Soul of Magic: Book 1 of the Chronomancer Series

by Mark August

  Her deep red dress flowed with each dignified step and whispered with the silk imported from the Kingdom of Jizhou. The material was cut to perfection and highlighted her youthful body. Her brown eyes held deep blue flecks in them, and she fixated the Council with her gaze. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she made no effort to hide the gray flowing through her hair. Every inch the sorceratti.

  “Permission to address the Council, my lady?”

  Enna shot Attius a look of disgust. She was not impressed with the theatrics, but she would honor a family member's request to address the Council.

  “Yes, sorceratti. I will assume that you had a role in the fire in your house.” The Duchess was careful in her choice of words.

  “I did, my lady. I was the one able to enter the prison and determine what happened with the fire still raging. The blaze was started and fueled by magic.”

  “Magic. Perhaps something you created, sorceratti?” Attius wanted to jump to his feet and choke the Duchess. Then he’d lose everything.

  “No, my lady. I was the first to respond to the fire because I felt the magic before it started. A powerful wizard set the fire to escape.”

  Attius glowed with pride. Her tone was the perfect poise of nobility. His daughter stood her ground under the heat of the Duchess’ gaze. The former Duke watched diplomats melt under the Council’s scrutiny, and his daughter kept her poise through it all. He was proud of her, and he needed to tell her that.

  “I went to the flames and smoke. I found locks destroyed by magic—”

  “Likely from the fire, you mean.” Lord Taurus said. He wasn’t convinced yet, but his vote would be necessary to Attius’ plans. His focus on the city’s funds would be critical to future plans.

  “Fire does not melt steel in minutes, and it doesn’t leave puddles on the floor. And I must point out the bars were not affected. No, the fire didn’t melt the locks.”

  “Sorceratti, the prisoners?” Lady Zonara asked.

  Vedette paused. Attius watched his daughter’s performance pull in the attention of each member of the Council. When she continued, they hung on each of her words.

  “One prisoner was placed between pallets of straw. I can only guess it was an impromptu pyre. I only found evidence of a single prisoner in the prison.”

  “Which one was on the pyre, sorceratti?” Lady Zonara continued.

  “Magi Cormac was dead and burning when I arrived.”

  Voices cracked the silence as the rumors were confirmed. Attius kept his gaze on his daughter, his sorceratti. She carried the weight of experience far beyond her life, and she was regal at this moment.

  Time to put things in motion.

  “My lady, I request my sorceratti remain with us as a member of my staff for the rest of the Council meeting. We may need her knowledge and experience.” With a flourish, Attius summoned the servants. In his years as Council member and Duke, this was his first request for a family member to stay on for deliberations.

  Two servants moved a cushioned chair from a side room and placed it behind the Council table next to Attius. Vedette gave a bow and moved to her positioned seat. Attius leaned over as she adjusted her dress to sit down.

  “I’m so proud of you, Vedette.”

  “Father, I’m concerned the Council won’t take the right action.”

  “That’s why I need you to stay.”

  The gavel tapped on the Council table to force attention away from the side discussions. The Duchess cleared her throat.

  “I accept that we must address this issue.”

  “My lady, should we send our investigators to the prison?” asked Lady Enna. Attius didn’t hold back a grimace.

  Lord Taurus came to his aid and said, “Are we going to set a new standard for house interaction? Are we going to question each house? Or is this Council going to focus on the status of our city?”

  “We haven’t faced a threat—” Lady Enna said.

  “I thought we’re proposing an investigation into these affairs,” Lord Gordio joined the fray. Attius noted the support from this new direction.

  Vedette shuffled her feet, and Attius placed a hand on her knee. He imperceptibly shook his head. Silence and patience were more critical now than correcting the record.

  “I am, but are we to take—” Enna tried to continue.

  “Yes, we are. The sorceratti gave us her testimony, and no one will be able to refute any of her claims,” the Duchess said. Attius was already approaching half the Council votes.

  Lord Taurus continued his argument, “We must consider a course of action. If this was an escape, we must plan our next move.”

  Done. Now he needed to move forward with his plans.

  “My lords and ladies, we are concerned he may flee justice. My agents are roaming the docks and monitoring traffic. But I can’t cover the other islands. I suggest we monitor our docks that transition traffic to the mainland.”

  As the Duchess pulled in a breath, Zonara said, “Second.”

  The Duchess replied with a call for a vote. All agreed to mount a guard to observe the docks.

  “With your permission, Father. I would like to address the Council.”

  “Of course.” This wasn’t rehearsed, but her performance had been flawless. Attius was interested in what his daughter would say at this point. He’d give her room to maneuver.

  “Ladies and lords, we must also consider another dangerous possibility.”

  “A conspiracy?” Enna asked.

  “Enough.” The Duchess was not taking sides.

  “Revenge.”

  “Who’s, the House of Atros or—”

  “Master of arms, if Lady Enna speaks again without being recognized by me, remove her by force.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “The wizard could come after this house or go for his sister.”

  “Indeed. I could see that threat.” Taurus said.

  “What do you propose, Attius?” Zonara asked.

  Attius leaned forward into the table and spoke with the practiced volume of command. “We need to commit sorceratti to the defense of the prison. We need to get our intelligence services paying attention to this threat.”

  “Request permission to address, my lady.” Enna’s words made the Duchess’ face turn red.

  “Please.”

  “If the object is revenge, then we should be discussing the protection of our houses.”

  Finally. Attius sprung his trap.

  “Protect our houses. I have asked for help to resolve a situation created by a Council decision. I would have the master of ceremony review the record in my opposition.”

  “Attius, that won’t be necessary,” Taurus said. “We remember the vote to take the sister away.”

  “Then we will form a central force of sorceratti to protect the prison. We may even be able to recapture him there.”

  “Excellent plan, but who will lead it?” Zonara asked.

  “I would like my daughter to organize the city’s arcane defense.” The Council murmured about this proposal. His request was unprecedented. “And I would like to remind the Council the last time they ignored my cautious advice, we lost our leverage and created the situation.”

  “I’m not sure we have a choice in this matter. But I also know we must put limits on this type of power.”

  “Agreed,” Taurus said.

  Attius asserted his leadership with the City Council again. “We should agree to authorize for the term of seven days. The situation will be finished by then. I think we can all agree to this.”

  The Council announced their consent.

  Attius turned to his daughter, his sorceratti. “You understand what we need?”

  She smiled. “I do.”

  Sixty-Two

  Kincaid - Debtors Prison

  Kincaid held Sholeh’s hand. Her touch was firm, and warmth poured through Kincaid’s heart. He didn’t let her go again, and her calloused hand brought back fond memories.

 
They walked away from the small dock and strolled across the open square toward the city prison as a couple. The footing was unstable on the rejected pieces of masonry, repurposed as uneven cobblestones in front of the imposing building. Shadows crept across the open ground toward the pier. No one in their right mind would assault this building.

  The structure resembled harbor fortifications set on a human-made island set away from the city boundary. A canal didn’t connect this structure to the city proper, and a boat made the round trip across the bay a few times a day. From a distance, the stone building looked impressive. Up close in the square, the thick structure crushed spirits. Visitors approaching the city for the first time would not imagine the captured souls wasting away within these walls as families struggled to pay the bills.

  Showing up as a couple was essential to Kincaid’s plan. The noble houses searched for a wizard to show up on their doorsteps and wield destruction. A couple visiting a son or daughter in debtor’s prison would blend into the crowd. They looked like immigrants struggling to make ends meet—all too close to the truth.

  Kincaid mirrored the bent-over posture and downcast eyes of the others shambling toward the prison. He couldn’t stare at the defenses of the place. A pair of guards were alert as the travelers approached the main door. Their eyes scanned each arrival.

  Guards on the rooftop of the two-story structure carried loaded crossbows. A fight on the docks or courtyard would be deadly, and none would make it to a waiting ship for an escape. Their plan had to work.

  “What brings you here?” The question was routine and monotonous.

  “Paying for our son.” Kincaid dared not to make eye contact.

  “Getting him out?”

  “No.” Kincaid tried not to look over as Sholeh gave a good sob of despair. “Not enough food. We want him to eat until we raise the rest.”

  The other guard took notice.

  “Where are you two from?”

  Kincaid felt Sholeh grip his hand. They hadn’t considered this.

  “Sir, from the Northern States.”

  “The Empire.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  Too many questions.

  “Two years for me, sir, and three for my wife.”

  “Occupation?”

  “Workers. Isn’t that where all immigrants start in Caesea?”

  Satisfied with their answers, the guards gestured the pair to the ironbound doors. With only the first test passed, Kincaid tried not to smile. As the guards questioned the other travelers, Kincaid occupied his attention with the craftsmanship of the door.

  The pair of oak doors required a battering ram to break inside. Starved prisoners had no chance to break out.

  As the right door swung open, Kincaid’s step faltered. His vision tunneled as darkness closed in on the edges. Memories of a different prison drained the strength from his legs. Sholeh slipped her arm around his waist and held him up. The guards laughed at him and gestured toward the door.

  In his mind, the opening was a maw ready to swallow him. He wanted to punch through the darkness with his magic. But his lifespan would last seconds with that move. Sholeh moved her arm and squeezed his hands. Stick to their plan.

  They walked into the structure and found themselves in a cavernous waiting chamber. Cold granite surrounded a room large enough for the entire visiting party to enter. Steel bars blocked advancement into the prison, and a small desk with neat papers and several inkwells blocked the door. An administrator waited for the arrivals to enter the room.

  “Must be new to the prison.” His white hair was balding, and a pair of glasses perched at the end of his nose. “Unless you’ve done something wrong, we might let you leave.” He gave a dry cackle at his joke. The door clunked behind the arrivals, and a pair of guards stood at the exit from the prison.

  “Yes, first visit.” Kincaid groaned out these words. Too much of his fear was real.

  “Then approach and give me your purpose.”

  “My brother is here. Journeyman Thomas.”

  Kincaid hated changing their story with the guards. They hadn’t considered a scribe working a desk and cross-referencing the names. They didn’t look old enough to have a mature son in prison, and this bureaucrat would see through a blatant lie. The young wizard remembered the blacksmith apprentice from Sholeh’s forge who enjoyed gambling.

  “Thomas, eh?” Bony fingers shuffled through his journal while jabbing at each name. Bureaucrats and their books. “No one has been here to visit him in two months.” His eyes snapped up to look at them both in the flickering light from nearby oil lamps.

  “We couldn’t raise enough money for his debt, but we want to pay for his imprisonment and maybe some food.”

  Sholeh jumped in. “We have a few silvers for him.”

  “You’ll be back soon if you think a few silvers will pay for much.”

  “Oh please, sir. We just—”

  “You may see him, but I will settle the bill here.”

  Kincaid fumbled at his belt for their coins. The rattle indicated only three or four small pieces.

  “Fools. He’s already behind on his payments for imprisonment. Half ration for the last month, and he’ll be down to quarter rations in two weeks. With what you have, I’ll give him a month on half.”

  Kincaid gasped, and blood reddened his cheeks. Sholeh squeezed his hand in warning. Rage boiled within his chest. “He’s starving in here?”

  “This isn’t an inn. What is your name?”

  “Barnet.”

  “Well, Barnet, look around you. With all the prisoners here, less than a dozen people showed up at this prison to see their loved ones. The ones that are here, no one will notice if they live or die. Pay or go back to the city.”

  The guards at the doors clanked the last locks into place. Kincaid was committed.

  “I will notice if these prisoners live or die.”

  Kincaid’s soul embraced the rush of arcane power. Cormac’s soul harnessed the flow of energy into two streams of magic. The first opened a hole in the floor under the administrator's seat and dropped him to his upper chest. With a thought, the hole filled and captured the man. Kincaid ignored his high-pitched screams.

  The second stream of magic created columns of air around the two guards near the entrance. He clamped their arms to their sides and squeezed the pressure on their chests.

  Sholeh reached under her cloak and grabbed her pair of smith’s hammers. She spun to confront the guards behind them and was ready to spring into action. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she gasped.

  “By all that is holy, Kincaid. Release them.”

  The guards would split them open without a thought. His blood thundered with his channeled energy. He’d kill them first.

  “Open the door first.” He spit the words through gritted teeth.

  Sholeh wasted a moment and glared at him. She spun toward the iron bars and examined the lock separating them from the cell blocks. Metal reverberated from the hammer's impact, and the metal sparked with the steel on steel impact. The lock still secured the entrance.

  The smith turned back toward Kincaid. “We need the key. It’s probably buried with the administrator. Can you find it?”

  Kincaid sighed and pulled another stream of magic into his stolen soul. Cormac’s energy groaned under the pressure. With an arcane blast, the bars melted in a circular pattern wide enough for them to stride through.

  He turned toward the bureaucrat and the administrator. “My friend convinced me to keep you alive. If you stay silent, I may honor that promise.” He waited until each nodded their compliance.

  Kincaid crouched to one knee and glared at the entombed administrator. “Where’s prisoner Liane?”

  The man shook his head and steeled his face. The ground groaned under Kincaid’s feet. The young wizard ignored the tears streaming down the man’s face and the sound of bones snapping.

  Kincaid felt a sharp punch between the shoulder blades. “Kinc
aid, no. Do not do this.”

  Anger and magic swirled in his rage and walled off his conscience pleading for mercy.

  Sholeh grabbed his face and closed nose-to-nose. Her eyes pooled with tears. “You will regret this for the rest of your life.”

  Power crushed the air out of the lungs of Kincaid’s prisoners until they passed out. He released them as they collapsed to the floor.

  “Get him out of the ground, Kincaid.” The command was choked with emotion.

  Without a word, Kincaid pulled the administrator’s shattered body out of the ground and laid it next to the unconscious guards. Sholeh dropped her hammers to her side.

  “We have to get Liane out of here, Sholeh. We’re wasting—”

  Kincaid’s head snapped toward the interior of the prison as his soul sensed the surging forces of magic building from within. More than one source. Fight his way out or fight his way in.

  “Sholeh, hide with these families. Don’t argue with me.”

  Sixty-Three

  Kincaid - Trap Of The Sorceratti

  “You made a mistake coming here, Kincaid.” The woman’s voice echoed through the still complex. Magic gave the voice strength and power. She had confidence. No, arrogance. Sorceratti. “House Atros knew you would, and we’re ready.”

  The female voice was goading him into conflict. Make a mistake out of passion. Of course, this was a trap, but the only way to find Liane was to spring their plans. If she was still here. He didn’t want to consider if Liane wasn’t alive.

  Kincaid squeezed Sholeh’s hand and pointed toward the huddling family members. He mouthed the word “please” and then turned toward the cell block.

  The young wizard closed his eyes and used the smallest trickle of power he could control. He let his senses push into the murk of the unlighted cell block and let his mind map the floor. Sounds created echoes, and lights provided beacons. Confident he had an awareness of the prison layout, he strode through the melted bars.