Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) Page 23

  “I concur,” said Nasser, and Kylon nodded his agreement.

  “Then stop talking and go,” said Morgant.

  Annarah smiled at him. “You haven’t changed very much in a hundred and fifty years.”

  “One cannot improve upon perfection,” said Morgant. “Now…”

  “Watch out!” shouted Malcolm.

  Caina whirled just as Azaces drew his two-handed scimitar, his eyes shining with the blue light of the Immortals’ rage.

  Chapter 15: Written In Flesh

  Kylon drew the valikon, the sword’s sigils dark, as the others lifted their weapons.

  “I knew it,” said Malcolm, pushing Nerina behind him. “I knew he would turn on us.”

  Kylon was not so sure.

  There was anger in Azaces’s sense, but it was directed at himself. There was also confusion and regret and despair. Kylon sensed something else, too. The air around him was alive with arcane energy, both from the Hellfire engine and whatever dark aura powered the undead, but for a moment some other spell shivered nearby.

  “Did you catch that?” said Caina.

  Kylon nodded, keeping his eyes on Azaces. The big warrior did not move, his face tight as if he waged some internal battle.

  “Didn’t recognize the spell,” Caina said. “Something alchemical, I think, and powerful. But I don’t know what. Maybe Rolukhan is working on the Hellfire engine.”

  “This is stark madness,” said Malcolm, pointing at Azaces. “That man sold me to Rolukhan, and he will betray all of you if given the chance. You are keeping a serpent in your midst. If you have scruples about killing him, that is commendable. But I beg you, listen to me. If you spare him he will betray us.”

  Morgant strolled forward, his black dagger in hand. “I have no qualms.” He raised the dagger. “I can promise you I’ll make it quick.”

  Azaces did not even move his scimitar to block.

  “Wait,” said Annarah. “Morgant, wait.” The assassin looked back at her. There was nothing like love in his emotional aura. That would have been like finding rain in the Desert of Candles. But there was…something. A flicker. Affection, perhaps? Certainly respect.

  In any event, it was enough to make him stop.

  “Why does he not speak in his own defense?” said Annarah.

  “His tongue was removed,” said Nasser. “He cannot speak.”

  “Then let me speak for him,” said Annarah. “He can speak through me.”

  “How?” said Nerina.

  “One of the Words of Lore permits it,” said Annarah.

  “You’ll…read his mind, then?” said Caina. “A form of psychomantic sorcery.”

  “No,” said Annarah. “To violate another’s mind is a grave misuse of sorcery. This spell shall permit him to speak using my voice. My tongue and lips shall form the words for him.”

  “It is too dangerous,” said Malcolm.

  “We have wasted too much time here already,” said Morgant.

  “No,” said Annarah, looking at Malcolm. “If this man has betrayed you, the truth must be known. For truth is greatest and strongest than all, as the ancient loremasters said.”

  “I would not have believed it unless Malcolm said so,” said Nerina. Her face had lost some of its usual manic intensity, likely because of the conflicting emotions roiling inside her aura. Finding her long-lost husband and learning her closest friend had lied about his death had taken a toll. “He…looked after me for so long, protected me. The calculation does not compute, nor does it balance.”

  “I’m…sorry?” said Annarah.

  “She means that she does not believe it,” said Malcolm. “I do…but if this is what it takes for the truth to be known, so be it.”

  “Ah,” said Annarah. “What is his name?”

  “Azaces,” said Nerina.

  “Azaces,” said Annarah. “Do you consent to this? Will you let me serve as your voice?”

  Azaces looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded.

  “Understand, though,” said Annarah. “The Words of Lore will let you speak through me, but you will not be able to lie. Every word you say will be the truth. Do you still consent?”

  “Handy, that,” muttered Caina.

  Again Azaces nodded.

  Annarah stepped closer to him, reaching up to put her right hand upon his left temple. She had to strain a little to do it. Annarah closed her eyes and started whispering under her breath, and Kylon sensed the peculiar flicker as she gathered power around her. It was different than any sorcery he had ever encountered before. It lacked the wild power of the elemental sorcery he wielded, the quicksilver nature of the alchemical sorcery, or the dark, corrupted power that a necromancer like Ranarius or Sicarion used. Yet for all that it seemed stronger, far stronger.

  Morgant moved to Annarah’s side.

  “And if you hurt her,” said Morgant, “I will kill you…and you may forget what I said about it being painless.”

  Azaces said nothing. White light flickered around Annarah’s fingers and sank into Azaces’s temples, and the blue glow of an Immortal faded from his eyes.

  “Speak,” said Annarah, a peculiar buzz in her voice, “and by the Words and Signs of the Lore, we shall hear you.”

  Azaces’s bearded lips moved. No sounds came from his mouth, but Annarah’s lips moved in an identical motion. Her voice came from her lips, but…changed, different, the cadences of the words rougher, her speech more clipped.

  She had also acquired a Sarbian accent.

  “It has been long,” said Annarah. “Long since I have spoken to anyone. My tongue. My master took it as a boy.” He shook his head, Annarah keeping her fingers against his temple. “It is…strange. To speak and hear words.”

  “Azaces,” said Caina. “Did you betray Malcolm as he said?”

  “Yes,” said Annarah. Her eyes were closed, darting back and forth behind the lids. “It is as he said. Master Ragodan sent me to purchase wraithblood to addict Mistress Nerina. To keep her docile. I did tasks for Master Ragodan. I was his enforcer. One day he commanded me to kidnap Master Malcolm. I obeyed, and caught Master Malcolm at the harbor. Master Ragodan sold him to Lord Rolukhan of the Alchemists. It is all as Master Malcolm said.”

  “Why?” said Nerina. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because Master Ragodan commanded it,” said Annarah. “Perhaps other men who are not slaves could disobey. I have always been a slave. I could not disobey.”

  “I told you,” said Malcolm. “I am sorry he gained your trust, wife. I am sorry he lied to you.”

  “I did not lie,” said Annarah.

  “Then why did you stay with her after I was kidnapped?” said Malcolm.

  “Because Master Ragodan was murdered,” said Annarah.

  “I do not understand,” said Malcolm.

  “Master Ragodan was an evil man and a cruel master,” said Annarah. “His enemies at last conspired to murder him, and he was cut down in the street. Even those he served, Rolukhan and Callatas, did not mourn him.”

  “I know that,” said Malcolm. “Why did you stay with Nerina after that? Why did you help her avoid wraithblood? Why did you protect her? You were free. You could have gone anywhere.”

  “I could not,” said Annarah. Again that wave of regret and guilt washed through Azaces’s sense.

  “Why?” said Nerina. “If you knew the truth, could not you have at least balanced the equation and let me know what had happened to Malcolm?”

  For a long moment Annarah was silent, Azaces’s eyes upon Nerina and Malcolm.

  “I was once an Immortal,” said Annarah.

  “I never knew that,” said Nerina. “Father said you were once a gladiator.”

  “He spoke the truth. He did not know my past,” said Annarah. “As a boy my tongue was cut, to keep my master’s secrets. But my master died untimely, and I was sold to the College of Alchemists. They brought me to the Inferno, and here they trained me to become an Immortal. Lord Rolukhan did not lie when h
e spoke of the torments of this place. I was given a woman, and I grew to love her. Yet when Rolukhan commanded, I slew her, and I drank the Elixir of Transformation and became an Immortal. For this I am damned.”

  The grief in his sense redoubled again, and Azaces swayed a little on his feet, Annarah moving to keep her fingers against his temple.

  For a moment no one spoke.

  “What happened then?” said Caina. “You’re not an Immortal any longer.”

  Azaces’s dark eyes shifted to her. “The Elixir of Transformation is not permanent. It must be renewed every year. Yet for many years I was an Immortal. I killed and tortured and took joy in it. Then one year I drank the Elixir and it was flawed. My conscience started to return, and I was horrified by the evil I had worked. I cast aside my armor and fled, and the Brotherhood of Slavers captured me. I was sold as a gladiator, and I fought in the arena. In time Master Ragodan purchased me, and I served him.”

  “But why?” said Nerina, her voice little more than a croak.

  “Because Master Ragodan commanded it,” said Annarah. “I must obey. I have always been a slave, and have always had a master. Perhaps free men can do differently. I cannot.”

  “No, I understand that,” said Nerina. “But why did you help me? Why didn’t you find some way to tell me about Malcolm?”

  Azaces seemed to struggle for a moment.

  “Because,” Annarah said, “you spoke to me.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Nerina.

  “Very few people speak to me,” said Annarah. “Because I am mute, they assume I am deaf as well, save when they give me commands. When Master Ragodan commanded me to guard your workshop, I assumed you would ignore me. Yet you did not. You talked, and talked, and talked, telling me of everything that passed your mind.”

  Nerina did tend to ramble. When Kylon had first met her, she had accurately gauged his height and weight, informed him of that fact, and then gone on a tangent about the mathematical principles of locks. Had more pressing business not interrupted them, she could have talked for hours without stopping. It had been annoying, but he had never considered what it would be like for a man unable to speak, for a slave used to everyone ignoring him.

  “After Malcolm was taken and Father was killed,” said Nerina, “why did you stay with me?”

  Azaces’s face twitched, a similar jerk going through his emotional sense.

  “Because,” said Annarah, “you were not cruel to me. Because you spoke to me. When Master Ragodan was killed, all the other slaves fled. You would have died from the wraithblood. There was no one else.” Azaces closed his eyes. “I have failed so many times. I could not fail again. So I took you to the Sisterhood of the Living Flame to break you of the wraithblood.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Malcolm?” said Nerina.

  “Because it would have meant your death,” said Annarah.

  “I do not understand,” said Malcolm. He was still scowling at Azaces, but some of the rage had cooled from his sense. Azaces had indeed betrayed Malcolm, but the recitation of the horrors that Azaces had endured seemed to have unsettled him. “Why did you not tell her the truth? Yes, yes, the missing tongue, I know. But you could have found some way to tell her what had happened. If you cared about her enough to stop her from using wraithblood…”

  “To tell her would have meant her death,” said Annarah.

  “Explain,” said Caina.

  “No one escapes the Inferno,” said Annarah. “It is the Iron Hell, the prison where men become Immortals, and those who are sent into its darkness do not return. Once Master Malcolm entered the Inferno, I knew he would not come out again. If you learned the truth, you would pursue him…and it would mean your death.” His free hand moved, and Morgant started to raise his dagger, but Azaces only gestured at the implements of torture filling the Hall of Torments. “It might mean far worse than your death. It still might mean your death.”

  “You could have stopped me,” said Nerina. “You could have stopped me from trusting Ciaran or joining the Ghosts.”

  “But you could have stopped me, Azaces," said Nerina. "If you had been even a little suspicious of Ciaran, or thought that this was a bad idea, I never would have come. The equation would have been multiplied by zero and then ended.”

  “The Balarigar changed my mind,” said Annarah.

  Kylon glanced at Caina, saw her standing motionless.

  “At first when you spoke with the Balarigar,” said Annarah, “I thought it folly. Yet I saw the terror the Balarigar wreaked upon the master slavers of the Brotherhood. We dared Grand Master Callatas’s Maze with the Balarigar and survived, went into the netherworld with the Balarigar and came out alive again. I had heard the Szaldic slaves speak of the Balarigar, but I thought it only a legend at best and madness at worst. Yet after the things I had seen…perhaps Ciaran could do it. Perhaps Ciaran could come into the Inferno again and live. Perhaps Ciaran is the Balarigar.”

  Kylon was surprised that Azaces was protecting Caina’s identity. Azaces knew that she was a woman, and he was concealing that fact from Nasser and Malcolm and the others. Perhaps Kylon shouldn’t have been surprised. Caina had kept Morgant and Malcolm from killing Azaces, and she had a gift for inspiring loyalty in her Ghosts.

  He ought to know, given that he was following her into mortal danger in a fortress thousands of miles from his home.

  “When Ciaran recruited you to enter the Inferno, I followed along,” Annarah said. “I knew we would learn the truth of Master Malcolm’s fate, one way or another.”

  “You had to have known,” said Kylon, “that it might lead to your death. If Nerina learned the truth, she might kill you then and there. Or if you found Malcolm, he could get the rest of us to kill you. Morgant almost killed you.”

  “I know,” said Annarah. Her face was beginning to glisten with sweat, and Kylon wondered how much effort it cost her to maintain the strange contact with Azaces. “I deserve such a fate for my crimes. I slew the woman I loved in this awful place. I killed and killed as an Immortal. I helped Master Ragodan kidnap Master Malcolm, and I remained silent about it for years.”

  “Can’t blame a man without a tongue for keeping his thoughts to himself,” said Morgant.

  “Yet that is far from the worst thing I have done,” said Annarah. “If you wish to kill me, do so now. I will not resist. Otherwise we must depart. The Razor is correct that we have remained here too long.”

  Caina turned her masked head and looked at Malcolm. “Well? He wronged you, Malcolm.”

  Malcolm hesitated. His scowl never wavered, but Kylon felt something almost like sympathy through his peculiar aura. “You kidnapped me and let my wife think that I was dead. Yet I suppose you were only Ragodan Strake’s tool. I would wish him dead, but that has already happened. And you took care of Nerina while I was gone.”

  “He did,” said Nerina in a small voice. “I would have died several times if I did not have Azaces watching over me. I…I always wondered why he stayed and looked after me. Now I suppose that equation has been solved.”

  “I cannot decide,” said Malcolm. “Do you want him to die, wife?”

  “No!” said Nerina. She let out a long, ragged breathe. “I…don’t know what to do. But I don’t want to kill him. He has saved my life too many times.” She looked at Azaces and nodded, her eerie eyes bloodshot and watering. “We can talk more once we escape.”

  “Good,” said Morgant. “Let’s…”

  “Wait,” said Caina, stepping forward and raising a gloved hand. “One more question. Earlier, before Annarah cast her spell, you staggered as if you were in pain, you drew your sword, and your eyes started glowing. What happened?”

  Azaces blinked several times.

  “I do not know,” said Annarah at last. “It was like there was a voice in my head, commanding me to fight. It…”

  “Loremaster, break the connection,” said Nasser at once. He had remained silent throughout the conversation, Laertes at his sid
e, but he strode forward with decisive purpose. “I fear we have been discovered.”

  “What?” said Morgant. “How?”

  “I should have realized it sooner, but I did not suspect Azaces was once an Immortal. The Master Alchemists sometimes carry enspelled horns,” said Nasser. “When they are blown, the blast is inaudible to normal human ears. An Immortal, however, can hear them from over a great distance, and will be compelled to return to the Master Alchemist sounding the horn. Azaces may not have taken the Elixir of Transformation for years, but he still has the marks of an Immortal upon him, and he would have felt the presence of that horn.”

  “That spell,” said Kylon. “I sensed a spell earlier. I couldn’t tell what it was, but…”

  “Likely it was the horn,” said Nasser. “Come.” Annarah lowered her hand from Azaces’s face, and the aura of power around her faded. Azaces stepped back, blinking. “I suggest we make for the gate with all speed.”

  “Finally,” said Morgant, gesturing with his weapons. “Let’s…”

  Another flicker of power went through the air around Kylon, similar to the one he had sensed before.

  “Nasser!” said Caina. “It’s…”

  Azaces flinched, every muscle going rigid, and his eyes shone with the eerie blue glow of an Immortal as his face lost all expression. His emotional sense turned cold, becoming more like the aura of the Immortals that Kylon had sensed earlier.

  “Azaces!” said Nerina.

  For a moment Azaces was motionless, and then he raised his scimitar, his face going cold and hard.

  “Damnation,” snapped Morgant, grabbing Annarah by the shoulder and hauling her behind him. “He’s heard that horn. Brace yourselves!”

  Kylon drew the valikon from its scabbard, preparing himself. The others raised weapons as well, save for Nerina, who stared at Azaces with a stricken expression. Azaces himself remained impassive, his huge scimitar in hand.

  Then he whirled and sprinted from the dais, darting between the torture devices scattered throughout the Hall.