Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Aye,” said the mercenary, turning. “We…”

  “You lot!” The sergeant stalked over, pointing at Corvalis. “You and you and you, head to the mistress’s workshop. She wants the black chest next to the worktable by the canal. Move!”

  Corvalis could not leave Claudia. If he left, by the time he returned Mihaela might have fed her into that ghastly machine. But if he created a commotion, that would draw the attention of Mihaela, Sicarion, and Torius. The Forge held their attention, but if they saw Corvalis…

  If they saw Corvalis, he would die, and there would be no one to save Claudia.

  “Sir,” said Corvalis, and he followed the other two men from the chamber.

  Chapter 24 - The Stormdancer and the Assassin

  The mercenaries strode into the Seekers’ quarters, keeping away from the stream of molten metal, and Corvalis followed.

  His mind sorted through plan after plan. The long, high corridor was deserted, and Corvalis could overpower the two mercenaries easily enough. Then he could return and escape with Claudia. But what then? Mihaela was building an army of glypharmor, and she would go on a rampage as soon as she was ready. Should he try to find Caina and warn her? Or Basil, perhaps? Basil had allies in the city, and he might have the means to stop Mihaela.

  Corvalis gritted his teeth. This disaster was his doing. If he had not listened to Claudia, none of this would have happened.

  “What’s your problem?” said one of the mercenaries.

  “I want a damned drink,” said Corvalis.

  The man laughed. “You and me both. But once the mistress deals with the sorcerers, all the wealth of the Tower will be ours. You can buy your own damned vineyard then.”

  They walked through a scarred door and through a hall filled with steel coffins of varying sizes. Corvalis supposed these were earlier versions of Mihaela’s Forge. Beyond stood a vast chamber, bisected by another stream of molten metal. Dozens of suits of glypharmor stood scattered around the chamber, along with a random assortment of crates and barrels.

  “There,” said one of the mercenaries. “The mistress’s chest is there.”

  Corvalis followed the other men to the worktable near the molten canal. As he did, he slipped a dagger from his belt. The other two men stooped over the heavy chest, grunting.

  “Help, damn you,” snarled one of the men.

  “Of course,” said Corvalis, driving his dagger into the closest man’s neck. The mercenary toppled, blood pouring from his wound. The other man yelled and scrambled for his weapon, but Corvalis was faster. His sword blurred, driving into the mercenary’s throat, and the man collapsed to the floor.

  Corvalis cleaned his weapons off, dragged the corpses to the canal, and dumped them into the molten metal. The resultant stench was considerable, but hopefully the lack of corpses would confuse any pursuers for a few moments. Corvalis decided to make for the palace where Lord Titus Iconias and his retainers had been housed. He had seen Lord Titus and his bodyguards in the Hall of Assembly, but no sign of Basil or Caina. Maybe Caina had returned to the palace to alert Basil. Corvalis could warn them of Mihaela’s true intentions…and perhaps Basil could rouse the cohort of Imperial Guards waiting in the barracks.

  If they struck now, they might stop Mihaela before she built her invincible army.

  He took a step towards the door and froze.

  A glint of silvery metal next to a shattered barrel caught his eye. Corvalis picked it up. It was a curved dagger, the blade carved with flowing characters.

  Caina’s ghostsilver dagger. She never went anywhere without it.

  He saw a motionless form lying next to a crate. Corvalis hurried forward, saw a body clad in all in black, wrapped in a dark shadow-cloak, and…

  The blue eyes of Caina Amalas gazed unblinkingly at him.

  Unseeing.

  She wasn’t breathing.

  Corvalis dropped to one knee, put his hand upon her neck. She was still warm. But he felt no pulse. He cursed, tugged off one of her leather gloves, felt her left wrist. There was no pulse.

  She was dead.

  The part of his mind that had been trained by the Kindred noted the details of her corpse. He could not see how she had died. There were no marks upon her, no wounds. One of Mihaela’s spells, perhaps. Sorcery had slain Caina’s father and left her barren, and now it had taken everything she had left.

  The rest of his mind screamed.

  Corvalis’s breath rasped through his teeth. He looked away, then back at her. Watching her walk away from Mihaela’s rooms had hurt.

  This hurt…this hurt much worse.

  He had only loved two people in his life, his mother and his sister. After his father had executed his mother, there had been only Claudia. When Ranarius had turned her to stone, Corvalis had crossed half the Empire to save her, risking his life again and again to rescue her.

  It had never occurred to him that he might love someone else. He had thought he loved Nairia, but that had only been one of his father’s cruel jokes. When he first met Caina Amalas, he thought her a cold and efficient killer, a Kindred assassin remade in the image of the Ghosts. Only later had he learned the truth of her.

  He had loved her, she had loved him back…and now she was dead because he had not listened to her.

  Corvalis bowed his head, his eyes burning. The smoke from the corpses he had dumped into the canal, no doubt.

  “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I should have listened to you. Gods damn it all, I should have listened to you. I’m so sorry.”

  Caina was dead, but Claudia was not. Corvalis would find a way to save her from Mihaela’s damned Forge.

  And then…and then he supposed he would let Basil kill him.

  “I’m sorry,” said Corvalis again, kissing her lips. He rose, ghostsilver dagger in hand, and strode for the door. He returned to the corridor and looked around. The hallway remained deserted, and no one had come to hunt for the missing mercenaries yet. Corvalis would break into one of the unused rooms, go out the window, and make his way to the guests’ palace. Then Basil could rouse the Imperial Guards, and they could stop Mihaela’s mad plan before she burned Claudia to ashes in her Forge.

  Claudia. That thought alone kept Corvalis moving, kept him from falling upon his sword.

  Caina was dead and it was his fault.

  The air in front of him rippled, and Corvalis drew his sword, half-expecting to see Mihaela with the Stormbrand. Instead a man in his middle twenties appeared, his lean body clad in gray leather armor, a sword in his right hand…

  Kylon of House Kardamnos.

  “Stormdancer,” said Corvalis.

  “Cormark,” said Kylon. He squinted at Corvalis for a moment. “I see you and your sister have realized the truth.”

  “Aye,” said Corvalis. “But Mihaela was telling the truth. The glypharmor was a trap. She…she just didn’t say what kind.”

  “The best lies,” said Kylon, “always are mostly true.” It sounded like something Caina would say. Perhaps he had heard it from her. “How did you escape the trap in the Hall of Assembly?”

  “I recognized the spell,” said Corvalis, “and held my breath long enough to keep from falling unconscious. They have Claudia, though.”

  “Claudia?” said Kylon.

  “My sister,” said Corvalis. “Irene Callenius.”

  “Ah,” said Kylon. “I assume Mihaela is going to feed her into that necromantic engine of hers? She’s making an army of glypharmor.”

  “Unless we stop her,” said Corvalis. “How did you escape, anyway?”

  “I, too, recognized the spell,” said Kylon, “and warded myself against it. I hoped to kill Mihaela and Torius, but when she used that dagger, hundreds of mercenaries stormed into the Hall, and I could not fight so many on my own. I used a spell of air to escape unnoticed. The Ghost said she was going to Basil Callenius, and that seemed as good a plan as any. If anyone can figure out a way to stop Mihaela, it is her.”

  “She can’t,
” said Corvalis.

  “Only a fool would underestimate her,” said Kylon, “as my sister learned, to her sorrow.”

  As Claudia, too, might learn.

  “She’s dead,” said Corvalis.

  “What?” said Kylon.

  “I don’t know how,” said Corvalis. “A spell, I think.” He held up her ghostsilver dagger.

  “You’re telling the truth,” said Kylon. “I’m sorry. I know she loved you.”

  “How did you know that?” said Corvalis. “Did she tell you?”

  “The sorcery of water,” said Kylon. “For all men are water, in the end. Her aura, Cormark…I have never sensed anyone quite like her. A mind of ice and a heart of rage. At first I didn’t think she could love anyone. But she did love you. I am sorry.”

  Corvalis gave a sharp nod. He didn’t want to talk about this with anyone, let alone Kylon. “I am making my way to Basil Callenius. If he can rouse the Imperial Guards from their barracks, we can storm the Hall of Assembly and stop Mihaela before this goes any further.”

  Kylon nodded. “Lead on.”

  ###

  Corvalis led Kylon around the stone terrace at the base of the Tower.

  Basil Callenius had been busy.

  The cohort of the Imperial Guard had formed up alongside the molten river flowing from the Tower’s doors, stern in their black armor and helms. Men in desert robes waited at their side, Saddiq at their head, a huge two-handed scimitar in his hand. Basil Callenius stood alongside the Sarbian chieftain, clad in chain mail and leather.

  “Lord Kylon!” called Basil in Kyracian.

  “Master Basil,” said Kylon. “You are a welcome sight.”

  “My contacts,” said Basil, “received word of a disturbance of in the Tower. The Tower has been sealed, and the slaves fled to the city proper. What has happened?”

  “The glypharmor was a trap all along,” said Kylon. “Mihaela creates it by using the souls of powerful sorcerers. The invitation was merely an excuse to lure hundreds of powerful sorcerers here. Even now she is using some sort of necromantic engine to transform them into suits of glypharmor.”

  “Claudia’s still in there,” said Corvalis.

  Basil frowned. “And where is Caina?”

  “She’s dead,” said Corvalis. “Mihaela killed her.”

  Basil said nothing, but his eyes grew hard.

  “It was my fault,” said Corvalis. “I should have listened to her. I should…”

  “Shut up,” said Basil. “We have work to do. Fortunately, Lord Titus left instructions that the Guards should obey my commands in an emergency. We are going to storm the Hall, kill Mihaela and her allies, and destroy this necromantic engine of hers.”

  “She has powerful allies,” said Kylon. “Sicarion and Torius Aberon.”

  Basil scowled. “Torius? The First Magus has such a gift for inspiring loyalty in his children.”

  “And she is making more suits of the glypharmor,” said Corvalis. “Once we attack, some of her men will don the suits.”

  “We have no choice,” said Basil. “We must stop this now. If Mihaela finishes her work, she’ll have hundreds of suits of glypharmor and loyal men with which to wield them. She’ll launch a war of conquest that will drown half the world in blood. If we do not stop her tonight, we never will.”

  Kylon nodded. “You have my sword, Master Basil. If you send a runner to my quarters, an additional stormdancer and my men will join us.”

  “Good,” said Basil. “We will need every man. If my contacts are correct, Mihaela has nearly a thousand men in the Tower, and even with your men, Lord Kylon, we have just over seven hundred. We will attack at once. Delay will only strengthen Mihaela.”

  Basil spoke with the tribune, and the Imperial Guards marched forward. Basil and the Sarbians followed, Corvalis and Kylon walking with them. Guards with axes rushed forward and attacked the doors to the Hall of Assembly.

  The doors fell open. Corvalis heard the sudden commotion from within the Hall…and in the distance, saw the flare of white light around Mihaela’s sorcerous machine.

  Then the Imperial Guards stormed the Hall, and the killing began.

  Chapter 25 - Slaves and Chains

  Caina drifted through an endless field of gray mist.

  She could not remember how she had come here.

  From time to time memories flitted across her mind, the mist congealing into scenes.

  Her father, sitting broken at his desk.

  Maglarion’s black lair beneath the hills.

  Kalastus laughing as sorcerous fire blazed around him.

  Nicolai shrieking for his mother as the Istarish soldiers stormed through Marsis.

  Caina herself, lying upon the floor of the Tower of Study.

  Dead.

  In some ways it was a relief. No more pain, no more fear, no more sorrow.

  Perhaps she would see her father again.

  But how she wished she could have said farewell to Corvalis.

  As the thought crossed her mind, she saw Corvalis kneeling over her, her ghostsilver dagger in his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of pain. “I should have listened to you. Gods damn it all, I should have listened to you. I’m so sorry.”

  A spasm went through Corvalis, and she saw sorrow on his hard face. She reached for him, but her fingers passed through him as if he were not there.

  Then the images dissolved into mist, and the numbness sank deeper into Caina. She felt the mist wrapping her like a blanket as everything faded away…

  “This would have been simpler,” said a woman’s voice, “had Torius just cut off your head.”

  A woman stood in the swirling gray mist. She wore a gown the color of blood, her dark hair hanging wet and loose around her shoulders, her eyes like black pits into nothingness.

  The Moroaica.

  Alarm brought some lucidity back to Caina’s mind.

  “If I’m dead,” said Caina, “why are you still here?”

  “Because,” said Jadriga, “Mihaela is not nearly as clever as she thinks she is. Her Forge is effective, but she has mentally linked herself to it in order to control the glypharmor. Effective, but if the Forge is ever destroyed, she will regret it.”

  “What does that have to do with me?” said Caina.

  “Because Mihaela used a Sage’s rod to kill you,” said the Moroaica. “And the Sage’s rod deals death by severing the victim’s soul from the flesh.”

  “And my flesh,” said Caina, “has two souls in it. Yours and mine.”

  “Correct,” said Jadriga. “And Mihaela has just killed me inside of your body. An amusing little coincidence, is it not?”

  “Then you’re free,” said Caina. “Free to claim another body and to start killing people once more.”

  “I can,” said Jadriga, “resume the great work. I would have preferred that you join me. No matter. You cannot stop me.”

  “I can if I hold you here,” said Caina.

  “Child of the Ghosts,” said the Moroaica, “I have died in your body. You cannot stop me from doing anything.”

  She flung out her hands, and the gray mist swallowed Caina.

  ###

  Pain erupted through Caina.

  She shrieked, her heels trembling against the hard stone floor. Her heart burned within her chest, thumping against her ribs like the drumbeat of a marching Legion. Caina sucked in a long breath, her eyes swimming into focus. A stone ceiling rose overhead, painted with the sullen red glow of molten metal. A dark shadow loomed over her – a suit of black glypharmor. All around her radiated the tingling, crawling aura of potent sorcery.

  She was still in Mihaela’s workshop.

  After a long moment her heart and her breathing slowed. Caina grabbed at the glypharmor’s boot, her fingers digging into the grooves of the hieroglyphs, and sat up.

  Mihaela, Sicarion, and Torius were gone. So was Mihaela’s Forge. Mihaela most likely moved it to the Hall of Assembly to expedite the trans
formation process. There was no sign of Talekhris’s corpse. Sicarion must have dumped it into the molten metal to slow whatever process allowed the Sage to awaken from death.

  Which would explain the faint smell of scorched flesh in the air.

  Caina eased herself to her feet, dizziness washing through her. She did not feel at all well, which made sense, given that she had technically died. And worse, the Moroaica had been freed.

  And even worse, Mihaela would use the Forge to create an army of glypharmor.

  Unless Caina stopped her.

  She took a step forward, managed to keep her balance, and then took another.

  Though finding a way to stop Mihaela seemed unlikely. Caina was exhausted and alone. Her allies had either been duped by Mihaela or were too far away to help. She didn’t even have her ghostsilver dagger …

  In her peculiar dream she had seen Corvalis kneeling over her corpse, pain on his face. He had taken her dagger. And if the vision had been true, that meant he had escaped from Mihaela’s trap.

  He was still alive. For now.

  If Caina could keep him that way.

  She turned, trying to ignore the dizziness and the nausea. It was too late to warn Zalandris and the ambassadors. But Mihaela and her mercenaries would be vulnerable while they used the Forge to convert fresh victims into new suits of glypharmor.

  Halfdan, Caina decided. Halfdan could draw on Saddiq’s mercenaries and additional men from the city. Additionally, she suspected he had some influence over the Imperial Guard cohort that had accompanied Lord Titus from Malarae. If Halfdan could persuade them that Lord Titus was in danger, the Guards would act.

  Caina just had to get to Halfdan.

  And hope that the Imperial Guards could stop Mihaela before she made too many suits of glypharmor, because one glypharmor-equipped man could wipe out the entire cohort. Half a dozen would be invincible. And a score of them could probably conquer every city for a thousand miles…

  There was no time for worry. She had to get moving.

  She took a deep breath, gathering her strength…and heard a woman crying.

  Caina stopped, hand darting to one of her remaining throwing knives. Her eyes roved over the cluttered workshop. Perhaps Mihaela had kept penned captives here, keeping them chained until she needed them for an experiment.