Ghost in the Winds (Ghost Exile #9) (40 page)

So be it. She could die with it. 

He had tried to use his spells to kill her on Pyramid Isle and failed. She had allowed a djinn noble to possess her, granting her the spirit’s powers. It would not save her. Callatas could draw upon the shadow of Kotuluk Iblis, and the sovereign of the nagataaru had crushed worlds.

Now his shadow would break the Balarigar. 

Callatas rose over the Golden Palace, shadow and sorcery fusing together in his hands as he worked a spell of killing power.

Chapter 24: A Final Failure

Every fiber of Kylon’s body strained as he fought. 

He retreated across the rooftop of the mansion, the full power of air sorcery driving him on, the full might of water sorcery lending his arms additional strength. The valikon snarled before him in a storm of white fire, and with the amount of power that Kylon had summoned, he could have slaughtered a score of Martin’s Imperial Guards or Strabane’s Kaltari before they even realized that he was among them. 

It was just barely enough to keep ahead of the Red Huntress. 

The wings of shadow swirled around her like cloaks caught in the wind, and the sword of the nagataaru burned in her right hand, her left gripping the shorter blade of ghostsilver. Kylon had rarely encountered fighters capable of using two swords at once without the blades tangling over each other, but the Huntress did it without the slightest difficulty. She launched flurries of rapid attacks with the ghostsilver short sword, forcing him to dodge and parry, and then attacked with the sword of the nagataaru, the immaterial blade spitting purple fire and shadow as it drove towards Kylon’s face and chest.

He had always wondered if the valikon could parry the sword of dark force, or if it would cut the valikon in half as it cut through everything else. As it turned out, the valikon could parry the sword of the nagataaru. Twice it was the only thing that saved Kylon’s life when the Huntress hammered the blade towards his face and chest. 

Her furious onslaught continued, never slowing, never wavering, and she drove Kylon across the roof of a mansion on the edge of the Old Quarter. He risked a glance over his shoulder, drew on all the power he could hold, and leaped backward. The leap carried him over a broad street and onto the rooftop of another house, a more modest one in the Tower Quarter, its roof flat and dusty. Kylon retreated, raising the valikon, and stopped at the center of the rooftop.

The Huntress jumped after him, the immaterial wings spreading around her, and landed at the edge of the rooftop. 

Kylon’s heart hammered against his ribs, his breath coming sharp and fast, his head aching from the amount of arcane power he had used in the last few hours. Sweat trickled down his temples and jaw, and his eyes felt gritty.

The Huntress wasn’t even breathing hard. 

That was bad.

He had to find a way to kill her, even at the cost of his life. If she cut him down, she would find Caina and kill her, and Kylon didn’t think anyone else could match the Red Huntress in combat. 

At the moment, he wasn’t sure he could match the Huntress in combat. 

She approached him warily with slow, patient steps, her swords low at her sides, the strange wings of shadow and purple flame swirling around her like veils. She was smiling, but her eyes remained fixed on him.

Kylon reached to his belt and drew a dagger in his left hand. He didn’t think that she had seen him use this tactic before, and it might catch her off guard. 

“Sword and dagger?” said the Huntress. She clucked her tongue with disapproval. “That’s not the preferred stormdancer style. Your teachers would be appalled.”

“They’re not here,” said Kylon. 

“Just as well,” said the Huntress, taking another step towards him. “Just think of how disappointed they would be.”

Kylon said nothing, watching the Huntress. Beneath the shadow-cloak and the hazy wings, she wore her usual red armor over leather, the plates strong enough to deflect a thrown dagger, even with the sorcery of water behind the throw. Of course, if his spell on the dagger worked, the armor would only hinder the Huntress. Not for long, but perhaps long enough for him to land a killing blow. 

“No doubt,” said Kylon, watching her for any sign of attack.

The Huntress gave a lazy shrug. “An Archon of the Kyracian Assembly reduced to defending a spymaster? They would indeed be ashamed. What would your sister say?”

“Since her lust for power destroyed her,” said Kylon, “I wouldn’t trust her opinion on the matter.” He wondered if the Huntress had even known or cared who Andromache of House Kardamnos was. He wondered why she was stalling. She had to know that she had the upper hand. 

Or maybe she was so certain of victory that she was drawing it out, like a woman savoring a glass of rare wine. 

The Huntress grinned. “A failure, Kylon of House Kardamnos.” The wings of shadowy haze shivered, seeming to draw closer against her body. “Weren’t you supposed to become the High Seat of your House and an Archon of the Assembly? Not…this.” She waved the ghostsilver short sword in his direction, managing to make the gesture look derisive. “Not this failure.”

Kylon said nothing, taking another step closer towards her. 

“A failure,” said the Huntress. “You failed to save your sister. You failed to save your wife and her unborn brat. And you’re about to fail to save Caina. Once I carve your head from your shoulders, how do you think she’ll react when I drop it on her lap? Have you seen her weep yet? I shall when I lay what is left of you at her feet.”

Kylon said nothing, holding his power close, ignoring the rage and guilt the sight of her sent pulsing through him. Just a little closer…

“The man,” said the Huntress, “defined by the women he has failed.”

Kylon flinched before he could stop himself. The Emissary had said something almost identical, calling him a man defined by the women he had lost, his sister and his wife and his unborn daughter. To hear nearly the same description from the Huntress was jarring. 

“Ah,” giggled the Huntress, purple fire kindling in her eyes. “Your essence laid bare before me at last. The man who considers himself a protector, and you are a failure. Who have you protected from me? You’ve failed to protect them all, and you will fail to protect Caina.” She giggled that shrill little giggle again. “Perhaps your sister and your wife and the Balarigar shall all be reunited in hell, and they shall bemoan that they loved you, a man too weak and too useless to save them.”

Kylon gritted his teeth, forcing back his rage. Her goading was transparently obvious, but it was working. He could not let his fury rule him, not against so dangerous an enemy. “Why waste your breath telling me this?”

“Why not?” said the Huntress. “This is the end, and I want you to know what you really are before I gorge myself on your death. You are a failure, and you’re going to fail one last time.” 

“Then stop talking,” said Kylon, “and kill me.”

The Huntress laughed with delight and leaped, her wings propelling her forward, her blades reaching for him. Kylon had anticipated the attack, and he called on the sorcery of water, white mist sheathing the blade of his dagger. He flung the weapon, and the Huntress sneered, catching the dagger upon the armor of her upper left arm. The blade shattered from the overpowering cold sheathing the steel, but the white mist splashed over her arm and torso, and for just a moment the frost fused her arm to the side of her chest. She had been leading with her short sword, and for that instant, the sword was locked in the wrong position.

Kylon struck, throwing himself forward with all his strength, the valikon’s burning tip aimed for her throat. 

The Huntress twisted like a serpent, and the thrust that should have opened her throat instead cut a smoking gash along her left shoulder. The valikon seemed to howl, the white fire pouring into the wound. She screamed in fury and pain, but her movements did not slow as she slashed with the sword of the nagataaru. Kylon ducked under the sweep of the sword, but by then she had freed her left arm, and the ghostsilver blade jabbed towards his face. He dodged to the side, but the blade raked across his left shoulder in a blaze of pain. 

The impact knocked him back, and he landed on his side. The Huntress swung the sword of the nagataaru, and Kylon rolled, the sword slicing into the rooftop next to him. A normal sword would have become stuck. The sword of dark force did not slow at all, and the Huntress flicked her wrist, the blade snapping up. Kylon had almost gotten to his feet, but the blade of force clipped his right leg. 

Had it struck him full-on, it would have sliced off his leg at mid-thigh. Even a glancing hit hurt worse than a normal sword, and Kylon snarled and threw himself away, smoke rising from the cut in his leg. The sorcery of water gave him the strength and stamina to get back to his feet, though his leg and shoulder throbbed with pain. 

The Huntress glided after him. Kylon saw the charred wound that the valikon had left upon her shoulder, but it was already shrinking in the grip of her nagataaru’s power. The purple fire in her wings and eyes pulsed and flickered, but the mocking smile on her lips did not waver. 

“Shall we go again?” murmured the Huntress. “How many more exchanges can you withstand, I wonder?” 

She would heal in time from anything less than a fatal wound. He would not, and already the hits on his shoulder and leg made him less effective than he had been earlier. Kylon might have been able to withstand her attacks while at his full strength, but that strength was eroding from the strain of the fight.

The Huntress came at him again, purple fire and ghostsilver flashing in her hands. 

Once again Kylon had no choice but to retreat, losing ground as she pushed him across the rooftop. This time, she changed her tactics, her blows designed to force him to parry with the bulk of the effort upon his left shoulder, or to force him to retreat so most of his weight went on his right leg. Pain shot through him every time he strained either his right leg or his left shoulder, and every one of those stabbing bursts of pain dragged at him, slowing him further. The Huntress’s relentless assault did not slow, the ghostsilver sword stabbing at him again and again, tying up his valikon long enough for the sword of the nagataaru to stab at him like a lance of shadowy fire. 

Fail and fail again…

Kylon blocked another blow from the sword of dark force, his arms screaming with the strain. He had to kill the Huntress, and he had to come to Caina’s aid against Callatas. Caina had found a valikon from somewhere, but two valikons had a better chance of penetrating the Grand Master’s warding spells that just one. 

But none of that would matter if the Huntress cut him down and went to kill Caina. 

Kylon parried another strike from the dark sword, and the ghostsilver short sword jabbed into his right leg. He jerked back again, but not before the tip had bit into his flesh, the hot wetness of his own blood trickling down his leg and into his boot. The Huntress bared her teeth at him, and Kylon jumped back, landing at the edge of the roof. The shadow-cloak had fallen from her head while they fought, and he now sensed the nagataaru within her, ravenous and furious and alien. He also sensed her emotions, filled with cruel, malicious glee.

She was certain, utterly certain, that she was going to kill him. 

If he stayed here, she was going to kill him.

His eyes swept back and forth, and fell upon a broken tower nearby, rising over the nearby rooftops. Beyond it he saw a jumble of collapsed stones and wrecked buildings. It was the ruins of the Crows’ Tower, once the headquarters of the city watchmen and the secret lair of the Teskilati, destroyed by Cassander Nilas’s spell to summon a horde of ifriti spirits. 

Perhaps Kylon could use it as a more advantageous battlefield. Here, on these flat rooftops, the Huntress used her newfound ability of flight against him to full effect. In the wreckage of the Crows’ Tower, that ability would be negated, though he would still have to face her superhuman strength and speed.

That was all right. Kylon could meet that with his own superhuman strength and speed. 

Kylon retreated, and at last turned and leaped from the edge of the house, drawing on all his power. The Huntress might have become stronger since Callatas had opened his gate and started the Apotheosis, but Kylon could also make himself stronger. He could draw on more of the sorcery of air and water than he could have done previously. Sorcery came from the netherworld, and more of that power was leaking into the material world.

It was power he could use in his own spells.

Else he would not have made the leap from the house to the damaged outer wall of the Crows’ Tower. 

Once the leap would have been beyond his ability, and even with the additional power he barely made it. He caught the edge of the battlements and heaved himself over with a surge of water sorcery. Kylon flipped onto the ramparts, rock dust gritting beneath his boots, and looked around. Once the Crows’ Tower had been a massive fortress, five ominous drum towers joined in an inner ring, the towers surrounded by a high curtain wall. It had been the most feared fortress in Istarinmul, at least until Cassander Nilas had tried to destroy the city. His circle of fire had ripped through the curtain wall and three of the five drum towers. Their collapse had destroyed the other two towers, killing the leadership of both the watchmen and the Teskilati in one fell stroke. Now the fortress was a crumbled heap of debris, the wreckage of the curtain wall jutting from the earth like the skeletal fingers of an ancient corpse. 

Kylon turned as the Red Huntress landed a few yards away on the ramparts, her immaterial wings rippling around her. 

###

The Voice howled inside of Kalgri’s skull. 

It wanted her to kill Kylon. It also wanted her to turn and head to the Golden Palace as soon as possible. Caina had escaped from the Old Bazaar, and Caina would head to stop Callatas. Kalgri was not concerned. The Knight of Wind and Air might have power, but Kotuluk Iblis had greater power, and Caina had had her chance to kill Callatas on Pyramid Isle.