Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9)

by Jonathan Moeller

  One of the wings of shadow snapping around, driving towards Caina. It looked like a massive sheet of immaterial haze, but it struck her liked a brick wall. Caina tumbled backward, flipping head over heels until she concentrated enough to command the wind to steady her flight.

  “Beware!” shouted Samnirdamnus.

  Caina saw the power gathering around Callatas as he worked another spell, and she dove. The Grand Master threw a massive pulse of invisible psychokinetic force at her, the spell angled to drive her into the ground. Caina shifted direction at the last moment and let the edge of the spell clip her. Instead of driving her to the ground, the momentum hurled her upward, faster than even the wind could carry her, and she rose a hundred yards in an instant.

  She slowed, righting herself again, and let herself plummet, falling towards Callatas like a thunderbolt. Caina shot towards the Grand Master, but Callatas hurtled away from her, the shadow writhing around him, and raised his hand to cast another spell. She dodged the blast of golden fire and let her fall take her faster, and then banked over the Golden Palace and rose back towards him again.

  How long could she do this? Caina was tired, but Samnirdamnus’s power gave her the stamina to keep going. Yet an extended fight was to Callatas’s advantage, not hers. Sooner or later she would make a mistake, and he would kill her. Worse, the longer they delayed, the longer the nagataaru had to drive back the djinn and claim more wraithblood addicts. If Caina delayed too long, Callatas could summon his winged creatures to kill her.

  She had to kill him quickly, but she did not know how.

  ###

  Morgant dodged under the sweep of claws, flicking his dagger up to land a blow. The blade sliced through the winged creature’s tough hide, reaching for its heart. The creature staggered, purple-burning eyes going wide, and Morgant hammered his scimitar into its neck. He jerked his weapons free, and the winged creature collapsed, shrinking back into the withered form of an elderly wraithblood addict.

  Poor fool. Well, if the addict hadn’t wanted to die like that, he shouldn’t have started taking wraithblood.

  Two more creatures landed a dozen yards away, standing at the base of a glittering wall of white marble that encircled the palace of some minor emir or another. Both creatures started towards Morgant, but he hurled his black dagger. The blade buried itself into the street between the creatures, the hilt quivering from the impact.

  The creatures looked at him, and while it was hard to read expressions on those faces of cruel beauty, he had the distinct impression they were sneering.

  Morgant grinned at them.

  An instant later the heat stored in the enspelled dagger exploded, killing both of the creatures. Their bodies shrank back to human form as fires crackled upon their limbs, and Morgant exerted his will at the dagger. The blade leaped from the street and returned to his hand, and he hurried to join the others as they battled towards the domes of the Golden Palace.

  The Kaltari and the Imperial Guards were pushing their way through the creatures, and messengers had arrived from the rest of the rebel army. So far they had been winning, but Morgant doubted that would last for much longer. The numbers of the creatures had been increasing. Too much longer and the Prince’s men would be overwhelmed, or Callatas would realize the threat and take command of the creatures himself, or send the Huntress to kill the rebel leaders.

  Morgant wondered if Kylon was still alive. The Huntress was a dangerous opponent, and in a straight fight, Morgant doubted that he could have taken her. The Kyracian might have been able to do it, maybe.

  Maybe.

  He stopped next to Annarah and Nasser.

  “Morgant,” breathed Annarah. “Look.”

  Morgant followed her gaze and blinked in astonishment as he saw the strangest thing he had seen on a day of strange sights.

  A huge black shadow spun and wove over the Golden Palace, chasing a smaller dark figure.

  Callatas and Caina.

  Morgant snorted. The Balarigar did love her dramatic gestures, more than she would have admitted, and battling the Grand Master in the sky over the city was as dramatic as it got.

  “Do you think she can kill him?” said Morgant.

  “I don’t know,” said Annarah. “If she cannot, we are finished.”

  ###

  Caina swooped past Callatas again, trying to land a hit on him.

  It was a useless exercise. The shadow of Kotuluk Iblis did not give Callatas the kind of speed or maneuverability that Samnirdamnus gave to Caina. The djinn were air elementals, while the nagataaru were simply predators. Yet Callatas didn’t need the extra speed, not with his other powers. The shadow snapped and writhed around him like a vast black banner caught in the wind, threatening to knock Caina from the air whenever she drew too close. For that matter, he continued to fling a barrage of spells at her. All he needed was to hit her with one transmutation spell, and she would fall from the sky as a crystalline statue.

  She soared over another blast of golden fire, hoping to come at him from a higher angle. As she did, she saw the chaos in the sky, the expanding tower of shadow rising from the Court of Justice pushing the djinn further back. The air elementals fought with smokeless blades of flame and lightning, but there were too many nagataaru, and they were too powerful…

  A thought clicked in Caina’s mind.

  “Storm,” she whispered. “Lightning. Can you call lightning?”

  “Yes,” said Samnirdamnus, “though it shall take all my power.”

  “Do it,” said Caina. “Now.”

  She gestured at Callatas and felt a surge of power from Samnirdamnus, and a lightning bolt screamed out of the sky to strike the Grand Master with a ringing thunderclap. For a moment the wind lost its grip upon Caina, and she fell like a stone, but then the wind gripped her again, and she rose up.

  Even with the distance between them, even with the shadow whirling around him, she saw Callatas snarl at her, saw the currents of power as he prepared to blast her from the sky.

  So she hit him with bolt after bolt of lightning. Every time she did, she dipped closer to the ground, only to rise again when Samnirdamnus recovered from the exertion. But with every lightning blast, she forced the Grand Master upon the defensive. The lightning bolts were strong enough to burn the flesh from his bones, and they forced him to cast warding spells. With every bolt, Caina drew closer, and if she got close enough, she could fall upon him and plunge the valikon into his back.

  Another lightning bolt slammed into the Grand Master, shattering in a spray of sparks against his warding spells, and when Samnirdamnus recovered Caina shot higher, preparing to drop upon Callatas from above, just as she had when they had fought in the netherworld.

  ###

  Callatas snarled in rage, his warding spell flickering around him as it deflected another of Caina’s lightning bolts.

  It was infuriating! Soon the Apotheosis would be irreversible. Callatas had won, and still the damnable woman struggled against him. Yet the power of the lightning bolts she drew from the djinni was considerable, and it was possible that enough of them could hammer through Callatas’s wards, even with the shadow of Kotuluk Iblis to augment his power. Or she could distract him enough to attack with her valikon, and if she got close enough, Callatas had no defense from that weapon.

  Fortunately, he had other weapons at his disposal.

  CALL TO MY VASSALS. THEY SHALL TURN THEIR POWER AGAINST THE BALARIGAR.

  Callatas sent his will coursing into the Seal of Iramis as another lightning blast broke against his wards, and dark shapes rose from the city below.

  ###

  “Beware!” said Samnirdamnus. “They come for you!”

  Caina danced around another burst of golden fire from Callatas and looked down.

  Dozens of the new humanity rose from the city, their wings beating as they ascended. They were all heading towards Callatas, and Caina wondered why the Grand Master had called them to his side, and then the obvious truth struck her. />
  He hadn’t called them to his side. He had summoned them to kill Caina.

  For an instant she hesitated, hoping to throw another lightning bolt at Callatas, but she dared not. She would drop for a few dozen yards before Samnirdamnus recovered his power, and that would give the winged creatures time to catch her. She might hold the power of the Knight of Wind and Air, but she had no way to protect herself except for speed, and a single claw through the heart or throat would kill her.

  The creatures swarmed towards her, and Caina moved.

  She attacked the nearest one with the valikon, slashing the short sword through its throat as she sped past. Wraithblood burst from its throat, glowing with power to the vision of the valikarion. The Apotheosis had transmuted the blood of the wraithblood addicts into wraithblood proper. Perhaps it was necessary to achieve the level of transformation that Callatas desired, to keep the nagataaru firmly housed within the flesh of their hosts.

  Caina darted and wove through the cloud of winged hybrids, the valikon flashing left and right as she struck. Again and again, she killed the creatures, their bodies shrinking back to human form as they plummeted to the ground. As she did, wraithblood burst from their wounds, crumbling to dust as the valikon destroyed the spells within the substance.

  Yet before it did, Caina saw the faint lines of power leading from the droplets of wraithblood back towards the Court of Justice.

  She didn’t understand. The purpose of the wraithblood was to weaken the mind’s resistance to possession. Why did it need an active flow of power? Perhaps the arcane force was coming from the massive Mirror of Worlds below. Was it something she could use against Callatas?

  Golden fire flashed and Caina plunged, avoiding another spell. This time, the blast had missed her by a wider margin than usual. Maybe the battle was wearing on Callatas as well.

  Blue crystal glinted overhead, and Caina realized that Callatas had not been aiming for her.

  The transmuted creature fell, frozen forever as glinting blue crystal, and hit Caina.

  The impact tore the breath from her lungs, and she struggled to get out from under the statue as it fell towards the ground. The Golden Palace hurtled towards her, and at last Caina jerked aside, calling the wind to lift her as the statue tumbled away.

  An instant later both Caina and the statue fell into the Court of Justice.

  The statue shattered into a thousand jagged blue shards. The wind jerked Caina up, and she missed the ground by inches. Instead, she slammed into the stone railing of the balcony, wobbled, and fell back to the ground. The wind managed to cushion her fall, but she still rolled and came to a hard stop against the bottom steps of the dais, not far from the massive Mirror of Worlds.

  She heard the Padishah moaning upon his cart, and after a moment managed to push herself up.

  Overhead a hundred of the winged creatures circled, descending towards the Court of Justice. Behind them came Callatas, wrapped in shadow, his death in her hands as he began another spell.

  Chapter 26: Your Only Salvation

  Kylon coughed out another mouthful of blood, trying to stand.

  It was a wasted effort. Trying to move his maimed right leg earned him a wave of agony, and he slumped against the stone wall. Perhaps it was just as well. If he stood up, the rib digging into his lungs would stab all the way through, or his stomach might tear the rest of the way open, and he would die when his innards fell upon the floor.

  That still might be quicker than what the Huntress would do to him.

  He heard her overhead, giggling to herself as she descended, and he sensed the seething hunger of her nagataaru. There was no way he could conceal himself from her, no way he could lay an ambush for her. Even if he could conceal himself, she need only follow the trail of blood he left on the floor.

  Her laughter drifted to his ears.

  Kylon wondered if he should have been afraid. He was too tired for that. His thoughts skittered and danced, crumbling on themselves, and he realized he was becoming light-headed from blood loss.

  Caina, he wished he could have seen Caina one last time, that he could have kissed her once more.

  The Emissary had prophesied this, hadn’t she? She had said he would trade his life for Caina’s. Except that had been wrong. The Huntress would kill him, and then kill Caina, and there was no one who could stop her.

  Damned oracles. They never could get anything right. The Surge had given him the ability to sense nagataaru, but that had done him no good. It hadn’t let him save Thalastre, and it wouldn’t let him save Caina.

  “Kylon,” crooned the Huntress, still giggling. “Come out and find me.”

  But the Surge had given him an accurate prophecy. She had said that the silver fire was his only salvation, and that had been true. It had saved his life in the Craven’s Tower when Caina had given him the Elixir Restorata. It had been true again a few months later when Kylon had used another vial of the same Elixir to save Caina’s life at Rumarah. That explosion had almost killed Cassander Nilas, had almost killed the Huntress.

  The Emissary had repeated that prophecy to Kylon, come to think of it.

  But why? The Elixir could heal him, but it would leave him unconscious and helpless before Kalgri. It would explode in a blaze of silver fire, destroying anything around him, but then he would pass out.

  Could he use the silver fire as a weapon against the Huntress?

  “The silver fire is your only salvation,” the Emissary seemed to murmur in his thoughts. “The silver fire is your only salvation.”

  It hadn’t worked at Rumarah. The Huntress had seen the danger and fled before the explosion of the Corsair’s Rest killed her. She would sense the power and withdraw until the danger had passed, and then return to kill him.

  Kylon blinked. He wasn’t sure if tears of pain or drops of blood filled his eyes.

  He was a sorcerer. He was used to channeling elemental power in his spells. The Elixir was another form of arcane power, and its healing energy would howl through him in a vast surge of force. Could he control that power, direct it as he would a spell? Could he hold it back until the critical moment?

  “The silver fire is your only salvation,” whispered the Surge in his memory.

  Kylon didn’t know.

  But he did know that he had nothing left to lose.

  With trembling fingers he opened the pouch at his belt and drew out one of the crystalline vials of silver Elixir, breaking the seal with his thumb. At once the liquid within began to churn and boil, reacting to his presence. Before his strength failed, Kylon lifted the vial to his lips and threw back his head, swallowing the Elixir.

  It burned all the way down.

  The Huntress’s laughter grew louder.

  A burning spread from Kylon’s heart, threading its way into his veins and muscles. He sensed the Elixir within him, the substance gathering healing power that it would unleash in a single tremendous burst. Kylon directed his will towards the power, trying to channel and direct it, to hold it back for a moment.

  He couldn’t. It was just too strong. Perhaps someone like Annarah or Lady Claudia could have managed the necessary level of control, but Kylon could not. The veins in his hands started to glow with silver fire, and he felt the power building to its climax, preparing to release itself in an explosion, and the strain of holding back the power filled him with such blinding agony that he almost collapsed.

  His arcane skill was not enough to hold back the Elixir. The Huntress would find him lying unconscious on the floor. Kylon needed something else, something to hold back the reaction…

  His fingers still grasped the hilt of the valikon.

  Ghostsilver was proof against sorcery.

  Kylon shoved the empty vial back into his pouch, grasped the valikon’s hilt with both hands, and stabbed the blade into the wound in his stomach.

  He didn’t think he could have been in any more pain.

  He had been wrong.

  He had been very wrong.

&nb
sp; His scream rang through the ruins of the Crows’ Tower, and the burning sensation redoubled.

  Yet the silver glow faded from his veins.

  ###

  Kalgri stepped into the ruined hall, her boots making no sound against the stone floor. Once the place must have been an armory, though now it was nothing but an empty shell and some rubble scattered across the floor.

  It would make a fitting tomb for Kylon of House Kardamnos.

  She reached out with the Voice’s senses, savoring his pain and agony, and then her eyes fell upon him.

  Kalgri laughed aloud with delight.

  Kylon slumped against the wall, battered and covered with blood, shuddering in pain as he tried to draw breath. His right leg was a bloody ruin. Even better, the valikon jutted from his stomach, both his hands grasped around the hilt as he tried in vain to pull the weapon free. It was marvelous. That damned valikon had caused her so much trouble, and now it was buried in Kylon’s gut.

  It was perfect. It was absolutely perfect.

  She walked forward, raising the sword of the nagataaru, its harsh purple light throwing stark shadows across the walls. Kylon looked at her, trembling, his teeth bared in a rictus of hate as he stared at her. She watched him for a moment, looking for any sign of a trap, but saw none. In fact, he couldn’t use any sorcery so long as that valikon was buried in his stomach.

  “Oh,” sighed Kalgri with pleasure, moving to stand over him. “Isn’t this just a horrible way to die?”

  She laughed, and the Voice hissed its triumph.

  ###

  Kylon stared at the woman who had murdered his wife and unborn child, who had tried to kill Caina, who had carved a trail of death and misery across the decades, who had come at last to kill him.

  She had almost come too late. Kylon felt coldness settling within him, felt numbness creeping through him despite his agony, and knew that he was but a moment away from death.

  “A horrible way to die?” said Kylon, his fingers tightening against the valikon’s hilt. His voice was a shaking rasp. “Let’s find out together.”