The girl frowned. “How?”
“Well, if I was a phantasm, I would be created from your own thoughts,” said Caina. “Why I am speaking to you in the traders’ language instead of Ulkaari?”
The girl opened her mouth, closed it again. “Because you are trying to deceive me with cunning stratagems?”
“If I was going to do that,” said Caina, “would not it be easier to deceive you in your native tongue?”
“That…is a good argument,” said the girl.
“But I know the real reason you think I’m a phantasm,” said Caina. “You can’t sense my emotions, can you?”
The girl’s eyes went wide again.
“Almost all your life, I would wager,” said Caina, “you’ve been able to sense the emotions of those around you. You can always sense the feelings of those around you. You could even sense that robed creature…”
“It was horrible,” said the girl, her eyes darting to the misshapen corpse.
“But you can’t sense me,” said Caina.
“It is said,” whispered the girl, “that no man can deceive an Arvaltyr.”
“What is an Arvaltyr?” said Caina. “I do not know the word.” Was that the Ulkaari word for valikarion? It seemed unlikely. The valikarion had been gone from the world for a century and a half until Caina had brought Iramis back to the waking world.
“The Arvaltyri are the great heroes of old,” said the girl. “It is said they carried silver swords that burned with white fire, and they marched to war alongside the Warmaiden when she returned to fight the Iron King and his demons.” She frowned. “But you might be lying to me. None of the Arvaltyri of old were women, and you have taken the form of a woman.”
Caina pointed the burning valikon towards the floor and held out her left hand. “Take my hand.”
The suspicion returned to the girl's face. “Why?”
“Because when you touch my skin, you will be able to sense that I am human,” said Caina. “Then we can focus on finding a way to escape.”
The girl hesitated.
“I won’t hurt you,” said Caina. “If I had wished you harm, I could have let the robed thing take you.”
“The Temnoti?” The girl looked at the robed corpse and shuddered.
Caina waited, her left hand held out.
The girl looked at her, took a deep breath, and gave Caina’s left hand a quick, hesitant touch. Caina saw the brief flare of water sorcery, and the girl’s eyes went enormous. She took a hasty step back, gazing at Caina with a mixture of fear and confusion.
“You’re real,” said the girl. “You’re human.”
“All my life,” said Caina.
“But I don’t understand,” said the girl. “Your sense is like…like…ice over fire.” Kylon had said something similar once. “I…don’t…”
“Have you ever sensed an Arvaltyr before?” said Caina.
The girl gave a quick shake of her head.
“Then maybe that is what the sense of Arvaltyr should be like,” said Caina. “But you know I’m human. I’m not a phantasm or a trick of sorcery.”
“Yes,” said the girl.
“Listen to me,” said Caina. “We need to escape from this place. I think we can escape if we work together. Can you tell me your name? I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”
The girl hesitated, and then gathered her courage. “Sophia.”
“My name is Caina, Sophia.” Actually, her full name was Caina Amalas Tarshahzon Kardamnos, amirja of Istarinmul and Liberator of Iramis, but that was a mouthful. “Will you help me escape?”
Sophia nodded, something like relief coming over her face. Perhaps she had wanted an adult to take charge.
“Thank you,” said Caina. “First, can you tell me where we are?”
Sophia blinked. “You…don’t know?”
“No,” said Caina. “I don’t know how I came here. I was in my room, and a vortex of black shadow appeared. It pulled me here a few hours ago, and I’ve been avoiding those undead and robed things ever since.”
“The Temnoti,” said Sophia with a shudder, looking at the robed corpse once again. “The priests of the Great Master Temnuzash.”
Caina hadn’t heard the name before. “Where are we?”
“Oh, right,” said Sophia. “We are in Sigilsoara, the castle of the Iron King.”
“Castle?” said Caina, frowning at the strange word. Likely it came from the High Nighmarian word “castra,” the fort an Imperial Legion constructed when it occupied a territory for any length of time. “Then we are in Ulkaar?”
“Yes,” said Sophia. “Northern Ulkaar, near the town of Kostiv.”
“How did you come to the castle, Sophia?” said Caina. Perhaps the black vortex had brought her here.
“I was in the woods, walking,” said Sophia.
That was a lie.
Whatever else Sophia might have been, she was a terrible liar. The tells were almost painfully obvious. Her face flushed, and she looked down, unable to meet Caina’s gaze.
When Sophia looked up, fear came over her face. “Then some wolves found me. I ran and ran until it became dark, and still the wolves followed me. I couldn’t see, but then I came to the gate and ran inside. I didn’t realize where I was at first, and then I saw the Temnoti and the skeletons. I ran some more, and they cornered me.” She let out a shuddering breath. “Then you came.”
Caina nodded. “Didn’t you recognize where you were? If this Sigilsoara is so close to Kostiv…”
Sophia blinked. “Do you not know about Sigilsoara?”
“I do not,” said Caina. “Before a few hours ago I have never been this far north. I’ve heard the title of the Iron King before, somewhere. Some king from the past of Ulkaar, yes?”
Sophia looked incredulous. “No, no, that’s not it at all.”
“Then what is Sigilsoara?” said Caina. “Please, tell me.”
Sophia took no prompting to tell the story. Caina gathered that when Sophia was calmer, she liked to talk.
“It was in ancient days,” said Sophia. “Long ago the Kagari horsemen ruled Ulkaar, and kept us as slaves. But the Iron King rose against them, and in twenty battles he smashed them utterly. All Ulkaar rejoiced, but the Iron King turned to evil and worshiped the Great Master Temnuzash. For a century, he kept the Ulkaari as his slaves, and then the Warmaiden and the Arvaltyri defeated him, though the Warmaiden was slain in the battle. To this day, the Ulkaari have no king, lest he turn to evil and madness as did the Iron King.” She considered that. “Though we are loyal to the Emperor, of course, because the Emperor is above any king. But the Iron King’s evil sorcery twisted his castle and pulled it into the shadow world. Sometimes it comes back to the world of the living, and foolish people blunder inside before Sigilsoara returns to the shadow world. I fear I am one of those foolish people.”
“I see,” said Caina. Perhaps the castle itself, this Sigilsoara, was some ancient relic of sorcery from Ulkaar’s past. Caina wished she knew more about Ulkaar, but the province was in the hinterlands and she had never visited it. “One more question. Do you know about the Umbarian Order?”
Sophia flinched. “The sorcerers? You…you are not their friend, are you?”
“I am most certainly not their friend,” said Caina. “I am their mortal enemy, I am afraid. There are people the Umbarians hate more than me, but there cannot be that many.”
“Oh,” said Sophia. “Uncle Ivan says they are bad men, that they have rebelled against the Emperor and brought war to the Empire. There are many of them in Ulkaar, and I heard a rumor that some of them had passed near Kostiv before I had to…before I went to walking in the woods.”
Caina nodded. It seemed likely that the Umbarians had somehow summoned Sigilsoara and entered the castle in search of the iron ring Caina now carried. Likely it was a powerful relic of this Iron King, who must have been a mighty and terrible sorcerer-king of old. Caina thought about showing the ring to Sophia but decided against it. The g
irl was still on the edge of self-control, and seeing a relic of the dreaded Iron King might push her over the edge.
At least the path forward was now clear. Caina needed to escape from Sigilsoara, and once she did, she would find herself in Ulkaar, far from her friends. She would need to make her way across the Empire back to Iramis, and Sophia would make a useful local guide. At the very least, she could make sure that Sophia returned home safely.
“I have three more questions,” said Caina. Sophia nodded. “Have you seen any Umbarians inside Sigilsoara?”
“No,” said Sophia. “Just the undead and the Temnoti. And then you.”
“Good,” said Caina. “My next question. What is that glowing crystal in your hand?”
“This?” said Sophia, lifting the crystal. “Oh, it is a sunstar. The Warmaiden taught us how to make them long ago. The Temple grows the crystals, and they soak up sunlight like a sponge. Then if we go outside at night, we can release the light and keep the undead at bay.” Sophia grimaced. “Unfortunately, I drained this one and need to recharge it.”
“Interesting,” said Caina. She had never heard of sunstars. “A final question.” She took a deep breath. “Have you see a man wielding a valikon within Sigilsoara?”
“A valikon?” said Sophia. “I do not know the word.”
“The sword of an Arvaltyr, you would call it,” said Caina. She lifted her own valikon. “A sword like this. The man with the sword would have been Kyracian, over six feet tall, with brown hair and eyes.”
“I have not,” said Sophia. “Was he with you when the vortex took you here?”
Ah, she was clever.
“Yes,” said Caina.
“Oh!” said Sophia. “He is…dear to you?” Caina nodded. “Then you will find him! The Divine must will it.” The Divine? Caina had only heard the Iramisians use that phrase. Did that mean the Ulkaari followed the Iramisian religion?
“I hope so,” said Caina. “Do you remember the path you took to come here? The way to the gate?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” said Caina. “Then tell me where to go, and follow me.”
“I will do as you say, honored Arvaltyr,” said Sophia.
“Just call me Caina.”
“As you wish. We must go that way,” said Sophia, pointing at an archway on the other side of the ballroom.
Caina led the way, valikon in hand, Sophia following close behind.
Chapter 5: Sigilsoara
“Hold a moment,” said Seb, raising an armored hand. “I believe there is fighting ahead.”
“You’re right,” said Kylon, rolling his shoulders, the cloth of his tunic shifting. The tunic and jacket he had found in the barracks had been made for a man with smaller arms and a narrower chest, but the trousers and boots fit, and so did the heavy cloak. Given how cold it was inside the strange fortress, he was glad of any clothing.
“Of course,” said Seb. “The senses of a stormdancer. I must say, Lord Kylon, that your abilities are of invaluable tactical utility.”
“That’s very kind,” said Kylon.
“What do you sense?” said Seb.
Kylon concentrated, focusing his arcane senses.
He and Sebastian Scorneus stood in yet another long corridor of stone. To judge from the faint light coming from the end of the corridor, it opened into another courtyard. Kylon heard fighting coming from the courtyard ahead, steel clanging against steel. Through the sorcery of water, he sensed the presence of Adamant Guards, along with the cold, corrupt aura of necromancy.
“I’m not sure,” said Kylon, “but I think there are some Adamant Guards fighting undead creatures.”
“What manner of undead creatures?” said Seb.
“I’m not sure,” said Kylon. “Not powerful ones, though. And I don’t think they’re Umbarian.” He gestured at the black veins on the walls. “Likely they were raised by whoever controls this fortress. The spells on them feel ancient.” He wondered if this place was a ruin of ancient Maat, like the Inferno and Pyramid Isle, but he doubted it. The architecture didn’t look Maatish, and the spells he sensed on the undead did not feel Maatish.
“That is interesting,” said Seb. “It suggests that the Umbarians are fighting the master of this citadel, whoever he is. Perhaps this master would make an ally against the Umbarians.”
“Probably not,” said Kylon. “The sorcerous aura around this place is malevolent. Whoever rules this citadel would probably exterminate us alongside the Umbarians.”
“Most likely,” said Seb. “Since your valikon is a potent weapon against the Adamant Guards, I suggest the following strategy. You will enter the courtyard first, and I shall follow. Wound the Guards with your blade. While their spells are disrupted, I will cut them down before they can recover.”
“What about the undead?” said Kylon.
“If they are like the skeletal undead I fought earlier,” said Seb, “I doubt they will prove a serious threat to either of us. Best to deal with the Adamant Guards first.”
“Agreed,” said Kylon. The plan would mean turning his back on Seb, but Kylon thought the battle magus would keep faith with him. Seb’s story about how he had been brought here was implausible, but then so was Kylon’s, and Seb had not yet given Kylon any reason to distrust him.
Kylon moved forward in silence, his valikon dismissed, lest the sword’s glow give away his position. Seb, alas, did not move with nearly as much quiet, his armor rasping and creaking with every step. Whatever powers the battle magi of the Magisterium possessed, stealth was not one of them.
But the noise of battle drowned out any sound they made. Kylon heard the harsh breathing and grunts of the Adamant Guards. Unless he missed his guess, the courtyard held two or three times as many undead as Adamant Guards. Fortunately, the valikon could destroy most undead creatures with a single touch, the ghostsilver blade unraveling the necromantic spells upon the ancient bones.
Ahead Kylon saw another courtyard surrounded by pillared arcades, towers rising against the twisted sky. He caught a flash of the armored carapace of an Adamant Guard as the soldier struggled against an undead warrior in ancient armor.
Neither the Adamant Guards nor the undead warriors had noticed Kylon and Seb.
“Ready?” murmured Seb.
Kylon drew on the sorcery of water and air, filling himself with power. “Yes.”
Seb inclined his head, his blue eyes glinting in the light from the courtyard. “After you, sir.” Power crackled around him as he drew upon his own sorcery.
Kylon took a deep breath, called his valikon to his hand, and sprinted forward. The sorcery of water surged through him, augmenting his strength, and he leaped. The power of his jump carried him into the courtyard. His head came within a few inches of hitting the top of the archway, but Kylon had done this hundreds of times before, and he landed exactly where he wished to land.
Directly behind two Adamant Guards.
The valikon was a blur of silvery metal and white fire as Kylon lashed the blade across their legs. The sword opened shallow cuts on the back of their legs, not enough to cripple them and not even enough to hurt them much, but the ghostsilver blade disrupted their spells of strength. The Guards stumbled under the weight of their grafted armor for an instant, and in that instant, Seb attacked. The battle magus followed Kylon’s leap with one of his own, landing behind the Guards, and his black sword stabbed out with the speed of a serpent’s tongue, killing both Guards.
Kylon whirled, seeking more Guards to fight. He caught a brief glimpse of the courtyard, saw the Guards fighting the undead, saw a large bronze statue upon a pedestal, and then the Guards rushed at him. He fell back on the defensive, fighting alongside Seb. The courtyard turned into a three-way battle, with Kylon and Seb defending themselves from the Adamant Guards, the Guards trying to defend themselves from the undead, and the undead attacking anyone who drew too close.
An Adamant Guard came at Kylon, shield raised, broadsword drawn back to stab. Kylon beat aside
the thrust with a sweep of his valikon, recovered his balance, and struck back, opening a shallow cut on the Guard’s upper arm. The ghostsilver disrupted the Guard’s spells, and Seb’s black sword dealt a fatal wound before the Guard recovered his balance.
One by one Kylon and Seb cut down the remaining Guards, and they turned their attention to the undead. The undead looked ancient, clad in armor and carrying corroded swords. They were stronger than living men, but that made no difference. A single touch from the valikon broke the spells binding them, and with Seb covering him, Kylon cut his way through the undead with ease.
The final undead collapsed to the floor, bones and armor bouncing away, and Kylon sought more foes.
There were none.
Kylon turned to see Seb staring in fascination at the bronze statue.
“What is it?” said Kylon. The statue resembled the one he had seen earlier of the cruel-faced king with the sword and dagger and ring. Likely it was a statue of the same man.
“I think,” said Seb, “that I know where we are.”
“Then where are we?” said Kylon, looking at the bronze statue.
“Ulkaar.”
Kylon blinked. “Ulkaar?”
It took him a moment to recall the name. Ulkaar was a province on the far northeastern edge of the Empire, beyond the Narrow Sea, the Disali Highlands, the city of Artifel, and then the Inner Sea. The southern portions of Ulkaar were accessible from the sea, but Kyracian traders rarely bothered to make the journey. Any ships had to pass the Imperial cities of Artifel and Arzaxia and their tolls, which rarely allowed traders to turn a profit on the cargoes of furs and timber and whiskey available in Ulkaar. For that matter, Ulkaar had a dark reputation as a haunt of demons and spirits and mad cultists.
Ulkaar was a long, long way from the bedchamber he had been sharing with Caina in Iramis when the vortex had taken them. Unless he missed his guess, the nearest part of Ulkaar was at least twelve hundred miles from Iramis. How the devil had the vortex taken them that far?
“Yes, Ulkaar,” said Seb, his eyes distant as he gazed at the statue.
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