Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (15 page)

“This way,” Caldan told Lavas, and sped off into the night in the direction he had sensed the absence, hoping the corporal would follow.

Once off the road, he focused on his well and
crafting
, drawing as much power as he could into the sorcerous shield. Lavas didn’t look surprised, and Caldan guessed he had seen a lot in his time.

“We don’t know where he is, and he’s capable of killing swiftly. I have to maintain the shield.”

Lavas nodded grimly. “Stay together, then. I assume you can shield me, if you have time?”

“Yes, with enough warning.”

“Good, then let’s get going.” He made as if to move forward, when Caldan pulled him to a stop.

“This way,” Caldan said, pointing to his left. If the sorcerer was a hunter intent on picking them off one by one, he would have moved from his previous position already. It seemed a likely bet: there was plenty of cover, and the trees were thicker here.

Together, they moved carefully, sidling around rocks and trees, always keeping the trunks between them and the direction Caldan indicated. The wind blew through tufts of long grass and dry leaves, creating a rustling sound which would serve to mask their footfalls. In the distance, the creaking of the retreating wagon reached their ears, hard iron tire on the wooden rim clattering along the paved road.

Caldan focused on his well and concentrated. He stood still, absorbed in his task.

“What are you doing?” asked the corporal.

Caldan took hold of his arm and drew him close, keeping his voice low. “I should be able to sense the sorcerer, his well.”

“His what?”

“Never mind. Some of us can sense when other sorcerers are near, and it’s one of my talents, but… there’s nothing.” He frowned and shook his head.

“Then let’s get going. He could be getting away.”

“No, I don’t think so. This one will stay close. I hate to say it, but with two of your men out of action and us separated from the others, we may be where he wants us. But we have to find him, or he will whittle us down one by one.”

Lavas grunted in agreement. “I’m not waiting around for daylight, when I could be cut up like the others at any time. Find the sorcerer,” he hissed.

“I can’t sense anything, and I should be able to if he’s opened his well.”

“Then it isn’t open, whatever it is.”

“That makes no sense. If he wants to protect himself or attack us, then he has to open it. And he’s camouflaging himself somehow. That has to use power.”

“By the ancestors!” exclaimed Caldan under his breath. He drew more power from his well to reinforce his shield. “Stay close to me.”

Moving a few steps to their left, they crouched behind a tree. Caldan fumbled with his scabbard and drew the
trinket
sword. In daylight, the blade was white, a ribbon of moonlight; in darkness, however, it was almost invisible, as if drawing the night into itself.

Lavas used one hand to clutch at the bark of the tree and leaned himself around the trunk in order to peer carefully into the gloom. For a few moments, the only sounds were the wind and their breathing.

“Anything?” asked Caldan.

“No, nothing.” Lavas cursed under his breath. “Do some sorcery or something.”

Holding back a sigh, Caldan squeezed the hilt of the sword hard in frustration. “I can’t see him. I don’t know where he is.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Me?” whispered Caldan incredulously. “You’re the soldier. What do you normally do in situations like this?”

“When I’m being attacked by a sorcerer? Can’t say it’s ever happened to me before. And if it had, I’m pretty sure I would find a sorcerer on my side, though it looks like I’m out of luck.”

Caldan glared at him, realizing he was right, and angry at himself for not knowing what to do. Something… He had to do something. He sniffed the air, then again.

“What are you doing?”

“Shush. Please,” he added, giving Lavas’ arm a reassuring squeeze.

There was a faint hint of lemons in the air, but he couldn’t tell how old and where it had come from. A plan came to mind.

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a sorcerous globe; it was dull, since it hadn’t been activated. Gathering himself, he focused on the sorcery he wanted to do, the order in which to do it, going over the sequence in his mind until he thought he could execute it swiftly, minimizing the time his well was open.

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the globe about twenty paces away, the noise as it landed hardly noticeable over the background wind.

“We might need that,” said Lavas. “And it’s valuable.”

“Not to me,” replied Caldan. “I can make more. And I would rather lose it than be dead.”

Once more, the corporal grunted in agreement.

“Close your eyes,” Caldan said, “and don’t make a sound, no matter what happens.”

He closed his own and concentrated. Then he opened his well as fast as he could and linked to the globe.

Light erupted in the night, banishing the darkness. He opened his eyes and as he’d calculated the long shadow cast by the tree they were crouched behind covered and concealed them. He peered around the tree.

Power surged to their left. Caldan closed his well; as he did, he sensed the power cut off. The sorcerer had closed his own well when he had seen it was only a sorcerous globe and not a true threat. He frowned at what he had sensed. The sorcerer’s well had been narrow and jagged, nowhere near the strength he had expected. With a well like that, the sorcerer wouldn’t be able to draw much, and certainly couldn’t split it into many strings. He surmised two or three at the most, even with the best training and practice. Unless he’s concealing his true strength, like Simmon had… By the ancestors, if he was, then they stood no chance.

Once more, Caldan found himself sweating as his skin grew hot. His fear and tiredness washed away, leaving him calm and refreshed.

“Stay here,” he commanded the corporal, who nodded hesitantly.

Drawing a breath, Caldan spun around the tree and opened his well, sprinting toward the sorcerous globe.

As he reached the
crafting
, he sensed one more power surge, this time to his right. The sorcerer had moved swiftly to another position while he had hesitated.

He threw himself forward onto the dirt and grass and split two strings from his well. His hand closed around the sorcerous globe, blocking the light, and he linked to his wristband, shielding himself.

As the haze enveloped him, a sharp crack split the air, and for an instant, a buzzing filled his ears, then his shield exploded in sparkles, and it was hit from a hundred different directions.

Though it was severely damaged, his shield still held, as he hoped it would. From what he had sensed of the well, he doubted the sorcerer could gather enough destructive force to penetrate his barrier, though he had taken a chance.

Somewhere in the trees, the power faltered then winked out. He flung the globe in the direction of the sorcerer. Shadows danced in the night as it flew in an arc between the trees.

As it landed, he squeezed his eyes shut and ruptured the anchor. Deafening thunder echoed, the noise slapping down on him. Light flashed through his closed lids.

Two screams sounded in the night. One from Lavas, who obviously hadn’t kept his eyes shut, and another from the unknown sorcerer.

Caldan lurched to his feet, well still open. Fires dotted the space around a small crater in the ground, tufts of grass ablaze from the energy unleashed.

A shadow flitted from tree to tree trailing smoke. It flashed briefly then disappeared. He lifted his sword and rushed toward the location, covering the ground in an instant. Ahead of him stood a man in singed clothing, a look of surprise on his face. The sorcerer’s well surged, and he rippled then disappeared.

Caldan skidded to a stop then ducked behind another tree. Sweat dripped from him. By the ancestors, he was burning up! His hands trembled, and with a will, he managed to calm them.

Again, a strange humming filled the air, and his shield strained under the impact of another multitude of strikes. This time it wavered; some sparkles grew bigger before being swept away, and many turned red. On his wrist, which still smarted from the previous burns, the
crafting
grew hot. He clenched his teeth in pain.

A laugh came from his left. Another hundred impacts sprinkled across him, and he felt his
crafting
begin to fracture under the immense strain. He broke the link to it and shook it off his wrist, burning the fingers on his right hand as they clawed at it.

Sure the sorcerer couldn’t see him in the dark, he linked to Bells’ shield
crafting
and once again a haze enveloped him. But this time, he throttled back on his well, letting only a trickle through. At such a low intensity, the shield shone blue instead of its usual multicolored haze. Taking a breath, he dropped his spent wristband, hesitated, then stepped out from behind the tree raising his hands in surrender.

“Oh, that’s amusing,” the sorcerer said, laughing lightly. “Either your
crafting
was terrible, or your well is inferior to mine.”

Feigning chagrin, Caldan shrugged, still feeding the trickle to the shield but ready to unleash the full force of his well. He still couldn’t see the sorcerer, who must have been staying hidden until he was sure Caldan was disarmed or dead.

To his surprise, the air in front of him shimmered, and the sorcerer appeared, then his own shield covered his skin. It was blue, not multicolored. He looked over Caldan’s shoulder to where Lavas approached, sword leveled.

Caldan held his arm out to stop the corporal. “Don’t,” he said. “You wouldn’t get far.”

Lavas struggled against Caldan’s arm for a few moments then growled in frustration. “I’ll kill him.”

“Later,” Caldan said, and the sorcerer laughed again.

“Not likely. Your shield’s exhausted, and judging by your unfocused destructive sorcery, destroying a globe, no less, you’re no match for me.”

Caldan looked down at his right hand holding the sword. His fingers hurt from clutching the hilt hard. “So you say.”

“Your shield almost failed a few moments ago, so yes… I say.” He looked at Lavas. “I’m afraid you’ll have to die. It’s nothing personal.”

Caldan sensed the sorcerer begin drawing more power from his well, and he grabbed the corporal’s arm, pushing his shield around him as he flinched. Another flurry of sparkles erupted from the shield and drained away in moments.

With a grin, Caldan shook his head at the sorcerer’s puzzled frown and raised his sword, stepping in front of the corporal. “I can sense your well, and it’s not very strong. And since you made an effort to open it only when absolutely necessary, I’d say you know it, too. Can you sense mine?”

“No,” replied the sorcerer. “But mine’s enough to get through your shield.” He hesitated, sensing something amiss. “Ah, well played. You have two shield
crafting
s.”

Caldan nodded, seeing no reason to keep up his ruse. “Which means you won’t be able to get to us.”

“But the others won’t be so lucky.”

Dirt from the ground flung up into the air as the sorcerer opened his well. Dust surrounded them, clouding his vision.

“Bloody hedge-pig!” cursed the corporal. “He’s getting away!”

Caldan dug into his well and allowed the shield to regain its full intensity. He tugged Lavas toward the road. “This way!” he yelled. They rushed through the obscuring cloud, stumbling over rocks and hummocks of grass and bouncing off trees.

Luckily, the shield protected them from the dust. They ran on, keen to reach the wagon before the sorcerer did. Caldan couldn’t let Miranda end this way; she had to survive.

As he emerged from the dust cloud Caldan stumbled forward and lost his grip on Lavas. The now familiar buzzing erupted from behind him, and the corporal screeched in agony. Caldan heard him drop to the ground and moan. He stopped for a moment and growled in frustration, then broke into a run toward the road and the wagon.

And ran full pelt into an invisible force between two trees, which knocked him on his back, dazing him. He felt numb, tried to stand. His sword slipped from deadened fingers, and his vision swam. His chest was aching from the collision, stomach churning. He lay there, stunned, dull witted.

Sparks cascaded around him as his shield absorbed another hundred impacts. He hadn’t even felt the sorcery go off, so disoriented was he. He struggled for breath, clutching at the ground. There was a roaring in his ears, and his skin was soaked with sweat.

He was aware of someone screaming in the distance: a woman’s voice—Elpidia, perhaps? Shouting reached him over the buzzing in his ears.

“—Don’t!” the voice in the distance yelled, followed by a deeper reply, a man’s voice.

“—safe… have to…”

Caldan heard Elpidia scream, a hopeless forlorn wail; then a sharp crack and hum.

“By the ancestors,” Caldan heard himself say, and grabbed the sword, dragging himself to his knees, then to his feet. He started running toward the wagon, thoughts groggy, but managing to hold onto the link to his shield.

Ahead of him, the wagon was lit by one of his sorcerous globes, held up by Elpidia as she leaned out the back. It was no longer moving along the road, and there was no sign of the soldier who had been driving the horses, or Amerdan.

The sorcerer stood against a tree, wild eyes scanning his surroundings. Blood dribbled from cuts all over his clothes, leaking onto the ground. A trail of dark drops led from him to the wagon and around the vehicle; splashes spread across the canvas covering. One of his hands pressed against his wounds, while the other clutched at a medallion around his neck. Seeing Caldan staggering toward them, a look of panic crossed his face.

He blurred then disappeared. Caldan cursed and continued his unsteady progress, aware he had no idea where the sorcerer was now.

Reaching the wagon, he grabbed at the side to steady himself. Elpidia looked down at him, gray hair wild, eyes red-rimmed and scared. Tear trails streaked her cheeks.

“He’s here!” she screamed at him. “Somewhere! Do something!”

“Where’s Miranda?” Caldan shouted. “Is she hurt?”