“Lydia!” shouted Caina.
Agria flinched, just a little.
“Your daughter forgave you, Agria,” said Caina.
“What did you say to me?” hissed Agria.
“She forgives you,” said Caina. “You lied to her, dragged her to this pit, butchered her upon Jadriga’s altar, and bound her spirit to the caverns, but she forgives you. She loved you.”
“Silence,” said Agria.
“Do you remember what it was like before Jadriga came?” said Caina, the memories tumbling through her mind. “She would draw you pictures. One every day. You would keep them…”
“Silence!” said Agria.
“Or after dinner, when you would tell her stories,” said Caina, “or when your husband took her riding…”
Agria shuddered, and the numbness filling Caina wavered.
“Or her hair, you would help her with her hair…”
“I said to be silent!” said Agria.
“Braids. And after you finished the braids, you would put ribbons in her hair…”
“Enough!” said Agria. “She was nothing, she was a chain, she and Martin were chains holding me back from my full potential, the Moroaica told me, she told me…”
“Lydia forgives you for that,” said Caina, “she forgives you for what…”
“Shut up!” screamed Agria, her face twisted in rage and perhaps grief, her hands hook into claws. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”
And as Agria shrieked her fury, her concentration shattered, and the painful numbness vanished.
Caina sprang forward, ghostsilver dagger ready. But Agria thrust out her hand, screaming in rage. Invisible force struck Caina like a hammer blow, sent her rocketing backwards. She slammed hard into the nearest pillar, the sorcery pinning her in place, the ghostsilver dagger tumbling from her hand. Agria raced towards her, ceremonial dagger in hand, tears streaming down her face as she shrieked with incoherent fury.
Caina struggled to break free from the spell, but it held her fast. Agria’s dagger drew back for the kill.
And then Ark was there, staff lashing out. It landed hard across Agria’s wrist, and Caina heard bones shatter. The pressure pinning her in place vanished a heartbeat later, and she tumbled to the floor. Agria staggered back and lashed out with her free hand. Unseen force struck Ark, sent him staggering back.
Caina scrambled to her feet, and Agria whirled to face her, good hand drawn back for another spell.
But Ark was faster, Caina's ghostsilver blade glittering his hand. He stepped forward and buried the dagger in Agria’s chest. Agria howled in rage, clawing at Ark, but she had no strength left. Ark wrenched the blade free, and Agria fell to her knees. She gazed up at Caina, her eyes filled with grief and horror. Then the life faded from her eyes, and Agria crumpled to the floor, her face frozen in that horrified mask. Caina wondered what Agria had seen in the final instant of her life.
Perhaps Caina was better off not knowing.
Mother. Lydia’s thought was full of quiet grief. I forgive you. I wished you had turned from this path.
“How did you know?” said Ark, breathing hard.
“Know what?” said Caina, staring at the body.
“How that would make her lose control,” said Ark, handing the dagger back to her.
“I didn’t,” muttered Caina. “But she murdered her daughter. She loved Lydia once. She couldn’t have killed her and…and felt nothing…”
“Are you all right?” said Ark.
“Not really,” said Caina. “But I can still fight.” She took a quick look around the chamber. The battle raged, the mercenaries falling back, the Legionaries fighting with a vengeance. She saw no sign of Icaraeus, nor any trace of Messana Heliorus or Vorena Chlorus.
But the path was clear to the archway.
“Let’s go,” said Caina. “Halfdan and Hiram can handle things here.” If they were still alive.
She started forward, and felt a surge of tingling power, far stronger than anything Agria had ever conjured. The sheer force of it knocked Caina back a step, and for a moment her head spun and her stomach crawled. And still the power redoubled, and redoubled again, until the floor trembled with it. The corridor ahead suddenly shimmered with green light, and in the distance Caina saw lines of green flame writhing and twisting within the stone of Black Angel Tower’s understructure.
Jadriga had begun the Opening of the Way.
“What is this?” said Ark, staring at the new glow.
“Jadriga’s begun,” said Caina, breaking into a run. “Hurry!”
She caught a glimpse of his face, full of pain and rage. His son now lay upon the black slab, and might die at any moment. And if Jadriga might well have killed Tanya already.
The floor shuddered, and Caina heard the thunderous rasp of steel against stone. She looked up, saw movement. The portcullis. She had last seen Icaraeus vanishing into the archway. He must have loosed the chains holding the portcullis.
Even as the thought came to her, the massive portcullis began to fall.
Caina flung herself forward. She hit the ground, rolled, and slid through the archway. An instant later the portcullis fell, slamming into the ground with the force of an earthquake, so close that she felt the breeze of its passage.
Sealing her off from the others.
Chapter 24 - The Duel
“Ark!” called Caina, looking around as she rolled to her feet. “Ark, are you there?”
“Aye,” snarled Ark, rising to one knee. He, too, had made it through before the portcullis had fallen. “The damn thing nearly gave me a shave, though.” He looked at the thick iron bars and grimaced. “It will take the others at least an hour to get through this.”
“We might not have an hour,” said Caina.
Ark nodded, and they started running. The rough stonework ended, and the smooth black stone of Black Angel Tower’s vaults began. Lines and ripples of green flame writhed within the dark stone, like lights shining through black glass. From time to time Caina caught glimpses of screaming faces within the stone, as if they had been frozen within the rock. The effect was disturbing, to say the least. But it provided better lighting than Caina’s last visit.
It also meant that she could see Naelon Icaraeus waiting for them in the middle of the corridor, the green light shimmering on the length of his sword blade. Caina came to a stop twenty feet away, adjusting her grip on the ghostsilver dagger. Ark raised his staff in guard.
“Both of you?” said Icaraeus, his deep voice amused. “Again? You are persistent to the point of madness.” His eyes shifted to Caina. “And you? Jadriga was right to warn me about you.” He shook his head. “All the trouble you’ve caused me. I should have killed you myself.” His eyes flicked back to the portcullis, the sword turning lazy circles in his hand. “I suppose Agria is dead?”
“She is,” snarled Ark.
“Useless bitch,” muttered Icaraeus. “She could never do anything right. What Jadriga saw in her, I’ll never know.”
“I quite agree,” said Caina. Could she attempt a throw with the dagger? No, Icaraeus would see it coming. “Her taste in hirelings is deplorable.”
Icaraeus’s lip curled. “You damnable Ghosts. Defiant to the end.”
“And this is the end,” said Caina, circling to the side. “Jadriga’s spell will kill everyone in these vaults, everyone in Marsis. You among them.”
“No,” said Icaraeus. “When she enslaves the demon in the pit, her power will be magnified. And I have already named my reward. I will sit upon the Emperor’s throne, the throne that is rightfully mine. Perhaps I’ll make that wretched old man beg for his life first. And then I’ll kill the Ghosts. All of them. One by one. Starting with you, I think.”
“She lied to you,” said Caina. “What guarantee do you have that she will keep her word?” Now all three of them circled, weapons ready.
Icaraeus laughed. “And what shall I do instead? Throw in my lot with you? The Ghosts have harassed and chased me for years…”
“Do not judge me, Ghost,” said Icaraeus, bringing his sword up with a flourish. “I did what I had to do. And you…”
As before, his attack came with no warning. But this time Caina expected it. Icaraeus’s free hand blurred, a dagger hurtling at Caina. She dodged sideways, the dagger clanging against the black wall. An instant later Icaraeus rushed at her, his sword plunging and weaving. Caina backed away, trying to stay out of range, but Icaraeus was too strong, too fast, too skilled. Caina managed to block a blow with her dagger, and then her back slammed against the cold stone wall.
Then Ark caught up to him, bringing the staff down in a massive two-handed blow. Icaraeus whirled, backhanded Caina across the face with his free hand as he did so, and beat aside Ark’s blow with a flick of his sword. Caina stumbled, her head ringing, and grabbed at the wall to keep her balance. Icaraeus came at Ark, driving the older man back with vigorous thrusts and slashes. The sword bit into the wood of Ark’s staff again and again. Then Ark overbalanced and stumbled. Icaraeus punched out, the pommel of his sword striking Ark on the cheek. Again Ark stumbled, and Icaraeus reversed his sword, drawing it back for the killing thrust.
Caina raced at him, dagger raised. Icaraeus growled in frustration and turned on her. Caina jerked back, just avoiding Icaraeus’s sword as it whipped past her throat. Ark recovered his balance, thrusting at Icaraeus’s head. Icaraeus danced away, moving to a position between them, sword ready, his balance perfect. Caina snatched a throwing knife from her belt and flung it. It would do no damage, she knew, but she hoped the flash of its destruction would distract him.
His sword snapped up, deflecting the knife into the wall.
He was too strong, too skilled. Caina had not wanted to face him in a straight fight again. Mostly because she knew that she and Ark could not beat him. Sooner or later she or Ark would tire and make a mistake, and Icaraeus would have them.
All right. Then she would have to make this something other than a straight fight.
Caina backed away, her free hand clawing at her throat, and pulled her cloak loose. Hopefully Jadriga would be too occupied with the Opening of the Way to sense her presence. The cloak flowed over her free arm, billowing like a wing. Icaraeus lunged at her, and Caina leapt back, the sword plunging past her stomach.
“A cloak?” he sneered. “You think to beat me with a cloak?” Ark swept his staff at him, and Icaraeus beat aside the blow, launching a riposte at Ark’s chest. He grunted and backed away, not before Icaraeus’s blade scraped his shoulder.
“You should be careful,” said Caina. “Jadriga isn’t here. You can’t fall on your knees and beg until she heals your wounds, not this time.”
Icaraeus snarled. “I am sick of spies. Always skulking in the shadows like rats. Well,” his sword came up, reflecting the green light, “there’s only one way to deal with rats.”
He came at Caina in a rush, sword blurring. Caina flung her cloak at his face. It billowed out, and Icaraeus swung out with his free hand, pushing the cloak aside. It barely slowed him down at all.
It did, however, give Caina more than enough time to pull a throwing knife from her belt and toss it into his face. The knife struck with a brilliant green flash, the blade twisting and splintering beneath the bracers’ power. Icaraeus growled and shook his head, missing a step.
And that gave Caina enough time to step inside his guard, dagger raking for his chest.
Icaraeus saw it coming and jerked away, but too late. Her ghostsilver blade slashed a long diagonal across his chest, the dagger grating against his ribs. Smoke rose from the wound in a black stream. Icaraeus screamed, but didn’t wrench away. He drove himself closer, and his forehead slammed into Caina’s face. She fell backwards, stunned, losing her grip on the dagger. Icaraeus loomed over her, sword drawn back for the kill.
Then Ark came at him, staff blurring in a two-handed swing. Icaraeus twisted aside, the blow landing on his left arm instead of his temple. Caina heard the bone shatter, and Icaraeus staggered to the side. Ark pressed him back with a flurry of swings. Icaraeus retreated, breathing hard, face tight with pain. The runes on his bracers glowed brighter, and smoke still rose from the wound on his chest.
Caina shook her head, snatched the dagger, and rolled back to her feet. Icaraeus broke free from Ark’s attacks, sword held in a shaking grip. His breath came in harsh rasps, his broken left arm hanging limp and useless.
Caina reversed her grip on the dagger, getting ready to throw. They had him. For years this man had murdered and butchered and enslaved, and now they had him. He could block Caina’s throw. He could fend off Ark’s attacks.
But he couldn’t do both at once.
Then a woman appeared behind Icaraeus, running. Caina looked at her alarm, expecting Messana or Vorena or even Jadriga herself to emerge from the gloom.
But it was Tanya. Grief and horror filled her face, and she ran, heedless of the duel before her. Ark’s eyes fell upon her, and he froze. His face was transformed. Caina had never seen him like that.
“Tanya?” he whispered.
She stopped, stared at him in wonder. “Arcion?”
“Ark!” screamed Caina.
But it was too late. Icaraeus sprang at him, all his weight behind his sword. Ark managed to raise his staff in guard, but the force of the blow split the staff in two. Icaraeus slashed again, his sword grating down Ark’s mail coat to rip along his leg. Ark tumbled with a groan, blood splashing from his wound. Icaraeus raised his sword high, drawing it back for the kill.
Tanya screamed. Caina yelled and raced at Icaraeus, who managed to turn to meet her attack. But Caina ducked under his blow and drove her dagger into his left hip. Icaraeus screamed and backhanded her across her face. Caina fell back, ripping the dagger free from his side in a plume of black smoke.
When Caina regained her feet, Icaraeus held Tanya pinned before him like a living shield, his sword resting at her throat.
“Back off,” hissed Icaraeus. The sword pressed against the soft skin of Tanya’s neck. “Back off or you’ll watch her die.”
“Let her go!” said Ark. He tried to stand, but his wounded leg folded beneath him.
“Arcion,” said Tanya, pleading, “go, go, get out of here.” She looked at Caina. “You weren’t supposed to tell him, you weren’t…”
“Shut up,” said Icaraeus, tugging her back.
“Let her go!” said Ark.
“Shut up, both of you!” said Icaraeus. He looked at Caina, glanced at Ark, and then laughed. “Wait…this woman is yours?” He laughed again. “What are the odds that you would actually find her? And just in time to watch her die in front you. How very tragic.”
“Let her go and I won’t kill you,” said Caina.
“No,” said Icaraeus. “You’ll both throw away your weapons, all of them. Then I might let her go. Or I might not. Understand?”
Silence fell. Caina stared at Icaraeus, mind racing. She had a clear throw. With one of her steel knives she could have hit the murdering villain right in the throat. But the ghostsilver dagger had not been balanced for throwing. If she missed…
And in the silence, something clicked.
Caina stiffened. She had heard that click before, when Radast had loaded the two quarrels into that double crossbow. How far away was the portcullis? Thirty yards? Maybe forty? Could Radast make a shot from that distance? Caina didn’t dare turn around, didn’t dare draw Icaraeus’s attention away from her…
“All right,” said Caina, dropping the dagger. It clanged against the black floor.
“No!” said Ark.
“What is so special about her, anyway?” said Icaraeus to Ark. He rubbed the sword against Tanya’s neck. “Jadriga wanted her…and her brat, too. Come to think of it, she wanted that brat more than she wanted his mother. Can’t imagine why.”
“It’s simple,” said Cai
na, taking a step to the side. Icaraeus glanced at her. “Tanya’s great-grandfather was Solmonari, one of the magus-priests of the ancient Szaldic tribes. Jadriga wants to free the fallen angel in the pit and enslave it to her will. Only the blood of a male descendant of the Solmonari can free it.” Another step. “So she’s going to slaughter the boy and use his blood to shatter the fallen angel’s chains. Except it won’t work that way. The fallen angel will destroy Jadriga, and the backlash from her spell will kill most of the people in Marsis.”
Icaraeus stared at her. Caina took one final step to the left.
“That,” he said, “is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
Caina heard another click, and threw herself to the ground.
Icaraeus frowned. “What…”
A heartbeat later one ghostsilver-tipped crossbow bolt plunged into his right shoulder, another into his right forearm. Icaraeus shrieked and jerked backwards, the sword falling from his wounded arm. Tanya yelled and kicked, her foot slamming into Icaraeus’s knee. She twisted free as Icaraeus staggered, smoke rising from the crossbow quarrels buried in his flesh.
Ark threw himself across the floor, his wounded leg leaving a trail of blood. He snatched Caina’s dagger and stabbed. The blade buried itself in Icaraeus’s stomach. Icaraeus screamed again, tried to fight back, but toppled to the floor with a groan.
Ark fell onto his face, breathing hard.
Icaraeus groaned again, tried to rise, failed.
Tanya knelt besides Ark and began looking at his wounded leg.
“Tanya,” said Ark, “Tanya, I…”
“No, don’t talk,” she said, tearing a strip from his cloak, “you’ve been hurt.”
Caina crossed the corridor, retrieved her own cloak, and pulled it back on. She had forgotten the tingling presence of Jadriga’s power during the fight with Icaraeus, but it seemed to have trebled. The spell was that much closer to completion…
“Wait.”
Icaraeus stared up at her, shivering and sweating. The bracers on his arms shone with a flickering green glow, and lazy coils of black smoke rose from the quarrels embedded in his arm.
The Ghosts Omnibus One Page 90