Ghost Ascension, Episode 18a

“All right,” you tell Sophia. “I’ll bring you this Ascendant Bloodcrystal, and you’ll destroy Korthion.”

“Oh, Countess,” says Sophia. “I rarely meet anyone with artistic vision these days. You truly are a woman after my own heart.”

“I hope not,” you say.

“I must return to Korthion, lest he grow suspicious,” she says. “Once you have the Ascendant Bloodcrystal, meet me at the entrance to the catacombs. I’ll free myself, destroy Korthion, and be on my way. And you can do what you wish with the Bloodcrystal. Perhaps it will make a tasteful gift for your Emperor, no?”

She leaves.

“Is this a good idea?” says Lucan.

“Probably not,” you say. “But why should I start having good ideas now? Go meet Angle at Cormarus Square, tell him to keep the others ready. I’ll go to the tomb and get this Ascendant Bloodcrystal myself…”

“Helping Sophia is a bad idea,” says Lucan, “but going into the traps and wards of a Fourth Empire tomb by yourself is a suicidal one. Even for you. You’re not going in there by yourself.”

You start to argue, then remember the expression on his face when Sophia described your memory loss.

“All right,” you say.

You stop by one of the Ghosts’ safehouses long enough to send a message to Ark, telling him to wait, and to equip yourself with as many useful supplies as you can carry. Ropes, lockpicks, silver daggers, lanterns – anything that might come in handy when breaking into the tomb of a long-dead magus-emperor.

Then you and Lucan take the narrow, high road to the Valley of the Emperors behind the massive bulk of the Imperial Citadel. The Valley is a narrow stone gash in the mountain, grim and barren, its walls dotted with statues and crypts and the entrances to vast subterranean tombs. There are no guards against tomb robbers.

Men who go into the tombs of the Emperors tend not to come out again.

The iron door to Anacepheon’s tomb stands in an archway of carved stone, the dead Emperor’s marble face gazing sternly down from the lintel. You pick the lock on the door, and it swings open with a shriek of iron hinges. A dark stairwell descends into the mountainside.

“Ready?” you say.

Lucan nods, holding his sword in one hand and a lantern in the other.

You take the stairs, Lucan following. Right away you feel the tingle of sorcerous energy against your skin. Probably the ward against necromancers Sophia mentioned.

Or other defenses.

The stairs terminate in a large vaulted chamber, the roof supported by thick pillars. Another passageway opens up on the far side of the room, and far in the distance you see a sickly green glow.

The glow is almost…tantalizing.

You push back the cowl of your shadow-cloak for a better look.

And the voices rip into your head like a knife.

You fall against the wall with a shriek.

“Useless!” screams your mother, and for a moment you almost see her standing before you. “Useless and weak! I should have killed you when I had the chance! I should have purged my womb of you before you were even born!”

Your father’s voice. “You’re going to get them killed, child. Lucan. Anyone you ever loved. You’ll leave Ark’s wife a widow, his children orphans. All because of you.”

And new voice. That of Halfdan, the man who recruited you into the Ghosts and trained you, murdered by the magi five years ago. “You aren’t strong enough to do what needs to be done. You must make yourself harder. Colder. Do what is necessary. Take what is necessary. And kill as necessary.”

The voices rise to a screaming chorus; your mother, your father, Halfdan, Ark, the first magus you ever killed, the first man you ever kissed, a shrieking cacophony…

Things gray out for a moment.

You hear someone saying your name. Lucan. He’s got you by the shoulders. After a moment the screaming voices fade away, and you can focus on him.

“What is it?” he says. “You were shouting…”

You close your eyes. “Voices.” You scarce recognize your own voice. “I’m hearing voices. My mother, my father. Others. Korthion…broke something in my mind. I’m going to go insane. If I’m not there already.”

You sit in silence for a moment.

“Well,” says Lucan, “I’ll admit I had hoped to get you alone today, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

You cough out a laugh.

“You should go,” you say, “before I get both of us killed. This is my mess, my mistake. No reason for you to die as well.”

Lucan shakes his head. “I was the one who bashed Korthion’s head in. I doubt he’s the forgiving sort.”

“Then go with Angle and the others,” you say. “You have more experience fighting sorcerers than any of them. They could use your guidance.”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone,” Lucan says.

“Why?” you say. “Is it guilt, because we slept together? That wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t anyone’s fault – apparently I wanted to do it, even if I can’t remember it.”

“No,” says Lucan.

“Then what?” you say.

“This is definitely neither the time nor the…”

“Tell me,” you say.

Lucan sighs, looks away.

“The magi murdered my wife,” he says. “Ten years ago. I told you that.” He shakes his head. “My father forced her to marry her, but it…I loved her. I was happy. And then all that was over. I thought that I would spend the rest of my life hunting rogue magi and supernatural predators, until I made a mistake and one of them killed me. And then I met you.”

You say nothing.

He takes a deep breath. “This morning…you said you loved me.” He looks at you. “Was that you…or was that what Korthion did to you?”
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