Free Ghost in the Throne (Ghost Exile #7) by Jonathan Moeller Page B

you?” said another Collector. 
    Cassander smiled. “You should have seen my opponent.”
    A nervous laugh went up from the other Collectors. The smarter ones would have realized that something was amiss by now. The others were staring with open lust at Kalgri. Likely it had been weeks since they had seen a woman. Kalgri looked right back at them, that unsettling, anticipatory smile still on her face. 
    “Boss,” said one of the warier Collectors, “maybe we should…”
    “Take them,” said the lead Collector. “The ugly one is strong enough, so we’ll get a good price for him. The woman…well, she’s likely not a virgin, but she’s pretty enough to get some coin. You can each have a go with her, but don’t leave any bruises.”
    “Can I beg for my life?” said Cassander.
    The lead Collector sneered. “Say whatever you like. It won’t make a difference.”
    “A spell, perhaps?” said Callatas, lifting his armored gauntlet. 
    “A spell?” said the Collector. “What are you talking about?”
    He never found out. 
    Cassander’s blast of pyromantic sorcery turned the Collector’s skull and most of his neck into smoking charcoal. The headless corpse slumped to the ground, smoke rising from the charred stump between his shoulders. For a moment the Collectors gaped in astonishment at their dead leader, and Kalgri exploded into motion. The Huntress leaped into the air, her ghostsilver short sword in her right hand and Caina’s dagger in her left. In three heartbeats as many Collectors fell dead, their throats slashed. 
    And then the killing began in earnest. 
    For a brief, pathetic moment, the Collectors tried to fight. Kalgri moved through them in a blur of crimson and shadow, and Cassander cast another spell. Psychokinetic force exploded from him and flung several Collectors to the ground. He thrilled at the sound of their bones shattering, at their lives ending in the grip of his sorcery. He had never hesitated to kill…but never before had killing brought him such joy. 
    After that, the survivors tried to flee, and Cassander amused himself by seizing the Collectors in grips of psychokinetic force and yanking them from the saddle. He dashed them against the ground with enough force to kill or cripple, and Kalgri finished off the wounded ones as they begged for mercy. 
    He laughed the entire time. 
    A few moments later all the Collectors were dead.
    Kalgri strolled towards him, her movements slow and languid, her expression satisfied. The deaths would have made her stronger as her nagataaru fed upon the carnage around her, transferring some of that stolen power back to her.
    “I’m beginning to see,” said Cassander, “why you enjoy this so much.” 
    Kalgri all but purred as she smiled at him. “Perhaps you do. So, Cassander Nilas. Show me how you shall work the death of Istarinmul.” 
    They retrieved several of the Collectors’ horses and rode north, leaving the dead to rot in the hot Istarish sun.
     
    ###
     
    Several days later, Cassander rode through the streets of Istarinmul, making his way to the Umbarian embassy in the Alqaarin Quarter. 
    Getting into the city had almost taken more bloodshed. The walls were manned and the gates garrisoned. Erghulan Amirasku had summoned his allies to his side, making ready for Istarinmul to fend off the assault of Tanzir Shahan and his rebel allies. The guards at the Gate of the Southern Road had almost refused to admit Cassander, but one look at the golden medallion adorned with the winged skull sigil of the Umbarian Order had convinced them otherwise. 
    Cassander looked at the seething crowds as he forced his way through. Soldiers patrolled every street, and he saw wraithblood addicts lurking in every alley. The city was tense, and everyone went about armed. Istarinmul reminded him of an old barn stuffed full of kindling, waiting for the spark that would set it ablaze.
    He smiled at the thought.
    Something more powerful than a spark was