Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge

by Jonathan Moeller

  For a moment the thought of all those years and all those deaths overwhelmed Caina. The Kyracians had taken Marsis from the Red Circle. The Empire had taken the city from the Kyracians, and the Istarish and New Kyre had almost retaken the city from the Emperor. All those deaths over all those centuries. Halfdan was just the latest in a long line of death. And all for what? Was life simply an endless circle of futile killing?

  She growled and shook her head. This was not the time to give in to despair. She would not do Ranarius’s work for him.

  Once Ranarius and Sicarion were dead, once the Moroaica had been stopped and the war ended, then Caina would grieve.

  Or her enemies would kill her first, and then she would have no more cause to worry about anything.

  The lock clicked, and the hidden door swung open, revealing a stone staircase sinking into the earth.

  “Any light down there?” said Corvalis as Caina straightened up, returning her lockpicks to her belt.

  “I don’t know,” said Caina, taking one of the torches. “Jadriga did have some lights, enspelled crystals on iron stands. I don’t know if the Lord Governor cleared them out.”

  She checked the enspelled compass. The bone needle pointed into the dark passageway.

  “Let’s get this over with,” she said, took a deep breath, and descended into the stairs. She shifted her torch to her left hand, pulled her cowl over her head with her right, and drew her ghostsilver dagger. Corvalis followed, torch and sword in hand, the firelight throwing wild shadows over the walls and ceiling. Down the stairs went, the air growing cold and clammy as they descended into the depths of the earth. Ahead Caina saw a faint glimmer of pale blue light. The enspelled crystals were still in place.

  The stairs ended in a massive vault, its ceiling supported by enormous thick pillars of rough-cut stone. A half-dozen iron stands stood scattered around the chamber, supporting crystals that glowed with blue light. Caina raised her torch, another flood of memories pouring through her. She had crept through this place, pursuing Naelon Icaraeus to his meeting with Jadriga. The Legions had attacked Naelon’s mercenaries here, and Caina and Ark had struck down Agria Palaegus, one of Jadriga’s disciples.

  Gods, but Caina hated Marsis.

  But not all the memories were bad. Beyond the vault, below Black Angel Tower, Ark had been reunited with his wife and son for the first time in years.

  And Caina had confronted and killed Jadriga for the first time. But the Moroaica’s spirit had possessed her, and Sicarion had come for her, and Andromache had invaded Marsis to seize the power in the Tomb of Scorikhon…

  It had started here, all of it.

  “If we live through this,” muttered Caina, “I am never coming back to Marsis.”

  “What was that?” said Corvalis.

  “Nothing,” said Caina.

  It was utterly silent. Caina lifted the compass and took two steps to the right, and then two steps to the left. The needle wavered, but still pointed to the center of the vault.

  Ranarius’s canopic jar was almost certainly down here.

  “This way,” said Caina.

  She started across the vault, and then something moved in the shadows.

  A man in his middle twenties stepped from behind a pillar, wearing the armor of a Legionary, a broadsword at his belt. He pulled off his helmet and threw it aside with a clatter of metal. Caina had never seen him before, but his features were contorted with an arrogant sneer.

  A familiar sneer.

  “Ranarius,” said Caina.

  “You’re getting smarter,” said Ranarius. “You didn’t recognize me in poor Aiodan Maraeus’s body until it was too late. Still, of all the bodies I’ve had since you killed me in Cyrioch,” his lips thinned, “I like this one the best. Young and strong and fit.”

  “I thought you rather enjoyed Maena Tulvius’s body,” said Caina, “given all the mercenaries you went through.”

  Ranarius laughed. There was no hint of sanity in the sound. “I have transcended the flesh, Ghost. Bodies are merely vessels to carry out my will. And my will is to kill you both.”

  “You haven’t been able to do it yet,” said Corvalis. He tossed his torch to the ground and drew his dagger with his left hand. “You’ve died…what, four times now when fighting us? That is hardly an inspiring record of success.”

  “Death no longer has any hold over me,” said Ranarius. “Though I fear that is not true for you.” He smiled, his stolen face eerie and crazed in the blue glow. “What do you think, Aberon? Should I kill your whore first, and make you watch? Or should I kill you first, and let her watch as I cut pieces from you?”

  “Or,” said Caina, “you could let us kill you quickly.”

  “What?” said Ranarius with a wild laugh. “No offers to let me surrender? No mercy from the ever-merciful Ghosts?”

  “No,” said Caina. “You already died, Ranarius, and you should stay dead. I know your canopic jar is down here.” His mad smile vanished. “We’re going to find it, destroy it, and make you pay for all the people you’ve killed.”

  For a moment fury filled his face, and then he roared with laughter.

  “Do you not realize?” said Ranarius.

  “Realize what?” said Caina.

  “That is exactly what I wanted you to do,” said Ranarius. “Clever little Caina Amalas. I knew you would find your way down here, so I prepared.”

  He gestured, and the floor started to shake. Caina sprang forward, ghostsilver dagger in hand. No matter how powerful Ranarius’s wards, the ghostsilver dagger would penetrate them. Then she could locate his canopic jar and smash it at leisure.

  The floor erupted in a geyser of broken stone and dirt. But instead of cascading across the chamber, the pillar of dirt and shattered stone shaped itself, taking the form of a towering human figure. Deep craters formed the figure’s eyes, and golden flames blazed within them.

  It was a lesser earth elemental, bound within a body of dirt and broken stone. It was impervious to normal weapons, and could only be destroyed with sorcery, or by killing the sorcerer that summoned the elemental.

  Caina had no sorcery, and with the elemental defending Ranarius, she could not get close enough to kill him.

  “Do you like it?” said Ranarius, stepping back. The elemental moved between them, the golden light in its eyes painting the pillars. “The same elemental I summoned outside of Calvarium. I think it remembers you. Elementals carry a grudge. And this time you don’t have Claudia Aberon or that fool in a jade mask to rescue you.”

  Caina backed away, wondering if she could get past the elemental to strike at Ranarius.

  “Kill them both,” said Ranarius, and the elemental surged forward like a living avalanche.

  Caina threw herself sideways as the elemental raised its massive stone fists and brought them down. She rolled to the side as the fists struck the ground with tremendous force, splintering the stone and sending a trembling shock through the earth. Caina scrambled backwards, trying to avoid the elemental as it lumbered after her.

  “Corvalis!” shouted Caina. “Go for Ranarius!”

  Ranarius laughed. “He has no weapon that can kill me.”

  “That so?” said Corvalis, returning his sword and dagger to his belt and reaching for the bundle slung over his shoulder. He ripped away the cloth around the staff, revealing the gleam of the ghostsilver spear’s blade. “Care to wager your life on that?”

  Corvalis lunged at Ranarius, trying to dart past the elemental, and the magus threw out his hands. Caina felt the surge of sorcerous power, and invisible force hammered into Corvalis. He fell to the ground, the spear tumbling from his hands. Yet Ranarius had not hit nearly as hard as Caina had expected. Most of his arcane strength must have gone into maintaining control over the elemental.

  Ranarius might have intended to trap them down here, but he had made a mistake. If he was killed, he could take another body, but not in time to stop Caina from finding the canopic jar and destroying it. All she ha
d to do was kill him.

  But as the elemental thundered towards her, Caina could not think of a good way to do it.

  She sprinted, the hulking stone giant following her. She glimpsed Corvalis scrambling to his feet with the ghostsilver spear, only for another blast of invisible force to knock him over. A surge of fear went through her. Ranarius could not hit Corvalis hard enough to kill him and control the elemental at the same time. But Corvalis could still crack his head against the ground. Or he could fall unconscious, and Ranarius could simply cut his throat.

  Odd that she felt more fear for Corvalis than she did for herself.

  But she would not lose both Corvalis and Halfdan on the same day. She would not!

  The elemental stomped, its foot striking the ground so hard that Caina lost her balance and fell.

  Of course, the elemental might kill her long before Ranarius killed Corvalis.

  Caina scrambled to her feet as a boulder-sized fist blurred past her head. The blazing golden eyes followed her as she ran, its head swiveling to track her movements. That wasn’t good. She had hoped her shadow-cloak would shield her from the elemental’s otherworldly vision, but the creature was apparently powerful enough to pierce her cloak.

  Or Ranarius had grown more skilled at conjuring elementals.

  She saw Corvalis slam into one of the pillars, saw Ranarius stalk towards him, hands extended, face tight with strain. Ranarius had reached the limits of his strength, but it was still more than sufficient to kill both Caina and Corvalis. The elemental lumbered after her, its every step ripping stone tiles from the floor to add to its mass, the stones climbing up its limbs like armor.

  Or like a lodestone pulling iron filings to itself.

  A lodestone…

  An idea came to Caina, and she changed direction and ran at the elemental. Her sudden reversal caught the creature off-guard, and it turned to follow her. She ducked under a swing of a rocky fist, dodged another blow, and ran at one of the massive pillars. The elemental followed, and Caina whirled, putting her back to the pillar.

  She saw Ranarius staggering toward Corvalis, grinning as he drew the Legionary’s broadsword.

  The elemental punched, and Caina dodged at the last second. The stone fist shot past her and sank into the thick pillar. The ground shook and heaved, sending her sprawling, but Caina regained her feet.

  The pillar began to splinter as the elemental tore its arm free.

  And, for just a moment, the massive creature was stuck.

  A moment was all that Caina needed.

  She sprinted across the chamber and threw herself at Ranarius. The renegade magus just had time to shout, and then Caina slammed into him. They went down in a heap together, the power of his warding spells washing over her in a cold tingle, his armor clattering against the ground.

  He started to cast a spell, but Caina seized his ear, wrenched his head back, and buried the ghostsilver dagger in his neck. His scream of fury turned to a gurgle, and Caina wrenched the blade free and stabbed again, feeling a pang of regret for the nameless Legionary she had just killed.

  Ranarius shuddered once and went still, his blood gushing over Caina’s hand.

  She climbed to her feet, breathing hard, and a rumbling groan filled the chamber as the earth elemental collapsed into loose rubble, the spirit banished back to the netherworld with the death of its master. She saw Corvalis still leaning against the pillar, rubbing his throat.

  “Are you all right?” said Caina.

  “No,” said Corvalis, stepping away from the pillar.

  “You’re injured,” she said, though she saw no wounds. “We’ll get out of here. Let’s just find that damned compass and send Ranarius to the final death…”

  “It’s your fault,” said Corvalis, walking towards her, the ghostsilver spear in hand.

  “What?” said Caina. “What are you talking about?”

  “I cannot believe I fell in love with you!” roared Corvalis, his voice echoing off the ceiling. “Look at you! A scheming harlot, a liar and a murderess and a deceiver, and I shared a bed with you? You disgust me!”

  The words struck her like physical blows, and Caina stared at him, stunned and more hurt than she knew how to express.

  Then she saw him change his grip on the ghostsilver spear, drawing the weapon back to stab.

  “Corvalis,” said Caina, her voice a croak, “what…”

  And through the pain, the cold part of her mind, the part Halfdan had trained and that had grown colder and harder through experience, realized that he was about to kill her.

  She dodged as he stabbed, the blade just missing the space her chest had occupied a moment earlier. Caina stumbled and landed hard, and she was certain, utterly certain, that she would feel the spear plunge into her chest. There was no way a fighter of Corvalis’s skill would miss such an obvious opening.

  Yet Corvalis paused, wrapping both hands around the spear’s haft for a two-handed thrust, and that gave Caina the time she needed to regain her feet.

  “Corvalis!” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “Killing you, of course,” he spat, his green eyes glittering with hatred, “like I should have done years ago.”

  She looked into his eyes, and the truth struck her.

  Her fear vanished, subsumed by icy dread.

  Ranarius.

  “No,” she said, “you’re not Corvalis at all. I killed your last body, and so you took the nearest available one.”

  Corvalis laughed, his voice high and wild. “I have to admit, I like this one. The First Magus’s bastard is strong, if not particularly bright. Housing my spirit is probably the best purpose Corvalis Aberon could hope to achieve with his miserable life.”

  Caina said nothing. If she found and destroyed the canopic jar, would it expel Ranarius’s spirit from Corvalis’s flesh? Destroying Rhames’s last canopic jar had also destroyed the Great Necromancer. But Rhames had been undead, and Corvalis was still alive. Would Ranarius’s spirit inhabit Corvalis’s flesh until Corvalis was killed?

  Caina didn’t know.

  She remembered her guilt-stricken confession to Corvalis a year past, her realization that she could kill him if her duty to the Ghosts required it, and she felt the darkness of the vault close around her like a cold fist.

  “Why didn’t you possess me instead?” said Caina, hoping to buy time so she could think. “I had thought that would appeal to you. Given how much you enjoyed Maena Tulvius’s body.”

  “I could not,” said Corvalis. “Your spirit is too scarred, too damaged. I could not take control of you, and I have no desire to become trapped in your head, as happened to the Moroaica.” He grinned. “And this offers more opportunities for enjoyment, as well. Perhaps I’ll cut the fingers from his hands one by one and force you to watch. Or I’ll simply cut this throat, and let you watch him die.”

  “No,” said Caina, a plan forming in her mind, “you won’t do any of that.”

  “Why not?” said Corvalis.

  “Because you’re a coward and you can’t endure pain,” said Caina. Corvalis’s eyes narrowed. “And, more, because you’re an idiot.”

  “Oh?” said Corvalis. “Enlighten me.”

  “You can’t possess me,” said Caina, “so you possessed Corvalis. But we’re the only living people left down here, and if Corvalis dies, you won’t be able to possess someone else before I destroy your canopic jar. And that means you don’t dare injure Corvalis. If you kill him, I destroy your canopic jar. And if you cut off his fingers or his ears or some other idiocy…you’re still inside his flesh. If he bleeds to death, if he’s in too much pain to function, you can’t function, and you can’t stop me.”

  A spasm of rage went through Corvalis, and then he grinned.

  “Or,” he said, stepping forward, “I will do whatever I want to you, and you won’t stop me.”

  “You’re sure of that?” said Caina, pointing her ghostsilver dagger.

  “I am certain,” said Corvalis, spreading
his arms. “Go ahead, Ghost. Come here and stab me. Cut my throat. Cut out my heart. I won’t stop you.”

  Caina remained motionless.

  “Your precious lover,” said Corvalis with a sneer. “I would not have thought an ice-hearted whore like you could love anyone, but I suppose you are just as weak as any other woman. So go ahead, Ghost. Cut down Corvalis Aberon. I won’t stop you.”

  Caina hesitated, and took a step back.

  “I thought not,” said Corvalis, shifting the spear to his left hand. He raised his right hand and began to cast a spell.

  Caina spun and ran for the damaged pillar, her eyes sweeping back and forth. She had dropped the damned compass during the fight with the elemental. Where was it?

  Her eyes caught the gleam of metal, and then she felt the spike of arcane power.

  Caina turned and caught the force of the psychokinetic blast in her torso, letting it throw her to the ground. It did not hit as hard as the previous spells. Maintaining the summoning spell on the elemental must have drained Ranarius, and Caina could only guess how much arcane force it took to possess a new body.

  She came to one knee, and saw the compass. It lay at the edge of the rubble heap from the elemental, its needle pointing into the darkness. Caina seized the compass and sprinted into the gloom of the vault, ducking behind one of the undamaged pillars.

  “Do not bother running,” said Corvalis, strolling unconcerned into the gloom. “You might have realized my canopic jar is down here, but you’ll never find it. Not before I kill you. Why don’t you come to me? I can kill you quickly.” He laughed. “Certainly I can give you a quicker death than Sicarion. Really, you ought to be grateful that I found you first. At least I won’t cut off pieces of your corpse and graft them to my own limbs.”

  Caina looked at the compass, and realized that she could not see it in the darkness. But she remembered where the needle had been pointing. She had her shadow-cloak, and knew how to move with stealth and silence. Ranarius had Corvalis’s shadow-cloak, but he had not bothered to raise the cowl, and he walked without any hint of stealth.