Ghost in the Glass

by Jonathan Moeller

  Caina sighed. “I didn’t kill Cassander. Kylon did. I just distracted Cassander while Kylon cut off his head.”

  “Ah,” said Seb. “Then the two of you would be twice the bounty.”

  “Probably,” said Caina. “So, we had better use the cover story we decided earlier. Sophia’s uncle betrothed her to a merchant in Risiviri. Ivan Zomanek hired us to escort his niece to Risiviri since the roads are so dangerous.”

  “Won’t that make any guards suspicious?” said Kylon. “The Voivode of Vagraastrad and the Boyar of Risiviri hate each other.”

  “They do,” said Seb, “but life goes on, even in the middle of a civil war. An impending marriage is an urgent enough errand to send us traveling even in the heart of winter. Also, the nobles of Ulkaar think merchants are beneath their notice. Unlike the Nighmarian lords of the Empire, who eagerly seize any money-making opportunities that come their way. No, so long as we don’t make a scene and present a suitable bribe to the guards at the gate, we should get into Vagraastrad without a problem.”

  “It’s amazing how bribes solve so many problems,” said Caina. Money, at least would not be a problem for a while. The gems she had taken from the undead ardivid they had fought in the forests north of Kostiv would last for a while yet. Caina had made a great deal of money robbing the slave traders of the Brotherhood back in Istarinmul, at least until Cassander Nilas had killed them all, and if necessary she could resume the ways of a master thief in Ulkaar.

  But better not to take the risk if she could avoid it. And the cowled masters of the Brotherhood had deserved her thievery. Many of the merchants and nobles of Ulkaar might not.

  “Yes, it’s one of the universalities of the human condition,” said Seb.

  “Let’s break camp and get moving,” said Kylon. “There’s not much daylight this time of year, so we had better use it. You two can discuss the universalities of the human condition and the gods know what else while we’re on the road.”

  “Our conversations do not range that far afield, Lord Kylon,” said Seb.

  “They really do, I’m afraid,” said Caina.

  ###

  It didn’t take long to break camp.

  Before meeting Caina, Kylon had spent most of his life around the soldiers, sailors, and nobles of New Kyre, and at a young age, he had learned that some men were sluggards who did the least amount of work possible, and then only while under the watchful eyes of their officers or lords.

  That was not true of Caina, who did nearly everything with a single-minded focus. Nor was it true of Seb and Sophia. Though Kylon had to concede that helping to pull down the tents, load the wagons, and rub down the pack horses was an excellent way to stay warm.

  A half-hour after awakening, they were heading south. Seb steered the first cart, and Kylon sat next to him. Caina drove the second cart, Sophia sitting next to her. The girl still had her sunstone cradled in her arm, letting it absorb what it could of the winter sun. Kylon had been surprised to learn that Caina knew how to handle a team and a cart, but she said the Champion of Marsis had taught her several years ago.

  Seb drove in silence, lost in thought, and Kylon remained watchful, scanning the trees and the river for enemies with his eyes and his arcane senses. Men were but water, in the end, and the sorcery of water allowed him to sense their emotions.

  Caina and Sophia talked about words, as they had every day since leaving Kostiv.

  Sophia had sworn to Caina as her liegewoman, and the girl seemed in awe of her. It wasn’t surprising since Sophia had spent years living in terror of Razdan Nagrach, and then Caina and Kylon and Seb had destroyed the boyar and his szlachts in a single night. Granted, it had been a close thing. Razdan had been smart and disciplined, able to control his mavrokh spirit. But he had been young and too inexperienced to deal with someone like Caina, and Caina had assessed Razdan, understood his mind and its weaknesses, and lured him to his death.

  And now Sophia was accompanying them to Iramis to train as a loremaster.

  Caina’s first command to Sophia had been a simple one. She wanted to learn the Ulkaari language as quickly as possible. Sophia was also going to learn the Istarish tongue in the process since everyone in both Istarinmul and Iramis spoke Istarish.

  Caina and Sophia did this by playing a game.

  “Tree,” said Sophia in Caerish, since that was the only common language all four of them had.

  Caina thought for a moment. “Copac?”

  Sophia smiled. “Yes, my lady.”

  “Your turn,” said Caina. “The Istarish word for tree?”

  Sophia scowled with concentration. She was a pretty girl on her way to becoming a beautiful woman, and it wasn’t hard to see why she had drawn Razdan’s eye. Sophia looked harmless…but then she had charged screaming at Razdan and shot him in the side.

  Caina could look harmless when she wanted, too.

  “Agac?” said Sophia.

  “Yes, that’s it,” said Caina. Sophia’s emotional sense pulsed with pride. “My turn.” She tugged on the reins. “Horse.”

  Sophia scowled again. “Sovalye.”

  She was wrong. That was the Istarish word for an armored horseman, not a horse.

  Caina shook her head. “The word is aygir. The Ulkaari word for horse is…” She thought for a bit. “Catar?”

  Sophia laughed. “No, that is the word for mule, my lady. A szlacht would not look very fearsome charging into battle on the back of a mule.”

  “Indeed not,” said Seb.

  “Your turn for a word,” said Caina.

  Sophia looked around, no doubt wanting to choose something she knew in Istarish. “River.”

  Caina thought about it. “Rau?”

  Sophia smiled. “Yes, that’s it.”

  It amused Kylon that Caina enjoyed the game so much. But, then, Caina liked languages. He had lost track of which languages she spoke. Kylon himself knew Kyracian, Anshani, Caerish, High Nighmarian, and Istarish (mostly), and learning every tongue except for his native Kyracian had been painful. He still had trouble with Istarish, since it was just similar enough to Anshani to cause confusion.

  Kylon hoped they would not be in Ulkaar long enough to make it necessary for him to learn Ulkaari, but he knew that it was possible. So, he made himself listen to Caina’s and Sophia’s game, trying to force the Ulkaari words into his memory. Thankfully, quite a few loanwords had drifted into the language over the years from High Nighmarian and Caerish.

  With the rest of his attention, he focused on the forest around them.

  Kylon didn’t like the forests of Ulkaar.

  A long time ago, before his first wife had been murdered, the Surge, the oracle of the Kyracian people, had given Kylon the ability to sense spirits of the netherworld. He had also gained the power to sense cracks in the walls of the world, rifts and breaches where spirits could slip from the netherworld and into the material world.

  And Kylon didn’t like what he sensed around him.

  The barrier between worlds in Ulkaar felt threadbare, perhaps even tattered. Like a garment that had been dragged along rough concrete, or maybe a cloak that had been damaged by moths. The wall between worlds was intact, but it was weak. It would not be hard for a determined spirit to find its way through…and it would be easy for a sorcerer to summon something to the mortal world. Seb and Sophia had said that the Ulkaari had a tradition of petty necromancy and little wonder. With the barrier to the netherworld damaged here, a petty necromancer would find his dark sciences empowered.

  “Lord Sebastian,” said Kylon.

  “Yes, Lord Kylon?” said Seb, not looking up from the horses. He looked so much like Caina when he was concentrating that it was a little uncanny.

  “When the Warmaiden Nadezhda defeated Rasarion Yagar,” said Kylon. “I assume that was what damaged the barrier to the netherworld in Ulkaar.”

  “That is the prevailing theory among both the Magisterium and the Umbarians,” said Seb. “I have never seen anything to contra
dict it.”

  “But what was the Iron King trying to do?” said Kylon. “This great spell he was trying to cast. What was it?”

  “That is a good question,” said Caina from her wagon.

  “Brother Valexis says that when the Warmaiden slew the Iron King,” said Sophia, “he laid his dying curse upon Ulkaar, summoning demons to haunt our forests and bidding the dead to walk.”

  “That is within the realm of possibility,” said Seb. “That said, Yagar was apparently attempting a powerful summoning spell. Maybe he was trying to summon Temnuzash to our world, or perhaps he was trying to bind an army of the undead. No one knows exactly what happened…but both the Iron King and the Warmaiden were slain, the Iron King’s castle of Sigilsoara was caught halfway between the material world and the netherworld, and the barrier to the netherworld in Ulkaar was substantially weakened.” He looked back at Kylon. “Why do you ask?”

  Kylon shook his head. “Curiosity. The damage to the barrier is substantial. I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”

  Seb shrugged. “Well, if you can take the Ring to Iramis, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He grinned and glanced back at Caina. “And if you can recite the tale of the Iron King and the Warmaiden in Ulkaari, you’ll be well on the way to mastering the language.”

  Caina thought for a moment, and then said a sentence in Ulkaari. Kylon only recognized about half the words. She spoke haltingly, but she had gotten the accent down perfectly.

  Seb blinked. “Dear gods, woman, you just asked if I had carnal knowledge of a goat.”

  “She most certainly did not!” said Sophia, indignant. “Some of the verb tenses were wrong, but the sentence was otherwise correct. And she said nothing about a goat or…or inappropriate relations!”

  “A joke, dear girl,” said Seb. “I…”

  Something brushed against Kylon’s arcane senses.

  Both he and Sophia looked to the southeast at the same time.

  ###

  Caina saw the sudden flare of silvery-blue light around Sophia, a weaker and less focused version of the arcane glow around her husband.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “Someone’s coming from the southeast,” said Kylon.

  “They’re scared,” said Sophia. She shivered, and not from the cold. “Whoever is coming is so, so scared…”

  She shivered, and the pale glow of water sorcery around her winked out as she mastered herself.

  “How many?” said Caina.

  “Just one,” said Kylon. “Better stop the wagons for now. If he proves hostile, I don’t want him attacking the horses.”

  Caina pulled on the reins, and her wagon’s horses came to a stop. Seb reined up as well, and his wagon halted a few yards in front of hers. Caina stood up, throwing back the heavy wolf-fur cloak to free her arms.

  “Sophia,” she said, “you should probably get your crossbow ready. Just in case.”

  Sophia nodded and reached into the bed of the wagon for her weapon.

  “Hopefully one man should not be much of a threat,” said Seb. He paused. “Though Razdan probably thought one woman would not be much of a threat, so we should learn from his salutary example.”

  “It’s not the one man that worries me,” said Caina. “Sophia said he was frightened. Which means…”

  “What frightened him?” said Kylon, adjusting the saber at his belt. Caina had taken that saber from the undead ardivid they had destroyed north of Kostiv, and it was a good sword, the steel resilient and the blade sharp. Of course, it wasn’t Kylon’s real sword, but given how the Ulkaari reacted with awe to the valikons once carried by the Arvaltyri, best to keep the valikons out of sight until necessary.

  Caina hoped the swords would not be needed.

  A few moments later she heard the crackle of someone moving through the forest, heard a voice raised in a mumbling pant of fear and terror.

  A man burst from the trees and stumbled onto the road.

  He was wearing a ragged robe lined with fur. Once the garment must have been a fine one, but now it was torn and stained. He had no weapons that Caina could see, and to judge from the way his chest rose and fell, he was utterly exhausted.

  The ragged man gaped at them, and Caina got a look at his face. It was gaunt and framed in a whitish-yellow beard, deep lines cut into his skin. He had vivid green eyes that were wide with fear and horror.

  “Seb,” said Caina.

  Seb stood up, his hands raised to show that they held no weapons, and said something in the Ulkaari tongue. Caina’s lessons with Sophia had advanced enough that she recognized a polite greeting.

  The old man gaped at Seb, blinked a few times, and then the torrent of words poured out.

  Caina only caught half of them, and to judge from the way the old man’s expression kept changing, she didn’t think he was entirely sane. She heard him mention danger, and running through the forest, and he kept talking about devils of some kind. At least Caina thought it was the word for a devil, though she wasn’t sure.

  Seb asked a question, and the old man repeated himself about the devils.

  “His name is Teodor,” said Seb. “He says he fled for his life from Vagraastrad, and he is being pursued by reveniri.”

  Sophia sucked in a startled breath. “Reveniri?”

  “What are reveniri?” said Caina.

  “Trouble,” said Seb. “If he’s telling the truth…”

  Kylon stood and lifted his hand, his valikon assembling itself out of shards of silvery light in his fingers.

  “He is,” Kylon said, lifting the silvery sword, the Iramisian glyphs on the blade burning with white fire. “I can sense them coming.”

  Chapter 2: A Lost Soul

  Kylon sensed the approach of the creatures.

  Or, more accurately, the sensed the approach of the malevolent spirits inhabiting the creatures.

  There were as many different kingdoms and orders of spirits in the netherworld as there were nations and tribes of men. Kylon had learned that the various orders of spirits felt differently against the ability that the Surge had given him. The nagataaru had been cold and hard and malevolent, focused predators that feasted upon the agony and deaths of their victims. Fire elementals were wild and capricious, full of furious hunger and rage. The mavrokhi spirits that had inhabited Razdan Nagrach and his szlachts had been feral and bestial.

  A new kind of spirit brushed against his senses, one he had never encountered before.

  But it was just as malevolent as the nagataaru and the mavrokhi.

  The spirits felt cold and clammy, yet somehow greasy. They put Kylon in mind of poisonous worms crawling through dead flesh, gorging themselves on carrion.

  Of course, some scavengers thought nothing of killing prey themselves.

  “Kylon?” said Caina. She had called her own valikon, the shorter blade gleaming in the dull winter light. Teodor looked back and forth between them, shocked as if he could not quite believe what he had just seen.

  “I don’t know what they are,” said Kylon. “But a dozen spirits are approaching us, and they’re not friendly.”

  “Reveniri,” said Teodor, his voice a fearful croak.

  “What’s a reveniri?” said Caina in Caerish.

  “Undead corpse,” said Seb. He stood up and stepped off the wagon, drawing his sword as he did so. Teodor flinched in fear. Seb’s sword, like his armor, was forged from the black steel manufactured by the Imperial Magisterium. It was lighter and stronger and sharper than normal steel, better able to bear the stresses a battle magus of the Magisterium could unleash in battle. “Sometimes necromancers raise them, and occasionally it happens naturally to bodies in the forest. A carrion spirit enters the corpses and raises them…”

  “And hunts for carrion, I assume,” said Caina.

  “Aye,” said Seb. “Or they make their own carrion, if necessary.” He gestured to Teodor and spoke a command in Ulkaari, and Kylon realized he had just told the old man to take shelter behind the wagons. T
eodor gaped at Seb and shook his head, his face twisted with fear. Kylon suspected that the old man was not entirely sane. His emotional sense twisted and writhed like a mind that had started to lose its grip on reality, an instability made all the worse by the terror howling through him.

  “My lady,” said Sophia. The girl’s voice was tight, her face grim. Kylon sensed her fear, but she kept it controlled. “I think I can sense them. I think they’re coming.”

  “She’s right,” said Kylon. “Get ready. We’re going to have to fight.”

  He looked at Caina and saw her nod, the valikon burning in her right hand.

  The sound of crunching snow came from the forest, accompanied by the rattle of rustling branches. The greasy sense of the reveniri grew harsher against Kylon’s mind, and a vile smell came to his nostrils. It was like the odor of a rotting carcass lying in the snow, accompanied by a harsh sulfurous odor.

  The creatures came into sight a heartbeat later.

  They looked like frozen, withered corpses, still clad in the crumbling remnants of the bright clothes favored by the commoners of Ulkaar. Their dead eyes glowed with a harsh white light that leaked freezing mist. The spirits inhabiting the dead flesh had twisted the bodies, filling the mouths with massive fangs and sprouting jagged talons from their fingers and toes. Icy mist swirled around those talons, similar to the freezing mist that Kylon could summon around a sword blade.

  “Don’t let them touch you,” said Caina. “Those claws will freeze your blood.”

  Teodor shivered and stumbled back, the ragged hem of his robe catching on his boot and sending him sprawling to the ground. The reveniri let out croaking laughs, their withered lips pulling back from their teeth to expose their fangs. Kylon felt the spirits’ malicious amusement, felt their greed and hunger as they stared at the terrified old man. The spirits’ greed only intensified as they saw the wagons. Likely they thought they were about to feast.

  They were going to be in for a surprise.