The Ghosts Omnibus: The Kyracian War

by Jonathan Moeller

  Into the circle of glowing sigils.

  “No!” said Andromache, and she tumbled into the circle of wards. The green mist erupted from her mouth, forming into the shape of a cloaked and hooded man formed of mist and green light.

  Scorikhon's spirit.

  Andromache slumped over the sigils, blood pumping from the wound Scorikhon had carved in her chest.

  “Sister,” said Kylon, dragging her out of the circle.

  The hooded wraith shrieked in fury and lunged at Kylon. But it stopped at the edge of the sigils. The wraith jerked back and forth, trying to find a way out of the circle.

  “This vile thing will pay for what it has done,” said Kylon. He lowered Andromache to the floor and lifted his sword.

  Caina grabbed his arm. “You needn't do anything. Scorikhon's trapped outside of a body...and I think he needs a body to stay in the mortal world. Watch.”

  The wraith flowed back and forth, slamming itself against the ward circle. Its movements grew more panicked, more desperate. It reminded Caina of an animal trapped in a cage. Bit by bit the wraith started to unravel, the green glow dimming.

  “The Moroaica told me,” said Caina, “that flesh perishes, but spirit lives forever. She was wrong. Nothing lives forever in this world.”

  The wraith threw itself at Caina, and rebounded from the invisible barrier. Then it trembled, unraveling faster and faster.

  A moment later it vanished entirely.

  Andromache groaned.

  Kylon fell to his knees beside her. “Sister. Sister! It is you. Not Scorikhon.”

  Andromache blinked. “Kylon,” she whispered. “I...”

  She never finished the sentence. The last breath fled from her lips, and Caina watched as Andromache died in her brother's arms.

  ###

  Some time later Caina followed Kylon out of the Tomb and into the pillared chamber below the Citadel.

  Tears trickled down Kylon’s unshaven cheeks. Caina felt a flicker of disgust. How many Legionaries had Kylon killed in the last two days? How many men and women and children had the Istarish taken as slaves? Would he weep for them?

  But how many Istarish soldiers had Caina killed? She could not remember. Undoubtedly they had wives and children, loved ones who would weep that they would never return. They had tried to kill her, true. But would Caina mourn for them? Would she even remember them, if she lived long enough?

  “You think me weak?” said Kylon, his voice toneless. Without her shadow-cloak, she remembered Kylon could sense her emotions. “She was my sister, Ghost. She saved my House. She protected me when I was a child.” His voice cracked. “And I could not save her from her own folly. But I suppose you would not understand, not a woman like you. The Ghosts are dealers in lies and treachery.”

  “I told you the truth about what Andromache wanted,” said Caina. She remembered her father, offering her mother one last chance before he turned her over to the Magisterium. To repay his mercy, her mother murdered her father. “And you're wrong. I have seen those I love die, and I could do nothing to stop it.”

  Kylon stared at her for a moment. “I suppose you have, at that. What now? Will you try to kill me?”

  Caina shook her head. “I doubt I could kill you.”

  “You almost did, three times,” said Kylon.

  “That was because I outwitted you,” said Caina. “I couldn't stop you now.”

  “That's true,” said Kylon, looking at the ghostsilver dagger on her belt. Caina wondered if he blamed her for Andromache's death. If he would assuage his grief by burying his sword in her chest.

  At last he shrugged.

  “There's been so much death already,” said Kylon. “And all of it for nothing. And you were right. About everything. If only I had listened to you. I could have saved Andromache, I could...”

  “Could you have saved her,” said Caina, “from herself?”

  “Perhaps not,” said Kylon. “She was always stronger than me.” He closed his eyes. “Thank you for your warning, Ghost. If...if only we had heeded it.”

  “If you're not going to kill me,” said Caina, “what will you do?”

  “Leave,” said Kylon. “We have failed. I am sure the Legions have returned by now, and I doubt Rezir will have the ability to defeat them.”

  “Especially since he is dead,” said Caina.

  Kylon frowned. “Rezir is dead? How…ah. I see. You slew Rezir Shahan? Gods of the brine, you are a terrible enemy. You overthrew Rezir and fought against me all for the glory of your Emperor?”

  “That wasn't why I did it,” said Caina.

  “Why, then?”

  She thought of Nicolai, of Ark and Tanya. “To save the son of my friend.”

  She felt the faint tingle as his arcane senses focused upon her.

  “You speak the truth,” said Kylon, a hint of wonder in his voice. “You do know what it is to fight for the love of another.” He looked at the open bronze doors of the Tomb, blinking tears from his eyes. “Even if that fight is folly.”

  Caina said nothing.

  “Farewell, Ghost,” said Kylon. He handed her something. It was her shadow-cloak. Kylon must have taken it after Sicarion overpowered her. “If we ever meet again, may it be under better circumstances.”

  He left the Citadel without another word.

  ###

  Marsis was lost.

  Kylon sprang from rooftop to rooftop. The Legions had indeed returned, he saw, repulsing the Istarish and the Kyracian assault upon the northern gate. Everywhere he went, he saw Legionaries hunting down the remaining Istarish troops.

  The battle was over.

  He regretted that Sicarion had vanished. The assassin must have survived the Ghost's explosion and escaped while Kylon struggled against Andromache. If Kylon ever saw Sicarion again, he would kill the scarred man at once.

  Sicarion had helped lead Andromache astray.

  The Kyracian fleet waited in the harbor, and Kylon saw the ashtairoi swarming aboard. Unlike the Istarish, who had retreated in disorder, the ashtairoi had withdrawn back to the fleet while in good order. That was a relief. New Kyre lacked the manpower reserves of the Empire, and could not afford to lose any of the ashtairoi.

  They would have to fight the war Andromache had started.

  Kylon landed on the deck of the flagship.

  “Lord stormdancer!” said the polemarch in command of the fleet, relief on his face. “You are alive. Is the High Seat with you?”

  Kylon shook his head. “She is slain.”

  A wave of pain washed through him. What would he do without Andromache?

  “Is Kleistheon here?” said Kylon, after he had mastered herself.

  “He is slain as well,” said the polemarch.

  “How?” said Kylon. “One of the battle magi?”

  The polemarch shook his head, the plumes of his helmet swaying. “A common soldier, my lord stormdancer. The man entangled Lord Kleistheon's sword with a chain whip...and Lord Kleistheon's own lightning killed him. Lord stormdancer, what are your commands? The Istarish are defeated and the emir slain, and we cannot face the Legions alone. What shall we do?”

  Kylon looked at Marsis, at the Citadel upon its crag. How many men and women had died because of Andromache's folly? How many more would die in the days to come?

  He looked over the fleet, at the sailors and the ashtairoi.

  He could save these men, at least.

  “We're going home,” he said. “Once the ashtairoi are aboard, raise anchor and take us out of the harbor.”

  The polemarch nodded, relieved. “There are other matters that require your attention, my lord stormdancer. Ah...forgive me. My lord High Seat, I should say.”

  High Seat.

  Kylon closed his head. Andromache had protected him all of her life. But she had destroyed herself, and Kylon was High Seat now.

  The fate of House Kardamnos rested in his hands.

  “Very well,” said Kylon.

  He went to do his duty,
as always.

  Chapter 29 - The Champion of Marsis

  It was late in the morning by the time Caina returned to the amphora shop.

  Walking through the streets of Marsis in her nightfighter clothes and shadow-cloak was a bad idea, so she stole a dress from an abandoned house. Her cloak and weapons rested in a bundle hefted on her shoulder.

  One more exhausted woman, trudging through the streets, possessions carried on her shoulder, drew no attention.

  The battle was over. Caina saw Legionaries everywhere, hunting down the final bands of Istarish troops, and Kylon had kept his promise to take the ashtairoi and go home. Within the Great Market itself, the Legionaries freed the captives, Lord Corbould's banner flying overhead.

  Apparently he had survived the ambush after all.

  She heard talk of the Balarigar as she passed, the story magnified with every retelling. And discussion of a centurion, or perhaps a retired veteran, who had acquired the nickname “Stormslayer.” Apparently he had managed to kill Kleistheon. Caina wondered how he had pulled that off.

  At last Caina opened the door to the amphora shop.

  It was silent within. Caina's heart rose up in her throat. Had someone taken Nicolai? Or had he run from the shop in a panic, and been swept away in the chaos?

  She walked around the counter.

  Nicolai lay beneath it, sleeping.

  Caina could have sobbed with relief.

  The exhaustion and strain of the last two days crashed down on her, and she grabbed the counter for support, tears filling her eyes.

  After a moment she mastered herself, and knelt beside him and touched his shoulder.

  His eyes shot open, full of fear and confusion. Perhaps he had been having a nightmare. Caina suspected he might have nightmares for years to come.

  But he was alive to have them.

  The worry drained from his face.

  “You came back,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Caina. “I did, didn't I?”

  That surprised her. She had not expected to live through the night.

  “Can we see Mother and Father now?” said Nicolai.

  Caina had survived. Had Tanya and Ark?

  “Let's find out,” said Caina, and picked up Nicolai.

  ###

  “One of my lads just came back from the foundry,” said Korbulus.

  “And?” said Ark, hoping his trepidation did not show in his voice.

  He stood below Lord Corbould’s banner in the Great Market, watching the activity. Legionaries went about their tasks, heading to sweep the streets for any remaining Istarish troops. Several cohorts had gone to keep an eye on the Kyracian ships leaving the harbor, though Ark doubted the Kyracians wanted any more fighting.

  Lord Corbould and Lord Hiram had taken command, which left Ark with little to do except worry.

  “The foundry had an easier time of it than we did,” said Korbulus. “A few bands of Istarish troops wandered past Foundry Square, but one look at the fortifications and they decided to move on.”

  “The corpses of the Istarish soldiers we killed helped with that, I’d wager,” said Ark. He closed his eyes in relief. Tanya was safe. She would not fall into slavery again.

  But where was Nicolai?

  Ark looked over milling captives gathered in the Market. The Legionaries had freed them all, though most preferred to stay in the Market until the last Istarish troops had been hunted down. He looked through the captives over and over again, searching for Nicolai's face, for Caina's face.

  Did they lie dead in a gutter?

  Would Ark ever know what had happened to them? He remembered the horrible uncertainty that gnawed at him as he spent years searching for Tanya and Nicolai. Would he have to face that again?

  Ark smacked his fist into his palm. It was the only frustration he would allow himself to show in front of the Legionaries.

  “Your boy?” said Korbulus, voice quiet.

  “Aye,” said Ark. “I had hoped...”

  He fell silent.

  A young woman in a ragged, ill-fitting dress walked toward him. She looked exhausted, her face streaked with grime and dried blood, dark circles ringing her blue eyes. Yet she was smiling.

  In her arms she carried a gray-eyed boy of about six...

  “Father!” shouted Nicolai, and he wriggled free of Caina's grasp and ran to Ark.

  He caught his son and picked him up, and in that moment felt relief, such overpowering relief, that it took all his strength to keep his knees from buckling.

  At last Ark looked up and saw Caina grinning at him. In the time he had known her, he had seen her smile often, usually while masquerading as Countess Marianna Nereide or Anna Callenius, but it never touched her cold blue eyes.

  This smile did, though.

  “You're alive,” said Ark.

  Caina nodded. “It was...a very close thing. But we are alive.”

  “Thank you,” said Ark. “For...”

  He could not finish the sentence.

  “I know,” said Caina. “Nicolai never did get to see the ships, though.”

  ###

  A week later, Ark returned to the Great Market.

  Again people filled the Market. But this time they wore neither chains nor collars, and rows of Legionaries stood in stiff formation, armor polished to a gleaming shine. Tanya stood next to Ark, carrying Nicolai, and Ark kept his arm around his wife's waist.

  He would not be separated from his family, not again.

  Cheers rang out as Lord Corbould Maraeus marched to the dais raised in the center of the Market, followed by Lord Commander Hiram, Tarver, Korbulus, and others who had distinguished themselves in the battle. Corbould presented many Legionaries with awards – the ornate jeweled swords traditionally presented as rewards for valor, or the crown of golden laurel leaves bestowed for saving the life of a fellow citizen in battle, or the right to incomes for the rest of their lives.

  Ark had not been invited to participate.

  He listened with half an ear as Lord Corbould gave a speech, praising the valor the Legions and those who had stood fast against the assault.

  He would have to leave Marsis, he knew. Lord Corbould would not forget or forgive Ark's impertinence, and Corbould Maraeus was a powerful man. Perhaps Ark could take his family and go to Malarae, and work in the foundries there. Or he could go north and work in one of the small towns of the Imperial Pale. Barbarians sometimes raided the Pale, but the settlements there needed skilled blacksmiths...

  “Husband,” said Tanya.

  “Hmm?” said Ark, stirred out of his thoughts.

  “You should pay attention.”

  “Why?” said Ark. “I was in the Legion for sixteen years. I've heard this sort of speech before.”

  Tanya smiled. “Caina told me that you would say that. And she said that you were to pay attention at this part.”

  Ark frowned.

  “They have fought with valor!” said Lord Corbould, his voice amplified to a roar by a spell from one of the magi from Hiram's Legions. “Let no man doubt the courage and skill of these soldiers! But one man stands above the others! This man rallied our defense. This man led our soldiers against the enemy when all hope was lost. Without this man, Marsis would have fallen to the enemy!”

  Ark laughed. “Watch, wife. He's going to give himself an award.”

  “Arcion of Caer Marist, come forth!”

  Ark blinked.

  Tanya grinned. “Go. We'll be right here.”

  “Arcion of Caer Marist!”

  Uncertain, Ark let go of Tanya and pushed his way through the crowd. He walked up the aisle of Legionaries, Kleistheon's sword in its scabbard tapping against his leg, and stopped before the dais. Lord Governor Corbould stood there, tall and grim in his black armor, flanked by his officers and lieutenants.

  And as when he had faced Kleistheon, Ark felt every eye upon him.

  “In ancient times,” said Corbould, “the Lord Governors of Marsis bestowed a special honor to
men who displayed great courage and unyielding valor in defense of this city. Such an honor has not been given for long centuries, but there can be no doubt that here stands a man who has earned it.”