Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (5 page)

Sighing with frustration, he took out his wristband and set himself the task of testing his
crafting
, to ascertain whether, after the stresses it had absorbed, it could still function. Around the fire, Elpidia was busy scribbling in a notebook, while Amerdan paced the campsite. Some nights, the man couldn’t sit still and disappeared for walks.

Again, Caldan closed his eyes, uncomfortably aware of Bells’ penetrating gaze on him.

He traced a line from his linking runes, running over the buffers, anchors, and unveilings, knowing all the while they were fine and that the problem would be with the metal itself. Extending his senses, he penetrated the metal, leaking a trickle of his well into the links. His shield surrounded him in a blue haze, steady and strong, at least on the surface.

Internally, it was a different matter. In his hands, the
crafting
grew warm to the touch as the damaged metal tried to weather the trickling force of his well flowing through it. There was no denying it: after all his effort and time, his
crafting
was close to useless. Damaged from the strain on it, the metal could hardly contain the small amount of power he was feeding into it, and it wouldn’t be enough to protect him. He cut off his well, and the shield winked out.

Making sure to keep his expression calm, he drew closer to Miranda. The night had chilled considerably, and her skin was cold, despite the fire. He hugged her tightly, and her body shook gently.

“How sweet. Can I have a hug, too?” Bells gave a mock shiver. “It’s ever so cold and… well… I don’t think she will be offering much for a while. If ever.”

Caldan closed his eyes, doing his best to ignore her, though heat came to his face, and he clenched his jaw.

“And how’s your shield? All worn out? Poor little Protector.”

“It’s fine; it withstood your sorcery.”

“Did it? I saw the burns on your arm, and that only means one thing. Both you and I know what.”

He shrugged and stayed quiet, refusing to be drawn.

“I can help her,” said Bells quietly. “All you need to do is let me go. I promise.” Teeth flashed white as she smiled.

Caldan shook his head. In his arms, Miranda continued to shiver. “I don’t believe you. After all, you’ve promised to kill us.”

“That was just talk. You’ve kept me prisoner for several days now. What am I supposed to do? Beg for forgiveness?” She squirmed against her bonds. “I can help her, and you. Just untie me.”

He rubbed his tired eyes. With the constant worry and lack of sleep the last few days, he couldn’t think clearly. One thing he was certain of: she would try to fulfill her promise to kill them, since they were the ones who had killed Keys. In which case, she couldn’t be trusted, and nothing she said mattered.

He cleared his throat, considering his words. “How could you help her? If I knew what to do, maybe I could instead.”

With a shake of her head, Bells smirked. “Coercive sorcery isn’t as easy as destructive sorcery. You have to study for years before you know all the intricacies. And then you still need a talent for it. Some people don’t and… Have you ever scrambled an egg? Her mind could end up like that.”

“Why would you help her? You have to know we can’t let you go.”

“Take it as a sign of my goodwill. Although Keys…” She paused and swallowed, voice breaking. “… was the one with a talent for it and the
crafting
s, I understand the principles and should be able to heal her. For certain concessions…”

Caldan pondered what she said, thoughts sluggish. If the
crafting
s for coercive sorcery were on Keys, then how could she help? They didn’t have the materials or resources to craft anything out here. Either she was lying and couldn’t, or… An idea penetrated his muddled thoughts. He laughed softly.

Releasing Miranda, he stood.

“Where are you going?” asked Bells, her voice strident.

Giving no reply, Caldan strode around the fire and over to their pile of gear. He searched through his until he found what he was looking for: the crafted bells they had taken from her when she was captured. Returning to Bells, he spread them out on the ground in front of her. She looked on in silence.

Eleven separate bells of differing sizes and metals, plus an amulet and a bracelet. He examined the bells, turning a few around with a finger to view the glyphs and runes on their surfaces. A number had smooth insides, while some contained symbols. On closer inspection, one stood out. A
trinket
.

All the other bells were duplicates? No, the symbols were different, so they weren’t replicas. They were an affectation, and used to disguise the
trinket
. Without Bells’ help, he would never find out what the
trinket
’s function was, provided she actually knew. But the other
crafting
s, they were a different matter. Those he could test and try to determine their use. And one had to be a shield
crafting
.

“You really shouldn’t,” said Bells.

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Go poking around when you don’t know what traps there may be. Do you want to end up like your girlfriend?”

“She isn’t… Which one is the shield
crafting
?”

“None,” replied Bells, too quickly. “Keys shielded me.”

“That can’t be true, otherwise your shield would have failed at the same time.”

Bells raised her eyebrows. “He thinks, finally.”

Caldan frowned in annoyance. “I’ve had a few things on my mind.”

“Haven’t we all.”

Caldan shifted uncomfortably at her words, knowing he was responsible for her partner’s death. If that’s what he was. From her reaction, Keys was more than just a fellow sorcerer. Still, he had no doubt that if they hadn’t defended themselves, they would have been imprisoned. He thought of the dead Protectors. Or worse.

There wasn’t enough time for him to experiment with all the
crafting
s to find their function, though he doubted any would have traps; what would be the point? He glanced at Bells, who regarded him without expression. He knew far too little. About her, the Indryallans, destructive and coercive sorcery. Wearily, he sat cross-legged in front of Bells, her
crafting
s between them.

Picking up each of the
crafting
s in turn, he examined them for familiar glyphs and runes, accessing his well and extending his senses in an attempt to determine what they did.

Most were enigmatic, runes and patterns he couldn’t recognize; variations of others, he did but couldn’t be certain what the changes meant. For a long time, he sat there immersed in his task while Bells looked on. Periodically, he removed one from the others and set it aside—the
crafting
s he couldn’t begin to guess the function of. Though this pile was by no means useless, at least one of them had to be related to coercive sorcery, and one to destructive sorcery. He doubted Bells’ assertion that Keys was the only one who knew coercive sorcery. She had offered to cure Miranda, and she could only do that if she had a
crafting
that could help.

With a wry smile, he separated another bell. This one had glyphs and runes similar to his shield
crafting
, though slightly different structures.

“Careful,” Bells said. “Scrambled eggs, remember.”

Caldan grunted sourly and scratched his jaw. “If I don’t do something, whoever has come after you will find us defenseless, and no doubt our roles will be reversed. I would rather that didn’t happen.”

“Then release me. I can plead on your behalf.”

“I doubt you would need to plead. I think you would be the one making decisions.”

Bells shrugged as best she could in her bindings. “Forget about my
crafting
s. You won’t have a chance to experiment with them anyway, assuming you’re that foolhardy. It’s only a matter of time before you and your friends are found.”

He cradled the bell in one hand and looked up at the night sky, studying the stars for a few moments, and then glanced in Miranda’s direction.

Accessing his well, he probed the bell, careful not to connect to the linking runes. Gently, he followed the flow of the pattern, from the links to anchors, buffers, and bridges, the unveilings and transference runes. A few, very few, he could make no sense of, but the overall pattern and structure was akin to his own shield
crafting
. Except for the multiple pairs of linking runes.

There wasn’t much else he could do unless he tested it.Choosing the pattern similar to his own wristband, he took a breath, split his well into two strings, and connected to a pair of linking runes.

Nothing happened.

Watching him, Bells gave a small smile. He could sense she had accessed her well to discern what he was doing. That was another thing that worried him. He had no way to stop her accessing her power. And if she got too close to
crafting
s not under his control…

Pursing his lips, he frowned. When the apprentices were taught shielding, the trick was to separate your well into two strings and be able to sustain the connection, as wearying as that was. Logically, the better you were at sorcery, and the higher you progressed, the more strings you had to be able to split your well into, and it could serve as a barrier to those with less talent or power. It might also be part of the test to progress to the next level. And it explained why apprentices couldn’t use
crafting
s masters had designed and created.

Bracing himself, Caldan concentrated, splitting his well into four strings. They were slippery to cling to at first, and it was hard to focus his mind on four separate strings. He almost lost his hold on them. Reining them in, he paused for a moment then connected to the other pair of linking runes.

His skin tightened, and his vision blurred as a shield enveloped him. The now familiar scent of lemons and hot metal reached his nostrils. He stood, covered in a multicolored haze that glistened like fish scales. It felt different somehow, more densely packed than his, and drew considerably more from his well.

He turned back to Bells, who watched him with a curious expression.

“Good little Protector,” she said. “You may have some use, after all.”

Caldan smiled and closed his well, cutting off the flow to the four strings. Then he slipped the bell into a pocket. It seemed the best place for it, considering he couldn’t very well tie it into his hair, as Bells had done; his hadn’t grown very long since he had left the monastery. Every time he touched it, he remembered what Miranda had said: Let your hair grow. I think it’ll look good on you.

Ignoring Bells’ pleas for him to stay—no doubt she wanted to trick him somehow—he warmed himself by the fire, shuffling Miranda a little closer. A chill had come into the night air, and he would have to make sure she was warm enough tonight.

Amerdan nodded at him then went back to pacing. He’d cut a leafy branch from a tree and, after a few passes around, started using it to sweep leaves and twigs from their campsite.

Elpidia pushed more sticks into the fire and stirred the steaming pot.

“Porridge again,” she said. “We’ll need more supplies, if we stay out in the country much longer. It would be best if we found somewhere to resupply.”

“From what Bees said, there should be a city a weeks travel from here.” Caldan shrugged. They had already been over this last night and this morning.

“Yes. Riversedge. I just…” She sighed heavily. “I’m eager to begin my experiments.”

Caldan knew the physiker had one focus, and not much drew her attention away from it. He would probably feel the same if he was dying. “Soon,” he reassured her for the third time that day. “I’m sure you will be able to set yourself up in this city, find work and a place to begin your experiments, whatever they involve.”

“It won’t be easy to set myself up again,” Elpidia said with a tight smile. “I left a lot in Anasoma. But… at least I have a direction now.”

Amerdan stopped his constant sweeping and approached them. He blinked and scratched his head, then coughed loudly and deliberately into a hand. “Sorry to interrupt your little chat, but someone was out there. Watching us.”

Caldan froze.

Elpidia stood abruptly and peered into the night.

“Try not to alert them we know they’re there,” said Amerdan.

Elpidia backed closer to the fire and frowned. “What are we going to do?’ she asked, voice low.

Amerdan shrugged. “Anything but look obvious.” He waved at her to resume sitting, which she did, clothes rustling as she smoothed her skirt and hunched over, as if trying to make herself smaller.

“How do you know someone’s there?” whispered Caldan, keeping his expression neutral.

“The night noises aren’t quite right. It’s a talent I have. When I was young, I did some hunting.” Amerdan grinned. “I still do occasionally. And there is someone out there; I guarantee it.”

Caldan flicked a glance at Bells, who was resting, eyes closed. If she knew someone was out there, she might raise a cry. Or might not. There wasn’t really anything that yelling would achieve, besides a distraction.

“You said ‘was watching us’. Have they gone?”

“I think so, from what I could tell. They’re very good. I wasn’t sure they had stopped and left for a while.”

“What should we do?” Elpidia asked.

“They’ll watch for a time to gauge our strengths… and weaknesses. That they haven’t made themselves known to us yet speaks to their wariness and patience. They know what happened when we escaped Anasoma, and for us to have captured one of their sorcerers has to make them cautious. I doubt they will come for us tonight.”

It was the longest speech they had heard from the shopkeeper. Caldan and Elpidia exchanged glances.

“But we can’t be sure,” Caldan said.

Elpidia looked around at the night. “Should we all stay up and watch?” she asked, trembling.

Amerdan only shrugged, unconcerned. “If we stay, we’re exactly where they want us to be in the morning. We don’t know how many there are of them, though I think it’s likely there’s only one or two.”

“Any idea what we should do?” Caldan had his own thoughts, but without materials to craft, he didn’t have many options.