Ghost in the Maze (19 page)

“They’re almost to the sabotaged rocket,” said Nasser. “Get ready.” 

Caina nodded and rolled her shoulders, preparing to run. She saw that Tarqaz’s sabotaged rocket was between two others. That was clever. Every eye would be turned skyward to watch the brilliant explosions when the sabotaged rocket went off. By the time the smoke cleared, Caina and her allies would be inside the Maze. 

Or so she hoped. 

“Now,” said Nasser, and an Alchemist with a purple-burning torch lit the sabotaged rocket. One of the rockets shot into the sky and exploded, but the sabotaged rocket remained in place, a sputter of sparks flying from its end. The Alchemist gave the rocket a sour look, and for a moment Caina wondered if the sabotage had failed.

Then she heard a low thump, and a wall of smoke exploded from the rocket. 

“Go,” said Nasser as the wall of smoke spread across the courtyard. Shouts of surprise and consternation rose from the crowds as the courtyard disappeared in a thick haze of smoke.

Caina hurried into the garden. A flagstone path wound its way through the strange, mutated bushes and the giant flowers, and she made sure to keep to it. She passed one of the plants that Tarqaz had pointed out, the massive pod looking like a swollen green coffin. The barbed vines stirred as she drew near, rubbing against each other with wet slaps, and Caina ran faster. 

She hoped the others avoided the plant, but she could not see them in the smoke. 

Then the tower loomed out of the gloom, sheer and white. It had no windows, only one door of polished brass in its base. Caina stopped, and Azaces came out of the smoke, urging Nerina along.

“Where are the others?” said Caina. 

“I do not know,” said Nerina. “I lost them in…”

Kazravid stumbled out of the smoke, coughing, followed by Strabane and Nasser. 

“By the Living Flame!” he muttered. “That stinks. We are all here?”

“No,” said Nasser. “We still need Tarqaz.” 

Kazravid scowled. “Do we? The door is right here. Let’s go.”

“Wait a moment,” said Nasser. “I abide by my word.”

“Aye, and if we wait too long,” said Kazravid, “if we’re still standing here when the smoke clears away, your word will get us killed.” 

Kazravid started to snarl a response, but then Tarqaz hastened out of the smoke, pulled along by Laertes and Anaxander. The eunuch was breathing hard, his gray robe dark with sweat. 

“Forgive me,” he said, wiping the dampness from his brow, “but there was much panic in the courtyard, and the Immortals demanded that I take the slaves in hand. I had to think of a convenient lie to make my escape.” He coughed. “It is well for us that the master murdered that poor man. The guests were already on edge, and the smoke…I fear it shall throw them into a riot.” 

“Then let us proceed,” said Nasser. “Ciaran, if you please, take the front.”

Caina frowned. “Why?” 

“Because,” said Nasser, “you have the ring.”

She couldn’t argue with that. 

“Keep your eyes open,” she told the others, and she opened the brass door in the white tower. 

Chapter 15 - The Maze

The round room in the base of the tower was built of gleaming white stone and devoid of both decoration and furniture. 

Caina took several steps into the room and drew a dagger from her belt, the others flanking her. A set of narrow stairs spiraled upward through the tower’s empty stone shaft. There was a circular iron railing in the center of the room, and within it she saw another set of stairs descending into the earth. 

“That way,” said Tarqaz, pointing at the stairs. “The master’s laboratory is down there.” He shivered. “I…have never been there before. No one who ever goes into the laboratory comes out alive again.”

“And the Maze itself?” said Caina. 

“It begins at the bottom of the stairs,” said Tarqaz.

Caina looked at Nasser. “I had best go first.”

Nasser nodded. “Proceed. The rest of you, draw your weapons. I’m not sure what Callatas keeps in the Maze, but best to be prepared.”

Nasser himself drew his scimitar in his right hand. Laertes and Strabane both produced broadswords, while Azaces drew his massive two-handed blade. Kazravid strung his short hunting bow, an arrow at the ready, while Nerina produced her heavy crossbow. Kazravid gave the weapon a dubious look and shook his head, but said nothing. Best to be quiet when walking into the belly of the beast.

Caina descended the stairs, her boots making no sound against the stone steps, and the others followed. The stairs spiraled down into the gloom, though she saw a faint light in the distance. Round and round they went, and at last the stairs opened into a rough gallery of stone blocks. Here and there glowing crystals jutted from the wall, giving off pale, gloomy light. The air here smelled of salt, and Caina wondered if one of the Maze’s passages opened into the sea. On the far wall she saw a stone arch, wide enough to accommodate two horses running abreast. Beyond the arch stretched a wide stone corridor, more corridors leading from either wall.

“The Maze,” said Nasser, his voice soft. 

“Well,” said Caina, “I suppose it’s time to see if that pyrikon is genuine, is it not?”

She tugged off her left glove, the bronze scales of the ring glinting in the light, and marched into the gallery. She felt the crawling sensation of the powerful spell waiting upon the Maze, the transmutation that would change the air to poison the minute she crossed the arch. 

Yet she felt a peculiar resonance coming from the pyrikon upon her finger. As if the power upon the ring recognized the spell within the Maze.

Caina stepped through the arch and into the Maze.

Powerful sorcery spiked, and the air within the Maze transformed into swirling gray fog. It felt damp and clammy against her skin, and her lips and nose suddenly went numb. The air had transmuted to lethal poison, and one breath would kill her.

The pyrikon glowed with a faint blue light, the glow shining brighter. Caina lifted her hand, and the mist flew away from her as if it had been blown by a wind. She raised her hand over her head, and the mist swirled into the side passages, leaving a space of a dozen yards around her. 

She turned back and looked at the others, who stood just beyond the arch.

“I see why you brought him,” said Kazravid to Nasser. 

“I think,” said Caina, “that you’re going to want to stay close to me.”

“An idea I applaud,” said Nasser. “Follow me. Stay very close to Master Ciaran.”

“I have no intention of dying down here,” said Kazravid.

“Damned sorcerers,” rumbled Strabane, watching the mist with wary eyes. “Better to kill all of them. No offense, Anaxander.”

“I never conjured a poison mist to kill anyone,” said Anaxander. He lifted his right hand, a ball of blue light dancing over his palm. It helped to drive back the gloom. “Maybe if I had, I would be living in luxury in Artifel now.”

“And miss all of this?” said Kazravid. “Nasser, I presume you know where you are going.”

“Of course not,” said Nasser, “but there is no need.  Master Ciaran’s ring itself will act as a compass to its gate, drawn to it like an iron nail to a lodestone. Or a compass needle to the north, for a more apt analogy.”

“And just how is it supposed to do that?” said Caina. “You should have mentioned…”

She frowned. The ring seemed to tremble against her finger. As she swung her fist to the left, the vibrations diminished, but when she moved right, they grew stronger. 

A bit like a compass.

“Why mention it,” said Nasser, “when you are more than capable of figuring it out on your own?”

Caina swung her left arm back and forth, feeling the vibrations of the sorcerous ring.

“That passage,” said Caina. 

“Let’s go,” said Nasser. “Azaces, Strabane, and Laertes, kindly take point. Your weapons have the longest reach if something attacks. Kazravid, Anaxander, and Nerina, go to the back. You can use your bows if we face foes from either direction, and Anaxander can bring his spells to bear. I myself shall keep watch from the rear. Ciaran and Tarqaz, remain behind Azaces and Laertes.”

“And why,” grunted Kazravid, “are all of us protecting Ciaran?”

Nasser smiled. “Because if he is killed, the mist will likely kill us all before we can get the ring off his finger.”

Strabane grunted. “A sound argument.”

“This way,” said Caina.

Caina pointed, and Azaces, Strabane, and Laertes started down a side corridor, the others following. The walls were built of rough stone blocks, rising to an arch overhead. The stonework looked similar to that of the sewers and the aqueducts, and Caina wondered if Callatas had built the Maze at the same time. Or perhaps the tunnels had already been here and he had simply taken them over, as Jadriga had done with the vaults below Black Angel Tower in Marsis. 

That was a grim thought. There were things below Black Angel Tower that should never see the light of day. Caina remembered the ragged pit in the great vault, the sense of malevolence radiating from its depths. The legends of the Szalds claimed that demons were sealed in that pit, thrown down from the heavens and bound by the power in Black Angel Tower. Were they malevolent creatures like the phobomorphic spirits Caina had fought in the netherworld? Or were they spirits like the nagataaru?

She shook her head. Marsis was thousands of miles away, and this was neither the time nor the place to brood upon her memories…

“You seem alarmed, Ciaran,” said Nasser.

“Really? What possible reason could there be for alarm?” said Kazravid. 

“These tunnels,” said Caina. “I was wondering if Callatas built them, or if he found them.”

“What possible difference would it make?” said Kazravid.

“Because if he found these tunnels forgotten beneath the city,” said Caina, “I wonder what else he found down here.”

She stopped at a junction, swung her hand back and forth, and then pointed.

“A disturbing thought,” said Anaxander. “There are ruins of forgotten empires and overthrown kingdoms scattered across the world. Often there are things in those ruins that are best left undisturbed.”

“I agree,” said Caina, thinking of the Ascendant Bloodcrystal, of the Maatish scroll that had claimed her father’s life.

“Strange thing for a magus to say,” said Laertes.

Anaxander snorted. “Technically, I am not a magus any longer. I was expelled, you know. And…gods, some of the high magi never shut up about how they could reshape the world if they but had the power. Such madness is not for me. I simply want enough money to live quietly somewhere, and a pretty woman to take into my bed, of course. Or one or two.” 

“We all want that,” said Kazravid.

“I don’t,” said Nerina.

Azaces made a wheezing noise, and it took Caina a moment to realize that he was chuckling. 

“In answer to your question,” said Nasser, “the Maze is as old as Istarinmul. It was originally the stronghold of one of the Demon Princes that Istarr slew in the days of old. Later the city that bore Istarr’s name spread over the ruins. After Callatas became a Master Alchemist two centuries ago, he constructed his palace here and broke into the old tunnels. When he saw how defensible they were, he moved his laboratory and his most valuable relics here.”

“So then he might have found a relic of ancient sorcery here,” said Caina.

“I do not know,” said Nasser, a hint of disquiet in his voice. “I confess, the possibility had never occurred to me before.” He shook his head. “It would explain a great deal of his rise to power.”

The corridor ended in a cylindrical room, the faint sound of splashing water coming to Caina’s ears. More of the pale crystals jutted from the walls. Caina raised her hand, and the mist retreated to reveal six more corridors jutting off from the chamber. 

“That one,” said Caina.

“Is there not a more direct route we could employ?” said Laertes. 

“I don’t know,” said Caina. “I think we’re getting closer, though.” The ring’s vibrations had gotten stronger. 

“I would suggest that we hasten,” said Laertes. “We do not know how long we have until Callatas returns to his laboratory, and I would not want to be caught in these tunnels.”

“We may have all night, sir,” said Tarqaz. “The master hates the nobility and the other Alchemists, but even he needs the support of the Grand Wazir, the chief emirs, and the Master Alchemists. He will likely not return to his laboratory before dawn.”

“Then by all means,” said Nasser, “let us be well away before he returns.”

They pressed deeper into the gloomy stone corridors.

###

The Maze went on and on, the pyrikon’s vibrations growing stronger against Caina’s finger. 

Caina led them through galleries of stone, sand and dust gritting beneath her boots. Rough-hewn pillars supported the ceiling, and she saw that the pillars had been carved into crude shapes of creatures.

Or monsters, more accurately. 

The figures were warped and distorted, strange combinations of misshapen human forms and claws and pincers and tentacles. The statues had been worked with mediocre skill, yet Caina still felt an odd chill when she looked at them, as if she was looking upon something alien and malevolent. 

“And I thought the rest of the Alchemists had macabre taste in art,” said Kazravid, his bow ready in his hands. 

“I believe they represent the Demon Princes of old,” said Anaxander, “the possessed sorcerers that once ruled what is now Istarinmul.”

Strabane spat upon the floor. “Demons. We have problems with demon-worshippers in the Kaltari hills.” He ran a finger across his throat. “We know how to deal with them.”

“Nagataaru,” murmured Caina, sweeping her arm back and forth as Tarqaz shuffled next to her. 

“Naga-what?” said Kazravid. “What the hell is a nagatoad?” 

“Nagataaru,” said Nasser, gazing at the carved columns with an unreadable expression. “They are a kind of spirit of the netherworld.”

“A demon?” said Strabane. 

“Of a sort,” said Nasser. “Most spirits of the netherworld are indifferent to mortals, and prefer to ignore us. Some, however, prey upon us, and the nagataaru are chief among them. They feast upon pain and torment, and if given the chance, will torture mortals chiefly for the delight of it.”

“Sounds like an Immortal,” said Kazravid. 

Caina nodded, concentrating upon the vibrations of the ring. Somehow the nagataaru were tied to the wraithblood and Callatas’s Apotheosis. She did not know how, not yet. Perhaps the nagataaru were his servants, or perhaps they were his true master. 

The answer could well lie within the laboratory.

“Through there,” said Caina. “It’s close now.”

The poison mist swirled through the edges of the gallery, and Caina saw doors of wood and iron in the far wall. She moved closer, driving the mists away, and revealed a massive pair of double doors on the far end of the chamber. Unlike everything else they had seen in the Maze, the doors looked new, their hinges gleaming and well-oiled.

“In there,” said Caina.

“Kazravid, Azaces,” said Nasser, sheathing his scimitar, “give me a hand with this. The rest of you, stay on guard.”

“I am a noble of Anshan, and manual labor is beneath me,” said Kazravid. 

“And are the nobles of Anshan so easily defeated by doors?” said Nasser.

Kazravid scowled and offered Nasser a rude gesture, but shouldered his bow and walked with Azaces to the doors, while the other men fanned out, weapons held ready. Kazravid, Nasser, and Azaces pushed on the doors, straining, and they swung open without a sound. Caina strode forward, the others following her, the ring raised and driving back the envenomed mist. 

Beyond the double doors rose a massive pillared hall of polished black stone. Gleaming pillars supported the ceiling, and as the mist drove back, Caina saw her dim, dark reflection in the polished stone. Azaces, Nasser, and Kazravid drew their weapons once more, and they followed Caina into the hall. The power of the pyrikon drove the poisoned mist from the air, and on the other end of the hall Caina saw a door.

The ring shuddered on her finger like a living thing.

“I would wager,” said Kazravid, “that is the way to the laboratory proper.”

The door was a massive thing constructed of gleaming bronze and polished gold. An intricate mechanism, a lock more complex than anything Caina had ever seen, covered the middle third of the door. Even from a distance she felt the potent wards sealing the door, felt them calling to the ring.

“You know,” said Kazravid, “we could just strip the gold off the door.” 

“A sound plan,” said Strabane.

“Less than sound,” said Nasser. “We’d have to carry it all to the surface.”

“And it’s warded, too,” said Anaxander, muttering as he cast the spell to sense the presence of sorcery. “Touch that without the proper key, and it will burn you to ashes.”

“Fortunately, the proper key is at hand,” said Nasser. “Ciaran?”

Caina nodded and took a step forward. She wasn’t sure how the ring could unlock the door, but she felt the pyrikon pulling toward the massive lock.

She stopped.

“What is it?” said Nasser.

Caina looked at the polished floor of black stone.