by Mark August
Sholeh chuckled, and her arms adjusted around his back. The blacksmith was an excellent strategist.
“How much money do we have left, Sholeh?”
“If we are careful, we can get through another week.” She looked him in the eyes. “We will not have enough for a ship to the mainland.”
Kincaid shook his head. “We stayed too long.”
She gave him a genuine smile that lit up her brown eyes. “Of course, I am right. Try to remember a time I have been wrong.”
“Can’t.”
“I do not remember the last time we ate. Hungry?”
“Yes, and I think we need to find another place to stay. This isn’t safe.”
“I will get some food. We can change rooms tomorrow night.”
“Packing won’t take long.” Kincaid shrugged his shoulders and smiled. All he had left was humor.
“Kincaid, no fighting and no magic. Understand?”
Kincaid gave her a crooked grin as she grabbed her cloak. “Of course.”
“Of course, what?” She raised an eyebrow at him and fastened the clasp of her cloak.
“No fighting or magic while you’re gone, Sholeh. We don’t need the House of Atros descending on top of us.”
“Good.” She gave him a firm hug and then adjusted her cloak around her shoulders. Sholeh glanced each way into the hallway before she slipped outside. The latch clicked into place as she left.
Kincaid looked around the room, and his eyes fell on the blackwood cane. It was a symbol of his old life and a reminder of everything he lost. Master Barnet’s hands carried the cane for as long as Kincaid knew him. And because of Kincaid’s magic, the master was gone.
The wood warmed to his touch. His fingers brushed the grains of wood as his mind probed the depths of the crafted wood. Magic allowed him to see the artwork in every piece of wood. He’d had the power long before the fight with the thugs, but he couldn’t afford to use the magic now. He’d promised.
Kincaid turned his thoughts to escape from the city. The cane in his hands helped them think. It reminded him of what mattered.
Seventy-Three
Vedette - News
Pounding at her door tore her from a deep slumber. Only pausing to grab a robe, she padded across the cold flagstone floor in bare feet. Her breath puffed in the chilly predawn air.
An out-of-breath servant waited at the door. She curtsied before speaking. “My lady, your father requests your immediate presence in the Great Hall.”
Vedette tried to clear the fog from her mind. She couldn’t make out the time from the water clock on the opposite side of the room. “Do you know what the alarm is for?”
“No, my lady. But I’m to help you get ready immediately.”
Fear made Vedette’s fingers fumbled with the clasps on her clothes. She wrapped a long cloak across her shoulders for the travel through the house’s stone hallways. Uncertainty clouded her mood and distracted her thoughts. Fortunately, the servant made her presentable for a family meeting.
The stairwell was active, with servants running to different floors. They stepped to the side and bowed at her passing. For this time of the morning, the actions of the house showed an organization waiting for something. None of it would be good.
The steward of the household held deep creases across his brow. He avoided eye contact with the family sorceratti as he announced her arrival. He knew something.
Clusters of advisers and the family gathered near the fireplace, struggling to come to a roar. The smell of coffee roast and morning pastries wafted near the gathering. Steaming cups warmed hands as voices stayed silent.
Her mother broke from the group and strode toward her. Her eyes were red, and the end of her sleeves was wet. She struggled to keep her demeanor as she wrapped her arms around Vedette.
“I’m so sorry, Vedette.”
“For waking me up? I’m fine.”
“The city will be in action before the sun comes up. And now we have arrangements to make.”
Her family planned wars for generations, and their strategies were relentless. This war was something more profound. Her mind latched on the word arrangements. Vedette pulled away from her mother’s chest and peered at the gathering. She counted her siblings.
Vedette reached to her arcane power for strength. Warmth flooded her body, and energy propped up her falling soul. Fear dissipated under the burning heat of her power.
“We should join them, mother.” Her words barked like a command. The events of the bleak night would not get better talking around their situation. The family needed their sorceratti for strength and power. If magic was to blame, she’d be at the forefront.
Livia looked her daughter over. Her look was sad, perhaps resignation, for the role she knew Vedette must play in this War Council. Vedette met her gaze and showed no weakness. Fatigue was the farthest thing from her mind as her body hummed with magic.
She and her mother approached the group. Vedette noticed her noble family with wet eyes and sniffles covered with handkerchiefs.
Her father held himself back from the group. He stirred the fire aimlessly with the steel poker, and he didn’t notice his daughter’s arrival until she placed a hand on his sleeve.
“I’m glad you’re here, sorceratti. We need to discuss what is happening.”
The family and advisers made a circle around Attius and Vedette. The fire popped, flinging sparks into the thick rug. No one moved. Vedette doubted anyone was breathing.
“What is happening?”
“Did you feel magic tonight?”
“I can’t sense magic across the city. It would have to be close to wake me.”
“Your confirmation would be helpful.”
“Confirmation for what?” Her tone was too sharp. Vedette didn’t regret the words as she needed answers to questions no one would state.
“We believe Kincaid was burning warehouses again.”
“I felt nothing.”
“He was with an accomplice. We think it was the woman.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your brother was leading the squad with firearms. In that district.”
“No.”
“His unit confronted the wizard and his woman.”
Magic raged against her control. Her veins pumped with flames as the heat of the crackling fire beckoned. She wanted to destroy the room. She needed to hunt this wizard and burn him from the inside out. She would make the woman scream.
Her father’s next words seemed hollow, as if they were spoken from a distant room. “Your brother, the heir to this house, was killed by a single crossbow bolt as he confronted the wizard. Two squads gave chase, but they could not catch them.”
“Then I will tear down the district. We’ll circle with the city guards and raze the district until he begs for mercy.”
“Your brother is being prepared for burial in the crypt, Vedette.”
“I will avenge it sevenfold.”
“Sorceratti, I’m counting on it.” The War Council. The family would take a wartime stance and commit their resources to capture this wizard. They’d muster the powers of the noble houses in response to the threat. None were safe until they brought the man to immediate justice, at the hands of a sorceratti.
“I need a company of your men. I need to seal off block by block. I will bring this man and his woman in.”
Vedette watched her father smile for the first time in this disastrous night. He needed her to be cold and calculating, and she was ready for it.
“Bury your brother first, and then we will tear the city apart to find them. The Council will meet in the morning, and I will demand war powers to find him.”
“We don’t need the Council, Father. We can do this with just one person, me.”
“I know. But we will get our revenge on the City Council and this young man.”
Vedette’s mouth curled into a snarl as he understood her father’s plan of action. She’d be at his side as the city bent to their w
ill and uncovered the hiding place for this wizard. Revenge at every level.
Her father broke his gaze with his sorceratti and faced his war council. He would take the time to grieve, but he would make others pay first.
He addressed the group. “We must agree on this path. The wizard is our top priority.”
“Father, our intelligence services are hunting for the woman. We’ve narrowed the search based on the location of the last two attacks,” her brother, Armand, said. The new heir to the House asserted his position, and his voice was firm. As he kept his arms crossed in front of his chest, he nodded Vedette. If their investigation played out, Vedette could exact swift justice.
“Armand, just have them look. We’re not ready to attack the wizard. He’s too dangerous.”
Her brother nodded. “I will update the orders.”
The master of ceremonies entered the conversation, “My lord, I will notify the City Council staff you’ve ordered a meeting for a war vote. I’m confident they will understand your message.”
Attius smiled, and Vedette admired his energy poured into war plans. His grief was there, but he’d get revenge first.
“Perfect.”
“My Lord, we’ve issued a warning to the other houses to step up the protection of their families.” The captain of the guard barked. “Once the families are aware of the increased protection, the war vote should be easier.”
“They likely already know of our loss. One squad belonged to the city guard,” her mother added.
“As we go to war, each one of us will be under intense pressure to perform. We have a threat to our lives and livelihood, unlike any the city has ever faced. Only our sorceratti is familiar with the power facing us. We’re to stay inside this compound and be alert.”
Courage replaced fear. Purpose overrode their grief. The family was ready for war.
Seventy-Four
Kincaid - Betrayed
Sholeh hadn’t left him alone this long since his escape from prison.
He couldn’t sit with nervous energy firing in his body, and the room was too small to pace. He’d replaced one prison for another. If they caught him, they’d execute him on the spot. But if Sholeh was caught…
Unwilling to wait longer, he flung his worn cloak around his neck and grabbed Master Barnet’s cane. He didn’t bother to glance down the hallway before making his way to the back staircase.
“I’m sorry, Kincaid.” The voice was a squeak from the darkness at the bottom of the stairs. Kincaid clenched his cane and poked into the shadows.
“What for?”
A boyish man who looked like an immigrant from the Empire moved into a patch of light from the streetlamps. He had the thick arms of a metalworker, and he kept his eyes downcast.
“I told him who she was.”
“Told who?”
“Guards. About an hour ago. I’m sorry.”
“Which guards?”
“Atros.”
“You didn’t.”
“I was drinking when someone offered to buy my round. The conversation turned awful when they threatened to come to the forge.”
“What else do they know?”
“They’re only looking for her.”
“Did you tell them where she lived?”
“I had no choice.”
“We always have a choice. What did you tell them?”
“I knew where she lived.”
“Are they coming back?”
“I don’t know. Kincaid, I—”
Kincaid didn’t wait for the next exchange. He spent enough time around Sholeh’s forge over the years to know most of the senior apprentices. With his sword training, he’d visited the shop consistently until his imprisonment. Someone connected Sholeh to him, and this fool gave them everything.
Magic hungered for his mental touch. His distracted eyes didn’t notice his surroundings. He stopped when his feet couldn’t carry him farther. The water’s edge of the Great Dock blocked his progress.
He missed the days when he would watch the sky burn with reds and oranges of a new day. Waterfowl paddled in the calm bay waters. Men and women took their boats out of mooring and prepared to ply their trade. The salty smells of the bay didn’t offer comfort. Only distraction. Magic longed to fill his void.
Two souls struggled with his own against the cling of magic. He’d be powerful, and his magic would be formidable against any sorceratti. He wondered if magic would be enough to assault Atros and free his friend. He couldn’t wait. They’d use her against him.
The simple days of working with his hands and creating art were gone. Humanity began its work around him, and shops opened for the beginning of the day. He flung the cowl of his cloak over his head and turned his back to the docks.
With quick strides, Kincaid made a direct path to the House of Atros.
Seventy-Five
Kincaid - House Atros
Kincaid pulled back his cloak and stood before the front doors of the Atros home. The five-story building towered over the man, and the double doors were secure. As Kincaid stopped in front of the structure, the guards lowered their spears to the ready position.
“Open the doors.”
“State your name and business. We’ll decide who enters.”
“I am Kincaid, journeyman carpenter to Master Barnet. I’m here to get my friend and leave.”
“We don’t deal with journeymen here. Contact the office for an appointment…” The voice trailed off as Kincaid hefted the blackwood cane. The spears lowered toward his chest.
With a wave of the cane from right to left, the guards flung three yards down the street in a blast of frigid air. He thrust his hand forward, and the siege doors splintered and hurled inwards. The hinges howled from the reverse movement and tore free from the masonry.
Kincaid strode into the first courtyard. A guard sprinted to the warning bell near the entrance and sent peals ringing into the morning air. Five guards mustered from the wall that served as a gatehouse. They struggled with cranks to load crossbows.
A commander joined the ranks of the crossbowmen and shouted orders. The fumbling with strings stopped as muscle memory responded to the commands.
Before they could load bolts into the wooden frame and secure them against the steel string, Kincaid launched a bolt of lightning across the gap. The crackling energy snapped against the commander’s breastplate and cooked him where he stood. The smoking body fell to the ground in a clunk of armor. The guards dropped their crossbows and fled toward their quarters.
Kincaid didn’t pause to take in the artistry of the flower gardens in the first courtyard. His objective lay within the second courtyard. He assumed Sholeh would be in one of the prison cells, and he’d tear the building apart to find her.
The clunk of timber slammed into place on the inner courtyard doors attracted his attention. Muffled shouts tried to bring order to forces on the other side of the door. They were mustering a firing line. Waiting for him.
They wouldn’t wait long.
The stolen souls wailed in protest as Kincaid built a reservoir of power within his soul. He weaved a wall of air around him as he approached the door. Gripping his cane, he thrust a column of air forward into the oak doors. Wood snapped under pressure, and the crossbar crunched like a twig. The doors slammed inwards.
A dozen guards in two ranks of six covered their faces from the flying splinters. The leader shouted commands to regain order among the detail. With the order to fire, a wall of smoke and thunder rippled across the courtyard.
They were scared, and most of the shots were wild. Kincaid ignored the heavy lead projectiles as he strode forward. His magical shield deflected the two closest shots to the sides. With another wave of his cane, the air cleared around the firing team. He wanted them to see his unhindered advance toward them.
This was the elite Atros bodyguard. They didn’t hesitate as they grounded their weapons and prepared to reload. Hands reached for powder horns and uncorked the tops.
/> On the command of charge weapons, Kincaid sent a wall of flames along the ranks. The black powder exploded and filled the courtyard with acrid smoke. The thunder of the explosion blew in decorative glass and injured nearby servants. Screams were unheard in deafened ears.
The young magi didn’t wait for the smoke to clear this time. The wails of the wounded were enough to ignore that section of the courtyard.
Kincaid hungered for the House to respond with more futile efforts to stop his advance. There was so much more he needed to learn about the use of his magic.
Unstoppable. Take what you want from them.
Their time ruling this city was over. The attack into the heart of their power would leave them crippled among the other houses. They’d pay for his imprisonment. They’d regret capturing Sholeh. His magic howled in delight.
At that moment, the whisper of Cormac’s soul faded from his consciousness. In a moment, he felt alone. The existence of a human being burned out with his revenge and rage. Cormac was gone. The awareness pulled the young wizard back from the brink.
He controlled the power. Not the other way around. He tightened the flows of magic within his soul and concentrated on his senses.
The courtyard was quiet. The wounded were pulled away from the charred grass, and none chose to confront him. His display of power had been enough.
Seventy-Six
Kincaid - Confrontation
The prison still carried the scars from his escape. The walls were black from the devouring fire, and a makeshift door covered the entrance where the previous door burned away. The fire brigade must have struggled against the arcane-fueled blaze.
If Sholeh wasn’t in there, he’d turn the building into rubble.
From the opposite end of the courtyard, out of his line of sight due to the prison, Kincaid heard the click of locks and a door swing open. Someone was coming out to meet his challenge.