Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) (32 page)

“I am only a blacksmith,” he said, slamming the shard into Kleistheon's throat, “but even I know how a damned lightning rod works.”

Kleistheon, preoccupied with drowning in his own blood, did not answer. After a moment his twitching stopped, and the lightning faded from his sword. 

Ark let out a long breath.

Utter silence hung over North Gate Plaza. The Legionaries stared at Ark, faces slack with shock. The Istarish gazed at him, stunned. Ark wondered what the devil was wrong with them, and then realized that they had just seen him kill a stormdancer. A stormdancer who had carved his way through the Nineteenth Legion, invincible and deadly, a stormdancer who could have taken the northern gate on his own.

And Ark, a man without any sorcery, had just killed him. 

He picked up Kleistheon's sword. The weapon felt marvelously light in his hand, and it looked sharp enough to use as a razor.

He pointed the sword at the Istarish.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Ark bellowed. “Take them!”

The stunned silence broke, and the Legionaries flung themselves upon the Istarish with a scream of fury. The Istarish lines shattered like glass beneath a hammer. The enemy had put too much trust in Kleistheon, Ark realized. They had expected the stormdancer to shatter the Legionaries' defenses, has had happened into the Plaza of the Tower. But now their invincible champion was dead. And with him perished the confidence of the Istarish soldiers. They fled, ignoring even the threats and the chain whips of the Immortals.

A shuddering clang came from the gatehouse, and fireballs soared overhead. For a black instant Ark wondered if the fireballs would crash into the struggling Legionaries, but Radast had adjusted his aim. The fireballs landed into the Avenue of Champions, striking the Istarish soldiers massed there. The entire Istarish force fled, scrambling back down the Avenue of Champions. 

Ark felt a surge of wild exultation. Perhaps they could drive the Istarish all the way to the Plaza of the Tower, even into the harbor. No, the Legionaries were still outnumbered. He ought to withdraw the men back to the earthworks and hold until Lord Hiram could arrive. 

Right about then the ashtairoi attacked.

###

“Stand, you craven dogs!” roared Rezir, pointing with his scimitar. “Stand and fight!”

His men did not heed him, instead continuing to flee back to the Plaza of the Tower. Rezir's fury redoubled. These useless peasant cravens! Why did they not obey their lord and master? If they fell in battle, so be it! They ought to be honored to give their lives in their emir's service.

Instead they kept running. 

“I told you to stand!” shouted Rezir, spurring his horse forward. “I will execute the lot of you for cowardice!” His scimitar blurred, sent a fleeing soldier's head rolling across the Avenue of Champions. None of the running men paid any heed. Rezir's bodyguard of Immortals formed up around him, and still the soldiers kept running, trampling each other in their haste to get away.

How had things gone so wrong? His plan had worked so well. All that had been left was to claim the northern gate, a simple task, a trifling detail. And once that was done he would be the emir of Marsis. How the other emirs would have bowed and scraped before him, the conqueror of the western Empire. Even the Padishah would have been forced to acknowledge Rezir's power. 

And somehow it had fallen apart.

He must have been betrayed. 

“Andromache,” spat Rezir.

The Kyracian storm witch had abandoned him for her precious meditations. Had she been here, her lightning could have ripped apart the Legionaries' lines. Or her brother could have watched Kleistheon's back, keeping that centurion from killing him.

The fool. How could he have fallen to a blacksmith? 

Rezir yanked on his reins, turning the black horse around.

“We make for the Great Market,” he told his Immortals. “At once!”

He would find Andromache and force her to see reason. If she lent her aid to the battle, they could yet claim the city's walls. 

And if she refused to listen to him...

Rezir scowled, spurring his horse to greater speed, the Immortals jogging after him.

If she refused to listen, he would abandon both her and her brother. It would be easy enough to steal one of the Kyracian warships from the harbor and make his escape. True, he would lose his chance to claim Marsis. But he would still have his life.

Which was more than Andromache would be able to say.

Chapter 23 - Balarigar

The sun went down.

Caina took a deep breath, left her hiding place, and headed for the Great Market.

Night had fallen over Marsis, but silence had not. From the north, Caina heard the distant sound of steel on steel, the clash of swords against shields. The Istarish and the Kyracians had launched their final push to seize the gates. If they succeeded, the Empire would never regain the city.

If Caina didn't find Nicolai soon, she would be trapped within Marsis.

Later. She could figure out what to do later, after she rescued Nicolai.  

Caina reached the edge of the Great Market. 

She stopped, staring.

“Damn it,” she said at last.

Once again chaos had broken out in the Great Market.

Bands of Istarish soldiers hurried down the Avenue of Governors. Most had dropped their shields, and had the hunted look of defeated men. Others carried sacks over their shoulders, and seemed intent on getting away with as much plunder as they could carry. The battle must not have gone well for the Istarish. Though Caina did not see any Kyracians among the soldiers. Perhaps the ashtairoi still fought… 

Later. She could worry about the battle after she found Nicolai.

She saw the ruined merchant stall fifty yards away. She hoped that Nicolai was still inside, that one of the Immortals hadn't carried him away or killed him out of cruelty. But the chaos in the Market could work to her advantage. If she ran in and out…

A troop of Immortals marched into the Market, surrounding a man in golden armor atop a black horse.

Rezir Shahan himself.  

He reined up at the edge of the Plaza, his Immortals forming a square around him. The Istarish soldiers looked at him with sullen, resentful eyes, while the slaves cringed, hoping to avoid his gaze. 

“Where is Andromache?” shouted Rezir.

No one answered him.

“Where is Andromache?” bellowed Rezir, standing up in his stirrups. “Answer me, damn you! Where is the Kyracian witch?” 

“Probably hiding from the battle,” shouted one of the soldiers. “Just like you!”

Rezir's expression darkened further. Good. If the Istarish fell to fighting among themselves, that would make it all the easier for Caina to grab Nicolai. 

Then a ragged band of Istarish soldiers moved closer to Rezir, blocking Caina's path to the ruined merchant stall. She cursed under her breath. Her shadow-cloak made it easier to remain unseen, but it would not let her move unnoticed through a crowd of Istarish footmen. 

“Do not presume to question your betters, dog!” said Rezir. “The failure is yours, not mine. Had you not fled like cravens, the city would be ours now.” 

“You lied to us!” said another soldier. “You promised us wealth and slaves! Instead we shall all die here, because of your folly!”

“I will have you crucified!” roared Rezir. “You will beg for mercy for days!”

The Istarish soldiers drew their swords. Some hastened to stand with their lord emir. Others gathered themselves around the rebels. Caina grinned behind her mask.

Perfect. 

She hurried into the Market, darting from shadow to shadow. Bonfires crackled throughout the Market, and many of the soldiers bore torches, providing countless shadows for Caina’s cloak. She drew closer and closer to the ruined merchant stall. 

“Maybe you should be afraid!” shouted a soldier. “You've got your Immortals, but there are more of us than there are of them.” 

Rezir sneered. “You have seen me in battle. You know steel cannot harm me!” 

“Aye,” said the soldier, “but we can still tie you up and leave you as a gift for the Imperials.” 

“Idiots,” said Rezir. “Do you think the Imperials would reward you? That they would pay you a bounty and send you on your way with grateful thanks? If we lose this battle, they will kill you all without mercy.”

Caina paused, ducking behind a ruined wagon. She was halfway to the ruined stall. No one had seen her. Even the captives were watching the argument among the Istarish. Just a little further...

“Follow me,” said Rezir, “and Marsis will be yours. Its treasures will be yours. Its women will be yours. The western Empire shall be ours, its lands divided among us. All this will be yours.” The anger in his voice rose. “But only if you find the courage to defeat the enemy!”

“How are we to defeat such foes?” said another soldier. “They killed one of the stormdancers!”

Caina blinked in surprise, wondering if Kylon had been slain. 

“Even without the stormdancer, you still outnumber the foe five to one,” said Rezir. “Are you so unmanned that you cannot face a beaten enemy?” Scorn dripped from his voice. “Shall the world say that the Kyracians are bolder men than the Istarish? For the Kyracians have not quailed from the fight.” 

“Then why are you here,” said another soldier, “looking for the Kyracian storm witch?”

Caina slid around the ruined wagon. Only ten yards left. The ruined merchant stall loomed before her. Just a little further...

“Balarigar!”

Caina froze.

A captive woman sat twenty feet away, her bound hands outstretched. To judge from her ragged clothes, she had been the cook of a prosperous merchant or minor noble. Two children huddled around her, pale and terrified.

“Do not forsake me, I beg of you!” said the woman. “I heard from the Szalds how you threw down the great demon. Please do not leave my children! Please!” 

Caina looked around, fearing that the woman’s cries would draw attention. Yet Rezir and his soldiers still shouted at each other, their confrontation on the verge of turning into a small battle. Caina couldn't stop to help this woman. She had to save Nicolai. She owned Ark and Tanya that, she...

“Balarigar,” moaned the woman, “please.”

Caina could no more leave this woman in chains than she could Nicolai.

Besides, if Caina did not act quickly, the captive woman and her children would make enough noise to draw the soldiers’ attention. 

“Quiet,” hissed Caina. She hurried to the woman and her children. Thick, tough ropes bound their wrists, the sort slavers bought to save on the cost of chains. 

But the ropes proved no match for Caina's ghostsilver dagger. 

“Go,” rasped Caina. “Quietly. Don't draw attention to...”

The woman seized her children and ran. The Istarish didn't notice. 

But the other captives did.

Hundreds of eyes turned in Caina's direction. A murmur started among the slaves. She heard the word “Balarigar” repeated, over and over again. 

At first a murmur.

And then thousands of voices shouting it at once, like a prayer or a battle cry.

That got the attention of the Istarish.

###

Rezir stopped speaking, his scowl deepening.

Bad enough that Andromache had betrayed him. But that his own troops would revolt against him was intolerable! That he had to negotiate with his own soldiers was an egregious insult. The ungrateful wretches! Once he took Marsis, he would bring in more reliable troops and crucify every last one of the traitors.

Then the noise from the slaves caught his attention. 

He stopped in mid-sentence, frowning. The slaves were shouting something, and at first he thought that they were screaming in fear. 

Then he realized the slaves were not screaming, but shouting.

“Balarigar!” The cry rang over the Market. “Balarigar! Balarigar! Balarigar!” 

A ripple of fear went through the Istarish soldiers. Even the Immortals shifted, skull-faced helms turning back and forth. 

“You superstitious cowards!” said Rezir. The Balarigar? His soldiers had whispered about a hooded shadow prowling the dockside streets, hunting and killing. It was nonsense, of course. “Balarigar” was only the Szaldic word for “demonslayer”, and the Szalds were a barbarous people, fit only to be slaves. “The Balarigar? Do you fear that goblins will snatch you from your beds at night? Bah! That I should have been cursed with such...”

“My lord emir!” said one of the Immortals, pointing. “Look!”

Rezir’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

A hooded shape ran through the rows of the slaves, a dagger glittering in its right hand. The figure's cloak looked as if it had been woven from shadow itself, flowing and merging with the darkness around it. For a moment fear squeezed Rezir's heart. Devils of the desert, the stories were true! 

Then his mind reasserted itself, and suddenly all his misfortunes made sense.

This “Balarigar” was obviously a Ghost nightfighter. No doubt the Ghost woman who had eluded Kylon had passed information on to the nightfighter. Or perhaps Andromache had been allied with the Ghosts all along, and plotted Rezir's ruin from the beginning. Either way, that nightfighter had been prowling through Marsis, sabotaging Rezir's efforts and undermining his plans.

And now his rage had a target.

“Kill him!” said Rezir. “A gold coin to the man who brings me his head.”

None of his troops moved. 

Rezir gritted his teeth. “One hundred gold coins to the man who brings me the Balarigar's head! Kill him now!”

That got his soldiers to move, even the mutinous ones.

###

The Istarish soldiers moved toward Caina, shields raised, swords drawn back. They were obviously afraid, but that wouldn't last. Once they realized the terrible Balarigar was simply a woman in a shadow-cloak, their fear would vanish.

Caina would not live long after that.

She needed to find a distraction. 

The slaves. Caina hesitated, unsure. Some of them might very well die. On the other hand, if she did nothing, they would almost certainly die of thirst and starvation in the Market. Or if the Istarish and the Kyracians took the city, they would die toiling in chains far from their homes.