Read Ghost in the Flames Online
Authors: Jonathan Moeller
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Horror, #Dark Fantasy, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Historical, #Sword & Sorcery
She knelt besides the nearest man, unlocked his shackles, and wrenched the gag from his mouth.
“Who…who are you?” whispered the man. He was fat, his clothes rank with sweat. “Are you a demon, come to drag us down to hell?”
“Your name?” said Caina.
“Oscar, keeper of the White Road Inn.”
“Lord Naelon Icaraeus. The man who took you captive,” said Caina. “He has some papers in his possession. Where are they?”
“I…I…”
Caina hissed, lowered her shadowed face closer to his. “Where are they?”
“In my room, under the stairs,” said Oscar, “I saw him writing in there.”
“Good,” said Caina, handing him one of the keys. “Get to work. The rest of you, remain silent.”
The innkeeper understood and started to work. Caina moved down the line of captives, loosing their chains.
“Who are you, sir?” said one of the women, rubbing her wrists. Oscar’s daughter, to judge from the resemblance.
“That is not your concern,” said Caina. “Depart this cellar, and take the road south to Marsis as quickly as you are able.”
“What of the slavers?” demanded Oscar. “Won’t they just recapture us?”
Caina shook her head. “They’ve a ship waiting in a cove a few miles north of here. You were to have been loaded aboard that ship at dawn. Instead the slavers will flee to it shortly.”
“Why would they retreat to their ship?” said Oscar. “They have no reason to flee.”
“No, no reason,” said Caina. “Not until I burn the building down.”
“My inn! You can’t!”
“You can either run for your life,” said Caina, “or you can spend the rest of your life tending some Istarish emir’s harem. After they make a eunuch of you.”
That got his attention.
Shouts of alarm came from above, followed by the stamp of running feet. Someone must have found the bodies.
“Go, now,” said Caina.
Oscar herded the others towards the cellar door. Caina snatched up both of the lanterns from the table and followed them. The captives stumbled into the night, fleeing towards the southward road. Caina crossed to the nearest ground-floor window, kicked open the shutters, and flung the lantern inside.
It shattered against the wall, hot glass and burning oil falling onto the bed. The blankets caught fire, embers falling onto the rich carpet. Caina kicked open another window and flung in the second lantern. Again the blankets caught fire, the flames spreading to the carpet and the tapestries. Caina vaulted through the window, dodged around the flames, and pushed open the door.
The fire spread to the hallway, licking at the varnished wooden walls.
Caina had no time to watch its progress. She hurried to the common room and looked around. The men had vanished, no doubt in search of whoever had killed their fellows. Caina ripped a tapestry from the wall and threw half of it into the fireplace, leaving the other half to dangle upon the floorboards.
As the flames spread, she ran across the room and opened the door under the stairs. It opened into the innkeeper’s richly furnished room, lit by a single lantern on the table. A writing desk sat near the door, covered with papers.
Icaraeus’s papers.
Caina seized them. There was a ledger, and something that looked like a journal, and she took them both. A leather satchel lay against the wall, and she dropped the papers, books and all, into it. Men began shouting, and Caina heard the heavy thud of running footsteps on the stairs. No doubt someone had noticed the fires, and the slavers had come to the conclusion that they were under attack.
She ran back into the common room, surprised by how quickly the fire had spread. A pair of mercenaries ran down the stairs, taking no notice of her, and escaped into the night. Tigrane’s angry bellow rang down the stairs, followed by Icaraeus’s cold voice giving rapid orders. Caina hurried back into the hallway, ducking low to avoid the thick black smoke billowing from the bedrooms. She entered a room still untouched by the spreading flames and went out the window.
The drum of hooves came to her ears, galloping away to the north. The slavers were making a run for it. Caina slipped around the inn, saw the horsemen pounding towards the road.
And then, for just a moment, she saw Lord Naelon Icaraeus himself.
He sat atop a horse not twenty feet away, turning his head to shout something at Tigrane. His sword was in its sheath, his whole attention diverted away from Caina, and he wore no armor.
Perfect.
Her hand plunged to her belt, coming up with a throwing knife. She stepped towards him, arm and shoulder flung back, blade clenched between gloved flingers. Her whole body snapped like a bowstring and sent the knife hurtling towards Icaraeus.
The blade flew true and plunged into Icaraeus’s exposed neck.
Or it would have, had it not bounced away with a green flash. For a moment the bracers on his arms flickered with the same eerie light, the strange sigils shining with a sickly emerald glow. Pins and needles erupted over Caina, her skin crawling. She knew that feeling.
Sorcery. Some sort of sorcery to turn aside steel had been laid upon those bracers.
Icaraeus turned in the saddle, face tight with anger, his eyes falling upon Caina.
“My lord!” shouted Tigrane, “we must go, they’ll be upon us at any moment!”
Icaraeus jerked the reins and slammed his heels into the horse. The beast galloped into the night, Tigrane close behind. Caina stared after them for a moment, and stooped to retrieve her throwing knife. The blade had been warped, almost as if it had been thrust into a forge and left to melt.
So the rumors had been true.
She shoved the ruined weapon into the satchel.
It was time to go. She doubted Icaraeus and his gang would return. But the fire would be visible for miles, and sooner or later someone would come to investigate. Caina had no wish to be found. Besides, she had come here to seize Icaraeus’s papers, and she had them.
Caina grinned.
Freeing the slaves had been a bonus.
One of Icaraeus’s men had taken her horse, so Caina walked into the night, her cloak blending with the darkness.
Follow this link to continue reading
Ghost in the Blood
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About the Author
Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.
He has written the DEMONSOULED series of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write THE GHOSTS sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the COMPUTER BEGINNER'S GUIDE series of computer books, and numerous other works.
Visit his website at:
http://www.jonathanmoeller.com
Visit his technology blog at:
http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed
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Other books by the author
The Demonsouled Saga
MAZAEL CRAVENLOCK is a wandering knight, fearless in battle and masterful with a sword.
Yet he has a dark secret. He is Demonsouled, the son of the ancient and cruel Old Demon, and his tainted blood grants him superhuman strength and speed. Yet with the power comes terrible, inhuman rage, and Mazael must struggle to keep the fury from devouring him.
But he dare not turn aside from the strength of his blood, for he will need it to face terrible foes.
The priests of the San-keth plot and scheme in the shadows, pulling lords and kingdoms upon their strings. The serpent priests desire to overthrow the realms of men and enslave humanity. Unless Mazael stops them, they shall force all nations to bow before the serpent god.
The Malrag hordes are coming, vast armies of terrible, inhuman beasts, filled with a lust for cruelty and torment. The Malrags care nothing for conquest or treasure, only slaughter. And the human realms are ripe for the harvest. Only a warrior of Mazael’s power can hope to defeat them.
The Dominiar Order and the Justiciar Order were once noble and respected, dedicated to fighting the powers of dark magic. Now they are corrupt and cynical, and scheme only for power and glory. They will kill anyone who stands in their way.
To defeat these foes, Mazael will need all the strength of his Demonsouled blood.
Yet he faces a far more terrible foe.
For centuries the Old Demon has manipulated kings and lords. Now he shall seize the power of the Demonsouled for himself, and become the a god of torment and tyranny.
Unless Mazael can stop him.
Read
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The Ghosts Series
Once CAINA AMALAS was the shy daughter of a minor nobleman, content to spend her days in her father’s library.
Then sorcery and murder and her mother’s treachery tore her life apart.
Now she is a nightfighter of the Ghosts, an elite agent of the spies and assassins of the Emperor of Nighmar. She is a master of disguise and infiltration, of stealth and the shadows.
And she will need all those skills to defend the Empire and stay alive.
Corrupt lords scheme and plot in the shadows, desiring to pull down the Emperor and rule the Empire for their own profit and glory. Slave traders lurk on the fringes of the Empire, ready to seize unwary commoners and sell them into servitude in distant lands. Yet both slave traders and cruel lords must beware the Ghosts.
The Magisterium, the Imperial brotherhood of sorcerers, believe themselves the rightful masters of the Empire. With their arcane sciences, they plan to overthrow the Empire and enslave the commoners, ruling all of mankind for their own benefit. Only the Ghosts stand in the path of their sinister plans.
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Caina Amalas of the Ghosts opposes these mighty enemies, but the cost might be more than she can bear.
Read
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The Third Soul
RACHAELIS MORULAN is an Initiate of the Conclave, the powerful order of mighty mages. But to become a full Adept of the Conclave, she must first survive the Testing. Those who survive the Testing never speak of the trials they endured.
Those who fail the Testing are never seen again.
And now the Magisters of the Conclave have come to take Rachaelis to undertake the Testing. And there she shall face perils to both her body and her sanity.
And creatures that yearn to devour her soul.
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And some Adepts of the Conclave are eager to help them.
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The High Demon
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The Frostborn Series
A thousand years ago, the last grandson of Arthur Pendragon led the survivors of Britain through a magical gate to a new world, a world of magic and high elves, of orcs and kobolds and stranger, darker creatures. Now the descendants of the exiles rule a mighty kingdom, peaceful and prosperous under the rule of the High King.
But a shadow threatens to devour the kingdom.
RIDMARK ARBAN was once a Swordbearer, a knight of renown. Now he is a branded outcast, stripped of his sword, and despised as a traitor.
But he alone sees the danger to come. The Frostborn shall return, and unless they are stopped, they will cover all the world in ice and a neverending winter.
CALLIANDE awakens in the darkness, her memories gone, and creatures of terrible power hunting her.
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THOMAS WYCLIFFE just wants to finish his dissertation in peace and quiet. So when a man in a black robe appears in his closet, claiming to be the last of the Warlocks, Wycliffe figures it is a bad joke.
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SIMON WESTER needs a job. Badly. So when a rich and powerful Senator offers him employment, he jumps at the chance. Sure, Simon expects to find some corruption, some shady deals.
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