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

by Hogan, Mitchell

  Well, no point worrying until he made it to Anasoma and decided whether it was somewhere he wanted to stay.

  Shaking himself from his reverie, he upended both sacks, spilling his belongings onto the bunk. A meager collection of possessions to mark his life.

  He slumped back, overcome with weariness. Too much had happened in a short space of time, and he was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He rubbed his aching eyes. He needed rest and time to think, to come to grips with all that had happened, but he doubted he would have much time after landing in Anasoma. This short trip at sea might be good fortune in disguise and give him a chance to gather his thoughts.

  He spent the next few hours lying there, eyes closed, and rocking gently from side to side with the ship. He wasn’t feeling ill, which surprised him, but when a crewman came to alert him that the midday meal was ready, he begged off. He was hungry but in no mood to make small talk with strangers, who would have all sorts of questions.

  He drifted off, and before he knew it he was being shaken awake. He brushed away the offending hand and sat up, thoughts groggy. Miranda stood there, hands crossed over her chest, and stared at him with a disapproving look on her face.

  “Heard you haven’t eaten anything all day,” she remarked.

  “Eh?” he replied, still half asleep. “What’s it to you?”

  “We want to make sure all our passengers are well. Wouldn’t get any repeat business if we didn’t check in on them now and again.” She rubbed one arm through her shirt and took a step back. “Are you sick?”

  “No. Not at all. I needed some rest, and I’m not hungry.” His stomach chose that moment to let out a large rumble, belying his words. He grinned sheepishly. “I guess I’ve been overruled.”

  Miranda smiled back. “Come on. We can rustle you up something to eat. You’ve been down here all day, and the sun is setting. I’m not surprised you’re hungry.”

  Caldan followed her through the ship to the galley. She rummaged around and made up a wooden plate for him with a heel of coarse-grained bread, a withered apple and a few slices of cold, charred meat of some kind. The cook’s treatment when preparing the meat hadn’t left many clues as to what type of animal it had come from, but Caldan wasn’t fussy. His stomach grumbled again as he took the plate from Miranda and she motioned for him to follow.

  “Wait,” he said. “Could I have a bit more, please?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him and motioned him to help himself. “Sure. Just leave some for the rest of us.”

  He grabbed another apple and few slices of meat, plus a skin of water. “That should be enough. Let’s go.”

  She looked at his heaped plate and shrugged.

  On deck she led him to a sheltered corner and gestured for him to start eating. She leaned her elbows on the gunwale and looked out to where the sun had set.

  “Oh bother, we missed the sunset.”

  To Caldan, her words were tinged with irony, and he glanced at her. Surely she saw the sunset every day? Caldan stopped himself staring before she caught him and turned his attention to his food. She looked athletic under her rough sailor’s clothes.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For the food, I mean.” He stuffed a slice of the meat in his mouth and chewed ravenously. Was it beef? It could have been goat, but he couldn’t tell. “I’m always thankful for food,” he mumbled around his mouthful. “When I was young I never had enough.”

  At his words, Miranda gave him a sharp look, then distress crossed her face, and she looked away out to sea. Caldan realized he’d hit a nerve, that his mention of hunger had stirred an unwelcome memory in her.

  “I know what that’s like,” she said in a subdued voice. “And you’re welcome to eat as much as you want, as long as the crew don’t start complaining.”

  Caldan remained silent, not wanting to bother her further, and ate with a will, finishing the plate quickly. The bread was stale, but mixed with some water it became chewable enough to get down.

  “Um… any chance I could have some more?”

  Miranda laughed, showing dimples in her cheeks, which he thought attractive. He would never have guessed when he first met her she had this other side. She seemed far too serious before.

  “My, you were hungry.” She looked pointedly at the tight sleeves on his shirt. “Not turning into a jukari are you?” she joked, referring to the wild creatures that could be found in some mountain ranges. They were rumored to be twice as big as a grown man and twice as hairy.

  He was sure she wasn’t referring to hairiness. “I don’t think so, not today anyway. At least I hope not!” They shared a laugh and a short companionable silence before Caldan spoke again.

  “I was serious, you know. Do you have any vegetables, green leafy ones? I’ve been craving green things for a while.”

  “Perhaps you’re turning into a rabbit?”

  His thoughts flashed back to the fight, and his sword penetrating Marlon’s chest. His smile faltered. “No, not a rabbit. Come on,” he said brusquely and led the way back to the galley, his long strides causing Miranda to hurry to catch up.

  She pointed out some greens, and he filled his plate with leaves, munching on some between handfuls. With a shake of her head, Miranda leaned against a table.

  “I’ve never seen someone eat so much.”

  “The crew eats well, from what I saw. Fresh food, and a lot of it.”

  “This is only a short trip, and we do it often, so there isn’t any need to provision with dried foods and the hard bread. We stock up at each port. It keeps the crew happier than some others I can tell you about. Our captain is considerate, though the fresh food costs more.”

  “It’s only been a month or so I have been as hungry as this. I think I must be having a late growth spurt,” he reasoned, finishing off the plate of greens already.

  “I guess you must be.” She fiddled with a lock of her hair that had come loose, twirling it around a finger. “How come you were forced to leave?”

  Caldan hesitated. The subject was still raw, but he felt like he needed to talk to someone. Miranda seemed pleasant and wanted to listen. “I caused an accident. Someone was bullying me, making my life hard whenever he could. He forced me to get angry then challenged me to a fight. The students sometimes settle things this way. It was only with wooden practice swords, but…” He trailed off and breathed deeply a few times. “I must have lost my temper. I hit him too hard in the heat of the fight. My sword broke, and… I don’t know what happened. It went into his chest.” Caldan closed his eyes at the look of shock on Miranda’s face. “I didn’t mean it to happen.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “Yes. They say he will recover, in time.” He opened his eyes and looked at her again. “It was all a blur. And a mistake. I shouldn’t have gotten angry. It’s… more the hurt I caused my friends and the people who have been my family for so long.”

  “Well, no one died, and you’re not a thief. I can tell the captain and crew the prisoner isn’t all bad, and we can rest easy.”

  Caldan could tell she was trying to put him at ease, but his mood had soured.

  “I’ll go back to my bunk and rest. Thank you for your kindness.”

  He nodded his thanks and left her there, leaning against the table.

  Chapter Six

  Caldan woke early the next morning, roused from sleep by the noise of crew members moving about. With a sniff, he realized he stank of stale sweat as he hadn’t washed in days. Deciding to do something about his unpleasant odor, he fished out a change of clothes and made his way on deck.

  In the thin light, the sun started to peek over the horizon. A flat sea greeted him. Not a breath of wind ruffled the sails.

  An old crew member walked the deck with a tray of steaming mugs, handing one to each sailor on duty. He caught sight of Caldan and handed him one, filled with strong coffee, gave a toothless smile and wandered off to finish handing out his mugs.

  There were two crewmen close by, both si
pping from mugs. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee and sputtered at the taste. Obviously they didn’t believe in cutting the bitterness with honey.

  “Flat as a lake out there,” one of the sailors said.

  “True.” His companion hawked up some phlegm and spat over the side. “Looks likely we won’t make Anasoma as quick as usual.”

  “Yep,” drawled the other. “Captain will probably have us working on the ship, though. No rest for us.”

  “She’ll want us to work out the kinks that’ve settled in the last few weeks. We ain’t seen any action on the sea, and what with the three day layoff in Eremite, reckon a few of the crew might be getting complacent.”

  “Excuse me.” Caldan took a few steps towards the crewmen. “Sorry to trouble you, but where can I wash up?”

  Two pairs of curious eyes turned to appraise him.

  “You that killer we got on board?” one said.

  “What? No! I haven’t killed anyone.”

  “I heard you ran someone through in a duel. Clean and cold as you like.” The sailor made a thrusting motion with one arm while the other crewman laughed.

  “Careful now,” his companion chimed in. “Don’t get on his bad side or you might be food for the sharks!”

  “Ha! Will take more than a young’n like this boy to best me.”

  “Sure it would. Your mum could beat you the first fifteen years of your life.”

  “Into the crappers with ya! Was more like thirteen!”

  Both men laughed heartily, and one wiped his eye, then the elder crewman addressed Caldan. “Pay no mind, young sir, we’s just having a joke. Seen a lot of bad stuff in our time, so we’s got to make light where we can. No offense.”

  Caldan didn’t know how to respond. His face burned with embarrassment. The older man looked at him with something close to pity.

  “Don’t be ashamed, boy. We’s heard it was an accident. Wash up, you said?”

  Caldan nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  “Back there. You see that bucket with a rope attached? Fetch yourself some sea water and use the sponge there. Don’t be shy seein’ we’re on deck. A small ship means doing away with some privacy. You get used to it.”

  “I’m telling you we shouldn’t keep taking sponges from the sea,” said the younger crewman.

  The older man rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

  “It makes sense, I’m telling you.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Sponges soak up water, and if the sponges from the sea bed are all taken up, what happens?” He looked at Caldan. “Hey? What do you think?”

  “I couldn’t guess,” Caldan responded hesitantly.

  “Why, the sea level will rise, of course! The cities will be flooded!”

  The older crewman smacked the other on the back of his head with a flat palm and almost spilled the coffee from his mug in the process.

  “Shut up, you moron. It’s bad enough I have to work with you, let alone listen to your crap.”

  “I reckon it’s true,” the younger man said, rubbing the back of his head.

  Caldan sidled away slowly. “Thank you kindly for your help. I’ll wash up now.”

  “You’re welcome. Pay no mind to this ignorant twit. Oh, and another thing. Rinse off the seawater with some fresh, or you’ll be dry and scratchy all day.” He nodded farewell, and they turned back to looking out at sea and the contents of their mugs.

  Hauling the bucket over the side, he drew up some seawater. He didn’t have soap so would have to make do. Another thing to go onto his list of essentials he needed. He stripped off his shirt but left his pants on. The crewmen might be used to a lack of privacy but he wasn’t, and he certainly wouldn’t be caught standing on deck with his plums out. Plus his trinket was hidden in his smallclothes.

  The seawater felt cold on his skin but pleasant. After rubbing his skin vigorously with the rough sponge, he refilled the bucket and tipped it over his head, then again. He stood there soaked in the morning breeze with his eyes closed and listened to the creak of the ship and the gulls circling overhead.

  He heard a crunch behind him and opened his eyes, turning to see Miranda sitting cross-legged on the deck, munching an apple and appraising him.

  “Good morning,” she chirped and took another bite.

  “Good morning to you, too,” he replied, embarrassed she had been watching him. He hastily put on his clean shirt, struggling to get the tight sleeves over his arms, and placed the sponge and bucket against the gunwale. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, not at all,” Miranda said. “Just taking in the fresh air and sights. Glad you washed up. I wasn’t going to say anything yesterday.” She wrinkled her nose. “But you did smell a bit.”

  “I didn’t get a chance to do a lot of things before I had to leave, and was abed for a few days. It feels good to be clean again.”

  In fact, it felt very good. The saltwater and scrub had left his skin raw and tingly, as if he had scrubbed away old skin and had been left with new.

  Miranda looked him up and down. “You must have done a lot of exercise back there. The monastery kept you fit.”

  “Yes. They… the monks placed emphasis on maintaining a healthy body as well as mind. Though mostly we studied inside, less active subjects.”

  “Hmm… If you say so.”

  Caldan stood still and allowed the morning breeze to slowly evaporate the moisture from his skin. While not strong enough to cause many ripples on the sea, it had picked up enough to send the occasional sail flapping. He checked on Miranda. She was still there looking at him and had nibbled her apple down to nothing. Soon all that was left were a few seeds and the stem, which she tossed over the side.

  “Here, you’ll need this,” she said, and slid a waterskin across the deck.

  His skin felt tight, and he remembered the crewman’s advice to rinse with fresh water. He squirted it across his face and arms, rubbing with his hands to remove the sea salt. Under his shirt his skin felt prickly, but he wasn’t about to undress in front of Miranda.

  “Thank you.” He took a swig of the water and rinsed his mouth. “A couple of crewmen said we’ll be delayed because of the lack of wind.”

  “I dare say those men didn’t lack for any wind,” she remarked. “But yes, this weather isn’t speeding us along, as you can see. Care to share what’s left in your mug?”

  He passed her the dregs, a few mouthfuls which he hoped hadn’t been splashed with saltwater while he washed. She nodded her thanks, brought the mug to her lips and took a swallow, then tilted it to finish it off.

  “Ah! Nothing like someone else’s cold coffee in the morning. I think I’ll get a refill of fresh stuff. Be seeing you around later, I’m sure.” She headed down below, leaving him standing there.

  Caldan spent the rest of the morning wandering around the ship, both above deck and below. Above deck, most of the crew looked idle, the lack of wind meaning they didn’t have much to do, and for the most part they were relaxing. A few impromptu dice and card games had sprung up, with the participants keeping a sharp eye out for Captain Charlotte in case she came up on deck. He nodded greetings to the crew that caught his eye as he passed. Some returned the courtesy, while others never responded or avoided him altogether.

  The constant moving of the deck and swaying to and fro were peculiar to Caldan, and always he could hear wood creaking and ropes groaning, even in the flat water. His sword training from the monastery had gone some way to helping him cope with the rolling of the ship, but the mild swell was an easy introduction to walking on deck. No sign he would succumb to sea sickness yet, for which he was thankful.

  By late afternoon, Caldan found himself sitting cross-legged in the shade, his back leaning on the gunwale. His arms were sore from exposure to the sun, and he ached with thirst. He took a swig of water from a skin. Warm and tasting like leather, it wasn’t the best, but it was a welcome relief after a day on deck.

  Throughout the day he had
found his fingers returning to touch the rings, where they snuggled in his smallclothes, as long as no one was looking. Their studies had touched on the subject of trinkets, but the monastery didn’t have one for the students to study, so they could only rely on a few old written reports and the knowledge of the masters.

  Trinkets were all created thousands of years ago, before the Shattering had destroyed much of the accumulated knowledge practiced by sorcerers. They took many different forms, though most were jewelry since they could be easily worn to keep them safe, but mainly to have them close at hand as many were passive. Their influence only extended a small way, generally to whoever wore them. Sorcerers had been able to craft objects of power but none like trinkets. Before the Shattering, the wealthy and powerful were usually the sole possessors of trinkets, whereas after the Shattering and the ensuing chaos, many trinkets found their way into ordinary hands. Whether by luck, theft, payment or other reasons, the exclusivity of owning such an item became a mark of power and influence among all sections of society. Many were now pieces of jewelry with their own family stories attached, handed down from generation to generation and kept secret. Due to their sorcerous capacity — in some cases able to be used by people without talent — and their intrinsic rarity, they were highly valued. Thieves were hired to steal them, poor families kept theirs hidden, while the wealthy locked them up as securely as they could, tightly kept family secrets.

  His trinket was his only clue to tracking his family history, where they had come from, and maybe a chance to find out what his parents had been like. And it might get him killed. Other than being valuable, it was of no practical use to him, unless he could unravel its function — something the monks had been unable to do the whole time they had it in their possession.

  Caldan sighed. He had no idea how he was going to use his trinket to find out more about his parents, but he was sure in such a big city as Anasoma there must be someone who could help.