Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (22 page)

Teeth clenched with pain, Avigdor waved them away. His face shone with sweat.

“Go,” he managed to say. “I’ll delay them.”

Felice pulled on the reins and directed the wagon to the right, down a main street. For a few moments, the soldiers chasing would have lost sight of them.

One by one, her men leapt off the wagon, scattering in different directions.

She gave Avigdor a last look.

He grinned weakly.

“Go,” he said.

“I’ll come for you.”

“Don’t be stupid. Just go.”

Without a word, she followed her men into the streets, leaving Avigdor to lead the soldiers on a chase. She wiped her hands on her trousers. Avigdor’s blood stained them red.

•

“Come on, come on,” gasped Felice to herself. “It’s not much farther.”

She ducked her head around the corner of the building she was hiding behind.
Pignuts.
Six Indryallan soldiers stood not ten paces from her. With slow, careful steps, she slid away from the corner, back to the wall, until she could breathe easier without fear of being heard.

Her braid was half undone, and her clothes stank of sweat and dirt.

Her legs ached from the constant running, and her chest hurt—lungs used to exercise had been strained to their limits over the last few hours.

The Indryallans were everywhere. Every second street she went down, there they were; every square she wanted to cross held at least a squad. She hoped her men had an easier time of it, but she was doubtful. As for Avigdor… She wished he had given up and not decided to do anything stupid. Next time she saw him, she would slap him if he had.

She wiped at her eyes and sniffed. What were her options? She breathed deeply in an attempt to calm her racing heart.

To her right, around the corner, were the soldiers, while to the left, she would have to eventually cross a crowded square—which wasn’t a good idea. Across from her was a narrow alley she would be able to fit down sideways. It was the kind of alley in the kind of neighborhood she wouldn’t normally consider as an option. But then, she was pretty much out of options.

She went to cross to the alley and found she couldn’t move. Bands of something tightened around her, constricting against her arms and legs. She yelped as she fell to the ground, hitting her head on the cobbles. Wriggling frantically, she yelped.

There was a slight hum and a pop. To her right appeared a man, where there hadn’t been anyone before. He was muscled and handsome, with bright green eyes. She distrusted him instantly.

A rat-loving sorcerer, he had to be. It didn’t take much to overcome someone if you didn’t have to get close or touch them. Or be seen by them. Her eyes narrowed. That was something she hadn’t seen or heard of before.

“Well, well,” the man purred, with a voice she could have listened to all night under different circumstances. “What have we here?”

“I was just on my way to the market,” Felice protested, feigning outrage. “Release me at once, or I’ll see your superiors hear about this.”

The man chuckled. “You’ll get to meet my superiors soon enough, Lady Felicienne.”

She stopped struggling and sat up, cursing softly under her breath. The game was up. She wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of this.

“You’ve led me a merry chase these last few days. I’ll bet you’re tired.”

Felice nodded wearily, not deigning to speak.

“Then let me find you a nice place to recuperate, courtesy of the Indryallans, of course.”

She couldn’t place his accent. It was nothing like the Indryallans’ and sounded almost musical to her ears. And his clothes were so far out of fashion as to be almost laughable. It was as if he had raided his grandparents’ wardrobe. A decidedly odd sorcerer. A number of crafted rings adorned his fingers, along with a strange flat torc around his neck.

“Who are you?” she ventured. “You’re not one of them, are you?”

He bowed from the waist. “My name is Savine Khedevis, and you surmise correctly. But I am with them, and have been tasked with finding the members of the resistance who strangely seemed to have not done much except skulk around and talk. Until today.”

Felice gave him a knowing smile. “I’ll bet they were surprised.”

“Indeed they were. Then angry. Then vengeful.”

“I hope they choke on it.”

Savine shrugged. “My guess is they will blame me for not finding you soon enough. Still, I will survive. I always do.” He stepped closer until he stood over her.

“Now brace yourself,” he said cheerfully. “This is going to hurt.”

Felice cried out as needles of pain stabbed into her skull. Waves of agony rolled across her body, emanating from her head. Her skin felt as if it were on fire. She crumpled back to the ground and curled into a ball, fingers clawing the cobbles.

Within moments, she was unconscious.

Chapter Twelve

“With any luck, I’ll be back tonight. I want to get this over with as quickly as possible,” said Caldan.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving Bells and Miranda with Elpidia and Amerdan, especially since the shopkeeper had revealed his mysterious abilities. But he’d promised Simmon he’d deliver the sword, and he’d keep his word. Once he’d discharged that duty, hopefully earning the trust of the Protectors in Riversedge, he’d be free to question Bells further and decide what to do with her. If he couldn’t get any more answers out of her, then he’d hand her over to the Protectors. They’d ask why he kept her from them, but he could say he wasn’t sure if they could be trusted at first.

He buckled on the
trinket
sword and slung a saddlebag over his shoulder. One hand brushed the two crafted bells in his pocket, while around his neck, under his shirt, hung his bone ring and Bells’ shield
crafting
. In his saddlebags were the crafted items taken from the sorcerer Bells had called Mahsonn, which he thought might come in handy to study at some point.

Elpidia stood a few steps away the entire time he was getting ready, frowning all the while. Amerdan had disappeared again, saying he was going to scout the area. He’d left just before dawn, without waiting for breakfast.

Caldan glanced at Miranda then away again. He almost couldn’t look at her sometimes. His chest tightened, and a lump rose in his throat.

“Hurry up,” said Elpidia, nodding in the direction of the city. She scratched at the rash on her neck then ran her fingers over a lump on her skin. “The quicker you get this over with, the quicker this whole sorry story can end, and I can get back to my research. Remember, this is bigger than just me. If we can come up with a universal cure—”

“My first priority is Miranda, then what to do with Bells.”

Caldan looked toward the city. A pall of smoke and dust hovered perpetually over it.

“Little Protector,” called Bells from her tree.

He turned to face her, swallowing a curse. Of course she wanted to rile him just before he left. It was in her nature.

“What do you want?” he asked with a sigh.

“Come here.”

He strode over, though stopped a few steps away and half-turned toward the road, impatient to be off.

“Make it quick.”

“I just wanted to tell you something. As a sign of trust.”

Caldan remained silent.

“Bells isn’t my real name, you know.” She uttered a short laugh. “It’s the name people called me when I started
crafting
them. It stuck, like all silly names.”

“What is your real name?”

She looked away, staring at the trees. “Sorche. Remember that. If I ever get out of this alive, I would be honored to continue your instruction. And when you see the truth behind the Protectors, seek me out.”

“That’s not likely to happen.”

Bells gave a wry smile. “Strange things happen all the time. Unlikely events. It’s what makes living so interesting.”

Caldan exhaled long and hard. He turned his back on Bells—or Sorche—and approached Elpidia.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told the physiker. “Take this, in case you need to find me.” He handed her the crafted compass she’d had made.

With final glances at Miranda and Bells, he left the camp for the road, puffs of dust springing up with each step.

•

Bells smiled brightly, and Elpidia scowled back at her.

“Excuse me,” said Bells. “These ropes are a bit tight. I don’t suppose you could loosen them a little. I can’t feel my feet.”

Elpidia checked the sorcerer’s bindings; she was sure they were fine and Bells was up to something. As she suspected, there was no problem.

“Ah, that’s better,” exclaimed Bells.

Elpidia frowned at her. She had no idea what the woman was up to and didn’t care to find out. The less time she spent in her company, the better. She had important work to do while Caldan was away. Their journey hadn’t left her time to do much with Caldan’s blood, but with a day or two spare, she thought she could rig up a few experiments. Last night, she had asked Amerdan if he could find her a few mice in the fields outside the trees, and assumed that’s where he was this morning. She’d seen what he could do and been appalled at his callous attitude toward the soldiers, so approaching him hadn’t been easy, but she needed those mice. Her leather kit had a few spare compartments she was sure a mouse could survive in long enough to be of value.

“You’ve been so kind to me,” Bells continued.

Elpidia nodded in response. Where was Amerdan? He scared her, but she would feel better if he was here with her to watch the sorcerer. Anyone with sense wouldn’t trust her as far as they could throw her.

Bells smiled. “Which is why I’m going to let you live.” The sorcerer nodded to someone behind her and Elpidia heard a scuff on the ground.

She half-turned when the pain hit. Everything went black.

•

Caldan approached the gates nervously. He was surrounded by a mass of people trying to enter the city early in the morning, mostly farmers bringing in wagons of produce to sell, livestock traders leading trains of animals, and wagons packed to overloading with cages containing rabbits and chickens. Clouds were rolling in from the south, and an increasing wind was heavy with coming rain.

He slipped in some dung, barely keeping himself upright. A small child sitting atop a pile of goods giggled at him. In return, he smiled and made his way to the side of the queue, then stalked toward the front of the line.

Shouts followed him, jeers and curses for those who jumped the queue. He ignored them, and as he approached the gates, two guards stepped out to meet him. They were dressed similarly to the Harbor Watch in Anasoma, though their leather armor was covered with a brown tabard featuring a yellow key above an owl. They brandished long wooden clubs.

“Halt!” commanded one of them. “What business do you have in Riversedge? You better have a good reason for jumping the queue.”

He placed a hand in his pocket, where it touched Bells’ shield
crafting
; he could tell the bells apart by sense now. With a thought, he opened his well, linked to the anchor, and activated the
crafting
.

A soft glow enveloped him, and his vision blurred, though not as much as when he used his now destroyed wristband.

The guards took a step back, gasping with astonishment, while a space cleared around him as people edged away in surprise and awe.

“I’m a Protector,” Caldan announced. “And I need to be taken to them as quickly as possible.” He pointed at one of the guards. “You will take me to them. Now.”

The guard swallowed and nodded, then spoke to his companion. “I’ll get him to the Protectors quick smart.”

Caldan cut the link to his well, and the shield winked out of existence.

“Let’s go, then,” he said simply.

It wasn’t long before the guard left Caldan in front of an imposing building. It was a rambling three-story structure, which looked to be surrounded by streets on all sides. Iron-bound wooden gates, both propped open, led to a packed-earth courtyard. He couldn’t see any guards at the gates.

Taking a breath, he entered and looked around. Leaves littered the courtyard, and weeds grew against the walls. To his surprise, there were two milk cows tethered to an iron ring in one corner, both munching happily on a pile of hay. Around them, numerous cowpats littered the ground.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. After the discipline and organization of the Protectors in Anasoma, he was shocked at the state of the building.

A group of scruffy-looking children playing a chasing game rushed screaming out of a door and across the yard. Caldan winced at the discordant noise. One of the children, a boy who looked to be around fifteen years old, stopped when he saw Caldan standing inside the gate. He looked around at his playmates then wandered over.

Reaching into a pocket, Caldan flipped a copper ducat toward the boy, which he caught with surprising deftness.

“What can I do for you, sir?” the boy asked with deference.

“I need to see whoever’s in charge.”

“That’ll be Master Steyn, but he’s out for a few days. Master Mold is in charge while he’s away.”

“Mold?”

“As in a cast, not ah… a fungus.” The boy’s eyes shifted as he made sure no one had heard him.

“Take me to him, then.”

“Right you are, sir. Follow me.”

The boy gestured to Caldan, but a feeling made him stand where he was. This place wasn’t quite right. Something was wrong. These Protectors seemed to be more… lax than the ones in Anasoma. There was no one guarding the front gate, and so far, he had walked straight into their headquarters without being challenged. Not at all what he had expected.

Seeing Caldan hesitate, the boy stopped. His eyes flicked toward a number of darkened windows to Caldan’s left.

Without thinking, Caldan opened his well. His shield sprang into existence around him, and he reached for the sword over his right shoulder.

“No sudden moves,” a voice ordered him from one of the openings—a deep, man’s voice with a no-nonsense tone.

Caldan saw the boy back away. His eyes grew wide when he saw the shield, and after a few steps, he turned and ran. The other children had disappeared without him noticing.