Blade of the Ghosts

by Jonathan Moeller

  Caina slipped back into her room at the Bloated Maiden, unobserved by Cadiz or any of his drunken patrons, and unrolled the old map upon the bed. She produced the list of numbers she had taken from Armus’s pocket, noted the circled number, and started seeking for it upon the map.

  She found it almost at once.

  The number was northwest of Malarae by about three or four days’ travel, located in a valley at the edge of the Great Mountains. Caina knew of that valley. Most of Malarae had heard of it, and the valley’s grim reputation kept all but the boldest from ever setting foot there.

  It was the Valley of the Emperors, where the Emperors of the Empire of Nighmar had built their tombs.

  The funeral customs of the Emperors had changed throughout the Empire’s long history. During the First Empire, the Emperors had claimed the valley and begun building their tombs there, dedicating them to Cicholan, the ancient god of the dead. After the First Empire had collapsed and the Second had arisen, dead Emperors had been revered by their Legions as ascended gods, who constructed funerary cities to house the Emperors’ mortal remains. The Valley of the Emperors fell into disuse, but after the Second Empire collapsed in the wake of the Ashbringers’ defeat, the Emperors of the Third Empire had resumed the custom. During the Fourth Empire, when the Magisterium ruled, the magus-emperors of that era had constructed huge tombs for themselves in the Valley, layering them with multiple protective warding spells and defenses. According to the rumors, some of the magus-emperors had transformed themselves into undead horrors, and still lurked within the vast, lightless mazes of their tombs.

  Because of that, the Emperors of the Fifth Empire had forbidden anyone from entering the Valley of the Emperors. Layers of lethal warding spells encircled some of the tombs, and the Emperors of old had summoned and bound guardian spirits to watch over their crypts, or constructed fiendish mechanical death traps, or raised armies of undead creatures. Sometimes bold tomb robbers entered the Valley and its crypts.

  Hardly any of them ever came out again.

  The number on the Count’s map showed a tomb in the northwestern corner of the Valley of the Emperors. If Caina remembered correctly, that was the oldest part of the Valley’s necropolis, housing tombs from the First Empire. If Nicokator had started the custom of interring Emperors in the Valley, his tomb would lie there.

  And with the Sword of Nicokator, Taldrane could enter the tomb and claim whatever treasures lay within…or whatever weapons had accompanied the First Emperor to his grave. That was very bad. The Magisterium could not claim whatever relics were within the tomb.

  Fortunately, there was an easy way to defeat Taldrane.

  Caina just had to steal the Sword.

  Without the Sword, Taldrane couldn’t get into the tomb. The master magus was clearly guilty of both the Count’s death and Jurchan’s, so once Caina had the Sword, Halfdan and the other circlemasters of the Ghosts could arrange a suitable downfall for him. All Caina had to do was steal the Sword before Taldrane could use it.

  That, she reflected, would be far easier said than done.

  Yet for now she could do nothing, and it was well past midnight. She rolled up the map, lay down upon the bed, and snatched a few hours of sleep.

  ###

  The next morning Caina had a plan, so she donned the disguise of a caravan guard and headed for Eastwarden.

  “I need to speak with Lord Aetius,” Caina told the bleary-eyed maid who answered the door. “It is urgent. I have a message for his ears alone concerning his father’s death.”

  The maid disappeared into Eastwarden’s great hall, and Caina turned to watch the street behind her. It was early enough that few people were awake, though she did see a steady stream of traffic heading for the docks of the riverfront or the harbor of the Bay of Empire. Caina had taken care to make sure no one had followed her to or from the Bloated Maiden, and she was reasonably sure that she had come unobserved to Eastwarden.

  Yet the back of her neck still itched. She could not shake the feeling that someone had been following her. Perhaps it was simple paranoia, yet given that she was a Ghost, a little paranoia was healthy.

  One of the double doors opened, and Aetius Valdarion stepped out, closing the doors to the great hall behind him. He still wore his dark coat and black trousers, his face unshaven. Caina suspected that he had not slept very well last night.

  “Master Sebastian,” said Aetius in a heavy voice. “I see you are still alive.”

  “It was a close thing,” said Caina.

  “It seems rumormongers now have something else to discuss other than my father’s murder,” said Aetius. “Jurchan’s followers slaughtered each other, and Jurchan himself was slain in his treasure room. The civic militia has sealed off his building, and even the Imperial Guard has gotten involved.”

  Caina glanced around. “That’s not quite what happened.”

  Aetius folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

  “Your father did kill himself,” said Caina.

  Aetius scowled. “No. I refuse to believe that.”

  “It wasn’t by choice,” said Caina. “The spell on the Sword of Nicokator compels whoever draws the Sword to fall upon the blade. I think if anyone draws the Sword with his skin touching the weapon…the spell takes control of his limbs and forces its bearer to kill himself.”

  Aetius blinked. “Taldrane did tell us not to draw the Sword. How do you know this?”

  “Because,” said Caina, “I just watched Jurchan draw the Sword and kill himself with it. He didn’t want to, but the Sword compelled him to do it.”

  Aetius stared at her for a while, disbelief and confusion warring upon his face.

  “I think,” he said at last, “that I would like you to explain.”

  “Jurchan convinced your father to draw the Sword,” said Caina. “He drew the blade, and it forced your father to kill himself. Jurchan then took the Sword to his building and demanded a higher price from Taldrane. I’m not sure of the details, but I think that Taldrane and Jurchan together planned to murder your father, take the Sword, and use it to open the tomb of Nicokator in the Valley of the Emperors. Jurchan was holding out for more money, but Taldrane wasn’t in a negotiating mood. He stormed the building and killed all of Jurchan’s warriors. Taldrane and his magi were warded against steel, and so Jurchan drew the Sword of Nicokator, thinking he could use it against Taldrane. He was wrong.”

  “Clearly,” said Aetius, blinking as his scowl deepened.

  “Taldrane took the Sword,” said Caina. “At this minute I expect he is leaving from Malarae’s northern gate and heading for the Valley of the Emperors.”

  Aetius stared at her for a long moment, and then shook his head and rubbed his unshaven jaw. “Gods. A fantastical tale, but it has the ring of truth. Taldrane. That damned scoundrel. My father thought the master magus was his friend, but Taldrane was plotting his death the entire time.”

  “The magi,” said Caina, “are often treacherous.”

  “Plainly that is so,” said Aetius. He began pacing back and forth, shaking his head in fury. “That scoundrel. That treacherous, murderous scoundrel. Why did he murder my father?”

  “He wants whatever is in Nicokator’s tomb,” said Caina. “He thinks it contains some weapon of sorcery that will make him supreme, or treasures beyond compare, or lost secrets of arcane lore.”

  “I will kill him myself,” said Aetius. “I will run him down and kill him myself.”

  “Don’t,” said Caina. “Do not try to confront him. You don’t have any weapon that can hurt him, and at the moment we have no proof of anything. If you attack him, he will kill you, claim that it was self-defense, and escape without any punishment.”

  Aetius let out a vicious oath. “Then what would you have me do, Master Sebastian?”

  “Go to the urban praetor,” said Caina, “and…”

  Aetius laughed and struck his hand against the pommel of his sword. “The urban praetor? What charge will I bring again
st Taldrane? He tricked my father into killing himself with a sorcerous blade? I shall be laughed out of the praetor’s basilica. For that matter, crimes of sorcery are tried before the Magisterium, and they will never convict one of their own…”

  “All that you say is true,” said Caina, “but Taldrane is about to commit another crime.”

  Aetius frowned. “What? What crime? Some other murder?”

  “He is going,” said Caina, “to enter the Valley of the Emperors. By the Emperor’s decree, the Valley is forbidden to all but the priests of Cicholan. If a master of the Magisterium was caught poking around the Valley, it would be a grave scandal. The Magisterium would have no choice but to abandon Taldrane to punishment.”

  “I see,” said Aetius. “Yes, that is sound counsel. Very well. I will bring that accusation before the urban praetor.”

  “Good,” said Caina. “I will return as soon as I can.”

  “Where are you going?” said Aetius.

  “After Taldrane,” said Caina. “I’m going to steal the Sword back from him.”

  “Indeed?” said Aetius. He started speaking in a fairly good imitation of Caina’s disguised voice. “You have no weapon that can harm him. He will simply kill you and claim self-defense.” He scowled. “For that matter, you’re a spy. If he killed me, there would at least be an inquiry. If he kills you, no one shall care.”

  “I have no intention of trying to kill him,” said Caina, though if the opportunity presented itself, she would not let it pass. Taldrane’s death would solve many problems. “Rather, I am going to steal the Sword from him.”

  “Why take the risk?” said Aetius. “If Taldrane is arrested in the Valley of the Emperors, the magistrates will take the Sword anyway.”

  “Because,” said Caina, “whatever is in the tomb might make it impossible to arrest Taldrane. It might make him invincible. It might give him the Empire. If I can get the Sword away from Taldrane, he can’t get into the tomb. The magistrates come to arrest him, and your father will be avenged.”

  “That is a good plan,” said Aetius. “I shall accompany you.”

  “What?” said Caina. “No. Stay here and inform the urban praetor.”

  “No,” said Aetius. “My father was murdered, and I will avenge him.”

  Caina hesitated, trying to think of a polite way to tell Aetius that she neither wanted nor needed his help. He had been a soldier, true, though he had apparently not been all that good at it. No doubt the young nobleman was capable enough with a sword, but that would be useless. They could not fight their way past Taldrane and his Magisterial Guards, and she doubted Aetius possessed the necessary skill at stealth.

  “Lord Aetius,” said Caina. “I…”

  Aetius stepped back, his eyes widening, and drew his sword with a steely hiss.

  “Wait,” said Caina. “What are you doing? What…”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” said Aetius, shouting at someone behind Caina.

  Caina spun, and realized that she had made a very serious mistake.

  Hulagon stalked towards her, his scarred face tight with fury, a short, recurved bow in his hands. His black eyes fixed upon her, and she saw her death in them. She had left him unconscious upon the roof of Jurchan’s building, but he must have awakened before she escaped. Aetius might not have known the secrets of stealth, but a Kagari hunter would, and Hulagon held that bow like he knew how to use it.

  She started to dodge, but it was too late. The shaft leapt from Hulagon’s bow, and slammed into Caina, pinning her against the doors. She expected pain to flood through her, but the arrow had hit her cloak and missed her skin. Nevertheless, it entangled her cloak and sleeve and pinned her in place.

  Her alarm redoubled. Hulagon had done that deliberately. If he had wanted, he could have sent the arrow through her heart.

  “Murderous harlot!” snarled Hulagon, dropping his bow and drawing his sword. “You shall pay for the death of the noyan!”

  “Hulagon!” shouted Aetius, pointing his sword at the Kagari tarkhan. “You dare to show your face at Eastwarden after you tried to murder me? I know that your precious noyan murdered my father. You presume to attack a man under my roof?”

  Caina struggled at the clasp of her cloak, trying to get free. Her right arm had been wrapped within the cloak as she had stumbled, and now the arrow held it in place. Hulagon might have been gullible, but he was a damned good shot with that bow.

  Hulagon hesitated, and Caina thought she saw a glimpse of shame there. Maybe he had more conscience than his late master, but his face hardened again soon enough. “Man? What nonsense are you talking about? That is a woman.”

  “What?” said Aetius. “Have you lost your wits?”

  “She crept into the hold and murdered the noyan,” said Hulagon. “Perhaps she is even a sorceress or a devil to change her shape so quickly. Behold, I shall show you.”

  Caina jerked the clasp loose on her cloak and started to move, but Hulagon was too fast. His fist slammed into her stomach, seeming to sink all the way to her spine, and the breath exploded from Caina’s lungs. Her legs buckled and Caina fell upon her back, trying to force air into her agonized lungs. Hulagon stooped, ripped aside her leather armor, and tore upon the front of her tunic as she struggled for breath, the cool morning air washing over the skin of her stomach and breasts.

  Aetius’s eyes got wide.

  “Behold,” sneered Hulagon, “she is indeed a woman, and she murdered the noyan. Likely she also murdered Count Armus.” He raised his sword as Caina struggled to stand. “Justice shall now be served.”

  The tarkhan started to attack, but then had to twist at the last minute to parry Aetius’s slash. Hulagon wheeled, facing Aetius, and launched a slash of his own. Aetius parried and stepped back, and then attacked again, launching three swings in as many heartbeats. Whatever his deficiencies as a soldier, Aetius made up for them with his skill as a swordsman. Hulagon snarled as he fell back upon the defensive, his sword ringing as he parried Aetius’s attacks.

  “Idiot!” snarled Hulagon. “She murdered your father.”

  “A fine tale,” said Aetius, “save for the fact that you tried to kill me yesterday. She saved my life then.”

  Hulagon blinked. “That caravan guard. That was her?”

  “Your precious noyan already received the just reward for his treachery,” said Aetius. “I’ll deal with Taldrane soon enough, but not before I repay you…”

  “For the gods’ sake!” said Caina, staggering to her feet, her lungs burning as she caught her breath. “Shut up and listen to me!”

  Both men stared at her. Caina blinked, remembered her damaged tunic, and a surge of embarrassment rolled through her. Fortunately she had enough experience to keep it from her face. She tugged the torn tunic closed and crossed her arms over her chest, which more or less kept everything concealed.

  “I didn’t kill your noyan, Hulagon,” said Caina. “I was there to steal the Sword and find proof that Jurchan and Taldrane murdered the Count. While I was there, Taldrane and his Magisterial Guards attacked, so I concealed myself in the treasure room. Taldrane talked Jurchan into drawing the Sword, and Jurchan killed himself with it, just as with Count Armus.”

  Hulagon let out a furious growl, but it was not aimed at Caina. “I warned the noyan. I warned him that the master magus would be treacherous, but he would not listen. Now he has paid for it with his life.”

  “How did you survive?” said Aetius, frowning at the tarkhan.

  Hulagon shook his head. “I was away from the building. It is not important.”

  “Actually,” said Caina with a bright smile, “he was tied up at the time.”

  Hulagon glared at her. “You will be silent.”

  “Specifically, I drugged him and left him tied up on the roof,” said Caina. “I didn’t do as a good a job of it as I should have, since he followed me here. But by the time he woke up, presumably the noyan and most of the other warriors were dead.”

  Aet
ius laughed. “She lured you off, didn’t she? Batted her eyelashes at you and you followed her like a dog in heat. You always did lose your brains around a pretty girl, Hulagon.” He blinked at Caina. Given that she was wearing fake stubble, she didn’t look all that attractive at the moment. “Though I do question your taste in women.”

  “You will not mock me,” said Hulagon. “You…”

  “For the gods’ sake, both of you, shut up,” said Caina. She wanted to rub her temples, but for the moment her arms were staying crossed against her chest. “We have a common enemy.”

  “Do we, harlot?” said Hulagon. Aetius rolled his eyes.

  “Taldrane arranged for the Count’s death,” said Caina. “Taldrane murdered Jurchan and killed most of your fellows. I have my own reasons for stopping Taldrane.”

  “You want the Sword for yourself, is that it?” said Hulagon. He spat at her feet. “Or Taldrane was one of your former lovers who spurned you?”

  “What I want is to stop Taldrane,” said Caina. She also wanted to punch Hulagon, but that could wait for later. “Specifically, I don’t want him to use the Sword of Nicokator to open Nicokator’s tomb. The gods only know what kind of weapons or dangers he might bring into the sunlight. Did it ever occur to you that helping a master magus rob the tomb of an ancient sorcerer might not be the best idea?”

  Hulagon gave an indifferent shrug. “The noyan was confident we could force Taldrane to honor our pact.”

  “Was he?” said Caina. “Tell me. How well did that work out?”

  Hulagon glared at her, but said nothing.

  Caina stared at the two men, realizing that they were all she had to work with at the moment. She could go to Halfdan, have him summon the civic militia and the Imperial Guard and chase Taldrane down. But Taldrane might well reach the tomb of Nicokator before anyone could stop him, and what he found in that tomb might make him too powerful to be overcome. Caina could not take that chance.

  “Listen to me,” said Caina. “We need to work together. Taldrane murdered your father and your noyan. If he opens the tomb of Nicokator with the Sword, he might find something that will make him invincible. Our best chance of stopping him is to steal the Sword before he can use it.”