Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (2 page)

Bells clawed at his eyes, and Caldan jerked his face away. He dropped her and grasped her arm, twisting it behind her back, managing to keep his hand covering her mouth. Bells whimpered and went limp, sinking to her knees. Caldan let himself follow her down as the nails of her free hand dug into his arm. He bared his teeth at the pain but didn’t let her go. He shoved her face into the dirt and forced his knee into the small of her back.

He wanted to throttle her for what she’d done to Miranda. So great was the desire, his hand was on the back of her neck before he realized what he was doing.

Bells breathed heavily, and air whistled through her nostrils. She squirmed, trying to free herself, but Caldan held on tight. Choking back a sob, he released her neck. He couldn’t kill her, not yet, not before he’d found out how to cure Miranda. And then… he wanted to do it, but could he bring himself to?

He looked around. Elpidia was staring back at him, and Amerdan was nowhere to be seen. They were too open here; he needed to get to cover, and he couldn’t wait for Amerdan to come back.

“Listen!” Caldan said to Bells. “You’re not getting away. We’ve taken all your
crafting
s. There are five of us and one of you. It will go easier for you if you calm down.”

Bells’ struggles ceased.

“Good,” he said. “Now, you’re going to stand up, and we’re going to keep walking. Nod if you agree.”

For a moment, Caldan thought Bells was going to fight him again, but eventually she nodded.

“I’m going to take my hand from your mouth. There’s no one around, so no point in yelling.”

Bells nodded once. Caldan slowly removed his hand and twisted her around, grabbing both her arms. She stared at him with pure venom.

“You’re a strong one, aren’t you?” she said.

“When I have to be,” Caldan replied. With any luck, she’d think he knew what he was doing and wouldn’t try to escape again.

“It won’t matter in the end. I’m going to kill you all.”

As Bells spoke, Bees came running up. “There are seven soldiers following us,” he said.

Caldan smiled thinly. “We either make a stand or run.” He glanced toward Miranda, then at Bells. “I don’t think we’d make it far before they caught us.”

“We can’t fight seven fully-armed soldiers. There are only four of us, and we’re not trained fighters.”

“By the ancestors!” Caldan’s crafted wristband wouldn’t stand much more strain, and they were exhausted already. He knew fighting the soldiers would just get them all killed.

He made a decision. “Bells is our leverage, and my hope for Miranda. We run. We have no choice. There are plenty of farms and homesteads around here, by the look of things. They’ll have to search them all. That should give us some time. Come on.”

Caldan kept one hand clamped around Bells’ wrist and pushed her ahead. “Let’s get moving.” He forced Bells ahead of him, and they slogged through the mud. An hour ago the skies had opened, and a cold rain poured down. At first it only made them miserable, but it was now heavy enough to drown out the sounds of his companions close behind him. He was constantly wiping a trickle of water from his eyes as it ran down from his head, and the ground was now one big puddle. To his left, the placid stream they’d been following had swelled until it raged like a miniature whitewater river.

Bells turned and looked at him sullenly, and Caldan found he didn’t care a whit what she thought. She was trussed with rope, only leaving her legs free to walk. Her wrists were bound in front of her, and more rope tied her upper arms to her sides.

“Caldan!”

He turned at Elpidia’s shout. She was right behind him, and he hadn’t known. She’d had to yell to be heard over the downpour.

“We’ve got to get out of this,” she said. “Miranda’s freezing, and so am I.”

“Amerdan’s ahead looking for shelter. Bees said there were abandoned buildings around here,” Caldan said. “We have to keep going until we find something.”

“It better be soon.”

Caldan nodded. He hadn’t realized the rain was so cold. Before he could reply, Amerdan appeared out of the downpour.

“Good news,” the shopkeeper said. “There’s an abandoned building by the stream up ahead. A sizeable one, too, with a few smaller buildings around it. Maybe an old mill.”

“Thank the ancestors,” said Elpidia and she pushed past Caldan, dragging Miranda by the hand.

Caldan felt a pang as Miranda passed without a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

They followed Elpidia, catching her easily. Amerdan strode ahead, feet splashing, until they reached the old mill. A large barn door was still intact, while a smaller entrance door looked to have been broken open. It lay sprawled to the side, hanging from one hinge. Vines covered half the building, and inside smelled of mold and animals. A stone stairway led up to another level, but the roof had fallen in long ago. The wooden floor above them kept the rain out, though, apart from a few trickles, but judging from the rot, it wouldn’t be there for long. Attached to the living quarters and the mill itself was a storage area, presumably for grain and flour, with the roof partially caved in. It was depressing, but at least it was shelter.

Elpidia fussed around Miranda, sitting her down in a dry spot and rubbing her hands.

Caldan climbed halfway up the old staircase, but one look at the state of the next floor, covered in weeds and grasses, was enough to change his mind.

Bees grabbed his arm as he stepped from the last stair.

“How safe are we here?” Bees said. “I’ve led you this far, but soon I’ll be heading back. You’ll have to look after yourselves.”

Caldan removed Bees’ hand. “If you have to go, then go. But if you’re going back to Anasoma, then I need you to take a message for me.”

Bees’ eyes narrowed in calculation. “What message? To whom?”

Caldan shook his head. “Later, before you leave us. There’ll be information you can use. It’ll be worth your while.”

Bees nodded and left him to join Elpidia.

“There’s not much in here we can burn,” Caldan said to Amerdan. “I’ll check the other buildings.”

“I’ll look after the others,” said Amerdan.

Caldan cast an anxious glance at Miranda, but there wasn’t anything more he could do for her that wasn’t already being done by Elpidia. He stood in the doorway, fat droplets cascading in front of him. He squinted through the downpour. Three shapes denoted other buildings once part of this thriving mill.

Caldan steeled himself, then ran across the clearing toward the closest shape. He ducked inside an open doorway, shook his head, and wiped water from his eyes.

Littering the floor were the remains of a table and chairs, decomposing with damp rot. Streams of water trickled through what survived of the roof, though this one seemed in better shape than the mill. There was a doorway to the right, and on his left the room opened out into a large clear space with a packed dirt floor. A still intact wooden trough indicated this was where they kept their livestock at night. He searched around and managed to salvage a few relatively sound chair legs. The next room contained a moldering bed and dresser, and Caldan could only find scraps of burnable wood.

He gathered up his firewood and tucked it under one arm, then made a dash for the next building. Another dwelling, but this one was empty, without even rotting furniture. Caldan hoped the last building had more he could salvage, or it would be a long, cold, miserable night. Even with a fire, it wasn’t looking good.

A shape moved in the rain, and Caldan frowned. No one should be out there. Metal clinked on metal, and a man’s voice reached his ears, followed by another. By the ancestors! He ducked behind the wall and held his breath. The soldiers had found them, or stumbled upon their location but hadn’t yet realized they were here. He shook his head. That was bad luck.

As quietly as he could, he took a few steps further into the building. He found a dry spot to put his wood down. The rain pounded the roof above him, drowning out any sound. All his
crafting
s and materials were back at the mill, apart from his almost worthless wristband and Master Simmon’s sword. He had no idea how the
trinket
worked, so it was virtually useless. Except as a sword.

Caldan crept to the doorway and peeked outside. There was no sign of the men. A cry came through the rain—Elpidia. A man’s harsh laughter followed. Caldan reached back and drew the
trinket
sword. It glowed with a soft light.

Two soldiers exited the mill house doorway. One carried a sorcerous crafted globe for light, and their armor and weapons gleamed through the rain. There might not be a better chance to thin their numbers. Could he do it? He’d have to.

The Indryallans ran toward the first house he’d entered, hunched over and heads lowered to avoid the rain. They stopped just shy of the doorway and took up positions on either side, swords drawn. One tossed the sorcerous crafted globe inside the building and ducked his head, giving the interior a quick scan. Caldan saw his shoulders relax, and he nodded to his companion. They went inside.

Caldan took a breath and sprinted toward the soldiers. Away from the mill, and with the heavy downpour dulling any noise, he’d have to take his chances he wouldn’t be heard. He stopped beside the doorway, exactly where one soldier had moments before. Water streamed down his face, and his hands shook. He was hot, but not the heat he’d come to expect with his unusual abilities. He’d have to rely on his ordinary sword skills. But could he justify killing anyone? For Miranda, he could. If they were captured, then it would be the end for him, Bells would see to it after he’d killed Keys. And she wouldn’t care what happened to Miranda.

Caldan opened his well and stepped through the doorway. One Indryallan soldier had his back to him, while the other was nowhere to be seen. In the bedroom, thought Caldan. And a fleeting glance confirmed there was a light inside the room.

He took a step toward the soldier and raised his sword. He hesitated. Killing someone while they were unaware felt wrong. The sword’s glow caused shadows to move. The soldier realized something was amiss and, with a wordless cry, threw himself forward, away from Caldan.

Caldan rushed him just as an answering cry came from the room to his right. The man in front of him turned and raised his sword in defense. He was young, clean-shaven, and barely past his teens. Caldan trod the man’s sword down with his own, driving it to the ground. He smashed his left fist into the man’s face. Blood dribbled out the soldier’s nose as he staggered backward and fell to the floor. His sword dropped from his hand.

A scrape came from behind Caldan. He hadn’t forgotten the other Indryallan and swiveled—just in time to parry a cut. The second soldier was older, a grizzled veteran with a bushy beard. He shuffled back and circled Caldan to the right. Caldan followed him with the tip of his blade. He lunged, and the soldier leapt back. Caldan ran a few steps toward his prone companion. The young soldier scrabbled for his sword. Caldan kicked it away and stood over him. He reached down and grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head to the side and exposing his neck. His
trinket
sword rested against skin.

The old soldier stopped his advance. Light shone through the fingers of the hand clutching the sorcerous crafted globe.

“Don’t take another step,” Caldan gasped.

“You ain’t killed him yet. Likely you never will.”

“Do you want to take that chance?”

The old soldier licked his lips. He muttered a low curse, then turned and ran. His footsteps pounded across the soaked ground. It wasn’t the reaction Caldan was expecting. In moments, the soldier would alert the others, and any advantage he had would be lost.

Caldan threw out a string from his well and reached for the sorcerous crafted globe. It was halfway toward the mill. He felt for the linking rune, found it, then he pushed power into the globe from his well and ruptured the anchor.

The globe detonated with a sharp crack, illuminating the clearing for a brief instant. The footsteps ceased, and there was a splash as the old soldier’s body fell.

“It shouldn’t be this easy,” Caldan said to himself. But it was, and nothing he could say would change what he knew.

The young Indryallan looked up at him with fear. Crimson leaked down his upper lip. Caldan hit him as hard as he dared. The soldier groaned and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. Caldan hit him again, this time harder. The man lost consciousness. With any luck, he’d be out for a while, and all this would be over before he came to.

Caldan’s hands shook, and his skin burned. The water dripping down felt like ice on his skin. A calm came over him. He’d just killed again with sorcery. And he didn’t regret doing so, just the method. What was he becoming?

He crossed the clearing. This time, the rain fell slowly, as if reluctant to land. Everything moved slowly… so slowly.

He passed the corpse of the soldier he’d killed. It was a charred mess. Splinters of white bone stuck out in places.

Caldan swallowed. For Miranda, he told himself. He could feel himself sweating, even in the cold air. His blood burned in his veins like molten metal. It thrummed, reminding him of beating wings. His
trinket
ring pricked his finger, as if it had grown thorns. He had no idea how many other soldiers there were, but it didn’t matter. He had to kill them, or all was lost.

Inside the mill, Elpidia, Bees, and Amerdan were close to one wall. Behind them stood Miranda and Bells. Bells was grinning like a mad woman. She knew she’d soon be free. Both Amerdan and Bees held knives pointed at five Indryallan soldiers. Two faced Caldan, watching for either their companions or whoever had caused the detonation.

Caldan didn’t want to look at their faces.

He adopted an upper guard position, sword in both hands, raised above his right shoulder. His senses were sharp. He could smell the earth and the rain, the soldiers’ grime and sweat; he could hear their hearts beating.

One of the soldiers sneered at him and stepped forward. “Put that down, boy, or you’ll hurt yourself. If we have to take it off you, you’ll regret it.”