Blade of the Ghosts

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Bandits?” said Aetius.

  “This close to Malarae?” said Caina.

  “I think they are mercenaries,” said Hulagon. “Unemployed ones. I suspect they have come to rob the tombs in the Valley of the Emperors.”

  “Idiots,” said Caina. “Those tombs are dangerous.”

  Aetius shrugged. “We’re going there, aren’t we?”

  “They have patrols out,” said Hulagon. “If they find us, they will try to rob or kill us.” He leered at Caina. “Likely they’ll have a little fun with you, if they figure out that you are a woman.”

  “More importantly,” said Caina, “what will they do when Taldrane finds them?”

  “I do not know,” said Hulagon. “Likely it will come to violence. We have wasted enough time in talk. Unless you have a plan for killing forty mercenaries, we should ride.”

  “Lead on,” said Caina, and Hulagon led the way from the road, taking them through a twisting maze of gullies and ravines. It occurred to Caina that this might be treachery on Hulagon’s part, that he might be leading Aetius and Caina off the road to kill them quietly. Still, if he wanted to kill them, this was an inefficient way to go about it. He could have knifed them as they slept, or shot them down from horseback.

  Hulagon glanced over his shoulder, grimaced, and urged them to greater speed. They reached a narrow ravine, its slopes choked with trees, and reined up. Hulagon pointed, and Caina saw three men making their way along the top of a nearby ridge, swords at their belts and shields slung over their shoulders.

  Hulagon had not lied about the mercenaries.

  They had to wait in the ravine the rest of the day. Caina chafed at the delay, but saw no other choice. She went out on scouting trips with Hulagon twice, seeking a way forward, but both times saw that the mercenaries continued to make their leisurely way along the road to the Valley, scouting the countryside as they did. Caina and the others might have been able to slip past, but the risk of getting caught was too high.

  For that matter, unless she missed her guess Taldrane’s men would encounter the mercenaries soon enough…and she did not know what would happen then.

  They spent the night in the ravine, and set out again the next morning.

  ###

  “A battle,” said Aetius, looking at the road, “and the mercenaries lost.”

  Caina nodded, looking at the carnage.

  Nearly twenty dead men lay scattered across the road. About half of them had been killed by sword blows. The other half had been slain by the blows of a giant mace, a mace that had struck with enough force to collapse chests and heads like melons.

  Taldrane had taken part in the battle.

  “Where are the others?” said Aetius. “I thought you said there were at least forty men.”

  “There were,” said Hulagon. “I do not know. Perhaps they fled.”

  “No,” said Caina, pointing. “They were taken captive. Look. Taldrane stripped them of their arms and armor and took them with him”

  Along the side of the road lay a pile of swords and chain mail hauberks. Helms lay like upturned buckets in the dust.

  “You speak truly,” said Hulagon. “There are no signs of the mercenaries’ pack animals. The Magisterial Guards must have claimed them.”

  “Why?” said Aetius. “Why take captives? They would only slow Taldrane down. He shall have to guard them constantly.”

  “I don’t know,” said Caina, but dark suspicions bubbled in her mind. “Perhaps Taldrane has been dabbling in the forbidden sciences. Many necromantic spells require the blood of a murdered victim. Or he thinks to find traps in the tomb, and plans to use the captives as fodder.”

  “With this delay,” said Hulagon, “Taldrane will likely reach the Valley before we do.”

  Caina nodded, and they rode on.

  ###

  They reached the Valley of the Emperors before noon on the next day.

  The path climbed into a pass between two massive gray mountains, their distant peaks mantled in snow and cloud. Caina felt tiny as they rode through the narrow pass, the walls of weathered stone towering high on either side of them, the air cold and sharp and dry. The pass would have been a perfect place for an ambush, but there was no sign of Taldrane.

  Then the pass ended, and the Valley of the Emperors yawned before them.

  The Valley was large, easily big enough to hold a dozen cities the size of Malarae. A cold blue lake filled the northwestern third of the Valley’s floor, and a pine forest covered the rest. Everywhere Caina looked, she saw the monuments, saw statues marking the entrance of tombs carved into the mountain, stone images of armored Emperors or robed magi standing upon plinths. The monuments of lesser nobles rested in the floor of the Valley proper, crypts and tombs of white marble or blood-colored granite. The Valley had a stately, solemn grandeur to it, but the grandeur had an edge of menace.

  For Caina felt the powerful spells layered over the Valley, radiating from the tombs carved into the mountains. There were warding spells, ancient and grim and strong, spells of necromancy and other forbidden sciences, spells that Caina did not recognize. The ancient nobles of the First Empire may not have been as knowledgeable about the arcane sciences as the modern Magisterium, but they had been no less powerful, and the echoes of their power lingered in the Valley of the Emperors.

  “Gods,” said Aetius, his voice quiet.

  “Once these men ruled the world,” said Hulagon, his bow in his hand. “Now they only rule this Valley…but I think their dominion here is absolute.”

  “It is the living who should concern us,” said Caina, reaching into her pack and unrolling the map she had taken from Jurchan’s treasure room. She tapped the northwestern edge of the scroll. “If this is indeed the tomb of Nicokator, then Taldrane would have taken this route.” She ran her finger along a road across the Valley’s floor. “It must overlook the lake here.”

  “Then let us ride,” said Hulagon.

  As it turned out, the map was unnecessary. The tracks of Taldrane’s passage were clear, even to Caina’s eyes, and the road through the heart of the Valley was in good repair despite the centuries. They rode through the pine forest, past crypts adorned with ancient statues and reliefs of battles, their stone eyes seeming to follow Caina as she rode. Powerful spells layered the crypts, wards and traps both. From time to time Caina felt a necromantic spell, and she wondered if the occupants of the tombs still existed in a state of undeath, sitting in silent darkness as the centuries rolled over them.

  The ghastly thought made her shiver so violently that Aetius looked askance at her.

  “Cold?” said Aetius.

  “Yes,” said Caina, “but that is not it. The spells around those crypts are…potent.”

  Hulagon snorted. “Your broken leg is aching, then?”

  “Something like that,” said Caina. She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the twinges of nausea that went through her from the necromantic auras. “And if my scars can feel a storm coming…well, some of those crypts have one hell of a storm waiting within them. Taldrane is fool if he thinks to open one of these tombs.”

  “That was my father’s goal,” said Aetius.

  “He may have been wrong,” said Caina. “Better to leave these tombs sealed. A few of them have necromantic spells of great power upon them. Whatever is within should never again see the light of day.”

  They lapsed into silence.

  “In the sagas of the Kagari,” said Hulagon at last, “it is said that the magus-emperors of the Fourth Empire were men of great power and cruelty, tyrants that even the khans and noyans of my people had to obey.”

  “Perhaps my father was blinded by his dreams,” said Aetius. “He always revered the lords and Emperors of the First Empire. But not all of them were kindly men, were they?”

  Caina shrugged. “They were hard men, accustomed to wielding power, both the power of the sword and the power of sorcery.”

  Aetius sighed. “My father thought by finding the sec
rets of Nicokator’s tomb, he could present a symbol of unity to the Empire. Instead that Sword has brought only ruin.”

  “Among the Kagari,” said Hulagon, “it is said that greed is one master that can never be satisfied.” He growled and shook his head. “Perhaps Jurchan should have heeded that.”

  “I have heard,” said Caina, “that history destroys those who fail to respect it.”

  Again they lapsed into silence.

  “Are we scholars to quote proverbs to one another?” said Hulagon.

  “I had thought,” said Caina, “that we were a Kagari warrior, a harlot, and an Imperial lordling.”

  “Ha!” said Hulagon, shaking his finger at her. “Then you do admit you are a harlot!”

  “You couldn’t afford me,” said Caina.

  Aetius threw back his head and laughed at that, and even the dour Hulagon chuckled a little.

  “You are a madwoman,” said Aetius. “If you had told me a week ago I would be following a Ghost woman into the Valley of the Emperors, I would have thought you addled or drunk or both. Instead here I am, and I keep doing whatever you tell me.”

  “The wheel of fate is as merciless as it is mercurial,” said Hulagon. “If you had told me a week ago I would obey the commands of a foreign woman, and a harlot to boot, I would have slain you for such impudence.”

  “As I keep telling both of you,” said Caina, “if you have a better idea, we’ll use it. Well? I am listening raptly.”

  Neither Aetius nor Hulagon had any suggestions.

  “Then we ought to be quiet until we reach the tomb,” said Caina. “Unless, of course, your better idea is to draw the attention of the Magisterial Guards and get us all killed.”

  “Do all Ghosts have such sharp tongues?” said Hulagon.

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Caina. “There are no such people as the Ghosts.”

  ###

  By afternoon, they reached the tomb of Nicokator and found another mystery awaiting them.

  The road climbed along the side of the mountain slope, rising over the cold blue lake. It was summer in the lowlands along the River Megaros and the Imperial capital, but here it was cold enough that Caina’s breath steamed in the air. She didn’t like the cold. She had grown up along the warm coasts of the Bay of Empire, and she had never liked the cold.

  Right now, the mystery troubled her more than the chill.

  The road ended in a broad ledge below a high, rocky cliff. An elaborate stone doorframe and façade had been carved into the gray granite of the mountain, displaying rows of warriors clad in archaic Nighmarian armor, longswords in their right hands and the stylized flames of sorcery in their left hands. Below the façade yawned a dark entrance, wide enough and tall enough for two horsemen to ride abreast. Caina felt the presence of powerful spells upon the façade, and more within the mountain itself.

  Still, those were secondary concerns.

  “Where did they all go?” said Aetius, his bewilderment plain.

  “This is an ill-omened place,” muttered Hulagon.

  Caina swung down from her saddle, considering the sight before the tomb’s entrance.

  All six of Taldrane’s wagons waited before the carved façade, loaded with their supplies, the oxen watching Caina with indifference. There was no sign of the Magisterial Guards, the mercenary prisoners, or Taldrane himself.

  “They vanished,” said Aetius, looking at the tomb.

  “No,” said Hulagon, scrutinizing the ground. “No. They went into the tomb. All the tracks point there. It looks like…the Magisterial Guards herded the prisoners before them.”

  “Fodder for traps,” muttered Caina. She considered the dark archway. “There are no doors.”

  “My father thought the outer tomb might be open,” said Aetius. “It was the entrance to the inner tomb that was sealed, that could only be opened with the Sword of Nicokator.”

  One of their horses whinnied, stamping at the ground, and Hulagon reached over to soothe the beast.

  “The horses are frightened,” said Aetius. “Perhaps they sense the dark power around the tomb.”

  “No,” said Caina. She sniffed at the air. “Smell that?”

  Aetius blinked and sniffed a few times.

  “Blood,” he said, his face darkening. “Fresh blood.”

  “The outer tomb might have been opened,” said Caina, “but it is not without defenses, apparently.”

  “What now?” said Aetius.

  Caina shrugged. “We keep going.”

  Hulagon dismounted, tying the horses together to keep them from fleeing. “We shall need torches.”

  “Actually, I don’t think we will,” said Caina. She slipped a throwing knife into her right hand and a dagger into her left. “Follow me. Keep your eyes open.”

  Aetius drew his sword, strapping his heavy Legionary’s shield to his left arm. Hulagon set an arrow to his bowstring, and Caina led the way into the tomb.

  She stepped into the gloom beneath the mountain…but found that it was not as dark as it should have been. The archway opened into a vast pillared hall, the thick columns of stone rising to the arched roof overhead. The floor was smooth and level, and Caina took care to keep her boots from clicking against the rock. Any noise in here would probably echo over and over again. The light came from jagged lumps of colorless crystal set into the capitals of the pillars, throwing a pale gray light over everything. Caina wondered how many centuries those crystals had glowed in the darkness.

  The provided more than enough light to see the dead bodies upon the floor.

  There were at least thirty dead men, maybe more out of sight behind the pillars. Most of them had the ragged look of the unemployed mercenaries, but some of them wore the black armor of Magisterial Guards.

  “Is that all of them?” said Aetius in a hushed voice.

  “No,” said Hulagon, his dark eyes flicking back and forth. “Taldrane had thirty men. There are…twelve Magisterial Guards here.”

  “The mercenaries must have tried to escape,” said Aetius.

  “No, look,” said Caina. “The position of the bodies is wrong for that. Taldrane sent the mercenaries in first, likely to trigger any traps. Something attacked them from the front. The attackers overwhelmed the mercenaries and killed a dozen of the Magisterial Guards. Then Taldrane got involved in the fight, and they forced their way through.”

  Hulagon grunted and tapped one of the dead Magisterial Guards with his boot. “That seems a fair tale of this battle.”

  “So who attacked them?” said Aetius. “There must be another group of tomb robbers here.” He looked at Hulagon. “Did Jurchan send some men to the Valley?”

  The prickling against Caina’s skin got worse. She sensed a current of necromantic power moving through the pillared hall, and looked around, seeking its source.

  “I was about to ask if your father had done so,” said Hulagon. Aetius shook his head. “Jurchan did not send any warriors ahead. And Taldrane killed all of the noyan’s warriors. There is…”

  Something moved in the shadows behind the pillars.

  Caina cursed and took a step back.

  “What is it?” said Aetius.

  “Defend yourselves,” said Caina. “It wasn’t living men that killed the Magisterial Guards.”

  “A living man?” said Hulagon. “What nonsense is this? It…”

  Three figures stepped from the gloom, and Aetius loosed a furious, frightened curse.

  The figures were human skeletons, clad in chain mail and helmets, green fire flickering in their empty eye sockets, their fleshless mouths frozen in permanent macabre grins. They carried broadswords in their bony hands, and charged forward, raising the swords to attack. Caina had seen such creatures before when the Ghosts had tracked down the necromancer Maglarion. They were human corpses animated by potent necromantic spells.

  Aetius shouted and moved first, catching a blow upon his shield and striking with his broadsword. The heavy blade rebounded from the chain mail upon th
e skeleton’s chest with a flash of sparks. The skeleton rocked a little on its feet, but kept attacking, pumping its sword at Aetius’s head and chest as he retreated. Hulagon attacked another of the skeletons, his lighter sword flashing with quicker speed, but with no effect.

  The third skeleton came at Caina, and she ducked under the sweep of its sword, lashing with her dagger. Her blade raked down the skeleton’s face, the necromantic aura upon the dead bones making her arm tingle, but the dagger did nothing. What did she expect would happen? A dagger was a tool for killing, and it could not do anything against an opponent already dead.

  She dodged away from the skeleton’s next attack, retreating as her mind sought an answer. Taldrane and his Guards had gotten past the skeletons. Perhaps Taldrane had simply used his sorcery to destroy them. Yet the undead things should have left remains behind, and Caina spotted several of the creatures slumped near the base of a pillar.

  Their skulls had been smashed to powder. By Taldrane’s mace or spells, perhaps, or…

  Caina sheathed her blades, ran to one of the dead Magisterial Guards, and snatched up his shield. It was built of thick wood and iron, lacquered black and inscribed with the sigil of the Magisterium. It was heavy and sturdy, and exactly what Caina needed.

  She caught the skeleton’s next slash upon the shield, and then gripped it with both hands and swung it like a club. The shield caught the skeleton across the side of the head, and the skull popped off the spine and soared into the air. The green flames in the eye sockets winked out, and Caina felt the necromantic spell upon the skeleton collapse. The skeleton itself followed a moment later, falling to the floor with a clatter of bone and chain mail.

  “The heads!” shouted Caina as the other two skeletons pressed Aetius and Hulagon hard. “Take their heads!”

  Hulagon dodged, snatched a discarded shield in one smooth motion, and swung it with all his strength. It cracked into the skull of his opponent. Its helmet fell away, the skull fragments rattling within it, and the skeleton disintegrated. Aetius shouted and swung his broadsword, and the power of his chop shattered the spine of the skeleton facing him. The head rolled away, and the body fell a few heartbeats later.