Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 09 - Ghost in the Surge

by Jonathan Moeller

  Jadriga raised an eyebrow. “You have already killed me once, and seen me die twice. Yet death did not stop me.”

  “It didn’t,” said Caina. “But here…here it will be different, will it not?”

  Jadriga nodded. “I see Talekhris at last discerned the truth. But it does not matter. You cannot stop me, Ghost, and the ragged Sage most certainly cannot stop me.” The Staff of the Elements crawled with fingers of brilliant blue-white lightning. “One last chance, Caina Amalas. The Surge was right about one matter – we are very much alike. You have suffered many of the same things I have. Help me bring justice to the world. Or die here and now.”

  “No,” said Caina.

  “So be it, then,” said Jadriga, leveling the staff. Talekhris began muttering a spell, and Corvalis raised the ghostsilver spear. “Then…”

  “Malifae!” said Caina.

  Jadriga flinched, all the color draining from her face.

  “What did you say to me?” said Jadriga.

  “Your name is Malifae,” said Caina. “That is the name of the girl you were, before Rhames killed you.”

  “You cannot know that,” said the Moroaica, her voice shaking with anger. “Everyone who knows is dead.”

  “Your father told me,” said Caina.

  Jadriga said nothing, her face ashen, her lips trembling.

  “Horemb,” said Caina. “His name was Horemb. He was a scribe. Your mother sold baskets in the market, until one of the Great Necromancers killed her on a whim.”

  “Rhames,” said Jadriga. “Rhames must have told you.”

  “He didn’t,” said Caina, taking a deep breath. This was a gamble, she knew. But if she could reach Jadriga, could convince her that this was folly… “Your father himself told me.”

  “You lie,” said Jadriga.

  “No,” said Caina. “His spirit was bound to you, a consequence of the ritual the Great Necromancers used to make you Undying. I spoke with him when you tried to possess me after Rhames killed you in Caer Magia. He has been watching you for all of these centuries.”

  Jadriga said nothing, her hands shaking.

  “He said that you couldn’t stop,” said Caina. “That you had lost your free will when you became Undying, that your heart and mind were frozen in that instant when you saw him die, when you vowed revenge for what had happened. Don’t you see? Everyone who hurt your father or you has been dead for millennia. Maat is dust and ashes. Why are you continuing? It’s because…”

  “Enough!” hissed Jadriga.

  “It’s because you cannot stop,” said Caina. “You can’t change your mind, your purpose, even after it was fulfilled. You destroyed Maat, but you continued on, finding new tyrants to overthrow, new enemies to crush, and it’s continued until you’ve almost destroyed the world and invaded the heavens.”

  “I said enough!” said Jadriga.

  “But you can stop,” said Caina. “You can turn aside. There’s no need to keep destroying. You…”

  Jadriga threw back her head and howled in rage, her scream echoing off the thick stone columns. Her free hand hooked into a claw, and she thrust it in Caina’s direction.

  A column of darkness and snarling green flame burst from her fingers and hurtled toward Caina.

  It happened so fast that she did not have time to react, time to dodge. Silver light pulsed before her, and the lance of darkness slammed into the light. There was a hideous snarling noise, and a blast of hot air hammered into Caina, throwing her back several paces. Talekhris waved his silver rod, and she felt the crawling tingle as he summoned power.

  “Then perish!” shrieked the Moroaica, her face twisted with centuries of rage. “You choose to side with the tyrants, with the gods that have poisoned this world? Then I will sweep you aside!”

  Talekhris struck back as Caina caught her balance, unleashing a blast of silver fire at Jadriga. That spell had destroyed the golden dead with a touch, had driven back Sicarion. But Jadriga merely made a twisting motion with her right hand, and the flames winked out.

  She launched an attack of her own, shadows and green flames hammering at Talekhris. Silver light flared around him as he worked warding spells, turning aside her wrath. But Caina had seen enough sorcery to recognize the signs of strain in Talekhris’s defenses, to feel the backlash as his spells buckled beneath the Moroaica’s assault.

  He needed help.

  Caina flung a throwing knife, hoping that the Moroaica had warded herself against sorcery, not steel. But Jadriga had not been so incautious, and Caina’s knife bounced away in a spray of sparks.

  But even the most powerful wards could not turn aside weapons of ghostsilver.

  “Corvalis!” shouted Caina, and they charged. Caina reversed her grip on the ghostsilver dagger, getting ready to stab, while Corvalis drew back the spear to throw.

  Again Jadriga gestured with her free hand.

  Psychokinetic force erupted from her in all directions, catching both Caina and Corvalis and flinging them into the air, and even Talekhris rocked back a few steps. Caina hit the floor hard, rolling over the polished granite, and scrambled back to her feet, trying to ignore the pulsing ache in her limbs.

  Their attack had not reached Jadriga, but the distraction had cost the Moroaica. Talekhris’s unrelenting assault of silver flame had driven her back a few feet, and Caina sensed the sorcerous distortions as the Sage’s spells hammered at the Moroaica’s wards. Shadows and green flame snarled back and forth between Talekhris and Jadriga, the air rippling, the floor around their feet starting to smoke and buckle. It reminded Caina of Jadriga’s sorcerous duel with Rhames in Caer Magia. There Caina had been able to escape by finding Rhames’s final canopic jar and smashing it, severing Rhames’s link to the mortal world. Jadriga was stronger than Rhames, and had no need of a canopic jar. But that made her more vulnerable, here in the netherworld. Caina need only get close enough to bury the ghostsilver dagger in the Moroaica’s heart.

  But only if the Moroaica let her get close enough.

  Corvalis recovered faster than Caina and charged, drawing the ghostsilver spear back to throw. Again Jadriga gestured, turning her whole attention to Corvalis, and again Talekhris’s power drove her back. The force of her spell slammed into Corvalis, flinging him against one of the massive columns thirty yards away. For a terrible instant, Caina was sure that he was dead, that he had been thrown against the pillar with enough force to shatter his bones and turn his heart to pulp.

  But he only slumped against the floor, dazed.

  Why hadn’t Jadriga killed him? Her first psychokinetic burst had been a quick reaction. This time she had had more than enough time to summon ample power to kill Corvalis. But she hadn’t.

  She was in love with Corvalis, thanks to Caina’s memories. Perhaps that was why she could not bring herself to kill him.

  Caina ran to join Corvalis as Talekhris and Jadriga dueled.

  “That hurt,” Corvalis muttered, getting back to his feet. An inferno of power raged back and forth between the Sage and the Moroaica, blasts of sorcery rebounding from their wards to rip gaping holes in the walls and the ceiling. A burst of psychokinetic force ripped away part of the ceiling, hurling debris a thousand feet into the air, and Caina saw the sky writhing overhead, the black clouds spinning around Jadriga’s gate.

  “I don’t think she can kill you,” said Caina.

  “I rather doubt that,” said Corvalis.

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” said Caina. “She has my memories, Corvalis. Everything before we fought Mihaela in Catekharon. Which means…”

  “Which means she has all your memories about me,” said Corvalis.

  “She’s in love with you,” said Caina, “and she can’t make herself kill you.”

  “Gods, that’s disturbing,” said Corvalis.

  The temple of Anubankh shuddered around them. Jadriga took step after staggering step toward Talekhris, the Staff of the Elements leveled before her, volleys of killing sorcery ripping from her hands.
Talekhris retreated, his wards sputtering around him.

  He was losing the duel.

  “If I can distract her,” said Corvalis, “maybe I can hold her attention long enough for you to kill her.” He gripped the spear. “It has to be now, though. I don’t think she has much attention left to spare for us, and it looks like Talekhris is about to lose.”

  Caina nodded. “Let’s…”

  Jadriga released one hand from the staff long enough to point at them.

  Darkness boiled up from the floor, resolving into the shape of a score of hooded spirits in ragged black robes, their cowls covering utter blackness. They looked a bit like mirrorshades, or perhaps phobomorphic spirits. Caina did not sense the same level of power she had felt from the mirrorshades.

  But there were so many of these creatures.

  Jadriga might not be able to kill Corvalis herself, but perhaps she would be willing to let a summoned spirit do it.

  The Moroaica gestured, and the spirits lunged at Caina and Corvalis, reaching for them with withered, skeletal hands.

  Corvalis exploded into motion, the ghostsilver spear a blur. The white-glowing blade sheared through two of the conjured spirits, and they dissolved into mist at its touch. Like the other spirits Caina had seen in the netherworld, the hooded wraiths seemed vulnerable to the touch of ghostsilver. She ran to join Corvalis, the ghostsilver dagger a gleam of white light. She struck down one, two, three of the spirits, their forms dissolving at the dagger’s touch. For a moment Caina wondered if the spirits were illusionary, if Jadriga had only distracted them with a trick of light and shadow.

  Yet a spirit’s hand brushed her shoulder, and icy numbness spread through her left arm and into her chest. Caina jerked back, and the chill numbness faded. She could only imagine what would happen if three of them touched her at once.

  She kept fighting, but more of the spirits rose from the ground.

  The roar of the sorcerous duel grew louder, the glare of the spells brighter.

  “This ends now!” screamed Talekhris, his clothes tattered and smoldering, his Sage’s rod ablaze with silver light. “After all these centuries! You will not harm any more innocents! No more will you control the nations like puppets, and harvest death to fuel your power!”

  “Fool!” said Jadriga, ablaze in a sorcerous glow of her own. “You cannot stop me! You never had the power to stop me! Lie down and die!”

  The thunder and glow of sorcery intensified, and Caina heard both Jadriga and Talekhris scream. Caina slashed through another hooded shadow, the floor trembling beneath her boots, chunks of rubble falling from the temple ceiling overhead, only to dissolve into mist when they struck the floor. Caina cut through another shadow, Corvalis at her side. If they could just get through the shadows, if they reach Jadriga…

  The shadows vanished.

  Talekhris floated a few feet off the floor, motionless, caught in the grip of Jadriga’s sorcery. She looked exhausted, her clothing scorched, her face marked with soot. But her eyes glittered with triumph, and she held out her right hand.

  “You should have died a long time ago, Talekhris,” said Jadriga. “Let me rectify that.”

  She closed her first, and Caina felt the spike of arcane power.

  Talekhris’s head exploded in a red mist, his jade mask shattering into a thousand glittering green shards, his Sage’s rod breaking in two. Jadriga lowered her hand, and his headless corpse slumped motionless to the floor.

  He was dead for the last time.

  Caina started to run at the Moroaica, but Jadriga whirled to face her, green fire blazing around her free hand.

  Chapter 24 - Father and Daughter

  “It is over,” said Jadriga.

  The white nothingness of the rift grew larger, its hum louder in Caina’s ears, as blood pooled around Talekhris’s corpse. Caina adjusted her grip on the ghostsilver dagger, wondering if she could throw it, but the Moroaica was too far away. She saw Corvalis adjust his grip on the ghostsilver spear, but Jadriga had more than enough time to stop him.

  “You put too much faith in the power of that fool,” said Jadriga. “So I offer you a final chance. Join me in the great work. Or die here and now.”

  “What about Corvalis?” said Caina. “Will you kill him?”

  Jadriga hesitated, the green fire dancing around her fingers painting her face with ghostly color.

  “Yes,” she said. “I will stop anyone who tries to interfere with the great work.”

  “You didn’t kill me earlier,” said Corvalis, and Jadriga’s eyes shifted to him. “You could have ripped me apart with that spell, but you didn’t.”

  “Talekhris held my attention then,” said Jadriga. “You might have noticed.”

  “I don’t think that’s it,” said Caina. “You couldn’t bring yourself to kill him. You…”

  “Enough!” said Jadriga. “Your memories might be lodged within me, but they are not mine! Do you think they will stop me?”

  “Actually,” said Corvalis, his voice soft, “I think they will stop you. And I think I know how to use them to stop you.”

  “Absurd,” said Jadriga. “Join me or die.”

  “You know how I will answer that,” said Caina, raising the ghostsilver dagger.

  She looked at Corvalis and smiled, and he smiled back. They had failed and the world would burn…but at least they would die together. Perhaps it was inevitable. Caina was only a woman with a knife and a shadow-cloak, and Jadriga was the most powerful sorceress the world had ever known. Perhaps her victory had been unavoidable.

  But at least Caina would die with Corvalis.

  “I love you,” said Caina.

  “I love you, too,” said Corvalis.

  A shiver of rage went through Jadriga. “Perish.”

  She lifted her hand, the emerald fire blazing brighter, and Caina and Corvalis sprinted at her. Caina drew back her ghostsilver dagger to throw. Perhaps she would get a lucky throw in. Perhaps…

  Too late.

  A lance of shadow and green fire blazed at Caina.

  She wondered how much it would hurt.

  Corvalis shoved her.

  His push sent her sprawling to the floor, and she looked up just as the spell aimed at her slammed into him. His tattoos gave him a measure of resistance to sorcery, but against the Moroaica’s power the tattoos were useless. Green fire shot through him, the darkness swirling around his chest, and he collapsed to the floor.

  He lay motionless, his eyes staring at the ceiling without blinking, the ghostsilver spear clattering away.

  “Corvalis,” whispered Caina.

  She crawled to his side and took his hand.

  No pulse. No breath.

  “No,” she whispered, “no, no.”

  She could not fool herself, could not tell her herself that he had only been stunned. She had seen death, again and again. She knew what a dead man looked like.

  Caina could not convince herself otherwise.

  They were supposed to have died together.

  Most likely they still would.

  Caina closed her eyes and pressed his limp hand against her forehead, waiting for the killing spell from Jadriga.

  Nothing happened.

  Her fingers tightened against Corvalis’s.

  Still nothing happened. The only noise was the shrieking hum of the gate to the realm beyond.

  At last Caina looked up, her eyes burning.

  Jadriga stood frozen before the dais, the Staff of the Elements still in her left hand, her right hand hooked into a claw. She stared at Corvalis, her face working, and with a shock Caina realized that the Moroaica was weeping.

  “Why?” she said. “Why did you make me kill you? Why? Why?”

  “You killed him,” said Caina, her voice a whisper.

  Jadriga heard her anyway. “No! I…I didn’t mean to, I was trying to kill you. I didn’t…he got in the way, he just got in the way…”

  “I loved him and you killed him,” spat Caina, “so why are yo
u crying?”

  “It’s not real!” screamed Jadriga. “I remember kissing him, I remember him holding me…but it didn’t happen to me. Those were your memories, not mine.” She began to cry harder. “You loved him, not me. Not me. Your memories…your…”

  Her words dissolved into an incoherent groan, and she dropped the Staff of the Elements. Great, wracking sobs shook her, and Jadriga bowed her head and wept, overcome by terrible, paralyzing grief.

  Grieving over the love she had taken from Caina’s memories, the grief she could not process, the grief that Caina herself now felt.

  But the grief did not paralyze Caina.

  She wanted to lie down and die beside Corvalis, to rest her head on his chest and wait for death. Halfdan was dead. Corvalis was dead. They had both gone to join her father, the children she would never have. Caina had lost so much.

  But there were others she could still lose.

  Claudia was still alive, as was Lord Martin. Theodosia was still alive. Kylon and his new bride yet lived. Ark commanded the desperate defenders at the foot of the Pyramid, and far away in Malarae were Tanya and Nicolai and Natasha, and Shaizid and Caina’s workers at the House of Kularus. They would die if the golden dead overran Malarae. The entire world would die.

  The sorrow filled her, moved her to a place past pain, past anger, to icy coldness.

  And in that icy coldness, Caina rose and picked up the ghostsilver-tipped spear, its blade shining like a torch.

  Still Jadriga wept, incoherent with grief.

  Caina sprinted forward, the spear in her left hand, the dagger in her right.

  At the last instant, Jadriga looked up. Some instinct, some intuition, must have warned her. Her bloodshot eyes widened, and she raised her hands, green fire glimmering around them.

  But it was too late.

  Caina plunged the spear into her belly. The ghostsilver head burned white-hot as it pierced the Moroaica’s wards. Jadriga staggered back with a strangled scream, and Caina stabbed, the ghostsilver dagger burning through the wards and sinking between the Moroaica’s ribs.

  Jadriga stumbled, her eyes going glassy, and Caina twisted the dagger. The Moroaica groaned and fell to her knees, the spear’s shaft bumping against Caina’s leg.