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

by Lauren L. Garcia

  She'd failed so much. She would not fail again.

  “I'll lead them away, then shift form and get to safety.” Ensuring that her voice held no trace of uncertainty, she pushed Gid toward the gate. “But you have to be out of sight. Now.”

  “Are you–”

  “Now!” She all but shoved him through the opening. “I promise, I'll come back to you.”

  Gideon swore softly but wriggled between the iron bars of the gate, which she began to push close behind him. However, he reached through the bars to rest a palm on her forearm. She looked into his eyes. “Be careful, love,” he whispered.

  She pressed a swift kiss to his hand, then stepped back. The gate closed silently, and if she believed in such things as gods she would have thanked them for that small mercy. As it was, Eris had other things on her mind. The sentinels were seconds away. She crept forward, towards the front of the alley, shut her eyes, and knelt against the cobblestones.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Milo halted mid-stride when Flint grabbed his vambrace. “Wait, Mi,” she whispered.

  Confused, he glanced around at the empty streets. There was nothing around but dark buildings and a few flickering torches. “I thought you wanted me to go–”

  “I saw something move.”

  “Where?”

  Other than the sound of his own breathing the street was silent. Flint scanned their surroundings before nodding to a nearby alley that was pitch-black. “There, I think. Something definitely darted that way.”

  A rush of energy swelled through Milo's veins at the thought of a possible chase, but he kept his voice even. “A rat?”

  Flint took a silent step toward the alley. “Bigger.”

  Both of them dropped into a ready stance: knees slightly bent, hands on dagger hilts, eyes ahead. Even though his helmet obscured his peripheral vision, Milo could see the alley well enough to catch a flicker of pale skin.

  His heart raced faster. “Flint...”

  “I see it too,” his sister murmured. “Be ready.”

  Beneath the moon and the flickering torch lights, the alley's shadows writhed like living things. The whole world seemed to hold its breath until a crow burst from the shadows, cawing once as if in challenge before swooping over their heads. Ducking to avoid being struck, Milo looked up in time to see the bird veer down a side street.

  A single black feather drifted to Milo's boots. Flint snatched it up and held it between them. “Mage,” she whispered, not looking at him.

  He frowned at the feather. “How can you tell?”

  “I can just...feel it. Can't you?”

  It was only a feather to him. But he was so glad to see her acting normally, he nodded eagerly. “Aye, you're right. It's definitely from a mage. But...” His breath caught at the implication. “Since when can mages become crows?”

  Face grim, Flint tucked the feather into a pouch at her belt, withdrew a dagger, and pointed it in the direction the crow had gone. “Let's catch the moon-blood first. We'll sort the rest out later.”

  Together, they surged down the street. Milo's blood licked through his veins like fire, sending the burn of hematite to the furthest reaches of his body. The burn granted him the speed and agility to pursue a single crow through the labyrinthine city. Within moments he and Flint reached the corner where the bird had turned. At first he thought they'd lost the creature, then he spotted a glimmer of wings caught in the light of the mage moon. Seren's presence was unlucky at best and chaotic at worse. Milo longed for the comforting orb of Atal in the sky rather than Seren's misshapen, smirking form.

  But he was a sentinel, which meant there was no one else in the world better equipped to capture a stray mage. He pushed his unease aside and followed Flint, darting after the crow. By some miracle of the gods, it seemed to have trouble flying any higher than just above their heads, and its flight path was wobbly.

  “What I wouldn't give for one of Rook's arrows,” Flint muttered between breaths.

  Milo did not reply. He pushed himself faster, faster, and the hematite within him seemed to burn hotter in response. His steps quickened. He focused on the street ahead, where the crow swerved wildly, dipping low to skim the ground, before it veered down another alley. Milo and Flint followed. When they turned the corner, the bird was gone.

  But their quarry remained.

  In the crow's place, a woman rushed down the street. Had Milo not been in the throes of hematite, he would have blushed, for her long legs flashed pale in the moonlight, her black hair rippled behind her, and she was completely naked. The woman threw a glance behind her, but he could not make out her features. But even had he known her name, her identity didn't matter in this moment. She was a mage outside of the bastion, a renegade. She was dangerous. She could fly all she wanted, but they had a duty to catch her.

  To kill her, if necessary. Some of the burn faded from his veins as his stomach churned.

  Honor. Service. Sacrifice. Milo recalled the city guard's blistered face as he searched for his own fortitude. He exchanged a look with Flint and saw only hard resolve in his twin's eyes. Keeping innocents safe was why he'd sworn an oath, but no matter what Flint said, Mira was the reason he had a home.

  As the sentinels pursued, the mage stumbled over a loose cobblestone, but caught herself before she fell to her knees. She turned down another alley and disappeared in the shadows once more.

  Flint picked up speed. Milo followed It didn't matter how far or fast she ran; Milo would keep up as long as he was able. He would run all day and all night if he had to. He pushed himself faster. Faster. Faster, still.

  He and Flint gained the corner where the mage had disappeared. They would catch her.

  It was their duty.

  ***

  Eris couldn't run anymore; she hardly knew how she'd made it this far. When she turned the corner, she slammed her back into a doorway in the building's stone wall, hoping to try and catch her breath. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest, her feet ached, and she was lightheaded with fear and fatigue.

  The stonework was cold and rough against her bare skin. After she'd lost her crow form, she did not want to think about the things she'd stepped in during her efforts to lead the sentinels away from her and Gid's secret passage. But since she was not skilled enough to shift her shoes and clothing, she had to leave it all behind. Hopefully she could return for her belongings later.

  Above the fear and exhaustion, though, exhilaration swelled through her veins. She'd done it. She'd not only shifted...she'd flown. Not very well, but that hardly mattered. For one small second, she allowed the memory of wind rushing through her wings to bolster her spirits.

  But the feeling was short-lived. It was a marvel that she'd managed to shape the crow's wings well enough to actually fly. Pursued by sentinels through the dark streets...she doubted she could find the strength or concentration to manage it again.

  But she had no other options.

  There was no hope of outrunning the hemies. Even now, their footsteps grew louder, slowing as they tried to catch sight of her. This alley was darker than the others. She'd fled toward one of the city's poorer districts she and Gid had passed through on their way to the pub, and the torches here had not been re-lit.

  The female sentinel cursed. “I know she went this way!”

  Eris took another breath and forced herself to focus. She reached through her fear and oriented her concentration on the particles of her body. Even if she could not fly again, maybe she could manage...

  “Check over there, Mi.”

  Eris sank into a trance and wrapped her will around her own particles, once more coaxing them to mold into feather or hollow bone. She knew she was successful when a soft kiss of wind ruffled sensitive feathers and the overwhelming urge to fly took a hold of her heart.

  But flying was impossible now. In her haste to shift, she'd muddled the wings again; they were too heavy and misshapen. No matter. She could still make use of the crow's form. Blending with the n
ight, Eris watched the two now-massive sentinels stalk down the alley. Their backs were to each other but they were not looking directly at her, so she risked a hop up onto a windowsill. It was awkward to move in this shape, but not impossible. Another hop brought her to the awning on top of the doorway, sheltered by a stiff piece of canvas.

  So hidden, Eris pressed herself into the shadows and made her bird-body as small and still as possible. Her heart, though, fluttered madly within the cage of her ribs, hammering her with the urge to fly.

  Stay, she told herself as the sentinels began to approach her side of the alley. Be still.

  To further help her keep her calm, she imagined Gid's smile and the touch of his hand. What would he say when she told him this? All her earlier fears seemed distant as she thought over the mages' future. Flying, even briefly, would change everything for them. Now she could scout, not just around the city, but through the countryside. Now she could easily reach the world outside the bastion. Now she could make their lives – hers and Gid's and all the mages' – so much better.

  The male sentinel reached her doorway. He'd removed his helmet and swept his gaze around as he searched.

  “See her?” the female called from the alley's end.

  “No.” The male glanced around again. “You can't...sense her?”

  Don't move. Don't even breathe. Eris' heart beat so fast that she felt dizzy, but she held perfectly still. If there was ever a time to pray to the gods, this would have been it.

  “No,” the female sentinel replied, a frown in her voice. “The feeling I had before has faded. I think it's because she's too far away. Come on. Stop mucking about!”

  “I'm following you,” he muttered. Once he trotted to the other sentinel, they turned the corner and disappeared from Eris' view.

  Eris remained in place for several long, long minutes. When she was certain they weren't coming back and she was alone, she slipped down from the awning and began to make her awkward, hopping way back to the gate. If luck was with her, she could keep this form the entire time. She'd already run naked through the streets once tonight. She had no wish to do so again.

  At this moment, she wanted nothing more than a bath, and then to be warm and safe in the bed she shared with her husband, who would be worried senseless. It was long past time she was home.

  But the bastion would never be Eris' home. Home was in Gideon's arms.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “A... whole bushel of apples, Serla Sentinel?” The young stablehand's forehead creased in curiosity.

  Stonewall hefted the saddle off of the horse and set it on a nearby rack. “That's what I said.”

  “I'm not sure we have that many apples,” she replied dubiously.

  Perhaps an entire bushel was overkill. “Well, at least three or four, then,” Stonewall said. “But cut them up first. She'll need hot bran mash, too, and see that her water is warmed before she drinks. And be sure to give her a thorough rubbing down.”

  The stablehand seemed to fight the urge to roll her eyes even as she kept her tone respectful. “Of course. But you know, it's my job to take the best care of your horse, Serla Sentinel.”

  They stood in the Jessamin's stables, their first stop before heading into the inn. Stonewall unfastened the saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder, then ran a hand down the mare's dapple-gray neck. “Aye, but the poor girl's had a rough day.”

  Kalinda spoke up from the stall's entrance, where she stood huddled beneath her damp cloak. “She's not the only one. Hot bran mash and a rubbing down sound pretty good to me, too.”

  She shivered as she spoke, which pulled Stonewall's attention from the mare. He nodded to the stablehand, wishing he had some coin to offer. “Thank you. The One keep you.”

  “And you, serla,” she replied, dipping her head once.

  With the mare settled, Stonewall and Kalinda made their way across the small yard between the stables and the inn, where golden light spilled into the night. When the travelers stepped across the threshold inside the inn, warm air rushed to greet them. The Jessamin had been built around a massive stone hearth which housed a roaring fire. Groups of men and women ate and drank and chattered away, eager to keep the cold at bay with ale and conversation.

  When the mage and the sentinel stepped inside, the room quieted and all eyes fell on the pair. Stonewall realized what a sight they must be: half-frozen, bruised, and haggard. His face warmed and he had an urge to shrink from their gazes and keep to the shadows.

  Conversely, Kalinda didn't seem to notice their audience as she threaded her way through the pub towards the bar in the back, where a woman who looked like an older version of Jennet watched mage and sentinel with bemusement. Perhaps seeing that nothing exciting was about to happen, the patrons picked up their conversations again.

  As he followed Kalinda, misgiving gnawed at Stonewall. What if Jennet's cryptic phrase didn't work? Neither he nor Kalinda had any money. As the Oreion guards had proven, it was customary to give a sentinel aid when requested, but he didn't trust his luck to hold much further than it had already.

  “Sweet Mara's mercy,” the innkeeper said as they reached the bar. “Look at you poor things!” Before they could reply she ducked behind the counter and popped back up with two ceramic mugs of dark liquid. “This'll take the chill out of your bones while we get you sorted.”

  Stonewall recognized the scent of honey cider. He took a deep drink and sweet clover hit his tongue, immediately followed by a warmth that flooded his belly and spread through the rest of his body. He sighed with relief and glanced at Kalinda, as she sniffed the mug's contents.

  “What is this?” she whispered to him.

  “You've never had honey cider?”

  She shook her head.

  He'd never met anyone who'd not tasted it before. “You'll love it,” he murmured.

  Kalinda's first sip was slow and careful; her eyes widened, then closed in pleasure as she took a deeper drink. Stonewall chuckled. When she set the mug down, she was grinning. “Sweet stars...that's delicious!”

  The innkeeper's gaze fell on Kalinda's wrist. In her eagerness to drink the cider, her sleeve had slipped down, revealing a small tattoo of dual crescent moons. “Thank you,” the innkeeper said, mouth flattening into a thin line. “My husband brews it out back. Zin's honey cider is famous.”

  “Are you Faye?” Kalinda asked. When the innkeeper nodded, she gave a short bow of greeting. “Your sister sent us here.”

  Faye crossed her arms before her ample chest and looked between them curiously. “Which sister, now?”

  “Jennet Bywater, ser,” Kalinda replied as she took another sip from her mug. “Near Fash.”

  Stonewall nodded. “She told us to say she sent us 'over the creek.'”

  Faye's arms dropped and her eyes widened. “What happened? Is Jen well? Are her children safe?”

  “Saph, Coplin and Riel are all fine,” Stonewall said. “We saw them this morning.” He paused, unsure of what else he could say about the Canderi attack that she would believe. No doubt if he started rambling about demon-people with glowing eyes, they'd be booted out on their arses.

  But Kalinda seemed to know just what to say. “A group of Canderi raiders attacked Riel, but Stone and I were able to help out. Now we're on our way to Whitewater City, and Jennet sent us here.”

  Faye exhaled as if in relief. “I see. Well, thank the One they're safe. Seems like those Canderi are getting bolder by the day, though I wish I could say those are all the troubles we've seen around these parts.”

  “Do you need help with anything, ser?” Stonewall asked.

  “My husband is ill,” Faye said after a moment. “The sickness doesn't appear to have spread to anyone else,” she added quickly. “But it's still worrisome.”

  “I can help,” Kalinda replied, straightening. “I've some skill with healing.”

  The innkeeper's eyes flicked to Kalinda's wrist again. “You're a mage?” When Kalinda nodded, Faye withdrew a ring-shaped
hematite amulet she wore around her neck. “I don't need your help. Got enough worries without adding magic to the mix.” She looked at Stonewall. “You'll keep an eye on her, won't you, serla? Some of the customers don't care for her kind. There's no telling what moon-bloods will do.”

  Kalinda's shoulders sagged, and Stonewall tried to keep his reply steady. “You have nothing to fear from Kalinda, ser.” Before she could object, he changed the subject. “Is there a fleet-rider station nearby?”

  “They usually operate out of the Jessamin,” Faye replied. “But there are none in town at the moment.”

  “I must send a message to Whitewater City.”

  “Tonight?”

  “This very moment, if I can.”

  She considered, then spread her hands. “I'm afraid the last rider left several hours ago, and none are expected in until later tomorrow.”

  And he needed to be on the road first thing in the morning. Ea's tits. Stonewall sighed. “I suppose I'll have to carry the message myself.”

  Faye glanced between him and the mage again. “Well, you did a good turn for my sister, so I can do one for you. One room for the night?”

  “Two rooms, if you please. And we left our horse in the stable.”

  Frowning, Faye shook her head. “The horse won't be a problem, but I can't tie up two rooms for free, even for you, Serla Sentinel. Even for my sister. And there's no way in Nox's void I'd let a mage wander about unsupervised.” She tapped her chin in thought. “But I'll give you some extra blankets and send up supper – no charge.”

  One room. Stonewall and Kalinda exchanged looks; he blamed his flush on the cider. “That sounds fine,” he said. “Thank you.”

  ***

  About a quarter of an hour later, Stonewall and Kalinda were alone again, standing at the threshold of a modest room with a single sleeping pallet and a stack of wood beside the cold, dark hearth. There was no bathhouse at the inn, but in the corner sat a large ceramic bowl filled with water, with a few cloths for washing and drying stacked beside it. A single, shuttered window rested in the far wall and a candle burned in a sconce beside the door.