A Crucible of Souls (Book One of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (59 page)

He eyed the door of his cell again. Despite its age, the timbers were solid and the rusted bars still effective. They must have known the cells were down here, which meant excellent knowledge of the building, probably a spy. Or someone high up was working with them, which was a disturbing thought.

Caldan stood quietly at the door, listening. Silence, except for the drip, drip, drip of water somewhere behind him in his cell.

“
Hello?
”
he whispered into the gloom, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard in the other cells.
“
Is anyone there?
”
He waited a few moments.
“
Hello. If you can hear me, say something or make a noise.
”

“
Hello back,
”
came a woman’s voice.
“
Who are you?
”

“
Caldan,
”
he replied.
“
What… what’s happening?
”

“
Huh… no idea. I was fast asleep when some men jumped me. Roughed me up and stole my
craftings
. The ones I had on me, anyway.
”
Caldan heard the woman cough before continuing.
“
Sorry,
”
she said.
“
My name’s Senira. I’m a journeyman. I’ve heard of you, but you probably haven’t heard of me.
”

“
No, I haven’t, sorry.
”

“
No need to apologize. It’s a big place. Anyway, what have you seen? Do you know what’s going on?
”

Caldan shook his head before realizing she couldn’t see him.
“
No,
”
he said.
“
I was in my room but managed to craft a lock on the door when I heard fighting outside. They…
”
Caldan thought about the
crafting
they’d used on his door. Senira wouldn’t know about destructive sorcery, unless she was a Protector.

“
They disabled my
crafting
with sorcery,
”
he half-lied.

“
They must be sorcerers. If they can open your lock, then they’re at least journeyman level.
”

“
Do you know what’s happened to the masters? Did they fight? Were any wounded…killed?
”

“
I didn’t see anything, though I heard sounds of fighting in the garden. They wouldn’t let themselves be captured without putting up a fight, though.
”

Caldan frowned. The invaders meant business, and from the look of things knew the layout of the place and had potent
craftings
to help them. He would bet the crafted armor was at least as good as the Sorcerers’ Guild could make. He thought of the rogue sorcerer the other night. Maybe better.

If Simmon and the other Protectors were going up against them, he wished them luck, though the assault had come in the dead of night and most would have been caught unawares. He sighed.

“
Are you there?
”
Senira called.

“
Yes.
”

“
Sorry. I got… scared. It’s cold down here. Is it just us?
”

“
Some of the other doors were locked, but no one’s said anything yet. Well, it can’t hurt to try. Hello?
”
he called.
“
Anyone else there?
”

They listened in silence for a few moments. No one replied.

“
Hello?
”
called Caldan again, to be answered with more silence.
“
Maybe they’re unconscious or…
”
His voice trailed off. They could be seriously hurt. An assault like this wouldn’t end without some bloodshed.

“
Do you think they’re… alive?
”

“
Yes,
”
replied Caldan with as much conviction as he could muster.
“
Maybe just knocked out or tied up. There wouldn’t be any reason to have them here otherwise.
”

“
Oh. Of course.
”

“
Listen, did you manage to hide anything on you, a
crafting
or anything like that?
”

“
No,
”
she replied hesitantly.
“
I didn’t think to hide anything. And what I have…had…wouldn’t be of any use.
”
She began to weep.

“
Shhh. Don’t worry. If they were going to hurt us they would’ve done so already. They imprisoned us because we’re useful in some way. I can’t think why, but maybe they were only after masters.
”

Senira continued to cry, muffling her sobs. Caldan closed his eyes.
She isn’t going to be much help. It’s up to me to protect her.

What could he do? No
craftings
or the means to make anything. A quick search of his cell revealed nothing useful. Not that he was expecting anything, but even a nail or leftover spoon would be better than nothing. He shook his head at the idea of overcoming a guard with a spoon. The pain in his leg had stopped, and he assumed that was a good sign. Blood had stained the bandage red, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t bleeding anymore.

At that moment, a light appeared at the top of the stairs, sending long shadows down to the cells. Three more men appeared, dragging an unconscious figure, a man, head lolling.

“
Hey!
”
yelled Caldan.
“
What are you doing? His injuries need to be looked at.
”

“
Shut up or I’ll come in and shut you up myself.
”

“
Why are we here? We haven’t done anything.
”

“
I told you to shut up!
”
The voice changed tone, murmuring to another person. Footsteps approached, followed by a tinkling. A pale-skinned woman, tall and slender with long dark hair falling to her waist came into Caldan’s limited view. Woven into her hair were tiny silver bells of different sizes, the biggest no larger than a thumbnail. On her hand she wore a number of crafted rings. She tilted her head and gazed at Caldan. Black eyes pierced his.

“
Mistress,
”
a voice behind the woman called.
“
This one’s locked up. We should get back now.
”

“
In a moment,
”
she replied, warm voice carrying in the quiet of the cells.

“
Mistress, please…
”
Caldan could hear pleading in the man’s voice.
“
The others will be…
”

She turned to glare at the man, who trailed off into silence. For a few moments, she stared at him before turning back to Caldan.

“
I thought we were only bringing the apprentices and journeymen down here,
”
she questioned loudly.

Caldan frowned at her, puzzled.

“
We are, Mistress. All the masters are accounted for, the ones we managed to capture and those still on the run.
”

She tapped a cheek with one hand and pursed her lips.
“
What’s your name?
”
she asked Caldan.

He clamped his lips together firmly and shook his head.

“
Mute, are you? Or just stupid?
”
She waited a moment for his response then breathed out a long sigh.
“
Your well is remarkable, so smooth and stable.
”

Caldan blinked in surprise. Of all the masters in the guild only a few had the talent to see others’ wells so clearly.

“
Nothing to say?
”
she said with a smile.
“
Pity. I don’t have time for niceties.
”

Hot needles of pain dug into Caldan’s skull. His knees buckled and he cried out wordlessly. As suddenly as it appeared, the pain receded, leaving behind a dull ache. He rolled onto his side on the floor. He didn’t remember falling. Must have blacked out.

“
Caldan,
”
the lady stated.
“
An apprentice. There, that wasn’t hard, was it? You weren’t on the list. Curious.
”

He pushed himself to his knees, tasting blood. His nose felt hot and sticky. He wiped it, and his hand came away red.

“
How…?
”
he said shakily, and the lady laughed.

“
So primitive here, so limited. Allowing such talent to go to waste.
”
She tutted in disappointment.
“
We have to leave, so don’t go anywhere. My name is Bells, and I’ll be back for another chat soon.
”

Scuffles sounded from the cell her two men had entered. A fist hitting flesh. Then again, followed by a gurgling moan. Caldan strained against the opening.

The woman’s footsteps echoed down the corridor to be joined by the men as they climbed the stairs. The gentle tinkling of bells receded into the distance.

Caldan rubbed his head. He lurched to his feet, weak at the knees, and clutched the bars of the door for support.

“
Senira,
”
he called.
“
What happened?
”

“
She asked you your name then you yelled in pain. What did she do to you?
”

“
I don’t know. Something… painful.
”

“
After that, you went quiet for a bit, and then she asked you again. You told her your name and that you were an apprentice.
”

Caldan shook his head.
“
No, I didn’t say anything.
”

“
You did. You said ‘my name is Caldan and I’m an apprentice Protector.
”
You sounded strange, distant.
”

“
I don’t remember anything after she first asked. I thought I blacked out.
”

“
Well, whatever she did, you told her,
”
Senira said dismissively.
“
Though I don’t suppose it makes any difference. From the sound of it they’re more interested in the masters.
”

Caldan rubbed at the drying blood under his nose and on his hand then knelt by the puddle in the corner, using the water to wash his hands and face.

With a grunt, he sat on the floor, back against the wall. Without the materials to Craft anything, he wasn’t going anywhere. The best he could hope for was to survive long enough to come up with an escape plan. Whatever these people wanted, it wasn’t for the good of the Sorcerers’ Guild or the Protectors. They knew destructive sorcery and… was what she used on him coercive sorcery? It seemed likely. Maybe they were rogue sorcerers who didn’t want the Protectors coming after them to bring them to justice. A few could have banded together. Once the Quivers found out what was happening, he was sure they would come to the rescue. All he had to do was wait.

Caldan rested his aching head on the cold wall and closed his eyes.

Chapter Forty-Five

Sweat covered his skin. Caldan blinked a few times and opened his eyes wide, trying to clear the blurriness in his sight. He shivered as his perspiration evaporated in the cold damp air of the cell. With one hand, he tried to massage the stiffness in his neck. His mouth felt dry. He needed water and hoped they wouldn’t be forgotten about and left to die. Though, from what the lady with the bells in her hair had said, she would be back.

He had no idea how much time had passed. At a guess, he judged a few hours, though with no window in the cell, no way to see the sun or stars, it was impossible to tell. Shifting his weight, he knelt, trying not to put pressure on his leg wound. Not feeling any pain, he rose slowly, hands on the wall to steady himself, then paused to take a few breaths. His leg didn’t feel too bad, considering it had been stabbed — a slight stiffness but that was all. Little by little he put more weight on the injured leg, testing it. The blood-soaked bandage had dried, crusting up and darkening to black in the dim light. He took a step forward, then another. Stiff, which wasn’t surprising, but he managed to hobble to the other side of the cell and back. He frowned. At the very least there should still be some pain.

He slid to the floor and removed the bandage, tearing the layers apart as his dried blood had glued them together. Underneath the cloth, his pants were stuck to his leg. Gingerly, he pried apart the gash in the material the dagger had torn. He couldn’t see much of the wound, but at least it looked closed and hadn’t reopened during his exertions. He stood and walked to the shallow pool of water in the corner. He scooped up a handful and dribbled it onto his wound. It was probably all right to wash with the water, but he wasn’t going to drink it… not yet, at least.

Gently, he rubbed his hand over the wound, washing away a layer of dried blood. Another handful of water, then another. He squinted at his leg, frowning. The wound had started to close. He traced the line with a finger then probed gently. There was no mistaking it, the wound looked days old, or more. He rubbed tired eyes, bewildered. This wasn’t natural. Shaking his head, Caldan scrunched the bandage up and threw it at the wall. This didn’t make sense. How could a deep knife wound heal so fast? Sorcery was out of the question. He didn’t know of any sorcery that could speed healing and had never heard it was likely.

His hand reached up and fingers traced the thin scar on his cheek. That had healed quickly. Nowhere near as quickly as his leg, but he remembered both Miranda and Elpidia commenting on how fast he had mended. Could this and his sudden surges of strength and speed be related? There was no way to tell, and as confusing as it was, he needed to think about escaping this cell. There wasn’t time to worry about anything else.

Between him and freedom was the door with a solid iron lock. It looked far too strong for him to break through. He’d likely injure his foot if he tried to kick it down.

He wracked his brain for a solution. The obvious area to focus on was the lock. Before coming to Anasoma he hadn’t thought breaking a lock was possible. Master Simmon had shown him differently, though he didn’t have a gemstone like the one the master had used. Since that night, Caldan had thought long and hard about how the master had achieved that remarkable piece of sorcery. There were a few explanations, areas of experimentation he had contemplated. All required a
crafting
strong enough to hold the forces in check until you released them. This, he had surmised, was the gemstone’s purpose. It was not a crafted object with a reusable purpose but a storage device.

Such a
crafting
was uncomfortably close to destructive sorcery. Then Caldan understood. That was why no one left the Protectors, why Master Simmon had said he was bound to them. In order to prosecute their campaign against destructive sorcery, the Protectors had to be proficient at it themselves. How else could you fight such power and hope to prevail? You had to fight fire with fire. It made a perverse sense. And in using such sorceries, the Protectors damned themselves, became the very thing they were fighting against.

Caldan sighed. Unless he got out of here, he might not have the luxury of confirming his insights. Still, at least he knew where he stood now. He was bound.

The iron lock stared at him silently. If only he had a piece of paper, he might be able to replicate what he had seen Simmon do with the gemstone.

Calculating the forces needed to destroy iron wasn’t easy, but he knew a fair bit about metals from his metallurgical studies. A few moments later he came up with a theoretical
crafting
and whistled slowly. The power required was large, though why hadn’t Simmon used one containing iron itself? The complementary link between an iron lock and an iron
crafting
would dramatically increase the efficiency of the sorcery. Of course. The gem wasn’t specifically a lock breaker but could be used for any purpose that required an outpouring of energy. The loss of efficiency between the gem and the lock couldn’t be helped. Simmon had traded efficiency for utility. There wasn’t any reason to carry around
craftings
for specific purposes, as the gems could be adapted for multiple uses.

Where did that leave him? What he needed was iron. Anything made of iron or with iron in it. He clutched his short hair despairingly. There must be something. What has iron in it? The answer, when it came, was obvious and nauseating at the same time. His blood, or so he had been taught. It could act as an ink containing iron.

He sat back, taking a few moments to organize his thoughts and imagine a schematic of what the
crafting
should look like. Placement of the anchors and runes to shape the forces were crucial. He left out any buffers; they wouldn’t be needed. The
crafting
only had to work for a second or two, long enough to draw from his well then…break. He couldn’t think of another way of describing it. The
crafting
was designed to destroy itself, quickly and efficiently. Now he knew it could be done, and how it worked, it was straightforward. And that, he realized, was the danger. Destruction was always easier than creation.

He looked at the ball of his thumb then at the lock.

With something like this it was best you didn’t think too much about it. He rose and walked to the door, kneeling in front of it, eyes level with the lock. Taking a breath, he bit down hard on his thumb, deep into the flesh. He tasted blood, spat, and then clamped his index finger over the wound to stem the flow. His thumb felt like it had once years ago when he accidentally hit it with a hammer during a forging lesson.

Working quickly, he released the gash and used a finger as a crude quill to trace his design on the lock.

Clamping his finger over his thumb, he stood back and surveyed his work. Crude, with lines too thick and inelegant. It should be sufficient.

Caldan closed his eyes and opened his well, joining it to the links he had crafted onto the lock. A few moments was all he needed. He cut the flow of power and ruptured his makeshift
crafting
.

Light flashed through his closed eyelids, and the stench of hot metal filled the room, overlaid with lemons.

Caldan opened his eyes. The lock had been transformed into a molten mess. Red-hot iron dribbled like wax from a candle.

He let out a relieved laugh.

Drops splattered to the floor and hissed, rapidly cooling to solidity. Oh no. He ran to the door and shoved it open so the cooling molten metal didn’t weld the door shut.

He crouched in the opening, still, listening. His breath echoed in his ears. He counted to twenty. There was no outcry, no rushing of footsteps, no guards coming to investigate the noise. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“
Senira? Which cell are you in?
”
He heard movement, though couldn’t pinpoint which cell it came from.

“
Here,
”
her muffled voice came from down the corridor. Hands clutched the bars of a cell door; a face framed by long blonde hair pressed between them. He scurried to her.

“
How did you get out? Never mind. Get me out, please.
”

“
Just a moment,
”
Caldan replied. He passed her cell and started towards the stairs.

“
Hey! Where are you going?
”
Senira shouted.

“
Shhh, be quiet,
”
he hissed.

“
Don’t leave me here!
”

“
I won’t. I’m looking for the keys.
”
There, on a hook in the wall. Caldan grabbed the key ring, which only held one key. He presumed it opened all the cells. He backtracked to Senira’s cell and opened her lock with a twist.

“
Thank you!
”
she gushed and hugged him tightly. She was slim, almost too thin, and looked younger than her journeyman status indicated.
“
Now what do we do?
”

“
We check the other cells and let everyone else out.
”

“
Oh… of course.
”

Senira ran spritely from cell to cell, peeking into each as Caldan looked into a few on the other side. They found all were unoccupied save one, which held the person who had been dragged in after they had been locked up. A forlorn figure lay on cell’s stone floor, curled up and hunched against a wall. Dried blood caked his hair and pooled under his body.

Senira moaned.
“
Is he… dead?
”

“
I don’t know.
”

Caldan opened the door. Inside, he crouched over the body and felt at the neck for a pulse. Nothing. He grabbed a shoulder and turned the man onto his back. He didn’t know the man. It looked like the blood had leaked from two puncture wounds in his chest.

“
Do you recognize him?
”
he asked Senira.

She edged into the cell.
“
He’s dead, isn’t he?
”

“
Yes,
”
he replied gently.
“
Do you know who he is?
”

She nodded.
“
A journeyman. I’ve seen him around, carrying messages. I think he was assigned to assist one of the masters. I don’t know why they would have killed him.
”

Caldan stood and moved to comfort Senira. Tears streaked her face. He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“
We’re alive and unhurt. All we have to do is get out of here and find where the sorcerers and Protectors are. Then we’ll be safe.
”

Senira nodded numbly, staring at the dead journeyman. Caldan placed a hand on her cheek and turned her head away from the sight.
“
Come on. We have to get out of here before someone comes back.
”

They exited the cell, leaving the dead body behind.

“
We have to be quiet,
”
said Caldan.
“
In case they have men patrolling the corridors or we run into trouble. Can you do that?
”

Senira licked her lips then nodded once.
“
I’ll stay behind you, if that’s all right.
”
Her voice quivered.

“
Of course it is. If we run into trouble, do as I say.
”

She followed closely behind as he moved to the stairs. The short flight ended at another door, this one not locked, though held shut with a simple latch which could be opened from both sides. He supposed there was no need for this one to the locked if the cells were. He placed an ear to its surface, listening for noises on the other side.

All was silent. Taking a breath, he lifted the latch and opened the door a crack, enough to see into the corridor beyond. It was clear.

Gesturing for Senira to follow, Caldan slid along the wall and headed to where he knew there were stairs. They were on the level below ground, and he wanted to try and recover his belongings he’d dropped out the window. A shield would be extremely useful and might make the difference between them being captured again or reaching safety. And he couldn’t abandon his
trinket
.

“
Where are we going?
”
whispered Senira, tugging at his arm.
“
Where do you think the masters will be? We should find them, if they’re alive.
”

“
Of course they are. There’s something I need to retrieve. We’ll be safer with it.
”

Senira looked unimpressed.
“
How can you worry about getting your own things back at a time like this?
”

“
Trust me. I don’t have time to explain. I hid something— a
crafting
. It will help us.
”

“
You’re only an apprentice. What could you possibly hope to do that would help? We need to get to where the masters are. They’ll know what to do.
”