Ghost in the Inferno (Ghost Exile #5) Page 30

  “She did it, didn’t she?” said Caina. “When she attacked Rolukhan. It broke his concentration, and he’s not directly controlling the Immortals any longer. The others obey Rolukhan out of fear or habit…but you, you’re not an Immortal any more, are you?”

  He nodded again, more vigorously.

  “Then who are you?” said Nerina. “If you are not an Immortal, who are you truly?”

  He pointed at Nerina, and then at Malcolm, and then at himself.

  “What does that mean?” said Malcolm.

  “If he had wanted to kill us, husband,” said Nerina, “he need only have thrown that Hellfire over us while our backs were turned.”

  Azaces pointed at the amphora, and then at Rolukhan himself.

  “A splendid idea,” said Malcolm, “but we have no way of getting it at him. If we throw it from here, we shall burn up some Immortals, and that will be that.”

  “A pity we do not have another catapult,” said Nerina. “At this range the shot would be easy to calculate.”

  “Or some other method of clearing the Immortals from our path quickly,” said Malcolm.

  Quickly…

  Caina looked at the bloodcrystal blazing in her fist and felt a chill.

  The Subjugant Bloodcrystal brought death to anyone who touched it without proper protection.

  So what would happen if she touched the evil thing to an Immortal?

  The thought revolted her. The bloodcrystal was a thing of necromancy, of the vilest sorcery. Yet if she had a sword or a crossbow or a ballista, she would have used that without hesitation to kill the Immortals. For that matter, she had used Hellfire to kill Immortals in the past, and Hellfire was a thing of sorcery as well. Besides, if she did not act now, Kylon was going to die.

  They were all going to die.

  “Azaces,” said Caina. “Follow me.”

  He looked at her, nodded, and picked up the amphora in one hand.

  Caina ran towards the struggling Immortals, the Subjugant Bloodcrystal low in her left hand. Azaces followed, his face tight with pain and exhaustion. Both Malcolm and Nerina ran after him, which was probably bad, but there was no time to tell them to turn back, and they would be no safer anywhere else. The nearest Immortal cut down one of the Undying, the withered corpse crumbling into transmuted sand, and raised his blade to kill Caina.

  She slapped the bloodcrystal against his chest.

  There was a flash of green light, and the Immortal simply fell over. The bloodcrystal had stolen away his life in an instant. It was the fastest Caina had ever seen anyone die. The Subjugant Bloodcrystal pulsed with green fire in her hand, its hideous aura sharpening, and Laeria’s gloating whispers grew louder in Caina’s head. Her stomach twisted, and she wanted to throw up.

  Yet she pressed deeper into the fray. Before the Immortals realized what was happening, she killed a dozen of them, the crystal’s cold touch stealing away their lives. The Immortals started to turn, facing the new threat, and Caina killed five more in that instant, bringing her within a few yards of the catapult. Rolukhan stood atop it, exchanging spells with Annarah, his face twisted in a snarl of inhuman glee and fury.

  “Azaces!” shouted Caina.

  Azaces raised the amphora over his head. In the same moment, an Immortal stepped behind him, scimitar drawn back. Before Caina could shout a warning, the Immortal drove his scimitar into Azaces’s back. The Sarbian warrior let out a strangled, gurgling groan, and dropped the amphora from his hand.

  It spun end over end, tumbling across the floor.

  Nerina screamed, and the Immortal who had stabbed Azaces fell, one of Nerina’s crossbow bolts jutting from his neck.

  The amphora hit the floor lid-first and bounced. By some miracle it flipped and landed upon its base, rocking back and forth, its broken lid gone. Within Caina saw the crimson Hellfire, its glow brightening as the elixir reacted to the air.

  It was going to explode.

  Caina didn’t know if Hellfire could destroy a Subjugant Bloodcrystal, but she was standing close enough that she might find out in the instant before she burned to death.

  ###

  Kylon killed another Immortal and saw Caina standing a few feet away.

  He didn’t know how she had gotten so close, but an aisle of dead Immortals marked her passage. Azaces collapsed behind her, Nerina and Malcolm standing a few yards away. Directly in front of her an amphora rocked upon its base, an amphora surrounded by gathering arcane power, an amphora filled with glowing red liquid…

  Hellfire that was about to explode.

  Suddenly Kylon knew what he had to do.

  He seized the handle of the amphora with his free hand, drawing upon all the strength of water sorcery as he spun. Caina shouted his name, but he kept moving, even as he felt the sorcery within the amphora reach a dangerous level.

  A flicker of crimson flame appeared in the lip of the amphora and Kylon flung the container like a discus. It shot over the melee and towards Rolukhan atop the catapult.

  It missed him entirely.

  It did, however, shatter against the catapult’s arm, spraying crimson liquid all over the arm, the rest of the catapult, the surrounding Immortals, and Rolukhan himself.

  An instant later the Hellfire exploded in a snarling column of crimson flame.

  The blast of hot air struck Kylon across the face like a fist, and he stumbled back, trying to keep his balance. Caina’s right hand curled around his arm, and he was vaguely aware that she had her left arm thrust out, trying to keep the bloodcrystal away from him. It must have made for a comical sight.

  A hideous scream rang out, and Kylon saw a shape wreathed in crimson flames leap from the burning catapult. Rolukhan staggered back and forth, pawing at himself, horrible screams bursting from his throat. The fire should have killed him. It would have killed most men, but the nagataaru was regenerating his wounds, keeping him alive as the Hellfire chewed into his flesh and turned his robes to ash.

  Rolukhan slammed into the railing, still screaming, and lost his balance.

  Thalastre’s murderer fell with terrible shriek, plummeting into the cylindrical shaft.

  Right towards the Hellfire engine.

  ###

  “Oh, no,” said Caina. “No, no, no.”

  She dashed forward, looking over the railing just in time to see Rolukhan fall like a blazing comet into the Hellfire engine four hundred feet below.

  He slammed into it and disappeared into the maze of glasswork and pipes. An instant later of crimson fireball the size of an ox burst from the machine, and Caina felt a tremor go through the arcane aura of the device. More flames erupted from the sides of the machine, and she felt the next tremor through the floor beneath her boots.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” said Caina.

  “What’s happening?” croaked Kylon, hurrying to the railing.

  “The Hellfire engine,” said Caina, a burst of sparks erupting from the machine. The light illuminated the galleries spreading off from the base of the chamber, galleries that held thousands upon thousands of amphorae of Hellfire. “You knocked Rolukhan into it. That means…”

  The Hellfire machine blazed with a sudden plume of dazzling red light, and a tongue of flame erupted from the side, splashing across the curved stone wall. The fire chewed into the stone, and one of the shelves in the nearby gallery collapsed. A dozen Hellfire amphorae fell to the floor, and three of them shattered, puddles of Hellfire spreading around them. A hideous whine came from the machine, the crimson light in its depths burning brighter.

  “Just like the Craven’s Tower,” said Kylon.

  “Worse,” said Caina. There had been only a few hundred amphorae of Hellfire in the Craven’s Tower, and that had been enough to blast through the curtain wall and rip down half of the tower itself. There were thousands of Hellfire amphorae down there, to say nothing of the deadly arcane forces bound within the engine itself. She looked to see if any of the acolytes remained to control the machine, but they likely had fl
ed when Rolukhan called the Immortals to arms. “Much, much worse.”

  Kylon started to say something, and the Hellfire engine let out a horrible metallic scream.

  “Run!” Caina bellowed at the top of her lungs, projecting her voice as Theodosia had taught her. “Run! All of you, run! The Hellfire engine is about to explode. Run!”

  For a moment everyone stared at her, Immortals and Undying both.

  Then the floor shook again, the metallic scream growing louder. The Immortals turned and ran, sprinting for the entrance hall, the Undying following close after. Likely they were following Caina’s command. She darted through the press, Kylon following, and found Morgant and Laertes helping an exhausted, haggard Annarah forward.

  “You do have a knack for setting buildings on fire, don’t you?” said Morgant.

  “Get Annarah out of here,” said Caina. “Go!”

  “I can walk,” said Annarah, though she was breathing hard and her face glistened with sweat.

  Caina turned and saw Malcolm and Nerina leaning over Azaces. The big man’s eyes were closed, his robe wet with blood. Malcolm had his hands around Azaces’s ankles, but Nerina simply could not lift his shoulders.

  “Kylon,” said Caina. “Help them.”

  He nodded, slid the valikon into its scabbard, and grabbed Azaces beneath the arms.

  With Malcolm’s help he lifted Azaces, and together they hastened around the balcony, making for the entrance hall. Caina ran after them, looking back to make sure that Annarah and Nasser and Laertes were moving.

  Another explosion rang out, the floor heaving. Caina stumbled and almost lost her balance, but Kylon’s hand caught her shoulder. She felt the tingle of water sorcery in his grasp, giving him the strength to hold Azaces while keeping her from falling. Caina nodded her thanks and caught her balance, and they resumed running. The Hall of Flames grew hotter and hotter as the Hellfire engine started to break down. They reached the entrance hall, and Caina shot a glance over her shoulder to see crimson flames shooting over the railing. The aura of Hellfire pressed against her, seeming to drown out even the terrible power surrounding the Subjugant Bloodcrystal.

  She kept running.

  They raced through the gates and back into the open night sky, and the cool air of the foothills felt pleasant after the heat within the Inferno. The stars blazed overhead, though far to the east the sun was just starting to rise. Beyond the bridge and the watch towers Caina saw Immortals scattering in all directions. The Undying poured over the slopes, some of them disdaining the bridge to simply climb over the chasm, while before the watch towers waited hundreds of terrified, gray-clad slaves, men and women and children. Najar had done his work well. She suspected that most of the Inferno’s slaves were gathered below the watch towers.

  She hoped most of the slaves had gotten out in time.

  “Malcolm!” shouted Najar as they reached the far side of the bridge. “What is happening?”

  “Get clear!” said Malcolm. “The stormdancer and the Balarigar threw the Lieutenant into the Hellfire apparatus.”

  “What?” said Najar, squinting at the gates to the Inferno. The crimson light within them was growing brighter and brighter. “By the Living Flame! Get clear, get clear of the watch towers! Get further down the slopes! Everyone run!”

  The slaves stumbled down the path in a disorderly mob. Caina ran towards them, Malcolm and Nerina and Kylon jogging at her side, Azaces swinging between Kylon and Malcolm. Given the severity of the Sarbian warrior’s wounds, Caina was sure that moving him was a bad idea. Leaving him behind would be an even worse idea. The mob of slaves moved further down the path, the Immortals leaving them behind. The aura of pyromantic power around the Inferno grew so strong that Caina felt it through the stone of the mountain, through the power of the bloodcrystal in her left hand. A howling gale blew past her, tugging at her shadow-cloak and clothes. The firestorm in the Inferno was sucking air through the entry hall like a blast furnace.

  For an instant, silence fell.

  Then the gates to the Inferno exploded as the Hellfire engine released its power.

  The blast ripped the huge iron gates from their hinges and sent them tumbling through the air like dry leaves. The sound was so loud that it seemed as if the entire world had turned to thunder, though the roar of the jet of crimson flame that blasted from the Inferno put it to shame. The fire rolled over the bridge and slammed into the watch towers, and the stone bridge shattered like glass, the watch towers themselves melting like giant candles. The ground heaved like a dying animal beneath Caina’s feet, and she feared the entire mountain would explode. Another thunderous crack rang out, and the face of the mountain collapsed into the chasm, filling it completely, burying the watch towers, and sealing the entrance to the Inferno.

  It was a long time before the final echoes died away.

  They stared in silence at the destruction.

  To Caina’s utter lack of surprise, it was Morgant who spoke first.

  “Do these little adventures of yours,” he said, “always end with something exploding?”

  “My adventures?” said Caina. “I was helping you keep a promise.”

  “And you did,” said Annarah, leaning upon her staff. “Thank you, Morgant. Thank you for coming back for me.” She looked at Caina. “And thank you, Balarigar. None of us would be alive now if not for your help.”

  “Well,” said Morgant, “we came to rescue you, and instead we blew up the Inferno. I don’t think anyone planned that. Not even you.”

  “No,” murmured Caina, shaking her head. “How am I going to explain this to Tanzir?”

  “Where is Azaces?” said Annarah, straightening up. “If he has not yet passed I am be able to aid him. And any other of the wounded who survived the fighting.”

  “You should rest,” said Morgant.

  “No,” said Annarah. “I am a servant of the Words of Lore, and I must act like one.” Without another word she hurried to where Azaces lay between Kylon and Malcolm and started casting a spell over him.

  Nasser stepped to Caina’s side, his expression calm and unreadable.

  “I suspect,” he murmured, “that when we entered the Inferno yesterday, you did not foresee how matters would end, for I certainly did not.”

  “No,” said Caina, watching as Annarah summoned power, the pyrikon glimmering upon her wrist. Nerina watched with hope in her bloodshot eyes, clutching Malcolm’s hand. “Do you think she will help us? That she will be able to read her journal?”

  “Yes,” said Nasser. “Now we simply must return to Istarinmul alive and in one piece.”

  “Best get started, then,” said Caina. “You’re good at taking charge of things, my lord Prince, so go take charge.”

  Laertes snorted. “She has you there.”

  “Get these people organized and moving down the mountain,” said Caina. “We’ll need to make for Korundush, I think. Tanzir can feed and house them, and I suspect he’ll have employment for them, especially Najar and the smiths.”

  “Perhaps you should give the command,” murmured Nasser.

  “What? Why?” said Caina.

  “After all,” said Nasser, “you are the Balarigar. The one who freed them, who threw down the Lord Rolukhan in his pride and cruelty, the one who burned the Inferno.”

  “What? No,” said Caina. “For the gods’ sake, Nasser. You were there. It didn’t happen that way at all. All I did was pick up this damned thing,” she gestured with the Subjugant Bloodcrystal, “and make a speech to some undead.” She saw the slaves looking at her, whispering and murmuring. Some of them looked awed. Some of them were weeping. “Oh, hell.”

  “If it any consolation,” said Nasser, “I suspect your bounty is about to rise by several million bezants.”

  Caina took a deep breath and let it out again. “Get them moving.” She looked at the slopes above, at the vast plume of dust and smoke rising from the wreckage of the Inferno.

  “Where are you going?” said Nasser.
>
  The Undying gathered upon the slopes.

  “I have a promise to keep,” said Caina.

  Chapter 21: Liberator

  Kylon climbed the path a half-step behind Caina, the power from the Subjugant Bloodcrystal washing over him in a cold wave.

  He felt…

  He wasn’t sure how he felt.

  Kylon had heard that revenge was an empty, hollow thing, a draught of seawater that did nothing to quench the vengeful thirst of its drinker. So far, he had not found that to be true. In fact, when he thought of Malik Rolukhan’s fiery death, he felt nothing but immense satisfaction. Annarah might have been strong enough to offer Rolukhan redemption, but Kylon was not. Rolukhan had arranged for the murder of Thalastre…and that was not even the worst of his crimes. Kylon had seen the fortress of misery and horror that Rolukhan had ruled, could only imagine the countless lives that Rolukhan had had blighted. If ever had a man earned such a death, it had been Malik Rolukhan, and Kylon could think of no better way for Rolukhan to die than in the blaze that brought the Inferno crashing into smoking ruin.

  So he did not regret the death of Rolukhan.

  Still, it seemed less important than he would have thought.

  Rolukhan had only been one of the architects of Thalastre’s murder. Cassander Nilas had been the other, and the Red Huntress’s hand had wielded the blade. Both were still out there, and both were part of Callatas’s larger designs. Thalastre and Kylon’s unborn child would not be well and truly avenged until all three were stopped.

  Even more, Callatas planned to work some terrible evil on a dreadful scale, and had Thalastre lived, she would have demanded that they try to stop it, to prevent something like the day of the golden dead from happening again.

  Perhaps that was why Kylon did not feel empty. He knew that the work before him was necessary.

  He was a warrior, and the Inferno had been one battle in a larger war.

  “You don’t have to come with me,” said Caina, her voice quiet, tired, a little ragged.