A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (50 page)

 

Amerdan watched the young man’s back as he left. A callow youth, but from what he said, talented. But there was something about the man, a feeling he had when they were close, a niggling in his mind he had never felt before. Almost… an affinity.

Amerdan scoffed at the thought. He had been experiencing strange sensations in his mind since disposing of the apprentice to the sorcerers.
Such a pathetic thing, it had been. Unworthy to survive.

He frowned at the itch in his mind, which had started only recently. His thoughts probed at it, like a tongue at a chipped tooth.

Never mind. The youth, Caldan, would be back before long, which gave Amerdan time for research, to find out whether he was worthy before taking things further. He opened his hand to count the coins.

Seven and a half silver ducats in total. Five silver coins and five sets of five coppers. Amerdan laughed. Of course.

 

Chapter Thirty-Six

 

Aidan felt Anshul grab his arm and tug him to a halt. They ducked into the nearby doorway of yet another deserted house. A musty odor wafted out, like all the other houses they had encountered so far in the town.


Let’s check one more,

said the swordsman, and Aidan nodded.

Around them, the house appeared as all the others had, as if the occupants had left in the middle of whatever they had been doing. On a table sat four plates, four sets of eating utensils, four mugs. A platter in the center held the remains of a meal: a leg bone and some dried scraps of unidentifiable vegetables. All the surfaces were covered in a fine layer of dust. Nothing had entered the house since the occupants left, until now.

Aidan motioned for them to leave, and they joined Caitlyn outside.


Same again, my lady,

whispered Aidan.

Not a soul around and dust covering everything.

It’s as if they disappeared one day, in the middle of whatever they were doing.

She sniffed and wrinkled her nose.

Perhaps they didn’t fight what came for them and joined it like many would these days.

Aidan glanced at cel Rau.

Perhaps they didn’t have a chance to resist.

Caitlyn shook her head.

Everyone has a chance, unless they are weak. Let’s keep going.

They moved silently into the night, their group spread out along five streets, all traveling parallel to each other.

So far they had not heard a sound from the other groups, which meant they should be making similar progress. Caitlyn and her men were getting closer to their quarry, who if luck wasn’t with them would be surrounded before they had an inkling anything was amiss.

Ahead, a hiss from Chalayan brought them to a halt again. Caitlyn motioned Aidan and cel Rau to follow as she sidled up to the sorcerer.


What is it?

she demanded, pitching her voice low.

The sorcerer’s face was beaded with sweat and he trembled.

Something… ahead…


What?

whispered Caitlyn impatiently.


Give me time,

snapped Chalayan back at her.

Caitlyn glared at the sorcerer.


There’s something… old here,

said Chalayan.


Old? What do you mean?


Sorcery, years old. Yet traces of it still remain. Such power…

His voice trailed off.

Caitlyn touched Chalayan’s shoulder.

Not recent, then? Good. Nothing for us to worry about.


There’s something else, more recent, ahead of us. A
crafting
. I think it crosses the street.


A trap?

The sorcerer shook his head.

Wait.

He whispered a few words and squinted. One his crafted amulets around his neck flashed briefly.


It’s… a trigger. An alarm.


Ancestors’ shadow!

cursed Caitlyn.

Across the street?

Chalayan nodded then went back to staring ahead.


All the streets are probably guarded the same way.


I agree,

said Aidan.

We need to stop the men going forward until we can find a way around or deactivate the
crafting
.

He expected Caitlyn to disagree.


We can’t stop all of them without giving away our positions,

said Caitlyn.


They’ll be given away anyway, if the alarms are tripped.


We don’t know there is more than one.


It makes sense that…

Caitlyn made a short chopping motion with one hand.

Enough. There isn’t time. One of the other groups will trip an alarm soon. We have to move quickly.

She’s acting rashly,
thought Aidan. He didn’t know why she had changed so much, but he didn’t like who she had become.

My lady, please, if we can…


No. We move now.

She drew her sword and waved it above her head.

Forward, men!

she shouted.

For good! And for the emperor!

She rushed ahead, leaving Chalayan, Aidan and cel Rau behind. Men surged around them, following Caitlyn towards the center of the town.

Chalayan gave Aidan a grim smile.

Once more, my friends. Let’s hope she pulls this one off as well.


One day her luck will run out,

said cel Rau.

Aidan clapped both on the back.

Let’s hope it isn’t tonight.

They sprinted down the street in Caitlyn’s wake.

 

Flashes of light flickered across the town. The sun peeked over the hills to the east.

Aidan dragged the unconscious form of Chalayan through the doorway of a deserted house and collapsed on the floor. Two of the sorcerer’s amulets had melted into the skin around his neck, but the shield he generated to cover them had sufficed. He had lost consciousness soon after.

Aidan drew a waterskin from his belt and gulped a few mouthfuls. Dirt covered his face along with his clothes. Spots of blood dotted him from head to toe. The blood of his own men as they had been blown into small pieces with sorcery.

He coughed then dragged himself to the open doorway. The street was empty. In the distance, screams sounded. Aidan couldn’t tell if they came from his own men or the inhabitants being killed, or raped.

Over half their men were down, from what he had been able to determine, with a grand total of three sorcerers on the other side killed.

Twenty men dead. One sorcerer left. A high price.

He needed to rest.

Aidan arranged Chalayan as comfortably as he could.


I’ll have to leave you here for a while,

he said to his unconscious friend. The sorcerer didn’t stir.

I’ll be back soon,

he promised.

They had met the same sorceries that destroyed the bandits, but Chalayan’s own had saved many of them. Mundane resistance consisted of mainly untrained men and women with a few professional mercenaries. Easily dispatched by Caitlyn’s experienced men, the mercenaries surrendered once a few sorcerers and most of their comrades were killed or subdued.

He lifted the crossbow he’d taken from a dead man. Ranged weapons usually proved effective against sorcerers, as long as they weren’t given a chance to shield themselves, but against these ones they hadn’t done much. Somehow they had shields up all the time. Still, it was better than trying to get close enough to swing his sword. All of the men who had tried that were dead. Leaving Chalayan there for the time being, he crouched low and exited the building, moving forward in a scuttle.

Aidan approached the barn as quickly as he could, which wasn’t fast, wincing with every step on his bruised leg. A short time ago, Caitlyn and cel Rau had fought their way to the large barn in the center of the town. What resistance they encountered had seemed intent on falling back to that position and protecting it.

He limped up to Caitlyn, who knelt on the ground, sword resting on her thighs. Anshul cel Rau stood before her, both swords stained red. Caitlyn and the swordsman were covered in dirt and spots of blood like he was, though only on one side, as if they’d been shielded from the blast. Bodies lay around them, some blackened and steaming, and others in pools of blood dripping from open wounds. A few gave distraught moans. One moved a hand.


We have to kill him, he’s the only one left,

he heard Caitlyn say as he approached.

With Chalayan unconscious, someone needs to make a bold move, take him down before he realizes what’s happening.

Cel Rau nodded grimly, knuckles white as he gripped the hilts of his swords.


What’s the situation?

asked Aidan.

Caitlyn rubbed her eyes and wiped her hands on her arms. She only succeeded in smearing the blood and dirt on her sleeves.


The last sorcerer is on the run, retreating south along the road. Our men on that side…

She shook her head.

We couldn’t have known there were more than the two we were following.


If we’d waited longer—


We didn’t have time!

screamed Caitlyn.

More could have come, and we would be in a worse position.

Her breath came in harsh gasps.

Aidan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and clenched his teeth. Caitlyn wasn’t acting rationally, and he was sure she wouldn’t have made the same decision months ago. She looked lost, as if her increasing obsession with evil had finally unhinged her.


We should have waited,

Aidan repeated.


We struck while we had the advantage of surprise, and that’s the last I will hear of it.

She turned to cel Rau, who blinked.

Go. You know what to do. Kill the sorcerer. He should be weakened by now.


Should be?

Aidan protested.

I think we should consolidate here, look to our wounded and regroup.

Caitlyn stood, ignoring him.

Go, cel Rau. Evil cannot be allowed to escape.

The swordsman nodded once reluctantly then loped off down the nearest street, heading south to where smoke filled the sky.


What about the wounded here? We should see to them.


No. They failed. Leave them. We don’t have time. We need to see what’s in the barn, what they value so highly.

She beckoned Aidan to follow and limped towards the barn door. Blood dripped behind her from a gash in her thigh.

Aidan paused to look around at the dead and wounded littering the ground. With a shake of his head, he limped after Lady Caitlyn.

Two massive doors faced them. Caitlyn struggled with pulling one of the doors, but with his help they managed to open the gap wide enough.

As he followed Caitlyn inside, Aidan sniffed at the strange smell. Spices overlaid with a herbal tartness, combined with a festering rotting scent and piss and excrement. And porridge. He swore he could smell porridge. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the lack of light.

Lined up along the room were heavy wooden cots, four rows of twenty. On most of the cots lay women, hands and ankles tied with strips of leather, skin raw and bleeding where the straps met flesh. All of the women were pregnant, some close to term. In one corner of the gruesome room stood a large cooking fire, on which sat a huge steaming iron pot.

Closest to them lay a pale-skinned woman, black hair hung limply over the side of her cot, her belly swollen with child. Her eyes opened, and she looked at them.


Please…

she whispered.

Water…


Aidan, get some water,

commanded Caitlyn.

We need to hear what she has to say.

At the sound of her voice, heads turned to stare at them. Some of the women began crying. A few begged for release; some made no sound.

Aidan grabbed his half-full waterskin and knelt beside the woman.


Shhh. There, there, it’s all right. You’re safe now.

He splashed water into her mouth.

We need to cut her bindings.


We’ll do no such thing until we confirm she isn’t working with them.

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