Jonathan Moeller, Pulp Writer

The books of Jonathan Moeller

Ghost AscensionUncategorized

Ghost Ascension, Episode 12

“No,” you say. “We’re not ready to fight him yet. Go. Now!”

At last Lucan, Ark, and Sophia listen to you and start running, and you follow after them. You keep glancing over your shoulder, expecting to see Korthion descend upon you in sorcerous fury at any moment. Your cowl falls back as you sprint, and the voices of your dead mother and father filling your skill, hissing and snarling. Then you are scrambling up the catacomb steps, and burst into the sunlight of the late morning.

You’ve never been so glad to see the sunlight.

Korthion must have erased those three days from your memory, you realize. You remember those burning yellow eyes, but little else. But why erase your memory? Why not just kill you? Surely he has ample reason to want you dead.

Even as the thought crosses your mind, you see Lucan and Ark raise their swords in guard.

A dozen men stand in the street outside the entrance to the catacombs. Mercenaries, you guess, in chain mail and leather, and good ones, too, to judge from the quantity and quality of weapons resting in their belts and ready in their hands.

And from the crossbows in their hands, all pointed at you.

“I told you,” says your father’s voice, “that you were going to get Lucan killed.”

One man strides forward, squat and muscular, his unsmiling face crossed with faint scars. He’s wearing heavy black plate, covered in ornate scrollwork. A heavy black mace hangs ready at his belt, and a black cloak with red trim streams from his armor.

You recognize the armor, and the cloak. The man is a battle magus, a brother of the Magisterium trained to use sorcery to augment his martial prowess. And that is very bad. You’ve killed magi before…but you’ve never killed a battle magus. Especially one fully armed and armored.

“Ah,” says the battle magus, his voice raspy. “The Ghost Countess herself. Fortune has smiled on me this day.”

“You have the advantage,” you say.

The battle magus sketches a brief bow. “I am Scarpian, brother of the Magisterium. And you are Countess Caina Amalas, Ghost circlemaster of Malarae. The First Magus wishes you dead most fervently.” His hard eyes slide over Ark and Sophia, dismissing them as of no importance, but settle upon Lucan. “And you are Lucan Maraeus, Lord Corbould’s son and another thorn in the Magisterium’s side.”

“I’ve heard of you,” says Lucan. “Scarpian the butcher. The man who defeated the champions of the Arthag tribes in battle. And then slew first their wives, and then their children, in front of their eyes. And only then did you kill them.”

Scarpian’s lip curls with contempt. “I wielded neither necromancy or pyromancy in their deaths. No law was broken. They were enemies of the Empire, of the Magisterium. And so shall I deal with all enemies of the Magisterium.”

You brace yourself, mind racing. You could retreat back into the catacombs. There’s a narrow alley between two nearby houses, and you and the others might be able to escape down it before the mercenaries shoot you down…

“Fortunately for you,” says Scarpian, “I think we are here hunting the same prey. You’re here for Korthion, no?”

You blink in surprise. “You’re here for Korthion?”

“Yes,” says Scarpian. “My orders are to hunt him down and kill him. Or, at least, to destroy what he has become, since he is already dead. Lord Lucan saw to that, I understand.”

“Why?” you say. “I think the First Magus would approve of Korthion. After all, he heroically defied the Emperor’s short-sighted ban against necromancy. What does it matter if a few children were murdered in the process?”

Scarpian sneers. “The First Magus is not required to explain himself to me, and certainly not to the likes of you. Suffice it to say that Korthion has…found something he should not. Or learned something that he should not.” He gives an irritated shake of his head. “Either way, it is irrelevant. My orders are to destroy him, and destroy him I shall.”

“And what about us?” you say. “The First Magus promised wealth and rank to whoever brings him my head. You could be one of the high magi within a week.”

“You were not mentioned in my orders,” he says. “Besides, I think we may be of use to each other.”

He smiles. He’s trying to look reassuring. He doesn’t do it very well.

“The Ghosts, presumably, wish Korthion gone as well,” he says. “And you may know more of his movements than we do. I suggest we work together to destroy this common threat.”

Ah. He thinks he needs your knowledge. And once Scarpian destroys Korthion (assuming he even has the power to do so), he’ll turn on you without hesitation.

“Ah,” breathes Sophia, “this tension…”

She shivers, and smiles. Madwoman.

“Well,” says Scarpian. “I haven’t all day. What say you?”

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