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

by Lauren L. Garcia

  “I'd not argue with her, lad,” Riel added with a grin. “Jen don't take kindly to being turned down.”

  Kali selected another flatcake and poured a small measure of honey across it, then glanced at Riel. “You're feeling better? No pain?”

  The adults went still. Jennet and Riel exchanged a look before he nodded once, dipping his head so low it was nearly a bow. “No pain. Just a scar.” He set his mug of water down and looked at her, blue eyes earnest. “I should be dead.”

  “Riel,” Jennet hissed as Saph and Coplin blanched. “Not in front of the children.”

  But he continued as if his wife had not spoken. “I should be dead. I would be, if it weren't for you. And from the sound of it, you nearly died, yourself.” He swallowed thickly, then gave a weak laugh. “'Thank you' seems like a pittance, don't it? But it's all I have, I'm afraid. So thank you, Kali.”

  Face warm, Kali pushed her flatcake around on her plate with her fork. How in the stars was she supposed to reply to that? “All life is precious,” she said suddenly, looking back up at him. “I did what needed to be done to preserve it.”

  Jonas had said much the same thing to her, on many occasions. Strange; how high-handed and pious it'd always sounded. But now she thought she understood, at least a little. She glanced across her to see Stonewall regarding her thoughtfully. She smiled, but his expression did not change, and he immediately returned his attention back to his plate.

  Rather than dwell on that, Kali looked back at Riel, trying to recall what Jennet had said when they'd met on the road. “What happened, exactly? Jennet said you were...” She trailed off as the memory ambushed her. Eyes that burn like stars. Kali shivered. “Jennet said you were attacked?”

  His face darkened. “I've told the story to Ser Stonewall, but you should hear it, too. Me and Neff, our neighbor, had been tracking an elk all morning, gone pretty far. Farther then I'd have liked, but it was a big bull; enough meat for us and Neff for weeks. Tracked the thing to the river, split up to take it down, then the sodding barbarians ambushed him.”

  Coplin giggled at the swear, but his sister shushed him. She'd been listening, rapt, to the adults' conversation. Jennet glanced at them, and both children held perfectly still. Riel sat silently, lost in memory.

  “You were ambushed by Canderi?” Stonewall prompted.

  “Aye. At least, I think that's what they were. Never seen a Canderi in the flesh, but I hear they're tall and fair. That's how these looked, but I couldn't say for sure if that's what they were.” Riel scrubbed his face. “Poor Neff. I heard him shouting, then heard this unholy, terrible screaming, too, loud enough to wake the dead. When I ran to see, the bastards were–”

  “Saph,” Jennet broke in. “Take your brother and start your chores.”

  “Please, Mama,” Saph said. “I want to hear!”

  “Me too,” Coplin added, eyes huge, flatcake crumbs clinging to his chin.

  “Jen, it's all right,” Riel said, more gently than before. “They need to know what's out there.”

  “They had enough of that when I left them with you while I ran to fetch help. Some stories aren't meant for small ears.”

  “This is important.”

  Husband and wife regarded each other silently, though Kali thought they were still somehow communicating. Without thinking, her gaze crept to Stonewall again. She expected to find that he wore his usual solemn expression, but his eyes flicked between Jennet, Riel, and the children. When Kali caught his gaze, he blinked rapidly, seeming almost to come out of a trance.

  Heedless of this, Jennet sighed. “Fine. But leave out the foul language.”

  Nodding, Riel continued his story. “As I said, they had Neff. The would've had me, too, but for Neff. I think he saw me before they did. He...” His voice softened and his gaze grew distant. “He shouted at them, all kinds of things not fit for repeating, and fought like a bear. Fought hard enough to keep the brutes' attention, though one of them came after me anyway, but I had enough of a head start. She caught me by the river, but slipped on the rocks before she could finish me off, and I managed to get away.”

  “She didn't chase you?” Kali asked.

  Riel seemed to shiver, and tugged the blanket close about his shoulders. “I can't honestly say. I suppose not, or not very long. I heard Neff shouting for some time...until...” He trailed off and ducked his head.

  For a moment, the only sound was the soft clink of flatware against plates, then Kali cleared her throat. “What else do you remember of the Canderi?”

  “Two men and a woman, all three built like oaks and strong as oxen,” Riel said. “As the blue-eyed warriors are said to be, I suppose, but these seemed....different, somehow. Never seen anyone like them. They paced about like wild creatures. And their eyes–”

  He broke off with a shudder but Stonewall urged him to continue. “Their eyes?”

  “It was unholy,” Riel whispered as he looked back at his plate. “Their eyes were bright and burning, but empty. And they shrieked like something out of my nightmares. I can't explain.”

  But he didn't need to.

  So the attacks on the Starwatch sentinels and the Sufani were not isolated. Would they only get worse? Could they be stopped? Dread rushed through Kali's veins as Aderey's words echoed: Rumors of packs of them moving like lycanthra, hunting their prey with the same ruthlessness as those creatures. Rumors of men and women with eyes that burn like stars, who bring terror and death wherever they go.

  She found Stonewall's gaze again and knew, somehow, that the same words rolled through his mind.

  Jennet looked from mage to sentinel with wide eyes. “Have you seen people like he's talking about?”

  Stonewall nodded slowly. “I believe so.”

  “What's going on?” Saph asked, sitting upright. “Will they come back for Da?”

  “I don't know,” Stonewall replied quietly. “I hope not. I've checked the surrounding area for signs of anything unusual, but haven't seen any cause for concern.”

  “We've seen no evidence that they...track anyone,” Kali added. “From your father's account, it sounds as if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” A thought struck her and she looked at the farmer and his wife. “Does Neff have any family? They might want to...”

  She trailed off as both Jennet and Riel shook their heads. “Neff wasn't the marrying sort,” Riel said, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Kept to himself.”

  Coplin's lower lip trembled as he looked at his plate. “He carved me a deer.”

  “Aye,” Jennet said, hugging her son's shoulders. “He was clever with wood and antler. Made most of those toys upstairs.”

  “I think he had some family in Fash,” Riel added. “When I'm feeling better, I'll ride down and...”

  Silence dominated the room until Saph gave Kali a look that was far too discerning for a child of ten summers. “Are mages the same thing as glimmers?”

  Kali blinked at her. “As...what?”

  “Glimmers.” Saph emphasized the word. “Those fairies. Are you one of them?”

  “Saph, hush,” Jennet and Riel said in unison, but the girl ignored them.

  “Fairies...?” It took a moment's thought, but at last Kali recalled where she'd heard the term “glimmer” before. “You mean one of the Fata?”

  Saph's brows knit, but she nodded. Coplin looked between everyone, mouth full of bacon as he asked, “What's a glimmer?”

  “I believe it's a nickname for the Fata,” Kali replied. “The mythology surrounding them indicates that they were the first inhabitants of this world, long before we humans ever came around. It's difficult to say exactly what they could do, as there are only a few references to them outside of folklore. There are a few accounts from the first pioneers who settled Aredia many centuries ago–”

  Saph sighed loudly, cutting her off. “They have powers to heal any hurt,” she said to her brother. “They can't touch metal. They can walk through your dreams.”

  “Ohhhh..
. Can you do that?” Coplin's eyes were round as saucers as he looked between his sister and Kali.

  Kali shook her head. “I'm no Fata. I'm just...” Her hands weren't bound, but the memory of the hematite cuffs made her wrists heavy, and she rubbed them beneath the table. “Just me,” she finished.

  “But you did magic. You saved Da.” Saph's face scrunched up in thought. “So if you're not a glimmer, is your magic the same as theirs?”

  “I'm so sorry, Kali,” Riel said, shushing his daughter again. “She don't mean no offense.”

  “It's quite all right,” Kali replied. “That's actually an excellent question.” Her words came slow as her mind raced ahead. Folklore and fairy-stories; none of it should be taken seriously. But perhaps that was an oversight. Mythical or not, the Fata were the only other beings in Aredia's history who could use magic. Perhaps there was a connection, though unsought. Kali's blood quickened at the possibility.

  “I wish I knew the answer, Saph,” she said at last. “But no one, not even mages, truly understands how our magic works.”

  “But that doesn't mean it can't be controlled,” Stonewall said quickly, looking between the adults. “Or used for great things,” he added, nodding in Kali's direction. “Wondrous things.”

  Startled, it was all she could do to blink at him. When he added a small smile, a warm flush spread from her neck to her cheeks, and she found herself grinning like a fool.

  Heedless of this, Saph brightened. “Can you turn Cop into a frog?”

  “Saph!”

  “She should turn you into a goat,” Coplin said, pulling a face.

  But Saph's eyes were still on the mage. “Could you, though?”

  Jennet glared between her children. “That's quite enough out of both of you.”

  Biting her tongue to keep from laughing, Kali shook her head slowly. “I'm still a little tired after helping your father,” she told Saph. “But even if I weren't, I doubt I could turn anyone into a frog. My magic doesn't work like that.”

  “No frogs?” Coplin asked.

  Kali smiled. “No frogs.”

  “What about a goat?”

  “No goats, either. Sorry.”

  The children exchanged disappointed glances. “Sod it all,” Saph muttered, stabbing at her eggs with her fork, ignoring her mother's protest over the swear word. “I wanted to see some real magic.”

  As if bringing their father back from near death wasn't real. Kali caught Stonewall's eyes; he rolled his slightly, then gave a small shrug as if to say, “Well, what else did you expect?”

  Jennet sighed heavily. “While I cannot thank you enough, Kali, I don't like the idea of anyone turning anybody into anything they're not supposed to be.”

  “That makes two of us,” Kali replied.

  SIXTEEN

  Though the storm had abated, the morning sunlight did not last. Several hours after leaving Riel and Jennet's farm, clouds crept across the sky as Stonewall led the dappled gray mare. Aside from a merchant they'd passed an hour ago, there had been no other travelers on the muddied road that wound through the forest. Stonewall could not decide if that boded favorable or ill.

  “Be on your guard,” he said to the mage atop the horse's back. “I didn't see any sign of them yesterday, but the Canderi who attacked Riel could still be in the area. If they strike us in these thick woods, we likely won't have much of a warning.”

  “It's been two days,” Kalinda said, frowning. “Would they really linger so long? Aren't the Canderi nomadic by nature?”

  The woods on either side seemed to press against him. “I don't think the Canderi who attacked Riel and Neff are...natural.”

  “The evidence is stacking up that way, isn't it?”

  “Aye.” He swept his gaze around them again. Quiet. Cold. Just as it had been all morning. Never had the collective weight of his sword and daggers – recently sharpened on the Bywater's whetstone – been such a comfort. “If we encounter them, I intend to be prepared.”

  Kalinda was quiet a moment, then cleared her throat. “Well, whatever they were, I hope they leave Riel and his family alone. They were kind.”

  “Of course they were,” Stonewall replied without looking back. “You sacrificed a great deal to help them.”

  She was silent.

  Now he glanced at her, and his foolish heart tightened at the way she looked back. Hope was written across her face, along with some softer thing he did not want to recognize.

  But nothing good could come of these feelings. The path they walked was dangerous and would no doubt end badly for them both. She should not be more than Mage Halcyon, yet he could not keep Kalinda from lingering in the back of his mind.

  Stop this. The journey was almost over. Soon she would be at the bastion, and he would be on his own once more. He'd grown accustomed to isolation after Bahar had been killed. He would do so again after Kalinda was gone.

  Her voice startled him. “Copper for your thoughts?”

  It took him a moment too long to reply, and even then it was clumsy. “Why are you going to Whitewater City?”

  She did not tease him this time, but answered readily. “I've heard there is a great healer there who might be able to help my knee.”

  He frowned. “You can't heal yourself?”

  “It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid. Most of us cannot work magic on ourselves, and even if I could...” She hesitated. “What's wrong with me is more than I alone could heal.”

  “There's nothing wrong with you. You can't help how the One made you.”

  Her voice was wry. “I suppose that's one way of looking at it. In any case, my friend Eris said there is a gifted healer mage at Whitewater Bastion.”

  “More gifted than you?”

  “I'm nothing special. I can't do anything most other mages can't do.”

  “Like sending us across leagues and leagues over a matter of moments, or bringing a man back from the brink of Nox's void?”

  She was silent again. “What were you really thinking about?”

  Stonewall glanced back at her briefly. “Nothing pleasant.” She lifted a brow and he sighed. “If we're attacked, I want you to get away as quickly as possible.”

  “Not without you, Stone.”

  Stonewall's heart tightened again and he halted in the middle of the road, removing his helmet so he could hold her gaze. “It's my duty to protect you. If you're killed or captured, this entire journey will have been for nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Her gaze softened.

  It was better for him, better for both of them, if he forgot the look in her eyes and the way his breath caught at the single word. Stonewall shook his head and ignored the question she'd not quite asked. “I won't let any harm come to you while I draw breath.”

  She stared at him. “Are you really so eager to throw your life away? Or is it just that silly oath speaking?”

  Silly oath? He was hard-pressed to keep his voice calm. “Why does it matter to you?”

  “Because...” She exhaled; bitterness twisted her next words. “'Honor. Service. Sacrifice.' Are those Tor's words, or Stonewall's?”

  He clenched his jaw. “What if they're one and the same?”

  She looked away, to the white sky beyond the trees. “They're not one and the same. I know they're not, Stone.”

  Stone. He gripped the reins like a lifeline. “Stonewall,” he said sharply. At her confused expression he shook his head. “My name. Not 'Stone.' Stonewall.”

  Her face fell and he immediately regretted his tone. “I'm sorry.” she said. “I didn't mean to offend you. It's just–”

  “It's fine,” he broke in with a shake of his head. “I know you didn't. I'm just...” He exhaled and turned away, urging the mare forward again. “Let's just keep going.”

  From there, neither spoke more than was necessary. Stonewall kept his steps brisk. Morning lifted to afternoon, then the day began to descend into evening. It was overcast all day and the temperature only seemed to drop as they traveled
. By the time the sky started to dim he had to work harder and harder to ignore the cold.

  Despite the weather and the tension surrounding them, mage and sentinel made good time through the outer edges of Whitewater Province. As dusk fell, Stonewall estimated they were only a few hours away from Oreion. If they pushed hard, Kalinda could have her bath tonight and he could send a word to the Whitewater garrison of the demon-Canderi.

  But the grueling pace would perhaps do more harm than good, particularly given the oppressive cold. He was considering whether or not to just make camp for the night when the mage cleared her throat.

  “Stonewall?”

  He did not turn, nor pause his steps. He had to remain on his chosen path. “Mage Halcyon?”

  “You're more than the sum of your beliefs, just as I'm more than the sum of my magic. That's all I was trying to say earlier.”

  Now he did stop, and looked back to see she was regarding her unbound hands, resting on the pommel of the saddle. She did not meet his gaze as she continued. “It's a silly thing I sometimes do without thinking – giving nicknames, I mean. I truly didn't mean to offend you. I won't call you 'Stone' any longer if you don't like it.”

  Though the light was fading, he could see how her cheeks were bright pink. He had the sudden, overwhelming urge to cup them in his palms to shelter her from the bite of wind.

  “I do like the nickname,” he admitted, which made her look up. “That's the problem. I like that you call me 'Stone,' but I shouldn't like it. Kalinda, you told me I have nothing to fear from you, but you're wrong. I have everything to fear from you. Not your magic. You.”

  He slid his free hand beneath his helmet to rub his forehead. “I'm sorry I was short with you before. But it's for the best.” His stomach knotted at the words. “There should be distance between us.”

  “Maybe.” She shifted in the saddle. “I don't know anymore.”

  Neither did he. But. “It's for the best if we both believe it.”

  Before Kalinda could reply, the mare lifted her gray head, nostrils flared and ears pricked forward. In response, Stonewall reached for his sword, not his daggers, and scanned the darkening forest.