Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) by Jonathan Moeller Page B

enough."
    "And what are you?" said Caina. "A renegade necromancer? Or one of the Magisterium's pets?"
    Sicarion laughed. “I was expelled from the Magisterium centuries ago. I found a better way. And necromancy is a useful tool. My hand won't replace itself." He flexed his new fingers. "And who am I? Why..."
    He moved in a blur, and then he was inches before Caina's face, his jagged black knife resting against her cheek. The smell of him, a mixture of rotting meat and blood, filled her nostrils. 
    "I am a man," he said, "who cares about two things. I care about knives." He traced the edge of the blade down the line of her jaw. "And I care about killing things. I care about that very much." 
    "So why haven't you killed me?" said Caina.
    Sicarion laughed. "The mistress chose well. Why haven't I killed you? I could cut out your heart now. But if I let you live...I'll get to kill so many more people in the future. Perhaps I will even get to kill the world itself." He nodded. "Yes. Take her. It is time she met my mistress's disciple." 
    The mercenaries kept their grips on Caina's arms and hustled her out of the warehouse.
    Toward the Istarish army waiting in the Great Market.  

Chapter 8 - Raiders
    Lightning snarled overhead as Ark strode into the Plaza of the Tower, Tanya at his side. 
     
    The Plaza sat at the base of the Citadel's rocky crag, surrounded by the mansions of Marsis's wealthy nobles and merchants. The most prestigious, prosperous shops lined the Plaza, offering the finest goods - swords forged by the master smiths of Malarae, silk woven in Anshan, marble quarried from Alqaarin, oak felled in the forests of Ulkaar, wines pressed in the vineyards of Cyrica. 
     
    But now terror, not money, reined in the Plaza of the Tower.
     
    Merchants fled their shops, holding whatever they could carry as they ran from the Plaza. Some fell prey to gangs of thugs lurking in the nearby streets. The smarter merchants fled without carrying anything at all. Gold would not buy freedom from Istarish chains.
     
    Four thugs in leather armor and ragged wool appeared in front of Halfdan, clubs in their hands.
     
    "A pair of old men and their maids, eh?" said the biggest thug.
     
    "Be off!" said Zorgi. "We've no business with you."
     
    "But we've business with you," said the thug. "Hand over your gold and your women, and we'll let you on your way after we've had our fun. If you don't..."
     
    "For the gods' sake," muttered Ark.
     
    He smashed the thug across the face with his shield, so hard that teeth flew across the cobblestones. The man collapsed in a heap. The remaining three thugs blinked, and Ark leveled his broadsword at them.
     
    "Well?" said Ark.
     
    They fled in search of easier prey. The man on the ground remained motionless. Ark didn't know if he was dead, and did not care to find out.
     
    "Nicely done," said Halfdan. 
     
    "A useful fellow!" said Zorgi. "I can see why you keep him in your employ, Master Basil." 
     
    Tanya flashed him a smile. “He is.”
     
    Ark knew better. He was strong, and skilled with sword and shield. But that was not enough. It had not been enough to keep Tanya and Nicolai free. And now it had not been enough to keep Nicolai safe. 
     
    He looked south, toward the plumes of smoke rising from the Great Market. Nicolai was there, trapped somewhere in the battle. Ark’s heart demanded that he tear his way into the melee and cut his son free. But his mind knew that Halfdan was right. His best chance to save Nicolai was to hold the northern gate. 
     
    And not to look for his son.
     
    His hands curled into fists, clenching so hard that the knuckles crackled. 
     
    Halfdan stopped before a three-story building. A tailor’s shop occupied the first floor, the windows displaying bolts of linen and silk. A narrow alley ran alongside the building, and a set of wooden stairs led to a massive steel door set in the third-story wall.  
     
    “Ark,” said Halfdan. “Get Radast and Jiri.