She had seen those symbols somewhere before.
“What the devil?” said Corvalis.
The man in the jade mask lifted his cane, and it broke in half, the wood clattering on the street. He was left holding a rod of a peculiar silvery metal, about two feet long, its length carved with more of those odd symbols.
“Yes,” said the masked man, his voice distorted behind the jade lips. “You are her. I should have known.”
“Enough,” said Corvalis, starting to draw his sword. “Identify…”
The man flicked his wrist, and Caina felt the crawling tingle of sorcery. She had been scarred by a necromancer of terrible power in her youth, and ever since she had been able to sense the presence of arcane force. The sensitivity had sharpened as she grew older, and now she could distinguish between the kind and magnitude of spells.
The silver rod in the masked man’s hand radiated tremendous power.
White light flared around the rod, and both Barimaz and Corvalis fell limp to the ground. Caina shot a look at them, keeping her eyes on the masked man. Both Corvalis and Barimaz were both still alive, but unconscious. Yet in Corvalis’s sleeve she glimpsed a glimmer of white light.
His tattoos. Would they have resisted the masked man’s spell?
“You killed them!” shouted Caina, hoping to distract his attention from Corvalis.
“I did not,” said the masked man, stepping towards her. His right leg twitched and trembled. Apparently he had needed that cane. “I don’t know what vile use you had in mind for that Kindred assassin, but it matters not. Whatever design you planned for Cyrioch will not come to pass.”
“Design?” said Caina. “What are you talking about?”
She snatched a frying pan from Barimaz’s cart and stepped to the side.
“Enough,” said the masked man, pivoting to follow her. “We have played this game too many times before, but this time, I have the better of you.”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” said Caina, talking another step to the side.
The masked man turned to follow her, keeping the rod pointed at her chest…and turned his back on Corvalis.
She saw his eyes open.
“Your latest death will not undo the harm you have caused,” said the masked man, “but it least it will stop you from wreaking future harm. For a time.”
Corvalis rolled to a crouch and drew his sword.
“For the gods’ sake,” said Caina. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Could you at least tell me what this is all about before you kill me?”
“A likely trick,” said the man. His rod flared with white light, and Caina felt the surge of sorcerous power.
Corvalis jumped to his feet, and the masked man turned to face him, leveling the silver rod at his chest.
Caina gripped the frying pan like a discus and flung it with all her strength. It slammed into the masked man’s bad leg. The masked man dropped him to one knee, a pale pulse of white light spitting from his rod, but the blast missed Corvalis to splash against the side of Barimaz’s wagon.
Corvalis lunged forward and buried his sword in the masked man’s chest. The man toppled backwards without a sound, the rod and mask falling away. Corvalis released his sword and stepped back, and Caina hurried to his side, shooting a quick look around the street.
No one had noticed the fight.
“Damn it,” said Corvalis, looking at the dying man. “I should have taken him alive.” He reached for the silvery rod.
“No!” said Caina. “Don’t touch it! There’s a spell on it. I don’t know what it will do to you.”
Corvalis stepped away from the rod. All at once Caina remembered where she had seen the symbols before. They were Maatish hieroglyphs, the same kind that adorned the ancient scroll her father had found.
The ancient scroll that had led to his death, that Maglarion had almost used to destroy Malarae.
Caina looked at the dying man. Blood bubbled at his lips, and his skin had turned gray.
“Who are you?” she said.
The man glared at her, his blue eyes full of pain and fear.
“Moroaica!” he spat, and then died.
Follow this link to continue reading GHOST IN THE FORGE.
About the Author
Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair 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:
[email protected]
You can sign up for his email newsletter here, or watch for news on his Facebook page.
Other books you might enjoy
The Third Soul Series
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The Ghosts Series
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