Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) (43 page)

Everything went black then.

Later Kalgri woke up, fires crackling around her. She had landed on a broken beam jutting from the rubble, and it had impaled her. The explosion of silver fire had burned her horribly, and what she could see of her limbs was charred and blackened. 

The agony was nightmarish.

The agony was beyond enduring.

The agony was…exquisite.

Kalgri groaned in pleasure as she feasted upon her own pain. 

It was a pleasure beyond any she had ever known in a long life of feasting upon such pleasures, and she gorged herself upon it. She raked her fingers through her burned torso, ripping gobbets of flesh free, and fresh pain erupted through her, and she moaned in glee again. In her skull, the Voice screamed a warning, howled that something was wrong, that her mind was not working properly, but Kalgri ignored it. She was in command, not the nagataaru lord, and she locked it away beyond walls of willpower.

That left her free to turn her attention to this glorious pain, and she ripped at herself, tearing away pieces of burned flesh and feasting upon her own agony.

###

Kylon rode the storm of silver fire like a wave.

This time, he was ready for it, and he forced his mind through as the discipline of a sorcerer as the silver fire erupted through his body, the Elixir Restorata releasing its power in a single explosion. Kylon rode the power as it howled through him, filling every fiber of his being, and this time, he was able to stay conscious through the ordeal. 

Bit by bit the silver fire faded, and when it did, Kylon was still awake. 

He sat naked against the stone wall, his clothes and armor burned away by the explosion, the ground around him charred and rippling with heat. Fires burned here and there upon the stone walls and floor. The valikon sat untouched next to him, along with the remaining three vials of Elixir. 

Every last one of his wounds had been healed. 

Kylon rose to his feet and picked up the valikon, working a minor spell of water sorcery to protect his bare feet from the hot stone, and looked for the Huntress.

He spotted her at once, and revulsion flooded through him.

She had been impaled on a broken beam, the jagged wood jutting from her chest. The explosion had burned her horribly, but that was not the worst part. The Huntress was ripping at herself, tearing away chunks of flesh and giggling as she did. 

The creature was feasting upon her own pain.

Kylon raised the valikon as the blade burst into harsh white flames.

At the last moment, the Huntress looked up at him, and the bliss upon her burned face turned into sudden horror. 

Kylon took off her head with a single powerful blow. The valikon howled, white fire bursting from the blade to pour into her body, and he sensed the nagataaru spirit within her scream as the valikon ripped it to shreds.

The headless body slumped against the beam, and the Red Huntress was no more.

Kylon let out a long, ragged breath, and then the valikon howled and exploded in his right hand.

He flinched in astonishment, but the ghostsilver shards seemed to whip around him, orbiting him, and he sensed arcane power surging around him. Suddenly the pieces shot towards his right hand, and the valikon reassembled itself in his grasp. 

Except it had changed. 

The sword was identical in weight and balance, but now a freezing white mist encircled the blade. Before, Kylon had been unable to work a freezing mist around the spell-breaking sword.

Now it seemed the valikon was doing it for him. 

More, he felt a…connection to the sword, a bond. He concentrated, and the valikon vanished, dissolving into nothingness. Another instant of concentration and he called the valikon back to his hand, the sword reappearing from wherever it had gone. 

He was indeed somehow bonded to the sword.

Evidently, the valikon approved of the defeat of the Red Huntress. 

Kylon looked to the sky, the light from the valikon’s fire filling the ruined armory. 

The Huntress was dead, but there was still a great deal to do…and now Kylon was free to bring his valikon to Caina’s aid. 

He moved in haste, retrieving some clothes and a pair of boots from a chest next to a rack of spears, and then collected the Huntress’s ghostsilver short sword and the remaining vials of Elixir. He helped himself to her sword belt, which had survived the explosion, and then raced across the city with as much speed as he could muster.

Chapter 27: Free My People

Caina looked at the sky, trying to figure out what to do. 

The winged creatures were descending, preparing to fall upon her. Worse, Callatas followed them, wrapped in the shadow of Kotuluk Iblis. Within the Court of Justice, she had no place to dodge, and he could rain spells upon her with ease. If she tried to ascend, the winged creatures would swarm her. She might be able to elude them, but they were already in motion, and could catch her before she got to full speed. 

One of the creatures dove towards her, and Caina called smokeless fire to her hand, flinging it in the form of a knife. The spinning blade passed through the creature’s chest and left a smoking crater in its wake, and the corpse of a wraithblood addict crashed to the ground near the bodies of Erghulan and his guards. Caina braced herself, preparing to fling another knife, but the rest of the creatures remained at a distance, circling over the Court of Justice. 

Arcane power flared behind the creatures, and Caina called the wind, leaping to the side. An instant later a shaft of golden fire slashed through the air where she had been standing, and more power flowed around Callatas as he began another spell. 

He had her boxed in, trapped in the Court of Justice and surrounded by hundreds of his winged minions. If she tried to take to the air again, the creatures would drag her to the ground, or hold her in place long enough for Callatas to hit her with a spell. She could retreat into the heart of the Golden Palace and force the creatures to follow her, but that would accomplish nothing. She could play cat-and-mouse with the winged creatures in the Golden Palace for hours, but that would allow Callatas to draw more and more nagataaru through his Mirror of Worlds. 

Could she smash the Mirror of Worlds? If she raked her valikon through the gate, it would collapse. The vision of the valikarion showed her that the three rings of golden sigils around the gate were also warding spells, and she would have to break through the rings one by one. That would give Callatas and his creatures ample time to kill her. 

Four of the creatures dropped from the swarm circling over the Court of Justice and swooped towards Caina. She hit one with a knife of smokeless fire, called the wind, and dodged the other three in a burst of speed. The valikon flashed in her hand, and she killed another, its wraithblood spraying across the ground. Again she saw the flicker of power in the blood, strands of arcane energy linking it to something. A third creature lunged at her, and Caina killed it with the valikon, driving the blade through its heart. 

Before she could recover her balance, before she could even call on the wind, the fourth creature slammed into her. 

Its weight overbalanced her, and Caina fell backwards, pinned in place. The creature’s jaws yawned to bite off her head, and she snarled and raked her hand forward, calling smokeless fire to her grasp. A scimitar of fire appeared in her fingers, and she drove it into the creature’s head. It thrashed and then went limp, wraithblood spattering across Caina’s hand. 

It was dead, but it was still heavy. It began shrinking back into human form as its nagataaru was drawn back into the netherworld, but for a moment its weight still pinned Caina into place. 

She heard the clicks of claws against stone as a dozen creatures landed in a ring around her. 

She saw the flare of power overhead as Callatas began casting a spell. 

Frantic, Caina called to the lightning.

“Do not!” said Samnirdamnus. “You are too close! It…”

Lightning ripped down out of the sky, and the world went white. 

The explosion picked Caina up and sent her rolling across the Court of Justice, the echoing thunder of the volley of the lightning bolts filling the world. 

She hit the stair at the base of the dais, her head bouncing off the stone, and the world started to spin. 

###

Callatas watched Caina come to a halt at the foot of the dais, and he drew in his power, preparing to unleash a spell. Had the impact killed her? The lightning she had called had screamed through the courtyard, killing a dozen of the new humanity, but the impact had thrown her loose with enough force to kill. 

No, she was still moving. Callatas saw Caina get to her hands and knees, saw her start to rise, and he smiled to himself. 

She would not survive what was to come next. 

Callatas glided back to the Court of Justice, circling the vast tower of shadow rising from the Mirror of Worlds, and landed twenty yards from Caina. 

The end had come at last.

###

Caina got to her feet and spat out a mouthful of blood, her head swimming from the impact.

The wind and Samnirdamnus’s power had done what they could to cushion the impact, but she had still hit the stairs hard. Caina wobbled as she turned to face Callatas, calling a knife of smokeless fire to her left hand and gripping the valikon in her right. Somehow she had kept her grip on the thing. Hundreds of the winged creatures circled overhead, and she saw Callatas descending towards the ground, the vast wings of shadow spreading behind him. 

Caina tried to think of something to do, some tactic or trick to use to get close to the Grand Master, but no ideas came to her. 

“We’ve failed, haven’t we?” said Caina in a quiet voice. 

Samnirdamnus did not answer for a long moment.

“Perhaps,” said the djinni. 

“Kill me,” groaned another voice, weak and feeble.

Caina looked over her shoulder and saw that she was only a few yards from the cart holding Nahas Tarshahzon, the Padishah of Istarinmul.

She did indeed see the resemblance to Sulaman, the same dark eyes, the same nose, and shape of the mouth. Sulaman looked healthy, if somewhat ascetic. This man looked like a wreck, and she saw black veins threading their way beneath his lined, baggy skin. For some reason, Callatas had replaced the Padishah’s blood with wraithblood, and needles pierced his flesh, circulating his blood through the complex alchemical machine on the cart. A haze of warding spells covered the chair and the machine, shielding them and holding the Padishah bound in place.

But why? Why not just kill the Padishah and have done with it? 

Something started to rattle in Caina’s mind, the edge of a vast and enormous secret. 

She heard the click as Callatas landed, the Staff of Iramis tapping against the ground.

“Kill me!” groaned the Padishah. “By the Living Flame, kill me! Kill me!” 

But Callatas had gone to great lengths to keep Nahas Tarshahzon alive. For that matter, Callatas hadn’t exerted himself to kill Sulaman before Tanzir’s rebellion, though the Grand Master probably could have done so if he had wanted the Prince dead or captured. But why? Why had he needed them? Nahas and Sulaman had nothing in common, save their shared blood.

Caina blinked.

Blood…

The scratching in her mind intensified. 

Sulaman and the Padishah shared the same blood, and every bloodcrystal had a base, a first victim from whom the blood had been drawn.

And wraithblood was made of thousands of invisible bloodcrystals.

With that realization, suddenly she grasped the secret that not even Samnirdamnus had known, and the djinni’s surprise filled her mind.

“You were the base,” said Caina. “You were the first one he used to make wraithblood.” 

“I asked him to make me immortal,” said the Padishah. “Instead, he used my royal blood to forge a weapon to destroy my people.” His anguished eyes, threaded with black veins, met Caina’s gaze. “The blood of the House of Tarshahzon has the power to see the future, to see men’s minds.”

“And he used that power to make wraithblood,” said Caina. 

“Kill me,” said the Padishah.

It made sense. Sulaman had a measure of arcane power in his blood, giving him the ability to glimpse the future. The blood of the House of Tarshahzon would, therefore, make an excellent base for a bloodcrystal. Why had Callatas kept the Padishah alive? Maglarion hadn’t needed to keep Caina alive after he had used her blood to grow his great reservoir bloodcrystal, and he had, in fact, tried to kill her repeatedly.

“Of course,” murmured Samnirdamnus. “How did I not see it?”

Unless Callatas needed to keep the Padishah alive for the wraithblood to function. 

“Caina Amalas!” thundered Callatas from across the Court of Justice. “Turn and face me!” 

“Yes,” croaked the Padishah. “You understand. At last, you understand!” He shuddered in his throne, desperate hope in his black-veined eyes. “Kill me. Kill me and you can end this. My folly has brought grave ruin to my nation. Kill me!” 

“Caina Amalas!” said Callatas. 

Caina hesitated. Something within her recoiled at the thought of striking this wretched, imprisoned old man.

“I am the Padishah Nahas Tarshahzon!” said the Padishah, and some of his old authority came into his quavering voice. “By my authority, I command you to execute me to save my people!”

Caina raised the valikon, and arcane power snarled around her. 

Invisible bands of force gripped her, wrapping her tight, and she screamed in frustration, but Callatas’s spell lifted her a few feet off the ground and turned her to face the Grand Master.

He stood twenty feet away, the shadow of Kotuluk Iblis streaming behind him, his youthful face twisted with rage and contempt. In the sky overhead hundreds of winged creatures hovered, while the plume of shadow spread ever further across the sky, driving back the remaining djinn. 

“It’s over,” said Callatas. “Farewell, Balarigar. Die with…”