Blood of Innocents (Book Two of the Sorcery Ascendant Sequence) (65 page)

But Caldan wasn’t fooled. Maybe that was one of their functions, to protect him just in case Joachim wasn’t working alone, but they were also there to keep him under surveillance, to make sure he stayed put until the warlocks arrived.

To the masters, it must have looked like he was numb with shock. He didn’t say a word to them as they guided him inside the room. What was there to say?

The door closed behind him and Caldan heard the voices of Mold and Laina fade as they walked away. Somehow, he had to escape, this time from the Protectors.

•

As the tip of the sun touched the horizon and the streets were awash in orange light, Caldan sat next to Miranda, slowly consuming the plate of food the Protectors had delivered to him, barely tasting anything. He continued to eat, forcing himself, despite not feeling hungry. He knew he’d need to keep his strength up, no matter how he felt.

For the last few hours, he must have formulated and discarded a few dozen escape plans. Each one had been risky and involved him unleashing torrents of sorcery, which meant the possibility of injuries and putting the Protectors off side forever. And he’d prove to them they’d been right in their suspicions, that he couldn’t be trusted with the knowledge of destructive and coercive sorcery. If he went down that path, there’d be no going back. And most likely, he’d be hunted down and killed. If they’d be able to overcome him… After all, his abilities were growing, and quickly. At what point would he be able to not worry about the Protectors and what they could do to him? As Joachim had told him: being both Touched and a sorcerer was rare indeed. What would he be capable of if his skill continued to grow?

No, what he needed was a shrewd plan. For the truth was that he needed to get away with no one the wiser, at least for a few hours. With enough time, he’d be able to get far enough away and be able to… what? What would he be doing? He’d be a wanted man, with every Protector and possibly warlock hunting him down. He didn’t have many options, as he saw it. Flee to save himself and eventually be captured and dragged off to be imprisoned the rest of his life, or be drained by the emperor and his warlocks. A life spent in hiding was no life at all. The thought of constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering if today would be the day he’d be found, was distinctly unappealing. Was this the life his parents had led before they died?

Then there was Miranda. Caldan placed his empty plate on the floor beside him—he didn’t remember finishing the meal—and took her hand in his. She was in this appalling condition because of him, and he owed it to her to do everything he could to bring her back to normal.

For the hundredth time, Caldan tried to access his well and failed. Whatever the
trinket
had done to him, its effects had lasted this long, though now the barrier had some give to it when he pushed it. It was fading, that he was sure of, but when would it give way? For all his scratching and prodding and poking, he didn’t think he’d hastened its disintegration. Through the barrier, he could sense his well; its warmth increased as the barrier faded. He felt he could almost touch it, almost take control of his power again. Soon. It had to be soon.

He stroked Miranda’s hand, and she moved in her sleep. Worryingly, she was awake less and less during the day. A sign whatever Joachim had done to her hadn’t done much to arrest her decay. Maybe that had been the warlock’s plan all along: to make Caldan think he’d stopped her decline, and that she would be healed eventually, while in reality she was no better off.

Caldan adjusted Miranda’s blankets then looked to his satchel. He took out the books on coercive sorcery and his second automaton. Both his new shield
crafting
and the automaton had been kept by Mold.

The masters were confident he knew better than to try and escape, and they were right. There was nowhere for him to go, and he couldn’t leave Miranda.

But… if the warlocks took him, she’d likely be left to die, or live out her life in this altered state of degradation. A horrible thought.

Sometimes, the worst option was your only option.

He was about to settle down with a coercive sorcery text, when the door opened, and the Protectors let the physiker inside. As she gave Caldan a nod and a smile, his unconscious probing of the barrier blocking his well caused it to rupture. He gasped as his power flowed through him, sending shivers down his spine. He hadn’t realized how much a part of him it was, how he’d missed its reassuring presence.

Turning to the physiker, he reached for his coin purse. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you’d be able to find better accommodation for Miranda. I fear this isn’t the best environment for her to recover in. Perhaps there’s a reputable hospice you know of in the city? Or maybe you have a spare room yourself?”

“Yes, of course. There are several hospices in Riversedge, some better than others. The quality of care depends on how much coin you have, unfortunately.”

Caldan held out a handful of gold and silver ducats and looked the physiker in the eye. “Excellent. There’s just one problem.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Aidan dragged himself out of the river and through the mud using his good arm. The sticky sludge sucked at his clothes, at his limbs, and stank like a long-dead thing. Pushing with his feet on the slippery bank, he was able to leave the water behind and secrete himself in some reeds. Scratches covered his arms and face, and mosquitoes buzzed in his ears.

Far in the distance came the sounds of the jukari, hooting and howling as they crossed the bridge and plundered the settlement on the other side. Whoever was left there would be killed and eaten. He hoped no one was stupid enough to have remained. Cel Rau wouldn’t have let them, he knew. Unless they were stubborn.

He snorted, spat out phlegm tinged brown with muck, and coughed. He was shivering, soaking wet, and his shattered arm ached like it was rotting from the inside. At least the bridge was upriver from the city, and the water was almost fresh. He’d hate to think what it would be like on the other side of Riversedge. You’d have to be a fool to throw yourself into that sludge.

Aidan rolled onto his back and stared at the sky. Rest a little while longer, he told himself. Get your strength back.

His sword lay at the bottom of the river somewhere, and all he had left was a slender dagger. Against hundreds of jukari, it wasn’t much at all.

When Chalayan’s
crafting
s had started buzzing, he knew something was coming. As the volume had increased until it hurt his ears, and the jukari milled around howling, he’d decided the bridge wasn’t the best place to die. So, he’d thrown himself off, and just in time, too. His ears still rang from the sorcerous detonations, and an arc of lightning had struck the water next to him, just as he was about to break the surface.

Smoke still coiled into the air from the bridge. He didn’t know what Chalayan had done. Didn’t want to know. Such dangerous knowledge was a curse on mankind. Cel Rau would act. They’d spoken about Chalayan and a situation like this. Some secrets had to remain buried, and if corpses went into the grave alongside them, then so be it.

Aidan crawled through the mud and reeds until he gained firmer ground. He staggered to his feet, covered in sludge, but it would dry and flake off. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he examined the bridge. It was a fair distance away, as he’d let the current take him downstream, but he could still make out jukari and a few vormag. The majority of their force had already crossed. The settlement was burning.

Filthy abominations.

The haze of Riversedge was on the horizon to the north, but he couldn’t go in that direction. Today wasn’t the day he’d end up in a jukari cook pot. So, east and north it was, until he could be certain he wouldn’t run into jukari patrols. Then west toward Riversedge.

Aidan sighed, cradling his broken arm, and trudged off, placing one foot in front of the other. That was the key. One step at a time.

•

“It’s not up for discussion,” said cel Rau flatly.

Vasile sighed and looked skyward. By the ancestors, this man is immovable. “Why not? We can’t protect all these people. Why don’t they move faster?”

“They think the Quivers will arrive and save them. They can’t think of any other outcome.”

“But we haven’t seen a Quiver for days.”

“No.”

“So… they have faith in the emperor’s protection, which won’t be coming, will it?”

“No. If the Quivers are smart, they’ll stay behind the walls of Riversedge.”

Vasile tugged on his reins as his horse tried to slow. It was exhausted. They all were. “And leave all these people to die? They’ll be slaughtered by the jukari. There’s no way they’ll reach the protection of the city walls in time.”

“No.”

Vasile glanced at the villagers and farmers around them. They’d caught up with the bulk of the refugees quickly after leaving the settlement, where cel Rau had… slaughtered Chalayan, his friend, like a butcher kills a cow. Swift and mercilessly. Vasile shivered and rubbed his arms, stomach queasy as he remembered the swordsman’s actions. Cel Rau had made a decision on what he thought needed to be done, based on whatever moral code he had, and carried out his judgement without remorse. These people are fanatical. And now there’s only one left.

Vasile stumbled as a sickening thought intruded. He waved away cel Rau’s concerned look and managed a stiff smile. It was his idea that led Chalayan to discover the secret of destructive sorcery. Maybe he was next… Would cel Rau decide he was a liability? That what he knew had to be expunged from the world? Had Aidan been the only force restraining cel Rau?

“We need to protect these people,” said cel Rau.

Vasile stared at him. “From the jukari? From the hundreds, if not thousands, of the creatures behind us? What… how are we going to do that?”

“Kill jukari. And vormag. Stay ahead of them.”

“Are you mad?” hissed Vasile, regretting his outburst immediately.

“No.” Cel Rau frowned. “I don’t think so. They’re traveling slowly now, but when they see the horde coming and no Quivers to save them, most will go faster. Then, the stragglers we can’t save. Those too slow or too weak.”

“So, we’ll try to keep the jukari from taking as many as possible, all the while staying ahead of the horde so we don’t get overwhelmed by numbers. And we’ll do this all the way from here to Riversedge.” Vasile gazed to the smudge on the horizon, which denoted the city. “Which is what, a day away?”

Cel Rau shrugged. “A day. Maybe less, maybe more.”

“Doesn’t it matter?”

“No. We get there when we get there.”

And if I don’t agree, he’ll likely kill me here and now, with less regret than he showed for Chalayan. Vasile knew cel Rau wouldn’t let him go his own way. He nodded.

“I’ll help, then. I’m not as good as you with a sword, but I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I’ll ever ask. Any help is better than none.”

“Do you think this is the wisest move?”

Cel Rau spat to the side of the road from atop his horse. “The Quivers will do the smart thing. Most of these villagers will do the smart thing, once they feel the jukari’s breath on the back of their necks. I didn’t say I was wise.”

And if I die while we attempt this, thought Vasile, then cel Rau’s problem vanishes, leaving him with clean hands.

•

Vasile found himself gripping the hilt of his sword painfully tight. Behind him, cel Rau had dispatched another jukari with his usual efficiency. He then remounted his horse and caught up to Vasile, ignoring the heartfelt thanks from the family he’d saved, a couple and their two children, both girls, dressed in rough, homespun clothes.

Cel Rau motioned Vasile to stop, and they waited for the tear-streaked family to hurry past. Toward the bridge where Aidan had made his last stand, the jukari milled like ants. Only a few had raced ahead to try and catch the refugees from the settlement, but more and more left the main group, heading in all directions. A hundred yards away, two more gray-skinned jukari loped toward them, both wielding swords that looked like daggers in their huge hands.

“They won’t make it,” said cel Rau.

“Who? The family?”

Cel Rau nodded. “Too slow. The children slow them down.”

Vasile swallowed bile that rose in his throat. Hot sun beat down on him, and he needed a drink. He sipped from a waterskin; it would have to do.

“Then we’ll have to do all we can to delay the jukari.”

Cel Rau flashed him a grin. “That’s the spirit. They’ll be like waves breaking against sea cliffs.”

More like ants swarming over helpless insects, thought Vasile. But he returned cel Rau’s smile as best he could. “There are two more coming for us.”

“Always, Magistrate. Evil never rests.”

Vasile had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the jukari. As the creatures came closer, he urged his horse nearer to cel Rau’s. The swordsman dismounted again.

“I fight better on foot,” he said in response to Vasile’s questioning look.

Not me. He’d rather face the jukari from horseback. Cel Rau was his only chance, and if the swordsman went down… he’d rather be mounted than trying to run. Vasile snorted to himself. His only chance was someone who’d probably kill him in the future.

As the jukari approached, he could see the larger one’s skin was shinier, more snakelike than its companion’s. And rather than the mottled gray of the jukari he’d seen so far, darker, thin, black stripes threaded across its arms and legs, neck and face.

“I’ll take the big one,” said cel Rau, drawing his two swords.

Vasile could only nod, mouth dry. He needed another drink, and his bladder felt fit to burst. The jukari were closing fast.

Cel Rau walked casually toward them along the road.

Vasile urged his horse to catch up with cel Rau and drew level. His hand ached from squeezing his sword, and it felt slippery with sweat. The air smelled of dust and horse, metal, and the rancid stench of jukari. His horse tried to back away, but he held it steady.

Cel Rau sprung at the jukari, swords weaving in a complex pattern. The smaller monster jumped back and to the side to avoid being gutted, leaving it clear for Vasile. Exactly as cel Rau probably planned.