Jonathan Moeller - The Ghosts 07 - Ghost in the Ashes (25 page)

Then he exploded in golden fire for the third time. 

The force of the blast slammed Caina to the mosaic floor. She landed with a grunt, all the breath exploding from her lungs. A pillar of brilliant golden fire whirled before the dining hall, chewing into the walls and ceiling and floor. Corvalis helped her to stand, and Caina regained her feet as the golden flame faded away. 

Bile rose in her throat.

The thing that squatted before the ruined dining hall was a grotesque parody of human life, a creature congealed out of nightmares. Sinan was now size of a bear, a huge mass of dripping flesh crouched upon a dozen muscular legs. A score of heads rose from the thick stump of his torso, some of stunning beauty, others of hideous appearance. Dozens of arms jutted at random places from the creature’s flesh, and Caina saw that some of its organs were outside of its skin. Two hearts beat atop Sinan’s torso, and she saw four brains and several lungs pulsing and throbbing in his hips.

An all the while, half of the heads screamed, while the other half cursed and snarled in Istarish.

“Run!” said Corvalis.

Caina saw no reason to argue.

She sprinted for the main doors alongside Corvalis. Sinan pursued them, his legs driving his huge, misshapen body with a drunken wobble as he bounced off the walls. Despite that, he moved with terrifying speed, his mouths hurling curses.

Caina raced out the mansion’s front doors. Tomard and Muravin waited outside, surrounded by the surviving militiamen. A mob of Imperial Guards stood behind them, weapons drawn, Halfdan and Titus and Tanzir at their head.

“What’s happening in there?” said Titus.

“Shut those doors!” said Corvalis. “Barricade them! Right now!”

Titus took one look at the creature charging up the entry hall and his face went white.

“Do as he says!” he shouted.

Militiamen and Guards leaped forward, closing the doors and bracing them with spears and shields. Caina heard a thump, and the doors trembled as Sinan pounded against them, his dozen voices raised in insane fury. 

Those doors would not hold him for long.

“Gods,” said Titus, “what sort of creature is that?”

“Sinan,” said Corvalis. “Or whatever is left of him.”

Even Halfdan looked stunned. “What happened to him?”

“I don’t know,” said Tomard. “Something in his sorcery went…awry. Seriously awry.”

“Demons,” said Muravin. “Demons have inhabited his flesh, summoned by his wickedness.”

“No,” said Caina. “He’s a copying error.” 

“A copying error?” said Titus, incredulous.

The doors thumped again, some tiles sliding free from the mansion’s roof.

“Don’t you see?” said Caina. “It’s like a scribe copying a book and making an error, and then another scribe making a copy of the same book with the first error, while making mistakes of his own. The errors compound themselves over time. Every time we kill Sinan, the power of the Elixir rebuilds his body. Except…except he didn’t finish the Elixir. That must be why he needed the ashes of three unborn children, to stabilize the Elixir. It’s rebuilding his body, over and over again, but…”

“But it’s making mistakes every time,” said Corvalis, “and it turned him into that thing.”

“The Ghost speaks true,” said Tanzir, gazing in fear at the mansion. “There are stories of Alchemists who botched their Elixir Rejuvenata, who transformed themselves into horrid monsters.” He shivered. “I do not think he will be Mother’s favorite Alchemist any longer.”

“Those stories,” said Halfdan, “do they say how Sinan can be killed?”

“Er,” said Tanzir. “No. Unfortunately.” 

“Every time we deal him a mortal wound,” said Tomard, “that golden fire appears and heals him.” 

“Sooner or later the power of the sorcery will fade,” said Corvalis.

Another thump, and Caina saw the doors splinter. 

“Aye, but how many more mortal wounds can he take?” said Titus. “A dozen? A score? He might well kill us all before we can even inflict that much damage. Or, worse, he’ll escape us and rampage through the city!”

Again a thump came, Sinan’s voices screaming threats, and a new crack appeared in the doors. 

“Perhaps if we dismember the corpse,” said Muravin, “cut out his heart before the fire comes…”

“We can’t,” said Caina. “Anyone who tries will get burned to cinders.”

Fire. That was the key, somehow, the phoenix fire. 

“We are overmatched,” said Titus. “I will dispatch a messenger to the Magisterium’s chapterhouse, and bid them to send magi to deal with Sinan. We shall have to hold him here until the magi arrive.”

“The Guards and the militiamen may not be able to hold the creature,” said Halfdan. Another thump, and another crack appeared in the mansion’s doors. “It will be a slaughter, and the magi may not even come. They may well be content to let Sinan slaughter Tanzir.” 

“You and you,” said Titus, pointing at a pair of Imperial Guards. “Take the lord emir to the Imperial Citadel, and keep him safe. The pregnant girl as well – that Alchemist might kill her simply out of spite. The rest of you, form a battle line. We will kill that damned Alchemist as many times as…”

“Wait,” said Caina as an idea came to her.

Titus scowled at her. “What?”

“The fire comes from the phoenix ashes,” said Caina.

“Phoenix ashes?” said Titus.

“Don’t ask,” said Tanzir.

“That’s the source of the power that heals him,” said Caina. “It’s based in fire. If we are to kill him, we need to douse the fire.”

“And where shall we get that much water?” said Titus. “It…”

Caina pointed. “The reservoir pool behind the Lord Ambassador’s residence. It’s twenty feet deep. If we dunk Sinan in that, I think that much water will counteract the fire of the phoenix ashes.” 

“He will simply climb out again,” said Tomard.

“Not if we wound him badly enough first,” said Caina, “and trigger the healing.”

One of the panels in the door smashed apart, and Caina saw Sinan’s glistening flesh. The Imperial Guards hurried forward, shoving additional shields and spears against the doors, but they would not hold for long. 

“So you want to lure out Sinan, wound him, and then push him into the pool?” said Titus.

Caina nodded. 

“Madness,” said Titus.

“Probably,” said Caina, “but there isn’t any other option, my lord. When he breaks out, he’ll kill us all, and no matter how badly we wound him, he’ll heal himself. We’ll kill him eventually, but not before he kills many, many innocent people.”

“The Ghost nightfighters know their business,” said Halfdan. 

Titus gave an irritated shake of his head. “And just how are we to get Sinan into the pool?”

“Trust me, my lord,” said Caina. “He’ll follow me.”

“You?” said Titus, and she saw Corvalis stiffen in alarm. 

“Me,” said Caina. “He’s…rather irritated with me, and I know how to make him angrier.”

Titus sighed. “Very well. Centurion!” Tylas hurried over, his face wary behind his helm as he looked at Caina. “Array your men near the pool. When the Ghost lures Sinan near it, strike with your javelins to wound him, and then use your shields to shove him into the water.”

“Is…is that wise, my lord?” said Tylas, glancing at the crumbling door.

“Probably not,” said Titus, “but I have no better ideas.” 

Tylas banged his fist against his cuirass in salute, and the Imperial Guards hurried to obey. Ten men moved around Tanzir and Mahdriva and Muravin, escorting them away from the chaos, while Tomard and the militiamen moved to seal off the surrounding streets. Titus fell back, flanked by the Guards, leaving Caina alone with Halfdan and Corvalis.

“You are sure about this?” said Halfdan.

“No,” said Caina, gazing at the door. “Go already.”

“As you command,” said Halfdan with a bow that held no trace of mockery, and then he went to join Lord Titus. 

“This is madness,” said Corvalis. “He will kill you.”

“He will try,” said Caina.

She would have sent Corvalis away, but she knew he would not listen. 

Corvalis laughed and shook his masked head. “Look at you.”

“What?” said Caina.

One of Sinan’s fists smashed through the wood.

“You’ve got a lord of the Empire and an emir of Istarinmul hopping to do your bidding,” said Corvalis. “You’ll rule the Empire yet.”

She felt a chill at his words. Yet it reminded her of the attack upon the House of Kularus, when she had taken command of the defense. Was the vision from the netherworld her future? Could she become like the sorceress she had seen?

Of course, Sinan might rip her head off her shoulders, and then she would have no future at all. 

The militiamen and the Guards fell back from the doors, and a moment later Sinan bashed them open. The creature staggered onto the mansion’s stairs, all twenty heads shrieking curses and looking for fresh victims.

Caina stepped forward, raising her voice. “Ibrahmus Sinan!”

A shiver went through the hulking creature, and all twenty of its heads rotated to face her. 

“The Ghost,” rasped one of the heads. “The clever, clever little Ghost.”

The creature took a few skittering steps towards her.

“Do you have anything to say,” said another of the heads, “before I tear you to shreds?”

Caina stared at Sinan. “You deserved to be a slave.”

A furious ripple went through the hulking mass of deformed flesh. 

“You’re pathetic,” said Caina. “You thought you could be a Master Alchemist of the College. But a former gladiator and a pregnant girl escaped you, and you couldn’t even catch them. You were too much of a coward to enter the netherworld and take the phoenix ashes for yourself. You tried to become a Master Alchemist…and look at you now. You murdered those women and their children for nothing. The College would kill you on sight. You weren’t fit to be a Master Alchemist. You weren’t even fit to be an Alchemist. You were born a slave, and you deserve…”

All of Sinan’s heads loosed an earsplitting shriek, and the vast creature charged at her, its bare feet slipping and sliding over the ground.          

Caina waited to the last instant, and then threw herself to the left, Corvalis dodging to the right. She hit the ground and rolled, coming back to her feet, the ghostsilver dagger a blur in her hands as she struck. The blade bit into one of Sinan’s many legs, the wound sizzling, and the Alchemist’s heads howled in unison. Corvalis struck at Sinan’s right side, his sword digging a gash, but Sinan ignored him.

The Alchemist’s fury was focused upon Caina, and his many arms reached to seize her.

Yet she eluded them. The Elixir had bestowed Sinan with superhuman strength and speed, even in his mutated form, yet Caina suspected the Elixir had not bestowed superhuman agility to match. His legs tangled around each other as he tried to turn, and often his own arms blocked his attacks. Caina danced around him, darting out of his reach, hitting his flank with the ghostsilver dagger. Corvalis struck him over and over, but Sinan ignored him. 

Whatever remained of Sinan’s mind wanted Caina dead.

And she drew him around the edge of the mansion, towards the aqueduct reservoir. 

She ran around the mansion’s corner. The pool gleamed in the moonlight, a wide concrete basin filled with rippling water. Dozens of Tylas’s Imperial Guards waited near the edge, shields on their arms and javelins in their hands.    

Caina backed towards them. 

Sinan staggered around the corner, bleeding from a dozen wounds as Corvalis struck again and again, and the twisted Alchemist’s eyes widened at the sight of the Imperial Guards.

“Now!” shouted Tylas.

In one smooth, well-drilled motion, the Guards drew back their arms and flung their javelins. Caina ducked, Corvalis moved away, and a rain of razor-tipped steel hurtled towards Sinan. The Alchemist screamed, and dozens of the javelins slammed into him, driving him towards the pool.

His wounds, all of them, began to glimmer with golden light.

Caina scrambled to her feet, getting out of the way.

“Shields!” said Tylas. “Get him into the water.”

Golden haze flickered around Sinan’s misshapen form. 

The Guards surged forward, dozens of them, driving their shields against Sinan. The Alchemist bellowed and thrashed, knocking several Guards to the ground.

Golden fire blazed around his wounds. 

Sinan shrieked, his heads snarling, and shoved himself at the Guards, scattering them. He was going to heal himself…and the inferno of his healing would kill dozens of men.

“Sinan!” shouted Caina, running at him. She buried her dagger to the hilt in the wet flesh of his side and ripped the blade free, the golden light shining from the wound. Sinan whirled to face her, ignoring the Guards, ignoring the javelins jutting from his flesh, ignoring everything but her.

And his desire to kill her.

Caina shoved her dagger into its sheath and jumped into the pool.

The shock of the cold water filled her, and she started swimming for the lip of the pool. Sinan threw himself in after her, and Caina felt his fingers grasp for her legs. But she kicked herself free, the wave of his impact carrying her forward, and she half-swam, half-thrashed for the pool’s lip. 

Below she saw a golden glow fill the reservoir, felt the water heat up around her. She wondered why Sinan did not pursue her, and after a belated moment realized that his misshapen body prevented him from swimming. He moved back and forth beneath twenty feet of water, the golden light growing brighter and brighter. Terrible heat soaked through her clothing as the water started to boil around her.

The golden light filled the world. She glimpsed the edge of the pool, but it seemed so terribly distant.

Sinan was going to die, but he was going to cook her alive.

The golden light blazed, and Caina lunged for the edge of the reservoir. 

It was just out of reach.

A pair of black-gloved hands seized her wrist and wrenched her out of the steaming water with such force that her left arm almost popped out of its socket. She gasped and fell forward, her head spinning from the hot water, and landed hard against Corvalis.