Ghost Ascension, Episode 13

(A tie, so a coin toss chose “Agree, but plan to escape once Scarpian and Korthion are focused on each other.”)

“As you wish,” you say to Scarpian. “I will lead you to Korthion, and you can deal with him.”

You are reasonably certain that you cannot take either Scarpian or Korthion in a straight fight – Scarpian is a battle magus, and you couldn’t take Korthion in a straight fight while he was still alive. But perhaps you can maneuver them into destroying each other. Granted, if Scarpian destroys Korthion, you’ll never learn why Korthion wiped your memory. But hopefully whatever mischief Korthion had planned will die (again) with him.

“Very well,” says Scarpian, an unpleasant smile spreading over his scarred face. “You may lead the way, Countess. Just so there are no surprises, you understand.”

“Of course,” you murmur, pulling up the cowl of your shadow-cloak. The voices in your head abruptly fall silent again. You turn towards the catacomb stairs, Lucan, Ark, and Sophia following you, and Scarpian and his mercenaries trailing behind.

“You know what you’re doing, of course,” says Ark, “but is this wise?”

“Probably not,” you say.

You descend the stairs, through the passages of the catacombs, and back into the shadows and gloom of Skullyard Court. Ark and Lucan stand on either side of you, swords ready, and the mercenaries spill into the chamber. Scarpian enters, a black helm hiding his face, and his heavy mace ready in his armored hand.

Korthion is waiting for you.

He stands, motionless, by the table, looking for all the world like a dead man held up by invisible strings. He can’t see you, of course, but his gray lips writhe back from his teeth in a snarl of hatred when he sees Lucan. Then his yellow eyes turn towards Scarpian’s armored shape, and narrow in sudden suspicion.

“So, Korthion,” says Scarpian, his voice booming from the helm. “You look rather the worse for wear.”

Korthion says nothing.

Scarpian chuckles. “Nothing to say? Or have your vocal cords rotted away? You’re not the first brother of the Magisterium to reach for immortality through necromancy, but I have to say, eternity as a gray-skinned corpse…who would want that? All the gold in the Empire couldn’t make a woman share your bed now. Assuming you’re even still capable, of course.”

Korthion says nothing.

“Never fear,” says Scarpian, raising his mace, and you feel the crackle of sorcery. “I’ll put you out of your misery, soon enough.”

At last Korthion draws a breath and begins to speak.

“You are wasting my time,” he says, his voice still carrying that eerie double resonance. “Nikaedes. Kill them all.”

Scarpian stops, looks around.

The shadows of Skullyard Court begin to move. The enspelled lamps upon their iron stands are not moving, yet nonetheless every shadow in the room is moving, rotating like the shadow upon a sundial.

And soon every shadow in Skullyard Court is pointing at Sophia.

She smiles, holds out her hand. For a moment something like black smoke seems to billow from her palm. Then the smoke congeals into an ancient-looking bronze longsword, its blade carved with archaic Maatish hieroglyphics.

The hieroglyphs glow cherry-red in the bronze blade, as if red-hot.

“Oh,” murmurs Sophia, raising the sword, “what a lovely canvas you’ve given me to work.”

The mercenaries are blocking the stairs up.

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