Grave Ghost

by Tia Reed

  “You’re all right.” The genie sounded relieved. That showed what she knew.

  Ignoring her, Vinsant picked up the Myklaani sword and crept until he was just out of range of the vicious claws. A burst of spittle made him spring to one side. He yelped as a drop seared his calf. The pain was too intense to ignore. He lost control of the shield. The kaidon slipped down but with a burst of crimson light he pulled out Fenz’s key, throwing Guntek’s seal up across its abdomen before it could escape. Free to work magic, he summoned a bucketful of water and dunked his leg in to dull the pain. This was war. He pulled his leg out, levitated the bucket and stomped towards the kaidon.

  “Oh don’t. Please don’t. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  Well that was just what he needed to hear. It threw off his concentration. When he tilted the bucket, it sprayed not over the kaidon but all over him. At least now he was sopping wet, the next drop of saliva to hit pained instead of agonised. He flung himself away from the squirming beast.

  “Please no. You don’t have to deal, I’ll go, but don’t do this.”

  It was too late for that because he was never, ever going to surrender in front of a girl. Even a genie girl.

  He tensed until his head was about to explode, and concentrated on pushing Fenz’s metal key back into the slot. The instant it responded to his magic, he switched his attention to reforming a shield of his own to seal the arch. Just his luck the time it took enabled the kaidon to slide far enough down so that all three of its intact pincers were able to scrape the ground. He would have to be very clever to get past it now. Still, a little risk had never deterred him. He concentrated on letting up his shield on the bottom right of the arch. “What do you know? It worked.”

  The genie darted over and under the pincers. The kaidon snatched at her but she moved so fast Vinsant couldn’t make out her form. It was a mega distraction for the kaidon, and he took the chance. A flying dive got him through the gap in the shield. A pincer grabbed his ankle as he landed inside the alcove. Vinsant yelled in pain. He twisted to see a forked tail rushing down to skewer his chest.

  “It’s-a-very-interesting-creature. I’d-like-a-closer-look,” Rosie said so fast all her words ran together. She appeared inside the shield, winding over and under the tails, blowing out a wind that battered them aside. Grinding his teeth against the clamping pain on his ankle, Vinsant batted with the sword. He missed every time. If that unfortunate wind stopped whipping hair into his eyes and just kept the kaidon’s one intact tail busy, he might stand a chance.

  The pincer tightened on his ankle. He screamed. The enraged kaidon was clicking leg against leg, thrashing its tail, pulling him out through the hole. Risking a sting, Vinsant sat up and reached forward.

  “I’d like to see the insect better.” The genie shot this way and that, whirling so fast the kaidon felt the need to keep its tails still.

  Vinsant slashed, managing to nick the pincer at its joint. The kaidon screeched and let go. He wriggled from its reach, swiping at the maimed middle tail. The impact jarred his entire arm. The vibrations shook the sword out of his hand. The tail stump stabbed. Vinsant rolled left. It landed by his right shoulder but the left tail, the intact one, was coming down, and he was trapped. He reached for the sword. It was just out of reach. The genie dropped and, looking askance, like helping was the worse crime in The Three Realms, kicked it his way. Vinsant grabbed the sword. He swiped. Sword clanked against jointed tail, cutting partway through the fork and diverting it just enough so that it didn’t skewer him. The middle tail lifted. The movement gave him enough time to mindpull the metal key out of the lock. As Guntek’s seal erected itself, he let go of the shield he had created across the arch, and encased himself in another. He pressed himself against the wall as spots of green blood dripped out of the damaged tail and sizzled on his shield. Thank Mahktos the genie continued to whip around the overgrown insect. If were not for her, he would be kebab by now.

  Movement on the ground drew his eye. Infant kaidons were crawling out of the damaged tail. Terrific. Vinsant transferred his shield to the joint. The tiny insects swarmed all over the surface, turning it into a black ball. The surface buzzed as the shield started to break down. An insect pulled itself out of a hole. Just as well he could hear Levi telling him to concentrate. He concentrated super hard, and sent the shield with the insects in it to the bottom of the Mowan Ocean. With any luck, they would drown.

  There was still the mother kaidon to deal with. She had gone very still, like she was conserving her energy for the death blow. The last of her three tails curled up. Too bad she was impervious to magic.

  “Impellimos.” Vinsant magicked the key back into the lock. Guntek’s shield fell as the intact tail whipped down. The kaidon dropped to the floor. “Levitos.” Vinsant levitated out of reach of the tail. The kaidon curled around itself. Its pincers reached into the alcove.

  “Impellimos.” He pulled the key out to close off the seal.

  He landed hard. The genie was floating near the ceiling. Her eyes were so round with disbelief he had to get up straight away even though he was shaken and drained. He leaned over so he could put his hands on his knees while he panted the breath back into himself. Out in the main chamber, the insect was thrashing with rage. The pincers and tail collided hard with the seal. No doubt it wanted to make him pay. He was sure glad Guntek’s magic was stronger than his shields.

  “We did it,” he said. The rose genie was silent, so he levitated. Just to make things clear, he said, “I didn’t deal for your help.” She disappeared, reappearing again outside the shield, over the statue of Mahktos.

  Vinsant worked his way over the ceiling, found a carving of a sun and reached up. He stopped himself just short of pushing, and summoned the quartz and key to his hand.

  “Acquos.” Water from Lake Sheraz poured into the alcove. Soon he was treading the rising water. Pressing up, he released the block with an uncontrolled flash of his crimson quartz. Guntek’s seal broke. He only just managed to spell a shield around the parchment before the water surged out. Kicking hard, he dived. The wave swept him into the main chamber and flushed the spitting kaidon towards the left alcove.

  “Levitos!” He was floating over the water.

  “Impellimos!” His quartz and Fenz’s key shot into their slots. Not all the way in; the seal didn’t fall.

  “Impellimos!” Magic propelled him to the left alcove. He pushed the key further into the slot, broke his travel with a hand against the wall, and rammed his quartz deeper in the top hole. The seal fell.

  The rebounding wave washed the monstrous insect into the alcove. It scuttled up the wall to escape a drenching. The dazed kaidon lunged forward. Vinsant tugged at the cord holding his crystal, wrenching it from the slot. Guntek’s shield shot up, trapping the insect inside with the illusion of the Eye. He pulled Fenz’s key from the slot and waded until he stood at the centre of the alcove. He had done it. He had actually done it. He turned to grin at the genie. He found her slumped by the statue of Mahktos. Her left arm was covered in green goo. She was pale, and shaking, and her crystals were dull.

  Vinsant squatted next to her. “Let me see that.”

  She shook her head. Her eyes were so wide, and she was biting her lip; she had to be in pain. Vinsant reached for her arm, but she moved it away. The skin around the goo was turning grey.

  “You’re hurt.” He wanted to heal her. He took her arm.

  She gasped in surprise, disappeared, and reappeared on the ceiling with a soft pop, clutching at the rock and looking at him like he had just molested her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, sick with guilt. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Tears running down her face, she swooped to snatch the soaking veil and disappeared in a puff of pink smoke. Vinsant bowed his head. His hands still tingled from her touch. She felt like silk blowing in the wind, smooth, but without substance. He hoped she had a djinn physic to take of her.

  The persistent drip of wat
er off the statue brought him to his senses. He found his robe and spelled heat into it to dry it. Comfortable again, he retrieved the first two pieces of parchment from the book. He found the last tucked by the pedestal. Summoning a dry tub, he smoothed them open inside. No matter which way he ordered and turned them, they remained a blur of ink.

  “Hi Mahktos, all praise to you, now would be a good time for some divine help.”

  Water dripped. Yes, well, he hadn’t really expected anything. Sighing, he lifted his quartz over his head and touched it to the parchments. It heated in his hands. A crimson beam sprang towards the Statue. The eyes moved. A beam of light struck the parchments. Ink whirled around the page. The papers drifted of their own accord, rearranging themselves and fusing into one.

  “That,” said Vinsant, “was awesome.” He blinked. The writing now made sense. Well, sort of. He read and reread the verses.

  You of eye wise and crystal bold, here will read the lie I told

  Let your judgement not fall too harsh, underneath the triple arch

  For Mahktos ever sees and knows how shameful yet this secret grows

  Hark well, remember all; without the Eye Terlaan might fall

  Mark true, forget your gall; the time is come to tell you all.

  The Eye was lost that day, across the seas it sailed away

  Taken by the Infidel, stolen ere the battle did quell.

  And I, in fear and shame, did not give this act a name

  but hid away the secret fact, beneath the seal and a pact.

  Majoria I would remain, despite my appalling shame.

  In return Djinn did demand, the Eye remain outside our land

  And Mahktos almost slew me down, took away my name’s renown

  But even He could not negate, the pact a djinn did make to sate

  his lust to rule, to crush, to feed, his utter cruel and furious need.

  One more secret I would give, to gift all men a chance to live

  Never in my sight has been the diamond pupil which did gleam.

  Full power of the Eye restored, the Eye will strike a deathly horde

  Wielded by true heart and mind, the Eye will be a godly find

  Brandished by a selfish hand, the Eye will then destroy the land.

  Guntek, First Mahktashaan

  Beloved and hated of Mahktos

  All praise to our god.

  One thing was for sure. Guntek was an appalling poet. And his idea of telling all did not even come close to satisfying Vinsant’s insatiable hunger for facts.

  The creak of the trapdoor alerted him. Footsteps echoed on the stairs. It was time to get out of here. Vinsant slipped into his robe, folded the parchment and hid it inside his kurta just as Tokver of the jealous green crystal splashed down.

  “What do you have there?” the mahktashaan demanded.

  “Nothing that concerns you.”

  “Everything in this chamber concerns me. As a mahktashaan, I order you to turn that over.”

  Soaking wet feet did not put Vinsant in the mood to deal with Tokver. “To you? Dream on.”

  “Hand it over, apprentice.”

  “Uh uh. And I forbid you to mention that I have it. And to search for it. And to steal it from me.”

  “It?” The strain in Tokver’s face turned to incredulity as he looked around and saw the kaidon secured in the left alcove, its pincers slashing through the image of the Eye. “You have the parchment.” Tokver strode over and made to grab Vinsant’s arm. Vinsant dodged around the statue. Green light flared and swept Vinsant off his feet into the puddle. The tingle of magic enveloped him. He knew it for a summoning and he fought. His crystal glowed warm at his chest, fixing the parchment to him even as Tokver tried to pry it free. Tokver jumped on top of him and ripped at his kurta. Vinsant clutched the parchment with one hand and scratched at Tokver’s face with the other. He drew blood as Tokver broke the skin on his chest.

  A scrape made them both pause. Mahktos’s eyes were open. Caught in their gaze, Tokver froze. Vinsant thought about how he might best gloat as he waited for the crimson light to smother Tokver. As if Mahktos knew what he was thinking, the eyes shifted onto him. Under their gaze, he couldn’t feel anything other than shame. Seconds later, the statue turned to stone. Vinsant got up, stepped over Fenz’s key and walked up the stairs into the library. Tokver was right on his heels, muttering under his breath. In the library, he seized Vinsant by the shoulder.

  “You will show me the parchment.”

  “Order me in front of Mahktos.” Tokver raised a hand. Vinsant conjured a ball of heat right over it. Screaming, Tokver extinguished the ball. “Oh, and Mahktashaan Tokver,” Vinsant said before the slimeball could retaliate. He lowered his hood. “I am a prince as well as Mahktos’s vassal. If Mahktos doesn’t make you pay for your disrespect, I will, even if it is after I become majoria.”

  Tokver was groaning over his hand, though Vinsant could see it was turning blue from a cold spell. A neat trick he would have to try sometime. For now, he just wanted his bed. Sticking his chin in the air, he walked out. The second he turned the corner, he ran.

  Chapter 20

  THERE WAS A reason the narrow path down the treacherous cliff that framed Mage Cove was seldom traversed by day and never attempted at night. It had little to do with ease of access from Kaijoor, though nobody could dispute the trip across the rocks was quicker unless one was visiting the cemetery on the hill. The two apprentices who, at different times, had fallen to their death had been level-headed youths. The mages of the time had set white death markers at the top of the cliff in their memory, to remind the reckless of the potential risk. Jordayne walked right past the thin spires and, hands on hips, looked down on the silent, majestic guild. Oversized domes covered in gold and emerald tiles capped slender minarets which swept up to thin spikes. Dindarin lent the guild a magical sheen as he loomed large over the black water of Lake Tejolin. The occupants could have been dead for the lack of movement inside. Always one to relish the spice a little danger added to life, Jordayne took the bracelets from her saddlebag, slid them onto her arms, and beckoned Rokan over.

  “We’ll descend. Dario and his companions can wait. Two flashes of a lantern and they can return to the city. Three and they ride for help.”

  With a nervous glance at the death spires, Rokan relayed the order and unhooked a lantern from his saddle. “Take this, Lady. You’ll light my path from behind.”

  Their feet crunched over pebble-strewn dirt. The steep incline was uncomfortable on her knees. In places, they were forced against the cliff face to navigate a crumbling ledge or to jump a jagged gap eroded by the millennia.

  A lamp appeared below, at the front door to the guild. That at least suggested the flash of light had not borne dire consequences. She waved her own lantern high to signal it had been seen. They were not yet halfway down but the steep slope taxed her calves. Nothing less than a deep massage would see her rise tomorrow. And her preferred masseur was waiting at the bottom of the descent.

  How disappointing it was not him but Magus Kaztyne waiting for them across the broad, flat rocks. “Lady Jordayne,” he greeted, his surprise evident.

  “Is all well inside?” she asked.

  “Yes, though since we are awake Drucilamere is itching to talk.”

  “Good.” She passed the lamp to Rokan, who shuttered it twice in signal to Dario above. Matisse had been right; he was a competent guard. “There are urgent matters to discuss.”

  Drucilamere filled the arched doorway. “None which could wait until morning,” he said with a frown. “Or hold until our own affairs are sorted.”

  Jordayne moved close and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. How typical of a brooding male to choose not to respond. And to ignore the flare of desire the light tickle of his groomed moustache aroused. It did make her wonder if he had missed her at all. Well there was the rest of the night to tease the righteous indignation out of him. She ran the tip of her finger down his neckline in a flirt that
ended in an admonishing jab. “As a matter of fact they will not, so don’t flatter yourself. I would not risk my neck on the path solely out of concern for the wellbeing of those in this hall, except perhaps for that dear little boy.”

  “You saw the light?” Kaztyne asked. His sloppy, blue kurta and faded black shalvar could be forgiven at this late hour.

  “Was there anybody in Kaijoor who did not?”

  She tilted her chin at Drucilamere, a clear expectation he move aside. He had no choice but to admit her into the internal iwan that served as an entrance chamber. Second in line to the throne and patron of this guild, Jordayne thought it high time she reminded her master magus just who boasted rank. Sure to set her bracelets jingling – she had found even primitive music could lure the most stubborn of men – she glided under the serrated edges of the tiled arch, along the green floor of the long hall, to the large back room, where Santesh was gazing out the window at the dark lake.

  “A moon-blessed night, Lady Jordayne,” the young mage greeted with a bow that spread the edges of his deep green cloak. With Daesoa near new, and evil plaguing the city, she rather thought it was not, but she returned the greeting in kind.

  “We’ll talk here,” Drucilamere said, waving Rokan to one of the more comfortable chairs in front of the window. In deference to the hour, he too had thrown on an ordinary black kurta with the barest of trimmings rather than the mages’ ceremonial green shirt and kamarband.