One of the reveniri spoke in Ulkaari, its voice a hideous growling rasp. The creature wore the ragged remnants of a heavy fur-lined jacket and hunting boots.
“What did it just say?” said Kylon.
“It told us to lie down and die,” said Seb, “so it may enjoy our suffering all the more.”
“I see,” said Kylon, calling the sorcery of water and air to him. “I’ll go first. Seb, you follow after I’ve scattered them. Caina, keep an eye on Sophia and Teodor.”
The reveniri hissed and started forward, jaws snapping like snarling dogs. They showed no fear. Likely they had never encountered valikons.
Kylon was no valikarion, but it was time to show the reveniri why sorcerers of old had held the valikarion of Iramis in terror.
He leaped off the edge of the wagon, the sorcery of water fueling his jump, the valikon drawn back to strike.
###
The battle started in the blink of an eye.
One moment Caina saw Kylon standing on the edge of the wagon, the valikon in his right hand. Caina had taken that sword from Silent Ash Temple in Istarinmul, and she knew it as well as she knew her own hand. The Iramisian glyphs cut into the ghostsilver blade burned with white light, and a freezing mist swirled around the weapon, a result of its bond to Kylon. Caina’s own valikon was of similar design, though shorter. She had taken her sword from the Tomb of Kharnaces on Pyramid Isle, and it had bonded to her after the death of Grand Master Callatas. It glowed, both to her physical eyes and the vision of the valikarion, though hers lacked the freezing mist of her husband’s sword.
The next moment Kylon jumped, the sorcery of air glowing around him.
The heartbeat after that he was among the reveniri, striking left and right. The valikon blazed like a comet in his grasp, and in an instant two of the reveniri were down. The valikon destroyed the carrion spirits in the dead flesh, even as the ghostsilver of the blade shattered the necromantic spells binding the undead creatures.
Seb had said that the reveniri occurred naturally in Ulkaar, but Caina was certain that these undead had been created. Someone had used necromantic science to animate the corpses and summon the carrion spirits within them.
But that was a concern for later.
Seb wasn’t as fast as Kylon, but he was no less dangerous. A surge of psychokinetic force and he leaped from the wagon as well, crashing into the reveniri. By then Kylon had taken down another of the creatures, and they focused on him, reacting to the unexpected threat. Seb attacked, trusting to the black armor beneath his coat and cloak to protect him, striking left and right with his sword. He aimed for the creatures’ necks, and his black sword took off their heads, driven by his psychokinetic strength.
The reveniri fell back, retreating beneath the fury of the stormdancer and the battle magus, but two of the creatures charged towards Teodor, who still huddled on his knees.
Caina hopped off the wagon and ran forward, lifting the valikon in her right hand. The two reveniri converged on Teodor, and the old man cringed away, his eyes wide and terrified. The reveniri were focused on Teodor, but it didn’t matter because Caina was a valikarion and spirits could not perceive the valikarion. Caina drove the valikon forward, plunging the burning blade into the neck of the nearest reveniri. The creature stiffened as the white fire burned through it, and then collapsed motionless to the ground, the carrion spirit in its flesh destroyed.
The second reveniri lashed out, trying to find the unseen threat, and Caina retreated. She was only mediocre with a sword and preferred knives and daggers. She also preferred to avoid this kind of face-to-face fight. Better to attack her enemies from behind and finish them off before they even realized the danger. Nevertheless, she had been trained in hand-to-hand combat since she had joined the Ghosts as a child, and while she had a sword, the last reveniri did not.
It reached for her with freezing claws, and Caina dodged the clumsy attack with ease. Likely the carrion spirits relied on their freezing claws and their inhuman strength to take down foes, rather than any sort of skill or prowess. It also helped that the creature could not see a valikarion. Caina dodged again and flicked the valikon across its chest. The blade disrupted the necromantic spell upon the creature, and the corpse stumbled, the carrion spirit within cringing away.
Before it could recover its balance, Caina buried her valikon in its neck. The white glow in its eyes went out, and Caina ripped her sword free and let the corpse fall to the ground next to Teodor.
The old man gazed up at her, wonder in his eyes.
“Arvaltyri,” he whispered in Ulkaari. “Arvaltyr. How…how can it be? Are you real?”
Caina was pleased she could understand him, but she could deal with him later.
She looked for more enemies, but the fight was over.
Kylon and Seb stood in a ring of destroyed reveniri. Caina allowed herself a moment of pride for her husband’s prowess as a warrior, and then turned her attention to the forest. She saw no further necromantic auras in the trees, and the only sorcerous auras she saw were those around Kylon and Seb and a weaker one around Sophia.
“Is that all of them?” said Seb.
“I think so,” said Kylon. He dismissed his valikon, the weapon shattering into shards of silver light and vanishing from sight. “I can’t sense any others nearby.”
“Good.” Caina dismissed her own valikon and flexed her fingers. By the Divine, she missed throwing knives. Maybe she could buy some in Vagraastrad, or have some made. Then again, a throwing knife would have been useless against the reveniri.
“Just our ill luck,” said Seb, “to run into a pack of reveniri.”
“Aye,” said Caina.
Had it been ill luck? Or had someone sent the reveniri after Teodor?
Or had someone sent the reveniri after Caina and Rasarion Yagar’s Ring?
“You…you speak the traders’ language?”
Caina looked at Teodor, who wobbled to his feet. He had spoken in Caerish.
“We do,” said Caina. “It is good fortune that we crossed your path this day. Else those reveniri might have killed you.”
Seb and Kylon walked closer. Seb looked calm, but Kylon had a frown on his face, his eyes fixed upon Teodor.
“No,” said Teodor. “Yes. Maybe. When I was a young man, I could have taken the reveniri. The necromancer, too. But that…that was a long time ago.”
“My name’s Marina,” said Caina, deciding not to give him their true names. “This is my husband Milartes.” Kylon inclined his head a fraction of an inch. That was the alias he had used in Caer Magia some years ago. “This is my brother Seb, and our friend Sophia.” Sophia blinked but kept her face calm. “Who are you, sir?”
“Teodor,” said the old man. “My name is Teodor. I was…I was…someone important. I can’t remember. I have to do something. But I can’t remember what it was.” His eyes turned back to her. “Are you real? You’re not a dream?”
“Yes,” said Caina. “We’re real.”
“No, no, you cannot be,” said Teodor. “I saw the holy valikons. I saw the swords of the Arvaltyri, but the Arvaltyri perished long ago. They died out. My brothers and I carry out their work in their stead. I…”
“Brothers?” said Caina.
She shared a glance with Seb.
“Hold still, sir,” said Seb. “I want to make sure you’re not injured.”
He reached out and grasped Teodor’s collar, pulling it down a few inches. Teodor didn’t notice, his eyes having gone hazy once again.
And as Seb tugged at the old man’s collar, Caina saw a familiar sight.
A swirling black tattoo marked the top of his chest, extending down his torso and his shoulder. Caina had seen tattoos liked that many times before, though only on one man. Her lover Corvalis Aberon, slain saving the world on the day of the golden dead, had carried tattoos like that upon his chest. He had received them from an Ulkaari witchfinder as part of his efforts to rescue his sister Claudia from the master magus Ranarius. Wh
ich then meant…
“He’s an Ulkaari witchfinder,” said Caina. “Or he was.” Up close, the man looked strong despite his age. His hands were thick and scarred, obviously accustomed to wielding weapons.
“Then it is plain what happened,” said Sophia, who had come up behind Caina. “A necromancer summoned the reveniri and sent them after him. They chased him through the woods, and he found us here.”
Seb shrugged. “It makes sense. But the reveniri could just been wandering the forest. They occur naturally sometimes.”
“No,” said Caina. “Not these ones. There were binding spells upon them.”
Seb frowned. “You’re certain?”
“Entirely,” said Caina.
“She’s right,” said Kylon. “I’m not sure…but I think someone attacked Teodor’s mind with a spell.” He grimaced. “His emotional sense is…off.”
“He might just be insane, Lord Kylon,” said Sophia. “I can sense it as well.”
“But I’ve sensed this kind of madness before,” said Kylon. “During New Kyre’s war with the Empire. Sometimes the magi of the Magisterium unleashed telepathic attacks upon our ashtairoi soldiers. If those attacks succeeded, the emotional senses of those men often felt like this.”
Sophia shivered. “Then Teodor was attacked by a necromancer, and the evil sorcerer did this to him.”
“It fits,” said Kylon.
“Teodor,” said Caina. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“I…” said Teodor. “I…”
His eyes came back into focus.
“My daughter,” he said. “Svetlana, my daughter. Do you know her? You look like you might be one of her friends. She has many friends from the Empire…I…I…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what happened to my daughter. I have to find her.”
“What happened?” said Caina.
Teodor’s face worked in concentration. “I…I don’t know. I should know. I did know. But I can’t remember.” He shook his head. “I have to find my daughter. I…”
He trailed off again, his eyes going glassy.
“If the magi did this to him,” said Sophia, “could he be…helped?”
“Maybe,” said Caina. “It depends on the spell and the strength of the sorcerer who cast it. His mind might recover itself in time. Or another sorcerer skilled with mind spells could repair it.”
But it was entirely possible, she knew, that Teodor’s mind might never recover from its damage. That had been the fate of Caina’s father. Her mother had tried to wipe her father’s mind to remove the memories of her crimes. Instead, Laeria Amalas had shattered his mind, and then Maglarion had cut his throat to fuel his own necromantic spells.
She glanced at Seb and wondered how he would react if he knew his aunt had murdered his uncle.
Then again, based on what she had heard about his family, it wouldn’t surprise him.
His family…and hers, she supposed.
By the Divine, that thought unsettled her. Caina had hated her mother the way she had hated few other people in her life, and that had been before Laeria had killed Caina’s father. The thought that Laeria had been the youngest member of a large and powerful family was a disturbing one. Granted, Caina had been uneasy about Seb at first, but Sebastian Scorneus had proven himself in the fight against Razdan and the mavrokhi.
Yet something had happened to make Laeria so ruthless, and her family was a good bet.
Especially since Seb had said that his aunt Talmania had murdered his wife.
Which meant Caina’s aunt Talmania had murdered Seb's wife.
“Teodor,” said Caina, putting aside thoughts of House Scorneus. “Could you tell us why the reveniri were chasing you?”
“I…” The old man’s green eyes focused on her, and she met his gaze. “Are you truly Arvaltyri? There have been no Arvaltyri in Ulkaar for centuries. They are sorely needed. So many dark things stir in the forest, and the Umbarians call horrors out of their ancient graves. But I am an old soldier. I have seen too many terrible things. I knew those reveniri would kill me. Then a man and a woman with valikons appear to save me? No. I must be dreaming. Or I am dying, and this is a hallucination.”
“It’s neither,” said Caina, coming to a decision. “Look for yourself.”
She lifted her right hand and called her valikon back, the blade assembling itself out of shards of silver light. Teodor flinched, and Caina held the sword level before her.
“Go on,” she said. “Touch it. It is real, I can promise you that.”
Teodor lifted a shaking hand and ran his fingers along the flat of the valikon’s blade. “How? Iramis burned long ago, and all the Arvaltyri were slain.”
“They were,” said Caina, “but Iramis returned from the fire. The valikarion – the Arvaltyri, as you call them in Ulkaar – have returned as well. I am an Arvaltyr, strange as it may seem for a foreign woman to be one. Can you remember anything?”
Teodor gazed at her, struggling to pull his thoughts together. “I…my daughter. Something happened to my daughter. There was…glass? Yes, a box of glass. I went to get her back. There was fighting. Then the reveniri came for me.” He slumped, and his eyes went out of focus once more.
Caina realized he wasn’t going to talk again for a while.
She sighed and dismissed her valikon.
“Well,” said Seb, “what are we going to do about him?”
“We cannot leave him here, Lord Sebastian,” said Sophia. “If more undead from the forest do not claim him, the cold certainly will.”
“Running through the snow like that,” said Kylon, “he might have left a fairly obvious trail. Perhaps we can follow it and find whoever damaged his mind.”
“That would be unwise,” said Seb. “Traveling through the forests of Ulkaar is dangerous at the best of times. In winter, with reveniri loose in the trees, it would be absolutely suicidal.” He pointed at Teodor. “Almost certainly our witchfinder is from Vagraastrad or one of the nearby villages. If he was from Vagraastrad, then someone from the Temple ought to know him. And if we cannot find anyone who knows him, at the very least there is a sanitarium in Vagraastrad for madmen. Some noblewoman or another sponsors it.” He shrugged. “Unless you want to take Teodor with you all the way back to Iramis.”
“No,” said Caina. “No, I think your plan is best. We have to go to Vagraastrad anyway. Perhaps someone in the city will know him.”
Something caught her attention.
She frowned and stepped past Teodor, who stood humming to himself, and came to the slain reveniri. Even motionless, the creatures were no less grotesque, the claws jutting from their fingers and fangs rising from their mouths. Their garments were ragged and dirty, and yet…
Caina frowned, stooped, and tore a strip from the waistcoat of a slain reveniri.
She lifted it to her nose and sniffed.
“What is it?” said Kylon.
“Look at this,” said Caina, holding out the piece of cloth.
“What about it?” said Kylon.
“It’s new,” said Seb, frowning.
Caina nodded. “It doesn’t look that way, but the reveniri have been running through the forest. But I can still smell the dye on the cloth. That garment is only a few weeks old at the most, maybe no more than a month.”
“But why would someone give new clothes to a reveniri, my lady?” said Sophia. “That would be…”
Her dark eyes widened as she figured it out.
“They wouldn’t,” said Caina. “But if a necromancer killed a man and raised him as a reveniri, he might happen to kill a victim with new clothes.” She looked at Teodor. “And if a witchfinder of the Temple found that his daughter had been taken by the necromancer, he would try to avenge her…and have his mind damaged in the process.”
“Then what should we do?” said Sophia.
“We ought to go to Vagraastrad at once,” said Seb. “There will be more safety behind its walls than outside them. If there is a petty necromancer wandering
the forests, better that we do not encounter him.”
“And if the Umbarians raised the reveniri?” said Kylon.
That could be even worse. Ulkaar had stayed out of the civil war between the Emperor and the Umbarians for the most part, but the Voivode of Vagraastrad supported the Umbarians. If an Umbarian magus under the protection of the Voivode was raising the undead…
“We’ll deal with that if it happens,” said Caina. “For now, I think we ought to get to Vagraastrad before dark.”
“Agreed,” said Seb. “I’ll..”
There was a flicker of arcane power before Caina’s sight.
She spun, raising her valikon again.
Kylon let out an irritated curse in Kyracian.
Ten yards further down the road stood a woman.
She stood nearly seven feet tall. Her body seemed vaguely misshapen beneath a heavy brown dress of rough material and a long, tattered gray cloak, the massive cowl concealing her face. The woman’s right hand was gnarled and thick and age-spotted and clutched a bronze staff with a peculiar sheen to it.
She smiled, and in the shadows of the cowl, Caina caught a glimpse of glinting bronze teeth. Either the old woman’s teeth were bronze, or she hadn’t cleaned them in a very long time.
“Amirja and Liberator,” said the Bronze Witch, inclining her shadowed face towards Caina. She spoke Caerish with a near-impenetrable Ulkaari accent, her voice an aged rasp. “Shall I add the slayer of Razdan Nagrach to your collection of titles? How appropriate that you wear a cloak of wolf fur.”
Caina glanced at Teodor, wondering how the old man would react to the sight of the Bronze Witch of Ulkaari legend, but the witchfinder seemed lost within his own damaged mind.
“You,” said Kylon.
“Yes, that is correct, stormdancer,” said the Witch. “You are wise to fear and distrust prophecies. But I have not led you falsely, have I? Nor have I betrayed you. Why should I? Razdan Nagrach was a blight upon Kostiv, and his death was a blow to the Temnoti. And you and your daring bride are the best hope I have seen for keeping the relics of the Iron King from both the Temnoti and the Umbarians.” She beckoned. “And if you think me false, Kylon Shipbreaker, then strike me down. You bear a valikon of Iramis. I cannot stop you.”
Ghost in the Glass Page 3
