Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (4 page)

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Authors: Mitchell Hogan

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BOOK: Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence)
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“We need to look after Miranda first. And I’m not going to wait around while you experiment. There are other more important things I need to do.”

“Not to me. Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear, so listen. This isn’t just for me. If I can find a cure for myself, then I can use it for other illnesses—sicknesses that until now would have been fatal, or severely debilitating. Think about it. This is important. It could mean the end of so much suffering.”

Caldan sighed. “I know. But after the invasion, it’s imperative I warn the Protectors, and try and heal Miranda. Hopefully, the Protectors will know what to do.”

“Why? Isn’t this sorcery no one’s seen before?”

Inwardly, Caldan cursed himself for his slip. “Yes,” he lied. “But they must have some idea how to heal her.”

“Well, I need to find somewhere to start work.”

“Now you’ve got what you want, Miranda’s illness and Anasoma falling don’t worry you, do they?”

Elpidia’s shrug was weary. “I won’t worry much if I’m dead.” She gazed at the glass vial in her hand, red with Caldan’s blood. “We should leave early tomorrow. We need tonight to recover. We’ve been pushing too hard.”

“We will. You can go your own way, and I’ll worry about the rest.”

“It’s not your responsibility. Just get Miranda to a physiker. There isn’t much else you can do.”

Caldan’s eyes flicked to Bells and back again. Maybe Elpidia was right. He’d fled Anasoma after the Protectors had been slaughtered, and he couldn’t affect anything there. And whatever the Indryallans were up to, Bells was no longer part of it. Now she was a prisoner, and her only use to him was in healing Miranda.

When they arrived back at the camp, Amerdan was sitting cross-legged a few steps from the fire, gazing into the flames, while Bees stood away from the smoke, hands in pockets. Only Bees looked up as they approached.

“Ducats,” he said.

Amerdan gave a brief smile but said nothing, looking at Bees like he was a halfwit. Elpidia shook her head and went to busy herself with her gear, no doubt to make sure her precious vial was secured.

“What about them?” asked Caldan.

“I have a business to get back to. We’ve probably lost any pursuit, and they don’t know I was with you. Anyone who could recognize me is dead or…” Bees’ eyes shifted to Bells.

“I recognize you.” Bells’ voice echoed around them. “And I won’t forget.”

Bees swallowed and looked away. “I’ll head back to Anasoma in the morning and sneak inside. I can’t do much out here, and there will be a lot of opportunities because of the invasion. I’m not much good out here, and the city is what I know. I’ll head a little way south then turn back east. Without… er… the girl slowing me down… I can get back pretty quickly.” He studiously avoided looking at Miranda.

Caldan nodded slowly. Bees’ skills lay in his network in the city. Out here, he was not much use, but he could at least take a message back to Anasoma.

“I want you to find a friend of mine, Izak Fourie, and his friend Sir Avigdor.”

Bees scratched his cheek. “I’ve heard of them both, but not many have heard of Avigdor; I’m surprised you have. He likes to keep a low profile, but we are in the same business.”

“Information.”

“Yes. I’ve had occasion to sell him a few tidbits, so I can get word to him. Provided he isn’t in hiding now. What do you want me to tell him? This’ll cost you a few ducats, too.”

Caldan thought for a few moments. From what Avigdor had said when they met, he was sure the man knew more about the Protectors than he let on. Which wasn’t surprising, given his profession.

“I don’t know how much he knows about the invasion, so what information we have could be worthless to him, but… tell him the Protectors are all dead.” Caldan hoped he’d know what that meant. “And tell him we’ll try to warn the Protectors in the other cities. Also, the Indryallans must be after something in Anasoma. I can’t think of any reason why they would seal the city, unless they didn’t want someone or something to leave.”

“So sure, are you?” interrupted Bells. “Your emperor was sucking the life out of the people. We came to liberate you all.”

“Be quiet,” hissed Caldan. He pointed at Miranda then stopped. He needed to be careful with what he said, lest he give away too much. “It’s not a good idea to discuss our plans with her around. I’m going to move her away.”

He went to the tree and untied Bells but left her hands and feet bound. While they watched, he dragged her out of earshot and tied her to another tree. It was far from the fire, and the nights were cold, but he found he didn’t care.

“Now that we’re alone, untie me.” Bells licked her lips and wriggled against the tree, and Caldan caught a glimpse of bare skin as her shirt tightened across her breasts. “It’s getting dark, and they can’t see. I’ll make it worth your while.”

With a frown, Caldan crouched next to her. “How would you…? No. I’m not about to do that. Tell me about coercive sorcery.”

Bells stopped squirming and shook her head. “Poor little chit, couldn’t handle the backlash. Once she dies, that’s one against Keys’ death.” Her eyes went flat. “Then four more to go.”

“We aren’t to blame. You brought it on yourselves. If you hadn’t chased us, then he wouldn’t have died.”

“If you hadn’t escaped and allowed that master to kill himself, then we wouldn’t have chased you.”

So Simmon went through with it. Caldan closed his eyes against a surge of grief. He’d been hoping Simmon would have tried to die fighting. Whatever Bells had done to him had left him a broken husk of a man. Another mark against her.

He opened his eyes. There was no point going around in circles. He decided to change tack. “Why did you kill the sorcerers and Protectors? The sorcerers wouldn’t have been a threat, and the Protectors didn’t need to be wiped out so ruthlessly. You could have captured them with sorcery.”

“Poor little Caldan, meddling with things he doesn’t know anything about.”

“Can’t you stop playing and give me a straight answer?”

Black eyes pierced his. For long moments, neither spoke, then Bells shook her head. “We were under orders.”

“To kill them all? Why? Orders from whom?”

“They were a threat, but most of us felt they could be contained. Our God-Emperor thought differently, and he is never wrong.”

“So, you followed his orders, despite your misgivings?”

Bells shrugged. “As I said, he is never wrong, and, as the God-Emperor, must be obeyed.”

Caldan stood and paced back and forth in front of her. “I’m guessing you aren’t going to tell me why you invaded Anasoma.”

“You’re guessing correctly. Smart little Protector.”

Caldan frowned, though he knew she was only trying to annoy him. “Only an apprentice.”

“They don’t know what real sorcery is, nor your talent.”

“Now they never will.”

Bells shrugged. “Death comes to all of us. And to you five, it comes soon.”

He ignored her prodding. “I thought you said you invaded to liberate the people.”

“I did.”

“But you just told me you weren’t going to tell me the real reason.”

Bells laughed, the sound barely audible. “So easy to confuse you. We did come to liberate, though what plans the God-Emperor has, I cannot say. His thinking is as far above me as yours is above a rat’s.”

“That far?” asked Caldan.

Again, the sorcerer’s dark eyes pierced his. “The God-Emperor is… the God-Emperor. Nothing escapes his notice; nothing surpasses his sorcery. For over a hundred years he has been among us. You would do well to fear him.”

Caldan scoffed at her words. “A hundred years? Do you take me for a fool? No one lives that long.”

“The God-Emperor does. As I said, his sorcery far surpasses any other.”

“A hundred years?” repeated Caldan. “You can’t be serious.”

Bells’ eyes bore into his. “But I am. No one knows how he does it, and I believe many have tried to find out. All of them are dead.” She shrugged again. “He is what he is. We grow up taught he is without peer and that he has guided us to greatness, looked after us for generations.”

“And you believe this?”

“The proof is indisputable; he has sheltered us all.”

“There has to be some trickery in this.”

“No.”

“Maybe he is replaced periodically, by others in power behind the scenes.”

“No. He is the same person as when my mother was born, and when my grandmother was born, and her mother. They all spoke of him.”

He could see he wasn’t going to get any sense from her. Between the grief she was feeling at the loss of Keys and her desire for revenge, he was surprised he had gotten this much. Unless she was feeding him exactly what she wanted as part of her plan. At the moment, all that mattered was to keep moving and find out how to heal Miranda. He would try again in the morning.

“Elpidia will be over soon so you can… make yourself comfortable. Though, as usual, we’ll ensure you can’t escape.”

“Lucky me, surrounded by men watching me squat.”

Caldan reddened. “We won’t be watching, just making sure we’re ready in case you try to run.” He turned to walk back to the camp.

Her voice followed him. “Make no mistake, little Protector, I’m going to kill you all.”


Caldan and Elpidia watched Bees as he slowly disappeared, trudging south toward a small settlement. In the distance, plumes of smoke drifted from morning cook fires, though this far away they couldn’t tell how many.

Despite wanting to give the man as much information as he could about the invaders and their use of sorcery, Caldan couldn’t think of anything more to say. With luck, Bees would find Avigdor, who would pass the information to Lady Felicienne.

Amerdan had spoken to Bees as well, handing over a few ducats. Maybe he had family or someone to take care of and wanted Bees to look into it while he was away.

When Bees’ receding figure became too small to spot, they headed back to the camp, where Amerdan was sitting in front of Bells, engaged in a low conversation. Miranda sat on his left, staring into the fire. She hadn’t moved all night.

Caldan motioned the shopkeeper away from Bells, frowning. Amerdan stood and approached him, smiling as usual.

“She’s dangerous. I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk to her; she’ll probably try to convince you to let her go. And once she’s free, she will try to do us harm.”

Amerdan gave a shrug. “Kill us?”

“Yes.”

Amerdan gestured at Miranda. “She is useless. I would prefer it if we left her.”

“What? No. I’m not leaving her.”

“Then we will be caught and die anyway. She has no talent. Leave her. Even Elpidia slows us down.”

Caldan frowned. No talent? What did that mean? “We aren’t leaving anyone. They couldn’t know which direction we went.”

“A poor assumption.” Amerdan pointed his chin at Bells. “This one has teeth. People with teeth will come after her.” He paused, as if considering a thought.

Teeth? The shopkeeper had some decidedly strange ways of expressing himself. His jovial demeanor had been left in Anasoma. This whole business had them all on edge.

“I can’t abandon them. If you want to go, then go. You probably stand a better chance without us, anyway, but I would prefer it if you stayed.”

“No. Of course I would. And you would?”

Scratching his head, Caldan tried to make sense of Amerdan’s response. Eventually, he realized Amerdan had answered each of his statements. Thinks he’d be better off without us, does he? “We should keep together. Elpidia is a physiker and can help, and Miranda… It’s my fault she was hurt… I suspect Bells knows if she can be healed or not, and how. I need to get the information out of her.”

“Ah. I see. You need her for something. Well, we had better get packed and start out.” Amerdan rubbed his hands together and beamed. Whistling tunelessly, he started to smother their fire with a pot of used washing water.

Caldan moved to their pile of gear and buckled on his sword, then gathered up his and Miranda’s saddlebags. Elpidia was ready, having swaddled her vial of his blood in cloth before storing it in her pack. Amerdan brushed dirt from his hands and stood next to them.

They all looked toward Bells, still tied to her tree. Caldan knew Elpidia didn’t like caring for the woman; her demeanor, and the fact she was a sorcerer, left them all uneasy.

“I’ll get her,” said Caldan. He untied the rope, leaving her wrists bound, and let the sorcerer walk in front of him back to the camp.

“West again?” asked Elpidia.

Both Caldan and Amerdan nodded.

“Walking is taking too much time. We need to find horses, or at least a wagon for Miranda and Bells,” added Amerdan.

“Bees said there’s a town a few days from here, west of the settlement. I think it’s our best option.”

Caldan pushed Bells in the back, and she started walking.

Amerdan shaded his eyes from the sun and pointed to the south. “I think we may have a problem.” On the horizon, black smoke rose from the settlement. “It looks like Bees ran into some trouble.”

Bells began grinning and uttered a low chuckle.


The day passed, and as the sun set, they found themselves by a muddy stream. Amerdan bustled among them, slapping Caldan on the back, and heartily telling them how they must have avoided any pursuit, all the while setting up a fire and preparing their evening meal of stale bread and cheese. A pot of oats for Miranda steamed over the flames, bubbling away. Semi-liquid food was all they could get down her.

When the oats were ready, Caldan fed Miranda, while the others avoided watching, except for Bells, who took an unseemly interest.

After wolfing down his own meal, Caldan sat next to Miranda. It was an almost physical pain he felt when this close to her. If she hadn’t met him, she wouldn’t be like this, and though sorcery might be able to heal her, he couldn’t do anything about it. His heart clenched every time he saw her struggling to even walk. He opened his well and stretched himself to examine her mind. And, as on every other night, he couldn’t find anything. Nothing to fix himself on. No trace of how coercive sorcery worked, and no idea of how to heal her. Miranda’s illness both delayed their progress and filled his thoughts. He was responsible. If the sorcerers hadn’t followed them, if he had been able to detect them earlier, if he had been able to defeat them before they used her… if, if, if. If he knew coercive sorcery himself, he might have been able to stop them, and could possibly work out how to restore Miranda’s mind.

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