“Let me go,” she tried to shout, but her voice only came out as a whisper.
Abruptly, the new voice snapped something; the others silenced. The searching fingers returned once more, running across Kali inquisitively. More words she did not understand. She opened her mouth, whether to curse or cry out, she didn't know, then…
What is this?
Not words, not vocal speech, but a thought within her mind. But not her own. Then whose? Someone else grabbed her hands, pulled her closer. A face she could not see leaned close to her neck, where her wound still throbbed, and inhaled deeply.
Ah, sweet blood. Come to us. Come to us now.
No! Fear made her heart hammer faster as she intensified her struggle against whoever—or whatever—held her, for she had to get away–
“Kali! Be still.”
Gasping, Kali bolted upright, brushing the roof of the little canvas tent. It was dark all around, save for a flickering golden glow from outside. “Stop!” she cried. “Leave me alone!”
Sadira's calm voice overlaid Kali's fear like a warm scarf settling into place. “It was a dream, Kali. You are safe.”
“A dream…?” Kali pressed her hand to her neck. The touched burned and her pulse raced beneath the damp linen bandage. She examined her fingertips, which were sticky and stained crimson. Her blood?
She looked at the other mage, who sat up beside her. “Sadira, what's going on? Where are we?”
“Away from Parsa,” the Zhee mage replied, each word slow and deliberate. “The sentinels prepared this tent from their emergency supplies. Beacon said that we were safe for now, and that we should both rest.”
It was difficult to put her thoughts in order, but Kali managed to remember. “Parsa. The villagers…” She touched her throat again and winced. “They tried to kill me. They were thralls.”
Sadira nodded slowly. “Yes. The sentinels fought them back and brought us safely away.”
The tent was cold. Sadira's normally neat braids were mussed, and her embroidered dress was stained with blood. Her russet skin looked paler than normal and exhaustion ringed her eyes. And there was something missing...
“Where is your hematite torc?” Kali said at last.
“Lost. I do not participate returning to Parsa to look for it.”
“Anticipate?” Kali asked.
Sadira nodded, for once unconcerned with her slip, and regarded Kali with speculation. “How do you feel?”
Kali was tired and weak, and still reeling from her bizarre dream, but at least she was alive. She briefly searched her own particles and finding nothing amiss, she managed a nod. “I've been better.”
As she studied Sadira, another memory returned with the force of a blow and a chill ran through Kali's entire body. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light in the tent enough to make out the abrasions on the Zhee mage’s neck, probably from when she’d ripped off her torc. “You saved my life.”
“You were going to die. I did what I had to do to stop you.”
“But how? They tried to slit my throat. I should have bled out before your magic had a chance to work. I should be dead.”
Now Sadira shifted, looking toward the tent's entrance. “I needed to be free of all boundaries. I had to shed my svharja’vel to do so. But,” she hesitated, then met Kali's eyes, “I do not have the power to heal so serious a wound as yours in so short a time. I did not save you, alone.”
Kali’s first thought was Stonewall, but she pushed him aside immediately. “What do you mean? We were the only mages there.”
Sadira nodded, still holding Kali's gaze. “You helped me. Not on purpose, I believe, but…”
She trailed off meaningfully, but Kali's thoughts were still sluggish and tumbling. “How did I help you? I don't…”
Now it was her turn to trail off as another memory trickled back. The Parsan woman – the thrall. Eyes that burn like stars. “The woman I was healing grabbed me. I couldn't get away…. Then…”
Another memory: a dizzying rush of power. Kali flexed her fingers in the dim light within the tent. Her wrists were unbound. Blood still clung to her skin – how much of it was her own? That flush of power had faded, but she felt normal, no longer drained and exhausted. Where there should have been, at the very least, a dull ache in her knee, there was nothing. Even the burning pain had faded from her throat.
The realization was a relief… and a burden, because a part of her always wanted to feel so strong. Sweet magic.
“I stole her life to save my own,” Kali whispered.
“I believe so,” Sadira replied, equally as softly, though her gaze on Kali turned speculative. “I have no doubt you would have died, otherwise.”
“I should have died,” Kali said, thinking of the vines that she'd manipulated back at the bastion. How easy it had become to use her magic in such a way; so easy, it was second nature now. She was alive, thank the stars, but at what cost?
“I didn't mean to kill her,” Kali said. “I just… panicked.”
Sadira was quiet for a long moment, her expression troubled. When she spoke, her words were carefully measured. “I understand. But Kali, using magic to harm another—even in self-defense, even in a moment of panic—is a path to ruin. It is so easy to lose control,” she added, voice dropping. “So easy to lose yourself.”
A chill skated down Kali's spine, not only at the memory of power rushing through her veins, but at what Sadira was trying very hard not to say. “You speak from experience.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
The Zhee mage looked down at her hands. At first, Kali thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then she took a deep, shaking breath. “I was only trying to protect them: my husband, my son…my village. From…” Sadira frowned to herself. “I do not know the Aredian word, but you might call them ‘assassins.’ They came when both moons were dark, when only Amara’s light shone. But even the great goddess could not protect us that night.” Her hands began to tremble; she closed them into fists. “They came to kill me, but they began with my son. I…I do not remember what happened, after, only that I awoke to ash and cinder: all that remained of those,” she swore in Zhee, but her next words held only bitter sorrow, “and of my home.”
Kali’s throat was dry. “You…?”
When Sadira looked up, her eyes were hard and bright as crystal, and her cheeks were wet. “I killed them. All of them. My husband, my parents, my friends, my neighbors… All dead because of my curse – my magic.” She dropped her gaze back to her hands, now trembling fists. “The assassins died too, but it made no difference. Everyone I loved was still dead.”
Kali made to touch her friend’s shoulder, to try and offer some reassurance, even if it was meager. But Sadira tensed, which was answer enough. Neither woman spoke for a little while as they listened to the sounds of the sentinels outside the tent. More than once, Kali caught herself straining to hear Stonewall's voice. When she couldn't bear to be alone with her thoughts any longer, she looked back at her fellow mage.
“Before the thralls, did you sense anything...amiss from the people at Parsa? In their particles, I mean.”
Sadira considered, then nodded. “Yes. An almost...foreign presence within a few of them.” She shrugged. “I took it to be infection.”
“You didn't investigate?”
“Not really,” Sadira replied. She was calmer now, more her usual composed self. “There were so many to attend to. I thought if I had time, I'd return to one of the injured once we were finished, but then...” She waved a hand to indicate the chaos that had ensued.
Kali's mind raced ahead, glad of the new direction for her attention, even if it was gruesome. Though she felt fine now, having sensed nothing amiss within her own body, too well did she recall the strange, invasive feeling when she’d first investigated the Parsan woman. She also remembered her theory of a connection between thralls and Fata; after today’s events, the idea seemed
less outlandish. “I sensed much the same type of foreign presence, and did investigate. And immediately after, that woman—the thrall—opened her eyes and attacked me.”
“You believe the two incidents are connected,” Sadira said.
“They must be. I think I’ve experienced such a thing before, on the journey over here.”
“When the thralls attacked your sentinel escort?”
“Yes.” Kali shivered at the memory. “They showed no interest in me…until I removed the hematite cuffs.”
“So the creatures desire magic?” Sadira asked. “Is that why they returned to Parsa? To leer mages?”
Kali frowned. “I hope you mean lure. And yes, that could be. But I can't think of what they hope to achieve by trying to kill us.”
“Perhaps they have become thralls because of magic, and now desire more power.”
“But how? Can you create a thrall? Because I can't, nor have I heard of another mage who can. Magic doesn't work that way. We can't change people into something they're not.”
“Except for Eris,” Sadira pointed out.
Kali blanched. “Eris hasn't left the bastion since before the thralls started appearing, and her magic has only ever worked on herself. Besides… I know her. She has a good heart.”
“I only mean to say that there are many mages in the world, Kali, and not all of them can be good.”
“But I don't see how it's possible to change someone else's...spirit, or soul, with magic,” Kali countered. “A physical body can be manipulated, it's true, but only to a certain extent. But to take someone's humanity with magic…” She trailed off, struck with sudden insight. Thralls couldn’t touch metal; thralls appeared mysteriously and without warning. Not entirely corporeal…”Parting with their souls,” she murmured. “Walking between worlds.”
“Kali?” A cool hand pressed to her forehead. “Are you well?”
“The Fata,” Kali said. “The thralls. They’re connected. They must be. But are the Fata creating them or are the thralls actually glimmers?”
“Glimmers?” Sadira frowned. “Kali, those are children’s stories, are they not?”
Stonewall’s words came back to Kali, unbidden. “Some things are legends because they happened so long ago and the stories have gotten twisted with age. But that doesn't make them any less real.”
Sadira regarded her with trepidation. “I think you need to lie back down.”
Kali shook her head. “I’m fine. I promise.” There was no way she could sleep now, if she ever could again. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the echoes of those strange voices.
“...leave them be, ser.” It was a man's voice, weary, albeit with a refined edge. Familiar, though Kali could not summon the speaker's name to mind.
Her heart seized at Stonewall's curt reply. “It's been an hour since we made camp. We should check on them again.”
Boots crunched along the ground, moving closer to the tent, and Kali inadvertently stiffened, even holding her breath in an effort to remain silent. What would she do if he came to the tent? Looked into her eyes? Said her name? Surely the ache in her heart would shatter her into a thousand pieces. No; it was easier—better—not to see him, not to be near him at all. Ironically, had she remained in the bastion tonight, she could have escaped him forever, but here and now, she didn't have that luxury.
There were no gods, of course, so perhaps it was luck on her side for the second time that day. Another sentinel, a woman, cleared her throat. “Beacon's right, ser. They're both resting. No sense in disturbing either mage unless we must.”
Kali felt rather than heard Stonewall's sigh of resignation; too well could she picture his scowl and furrowed brow. She did not exhale until she heard the quiet thunk of him settling into his seat.
She'd gotten exactly what she wanted, so why did it hurt so much?
Then her stomach snarled, surely loud enough to summon the glimmers. Of-fucking-course. She winced, but thankfully the sentinels did not hear, for their conversation had turned to the sharing of rations. The scent of smoke trickled through the tent and Kali swore she could smell roasting meat. Her stomach growled again. She glanced at Sadira, who gave a small shrug.
“We should both eat something,” the Zhee mage said. “We are not bound. Perhaps they will agree to share their meal.”
“Perhaps,” Kali replied, not without some irritation. Stupid stomach.
Sadira regarded her. “Shall I go alone? That way, you won’t have to see him.”
Kali winced. “That obvious, huh?”
“Was your affliction for the sentinel supposed to be a secret?”
“Affection.” Kali considered. “Though the other word isn’t far off. But whatever it was, it’s…” Her eyes burned but she bit back the tears. Come on, no more tears over him, she thought. “It’s over.”
“I thought as much. You hardly said two words on the ride to Parsa and you wouldn’t look his way.” When Kali grimaced again, Sadira offered her a faint, sad smile. “We cannot help whom we love. Unfortunately.”
“Who said anything about love?” Kali asked, but Sadira was already leaning forward to the tent’s entrance. Kali debated, but hunger and curiosity overrode everything else, and she joined her friend.
Before they ventured forth, both mages peered through the tent flap to get a sense of what awaited them. Moonlight bathed the area, revealing a little clearing where the sentinels were huddled around a struggling fire, over which they'd spit a plump bird. A cloth was laid out, and the sentinels' rations stacked upon it, ready to be disbursed. Kali recognized the jerky, nuts, and some dried fruit, which were common fare in a sentinel's traveling rations. Their horses were blanketed and tied to the mage carriage nearby, noses buried in their feedbags.
The mages drew back and looked at one another. “Shall we?” Sadira asked in a whisper.
Kali sighed and pushed the flap open. “Here goes nothing.”
Thirty
Stonewall quelled the urge to glare at his bickering squad-mates. He was in command. He had to be better.
No matter how much he wanted to snap at them.
“That's too much,” Beacon muttered to Flint, who'd grabbed a handful of dried fruit. “Save some for the rest of us, will you?”
“I can't help that I'm hungry,” the burnie groused, though she dropped most of her fruit back in the pile.
“We're all hungry, Flint,” Stonewall said. “Supper's cooking, but we must make it stretch.”
Rook frowned at the bird she'd spit above the fire. “It should be enough for the five of us....”
“Seven,” Stonewall corrected. “The mages.”
Rook's frown deepened and she gave a small shake of her head, but said nothing as she turned her attention back to their dinner. Good. No one was thrilled to be stuck in the outskirts with hardly any food and a growing pile of unanswered questions, but this was where the gods had sent them. So here they would remain, until Kali and Sadira were fit to travel.
Beacon crouched by the fire and blew, causing a few faint flames to erupt. They were short-lived, though, and faded back to embers almost at once. “Wood's wet,” he said. “Guess it'll be a cold night. It wouldn't be so bad if we had some wine. It is Heartfire, after all.”
“We must keep our wits about us,” Stonewall said.
The mender sighed. “Aye, of course. But I'm not talking about getting drunk – not that we could. I'd just like something to warm my belly.” He considered something, then brightened and turned to Milo, who sat on one of the logs they'd dragged over. “Isn't there a flask in the emergency supplies? I remember seeing one when we found that old tent.”
“We'll check,” Flint said, rising and placing a hand on Milo's shoulder. “Come on, relah.”
Without a word, Milo rose and followed his sister to the vehicle. Once out of earshot of the rest of the squad, the two dark heads bent together as the burnies spoke in low tones. Stonewall watched them
for a moment, and then looked at Rook, who nudged the smoking bird. “Is it cooking at all?” he asked.
“Sort of, but at this rate, we won't be eating until tomorrow morning.”
A soft sound pulled Stonewall's attention away, and as he watched, Kali emerged from within the little canvas tent. She stepped out tentatively, looking between the sentinels as if assessing a potential threat, though she did not look his way. At last, she straightened and stepped free, the Zhee mage on her heels. Kali's movements were more graceful than he recalled, likely due to the brace she wore over her wool leggings. She didn’t want him or his assistance. Nevertheless, he could not help but prepare to rise. He checked himself at the last moment and remained seated, withdrawing one of his daggers to clean and sharpen.
“Mage Halcyon,” he said, causing the other sentinels to look toward the tent. “Are you…”
He trailed off when she turned to regard him, and the ember light caught upon the bandage at her throat, where blood still seeped through. Cold fury swept over him at the sight; it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to jump to his feet and go to her side. Instead, he shot the mender a stern look. “Beacon, she’s still bleeding, but you said she was healed. Explain.”
“Even magic has its limits,” the mender replied, straightening. “The wound was deep. The skin’s mostly stitched back together, but it’s bleeding a bit along the seam. It will likely be some time before she's completely healed.”
Stonewall glanced back at Kali; her jaw tightened and her dark eyes flashed with the light cast by the glowing embers. “It doesn't hurt,” she said. “Put me out of your mind.”
Though her words were quiet, there was steel behind them, and Stonewall was suddenly and irrationally furious. Damn him and his foolish oaths. Kali never would have been injured if he'd let well enough alone, if he'd pretended to forget her request to study the sodding thralls and his promise to help her. It was his fault she'd nearly died, and not only because he'd not been there to protect her. No, he'd slipped away like a fucking coward, tail between his legs, while a burnie looked after her.
Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2) Page 35