Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 08 - Ghost in the Mask (33 page)

And if he truly was a Great Necromancer, then he did indeed have power greater than the Moroaica. Maat was dust, its black sorcery and tyranny a half-forgotten tale of terror, and yet this creature had walked in the Kingdom of the Rising Sun as a living man. 

The cultists fell to their knees before him.

“Hail!” they roared in unison. “Hail the servant of great Anubankh! Maat rises!” 

“Rhames,” said Caina.

The horrid skull turned towards her. 

“Then you understand at last,” said the undead thing. Neither the jaw nor the withered lips moved, but Caina heard the resonant voice with perfect clarity. 

“But Jadriga destroyed you,” said Caina. “You murdered her father.”

“Murder?” said Rhames. The Great Necromancer actually sounded offended. “I did no such thing. I executed a man for resisting the lawful commands of his pharaoh. And he should have been honored, the wretched fool. His daughter was among the most beautiful in all the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, and she had been chosen to serve the pharaoh as one of his concubines. She was made Undying to serve the pharaoh for all eternity as his slave and companion. What greater honor could any subject of Maat wish? But perhaps I should have seen it. The girl was too blind, too stupid to see the honor paid to her…and the grief of her father’s death tainted her transformation into Undying.”

“And so she destroyed you,” said Caina.

“Not at first,” said Rhames. The emerald flames in his eye sockets flared. “We spent centuries in the pharaoh’s tomb, serving him as was proper. Yet the pharaoh was buried with a complete library of the works of Maat, including the sorcery of the Great Necromancers. And the abomination you know as the Moroaica studied those works. It takes centuries to achieve mastery, but what is time to one of the Undying? She studied those works, and achieved skill in sorcery that no living mortal could match. She broke free of the pharaoh’s tomb, destroying it in the process, and turned her wrath upon Maat. Yet even that was not enough to sate her fury, and she rampages the world to this day.” 

“Then why are you here?” said Caina. “I cannot believe she would have spared you.”

“She didn’t,” said Rhames. “Six of my canopic jars she destroyed, and she bound my spirit upon the desert’s burning wind, to scream my thirst and pain forever.” For the first time a note of anger entered that resonant voice. “Yet she missed the seventh jar. In time, I rebuilt myself, and grew strong enough to possess a corpse once more.”

“So you came here to take revenge,” said Caina.

“In part,” said Rhames, “but I have a greater goal. The magi of the Fourth Empire were fools, but they did recreate a weapon of the Great Necromancers. They lacked the wisdom to wield it, but I do not. With that weapon I shall rebuild the Kingdom of the Rising Sun. Your corrupt Empire, the fools of New Kyre, and the decadent lords of Anshan shall all burn, and the commoners shall be returned to their proper roles as slaves for their superiors. Blood will flow upon the altars of the gods of Maat again. I shall choose a new pharaoh in the name of the gods, and train a new generation of Great Necromancers to ensure the noble and the worthy become Undying. And the Kingdom of the Rising Sun shall stand anew, built upon the ashes of the Empire and Anshan, stronger and more powerful than ever. The world shall be brought to order. Maat shall rise again.”

“Maat rises!” roared the cultists in unison. 

“A mad plan,” said Caina.

“It is not,” said Rhames. “For there are none with the strength to stop me. Not even the abomination you name the Moroaica. Nor you…even if you survived. Farewell, Ghost. You die with my thanks, for you helped ensure the rebirth of great Maat.” 

He gestured and turned to join the waiting cultists. 

And as he did, the sigil flared with burning power.

Caina went rigid, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even blink. The great sigil went from blue to yellow to a sullen red-orange, and she felt the power double, and double again.

The air grew hot around them, the ground shaking beneath her boots.

The spell was going to burn them ashes. 

Just as well she had sent Muravin back to Calvarium. This way Mahdriva would not be left an orphan. 

Caina tried to turn her head, tried to see Corvalis. They had failed, and Caina wanted to see him one last time before she died.

Before they both died.

How odd that for all her fears that she would die first, they would wind up dying together.

But she could not turn her head to see him, and the spell howled around her.

Chapter 23 - The Oldest Enemies

“No,” said a woman’s voice, cold and calm.

Power snarled through the air, mighty sorcery straining against Rhames’s sigil. The symbol turned yellow, and then blue, its light flickering. A thunderclap rang out, and the sigil vanished, leaving only charred lines burned into the earth. 

The power holding Caina dissipated.

She stumbled forward, coughing and gasping. Martin helped Claudia to her feet, Kylon and Harkus stood with their weapons raised, and Corvalis rushed to her side.

“Are you all right?” said Corvalis.

“I think so,” said Caina, looking around. Rhames, his seset-kadahn, and the cultists had vanished. So had the surviving militiamen and men of the Order. How long had they been trapped within the Great Necromancer’s spell?

Caina had no idea. 

She turned, trying to figure out what had happened.

The first thing she saw was Sicarion. The scarred assassin stood near a tent, his cowl raised. Yet she still saw the amused smile on his twisted lips. Next to him stood a woman in a red gown with a vest of black leather, her black hair stirring in the night wind…

“Alexandra?” said Caina, shocked. “Get away from him! Now!” 

“Go!” said Martin. “Run, now. Go back to the magistrates’ hall! This is no place for a girl!”

Caina started forward, ghostsilver dagger in hand, but Alexandra merely raised a hand.

“There is, child of the Ghosts,” said Alexandra, “no need for violence. Not quite yet.” 

Those words, and their tone, sent a chill down Caina’s spine.

Because recognized them.

“No,” said Caina. 

“I’m afraid so,” said Alexandra, and she gestured.

Her form rippled and changed. Her gown and vest remained the same, but Alexandra became older, taller, more muscular. She became a woman in her middle thirties, tall and strong, with long black hair and icy blue eyes.

“Mihaela?” said Claudia, walking to Caina’s side. Martin, Harkus, and Kylon followed her, weapons in hand. “But that’s…that’s impossible. The destruction of the Forge wiped your mind, left you…”

“That’s not Mihaela,” said Caina, her throat dry. “That’s someone else wearing Mihaela’s body.”

Silence answered her, and Sicarion’s mocking smile widened.

“Oh,” said Corvalis at last. “Damn.”

“The Moroaica,” said Caina. 

“The ancient evil,” said Harkus, lifting his crossbow. “The dark force the Sage has sworn to destroy.”

Sicarion laughed. “If the Sage is so wise, then why do I find it so easy to keep stabbing him in the back?” 

“Enough,” said the Moroaica, lifting a hand. “This is not the time to squabble among ourselves.”

“Squabble?” said Harkus. “Squabble? The Sage and our Order have opposed you for centuries, have fought against your evil at every turn. Our differences far transcend a mere squabble.”

“I know nothing of this ancient war of sorcerers,” said Martin, pointing his sword at Jadriga and Sicarion, “but if you are responsible for the mayhem that has come to my province, I will see you punished for it.”

Sicarion gave a nasty laugh and lifted his blades.

But the Moroaica remained as calm as ever. “To fight each other now would be folly, because we face a far greater foe.”

“Rhames,” said Corvalis. “You mean Rhames.”

Jadriga looked at him, and Caina saw a strange twitch go over her face. It was gone in an instant, but it looked like…it looked like…

Affection.

She remembered how Alexandra had reacted whenever Corvalis had been near, how she had confessed her infatuation. Apparently that had not been part of the disguise. But why? Why would the Moroaica care about Corvalis? 

Because she remembered him. 

Her spirit had inhabited Caina’s body for nearly a year, as part of the botched possession, and when her spirit had left to take Mihaela’s body, Jadriga had inadvertently taken a copy of Caina’s memories. 

Including her memories of Corvalis.

And if those memories had taken root, if Jadriga was indeed in love with Corvalis…

Sick dread flooded Caina. The Moroaica could kill her with ease, could twist Corvalis’s mind away from her. Or she could kill Caina and use spells of illusion to make herself look like Caina. Corvalis might not ever know.

But the Moroaica’s expression remained cold, and the moment passed.

“Yes,” said Jadriga. “Rhames.” Fury shivered beneath the ice of her voice. “You think me dangerous, Harkus of the Venatorii? Then you know nothing of the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, nothing of the Great Necromancers of old Maat. Rhames will unleash sorcerous tyranny unlike any this world has seen in millennia.” She looked at Caina, and then at Martin. “And you, Lord Governor? You wish to defend your Empire? Rhames will burn the Empire and build a new Kingdom of the Rising Sun upon the ashes. He will kill your Emperor, your nobles, your Lord Governors and your Legions, and he will make your people slaves.” She spread her arms. “We may fight each other, if you wish. But if we do, Rhames will triumph, and he will destroy the Empire and enslave its people.”

“This is preposterous,” said Harkus. “My lord, do not listen to her. This is some web, some deceit that she is spinning.”

“I often lie,” said the Moroaica, “but now, I speak only the truth. Rhames seeks the Ascendant Bloodcrystal. If he claims it, he will use its power to enslave you all.”

“And what of you?” said Harkus. “Suppose you destroy Rhames? Will you not claim the bloodcrystal for yourself?”

“Of course,” said the Moroaica. “But I will not use it to enslave you. Instead I will use it to set you free. Free from suffering, free from pain, free from death. With that bloodcrystal I will reforge the world into a new and better form…and make the gods themselves pay for the cruelties they have inflicted upon us.” 

“I agree with Lord Martin,” said Kylon, and Jadriga and Sicarion looked at him. “You speak noble-sounding words. But I have seen the results of your deeds. You corrupted Andromache and sent her to her death. You created this…creature Sicarion and sent him to murder your enemies. I imagine any bold new world you create will resemble Sicarion himself…scarred, deformed, and utterly without mercy or scruple.”

Sicarion laughed. “Such a fine speech.” 

“Andromache made her choices freely,” said Jadriga. “When you were young, when the enemies of your House came for your blood, she was most eager for the power I could impart. It is hardly my doing that she chose the path of destruction.”

“Is every word upon your forked tongue a lie?” said Kylon. Caina had rarely seen him so angry. “You intended her to be a host for your disciple Scorikhon.”

“Just,” said Caina, “as you put Ranarius’s spirit into the body of Maena Tulvius?”

Claudia’s eyes widened, and she stepped away from Maena’s prone form.

“That’s him?” she whispered. “Ranarius?”

Maena cackled, flecks of blood flying from her lips. “The expression…when the Defender imprisoned you in the stone…it was…”

“Enough,” said Jadriga. “Time is fleeting. I offer you a choice. Assist me against Rhames. Or get out of my way. Choose whatever you think best. But if you try to stop me, I will destroy you utterly.” 

“Or we shall stop you,” said Harkus. “The Order of the Venatorii has killed you before.”

“With the aid of Talekhris,” said the Moroaica.

Sicarion laughed. “He’s unlikely to be of use for a few days.”

“But you shall have my aid,” said Kylon. 

“And mine,” said Claudia, flexing her hands to prepare a spell.

“Then I will simply kill you all,” said the Moroaica, lifting her hands. Green fire blazed to life around her fingers. Sicarion pointed his blades, while Kylon and Martin and Harkus raised their weapons, and Claudia began casting a spell. 

“Caina,” said Corvalis.

“Actually,” said Caina, striding between the Moroaica and Harkus, “you are going to do none of those things.”

They stared at her. The shock and dread of the Moroaica’s appearance still churned within her, but Caina’s brain had started working again, and she suspected what was happening.

“You doubt my power, child of the Ghosts?” said Jadriga, her face ghostly in the glow from her hands.

“I don’t,” said Caina, looking at Martin, “but if she had wanted us dead, she could have let Rhames kill us. Why bother rescuing us at all, if she knew we would oppose her?” 

They had no answer for that.

“Because,” said Caina, turning back to Jadriga, “I suspect Rhames is stronger than she is…and she isn’t sure she can defeat him without help.” 

Silence answered her.

“No,” said Jadriga at last. “I am not sure.”

Caina was stunned. She had never met a wielder of arcane force more powerful than Jadriga. And if the Moroaica did not think she could defeat Rhames…

“I studied the arts of the Great Necromancers for centuries,” said Jadriga, “imprisoned in the pharaoh’s tomb, but Rhames learned his arts while he was still a living man. That gives him an advantage I cannot match. If I challenge him, I might prevail, or he might crush me utterly.”

“How is he still alive…well, Undying?” said Caina. “I thought you would have destroyed him, after what he did to you.”

She remembered Jadriga screaming in the streets of the long-dead city, remembered her father’s blood pooling upon the gleaming white street.

“I thought I did as well,” said the Moroaica. “Seven canopic jars he had. Heart, lungs, kidneys, stomach, and liver, and I destroyed all seven. But one must have been a decoy. Just one would have been enough, would have allowed him to inhabit a corpse once more.”