by Unknown
Kuroz laughed, his eyes glinting. “Ravodan was a fool! Else the Ghosts would not have slain him. Yet his power remains in the netherworld, waiting for anyone strong enough to claim it! You are a Ghost, yes? One of those meddlers and schemers?” Another acolyte fell dead. They were unskilled and unaccustomed to fighting, while Lucan was neither. “Another fool poking into things she does not understand.”
“You would know,” said Caina, taking a cautious step closer. Kuroz might have warded himself from steel, but she doubted he possessed the foresight to shield himself from stone. If she picked up a piece of rubble, she might be able to brain him. Or if she got close enough, she could simply strangle him. “Pyromancy drives its wielders mad.”
“I thought as much, once,” said Kuroz. “But then I discovered the secrets of fire sorcery. Now I see the world clearly. All the world is fuel, fuel I will burn to enhance my power.”
Shouts rang out, and another acolyte fell.
“You will not,” said Caina. “You will murder no more innocents.”
“Oh,” said Kuroz. “I will.”
He thrust out his palm, flames crackling around his fingers. Caina threw herself to the left as a blast of flame erupted from his hand. The fire missed, but the heat of it struck Caina across the face. She scrambled back to her feet at Kuroz began another spell, fresh fire shimmering in his hand, his eyes lit up with madness.
And as she did, the seventh candle ignited.
Arcane power thrummed in the air, and the ground trembled beneath Caina’s boots. A beam of crimson light erupted from the heptagon, stabbing into the sky. Darkness writhed and swirled within the light, and Caina felt a sense of distance as she looked into it.
As if the darkness was a portal to another place.
A scream rang out, and the final acolyte crumpled to the floor. Lucan stepped over the bodies, blood dripping from his sword.
“Splendid,” said Kuroz, flexing his fingers. “You’ve saved me the trouble of killing them later.” He pointed at Lucan, fiery light glimmering around his hand.
Caina ducked, seized a fist-sized chunk of stone, and threw it. It smacked into Kuroz’s jaw with enough force to send teeth flying, and the shaman stumbled to one knee with a cry of pain. As she suspected, he had failed to ward himself against stone. She raced forward, but Kuroz was faster. He flung out his hands with a snarl, and a sheet of fire erupted from the ground. Caina skidded to a stop and veered right, but the fire spread in front of her.
A heartbeat later she found herself trapped within a ring of fire. The heat made sweat pour off her face and drip down her neck. Through the roaring flames she glimpsed another burning ring, Lucan trapped within it.
“That rather hurt,” muttered Kuroz, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “I should kill you both. Listen to you scream as I roast the flesh right off your bones.” He lifted his hand, and the light of madness brightened in his eyes once more. “Or...yes. I’ll make you watch first. You will see me claim Ravodan’s power for myself. You’ll know that you failed, Ghosts. And then, and only then, will I kill you.”
He nodded to himself and turned to face the pulsing column of darkness and crimson light. Caina edged towards the flames, but the sheer heat drove her back. Kuroz had his back to her, and it would be so easy to take him down. But first she had to find a way through his sorcerous ring of fire.
One of the pillars leaned close. Could she reach up and seize it? No, it was too high, though if she knocked the pillar over, it might provide a safe path through the flames.
Kuroz began to chant, the column of light pulsing in time to his spell.
Caina’s frown deepened.
Fire needed fuel. Yet Kuroz’s sorcerous flames burned upon the barren stone floor nonetheless. Or, more specifically, upon the stone flagstones covering the floor.
So what would happened if Caina tipped over one of those flagstones?
She yanked a dagger from its sheath, knelt, and began to pry up the flagstone. For a moment it did not move as her muscles trembled with strain. Then it rose up an inch or so. Caina seized the lip of the flagstone with both hands and stood, trying to bear the load with her legs. Straining, she forced the stone up, and then pushed it into the flames.
It landed with a terrific crash, opening a gap in the fire.
Kuroz spun in surprise as Caina raced through the gap in the ring of fire. He drew back his hand, flames glimmering in his fingers, but Caina was faster. She seized his wrist, spun past him, and planted her boot in the small of his back. Kuroz lurched forward, losing his balance.
Right into the broken ring of fire.
His ragged clothes ignited at once, and his scream drowned out even the roar of the flames. Kuroz staggered towards her, reaching for her with burning arms, but Caina dodged. Her hand closed around a broken chunk of rock, and she stepped as close as she dared and hammered it against Kuroz’s head.
The shaman fell, wreathed in flame.
A moment later the rings of fire disappeared, though the column of crimson light still rose from the heptagon.
Lucan hurried towards her. “Are you injured?”
Caina let out a deep breath. “I’m fine.” She looked at Kuroz’s burning corpse. He had gotten the same death he had dealt out to his victims. He deserved to suffer. He deserved more pain than Caina had inflicted on him.
He deserved to scream.
The intensity of her hatred unsettled her.
“No. Do not be frightened of it.”
A man’s voice. But not Lucan’s.
Caina turned, a throwing knife in hand.
The man in the hooded cloak stood near the glowing heptagon. As Caina watched, he reached up and drew back his hood, revealing a gray-bearded face with deep wrinkles and glittering eyes.
“Who are you?” said Caina. “One of Kuroz’s disciples? Speak!”
Lucan looked back and forth, frowning.
The cloaked man laughed. “Kuroz was a fool with no vision. He deserved his fate. “
“Yes,” said Caina.
Lucan’s frown deepened.
“But Kuroz was not the only one,” said the cloaked man, his eyes reflecting the pulsing column of fiery light. “You’ve slain so many sorcerers, so many corrupt magi. So many innocents you have avenged. But there are always more, aren’t there? More magi spilling the blood of innocents to fuel their power. More sorcerers using their spells to terrorize and enslave.”
Caina nodded.
“You can’t kill them all,” said the cloaked man. “You can’t make them burn they way they deserve to burn.”
“I can’t,” said Caina.
“You can’t do what?” said Lucan.
“I tried to do it,” said the cloaked man, shaking his head. “I tried to cleanse the world in fire, to transform the wicked into torches to light the path of the righteous. But I failed. I was not strong enough.” His eyes, glimmering like coals in the darkness, met Caina’s. “But you are strong enough. You have the will, the determination. You can hunt down every last sorcerer, every last necromancer. You can make them burn.”
That sounded so very tempting. But some part of Caina’s mind screamed warning, and she hesitated.
“Take my hand,” said the cloaked man. “Take my hand, and I will give you the power. You will burn away the wickedness of the world, and reforge it strong and new and clean.”
“Yes,” whispered Caina. “They deserve to burn, don’t they?”
“Caina!”
Lucan’s voice struck her like a splash of cold water.
“Who the devil are you talking to?” said Lucan, looking back and forth, sword raised in guard.
Caina blinked, looked at the cloaked man, and then back at Lucan. “You...you don’t see him?”
“See who?” said Lucan. “There’s no one here but us.”
Caina frowned. Behind the cloaked man the column of light stabbed into the sky, darkness writhing in its core. Darkness that seemed like a portal to elsewhere.
A d
oorway, perhaps, for something to enter this world?
The realization struck Caina.
“You,” she said. “You’re Ravodan.”
“Yes,” said the cloaked man. “The Ghosts did not understand. The world must be cleansed in fire, and the wicked shall be burn. We shall make them burn. Kuroz, too, was weak. You are far stronger. Become my host. Our purpose is one. Join with me, and my powers shall be yours. Together, we will make the wicked burn.”
“No!” said Caina. “I know what you did. You murdered dozens here. The Ghosts brought you down for it!”
“They did not understand,” said Ravodan’s shade, beckoning to her. “And we are more alike than you know. Join with me, now.”
Caina hesitated. Ravodan had been a murderer, a monster who used his sorcerous power for evil. Yet she had seen so much suffering, so much death. With Ravodan’s power, could she have prevented it? Could she prevent more suffering and torment and death?
If she could, didn’t she have an obligation to take the power?
She wavered, her hand starting to rise...
“Caina!” Lucan stepped closer. “Whatever it’s telling you, don’t listen. Remember what Kuroz did. Remember those women on the pyres!”
Caina flinched, remembering the burned corpses.
Ravodan’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.
“You are mine!” he hissed. “And if you will not give yourself to me, then I will take you...”
“Go burn,” said Caina.
She flung the knife in her hand, knocking one of the candles into the heptagon. Ravodan shrieked in sudden agony, the pillar of bloody light flickering. Caina flung another knife, and then another, the candles winking out, and the column of light vanished. Ravodan shuddered once, seeming to ripple and distort, and then disappeared.
And the tingling presence of sorcery against Caina’s skin vanished.
#
“You were right,” said Caina the next morning.
They stood outside Mauldron’s house, watching Caer Belaen’s militia hurry back and forth. Kuroz and his chief followers were dead, but Caina had located a list of the cult’s members in Mauldron’s study, and passed it on to the local magistrates. Numerous wealthy merchants suddenly found themselves under arrest for murder and illicit sorcery, and would face the headsman’s block soon enough.
It was still a kinder fate than they had dealt their victims.
“About what?” said Lucan. “The weather, you mean? It is a lovely morning. Though I expected more clouds, to be honest...”
“No,” said Caina. “About me. I have been too ready to deal out pain and death to those I think deserve it.” She took a deep breath. “And because of that, I listened to Ravodan’s shade.”
“You turned him down,” said Lucan.
“I did,” said Caina. “But I considered it. His words were sweet. I would like to see the magi burn. I know it was a mad dream. I know that kind of power would lead only to ruin. But I wanted it nonetheless.”
“I understand better than you think,” said Lucan. “I told you the magi slew my wife, years ago.” He looked away for a moment. “And for a long time, I wanted to kill them all. I still fight them. But that kind of hatred will devour you. You cannot live on vengeance alone.”
“That’s all I’ve known for so long,” said Caina. “What else is there?”
He hesitated, and then took her hand.
“Love, perhaps?” said Lucan.
Caina hesitated, and then took his other hand.
“Yes,” she said. “I think so.”
Jack in Black
by Linda A. B. Davis
People can do things on Halloween that they can’t do the rest of the year. Unfortunately, so can other things.
Linda A. B. Davis lives in Pensacola, Florida, just ten miles from the Alabama line, where she spends much of her time swatting mosquitoes and dodging hurricanes. Her house is crazy full with a husband, three dogs, three cats, and her daughter and son-in-law who hang out a lot with their own cat. She prefers it that way and isn’t sure she can write under any other circumstances.
Linda holds a master’s degree in Communication Arts from the University of West Florida. She’s discovered that she enjoys writing fiction as well, but specifically science fiction and fantasy. Her speculative fiction as been published in two DAW Books anthologies and other genre venues. This is her first sale to the SWORD & SORCERESS series, and she’s quite stoked about her work appearing with the wonderful stories included here.
Linda also markets individual stories digitally, and you can read more about them at www.lindaabdavis.com. You may read a free story there, too.
****
The Halloween night sky dripped magic. It covered Kiki with an almost invisible sheen of bugaboo induced anticipation. The clouds crossed the black above in shades of gray, sometimes allowing a flicker of moonlight through. A crisp breeze cut through the stillness with abandon.
Kiki sniffed the air with purpose. The scent of dark magic slammed her, sending a shot of adrenaline through her system. She shivered once before getting a hold on the immediate sense of dread.
She didn’t understand it. The Halloween magic of previous years had possessed a carefree air about it and spread easily so as to add to the fun. Everyone loved that magic.
This darker magic was different. Kiki felt the malice riding the winds. She shivered again, realizing it was taking advantage of the one day it claimed free access to the world above. Her world.
Kiki gathered herself and stepped back into her tiny kitchen to see her daughter, Bennita, talking to her best friend, Jaz. They were both already dressed for Halloween. Bennita had put together an adorable pirate princess costume, and Jaz was a neon clown, quite bright.
“She might,” Jaz said.
“I’ll try, but I bet not.”
“Might what?” Kiki asked. “What might I do?”
Bennita huffed. “Let us go trick or treating without you.”
“You were right. Not, it is. Sorry, girls. We don’t know everyone who lives here and we might only think we know the others.”
“We’re ten years old, Mom. That’s plenty old enough to go in this neighborhood. And we’ll be with the other kids,” Bennita said. “The kids who get to go by themselves.”
Kiki looked at Bennita, knowing she was right. Lots of kids their age went by themselves, but those other mothers didn’t know of the black magic whipping about their own suburban neighborhood at this very moment.
Jaz jumped in. “My mom said it was okay with her if it was okay with you. You can call her at work if you want.”
“No, I don’t want to bother her.” Jaz’s mom was a single mother and needed her job.
“Our friends will just make fun of us tomorrow for being such babies.” Bennita sat down with a deflated plop.
Kiki was quiet for a moment. She studied Bennita, whom she knew was desperate to fit in. Some of her friends were already starting to snub her, knowing she was different somehow. Her rich golden eyes stood out against her soft brown skin and her crow-colored hair which curled just the slightest bit. Being kids, they assumed it was just her beauty that set her apart, not knowing enough to pay more attention.
They couldn’t know what lived just below Bennita’s skin, but Kiki could smell it. It was magic, just like the sort that lived within her. That magic would take over Bennita’s life one day, throwing her into a maelstrom of confusion until she learned to fit her special ability into the everyday routine of life.
Kiki planned on telling Bennita everything in a couple of years, before the onset of puberty, but after she’d been afforded a childhood. She would help her daughter navigate that time with knowledge and training, something she hadn’t received.
Kiki and her American parents knew nothing about the origin of her ability. They’d adopted her out of Haiti when she was five after she’d been orphaned in an earthquake. Kiki had been too afraid to tell them what she could do, afraid they
’d be sorry for taking her in. She now realized the fault in her logic, but after thirty years, it was too late. It was best kept to herself and her husband, Jerome.
Kiki took a breath and leaned against the table, knowing she would somehow, certainly, be sorry for what she was about to do. She comforted herself with the knowledge that at least she could be present to keep them safe. The girls would never know she was there.
“Fine,” Kiki said. “You’re right. You guys are getting older, and it’s time for you to start taking care of yourselves some.”
The girls grinned and jumped up, immediately ready to go. Bennita kissed Kiki on her cheek. “Thanks, Mom. We’ll be safe.”
“Yeah, Miss Kiki,” Jaz said. “All we’ll get tonight is candy.” She grabbed their little pumpkin bags, both pristine now but guaranteed to be grubby and torn upon return.
Kiki hugged each one and sent them on their way. She stood still for a moment, centering herself. She went to the kitchen and drank a full glass of orange juice. She’d found that some serious sugar before a shift made it easier. Liquid was the fastest way to get it.
She then went to a closet, grabbed a twin-sized sheet, and cut it in half with a couple of holes for eyes. It was cliché, but what else was she going to do on short notice? She had to hurry.
Kiki stripped and lay on her bed. She drew in deep breaths, filling her lungs and then slowly blowing the air out. This was the best way to do it. She could start the shift without preparations, but the side effects were more intense. Kiki preferred to avoid the pain.
A small, yellow glow appeared in the middle of the blotchy shadows behind her eyelids. She kept its growth to her own comfortable schedule. Only sometimes, during times of stress, did she lose control and pay the price with an uncontrolled shift. The blinding and enveloping light, accompanied by an internal shrill, screaming sound, brought on a mother of a migraine. It usually put her down for several hours. By taking her time, she just needed a few moments afterwards to gather her wits.
Kiki envisioned herself at age ten. She couldn’t go forward, but she could choose any age that she’d already been. She wanted to be about the size of the girls so she could blend in. The sheet would hide her face, and her voice would change with her age.
