A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (51 page)

Aidan was shaking his head before she’d finished.
Where had her mercy gone? Was this a symptom of what ailed her?
“
See what condition they are in? How could they be helping?
”

Caitlyn glared at him.
“
Be it on your head.
”

With four quick cuts of his knife, he freed the woman from the leather straps. The muscles in her arms and legs were withered and slack. Her body trembled, and she shook her head.
“
Please… they will… come… back…
”
She reached over and grabbed Aidan’s hand with surprising strength.
“
You must kill us all.
”

“
Good idea,
”
said Caitlyn.

Aidan clenched his teeth.
“
No, don’t worry. We’re here now. You can rest easy.
”

“
You don’t… understand.
”
The woman’s eyes closed.
“
We’ve been… here years.
”

“
Shh. You’re safe now. We’ll help you all. The sorc—
”

“
No! They’ll come back. You cannot stay.
”

Aidan smoothed her hair. Strands came out in his hand.
“
What happened here? What happened to you?
”

The woman let out a low keening moan.
“
Years we have been here. Tied up…
”
She swallowed.
“
The sorcerers, they… make us have babies. I… don’t want to live like this.
”
Tears rolled down her face.
“
Please.
”

Aidan cleared his throat.
“
Do you know why they do this?
”
he asked.

She shook her head.
“
They only say… they need them.
”
She sank down to the cot, exhausted, still clutching his hand.

Distressed, Aidan pried the woman’s fingers off as gently as he could.
“
Rest,
”
he said.

Aidan bent to retrieve his crossbow and walked over to the cooking fire to remove himself from the sight of the woman, watching Caitlyn stare at her before coming to join him. In the pot on the fire bubbled porridge.

“
I’ve seen this before,
”
he said grimly.

“
Seen what?
”

He gestured towards the women on the cots.
“
This… wasting. An old man in my village couldn’t walk or move much. Too old, I guess. He lived on gruel and whatever the women brought him. Months went by and eventually he wasted away to skin and bones. He didn’t use his muscles, so they deteriorated.
”

Caitlyn’s mouth drew into a thin line, and she hugged her chest.
“
That’s what she meant,
”
she said flatly.
“
Never to leave their cots, to walk around. To lie there eating this shit and have babies.
”

“
By the ancestors, I could kill someone.
”
He wiped at his watering eyes.
“
We need to free them all, get some wagons to take them away from here, someplace safe.
”

“
And where is safe? These men, whatever they are, have to be stopped.
”
She drew in a deep breath, then another.

With a sudden movement, the woman turned her head to face them, her thin neck muscles bringing a grimace to her face.
“
Run!
”
she croaked.
“
Get away from here. They’ll be coming.
”

Three thunderous claps reached their ears, each closer than the one before. Outside, shouting erupted and men screamed.

Aidan ran towards the open door.
“
Let’s go!
”
he roared.

Chaos had broken out. Plumes of smoke billowed from the south, where the men had been in pursuit of the last sorcerer. Now, they rushed back towards them with fearful looks on their faces, clutching wounds of blackened skin. They staggered towards Caitlyn and Aidan.

“
M’lady,
”
one said. His face had a large burn down one side, and he squinted in agony.
“
More sorcerers. The men are trying to hold them, but I fear they won’t last long.
”

Aidan exchanged a look with Caitlyn. The pregnant woman had been right.

“
Right, here’s the plan. Aidan, you gather up all the men you can, help the wounded that can walk and meet back here as soon as you can.
”
He nodded.
“
You three, we passed a house over there stocked with supplies. Come with me and we will grab what we can. I have an idea the sorcerers won’t like. Go now, quickly.
”

Aidan loped off as fast as he could, while the men followed Caitlyn. He wasn’t sure what she had planned, but he hoped it was good. Their situation looked dire.

He kept to the side of the streets and peeked around each corner before he turned them or crossed intersections. He hurried to the smoke plumes as quickly as he could. Whenever he passed one of the men, wounded and retreating, he gave them instructions to head for the barn and help Caitlyn.

Thunder rang out, hurting his ears. A fresh cloud of smoke rose ahead of him. The roar of crackling flames sounded in the distance.

He ducked down at the corner of a house. Charred black bodies were everywhere. He swallowed, breathing harshly. None of them moved.

A makeshift barricade had been erected using a cart and crates. Now the cart lay in burning pieces, planks of wood from the crates scattered around. Through the smoke and fire walked three figures, all surrounded by a shimmering haze. One he recognized as the last sorcerer they’d been pursuing. The other two were new, a man and a woman. She said something and laughed; the others joined in.

Aidan ducked back behind the corner, his hands clenched down on the crossbow. Three sorcerers, when they thought only one was left. Straining, he managed to draw back the string and cock the mechanism. He loaded a bolt. Maybe he could take one out before… no, they were shielded. He cursed under his breath.

Making his decision, he turned and limped back towards the barn. With any luck, the sorcerers would be wary and take their time searching the streets for any signs of ambush. It might be a while before they made it to the barn. There was a good chance the women could still be rescued.

His leg gave a spasm of pain, like a knife jabbing into the muscle. Gritting his teeth, he kept going, leaving the sorcerers behind.

Chaos ruled at the barn. Two wagons stood near him, while men ran in all directions, loading one wagon with supplies and the other with some of the pregnant women. All were wounded in some way or another, all with makeshift bandages over legs, arms, chests, faces. One man’s face was covered in blisters, his left eye white like a boiled egg.

Caitlyn directed two men carrying a barrel. Three more barrels lay on their sides against the barn walls, their contents spilling onto the ground. It ran thick and viscous and yellow — oil. They dropped the barrel next to the door and headed back to the wagons. Caitlyn disappeared inside the barn.

Aidan looked over the men. They started hitching the wagons to four skittish horses. A few others with injuries had dragged themselves into the wagons. He limped over to a man by the closest wagon.

“
What’s happening here? What are you doing with the oil?
”

The man hawked and spat on the ground, shaking his head.
“
No time to save them all. We gotta do something so the sorcerers don’t get them. Might be easier on them this way. Lady’s orders.
”

Aidan turned to the barn in horror. Oil puddled against the walls, along the whole side of the barn.

“
By the ancestors!
”
he cursed.
She sent me away so she could organize this without my interference. She doesn’t trust me anymore.

Caitlyn appeared through the open doors carrying a flaming torch. She took a few steps towards him then stopped, seeing the look on his face.

“
I’m sorry, Aidan,
”
she said.
“
There isn’t any other way. We can’t take them all with us.
”

He took a step toward her.
“
Don’t do this,
”
he pleaded.
“
We can come back, enlist more men and—
”

“
No time,
”
she interrupted.
“
They won’t stay here. They’ll move somewhere else, and we will never find them again.
”

“
Caitlyn… my lady, please, we can’t do this. We need to draw the line somewhere.
”

Caitlyn’s expression turned dark.
“
We must do what we can to stop evil where we find it.
”
She backed a step towards the barn.

Aidan sank to his knees.
“
Where do we stop?
”
he shouted.
“
These women deserve to live. We have to try and rescue them!
”

“
Sometimes we have to make hard decisions.
”

“
This isn’t a hard decision!
”

Caitlyn shook her head.
“
Oh Aiden, you are blind. If we leave these women, they’ll continue to give the sorcerers whatever they want, whatever they’re getting from them. We can’t take all of them with us, so we must destroy the ones remaining. Who knows what evil is inside them?
”
She took another step towards the barn.

Aidan raised his crossbow, pointing it at her chest. He knew one thing, that she must be stopped. His voice came out as a dry croak.
“
Please, don’t make me do this.
”

Caitlyn looked at the crossbow and hesitated then gave a low laugh.
“
You won’t do it. I know you too well. You’ll come to realize this is the right thing to do.
”

“
It isn’t right,
”
he said through gritted teeth.
“
It cannot be right.
”

“
Always the weak one.
”
She backed towards the barn.

Aidan pressed the crossbow lever.

The bolt punched through Caitlyn’s mail shirt and slammed into her chest with a thud. A look of surprise appeared on her face. She sank to her knees and the torch dropped to the ground. She looked at Aidan. One hand came up to touch the bolt. Blood seeped between her fingers.

“
I’m sorry,
”
he whispered to her.
“
I couldn’t let you do it.
”
Tears ran down his face. The crossbow slipped from limp fingers.

Caitlyn fell forward then rolled to one side, hands clutching at the ground.

Two men rushed past him and slid to a stop over Caitlyn, checking for signs of life. One shook his head. The world moved as if through water, slowly, sounds muted. Aidan felt a vibration through the ground. All heads turned to look in one direction, south.

Someone ran towards him, taking his arms and dragging him towards the wagons.

He was thrown onto the bed of a wagon. It jerked, then moved forward, gathering speed.

Caitlyn lay there, leaking onto the dry dirt, burning torch by her side. The barn stood untouched.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

A mouse scuttled along the wall and disappeared through a crack. Caldan’s lamp, the flame as low as he could manage, stirred shadows across the room. He carried a satchel, which he placed on the workbench, the same one he’d burned a hole into. It seemed fitting as he worked to replace what he’d foolishly lost.

The hour was late, and all the other apprentices had been asleep for some time. It had been no trouble to sneak through the buildings and into the apprentices’ workshop. Hardly anyone was awake — a master or two, the ones known to keep odd hours. All he had to do was be about his work quickly and quietly, and no one would be the wiser.

Deciding on what type of
crafting
was important, and he had spent hours during the day thinking about the issue, to the point where his distracted thoughts had earned him a reprimand in one class and extra work in another.

With all the glyphs required for a shield, anything too small was out of the question, which discounted an earring or ring. If he started wearing a large Crafted ring or medallion, all of a sudden people might ask questions. In the end he decided to construct a flat wristband two inches wide. Worn on his forearm, he could cover it with his shirt sleeve to hide it from plain sight.

From his satchel he drew out a copy of Jevons’
Commentary on Shaping Gold
, a beeswax blank of the wristband he’d prepared earlier, his handkerchief, the pouch of white gold ingots and his scribing tools.

He walked to the furnace in the middle of the room, which had been set for the night, and added more coal, pumping the bellows to get it burning.

Humming to himself, he made a short trip to a storeroom and returned with a bucket of fine alchemical powder and a mixing spoon.

Opening the book, he removed two sheets of paper. Both were covered in his designs and working for the
crafting
, along with notations on different alloys and their properties. He’d circled one formula, his final choice.

Selecting a carving tool, he set to scraping the wax, trimming off the seam and smoothing the inner and outer surfaces. Switching tools often, he started to carve the inside surface with one half of his pattern, the runes and symbols slicing deep into the wax band. If all went well, his Crafting should be strong, better than the standard ones the guild used to teach them, and ten times better than the piece of shoddy workmanship he’d accidentally melted.

The added complexity had been a challenge, to work out how the anchors, controls, links and buffers should act to strengthen the overall
crafting
, but he’d had a few days to figure it out. His finished design covered both surfaces of the wristband.

An hour later, he finished carving both the inside and outside surfaces. He stopped to massage his aching fingers, pleased the fiddly part of the process was over.

He turned his attention to the crystals, or what was left of them. Unwrapping the handkerchief, he revealed two cloth pouches tied with string. Over the last few days, he’d used his spare time to grind the crystals to a coarse powder and refine the ores to allow him to weigh out the proper ratio of metals for the alloy.

Using a scale, he weighed enough white gold for the bracelet, then added portions of the rare earths until he had the percentages correct. He poured the metals into a crucible and placed it carefully into the furnace.

Back at his workbench, he prepared the wax casting with flues and encased it within a layer of alchemical plaster, which would set hard in a short span of time. Within minutes the mixture gave off heat, a result of the alchemical reaction beginning to take place.

There was nothing left to do but wait for the mold to fully dry and the wax to liquefy, for the metals in his crucible to melt and combine.

The nervous energy bottled inside him for the last few days dissipated. The warmth of the furnace was comforting, and he lay his head on his arms to rest.

He woke with a start, fuzzy-eyed and blinking. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, then it came back to him. By the ancestors, how long had he nodded off? He stumbled to the furnace.

Thankfully, his mold looked to be dry and hard, and no cracks were visible on the outside. Caldan smiled.

Taking a pair of long-handled tongs, he carefully lifted the mold and tipped the molten wax onto the coals of the furnace to be consumed. Now the mold was hollow, the inside contained only the shape of his wristband and the fine lines of the glyphs he had carved.

Again using the tongs, he reached into the fire and removed the crucible. Inside, the metal glowed molten-white, the air shimmering violently with the heat.

He rested the crucible on the furnace bricks for a moment, one hand wiping his brow. With much trepidation, he began to pour the liquid gold into the mold, the stream of metal glowing bright as it filled the hollow space inside, flowing into the glyphs and patterns he’d created.

As he poured he sensed the metal as it filled his carvings, gently testing the link, buffer, anchor and control glyphs in the overall pattern. He connected to the links and power flowed through the metal as it formed a complete
crafting
. This was the essential stage. He had to maintain the flow through the object until it solidified.

Concentrating to maintain his well and its link to the metal, he took the mold from the furnace and placed it on an anvil, where it began to cool, then gently tapped it to remove any air bubbles trapped in the delicate details.

Now all he had to do was to stay linked while it cooled enough to handle. By then, both the metal and the paths of energy would be set.

As the minutes passed, his trepidation grew. What he attempted was more complex than most journeymen could craft. Casting was the easy part; any jewelry smith could do that. What took talent and skill were the glyphs, the raw materials and finally the imbuement. All three had to be in harmony to create a
crafting
without the forces destroying it in the process or when it was activated.

Rousing himself from his thoughts, he dropped the rag he was using to wipe the workbench and looked at his mold. Plain and dull, yet contained within would be the finest piece he had crafted, shiny and full of potential. It would be like opening a present, removing the covering to reveal the gift inside, only better.

Smiling, he used the tongs to plunge the mold into a barrel of water. Steam hissed out in a cloud, and he waved it away to see bubbles rising to the surface. He thrust an arm to the bottom of the barrel and retrieved the mold. He tapped the tongs against the cast until it cracked and fell apart in his hands.

Firelight reflected from the white metal, flickering over the patterns. Caldan took his time and gazed at his creation long and reverently.

To him, the object was the culmination of all his years of hard work and sacrifice, made possible only because he had ended up here in Anasoma and had been fortunate enough to have the means to purchase the raw materials. If he’d stayed at the monastery it was unlikely he would ever have made such a piece. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to afford the gold and crystals. Maybe the accident had been a blessing in disguise, or maybe it was fate. Whatever the reason, he felt elated at having given his talent rein to create such a
crafting
. All he had to do now was trim, clean and polish the wristband.

Caldan clutched his
crafting
in one hand and gave the apprentices’ workshop a final look over. The place looked untouched. Good. He blew out his lantern and left, tracing his steps back to his room, where he could file and polish the wristband and check the pattern for imperfections.

Rain pattered on his shutters. The storm had come from the sea with remarkable rapidity. Humid and cold, it made Caldan’s room feel damp and uninviting. This night he didn’t care as his mind was on other matters.

He sat on his bed, newly crafted wristband in hand, and stared at the white gold object, unmoving. He remained in this pose for over an hour, the only light in the room his lantern burning a small flame. As a precaution, he checked and rechecked his creation for any flaw in the casting and in the pattern. The last thing he wanted was for it to melt or crack under the strain of his well.

Finally satisfied, he opened his eyes and took a breath, then slipped the
crafting
over his wrist.

Opening his well, he linked it to the wristband, and a shield sprang up around him. His skin tightened and his vision blurred. Following the flow of his well through the wristband, he sensed all was working as it should, though he couldn’t test it properly on his own. That would have to come later.

Sighing with relief, he broke the links and closed his well. A great weariness came over him as the stress and pressure of the day weighed him down, combined with the strain of such a
crafting
. Only now did he realize how tired he was.