Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 05 - Ghost in the Stone

by Jonathan Moeller

  “For centuries,” whispered the shadow, “the assassins have dwelled beneath the earth, coming forth to wet their blades in blood.” The voice gave a hideous tittering laugh. “They have lived in the shadows.”

  “Where is the entrance to the Haven?” said Nadirah.

  “In the library of the Temple,” said Mhadun, “behind the Altar of Eternal Flame, past the quarters of the brothers and sisters. The third shelf, in the corner of the room. A book called ‘The History of the Northern Empire’ is actually a hidden trigger. Pull on it, and the door will open. Then a spiral staircase, down to the Haven itself.”

  “Gods,” muttered Marzhod. “I never thought to look beneath the Temple. The brothers and sisters of the Living Flame are such…dull fellows. Hardly the sort to live above a nest of assassins.”

  “The worshipers of the fire know it not,” said the shadow. “For centuries, the assassins lurked in the shadows of their holy flame, and the brothers and sisters never knew.”

  “Ask it if there are any other ways into the Haven,” said Marzhod.

  “Another entrance?” said the shadow. “Another place where you can weep and cower, listening to your mother scream as she is dragged to your master’s chamber?”

  Marzhod sighed. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  “Answer it,” said Nadirah.

  “There is,” said Mhadun. “An escape tunnel, in case the Haven is ever breached. It opens into the tunnels below the Ring of Valor. There are…there are no other entrances.”

  “Good,” said Marzhod. “That’s all we need to know.” A smile spread over his gaunt face. “The Kindred have caused me no shortage of trouble. It will be pleasant to pay them back.”

  “Now hold up your end of the bargain,” said Corvalis. “Ask what I wish to know.” Nadirah nodded.

  “You will tell me,” she said, and Caina felt the tingle of fresh sorcery, “about Ranarius.”

  “Ranarius?” For a moment derision replaced the fear in Mhadun’s voice. “That fool? What do you want to know about him?”

  “You do not seem to hold your preceptor in high regard,” said Nadirah.

  “He holds Ranarius in contempt,” said the shadow, “but he knows not Ranarius’s full power. Or the vast shadow he throws upon the netherworld.”

  “Ranarius does not throw a vast shadow on the netherworld!” said Mhadun. “Ranarius is an idiot. He spends all his time researching old spells of elemental summoning. If Ranarius devoted as much time to his standing among the Magisterium as he did to digging through old books, he would be First Magus by now. Instead he is the preceptor of the Cyrioch chapter.” He shook his head with annoyance. “The fool doesn’t even have the wit to realize the First Magus banished him to Cyrioch. The high magi grew weary of his endless researches.”

  “How very blind,” said the shadow.

  “What about the statues?” said Nadirah.

  “Statues?” said Mhadun. “What statues?”

  “Tell us,” said Nadirah, “by what spell, science, or method Ranarius has transformed his victims into statues of unfeeling stone.”

  Mhadun laughed. “What mad folly is this? You think…you think that Ranarius has been turning people into statues? What utter folly!”

  “We know otherwise,” said Nadirah. “For we have seen the statues with our own eyes.”

  “Then you’ve been fooled by a particularly effective hoax,” said Mhadun. “It is impossible to turn living flesh to stone through the use of sorcery.”

  “Fool,” whispered his shadow.

  Nadirah seemed at a loss, and Caina stepped forward.

  “What about the Kindred assassin at the Amphitheatre of Asurius?” she said, making sure to keep her voice disguised. If Mhadun lived through this, she didn’t want him to recognize her.

  Mhadun’s shadow rippled as she spoke, as if flinching away from an invisible breeze.

  “What about him?” said Mhadun.

  “He was turned into a statue,” said Caina. “As was a second assassin, an archer, at the Ring of Valor.”

  “You are mistaken,” said Mhadun. “The assassins sent to dispatch the nobles at the Ring of Valor and the Amphitheatre of Asurius never returned. Presumably the guards killed them.” A hint of arrogance entered his voice. “Such is often the result when lesser assassins are dispatched to a target of importance. Which is why the Kindred Elder bade me to kill the nobles myself.”

  “Yes,” said Corvalis, “and you did such a fine job of it.”

  “The assassins weren’t killed,” said Caina, “they were turned to stone.”

  Mhadun snorted. “I have the most credulous kidnappers in the Empire! If I tell you where a unicorn has buried a pot of magical gold, will you let me go?”

  “The fool knows not,” whispered the shadow. “His vision is clouded and his mind dull. He cannot perceive the reality of the world.”

  “But you know,” said Nadirah, “how Ranarius converted his victims into statues?”

  “Of course,” said the shadow.

  “Then tell me,” said Nadirah. “Immediately.”

  “No,” said the shadow.

  The furrows in Mhadun’s brow grew deeper, his face dripping with sweat.

  “You are bound,” said Nadirah, frowning. “And by that binding, I command you to answer my question.”

  “I am bound,” said the shadow, “but you ask about one greater than you. One mightier by far, one that could crush you like the insect that you are, mortal. You cannot force me to speak against him.”

  “Speak!” shouted Nadirah. Caina’s skin crawled as the occultist unleashed the full strength of her powers.

  The shadow’s hissing laughter rasped like dead leaves rattling over stone. “You cannot compel me. For you ask about one stronger than you.”

  “Ranarius?” said Nadirah. She, too, had begun to sweat. “Ranarius is stronger than me?”

  “No,” murmured the shadow. “There is one stronger than Ranarius by far, an inferno of strength against the pathetic candle flame of his power. Ranarius is a fool, and he cannot control the powers he seeks to conjure. And by those powers, you cannot compel me, foolish witch.”

  Caina hesitated, gripping her ghostsilver dagger.

  The shadow refused to answer Nadirah, but it had responded to Caina’s question. Why? Nadirah had recognized the presence of the Moroaica within Caina. Could the shadow likewise sense the Moroaica? Caina was loath to use Jadriga’s presence for anything.

  Yet they needed to know how Ranarius had turned Claudia and the Ghosts to stone.

  “Shadow,” said Caina, stepping forward. Every eye turned towards her, and she felt the shadow’s malevolence focus upon her. “How has Ranarius turned his foes to stone?”

  There was a long silence.

  “Who are you?” said the shadow.

  “You will answer me,” said Caina.

  “You have…two shadows,” said the shadow. For a moment bafflement entered the hideous voice. “One is scarred and maimed, yet unbroken. The other…the other is dark and mighty, so mighty, sorcerous power enough to break this city…”

  “Answer the question,” said Caina. “How does Ranarius turns his foes to stone?”

  Another long silence, and the shadow began to speak.

  Apparently, it was more frightened of the Moroaica than whatever had turned Claudia and Saddiq and the others to stone.

  That thought turned Caina’s spine to ice.

  “An elemental of stone,” said the shadow. “You know of them, dark one…or at least one of your shadows does. A spirit of earth, of stone, of rock unyielding and eternal. There are many such spirits in the netherworld…and many others in the mortal world, hibernating in wombs of stone. Mhadun thinks Ranarius is a fool, but he is the greater fool. For Ranarius delved deep into the ancient lore and learned of one such spirit. He came to its lair and awoke the elemental, binding it to his will.” The shadow laughed. “As well should a mouse enslave a lion. The elemental will devou
r Ranarius when it gains its freedom. For the lives of you little mortals are over in a heartbeat.”

  “Can the process be reversed?” said Caina. “Can the statues become living flesh and blood once more?”

  She saw Corvalis lean forward.

  “It can,” said the shadow. “If you enslave the elemental yourself, you can command it to free its victims. Or you could free the elemental and hope that it will liberate its victims out of gratitude to you.” Derision dripped from the terrible voice. “That is not likely.”

  “Why?” said Caina. “Why did Ranarius enslave the elemental? Merely to use it as a weapon against his foes?”

  “For freedom,” said the shadow.

  “Freedom?” said Caina. “Freedom from what?”

  “Ranarius is a slave,” said the shadow, “as is Mhadun.”

  “I am no man’s slave!” spat Mhadun.

  “But unlike Mhadun, Ranarius has the wit to see his enslavement,” said the shadow. “The elemental is a guardian, a keeper. Ranarius sought out the guardian and enslaved it, not for the guardian’s own considerable powers, but to claim what the guardian protected.”

  “What?” said Nadirah. “What did Ranarius want?”

  “The resting place of a great elemental,” said the shadow.

  “By the Living Flame,” whispered Nadirah, her dark eyes going wide.

  “You mean…something like the fire elemental that destroyed Old Kyrace?” said Caina.

  “Yes,” said the shadow. “You see, spirits have their own hierarchies, just as mortals do. Ranarius’s enslaved elemental, for all its puissance, is merely the vassal of a greater spirit, an elemental of earth with power enough to crack your world. Ranarius seeks to wake this elemental from its long sleep.”

  “Why?” said Nadirah. “Why would he do something so foolish? No mortal can hope to master the power of the greater elementals. Even the mighty Kyracian stormsingers of old, working in concert, could only lull a greater elemental to sleep. They couldn’t possibly hope to control one.” She shook her head. “This…this is the catastrophe I have seen in the shadows. This is the destruction that threatens Cyrioch, maybe even all of Cyrica.”

  “Yes,” said the shadow. “Ranarius is a slave, but for the moment, his master cannot harm him. If he binds a greater elemental, he hopes to destroy his master and attain his freedom forever. But he cannot control the great spirit, and it will crush him like an insect.”

  “The greater elemental,” said Caina. “Where is it hibernating?”

  The shadow laughed at her. “Do you not know? The answer is before your eyes even now, and yet still you do not see.”

  “No riddling talk,” said Caina. “Where is the greater elemental hibernating? Tell me now.”

  “Very well,” said the shadow. “It…”

  Several things happened at once.

  Caina felt a surge of sorcery, sharp and jagged. The candles on Nadirah’s intricate designs went dark. And as they did, Caina saw Mhadun’s mouth moving, whispering the words to a spell. There was a snarling noise and a flash of blue light, and Mhadun’s ropes and gag turned to dust.

  He was free.

  Caina drew back her ghostsilver dagger to strike, but she was too late. Mhadun flung out his hands. Invisible force erupted in all directions, throwing Caina to the floor. She saw Corvalis stagger and drop to one knee, the lines of his tattoo glowing beneath his sleeves, saw Theodosia and Marzhod slam into the wall.

  Only Nadirah remained standing, her hands raised in a warding gesture. Corvalis snatched a knife and flung it, but the blade rebounded from Mhadun’s wards. Mhadun made a chopping gesture, and Caina felt the surge of arcane power as his sorcery seized Nadirah and flung the occultist against the wall.

  “I warned you,” hissed Mhadun, his hands hooking into claws, “that the Magisterium was supreme, that your little shadow-tricks would be ineffective.” Nadirah screamed, her face twisting in agony.

  Corvalis scrambled to his feet, and Mhadun gestured with his other hand. Dozens of heavy books hurtled from the wooden shelves and slammed into Corvalis, knocking him to the ground. Caina got to her knees, her head ringing from the spells. Mhadun stalked towards Nadirah, grinning with vengeful delight.

  “Where are your precious shadows now?” said Mhadun.

  His shadow billowed behind him, writhing like a dying animal.

  A mad idea occurred to Caina.

  “Shadow!” she shouted. “Stop Mhadun! I command it! Stop him at once!”

  The shadow hissed.

  “Fool,” said Mhadun, glaring at her, “the witch bound the shadow.”

  “Yes,” said Caina, “but you broke the binding, didn’t you?”

  The shadow reared up behind him like a black wave.

  Mhadun’s eyes just had time to bulge in horror, and then the shadow fell upon him. His agonized screams of horror rang against the walls, and blood splashed over the elaborate mosaics of the floor. Nadirah fell to her knees, coughing, and waved her hand.

  The rippling shadow vanished into nothingness, leaving Mhadun behind.

  Or what was left of him, at least.

  “You see,” said Caina, looking at Corvalis, “why I don’t trust sorcery?”

  Chapter 18 - Under the Flames

  “How is Nadirah?” said Theodosia.

  Caina stood alongside Theodosia and Corvalis in Marzhod’s workroom at the Painted Whore. They had withdrawn there at Nadirah’s urging. Mhadun’s death, she insisted, had produced echoes in the netherworld. If any of the magi had been seeking Mhadun, they would have felt those echoes. Worse, if Cyrioch’s Kindred had any other sorcerers, they would have sensed his death. In either case, it was no longer safe at her house.

  Caina was surprised that Marzhod had agreed to give her shelter. She would have expected him to turn Nadirah out into the street. Perhaps, as Saddiq had hinted, he had a more compassionate heart that Caina had thought.

  Or maybe he simply wanted to seduce her.

  “Not well,” said Marzhod. He looked tired, the hard lines of his face sharper than usual. “Had she not banished that shadow, it would have turned upon her.” His bloodshot eyes flicked to Caina. “That was clever, commanding the shadow to kill Mhadun. Though I wonder why the thing decided to obey you.”

  Caina shifted, wondering what Marzhod suspected.

  To her relief, Corvalis shrugged. “That shadow would have killed Mhadun anyway. It was like ordering a drunkard to drink a skin of wine. “

  “Well, she is resting now,” said Marzhod. “She’s raised wards around the Painted Whore to stop any tracking spells.” His face hardened. “And if the magi or the Kindred come for her in person…well, they’ll get a mouth full of steel for their efforts. Marzhod of Cyrioch pays his debts.”

  “Oh,” said Caina, as something clicked in her mind.

  “What?” said Marzhod.

  “The occultist who owned you,” said Caina. “That was Nadirah’s teacher, wasn’t it? Yaramzod the Black? She saved you from him. She couldn’t have hidden in Cyrioch for all these years without help. You were protecting her.”

  Marzhod glared at her. “You think entirely too much.” He sighed. “You believe me a hard and cruel man, and you are right. But I pay my debts. And you would too, if you saw what old Yaramzod does to those who crossed him. What happened to Mhadun was nothing compared to things I saw Yaramzod do to his enemies.”

  “Yaramzod the Black,” said Theodosia, “is a thousand miles away in Anshan. We have more immediate problems.”

  “The Kindred Haven,” said Marzhod.

  “And Ranarius,” said Corvalis.

  “Our first task,” said Theodosia, “is to destroy the Kindred Haven. The Kindred won’t stop until Khosrau and Corbould are both dead.”

  “No, the first task,” said Marzhod, “is to make sure Mhadun and that damned shadow told the truth. With our luck, we’ll open that secret passage and find the brotherhood of the Living Flame’s laundry.”

  “I’ll do it,
” said Caina. “I’ll scout the Temple of the Living Flame and make sure the secret entrance is there.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Corvalis.

  Caina lifted an eyebrow.

  Corvalis shrugged. “You’re formidable enough, aye, but the Kindred are dangerous. They’ll have someone watching the entrance. Together we have a better chance of spotting any guards.”

  “Fine,” said Marzhod. “I have men among the slaves working at the Ring of Valor. I will have them find the escape tunnel below the Ring. When we strike we will bottle up the rats all at once.”

  “Those rats have teeth,” said Corvalis.

  Marzhod grinned. “So do I.”

  “I also want to make sure you stay alive,” said Corvalis, looking at Caina. “I am upholding my end of the bargain. I need you alive to meet yours.”

  “We shall keep our bargain. We’ll deal with Ranarius after the Kindred are settled,” said Theodosia.

  “We may have to kill Ranarius first,” said Marzhod. “You heard what Nadirah said, that Ranarius is going to unleash some sort of greater elemental. It might be simpler just to kill Ranarius.”

  “No,” said Corvalis. “He’s not going to die until he restores my sister and your men.”

  “Nadirah predicted a catastrophe,” said Marzhod. “Something that would destroy the city. If we can stop it by killing Ranarius, then we kill him.”

  “Our agreement was that we take Ranarius alive,” said Corvalis.

  “It was,” said Marzhod. “But balanced against the lives of everyone in Cyrioch, the lives of your sister and my men do not count for much. If I have to sacrifice them, I will.”

  “You will not,” said Corvalis. “And you place too much faith in the judgment of that Anshani woman. Considering she could not keep Mhadun under control, she might be wrong about this catastrophe.”

  “She’s not,” said Marzhod. “I have seen her predictions come true too many times to discard her judgment. If the opportunity comes to kill Ranarius, then I will order him killed. Regrettable about your sister, but…”

  “You will not,” said Corvalis, voice hard, and he started to draw his sword.