Catalyst Moon: Incursion (The Catalyst Moon Saga Book 1)

by Lauren L. Garcia

  “The folk of Parsa will be seen to,” the priestess said smoothly. “Consider your duty to that village fulfilled for the moment.”

  “Thank you, serla.”

  The priestess turned to leave. Talon took a deep breath and stepped forward again. “There is another matter...”

  “Is there?” the priestess asked, pausing before the gate.

  From here, Talon could see the two sentinels who stood on either side of the gate: Chert and Scoria. Both were prone to gossip, so Talon pitched her voice low. “When should I expect another shipment of hematite? It's been nearly a month since the last one arrived, and with everything that's happened lately, I don't want to be caught unprep–”

  “Do not worry,” the priestess broke in, smiling faintly. “The Circle has always provided for our loyal sentinels.”

  Talon could not help but glance at the hematite amulet dangling around the younger woman's neck, where the dark gray stone lay in shadow. “When can I expect a shipment, serla?”

  “I will pass your concerns to the appropriate parties.”

  “Yes, but when?” Talon spoke more sharply than she meant to, and the final word echoed through the courtyard. The guards shifted, but, to their credit, did not turn.

  The priestess regarded her for what felt like a long few moments, then shook her head. When she spoke, her voice was cool and smooth as mage-made glass. “All will be well, Talon. There is balance in all things. Do not trouble yourself with matters beyond your control. Simply trust that the One will provide you with what you need, when you need it.”

  “We need it now.”

  Another faint smile. On the priestess' youthful face, the expression was almost mocking. But surely that was a trick of the light, or of Talon's own anxiety.

  Calm, she chided herself. You must remain in control.

  “There is balance in all things,” the priestess said again, and slipped through the open gate.

  ***

  Time was an easy thing to lose track of, particularly when the flames were so bright they seemed to steal the light from the very stars. Even the moons' progress across the sky was harder to follow than it should have been. Or perhaps Milo was more tired than he reckoned.

  Through it all, Flint stood straight and still, eyes fixed on the pyre. She didn't speak to Milo. She hardly seemed to breathe.

  By contrast, Milo only dropped off for a few moments, never more than that. Always, the faint shift of his body jolted him awake before he toppled to the ground.

  “Mi.”

  He'd grown oddly used to her silence, so her voice startled him. Blinking, Milo looked around the courtyard, still illuminated by the fire. Flint now stood about an arm's length away, scowling at him.

  Milo rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “What happened?”

  “You fell asleep. Standing.”

  The fire had died to a flickering cairn of embers. Flecks of ash leaped away from the coals, climbing to the sky. Dawn came, but barely; gold threaded through the horizon even as the bowl of the sky remained dark as ink.

  Milo blinked at his twin again. Did he have the same shadows beneath his eyes that she did? “What time is it?”

  She ignored his question. “What in the fucking void are you still doing here?”

  “Keeping vigil. With you.” He paused. “Is that... I mean, do you mind?”

  Flint looked back at the embers, and her gloved hands tightened into fists. “You're exhausted. You should go to bed.”

  “So should you.” He hesitated, then reached to place a hand on her shoulder.

  She jerked back as if he'd stung her. She said nothing, but her face twisted with grief before she shuttered the emotion away. He was silent, too, though it was not entirely by choice. What could he say that would make her happy again? Beyond them both, the embers' glow faded in the wake of the coming day.

  “I'll miss the lieutenant too, relah.” Out of habit, he slipped in the southern slang for a close family member. “But we have to move on. We must keep going, no matter what.”

  A gust of wind tugged at her dark hair which was unbound, but she made no move to smooth back the strands. “How can you say that?”

  “Dev fell in the line of duty. It's all any of us can hope for, in the end. Who knows? You may even meet him again, in another lifetime.”

  Flint glared at him. “Do me a favor and shut up.” With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the yard, toward the stone staircase that climbed the interior garrison wall to the upper level.

  Let her go. It was probably the smartest move. But she was as much a part of him as his fingernails or the color of his eyes, and she was hurting. Milo took a deep breath and followed his twin. He purposefully did not look at the remains of the pyre as he passed it.

  The White River, tumbling down the mountainside, swallowed the sound of his footfalls as he ascended the steps after her. The upper level that encircled the garrison was relatively open, ringed with only a wall about waist-high. From this vantage point, the bastion was clearly visible, though none of the magic-users were moving at this hour. Dawn had not quite crept to the city in earnest and the evening's chill still clung to the stone parapets. Only a handful of lights dotted the city, though a few more sprang to life as he searched for Flint.

  Mist drifted up from the river, ensuring that nothing left out here would ever completely dry. But Milo didn't mind because the waterfall afforded such a spectacular view.

  Even though there were much taller mountains nearby, standing here was like standing at the tip of the world. Maybe such an effect was caused by how the mist looked like cloud cover on some days; maybe it was because of the way the sunlight danced on the rippling, swirling surface of the water as it rumbled past the city walls. Beyond the river, beyond the waterfall, down and away, the countryside stretched for leagues, all of it painted watery gold by the rising sun. If Milo squinted he could make out the closest villages and a broad, wild stretch of forest. In the distance were the Argus Mountains, their peaks dusted with snow.

  Flint sat at the top of the low, stone wall, her legs dangling over the edge while her helmet rested at her side. Her face was downcast. She did not turn as he approached, but spoke once he was close enough to hear. “What in Tor's name is wrong with you?”

  “What d'you–”

  “I want to be alone. What will it take to make you understand?”

  “I do understand,” Milo replied quietly, coming to stand beside her, facing the waterfall. “I just don't care.”

  She scowled. “You're–”

  “Why did Beacon think you had more of a reason to be upset over Dev than anyone else?” he broke in.

  He must have been on to something, for her eyes widened and she almost looked surprised, though the expression quickly passed and she gave a snort of irritation. “You shouldn't listen to Beacon. He talks too much and never says anything.”

  Milo shook his head. “Sometimes, but not now, I don't think. Not about this. Right?”

  Silence, save for the roar of the waterfall. At last Flint dipped her head. “It's not fair,” she murmured, her words barely reaching through the sound of falling water. “Why did the gods take him away from me? Why do they always take everyone away?”

  “I'm still here.”

  She looked at him again, and he wished she hadn't. Her face was like a sword: sharp and bright and cold. “Aye, you're always here. Every time something shit happens to me, you're here.” His heart froze. It was a relief when she looked back at the falling water. “You're the only part of my past I can't be free of. Tell me why that is, Milo.”

  For a few moments, words were impossible to come by. “You're my blood,” he managed at last. “We shared a womb. Why would I leave you? Where would I go, if not where you go?”

  She waved her hand at the waterfall, the mountains, the slowly lightening sky. “There's a whole sodding world out there.”

  “Are you saying...” Sweet Mara's mercy, he could hardly get
his voice to work. “You want me to request a transfer?”

  She did not answer immediately, only looked off somewhere in the distance. “Why did you transfer with me here, after our Burn?”

  “You're the only family I have left.”

  “That's what I thought,” she muttered. “Gods above, you're selfish.”

  “Selfish? I became a sentinel because you wanted us to! Even though you didn't ask what I wanted to do. I didn't want you to be on your own.”

  “I didn't ask you to come with me because I didn't want you to come with me. I wanted to be on my own.”

  “But–”

  “No.” She cut him off with a neat slice of her palm. “There's nothing more to it. You didn't think, Milo. You never think. You just act. Regardless of what anyone else wants. Regardless of what else is going on around you.” She shook her head again. “Selfish.”

  He flushed, but it was not entirely with embarrassment. “You didn't want to be alone if the lieutenant was involved.”

  He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. Flint went rigid and she glared at him a long, long moment before turning around. “You want to make me happy?” She slid off of the wall. “Throw yourself down the fucking waterfall.”

  She stalked off without another word, her footsteps drowned by the roaring river and Milo's heart hammering in his ears.

  FIFTEEN

  When Kali woke again, the rain had stopped and slender beams of sunlight poured in from the window. Stonewall sat on the floor beside her, staring at his map without seeming to see it. The moment he saw she was awake, he straightened and began to tuck the parchment away, his movements brisk and perfunctory.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “It's morning?”

  Nodding, he picked up an ewer from the floor and handed it to her. “You've been resting for nearly two days. How do you feel?”

  Two days? Kali sat up and chugged the water. When she'd drunk her fill, she swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Good as new, I think.”

  “You look good,” he said, then he looked away from her, towards the window; perhaps he meant to conceal any awkwardness in his words, but instead she saw how the tips of his ears had reddened. “I mean...you seem rested.”

  She could not stop her smile as she swept him a look from head to newly-polished boots. “You look good too. And rested.”

  Apparently her flirtatious reply did not land, for when he glanced back her way, he kept his eyes fixed on the top of her head. “Do you think you can travel? We lost a bit of time by lingering here. It was worth it,” he added quickly. “But, still. We lost time.”

  “I'm fit to travel,” she said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as his. “As soon as I find the nearest chamber-pot.”

  He stood abruptly. He was fully armored again, and she was always impressed with how easily he moved despite the burden of his gear. “There's one in the corner. When you're ready, Jennet and Riel have offered to send us off...with breakfast.”

  Indeed, as he spoke, Kali caught the scents of honey and cooking bacon and her stomach snarled. Aside from still being a little tired and stiff, she felt much better than she had before, even though the notion of resuming the journey did not sit as comfortably as it once had.

  But she didn't have to think of that right now. “Riel's awake?” she asked as she started to get up.

  “Aye, despite the fact that Jennet keeps ordering him to rest,” the sentinel said in a wry voice as he extended a hand to help her. She accepted it, and he pulled her up the rest of the way. Hands joined, they stood in place and regarded one another before he took a deep breath and said, carefully, “What you did for him was...incredible. I've seen mages heal before, but not like that.”

  Stone's grip was firm and his body was close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, even through his armor. He was so solid. Given the difference in their height and how he was bent over just a little because of the low ceiling, their faces were close. Kali's breath came shorter as her heartbeat quickened and her gaze was drawn to the stubble on his cheeks and chin, the curve of his mouth, the dark, fine fringe of his hair...

  Every part of him called her name; every part of her ached to answer.

  Finally, she was able to form a reply. “I just wanted to help.”

  “So I've learned.” He released her hand, his honey-brown eyes regarding her perhaps a moment too long before he stepped toward the ladder.

  “Stone.” When he glanced back, she held out her wrists, adding a raised brow for good measure. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

  It was only a half-joke. Her arms were light without the hematite cuffs, and she had no wish to bind away her magic again. But nor did she want him to think ill of her. Stonewall said nothing at first, only studied her face, a faint frown touching his lips. Had he truly forgotten? Perhaps she should have kept her mouth shut.

  At last he shook his head. “No, Kalinda. I haven't.”

  ***

  Several minutes and one empty bladder later, Kali used the remaining water within the ewer to wipe her face, hoping to be somewhat presentable. Her braid, naturally, had come undone in her sleep, but rather than redo it, she left her hair hanging loose, even taking a moment to comb her fingers through the dark strands.

  As she did, she listened to the voices drifting up from below. “...said she'll be down in a moment.”

  Jennet's reply was quiet. “Poor thing. I had no idea using magic drained them so. But you didn't have to sit with her as much as you did, Stonewall. I would have gladly done so, myself.”

  “I know,” Stonewall replied after a beat. “But you have your own family to think of, and I wanted–” He paused, and Kali found herself holding her breath in anticipation of his next words. Finally he exhaled deeply. “I wanted to stay by her side.”

  Something in his voice made her heartbeat pick up a few paces, though she tried to reason away his words. In all likelihood, he'd stayed with her out of some sense of obligation or duty. Honor, service, sacrifice, after all.

  But her heart whispered, He chose to remain with you.

  Had their positions been reversed, would she have done the same?

  Some answers were simple and complicated all at once. Yes.

  This in mind, she hurried to the ladder and made her way down into the main room, where the door and windows were flung open to allow the fresh air inside. As Kali descended, she was spotted at once.

  “Mama, look!” Cop called. “It's the moon-blood who saved Da!”

  Perhaps Kali should have been offended, but there was only excitement in the boy's voice.

  “Coplin Bywater,” Riel said from the bed, where he sat propped upright with pillows and blankets. Someone had moved the table so that he sat at the head. “That's no way to speak to our guest.”

  The little boy pouted, though his face brightened when Kali stepped off of the ladder. “Sit by me!” he demanded, kicking the empty wooden chair beside him at the table. His sister sat on his other side, watching Kali with serious, blue eyes.

  Stonewall hovered near the open door, peering outside as if expecting an ambush. Well, given their history of such things, Kali could not blame him. She made her way to the stove, where Jennet tended a pan of sizzling bacon.

  “Do you need any help?” Kali asked politely.

  Jennet offered her a chagrined smile. “I could never ask any more of you, Ser Halcyon. Please, sit.”

  She'd certainly changed her tune regarding mages. Of course, she had every reason to now, but there was no use in holding a grudge. “Only if you drop 'Ser Halcyon' and call me 'Kali.'”

  Jennet's round face flushed as she dipped her head. “Aye. Kali. How do you like your bacon?”

  “In my stomach,” she replied, grinning. “Other than that, I'm not particular.”

  Jennet chuckled and Kali took a seat at the table, beside Coplin. Stonewall followed, sitting across from her, though he swept his eyes across her hai
r in what she thought – she hoped – was appreciation. Within moments, the plates before them were piled with bacon, some sort of root vegetable cooked with salt and pepper, and flatcakes and honey. Kali's stomach snarled again, but she did her utmost to eat slowly and not shovel the food down her throat as she so dearly wanted.

  “You're feeling better?” Jennet said to her, seated beside the sentinel. “Ser Stonewall says you've still a bit of a journey ahead.”

  “Aye,” Kali replied. “We're on our way to the capital. It's not that much farther. I think.”

  “Another day and a half.” Stonewall looked up from his plate. “Which reminds me, I must get a message to the garrison as quickly as possible. Is there a fleet-rider outpost anywhere nearby?”

  “The closest one is in Oreion,” Jennet said.

  He sighed heavily. “I thought as much. Well, we'll probably pass through there, anyway.”

  “Stop by my sister's inn when you do,” Jennet replied. “It's a nice little place called the Jessamin.”

  “Are you sure that's wise?” Riel asked, eyes darting to Kali. “Faye's a bit of a...er...”

  His wife, too, looked at Kali, and sighed. “My sister isn't...fond of mages, but she should still help you. Just tell her I sent you 'over the creek' and she'll take care of you, regardless of...who you are.”

  Isn't that kind, Kali thought wryly, though she frowned in thought, recalling the phrase Jennet had said when they'd first arrived. “'Over the creek?'”

  Jennet chuckled. “It's a sort of family story that would take a long time to explain. The point is, she'll understand you two did us a good turn, and she'll give you a room and hot meal.”

  “I'm sure we'll welcome each,” Kali said.

  “Thank you,” Stonewall added.

  “When you're ready to leave, we'll give you some supplies,” Riel said.

  Stonewall shook his head. “As I've said, we shouldn't take–”

  “Nonsense,” Jennet broke in. “It's the very least we can do, and I won't take 'no' for an answer, even if it's a very polite 'no.'”