Ghost Ascension, Episode 14a

You back off, as far as you can manage, and urge Lucan and Ark to do the same. You’ve killed magi before, after all, but never in a straight fight. And trying to intervene in a battle between two magi, you think, is suicide.

But for now Scarpian’s attention is upon Sophia, and the strange bronze longsword in her hand.

“So,” he laughs, lumbering towards her. “You’re Nikaedes, then? A pretty little thing like you?” He sneers at the smoldering longsword. “Once I take that toy from you, perhaps I’ll make you into my newest concubine.”

But despite his words, he raises the mace for a skull-crushing blow.

Sophia smiles, her eyes bright, and flicks her wrist in a casual swing.

You know the kind of armor battle magi wear; the best steel, reinforced with strengthening spells. Battle magi armor can stop a steel-headed quarrel fired at point-blank range from a heavy crossbow.

And Sophia’s longsword shears through Scarpian’s mace, his breastplate, his chest, and out through the back of his armor. Scarpian’s mace, his arms, and his head and shoulders fall to the floor, smoke rising from the charred wounds. There’s not a drop of blood. You can’t see Scarpian’s expression behind the black helmet, but you’re sure it would be astonished.

Yours is, certainly.

“Beautiful,” murmurs Sophia, gazing at the charred pile of black-armored limbs, “beautiful.”

For a moment everyone stares at her in astonishment.

“Kill them all,” hisses Korthion.

And Sophia explodes into motion, the bronze longsword a sullen red blur in her hands. Somehow, despite her youth, despite the ridiculous heels on her boots, she moves with the speed and grace you’ve only seen in Lucan and a few others, the speed and grace of a true master of the blade.

A master with a blade that can cut through solid steel like water.

In a matter of three heartbeats six of the mercenaries lie dead. The survivors scramble for the stairs in a panic. Korthion gestures, green flames snarling around his fingertips, and you feel the sudden surge of powerful sorcery. He gestures again, and he flings out his hands.

Green fire flashes around the mercenaries, and they fall to the floor. Dead.

Sophia and Korthion slaughtered them all in the space of half a minute. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against either of them in a straight fight.

Korthion turns to face Lucan and Ark, pale green flame still snarling around his fingertips.

He still can’t see you, you realize, because of your shadow-cloak.

“You never did anything like that before,” says Lucan.

“Death is strength,” hisses Korthion. The muscles of his face twitch into something that almost look like a smile. “I can cast spells that would kill any living magus.”

“Well, how wonderful for you,” says Lucan.

“So brave,” says Korthion, his voice toneless. “Fool. Carrying on your crusade against the magi over your dead whore of a wife. You think you know pain? You don’t, not yet. I will break you, slowly, over days. I need neither sleep nor rest, and I will make you suffer for every moment. And then, only then, after your mind and body are broken beyond repair, only then will I let your precious Countess find you.”

Lucan lifts his sword, and Ark does the same. “Then why are you still talking?”

Korthion’s yellow eyes twitch in hatred.

Your heart hammers in sudden alarm. Korthion can’t see you. You can attack him, maybe overpower or disable him, though you doubt you can destroy him. Or if you take off your cloak, maybe you can capture his attention, distract him long enough to come up with a better idea.

Anything to keep him from killing Lucan and orphaning Ark’s children in front of you.

But Sophia is staring at you. She can see you just fine.

She’s smiling.

“Master! Wait!” she says, and Korthion glances at her.

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