andromache was after something more. She was a disciple of the Moroaica. And she had come to Marsis expecting to receive this Tomb of Scorikhon from Jadriga.

  Caina didn't know what that was.

  But she knew where to find out.

  The sun dipped over the western rooftops. Long shadows filled the street, and Caina flowed from shadow to shadow. The day had belonged to the Istarish and the Kyracians, to Rezir Shahan and Andromache.

  The night would belong to the Ghosts.

  Chapter 11 - Veterans

  "There," said Ark, pointing his broadsword. A speck of blood had dried on the blade, and he flicked it away with annoyance. "Foundry Square."

  A ripple of relief went through the men and women behind him.

  Foundry Square lay on the northern edge of the Citadel's crag, not far from the massive stone ramp that led to the Citadel’s grim gates. It should have been a short walk from the Plaza of the Tower to Foundry Square. But Istarish patrols swept the streets, killing anyone who did not get out of their way. Three times the Istarish raiders had tried to take some of Zorgi’s maids, and Ark and the Ghosts had been forced to fight.

  They had won all three fights. But, gods, it had been close. Zorgi had taken a wound to the scalp, and the women had been forced to use Radast’s weapons.

  But with the sun sinking in the west, they had at last arrived at Foundry Square.

  A massive foundry surrounded the square on three sides, built of heavy brick to contain any fires. Heavy iron-banded doors sealed its entrances, and the windows were high and narrow. Ark could not think of a better place to defend in Marsis, save for the Citadel itself. With luck, the Istarish and the Kyracians would focus their attacks on the city's gates, and leave the foundry alone.

  "Will we be safe here?" said Katerine, helping a limping Zorgi along.

  "For now," said Ark. He did not add that if the city fell, nowhere within its walls would be safe.

  But Katerine had probably figured that out.

  Ark strode toward the foundry's doors, watching for any sign of attack. The building's U-shape made it ideal for defense - archers and slingers could stand upon the roof and rain missiles upon any attackers.

  Though a stormsinger could blast the archers from the roof.

  "Hold!"

  Ark stopped. A man in a mail shirt appeared on the foundry's roof, a crossbow in hand. He was in his middle fifties, with grizzled gray hair and muscled arms. Broadsword and dagger hung from his belt, and he had a shield slung over his back.

  "Not another step!" bellowed the grizzled man. “Any trouble and you'll be dead before you hit the ground."

  "Who are you?" shouted Ark.

  "Korbulus," answered the grizzled man, "master of the foundry, appointed by Lord Corbould himself. Who the devil are you? Are you with the enemy?"

  "Idiot!" said Ark.

  "Ark," hissed Tanya.

  Ark stepped closer. "I show up at your gates with a score of women and children, and you think I'm with the damned Istarish? Open the doors! I've wounded with me."

  Korbulus grunted. "Were you in the Legion?"

  "Aye," said Ark. "Sixteen years in the Eighteenth, fighting barbarians along the Imperial Pale. Rose to first spear before I retired."

  Korbulus nodded. "I was in the Ninth. Served in the desert, keeping the Istarish from raiding inland. Thought I'd move north after my discharge and never see another damn Istarish soldier again."

  Ark snorted. "Looks like you picked the wrong city for your retirement."

  "Aye," said Korbulus. “I’d noticed.” He looked below. "Open the doors, lads! It'll be good to have another Legion man on our side."

  The doors boomed open, and Ark's companions hurried inside.

  ###

  "Is it as bad as I think?" said Korbulus.

  "Worse," said Ark.

  They stood on the foundry's main floor, near the massive brick blast furnaces. Since the foundry now held terrified refugees, Korbulus had ordered the furnaces shut down. Wounded men lay on blankets upon the floor. Halfdan himself rested on a blanket in the corner, still unconscious, tended by Tanya. Zorgi sat against the nearby wall, Katerine cleaning his head wound.

  Korbulus's men kept watch at the doors and on platforms near the high windows. Korbulus preferred to hire Legion veterans, so his workers knew how to handle arms and armor. The foundry would be safe enough.

  For now.

  "The Kyracians have the docks," said Ark, "and the Istarish hold the Great Market. By the time we got away, I think the Istarish were forming up to seize the Plaza of the Tower."

  Korbulus spat. "And from there, they'll be able to seize the Citadel and the city gat
es."

  "Aye," said Ark.

  "If this Shahan jackass has a brain in his skull," said Korbulus, "then he'll seize the city gates first. If Lord Hiram returns with the Twentieth and the Twenty-First while Shahan is besieging the Citadel, he can smash the Istarish to pieces. But if Shahan seizes the gates, the Kyracians will be able to ship more men into the city. If that happens, it'll take half the Legions of the Empire to get Marsis back. "

  "What about the Citadel?" said Ark. "Are there enough men there to launch a sortie?"

  "Just a few centuries of the Nineteenth," said Korbulus. “The Citadel's siege engines could have made life miserable for the enemy, but the Kyracian storm witches blew away the engines, and probably killed a good number of Legionaries. The survivors will have a devil of a time just holding the Citadel."

  "You have Legionaries here," said Ark.

  Here and there men in the steel armor and red cloaks of the Legions stood, their weapons spattered with blood, their eyes haunted and terrified.

  "Aye," said Korbulus. "Bits and pieces of the Nineteenth. The Nineteenth had men with Lord Corbould, and they got cut to pieces. Don't take me wrong. Those boys aren't cowards. But a normal man cannot stand against a Kyracian stormdancer and live."

  "The Kyracians brought both stormsingers and stormdancers?" said Ark. That was bad. Normally, the battle magi of the Magisterium fought alongside the Legions to counter the spells of enemy sorcerers. But both Halfdan and Caina had said that Marsis's chapter of the Magisterium was a collection of fools and sluggards.

  "Two stormdancers, the survivors said," said Korbulus. "One fought with a sword of lightning, and the second with a sword of ice. They carved through the Nineteenth like reapers through ripe wheat. Lord Corbould had one cohort with him, and three more at the dockside garrison. Twenty-four hundred men, all told." Korbulus shook his head. "I've got maybe three hundred here. All their centurions are dead. They fell back to the Citadel, but the Citadel won’t open its gates. So they wound up here."

  "Gods," said Ark.

  "How did you escape?" said Korbulus. "You’re wife is pretty and young, and that catches the eye of Istarish slavers. No disrespect, but I’d have guessed you would be dead and she would be in chains by now."

  "It was a close thing," said Ark. "I'm a guard for a merchant, Master Basil Callenius of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers." He nodded in Halfdan's direction. "Master Basil saw the attack on the harbor. We fled, hoping to get out of the city." He shook his head. "We ran into too many Istarish scouts, and had to fight our way clear."

  "I remember you," said Korbulus, snapping his fingers. "Arcion of Caer Marist, aye?"

  Ark nodded.

  "Lord Hiram recommended you for the foundry," said Korbulus. "I hire Legion veterans, fellows who know how to put in a day's work." He clapped Ark on the shoulder. "Well, if we live through this mess, you've got the job."

  Ark snorted. "Good to know."

  "Ark!" called Tanya.

  Ark turned his head, saw that Halfdan had woken up.

  "Excuse me," said Ark.

  Korbulus nodded and went to speak with his men, while Ark hurried to Halfdan's side. He was awake, but his eyes were glassy and his face shiny with sweat.

  "Basil," said Ark. "We..."

  "Where," said Halfdan, "where are we?"

  "The foundry," said Ark. "You were wounded."

  Halfdan wheezed out a laugh. "Getting old and slow." He shook his head. "Help me up. We..."

  He pressed his palms against the rough stone floor, tried to rise, and slumped back against his blankets.

  "Stop," said Tanya, gently pushing him back down. "You lost a lot of blood. You need to rest."

  "No," said Halfdan. "The northern gate. We have to get to the northern gate. Otherwise the city is lost." His eyes shifted to Ark. "Ark. The gate. We..."

  He drifted off, his eyes fluttering closed.

  "Is he going to die?" said Tanya.

  "Katerine didn’t think so," said Ark, feeling Halfdan’s neck. "No. I've seen men die of wounds before. He's hurt badly, but he'll recover. He needs time to rest, though."

  "Ark, what are we going to do?" said Tanya.

  Ark looked at his wife. He had spent years following Halfdan's orders. Halfdan had been the one who made the plans. Ark just carried them out. If Caina had been here, she would have thought of something clever. But Halfdan was unconscious, and Caina was missing. Possibly dead.

  Along with Nicolai.

  No, he couldn’t think about that. Ark wished Halfdan were awake, that Caina were here. Then he could go find his son.

  He didn't know what to do next.

  "I'm going to talk to Korbulus," said Ark at last.

  He walked to the foundry master.

  "If you want to stay here," said Korbulus, "you're welcome. I've a store of food, enough to last us for at least a week. We can hold out here until the Legions return."

  Ark took a deep breath. "That might be a bad idea."

  "Why?" said Korbulus.

  "The Legions are a day's march away," said Ark. "Maybe two. The Istarish and the Kyracians will have more than enough time to seize the northern gate by then."

  Korbulus shrugged. "Then the Legions can break into the city."

  "You were in the Legion," said Ark. "You know how hard it is to take a fortified position. And one man atop a wall is worth seven below it. The Twentieth and the Twenty-First will have twelve thousand men between them. The Istarish and the Kyracians have at least ten thousand."

  "The Legions are better trained," said Korbulus.

  "Aye," said Ark, "but a strong stone wall and a fortified gate makes up for a lot of training."

  "So what would you have me do?" said Korbulus. "I have women and children here. You know what will happen if the Istarish take them."

  "If the city falls, every man, woman, and child within its walls will belong to the Istarish," said Ark. He took a deep breath. "You have three hundred Legionaries here, along with your workers. I think you should organize them and lead them to the northern gate."

  "To hold it?" said Korbulus.

  Ark nodded. "The gates are strong. They can fend off attackers from within the city just as easily as attackers from outside. A few centuries of the Nineteenth are there. Think how much easier it would be for them to hold with five hundred additional men."

  "You make sense," said Korbulus, "but if we venture outside the foundry, the enemy will surround and overwhelm us."

  "They might," said Ark. "But if we stay here, we will be overwhelmed. It's only a matter of time. If Rezir Shahan can hold the gates, then Marsis is his. He'll probably do what the Istarish always do when they take a city."

  "Kill all the men," said Korbulus, voice grim, "and take the women and children as slaves."

  "You've seen this before," said Ark.

  "So I have," said Korbulus. He shook his head. "I'm retired. It is Lord Governor Corbould's responsibility to defend the city."

  "He's dead," said Ark. "If Marsis is to be saved, it's up to us."

  Korbulus opened his mouth to answer, and a voice rang out.

  "Korbulus!" It was one of the foundry workers, another grizzled Legion veteran, atop a platform by the window. "You'd better see this."

  Korbulus ran up the stairs, and Ark followed.

  Through the windows he saw a battle in the street leading to Foundry Square.

  A group of men, shopkeepers and laborers from their dress, struggled against a band of Istarish soldiers. Dozens of women and children fled into the square. The families of the laborers, Ark supposed. The laborers held their own against the soldiers, fighting with tenacious courage, but they were going to be overwhelmed.

  Very soon.

  And the women and children would fall into the hands of the Istarish.

  "Korbulus," said the foundry worker. "What do we do?"

  Korbulus's grim expression did not change, but Ark saw the hesitation in his eyes. Korbulus had been a Legionary, but not a centurion.
He knew how to follow orders in battle, but not how to give them. He would remain fortified in the foundry and wait for Lord Governor Corbould or Lord Commander Hiram to appear and give him new orders.

  But Lord Corbould was probably dead, and unless someone acted, Lord Hiram would never get into the city. Halfdan was wounded. Caina was missing.

  Which meant it was up to Ark.

  He took a deep breath, the memories flooding into his mind. He had never wanted to go back to soldiering.

  But he would do what was necessary to save his family.

  "Legionaries!" he roared in the voice he had used as a first spear centurion. Every eye in the foundry turned to look at him. "Battle formation! Shields and swords, before the doors. Now!"

  He marched down the stairs, Korbulus hurrying after.

  "You can't..." began Korbulus.

  "Battle formation!" shouted Ark again, his voice ringing off the walls. "Now, you sluggards! Are you men of the Legion or are you women? Move!"

  One of the Legionaries of the Nineteenth stepped before Ark, scowling. "All our centurions are dead. You're just some merchant's guard. You can't order us to..."

  Ark punched him.

  The jolt went all the way up his shoulder, but the Legionary landed on his rump, armor clattering, eyes wide with shock.

  "I will not say it again!" said Ark. "Do you want to hide in here until the Istarish come to burn you out? Or will you take up your swords and shields and show these Istarish dogs how a man of the Legion fights? Battle formation!"

  For a moment no one moved.

  Then the Legionaries moved forward. A few at first, slowly. But then more and more, until all the survivors of the Nineteenth had arranged themselves in ranks. Some of the foundry workers joined them, wielding swords, shields, and armor looted from the foundry's stores. Korbulus planted himself at Ark's side, weapons in hand.