Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge

by Jonathan Moeller

  Corvalis nodded, and they circled around Irzaris’s warehouse, making sure to stay out of sight of the guards. In a nearby alley stood a stack of abandoned crates, and they slipped behind the pile. Silence hung over the alley, and as the sun disappeared beneath the city’s western walls the clouds overhead glowed, reflecting the sullen light from the canals of molten steel.

  “Makes it easier to see, at least,” said Corvalis.

  “The Scholae installed enspelled lamps on the main streets,” said Caina, reaching into her satchel, “but not back here. Just as well”

  She pulled out a long black cloak.

  The cloak was a wondrous thing, black as shadow and light as air. Only the Ghosts knew the secrets of making shadow-cloaks, of infusing shadows within silk. The cloak allowed Caina to hide in the shadows much more effectively while letting her move with far greater stealth. It also shielded her thoughts from mind-altering spells, and made her almost undetectable through sorcery. Caina pulled on a mask and hung the cloak over her shoulders, pulling up the cowl to shadow her face.

  “I would like one of those,” said Corvalis. “I can think of a few times when it would have been useful.”

  “Like right now,” said Caina, speaking in the disguised, rasping voice she used while wearing the cloak. Anyone who saw her would not see Basil Callenius’s spoiled daughter. Instead they would see a hooded shadow speaking in a grating rasp.

  “You’ll have to teach me how you do that,” said Corvalis.

  “Later,” said Caina. “This way.”

  They hurried through the narrow alleys and soon reached the back wall of Irzaris’s warehouse. Caina reached into her satchel and drew a coil of thin, tough rope, one end tied around a collapsible steel grapnel. She opened the grapnel and threw it, and felt it catch on the metal gutter twenty feet above.

  She gave the rope a tug, made sure it was solid…and then stopped.

  “What is it?” whispered Corvalis.

  “Sorcery,” said Caina. “Nearby.”

  She had grown used to the constant overpowering aura of sorcery surrounding the Tower of Study and the canals of molten metal, ignoring the damned headaches as best she could. But now she felt the presence of weaker sorcery from within the warehouse.

  “Wards?” said Corvalis.

  “Maybe,” said Caina, closing her eyes and trying to concentrate on the unpleasant sensations. “I…don’t recognize it. If it is a ward, it’s a weak one.”

  “Then perhaps we’ve found Mihaela’s hidden workshop,” said Corvalis.

  “Perhaps,” said Caina.

  “I’ll go up first,” said Corvalis. He hauled himself up hand over hand, moving with admirable silence, and crouched on the edge of the roof. After a moment he nodded, and Caina hurried up the rope. She gripped the edge of the gutter and started to pull herself up…

  The air rippled.

  A dozen men stepped out of nothingness, moving to surround Corvalis in a semi-circle. Eleven of the men looked like common mercenaries, clad in chain mail and leather, swords in their hands. The twelfth man wore elaborate black plate armor and carried a black sword. He grinned at Corvalis, his pale green eyes glinting in the sullen glow from the clouds overhead.

  Torius Aberon.

  “You know,” said Torius, pointing his sword. “I had my doubts about this little plan. I didn’t think anyone would be clever enough to trace the trail back to the warehouse. But the Ghosts are like cockroaches. You turn up everywhere.” He smiled. “And like cockroaches, you must be stamped out.”

  “Torius,” said Corvalis, drawing his weapons. Caina took a deep breath, reaching for a throwing knife…

  “Though I am surprised,” said Torius, “that you were stupid enough to come here alone.”

  Caina froze. Why didn’t Torius see her? Then her brain caught up to her surprise. It was night, and she was wearing her shadow-cloak. Torius couldn’t see her, and the cloak would shield her from any sensing spells.

  That gave her a chance to act.

  One chance.

  Because if she did not think of something clever, both she and Corvalis were going to die.

  “How did you appear like that?” said Corvalis. “A nice trick. I could have sworn the rooftop was empty.”

  “A Seeker shared a useful spell with me,” said Torius, still grinning. “The arcane science of illusions. The Magisterium has neglected it, which seems unwise.”

  Good. Corvalis was playing for information.

  Caina slipped one of the throwing knives from her belt.

  “I suppose,” said Corvalis, “this elaborate ambush is Father’s doing?”

  “Father,” said Torius, “hates you, Corvalis. You know how he feels about disloyalty. But this has nothing to do with you. You just had the poor luck to blunder into my trap. I was hoping to snare one of the stormdancers, or perhaps an Anshani occultist.” He laughed. “You saw how those fools drooled over the glypharmor. Any one of them would rip the world apart to get their hands on just one suit. It made sense that at least one of the ambassadors would try to figure out how the armor was created.” He waved his sword at Corvalis. “Which is why we are having this conversation.”

  Caina pulled the rope up behind her, the knife clenched in her fingers.

  “And what,” said Corvalis, “would Father do with a captive stormdancer or occultist?” He smirked. “Assuming a magus of your feeble skills could even capture one.”

  “That,” said Torius, “is not your concern. It’s a pity you hate Father too much to join us, Corvalis. Your skills would prove quite useful in the next few days.”

  “Oh?” said Corvalis. “So why don’t you invite me to join you?”

  Torius laughed. “Invite a Ghost spy into our midst? Yes, that would go well. The truth is…I find you contemptible, Corvalis. Contemptible and weak. I heard how you wept when your precious little Nairia tried to kill you. I cannot abide weakness. A pity you haven’t found some other woman. I would enjoy killing her in front of you first.”

  Torius had inherited his father’s charm.

  “And Father will reward me for killing you,” said Torius. He glanced at his mercenaries. “Kill him. Make sure to leave the head intact. The First Magus will want it for a trophy.”

  The mercenaries moved, Corvalis lifted his sword and dagger, and Caina sprang into motion.

  She surged to her feet, threw back her arm, and flung the throwing knife with all her strength behind it, her arm snapping like a whip. The weapon hurtled handle-over-blade from her hand. Torius’s armor reached high enough to cover his throat, so she aimed for his right eye instead.

  But her aim was off, and Caina’s knife clipped the right side of his jaw. Torius doubled over with a shout of surprised pain, hand shooting to his face, while the mercenaries hesitated in sudden alarm.

  “Run!” shouted Caina, hand dipping into her satchel.

  She yanked out a small glass vial. When they had destroyed the Haven of the Kindred in Cyrioch, Caina had found the formula for the elixir within the vial among the Elder’s records.

  She only hoped she had prepared it correctly.

  Corvalis saw the vial and sprinted towards her.

  Caina flung the vial against the rough clay tiles of the roof, and the glass shattered. There was a brilliant white flash, and a plume of smoke erupted from the roof. She heard confused shouts as the mercenaries stumbled in the smoke.

  The distraction would not last long, but hopefully long enough for Caina and Corvalis to get away.

  Corvalis reached her side, and she grabbed the rope and shoved it into his hands. Corvalis gave a sharp nod, and Caina wrapped her arms around his chest.

  And then they jumped off the roof. Caina hoped she had guessed the length of the rope properly.

  She had, and they came to a jerking halt two feet above the alley, swinging on the rope. Caina pushed away from Corvalis and landed, and Corvalis did the same, knees flexing to absorb the impact.

  They sprinted down the alle
y.

  “Kill them!” roared Torius, his voice booming over the rooftops. “Find them and kill them both!” But by the time the mercenaries climbed down from the roof, both Caina and Corvalis would be long gone. They raced into the street, the four guards at the warehouse’s door gaping at them…

  A black blur shot overhead and landed a dozen yards away with a clang of steel.

  Torius glared at them, blood dripping from the gash on his jaw. Like the other magi, the battle magi unleashed blasts of psychokinetic force, using their very thoughts as weapons. Unlike the other magi, the battle magi trained using bursts of psychokinetic power to enhance the strength of their arms and legs, making them stronger and faster than ordinary men.

  And capable of superhuman feats, like leaping from a warehouse rooftop in full armor.

  “The other way!” said Caina.

  “Stop them!” roared Torius, pointing at the warehouse guards. “A hundred gold coins to the man who brings me their heads!”

  The warehouse guards sprinted into the street, blocking the other direction. Caina heard shouting from inside Irzaris’s warehouse as the men atop the roof hastened for the doors.

  “Damned Ghosts and your damned tricks,” growled Torius, lifting his sword. Caina backed away, looking back and forth. Torius blocked one end of the street, the guards the other. “Smoke bombs and knives.” She saw a narrow door in the warehouse to her left, splintered and worn. No doubt it was the slaves’ entrance. “Let’s see if your tricks can stop this.”

  Caina felt a surge of power as Torius gathered strength for a spell, and the doors to Irzaris’s warehouse swung open, the mercenaries spilling into the street.

  “Corvalis!” said Caina. “Left!”

  Corvalis flung himself against the narrow door with all of his strength. Caina wondered if it would hold, if she and Corvalis were about to die…

  But the door was old, and it ripped free of its hinges. Corvalis darted through the door, and Caina raced after him. And as she did, she heard a roaring noise, felt a rushing wind, and a black blur hurtled past her.

  Torius, running in a sorcery-enhanced charge. But his sorcery allowed him to run so quickly that he could not change directions easily once he started moving. He thundered past the doorway, and then Caina ran after Corvalis. The warehouse’s interior was deserted, a thick layer of dust covering the planks of the floor. The double doors on the far wall stood ajar, leading to another street.

  “There!” said Caina. “Go!”

  They ran for the double doors and jumped through them as the mercenaries stormed into the warehouse.

  “Where?” said Corvalis. “The main streets?” Redhelms patrolled the main streets of Catekharon, and they would respond to any fighting. Caina doubted Torius would be willing to cut down the Scholae’s soldiers in order to kill Corvalis.

  But the battle magus was fast, and Caina didn’t know if they could reach the main streets before Torius killed them.

  A memory surfaced, a workshop she had seen on the way to Irzaris’s warehouse…

  “Follow me!” said Caina, and she ran to the right. They left the abandoned warehouse behind, and came to a street lined with workshops. She saw a potter’s shop, a blacksmith, a store selling goblets, and…

  There. Just as she remembered. A carpenter’s workshop.

  She risked a glance over her shoulder, and saw a dark blur atop the abandoned warehouse as Torius jumped from it.

  “In there!” said Caina, pointing at the workshop.

  Corvalis nodded and put his boot to the door. One, two, three kicks later and the door splintered, and he shoved aside the wreckage and hurried inside. The room looked little different than any other carpenter’s workshop Caina had seen. She saw racks of tools, stacks of lumber, and shelves and chairs in various states of completion.

  And a layer of sawdust covering everything.

  “Through the back door,” said Caina, “right now.”

  She reached into her satchel, fingers closing around another vial.

  Corvalis raced across the workshop, threw aside the bar, and opened the back door. Beyond Caina saw another narrow alley. Corvalis stepped outside, and Caina followed.

  Then she stopped, turned, and stared back into the workshop.

  “Get clear of the door,” said Caina.

  “What…” started Corvalis.

  “Do it!” said Caina.

  A moment later Torius Aberon appeared at the front door, kicking aside the remains of the door. He saw Caina and stepped forward with a grin, his sword coming up, her skin crawling as she felt him summon power…

  In one motion she threw the glass vial into the shop and flung herself to the side. She heard the shattering glass, glimpsed the white flash from the corner of her eye…

  And then a wall of hot air exploded from the shop’s back door and slammed Caina against the far wall. A sheet of flame erupted from the door, and Corvalis grabbed her shoulders and dragged her away. Caina got to her feet and stumbled into him, her ears ringing.

  “What did you do?” said Corvalis, shouting over the roar of the flames.

  “That story you told me,” said Caina. “In Cyrioch, while we were hunting Mhadun.”

  Corvalis gave her a puzzled look.

  “About the master assassin who spent weeks stuffing sawdust into a crawlspace and blew up his victim,” said Caina. She gripped his arm and caught her balance. “I’m just…I’m just glad it actually worked…”

  Corvalis laughed. “Gods, you’re clever.”

  Caina grinned behind her mask. “Let’s get out of here before the Redhelms notice the…”

  A hulking shape wreathed in blue light burst from the back door of the burning workshop.

  It was Torius. A shimmering shell of blue light surrounded him, a ward to keep the flames from touching his flesh.

  “Guess I’m not that clever,” Caina said.

  Torius lunged at them, and Caina sidestepped, yanking a dagger from her belt. Corvalis parried Torius’s first blow, striking back as the blue glow faded from the black armor. Torius growled and dodged, but a hair too slow, and Corvalis’s sword struck home.

  Yet the blade rebounded from the battle magus’s black plate armor.

  Caina flung a knife, aiming for Torius’s face, and the black sword came up. The knife bounced from the blade with a clang and clattered the ground. Corvalis struck again, but the older man jumped back, Corvalis’s strike clanging off his shoulder plates.

  Caina drew another knife. Corvalis would need a heavier weapon to get through Torius’s black steel plate. Yet Torius himself was not moving with his earlier superhuman speed. The ward against flame must have drained his powers. If Caina could knock him off his feet, Corvalis could land a killing blow.

  Torius raised his free hand to cast a spell, but Corvalis was faster. He attacked with a quick series of swings, disrupting Torius’s concentration and driving the battle magus back. Caina threw another knife, and Torius jerked his head to the side, the blade spinning past his ear.

  “Damn you!” he roared, lifting his sword.

  For a moment a hint of fear flickered across his expression.

  He drew back his free hand, and Caina felt the surge of arcane force.

  “Corvalis!” she said. “A spell…”

  Torius thrust his hand, and invisible force erupted from his armored fingers and slammed into Caina. The blast knocked her back a half-dozen steps and sent her sprawling to the ground, and she saw Corvalis fall with a grunt.

  “This isn’t finished,” snarled Torius, his jaw dripping with blood and sweat. Caina staggered back to her feet, ready to meet his attack, but Torius turned and ran with spell-enhanced speed. He reached the end of the alley, jumped over a workshop with a stupendous leap, and vanished from sight.

  Why had he fled?

  She crossed to Corvalis and offered a hand, and he climbed back to his feet.

  “It seems,” said Corvalis, “that we scared him off.”

 
A flicker of motion caught Caina’s eye.

  “I don’t think,” she said, turning, “that we were the ones who scared him off.”

  A man dropped from the rooftops and landed in the alley. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and wore gray leather armor, a blue-green cloak hanging from his shoulders. In his right hand he carried a sword of Kyracian design, the blade swirling with freezing mist. Caina felt the faint touch of his arcane senses.

  It was Kylon.

  Chapter 15 - Red Steel

  Kylon looked at the two Ghosts. He did not think they would attack him, but caution rarely went amiss.

  And he had not thought two Ghosts could face a battle magus of the Imperial Magisterium and survive.

  “Well,” said the taller of the two Ghosts, a man with close-cropped blond hair and pale green eyes. “Are we going to fight?” His emotions brushed against Kylon’s senses, fear and anger overlaid with iron discipline and self-control.

  The smaller Ghost, the one in the shadow-cloak, said nothing. Kylon’s arcane senses could not penetrate that cloak, but he had a good idea of who was inside it anyway.

  “You’re one of Decius Aberon’s sons,” said Kylon, “aren’t you?”

  “Aye,” said the green-eyed man. “Are you here to kill us?”

  “No,” said Kylon.

  “Then why are you here?” said the man, lifting his sword.

  “Corvalis,” said the shorter Ghost, and Kylon recognized the voice. The Ghost drew back her cowl and pulled off her mask, and Kylon found himself staring at the face of the woman who called herself Anna Callenius. “If he wanted us dead, he could have let Torius kill us.”

  Without the cowl of the shadow-cloak, he could sense her emotions, and she knew that. Which meant that whatever the Ghost told him next, she wanted him to know that she was telling the truth.

  Or she was an even better actress than he had guessed.

  “So I take it,” said Corvalis Aberon, “that you’re not here to kill us?”

  “No,” said Kylon. “Though I am curious why you were fighting Torius Aberon.”

  “To kill him, of course,” said Corvalis.

  “You weren’t going about it very well,” said Kylon. He looked at the Ghost. “Though when I saw the building catch fire, I should have known you would be near.”