“How do you know?” said Kylon.
Seb looked at him. “Do you recognize this man?”
Kylon shrugged. “No. Should I?”
“Rasarion Yagar,” said Seb.
“I don’t know the name,” said Kylon.
“He is simultaneously both the national hero and devil of Ulkaar,” said Seb. “In the time of the Third Empire, the Kagari nomads came over Broken Shield Pass and conquered Ulkaar, reducing its people to slavery. Yagar was a nobleman who fought back, and he crushed the Kagari horde and killed their Great Khan with his own hands. He then declared himself the King of Ulkaar, and the people hailed him as their liberator.”
“Then he went bad, I assume,” said Kylon.
“Remarkably,” said Seb. “He fell in with the cult of a god that called itself either the Great Master or Temnuzash, depending on the source, and the priests of Temnuzash were necromancers and conjurers. Yagar wound up living for a century and a half as some manner of undead creature, and he terrorized Ulkaar’s neighbors. The Ulkaari called him the Iron King, for he ruled them with a rod of iron more terrible than that of the Great Khan.”
“Then he was overthrown?” said Kylon. He had heard tales like this before. In ancient days, before the Magisterium had fully established itself, many of the nations of what became the Empire had been ruled by mad sorcerer-kings. Caina hated the Magisterium, but Kylon had to admit the Magisterium at least attempted to keep its more power-mad members in check.
At least, it had until the civil war started and its power-mad members joined the Umbarians.
“Even the Empire and the Magisterium working together could not stop him,” said Seb. “Finally, an Iramisian loremaster who called herself the Warmaiden and a group of valikarion led the revolt against Yagar. The Warmaiden and the Iron King killed each other while he was casting some kind of great summoning spell. The spell failed and its power backlashed across Ulkaar, which is why the country is haunted by undead and spirits to this day. After Rasarion Yagar’s death, the Ulkaari nobles petitioned to join the Empire, and they’ve been an Imperial province ever since.”
“You look like a Nighmarian nobleman,” said Kylon, “so it is surprising that you know so much about Ulkaar.” What he wanted to say was that Seb looked like Caina, but he would not reveal that information yet. Not until he was more certain about Sebastian Scorneus.
Seb chuckled. “Technically, yes, but a minor one. My mother was something of a harlot, I’m afraid. And I spent a good deal of my childhood in Risiviri, the chief city of Ulkaar. House Scorneus has always had a strong presence in Ulkaar. Much to our detriment, I’m afraid.” He shook his head. “But if I am correct about this citadel, then we had better hurry.”
“Then what is this citadel?” said Kylon.
“Sigilsoara, the citadel of the Iron King himself,” said Seb.
Kylon looked at the web of black veins on the walls. “I take it that his great summoning spell failed here.”
“You see keenly,” said Seb. “I don’t know what happened. No one does but the Warmaiden and the Iron King, and they are both dead. Whatever happened, it caught Sigilsoara halfway between the netherworld and the material world. The citadel will sometimes appear randomly throughout Ulkaar for a few hours before it is drawn back into the netherworld.” He pointed at the shifting sky. “If we are still inside the fortress when it is pulled back to the netherworld, I am afraid the experience will be quite fatal.”
Based on what Caina had told Kylon about the netherworld, he feared that Seb’s assessment was correct. But had Caina been summoned to Sigilsoara as well? Kylon decided he would follow Seb until they found the exit and the battle magus had gotten to safety. Then he would return to Sigilsoara and search for Caina until he found her.
Or they ran out of time.
With a flicker of dread, Kylon realized he might never know what had happened to Caina, might never know whether she was still in Iramis or if she had perished in this grim place. Gods, was the grim pattern of his life repeating once again? Kylon hadn’t been able to save Andromache or Thalastre. He had gambled everything to save Caina, first at Rumarah and again in Istarinmul on the day of the mad Apotheosis. After all that, would she be killed on their wedding night?
It seemed impossibly cruel.
His fingers tightened against his valikon’s hilt.
If the Umbarians had killed her, they would regret it bitterly.
“Lord Kylon?” said Seb.
Kylon realized that he had been glaring at the statue of Rasarion Yagar. “My mind wandered. We should find the exit from this place as soon as possible.”
“Quite right,” said Seb. “Fortunately, I have an idea.” He pointed at the bronze statue of the Iron King. “The Iron King seemed the sort to appreciate his own grandeur and majesty, yes? I expect he would prefer any visitors to gaze upon his image as they entered his fortress, even after this place has been twisted by sorcery. Consequently, I expect all the statues are looking towards the exit.”
Kylon shrugged. “Makes sense. Let’s go.”
Seb nodded, giving him one more curious look, and they left the courtyard, heading towards the archway facing the statue of the long-dead Iron King. As they walked, Kylon forced his emotions back under control. If Caina was still in Iramis, she would be safe, surrounded by the valikarion and the loremasters. If she had been brought to Sigilsoara with Kylon…well, she was still Caina. She was still the Balarigar, the woman who had slain the Moroaica, terrorized the Slavers’ Brotherhood, burned the Inferno, and brought down Grand Master Callatas.
Perhaps she had already escaped and was awaiting him outside the gate of Sigilsoara.
Or so Kylon told himself as they hurried down the corridor.
###
“Wait a moment,” murmured Caina.
Sophia nodded and came to a stop behind her.
They had entered what looked like another grand ballroom, the floor polished and gleaming, more of those dusty chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling overhead. This ballroom had another statue of the grim-faced man that Sophia had identified as the Iron King gazing towards the far doors.
Beyond the doors stretched a wide corridor, the floor a shallow staircase that descended downward at a gentle angle. Pillars and balconies lined the walls, the ornate ceiling adorned with glittering mosaic designs. Other doors opened off the central corridor, leading to gardens, courtyards, and more hallways.
Once the corridor would have been a magnificent place. Some of the various palaces and citadels Caina had visited during travels had boasted architectural features they had called Grand Corridors, and this place could have held its own with any of them.
At least, it could have. Now the black veins covering the pillars and the tumor-like growths jutting from the stone ruined the effect. Combined with the aura of necromantic sorcery that hung over the corridor, it reminded Caina of a rotting corpse clad in a beautiful dress.
But the battle held her attention.
Further down the grand corridor, perhaps thirty yards away, the vision of the valikarion saw the flash of spells and the flare of sorcerous power. She heard men shouting, the clang of steel against steel, and the harsh crackle and sizzle of unleashed sorcery. To judge from the auras, the Temnoti and their undead warriors were battling against the Adamant Guards.
“This is the way out, isn’t it?” murmured Caina.
“It was the way I came in,” said Sophia. “At least, it used to be. In the legends, the Iron King’s castle can change itself. I came in to get away from the wolves, and then I realized where I was. Before I could leave, the undead started chasing me.”
Caina nodded, watching the flickering auras of the battle. She glimpsed Adamant Guards struggling against undead, and in a flare of harsh green light, she saw a half-dozen robed Temnoti, the misshapen creatures leading their undead fighters against the Guards.
Could Caina and Sophia slip past the battle and escape? Caina didn’t know, but they had no choice but to try. The aura o
f necromantic force surging through the black veins had begun to flicker, and she suspected that Sigilsoara was about to be pulled back into the netherworld.
If she and Sophia were still inside the castle when that happened, they were going to die.
If Kylon was inside the castle when that happened, he was going to die.
Caina gritted her teeth, forcing herself to calm. Kylon could defend himself. Certainly, any Adamant Guards or Temnoti who came for him would regret it. Likely Kylon could have carved a way through the battle raging further down the broad stairs.
Caina’s skill lay in a different direction.
“We’ll have to sneak our way past,” said Caina. She spotted a narrow set of stairs that climbed their way up to the balcony running alongside the grand corridor. “No one ever looks up, and I think all the fighting is taking place on the stairs. We’ll take the balcony and hope the Temnoti or the Guards don’t notice us.”
“But what if they do notice us?” said Sophia, the terror threatening to drown her expression once more.
Caina looked at the girl. “They might. But the only other option is to stay here.” She decided to take a gamble. “You were brave enough to go into the forests, weren’t you?”
“I’m not brave,” said Sophia. “That’s why I went into the forests. Because I’m not brave…”
“You were brave enough to talk to me when you thought I was a phantasm,” said Caina. “I’d wager you’re brave enough to follow me up some stairs. That’s all. We’re just going up some stairs.”
Sophia took a few deep breaths and then nodded. “I…I can do that. Lead on, Arvaltyr.”
Caina almost said she wasn’t an Arvaltyr, but she stopped herself. She was a valikarion, and if that was the Ulkaari word for a valikarion, then she was an Arvaltyr. Besides, she had exploited the legend of the Balarigar again and again in Istarinmul. She could hardly quail from doing the same thing with the legend of the Arvaltyri to help a frightened girl escape from death.
Caina moved forward in silence. Sophia wasn’t nearly as quiet, but that was all right, since the noise from the fighting below drowned out her footfalls. Caina took the stairwell on the right and climbed to the balcony, ready to call her valikon to her hand.
The long balcony was deserted. Once frescoes of forests and hunting scenes had covered the walls, but now the images were marred by the black veins. Every few yards a doorway opened into a narrow corridor. Caina wondered just how large Sigilsoara was. From what she had seen, it was larger than both the Imperial Citadel in Malarae and the Padishah’s Golden Palace in Istarinmul, and it seemed unlikely that this Iron King had commanded engineers and builders equal to those found in the capitals of two of the world’s most powerful nations. Perhaps Sigilsoara had…grown, somehow, expanded while in the netherworld.
She dismissed the thought. If they lingered too long here, Caina would have all the time she needed to explore Sigilsoara when the castle was pulled back into the netherworld.
At least until the Temnoti finally killed her.
“Come on,” murmured Caina. “As quietly as you can. And when I tell you to run, run.”
Sophia nodded, and they started down the balcony.
###
The corridor was deserted, but the sounds of fighting rang from the archway ahead. Beyond Kylon glimpsed something that looked like a promenade or perhaps a ceremonial grand corridor of some kind. Seb walked at his side, his sword and his sorcery held ready.
“Fighting?” said Seb.
“Yes,” said Kylon. “I think…Adamant Guards and some undead. They’re fighting…gods of storm and brine. I’ve never sensed an aura like that before.” It reminded him a little of the malevolent aura of the nagataaru, but he could not sense any spirits nearby. The foes of the Adamant Guards were humans.
Or, at least, they had once been human. Now, he wasn’t sure what they were. It felt as if their auras had been altered drastically, corrupted by a malefic sorcery he had never encountered before.
“It is possible you are sensing the Temnoti,” said Seb.
“What the hell are the Temnoti?” said Kylon.
“Priests of the Iron King,” said Seb. “Worshippers of Temnuzash. When the Warmaiden defeated the Iron King, and both were slain, Rasarion Yagar’s sorcerous power collapsed rather dramatically. It mutated his priests, granting them immortality at the cost of their sanity and…well, most of their humanity.”
“Then the Umbarians and the Temnoti deserve each other,” said Kylon. “Let’s try to slip past while they fight each other.”
“An excellent plan,” said Seb.
Kylon took a step forward and frowned. “Someone else is coming.”
“Whom?” said Seb.
“I’m not sure.” Kylon tried to focus the presence he felt through his water sorcery. “A woman? No, a girl. She’s terrified. And…I think she has some sorcery of her own. Water sorcery, I think.”
“Water?” said Seb. “Another Kyracian?”
“I don’t know,” said Kylon. “Perhaps the same vortex that brought us here also summoned her.”
“Or her presence is a very clever trap,” said Seb.
“Possibly,” said Kylon. He took a deep breath. “Let’s find out. I’ll go first.”
Seb nodded and lifted his black sword. Kylon strode forward and went around the corner, valikon raised and ready.
The first thing he saw was the girl.
She was about fourteen or fifteen and looked like she would become a woman of remarkable beauty in a few years. Her black hair had been pulled back in a thick braid, and her brown eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and fear as she saw Kylon. The girl wore heavy clothes suitable for winter, a jacket and trousers and boots and a thick cloak that were too large for her.
Next to her stood a woman Kylon had not sensed at all.
She was about five and a half feet tall, with sharp features, thick black hair that hung to her shoulders, and eyes like blue ice. She wore a strange costume, heavy boots and black trousers and an archaic-looking long red coat over a white shirt.
And Kylon could not sense her presence.
“Caina?” he said.
###
Caina looked at Kylon.
He was wearing peculiar clothes, a heavy tunic and trousers and boots beneath a jacket, and his valikon, longer than hers, burned with white fire in his right hand. Of course – he would have been naked when he had been drawn here, so like Caina, he must have scavenged clothing from somewhere in the castle. The vision of the valikarion saw the power in the ghostsilver blade, the aura of the water and air sorcery he held ready around him.
For a moment, she stared at him in surprise, and then relief, overwhelming relief, crashed through her.
It was really him. No illusion could deceive the vision of the valikarion. The strange vortex of shadows had pulled him here with her. They might have been yanked to a strange land, but they were still together.
“Kylon,” said Caina.
Kylon hesitated, looking from her to Sophia.
“It’s really me,” said Caina. She dismissed her valikon and held out her hand. “I know you can’t sense me.”
He nodded and touched her hand, and Caina felt the presence of his water sorcery, a faint tingling sensation going over her skin.
Then his brown eyes widened, and he pulled her close and kissed her long and hard. Caina heard Sophia make a startled noise, but right now she did not care. Caina only felt relief that Kylon was with her, that he was safe. She offered up a silent prayer of thanks to the Divine that he was unharmed, that she would not be alone in a foreign land as she had been in Istarinmul two and a half years ago.
A dark thought crept into her joy.
They were as safe as he could be…given they were still in Sigilsoara.
Someone coughed behind Kylon.
“While this is indeed a touching reunion,” said a man’s voice in High Nighmarian, deep and a little dry, “perhaps such things ought to wait un
til we escape from the Iron King’s fortress?”
Kylon broke away from her, and Caina nodded, collecting herself. She glanced back at Sophia and saw the girl grinning in surprise.
“Yes, you’re right,” said Kylon in High Nighmarian.
A black-armored man stepped from the corridor after Kylon, and Caina tensed. He wore the black armor of a battle magus of the Imperial Magisterium, and some of the Umbarian battle magi used the same armor. Yet if the man had been an Umbarian, Kylon would have killed him by now, and…
Then she saw the man’s face, and a strange, strange sensation went through Caina.
She had never seen this man before, yet his face looked familiar.
He had blue eyes and thick black hair, black stubble shading his jaw. His features were sharp, his mouth hard and thin, and he looked a few years older than Caina, perhaps Kylon’s age or so.
She saw her own confusion and recognition mirrored on the man’s face.
“I thought,” said the man, “that I knew everyone in the family.”
“Oh, I see,” said Sophia in Caerish, looking at Kylon and the battle magus. “This is your…husband and brother then, yes?”
Both Kylon and the battle magus gave Sophia a sharp look.
“He is my husband,” said Caina in Caerish, “but I don’t have any family.”
The battle magus blinked several times. By the Divine, his eyes looked just like Caina’s own.
Just like her mother's, now that she thought about it.
“It is possible, my lady,” said the battle magus, taking a deep breath, “that you may have been misinformed.”
Caina looked at Kylon. “Who is this? We should speak Caerish. I think it is the only language that the four of us have in common.”
Kylon opened his mouth to speak, and then a furious shout from the stairs below caught Caina’s attention.
One of the Temnoti looked up at them, its greasy brown robe rippling around its misshapen frame as the creature cast a spell. Its left hand had claws, and its right hand was only a barbed tentacle, but purple light blazed around both its tentacle and its hand as it gathered arcane force. To the vision of the valikarion, the creature shone with sorcerous power, and there was nothing Caina could do to stop it before it struck.
Ghost in the Ring (Ghost Night Book 1) Page 7