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Authors: Jonathan Moeller
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robe, belted around her waist, her hair falling in damp curls around her pale neck. On her hands and wrists Caina saw swirling black tattoos, the intricate warding sigils Jadriga had worn during her most powerful rituals.
"You should have listened to me," said the Moroaica.
Caina shook her head. "No. You're dead. I killed you myself.
A faint smile crossed Jadriga's red lips. "You did. Yet you should have heeded me. You should have prepared yourself for what now comes to devour you."
"No," said Caina. “This is only a nightmare. A..." What was the phrase Halfdan always used? "A scar upon my mind."
"Of course," said Jadriga. "And now a second warning for you, child of the Ghosts. My servants are coming for you. Prepare yourself to face them."
The world dissolved into blackness.
###
Caina awoke to pain.
She began coughing, her chest aching. The ground dug into her back and legs as her muscles shifted. Her eyes opened, and she saw something dark and thick leaning over her. A wooden beam, torn from the roof of a tenement.
Memories swam to the surface of her mind. A lightning bolt screaming out of the sky. Walking with Nicolai. An ornate procession led by a hard-face man in gilded armor, a crimson banner flying overhead. The screams...
Nicolai!
Caina sat up, ignoring the ache in her limbs.
She was still in the tenement's courtyard, though the stormsinger's deflected lightning had ripped the tenement to shreds and set the neighboring buildings aflame. The blast had flung Caina against the far wall, beneath some beams that had fallen at an angle. It was only the sheerest luck that she had not been killed or crippled.
Caina staggered to her feet, noticing the half-dried blood on her hands and sleeves. Not hers. She remembered the fight with the Istarish soldiers and the black-armored Immortal in his skull helmet.
What had happened to Nicolai?
She looked around, terrified that she would see his crushed body beneath the rubble. But there was no sign of him. Had he run for help? Or...
No.
She remembered hearing Istarish soldiers as she lay half-stunned. They had found Nicolai and carried him off. The beams must have obscured Caina from their view. Or if they had seen her, they assumed she was dead. She certainly looked the part, with her green dress ripped and dirty and stained with blood.
The slavers had taken Nicolai.
Caina cursed in fury. Ark had spent five years trying to find Nicolai. He and Tanya had trusted Caina with their son. And now Nicolai was in the hands of slave traders. And it was Caina's fault, Caina's folly...
She shoved aside the emotions, her mind turning cold and focused.
She had to get Nicolai back. But useless recrimination would accomplish nothing. Action would achieve more. Caina was a nightfighter of the Ghosts, trained in disguise and stealth. She had the tools to get Nicolai back.
If she only had the wit to use them.
She took a tentative step, and when she did not fall, took a few more. She had to get moving. Yet despite her skills and training, she was a lone woman wearing a tattered dress in a city full of slavers. If the Istarish found her, she would very quickly find herself wearing chains. She needed a way to move unnoticed through the enemy.
A disguise, then.
The black-armored Immortal caught Caina's eye, but his armor was too large, too heavy. Instead she looked at one of the dead Istarish soldiers.
Caina dragged the corpse into a doorway.
A moment later she emerged clad in the soldier's clothing, armor, and helmet, his scimitar at her belt and his shield on her back. She kept the daggers in her boots and her throwing knives and ghostsilver dagger in her belt. She left the courtyard, striding down the alley.
A plan formed in her mind. First, she needed to assess the situation. Find how many troops the treacherous Rezir Shahan had brought to Marsis. Then she would discern where the Istarish had taken their captives. Once she knew, she would
"You should have listened to me," said the Moroaica.
Caina shook her head. "No. You're dead. I killed you myself.
A faint smile crossed Jadriga's red lips. "You did. Yet you should have heeded me. You should have prepared yourself for what now comes to devour you."
"No," said Caina. “This is only a nightmare. A..." What was the phrase Halfdan always used? "A scar upon my mind."
"Of course," said Jadriga. "And now a second warning for you, child of the Ghosts. My servants are coming for you. Prepare yourself to face them."
The world dissolved into blackness.
###
Caina awoke to pain.
She began coughing, her chest aching. The ground dug into her back and legs as her muscles shifted. Her eyes opened, and she saw something dark and thick leaning over her. A wooden beam, torn from the roof of a tenement.
Memories swam to the surface of her mind. A lightning bolt screaming out of the sky. Walking with Nicolai. An ornate procession led by a hard-face man in gilded armor, a crimson banner flying overhead. The screams...
Nicolai!
Caina sat up, ignoring the ache in her limbs.
She was still in the tenement's courtyard, though the stormsinger's deflected lightning had ripped the tenement to shreds and set the neighboring buildings aflame. The blast had flung Caina against the far wall, beneath some beams that had fallen at an angle. It was only the sheerest luck that she had not been killed or crippled.
Caina staggered to her feet, noticing the half-dried blood on her hands and sleeves. Not hers. She remembered the fight with the Istarish soldiers and the black-armored Immortal in his skull helmet.
What had happened to Nicolai?
She looked around, terrified that she would see his crushed body beneath the rubble. But there was no sign of him. Had he run for help? Or...
No.
She remembered hearing Istarish soldiers as she lay half-stunned. They had found Nicolai and carried him off. The beams must have obscured Caina from their view. Or if they had seen her, they assumed she was dead. She certainly looked the part, with her green dress ripped and dirty and stained with blood.
The slavers had taken Nicolai.
Caina cursed in fury. Ark had spent five years trying to find Nicolai. He and Tanya had trusted Caina with their son. And now Nicolai was in the hands of slave traders. And it was Caina's fault, Caina's folly...
She shoved aside the emotions, her mind turning cold and focused.
She had to get Nicolai back. But useless recrimination would accomplish nothing. Action would achieve more. Caina was a nightfighter of the Ghosts, trained in disguise and stealth. She had the tools to get Nicolai back.
If she only had the wit to use them.
She took a tentative step, and when she did not fall, took a few more. She had to get moving. Yet despite her skills and training, she was a lone woman wearing a tattered dress in a city full of slavers. If the Istarish found her, she would very quickly find herself wearing chains. She needed a way to move unnoticed through the enemy.
A disguise, then.
The black-armored Immortal caught Caina's eye, but his armor was too large, too heavy. Instead she looked at one of the dead Istarish soldiers.
Caina dragged the corpse into a doorway.
A moment later she emerged clad in the soldier's clothing, armor, and helmet, his scimitar at her belt and his shield on her back. She kept the daggers in her boots and her throwing knives and ghostsilver dagger in her belt. She left the courtyard, striding down the alley.
A plan formed in her mind. First, she needed to assess the situation. Find how many troops the treacherous Rezir Shahan had brought to Marsis. Then she would discern where the Istarish had taken their captives. Once she knew, she would
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