A group of people congregated off to the side, next to a large brazier. It was knee-high and a few yards across, and heavy enough it must have taken a few burly men to move it here. Heaped glowing coals gave everything an orange cast as the air above it rippled with heat.
It was Master Mold who Caldan recognized first. He looked older somehow, as if his face had gained more creases. A middle-aged warlock with a short, gray-speckled beard stood off to the side. Caldan assumed he was here representing the warlocks. But if so, where was Thenna? Lady Porhilde sat demurely on a stool, skirts arranged around her so they didn’t touch the floor. Vasile also stood there, looking strangely nervous, shifting his weight tentatively from foot to foot. Selbourne was also present, his eyes darting around. There was also a stranger: a tall man with brown hair cropped close to his skull. He wore a ceremonial uniform adorned with badges and marks of honor, though it was wrinkled and stained. Someone high ranking in the Quivers, then. His pale blue eyes took in everyone, devoid of emotion. A veteran, perhaps the commander of the Quivers that had arrived at Riversedge.
This is going to be interesting, Gazija said.
Caldan ignored him, deciding instead to just observe as much as possible.
As Caldan approached the warmth of the brazier, their reactions were as he’d expected: Porhilde, who was facing him, scarcely gave him heed; Selbourne gave him a brief smile, in the manner of men who’d fought together, knowing and brittle at the same time; but it was Mold who drew Caldan’s attention. The Protector’s mouth drew into a thin line, and his jaw worked, as if he chewed nails. He looked not so much at Caldan as at the trinket sword hanging by his side. Mold wanted it back, but Caldan wasn’t of a mind to give it to him. The trinket would only be used against Caldan in the end, of this he was certain. He briefly wondered if the trinket could stop him using all his wells, before looking back at the master. Mold’s glowering made him slightly uncomfortable, but that was all, and Caldan knew he’d come a long way from the person he was when he’d first met Mold. Joachim, Devenish, Kristof, and Thenna had seen to that. He put his hand on the hilt and smiled at Mold.
When the master scowled, Caldan smiled a bit broader—of all the people here, Mold was the one he had the least concern about.
What did concern him was that his skin was beginning to crawl. The emperor might not have been covered in craftings, but he had to be wearing a great number of trinkets—no doubt concealed under his clothes. Caldan sensed the potency of the emperor’s wells and swallowed nervously, checking his own concealment yet again.
They stopped ten paces from the emperor, and Felice dropped to one knee. Caldan and Quiss copied her, and they waited.
And waited.
Felice fidgeted, touching an earring, then jerking her hand back down when she realized what she’d done. But she wasn’t the one under scrutiny. Caldan was. A featherlight touch passed over his well, disappearing, then returning moments later. He stiffened when it brushed across his hidden wells.
The emperor, Zerach-Sangur, sighed deeply, then cloth rustled as he rose to his feet.
“You may stand,” he said, voice smooth and fluid.
Caldan did as he was bidden, as did Felice.
“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Felice said. “But where is Thenna?”
“The warlock Thenna,” said the emperor, “is dead. A terrible accident.”
Caldan saw Felice swallow, and he looked up to meet the emperor’s violet eyes. He had killed her, perhaps even absorbed her well. Kelhak has him worried, and he’s walking a knife’s edge. Too many, and he’ll slowly go mad like Kelhak. Still—I do not mourn for Thenna.
The emperor gestured to the bearded warlock. “This is Bernhard, the new leader of the warlocks.”
Bernhard inclined his head in Caldan’s direction. “I’ve heard much about you, young man. And seen what you are capable of. Be warned, though. I’m not Thenna.”
Caldan ignored Bernhard and met the emperor’s gaze. Inside, he seethed just from being near the man.
“Master Mold here has something to say to you, young Caldan,” Zerach-Sangur said. “I’ll let him have his moment. Then we can all talk.”
The emperor was playing with him, Caldan realized. He was probably playing with them all. It seemed . . . childish, somehow. Don’t we have better things to do than play these little games for your amusement?
The scary answer was simply: No.
He turned to regard Mold, whose well tugged at the edge of his awareness. It was open, and he was drawing from it. Something inside Caldan rose: the animal side that sensed a threat.
“Mold,” Caldan said. “Don’t do something stupid.”
The Protector shot Caldan a venom-filled look.
Caldan had betrayed the Protectors and then killed some of them when escaping from Thenna.
But that was Mold’s impression of events. They were complicit in abetting the warlocks in keeping the people subject to their whims. And Mold himself had allowed Thenna to torture him.
So think what you think. I don’t care.
“This man should be imprisoned,” Mold said. “He’s killed Protectors and warlocks, using forbidden sorcery. He must be questioned and punished.”
“Executed, you mean,” Caldan said.
Mold glared at him. “If that’s what it takes.”
“There is a great danger to us all,” Felice said. “And we must put aside our differences to combat it. If we don’t, we could all perish.”
Mold snorted. “The warlocks will be enough to deal with the Indryallans. Devenish showed we were a match for their sorcery, as did His Majesty.” He gestured at Quiss. “And these others as well. We don’t need them.”
This man is blind, Gazija remarked.
Caldan couldn’t respond out loud, but that didn’t stop him from thinking: They all are.
“I disagree, as does the emperor,” Felice said to Mold. “May he live forever,” she added, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Mold’s mouth opened in surprise. “What is this? Have you all gone mad? This is what I’ve been fighting against my whole life! What the Protectors have been doing for centuries!”
Porhilde cleared her throat. “You forget yourself, Mold. Be careful who you call mad,” she said, with a glance at the emperor, who looked amused.
Mold blanched.
“What Lady Felicienne says is true,” continued Porhilde. “The warlocks will be . . . insufficient. The sorcery of these others, led by Luphildern Quiss, must be harnessed if we are to have a chance against the Indryallans.”
Mold recovered quickly from his gaffe and now raked both Porhilde and Felice with an icy stare. He seemed to have trouble speaking for a few moments. “I’ll work with them, then,” he spluttered. “But not with Caldan. He’s also stolen a trinket from us.” Mold’s hands clenched into fists. An instant later, his shield surrounded him.
This isn’t going to end well, Caldan thought. He took a step toward Mold. Caldan knew he could defend himself against whatever sorcery the Protector threw at him, but the people around him wouldn’t be able to, apart from Quiss and the emperor.
Caldan took another step toward Mold and drew the trinket sword.
The emperor held up a hand, stopping any reaction to Caldan’s daring. “Do not intervene,” he said to the others. He was smiling now, amused by the confrontation. He gestured at Mold to continue.
“Caldan,” the master said, “that trinket belongs to the Protectors.”
“It was used to subdue me so I could be tortured. By Thenna.”
“Be that as it may . . . it belongs to us.”
They think it can stop Kelhak. Can it? Caldan didn’t know. But if they tried and were wrong, it would be disastrous. Mold had to know what Thenna had done to him—and he’d left the sword for another Protector in order to keep Caldan powerless. Mold was no ally; he’d decided Caldan knew too much, and that he had to be stopped. Caldan’s transgressions of breaking into the library and using destructive sorcer
y had shown he was a rogue. Mold wanted to kill him, like an injured dog to be put down.
It was funny; Caldan didn’t feel like he was doing the wrong thing. To him, the warlocks and Protectors were on the wrong side. Perspective, he realized, is everything.
This sword contained the well and essence of a sorcerer. It wouldn’t be powerful enough to stop Kelhak. If it was an essential part of their plan to stop the God-Emperor, that would lead to their deaths.
“I want Kelhak dead,” Caldan said. “As do you all. But I also want to do more than just survive. You’re mistaken if you think this sword will help you. Kelhak is more powerful than you know.”
“Then give it to me,” Mold said. “It’s no use to you; you can’t even activate it.”
Mold was right. There was a trick to activating the trinket Caldan hadn’t been able to work out. Yet. But if he was correct, and it would be useless against Kelhak, then it would also be useless against him now.
Caldan stepped toward Mold. “Very well,” he said. He reversed the blade so it rested against his forearm, the hilt toward Mold.
As I said, Gazija remarked, this is interesting.
Mold frowned, no doubt suspecting a trick. He looked to the emperor for permission.
Zerach-Sangur observed them both with a smile on his face, looking to be greatly enjoying himself. He gave both Mold and Caldan a calculating look, then nodded.
Mold’s hand reached for the sword. It closed around the hilt, and Caldan let him take it.
Caldan opened his well and linked to his shield crafting. A multicolored haze surrounded him, and Mold took a few steps backward, still looking askance at Caldan.
Caldan drew as much power as he could to reinforce the shield, and to make the flow from his well a raging torrent. His arm hair stood on end. The very air seemed to hum, and the familiar stench of sorcery filled his nostrils: hot metal and lemons.
We’ll see what the sword can do.
And his well slammed shut—the torrent ceasing in an instant—his shield winking out of existence. Caldan’s mind recoiled, and he staggered, shivering violently. This time, he’d known what was happening, so he didn’t fall, but nausea rose as his stomach roiled.
He looked up and saw sadness on Mold’s face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the emperor’s violet eyes taking in what was happening.
Sucking in air, Caldan forced himself to straighten.
“Stop, all of you!” said Felice.
“This is none of your concern,” hissed Mold.
Caldan uttered a weak laugh. Mold was blind. He must be shown the truth: both that the plan to use the sword on Kelhak would fail, and that Caldan wouldn’t . . . couldn’t be chained anymore.
He broke his gaze from Mold’s, and at the same time, he opened another of his wells. His shield surrounded him once again.
Mold gasped and staggered back a step; then a look of determination came across his face. And Caldan’s second well closed. Not slammed: closed slowly, as if the ability of the sword were stretched.
Caldan opened a third well, and a fourth. Splitting out strings, he linked to his shield. The power flowing through him was immense.
“I . . . I can’t,” Mold groaned.
Abruptly, the blockages preventing Caldan from accessing his wells disappeared.
Mold shook his head, his jaw set. “It’s . . . it isn’t possible.”
“It is,” Caldan said. “How did I resist the trinket? No—don’t answer that. Answer this instead: If I can do it, won’t Kelhak be able to?” Caldan shook his head. “Your plan is flawed, if it’s to use the sword on Kelhak. It won’t work.
“Also,” he said, coming closer to Mold, whispering so only the Protector could hear, “if you try to harm me again, I will destroy you.”
Mold frowned, and Caldan could feel the Protector’s sorcerous senses brush across his mind. He dropped his concealment of his wells.
With a gasp, blood drained from Mold’s face. “You have more than one well. A lot more.”
“Yes,” Caldan said. “As does Kelhak.”
“How did we not sense this before?” asked Mold.
Careful, warned Gazija. Don’t give too much away. They’ll be looking for any weakness.
“I concealed them,” Caldan said simply. “If you knew I had multiple wells, who knows what you might have done?” He looked Mold in the eye. “Probably tried to kill me, as Kristof and Thenna tried to, and failed.”
Felice clapped her hands, drawing their attention to her. “So, Mold, the plan you came up with isn’t going to work. That’s not good. We need to know we have a chance at succeeding before attempting anything with Kelhak.”
The emperor cleared his throat, and all eyes turned toward him.
“I’ll ask again,” the emperor said, words resonating around the room. “Tell me, Caldan, young warlock, Touched: What do you desire?”
Those were the exact same words he’d used before, Caldan recalled. Either he didn’t believe me then, or he thinks something has changed.
“I . . .” He glanced at Felice. “We know what Kelhak really is: a lich. He left his humanity behind long ago. Now he exists only to absorb other sorcerers to increase his power and to keep him alive. What I want is to stop him. Kill, capture, whatever is necessary.”
Beside Caldan, Felice was nodding.
The emperor’s face was expressionless. He cleared his throat. “Anyone with multiple wells is a lich, then? And has to be . . . killed or captured?”
Caldan shook his head. Careful. “No, Your Majesty. Kelhak is out of control. Perhaps his power drove him to madness. But having more than one well doesn’t mean you’re a monster.” He hesitated before adding, “You’re living proof of that.”
Mold gasped, while Porhilde glared at Caldan as if he’d turned into a snake.
The emperor nodded. His eyes went strangely unfocused for a moment before fixing Caldan with a piercing intensity. “As are you.”
Caldan froze for an instant. “I don’t know how it happened,” he admitted. “The process, I mean. There was a trinket, and—”
“Where is it now?” the emperor said.
Felice spoke for the first time. “With Luphildern Quiss here. They’re attempting to fathom how it works in order to combat Kelhak.”
Behind her words was a truth Caldan knew the emperor wouldn’t want to hear: If someone could destroy Kelhak, or neutralize his power, then they could do the same to him. And not only that, but there was another trinket that could transfer multiple wells to a sorcerer—which was the key to much of the emperor’s power and influence.
Suddenly, Caldan bent his knee and knelt on the floor again. Truth, he thought. Do not speak a lie.
“I pledge myself to defeating Kelhak. I don’t know why I was gifted these wells, but I will use them as best as I’m able to defeat the Indryallans and their leader.”
He held his breath, waiting for a response.
The emperor remained quiet for a few moments, then spoke. “You have killed and injured a number of warlocks and Protectors.”
Caldan could feel the ache of the wounds inflicted by Thenna. Though they were healing rapidly, the ghost of their pain still lingered. “I did. But it was no more than they tried to do to me. They tortured me,” he said through clenched teeth. “Thenna especially. She took delight in it. She wanted revenge because I killed Devenish, whom she loved. But more than that, she wanted multiple wells for herself. For the mere power’s sake.”
“And you don’t?”
Caldan met the emperor’s eye. “No. I don’t.”
The emperor paused, then smiled. “Good. We need more sorcerers like you, Caldan.” He turned to Felice. “Lady Felicienne, you must take Caldan under your wing. He is to be given access to all the warlocks’ knowledge, and whatever training he requires. This trinket Quiss has must be brought to me, tonight. I will be able to divine its working better than any other.”
“No,” said Quiss. He drew himself up straigh
t, squaring his shoulders.
Silence followed his denial. The emperor sneered at Quiss, and Caldan sensed him open a dozen wells. Raw power infused the emperor; so much coursed through him that Caldan had to withdraw his senses for fear of becoming engulfed himself.
“Say that again,” the emperor said, voice dripping with menace.
Though he wasn’t the object of the emperor’s displeasure, Caldan nevertheless felt insignificant in the face of such a display.
Quiss remained still, one hand rubbing his chin. Bernhard stepped forward, only to stop at a sharp gesture from the emperor.
“As you wish,” Quiss said eventually.
The emperor returned his gaze to Caldan, though he kept his wells open. “I need to know you’ll obey me, as your emperor. After all, you lied to me about the bone trinket . . . We cannot afford to be fainthearted in these times.”
“I will,” Caldan said. “You can rely on me.”
“That remains to be seen. Tell me, then. Where is your bone ring now? And Devenish’s?”
Caldan tensed, avoiding looking at Felice. “Thenna took them from me.”
Irritation flashed across the emperor’s face, gone in an instant. “They were not with her.”
“Perhaps another warlock has them?” Caldan said.
“Perhaps. It is of no matter.”
A lie, as Caldan knew.
The emperor raised his voice, his regal face surveying them all. “All of you, the time has come to reveal what I know of Kelhak’s plan.”
Felice frowned, and Caldan realized this was new to her.
“For too long,” the emperor said, “we have allowed ourselves to be distracted. The Indryallans, the jukari, the sorcerous strikes against us, which I defeated—”
Caldan lowered his gaze.
“—allowing Kelhak time to reach his true goal, which lies beneath Anasoma. Ages ago, there were rumors, hints, but . . . I paid them no heed. Now my spies have revealed what I dared not dream was true. Ancient places still survive, mostly in ruins, crumbling with age. But a few endure, protected from the elements. Hidden. Sealed. And Kelhak has found one. His aim all along, it seems. I thought such a place lost forever, but now I know there is a laboratory underneath Anasoma. A workshop, of sorts. Where creatures were made. Evil things full of malice and spite.”
A Shattered Empire Page 47