Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) (41 page)

He fell silent.

A young woman in a ragged, ill-fitting dress walked toward him. She looked exhausted, her face streaked with grime and dried blood, dark circles ringing her blue eyes. Yet she was smiling. 

In her arms she carried a gray-eyed boy of about six...

“Father!” shouted Nicolai, and he wriggled free of Caina's grasp and ran to Ark. 

He caught his son and picked him up, and in that moment felt relief, such overpowering relief, that it took all his strength to keep his knees from buckling. 

At last Ark looked up and saw Caina grinning at him. In the time he had known her, he had seen her smile often, usually while masquerading as Countess Marianna Nereide or Anna Callenius, but it never touched her cold blue eyes.

This smile did, though.

“You're alive,” said Ark.

Caina nodded. “It was...a very close thing. But we are alive.”

“Thank you,” said Ark. “For...”

He could not finish the sentence.

“I know,” said Caina.  “Nicolai never did get to see the ships, though.”

###

A week later, Ark returned to the Great Market.

Again people filled the Market. But this time they wore neither chains nor collars, and rows of Legionaries stood in stiff formation, armor polished to a gleaming shine. Tanya stood next to Ark, carrying Nicolai, and Ark kept his arm around his wife's waist. 

He would not be separated from his family, not again. 

Cheers rang out as Lord Corbould Maraeus marched to the dais raised in the center of the Market, followed by Lord Commander Hiram, Tarver, Korbulus, and others who had distinguished themselves in the battle. Corbould presented many Legionaries with awards – the ornate jeweled swords traditionally presented as rewards for valor, or the crown of golden laurel leaves bestowed for saving the life of a fellow citizen in battle, or the right to incomes for the rest of their lives.

Ark had not been invited to participate. 

He listened with half an ear as Lord Corbould gave a speech, praising the valor the Legions and those who had stood fast against the assault. 

He would have to leave Marsis, he knew. Lord Corbould would not forget or forgive Ark's impertinence, and Corbould Maraeus was a powerful man. Perhaps Ark could take his family and go to Malarae, and work in the foundries there. Or he could go north and work in one of the small towns of the Imperial Pale. Barbarians sometimes raided the Pale, but the settlements there needed skilled blacksmiths...

“Husband,” said Tanya.

“Hmm?” said Ark, stirred out of his thoughts.

“You should pay attention.”

“Why?” said Ark. “I was in the Legion for sixteen years. I've heard this sort of speech before.”

Tanya smiled. “Caina told me that you would say that. And she said that you were to pay attention at this part.” 

Ark frowned.

“They have fought with valor!” said Lord Corbould, his voice amplified to a roar by a spell from one of the magi from Hiram's Legions. “Let no man doubt the courage and skill of these soldiers! But one man stands above the others! This man rallied our defense. This man led our soldiers against the enemy when all hope was lost. Without this man, Marsis would have fallen to the enemy!”

Ark laughed. “Watch, wife. He's going to give himself an award.”

“Arcion of Caer Marist, come forth!”

Ark blinked.

Tanya grinned. “Go. We'll be right here.”

“Arcion of Caer Marist!” 

Uncertain, Ark let go of Tanya and pushed his way through the crowd. He walked up the aisle of Legionaries, Kleistheon's sword in its scabbard tapping against his leg, and stopped before the dais. Lord Governor Corbould stood there, tall and grim in his black armor, flanked by his officers and lieutenants. 

And as when he had faced Kleistheon, Ark felt every eye upon him.

“In ancient times,” said Corbould, “the Lord Governors of Marsis bestowed a special honor to men who displayed great courage and unyielding valor in defense of this city. Such an honor has not been given for long centuries, but there can be no doubt that here stands a man who has earned it.”

He beckoned, and Ark climbed the dais to stand beside Corbould, wondering if this was some sort of bizarre joke. 

“Arcion of Caer Marist,” said Corbould, “for your courage in defense of the city, for your tenacity in rallying our defense when all was lost, and for your astounding victory over the stormdancer Kleistheon of House Tericleos, men have called you the Stormslayer.”

Ark hated that. He was beginning to understand why “Balarigar” so annoyed Caina. It had been luck. Had Kleistheon been a bit more careful, Ark would be dead. 

“Arcion Stormslayer, once of the Eighteenth Legion,” said Corbould, “today I name you the Champion of Marsis!”

Ark blinked, astonished.

The roar of approval from the crowd struck him like a wind. The thousands of assembled Legionaries struck the flats of their blades against their shields, filling the Market with a thunderous din. But even that was not enough to drown out the cheers. 

Corbould stepped forward, gripped Ark's hand.

“Well done,” he murmured. “I say this plainly. Without you, the city would have fallen.”

“I do not deserve this,” said Ark. “I was lucky. I didn’t...I did not set out to save Marsis. All I tried to do was to get my son back.” And Caina rescued Nicolai, not Ark. 

“Aye,” said Corbould. “And to save your son, you saved my city. It seems only fair that I name you Champion in return.”

He hung a golden medallion fashion in the shape of a Legion's eagle around Ark's neck.

“Though if you mock my age again, blacksmith,” said Corbould, “I'll have you hung.”

A dozen different responses warred in Ark's mind. Some were grateful. Some were insulting. 

So he only bowed, and the cheers went on.

###

After the ceremony, Ark returned with Tanya and Nicolai to Zorgi's inn. The Inn had taken a great deal of damage during the fighting, but already carpenters swarmed over the building, hammering and sawing. 

“You have returned!” boomed Zorgi as Ark entered the common room. He grinned and made an elaborate bow. “Or should I say that you honor my humble establishment, my lord Champion?”

“Gods and devils, Zorgi!” said Ark. “Not you, too.” 

“Ah, I always knew you were a good man,” said Zorgi. Peter hurried out, carrying a tray of food. “And now all of Marsis knows it. We have prepared a fine meal to celebrate, Champion. Sit! Sit!” 

Peter set the tray of food on a table, beckoning Tanya and Nicolai to sit.

“Thank you,” said Ark. “I'll be back in a moment.”

He went upstairs, to the suite Caina occupied.

He found her curled in a chair near the balcony door, reading a book, a cup of tea balanced on the chair’s arm. She read for enjoyment. Ark could never understand that. Reading was a tool to be used, much like a hammer or a shovel. 

But she was clever. She had told him how she had outwitted Rezir Shahan.

She looked up from the book and smiled.

“Ark,” said Caina.

“You knew,” he said. 

She shrugged. “I suspected. You saved Lord Corbould's life. Halfdan told me about him. He is an arrogant old bastard...but he does understand gratitude. And you saved Marsis.” 

Ark shrugged. “I did nothing.”

“You killed Kleistheon,” said Caina. “It's not every day that a normal man can kill a stormdancer. And you rallied the Nineteenth, got them to hold the gate until Hiram returned.”

“Kleistheon,” said Ark, touching the hilt of the stormdancer’s sword. “I kept thinking…if you had been there, you would have found some clever way to kill him. And then I got lucky with that chain.” 

“Or clever with that chain,” said Caina. 

“You killed Rezir Shahan,” said Ark. “And you stopped Andromache.”

“Andromache,” said Caina, her face distant, “stopped herself.” 

“Lord Corbould should have named you the Champion, not me,” said Ark. 

“Don't be absurd,” said Caina. “You saved Marsis, Ark, whether you like it or not.” She smiled. “And I am a Ghost nightfighter. A spy. I must do my work from the shadows. Hard to do that as the Champion of Marsis.” 

“No one ever leaves the Ghosts,” said Ark.

“No,” said Caina. “And the Ghosts need friends in high places. Even the Champion of Marsis.” 

“I am a blacksmith,” said Ark, “not a high noble or a rich man.”

“Maybe,” said Caina, “you can be both. A message came from the Emperor. A courier, sent out from Malarae after he got the news about Naelon Icaraeus. It's on the table. You should go look at it.” 

Ark crossed to the table. A scroll rested there, and he picked it up and read it. It was written in High Nighmarian, an official proclamation from the Emperor himself. In it he expressed gratitude to the man who had slain the traitor Naelon Icaraeus, and offered a reward for the renegade's death...

Ark's eyes grew wide. 

“It's yours.” Caina did not look up from her book. 

“What...” Ark found that his mouth had gone dry. “You killed Naelon. You should have that money.”

“No,” said Caina. “What would I spend it on? Throwing knives?” 

“But...” 

“I can't have children, you know that,” said Caina, glancing up from her book. “But you have a son. And you can have more.” She smiled. “And you can make sure they have better lives than you and I.” 

“Thank you,” said Ark. “For Nicolai, for everything, I...”

“I know,” said Caina. 

Ark walked out, returned to the common room.

Tanya looked up at him, smiled. 

“I don't think,” said Ark, “that I'm going to work in the foundry.”

Tanya frowned. “Well, you are the Champion of Marsis. But what will you do instead?”

“I think,” said Ark, “that I'm going to buy my own.” 

###

Caina watched Ark go from the room. 

“That wasn't very nice, you know.”

Halfdan hobbled into the room, leaning on a cane.

“You,” said Caina, “should be in bed.”

“Bah,” said Halfdan. “It was just a scratch.” He winced. “A deep one, though.” 

“I'm glad Ark did well out of this,” said Caina. “Enough people died. And more people will die when the Emperor sends the Legions against Istarinmul and the Kyracians.” 

“Aye,” said Halfdan. “We'll have work enough for us. The Istarish and the Kyracians will send their spies into the Empire, and some factions of the Magisterium might side with them.” 

“And we'll be ready for them,” said Caina. “The Istarish are slavers, and the Kyracians keep slaves. If they try to take any more captives from the Empire, they will regret it.”

“So they shall,” said Halfdan.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“Do you think,” said Caina, “that he was telling the truth?”

“Who?” said Halfdan.

“Sicarion,” said Caina. “About having part of Jadriga's power inside of me.”

The thought made her stomach clench with revulsion. 

“I doubt it,” said Halfdan. “And even if you do...perhaps it is a good thing.”

“What?” said Caina. “How could it possibly be a good thing?”

“Because you have no talent for sorcery,” said Halfdan. “Even if you have part of that power trapped within you, you cannot use it. It's safe there. It will die with you...and it will not fall into the hands of someone like Andromache.” 

“I hadn't considered that,” said Caina. “Now go get some sleep. Or I'll have Katerine chain you to your bed.”

Halfdan laughed. “Am I the circlemaster here, or not?”

But he went. 

Caina stared at her book for a moment, thinking. She would never have a family, not as Ark did. But she could make sure that the children of others would be safe, that they need not fear the chains of slavers or the spells of necromancers. 

The Ghosts would make it so.

She would make it so.

Epilogue

Sicarion opened his eyes.

Dim light leaked through the cellar windows. He had spent the last few days hidden in this cellar below a tavern, recovering his strength. Even after all these centuries, he could still feel pain, but it no longer meant as much as it once did.

Still, having the Ghost blast off his right arm had been...unpleasant. 

Remarkably so.

He grinned at the memory.

Oh, but she was worthy. 

Footsteps thumped down the stairs, and Sicarion stood up. One of the tavern’s workers, a brawny man of twenty or so, came into the cellar.

Sicarion hobbled toward him, the stump of his right arm twitching.

The worker stopped, eyes wide. “Who are you? Are you one of the Istarish soldiers?” He grinned. “The Lord Governor put a bounty on your head.”