Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (73 page)

He broke into a sprint. A few dozen yards behind cel Rau and Vasile came a bunch of baying, slavering jukari. They were only just keeping ahead of the creatures.

Caldan flashed past the mounted men. As before he didn’t know how long this would last, but while it did he exulted in his speed, and was in awe of his own power. He activated his shield, and crashed into the closest beast, blade darting. His sword moved as if of its own free will, becoming a blur of violence. Caldan cut, from shoulder to hip. He stepped toward the jukari on the left. A slice upward. Black blood sprayed. He pivoted. His sword moved with blinding speed. The jukari barely reacted, as if they moved through water, movements delayed and sluggish. A slash down through a thigh, and a jukari howled. He spun and cut. Stones slippery with blood. A final stroke, another jukari falling.

Caldan stood still, his sword covered with black blood raised above his head in the upper guard position. Around him lay jukari, dead and dying, their foul ichor pooling on the road. A bead of sweat ran from his right temple down his cheek. Chills swept over him as his body cooled. His
trinket
ring felt normal, as if whatever sorcery it wrought had faded to nothing.

He looked at the jukari and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. Was this to be his path? To kill whatever, or whoever, the emperor or warlocks decreed? No wonder the emperor tried to have power over the Touched; he saw the value only a few of them had. And if the emperor also possessed
trinkets
which allowed the Touched more control over their abilities, then maybe the haphazard surges he experienced could be released at will. The thought made him giddy. The power he felt… it was intoxicating. And he was also a sorcerer. The combination was rare; Joachim had said so. But how rare was it? If he was able to direct his Touched abilities and combine them with potent sorcery, then he’d be virtually unstoppable.

Caldan’s strength left his legs, and he tottered unsteadily. Who was he to wield so much power? Would he be chained to the emperor with no choice but to obey or be killed? Caldan felt he knew the difference between right and wrong, and he should only use his skills to help people. But he might not end up with any choice in the matter.

Along the road, and spread for hundreds of yards either side, uncounted jukari poured toward him. Far too many for one man, no matter their talents. Caldan watched as they approached, clamoring for… what? Howls and inhuman cries filled the air. They wanted to kill, but why? What drove them? And after centuries of remaining hidden, apart from the occasional sighting or encounter, what had banded them together and made them penetrate this deep inside the empire?

A buzzing hail of arrows streaked over him and thudded into the jukari. Squeals and harsh barks of pain came from the wounded and dying. The creatures still able to move loped away, fleeing out of arrow range, and dragged their fallen comrades with them.

Caldan turned his back on the death he’d caused. Ahead of him, Vasile and cel Rau were almost there. As he approached Riversedge, a commotion penetrated his awareness. On the wall, the Quivers were shouting, bows and swords raised in the air in salutation. They weren’t cheering for their own kills of jukari. They were cheering for him, and cel Rau, and Vasile.

On the wall to the left of the gate, Caldan saw Master Mold looking down impassively. He called his beetle to him and secreted it in his pocket. Caldan walked toward the gate, and the cheers grew louder.

The gates were shut and barred, securing the city from the jukari horde, at least for the time being. The Quivers lowered ropes, not willing to risk opening the gates in case the jukari charged. Caldan helped cel Rau secure Vasile, who was lifted clear of the ground and to the safety of the top of the wall.

Cel Rau grabbed his arm in a fierce grip. “Your secret’s safe with us,” he said quietly.

Caldan peered into the swordsman’s dark eyes. He couldn’t discern what was going on behind them. “What are you—?”

“Don’t be a fool. We know more about sorcery than you think. After this, we need to talk.”

Caldan swallowed and gave a curt nod.

Cel Rau stepped to the wall and grasped one of the ropes, letting himself be hauled up.

Caldan made one final survey of the scene behind him. Dead and dying jukari littered the road, staining it black with their blood. He still gripped his plain sword, the blade covered with congealed jukari blood. Nausea rose in his throat, along with the knowledge he was unlikely to break from the path the emperor and warlocks would choose for him. Death and destruction was likely his future, and at the end of a long life of killing for other people, he’d be used and discarded.

Death. Blood. His future seemed etched in stone. There had to be another way.

He let the blade slip from his fingers, and it fell to the ground with a dull clank. Latching onto one of the ropes, he allowed himself to be hauled up the wall, where at the top he was crowded by a group of cheering Quivers, yelling and clapping him on the back and shoulders.

Chapter Forty-Five

Rebecci wasn’t happy, Felice decided. Though the pale woman was hard to read, she thought she’d been able to discern a number of warring emotions on the sorcerer’s face. Despair, but why she would feel such a thing after successfully capturing Savine, Felice didn’t know. Fear, that was there as well. But fear of what? For what?

Felice snuggled further into her padded armchair and took another sip of plum wine from her bulbous goblet. She looked around the room, noting the plush rug and finely crafted furniture. On the windowsill sat a number of glass figurines, each a stylized animal holding various objects. A lion clutched a book, and a bird held a scepter in its beak. Though unlike any she’d ever seen, they reminded her of Dominion pieces. They were dust free, which showed someone cared for them.

“Are those figurines yours?” Felice asked Rebecci.

Rebecci nodded distractedly. She was staring at the silver-caged diamond, as she had been for the last half hour since they’d entered the room. It lay on the desk between them. The sickly green glow had faded to a tiny flickering light.

“There’s a time for secrets,” Felice said. “And a time for answers.”

Her statement hung in the air.

Rebecci tore her eyes from the
crafting
for an instant before returning. Long enough to lock gazes with Felice before breaking contact.

“I should kill you,” the sorcerer said. “You know too much.”

Felice stiffened, then relaxed and shook her head. “If you were going to do it, I’d be dead already. No… you want me for something. You need me for something.”

“The rat is out of its hole, as they say. Or used to say, where I’m from.”

“And where is that?”

“Nowhere you’ve heard of.”

“I’ve heard of a lot of places. But I figure you’re right. I wouldn’t have heard of where you’re from, because it’s not in this world, is it?”

Rebecci leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She looked exhausted—the bone weary tiredness of someone who’d been living under a heavy burden for a long time.

“I can help you,” Felice said.

Rebecci took her eyes off the greenish diamond. She stood, trembling, and leant her weight on the desk. “The First Deliverer warned us this time would come, and so it has. We are a remnant of a remnant. And I fear we are not up to the task. But I suppose that’s why the First Deliverer is going to try to convince your emperor of the threat, and to trust us. Whether he succeeds or not, we will be sacrificed.”

Felice narrowed her eyes at the mention of sacrifice. Rebecci plainly believed she was doomed whatever happened. But Felice was never one to think there was only ever one outcome. If Dominion had taught her anything, it was that no cause was hopeless.

“So, if you’re not going to kill me, I’ll need some answers. And you never know, I might see a way through this for you. For your people.”

A look of sadness tinged with grief came over Rebecci’s face. “I hope that you do,” she said, clearly not believing it.

“Then I want to know about Kelhak. He’s not really Kelhak, but he’s not one of you.”

“It’s Kelhak’s body. That much is true.”

“Then who’s controlling it? Or is it a… what? Something dangerous. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know what it is.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I have to know. If the empire, the world, is in peril, I have to do something about it.”

“The First Deliverer has a plan, but none of us know the whole of it, only bits and pieces.”

Felice nodded. Gazija, the sorcerer Rebecci and her fellows revered. The man she was supposed to have met outside the city. But if he was trying to stop Kelhak and wasn’t here in Anasoma… that’s why Rebecci was still here, and why she needed Felice. They had a plan, one in which Rebecci thought she’d die trying to accomplish.

A whimpering from the sorcerer brought her out of her thoughts. Rebecci looked even paler, and she was trembling.

“Rebecci,” Felice said, a cold knot of fear spreading from her stomach. “What is it?”

Rebecci moaned softly, then brushed away a tear forming in her eye. “It’s evil. It destroyed our world in a desolation. And it followed us here.”

“Then I need to speak with Gazija. I take it that’s possible?”

Chapter Forty-Six

Caldan allowed himself to be bundled into the back of a wagon beside a prostrate Vasile. The swordsman, cel Rau, glanced at him, face expressionless, before returning to administering to the injured man. As soon as he sat, of a sudden exhausted, four Quivers joined them, and the wagon started rolling.

Caldan rubbed the back of his neck. A massive ache emanated from inside his head, a legacy of holding so many strings for so long. In truth, he didn’t know how many he’d held at times. Eight at most, surely it couldn’t have been more than that? Four strings for his automaton and four for Bells’ shield
crafting
. In the confusion and panic, he couldn’t be sure, but that seemed about right.

He turned to the closest Quiver. “Where are we going?” They seemed to regard him with awe, or at least a healthy respect.

The oldest one cleared his throat. “To our barracks, to meet the commander. He’ll want to hear what you’ve done. All of you. And likely want to thank you personally.”

Beside him, cel Rau grunted. “Why isn’t he on the wall?”

The Quiver gave them a puzzled look. “On the wall? He’s coordinating the defense of the whole city. He needs to be in a central location.”

“So, he hasn’t even seen the jukari?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Cel Rau chuckled to himself and used a waterskin to trickle water into Vasile’s mouth. Caldan couldn’t be sure, but it looked like most of it spilled out onto the wagon bed. He frowned, also puzzled. The swordsman made sense. Why wouldn’t the man commanding the Quivers be on the wall coordinating his men?

“What are you doing about the jukari?” he asked.

“Holding the walls. Protecting the citizens.”

Again, cel Rau chuckled.

“And that’s all?” Caldan said.

“Our job is to guard the city. The emperor is on his way, and his forces will crush the jukari once they arrive.”

“And when will that be?”

“Er… soon. A day or two, I think.”

“And what would have happened if the emperor’s forces hadn’t been so close?”

The Quiver stiffened, and Caldan realized he’d gone too far. These soldiers were only following orders. It was their leaders who deserved to be rebuked. The fact they hadn’t sent any Quivers out to protect the refugees fleeing the jukari stirred a hot anger inside him. And the Protectors had remained on the wall and done nothing. Besides himself, only cel Rau and Vasile had thought about shielding those most in need. Only they’d thought of doing what they could to ensure as many people as possible reached Riversedge alive.

•

Vasile let out a moan as the wagon lurched.

Caldan met cel Rau’s eyes.

“He’ll be fine,” the swordsman said. “Once we get him to a physiker. He’s been through much the last few weeks.”

Caldan nodded, glad the man would survive. After what he’d seen, he didn’t think he could handle another death. Out there, outside the walls of Riversedge, there’d been too many people cut down by the jukari. Senseless slaughter.

Behind the creaking wagon, they were trailed by two Protectors on horseback. Mold must have sent them to keep watch over him. They hadn’t said anything, just positioned themselves behind the wagon and followed along. A warning, and probably guards to make sure he didn’t do anything against their rules again. They were following at a discreet distance, but Caldan knew why they were there. Maybe that was the point. Unless he died, he’d never be free of the Protectors or the warlocks.

A hum at the edge of his awareness, and the faint scent of lemons, indicated at least one of the Protectors was using a
crafting
. Caldan opened his own well and kept himself ready. If Mold had decided he was now a liability, he had to be on his guard. With the Quivers around him, all treating him like a hero, the Protectors wouldn’t be able to act. But it wouldn’t take them long to convince the commander of the Quivers he should be released into their ‘care’. He extended his senses and judged their wells. Both were narrow and constricted, with rough edges. Whatever their talents, they would barely be able to hold onto a crafted shield at full strength. But he’d learned from Bells and the Bleeder, everyone had different talents, and a narrow well didn’t mean a sorcerer wasn’t dangerous. He kept holding his well open, ready to link to his shield
crafting
at the first sign of anything suspicious.

One of the Quivers broke into his thoughts, addressing them all. “Excuse me. We, the men and I, want to thank you all for what you did out there. I’ve never seen anything like it. You faced down the jukari, allowing a great many people to reach Riversedge alive.”

Cel Rau looked grim. “A great many more died.”

To Caldan, the implication was obvious: they died because no Quivers were sent to help. The soldier continued, oblivious to the underlying implication of the swordsman’s comment.