Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) (8 page)

Kylon nodded. He still had doubts. But if anyone could fulfill such an audacious vision, it was Andromache, the High Seat of House Kardamnos and Archon of New Kyre. 

"Which brings us," said Andromache, turning to Sicarion, "to your task."

Sicarion gazed at her, his mismatched gaze unblinking. 

"Find the Moroaica," said Andromache, "and tell her that I have arrived." 

Chapter 6 - Hunters

The dead sorceress watched Caina.

Marsis burned around them. Flames leapt from the warehouses, their roofs collapsing in plumes of smoke and cinders. The fires raced through the Plaza of the Tower, devouring the mansions and the temples. Even the Citadel itself stood wreathed in flames, Black Angel Tower wrapped in dark smoke. 

Caina stepped toward the dead sorceress. Jadriga wore a simple crimson robe, belted around her waist, her hair falling in damp curls around her pale neck. On her hands and wrists Caina saw swirling black tattoos, the intricate warding sigils Jadriga had worn during her most powerful rituals.

"You should have listened to me," said the Moroaica.

Caina shook her head. "No. You're dead. I killed you myself.

A faint smile crossed Jadriga's red lips. "You did. Yet you should have heeded me. You should have prepared yourself for what now comes to devour you." 

"No," said Caina. “This is only a nightmare. A..." What was the phrase Halfdan always used? "A scar upon my mind."

"Of course," said Jadriga. "And now a second warning for you, child of the Ghosts. My servants are coming for you. Prepare yourself to face them." 

The world dissolved into blackness.

###

Caina awoke to pain. 

She began coughing, her chest aching. The ground dug into her back and legs as her muscles shifted. Her eyes opened, and she saw something dark and thick leaning over her. A wooden beam, torn from the roof of a tenement. 

Memories swam to the surface of her mind. A lightning bolt screaming out of the sky. Walking with Nicolai. An ornate procession led by a hard-face man in gilded armor, a crimson banner flying overhead. The screams...

Nicolai!

Caina sat up, ignoring the ache in her limbs. 

She was still in the tenement's courtyard, though the stormsinger's deflected lightning had ripped the tenement to shreds and set the neighboring buildings aflame. The blast had flung Caina against the far wall, beneath some beams that had fallen at an angle. It was only the sheerest luck that she had not been killed or crippled. 

Caina staggered to her feet, noticing the half-dried blood on her hands and sleeves. Not hers. She remembered the fight with the Istarish soldiers and the black-armored Immortal in his skull helmet.

What had happened to Nicolai? 

She looked around, terrified that she would see his crushed body beneath the rubble. But there was no sign of him. Had he run for help? Or...

No.

She remembered hearing Istarish soldiers as she lay half-stunned. They had found Nicolai and carried him off. The beams must have obscured Caina from their view. Or if they had seen her, they assumed she was dead. She certainly looked the part, with her green dress ripped and dirty and stained with blood. 

The slavers had taken Nicolai. 

Caina cursed in fury. Ark had spent five years trying to find Nicolai. He and Tanya had trusted Caina with their son. And now Nicolai was in the hands of slave traders. And it was Caina's fault, Caina's folly...

She shoved aside the emotions, her mind turning cold and focused. 

She had to get Nicolai back. But useless recrimination would accomplish nothing. Action would achieve more. Caina was a nightfighter of the Ghosts, trained in disguise and stealth. She had the tools to get Nicolai back. 

If she only had the wit to use them.

She took a tentative step, and when she did not fall, took a few more. She had to get moving. Yet despite her skills and training, she was a lone woman wearing a tattered dress in a city full of slavers. If the Istarish found her, she would very quickly find herself wearing chains. She needed a way to move unnoticed through the enemy.

A disguise, then.

The black-armored Immortal caught Caina's eye, but his armor was too large, too heavy. Instead she looked at one of the dead Istarish soldiers. 

Caina dragged the corpse into a doorway.

A moment later she emerged clad in the soldier's clothing, armor, and helmet, his scimitar at her belt and his shield on her back. She kept the daggers in her boots and her throwing knives and ghostsilver dagger in her belt. She left the courtyard, striding down the alley.

A plan formed in her mind. First, she needed to assess the situation. Find how many troops the treacherous Rezir Shahan had brought to Marsis. Then she would discern where the Istarish had taken their captives. Once she knew, she would steal Nicolai away and retreat to Zorgi's Inn. Then she could return Nicolai to Ark and Tanya, and inform Halfdan of what she had found. Caina hoped he would know what to do. The Ghosts were spies and assassins, not soldiers. Yet as spies, they had failed miserably. Rezir had somehow smuggled thousands of his soldiers into the city, using them in his treacherous attack. And the Kyracian fleet had stormed into the harbor unawares. 

She turned a corner and ran into a patrol.

Four Istarish soldiers watched the alley with narrowed eyes, hands on their sword hilts. A man with the knots of an Istarish officer, a khalmir, on his shoulder looked Caina over. For an agonized half-second Caina wondered if the khalmir would see through her disguise. She had rubbed dirt across her face, and hidden her hair beneath the spiked helmet, but if he realized she was a woman...

"You," he said in Istarish. "What are you doing?" 

Caina understood Istarish, but she had never managed to speak it without a noticeable Caerish accent. Hopefully the officer would not notice. 

"Orders," she said, keeping her voice gruff. "A courier. Taking the emir's commands to the men holding the warehouses."

The khalmir frowned. "Your orders are out of date. The emir has commanded his men to gather in the Great Market as soon as possible. His eyes narrowed. "Unless you were planning to desert, hmm? The emir takes a dim opinion of deserters."

"No, sir," said Caina. "No, I'm loyal. But my orders..."

"Are no longer relevant," said the khalmir. "The emir has commanded, and we shall obey." His hand tightened around his scimitar's hilt. "Unless you intend to disobey?"

"No, sir," said Caina, keeping her voice calm, but she cursed herself. This had not been in the plan. But she would attract less notice among a group than she would on her own. And marching with these men would give her a good look at the Istarish force. 

She could always slip away later. 

"Come," said the khalmir. "The emir commands haste."

He strode up the alley, two of his men in front of Caina, and two of them behind. Clearly, he still thought she was a deserter. Caina kept her expression bored, her eyes roving over the other soldiers. They looked tense and wary, but they were in an enemy city. They paid her no particular attention.

The officer led them into the Great Market.

And Caina realized she had much bigger problems than just finding Nicolai. 

Istarish troops filled the Great Market. She saw thousands of infantry in their scale armor and spiked helms. With them marched hundreds of Immortals, the blue light of their eyes glimmering beneath their skull helms. Behind them waited soldiers in gleaming cuirasses and helms, gray-green cloaks flowing from their shoulders. Kyracian ashtairoi, the soldiers of New Kyre.

The Kyracians had landed their troops.

And among the soldiers sat thousands of captives.

Women and children, mostly. No doubt the Istarish had killed any man who resisted. The newly captured slaves sat in rows, their necks and wrists bound with chains or ropes, each captive linked to the next. Many of the captives wept, and some simply screamed, filling the Market with a hellish cacophony. 

Hot fury filled Caina, and she wanted to draw her daggers and plunge them into the nearest Istarish soldiers. She loathed slavers, hated them almost as much as she hated sorcerers, and if she had the power, she would have slain every last slave trader in the world.

But she did not have the power. And her wits were her only defense here. So she kept quiet and kept walking with the soldiers, but her eyes swept the lines of captives, seeking for Nicolai. 

So many weeping children. Gods, how could she even find Nicolai among such a throng? For that matter, once she found him, how could she get him back to Ark and Tanya? Picking the locks on the chains would be easy enough, but once she did, the other slaves would see what was happening. The commotion would draw the attention of the soldiers. 

A trumpet blast rang out, and Caina saw the Istarish soldiers and Kyracian ashtairoi move into formation. Rezir Shahan and his Kyracian allies were preparing to march up the Avenue of Governors. No doubt he intended to seize the Plaza of the Tower - from there, he could attack the Citadel and the city’s gates. 

"Which unit are you from?" said the khalmir.

Caina opened her mouth to answer.

"No matter. You're part of mine now," said the khalmir. "Welcome to the ninth company, dog. Try to run, and I'll have your head."

"As you say, sir," said Caina, her mind racing. If the Istarish were preparing to attack, the khalmir would be too busy to track down one deserter. Which gave Caina an opportunity. If she could slip away and conceal herself, she could wait until the bulk of force had moved up the Avenue of Governors. Only a few men would remain to guard the captives. Then Caina could find Nicolai, take him, and escape. 

The khalmir led her to a company at the rear of the Istarish formation. To her left, she saw a warehouse fronting on the Market, its doors torn away, the crates inside shattered and in disarray. No doubt the Istarish soldiers had already looted it. It would make a perfect place for concealment. 

"Form up, dogs!" yelled the khalmir. "Ninth company, form up! Come on, you laggards, form up!" The men hastened to obey, and Caina found herself between two hulking soldiers. She was not tall, and almost all the soldiers stood taller than she did. Hopefully, the khalmir would not notice. "March!"

The company marched forward, and Caina kept pace with them. The looted warehouse drew closer. If she was going to break away, she needed to do so now. 

So she tripped. 

She fell flat upon her face, the leather of her gauntlets scraping against the ground. The soldier behind her stumbled over her outstretched leg, and crashed headfirst into the next rank. The company dissolved into chaos, men shouting curses at each other, and the khalmir bellowing threats.

Caina moved.

She rolled to a crouch, taking a quick look around. The men climbed out of their tangle, cursing, while the khalmir shouted instructions, bashing any laggards with his shield. No one paid any attention to Caina. She darted forward and ducked into the looted warehouse. Smashed and empty crates lay everywhere, light shining through sun wells in the roof. Caina crouched behind an empty crate and waited.

For a moment no one appeared.

Then the khalmir and another soldier appeared in the door.

"That damned deserter," said the khalmir. "If the company is under strength, the emir will have our heads. Find him! Now!" 

The officer moved to the left, while the soldier walked along the right wall. 

She remained motionless, slipping a throwing knife into her hand. 

The soldier moved past the crate, looking back and forth. Caina circled around him, her boots making no sound against the floor. She leaned up, clapped her left hand over the soldier's mouth, even as her right raked the blade across his throat. Blood gushed over her fingers, and the soldier struggled, almost wrenching from her grasp...but not for very long. 

He went limp, and Caina eased him to the floor. 

It had taken no more than a few heartbeats. 

Caina glided across the warehouse floor, still moving soundlessly, the dripping knife in her hand. The khalmir stalked through the crates, poking them with the butt of his spear.

Caina tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sir," she said, "the deserter."

He turned, and Caina punched him in the stomach. As he doubled over, she seized the spike on his helmet, wrenched his head back, and opened his throat. 

A moment later he joined the soldier on the floor.

Caina straightened up, breathing hard. She glanced toward the warehouse door, but saw no other soldiers. No doubt the khalmir had sent his company on its march before returning to find the deserter. His men would probably assume that he had deserted, ironically enough.

She looked at the corpses and felt a twinge of guilt. Two men, slain in cold blood. They would have killed her, had they caught her. Yet it still weighed upon her. She had killed these men without hesitation, without mercy. How hard and cold she had become. 

Little wonder Jadriga had seen herself in Caina.

She shoved aside the thoughts with an angry shake of her head. Her conscience could wait. Right now she had to find Nicolai. With the soldiers marching out of the Market, her best chance to do so had arrived.

She took a moment to arrange the corpses so it looked like they had killed each other in a quarrel, and then left through the warehouse's back door. The alley was deserted, and Caina saw a five-story tenement standing nearby. By now its residents would have fled or been taken captive. It would make an ideal location to watch the Great Market.

And if she got lucky, she might spot Nicolai.

Caina walked into the tenement’s courtyard and froze.

Five men stood there, waiting for her. 

Four of the men looked like common mercenaries, clad in chain mail and leather, broadswords hanging at their belts. The fifth wore leather armor with steel studs, an old cloak thrown over his shoulders. His dress was that of a caravan guard, but his features were...scarred.