Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 06 - Ghost in the Forge

by Jonathan Moeller

  But for a moment, the fighting paused as every man stared at Caina in shock.

  She saw Mihaela standing near the Forge in the central chamber, stunned alarm on her face.

  “Mihaela!” roared Caina and Ardasha in unison. “This ends now!”

  ###

  Torius gaped at the red glypharmor, its hieroglyphs ablaze with white fire, and Corvalis had his chance.

  He lunged, sword and dagger reaching for Torius’s throat.

  Torius sensed the danger and jerked aside at the last second. Corvalis’s sword clanged off the black cuirass, but Caina’s dagger gashed Torius’s jaw. His older brother snarled with pain, blood dripping down his neck. Corvalis stabbed again, hoping to land a crippling blow, but Torius’s arm snapped up and deflected the thrust.

  “You,” said Torius, “are going to regret that.”

  “Mihaela!” roared the red glypharmor, speaking with the voices of two women. “This ends now!”

  Corvalis blinked. One of those voices had an Anshani accent. But the other…

  Caina? Gods, had Mihaela turned Caina into glypharmor?

  The red glypharmor raced across the Hall, making for Mihaela, and Torius struck.

  Corvalis managed to block the first blow, dodge the second, and parry the third. He jumped out of Torius’s reach, but the battle magus thrust his free hand. Invisible force slammed into Corvalis’s chest and threw him back. He struck the railing of one of the stone bridges and clawed at it for balance.

  The canal of molten steel yawned beneath him as Torius strode forward.

  ###

  Caina sprinted forward, Ardasha’s fury echoing inside her head.

  Mihaela thrust out her silvery rod and cast a spell. Caina felt a vicious spike of power, and Ardasha screamed as Mihaela’s will hammered into the glypharmor. The armor slowed, its speed ebbing as Ardasha crumbled beneath Mihaela’s psychic assault.

  So Caina took over.

  She drove the glypharmor forward, the weight of her steel footsteps digging stone chips from the floor. Caina felt the force of Mihaela’s will reaching for her mind, but she brushed aside the assault with a snarl. She had contested with Maglarion, with the Moroaica herself.

  Mihaela would not stop her.

  A stab of fear crossed Mihaela’s face, and the mental assault stopped.

  “Kill her!” bellowed Mihaela, running towards an unused suit of glypharmor. “Damn you, kill her now!”

  The four suits of glypharmor turned, ignoring the raging melee, and raced towards Caina.

  ###

  Kylon danced through the battle.

  Mercenaries surrounded him, but the sorcery of water let him feel their rage and fear…and when they intended to strike. The sorcery of air lent his arms and legs speed, and he dodged their blows and drove his swings faster than their blocks and parries. And the power of water sheathed his storm-forged blade in freezing mist, and a single cut from his blade turned the blood of his foes to ice.

  He cut down another man and sought more enemies. From the corner of his eye he saw Cimon slashing his way through the mercenaries, lightning sparking along his sword. Alcios bellowed commands as he rallied his ashtairoi, his gleaming cuirass spotted with blood. The four suits of glypharmor charged towards the red armor. Kylon wondered who had commandeered it. One of Mihaela’s disgruntled allies, perhaps?

  No matter. The attack had distracted the men in black glypharmor, which gave the Imperial Guards and the others a chance to beat Mihaela’s mercenaries. If Kylon could cut his way to Mihaela, he could end this…

  A familiar aura brushed over his sorcerous senses. The aura brought to mind rotting flesh, clotted blood congealing in the earth, ravens circling over moldering corpses.

  He turned and saw a scarred man in a dark cloak.

  “Sicarion,” spat Kylon, raising his mist-wreathed sword.

  “Why, Lord Kylon,” said Sicarion in his rusty voice. He held a sword in his right hand and his serrated black dagger in his left. “Or should I say Lord High Seat? Since your sister lies rotting in the darkness beneath Marsis.”

  “Her death is on your hands,” spat Kylon. “You poured lies into her ears, and you led her to her death.”

  Sicarion gave a lazy shrug. “She shouldn’t have been foolish enough to believe me.”

  “Is that what you did to Mihaela?” said Kylon. “Is all this another errand for your damned Moroaica?”

  Sicarion laughed. “How astute, Lord Kylon! Perhaps you are correct. But you will not live to see the end of it.”

  “No,” said Kylon, pointing with his sword, “today you will pay for your treacheries.”

  He surged forward, the sorcery of air driving him with the speed of an arrow.

  Sicarion jumped to meet him, darkness shimmering around him like a cloak.

  ###

  The black suits of glypharmor charged Caina, and Ardasha’s panic filled her mind. Ardasha had been a slave and a Seeker’s student, not a fighter, and even now the sight of armed men filled her with terror.

  But not Caina.

  “Be calm,” she said, “and do as I say.”

  Her body of steel, fueled by the power of Ardasha’s soul, shifted into one of the unarmed stances Akragas had taught her at the Vineyard. Caina knew how to fight with her hands and feet. But she always preferred to fight with a dagger or a knife, preferred to avoid a direct confrontation with her foes. She was strong and quick, but most men were stronger, and fighting unarmed left her at a grave disadvantage.

  But inside the red glypharmor, that was no longer true.

  The first suit of black glypharmor came at her, fist drawn back to strike. The armor moved with no elegance, no skill. Caina supposed the mercenary inside it had always fought with sword and shield.

  The steel fist shot for her face. Caina dodged, her fingers clamping around the black armor’s wrist, and she twisted past. Her foot came up and slammed the black glypharmor in the small of the back, and sent it sprawling to the floor. She wheeled and brought her other foot hammering down, all of Ardasha’s power and the weight of the steel behind it.

  The red boot crushed the black helmet like a dried husk, and Caina saw blood pooling beneath the glypharmor.

  She wheeled as the mercenaries in the other three suits attacked.

  ###

  Corvalis threw himself to the side, rolling onto the bridge, and Torius’s sword clanged against the stone railing. The battle magus turned, and Corvalis got his own sword up, blocking three swings in quick succession as he backed away. Again Torius raised his armored hand, lips moving in a spell, and Corvalis jumped backwards and landed on the far side of the bridge.

  The blast of invisible force clipped his shoulder, and he stumbled and caught his balance as Torius attacked. Steel rang on steel, and only years of experience and training allowed him to block or dodge each of Torius’s blows.

  But Corvalis could not keep this up. Torius was too fast and too strong, and his battle sorcery gave him an advantage that Corvalis could not match. Sooner or later Corvalis would make a mistake, and the fight would be over.

  And there would be no one left to save Claudia.

  A tremendous clang filled the Hall, and Corvalis saw the suit of red glypharmor destroy one of the black suits, crushing its helmet beneath an armored boot. Torius’s eyes widened, and Corvalis gambled on a strike.

  He leaped for his half-brother.

  ###

  A nimbus of shadow flared around Sicarion, draining the light and heat from the air.

  And as it touched Kylon, he slowed.

  The shadowy aura drained away the sorcery of water and air. He stumbled as he caught his balance, and Sicarion lunged, his sword and dagger gleaming with a faint coat of poison. Kylon ducked under the sword and blocked the dagger. Sicarion pursued, thrusting and slashing, and Kylon backed away. He jumped back, out of the reach of the shadowy nimbus…and suddenly the power of air and water returned to him.

  Sicarion laughed, spinning his dagge
r in his left hand. “The mighty Kylon Shipbreaker, eh? Not so mighty without his sorcery.”

  “Then lay aside your own power,” said Kylon, “and face me.”

  “And why,” said Sicarion, “should I possibly do that?”

  He charged at Kylon. The shadowy nimbus swallowed him, draining away his arcane strength.

  ###

  The three remaining suits of black glypharmor charged at Caina.

  “Can this thing jump?” said Caina.

  “I…I think so,” said Ardasha, and Caina felt the dead woman’s terror and exhilaration. “I…”

  Caina raced to meet her foes and jumped. Her legs of steel threw her into one of the terrific leaps she had seen Kylon and Torius perform in battle against their foes. She soared over the suits of black armor and landed behind them with a thunderous crash. The entire Hall shuddered, the floor splintering beneath her, and the shock knocked hundreds of men off their feet.

  The men in the black glypharmor reeled, and Caina went on the attack. Her foot slammed into the back of a knee, and the glypharmor’s leg folded. Caina hammered her fists upon the helm, and it exploded in a spray of twisted black metal and crimson blood. The glypharmor helmets were two inches thick, impervious to almost all weapons, but Ardasha’s wrath drove Caina’s fists of solid steel.

  They struck home like the thunderbolts of the gods.

  The glypharmor fell with a clang, and the remaining two suits attacked Caina. She caught a descending fist in her grasp, spun, and twisted, driving her weight past the black armor. The black glypharmor spun as she twisted, forced to turn by her weight and speed, and the sight of the hulking black titan hopping on one foot was so comical Caina almost laughed. She drove the glypharmor into the second suit, and both tangled together, the men inside struggling to pull their armor free from each other.

  One fell, and Caina’s boot hammered down with deadly force.

  The remaining black suit attacked Caina, fists swinging like a drunk in a bar fight. She backed away, dodging and blocking with cool precision. Mihaela had never trained her men how to fight while wearing the suits. The glypharmor offered so much raw power that it hardly mattered. But facing a foe who knew how to fight unarmed, who knew how to make use of the armor’s strength, was another matter entirely.

  Caina backed away, and at last the black glypharmor overstepped. She seized the armor’s wrist, her boot lashing out. Her opponent’s leg folded, and the black armor toppled forward.

  Right into the canal’s molten metal.

  Droplets of burning steel splashed everywhere, cooling into beads of hard metal. A hideous scream rose from the black glypharmor, and Caina saw the cuirass and helmet swing open as the mercenary inside tried to escape. That was a mistake. The molten metal rushed into the gap, and the mercenary just had time to shriek before the heat set him aflame and the metal consumed his flesh.

  The glypharmor sank, rippling and folding like candle wax.

  Caina leaped over the canal and landed on the far side. “Mihaela!” Her voice boomed out with Ardasha’s. “Come and face us!”

  She saw Mihaela disappear into the final suit of black glypharmor, the hieroglyphs on its sides flaring with power.

  ###

  Torius parried Corvalis’s frantic attack, and step by step the battle magus drove him back. Torius’s blows came faster and faster, driven by the psychokinetic power of battle sorcery, and Corvalis could barely keep up. Sweat poured down his face, his arms burning with fatigue. He could not hold Torius back much longer…

  Then he tripped over the outstretched arm of an unconscious Sage, lost his balance, and fell upon his back.

  Torius yelled in triumph and drew back his black sword for the killing strike.

  In that instant Corvalis saw the red glypharmor leap into the air and land in a crouch.

  The floor heaved and shook from the impact, the molten canal rippling, and dust fell from the ceiling overhead. The Hall of Assembly groaned, and for an instant Corvalis feared the entire Tower of Study would collapse upon them.

  And Torius stumbled in the midst of his killing stroke.

  Corvalis rolled sideways and the sword missed his shoulder by an inch. The blade clanged off the stone floor with a spray of sparks, and Corvalis saw a splinter fly from the weapon.

  Torius was strong, and his sorcery lent his muscles even greater strength.

  Too much strength, perhaps, for his sword to endure?

  Corvalis sprang back to his feet and backed away as Torius pursued.

  Step by step, he let Torius drive him towards the wall.

  ###

  Kylon met Sicarion’s attack without hesitation, the dark aura washing over him.

  He laid aside his power and fought with muscle and steel. During the battle of Marsis, the stormdancer Kleistheon had refused to lay down his power when fighting the man who would become the Champion of Marsis. But the Champion, no doubt a student of the Ghost herself, had outwitted Kleistheon and destroyed him with his own sorcery.

  Kylon would not make the same mistake.

  He had practiced with the sword every day since the age of five, and even without sorcery, he knew how to make his blade sing. He blocked Sicarion’s thrusts and beat aside his swings. Sicarion’s confident sneer melted away, his mismatched eyes narrowing in concentration. Ancient and powerful he might be, but he was an assassin and a necromancer, not a warrior.

  Kylon was a warrior.

  His sword raked across Sicarion’s shoulder, and the assassin stumbled back. Before he could recover Kylon whipped his sword around. Sicarion jerked back at the last moment, but not before Kylon’s blade opened a bleeding gash on his forehead.

  For the first time a hint of alarm appeared on the grotesque face.

  “For Andromache!” roared Kylon as the battle raged around him. He would cut down this vile creature, this devil that had corrupted Andromache and started a war in the Moroaica’s name. “For Andromache! For New Kyre!”

  Sicarion raised his dagger. The aura of shadow around him shrank, compressing into a single sphere of darkness around the serrated dagger.

  And the sorcery of air and water flooded back into Kylon. He lifted his sword, ready to ram it through Sicarion’s heart…

  Sicarion thrust out his hand, and the sphere of darkness leapt from the dagger’s blade and slammed into Kylon’s chest.

  ###

  Caina sprinted across the Hall.

  Mihaela charged to meet her, the dark mass of her glypharmor ablaze with white light from the hieroglyphs.

  “I killed you!” boomed the Seeker. “I killed you both! Do you think you can stop me? Do…”

  “Stop talking,” said Caina, and threw a palm strike at Mihaela’s helmet. But Mihaela’s arms snapped up and deflected the blow, and she stepped into the attack, her steel fists raining a volley of punches upon Caina’s cuirass.

  Ardasha’s scream filled Caina’s head, and the hollow shriek of stressed steel thundered in her ears. The cuirass was three inches thick, impervious to sword and arrow and spear and siege engine. But Mihaela’s fists were solid blocks of steel, fueled by necromancy and psychokinetic force.

  The punches knocked Caina back, the sheer force overwhelming even the glypharmor’s power.

  “Damned Ghost!” shrieked Mihaela. “Die!”

  She shoved, driving Caina towards the molten canal. Caina hammered at Mihaela’s helmet again and again, but could not get enough leverage for a proper strike. Step by step Mihaela forced Caina towards the canal…

  Caina let her legs collapse beneath her. She fell upon her back, but Mihaela stumbled forward, arms clawing for balance. Caina drove a fist into the back of Mihaela’s knee. The strike sent Mihaela tumbling upon her face. Caina rolled to her knees and drove both her fists at the back of Mihaela’s cuirass, hoping to crush both it and her. But Mihaela rolled at the last second, her leg swinging, and the edge of her boot caught Caina’s helmet.

  Caina’s head exploded with pain, and even the gla
ncing power of the blow sent her to the floor. Another few inches and the strike would have crushed both her helmet and her skull. Mihaela scrambled to her feet, and Caina did the same.

  Mihaela stared at Caina for a moment, and then charged.

  ###

  Corvalis raced backwards, sword and ghostsilver dagger working to fend off Torius’s furious assault. His breath rasped through his clenched teeth, and his weapons felt as if they had doubled in weight during the last few moments.

  Torius had almost driven him to the wall.

  “Pathetic,” said Torius. “You are skilled for a Kindred rat, brother, I’ll admit that. Any other man would have perished at once.” His movements were almost lazy as he beat aside Corvalis’s attacks. “But I am a magus of the Magisterium, and you are only a shadow-dwelling rat. And do you know what rats do when you pull away their precious shadows?”

  Corvalis’s back slammed against the wall, the ghostsilver dagger falling from his numbed fingers.

  “They die,” said Torius, drawing back his sword.

  It blurred forward with superhuman speed.

  But Corvalis had anticipated that, and his legs folded the moment the black sword started to move. The blade shot over his head as Corvalis fell to the floor.

  Torius drove his sword into a wall of solid stone with all his strength and power.

  The blade shattered with a hideous metallic screech, black splinters flying in all directions. Torius screamed and dropped the broken hilt, his armored hands flying up to cover his face.

  Corvalis rose, sword gripped in both hands, and hammered the blade upon the crown of Torius’s head. He felt bone crack, saw Torius fall to his hands and knees.

  Corvalis swung his sword for Torius’s neck with all his remaining strength.

  His half-brother crumpled into a motionless heap of black armor, his blood pooling upon the floor.

  Corvalis let out an exhausted breath, his arms trembling, and scooped up Caina’s ghostsilver dagger.