Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (56 page)

Without another word, Joachim replaced the almost full jug below Caldan with the empty and left the room.

•

Anasoma burned in Caldan’s dream. Sorcerous blue flames swept down from the walls and incinerated buildings in a heartbeat. Men, women, and children fled screaming in terror, only to be consumed as an immense heat washed over them, crisping their skin to black.

Atop a spire in the city, an unearthly monster anchored itself with clawed feet, wings flapping in the updraft caused by the conflagration. It looked pleased, as if the destruction were its own doing.

What was it? Why did it desire such chaos and devastation?

In the harbor, scores of Indryallan ships, crowded to the bows with soldiers, looked on as the city was cleansed of the taint of the Mahruse Empire.

Cleansed? Why did he think that?

The beast leapt into the air and rode the updraft into the smoke-filled sky. Cheers rose from the Indryallans.

Why? Did they somehow control the beast? Or was it a symbol, an incarnation of whatever they worshiped? The God-Emperor? Was it their leader, Kelhak?

Caldan jerked awake, head lolling to the side, heart hammering in his chest. He’d been delirium dreaming. He dismissed his visions as fever-wrought, though they cut like a knife.

Tired. He was so tired. He felt older, somehow, as if the last few hours had leached his very life force from his soul.

His breathing was rapid, and he tried to slow it down but couldn’t.

By the ancestors, he needed water, or he wouldn’t last much longer. Perhaps that was Joachim’s plan. No need to get your hands dirty when dehydration and blood loss could do it for you.

The room was dark. Night had fallen, and they’d not left a lamp for him. It didn’t matter. Moonlight spilled across the floor from the window. A cleansing light.

Forgive me, Miranda…

Caldan closed his eyes. Just for a moment, he promised himself.

There was a scrape of leather on wood. Someone hissed from his left.

“I smell… blood,” a voice whispered.

Caldan tried to open his eyes, but his lids were stuck tight. “Help me…” he croaked.

Someone moved around him to the door. The wind of their passing trailed over him.

“Please… water.”

For long moments, no one moved. All Caldan could hear was a faint background clamor from outside.

The person moved again; they were beside him. Water splashed across his face, shocking him. Hastily, he stuck out his tongue, searching for the precious fluid. A thin stream poured into his mouth, and he gulped. Too soon, it stopped. More splashed into his eyes, and he blinked them open.

Caldan experienced a dumbfounded moment.

“Well, well. Isn’t this interesting?” said Amerdan.

Caldan stared at the shopkeeper in astonishment. His thoughts were sluggish, and he couldn’t fathom why the man was here. But here he was. And it was likely he’d killed Elpidia. Caldan’s eyes flicked to Amerdan’s knives. Fear and anger took hold of him. Caldan was at Amerdan’s mercy. He tried to remain calm. He wanted to lash out at Amerdan, but couldn’t. Both because he was restrained and because Amerdan was his only chance to escape.

“Amerdan, thank the ancestors. Free me. There’s probably men outside the door, so keep quiet.”

Amerdan gazed at him, moving his head back and forth, searching for… what? What did he want? There was a troubled look to him. Caldan remembered the first time he’d met him, the reddish glow to his skin, the stench of rotting meat. A chill passed through him, and his flesh crawled.

“Why are you tied up?” asked Amerdan tonelessly.

“I… I don’t know,” stammered Caldan. Though he believed Amerdan to be Touched as well he couldn’t tell him the truth. Not to Elpidia’s killer. “I think they want my
trinkets
. Please… you must help me.”

“Must I?”

“Yes. We… we’re the same, you and I. You know it’s true.”

Amerdan shrugged almost imperceptibly. “But why? Why do this to you? Who did it?”

“Joachim.”

“Joachim? Who’s he?”

“A warlock. Beholden only to the emperor. He killed Protectors, including a master. And he’s asked about you.”

Again, Amerdan shrugged, unconcerned.

Caldan glanced at the door. Though they were conversing in whispers, someone could walk in at any moment. His guts twisted at the thought of the warlock finding Amerdan in the room. He hated the thought but the shopkeeper was his only hope of escape. And despite his apparent talents Amerdan would be no match for Joachim’s sorcery. Amerdan would be dead. Killed outright or captured and drained like Caldan, if he turned out to be Touched. A deserved end for the man, but it wouldn’t do Caldan any good for that to happen.

“You have to free me; there isn’t much time.”

“There are happenings here I don’t understand. Help me understand.”

“Joachim could return at any moment.” He had to make Amerdan see the danger. “He’s a sorcerer. One more powerful than any I’ve met before. He has the use of many
crafting
s and
trinket
s.”

Amerdan’s eyes narrowed, and he sniffed. “A powerful sorcerer.” He looked thoughtfully at the leather straps restraining Caldan. His hand moved to one of his knives.

“Yes,” whispered Caldan fiercely. “That’s it. Cut the straps.”

Amerdan’s other hand reached into his shirt and clutched an object around his neck. He frowned at Caldan, lips moving, as if talking to himself.

“Now?” the shopkeeper whispered, so softly Caldan barely heard the words. “No. It’s not the right time. Later, then? What about her?”

Caldan grew increasingly concerned at Amerdan’s behavior. What was stopping the shopkeeper from freeing him? Another chill ran across him, and he pushed down a terror that began to rise inside him. Here was an unexpected chance, and it could be wasted if Amerdan took much longer.

Before he could speak, Amerdan appeared to come to a decision, and sawed through the thick leather bonds.

Unable to control himself, Caldan cried out in agony as a sudden surge of blood pumped into his wrists, chest, and feet.

Voices rose outside the door in response to his howl.

“This might get messy,” said Amerdan.

Caldan massaged his wrists in an effort to get his circulation going. “They might not check. They’re sure I can’t escape.” By the ancestors, he felt weak, but he’d do his best to escape. He staggered a few steps away from the table on numb feet, barely able to stand.

There was a clunk as the bar was removed. Amerdan moved to the hinged side of the door. He’d be hidden when it opened. He drew out a pair of knives.

A key scraped into the lock, and it clicked.

Light spilled into the room as the door opened, illuminating the empty table with cut leather straps, and scarlet smeared on the floor next to the jug.

A long shadow appeared in the light of the floor. “What the—?”

Amerdan stepped in front of the opening and made a precise thrust. Blood spurted from the physiker’s neck, and horrified shock appeared on his face. Amerdan ripped his knife out and thrust again, grabbing him by the hair with his other hand. He wrenched the physiker into the room. The man went limp, collapsing on the floor. His hands clutched at his neck, fingers covered in red. A choking sound bubbled from his lips.

Amerdan rushed through the door and Caldan followed.

Two men sat in chairs around a table, cards clutched in their hands, mouths open in surprise.

Amerdan leapt toward them as the cards began falling and they reached for their swords.

Too late.

Snarling with ferocity, Amerdan bowled into one of the men, sending the table crashing. He slammed a blade into the man’s chest.

Caldan staggered back a few steps. He moved forward to help but a wave of weakness overcame him, and he fell to his knees.

A shout came from in front of him. Caldan raised his arm only to see Amerdan step away from the second man, who collapsed back into his chair. There was a deep gash in his neck, and he coughed, choking on his own blood.

Amerdan was grinning and began searching the men.

Caldan looked around the room and back to the physiker. Of a sudden, he started shaking. He felt sick. Gorge rose into his throat, and he swallowed it down.

A sideboard contained half a loaf of bread and some cheese, along with jugs of ale and water. He rinsed his mouth with water, spitting out the taste of bile, then drank his fill. It wasn’t easy. His hands were shaking, and he felt faint. Once he’d slaked his thirst, his stomach rumbled at the smell of bread, and he tore off a chunk, wolfing it down along with a few bites of cheese. He was ravenous, and his stomach gnawed at him from inside, but it would have to do for now. There was no more time to waste.

Stairs led down to the next floor, but he couldn’t leave yet.

“Wait,” he said to Amerdan.

He checked the two men in case they had his
crafting
s and
trinket
s but came up empty. A search of the physiker yielded the same results, except the man still had two of the vials of Caldan’s blood on him. Where were the other two?

Caldan staggered to the window onto the roof and dropped the vials. They shattered onto roof tiles below.

Amerdan waited patiently for him, seemingly unperturbed by the scene, or killing three men.

“How did you get up to the window? And how did you know I was here?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “I climbed. It wasn’t hard. I saw you in the wagon with the Protectors and the other men killing them. Followed them here and waited, watching.”

Was Amerdan looking for Caldan? Had he come to kill him but now changed his mind? Amerdan had a far better grasp of his Touched abilities than Caldan did. It couldn’t have been easy to climb the outside of the building. He needed to question him at length, find out more of his strengths and how to control them; and he wanted to find out how he’d avoided the warlocks for so long. But Amerdan was dangerous, and he dared not trust him anymore. Caldan seethed inside and his head spun. Amerdan had killed Elpidia! A blind man could attribute her death to him. And he’d sided with Bells; he had to have been the one to free her.

Caldan was torn between gratitude for his rescue and a desire for vengeance for Elpidia’s murder.

He struggled to control himself, hands shaking, and mustered some strength. He couldn’t fight Amerdan in his current state. A child could knock him over. He needed to keep Amerdan on side and unsuspecting.

With a glance around the room for any sign of his
crafting
s or
trinket
s, again unsuccessful, Caldan wiped his hands on his pants and took a breath to calm himself.

“That’s four people you’ve saved me from,” he said to Amerdan. “I hope there’s not a fifth.”

Amerdan gave him a puzzled look.

“Bells and Keys, then the Bleeder, now Joachim. That’s four. I’m in your debt. And I hope there isn’t a fifth time.”

“Five. Yes. It’s almost there,” replied Amerdan cryptically.

“We have to get out of here, but I have to find my
trinket
s. They’re all I have from my family.”

A look of anguish flashed across Amerdan’s face, so fleeting Caldan almost thought he’d imagined it.

“Family is important,” said Amerdan. “I’m guessing you’d like to find this sorcerer… Joachim?”

Caldan swallowed. Yes. He wanted to find Joachim and… what? Make him regret his actions? Cause him pain? Yes, he wanted to cut the bastard’s head off. He wanted his
trinket
s back, and to make sure Miranda was safe. Then he could alert the Protectors to what had happened, and hope they believed him. But Joachim was still at large, and a powerful adversary. Caldan felt a wave of fear at the thought of facing him. Should he try to get word to the Protectors, if he could? What were the chances of that? If he could convince them Joachim had been behind killing Annelie and the other two Protectors, there’d be no limit to their wrath. But what proof could he give them?

“Let’s head downstairs,” he said to Amerdan. “I’d like to keep looking for my
trinket
s, and any of the crafted arrows they have. Those, along with the location of this place, should show the Protectors I had nothing to do with it and convince them of Joachim’s guilt. Well, maybe not. But they’ll realize a powerful sorcerer had to be involved. And who better to track down and capture a rogue sorcerer than the Protectors?”

Amerdan shrugged. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

“Maybe I am, but it’s the best plan I can think of.”

Next to the stairs down, leaning against the wall, were two bows along with quivers filled with arrows. Taking one of the arrows, Caldan examined the head and shaft. They were just as he’d thought: crafted. And well done, too. He’d have to study them later to see what he could learn from the runes, but these would do as part of the evidence for the Protectors.

Caldan replaced the arrow and slung both quivers over his shoulder by their straps. Returning to the dead men, he took a sword from one of them.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Amerdan, who nodded.

They each took one of the lamps and, as stealthily as they could, descended the wooden stairs, taking care to walk on the edge of the steps to minimize any creaking.

The stairs turned back on themselves, and where Caldan expected the next floor to be, there was no landing, and they continued spiraling down. Whatever this place was, his captors had found an out of the way location to avoid notice. Any noise from the room above was less likely to alert those living close by that something was amiss. With luck, their fight would have gone undetected.

They continued down, and when the stairs eventually stopped at a sturdy door, Caldan judged they’d descended to the ground floor. In this door, a key stood out from the lock. Caldan made sure it was unlocked, then took the key out and peered through the keyhole.

Beyond the door was a wide hallway lit by two sorcerous globes hanging from the ceiling, an extravagance which likely meant this place was probably their headquarters and living area, not just a seldom-used hideout.

There were three doors on the right-hand side, and at the far end was a larger door, securely locked with two of the biggest locks Caldan had ever seen. That had to be the way out into the street.