Soul of Magic: Book 1 of the Chronomancer Series

by Mark August

  An angry purple flash was the only warning Kincaid caught before the arcane blast surged from a cross hallway. The crackle of approaching energy thundered against his eardrums.

  With a flick of arcane power, Kincaid pulled up chunks of flagstones from the flooring. He hurled the rocks into the path of the blasts.

  Arcane fire powdered the heavy stones and showered Kincaid with rock fragments. He tasted the grit in his mouth from the explosion, and his ears rang with the concussion. Throughout the arcane barrage, Kincaid’s mind was rational and focused. Perhaps Cormac’s soul guided him.

  Now facing his opponent, Kincaid observed the purple glow and the creation of two new arcane bolts. His magic was already in motion to pull up more stones and backed them with chunks of earth to create a second defense wall. The arcane blasts moved in slow motion in his mind’s eye.

  The earthen wall absorbed the rock fragments from the next explosion. Nothing came close to the young magi.

  “The prisoner knows a few tricks.” This voice was male. “It won’t be enough.” If he was fighting a male sorceratti, where was the woman?

  The ground shifted under Kincaid’s feet, and he jumped onto a summoned step of air. Arcane blasts came at him again, and Kincaid struggled to find enough material to keep the bolts from cutting him in half.

  Kincaid felt two distinct sources of magic. They acted in unison to bring him down.

  Fear wrestled for control over Kincaid’s power. He was an untrained wizard, and Cormac trained the sorceratti from youth in the theory and use of magic. He put his feet in motion as he leaped from his air cushion and looked for ways to turn the tide.

  Magi. Fight them. Summon the power to destroy them—it’s in you.

  The voice was subdued but distracting. Deeper than Cormac’s instructional tone and echoing with each word.

  Balls of light formed at each intersection of the prison. Blue, red, yellow, and purple lights cast a rainbow of confusing colors around the prison. His subconscious mind registered the prisoners cowering in their cells from the arcane duel waged around them.

  The illumination worked both ways in confined spaces. If they could see Kincaid moving among the hallways and the cells, he could find and track his opponents. Time to close some avenues of approach.

  With a glance toward the ceiling and a tight blast of power, he pulled part of the roof down into the hallways. The precision of his cuts kept the prisoners safe while closing the avenues of approach to just two corridors.

  He didn’t have time to admire his handiwork as shouts rang out from the upper floors. A guard room. Confused cries and commands echoed through the dust in the air. The fight became complex, and time wasn’t on Kincaid’s side.

  Footsteps approached down the hallways. They moved with caution, and Kincaid’s eyes hunted through the settling dust to find shapes or shadows to target. He stayed still as he tracked their advance.

  One corridor flickered with flames. A sorceratti filled their hands with fireballs and launched them down the hallway to find the concealed magi. Avoiding the trail of fire was easy, but the explosion and resulting inferno was another story. Kincaid caught his mistake too late.

  No choices left. Kincaid flung up a pure arcane shield in a globe around his body. Flames crackled against the howls of arcane magic. Kincaid’s clothes smoldered, and Cormac’s soul faded from the effort. The last remnants of the stolen soul would be gone soon.

  Instead of waiting for another blast, Kincaid sprinted through the other corridor toward the possible location of the second sorceratti. The hall lit up behind him again, but the explosion was aimed at his last location. Fire licked the air in a futile reach toward his fleeing figure.

  As his feet carried him toward the end of the corridor, his mind crafted a wall of air like Vedette had done against the gunfire in the prison. He hoped the angled wall of air would give him enough time to close the range.

  The male sorceratti appeared in the gloom. The first thing Kincaid noted was the smug grin on his face. Power flared in the sorceratti’s hands. Kincaid didn’t change his pace as the blasts rippled down the hallways.

  Kincaid’s wall of air exploded in a gasp of power. The two blasts angled upwards into the ceiling and brought down debris from the failing floor from the structure above.

  As a corridor lit up again, Kincaid knew his luck was out. He was too close to pull up stones or grab chunks of the ceiling. The air wouldn’t be enough to stop the power hunting for his heart. He calculated that his body would fall two strides short of his objective.

  The dull purple flickered out. Surprise flashed across the man’s face as Kincaid closed the last steps toward the sorceratti. Kincaid heard the clang of metal as a metal object fell near the wizard. A hammer.

  Fear ignited Kincaid’s magic to new depths. Power rushed into Kincaid’s arms and caused his arms to glow. Kincaid leaped the last stride and landed blows into the distracted wizard.

  Crunching sounds satisfied Kincaid as both blows hammered home. His left hand landed in the sorceratti’s chest, and the ribs offer no resistance to the strength of his attack.

  His right caught the man under his right eye and hit him with enough force to throw the man’s body into the ceiling. The body flopped to the floor and laid in a broken pile of flesh.

  Kincaid stared at his hands. In two blows, he killed a sorceratti. The man stood no chance against this assault.

  Sholeh emerged from the shadows and picked up her hammer and spoke softly, “Kincaid, you had no choice. He would have killed us.”

  “We always have a choice. I could’ve found another way to stop them. Now his house will always hunt me. The other wizard is still in here, and we must find Liane. Please go back to the families and hide.”

  Sholeh stowed her hammers back into the loops on her belt. She shook her head. “We will find her twice as fast if we work together.”

  “But—”

  “By all that is holy, I am in this with you. For you. Let me help.”

  Footsteps ended the argument. Kincaid gestured in one direction for Sholeh to search for Liane. Away from the approaching sounds.

  Heavy boots were entering the entry hall with the families. The guards from upstairs were organizing, and they’d find him soon. He had to save Liane and Sholeh. He doubted he would walk out of this prison.

  Where was the other wizard? He could handle the guards if they came at him in a group. But the sorceratti changed everything.

  He pulled a small stream of magic and pushed his senses to search for another surge of magic. His hearing was overwhelmed by the heavy boots and rattling weapons from the guards. Turning his head, he listened for other footsteps.

  Magic flared when he heard a familiar voice.

  “Kincaid, please help me.”

  Sixty-Four

  Kincaid - Prisoner Lost

  Kincaid needed time. Arcane threats hunted the halls of the prison. Guards mobilized against his assault. Liane begged for his help, and Sholeh searched the prison.

  Time stacked against him as the dangers mounted.

  Start with Liane. Sholeh could handle anything but the sorceratti. The confined hallways eliminated the advantage of numbers, and Kincaid guessed Liane and the sorceratti were together.

  He plunged into the darkness, relying on his senses to navigate through the prison blocks. His mind locked onto the sounds of his sister like a compass bearing on a starless night.

  Magic surged nearby, and Kincaid knew whoever wielded it was looking for him. Kincaid gripped the energy flowing through his soul with tight restraint. His senses drew him to the center of the prison.

  The pungent odor of burning oil filled his nose as his eyes adjusted to the flickering light near the middle of the building. An oil lantern swung on a peg near a cell door. The center cell block was open but adorned with instruments of torture. Racks, chains, and deadly tools were a psychological weapon to every resident of this hopeless environment. Sounds of suffering meant anyone cou
ld be next, and discipline was guaranteed.

  Kincaid bit down his hatred and padded through the maze of cells into the area, probing for his sister. He couldn’t right every wrong in the city.

  He skidded to a stop as he approached the sound of Liane whimpering.

  Liane was on her knees with her arms and legs shackled to the floor in tight chains. Tears created streaks of grime down her once beautiful face. Blood soaked her clothes draped over her starved frame. One eye was swollen shut. As the shock settled into Kincaid’s heart, she mouthed the words “thank you.”

  The woman standing behind her was the female sorceratti, crackling with arcane energy. One hand glowed with red energy and held Liane by the back of her neck. The other clenched a fistful of fire. The sorceratti’s hair floated with the static charge of power in the room.

  “My mother warned me you would come for her.”

  “Let her go.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “Just you and I left.”

  “House Atros should’ve executed you. The Council should’ve forced their hand.”

  Her voice changed pitch as she spoke. Emotions slipped out of control, and Kincaid heard her hammering heart racing with power and fueled with adrenaline. His sister’s life hung in the balance.

  “Let my sister walk out of here. There are enough bodies around to show the Council your valiant defense.”

  “My mother wants to display your head.”

  “You’re being used.”

  Her laugh bordered hysteria. Sweat covered her brow in the frigid prison, and her pupils dilated more than the darkness required. Fear drove its cold spike in Kincaid’s heart.

  “My mother removed the Duke from power. She moved this prisoner to keep her out of Atros’ hands. You are the one being used.”

  Kincaid lowered his voice and held his right arm up with his palm facing toward her. “The sorceratti serve the family. But Atros changed everything. Your quarrel is with them, not my sister and me.”

  “My quarrel? No. My duty is to the Duchess, my mother. My life belongs to my family. And an immigrant will not tear down our city.”

  The fireball clutched in her right hand changed as magic surged into her soul. Instead of fire, a three-foot blade of white energy extended from her fingertips. The light filled the room like a small sun, and the crackle of energy sounded like demonic laughter.

  “No, please don’t.” Kincaid raised both hands and stepped back. “I understand what the law says.”

  “Then we will follow it.”

  With a sneer, the female sorceratti thrust the energy blade through his sister’s chest. The image of his sister impaled by the pulsing energy would never fade in his mind’s eye. Liane’s surprise turned to horror and pain as she looked at the blade claiming her life. Her eyes came up one last time to look Kincaid in the face.

  With a twist of the blade, the body fell face down onto the stone floor. The thud of her flesh against the pavement rocked his mind into action.

  She killed your innocent sister. She’s the Duchess’ daughter. Burn her.

  Kincaid’s mind tore apart with a scream. The laughter in his mind snapped his control as he flooded his soul with a crescendo of power. As his heart raced, his soul pulled in more power.

  The oil lamps were beacons of power as he drew on their flames. His rage amplified the heat a thousand-fold as Kincaid released a ball of fiery energy from floor to ceiling. The wave of fire incinerated the metal and wood from the torture devices.

  The sorceratti threw up a shield of arcane energy in defense. Heat blasted against the flickering screen. The sorceratti fell to her knees and pushed her power through her raised arms. The shield sputtered against the inferno.

  The wall of flame extinguished, and the sorceratti struggled to find the strength to get back to her feet.

  Kincaid formed two energy blades in his hands. Each blade glowed with fiery orange light, and she responded with a pair of sizzling blades of her own.

  With an animal growl, he launched his series of attacks with disregard for his own defense. His assault was merciless as arcane blades flashed and sparked in the prison gloom. Shadows danced in the unholy light. Sparks skittered across the floor from the collision of power. Stones heated to dull red as the energy blades came close.

  Neither was skilled enough with swords to end the fight. Blades danced, and Kincaid’s mind peered through the rage. Time was not on his side.

  As they locked blades in the matched confrontation of power, Kincaid grasped another torrent of power. Cormac’s soul buckled under the pressure, and Kincaid pulled the ceiling on top of the sorceratti. The energy shield was a moment too late as she tried to form a ledge to block the assault.

  With her attention upwards, Kincaid pulled the floor open underneath her. The sorceratti’s body fell three feet into the hole and sunk to her chest. Panic flushed her face as she tried to dig her legs out of her entrapment.

  Kincaid strode forward and let his blades dissipate into a puff of smoke. He bound her arms with arcane bands and stooped to look her in the eyes. Defiance faded, but she wouldn’t beg for her life. Not to a poor immigrant.

  The magi didn’t care. He placed both hands on her head and felt the source of magic surging through her soul. He latched on that current and tore it out of her body with the strength of a natural predator.

  Her eyes flung open as she tried to resist the power of magic. The sorceratti’s pupils grew wide in the failing light.

  “By all that is holy, do not do this. Please, Kincaid.”

  Kincaid didn’t glance toward his friend. The image of the energy blade tearing through his sister’s rib cage and impaling her heart was enough motivation.

  The sorceratti’s soul joined Kincaid’s power.

  Kincaid’s soul bore the scars of stolen lives and lives taken by magic. Darkness plunged him into contemplative silence as his body found new strength surging through his veins.

  The lifeless body of the sorceratti fell forward.

  He jumped to his feet and pointed to his sister. “They should’ve killed me. But my sister’s corpse is lying here. Killed by magic. Killed by the houses of this city.”

  “You cannot bring her back.”

  “She deserves better.”

  The darkness in his soul created a pit in his stomach. Magic slipped from his touch, and he collapsed to his knees. He reached out to brush his sister’s hair away from her peaceful face. Even the swollen eye didn’t look as bad with his sister now at rest.

  The burnt flesh invaded his senses. The scar in her chest and the smoldering clothes were too much. Darkness in his stomach expanded. The fire in his soul was gone.

  His stomach splattered its contents on the stone floor.

  Sixty-Five

  Kincaid - Prison Escape

  He heaved until bile burned his tongue, and his eyes couldn’t cry anymore. His divided soul burned in the agony of his conscience.

  Time ticked again.

  “Kincaid, the guards are coming.” Sholeh’s voice was low but insistent. Despite the horrors he created with his magic, she was still at his side.

  Grime smudged across his face from his filthy sleeve. The acrid smell of smoke and the copper tang of blood assaulted his nose. Without magic pumping in his veins, he barely made out the organized sounds of marching footsteps.

  Kincaid reached up with his right hand to grasp Sholeh’s hand. Instead of warm fingers reaching back, he felt her fist wrapped around the wooden haft of her hammer. She pulled her hand away from Kincaid’s lingering touch and took a step forward to shield the magi from the advancing forces.

  The young wizard looked at the mess he spewed over the floor and got back to his feet. Wiping his hands on his pants, he longed for the blackwood cane in his hands.

  A trickle of power entered his soul and brought strength back to his limbs. His eyes peered through the gloom, and his hearing picked out the advancing column of ten soldiers. The jingle of weapons and
armor was enough to warn they were prepared for a fight.

  They rounded a cross hallway with military precision. Each rank made a column right formation maneuver and marched forward. On command, the first rank lowered spears to a waist-high position, and the second rank dropped their weapons to shoulder height. At least none of them carried firearms.

  With a bark of a new command, the soldiers took precisely two steps and came to a halt. A second pause and the front rank dropped to one knee and grounded the haft of their spears into the flagstones. The second rank lowered their spears to waist height, and the third rank lowered their weapons to shoulder height.

  These weren’t prison guards. Formation operations were for trained forces on broad fields of combat. A debtor’s prison didn’t face those threats. This unit was part of the trap.

  “Stand down, prisoners.” The command bounced off the stone walls and iron bars. Kincaid wondered if the commander noticed the dust hanging in the air from the arcane battle.

  Kincaid wiped his mouth as he pushed past Sholeh. Fire burned again in his belly. “Your men will lay down your arms and walk away. Come up with a marvelous story about how we escaped.”

  No uncertainty. “If you resist, I will show your bodies to the City Council.”

  “By all that is holy, sergeant, look around you. If two sorceratti could not stop this wizard…”

  The squad maintained discipline during the standoff. Spears blocked the escape, and not a single blade wavered with the threats.

  “I am ordering you to surrender. When I reach the count of five, you will—”

  “Are you in charge here?” Kincaid demanded an answer. The standoff favored the disciplined patrol. If they summoned help, the city guard would rally and assault the prison. The houses would win. The blade sticking out of Liane’s chest. Sholeh standing with two hammers raised.

  “I am, and I command you—”

  Kincaid snapped his fingers, and arcane power flashed across the distance. The sorceratti soul groaned at his command, but the additional soul aided his control over the forces of magic.