Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) (38 page)

Kylon started to say something, and the Hellfire engine let out a horrible metallic scream.

“Run!” Caina bellowed at the top of her lungs, projecting her voice as Theodosia had taught her. “Run! All of you, run! The Hellfire engine is about to explode. Run!”

For a moment everyone stared at her, Immortals and Undying both.

Then the floor shook again, the metallic scream growing louder. The Immortals turned and ran, sprinting for the entrance hall, the Undying following close after. Likely they were following Caina’s command. She darted through the press, Kylon following, and found Morgant and Laertes helping an exhausted, haggard Annarah forward. 

“You do have a knack for setting buildings on fire, don’t you?” said Morgant.

“Get Annarah out of here,” said Caina. “Go!” 

“I can walk,” said Annarah, though she was breathing hard and her face glistened with sweat. 

Caina turned and saw Malcolm and Nerina leaning over Azaces. The big man’s eyes were closed, his robe wet with blood. Malcolm had his hands around Azaces’s ankles, but Nerina simply could not lift his shoulders.

“Kylon,” said Caina. “Help them.”

He nodded, slid the valikon into its scabbard, and grabbed Azaces beneath the arms. 

With Malcolm’s help he lifted Azaces, and together they hastened around the balcony, making for the entrance hall. Caina ran after them, looking back to make sure that Annarah and Nasser and Laertes were moving. 

Another explosion rang out, the floor heaving. Caina stumbled and almost lost her balance, but Kylon’s hand caught her shoulder. She felt the tingle of water sorcery in his grasp, giving him the strength to hold Azaces while keeping her from falling. Caina nodded her thanks and caught her balance, and they resumed running. The Hall of Flames grew hotter and hotter as the Hellfire engine started to break down. They reached the entrance hall, and Caina shot a glance over her shoulder to see crimson flames shooting over the railing. The aura of Hellfire pressed against her, seeming to drown out even the terrible power surrounding the Subjugant Bloodcrystal.

She kept running.

They raced through the gates and back into the open night sky, and the cool air of the foothills felt pleasant after the heat within the Inferno. The stars blazed overhead, though far to the east the sun was just starting to rise. Beyond the bridge and the watch towers Caina saw Immortals scattering in all directions. The Undying poured over the slopes, some of them disdaining the bridge to simply climb over the chasm, while before the watch towers waited hundreds of terrified, gray-clad slaves, men and women and children. Najar had done his work well. She suspected that most of the Inferno’s slaves were gathered below the watch towers. 

She hoped most of the slaves had gotten out in time. 

“Malcolm!” shouted Najar as they reached the far side of the bridge. “What is happening?”

“Get clear!” said Malcolm. “The stormdancer and the Balarigar threw the Lieutenant into the Hellfire apparatus.”

“What?” said Najar, squinting at the gates to the Inferno. The crimson light within them was growing brighter and brighter. “By the Living Flame! Get clear, get clear of the watch towers! Get further down the slopes! Everyone run!” 

The slaves stumbled down the path in a disorderly mob. Caina ran towards them, Malcolm and Nerina and Kylon jogging at her side, Azaces swinging between Kylon and Malcolm. Given the severity of the Sarbian warrior’s wounds, Caina was sure that moving him was a bad idea. Leaving him behind would be an even worse idea. The mob of slaves moved further down the path, the Immortals leaving them behind. The aura of pyromantic power around the Inferno grew so strong that Caina felt it through the stone of the mountain, through the power of the bloodcrystal in her left hand. A howling gale blew past her, tugging at her shadow-cloak and clothes. The firestorm in the Inferno was sucking air through the entry hall like a blast furnace.

For an instant, silence fell.

Then the gates to the Inferno exploded as the Hellfire engine released its power. 

The blast ripped the huge iron gates from their hinges and sent them tumbling through the air like dry leaves. The sound was so loud that it seemed as if the entire world had turned to thunder, though the roar of the jet of crimson flame that blasted from the Inferno put it to shame. The fire rolled over the bridge and slammed into the watch towers, and the stone bridge shattered like glass, the watch towers themselves melting like giant candles. The ground heaved like a dying animal beneath Caina’s feet, and she feared the entire mountain would explode. Another thunderous crack rang out, and the face of the mountain collapsed into the chasm, filling it completely, burying the watch towers, and sealing the entrance to the Inferno. 

It was a long time before the final echoes died away. 

They stared in silence at the destruction. 

To Caina’s utter lack of surprise, it was Morgant who spoke first.

“Do these little adventures of yours,” he said, “always end with something exploding?”

“My adventures?” said Caina. “I was helping you keep a promise.” 

“And you did,” said Annarah, leaning upon her staff. “Thank you, Morgant. Thank you for coming back for me.” She looked at Caina. “And thank you, Balarigar. None of us would be alive now if not for your help.” 

“Well,” said Morgant, “we came to rescue you, and instead we blew up the Inferno. I don’t think anyone planned that. Not even you.”

“No,” murmured Caina, shaking her head. “How am I going to explain this to Tanzir?” 

“Where is Azaces?” said Annarah, straightening up. “If he has not yet passed I am be able to aid him. And any other of the wounded who survived the fighting.” 

“You should rest,” said Morgant.

“No,” said Annarah. “I am a servant of the Words of Lore, and I must act like one.” Without another word she hurried to where Azaces lay between Kylon and Malcolm and started casting a spell over him. 

Nasser stepped to Caina’s side, his expression calm and unreadable.

“I suspect,” he murmured, “that when we entered the Inferno yesterday, you did not foresee how matters would end, for I certainly did not.”

“No,” said Caina, watching as Annarah summoned power, the pyrikon glimmering upon her wrist. Nerina watched with hope in her bloodshot eyes, clutching Malcolm’s hand. “Do you think she will help us? That she will be able to read her journal?”

“Yes,” said Nasser. “Now we simply must return to Istarinmul alive and in one piece.”

“Best get started, then,” said Caina. “You’re good at taking charge of things, my lord Prince, so go take charge.”

Laertes snorted. “She has you there.” 

“Get these people organized and moving down the mountain,” said Caina. “We’ll need to make for Korundush, I think. Tanzir can feed and house them, and I suspect he’ll have employment for them, especially Najar and the smiths.”

“Perhaps you should give the command,” murmured Nasser.

“What? Why?” said Caina.

“After all,” said Nasser, “you are the Balarigar. The one who freed them, who threw down the Lord Rolukhan in his pride and cruelty, the one who burned the Inferno.”

“What? No,” said Caina. “For the gods’ sake, Nasser. You were there. It didn’t happen that way at all. All I did was pick up this damned thing,” she gestured with the Subjugant Bloodcrystal, “and make a speech to some undead.” She saw the slaves looking at her, whispering and murmuring. Some of them looked awed. Some of them were weeping. “Oh, hell.” 

“If it any consolation,” said Nasser, “I suspect your bounty is about to rise by several million bezants.” 

Caina took a deep breath and let it out again. “Get them moving.” She looked at the slopes above, at the vast plume of dust and smoke rising from the wreckage of the Inferno. 

“Where are you going?” said Nasser.

The Undying gathered upon the slopes.

“I have a promise to keep,” said Caina. 

Chapter 21: Liberator

Kylon climbed the path a half-step behind Caina, the power from the Subjugant Bloodcrystal washing over him in a cold wave. 

He felt…

He wasn’t sure how he felt. 

Kylon had heard that revenge was an empty, hollow thing, a draught of seawater that did nothing to quench the vengeful thirst of its drinker. So far, he had not found that to be true. In fact, when he thought of Malik Rolukhan’s fiery death, he felt nothing but immense satisfaction. Annarah might have been strong enough to offer Rolukhan redemption, but Kylon was not. Rolukhan had arranged for the murder of Thalastre…and that was not even the worst of his crimes. Kylon had seen the fortress of misery and horror that Rolukhan had ruled, could only imagine the countless lives that Rolukhan had had blighted. If ever had a man earned such a death, it had been Malik Rolukhan, and Kylon could think of no better way for Rolukhan to die than in the blaze that brought the Inferno crashing into smoking ruin. 

So he did not regret the death of Rolukhan.

Still, it seemed less important than he would have thought. 

Rolukhan had only been one of the architects of Thalastre’s murder. Cassander Nilas had been the other, and the Red Huntress’s hand had wielded the blade. Both were still out there, and both were part of Callatas’s larger designs. Thalastre and Kylon’s unborn child would not be well and truly avenged until all three were stopped. 

Even more, Callatas planned to work some terrible evil on a dreadful scale, and had Thalastre lived, she would have demanded that they try to stop it, to prevent something like the day of the golden dead from happening again.

Perhaps that was why Kylon did not feel empty. He knew that the work before him was necessary. 

He was a warrior, and the Inferno had been one battle in a larger war. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” said Caina, her voice quiet, tired, a little ragged.

“I know,” said Kylon. “But you shouldn’t wander alone.” 

She nodded and kept climbing the path.

The Undying awaited outside the ruined watch towers.

Thousands of the undead stood in rows, their forms glimmering with ghostly green images in the predawn gloom. Kylon wanted to draw the valikon, but one swordsman could not do anything against so many foes. Besides, so long as Caina held the Subjugant Bloodcrystal, the undead had to obey her. 

He hoped.

Caina stopped, her shadow-cloak stirring around her, and drew back her cowl. Her emotions, veering between elation and exhaustion, washed over his senses, and the Undying turned towards her. One of the undead, a withered corpse clad in a crumbling robe, stepped towards her.

“Thutomis,” said Caina. 

“You destroyed the Inferno,” whispered the robed corpse. “I cannot believe it possible.”

“I didn’t destroy the Inferno,” said Caina. “I had help.” 

“Nevertheless,” said Thutomis. “I am dead, so I can see the threads of time laid out before me like lines upon a map. Had you not come to the Inferno, we would never have been freed. Had you not come to the Inferno, all your companions would have been slain, whether upon the instruments of torture or within the reach of the High Priest’s bloodcrystal, rising anew to guard the fortress.” 

Kylon felt a chill. He knew how close they had come to defeat and death in the Inferno, but to hear the Undying spell it out so starkly…

“Thank you for your help,” said Caina. 

Thutomis let out a croaking laugh. “We had no choice, for the Subjugant Bloodcrystal compelled us. Yet it was not a burdensome duty. For when I was a living man, I heard the whispers of the slaves from the north, the captives taken from the barbarian tribes. They whispered that one day a demonslayer would come to free the slaves and throw down the tyrants and their sorcery. I see now that they spoke truly.” 

Caina said nothing.

“What shall you do now, demonslayer?” said Thutomis. “We are yours to command. Will you use us to sweep your enemies from the land and break the chains of every slave?” 

“No,” said Caina at once. “The Great Necromancers called the Destroyer an abomination, but they were wrong. This,” she waved the bloodcrystal at the Undying, “all of this, all of their necromancy, was the abomination. None of this should have happened. You should have been allowed to die in peace long, long ago, rather than to have been shackled to your corpses for centuries.” The rage flared beneath the ice of her sense. “It should have ended long ago. And I shall end it now.”

She held out the Subjugant Bloodcrystal in her left hand and drew the ghostsilver dagger with her right. The blade glinted as she pressed it into the bloodcrystal. The crystal was hard as a diamond, yet the ghostsilver dagger sank into it like soft cheese. The Subjugant Bloodcrystal shuddered in her hand, a strange keening noise coming from it. The green glow flashed and sputtered, and Kylon felt the crystal’s aura flickering. Caina gritted her teeth and pushed the dagger deeper, and the Undying swayed on their feet. The necromantic aura writhed and thrashed, and for an awful moment Kylon was sure that the bloodcrystal would rip itself apart in a blaze of fire, that in some mad, grim mood Caina had decided to kill herself and destroy the crystal at the same time. 

Then the crystal shivered and crumbled into smoking ash. Caina turned her hand over, and the wind caught the ashes and blew them away. Another shudder went through the Undying, and the green light around them began to fade.

“Farewell, demonslayer and Destroyer,” whispered Thutomis. “May heaven favor you in the trials ahead.” 

The Undying collapsed, thousands of them, withered flesh and yellowed bone crumbling into dust. The wind blew the dust of the dead away in great dark curtains that soon dissipated in the light of the rising sun. Kylon felt the terrible necromantic aura collapse into nothingness. 

Caina let out a long breath. 

“Rest in peace,” she whispered. Then she blinked at Kylon. “You look startled.”

“I feared that the bloodcrystal would explode,” said Kylon.

She pulled off her mask and smiled at him, her short black hair jagged with sweat, her blue eyes bloodshot and her face tight with fatigue. “Bloodcrystals don’t work that way. They’re reservoirs of power, but not for the sort of sorcery that creates something like Hellfire. When the spells upon them break, they just sort of…unravel. All that stolen life drains away.” Her smile faded, and something dark and grim churned in her emotions. “We should get back to the others.”