Ghost in the Flames (The Ghosts)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “What will happen if you fail?” said Valgorix.

  “If I fail,” said Caina, “we will all die. Now enough talk. There’s no time. We will either succeed, or die as true men of the Empire.” And women, but Valgorix didn’t need to know that.

  “At least it will be good to fight,” muttered Valgorix, “instead of chasing shadows and trying to quell the Saddai. Men!” The militiamen formed up around him. “Drive these rebels from the pyramid. They have been cursed by sorcery, and feel neither pain nor fear, and we will have to kill them all. The curse resides in their weapons, so do not touch them after you have slain their bearers.” He pointed at the stairs. “At them!”

  His men yelled, and they surged up the stairs. Caina put her boots the horse and galloped with them, the rapier ready. The Guards and the Sons of Corazain rushed forward, burning weapons raised. Valgorix killed one and wounded another, and then the rest of his men crashed into the melee around him. Caina’s half-panicked horse trampled one man, and she killed a Son of Corazain with a quick blow from the rapier as she galloped past. Kalastus’s enslaved men rushed at the militia, and Caina broke free.

  For a moment she hesitated. Valgorix was badly outnumbered. But, no, she had to go on. If she failed Valgorix and his men would die anyway. So would Ark, lying wounded in the ruined Temple, and her maids at the Inn, and Sairzan, and Sister Tadaia, and every last living soul in Rasadda.

  Caina jerked the horse around, made for the next flight of stairs, and kicked the poor animal to a gallop.

  Chapter 27 - To Make The World Burn

  Her horse staggered to the twelfth terrace, wheezing and trembling. All of Rasadda lay spread out beneath Caina like a map, the wind howling and tugging at her cloak. Caina slid from the saddle and let the exhausted beast go. If she was to have any chance at all, she had to take Kalastus unawares, and she could not do so from the back of an exhausted horse.

  Throwing knife in one hand, rapier in the other, Caina ran up the final flight of stairs.

  A flat expanse of gleaming black marble topped the pyramid. In the center stood a block of stone the size of a house, wreathed in Corazain’s everlasting funeral pyre. Even from a distance Caina felt the terrible heat, the fire covering everything with hellish light.

  An altar stood halfway between the stairs and the pyre. Sister Tadaia lay bound on the stone slab, struggling against the ropes, face drawn and lined with fear. The massive book Caina had seen on Kalastus’s desk lay open on the altar, its pages unruffled by the wind. Kalastus himself stood over the book, a dagger in hand, chanting and making intricate gestures, his black robes billowing around him.

  Kalastus looked…Kalastus looked younger.

  Thirty years had dropped from his face, the wrinkles and lines vanishing. His hair had even grown back. Power, awful power, covered him like a cloak, and Caina felt it howling through him like a storm. He looked strong, terribly strong. If his sorcery had reversed his aging, he would have the power to kill her with little more than a glance.

  The storm overhead trembled in time to his words, and the flames danced and quivered with the rhythm of his incantation. This was sorcery of a level that would have made her mother flee shrieking in terror. Every muscle and nerve in Caina’s body screamed for her to run far away.

  But Kalastus had his back towards her.

  Caina crept forward, rapier angled for a stab. Then Kalastus raised his dagger and brought it down, and for an awful moment Caina thought that she had come too late. But he slashed the blade across Tadaia’s left hand, drawing blood. He rubbed the dagger over her palm twice, thoroughly soaking the blade in her blood.

  Blood. She had been right. The spell required blood.

  Caina came closer.

  Kalastus stooped. Lines of glowing flame had been written upon the black marble, she saw, forming three concentric, glowing circles. Strange sigils and symbols filled the spaces between the circles. Kalastus placed the bloody dagger at the exact center of the sorcerous symbol, and stood.

  He saw her then.

  There was no hint of sanity, of reason, in his eyes.

  Caina stiffened, prepared to charge him in the vain hope that she could cut him down before he worked a spell.

  But Kalastus only laughed.

  “It took you long enough, my wispy little Ghost,” he said. His sonorous voice boomed over the wind, and it sounded almost the same, yet Caina heard the power snarling just below his words.

  “You were expecting me?” said Caina, inching closer. Just a few more feet, just a few more steps, and she would be close enough to throw the knife. If Kalastus had been too careless to guard himself with a steel-warding spell…

  She tossed the rapier to her left hand and the knife to her right. Kalastus seemed not to care.

  “I thought the Emperor would send someone to stop me,” said Kalastus. “Especially after I butchered those Ghosts and devoured their lives.” He smiled. “Their screams were like kisses to me.”

  “You murderous dog,” said Caina. She flipped the knife and gripped the blade. Distract him, distract him, just a few more steps…

  “Run!” screamed Tadaia. “Whoever you are, run, run now before he kills…”

  “Do shut up,” said Kalastus. He flicked a finger, and Tadaia fell silent.

  “You’ll pay for what you’ve done,” said Caina. Another six steps closer, she judged.

  “No I won’t,” said Kalastus. “I see that clearly now. When I was young I saw that there were no gods, that laws were only lies that men told to one another. The rankest hypocrisy. The strong did as they pleased, and the weak were there to be used by the strong. I was strong, but others were stronger.”

  “You still aren’t strong enough,” said Caina. Another step. Another. “You finish this spell and you’ll die along with everyone else in Rasadda.”

  “And I will laugh as they burn,” said Kalastus. His voice rose to a scream. “I hate the Saddai! I hate their language, their customs, their rank superstitions. I hate the way they smell.” His face twitched back into a jerky smile. “But in their superstitions I found the answer. The Ashbringers were fools, but they had power. They are dead but I have claimed their power for my own. For I learned the truth, you see, the final truth that explains the world.”

  “And that truth?” said Caina, gloved fingers tightening against the knife.

  “That there are no gods,” said Kalastus, “and those with power may do as they please. After tonight that power …”

  Caina flung the knife. Despite the wind, it was a perfect throw. It flew end over end, making for Kalastus’s unprotected throat.

  Or it would have, had it not come to a sudden stop.

  The weapon hovered a foot from Kalastus’s face, caught in the grip of his will. Caina snatched another blade from her belt and flung it. Against it stopped, floating next to the other.

  Kalastus smiled and made a fist, and Caina felt the surge of power.

  The knives began to glow, shining brighter and brighter. They lost their shape, melting into writhing orbs of molten steel. Caina began backing away. Kalastus laughed and flung out his hand.

  The molten metal flew towards Caina. She dove, rolled, and felt the heat as the arcs of liquid steel flew over her head. They splattered against the black marble, freezing into twisted shapes. Caina came back to her feet, rapier in hand.

  “Is that the best you can do?” she said.

  Kalastus laughed, high and wild. “No. It really isn’t.”

  He thrust out his palm, and again Caina felt the surge of power. Flames swirled around Kalastus’s fingers, drew into themselves, and erupted out. A white-hot bar of liquid flame erupted from Kalastus’s palm and swept towards Caina’s knees. She raced to the side, cloak snapping out behind. The ribbon of flame carved into the marble terrace like a knife slicing through butter. Kalastus whipped his hand towards her, and Caina flattened herself against the stone, the white-hot bar spinning over her head. Kalastus dipped his hand, and again the line of
incandescent flame sliced into the terrace.

  The floor shifted and groaned beneath Caina as part of the terrace began to fall away. Cracks splintered through the black marble, and Caina felt herself sliding. She sprinted for the glowing gash Kalastus’s sorcery had left in the black marble and jumped over it. A minute later part of the terrace tore free from the pyramid, falling down its sides in an echoing, booming avalanche.

  “Well done!” called Kalastus. “Your will is strong. Perhaps I shall burn you alive and devour your strength for my own.” He hesitated. “No. No point, not when I’m about to devour all of Rasadda. Better just to kill you.”

  He gestured again, and another surge of power stabbed at Caina’s skin. Flames erupted from the floor before him, twenty feet tall, thirty feet tall, fifty. The wall of billowing flame roared towards Caina like a tidal wave. There was no place to dodge, nowhere to duck. Caina ran for the edge of the terrace and rolled off the edge. She tumbled down the sloped side, and jammed the rapier into a gap between the stones. A heartbeat later the wall of flames roared over the edge. For a moment Caina thought the fire would pour down over her, searing the flesh from her bones, and she screamed.

  Instead the flames leapt up into the night and vanished. Caina gritted her teeth, sweat pouring down her face, and began to claw her way back up. She had to think of something, had to think of something before Kalastus killed…

  Kalastus appeared at the edge of the terrace, staring down at her. “Still alive?”

  He gestured.

  Invisible force seized Caina, caught her in an irresistible grip. Pinned in the force of Kalastus’s will, she floated up the slope until he had drawn her back to the terrace. Just as Ephaeron had floated Gaidan towards him, until magus had shattered every bone in the priest’s body.

  Kalastus walked back towards the altar, Caina floating after him. Her arms and legs were free, and she yanked a dagger from her boot, but she could not break free, and he stayed just out of reach.

  “It is indeed impressive that you are still alive,” said Kalastus, “little wonder Ephaeron was so afraid of the Ghosts. But I’m afraid I have no more time for games. You’re just stubborn enough to disrupt my spell, and I can’t have that. So I will kill you quickly. But first, let’s see who you really are.”

  He lifted his hand, pushing aside her cowl, and Caina felt his will hammer into her mind. She gasped in agony, and felt her concentration start to crumple as his sorcery reached inside her head. If she did not distract him now, he would crush her will as he had crushed the wills of the Magisterial Guard.

  Her arms were still free. Caina reached up and tore away her mask.

  Kalastus’s eyes focused on her face, and his mouth fell open.

  Caina had never seen anyone look so shocked.

  “You?” said Kalastus.

  For just an instant, Caina felt his mental grip upon her waver. It was enough. She surged forward, dagger in hand, and stabbed with all her strength.

  And as it turned out, Kalastus had not warded himself against steel after all.

  Her blade plunged into his neck, and Caina yanked it savagely from side to side, opening his throat. Kalastus stumbled back with a gurgling scream, and Caina stabbed him in the chest. Still he stumbled backwards, and she stabbed him again, and again, her dagger wet with his blood. She punched him hard in the face, intending to bring him to knees, and Kalastus fell backwards.

  And kept falling.

  They had reached the edge.

  Kalastus tumbled the fifty feet to the next terrace. He hit the black marble with a bone-snapping crunch and lay still. Caina stared down at him, breathing hard.

  His fingers twitched.

  And again Caina felt a surge of power.

  Kalastus flopped onto his back, and Caina saw the ghastly wound in his throat shrink. The wounds on his chest began to close. Caina stepped back in sudden panic. He must have stolen enough power to heal even fatal wounds. What would it take to kill him? Would she have to cut off his head and cut out his heart?

  He would not let her get that close, not again.

  Caina kept backing away, the bloody dagger hanging from her fist.

  The bloody dagger.

  Blood. The spell required blood. And Tadaia’s blood covered the dagger lying within the glowing circle…

  Caina turned and sprinted for the circle. Tadaia’s head turned towards her.

  “Countess?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  Caina knelt besides the glowing circles, felt the power throbbing within them. Reaching for the dagger with Tadaia’s blood was like pushing her hand through boiling water. But she seized the dagger, flung it as far as she could, and placed the dagger with Kalastus’s blood inside the circles.

  “Countess, Countess, you have to run,” rasped Tadaia. “He’ll kill you. He’ll do worse than kill you. You can’t save me. Run!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Caina. She stood. “I can’t get away before…”

  Kalastus’s roar of fury echoed over the pyramid. Caina turned, saw him levitating over the top of the terrace, wrapped in an aura of snarling power. He thrust out his hand, and his will hammered into Caina with catastrophic force. She hurtled backwards through the air at terrifying speed, spinning end over end. She saw the city flying up to meet her, realized that he had blasted her off the top of the pyramid, that she was falling to her death…

  Then his will seized her again, stopping her in mid-flight. She rushed back towards the pyramid, swooping over the terraces, and came to a stop before Kalastus. His will hardened about her, holding her arms and legs immobile. Blood soaked the front of his black robes, and his face was so twisted with insane fury that it looked scarcely human.

  He did not try to reach into her mind. Perhaps she had taught him better.

  “You stabbed me,” he whispered, rubbing his throat. A faint pink scar was the only trace of his wound. “You dared to stab me!”

  Don’t look at the circle, she prayed. Don’t look at the circle.

  “You were spying on me,” he muttered. “That’s why you came to the chapterhouse. You were spying on me!”

  Caina did not answer.

  He leaned closer, until his face was inches from hers, his eyes blazing “Do you know what I was going to do to you, my pretty little Countess? Do you? I was going to reach into your mind, to wipe away your will and your memories, until you were left with the mind of an infant. Except for the knowledge of how to please a man, for when I wished to amuse myself with you. Though I would have left you just enough of your mind to realize what had happened, and to feel horror at it.”

  “Go to hell,” whispered Caina.

  Kalastus laughed in her face, his breath hot and dry against her skin. “Don’t you understand? There is no hell. Except the one I will make for you. You see, I’ve just thought of something better to do to you. You wanted to save all those people, didn’t you? All those pathetic, stupid, stinking Saddai, you wanted to save their useless lives.” He gestured, and she floated a few feet away, so she could see Kalastus and the city spread out behind him. “You’re going to watch as I finish the spell, as I burn away their meaningless lives and claim their strength. You’ll hear all those starving little Saddai children scream as they burn alive. And then I will lock you within your own mind, so that you will never again see anything but the flames, never again hear anything but the screams.”

  Caina said nothing, straining with all her will not to look at the glowing circles behind Kalastus.

  “There are no gods, Countess,” said Kalastus. “So I’ll just have to take their place, won’t I?”

  He braced himself, looked down at Corazain’s book, and began to chant once more. Caina felt the colossal surge of power, so strong that it felt like knives were plunging into her skin, and she screamed. The wind roared, louder and louder, until Caina could no longer hear Kalastus’s chant. The clouds raced overhead, faster than maddened horses, flashing with crimson lighting.

  And as Ka
lastus chanted, the flames of the pyre grew ever taller. Soon they had transformed into a single pulsing pillar of hellish light, clawing higher and higher. Kalastus’s chant rose to an exultant scream, and he flung up his hands.

  And the pillar of flame touched the clouds themselves.

  The sound seemed to tear the world in half. The sky lit up from horizon to horizon, alive with fire, as if the gates of the heavens had been thrown open to rain flame upon the world. The dagger within the glowing circles began to burn, the metal twisting and melting. Kalastus laughed with delight, and turned to face Rasadda, ready to devour the lives of the Saddai as they burned.

  Nothing happened.

  Kalastus frowned in confusion. He looked at Tadaia, who lay untouched upon the altar, and then back at Rasadda. Confusion became outright bafflement. He looked again at Tadaia, and back at Corazain’s book.

  Then the pillar of flame shuddered, began to snap back and forth like a broken cord. The wind grew more violent, but it changed direction. No longer did it whirl around the pyramid.

  Instead it started blowing towards Kalastus.

  Kalastus staggered in sudden alarm. He looked down at the glowing circles, at the burning dagger, and his brow creased.

  And Caina saw comprehension strike him.

  His scream of fury threatened to split her ears, and he pointed at her, and Caina saw her death in his eyes.

  She felt the power surge…but directed not at her.

  Smoke rose from Kalastus’s skin. He stared down at his hands in panic, and his howl of wrath became a scream of terror. Kalastus’s own power bent upon him, and Caina felt the crushing grip of his will begin to waver.

  The pyramid shuddered around them.

  And Kalastus burst into raging flames, burning as Ostros had burned.

  He raced back and forth, shrieking, his robes dissolving into ash, his skin blackening and crackling. The invisible force holding Caina vanished, and she hit the floor, climbing unsteadily back to her feet. Kalastus kept running, still screaming, while the fires burned away his flesh. It should have killed him by now, but she realized the spell was burning him alive to feed his own strength. And the mighty forces he had summoned above were spinning out of control. In flash of insight, Caina realized that Kalastus had gotten his wish. The power was pouring into him, like water piling up behind a dam.