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

by Hogan, Mitchell

  Caldan’s mind reeled. Destructive sorcery. And the Protectors knew it existed! The applications for such knowledge were countless. But so were the chances of abuse. Just because someone had a talent with crafting didn’t make them a good person. There were good and bad people in all walks of life. He began to see why the Protectors had been formed.

  “Rumors of rogue sorcerers always surface,” continued Simmon. “Most of them are just that, rumors created by bored or drunk people for their own amusement. Some, however, are not rumors, and that’s where we come in.”

  “Surely you don’t hunt down sorcerers for making discoveries?”

  Simmon’s gaze hardened. “Not for making discoveries. For choosing a particular path, one which could destroy more than themselves. Imagine a world where all sorcerers could summon fire, cold, shatter stone or steel. Imagine the chaos! People can’t be trusted to do the right thing, to only use such power for the good of society. And a few people are worse. They would see it as a means to an end, a way of dominating others with violence. So you see, what we Protectors do is… protect.”

  Caldan nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. It made sense, if what Simmon said were true, and he had no reason to doubt his word. But destructive sorcery? Hidden for thousands of years from everyone? It was a lot to swallow all at once. And why tell him? He had only just arrived. A sneaking suspicion dawned on him.

  “Master Simmon, why are you telling me all this?”

  “Quite simply, I want you to join the Protectors. I can guarantee it will be far more rewarding than what Master Garren had planned for you. That’s why he was upset, because I told him I was going to take you off his hands.”

  “But, aren’t I his? I mean, not as property, but he accepted me first.”

  “Ah, but I outrank Master Garren.”

  There was rank within the masters? “I thought the Protectors worked with the sorcerers, but weren’t part of them.”

  “All Protectors need to be proficient in crafting. You can’t detect destructive sorcery unless you are, and you certainly need to be able to negate it.”

  “You’re like the harbor watch? Or the Quivers? Keeping an eye out for anything wrong and acting if something happens.”

  “That’s close enough, if a bit simplistic. We look out for apprentices with certain skills and talents, and if we think they are suitable we ask them to join, usually after they graduate to journeyman status.”

  “Ask? What if I don’t want to? Haven’t you told me a lot of knowledge you would prefer to remain secret?”

  “Nothing many people haven’t speculated on before. And those in high power, some few nobles, the emperor and his chancellors, they already know. Besides, I believe your time at the monastery taught you a great deal about self-sacrifice, and provided you with a sense of mission.”

  Caldan remained silent, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. “And if you have judged my character wrong and I tell people?”

  “I’m sure you won’t. I haven’t been known to judge someone wrongly before.”

  “What would joining the Protectors involve? I’ve only just come here, and I didn’t serve an apprenticeship…” Caldan trailed off.

  “We still need to work out what your strengths and weaknesses are, then we can decide what further training you need. Obviously, you can handle yourself with a sword.”

  Caldan blushed. “That was a stroke of luck. I’ve never been in a real swordfight or worn a sword outside practice sessions.”

  Simmon waved a hand dismissively. “Not many of the Protectors have been in a real swordfight. We like to keep everyone prepared, though.”

  Caldan wasn’t a fool, and he could sense Simmon wasn’t telling the whole story. Which was to be expected. The master wasn’t going to trust someone he barely knew with the entire secrets of the Protectors. No doubt the further Caldan progressed within the Protectors the more knowledge he would be entrusted with.

  “I’d still be able to study crafting?”

  “Master Garren had arranged a minor role of assisting the masters for you, and possibly receiving some training, if your time permitted. At a wage of four coppers a week, I believe?”

  Caldan nodded in agreement. “And you are offering something similar?”

  “No, the Protectors are different. As I said before, we need to determine what extra training you require, so that takes priority. I can assure you that for crafting, as well as numerous other subjects, training will be ongoing. You needn’t worry there. And wages will be a silver ducat a seven day.” Simmon’s eyes bored into his. “I trust that will be sufficient?”

  A silver ducat! Ten coppers a seven day. More than twice what Garren had offered him. Caldan recognized a sweetener to a deal when he saw one. Still, he would be receiving more training than Garren had offered and more coins.

  Simmon stood and stepped around from behind his desk, his movements economical and smooth. “Do we have an agreement?” he asked and held out his hand.

  Caldan clasped it in his own, feeling the strength in Simmon’s grip.

  “Yes. It’s a good offer. Thank you.”

  Simmon smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Master Garren was upset at losing you because of the crafting display you performed for him. He was impressed but didn’t know what to make of it, which was why it took him so long to find a place for you.”

  “It was a paper box,” protested Caldan weakly. “Nothing extraordinary.”

  “It’s a rare thing to be able to craft with paper and for the object to last longer than an hour or two. A useful talent only a few masters have.”

  “What now? Do I move from the dormitory to somewhere else?”

  “Of course. I’ll have someone arrange for a room of your own. It will be small, mind you, nothing extravagant. You’ll also need to set yourself up with some gear and equipment. The senior Protectors will provide you with a list of what’s required.”

  Caldan’s face fell. Where was he going to get the ducats to pay for what he needed? He couldn’t ask Miranda for a loan, and she was the only person he knew in the city. A moneylender wouldn’t loan him anything since he didn’t have collateral or any way of paying back the extortionate interest they charged.

  “You don’t have any ducats, do you?” Simmon surmised at Caldan’s crestfallen expression.

  “No,” said Caldan with a hint of shame. “I’m sure I can save some from my wages, maybe find another way to earn some coins while I’m training.”

  “That won’t do. You can’t concentrate if you are worrying about not having the proper equipment and how to earn enough ducats to buy it.” He opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged around, withdrawing a cloth purse much like the one stolen from Caldan only a few days ago. It felt like months ago, so much had changed since then.

  “Here.” Simmon tossed Caldan the coin purse, which he caught with a faint clink. “Pay me back as soon as you can. And I mean sooner rather than later. Don’t let on I did this for you, either. Can’t have people think I play favorites.”

  He’s been more than generous. This can’t be the treatment apprentices usually receive. What’s he hiding? “Thank you, Master Simmon. I’ll repay you as soon as possible.”

  “See that you do. One more thing. I know it seems like this is just a job to you, but think about what it means. For a lot of us it becomes far more than a job. Go now. See one of the senior Protectors. I spoke to a couple of them earlier, and by now word will have spread. They’ll have a room made up for you and that list.”

  “You were confident I’d agree?”

  Simmon shrugged. “Pretty much. As I said, I’m a good judge of character.” He waved a hand at Caldan. “Go on, you’ll need the rest of the day to settle in and buy some gear.”

  Caldan gripped the purse in one hand and with a nod to Master Simmon exited the room with a spring in his step. He had found somewhere he could continue his training, and he wasn’t destitute anymore. In debt, but not destitute.
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  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Glowing a fierce orange, the setting sun bled through the streets of the deserted town. Warm evening winds blew dust around weed-strewn streets, across the nearby fields, then into the surrounding forest.

  It was the fields that had halted Lady Caitlyn and her men before they continued into the dusty ramshackle buildings of the town. They had been recently plowed and planted. Small green shoots sprouted from the broken soil, while at the nearby stream a waterwheel turned lazily. Despite the town appearing deserted, the waterwheel bore signs of recent repairs: new bindings around joints, recently replaced struts.

  According to her scouts, the two farmhands they were following had entered the town a few hours ago. Caitlyn and her men had spent the day after the nighttime skirmish the farmhands had with the bandits attempting to find their trail. Though now she knew they were no ordinary farmhands, and most likely sorcerers. Of the foulest kind, too, judging by their actions. She didn’t usually like to go after rogue sorcerers herself, preferring to notify the Protectors, but she couldn’t let these go. Who knew what they were up to? Nothing good, that was certain.

  Crouched on a rise covered in tall grass between the forest and the fields, Caitlyn lay in watch. Next to her, Aidan lay on his stomach, and behind him Chalayan sat cross-legged. Purple butterflies flew among them and in the fields, landing on their clothes.

  Dry grass rustled as the sorcerer fidgeted. He had been on edge since the night of sorcery when they discovered the dead bandits. After finding their trail, which had been obscured somehow — sorcery again most likely — the farmhands had remained ahead of them over the last few days because of their lead. Her scouts had been hard-pressed tracking them, as they moved ahead with uncanny speed, but had managed to keep their trail.

  After Caitlyn arrived, she learned they had seen some movement in the town, but no one had left. A few women and men had moved between houses and the large barn near the center. No farmers had visited the fields. Crops grew on their own with little supervision, she supposed. How nice.

  Heat from the ground seeped into her body. Caitlyn breathed in warm air. The scent of soil and grass tickled her nostrils, making them itch. It had been a lovely day, which she was sure would stretch into a lovely night, a night where good triumphed over evil. For she was sure something was amiss, and she was never wrong. Except one time, with her baby… She squeezed her eyes shut, breath coming in harsh gasps.

  “My lady,” whispered Aidan, urgency in his voice. “What is it?”

  She waved him away. Damned memories, would she ever be rid of them? “Nothing.”

  The wind stirred dust into her eyes, making them water. She turned onto her back and used her handkerchief to wipe them. Aidan stared at her. She pushed the cloth into a pocket and rubbed her hands on her shirt. Bloody heat made her sweat.

  “Chalayan,” she called, loud enough to carry. “Can you sense anything from the town? Any sorcery?”

  The man shook his head. Thin braids of hair over his ears swung gently, each tied with a different colored cord. She knew her men, and he was worried.

  “What is it?”

  Chalayan, whose skill she hadn’t seen defeated in all of their campaigns, rubbed his arms and looked away. His was a mix of raw talent, conventional sorcery and tribal lore, and she would take his feel for sorcery over any of the empire’s sorcerers. Her commission from the emperor gave her much authority and a certain amount of leeway. Enough so she didn’t have to drag one of the emperor’s pet sorcerers around with her. Or any of the Protectors with their rules.

  “Chalayan…” she warned.

  “I need more time,” he replied tersely.

  Aidan glanced at her then went back to observing the town. Caitlyn crawled on her belly over to the sorcerer, who shivered despite the warm air.

  “What is it?”

  “A moment, please.”

  Next to him he had cleared a patch of grass and scratched two symbols into the dirt, meaningless to her. He lifted his right hand, hesitated, then drew another symbol. He whispered a few words, guttural and raw, then closed his eyes. Motionless, he sat there. They waited.

  Chalayan’s eyeballs moved under his lids. Sweat poured from his face and dripped onto the dirt, eagerly sucked in by the dry earth. With a suddenness that startled Caitlyn, he opened his eyes and with a quick stoke erased the runes.

  “This place,” he whispered. “I fear it.”

  Caitlyn froze. Nothing frightened this man.

  Chalayan pulled up some grass and twisted it around his fingers. “It…Powerful sorcery has been done here, for many years. This place feels wrong.”

  “Easy, Chalayan, we can handle it.” She smiled at him and settled a hand on his arm.

  “Those two men are in there somewhere. I don’t know how they did the things they did.” He spoke of the destruction rained down on the bandits. Heat, fire, broken trees.

  She looked towards the town. “They don’t know we’re here, so we can catch them by surprise.”

  Aidan stirred from his spot, turning to face them. “We can’t. We have no idea how many there are, their strength, or what resources they have.”

  “We can,” said Caitlyn firmly. “And we will.”

  Aidan cursed under his breath. “My lady, if you would…”

  “No. Surprise is the key this time.”

  “But…”

  “Aidan,” snapped Caitlyn. “I have decided.” Weak. They all showed it in the end. She rose to a crouch and shuffled back towards the camp. Behind a rise, when she was confident of not being seen, she straightened and slapped her pants and shirt, puffs of dust rising with each hit.

  Aidan watched her go then turned to Chalayan. “What is it, my friend? Why so uneasy?”

  “Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.” He raised his trinket to his lips. “This is a bad place.”

  Without another word, he left Aidan on the rise among the butterflies.

  The sun dipped below the hills after what felt like an interminable wait. Stars twinkled in the night sky.

  Aidan stood next to Caitlyn as she gathered the men and outlined her plan. Most of these men are only here for coins, violence and pleasure. Why can’t she see? Or does she? Does she know but allows these things happen because they are a lesser evil than the ones she is trying to destroy?

  They stood in a circle by the light of a full and glowing moon.

  Caitlyn surveyed them all.

  “Listen up. Four teams, each approaching the town from a different direction, each team to spread out and look for signs of life as you converge on the center. Head towards the large barn. You should be able to see it over the tops of the other buildings. Make no noise, and keep an eye out for anything strange, anything that will give us an idea as to what’s going on.”

  She cleared her throat and continued, meeting the eyes of each man as they stood around her. Some fidgeted, the nervous subconscious movements of men who inwardly dreaded the fighting they knew was to come. Some wore tight smiles or outright grins, those who relished the bloodshed and violence that usually came with one of her crusades.

  “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here, and you all saw what happened to the bandits. We think they have an alchemical mixture that explodes and burns, but…” She spread her hands. “We can’t say for sure.”

  Murmurs arose at her statement.

  “What this means,” she said loudly, “is that we need to retain the element of surprise. They have no idea we’re here, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

  “Can’t Chalayan protect us from the alchemy?” asked an older warrior. All eyes turned to the sorcerer, who shook his head.

  “I’ll be with one group,” he said. “I can’t be with all four, and even for the group I’m with I can only offer minimal protection. The power of the… explosions… I doubt I could hold out for long.” He glanced at Caitlyn then looked away.

  She slowly walked the circle of men facing he
r. “You all know why we are here: to face another evil. We have the cause of righteousness on our side, as we always have, and like so many other times before, we will be victorious!” Caitlyn’s words rang in their ears. “Trust your own skills and those of your fellow men. We have faced malevolent creations from before the Shattering, and depraved men who placed no value on human life. Each time we prevailed! And we will again, for our cause is just… and right.” Her eyes shone in the moonlight, and many nods and muted whisperings greeted her words. She surveyed the group around her, eyes scanning them all.

  Aidan could feel the strength of her conviction. This time it felt wrong, as if Caitlyn had veered down a dangerous path.

  With a wave, Caitlyn dismissed the men, who shuffled off in all directions to finish packing their gear and gather in their assigned groups.

  Aidan approached her, followed closely by Chalayan and Anshul cel Rau. The three of them stayed with Caitlyn’s group, as always.

  Chalayan looked wan in the faint light, and Anshul adjusted his swords in their scabbard, for the third time since Caitlyn had begun her speech, if Aidan’s reckoning was correct. He looked around with a flicker of unease. With Chalayan’s obvious apprehension, even the swordsman had become nervous.

  Aidan pondered the situation. His own palms were sweaty just standing near the sorcerer and the swordsman, his subconscious picking up the signs of their unease and vibrating in tune. Both Chalayan and cel Rau stared at him.

  Eventually, he approached Caitlyn, who smiled at him lopsidedly. “What is it?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “Chalayan says this is a bad place, and with what happened to the bandits….” He trailed off. “I think we should scout the town longer, see what we are up against.”