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Ghost in the Lore
Ghost in the Lore
Ghost in the Lore
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Ghost in the Lore

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A hidden traitor. Two deadly artifacts.

After many travails, Caina has reached the ancient city of Iramis, where the power and wisdom of the loremasters will protect the necromantic Sword and Dagger of the Iron King.

But a traitor lurks within the mighty walls of Iramis.

And this betrayer might undo everything Caina has done...

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 6, 2021
ISBN9781005084400
Ghost in the Lore
Author

Jonathan Moeller

Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair of a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.He has written the "Demonsouled" trilogy of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write the "Ghosts" sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the "$0.99 Beginner's Guide" series of computer books, and numerous other works.Visit his website at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.comVisit his technology blog at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed

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    Book preview

    Ghost in the Lore - Jonathan Moeller

    GHOST IN THE LORE

    Jonathan Moeller

    ***

    Description

    A hidden traitor. Two deadly artifacts.

    After many travails, Caina has reached the ancient city of Iramis, where the power and wisdom of the loremasters will protect the necromantic Sword and Dagger of the Iron King.

    But a traitor lurks within the mighty walls of Iramis.

    And this betrayer might undo everything Caina has done...

    ***

    Ghost in the Lore

    Copyright 2021 by Jonathan Moeller.

    Smashwords Edition.

    Cover design by Clarissa Yeo.

    Ebook edition published May 2021.

    All Rights Reserved.

    This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

    ***

    Get New Books

    Sign up for my newsletter at this link, and get three free epic fantasy novels (https://www.jonathanmoeller.com/writer/?page_id=1854).

    ***

    Chapter 1: Iramis

    Caina expected disaster at any moment.

    She had every reason to anticipate catastrophe. On her belt, she carried a scabbarded sword and a sheathed dagger. Both weapons had been forged of dark iron, their pommels set with carved emeralds shaped like a dragon’s head. The two weapons were the Sword and Dagger of the Iron King, two of the five relics of Rasarion Yagar that carried his power.

    Talmania Scorneus had the other three, and she wanted all five.

    So as Caina, her husband, her friends, and her escort rode from Istarinmul, crossing the Trabazon Steppes for the ancient city of Iramis, she expected an attack. Doubts played on her mind, though Caina tried to ignore them. Perhaps she should have gone straight from Risiviri to Iramis with the Sword, disregarding all other distractions.

    Yet what else could Caina have done? She had nearly gotten arrested in Artifel, and if she had not acted, the Sword would have fallen into the hands of a fool like Decius Aberon. If she hadn’t helped Lord Aeolus and Lord Corbould in Malarae, an Umbarian puppet might have become the new Emperor, or Talmania might have killed Valerius Hadrazon in the first hour of his reign. When Caina had come to Istarinmul, she had found her half-sister Calvia, and together they had stolen the Dagger from Sigilsoara before Talmania realized it was missing. Had Caina pressed straight to Iramis the way that Ilona and Morgant had wanted, she would have left a lot of disasters in her wake. Or she might be dead – Decius Aberon wouldn’t have simply let her stroll out of Artifel.

    No, Caina had done what she had to do, much as it might have alarmed Ilona and annoyed Morgant.

    But now, as they rode across the Trabazon Steppes to Iramis, Caina wondered if she had made a mistake.

    It was possible that she had not. The Umbarian Order was reeling, both from the defeats of the last two years and the new offensive Emperor Valerius had launched into the Saddaic provinces. The remaining Umbarian magi might have forced Talmania to remain in the Saddaic provinces for the defense of Rasadda, or perhaps Talmania didn’t have any available resources to pursue Caina. Maybe Talmania didn’t want to fight the powerful sorcerers known as the Warmaiden and the Cataphract. For that matter, Caina’s husband carried a valikon, and Kylon had come within a hair’s breadth of killing Talmania twice.

    Maybe Talmania didn’t want to risk another confrontation.

    Then again, she might have something clever in mind, something Caina had not yet anticipated.

    The journey to Iramis felt like the final stage of a gamble. Caina had taken many, many risks in her life, and she knew what it felt like when she reached the point of no return. Like when she sprinted across a roof and leaped off the edge, not entirely certain if she would reach the next building. Or when she threw a knife, knowing that if she missed, she would likely die in the next instant.

    The dice had been cast, and they were tumbling across the table.

    All that remained was to see how they would land.

    But nothing happened on the first day or the second.

    Indeed, under other circumstances, it would have been an enjoyable ride through the peaceful countryside. The Trabazon Steppes had been mostly desolate after the disappearance of Iramis into the netherworld, but since the city’s return, the climate of Istarinmul had changed. The ancient road from Istarinmul to Iramis was busy with traffic, and the steppes themselves were changing. The change in the weather meant that the landscape was more fertile, could support crops.

    Caina saw half-constructed villages and plowed fields, accompanied by a growing network of irrigation ditches. Istarinmul had been filling up with freedmen since Sulaman’s ban on buying or selling slaves. The Padishah had given tracts of land to freedmen who wished to take up farming under the condition that every family provide one son to serve in the growing royal army. In another few years, Caina thought, the lands around Istarinmul would be among the most fertile in the world, and between the taxes and the new royal army, Sulaman would be richer and more powerful than any of his predecessors. He would use that power wisely, Caina thought, but she wasn’t sure if his heirs would follow suit.

    But that was beyond her control.

    It is so different, murmured the Warmaiden.

    Caina looked at her companions. It was towards the middle of the morning, and they rode in a long line through the fields, screened by the Radiant Guards and Calvia’s mercenaries. The Warmaiden and the Cataphract rode behind Caina. Aristaces Strato was a grim-faced man who looked like he was in his late thirties or early forties but was much, much older. His black armor made him into a stark, formidable figure, though in a grudging concession to comfort, he had removed his helmet and set it upon his saddle horn. Nadezhda was a small, slight woman with sharp features and black hair. She wore gleaming silver armor that should have been uncomfortable in the Istarish sun, but the Cataphract had forged both her armor and his, layering the metal with protective spells to turn aside heat and cold.

    When last we came here, continued Nadezhda, it was empty steppe. Now there are farms and villages rising from the earth.

    It has been a thousand years since we last came to the Padishah’s domain, my love, said Strato. I imagine things have changed. We saw that in the city itself.

    The change came with great speed, said Caina. After the defeat of Callatas and the nagataaru, the weather changed. Istarinmul is as hot and dry as it ever was, but it rains more. The irrigation ditches will trap the rainfall and water the crops. The Vale of Fallen Stars to the south had a similar irrigation system, one that had been in place since the time of ancient Maat. Kingdoms and empires had come and gone in the millennia since, but the farmers in the Vale of Fallen Stars still irrigated their fields as their ancestors had done in the time of the Maatish pharaohs.

    I wonder, said Nadezhda, how many of those changes occurred over the last thousand years, and how many since you came to Istarinmul.

    Caina shrugged. I couldn’t say. But I didn’t do that much.

    Nadezhda smiled a little. I tend to doubt that, Balarigar. Her smile faded. But we can only cheat destiny so far.

    Caina knew what she meant. Nadezhda was certain that the five relics of Rasarion Yagar would be reunited, no matter what anyone did. The Warmaiden believed she would have to face the Iron King one final time in a battle that would decide the fate of the world. Caina would have found such fatalism annoying, except that Nadezhda was just as willing to try and subvert fate as Caina was, even if the Warmaiden didn’t believe it would work.

    And Caina understood. She had been certain, utterly certain, that she would die if she found the Staff and Seal of Iramis. It hadn’t quite worked out that way. Perhaps Caina could yet cheat the destiny that Nadezhda believed was inevitable. Once the Sword and the Dagger were secure in Iramis, maybe Talmania would fall in battle against the invading forces of the Empire, and Caina could claim the Amulet, the Ring, and the Diadem. Then she could take all five relics to Risiviri through the Tower of the Cataphract and use the Sun Key to unlock the Great Sanctuary Stone.

    The released power would destroy the five relics.

    But first, they had to reach Iramis and the Towers of Lore.

    That night they camped on a stretch of unplowed ground near a half-constructed village. The Radiant Guards and Calvia’s mercenaries constructed campfires, and tents went up. Caina and Sophia Zomanek sat with Calvia Scorneus near one of the fires.

    Calvia was also Countess Kalthane, one of the richest women in the Empire and the woman who had found a way to pay for the Legions now invading the Saddaic provinces. One of the more pleasant consequences of great wealth was that Calvia could travel in comfort. Her pack horses held ample food and drink, and her servants set up folding camp chairs for them. Caina remembered traveling from Drynemet with Kylon, Morgant the Razor, Nasser, and Annarah. They had slept on the ground, and Kylon had spent much of the day leading a small train of ill-tempered pack horses.

    This was more comfortable by far.

    It did not make Caina feel any more at ease, though.

    You don’t see anything in the future? said Caina.

    Calvia took a sip of her wine cup as she considered her answer. She wore a blue riding gown, her white hair concealed beneath a headscarf of the same color. Jewels glinted on her fingers and upon her ears. Like Caina, she had a knack for disguise, of masquerading in such a way that she fit into her environment. Right now, she looked the part of a wealthy Imperial countess, with a small army of servants at her command.

    At the moment, said Calvia, all I see in the future is another cup of wine. She considered the fire for a moment. Though if I do that, then I’ll have to relieve myself in the middle of the night.

    So, no, said Caina. You see nothing threatening in the future.

    Calvia grinned. Unless I step on a snake on my way to relieve myself. Sophia shuddered. There weren’t nearly as many snakes in Ulkaar as there were in Istarinmul. Or monkeys, for that matter, who tended to travel in packs and stole any foodstuffs they could claim. A walking stick has its uses. Her humor faded. But I see nothing about the Sword and the Dagger.

    We’re almost to Iramis, said Caina. Another two days, and we’ll be at its western gate. This is Talmania’s last chance to get the relics before I put them in the Towers of Lore.

    I know, said Calvia. I would have expected her to do something long before now.

    They sat in silence for a moment, gazing into the fire.

    You realize, of course, said Calvia at last, the most logical explanation is that Talmania can’t do anything to stop us. Perhaps you injured her worse than you thought at Malarae. Or she simply doesn’t have the resources left to stage a serious attack. She smiled. Everything the Umbarian Order has left is probably defending Rasadda from the new Emperor.

    Do you really believe that Talmania will do nothing? said Caina.

    No. Calvia swirled her wine, took a sip, and thought for a moment. I know her better than you do, little sister, much to my regret. This very moment is her last, best opportunity to steal the relics from us. I cannot believe she would let it pass. She shrugged. The other Umbarian magi might not let her leave. If Talmania had spent more time helping the Umbarians instead of chasing the relics of Rasarion Yagar, maybe the Order would have taken Artifel, and they would not now be in such desperate straits.

    You find that very satisfying, don’t you? said Caina.

    Calvia smiled. Immensely, little sister, immensely. The thought of Talmania knowing that the relics are right there, but she cannot claim them…I hope she finds it tremendously frustrating. A small measure of repayment for all the pain that Seb and I owe her.

    Hopefully, the Emperor will take the remaining three relics from her corpse, said Caina, and then we can destroy all five with the Sun Key.

    Calvia thought about that. The new Emperor will listen to you and won’t try to claim them?

    I believe so, said Caina. Talmania almost killed Valerius on the day of his coronation. He’s descended from one of the oldest noble Houses of the Empire, but he’s a centurion at heart. The Emperor will have no objection to destroying sorcerous relics.

    And even if he does want to use them or keep them, said Calvia, he’ll only have three of the five. The other two will be in Iramis, and the loremasters aren’t about to surrender them.

    Aye, said Caina. She took a sip of her own wine and frowned into the fire.

    Something about that troubles you, said Calvia. I hardly need the shadowsight to tell me that.

    Grand Master Callatas, said Caina. A hundred and fifty years ago, he demanded that Prince Nasser surrender the Staff and Seal of Iramis to him. Nasser refused, so Callatas used the Star of Iramis to banish the city. I hope Talmania doesn’t try something similar.

    That’s hardly an equivalent comparison, said Calvia. Talmania isn’t as powerful as Callatas. And Callatas didn’t destroy Iramis. He banished it to the netherworld and didn’t realize it. She paused. Though I do wonder how he managed that, given Iramis’s sorcerous defenses.

    He knew the defenses, said Caina. He was a loremaster before he left the city. She paused. Maybe he sabotaged them before he left Iramis.

    Maybe, said Calvia. Talmania would not have similar knowledge.

    Perhaps. Caina shrugged. We know many of the dangers we face. But it’s the unknown dangers that are often the most perilous.

    True, conceded Calvia. But if Talmania arrives to take the Dagger and the Sword, she’ll have to fight Strato and Nadezhda at the same time. Even with the relics, she would have a hard time overcoming the Warmaiden and the Cataphract.

    I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we? said Caina.

    That’s cheerfully fatalistic, said Calvia with a grin. She finished her wine. How are your bruises?

    My bruises? I’m still stiff, but I’m getting better, said Caina. Her final confrontation with Antonin Crailov had left her with a great many bruises. In his rage, the Seeker-possessed Crailov had tried to crush Caina like a grape within his tentacles.

    But Caina couldn’t complain. She had escaped with some bruises.

    Crailov had gotten ripped apart by the Kurghast.

    That’s good, said Calvia.

    Why do you ask? said Caina.

    Because you’re worried, said Calvia, and the easiest way to take your mind off it will be to let your strapping husband have his way with you.

    Again Sophia coughed, color going into her cheeks.

    Caina snorted. You sound like Morgant.

    No, I don’t, said Calvia. Morgant taunts those around him to discern their weaknesses. She smiled. I am merely offering you some sound advice. Lord Kylon seems very vigorous, and I imagine he has a way of taking your mind off your troubles. So to speak.

    As it happened, Calvia was quite right about that.

    The next morning a more relaxed but still wary Caina awoke. Kylon was already up, gone to practice swordplay with Seb. Caina took some time to work through the unarmed forms she had learned from the Ghosts in the Vineyard all those years ago, at least those she could perform in the relatively cramped confines of the tent. But there were quite a few since unarmed combat so often took place in a cramped space. Caina worked until a sheen of sweat covered her skin and then cleaned off as best she could, dressed, and buckled the belt holding the Sword and Dagger around her waist.

    Hopefully, today was the last day she would have to carry the weapons.

    Caina stepped outside. The sun was rising over the eastern horizon, and the Radiant Guards and Calvia’s men were taking down the camp. Sophia Zomanek stood outside Caina’s tent, shifting a little from foot to foot. She was wearing a simple blue dress, her dark hair tied back beneath a headscarf of the same color. Sophia blinked when Caina emerged from the tent and then smiled.

    Good morning, my lady, said Sophia. Did you sleep well?

    I did, said Caina. And you? We should get to Iramis today.

    I didn’t sleep at all, confessed Sophia. She took a deep breath. I’m so nervous.

    Caina started to say that Sophia shouldn’t be but stopped herself. Sophia had a strong arcane talent, and the loremasters would welcome her. But before meeting Caina, Sophia had never left Ulkaar, had never been all that far from her native town of Kostiv. In the months since, Sophia had traveled across the Empire and visited the great cities of Artifel and Malarae and Istarinmul, and seen wonders and terrors like Sigilsoara and the Tower of the Cataphract.

    And now Sophia was about to come to a foreign city to enroll as an initiate in the order of the loremasters. After months of practice, she now spoke decent Istarish, but she still didn’t know Iramisian. And the customs and culture of the Iramisians were very different from those of northern Ulkaar. Little wonder Sophia was nervous.

    I know, said Caina. This is a brave thing you’re doing, Sophia. To come all this way to study in the Towers of Lore.

    Sophia shrugged. Nadezhda did it. And she was running from the Iron King and wanted to return to fight him.

    It is still brave, said Caina, looking over the countryside. They had left the Trabazon Steppes and come to what had once been known as the Desert of Candles. Since the return of Iramis and the shift in the climate, the Desert of Candles had become fertile once more. Thanks to the spells of the loremasters, the lands around Iramis had once been some of the most productive in the civilized world, and the bleak plain that Caina remembered from previous visits had been replaced by cropland in all directions.

    I don’t feel very brave, said Sophia.

    No one ever feels brave, said Caina. They just feel afraid and do what they need to do anyway. She smiled. Like when you shot Razdan with your crossbow. Or when you told that Imperial Guard that Ilona was pregnant and about to throw up on his boots.

    Sophia smiled. Ilona was not happy.

    I can imagine, said Caina. Though she had a suspicion that it would not be much longer before Ilona was pregnant in truth. She just hoped that Ilona did not wind up breaking Seb’s heart.

    It feels silly to be frightened after all that, said Sophia.

    Well, said Caina, there are different kinds of courage. Facing physical danger is one sort of courage. Walking into a new situation with people you’ve never met is a different kind.

    Are you frightened, my lady? said Sophia.

    Of returning to Iramis? No, said Caina. But she owed Sophia more truth than that. I am frightened of what might happen today. This is the last day before we reach Iramis. If Talmania wants the Sword and the Dagger, she’s going to have to come for them today. Getting them out of Iramis would be much harder.

    Sophia thought about it. Maybe the Armorer and the Warmaiden scared her off.

    Perhaps, said Caina. Come, let’s see if the others are ready.

    Sophia nodded and followed Caina through the camp, which was rapidly dissolving as the Radiant Guards and Calvia’s mercenaries pulled down the tents and loaded them into the wagons. The work continued with swift speed. The Radiant Guards lacked the homicidal ferocity of the Immortals, their predecessors as the defenders of the Padishah of Istarinmul, but they were nonetheless the best-disciplined soldiers in Istarinmul. Calvia’s mercenaries moved with professional efficiency. Mercenaries were not known for their diligence, but Calvia was unlikely to hire lazy men.

    Caina came to the edge of the camp where the last of the wagons were loaded. A man and a woman stood next to the wagon, the man gray-haired and all in black, the woman a little shorter than him and wearing a green dress and headscarf. Morgant the Razor was sketching something in the notebook he carried while Ilona of Risiviri watched Caina’s husband and half-brother approaching.

    Anything strange last night? said Caina.

    Well, said Morgant, not looking up from his notebook, there were some very odd sounds coming from Ilona’s tent. Of course…

    Ilona rolled her eyes. Droll as ever. Why were you listening?

    At my age, I need much less sleep than the young, said Morgant.

    By then, Kylon of House Kardamnos and Sebastian Scorneus had drawn near. Kylon was tall and strong, with broad shoulders, brown hair, and amber-colored eyes. As usual, Caina felt a little flicker of warmth when she saw him. Seb looked like every other member of the Scorneus family that Caina had met – cold blue eyes, black hair, and sharp features. If Caina had been taller with wider shoulders and a thicker jaw, she would have looked just like Seb. The resemblance between the three children of Laeria Scorneus was marked, and Caina and Calvia could have passed as twins in the right light.

    Which was amusing because Seb and Calvia actually were twins.

    Caina leaned up and gave Kylon a quick kiss. Who won?

    It was a practice, said Seb. He had a deep voice, quiet and a little hoarse, the voice of a philosopher ruminating upon some obscure point of logic. Seb might have sounded like a philosopher, but he moved and fought like a veteran warrior. The purpose wasn’t to win. The purpose was to be ready to win when an actual fight is upon us.

    The Kyracian won, said Morgant, still not looking up from his notebook. He’s more familiar with the Istarish methods of swordplay, which they practiced today.

    Ilona frowned at him. He didn’t lose.

    I’m afraid I did, said Seb, though he kissed Ilona to temper the words. Istarish sword work was designed for curved blades, resulting in more fluid motions. I learned swordplay from the battle magi of the Imperial Magisterium, who focused more on brute arcane strength than the subtleties of the blade.

    Which is poor training, said Kylon. Best not to rely overmuch on sorcerous strength. That can be disrupted. He shook his head. Sicarion had a spell that could do that, block any sorcery of air and water within its radius. I had to fight him blade to blade.

    And you’re still alive, said Seb.

    Caina squeezed Kylon’s hand. She remembered Sicarion very well, better than she wished.

    And what happens if you are physically restrained? said Ilona.

    Then you use sorcery, said Kylon. As I said, best not to put too much trust in any one weapon.

    But we will need all our weapons very soon, said Seb. It’s going to be today, isn’t it?

    Caina knew what Seb meant. Today was Talmania’s last chance to seize the relics of Rasarion Yagar. If Talmania was going to stop Caina, she had to do it today.

    Well, said Kylon. We’re as ready as we are going to be. If she wants to attack, then let her come. He rolled his shoulders. Then perhaps we can finish what we started in the Praetorian Basilica in Malarae.

    How marvelously bloodthirsty, said Morgant.

    We’ve fought Talmania before, said Kylon. If we have to fight her again today, I mean to win for the last time.

    ###

    They broke camp and rode southeast through the rich fields of what had been the Desert of Candles.

    The men were ready for battle.

    Caina had told the Radiant Guards to expect an attack, and Calvia had told the same to Anaxander and her mercenaries. Caina rode in the center of the column, the Sword and Dagger on her belt. She had chosen a simple divided riding dress with leggings and boots underneath, which would give her ample freedom of movement. Over her headscarf, she wore her pyrikon in its diadem form, ready to shift to one of its other shapes as necessary. Caina kept her valikon summoned and sheathed it in a scabbard attached to her saddle within easy reach. Drawing the valikon would be a half-second faster than summoning the weapon, which might make a critical difference.

    Kylon rode near Caina. He hadn’t summoned his valikon since it would panic his horse, but Caina saw the subtle glow of water sorcery. It would let him sense the emotions of everyone around him, which might give him a few extra seconds of warning before an attack. Calvia rode on Caina’s other side, wearing the rich gown of an Imperial noblewoman, and the vision of the valikarion showed Caina the dim glow of the shadowsight around Calvia. She was using it to look a short distance into the future.

    Seb, Morgant, Ilona, and Sophia rode behind Caina, all of them holding weapons or spells ready. Nadezhda and Strato kept close by. The Radiant Guards and the mercenaries formed a screen around Caina. Any attackers would have to go through the soldiers to get at Caina. She regretted putting them at risk, but the truth was that so long as Caina had the Sword and the Dagger, anyone near her was in danger. Caina paid close attention to everything around her, using both her eyes and the vision of the valikarion.

    Nothing unusual happened.

    The Alqaarin Sea came into sight on the horizon after the first hour, a broad bluish-gray sheet that stretched to the east. The road passed through cultivated fields, and Caina saw men working them. The landscape was flat, and Caina and the others could have seen anyone coming from a long way off.

    No one approached them, and a little before noon, the city of Iramis itself came into sight.

    A wall of golden stone surrounded the city, brilliant in the sunlight. Caina had never seen stone like that anywhere else, and when she had asked Annarah about it, the loremaster replied that the stone had originally been granite, but generations of warding spells laid upon the rock had altered it. Geometric designs covered the city’s outer wall, wrought in the shape of immense Iramisian glyphs. Beyond the wall, Caina saw the shapes of towers and domes and temples, some built of golden stone, others of white, and the largest dome of all rose from the heart of the Palace of the Princes. Banners flew from the walls, black and adorned with the white seven-pointed star that was the symbol of both Iramis and its Prince.

    The shape of Iramis was burned into Caina’s memory. The first time she had seen the city had been in the

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