“You might have a point,” said Caina. She started to say something else, but a yawn swallowed the rest of the sentence.
“Get some sleep,” said Morgant. “You can’t come up with something clever while you’re exhausted. If we’re about to die horribly, I promise I’ll wake you so that you can appreciate the experience fully.”
“How thoughtful,” said Caina.
“Thank you, Morgant,” said Annarah. She lay down, wrapping herself in her cloak, and fell asleep at once.
Morgant turned to say something to Caina, only to find that she had already stretched herself out on the ground, her eyes closed…and she had fallen asleep. It made her look oddly peaceful, even younger. There was always a hard edge about her, even when she had disguised herself as someone else. He had spotted that hard edge the day they had met in the Ring of Cyrica, the day he had realized that she might be able to help him rescue Annarah from the Inferno.
For a moment he wanted to paint a picture of her lying like that. The Balarigar at rest, he would call it, with the starlight hitting her face just…so, yes, just like that. Certainly, he could sell it for a large sum of money, though he cared little for money beyond its use as a tool. He had lived too long for that.
It was strange that he had lived so long. The Knight of Wind and Air had gone to great lengths to make sure Morgant had lived this long just so he would be in a position to save Caina’s life when the moment came. He wondered why the djinni had not made an appearance yet. Samnirdamnus wanted to use Caina for some purpose, that was plain, though Morgant had no idea what that purpose was.
Hopefully, it did not involve dying on this forsaken rock.
Morgant looked at Annarah and wondered what secret she shared with Nasser, and wondered when Caina would figure it out. For Caina would figure it out, sooner or later, if she lived long enough. That was simply the way that cracked mind of hers worked.
But she would not figure it out if the nagataaru killed them first, so Morgant settled down to keep watch, his blades resting on his knees.
###
Caina lay down, intending only to rest her eyes for a few minutes, but at once fell into a black sleep.
Dreams floated through her mind.
Morgant had been right. Caina had not recovered from the march through the jungle, the fight on the beach, the battle at the Desert Maiden, or even the fight against Cassander Nilas and the Throne of Corazain. So much had happened in such a short time, and it seemed a miracle that Caina had survived any of it.
As a child, she hadn’t wanted any of this, and the thought of the kind of woman she would become would have shocked her younger self. Caina had wanted to be a wife and a mother. Her own mother had betrayed her, setting her upon this path, and step by step that path had taken her to the Ghosts and halfway across the world until she lay sleeping atop this hill on Pyramid Isle.
The dream solidified around her, and Caina found herself standing in the House of Kularus, the coffee house she had owned in Malarae.
She turned, her skirt whispering against the floor of white marble. Tables and chairs stood around her, and balconies climbed up the walls, providing booths were patrons could converse in private. Caina herself felt better, no longer sweaty and dirty and exhausted. She wore the same dress she usually wore in these dreams, the dress she had worn in Catekharon when she had met Kylon in the Tower of Study. A hopeful thought flitted through her mind. Maybe one day Kylon could take her here, and they could live quietly together, without war and strife and mad sorcerers…
A booming knock echoed through the House of Kularus.
Caina turned towards the double doors with a scowl.
“It’s about time,” she muttered.
She crossed the floor, the high heels of her boots clicking against the white marble, and pulled the doors open.
Beyond the doors, she should have seen the Imperial Market, the richest market square in the Imperial capital of Malarae. Instead, she saw the bleak gray expanse of the Desert of Candles, the moaning wind blowing dust over the lifeless ground. Thousands of jagged crystalline pillars jutted from the earth, standing eight or nine feet tall and glowing with a pale blue light. When Callatas had burned Iramis with the power of the Star, the spell he had used, whatever it had been, had left behind these strange crystalline pillars, an echo of the people he had killed. When Caina had touched one, she had been overwhelmed with a vision of Iramis’s destruction, and from a distance, the desert looked like a field of pale blue candles.
The Desert of Candles stood as the gravestone of Iramis, marking the spot where Callatas had murdered a quarter of a million people and started upon the path that would lead him to the Apotheosis.
Samnirdamnus, Knight of Wind and Air of the Court of the Azure Sovereign, stood just outside the doors.
This time, the djinni wore the form of Caina’s old teacher and mentor Halfdan. Halfdan had been a stocky man of Caerish birth, with iron-gray hair and a beard that he grew out depending upon his need for a disguise. Today he wore a merchant’s furred robe and cap, the cap adorned with a silver badge denoting his rank in an Imperial merchants’ collegium. He looked just as Caina remembered him, just as he had on the day he had died…save for his eyes.
They burned with the smokeless fire of the djinn of the Azure Court, the harsh yellow-orange glow throwing stark shadows across his beard and the lines of his face.
For a moment they stared at each other, the wind moaning across the desert.
“Samnirdamnus,” said Caina at last.
“My darling demonslayer,” said Samnirdamnus. “My bold Balarigar. We have almost come to the end.”
Caina blinked. “The end of what?”
“Our path together,” said Samnirdamnus, his robe stirring in the dry wind.
Her mouth went dry. “What do you mean?” Had he come to foretell her death? It seemed strange, given that he had gone to such efforts to save her life.
“Do you remember what I told you aboard the Sandstorm as you sailed for Pyramid Isle?” said Samnirdamnus.
“That the trophies of Kharnaces would be the key to defeating him,” said Caina. “You were right, by the way. He really should not have kept that valikon in his trophy room.”
“I am often right,” said Samnirdamnus, and his form blurred, shifting to that of Morgant, looking as self-satisfied as only the ancient assassin could manage. “I am very often right, my darling demonslayer. Such as when you first became known to me, on your first night in Istarinmul. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” said Caina. She had been half-mad with grief for Corvalis and Halfdan and had drunk herself into an insensate stupor, the first and only time she had ever done that. At the time, she hadn’t cared if she woke up again or not. As she lay unconscious upon the floor of the Sanctuary of the Ghosts, Samnirdamnus had come to her in a dream for the first time. “You said that I might be the one you have been looking for.”
“I did,” said Samnirdamnus. “I’ve been looking for someone like you for a very long time now. Ever since Callatas lifted the Star to burn Iramis and bound me to watch over his Maze.”
“And this is another test?” said Caina. “Another trial to see if I am the one you have been looking for?” She had had this exact conversation with Samnirdamnus several times.
“No,” said djinni.
Caina blinked.
“For you, Caina Amalas, are the one I have sought,” said Samnirdamnus. “You slew the Moroaica. You defeated not one but two Great Necromancers. You passed through the shadow of death and became the first valikarion to walk the face of this world since Iramis burned. You, Caina Amalas, you are the one I have been looking for since I began my search.”
She stared at him for a while. The eyes of smokeless flame did not blink.
“Why?” she said at last.
“Come with me,” said Samnirdamnus, “and I shall show you.”
“Why not just show me here?” said Caina.
“Because I cannot,” said Sa
mnirdamnus, Morgant’s face displaying a crooked smile. “You are a valikarion now. I cannot enter your mind without your invitation.” He gestured at the House of Kularus around them. “Nor can I take your vision elsewhere without your consent.”
“What will you show me?” said Caina.
“What you need to see,” said Samnirdamnus.
“And that is?” said Caina, folding her arms over chest.
“The truth,” said Samnirdamnus.
She hesitated. A very large part of her did not trust the djinni. She knew Samnirdamnus had his own agenda, had known it from the beginning, yet she still was not certain what that agenda was, save that they shared an enemy in Grand Master Callatas.
And yet…he had done nothing to make her mistrust him. Far from it, in fact. His counsel, his subtle hints, and his clues, had set her upon the right path more than once. He had arranged for Kylon and Morgant to find the tools Kylon needed to save her life at Rumarah.
“Did you want me to become a valikarion?” said Caina. “Was that why you helped me? Because you foresaw the possibility that I might become a valikarion, and you wanted the aid of one?”
“It was not,” said Samnirdamnus. “The potential was there, of course, but that was only one of several possible outcomes. No. I thought you were the one I sought because you were the Balarigar. Because you defeated and slew the Moroaica herself.” The mocking smile widened. “Because the Moroaica possessed you for a year.”
Caina frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“The Moroaica, the Herald of Ruin, the Bloodmaiden, the Queen of Crows,” said Samnirdamnus. “Perhaps the most powerful mortal wielder of arcane force your world ever produced. The Kingdom of the Rising Sun was the most powerful empire in your world’s history, and she shattered it to dust. Not even the Iramisian loremasters could overcome her. All that power…and she couldn’t control you. She could not make your mortal flesh her own. Just as the Sifter learned to its sorrow.”
“That’s why you were looking for me?” said Caina. “Because I could be possessed, but not controlled?”
“Yes,” said Samnirdamnus. “Now. Do you wish to see the truth?”
“Very well,” said Caina. “Show me.”
“Come with me,” said Samnirdamnus.
She stepped out of the House of Kularus and into the Desert of Candles. As she did, she felt a searing sense of dislocation, as if that single step had covered some unimaginable distance. The moan of the wind picked up, tugging at the skirts of her gown and the tails of Samnirdamnus’s black coat. The Desert rippled and folded around her.
Suddenly she stood in the netherworld, the colorless grass hissing around her. She turned in alarm, reaching for her valikon, and the sword appeared at her belt. Caina drew the short sword, its silvery blade burning with white wrath in the netherworld.
“There is no need to fear,” said Samnirdamnus. “At least, not yet. This is still only a dream. Behold.” He gestured at the black, rippling sky overhead. “Behold the truth. I warn you…the sight is rather daunting.”
Caina looked towards the sky, the valikon burning in her fist.
As she did, the black clouds rolled back like a giant scroll, and she saw…
She saw…
Eternity.
Infinity.
The cosmos.
A billion times a billion worlds scattered across a billion times a billion stars, and each of those worlds held nations and civilizations and empires, far more than she could ever hope to comprehend. Caina glimpsed cities of shining crystal or cities built in great caverns below the sea and cities clinging to the sides of mountains, more than she could imagine.
She gasped in wonder and stepped back, turning in a circle as she tried to take in the enormity of the sight.
And as she did, she saw the nagataaru.
Billions upon billions of nagataaru spirits.
Countless epochs of history blurred before her eyes in a single instant of terror and blood. The nagataaru moved from world to world, waiting until one of the mortals on that world was foolish enough to invite them inside. Then they feasted, swarming over the world in a tide of darkness and blood and purple shadow, leaving nothing in their wake. Caina glimpsed countless dead worlds, their forests burned to ash, their oceans boiled to dust, their cities smashed to rubble, the bones of their people lying bleached in the sun, a mausoleum for the civilizations that had dwelled there. The nagataaru moved like an endless swarm of locusts, gorging themselves upon pain and misery and death.
But they were hindered.
Armies of smokeless flame struggled against the nagataaru in titanic battles, driving them away from world after world. The hosts of the Court of the Azure Sovereign battled the nagataaru in a war so old that Caina’s mind could not comprehend the number, a war without end.
The strange vision faded.
“The truth,” said Samnirdamnus, and Caina tore her gaze from her sky. The djinni had resumed Halfdan’s form. “The purpose of the Court of the Azure Sovereign is to defend the mortal realm from the nagataaru, a purpose given to use by the Divine at the uttermost dawn of eternity. Sometimes we are victorious. Sometimes we are not. Of late we have known more and more defeats, for the Azure Sovereign has been weakened, and the armies of our Court have been scattered. And now, in our weakened state, the nagataaru come for your world.”
“You’re a spy,” said Caina, her mind working. “You told me that yourself.”
“I am the Knight of Wind and Air,” said Samnirdamnus.
“I suppose that is what the djinn call their spies,” said Caina. “Kotuluk Iblis and the nagataaru are coming here. This is going to be your battlefield. So…you came ahead. To make preparations. Like a spy sent into a neutral city when two armies are about to clash outside its walls.”
“A battlefield,” said Samnirdamnus. “Yes. Behold.”
He gestured again, and the netherworld rippled around them. Caina knew for a certainty they were in the region of the netherworld outside of Istarinmul. Again she saw the shimmering echo of Iramis, burned into the sky by the power that Callatas had unleashed, and the echo of the Moroaica’s rift, the rift that Cassander had exploited in his plan to destroy Istarinmul. The strange familiar objects floated in the air, the trees and the statues and the stairs that went nowhere.
The vast horde of the nagataaru blotted out the sky.
Caina had seen them before when she had escaped from the Maze with Nasser, and again when she had gone into the Inferno to rescue Annarah from the netherworld. Countless nagataaru filled the sky with shadows and purple fire, and Caina remembered the immense terrible thunder of the voice of Kotuluk Iblis.
“They are waiting,” said Samnirdamnus. “They need only for Callatas to finish his Apotheosis, to create his new humanity, and then they can enter and feast.”
Caina remembered the dead worlds she had seen, remembered the nagataaru descending upon them like wolves. For a moment she imagined the same thing happening in Istarinmul and Malarae, saw Damla and Agabyzus and Ark and Theodosia and all her other friends perishing as the nagataaru devoured them, saw Kylon fall with his valikon broken in his hand.
“No,” said Caina, her voice hard and sharp as a knife blade. “How do we stop them?”
“My darling demonslayer,” said Samnirdamnus in that familiar, sardonic drawl. “You know quite well how to stop them. Defeat Callatas. Defeat him and break his pact with Kotuluk Iblis. Only then will your world be saved.”
“All right,” said Caina. “But if it escaped your notice, I’m trapped on Pyramid Isle at the moment. Unless I find a way off the island, there is no one to stop Callatas.”
“You know how to escape Pyramid Isle,” said Samnirdamnus.
“Do I?” said Caina.
The mouth below the burning eyes smiled. “You have known since the very first day we spoke, since the moment you sailed into the Cyrican Harbor for the first time.”
“Fine,” said Caina. “Helpful as ever.�
��
“You know the laws that bind me,” said Samnirdamnus. “Though consider this. You are the one I have sought since Iramis fell. When the time comes, call for the Knight of Wind and Air, and I shall come.”
“And what time is that?” said Caina.
“You will know,” said Samnirdamnus, “when the hour strikes.”
The dream dissolved into blackness around her.
###
Caina blinked her eyes open.
She pushed against the ground and sat up, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles. The last several weeks had been an endless succession of fighting and running, and it was starting to catch up to her. Still, she felt less tired than she had earlier. It was still dark out, the stars blazing overhead, yet the sky was starting to lighten to the east. Annarah lay asleep a few yards away, while Morgant stood guard near the stairs. He had his notebook open and propped against his left forearm while he scribbled away with his right, and Caina wondered how he could see well enough to draw in the dim light.
The memories of the dream buzzed through her thoughts.
The day she had come to Istarinmul…
How was the key to escaping Pyramid Isle in that?
Morgant turned. “Sleep well?”
“No,” said Caina.
“Ah,” said Morgant. “Dreams, then? Did the Knight of Wind and Air trouble your rest?”
“He did,” said Caina, not bothering to deny it. Morgant was too observant to fool, and Samnirdamnus had appeared to him in the past.
“Did he have any useful advice?” said Morgant. “He likes to talk, but sorting the useful advice from the empty words takes some doing.”
“I know,” said Caina, rubbing her forehead. “He said I learned the way to escape Pyramid Isle during my first day in Istarinmul.”
She remembered that day, though it was cloaked in a haze of grief. She had drunk herself senseless in the Sanctuary of the Ghosts. She had met Damla and Sulaman for the first time, little knowing how significant that meeting would prove. A group of Collectors had tried to kidnap and sell her into slavery, and she had killed them all.
Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) Page 10