Free Ghost Light by Jonathan Moeller Page A

reaction in her. A...sensitivity, of sorts.
    And now she sensed the presence of sorcery, powerful
sorcery.
    "We need to run," said Caina, "right..."
    Darkness swirled behind Qassar, and for a moment
something like a pillar of black fog shimmered around him. And then
a man stepped out of the crawling darkness, young and fit, clad in
finery, a naked sword in his hand. He would have been handsome,
even beautiful, if not for the tattoo of a grinning skull that
marred his face.
    Cynoshard.
    His cloak writhed and twisted about him like
something alive. It looked as if it had been fashioned out of
living shadow. At first she thought it was a shadow-cloak like her
own, but Caina felt the waves of sorcerous power flowing from the
thing, like heat radiating from a fire.
    And she could almost hear it slithering against the
ground, the whispers echoing in her head...
    Qassar screamed, seized his sword and made a wild
slash with his blade. Cynoshard flicked his wrist, and his
longsword sent the scimitar spinning across the cracked marble
tiles. Caina doubted she could take the assassin in a straight
fight. She was not a large woman, and Cynoshard had six inches of
height and seventy pounds of muscle on her.
    But only fools fought fairly.
    And Cynoshard wore no armor.
    Her right hand blurred, dipping to her belt, and came
up with a throwing knife. Caina stepped forward, her arm and
shoulder thrown back, and flung the knife. And then another, and
another, all in the space of three heartbeats, all hurtling for
Cynoshard's throat.
    But the assassin was faster.
    His cloak twisted around him, and again Cynoshard
disappeared into the swirling darkness. Caina's knives sped through
the column of shadow, and clattered uselessly against the far wall.
An instant later Cynoshard reappeared, sword leveled at Qassar's
throat.
    "Well," he said, his voice resonant and strong. "What
is this? One of the Emperor's pet Ghosts?" He laughed. "Qassar,
what a delightful gift you've brought me! I so enjoy listening to
the Ghosts scream, for days on end. And your head will look lovely
besides all the others."
    Caina flexed her hands, her mind racing. She carried
two daggers and her throwing knives, but if the sorcerous power of
Cynoshard's cloak transformed him into a shadow, she doubted they
would do her any good. She also carried a curved dagger of rare
ghostsilver, and ghostsilver was proof against sorcery. He would
not suspect that she possessed such a rare weapon, and if she
plunged the blade into him, she doubted his cloak's power would
save him.
    But he would not let her get that close. And if she
threw the blade and missed...
    "Well?" said Cynoshard. "Nothing to say, little
Ghost?"
    "You talk too much," said Caina.
    Cynoshard sneered, shoved Qassar to the ground, and
stepped forward.
    And vanished into writhing shadows.
    Caina flung herself backwards.
    An instant later Cynoshard materialized before her,
his sword a silver blur in the moonlight. The blade tore through
the space her throat had occupied a moment earlier. Caina spun,
daggers in hand, and stabbed. Cynoshard danced aside, his sword
blocking the dagger in her right hand as he dodged the blade in her
left.
    And as he turned, the skirt of his writhing cloak
spun over her left arm.
    The night-black cloak passed through her arm as if it
were not there, and a deathly chill shot into Caina's chest. She
stumbled back, trying to keep her balance, and the strange whisper
she heard from the cloak swelled into a chorus of voices.
    Inside her head.
    Free us free us slaves tormented trapped forevermore
let us go free us free us FREE US...
    She took several steps back, trying to stay out of
Cynoshard’s reach. He circled to her left, smiling, his sword
spinning in his right hand. Behind him Qassar crawled across the
floor, panting in terror, reaching for his discarded scimitar.
    Cynoshard frowned…and then his smile returned.
    He disappeared in a swirl of black mist and
reappeared over Qassar.
    “Is that the