Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (76 page)

Caldan could feel the
crafting
inside the dome. It set his mind on edge, twisting the air around him. His teeth rattled in their sockets as the
crafting
sucked up more power.

Around them, soldiers shouted, and dozens of them rushed toward the dome, hacking at the surface with their swords. A few arrows also struck the shield, all to no avail.

“I take it we’re too late?” shouted cel Rau over the din.

“Maybe. The warlocks might be able to do something, and they should react soon.”

Before he’d even finished speaking, glowing yellow globes arced through the sky from the west. Caldan knew the warlocks judged the situation to be desperate, else they wouldn’t use destructive sorcery so brazenly. With crackling thumps, six globes pounded into the black shield, which erupted in bright white sparkles. Virulent sorcery covered and splashed off the dome, spattering the soldiers around it. They screamed in pain and terror, falling to the ground as their skin melted and smoked. A few with minor splashes of the warlocks’ sorcery staggered away clutching arms, legs, and faces. After stumbling a short distance, they too fell to the ground, momentarily writhing before they were still. The screaming and shouting survivors backed away.

“By the ancestors,” breathed Caldan. It was a bloody, chaotic mess. No one was in charge, and no one had any idea what to do. What could they do? Against sorcery like this, they were helpless. And Bells had shrugged off the warlocks’ first response as if their sorcery were an annoying insect. He needed to breach the shield Bells had constructed. Joachim’s arrows sprang to mind, but he judged they wouldn’t be strong enough to make a dent.

Frantically, he cast around. There must be something he could use. His eyes alighted on the paper and pens the man at the table had been using.

“What are you doing?” exclaimed cel Rau as he rushed for the table.

“Something. Anything,” he replied. There was no time to waste. Bells’ potent
crafting
was gathering power to itself, far more than he’d even thought possible. He glanced up as more globes descended on the dome, these ones red and green. Thunderclaps filled the air when they struck, and Caldan winced as his ears erupted in pain. Around the dome, soldiers were flung back, struck by an invisible force. They landed in lifeless jumbles among their smoldering comrades. Was this what Bells expected? All part of her plan? That the warlocks’ retaliation would prevent soldiers from coming close to the shield?

Caldan shook his head. There was no time to think about that now. He slid four pieces of paper across the now deserted table and dipped a pen in the ink. It wasn’t
crafting
ink, but it would have to do. He was sure he couldn’t destroy Bells’ shield like Joachim had Annelie’s, and Amerdan had Joachim’s, but maybe he could force it to split and create a gap. A variation of Joachim’s crafted arrows, then, but they would also need to be linked to divert the forces creating the shield.

•

For Amerdan, the black dome covering them held a singular interest. Now he was familiar with crafted shields and their uses, he saw it as an anomaly, for unlike the shield Bells had trained him to use, he could see through the barrier with no impediment. She’d explained no one could see inside, but it wasn’t until he saw the soldiers’ reactions he came to be convinced. He sensed the forces she was drawing from her well to maintain the shield and felt he could match her, if only just. But the sorcery used in its creation was beyond him, for now. He’d have to take the
crafting
from Bells when all this was over. Curiously, no sound penetrated the shield, either. Around them, blood and parts of soldiers splattered the ground. The mouths of the survivors opened wide in soundless howls. Amerdan could imagine their gibbering cries. It was as if he were looking at a painting in which the subjects moved.

Bells kept the
crafting
in one hand, while her other rested upon the
crafting
made from metal discs. They remained on top of their cart; the
crafting
was so heavy, they knew they’d be unable to shift it very far on their own. No matter.

“Yes,” murmured Bells, with a depth of emotion he thought was… longing?

Under his hand, her bare neck trembled. He had to maintain contact for her to draw from his wells to bolster her
crafting
s. He crowed inwardly as another ragged chip of one barrier damming his well broke free and dissipated. Since Bells had drawn more and more from his wells, the virulent forces had begun eroding the barriers further, an expected, yet welcome side effect. Already, one well was completely clear, while the other had widened considerably. Soon, both would be free and unfettered. He’d have the wells of two sorcerers. And if all went to plan, he’d subsume Bells and Caldan. Four wells, combined with the knowledge Bells had imparted to him, and her
crafting
s. He would be… a god. With the God-Emperor of Indryalla about to arrive, he’d have to be careful, but he was confident he’d soon have him under his knife and absorbed as well. Then he could—

What? What did he want? What was his purpose? The thought struck him to his core. He was no longer content to wander from place to place and kill whatever vessel caught his eye.

A groan from Bells brought him back to the present.

“What is it?” he asked calmly.

“Maybe nothing… I’m not sure. This
crafting
is beyond me, so—”

“You don’t know what it does?”

“I was told what it does, but… something’s wrong.”

Worry tinged her voice. More than worry—a rising panic.

“So, should your God-Emperor be here now?”

“I’m not sure. The
crafting
’s building more power than it should need. It just keeps drawing more and more. I—” Bells broke off with a gasp of surprise, and he felt a tremor run through her body. Violet threads twisting like snakes began seeping from the
crafting
. Undulating in the small space, they grew, lengthening and moving ever upward, as if seeking something.

“No!” wailed Bells, and she sunk to the ground as her legs went limp.

Amerdan knelt beside her, hand still resting on her neck. “Tell me what’s happening.”

As he spoke, the threads touched the roof of the dome and slipped straight through the barrier. When they did, he felt the
crafting
pulse with energy, and his skin crawled like it was covered with ants. Outside the shield, the threads grew. One yard. Two. Then three. They waved and contorted as if blown by the wind. Except they issued in all directions.

•

Caldan dropped to his knees as his mind felt like it was being turned inside out. He scrabbled to hold onto sanity, clutching at whatever threads of consciousness he could grasp. He still held the four paper
crafting
s he’d finished penning. Cel Rau lay in the dirt beside him, eyes open wide with pupils contracted to pin pricks. Blood trickled from one of cel Rau’s ears, though he’d managed to draw both swords before he’d collapsed.

The world took on a jagged edge. The shapes of soldiers twisted as ripples pulsed through them. Bile filled his throat. The ripples emanated from Bells’
crafting
. Each one knifed into his head as it passed through him. Around him, men began screaming. Reality was being warped, molded. Violet threads drifted from the
crafting
, accompanied by a high-pitched keening. They traveled in lazy arcs, slicing through flesh and bone like a hot knife through wax.

Caldan bent over, free hand clawing at clumps of grass in front of him. A spasm ripped through his muscles, and he convulsed in agony. Terror overcame the emperor’s soldiers closest to Bells’ shield dome. Hardened veterans and green soldiers alike fled the terrible sorcery, screaming and clawing at their heads.

Caldan seemed immune to whatever affected the soldiers, as did cel Rau. Whether it was because Caldan was a sorcerer, he didn’t know. Why cel Rau wasn’t affected would be a puzzle for another day. If they survived.

Lethal sorcerous threads twisted toward them, as if drawn to their life-filled bodies. Caldan activated his shield and clamped a hand onto one of cel Rau’s arms, spreading the shield to cover him. Multicolored sparkles erupted as the threads slithered over them. Caldan’s shield held, but only just. It whined and grew warm and sucked enormous amounts from his well. Only four strings to maintain the shield, but already his head ached from the strain.

The threads passed over them and moved on, as if they were seeking easier prey to latch onto. He couldn’t be sure, but those extending to the west looked thicker and livelier, lengthening at a much faster pace than the others. West was where the warlocks were supposed to be, and where the destructive sorcerous globes came from.

To their right, one hapless soldier found himself cornered by two violet strands. He was about to duck under one, when they whipped forward and passed through him. He didn’t make a sound as he dropped to the dirt, body carved into pieces. One of hundreds lying motionless around them.

As the deadly threads moved further from the black dome, they split apart. Like roots from a living plant, tendrils broke off and began seeking their own path, extending further into the army’s encampment.

The flow from Caldan’s well subsided once the threads passed them over. He took a few moments to recover. Sweat poured from his skin, and his shield felt stifling. He staggered to his feet and stood among the dead and dying soldiers of the emperor. By his side, cel Rau also dragged himself upright.

He looked at Caldan with an expression of pure fury. “This abomination must be stopped.”

Caldan kept his grip on the swordsman’s arm. “Come, then. We have to get inside that shield.”

They staggered toward the dome, trying to avoid pools of rapidly cooling blood and body parts, but by the time it loomed close, their boots were covered in scarlet, and their steps left bloody imprints in their wake.

Caldan un-crumpled the four paper
crafting
s he’d hastily scrawled and placed a hand on the shield. It felt hard and dense, like a huge, polished chunk of onyx. He attempted to fix one of the paper
crafting
s against the shield, high and to his right. It wouldn’t stick.

“By the ancestors!” he cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need all four to be in place before I can link and join them. But they won’t stick to the shield. Stupid. I should have thought of that.”

“Give me one. I’ll try something.”

Caldan handed cel Rau one of the sheets of paper, and the swordsman stepped toward a dead soldier. As Caldan watched in horror, cel Rau wiped the back of the paper in a congealing pool of blood. He slapped the paper against the shield, and when he removed his hand, it stayed in place.

“Will that do?” asked cel Rau.

A trickle of blood oozed out from under the paper and began to make its way slowly down the shield.

Caldan swallowed. “Yes. Let’s do the other three. I need them to make the corners of a square big enough for us to get through, so I’ll place two near the ground.”

Stomach churning, Caldan followed cel Rau’s lead and smeared the other three papers with blood and stuck them to the dome. Over their heads, violet threads continued to propagate from the top of the dome, and even finer tendrils of lightning crackled between them.

“Look to your shield!” shouted cel Rau.

Caldan glanced up to see more globes descending toward the dome, and them. Cursing, he pushed as much from his well and into his shield as he could, extending the barrier to cover his
crafting
s on the side of the dome so they weren’t destroyed.

Globes plummeted toward them. Both Caldan and cel Rau cowered as they struck. Corrosive power splashed across his shield, and again the
crafting
grew warm, then hot, as it struggled to dissipate the forces assailing them. The whine from the
crafting
rose to a shriek, but it quickly subsided as the sorcery from the globes died down. To Caldan, this group of globes didn’t feel as potent as the last few. Perhaps the thicker sorcerous threads which had gone west were assailing the warlocks, and they were spending resources defending themselves.

Caldan pushed his weariness aside and prepared to link to his paper
crafting
s. With luck, they’d work, because if they didn’t, he had no ideas left.

•

“Don’t you see?” Bells wailed. “The God-Emperor has decided the empire’s forces are to be destroyed. I’m to be sacrificed. There’s no escape for us now. We must accept our fate.”

Outside the shield, Caldan and another man were approaching, looking decidedly the worse for wear.

Amerdan hissed in anger. We? The sorcerous bitch had killed him. “They’re not through yet. We can still flee. They’ll have to try and disable your
crafting
, and it’ll be the perfect diversion.”

Bells lowered her head, long dark hair falling to cover her face. She shook with emotion. “No. If the God-Emperor has decided I’m to die, then so be it. He needs me to maintain the link to the
crafting
. And I’ll do it until I draw my last breath.”

“You can maintain the link from afar by drawing from my wells.”

“I… I don’t know.”

Bells looked him in the eye. He could see she was resigned to her death here. Which meant he couldn’t absorb her talents. He uttered a low growl and glanced at Caldan and the unknown man outside their shield. The man slapped a blood-covered piece of paper to the barrier, where it stuck fast.

“I’m sorry,” said Bells.

Sorry? What good was sorry? It usually got you killed. “Give me your shield
crafting
. The one making the dome. You can use your normal one now that the soldiers around us are dead. They’ll not be troubling you.”

“You’re going to leave me?” Bells looked at him with sadness in her eyes then nodded slowly. “You’re right to go. This wasn’t what I thought would happen.”

Amerdan sensed her separate strings from her well and link to a new shield
crafting
she’d made along with the others. He glanced at Caldan and the man with him and saw they’d stuck three more sheets of paper to the dome. They were attempting to breach the barrier and could be through at any moment. Then both Bells and Caldan’s talents would be lost, along with the God-Emperor’s, who had declined to join them. The thought of losing such opportunities when they were so close filled him with anger. But there would be other vessels. And other sorcerers.