The Ghosts Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Caina shrugged. "Why not? He spent most of his life locked away. Perhaps he wants to see the world."

  "For now," said Halfdan, "you can take him to see the ships, while you look at Rezir Shahan."

  "It will be done," said Caina.

  She crossed back to the table and sat across from Nicolai.

  "You want to see a real ship?" said Caina.

  Nicolai nodded, wide-eyed.

  Caina smiled. "Well, if your mother will allow it, I think I will take you to see a dozen ships."

  Ark smiled. "He could use a holiday."

  "And I think his mother and father could use some time to themselves," said Caina.

  A touch of color appeared in Tanya's cheeks.

  "All right," said Tanya. "Just be back by sundown."

  "I will," said Caina.

  She rose, as did Nicolai, a wide smile on his face, but Tanya started to reach for him.

  "You're not sure about this, are you?" said Ark.

  Nicolai turned an imploring look toward his mother.

  "No. You can go," said Tanya. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And if the Balarigar cannot keep you safe, then who can?"

  ###

  An hour later, Caina walked hand in hand with Nicolai along the Avenue of Governors, the main street connecting the Plaza of the Tower to the Great Market. Traffic flowed around them. Ox-drawn carts carried goods to the shops and merchants of the Plaza of the Tower. Hawkers cried out from the booths and workshops lining the street, selling their wares. Women hurried back and forth, carrying jars of water from Marsis's public aqueducts. Gulls wheeled overhead in the blue sky, and the air smelled of sweat and smoke and horse dung and salt.

  It was a beautiful day.

  Nicolai looked at everything. This was all new to him. He had been raised by his mother in the dungeons below Black Angel Tower, his death intended to fuel Jadriga's monstrous sorcery. Caina looked at the dark shape of Black Angel Tower, rising from the Citadel atop its crag, and her mouth tightened into a hard line. Well, Jadriga was dead, and Nicolai would live...

  "What's wrong?"

  Nicolai looked up at her, concerned.

  "Nothing," said Caina.

  "You were frowning," said Nicolai.

  "Well, I was upset," said Caina.

  "Did I do something wrong?" said Nicolai.

  "I was upset," said Caina, "because I haven't gotten you a piece of candy yet." That wiped the concern from Nicolai's face. "But don't tell your mother."

  They stopped at a confectioner's shop, not far from the Plaza of the Tower, and Caina bought a pair of hard candies. They were expensive, but Caina had the coin. Sweeter than she would have liked, but Caina preferred simpler food.

  Nicolai devoured his.

  "Can I have another?" said Nicolai as they returned to the Avenue of Governors.

  "No," said Caina, "you'll rot your teeth."

  "And Mother won't really get mad at you," said Nicolai.

  "Oh? Why is that?"

  "Because she says you are the Balarigar and you kept the Moroaica from hurting me," said Nicolai. "And Father says you are very clever and you stopped a bad man from burning thousands of people."

  "You shouldn't say such things," said Caina.

  "Why not?" said Nicolai. "They're true, aren't they?"

  They were. But Caina did not like this "Balarigar" business, this legend that had grown in the retelling. She was no demonslayer, only a woman of flesh and blood. Her victories had been such near things. Maglarion could have thrown her from that tower, rather than trying to kill her with plagueblood. Kalastus could have burned her to ashes. And if Jadriga could have twisted Caina into a monster.

  "Because," said Caina at last. She picked up Nicolai and whispered into his ear. "Because the Ghosts have to stay secret, so we can do good. Can you help keep my secret?"

  Nicolai smiled. "I'll keep your secret." He hesitated. "Since I'm keeping your secret, can I have another candy?"

  Caina rolled her eyes. "Maybe on the way back."

  ###

  Crowds packed the Great Market.

  Of course, the Great Market was always packed. The wealthy merchants and high nobles preferred to buy their goods from the shops of the Plaza of the Tower. But the commoners of Marsis shopped at the Great Market. Booths and stalls filled the vast square, and warehouses lined the nearby streets. Marsis was the Empire's chief port on the western sea, and items from half the civilized world found their way to the Great Market.

  But today, it was packed for a different reason.

  A century of Legionaries waited in the center of the Market, grim and solemn in plate armor and crimson cloaks. The banners of the Empire and House Maraeus flapped overhead. Corbould Maraeus, the Lord Governor of Marsis, sat upon his horse before the Legionaries, clad in black ceremonial armor. He was in his later fifties, lean and fit, with the arrogant expression of a lord of high Nighmarian birth.

  "Who's that?" said Nicolai.

  "The Lord Governor," said Caina. A ring of Legionaries kept the crowds at bay. She heard the roll of distant drums, and saw a mass of horsemen entering the Market.

  "I want to see the ships," said Nicolai.

  Caina looked around. The Legionaries had closed off the street to the docks, and crowds of people choked the Great Market. Yet many of the merchant booths and stalls had been closed for the day. And some of the booths had roofs of sturdy wood.

  "Here," said Caina, crossing to the nearest booth. She climbed upon a barrel, lifted Nicolai to the roof, and then pulled herself up after him. A few nearby men gawked at her, but most copied her idea and climbed onto booths themselves. From here Nicolai could see the ships, until she took him to the docks for a closer look.

  And from here Caina could take a good look at Rezir Shahan.

  "Are those the ships?" said Nicolai, peering at the forest of masts that filled the harbor.

  "Aye," said Caina, watching the horsemen enter the Great Market. They moved at a slow, steady pace, drummers beating out a solemn rhythm. Banners of crimson silk floated overhead, adorned with the sword-and-crown sigil of the Padishah of Istarinmul. Most of the horsemen wore elaborate coats of black chain mail and black cuirasses, faces hidden beneath helms wrought in the shape of human skulls. Curved swords and whips made of coiled chains hung from their belts.

  "Who are they?" said Nicolai.

  "Immortals," said Caina. "The bodyguards of the Padishah." Istarinmul's College of Alchemists fed the Immortals a steady diet of sorcerous elixirs, granting them superhuman strength and speed, though the elixirs tended to induce homicidal insanity after a few years of regular use. Yet the Immortals were among the finest soldiers in the world. With them came regular Istarish soldiers, infantry armed with spears and scimitars, clad in shirts of steel scales and spiked steel helmets.

  Rezir Shahan himself rode at their head.

  He was a in his middle thirties, clad in ornate gilded armor, the purple cloak flowing from his shoulders a marked contrast to his bronze-skinned face. His horse was a huge, ill-tempered stallion, yet he handled it with easy skill. As he drew closer, Caina saw that he was dark-haired, the line of his jaw shaded with a close-cropped beard.

  He looked...cold. His expression, as he looked over the assembled crowds, was contemptuous. Caina suspected he was the sort of man who had no qualms about kidnapping women and children and selling them in chains far from their homes. Like the sort of man who had sold Jadriga her victims.

  "He looks like a bad man," said Nicolai.

  Caina opened her mouth to answer, and her skin began to crawl.

  She frowned in alarm and looked around. She had only been a child of eleven when her father had been murdered with sorcery, when Maglarion had scarred her body and soul with his necromancy. In the nine years since then, that scarring had permitted her to sense presence of arcane forces.

  And right now she sensed the presence of nearby sorcery.

  She looked around, trying to find the source. A short man in a b
lack robe stood near Lord Corbould's horse, his gut spilling over his purple sash. She knew of the man - Quintus Tolius, master magus and preceptor of the Magisterium's Marsis chapter. Yet he remained motionless, his expression bored. He was not casting a spell.

  The tingling grew sharper, and Caina realized it came from Rezir himself.

  A wind picked up from the harbor, tugging at her hair and skirts.

  She squinted at Rezir, wondering if he had a hidden arcane talent. Then she saw the black ring upon the third finger of his right hand. A massive green crystal rested in the black band, and from a distance it looked like an emerald. But Caina knew that crystal was no gem.

  It was a bloodcrystal, a product of necromantic science. And as Rezir rode past her booth, she felt the queasy, clenching sensation that indicated the presence of necromantic sorcery.

  Where had Rezir gotten such a thing? He had sold slaves to Haeron Icaraeus. Perhaps Maglarion had fashioned it.

  Caina wondered what the ring did.

  The horsemen reined up, and a blast of trumpets rang out. One of the Istarish soldiers spurred forward, a banner streaming from a lance in his right hand.

  "Behold!" he boomed. "He comes! He who is the Emir of the Vale of Fallen Stars! He who is Captain of the Southern Towers! He who is Lord Ambassador to the Empire of Nighmar, and high in the favor of the Most Divine Padishah! Rezir Shahan comes!"

  Rezir walked his stallion forward, flanked by four of the Immortals in their black skull helms. A fifth horseman followed, a small man slumped in the saddle. He wore simple clothes, leather and wool, and a pair of daggers rested in his belt. A hooded cloak hid his face, yet even from this distance, Caina glimpsed hideous scarring across his jaw and mouth.

  For a moment he looked right at her, and then his gaze swept over the crowd.

  The wind grew sharper, the banners snapping.

  Lord Corbould rode forward, surrounded by a pair of Legionaries, the master magus Tolius, and a throng of Marsis's prominent nobles and merchants. One of the minor nobles stepped forward, carrying a banner, and began to shout.

  "You stand in the presence of Corbould, Lord of House Maraeus, Lord Governor of Marsis, and cousin to the Emperor."

  Rezir did not answer, and neither did his herald.

  The wind picked up, the gusts striking with enough force that Caina had to take a step back to keep her balance, skirts billowing around her legs.

  Corbould frowned at his own herald.

  The minor noble cleared his throat. "Lord Corbould invites the Lord Ambassador to come forward, that he might lodge as a guest of the Emperor of Nighmar in the Citadel."

  Still Rezir and his men did not move.

  Caina frowned. There was something wrong here, she...

  "Look at the ships!" said Nicolai.

  Caina turned, and felt her eyes grow wide.

  She saw a fleet sailing into the harbor, their sails filled with the sharp wind. But these vessels were neither merchant ships nor warships of the Empire. They were long and narrow, with raked banks of sails. They cut through the water with smooth grace, and their sleek lines made them look like hunting predators.

  Kyracian ships, from the city-state of New Kyre, the chief maritime power of the western sea. The Empire and New Kyre had fought many wars over the years, but for a Kyracian fleet to sail so boldly into the harbor of Marsis...

  Gods, there were hundreds of them.

  One of the nobles grabbed Lord Corbould's arm and pointed.

  And as he did, Rezir Shahan drew his sword. The Immortals and Istarish soldiers followed suit, and a ripple of panic went through the gathered crowds.

  "What's happening?" said Nicolai as the sound of chaos rose around them.

  "I don't know," said Caina. This was madness. Rezir was in the heart of one of the Empire's chief cities. Surely he couldn't think to cut down Lord Corbould and his officers, not here...

  As one, the doors to most of the warehouses ringing the Great Market burst open.

  And Istarish soldiers, hundreds of them, flooded into the Market.

  Caina looked from them, to the Kyracian fleet sailing into the harbor, and back to the soldiers.

  This wasn't a parley.

  This wasn't even an assassination.

  This was an invasion.

  Follow this link to continue reading Ghost in the Storm.

  About the Author

  Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair of a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.

  He has written the DEMONSOULED series of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write THE GHOSTS sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the COMPUTER BEGINNER'S GUIDE series of computer books, and numerous other works.

  Visit his website at:

  http://www.jonathanmoeller.com

  Visit his technology blog at:

  http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed

  Contact him at:

  jmcontact@jonathanmoeller.com

  You can sign up for his email newsletter here, or watch for news on his Facebook page.

  Other books by the author

  The Demonsouled Saga

  MAZAEL CRAVENLOCK is a wandering knight, fearless in battle and masterful with a sword.

  Yet he has a dark secret. He is Demonsouled, the son of the ancient and cruel Old Demon, and his tainted blood grants him superhuman strength and speed. Yet with the power comes terrible, inhuman rage, and Mazael must struggle to keep the fury from devouring him.

  But he dare not turn aside from the strength of his blood, for he will need it to face terrible foes.

  The priests of the San-keth plot and scheme in the shadows, pulling lords and kingdoms upon their strings. The serpent priests desire to overthrow the realms of men and enslave humanity. Unless Mazael stops them, they shall force all nations to bow before the serpent god.

  The Malrag hordes are coming, vast armies of terrible, inhuman beasts, filled with a lust for cruelty and torment. The Malrags care nothing for conquest or treasure, only slaughter. And the human realms are ripe for the harvest. Only a warrior of Mazael’s power can hope to defeat them.

  The Dominiar Order and the Justiciar Order were once noble and respected, dedicated to fighting the powers of dark magic. Now they are corrupt and cynical, and scheme only for power and glory. They will kill anyone who stands in their way.

  To defeat these foes, Mazael will need all the strength of his Demonsouled blood.

  Yet he faces a far more terrible foe.

  For centuries the Old Demon has manipulated kings and lords. Now he shall seize the power of the Demonsouled for himself, and become the a god of torment and tyranny.

  Unless Mazael can stop him.

  Read Demonsouled for free. Mazael's adventures continue in Soul of Tyrants, Soul of Serpents, Soul of Dragons, Soul of Sorcery, Soul of Skulls, and Soul of Swords, along with the short stories The Wandering Knight, The Tournament Knight, and The Dragon's Shadow. Get the first three books bundled together in Demonsouled Omnibus One.

  The Ghosts Series

  Once CAINA AMALAS was the shy daughter of a minor nobleman, content to spend her days in her father’s library.

  Then sorcery and murder and her mother’s treachery tore her life apart.

  Now she is a nightfighter of the Ghosts, an elite agent of the spies and assassins of the Emperor of Nighmar. She is a master of disguise and infiltration, of stealth and the shadows.

  And she will need all those skills to defend the Empire and stay alive.

  Corrupt lords scheme and plot in the shadows, desiring to pull down the Emperor and rule the Empire for their own profit and glory. Slave traders lurk on the fringes of the Empire, ready to seize unwary commoners and sell them into servitude in distant lands. Yet both slave traders and cruel lords must beware the Ghosts.

  The Magisterium, the Imperial broth
erhood of sorcerers, believe themselves the rightful masters of the Empire. With their arcane sciences, they plan to overthrow the Empire and enslave the commoners, ruling all of mankind for their own benefit. Only the Ghosts stand in the path of their sinister plans.

  And the Moroaica, the ancient sorceress of legend and terror, waits in the shadows, preparing to launch a war upon the gods themselves. She will make the gods pay for the suffering of mankind...even if she must destroy the world to do it.