Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes (23 page)

Chapter 23 - Ambush

The Immortals froze in surprise, and Caina dashed forward, dodging beneath the balcony to avoid the rain of shattered glass. 

And as she did, she flung the knife in her right hand with all her strength. The spinning blade still struck Sinan in the face, and the impact should have opened him from lip to ear.

But instead the blade bounced away with a spray of sparks.

He had indeed warded himself against steel. 

Caina saw dozens of militiamen ringing the broken skylights, crossbows in their hands. Corvalis stood in their midst, a dark shape in his shadow-cloak, and to her surprise she saw Muravin at his side. Tomard stood near them in his plumed tribune’s helm, and Caina found herself grinning at Corvalis’s cleverness.

He hadn’t tried to dispel the mist or find a safe way through it. 

He had simply gone over it.

She pulled up her mask and cowl, hiding her face from the militiamen. 

“In the name of the civic militia of Malarae,” thundered Tomard, his voice echoing through the dining hall, “and by the authority of the Lord Prefect of the city and the Emperor of Nighmar, I command the Alchemist Ibrahmus Sinan and his followers to lay down their arms! Surrender, and your lives shall be spared…”

Sinan roared in fury, the veins in his neck bulging. “Fool! You think to threaten an Alchemist of the College?” He leveled the fork, a spark flaring to life between its tines. “Then perish!”

“Tomard!” shouted Caina. “He can throw lightning! It…”

“Shoot him!” said Tomard. “Shoot him…”

Several things happened at once.

Scores of crossbowmen lowered their weapons and fired into the dining hall. Caina saw quarrels slam into the Immortals, saw blue-glowing blood splash across the gleaming floor. Yet the wounds only irritated the Immortals, who bellowed their inhuman battle cries. At least twenty bolts slammed into Sinan, the impact knocking him back, but the steel heads did not penetrate his warding spells.

And as he staggered, a dazzling blast of lightning erupted from his fork and slammed into the militiamen. Caina had seen Andromache conjure blasts that were far more powerful, yet the bolt from the Alchemist’s enspelled weapon was powerful enough. Fingers of lightning chewed into a half-dozen militiamen, and the men screamed as they went up in flames. 

Dozens of ropes fell to the floor, and Caina saw that the militiamen had driven grapnels into the roof. They slid down the ropes, and the Immortals hastened to meet them, even as Sinan raised his fork and the crossbowmen began to reload. Caina raced forward, yanking her ghostsilver dagger from its sheath. Sinan had warded himself against steel, but ghostsilver was proof against sorcery.

At the last minute the Alchemist pivoted to face her, his face twisted with hatred, lightning crackling between the tines of the fork. Caina threw herself to the side, dodging behind one of the stone pillars, and the fork spat out a lance of snarling lighting. It veered to the side and struck one of the Immortals and two of the militiamen, and all three men screamed in agony. 

Another volley of quarrels hissed from the ceiling, rocking the Immortals, and the militiamen charged into the fray. Steel rang on steel, and men and Immortals screamed and cursed and died. Sinan shouted and loosed another blast of lightning. Caina had to stop him. If she did not, he would kill most of Tomard’s men before the fighting was over. 

But first, she had to make sure those men had not died in vain.

She slashed the ropes binding Tanzir to the chair, and then cut the ropes holding Mahdriva and pulled the girl to her feet. 

“Go,” said Caina, pushing Mahdriva towards Tanzir. “Find a quiet corner and hide. We’ll find you when this is all over. Get out of here, now.”

“But, Ghost,” said Tanzir. “This…”

“Go!” said Caina, pointing with the ghostsilver dagger.

Tanzir swallowed, nodded, and he and Mahdriva hastened beneath the balcony. 

Caina turned, intending to seek Sinan, and found herself face to face with an Immortal.

She ducked an instant before the scimitar would have taken her head. Caina struck back, lashing out with her ghostsilver dagger. The blade carved a blue-glowing furrow down his ribs, the handle growing hot in her hand. Smoke rose from the wound, and the Immortal threw back his head and screamed. Caina raised her arm for another slash, aiming for the Immortal’s throat.

But the Immortal punched, and the back of his hand caught Caina in the temple. The sheer power of the blow spun her around, and she fell hard to the floor, her head ringing. The Immortal towered over her, and Caina seized a knife and flung it. The blade buried itself in the Immortal’s stomach, but the hulking soldier did not even seem to notice. Caina scrambled backwards as the Immortal stalked after her…

The tip of a bloody blade erupted from the Immortal’s chest, and the Istarish soldier stiffened. Caina saw a shape in a shadow-cloak spin around the Immortal, a dagger flashing. A line of blue-glowing blood appeared across the Immortal’s throat, and the soldier fell upon his face. 

Corvalis turned to face Caina, his eyes glinting green behind his mask. 

She was glad to see him, so glad, and not just because he had kept that Immortal from killing her. 

Her words from the netherworld echoed inside her head.

Caina pushed them aside. She could deal with them when she wasn’t in a room filled with enraged Immortals trying to kill her. 

“Good timing,” said Caina, getting to her feet. Her head throbbed, and her arms and legs ached. She would pay a price for this much exertion over so short a time, she knew. But she could not rest, not until Sinan was defeated. 

“It’s a gift,” said Corvalis, stepping to her side as the melee raged around them. Sinan loosed another stroke of lightning, sending militiamen tumbling from the broken skylights with a scream. 

“How did you wake up Muravin?” said Caina.

Corvalis shrugged. “I dunked his head into a barrel until he came to. He told us what had happened, and I figured you could use the help.” 

“A safe assumption,” said Caina, her eyes sweeping the dining hall. Mahdriva and Tanzir had retreated to the corner beneath the balcony. The militiamen struggled against the hulking Immortals in a confused, chaotic melee, blue-glowing blood falling to the floor. Sinan stood near his mirror, throwing arcs of lightning at the crossbowmen on the roof. Crossbow bolts hissed through the air, some striking the Immortals. Others hit Sinan himself, only to bounce away from his warding spell. 

“We have to get at Sinan,” said Caina.

“He’s warded,” said Corvalis.

“He is,” said Caina, “but I’m pretty sure his spell won’t stop a ghostsilver dagger.” 

“We’ll have to get close enough for you to use it,” said Corvalis. 

“Let’s get started,” said Caina. 

Corvalis nodded, started forward, and two Immortals rushed them.

A half-dozen crossbow bolts pierced the flesh of both men, but neither Immortal seemed to care. A black scimitar blurred for Corvalis’s head, and he jumped back, ducking under the blow and striking back with his sword and dagger. The brutal training regimen of the Kindred families produced effective fighters, and Corvalis had been among their best. He danced around the Immortals’ strikes, his weapons carving glowing lines in their flesh. Yet the Immortals shrugged off their wounds. They drove Corvalis back, pushing him towards one of the heavy pillars supporting the balcony.

Caina darted around the melee and drove her ghostsilver dagger into the knee of one of the Immortals, ripping into the tendon. Even with superhuman strength and resistance to pain, the Immortal’s leg folded, and the soldier fell with a bellow. Caina struck twice more, glowing blood smoking on the ghostsilver blade, and finished off the Immortal. 

The second Immortal roared and kicked the dying soldier. The Immortal slammed into Caina, and she lost her balance, stumbling onto one knee. The living Immortal knocked Corvalis to the ground with a vicious swing and stalked after Caina. She got back to her feet, dagger held out before her.

The Immortal flew at her like a storm. 

A steely blur shot past her eyes and slammed into the Immortal’s torso. The Immortal staggered with a groan, and Caina saw a trident jutting from his chest. A battle cry rang in her ears, and Muravin stormed past her, swinging his scimitar with both hands.

The Immortal’s head jumped off his shoulder with a spray of glowing blood and rolled across the floor. 

Muravin ripped his trident free from the corpse’s chest. “My daughter, Ghost! Is she…”

“She is well,” said Caina, shouting over the melee as Corvalis moved to her side. She jerked her head at Mahdriva and Tanzir in the corner. “But if we don’t stop Sinan, she won’t be safe.”

“Then let this be the hour,” growled Muravin, “that the blood of my daughters is avenged.”

“Sinan has a ward,” said Corvalis. “Steel won’t touch him. We have a weapon that can harm him, but…”

“But you need to get close enough to use it,” said Muravin. He gave a curt nod. “Come! Let us carve a path to our foe.” 

Corvalis nodded and lifted his weapons, and the two men charged into the battle, Caina following them. Corvalis fought with speed and grace, his blades flickering back and forth like a serpent’s tongue. Muravin struck with power and raw strength, but he was no less effective. Together the two men forced their way through the press, blades rising and falling, Muravin’s trident stabbing. 

Caina stayed at their side, flinging knives and striking with her ghostsilver dagger whenever she saw an opening. Time and time again she wounded an Immortal, or drew the Immortal’s attention, distracting the elite soldiers long enough for Muravin or Corvalis to land a killing blow. Caina struck another Immortal in the calf with a throwing knife, and the big man stumbled. Corvalis spun, his sword trailing blue-glowing drops, and slashed the Immortal’s throat.

The Immortal fell with a heavy thump, and a strange silence fell over the dining hall.

Caina realized that all the Immortals had been beaten. She saw men in the chain mail and colors of the militia lying strewn on the floor, far more than she would have liked, but all the Immortals had been slain.

Sinan stood with his back to the mirror, teeth bared in a snarl. 

“Back!” he snarled. “All of you, back!”

“It is over!” Tomard stood on the roof overlooking the dining hall, his cloak scorched. “Throw down your weapon and surrender!”

Sinan laughed. “Fool! You have no blade that can touch me!” 

“Maybe steel won’t touch you,” said Tomard, “but your sorcery won’t save you if we beat you into a pulp with our bare hands. You’re alone, outnumbered, and that damned mist you conjured is dispersing. Soon we’ll summon reinforcements from the Magisterium’s chapterhouse, and your little tricks won’t save you then.” 

“No!” said Sinan. “I am too close for you to stop me now!”

He reached into his robes, something glittering in his free hand.

“Take him!” said Tomard. “Stop him before…”

Sinan flung the vial. It exploded, and a column of thick white mist rose up, spreading in a pool across the floor. For a moment Caina thought it was similar to the mist he had conjured around the mansion, but then the mist rolled over a pair of charging militiamen. The metal of their armor sizzled and smoked, huge blisters forming on their skin. The men screamed as their hair and clothing caught fire.

The mist was acidic.

“Get back!” shouted Tomard, and the militiamen stumbled away from the mist as it spread across the floor. The floor itself began to smoke as the mist ate into it, and Caina backed away. Muravin snarled and turned away, crossing before the advancing mist. 

Sinan turned towards his work table. Caina wondered if he intended to flee through the mirror into the netherworld with his vial of half-completed Elixir, or if he would simply launch another spell.

She never found out.

Muravin bellowed and sprinted forward, throwing himself into the air. He leapt over the pool of mist and landed at the very edge on the far side. His boots started to smoke, but sheer momentum carried him forward, both hands gripping the shaft of his trident. Sinan snarled a curse, Mahdriva screamed for her father, and Muravin stabbed.

Lightning erupted from Sinan’s fork just as Muravin’s trident rammed into the Alchemist’s chest. Sinan’s ward turned aside the steel points, but the power of Muravin’s blow drove the Alchemist backwards and into the mirror. The great sheet of glass shattered into a thousand fragments. 

Yet lightning still burst from his fork, clipping Muravin on the shoulder. The former gladiator bellowed in pain as blue-white fingers crawled up and down his chain mail, and for an awful moment Caina thought that Mahdriva would see her father die in front of her. Yet the lightning bolt had only clipped Muravin, its full force lashing uselessly against the wall. Muravin fell to one knee, his limbs trembling, his black eyes ablaze with hate as he stared at Sinan. 

Caina ran to the edge of the mist as Sinan pushed himself away from the mirror frame, broken glass sliding from his shoulders. The fork began to spark with fresh lightning. Caina’s mind raced, her fingers tight against the ghostsilver dagger’s hilt. The acid mist was dissipating, but by the time it dissolved, Muravin would be dead. It was too far for her to jump, and…

The answer came to her.

“Muravin!” she shouted. “Catch!”

She threw the ghostsilver dagger over the pool of mist. The blade was not balanced for throwing, and the weapon flew at an odd angle. Yet Muravin’s thick arm snapped out and caught the dagger, his fingers closing around the handle. Sinan leveled his fork, the lightning crackling to life.

Muravin plunged the curved dagger into Sinan’s chest. 

The Alchemist stiffened, the fork falling from his hands, his eyes bulging as his mouth fell open. Muravin yanked the dagger free and drove it into Sinan’s chest once more, his massive hand closing around the Alchemist’s throat. Sinan pawed at the former gladiator’s wrist, but his efforts were useless. 

“You slew my daughters and my grandchildren,” hissed Muravin, “to live forever. Well, here is your immortality. Is it to your liking?”