Ghost in the Blood (The Ghosts) (20 page)

In the other she pulled a chain. Behind her stumbled a blank-eyed boy of six or seven years, one of the enspelled collars around his neck. Caina saw the family resemblance at once. Vorena Chlorus had put a slave collar on her son. 

Agria and Messana took up position on opposite sides of the pillars, keeping well away from the glowing green sigils. Jadriga and Vorena stopped by the stone slab, Vorena’s son staring at nothing. Jadriga smote the staff against the ground, and again Caina heard the thunderclap and felt the surge of power. 

An answering rumble came from the pit.

“Hear me, oh great dark one!” said Jadriga in her formal High Nighmarian, her rich voice echoing through the chamber. “The hour draws nigh, and we who shall shatter your chains stand before you! Hearken to our words, for we who shall draw your power now speak! Again we give the offerings to loosen your chains, to prepare for the Opening of the Way!” 

The pit rumbled, a tremor going through the stone floor. 

“Now, Vorena,” said Jadriga. 

Vorena hesitated, staring at her son.

“It is time, Vorena,” repeated Jadriga. “This is the last chain. The final link holding back your power. Sever it, and you shall have all that you desire.” 

“Yes, Vorena,” said Agria, “Listen to the honored Moroaica. Have you not seen the blessings I gained when I severed my chains, when I brought my husband and daughter to this very chamber? You, too, can have that power!”

“Listen to Agria,” said Messana. “Do not let mere sentiment stay your arm. Take what is rightfully ours, and join us. Become our sister in blood as well as name.”

For a long moment Caina saw Vorena’s expression waver. Then the cold hardness returned to it. She nodded, lifted her son, and laid him upon the tilted slab.

And with soul-sick horror Caina realized what was about to happen. Her mind hot with fury, she braced herself to leap out from behind the brazier, ghostsilver dagger in hand. But a colder part of her mind, the Ghost-trained part, stopped her. She couldn’t possibly fight the four of them and win. She couldn’t even fight Jadriga and win. And she had to survive. She had to let Halfdan know of the horrors happening in this place so he could stop them, so Agria and Icaraeus could pay for the nightmares they had fashioned here. 

Vorena lifted the dagger, chanting in the strange tongue. The blade glimmered in the red light, and Caina felt the crawling tingle of sorcerous power. Vorena’s chant rose to a scream, her back arched.

The dagger came plunging down.

And the channels on the tilted slab filled with blood. 

Caina felt herself shaking with rage, the silver dagger trembling in her grasp. 

Most of the blood flowed into the trough, draining into the black pit. Jadriga lifted Vorena’s chalice, holding it beneath one of the channels. Soon the chalice filled with blood. “Now drink, my daughter. Drink, and you shall know true freedom.” 

Vorena lifted the chalice with trembling hands and drank. Her throat worked, red lines trickling down her jaw and neck. She fell to her knees, breathing hard, her face twisted in ecstasy. There was another surge of sorcery, and a snarl of flashing green light. 

When the light faded, Vorena had changed. She now looked ten years younger and forty pounds lighter. Her face had gained the same cruel, overripe beauty Caina had noted in both Agria and Messana. 

“How do you feel, my daughter?” said Jadriga, voice soft.

“I feel,” said Vorena, trembling, chest heaving with her breath, “I feel, I feel…” She pointed and concentrated, and the dagger floated from the floor into her hand. “I feel reborn. The power…the power is so much stronger.” She climbed to shaking feet, grabbing the bloodstained slab for support, ignoring her dead son’s fingers where they brushed against her own. “I have never truly been alive before this moment.”

“Yes,” said Jadriga. “Now you understand. Now you know what it is to be free.”

“Honored Moroaica,” said Vorena, “show me more.” 

“Then you shall see, and you shall aid me,” said Jadriga. She again struck the staff against the floor. 

Four men entered. They looked like more of Icaraeus’s mercenaries, the rune-carved bracers upon their forearms, yet their faces had been painted with simpler versions of Jadriga’s own swirling mask. Between the mercenaries walked a dozen slaves, their expressions slack, their collars glittering. At Jadriga’s direction, they pulled the child’s corpse from the slab. One of the men carried it to the far archway. The others wrestled another slave, a hollow-faced woman, upon the slab. 

“Great dark one, hear me!” called Jadriga towards the pit. “Again we come before you, and again we bring offerings! Let this blood break your chains and shatter the locks upon your prison. Soon the Opening of the Way shall come, and you will walk again upon this earth!” 

She took the dagger from Vorena Chlorus, raised it high, and brought it plunging down upon her victim. Again the blood filled the stone channels, pouring into the pit. Again the chamber trembled in response. The air filled with snarling crackle of mighty sorcery, and Caina felt the dark presence in the pit stirring, its will reaching out to touch them. Agria, Messana, and Vorena all knelt around the slab, filling their goblets, and they drank in unison. Their expressions twisted in dark ecstasy as green light swirled around them, age falling away from their faces, new vitality flooding their limbs.

Jadriga gestured, and the mercenaries dragged away the corpse, throwing a fresh slave onto the slab. Again she spoke the chant, raised the dagger, and brought it down. Again the blood flowed into the channels and the pit, the goblets filling.

And again. And again. And again.

Caina wanted nothing more than to look away. But she forced herself to watch. She had suspected that Agria was killing the slaves, using their blood for sorcerous experiments. But she had never imagined anything as horrible as this. This was worse than what Maglarion had done, all those years ago. He had been an evil man, cruel and cold…but his eyes had never lit up with the reveling glee she now saw in the faces of the noblewomen.  

At last the carnage ended. Agria, Messana, and Chlorus all knelt, breathing hard, their faces flushed, their lips red with the blood of their victims. Jadriga remained calm as ever, but her face resembled a hideous mask beneath the paint, and her black eyes reflected the fire of the pit. She had drunk no blood herself.

Agria and the others might have required blood to fuel their sorcerous abilities, but Caina suspected Jadriga’s powers were far beyond that. 

“Clear away these vessels,” said Jadriga to the mercenaries. “I require time for meditation. Do not disturb me.”

“As you command, great Moroaica,” said one of the men. Jadriga turned, cloak rustling against the black floor.

“Jadriga!” 

Naelon Icaraeus stalked out of the far archway, his shirt hanging open. Caina saw the wound she had given him across his chest and shoulder. Jadriga watched him, her face still, while the noblewomen glared at him with contempt.

“You will refer to her,” hissed Agria, “as the honored Moroaica.” 

Jadriga lifted a hand, and Agria subsided. “What do you wish, Naelon?”

“Not that you’re finished with these little games of yours,” said Icaraeus, pointing at his chest, “perhaps you can spare the time to heal me.”

“These are no games,” said Jadriga. “You have seen the power the rituals bestow upon my students. Very soon I will be ready to work the Opening of the Way. Then you will see power of a sort that no mortal eyes have ever beheld.” 

“Little good that power did me,” said Icaraeus. “I was attacked by the Ghosts. I barely escaped with my life.”

“Yet you are here,” said Jadriga. “It seems you have little cause for complaint.” 

“You should have warned me…”

“I did, did I not?” said Jadriga. “I gave you the location of the Ghosts, once I had taken it from the mind of that determined child.” She paused, gazing into the distance, and for a horrified moment Caina thought that Jadriga had sensed her. “A most determined child. She has known suffering that you can scarce comprehend, and it has made her stronger, like iron forged anew into steel. Oh, but she would make a mighty student. Her mind, my lord Icaraeus, is far stronger than yours.” A faint smile touched her lips. “Perhaps she gave you those wounds you now carry.” 

“They almost killed me,” said Icaraeus. “You should have…”

“I? You should have killed them when you had the chance,” said Jadriga. “It is not my fault they escaped the reach of your incompetent hirelings. I am disappointed in you. I wish no interference from the Emperor’s Ghosts.”

Icaraeus sneered. “Compared to your power, the Ghosts are rabbits.”

“Yet effective rabbits. They almost killed you, as you whined a moment ago,” said Jadriga. “I will not have them interfere with my plans, not when I am so close.” She turned to go.

“The fault is yours, not mine.” Icaraeus grabbed Jadriga by the shoulder, spun her to face him. “If you had…”

The sudden tingle of sorcery was so strong and so sharp that it felt like a knife blow against Caina’s skin. There was a thunderclap, and Icaraeus went hurtling through the air, tumbling like a rag doll. He came to an abrupt stop, hanging upside down, and floated slowly to face Jadriga. 

“You should not touch me,” said Jadriga, face and voice serene. “Do it again and Agria will cut the fingers from your hands and feed them to you one at a time.” 

“And gladly,” said Agria with a mocking laugh. 

“Put me down,” said Icaraeus. Caina heard the terror in his voice. “I said to put me…”

“Silence,” said Jadriga, crooking a finger. Icaraeus spun, and landed on his knees before Jadriga, his wrists pinned to his ankles, his body held immobile by the crushing force of Jadriga’s will. “Listen to me well, child. You have served me ably enough, and you shall have the throne of the Empire, as promised, once I have completed the Opening of the Way. But you are not one of my students - the little tricks you have learned barely qualify as true sorcery. Another fool would take your place just as easily. And you have disappointed me gravely. Do so again, and our association shall come to an end. And you will find that most painful. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” rasped Icaraeus, sweat pouring down his face, the cords in his neck bulging. “Yes, great Moroaica.” 

“Good,” said Jadriga. She gestured, green light flaring around her fingertips, and pressed a hand to his chest. Icaraeus fell backwards with a scream of agony, limbs thrashing. Slowly fit subsided, and he climbed to his feet, still shaking. 

The wounds upon his chest and shoulder had vanished. 

“Now,” said Jadriga, “guard the entrance. If the Ghosts found you, they might have tracked you here. And I will not have them interrupt me, not now.”

Icaraeus took a shaking breath. “I…I was unable to obtain more slaves, great Moroaica. Tigrane never showed up. The Ghosts must have found and killed him.”

“That is of no concern,” said Jadriga. “My progress has been better than I anticipated. I have enough slaves here to finish the work. And the final key to the Opening of the Way has been in my possession for years.”

“And you couldn’t have done it without my aid,” said Icaraeus.

Again the faint smile flickered over Jadriga’s face. “Indeed not. And you shall be rewarded, as I have promised. But only if you guard this place well. No one must interrupt.”

“It shall be as you say,” said Icaraeus. “I don't have as many men left as I would wish. But I still have more than enough to guard the doors and the stairs.”

“You are correct,” said Jadriga. “It shall be as I say.”

Caina saw a single muscle trembling in Icaraeus’s jaw. 

Jadriga turned and walked towards the far archway, the noblewomen trailing after her. Icaraeus stared after them for a moment, then shook his head and stalked away. The mercenaries resumed the work of clearing away the slaughtered corpses, likewise carrying them towards the far archway. 

Caina took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Yes, she had seen horrors, but if she did not keep her wits about her, she might well join the corpses. Icaraeus had set his men to watch the doorway and the stairs. No way to sneak past them, not if they were attentive. She had to find another way out.

She turned her reluctant gaze to the far archway. 

If Jadriga had slaughtered hundreds of slaves here over the last five years, no wonder the air stank of rotting meat. But she had to have some way of disposing of the corpses. Some pit, some cavern. It might open up to the surface at some point, or even into the labyrinthine maze of Marsis’s sewers. 

It was unlikely. But Caina could think of nothing else. She circled around the outer edge of the domed chamber, keeping to the wall. 

It also kept her as far from the pit and the bloody slab as possible. 

Finally she reached the far archway. From within Caina saw the faint blue glow of the enspelled spheres. She took a deep breath, winced at the smell, and started forward.

Chapter 20 - Blood of the Solmonari

The black corridor was as high and gloomy as the others, dimly lit by the blue spheres on their iron stands. Caina crept forward a step at a time, ears and eyes straining for any hint of danger. Ahead she glimpsed the crimson swirl of Jadriga’s cloak, and Caina pressed herself into the shadows. She saw Jadriga and the noblewomen vanish into a side door. Further down the corridor Caina saw the mercenaries, still dragging corpses, until they vanished into the darkness. 

The corpses Jadriga had murdered. 

Caina hesitated, her fingers clenching the ghostsilver dagger. If she could catch Jadriga off guard…

No. Absolute folly. Confronting Jadriga would mean a quick and painful death. And only if she was fortunate. The mercenaries might lead her to a way out. Still keeping to the shadows, Caina continued forward, listening for any sign of danger. 

The faint sound of a child’s laughter would not have come to her ears otherwise.

Caina froze. Laughter seemed so out of place in this hellish pit that she wondered if it had been in her imagination, or if her mind had snapped from the horrors. But, no, there it was again. Caina resumed walking, listening. She passed the door Jadriga had entered. Further down the black corridor she found another door, massive and thick, banded with black iron. It didn’t look all that old. She reached out, tried the handle, and found it locked. 

This was folly. She ought to find a way to escape. But the laughter had been so out of place. Her instincts screamed that something important lay behind that door, something that she had to see. 

Caina made up her mind. She drew the rune-marked key from her belt, thrust it into the doorway, and turned. The lock released with a click, and the door swung open. 

And to her surprise, Caina found herself in a pleasant sitting room. 

It lacked the opulence of Agria Palaegus’s home, but was comfortable nonetheless. Her boots sank into a thick carpet. Couches and chairs stood scattered around the room. Glass spheres provided warm light, unlike the ghostly blue glow of the black corridors. Was this Jadriga’s living quarters? Somehow Caina doubted it. She suspected comfort meant nothing to Jadriga. 

She heard another laugh, and the murmur of a woman’s voice. It came from an open door on the far side of the sitting room. Caina crossed the room, keeping her footfalls silent, and peered through the door. It opened into a small library, the shelves lined with books. A woman in a black dress sat in a chair, a boy of four or five years in her lap. Another boy, this one about ten, sat at her feet. All three were pale, as if they had not seen the sun in a long time. The woman was speaking in Szaldic, and it sounded as if she was telling a story. Both boys laughed again, the younger one’s head turning. He had gray eyes, eyes the color of steel. They looked familiar. In fact…

Ark’s eyes.

Caina stared at him in shock. 

They looked exactly like Ark’s eyes. 

No. It wasn’t possible. 

The older boy saw her, and before she could react, he scrambled to his feet in alarm. The woman stood up, clutching the younger boy tight, while the older boy stepped behind her. 

“Who are you?” said the woman in Caerish with a strong Szaldic accent, staring at the silver dagger in Caina’s hand. “If you are one of Lord Icaraeus’s men, then the Moroaica will have your head for entering this room. You are frightening the children. Leave at once.” 

The woman was five or six years older than Caina, no more than twenty-seven at the most. She had long black hair, large blue eyes ringed in dark circles, and a face strained with fear and worry. She stood perhaps six inches taller, but other than that, she looked a lot like Caina. Remarkably so, in fact. 

And Ark had hated Caina when they first met, because she reminded him of his dead wife… 

Caina lowered the dagger. This was impossible. Ark’s wife and son were dead. The ship that had attacked Hruzac had never arrived at any port, Halfdan and Tigrane had said so. 

But Tigrane had only said that he didn’t know what had happened to the ship…

“Tanya?” said Caina, scarce able to believe it.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?” said the woman. “Speak! Or I shall call for…”

“No!” said Caina. “No, don’t. I serve neither Icaraeus nor Jadriga. I’m a friend of Ark’s.” 

“Who?” said the woman.

“Arcion, of Caer Maerist,” said Caina. “A retired centurion of the Eighteenth Legion.” She hesitated. “Your husband.” 

The woman looked as if she had been slapped, and Caina knew that she had guessed right. Tanya fell back into the chair, clutching at the child. Her son, Caina realized, her son and Ark’s.

“Arcion’s alive?” Tanya whispered at last. “But…but that’s not…they told me they killed him, that he fought back and they killed him.” 

“No,” said Caina. “He’s alive.” At least, she hoped he was. If he had gotten killed after she had left him… “He was hunting when Icaraeus attacked Hruzac. He got back, found the village destroyed. He joined the Emperor’s Ghosts to find you. But know one knew what had happened to you. Everyone thought the ship had been sunk…”

“It was,” said Tanya, her voice still numb. Both children stared at Caina warily. “After we were taken here, Icaraeus killed the crew and scuttled the ship. The Moroaica ordered him to do it. She didn’t want anyone to find their way here.” She began to blink. “He’s alive? Truly?”

Caina nodded. “I saw him this very night. He’s here, in Marsis.” 

Tanya began to weep, shook her head, and scrubbed the tears away. Caina caught a glimpse of the strength that must have allowed the woman to survive the last five years. “But…who are you? You said Arcion joined the Ghosts. Then you must be a Ghost.”

“I am,” said Caina, reaching up to draw back her cowl. “My name is…”

“No!” said Tanya, alarm flashing across her face. “No, stop. I’m a fool. Stop!” 

Caina froze. “Why?”

“That shadow-woven cloak,” said Tanya. “The Moroaica told me about cloaks like that. So long as you wear it, she cannot sense your thoughts, cannot invade your mind. If you take off that cowl, she’ll know you’re here at once. She’ll kill you. And if you tell me your name, she might pull it from my mind.” 

“I understand,” said Caina. “We have to go. Icaraeus and his men are guarding the main stairs. Do you know another way out? Jadriga is still resting from…from the butchery in the pit chamber. If…”

“No,” said Tanya. “No! We cannot leave. The Moroaica has placed spells upon us. If we leave this apartment, she’ll know at once. She won’t kill Nicolai for it.” She held her son a little tighter. “She might not kill me for it. But she will most certainly kill you, and probably Peter as well.”

“Peter?” repeated Caina, looking at the older boy. All at once she saw the resemblance. “You’re…the innkeeper’s son, aren’t you? Zorgi and Katerine.”

“You…know my mother and father, sir?” said the boy. He even sounded like a younger version of Zorgi. “The Moroaica told me that my parents were dead, that I had to stay here.”

Caina gave her head a sharp shake. “They’re alive. I saw them a few nights past. Katerine insisted that you were taken by the Moroaica. I should have listened to her. I…”

She stared at Tanya. Her mind worked through the shock of finding Ark’s dead wife here. All the other slaves were chained in the outer chamber, left to sit motionless in puddles of their own waste. Yet Tanya, Nicolai, and Peter lived here in relative comfort, with no chains save Jadriga’s spells upon them. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Tanya, her soft voice cutting into Caina’s thoughts.

“Do you?” said Caina. “You have the power to invade another’s mind?”

“I have no sorcery,” said Tanya. “You’re thinking that I’m one of the Moroaica’s pets, like Lady Palaegus and the others. Which is why I have these comfortable rooms.” She shook her head. “You misunderstand. These rooms are not for me. They’re for my son.”

“Your son?” said Caina. 

“Icaraeus did not attack Hruzac at random,” said Tanya. “The Moroaica sent him there to claim my son.” 

“But why?” said Caina. “Forgive me, but…what is so special about your son? Ark is a valiant man, but he is only a retired centurion, and you…”

“Are only a Szaldic peasant woman from Hruzac,” said Tanya. “We are not the kind of people the Moroaica would care about. But my great-grandfather was. He was one of the last of the Solmonari, the magician-priests of the Szaldic nation.” 

Caina looked at Nicolai. “And that makes your son special. At least to Jadriga.” 

Tanya nodded. 

“Why?” said Caina. “Are you Solmonari yourself?” 

“No,” said Tanya. “They almost all were killed before the Szalds fled into the Empire, and old age and the Magisterium killed those who were left. But my great-grandfather passed some of his lore, the stories of the Szalds, to my grandfather, who passed it onto my father, who then passed it to me.”

“Lore,” said Caina. “Stories. Ark said that you knew many of the old Szaldic stories and legends.” 

“Did…did Arcion speak of me often?” said Tanya.

“No,” said Caina. “It was too painful for him. He blamed himself for what happened to you and Nicolai.” In fact, Caina realized, he had never mentioned the name of his infant son. If Tanya was a painful subject for him…then the name of his infant son must have been agony. 

“I blamed myself, too,” said Tanya, voice bitter. “My blood. My lineage. That was what the Moroaica wanted.” 

“But that doesn’t answer the question,” said Caina. “Why does Jadriga want your son?”

“Because she is the Moroaica,” said Tanya.

“But what does that mean?” said Caina. “Is she truly the Moroaica of legend?”

“No,” said Tanya. “But she inspired the legend of the Moroaica, of that I have no doubt.”

“She inspired the legend?” said Caina. “But the legend has to be thousands of years old.”

Tanya nodded, her eyes full of fear.

“Then who is she, truly?” said Caina. “What is she?”

“I don’t know,” said Tanya. “But she likes to…talk to me, sometimes. Or she is really talking to herself, and forgets that I am here. She rambles, and I think she has told me more than she intended. She speaks of battles and disasters that happened thousands of years ago as if she saw them firsthand. Sometimes she calls herself ‘Jadriga’, but I do not know if that is truly her name. It only means ‘warrior queen’ or ‘lady of war’ in the ancient Szaldic tongue. Other times she calls herself the Moroaica. She claims to have been a student of the last of the Great Necromancers of ancient Maat, the Kingdom of the Rising Sun, in the centuries before the Empire. Neither steel nor cold iron nor ghostsilver can do permanent harm to her. And the power of her sorcery is immense. She can twist and shape the minds of others at her whim, and pull their inmost secrets from their thoughts, and she can kill a dozen men with a single crook of her finger. And her students have caused chaos and misery for centuries.”

“What does such a creature want with your son?” said Caina.

“His blood,” said Tanya. Nicolai buried his face in her shoulder, and Peter stood close. “The blood of a male descendant of a Solmonari. She needs it for the Opening of the Way.” 

“I heard her mention that,” said Caina. “What is it?” 

“A ritual. A spell,” said Tanya. “It will free the thing imprisoned in the pit below Black Angel Tower.” 

“The thing?” said Caina. She remembered the horrible sense of presence radiating from the pit. “You mean the stories are true? There is a fallen angel imprisoned under the tower?”

Tanya nodded.

“But why would Jadriga want to free such a thing?” said Caina. “Does she worship it?”

“No,” said Tanya. “The Moroaica worships nothing but herself. She wants to make it her slave, to pull it into her body, to use its power to augment her own.”

“Is that even possible?” said Caina. 

“No,” said Tanya. “It is not. It will destroy her, and then it will be free to do as it pleases.” She took a shuddering breath. “And she is mistaken about something else. The legends are wrong, but the Solmonari knew the truth. There is not just one fallen angel imprisoned in the pit, there are many. Hundreds of them. They are legion.”  Caina remembered the creature wearing her mother's face in her dream and shuddered. “They will be loosed into the world, free to roam wherever they please. But before that…” 

“That’s bad enough. What will happen before that?” said Caina.

“My son’s blood will act as a catalyst,” said Tanya. “Immense power is needed to open the prison, and the spell will draw that power to itself by draining the life from every living thing for five miles in all directions. It will most certainly kill everyone in Marsis.” 

“That’s monstrous,” said Caina.

Tanya nodded. 

“Surely she must know that the fallen angels will destroy her,” said Caina.

Tanya shook her head. “As powerful as she is, as cruelly wise, in some things she is a fool. I think…I think that she has lived for so long, that she has such power at her command, that she has destroyed so many of her enemies, that she can no longer even conceive of failure. And she knows that the Opening of the Way will kill all of Marsis. But she doesn’t care. She thinks she can survive the release of energies, and the lives of the people living in the city mean nothing to her.”

“When we will she cast the Opening of the Way?” said Caina.

“I don’t know,” said Tanya. “Soon. The slaves…she slaughters them in the pit chamber. The blood of murdered innocents prepares the way, weakens the chains binding the fallen angels. My son’s blood is the final key, and she is almost ready. She told me that my service would be over soon. Another month, perhaps. Probably less.”

“Your service?” said Caina, and then she understood. “That’s why she kept you alive, isn’t it? To care for Nicolai, since I doubt Jadriga could be bothered to do it herself.”

Tanya nodded. “You don’t…you don’t know what it’s been like. To feed and care for my son, knowing that I was raising him for the Moroaica’s dagger.” She shook a little with the words. “Yet he is my son. How could I do otherwise?” 

“Why did she kidnap Peter?” said Caina.