Ghost in the Pact by Jonathan Moeller

Author:Jonathan Moeller [Moeller, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy, Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Historical
ISBN: 1230001046465
Amazon: B01EP8EF6M
Publisher: Azure Flame Media, LLC
Published: 2016-04-21T23:00:00+00:00

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Morgant realized that he was about to die.

The Huntress came at him like a storm, the steel dagger and the ghostsilver short sword a blur. He had always wondered what his black dagger could do against a ghostsilver blade, and it turned out that a ghostsilver weapon could block his dagger’s edge. The Huntress used her ghostsilver sword to deflect his dagger, her own dagger blocking and parrying his crimson scimitar.

She was getting faster, the burns on her face and arm healing. As her wounds healed, Morgant supposed that gave her nagataaru more power to make her faster and stronger. She was already faster and stronger than he was, stronger than any normal human, and only his vast experience had kept him untouched so far.

That, and the Huntress’s need to avoid Annarah’s spells. Every time Annarah flung a shaft of white fire, the Red Huntress had to disengage, dodging the wash of white flame. That gave Morgant some breathing room, but not much. Once the Huntress recovered, she was going to kill Morgant, and then Annarah.

Pity, that. Well, Morgant had always supposed that he was going to get killed while keeping his word, and it looked like that was going to happen. It…

A thunderclap rang out, and gray light shone from the beach.

Morgant risked a glance to the side, keeping one eye upon the Huntress, but the nagataaru-infested woman looked just as surprised. He glimpsed Caina and Callatas struggling to seize the Staff of Iramis, Callatas bleeding from several wounds on his shoulder and arm. The Staff of Iramis shone with gray light between them, and gray mist erupted from the Staff, forming into something that looked like…

A rift, a tear in the air itself.

It looked a great deal like the Mirror of Worlds that Morgant had seen in the cellar of the Craven’s Tower, or the gate to the netherworld in the Hall of Torments in the Inferno.

The Staff had just opened a rift to the netherworld.

A gale wind howled over the beach, screaming towards the rift. Morgant staggered, trying to keep his balance, and the Huntress stepped back, her black cloak flapping about her. Caina and Callatas were closer, and both tumbled into the rift. For an instant Morgant glimpsed the colorless grass and the writhing black sky of the netherworld, and then the rift snapped shut with another thunderclap, the wind subsiding.

For a moment the only sound was the rustling of the leaves.

“Hell,” muttered Morgant, keeping his weapons raised. He watched the Huntress, but she seemed just as surprised. “What just happened?”

“Did they kill each other?” said the Huntress, looking back and forth between Morgant and where Caina and Callatas had been.

“No,” said Annarah, her voice trembling a little. A sheen of sweat glittered upon her face. The spells she had been throwing at the Huntress must have been exhausting. “No. The power of the Seal of Iramis permits the bearer to command spirits. The power of the Staff of Iramis permits the bearer to summon spirits

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