Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (75 page)

Bells had left the city and was heading directly toward the emperor’s forces. By the ancestors, he cursed inwardly. Whatever her plan was, he had to try and stop her. The only thing that made sense was her attempting to assassinate the emperor. And had Bells somehow found an ally.

“What is it?” asked cel Rau.

The swordsman was looking at him with concern, and a little suspicion.

“The
crafting
I sensed earlier is outside the city, and heading toward the emperor’s forces. That can’t be a good thing.” And this time, it wasn’t a lie.

“No, I would think not.”

“We need to go after it.”

Cel Rau studied him, taking his time. Then he nodded.

“There’s something else. Bells must have found another sorcerer to help her. I don’t know who, but their well is weak, rough, and narrow.”

“These terms mean nothing to me.”

“Whoever they are, they’re a beginner, new to their power. With any luck, they won’t be more than a distraction when we catch up to them.”

•

“Stop testing yourself. There will be plenty of time soon. And there will be others above me who’ll be better able to unblock your wells. The fragments left of your barriers are proving hard to remove.”

“As you’ve said before.” Amerdan struggled to keep accusation from his voice.

The sorcerous bitch smiled at him and rested a hand on his knee. He closed the well he had open and urged the horse to greater speed.

Soon, they were bumping along the hard road at a decent pace, passing the slower, lumbering wagons laden to almost overflowing with food, ale, and spirits, and merchandise of any kind people thought the emperor’s forces would want to spend their hard coin on.

He looked away and out along the road. Far in the distance, he could discern a great many people moving this way. It had to be the emperor’s army, Bells’ goal. He doubted she could see them yet. His vision had improved over the years from absorbing talents, to a point he could even see quite well in the dark. He shifted his weight on the seat of their cart and squeezed the reins tighter, imagining Bells’ throat in their place.

•

Thousands of soldiers had begun digging in and making camp. Everywhere Caldan looked he saw hard-faced veterans clad in well-worn functional armor. No gaudy display pieces for these men, the emperor’s finest, tempered by constant skirmishing with the tribes of the Steppes, the Sotharle Union of Cities, and jukari at the edge of civilization. Warlike mounted soldiers carrying emblazoned bucklers and wide-bladed scimitars patrolled the perimeter. Their hostile stares put Caldan ill at ease as he and cel Rau made their way from the ragtag makeshift town the merchants and traders from Riversedge had set up a short distance from the army. Stalls were erected along the road, with people hawking their wares to the soldiers. An area comprised of small tents already had a line of soldiers queuing up. Scantily clad women with faces obscured by headscarves emerged from the tents to disappear inside with a new soldier as another left, often buckling their britches or tucking their shirts in.

Outside the main congregations of soldiers, laborers were digging a long line of holes in the ground, and as Caldan watched, a Quiver squatted and used one as if there was no one around to see. He looked away.

“An army has certain needs,” remarked cel Rau, as if he’d seen Caldan noticing both the prostitutes and the privies.

Ahead was a checkpoint where there were Quivers stopping everyone attempting to enter the encampment proper. A number of officious-looking soldiers carried sheaves of paper and were recording the contents of all wagons entering; they carried mostly foodstuffs and barrels of water and weak ale, and the soldiers directed them to various parts of the military camp. Caldan was certain the
crafting
and the person experimenting with their well were inside the camp somewhere.

As they approached the checkpoint, horns blasted from the walls of Riversedge, hooting proclamations reverberating across the plains surrounding the city. Both Caldan and cel Rau turned to look back, wondering what the commotion was about, to see ranks of Quivers from Riversedge marching through the northern gate. Leading them out were horsemen carrying banners flapping in the breeze. At this distance, Caldan couldn’t see if there were Protectors among them, but it was highly likely. The Quivers continued at a slow pace along the road toward them.

“Fools,” remarked cel Rau again.

“Why?”

The swordsman spat in the dirt. “The emperor’s brought more than enough soldiers to deal with the jukari before they continue to Anasoma.”

Caldan thought he saw why cel Rau thought the Quivers were fools. “So, the Quivers in the city are joining them for the… experience… and the glory, leaving a bare minimum to defend the city.”

Cel Rau nodded. “With the emperor here, there’s no danger to the city, but it’s still bad strategy. They’re effectively abandoning their post.” The swordsman shrugged. “Not our concern, though.”

“Let’s keep going. If we wait for the Quivers to arrive, things around here could become chaotic.”

The line to the checkpoint was long and getting longer, and with each wagon and cart being checked thoroughly, there’d likely be a delay before they could enter the camp. Cel Rau pointed to the west, where a trail of people came from the traders’ settlement. Soldiers and citizens traveled both ways along the line, and at the encampment’s edge there were no soldiers checking who entered.

Caldan nodded his agreement to cel Rau, and they joined the line. Underfoot, the grass had been trampled into oblivion from the tread of so many boots. A short distance inside, their line diverged into three different paths heading to separate sections. Far in the distance, they could see the tops of tents flying colored flags and banners. Around them, the soldiers were erecting tents of their own. Made from ragged and patched material, they were nevertheless functional and evenly spaced in straight lines. In the middle of every ten or so tents was a clear space, where soldiers gathered, cleaning gear and equipment and eating cold rations. They were rough-looking men with unshaven faces and loud voices. Somewhere to their left, a fight broke out, the combatants goaded on by raucous cheers.

They stepped to the side to let other people pass.

“Which way?” asked cel Rau.

Caldan pointed to the trail, which led more or less toward the larger tents. “This one should get us closer to the emperor, and that’s where Bells is probably going. I fear we need to hurry.”

He realized the only other person he’d told about his guess of Bells’ intentions had been Annelie. Now she was dead. Was he just clutching at straws? Nothing else he could think of made sense, and with the power of the
crafting
he’d sensed, his suspicions only grew stronger.

He strode down the trail, motioning cel Rau to follow. Even safe among the emperor’s army, the swordsman looked ready for anything. His right hand rested just next to the hilt of the blade on his left hip, thumb hooked into his leather sword belt, as if he expected to draw at any moment. Caldan licked his lips, remembering he’d dropped his sword outside the city gates, and now he had no effective weapon of his own. A small knife he carried for utility and used when eating was his only blade. If it came down to it, he doubted a sword would be effective against Bells, but now he felt uneasy without one. He had changed from the man he’d been when he’d first arrived in Anasoma, and the change was one he wasn’t sure he welcomed.

As they made their way toward what he assumed were the tents of the commanding officers and their retinues, the rough soldiers on the outskirts of the camp gave way to more respectable-looking men. Stained, patched tents were replaced by new versions, and the soldiers’ gear also looked newer and in better repair. On their right, four long trains of tethered horses were roped in straight lines with plenty of room for the beasts. Young boys and girls were scooping up the horses’ leavings with shovels and used barrows to wheel away the waste. Ahead was the largest tent they’d yet seen, surrounded by a plethora of slightly smaller versions. That had to be the emperor’s lodging, Caldan reasoned. They were now the only non-soldiers on the well-trodden path and were receiving curious looks. A number of times, lean fit men carrying bundles of leather-bound folders rushed past, presumably messengers on their way to other parts of the army.

A squad of soldiers blocked the way in front of them. Clean-shaven and wearing polished armor, they carried spears held upright. Their leader, the only one wearing a sword and not carrying a spear, kept his eyes on them as a man with a harried expression waved them over. The man sat on a rickety chair behind a table, on which numerous papers were held down with rocks to stop them blowing away. To his left was a pot of ink and a number of pens.

“Excuse me,” the man said loudly. “Over here.”

Caldan exchanged a glance with cel Rau, and they made their way over to the table.

“State your names and ranks, and your business. I assume you want to see the commanders, but… you don’t look like the representatives from Riversedge we were expecting. Far from it.” The man narrowed his eyes. “Just who are you?”

“My name is Caldan, and I’m a Protector. We have urgent information for the emperor.”

Cel Rau raised his eyebrows, and Caldan saw him suppress a smirk.

“Really,” drawled the man. “Let me just go and interrupt his lunch. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you.”

Behind them, the soldiers chuckled.

The man sighed, shaking his head. He picked up a pen and dipped it in the ink. “What information do you have? I’ll make sure someone gets it.”

“We need to talk to someone in charge right away. This is important.”

“I’m in charge here, so you talk to me. Now, out with it, or I’ll have these nice men here run you off.”

“I don’t know what you expected,” said cel Rau.

“Joachim sent us,” ventured Caldan. “He’s a warlock. He’s given us information they need, now.” He hoped his gambit would work. He had no idea if the warlocks were known by name or what their status was, but as sorcerers of power, mentioning them had to hold some sway.

“Then I’m sure you’ll have no problems handing over the mark he would have given you.”

Caldan frowned, stomach sinking. “Mark? He didn’t—”

“Of course he didn’t. Because he didn’t send you, did he? You’re the most incompetent spies I’ve ever seen.”

“What? We’re not spies!”

A few of the soldiers blocking the way to the large tents lowered their spears and pointed them at Caldan and cel Rau.

“That’s exactly what spies would say.”

As the soldiers advanced, Caldan accessed his well and prepared for the worst.

Cel Rau dropped an engraved silver disc the size of a thumbnail on the table.

“Well, well, well,” said the man. He picked up the disc and closed it in his fist.

To Caldan’s normal senses, the disc tingled, and as his well was open, he could see it was a
crafting
. But… was it? He frowned. Power flowed through it, a trickle, but it was there nonetheless. He extended his senses, checking cel Rau for a well. Nothing. And around them there was no sign anyone close was a sorcerer either. Then who was linked to it to feed it power? He probed the
crafting
and sucked in a breath. There were no linking runes he could find on the surface of the disc. And the only sorcerous objects that didn’t need linking runes were
trinket
s, but… could it be? It wasn’t made of the same unknown alloy all other
trinket
s were—except for his bone ring—but it was a
trinket
. A tiny thread of sorcery led from the disc and into cel Rau’s head. Coercive sorcery, it had to be.

The man held the
trinket
out for cel Rau, who secured it in a belt pouch. “It’s attuned to you all right. A sub-writ, but it’s genuine. Where’s the full writ?”

“Either on its way, at the bottom of a river, or among the jukari,” cel Rau replied.

“Huh. Well, this’ll get you as far as the warlocks, but no further. You’ll have to convince them if you want to go higher up.”

“That’s sufficient.”

The warlocks handed them out? For the emperor, Caldan presumed. As a mark of identification and a passkey for trusted personnel. Caldan’s eyes widened as he realized the implications. The warlocks could craft
trinket
s. The knowledge wasn’t lost, just held tight by a select few, those sorcerers powerful enough and skilled enough to become warlocks and work for the emperor. It all fit into place, along with his realization the Protectors were no more than a tool the warlocks used to suppress destructive and coercive sorcery, all the while using forbidden sorcery themselves. Even the Sorcerers’ Guild didn’t know. Or if they did, they were too scared to speak out. And the Protectors were similarly blind.

Caldan swallowed and looked at cel Rau. The swordsman appeared relaxed, as if nothing had happened. Which, Caldan realized, for him, nothing had. If the warlocks found out what Caldan knew, he’d surely be killed.

The soldiers raised their spears and parted, leaving a gap for them to enter and head toward the command tents.

“One of these soldiers will escort you to the warlocks’ compound to make sure you don’t get lost,” said the man behind the table. “It’s to the west.”

To Caldan, the gap between the armored soldiers was a line he didn’t want to cross. Cel Rau noticed him hesitate. “What is it?”

“I…”

At that moment, a surge of sorcery pulsed from the command tents. It felt the same as the
crafting
he’d sensed in the city. Bells was here. A sudden gust of wind set banners and flags flapping, whipping up clouds of dust, causing soldiers to shield their eyes. All thoughts of the warlocks and the creating of
trinket
s fled his mind.

A resonating thrum filled the air as a dome of sorcery the height of four men appeared in the middle of the command tents. It was barely fifty paces from their position. Another pulse of power rippled over them, emanating from the shield. It turned as black as the darkest night, and to Caldan’s senses felt as dense as tempered steel. Whoever was inside was both obscured and protected by the strongest sorcerous shield he’d seen.