Storm

by Lauren L. Garcia

  That settled them down, though Stonewall did not miss the speculative looks shot his and Kali’s way. He pressed one hand to her side, both to keep her steady and to reassure himself that she was safe. She laid one of her hands over his; though they both wore gloves, he imagined he could feel the heat from her skin. Together.

  Resolved filled him. He’d made a commitment to her, and to his squad. Somehow, he had to find a way to keep both in balance. Surely they had all been brought together for a reason.

  Three

  Everything hurt.

  The stone walls and floors of the garrison’s detention area held no heat, but sweat trickled down Drake’s body, stinging the multitude of cuts he’d earned over the course of Heartfire. Commander Talon’s voice echoed in his ears. “Tell me what I want to know.”

  The sentinel commander had locked them both deep within one of the hematite-laced cells. They were alone.

  Drake swallowed thickly; his throat was dry as parchment and his hands were numb from being raised above his head, wrapped in hematite cuffs, and chained to the wall. His legs, too, were cuffed, holding him in place. He was too exhausted to shiver, even though she’d stripped him of all but his pants. His head throbbed, his back ached, and his shoulder burned where the commander’s sword had pierced him during the mages’ escape… Was it last night? This morning? He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the sentinels had brought him here. His bruises had bruises.

  The sentinel commander shifted in place, glaring up at him. She was tall and sturdy, more so than most other women he knew, but she still had to look up to look him in the eye. Good. Drake met her gaze, ensuring that his own held nothing but resolve. Talon may have uncovered his own secrets, but she would never make him betray his friends – the other mages she so desperately sought.

  Because he was a mage. He’d hidden from the truth for most of his life, but now, finally, had accepted the blood that ran through his veins. Admittedly, his timing could have been better, but even though Drake was shackled and bound, a part of him felt free.

  “I know there are other renegade mages out there,” Talon said at last. “Where are they? Where are your allies in the Assembly?” The refined lilt of her accent—Silverwood Province, he guessed—was tattered after their time together.

  His silence only stoked her ire. Her face, shining with sweat, twisted into a visage of true fury. Once more, the dagger left its sheath at her hip and found its way to his throat faster than an indrawn breath. Talon pressed it to his skin, enough for him to feel the point with each beat of his pulse.

  “Where have my mages gone?” she growled.

  Hopefully far, far away from here. At least Eris could fly. The thought brought Drake no mirth when Eris’ husband, Gideon—his own dear friend—was dead. “They’re not yours,” Drake replied, the first words he’d spoken since his capture. “They’re no one’s. They’re free.”

  Her brown eyes widened a fraction and she drew back, lowered the dagger. Drake knew one moment of relief before her gloved hand struck his jaw hard enough to make his vision spotty. His jaw went numb, briefly, before heat and pain flooded the area, pricking at his eyes.

  “I know what you are, despite your sentinel mark,” she said, lifting her dagger once more. “Traitor.”

  Drake steeled himself and met her gaze, and was silent again.

  *

  Commander Talon bit her tongue to keep from shouting at the as-yet unnamed renegade mage. Instead, she turned her attention back to her dagger, as if considering some new question while she wiped the blade on the sweat-soaked tunic she wore beneath her armor. Of course, she had no new questions. Not now, after she’d asked the same few again and again. How had the mages orchestrated their escape? Where had they gone? And, perhaps the most pressing: would this happen again? If not at Whitewater, then in other bastions across the continent? Were the sentinels facing the beginning of a…rebellion?

  Her stomach, already twisted into painful knots, contorted further. The throb that had begun at her temples the moment Foley had alerted her to the breach in the bastion wall sharpened. She took a deep breath to quell both the pain and the driving, clenching fear, but it did no good.

  Footfalls by the door made her look up to see Captain Cobalt standing at the cell’s threshold, helmet tucked under one arm, pale eyes fixed upon the renegade mage. Sensing that he was being watched, however, he met her gaze and straightened.

  “All available squads have spent the night scouring the city and the surrounding area,” he said without preamble. “The city guards are helping, too. After morning meal, I’ll send our forces back out to continue the search, and widen it into the province. Furthermore, we’ve done a head count in the bastion: eleven mages have escaped.”

  “Including Gideon Echina?” Talon asked.

  Cobalt shook his head. “No, ser. His is the only confirmed death. Lieutenant Faircloth of the city guard claims to have flung Eris Echina off of the bridge, but given her history of shape-changing, I think we should presume she’s alive until we can prove otherwise. The rest got away.”

  The renegade mage sucked in his breath, but did not speak. Talon did not spare the dreg a glance.

  “The breach?” she asked.

  Cobalt’s mouth tightened, tugging at the scar that ran down his left cheek. “Wren and Thom’s squads are guarding it now. We’ll need a mason to patch it up properly.” Neither his voice nor his expression changed, but she detected weariness in the set of his shoulders. “We think it’s an old blood run, but there’s no telling how long it’s been there.”

  Another failure, on her part as much as anyone else’s. But how could I have known? “Rest-assured,” Talon said. “We will find those mages, even if we have to burn the province to ashes.” Already, she was cataloging possible destinations the renegades would have fled. They were not long gone. Perhaps she could salvage this situation. Foley might have some hints as well, though Talon was greatly interested to hear what the First Mage of Whitewater Bastion had to say about this mess. Yes, he had alerted her to the breach in the bastion wall, but not until the night of the mages’ escape, allowing Eris and her allies plenty of time to flee into the chaos of Heartfire.

  If Foley heard the slightest whisper of this beforehand, and didn’t tell me… The throb in her temple increased and she gripped her dagger as if it would help her keep her feet.

  “The remaining mages?” Talon asked.

  “All but two have been collared and locked in their dorms: Mages Halcyon and Sadira. Sergeant Stonewall’s squad has not yet returned from Parsa.”

  “Stonewall?” the prisoner choked, straining against his bonds, eyes darting between the sentinels.

  Talon seized his weakness. “Friend of yours?”

  The mage’s green eyes widened, then he lowered his gaze and said nothing more. But the damage was done. Talon studied his face with new interest. The shape of his nose and jaw were both familiar, as was the lilt of his accent, which marked him as a native of Indigo-By-the-Sea Province. All together, they reminded her of…

  The knots in her stomach twisted again. Stonewall. This mage knew the sergeant; gods above, they looked so similar, they might be related. Was Stonewall involved in the mage escape? Certainly, he had been involved with Mage Halcyon until Talon had ordered him to put a stop to his dalliances. At the time, she’d thought the young man was thinking with his cock and not his brain, but now, seeing this new connection, icy dread flooded her. A traitor from within could spell doom for everyone living in the garrison and bastion alike.

  With effort, she kept her voice steady. “They should have been back hours ago.”

  “Aye, ser.” The captain’s reply was just as cool. “There’s been no word from the sergeant, either. They might’ve run into similar trouble as we did.”

  Any other morning, or with any other sentinel, this situation would not yet be cause for alarm. Delays happened. Carriages broke, horses lost shoes, desperate bandits thought they c
ould take on a sentinel squad and walk away. But given the situation, Talon could not quell a renewed flare of anxiety – and fury.

  “If he’s not back by midday,” she said. “Send out a few scouts to look for him. We can’t afford to let any other mages out of our grasp. In the meantime, the bastion is on lockdown. No mages are to leave for any reason.” Foley would be beside himself, but Talon couldn’t risk any more trouble from the mages. Perhaps later, when the dust had settled, she would reconsider. “Lock them in the dormitories and post guards at the exterior doors. They’ll have their common room and latrines, at least, though we’ll have to bring in food and water for now.” Troublesome, to be sure, but at least there were less mages to tend. There is balance in all things.

  Another thought struck her and she leveled a stern look at Cobalt. “Nor are any sentinels not assigned to guard duty allowed to enter without express permission from you or I. Even officers.”

  Satisfaction gleamed in Cobalt’s eyes. “Consider it done, ser.”

  “Good. I’ll speak to the Circle about our hematite stores. If we had been properly supplied, this incident might not have occurred.”

  Cobalt’s relief was palpable as he gave a warrior’s salute: arms crossing his chest, bowing deep. When he straightened, his gaze fell upon the renegade mage again, and then darted to the dagger still in Talon’s grip. “Have you been able to learn anything more?”

  She withdrew one of the vials of hematite, no larger than her little finger, and passed it to the captain. “He had six of these in his belt.”

  Cobalt examined the vial in the torchlight. “Ours?”

  “I believe so,” Talon said. “This mage matches Sergeant Gossan’s description of the dreg who stole our shipment before Heartfire.”

  “What in the blazing void does a mage want with hematite?”

  Talon reached up to turn the fellow’s right wrist so Cobalt could see the sentinel mark beneath the cuff: line-drawn twin triangles with intersecting tips.

  “A sentinel?” Cobalt immediately reined in his shock, squaring his shoulders and glaring at the dark-skinned mage. “I thought his fighting style looked familiar. But how–”

  “I’ve asked that question, too,” Talon interrupted, holding out her hand. After a second of hesitation, Cobalt passed the vial back to her and she stowed it in her belt pouch with the others. “But the mage has been uncooperative – so far.” She moved to the cell door: iron alloyed with hematite. After she locked the door, the two of them started down the stone corridor.

  “Perhaps High Commander Argent will have more luck with the dreg,” Cobalt said.

  There it was again: that wash of fear so cold it burned. Talon’s instincts screamed at her to keep the mage escape a secret from Argent, but such an act would be considered insubordination at the very least. At the worst, her superior would view concealment of the truth as an act of treason – or incompetence. No, she had to let Argent know.

  Hopefully the renegade mage’s capture would mitigate any damage. If Talon could provide a link to the escaped mages—or the Assembly—Argent might be lenient with her for allowing mages to escape in the first place.

  Maybe.

  At the very least, she prayed her father would be safe from Argent’s ire, should the High Commander ever decide to intervene. Foley had not fled, after all.

  It took all of Talon’s control to keep her voice from shaking. “Perhaps he will.”

  Cobalt walked a step behind her. “What will you do with the prisoner?”

  “Nothing, for the moment. I think our magical friend needs some time to consider the reality of his situation. Perhaps, after a few days in our care, he’ll be more inclined to cooperate.”

  Their boot steps echoed faintly on the stone walls and the captain’s voice was all business. “What about the dead mage? Shall we give Gideon Echina to the other mages for cremation?”

  “No,” Talon replied through clenched teeth. “Bring his body to the bastion and bury his corpse. Make the other mages watch you. No. Make them bury him.”

  Cobalt halted. “Bury him? Condemn him to the void for all time?”

  So rarely was the captain at a loss, Talon had to pause just to witness the event. Surprise did not suit his stern, scarred face. “What does it matter?” she asked, more out of sheer curiosity than concern. She had too many burdens to trouble herself with his sensibilities, pious though they might be.

  “Fire is the gateway to the next life,” Cobalt replied at once, as if she had never heard those words. “Without cremation, Echina won’t be sent to the gods. He won’t be sent to his next life, where he could atone for his wrongdoing in this one. My feelings on mages aside, ser, that’s an ill-fate to bestow upon anyone.”

  “Mages don’t believe in the gods,” Talon replied, continuing for the door that would lead back to the garrison proper. Two cinders stood guard; the older sentinels snapped to attention at her approach. “I want Gideon’s death to serve as a warning to the others. Besides, we have cremations of our own to attend to. Or have you forgotten?”

  The captain’s jaw tightened. “I have not, ser. I’ll have a new scar from the thrall attack at Parsa yesterday morning, and we lost many brothers and sisters to sacrifice. But what you’re suggesting is–”

  “Is an order,” Talon interrupted. She shot the captain a final glance before stepping through the door. “Report to me when it’s done.”

  Cobalt stared at her before saluting again. “As you say, Commander.”

  Four

  A new day dawns. Our sun sidles over the horizon: golden, warm, ever-watchful. The source of all life.

  A shadow appears in the endless sky, marring the dawn, blotting out that warm, guarding light. It is no thunderhead, heavy with rain, but the winds stir and the world grows cool. An answering icy terror fills our veins. Our hearts leap out of our chests and we yearn to run from the shadow-cloud and the coming storm, but fear pins us in place. The shadow looms closer. We have only one way to hide.

  Kali jerked awake with a gasp, blinking into the morning mist blanketing Whitewater City. Her heart raced as the strange vision faded into the river’s constant roar. Or was she still dreaming? Stonewall’s hand on her side brought her back to herself.

  “You all right?” he murmured.

  “Aye,” she managed, rubbing her eyes. “Just woolgathering.”

  The delicate snowfall had retreated to the morning’s assault. They were approaching the outer gates that led to the bridge crossing the White River. Beyond the closed gates, the province’s capital city sat dark and silent while the river churned around it. Crows, mice, and other scavengers searched the cups and bits of food that littered the ground, and the air stank of wine; remnants of last night’s festivities. A squad of city guards watched the sentinels pass through the outer gates with a little too much interest. One of them, a lieutenant, judging by the insignia on his armored shoulder, signaled Stonewall and the others to approach. Behind him, the other city guards glowered. Kali twined her fingers in Frost’s mane and pressed herself close to Stonewall’s armored chest.

  “What in Nox’s void is going on?” Flint asked. “Why do those guards look like they’ve all eaten bad cheese?”

  Kali’s stomach turned to ice. Heartfire. Eris’ escape. She had almost forgotten after all the insanity of Parsa. If Eris, Gideon, and the other mages had succeeded… Well, that would account for the guards’ sour faces.

  Stonewall glanced at the others. “No idea. But let me do the talking.”

  “Stonewall, I need to tell you–” Kali began, but the city guard lieutenant was already by their side, glaring up at her.

  “Well met, ser,” Stonewall said as he halted Frost. “Is everything all right?”

  “It is now,” the lieutenant replied. “Those dregs with you are mages, right? Thank the One, you’ve caught some of them! Did you see any more?”

  Stonewall shifted in the saddle, no doubt at a loss.

  Play along, Kali thought, w
illing him to catch on. Let the guards think you caught some renegades. Perhaps they could learn something useful before stepping back into the lycanthra’s den.

  “We’ve done our duty,” Stonewall said at last. “What’s the situation here?”

  The guard removed his helmet, revealing a man in his middle years, blue eyes ringed with exhaustion. A network of fresh, bandaged scratches mingled with older, ugly pink scars that covered his face, as if the metal on his helmet had burned his flesh. “It’s been a night for the histories, let me tell you. I still can’t believe so many moon-bloods got away—and no one knows just how—but we’ve done the best we could, serla.”

  Stonewall had gone still. “I’m sure you have,” he managed. “Can you give me an update on the bastion?”

  “Full lockdown, from what I hear,” the city guard replied. “You’re about the last bunch to return. I imagine you’re ready for some food and rest.” He glanced between Kali and Sadira, eyes narrowing. “Did they put up a fight, serla?”

  “They gave us no trouble,” Stonewall said.

  The lieutenant frowned. “Wish we could say the same. We had a beastly struggle right here at the gates.” A thin, satisfied smile curved across his face. “Well, let no one say Ballard Faircloth don’t pay his dues.”

  A knot tightened in Kali’s stomach. “What do you mean?”

  Faircloth glared at her, but Stonewall cleared his throat. “Good man. Was anyone else injured?”

  The guard spat onto the stone walkway leading to the bridge. “Aye, you could say that. I flung one bitch down to the river. The other…” He squared his shoulders and patted his sword-hilt. “The other met his end on my blade. Almost makes me think I should try for the Burn.”

  Two mages dead; was one of them Eris? Kali’s mouth fell open but she couldn’t speak. Her head felt light and her vision swam and never had she been so grateful for Stonewall’s solid presence at her back. Without him, she surely would have toppled to the ground.