It is better than what we were before.
If Caldan were in Gazija’s boots, what would he have done? Wasn’t this a far more palatable existence than using and abusing other people’s bodies?
The mere thought of what Gazija and his people did brought bile to Caldan’s throat. He’d avoided thinking about it, because they were needed in the fight against Kelhak. But they were allowing a lesser evil to exist because of a greater one.
“I’ll take you to Quiss,” Caldan said. “No doubt you’ll want to let him know you survived.”
What, no more questions? I’d have thought you would have many.
Caldan shrugged. The warlocks and Protectors could deal with Gazija and his people. Once Kelhak was gone, he’d have to look after himself. Now, his survival and Miranda’s was his only concern.
“Perhaps later,” Caldan said. “I have more than enough on my plate as it is.”
Then I’m afraid I’ll have to add to your burden. You see, Quiss can’t know that I’m still alive. And if the plan I have is successful, then you’ll need to go far from here. Tell no one. Leave no trace.
“I NEED TO get off this ship,” Caldan said irritably. “I’ve smith-crafting to do if I’m going to be any use.”
“We have more important matters to attend to,” Quiss said. “Your help is needed with Amerdan’s trinket. If we’re to have any chance against Kelhak, we’re going to have to unravel its secrets, and soon.”
Caldan placed his satchel gently on the deck. It contained some of his crafting materials, and Gazija, wrapped in a cloth. His mind was still reeling from the old man’s story. It seemed incredible. Too fanciful to be believed, but the proof had been right in front of him.
Gazija’s awareness housed inside a crafting, for all intents and purposes making him a self-aware trinket. One that had autonomy. Caldan was scarcely able to comprehend the possibilities. His own research and experimentation with craftings had been moving in a similar direction, but the idea of voluntarily giving up your own body for a fleshless existence sent shivers through him.
But it was better than the alternative, remaining the monsters they’d become in order to survive. In the end, he hadn’t needed much persuasion to agree to help.
Caldan’s eyes were drawn to the east, where he kept expecting the horizon to be blotted out by the dark clouds of another approaching storm. But luckily, there was no sign of sorcery.
Yet.
“Doesn’t the trinket use coercive sorcery?” Caldan asked. “You’re far more adept at it than I am. I won’t be able to offer any insights.”
Good, came Gazija’s voice in his mind. You need to get off the ship, otherwise I can’t help you.
“A new perspective is always welcome, Caldan. There may be angles we haven’t considered, different lines of thought.”
Quiss smiled encouragingly, but Caldan saw through his act. They wanted to make sure they had control over him. As everyone else did.
He means well, Gazija said. And he’s trying to cope as best he can. But Quiss never was one to make hard decisions. They don’t sit well with him.
Caldan knew what Gazija really meant. Quiss had a conscience that some leaders lacked. And it seemed Gazija would do almost anything to achieve his goals. If that meant defeating Kelhak, then Caldan was happy to oblige him. But he knew Gazija wasn’t concerned with Caldan’s welfare, only with his own. If Gazija wanted off the ship, it was for his own reasons.
About to respond to Quiss, Caldan hesitated when a slender young girl came bounding up the gangplank. She wore a brown uniform of sorts, with a brimmed cap jammed over her short black hair. She was breathing heavily and covered with perspiration. The girl took a few moments to catch her breath, then her gaze traveled over both Quiss and Caldan. Reaching behind her shoulder, she pulled a flat satchel from her back to her stomach, and from it drew out a stack of envelopes. From the stack, she removed two.
“Are either of you Quiss or Caldan?” she said.
“I’m Caldan, and that’s Quiss.”
“Hmph,” the girl snorted, then examined the backs of her two envelopes. She grunted and strode up to Caldan. “The description fits, so that’s good enough for me. If you’re lying, you’ll likely be dead before tomorrow. So don’t say no one warned you. Meeting’s in two hours. Be there.”
She handed Caldan that envelope and Quiss the other before turning and jogging back down the gangplank.
“What’s this?” Quiss said, frowning with puzzlement.
Caldan examined his envelope. The front bore just his name, while the back had a bare-boned but accurate description of himself. He broke the wax seal, withdrew a single page from inside, and scanned the contents.
“It’s from Felice,” he said. “She’s holding a meeting with representatives of everyone involved, from the warlocks to the Quivers, the Protectors, and Lady Porhilde. I’ve been asked to come alone. I’d guess yours says the same. It’s . . . with the emperor.”
Quiss stared at his letter as if it were a snake about to bite him. “It must be a trap,” he said quietly. “They’re hoping to catch us off guard.”
“What would they gain by trying something? I trust Felice, at least as much as I trust anyone.” Which isn’t much. “Her main concern is Kelhak, and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her goal.”
“But how much control does she have over everyone else? Ask yourself that. Would you trust the Protectors not to try something? We use destructive and coercive sorcery, and they know it. And what about Thenna? I’m sure she’ll be there.”
“I can defend myself against Thenna,” Caldan said.
“Not if she has the support of the warlocks and they strike all at once.”
“Even then,” he said, remembering his escape from their prison.
Enough of this, snapped Gazija. Tell him Gazija would go. He’ll know it for truth. Tell him, Gazija would want to evaluate the others and examine their plans, to see if they would help or hinder his mission.
“Gazija would have gone,” Caldan said carefully, keeping an eye on Quiss. Who knew what the sorcerer’s reaction would be?
Quiss looked at Caldan sharply, mouth pressed into a tight line. “You have no idea what—”
“I know he was your leader. The First Deliverer, you called him. He would go. He would want to know firsthand what everyone else had planned. To see if he could help, or to find out if they would be thorns in his side. Kelhak is the only thing that matters now. Everything else is secondary.”
“Gazija is gone. There’s only me and Mazoet left to look after our people. I wish . . .” Quiss let out a lengthy sigh. “I just wish Gazija had told us more of what he planned. The best option I can see is for us to strike at Kelhak now. If we delay by trying to appease everyone else, then we’re doomed to fail.”
Not so. He needs to look beyond Kelhak, to what would happen if we are successful.
Caldan nodded minutely. He understood what Gazija was saying. Quiss and his people’s secret was out now, and they had to show they could be trusted and weren’t some type of monster. The warlocks, Protectors, and Quivers needed to know they weren’t trading Kelhak for another evil. Quiss was lost. He had been since Gazija had disappeared. The sorcerers were like a ship without a rudder. But what they should do, what they must do, was clear to Caldan.
“Quiss, you aren’t Gazija,” Caldan said, more harshly than he intended. “But you know what he’d do. You need to look further than Kelhak, to what your people will do once all this is over.”
“He’s gone,” Quiss whispered.
His words were barely audible, voice quivering. He raised his gaze, and Caldan was surprised to see tears in his eyes.
“I can’t . . .” Quiss continued. “Kelhak found him. The lich came for him and killed him or absorbed him. There’s no appreciable difference. I can’t follow in Gazija’s footsteps.”
“Quiss, you must . . .”
“No! You don’t understand.”
Tea
rs were flowing freely now. Caldan turned his gaze away to give Quiss space. “Then tell me. What is it I’m missing?” Caldan was sure there was more to their story than had been revealed. There was always more, from small things people were ashamed to admit to larger, more unwholesome truths.
“Gazija . . . he did things others would have balked at. Things I argued against. But . . . he is . . . was . . . the First Deliverer. We owe our lives to him.”
“He would have done what he felt was right. What he felt he had to do, to ensure your survival.” Caldan stopped. What exactly had Gazija done that had Quiss so distressed?
Gazija’s voice intruded on his thoughts. Quiss has too big a heart. You have to realize, Caldan, our very survival is at stake, along with the world’s.
Caldan ignored Gazija’s justifications. “Quiss, tell me.”
Quiss gave him a look of such distraught guilt, Caldan almost staggered. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“The jukari and vormag,” Quiss whispered.
What about them?
It was necessary, Gazija said.
“Gazija did what he felt he had to do,” said Quiss. “The creatures from the Shattering, the mercenaries . . . it was all a setup.”
Necessary, Gazija repeated. To save the world.
Caldan clenched his hands into fists. Surely Quiss wasn’t suggesting . . .
“Kelhak didn’t gather the jukari horde and direct them against the emperor’s forces. It was us. We did it.”
The emperor and warlocks were blind to what was going on. I had to show them the danger.
Caldan looked to Quiss, found the sorcerer’s eyes squeezed shut, shame visible on his face.
“We hadn’t counted on Kelhak’s sorcery, through that woman, Bells. It struck while the Quivers and warlocks were preoccupied with the jukari. The horde we’d set in motion.”
How many have the jukari and vormag killed? wondered Caldan. They’d left a trail of devastation all the way from the Desolate Lands—innocent people dead in their wake, buildings destroyed, fields ruined. Lives shattered. And part of the reason Bells’s sorcery had been so devastating was because of the distraction of the jukari and vormag, but . . . she wouldn’t have been in the position she’d been if it hadn’t been for Caldan. He had his own guilt to bear. Many were dead because he’d captured Bells instead of killing her. Miranda had needed healing, and Bells had seemed his only option.
But the price . . .
“The mercenaries,” Caldan said, throat thick. “They were supposed to join with the Quivers and save the day, weren’t they?”
Quiss nodded grimly.
Instead of arriving to find the Quivers holding their own against the jukari, and joining to turn the tide, they’d found the emperor’s forces already devastated. Caldan’s fault.
“Quiss. We can’t worry about the dead.” Caldan could feel a coldness coming into his face, into his eyes. He could hear it in his own words. Thenna had scoured all emotion from him. He’d been thrust into a forge fire and hammered on an anvil. What shape he was now he didn’t know, but he resembled a sword more than a horseshoe. “What’s done is done. The deaths are on Gazija’s conscience, not yours.” As they are on mine.
“Leave me,” Quiss said flatly.
Caldan moved toward the sorcerer, but Quiss took a step back and held up both his hands.
“I said go,” Quiss said hoarsely, voice tight with emotion. He glanced down at the deck, a gesture Caldan took to be an unconscious apology.
“All right. I’ll leave you alone to think. But you need the Quivers, and the warlocks, and the Touched. You can’t face Kelhak alone. That’s what Gazija planned: you all have to face the lich together. If you’re separated, you lose, and there’s another Shattering. This world will be destroyed.”
Quiss’s expression was unreadable, and Caldan had no inkling whether his words had swayed him.
“We have to be at this meeting Felice has arranged,” Caldan said. “I’m going to use the time before it starts to think about everything that has happened, and I suggest you do the same. Quiss . . . you need to be there. Nothing good will happen if you try to tackle Kelhak alone. I’ll return and we can go together.”
Caldan turned and strode down the gangplank and along the wharf, his booted feet thudding hard on the wood. Angry steps.
Good, Gazija said tonelessly. Now, we have work to do.
“By the ancestors,” muttered Caldan harshly, “you’d best keep quiet or I’ll—”
What? You’ll do what?
Caldan clenched his jaw.
Kelhak can’t know I’m still alive. I’ll be your card in the hole, your extra move.
Caldan’s steps faltered, and he almost stopped before resuming. “You’re not alive.”
I beg to differ. But never mind. Keep me a secret, and we have a chance. Now, tell me again what happened with Amerdan. Don’t leave anything out.
Caldan didn’t speak. Quiss had revealed the depths of Gazija’s perfidy. The sorcerer had a conscience that didn’t allow him to blithely condone the actions of his leaders, and the truth had spilled from his lips with hardly any prompting on Caldan’s part. And Caldan found himself wondering whether Quiss was fit to lead in Gazija’s absence. Should he be glad he was in charge? Or horrified at the thought that Quiss wouldn’t do what was necessary when it came down to it?
When they were at the point of the sword. When life-or-death decisions had to be made. And when the fate of the world hung in the balance.
Perhaps Gazija sensed something of what Caldan was thinking, for he spoke again.
Quiss is a good person.
The implication was clear, both in Gazija’s words and the fact he wanted to hide himself from Quiss, and the rest of his followers.
“But good people aren’t going to win this battle,” Caldan said numbly. “There will be hard decisions, and many will die.”
Exactly. I remember . . . the slaughter on my world. We fought as best we could, but . . . everything died. Plants . . . animals . . . children . . . everything.
CHAPTER 48
Caldan sat alone on the bank of the river, a fair distance from the docks outside Riversedge. He was under no illusion he’d have any privacy on board the ship with Quiss and the other sorcerers around.
Slowly, carefully, Caldan scratched against the barrier between his mind and one of his new wells. Scritch, scritch. The sound was all in his head, for his scraping wasn’t audible. But there was something else . . . a discharge so faint he almost missed it. A whiff of sorcerous energy. As if his workings had peeled off a layer of an onion. Except this layer was so thin, it would take a thousand more peels before he made any progress. That’s it, Gazija said in his head. Keep going. If you’re going to survive this, you’ll need all the help you can get.
He wished he knew how to block Gazija out.
Gazija had been urging him to unblock his new wells since he’d appeared. He obviously had his own reasons, but whatever they were, Caldan didn’t know. All he knew was that Gazija was right: he’d need more than the power of his own well if he was to have any hope of getting out of this alive.
Quiss and the others worried Caldan. More than worried him. His only avenue of escape from the warlocks and Touched had been Quiss and his colleagues, and now they were gone to him, too.
You can’t let this setback get to you. You can’t give in. There’s always a way out of any situation; you just have to find it.
It was simply that the only solution he’d been able to come up with meant embracing the powers he’d been forced to take possession of.
A path he’d already vowed not to pursue.
There was also Miranda to think of. His chest tightened with grief and longing at the mere thought of her. She’d endured so much already. His plan would force her to give up even more: the life she’d made for herself; her friends like Charlotte; her possessions. And he’d feel guilty for asking her to do so, for the rest of his life.
Though
the air was warm, he shivered. I want her to give everything up for me. Ancestors take my guilt. What was one more burden for him atop the rest?
He clasped his hands, weaving his fingers together. Out here, far from the moored ship, there was no one to detect his scraping and prying. He sent his will back into his mind, along sorcerous currents only those gifted would understand. The psyche was too nebulous, too indefinable for anything else. A well was somewhat more complex and tangible—but still a product of the mind.
And all he had to do was devise a coercive sorcerous crafting to breach the barriers separating him from the wells. For if he had to escape from here, from the emperor, and from Quiss, then he needed to fool them into thinking he was dead and travel far, far away.
His plan was dangerous. But it made sense. He required a body, his trinket ring, a crafting like Quiss had used to bring them to Amerdan, and a destructive sorcerous attack from the warlocks—with so much power thrown at him, it would hide his own sorcery in the tumult. Two parts of his plan required far more sorcerous power than he could currently produce on his own: warding off the warlocks’ attack, and the traveling crafting. There was only one solution: he had to unblock and use the wells Amerdan had transferred to him. Doing so would confirm Quiss’s worst suspicions about liches and mark him for death. But there was no other way.
If they failed in their attempt to defeat Kelhak, then it wouldn’t matter. But on the slim chance they succeeded, he needed all the elements ready. There would be no second chances.
Steeling his resolve, Caldan once again sent his senses inward to the blocked well he’d been worrying at. The barrier felt hard, but at the same time there was a faint shifting current to it, as if it responded to an unseen pattern within itself. He drew back, considering his options. What was the barrier made of? There were no coercive sorcery components that he could discern. But then again, he was still learning, and far from being adept. His scrapings would eventually breach the obstruction, but something about the method didn’t sit well with him.
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