Ghost in the Maze

by Moeller, Jonathan

  But as she stared at the map, the answer came to her.

  “He’s looking for something in the Desert,” whispered Caina. “But what?”

  “I can hazard a guess,” said Nasser. “Likely an Iramisian relic of some kind.”

  “Why?” said Caina.

  “The loremasters of Iramis are all but forgotten now,” said Nasser, “but at the height of Iramis’s power, they were at least as strong as the Imperial Magisterium, perhaps even stronger. And unlike the Magisterium or the College, the loremasters used their power responsibly.” He shrugged at Caina’s doubtful expression. “Or so the histories say. But the loremasters of Iramis forged relics of tremendous power. The jewel Callatas wears?” Caina nodded. “From what I have discovered, he stole it from the treasury of the Prince. It was called the Star of Iramis, and it a relic of immense power.”

  The words shook Caina to her core.

  “What did you say?” she whispered.

  “The star is the key to the crystal,” Horemb had told her as the netherworld burned around them.

  “The star is the key to the crystal,” Samnirdamnus had said in her dreams.

  “The star is the key to the crystal,” the poet Sulaman had recited about the fall of Iramis.

  Had they meant the Star of Iramis? Was that the key? And if so, to what crystal?

  “You’re sure it was called that?” said Caina. “The Star of Iramis?”

  Nasser shrugged. “I trust the source. But I fail to see why it is significant…ah. The star is the key to the crystal? The words spoken by the man who died twenty-five centuries ago?”

  Caina nodded.

  “I did not make the connection before,” said Nasser with a grimace. “I should have sooner. Alas, I fear I can offer no insight. Perhaps your dead man did speak a true prophecy, and the star he mentioned is the Star of Iramis that Callatas carries. For you certainly have become entangled with Callatas and his plots.”

  “Then we have a new way to oppose Callatas,” said Caina. “We find and destroy his wraithblood laboratories…and we find these Iramisian relics before he can.”

  “Yes,” said Nasser. “But for now, I suggest we vacate the laboratory at once. Laertes and Mistress Strake should have finished, and the sooner we are gone from here, the better.”

  “Agreed,” said Caina, adjusting the heavy book in her pocket.

  They headed back towards the Elixir machine. Laertes and Nerina had finished dividing the wraithblood, sorting it into leather bags. Fortunately, the crystal vials seemed far sturdier than normal glass.

  “Your share of the spoils, Master Ciaran,” said Laertes, sliding one of the bags across the table.

  Caina took the bag and hefted it, feeling the sorcerous power of the Elixir within the bag. Part of her wanted to throw it far away or to simply let the others take it. But she knew the vials of Elixir could be useful. If she was going to destroy Callatas’s wraithblood laboratories and keep him from finding whatever he sought in the Desert of Candles, then she needed allies.

  And the easiest way to obtain allies was to simply bribe them.

  “I shall keep one or two for emergencies, of course,” said Kazravid, smiling at his bag. “The rest I shall sell, and I will use the money to live in comfort.”

  “But you will never be completely at ease, will you?” said Nasser. “Never again.”

  Kazravid scowled. “Why not? If you think my conscience will trouble me over stealing from Callatas, you are talking to the wrong man.”

  Nasser gestured at the steel tables and the dead slaves. “But you know that things like this happen in Istarinmul. You will never be able to forget it.”

  “No,” said Kazravid, some of his bluster fading. “I suppose not.” Then he laughed. “You’re preparing us for another heist, aren’t you? You crafty bastard.”

  “The man with friends,” said Nasser, “is wealthy indeed. And to ensure that we live long enough to enjoy our wealth, let us depart at…”

  The doors to the laboratory boomed open.

  Black-armored Immortals raced into the laboratory, their eyes shining behind their skull-masks, scimitars in their right fists and chain whips coiled in their left. Caina cursed and yanked the ghostsilver dagger and a throwing knife from her belt, and the others drew their weapons.

  Her heart sank in alarm. There were a dozen Immortals. They were outnumbered…and the Immortals were fierce and brutal fighters.

  A lean man of middle years followed the Immortals, clad in leather and chain mail, a scimitar and a dagger in his hands. He was balding, with a hooked beak of a nose and a cruel smile upon his lips, his black eyes as cold and hard as the stone of the floor.

  “Well,” said Anburj, smiling. “I was hoping to catch the Balarigar here, but Nasser Glasshand? Almost as good.”

  Chapter 19 - Kindred

  Caina tensed, but Nasser spoke first.

  “Anburj of the Kindred,” said Nasser, his voice somehow combining both smooth courtesy and contemptuous disdain. “How very good to see you again. Tell me. Has murdering for money grown so wearisome that instead you murder in pursuit of the Grand Master’s insanity?”

  “Don’t be trite, Nasser,” said Anburj. “The Elder sees the truth of the Grand Master’s Apotheosis, and wisely aligned the Kindred family with his interests. And the Grand Master pays us well to dispatch his enemies. So we murder both for gold and the Grand Master’s vision.”

  “Truly, you have the best of both worlds,” said Nasser.

  Anburj offered a thin smile. “Indeed.”

  “You were expecting the Balarigar?” said Nasser.

  “I was,” said Anburj.

  “So you have been waiting in this miserable dungeon for weeks?” said Nasser. “Really, I ought to kill you and put you out of your misery.”

  “Not at all,” said Anburj. “I knew the moment you entered the Grand Master’s laboratory.”

  “And how were you blessed with such knowledge?” said Nasser.

  “Simple,” said Anburj, pointing. “The traitor told me.”

  As one they turned to look at Tarqaz.

  Kazravid slowly raised his bow, murder on his face. The eunuch shrank back, his expression dissolving into terror.

  “The assassin lies!” said Tarqaz. “I did not betray you! I swear it on the Living Flame! I…”

  “You betrayed your little gang of thieves without even knowing it, Tarqaz,” said Anburj. “The Grand Master knew about your discontent. So he summoned a minor nagataaru and bound it your head while you slept. You never even knew. The minute you set foot within the laboratory, the nagataaru sent word, and the Grand Master dispatched me here.” He craned his neck. “Are you sure the Balarigar isn’t here, Nasser? He stole that pyrikon from Vaysaal’s palace. You must have had some way of penetrating the Maze’s arcane defenses.”

  “I swear I did not betray you!” said Tarqaz. “I hate Callatas more than any man who walks under the sun! I did not betray you!”

  “By the by,” said Nasser, not taking his eyes from Anburj, “how did Callatas get a nagataaru into Tarqaz’s head without his knowledge? That ought to be impossible.”

  Anburj sneered. “The Grand Master is capable of many impossible things, you doddering old relic.” He gestured, and three of the Immortals stepped forward, heavy crossbows in their armored fists. “Oh, and Tarqaz?”

  “What?” spat the eunuch, trembling with fear and hatred.

  “Before you receive the penalty for betrayal,” said Anburj, “the Grand Master wanted you to know that your sister died screaming and begging for her life. Kill him.”

  Before Caina or Tarqaz or anyone else could react, the three Immortals raised their crossbows and squeezed the triggers. The quarrels sprouted from Tarqaz’s chest, his gray robes darkening with blood. The eunuch staggered back with a hoarse wheeze, eyes wide with terror, blood pouring from his mouth, and then collapsed to the floor.

  A stunned silence fell over the laboratory.

  “You’l
l regret that,” said Caina, her voice hard.

  “I doubt that,” said Anburj. “You should thank me. He did betray you, even if he knew it not.” He smiled. “But, my lord Amazaeus of House Helvius, perhaps you can beg for mercy when you are brought before the Grand Master.”

  “So Callatas wants me alive?” said Nasser.

  “The Grand Master wants the Balarigar alive,” said Anburj. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Still, it is not a total loss. The Grand Master will be pleased to have you.”

  Nasser laughed. “If you truly had your wits about you, assassin, you’d know that the Grand Master wants my head far more than he wants the Balarigar.”

  “He does not,” said Anburj. “The Balarigar has caused the Grand Master’s work a considerable amount of disruption. More than you ever have, Nasser Glasshand, despite all the years you spent plotting to bring down the Grand Master.” He smirked. “Nasser the thief, Nasser the pirate, Nasser the brigand…and never more than a minor irritant to the Grand Master. And here is your final failure at last.” Anburj raised his weapons. “Take Nasser and Lord Amazaeus alive. The Grand Master will like to interrogate them. Kill the others.”

  “Are you so certain of yourself?” said Nasser. “You do not outnumber us by very much. And there are formidable fighters among us. Perhaps you should surrender now.”

  “No,” said Anburj. “Kill them, and take Nasser and Amazaeus alive…”

  Caina heard the click of Nerina’s crossbow, followed shortly thereafter by the shriek of tearing steel and the dull thud of the quarrel sinking into flesh. An Immortal fell with a strangled bellow, head bowed, Nerina’s quarrel jutting from his chest. Kazravid raised his short bow and released in one smooth motion, but Anburj dodged with easy grace, the arrow rebounding from an Immortal’s armored shoulder.

  The Immortals surged forward, weapons raised, chain whips uncoiling.

  “Fight!” shouted Nasser, charging forward.

  “Damn it!” bellowed Kazravid. “This was supposed to be a theft! If we live through this you and I are going to have words, Nasser!”

  “Shut up and fight!” said Laertes.

  They came together in a furious crash, and for a moment Nasser and Caina and their allies had the advantage. Strabane bellowed in fury, his sword a blur, and his first strike sank halfway into an Immortal’s neck. Steel crunched and blood flowed, and the black-armored warrior collapsed to the ground. Azaces swung, and his massive scimitar sheared off an Immortal’s head. Blood fountained from the stump, and the Immortal collapsed. Nasser punched with his left fist, and it ripped through an Immortal’s helmet to crush the skull beneath. The Immortal toppled, and Nasser tore his bloody fist free in time to parry another Immortal’s strike upon his scimitar.

  Caina dodged around the melee, ghostsilver dagger in hand, and ducked under a scimitar’s slash. She drove the blade into the back of an Immortal’s knee, and the warrior stumbled. Laertes smashed the Immortal across the face with his shield. The warrior’s wounded leg collapsed beneath him, and Laertes drove his broadsword into a gap in the black armor.

  The Immortal fell, blood pooling beneath him.

  Anburj charged at Caina, his scimitar and dagger whirling. She dodged, parrying the scimitar’s strike on her ghostsilver dagger and jerking away from his dagger’s stab. She snatched a knife from her belt and flung it, but he deflected the blade with a flick of his scimitar. He was good, and she doubted that she could take him in a straight fight.

  She heard a creak and ducked as Kazravid loosed a shaft at Anburj. The Kindred assassin dodged with lightning speed, and the arrow blurred past his shoulder. The surviving Immortals charged, swords flashing, and Nasser and his allies fell back, overwhelmed by the numbers and superhuman strength of their foes. Caina retreated before Anburj’s furious assault, and she felt a tug of burning pain along her left forearm as the Kindred assassin’s scimitar opened a shallow cut.

  Caina desperately hoped that the sword had not been poisoned.

  Then she felt a surge of arcane power, and Anaxander flung a hammer of psychokinetic force into the mass of charging Immortals. Dispersed among so many, the spell could not inflict much harm, but it did stagger both Anburj and the Immortals. Caina stabbed at Anburj, but the assassin caught her blade in a cross-parry. Before she could retract it, his boot slammed into her stomach, and she rocked back, the breath blasting from her lungs. She lost her balance and rolled, and just barely avoided Anburj’s following thrust.

  Caina scrambled to her feet as Nerina loosed another crossbow bolt. The quarrel slammed into an Immortal’s chest and out his back, flinging him to the floor in a spray of blood. But the rest of the Immortals charged, driving back Nasser and the others, and Anburj continued his pursuit of Caina.

  She realized that they were going to die.

  Nasser and the others would take down at least half of the Immortals, but the black-armored warriors were too strong. Anburj would kill them and collect his gold from Callatas. In a moment of black humor Caina realized that Anburj would finally kill the Balarigar and never realize that he had fulfilled his mission from Callatas.

  A flash of insight came to her. Anburj wanted the Balarigar. He had been surprised to find Nasser.

  How would Anburj react if he realized that the Balarigar stood in front of him?

  She sprinted back several steps, and reached into her coat and yanked out the shadow-cloak. If fell around her, rippling a bit in the aura of power radiating from the massive Mirror of Worlds.

  Anburj froze, his dark eyes widening. “You…”

  “Remember me, Anburj?” said Caina, switching to the rasping, snarling voice she used when wearing the shadow-cloak. The others could hear her, but since they were likely going to die in the next few moments, it did not matter. “You failed to stop me at the Widow’s Tower and you couldn’t catch me at Vaysaal’s palace. Do you really think you can catch me here? You should…”

  “The Balarigar!” roared Anburj, pointing his blades at her. “It’s him! The Balarigar!” For a moment a stunned pause fell over the battle, and Caina felt both the Immortals and Nasser and the others staring at her. “What are you waiting for? Kill him now!”

  Anburj and some of the Immortals ran at Caina, while the rest remained behind to fight the thieves. But that gave Nasser and the others a chance to strike. Nasser struck out with his black-gloved fist, smashing an Immortal’s helmet. Anaxander cast a spell, a burst of psychokinetic force driving an Immortal to the floor. Laertes sprang into the melee, thrusting with his sword.

  Caina ran, leading Anburj away. She dashed up the spiral stairs to the first balcony, the second, and then the third. Strange, arcane machines towered around her, elaborate constructions of bronze and glass that thrummed with arcane force. Two bronze posts, each one taller than Azaces, rose from the floor near one of the machines, connected to it by a thick coil of chains and wires. A constant arc of purple lightning snarled back and forth between the posts, hissing and spitting sparks. Caina didn’t know what the machine did, but potent arcane force radiated from it, and she suspected that touching the lightning would be very bad.

  She turned as Anburj came up the steps, sword and dagger raised in guard. The sounds of fighting rang from the laboratory floor far below, and Caina felt the pulse of sorcerous power as Anaxander loosed another spell.

  “Brought to bay at last,” said Anburj. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “Maybe it’s a trick,” said Caina in the Balarigar’s rasping voice, “maybe I’ve lured you up here to die.”

  “Such a big voice,” said Anburj, “for such a small man.” He lunged, and Caina jumped back.

  He drove her right toward the arc of purple lightning.

  “I’ve seen you fight,” said Anburj. “I know you can’t take me. All trickery and theatrics. That’s all the great Balarigar is in the end. Tricks and bluffs and a shadow-cloak.” He smiled. “I’ve always wanted a shadow-cloak. I think I’ll keep yours as a trophy.”


  He thrust again. Caina was only a few paces from the bronze posts and their lightning, and she felt the arcane current as a steady pulse against her skin. Another step and she would fall into it. Then Anburj wouldn’t even need to kill her at all. He need only watch as the lightning cooked her alive.

  Her fingers tightened against the ghostsilver dagger. It was proof against sorcery. Would it be effective against the snarling arc of lightning?

  “I look forward,” said Anburj, drawing back his weapons for the killing blow, “to laying your head before the Grand Master.”

  He thrust, and Caina stabbed the ghostsilver dagger into the arc of lightning.

  The machine loosed a horrible shriek, and the dagger throbbed with heat in Caina’s hand, so hot that her leather glove started to smoke. The arc sputtered and vanished, and Caina fell through the posts, catching her balance on the other side. Anburj’s blades whistled a few inches past her face, and the Kindred assassin pursued her.

  But Caina had removed the ghostsilver dagger from between the posts.

  The arc of lightning blazed back to life and stabbed into Anburj.

  The lightning leapt from one post to another, curling around Anburj. He screamed in agony as the fingers of lightning dug into him, his hair and clothes starting on fire, his flesh sizzling and crisping. Caina scrambled back as the assassin shrieked and smoked. The machine itself sputtered and started to howl, sparks flying from its metal parts. Whatever tasks Callatas had designed the device to perform, cooking assassins had not been one of them.

  Anburj collapsed and lay motionless, smoke pouring from his ears and his eyes. The stench of burned flesh and hair was horrendous. He was almost certainly dead, but just to be safe, Caina drew a dagger and buried it behind his ear. The machine shuddered again, and began to shoot off sparks, various fluids leaking from its valves and pipes.