Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge (22 page)

“Torius!” shrieked Marcus. “What do you want? I’ll give you anything. I’ll do anything! Anything!”

“I want,” said Torius with a smile, “you to die in agony.”

He gripped the coffin’s lid and heaved, and it swung shut with a tremendous clang, drowning out Marcus’s shriek. 

“You said the pharaohs of Maat used this spell to bind their souls to their hearts,” said Mihaela, lifting her rod. “They were fools. Else they would have bound their souls to something like this.”

She muttered a spell, and Caina felt the icy tingle of necromantic sorcery. White fire flared in the hieroglyphs covering the coffin, and a ripple went through the molten metal. The Forge shuddered, and Mihaela made a sweeping motion with the rod.

The power in the air redoubled.

“Torius!” Caina could hear Marcus’s faint scream through the thick steel. “Please! Damn you, Torius! Help me! Help…”

Mihaela gestured, and the Forge’s sigils flared with white light as the pipes sucked up molten metal from the canal. 

Torius’s screams dissolved into a hideous hissing crackle, and the stench of burning meat flooded Caina’s nose. Fingers of white lightning crackled up and down the Forge, the hieroglyphs glowing brighter, the stone floor vibrating. The power radiating from the Forge grew sharper, so potent that it caused Caina physical pain. She gripped the edge of the crate to keep her balance and shielded her eyes from the Forge’s light.

The glow faded, and the sharp pain against Caina’s skin vanished. 

“An impressive light show,” said Torius. “Did it work?”

Mihaela sneered. “Of course it worked.” She lifted her rod and pointed. “Come forth!”

The Forge’s steel door swung open, and a black suit of glypharmor stepped out. The hieroglyphics upon the plates of its arms and legs and cuirass pulsed with white light, reflecting in the dark steel. 

“I trust,” said Mihaela, “that removes any doubts?”

“Quite,” said Torius, gazing at the glypharmor. 

“Remarkable,” murmured Sicarion. “You can control it remotely?”

“In a limited fashion,” said Mihaela. “Simple commands only. Not well enough for combat. For anything more than straightforward movement, it needs a wielder. Stop!”

The glypharmor halted, the light in the hieroglyphs dimming. 

“A pity you can’t control them remotely during combat,” said Sicarion. “An army of invincible automatons would kill quite a lot of people.”

“I can disable them,” said Mihaela, “in case either of you decides to get clever and betray me.”

Torius laughed. “Betray you, my dear Mihaela? When your genius has brought us these weapons? We shall have to split the world between us…but a third of the world is still enough for any man.” He grinned, his green eyes glinting in the glow from the canal. “And the expression on my father’s face when we chain him into the Forge…ah, that alone will almost be payment enough.”

“Enough to give up a third of the world?” said Mihaela.

“I said ‘almost’.” 

“If this latest demonstration satisfies your doubts,” said Mihaela, “then we will begin. Have your men take the Forge to the central chamber. Claudia Aberon should have gathered the embassies by now. Once I retrieve the Stormbrand from the Chamber of Relics, the work can proceed.”

“As you say,” said Torius. He waved a hand at the new-made suit of glypharmor. “Can you get Marcus out of the way first?” 

“Move,” said Mihaela, pointing her rod. “Ten paces forward, and then remain motionless.”

The glypharmor clanked forward, and Caina eased back from the crate. 

She had everything she needed. Mihaela had murdered Marcus in that ghastly Forge, and somehow his death had created the glypharmor. It was plainly necromancy. Caina could go to Talekhris and warn him, and once the Scholae knew that Mihaela had used necromancy, they would stop her…

The glypharmor halted, and as it did, its boot struck an empty barrel. The sheer force and power of its stride sent the barrel tumbling into the air, and it slammed into the crate in front of Caina. The crate hit Caina’s side, and she lost her balance and fell to the stone floor.

She rolled to one knee, and saw Mihaela, Torius, and Sicarion staring at her in astonishment. 

“What the devil?” said Torius. 

Sicarion began to laugh.

“A Ghost!” said Mihaela, pointing her rod. “What are you idiots waiting for? Kill him! Kill him now!” 

A dozen mercenaries charged towards Caina, even as Mihaela, Torius, and Sicarion all began casting spells.

Chapter 22 - Stop Talking And Kill Her

Caina rolled to her feet, ghostsilver dagger in hand, and sprinted for the door. She heard the shouts of the mercenaries, and her skin crawled with the presence of arcane power as Mihaela and the others cast spells. Caina darted around a crate and ducked between the legs of a suit of black glypharmor, but the mercenaries still closed. She was fast, but too many obstacles stood between her and the door …

The tingling against her skin grew sharper, and Caina dodged behind a suit of glypharmor. 

An instant later a blast of invisible force brushed her and sent her spinning across the ground. The glypharmor clanged like a bell, a vibration going through the steel, and for a moment Caina feared it would fall upon her and crush her.

But the glypharmor was far too heavy for a single spell to move.

Caina staggered to her feet as the first mercenary lunged at her. She dodged his sword thrust, free hand dipping to her belt. A throwing knife glimmered in her fingers, and she stabbed at the mercenary with all her strength. He brought up his blade to block, the knife spinning to the floor, but that gave Caina the opening she needed to lunge with her ghostsilver dagger. The blade tore open his throat, and the man fell. 

Three more mercenaries came at her, and Caina ran. The men fanned out, trying to drive her towards one of the suits of glypharmor. Caina darted to the left, so close that one of the mercenaries’ swords brushed her shoulder. A large crate stood before her, big enough to hold a grown man, and Caina jumped. She seized the edge of the crate, heaved herself up, and rolled over the far side. She landed in a crouch, her legs buckling to absorb the impact, and sprinted.

By the time the mercenaries got around the crate, she was twenty yards away. The doorway loomed closer, and beyond Caina saw the glint of the steel coffins. Just a little farther, and she could get back into the main hallways of the Tower of Study and warn Zalandris or Talekhris. 

A black blur shot overhead and landed between Caina and the doorway with a clang.

Torius Aberon leveled his dark sword and grinned. 

“I remember you,” he said. “The Ghost following my idiot half-brother. Well, you’ll…”

Caina flung a throwing knife at his face, and Torius blocked with his sword. The knife clattered away, and Caina reached into her belt for another.

But Torius surged forward with a spell, his sorcery driving his legs with superhuman speed. Caina dodged, but not fast enough. Torius’s sword missed her, but his armored shoulder struck her arm, and she went sprawling to the ground. She hit the floor with a bone-rattling thump, and scrambled back to her feet. Torius was fast, but she knew firsthand that a sorcerer using a spell to enhance his speed could not change direction quickly. If she could get to the doorway before …

A blur of motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Caina saw a barrel hurtling towards her. She ducked, and the barrel shot over her head and bounced off the floor. Caina straightened up and saw a crate leap into the air and fall towards her. She dodged, and caught a glimpse of Mihaela striding towards her, flicks of her enspelled rod sending debris shooting into the air. 

“Kill that Ghost!” said Mihaela. “Must I do everything myself? If he gets away it will mean our heads! Kill him!”

She swung the rod, and a pair of barrels shot towards Caina. Caina ducked under the first barrel and dodged around the second as Torius spun to face her. She felt the surge of arcane power as he hurtled forward, his armor a black blur. 

Caina rolled between the legs of a suit of glypharmor as Torius charged. The battle magus shot past the glypharmor, and Caina scrambled to her feet. She had a clear path to the door, and…

An empty crate slammed into her back. The impact drove her to the ground, the breath exploding from her lungs. 

The mercenaries closed around her. 

Caina sprang to her feet, snatched a throwing knife from her sleeve, killed one of the men with a quick throw, and then killed a second with a slash of her ghostsilver dagger. But there were too many mercenaries. Four men grabbed her arms and twisted, ripping the bloody dagger from her hands. Two of the men drew back their swords, and Caina braced herself for the killing blow…

“Wait!” Mihaela strode closer. “Take off his mask first.”

“Why?” said Torius with a scowl. “Just kill him and have done with it.” 

“I want to see if Claudia was clever enough to betray me,” said Mihaela. “I thought the girl was a fool…but perhaps she fooled me. Take off his mask, now.”

One of the mercenaries pulled back Caina’s cowl and yanked off her mask.

She had the satisfaction of seeing the shock on Mihaela’s and Torius’s faces. 

“Her?” said Mihaela. “The merchant’s daughter? Surely this is some trick!”

Torius snorted. “Aye, but we were the ones tricked. I thought her my half-brother’s toy.” He shook his head. “Instead she is a Ghost nightfighter, and left three of my men dead upon the floor.” 

“I should have listened to Sicarion,” said Mihaela. She looked around with an irritated scowl. “And where is Sicarion?”

“I don’t know,” said Torius. “He ran off during the chase.”

Mihaela shrugged. “No matter. He’ll be back soon enough.” She pointed the metallic rod at Caina’s chest. “Anything useful to say before I kill you?”

“You should flee now,” said Caina, “while you still can.”

Mihaela snorted. “Since you so clearly have command of the situation.”

“I don’t,” said Caina, “but the Sages will. I damaged your wards. They would have sensed the necromancy you used to murder Marcus and create that…that thing.” She jerked her head at the suit of glypharmor. “If you run now, perhaps you’ll get out of Catekharon before they find you.”

“The Sages,” said Mihaela, “the mighty, learned Sages, would not bestir themselves if the city burned down around their ears.” She frowned. “And the Forge does not use a great deal of necromantic force, since the victims’ own arcane talent provides the bulk of the power.”

Caina blinked…and the puzzle made sense.

Horrifying sense.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” said Caina. “That’s what this is all about.”

Mihaela’s frown deepened. “All about what?”

“That Forge of yours,” said Caina. “It creates glypharmor, but it uses the victim’s soul to power the armor. Except it only works with sorcerers. There must not be enough arcane force in the soul of someone without the talent.”

“The soul acts as a channel,” murmured Mihaela. “And a sorcerer’s soul draws substantially more power than the soul of someone without sorcerous skill. The Forge binds the victim’s soul to the armor, which then acts as a channel to power the glypharmor.” She smiled. “I would feed you to the Forge, if you had any talent. I understand the process is…quite painful.”

“That’s monstrous,” said Caina. “You’ve condemned them to eternal imprisonment and torment to fuel your own power.”

“Gladly,” said Mihaela. “They would do the same to me, if they had the power.” 

“That’s why you convinced Zalandris to send out the invitations,” said Caina. “So you could lure the most powerful sorcerers in the world here, murder them, and transform them into glypharmor.” 

“You are as clever as Sicarion thought,” said Mihaela. “Did you see those preening fools? Yaramzod the Black and Master Callatas and Torius’s fat pig of a father all think they’ll take my glypharmor and make themselves the masters of the world. Instead they’re going to die screaming in my Forge, their souls enslaved to my armor for all time. The Sages, too, the pompous old fools. I will put their talents to better use than they ever managed.”

“And then what?” said Caina. “You’ll conquer the world?”

“Exactly,” said Mihaela. “Torius and Sicarion have gathered reliable men, and I shall equip them with the glypharmor. First we will subdue the free cities and forge them together in an empire of our own. We shall smash the walls of New Kyre and shatter its fleets in the harbor. Anshan, Istarinmul, the Empire…all the world shall be ours.”

“Ours?” said Caina, looking at Torius. “Or yours?”

“Do not be absurd,” said Mihaela. “I created the glypharmor, yes, but I cannot use it alone. I need an army. One woman cannot rule the world alone. We shall…”

“Mihaela,” said Torius, “far be it from me to point out the obvious, but I suggest you stop talking and kill the damned Ghost already.”

“She might know something useful,” said Mihaela.

“Or,” said Torius, “she is convincing you to tell her the entire plan, which she will use against you if she escapes.”

Mihaela’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Very clever.”

“Kill her now,” said Torius.

“Excellent idea,” said Mihaela, pointing the silvery rod. 

Caina jerked against the mercenaries, but they were too strong, and she could not move. White light flared around the tip of Mihaela’s rod, and Caina’s skin crawled beneath the presence of arcane force …

Then she felt a massive spike of power. 

A blast of invisible force struck Mihaela and flung her across the room. She slammed into the legs of a suit of glypharmor and hit the ground, the rod rolling away from her fingers. 

“What?” roared Torius, beginning a spell.

A voice like thunder boomed through the hall. “No one move!”

Caina turned her head, and a wave of relief shot through her.

Talekhris limped through the doorway, his silver rod crackling with power in his right hand. 

“Not another step!” said Torius. “Surrender or…”

Talekhris flicked the rod, and a psychokinetic burst drove Torius to the floor. Mihaela scrambled to her feet, her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t bother,” said Talekhris, stopping next to the mercenaries. Their hands dug into Caina’s arms, and she saw the terror on their faces. “You have no spell that can threaten me.” 

“Sage,” said Mihaela, “I am working upon a task for the Speaker, and Zalandris will not be pleased if…”

“Stop lying,” said Talekhris. “I was certain you used necromancy in the creation of the glypharmor, but I had no way of proving it.” He glanced at Caina. “I was not clever enough to discover your secrets, but I suspected this Ghost would be. Therefore I kept a careful eye upon her, and followed her here.” He pointed at the Forge. “Powering the armor with the soul of a spellcaster? Clever. Clever, and monstrous. But it ends now.”

“This isn’t over,” said Mihaela. Torius tried to rise, but Talekhris gestured, and another blast of force knocked the battle magus down. 

“You’re wrong,” said Talekhris. “I have not spent centuries battling the Moroaica only for a foolish Seeker to build a necromantic horror within the Tower of Study itself. Both you, Mihaela, and you, Torius Aberon, will surrender yourselves to my custody. Your mercenaries may depart, so long as they never return to Catekharon.”

Torius got to his feet. “You’re confident, old man.”

“These are my terms,” said Talekhris. “Surrender now, or I will kill you both.”

Mihaela smirked.

“Very well,” she said, spreading her arms. “I surrender. Come and take me.”

Talekhris nodded. “Good. Put down the rod and…”

He jerked, his words ending in a strangled gasp. 

A foot of bloody steel blade erupted from his chest, a crimson stain spreading across the white linen of his robe. A dark shape stood behind him, a scarred hand resting upon the Sage’s shoulder.

“How many centuries have you pursued my mistress?” said Sicarion, twisting the sword. “I’ve lost count. All those centuries, all those battles…and after all this time, you’re still not very good at this.” 

Talekhris groaned, and Sicarion ripped his serrated dagger across the Sage’s throat. Sicarion kicked him off the sword blade, and the Sage staggered forward a step and collapsed, lying in a spreading pool of his own blood. 

He did not move.

Caina stared at the corpse. 

She had gambled, and she had lost. Mihaela would murder both the ambassadors and the Sages, and use their deaths to fuel her armor and launch the bloodiest war in the history of man.

And Caina was about to die.

“Sicarion,” said Torius with a laugh. “You have a gift for good timing.”

“And where were you hiding?” said Mihaela. 

“When the Ghost arrived,” said Sicarion, “I expected she might have damaged the wards during her entry.” He prodded Talekhris’s corpse with the toe of his boot. “It turns out I was right.”

“Just as well,” said Torius. “Dump his body into the metal.”

“Don’t bother,” said Sicarion. “He has pursued my mistress for centuries, even though I’ve killed him over and over again. He’ll wake up in a few days, and then you can feed him into the Forge.” He laughed. “A fitting end.”

“Pursuing your mistress?” said Mihaela. “I thought you said your mistress was dead.”

“She is,” said Sicarion. “Presently.” 

“Enough,” said Torius. “Mihaela, kill the Ghost and we’ll begin.” He looked at Sicarion. “Unless you have a use for her?”

Sicarion grinned at Caina. Jadriga had ordered him not to kill her.

But Caina realized the Moroaica had said nothing about others.

“She’s too dangerous to leave alive,” said Sicarion. “Kill her immediately.”

Caina looked at Mihaela just as the silver rod glowed, a harsh white light filling her vision.

When it cleared she found herself lying on the floor, a burning pain devouring her chest.

Part of her mind realized that her heart had stopped.

Images flashed before her eyes. Her father. Halfdan. Theodosia. Corvalis.

Gods, gods, she wished she could have seen Corvalis one last…

Nothingness swallowed her.