Ghost in the Pact (35 page)

His thoughts reeled, his head ringing from the explosion. The Hellfire was too volatile to use properly in a battle. Little wonder the Istarish mostly used it during sieges. Little wonder the Istarish had burned the Kyracian fleet that had come to take Istarinmul in ancient times. Grand Wazir Erghulan Amirasku had been a fool to bring the Hellfire to the field…

For that matter, why hadn’t Erghulan responded? He ought to have sent men to stop the Istarish raiders, or at least guard the catapults. 

Trumpets rang out, and the army of the Grand Wazir started moving. But not towards the catapults.

Towards the rebel army, instead. 

It seemed that Erghulan had decided to abandon the catapults and smash the rebels with one heavy blow.

Chapter 19: Safeguards

The jungles ended at the base of Pyramid Isle’s rocky, bone-colored hill. 

It was like a line drawn upon a map. On one side was the jungle, lush and green and vibrant. Granted, Caina knew that the undead baboons had killed the island’s animals long ago. Nonetheless, the jungle was alive, filled with vivid greens and reds and yellows. 

On the other side of the line was death. 

The land at the base of the hill was simply dead. There were no trees, no bushes, no grasses, no flowers, no weeds, no lichen, nothing. Just dead earth that looked as if it would never support a plant again. Given the amount of necromantic power that had flowed through the Tomb of Kharnaces over the millennia, it was likely that nothing would ever grow here again.

Despite the heat of the jungle Caina felt very cold. 

A dark archway yawned on the side of the hill, the frame carved with elaborate Maatish hieroglyphs. Two statues stood on either side of the archway, rising to nearly twenty feet tall. They were muscular men clad in Maatish kilts, with giant scarabs in lieu of heads.

Beyond the archway waited the darkness within the Tomb of Kharnaces. 

“Ugly things,” muttered Kalgri, staring up at the statues. 

“Anubankh,” said Caina. “The Maatish god of necromancy.”

“A god?” said Kalgri, amused. “What fool prays to a god with a giant insect for a head?” 

“Perhaps you can ask Kharnaces when we seem him again,” said Morgant. 

Kalgri said nothing, still watching the archway. None of the baboons or Immortals were visible at the base of the hill. Perhaps Kharnaces had not believed Caina and the others would make it this far. 

“The Conjurant Bloodcrystal,” said Caina. “Kharnaces must have moved it to the top of the hill.”

“Most probably,” said Callatas, gazing skyward. The light at the top of the hill pulsed and flared, throwing an unearthly green glow over the island. “There are passages within the Tomb that lead to the hill’s crown. We shall have to use them.”

“And blunder into any wards or traps Kharnaces might have left behind,” said Morgant.

“We shall deal with them as we find them,” said Callatas.

“Maybe we can climb the sides of the hill,” said Caina, looking at the rocky slopes. Though that seemed unlikely. In places the hillside was steep enough to pass for a cliff. She thought she could work her way to the top of the hill, but she did not know if Annarah and Callatas could manage it. 

By the time they did, Kharnaces might have activated the Conjurant Bloodcrystal. 

It was time to make a very dangerous gamble. 

Caina concentrated upon her pyrikon, asking it to return to its bracelet form, and it shrank and wrapped around her left wrist. 

“All right,” said Caina. “This is what we’ll do. Callatas. If I remember right, there are six passages leading off from the domed entrance hall.”

“There are,” said Callatas. His face showed no emotion, but she saw the hatred and anger in his eyes. If they defeated Kharnaces, he would do his very best to kill her. Though given the way he had been staring at her, maybe he would attempt to visit some other indignities upon her first. 

“You remember which passage goes where?” said Caina.

He offered a thin smile. “I am not so forgetful.” 

“When we get there, we’ll split up,” said Caina. “Annarah and Morgant and I will go to the library and then the throne room to find the canopic jars.”

“And where shall Kalgri and I go?” said Callatas in a dry voice. 

“You,” said Caina, “will go to the apex of the hill to fight Kharnaces.” 

Callatas said nothing for a moment.

“I cannot overcome him in a direct duel,” said Callatas. “I am stronger than I was a century and a half ago…but he has practiced the arcane sciences for two and a half thousand years. I can present a challenge to him, but he will defeat me in the end.” His eyes narrowed. “I trust you have a reason other than arranging my death?” 

“Yes,” said Caina. “Kharnaces knows the canopic jars are his weakness. Once he’s realized that we have reached his Tomb, he knows we will come for the canopic jars, and he will crush us before we can destroy them. That means we have to distract him, and of the five of us, you are the only one who is a credible threat to him.”

“Then I am to be a distraction,” said Callatas with a scowl. “I shall draw the attention of Kharnaces while you sneak into his Tomb and destroy his canopic jars.”

“Yes,” said Caina, watching him. If he decided not to cooperate…

“Folly,” said Callatas. “Utter folly. Kharnaces will kill us all.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” said Caina. 

Callatas glared at her, and for a moment something like a bottomless black shadow darkened his eyes. Caina had seen a shadow like that before, filling the sky of the netherworld when Kotuluk Iblis had come to kill her. It occurred to her that if Kotuluk Iblis’s shadow filled Callatas, then the sovereign of the nagataaru was watching her right now. 

It was not a pleasant thought. 

“No,” said Callatas at last. 

“It is the best plan we are likely to have, father,” said Kalgri, much to Caina’s surprise. Callatas looked at her. “I detest going into battle against a superior foe, but it seems we have little choice if the Apotheosis is to happen.”

“Very well,” said Callatas. “I agree to your terms.” He started to turn back. “We…”

Caina moved before he could react. 

She seized his wrist and twisted it, and Callatas’s eyes went wide. At once he started to draw power for a spell, but not before Caina grabbed the Seal of Iramis and ripped it from his finger. 

She took several steps back as golden fire crackled around his fingers.

“Give that back,” hissed Callatas. “Now!”

“No,” said Caina. “If I do, once Kharnaces is defeated, you’ll leave Pyramid Isle at once.”

“Obviously,” said Callatas. “Give it back, or you will die here and now.”

“You can come and get it,” said Caina, “once we have destroyed Kharnaces.”

Kalgri giggled in amusement, which only made Callatas angrier. 

“Or I can kill all three of you now,” said Callatas, “and take the Seal from your corpse.”

Caina smiled at him, trying to conceal her fear. “And if you do, I hope you can come up with a way to defeat Kharnaces on your own. Do you think Kalgri would distract him while you unravel the spells around his canopic jars? She does seem like the self-sacrificing sort, doesn’t she? Or maybe you can defeat Kharnaces in a spell duel. Stranger things have happened.” 

Callatas glared at her, the cords standing out in his neck, the veins throbbing in his temples. She might have pushed him too far. Her plan was the most logical way they had to defeat Kharnaces, and if she was honest, it was the only thing that might possibly work. Yet she suspected that Callatas was not in complete control of himself, especially after their shouting match in the jungle. If she had pushed him too far, and he decided to simply kill them all…

She adjusted her grip on the ghostsilver dagger, the Seal’s power burning against her left hand. 

Callatas let out a long breath, his expression turning to calm, though his eyes burned like coals. Kalgri moved to his side, a red-armored shadow in her stolen shadow-cloak. 

“Very well,” said Callatas at last. “I will keep my word. But know this. Once Kharnaces is defeated and the Conjurant Bloodcrystal destroyed, I will find you, I will reclaim the Seal, and then I will kill you in great pain.”

“For what?” said Annarah, shaking her head. “For the crime of telling you the truth?” 

Callatas hissed, the calm starting to crack again. “For daring to oppose the Apotheosis and the coming of the new humanity. For being too foolish to see the truth of my vision.”

“Then the man who was my teacher,” said Annarah, “is truly dead, and a monster has indeed taken his place.”

Callatas said nothing, but his knuckles shone white as his hand tightened against the Staff of Iramis. 

“Not to worry,” said Morgant. “It’s entirely possible Kharnaces will kill us all first.”

Kalgri’s sneering, giggling laughter rang out. Gods, but Caina was sick of that sound. 

“If we are done posturing,” said Caina, “we have work to do.” She slipped the Seal into a pouch at her belt. She didn’t want to wear the thing. It radiated so much arcane power that it hurt to have it against her skin, and if she did wear it, she suspected the nagataaru would be able to sense her presence, even with her valikarion abilities. 

Best not to find out. That, and it was simply too big for any of her fingers. 

Callatas inclined his head and pointed the Staff at the entrance to the Tomb, the Star gleaming with pale blue light on its chain against his chest. “Lead the way, then, Balarigar.” 

Caina took a deep breath and turned, recalling her pyrikon to its staff form. The end shone with pale white light, and Caina led the way into the Tomb of Kharnaces. 

The great entry hall had not changed since her last visit. The polished granite floor gleamed beneath her boots, reflecting the glow from the pyrikon. Massive square pillars rose from the floor to the arched ceiling overhead, carved in the likeness of the Maatish gods, muscled men in kilts with the heads of animals – scarabs and baboons and lions and falcons and jackals. Hieroglyphs covered the ceiling. They had been filled with silver, and they reflected the light from the staff. The overall effect made for a sort of cold, frozen beauty. 

The air within the Tomb was drier and colder than the jungle. Caina’s clothes felt damp with the sweat of her exertions over the last day. It was just as well that the dusty, dry smell of the Tomb swallowed everything else. She suspected her own odor was not pleasant. 

“A pity we can’t take the time to carve the silver out of those hieroglyphs,” said Morgant, gazing at the ceiling. “There is enough silver up there to keep a man in food and drink for a very long time.” 

“Bad idea,” said Caina. The light from her pyrikon illuminated the far end of the entry hall, revealing a massive relief of a falcon holding a solar orb in its talons. The relief had been gilded, and seemed to shimmer like fire. Beyond was another hall that stretched into the darkness. Unlike the first hall, there were no pillars. Rather, there were niches of red granite in the walls, dozens of them, the walls themselves covered with hieroglyphs. “There are spells on those hieroglyphs. I suspect prying them out of the ceiling would be dangerous.”

She could also see warding spells on each of those niches, layered over powerful necromantic spells. Those could be a problem. Caina remembered those spells from her last visit to the Tomb. 

“Perhaps you could take the silver as recompense for your precious mural,” said Callatas. 

Morgant grinned. The pale light from the pyrikon made the expression look skull-like on his gaunt face. “Why don’t you levitate up there and get it?”

“Stop,” said Caina. “We have a problem.” She pointed the pyrikon staff into the next gallery. “There are nagataaru waiting in those niches, dozens of them. Kharnaces bound them into undead warriors.” 

“What of it?” said Callatas. “We are invisible to the sight of the nagataaru. Let them come. They will not be able to find us. I remember those warriors. They remain dormant until the presence of an intruder activates them.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” said Caina. “This is the end of the world. At least, Kharnaces wants it to be the end of the world. So why does he need dormant guardians? Why not wake them up and send them out to hunt for us?”

For a moment no one said anything. 

“Oh,” said Morgant. “Hell.” 

“What do you mean?” said Callatas. “Explain…”

With the sound of rasping stone upon stone, every single niche in the next hall opened, and scores of the undead warriors stepped forth.

Like the baboons in the jungle outside, they had been mummified long ago, their leathery flesh stretched tight over their crumbling skeletons. The flesh had drawn back from their teeth in macabre grins, and the purple fire of the nagataaru danced in the black pits of their eyes. Unlike the baboons, the warriors wore armor and carried weapons – bronze helmets, round bronze shields, and skirts of bronze scales that fell to their knees. In their right hands they carried the curved, hooked sword that the ancient Maatish had called a khopesh, sharp and deadly. To the sight of the valikarion, the warriors shone with necromantic spells and the augmentation spells placed upon the weapons and armor. 

The warriors strode into the hall, and then stopped and turned. 

Every single one of them was staring at Caina and the others.

“They can see us,” said Caina, trying to sort through the haze of spells surrounding the undead warriors.

“They cannot see us,” said Callatas with disdain. “They are nagataaru housed in shells of undead flesh.” 

Some of the undead warriors looked in Callatas’s direction. 

“Really?” said Morgant. “No doubt they were swayed but your charismatic oratory, but…”

“The spells,” said Caina. “The spells on their helmets. I think they let the nagataaru perceive the material world. Kharnaces must have added them since the last time, and…”

The undead warriors strode forward, raising their khopesh blades. 

“Defend yourselves!” said Caina. 

###

Morgant flicked his wrist, ripping his black dagger through the bronze helmet of an undead warrior, twisting the blade to the left. The skull and the helmet popped right off and rolled across the floor. Shadow and purple fire erupted from the undead warrior’s neck, forming a brief image of a hooded wraith as the nagataaru was ejected from its host. The nagataaru dissipated, drawn back into the netherworld, and the undead warrior collapsed to the floor in a pile of bones.