Blade of the Ghosts Page 11

  Silence fell over the pillared hall once again, save for the rasp of heavy breathing.

  “Gods,” said Aetius. “Just like the ruin where we found the sword.”

  “The same kind of devils,” said Hulagon. To Caina’s surprise, he sounded shaken.

  “Not devils, but dead men,” said Caina. “They were animated by necromancy. Likely that explains why the outer tomb is open. Anyone who entered was torn apart by those things.”

  “Taldrane and his men fought their way through,” said Aetius.

  “More fool them,” said Caina. The outer defenses of Nicokator’s tomb were likely the weakest, designed to kill the unprepared and weaken the stronger. What other horrors might lurk deeper within the tomb?

  And if Taldrane opened the inner chambers with the Sword, what other horrors might he unleash?

  “Let’s go,” said Caina. “We need to stop Taldrane before he brings something worse into the daylight.”

  ***

  Chapter 8: The Inner Door

  They moved through the chambers of the tomb of Nicokator.

  Caina led Aetius and Hulagon through another pillared hall, this one filled with stone sarcophagi, their lids carved in the likeness of armored lords lying with their eyes closed, her hands gripping the hilts of swords resting against their chests. She sensed potent necromantic spells wrapped around the sarcophagi, and suspected that touching the stone caskets would rouse the corpses within them.

  Fortunately, after the fight in the outer hall, Aetius and Hulagon were willing to listen to her, and no one touched the sarcophagi.

  The chamber beyond that was a sculpture gallery. Reliefs upon the walls showed scenes of battle, with Nicokator leading his soldiers into war against rebellious nobles. Dozens of plinths rested in orderly rows throughout the chamber, and upon each plinth stood an ornate statue of peculiar bronze-colored stone carved in the likeness of an armored warrior.

  The eyes of each statue glowed with a harsh blue light, and Caina felt mantles of arcane power wrapped around the statues.

  “Why are their eyes glowing?” said Aetius.

  Hulagon let out a sneering little laugh. “Perhaps they will come to life and attack us.”

  Caina didn’t laugh, didn’t take her eyes from the statues.

  “That was a jest,” said Hulagon.

  “The jest might be on us,” said Caina.

  “Truly?” said Aetius. “You…think they might come to life and attack us?”

  “I don’t want to find out,” said Caina. “Don’t touch the statues. Or the plinths. Or go within a foot of them. There are powerful spells upon them.”

  “Your broken bone is aching?” said Hulagon.

  “Screaming,” said Caina.

  She led the way through the aisles of statues, taking care to stay away from the invisible arcane auras that snarled through the vast room. Aetius and Hulagon followed her in single file. The statues remained motionless and silent upon their plinths, and nothing happened as they crossed the chamber.

  The next room…

  “Gods of the Empire,” breathed Aetius, lowering his sword.

  The room was a treasury, with chests of stone lining the walls, the coffers overflowing with golden coins and jewelry. Stone tables held vessels of gold and silver and jewels, fine weapons, and suits of armor. The riches in this room could have purchased half of Malarae.

  “We are wealthy men, whatever happens,” said Hulagon, looking around with a smile. “You can even retire from harlotry, demon-woman.”

  “No,” said Caina.

  “You prefer to continue in your profession, then?” said Hulagon.

  Again she felt the urge to hit him. “Don’t touch the treasure.”

  “Why not?” said Hulagon.

  “Because there are more spells over it,” said Caina.

  Hulagon frowned. “You are lying You wish to claim the gold for yourself.”

  “No,” said Caina again. “Touch the gold if you want, but ask yourself two questions. First, the treasure is clearly undisturbed. Why didn’t the Magisterial Guards loot the chamber on their way through?”

  Hulagon started to answer, but then fell silent as he considered the implications of that.

  “Second, look at the arms and armor,” said Caina. “They’re of fine quality, but they’re made of steel. They’ve been down here for thousands of years. Why haven’t they rusted away?”

  Still Hulagon was silent.

  “It’s as if,” said Caina, “they were warded against decay. And possibly thieves as well. Touch the gold if you want. It might be instructive to see what the warding spells do to you.”

  “Gods of strife and battle, but you are a vexing harridan,” said Hulagon, and he spat upon the floor.

  “Let’s keep going,” said Caina.

  She threaded her way between the tables of coins. In truth, only some of the tables were warded, yet Caina did not want to waste time looting, and she did not want Aetius and Hulagon weighed down with treasure if they had to fight. She saw Aetius give one of the tables a long look. His House was nearly impoverished, and his betrothal to Doriana was at risk because of it. If they lived through this, Caina decided, she would let Hulagon and Aetius take as much as they could carry from the treasury. Perhaps that would ensure the survival of House Valdarion…and it might buy off Hulagon from his vendetta against her.

  The door on the far side of the treasury revealed a broad set of steps descending deeper into the mountain, more of the ragged crystals throwing pale light against the wall. Caina eased her way down the stairs, throwing knife ready in her hand, and as she descended she heard distant voices echoing up the stairwell.

  It had to be Taldrane and his men.

  She gestured for silence, and Hulagon and Aetius followed her.

  The stairs opened into another pillared hall, one as large as the entry chamber. Great stone columns thrust towards the vaulted ceiling. A dais rose on the far end of the hall, and behind the dais stood two massive doors of bronze, covered in symbols that glowed with the same harsh blue light as the eyes of the statues. In the center of the dais stood a stone plinth about three feet tall, likewise covered in glowing symbols.

  Four dead men lay around the plinth, their blood pooling beneath them. All wore the ragged clothes of the unemployed mercenaries.

  Taldrane and his surviving Magisterial Guards stood before the dais, guarding the remaining prisoners.

  There weren’t that many left.

  “Again,” called Taldrane, his voice heavy with annoyance. “A volunteer?”

  None of the mercenaries spoke up.

  “If you succeed, you shall be rewarded,” said Taldrane. His massive black armor made him look like a walking statue himself. Caina saw spatters of blood upon his cuirass and the mace in his right hand. “You shall receive your freedom, a reward of a thousand denarii, and the gratitude of the Imperial Magisterium. That is no small thing.”

  Still none of the mercenaries volunteered.

  Taldrane let out a weary sigh. “Decurion.”

  The decurion gestured, and three Magisterial Guards stepped forward. The mercenaries shied away from them, but to no avail. The three Guards grabbed the nearest man and dragged him towards Taldrane. The mercenary screamed and fought, his eyes wide with panic, but he could not break free.

  “Really,” said Taldrane. “This is most undignified.”

  “Please, master magus,” babbled the mercenary, “please, I will do anything, I will…”

  “You will draw this weapon,” said Taldrane, and with his left hand he lifted the Sword of Nicokator, still in its scabbard. “Once you do, you will take it and insert the blade into the slot atop that plinth.” He waved the Sword at the solitary plinth before the sigil-marked doors. “Should you resist the Sword’s compulsion long enough to do this, you will live. Should you fail, the Sword will compel you to kill yourself. Do you have any questions?”

  The mercenary kept screaming.

  Taldrane
sighed again and held out the hilt of the Sword. The Magisterial Guards took the struggling man’s hands and pinned them against the Sword’s hilt, and Taldrane stepped back, yanking the scabbard away from the blade. In the same motion the Magisterial Guards moved back, leaving the mercenary holding the Sword.

  For a moment a rapt silence filled the chamber. The mercenary staggered, lifting the Sword as its blade began to glimmer with harsh ruby light. Wild exultation went over the mercenary’s face, and he lifted the glowing Sword, taking a step towards Taldrane.

  Taldrane watched without moving.

  The mercenary went rigid, his eyes bulging, sweat pouring down his face. He started to shake, struggling against some unseen force. A terrified, keening scream escaped from his lips, and the mercenary reversed the Sword, turning the blade towards his chest.

  Taldrane’s expression grew irritated.

  The mercenary threw himself to the ground with a final scream, the force of the impact and his own weight driving the Sword of Nicokator through his chest and out his back. He twitched and moaned for a few moments, his blood pooling upon the floor, and at last went still, the echoes of his dying agonies fading away.

  Caina glanced at Aetius and Hulagon. Both of the men stared at Taldrane with hard eyes. Perhaps they had harbored doubts about her account of the deaths of Armus Valdarion and Jurchan, but the sight before them would have shattered any remaining doubt. Hulagon in particular looked furious, his hands tight against his bow.

  “Again!” called Taldrane, slinging the huge mace over his shoulder. One of the Magisterial Guards hurried forward with a cloak, and Taldrane wrapped the cloak around his right hand. He kicked the dead man over, reached down, and wrenched the Sword free with his cloak-wrapped hand. He cleaned the weapon and returned it to the scabbard. “Once again, we need a volunteer…”

  “Now what?” whispered Aetius.

  “Perhaps we don’t need to do anything,” said Caina.

  “What do you mean?” said Aetius.

  “Taldrane is going to run out of men eventually,” said Caina. “He’ll kill them all. The mercenaries he can force to take up the Sword, but the Magisterial Guards might revolt.”

  “Maybe he can shield himself from the Sword’s power and use it to open the doors,” said Aetius.

  “If he could, he wouldn’t have bothered with this murderous game. Or he won’t attempt it until the very last resort. A master magus won’t risk his own precious skin unless necessary,” said Caina, thinking hard. “We might have had a hasty plan, but he had a worse one. Maybe he thinks he can find someone who can control the Sword, but it doesn’t seem likely.” She watched the gruesome little scene a moment longer and nodded. “If we withdraw, we can find the soldiers the urban praetor sent from Malarae and lead them right here. They can deal with Taldrane, and…”

  “Or,” said Hulagon, stepping away from the concealment of the wall, “we can avenge Jurchan’s murder here and now.”

  “What?” said Caina, and she realized what he intended to do with a surge of panic. “No, stop, you idiot, stop…”

  She started to reach for him, but it was too late. Hulagon drew back his bowstring and released, an arrow hissing from his bow.

  The shot was perfect. It arced across the chamber, passing over the Magisterial Guards, and slammed into Taldrane’s neck. The shaft should have plunged through his throat and ripped open his veins. Instead the arrow shattered in a burst of blue sparks as the steel arrowhead rebounded from the warding spells.

  Taldrane whirled, eyes shocked, and the Magisterial Guards turned.

  “Idiot,” said Caina again.

  “You missed!” said Aetius.

  “I did not miss!” said Hulagon. “My aim was true!”

  “He’s warded against steel,” said Caina.

  “Take them!” roared Taldrane, his voice rolling through the chamber. He started to cast a spell, and the Magisterial Guards charged.

  “Damn it,” said Caina. “Run!”

  Aetius and Hulagon did not need any encouragement. Both men spun and started sprinting up the stairs to the treasury. Caina ran after them, her mind racing. Maybe if they reached the statue gallery she could trigger the spells, activating whatever wards had been placed upon the plinths. That might slow the Magisterial Guards. Or it might get them all killed.

  Then she felt the spike of arcane power as Taldrane finished his spell.

  A wall of invisible psychokinetic force blasted up the stairs, broad and fast and strong. Caina tried to dodge, but the spell filled the entire corridor. It struck her across her body, and the sensation was almost identical to walking into a wall. She hit the floor hard, rolling up the stairs, and came to a jouncing, bone-rattling stop. She heard the clatter of armor as Aetius fell, the furious Kagari curses as Hulagon tumbled against the steps.

  Caina clawed to her feet, her limbs aching, and tried to catch her balance.

  The Magisterial Guards stopped a few paces away, swords in hand and their eyes cold and grim beneath their black helms. They were eager for blood. They had seen their comrades die in the outer tomb, and they had a great deal of anger to vent.

  “Lay down your weapons,” said the lead Guard in a soft voice.

  Caina glanced back, saw Aetius and Hulagon stand, lifting sword and bow.

  “Do it,” said Caina. “There is no point in dying here.”

  Hulagon snarled and threw down his bow. “That treacherous dog Taldrane can kill us instead.”

  Aetius grimaced, but nodded and dropped his broadsword upon the steps.

  “You will come with us,” said the Magisterial Guard.

  “Oh, gladly,” said Caina. “I wager Taldrane wants any intruders taken alive, right? That way he has more fodder to burn up before he starts ordering the Magisterial Guards to take up that black sword.”

  The Guard said nothing, but Caina caught a faint twitch near his eye. That was interesting. Perhaps the Magisterial Guards foresaw the danger. Caina might be able to use that.

  Of course, by the time the Guards revolted against Taldrane, Caina would already be dead.

  The Guards escorted them into the pillared hall, the pressure of the spells upon the great bronze doors growing sharper and harder against Caina’s skin. Taldrane waited for them, and a slow smile of recognition appeared upon the master magus’s face.

  “The whims of fortune are indeed unknowable,” said Taldrane. “Aetius Valdarion himself. What brings an impoverished lordling to the tomb of the First Emperor?”

  “Do not bandy words with me,” said Aetius. “I know of your crimes. I know you murdered my father.”

  Taldrane lifted his gray eyebrows. “Me? I did nothing of the sort. Count Armus slew himself for some reason.”

  “He slew himself,” said Aetius, “because you sent Jurchan to trick him into taking up the Sword of Nicokator.”

  Taldrane snorted. “Your father should have known better than to lift the Sword. If he was too weak to resist Jurchan’s lies, that is his doing, not mine.”

  “And you slew the noyan!” shouted Hulagon, livid with rage.

  Taldrane laughed. “What’s this? A Kagari? Ah, yes, I remember you. One of Jurchan’s loyal hounds. Perhaps you ought to go bay at the moon over your master’s body.”

  “I am the tarkhan Hulagon of the Kagari nation,” spat Hulagon, “and I shall avenge my noyan’s death.”

  “Yes,” said Taldrane. He kicked aside the shattered arrow with his armored boot. “You’ve done a splendid job of it so far.” His gray eyes shifted to Caina. “You…no, I don’t know you. A local guide, perhaps? That must be it. Both Lord Aetius and the tarkhan are too stupid to have found this place on their own, so they must have hired you. What is your name?”

  “Sebastian,” said Caina, making sure to disguise her voice. Both Aetius and Hulagon gave her odd glances, but Caina did not look back. Mentioning that she was a woman in front of so many hostile soldiers was a bad idea. “You are right, master magus. I am a hunter, and Lord Ae
tius and the tarkhan hired me to…”

  “Lies,” said Taldrane. “You’re a Ghost.”

  Caina blinked. “Ah…I do not think I am a spirit, master magus. Unless you are planning to kill me.”

  “No,” said Taldrane. “A Ghost. One of the eyes and ears of the Emperor of Nighmar, his little scheming troublemakers.” He shook his head. “I should have known you would make trouble for me. You…”

  “Truly,” said Caina, “I don’t know what…”

  “Enough!” said Taldrane, showing anger for the first time. “Lie to me again and I shall kill you where you stand.” He raised his right hand, and Caina felt the power snarling around his fingers. “Now. You are a Ghost.”

  “Yes,” said Caina.

  Taldrane nodded. “How did you get involved in this matter? Did Count Armus send word to your brotherhood? He was brilliant, but naïve as a virgin girl. He knew nothing of politics. Perhaps he foresaw the danger and sent to you for help.”

  Caina scoffed. “Really? Are you that blind?”

  Taldrane’s eyes narrowed. “Elaborate.”

  “You dug up the Sword of the First Emperor,” said Caina. “Armus was prepared to present it to the Emperor himself, if he could manage it. Then Armus was killed and Jurchan and an entire building of Kagari warriors were murdered. Did you really think all that would go unnoticed, Master Taldrane? We noticed when Count Armus claimed to have found the Sword of Nicokator. We definitely noticed when Count Armus and the noyan Jurchan turned up dead. Did you think you could do all of this in the shadows?” Caina shook her head. “The Count might have been naïve when it came to politics, but you’re not naïve. You’re just an idiot.”

  “You’re very fond of that word,” muttered Hulagon.

  Taldrane drew himself up. Caina suspected a master magus did not often hear someone speak to him in that tone. “I assume you have summoned help?”