Ghost in the Storm (The Ghosts) Read Online Free PDF

another volley of burning missiles lancing out. More fell upon the dockside district, setting warehouses ablaze, but some reached the Kyracian fleet. Caina saw a few of the graceful warships go in flame, fire dancing over their sails and rigging. 
    The wind picked up, and Caina felt the cold prickle of sorcery against her skin.
    Powerful sorcery.
    A blast of lightning screamed out of the cloudless sky and exploded into the walls of the Citadel, the thunderclap ringing over the city. The bolt ripped apart a massive catapult, and Caina saw the tiny figures of armored Legionaries flung from the ramparts and tumbling to their deaths. A moment later another tongue of lightning licked out, smashing another catapult.
    A stormsinger. 
    The Kyracian sorcerers had the power to unleash lightning upon their foes, and had dueled the Magisterium throughout the Empire's history. Caina had read of the stormsingers' capabilities, and only a stormsinger of immense power could conjure such potent lighting. 
    Another problem for later. Caina jumped over a dying man, Nicolai still in her arms, and kept running. She was almost to end of the Great Market, and the Avenue of Governors was in sight. If she could get to Halfdan…
    Three men stepped between her and the Avenue of Governors.
    Two were Istarish infantry in their scale armor and spiked helmets, scimitars and shields ready in their hands. The third wore the black armor of an Immortal. The man held his skull helmet tucked under his arm, revealing a pale face and eyes that shimmered with pale blue light.
    “Those two,” said the Immortal in Istarish, pointing at Caina. “The woman is young enough to fetch a decent price. More if she’s virgin. The boy, too. But kill him if he raises too much of a fuss.” 
    The soldiers started forward.
    Caina turned and ran.
    She veered away from the Avenue of Governors and toward the warehouses, dodging into the maze of narrow alleys next to the Great Market. The soldiers and the Immortal pursued, boots pounding against the ground. Caina had killed men before, more than she cared to remember. But she avoided straight fights whenever possible. Two veteran Istarish soldiers, aided by an elite Immortal, would be more than she could handle. 
    So best not to make it a straight fight. 
    The alley opened into a narrow courtyard ringed by tenements and warehouses. The door to one of the tenements stood open, a narrow staircase rising into the darkness. 
    An idea came to her. 
    She dashed halfway up the tenement stairs, set Nicolai down, and looked the sobbing boy in the eye.
    “Stay here,” she told him. “Keep quiet. And don’t move.” 
    Something in her tone must have reached him, and he managed a shaky nod.
    Caina returned to the courtyard just as the soldiers and the Immortal entered. Another fireball from the Citadel's catapults arced overhead, followed by a thunderous blast of lightning. 
    “Take her,” said the Immortal, pointing with his scimitar. “Then search for the child.”
    The soldiers nodded and started toward Caina. Each man, she saw, carried a stout rope. They planned to bind her and take her back as a captive.
    “Please, no!” screamed Caina in Caerish, letting herself sob. “Please, please. Do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt my son. Don’t hurt my son!”
    The soldiers’ expressions did not so much as flicker as they drew closer. They had seen crying women and terrified children before, had led them off in chains to stand upon the block in Istarinmul’s market. They saw her as merchandise, not as a potential threat. 
    Which meant they were not at all prepared for her to snatch a throwing knife from her sleeve, draw back her arm, and fling it. 
    The blade buried itself in the throat of the soldier on the left. The man staggered, eyes bulging in his face, hands flying to his bleeding throat. The soldier on the right yelled in alarm and charged, scimitar raised for a slash. Caina sidestepped, seized the dying