Blade of the Ghosts

by Jonathan Moeller

  BLADE OF THE GHOSTS

  Jonathan Moeller

  ***

  Description

  Eighteen years old, Caina Amalas is a novice nightfighter of the Ghosts, the spies and assassins of the Emperor of Nighmar. Skilled with stealth and disguise, Caina is the unseen agent of the Emperor, working to maintain the peace and order of the Empire.

  When a scholar uncovers an ancient relic from the Empire's distant past, he unwittingly unearths dangerous secrets.

  Secrets that might destroy the Empire and kill Caina...

  ***

  Blade of the Ghosts

  Copyright 2015 by Jonathan Moeller.

  Smashwords Edition.

  Cover image copyright JC_Design | iStockPhoto.com & Katalinks | Dreamstime.com.

  Ebook edition published December 2015.

  All Rights Reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  ***

  Chapter 1: The Sword Of Nicokator

  Caina Amalas dressed for a noble banquet, but made sure to bring weapons.

  She never knew when she might have to kill someone, and she had more on her mind for the evening than a mere banquet.

  So she dressed the part of an Imperial noblewoman, a Countess of the Empire of Nighmar, and chose a gown of blue with tight sleeves and bodice, black scroll work upon the sleeves and skirt. She arranged her long black hair into an elaborate crown, holding it in place with jeweled pins of silver, and golden earrings went into her ears. A golden choker chain adorned with a ruby went around her neck, and she carefully applied makeup, making her blue eyes appear larger, her lips redder, her cheekbones sharper.

  Beneath her gown she donned a pair of high-heeled boots. They were heavier and stiffer than she would have liked, and it was difficult to move in them without making a lot of noise, but they were the current fashion in the Imperial capital of Malarae. They also had enough space to hold hidden sheaths, and so Caina concealed a pair of slender daggers within them, one in each boot.

  When Caina finished, she considered her reflection in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. She looked exactly like a young Imperial noblewoman, pretty and wealthy with more money and arrogance than sense.

  The illusion pleased her.

  Of course, if her life had followed a different path, it might not have been an illusion. If her father had not been murdered, if she had not joined the Ghosts…

  Well. What was done was done. Time to focus upon the present.

  Caina left her bedroom. For the last few days, she had been staying in a small townhouse in one of Malarae’s wealthier districts. Despite its small size, it was tastefully appointed, with floors of gleaming marble and rich tapestries on the wall, and a staff of discrete and efficient servants. Caina suspected that the servants knew how to keep their mouths shut, and likely had a few knives concealed in their crisp black livery.

  They all worked for the same employer, after all, a man who valued both discretion and weapons.

  She stepped into the street, the cool night air washing over her face. A coach waited outside the house, built of polished black wood, a uniformed coachman and a pair of horses waiting before the vehicle. The coachman bowed to her and opened the door.

  “Thank you,” said Caina, and climbed inside.

  A man of middle years occupied the seat on the back wall, clad in the furred robe and cap of a merchant of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers. He had hair and eyebrows the color of gray iron, and had lately grown a trimmed beard. The man looked like a wealthy, prosperous merchant, and while Caina had met many master merchants who had cold, shrewd eyes, she had met very few who had hard hands and arms heavy with muscle like Halfdan, circlemaster of the Ghosts of the Emperor.

  “You’re ready?” said Halfdan.

  Caina sat across from him, smoothing her skirts. “I was there yesterday. Everything is in place.”

  “Good girl,” said Halfdan. He thumped the roof twice. The coachman cracked his whip, the horses snorting their displeasure, and the coach shuddered into motion, the wheels creaking. "Try not to kill anyone.”

  “I’d prefer to avoid it,” said Caina.

  “Ideally, this sword of the Count’s should just disappear,” said Halfdan. “Without any trace, if at all possible.”

  “That is my plan,” said Caina.

  Halfdan nodded. “Good. Try not to set fire to any buildings.”

  Caina sighed. “That only happened the one time. I certainly don’t plan on making a habit of it.”

  Halfdan smiled a little behind his beard. “I should hope not. The Ghosts are the Emperor’s spies and occasionally assassins when necessary, but we are not arsonists.”

  “Yes, one must have some standards,” said Caina.

  Halfdan laughed. “Indeed.” His mirth faded. “Be on your guard. Count Armus Valdarion is an eccentric and a touch naive, but he is not a stupid man. He knows how valuable the Sword will be, if it is indeed genuine.”

  “Is it genuine?” said Caina.

  “I have no idea,” said Halfdan. “That is what I hope to discover tonight. If it is not genuine, the Count can keep it as a curiosity. If it is genuine…well, it is best that it comes into the possession of the Emperor.”

  “It’s just an old sword,” said Caina.

  “It might be enspelled,” said Halfdan. “Relics from the ancient epochs of the Empire often bear spells lost to the mists of history.”

  “Then it should be destroyed,” said Caina. “Sorcery is a blight upon the world.” She almost added that the Imperial Magisterium ought to be destroyed as well, but kept her silence. Halfdan already knew her thoughts on the matter.

  She had very good reasons for wanting to see every last sorcerer in the world dead.

  “Certainly sorcerous power is dangerous in the wrong hands,” said Halfdan. “Nevertheless, even if the sword bears no spells, it might still be dangerous.”

  Caina shrugged. “All swords are dangerous.”

  “This one is dangerous not because of its sharp edge but because of what it represents,” said Halfdan. “The Sword of the First Emperor could serve as the rallying point for a rebellion. Not a few nobles imagine they would make better Emperors than Alexius Naerius, and an ambitious lord with the Sword of the First Emperor might use it to raise a revolt.”

  “From what you’ve told me Count Armus Valdarion does not seem like that kind of man,” said Caina.

  “No,” said Halfdan. “He is a scholar, not a warrior. His son Aetius might feel differently. Or someone else might wish to steal the sword.” He leaned back in his seat with a grunt. “If the sword is a harmless relic, the Count is welcome to add it to his collection. If it is not, well…we shall see then, won’t we?” He sighed and rubbed his hip. “I’m getting too old to ride in these damn rattling coaches.”

  Caina smiled. “You ought to exercise more. That would loosen your joints.”

  Halfdan snorted. “You might enjoy working the unarmed forms of combat every morning after a five-mile run, but I’m also too old for that.”

  The coach took them from the more fashionable districts of Malarae to the riverside. Malarae was an old city, and according to the lords of the Imperial Curia it had never fallen to any enemy. The truth was that the Emperor’s Imperial Citadel had never fallen, but Malarae itself had burned and been sacked several times. So the city had been r
ebuilt again and again, and a new merchant hall or temple might find itself standing next to a tower or a mansion centuries old.

  The coach carried them to one such ancient building, a looming octagonal tower of stone overlooking the broad, sluggish waters of the River Megaros.

  Once it had been a small citadel called Eastwarden, part of the city’s outer defenses, entrusted to a Count sworn directly to the Emperor himself. As Malarae had grown and expanded, the crumbling citadel had become obsolete, though the title of Count of Eastwarden remained. House Valdarion continued to occupy the drafty old tower, an impoverished noble house clinging to the prestige of its ancient name and little else.

  Though if Count Armus had truly found the Sword of Nicokator, that might change quickly.

  The coach stopped, and Caina accepted Halfdan’s hand to help her out. A dozen more coaches waited in the street, and lights shone in most of the tower’s narrow windows, though the upper floors remained dark. The double doors to the great hall stood open, light spilling into the misty gloom. Halfdan offered Caina his arm, and she smiled and threaded her arm in his. A liveried servant approached with smooth grace, and Halfdan presented the invitation he had obtained.

  “Basil Callenius, Master of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers!” announced the servant, his voice ringing over the hall as he repeated the aliases Halfdan and Caina used in Malarae. “And his guest Marianna of House Nereide, Countess of the Empire!”

  Caina looked over the great hall. It had an archaic sort of martial grandeur to it, and she could almost imagine the lords of the ancient Empire sitting here in their armor. Enspelled glass globes hung in an iron chandelier suspended from the ceiling, throwing a steady glow over everything. Nobles stood here and there, stark in their formal black coats, and noblewomen in gowns of blue and green and gold. Caina saw several magi of the Imperial Magisterium in their solemn black robes with crimson sashes, and a little shiver of fury went through her.

  She kept that from her face, her expression aloof and serene.

  “Welcome, welcome,” said an old man in the formal black coat and trousers and white shirt of an Imperial nobleman, though his garments looked worn and threadbare. He had an unruly mass of white hair over a thin face, and the stooped posture that resulted from a lifetime of scholarly work. “Master Basil, welcome. Your reputation proceeds you.”

  “I am glad to meet you at last, my lord Count,” said Halfdan, offering a bow. “Your reputation as a scholar proceeds you in turn. May I present the Countess Marianna Nereide? Her father sent her upon a tour of the Imperial provinces, and he entrusted me with her lodging in the Imperial capital. Countess, this is Count Armus Valdarion, the Count of Eastwarden.”

  Count Armus bowed over Caina’s hand, placing a dry kiss upon her fingers. Caina wondered if he would attempt to seduce her. Typically, noblemen sent their daughters to the capital or on a tour of the provinces in hopes of drawing the attention of a suitable husband, and she knew Armus was widowed. Yet the old man seemed to forget about her the minute he released her hand, which pleased Caina.

  Given that she was planning to steal from him, it would be best if he forgot her.

  “I am glad you have come, Master Basil,” said Armus.

  “How could I resist?” said Halfdan. “We have heard rumors of your wondrous discovery.”

  Armus bobbed his head vigorously. “Our discovery shall be unveiled tonight, before our guests.” We waved a hand at the occupants of the great hall. “We shall be witnesses to the history of the Empire.”

  “Then you have truly done it?” said Halfdan. “You have found the Sword of Nicokator?”

  “The sword of the First Emperor,” said Armus. “The sword of the man who founded our great and glorious Empire. I have seen it with my own eyes, Master Basil. It is a symbol of our Imperial greatness, of the unity and order the Empire brought to the provinces.”

  “Indeed?” said Halfdan. “The First Empire fell long ago, and the Sword of the First Emperor was lost in the chaos. I would be most curious to know where you found the weapon.”

  “Ah,” said Armus, lifting a bony finger. “All shall be revealed in time, sir.”

  “Would not the blade have turned to rust long ago?” said Caina, wrapping her voice in the cool, aloof accent of a Nighmarian noblewoman. “The Emperor Nicokator died thousands of years past. It would be a remarkable sword indeed to have weathered the centuries.”

  A remarkable sword…or one imbued with a powerful spell.

  “It is indeed, my dear Countess,” said Armus with a patronizing smile, his attention returning to Halfdan. “Master Basil, I confess that I have an ulterior motive for inviting you here.”

  “Truly?” said Halfdan with a thin smile. “I am shocked you would suggest such a thing, my lord Armus. Do you wish to buy some jewelry?”

  “It is known that Basil Callenius has many friends in the Imperial Curia and the Emperor’s court,” said Armus. “I hope you will arrange for an introduction. I would dearly wish to present the Sword to our Emperor Alexius Naerius himself.”

  Caina kept her face aloof, but laughed to herself. The old man’s motives were clear enough. He thought he had found an ancient relic, and wanted to use it to restore his house’s fortunes. Well, she couldn’t blame him for that. Yet if he had truly found the Sword of Nicokator, it was more dangerous to the unity of the Empire than he knew, and the Ghosts could not allow that danger.

  “Before I do any such thing, my lord Count,” said Halfdan, “I need to see the Sword with my own eyes, to convince myself that it is indeed genuine.”

  “Of course,” said Armus.

  “Where did you find it?” said Caina.

  “On a privately funded expedition,” said Armus. That did not answer the question. “You can meet my partners here. Please, come.”

  Halfdan and Caina followed him across the great hall. Three men and a woman stood at the base of one of the pillars. The men conversed in low voices, while the woman watched one of the men with rapt attention.

  Caina kept her face calm, though her fingers yearned to grip the handle of a dagger.

  One of the men wore the black robe and purple sash of a master magus of the Imperial Magisterium. As they drew nearer, Caina’s skin crawled with a sensation of pins and needles. When she had been a child, a necromancer had wounded her. Caina had survived the experience with both a scar and chronic nightmares, but it had also left her with the rare ability to sense the presence of sorcery, to gauge the strength and type of arcane forces.

  The master magus had a defensive ward around himself.

  “This is my son Aetius,” said Armus, gesturing at the man on the left. Aetius looked like a younger and more muscular version of his father. “His betrothed, Lady Doriana of House Koramus.” Doriana was a plump woman about Caina’s age, tall enough to carry the weight and pretty enough that it did not matter. She gave Caina a speculative glance and moved closer to Aetius, as if fearful Caina would try to steal him away.

  “A pleasure,” said Aetius, though his voice was flat.

  “This is Jurchan,” said Armus. The man standing next to Aetius had the leathery skin and narrow eyes common among the Kagari horsemen of the Empire’s northeastern marches, his cheeks and jaw marked with patterns of ritual scarring. He wore leather armor and the fur-lined, ornamented cloak and cap that denoted a Kagari nobleman, a noyan. The Kagari had served in the Emperor’s armies for centuries, but rarely came this far west.

  “Likewise,” said Jurchan, his Nighmarian heavy with a thick Kagari accent, his eyes lingering on Caina.

  “And this,” said Armus, gesturing to the master magus, “is Master Taldrane of the Imperial Magisterium, the chief backer of our little venture.”

  The Magisterium had funded Armus’s work? That was not a good sign. The Magisterium had many goals and intrigues underway, and most of them were sinister.

  Taldrane was tall and severe, his gray hair close-cropped, and he stood with the stance of a practiced swordsman.
That likely meant that he had once been a battle magus, a sorcerer trained to use his spells to augment his physical prowess in combat. Battle magi who attained the rank of master tended not to lose any of their old skills.

  That meant Taldrane was a very dangerous man.

  “Charmed,” said Taldrane, his voice deep and resonant.

  “May I present Basil Callenius, master merchant of the Imperial Collegium of Jewelers, and his guest Countess Marianna of the House Nereide?” said Armus. “Master Basil has many friends at the Imperial court, and I hope he can bring word of our momentous discovery to their ears.”

  Aetius scowled at Halfdan. He was fitter than Caina would have expected for a minor Imperial nobleman, and she saw the heavy calluses upon his palm from hours of sword work. Likely he had served as a tribune in one of the Imperial Legions, or as a centurion in Malarae’s civic militia.

  “Then you think, Father,” said Aetius, “to sell our discovery to this man? A priceless relic of the Empire’s history to a…a merchant?”

  Halfdan offered a smooth smile. “Alas, my lord Aetius, I do not yet know if there is anything here to purchase.”

  “Or to steal it away?” said Jurchan in a flat voice, his expression an unreadable mask. “There are many thieves in the city…”

  “There are, but I am,” said Halfdan, “a simple merchant, lord noyan.”

  “And I am an Imperial Countess,” said Caina, putting all the hauteur into her voice that she could manage. “Certainly I do not appreciate an insinuation that we are common thieves, nor such accusations leveled at Master Basil, who has been a loyal friend of my father’s House.”

  Besides, they were spies, not thieves. If the Sword of Nicokator turned out to be harmless, Count Armus could have it back.

  “Peace, my friends,” said Taldrane, lifting his hand. “If you present the Sword of the First Emperor to the Imperial court, you can expect far more rigorous questions than those Master Basil has posed to us with perfect courtesy.”