Storm

by Lauren L. Garcia

The man spoke again, his voice now in her ear. “Kali, you’re strong. You can fight that bastard. Kali, you can do this. Come on. Fight!”

  The last word echoed in her mind. At first it blended with the Fata’s ceaseless litany, but gradually, it built strength until it overwhelmed their words. Fight. Along with this came emotions that were not hers, but not the Fata’s. Determination filled her, although it was tinged with a despair and a fear that she recognized. The breach in her mind widened, allowing other things to pour inside: hope, joy, safety. Love. That solid warmth surrounded her, both a part of and shielding her from the ghostly, searching fingers. So, too, did the Fata’s words recede, giving her respite and a determination all her own. Fight.

  No, she would not die this way. She would not let these incorporeal monsters wrest away her soul, her humanity, her life.

  Fight. It became her new litany, her new act of magic.

  Kali clenched her jaw and concentrated on that warmth, and on the determination that was not entirely hers, but not quite foreign. With her reclaimed calm came focus, and with focus came comprehension. The knowledge she’d gleaned from Artéa Arvad’s journal and her own conversations with the Fata coalesced.

  Even the strongest trees are sick and dying. We have poisoned your weak bodies. We laid the trees to waste, but your magic spread. You brought disease and death, and drove us to this shadow of existence.

  Understanding shot through her like lightning. The Fata’s control was a poison, a sickness. Magic might burn it out, just as it could cure an infection.

  Kali’s awareness dove into her own particles, seeking the foreign presence that had infested her body, mind, and spirit. She found the Fata buried deep within her heart and laced within every drop of her blood, but she was past all doubt. Only intention remained. Kali gathered her strength and focused on the foreign presence; an infection to burn away. Heat swam through her veins and rolled down her back, but she did not relent. Screaming, unfettered fury filled her mind before the Fata’s words faded to a whisper, then a dull hum, and then nothing at all. In those first few seconds of sweet silence, all she knew was a racing heartbeat, although it was not her own. It belonged to the man who held her close, the man who still murmured her name in entreaty.

  “Kali,” he whispered. “Kali, you’re strong. You can do this.”

  “Elan?” she managed.

  His breath hitched and he shifted so there was a space between them. Cold air rushed in; she tried to lean close to him again, but he held her cheeks so he could look into her eyes. No starlight shone upon his bruised, tear-streaked face; only naked hope stared back.

  “Kali?”

  “I’m here,” she replied. Was it true? Had she cured herself from the Fata possession? She sifted through her own particles, searching for traces of the Fata, but found only Kali. Bruised, battered, but wholly herself. Tears slid down her cheeks but she didn’t wipe them away. “I’m right here.”

  Stonewall searched her face before he gave a laugh that was more of a choked sob. “There you are,” he agreed hoarsely.

  “I cured myself…” She trailed off, too overcome to say more.

  But he only smiled at her; one of his true smiles that lit her from within. “I knew you could.”

  Her heart swelled with love and joy and gratitude, so she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. In turn, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, his breath coming in short, trembling gasps. Relief poured off him, though it might have been her own. In that moment, she could not tell where Kali ended and Elan began. And she didn’t care.

  “What’s happened?” It took Kali a second to recall Drake’s name. The fear in his voice made Kali pull back enough to look at him, kneeling beside her and Stonewall. The rest of Stonewall’s squad stood nearby, a stunned Talon in their grip.

  The moment Kali met Drake’s eyes, he smiled. “You’re…you?”

  “I think so.” She looked at Stonewall, who still held her. “I feel…more like myself.”

  He brushed his thumb along her jaw and she leaned into his touch. She felt rather than heard his words in a kind of silent speech. Kali, I was afraid you were lost.

  I think I was, she replied, belatedly realizing she’d not used her voice, either. They stared at each other in shared shock.

  “Now that that’s settled,” Flint said. “Can we leave this shithole already?”

  Thirty

  Foley’s stump ached with a phantom pain as he looked from one face to another, searching for someone he could reason with. He’d known many of these mages for years; by the One, he’d known Hazel since the sentinels had brought her to the bastion as a babe. How many hours had he spent in the garden with Druce and Wylie, coaxing their crops from seedlings?

  He saw only strangers now.

  Every hearth in the mages’ common room blazed, mirroring the fires in the hearts of these fools. More than any other mage, Sadira had come alive, busying herself with unlocking collars and gathering what supplies they would need in the wide-open world. Every so often, she’d pause to glance in the direction of the sentinel garrison, worry plain on her face.

  “You’ll never make it out of the gates,” Foley heard himself say. “The sentinels will kill you. They won’t even bother to bury your corpses – they’ll just fling you over the falls.”

  Hazel rubbed her bare neck, her collar at her feet. “I don’t care. I can’t stay here a moment longer.”

  “Nor can I,” Wylie said as Sadira began to work her collar. “If I’m going to die, I want to die as a free woman.”

  Druce tossed his collar into the nearest hearth. The leather caught almost immediately, the hematite sending up red flames. “Besides, have you seen any sentinels around, lately? Just a few burnies are left standing. The odds are in our favor – for once.”

  Anger flushed through Foley’s body, making his missing hand ache further. “I thought you had no wish to leave.”

  “That was before things got so bad,” Druce said. “Sadira, I’ll need a few minutes to get my belongings.”

  “Us too.” Castor, Oly, Fellan, and Jep stood nearby, collars already gone. They were the only young men left in the bastion. Good boys, all of them. Foley’s heart sank at the gleam in their eyes. By now, eleven mages had gathered in the common room, some already with knapsacks and traveling packs, eager to meet their deaths outside the bastion gates. The sight pierced Foley’s heart. What good had he done as First Mage? They were all going to die.

  Along with his daughter. For if these mages fled, if the bastion truly succumbed to chaos, there was no way in Ea’s realm that High Commander Argent would allow Talon to keep her position – let alone her head.

  Foley’s eyes stung and he clenched his hand into a fist. “Freedom is worth your lives?”

  Several of the others exchanged glances, but it was Hazel who spoke. “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out.”

  “Prisoners or prey: we’re fucked no matter what we do,” Druce added, kicking the hearth logs to send the remains of his collar into crimson flames. “May as well do what we want.”

  Sadira nodded, but her gaze was distant. “Eris’ people should be at the docks. You must leave.”

  “You’re not coming with us?” Druce asked.

  “Not yet. I must gather some items and find Kali.”

  Wylie frowned. “Aye, about that… You said she’ll be bringing some sentinels with her?”

  “Eris won’t be pleased,” Hazel added.

  “We must all work as one to survive,” Sadira replied.

  Druce gave a snorting laugh. “Have you met Eris?”

  The others began to file out of the common room to gather the last of their belongings. No one gave Foley more than a second glance, each wholly absorbed with romantic notions of freedom. Foley’s heart sank with their steps.

  Sadira came last and held up the key, gleaming in the hearthlight. The air around her was too warm and Foley could not take a proper breath. �
��This may be your final chance,” she said quietly as she pressed the key into his palm.

  Foley shoved the iron piece back to her hand. “My last chance passed a long time ago.”

  With that, he slipped into the night. The cold struck him like a sword in the heart and his missing hand ached fiercely, but he ignored the pain. Nothing mattered but Talaséa. He had let his child go once; he would not leave her side again. Snow fell in silent sheets across the bastion courtyard, thick enough to mute all sound and cut his line of sight; thick enough to blot the footsteps of the mages who rushed toward the outside world. Foley followed them as far as the bastion gates, but while they made a bid for freedom, he went back to the sentinel garrison, back to his daughter’s side.

  *

  Had Talon not watched the transformation with her own eyes, she’d not have believed that the thrall who had taken over Mage Halcyon could have been defeated. But the proof was in Stonewall’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder while he held her close, as if the ragged little mage was someone precious, someone worth saving.

  Someone he loved – openly. Bitterness caught in her throat and she tasted bile.

  The sound of footsteps and creaking iron meant that Rook was freeing the Sufani and the captive mages; soon Talon would be even more outnumbered. She cast quick, careful glances to the sentinels who held her. Flint, Milo, and Beacon were all engrossed in the tableau, frozen with shock. This was her moment.

  But not everyone was distracted. Fierce green eyes met hers as the renegade mage held himself in a ready stance between Talon and the ill-fated lovers, Stonewall’s dropped sword in his grip. “Give me a reason not to kill you,” he muttered to Talon.

  The Sufani and freed mages joined the others now, all of them closing around Talon, eyes upon her like daggers. She was alone, captured, with enemies on all sides. Her heart beat wildly against her breast and despair stung her eyes.

  “You’ve lost, Commander,” Stonewall said quietly as he helped Halcyon to her feet. “But no one else has to get hurt. Surrender, and we’ll leave in peace.”

  “Speak for yourself,” one of the Sufani women snapped.

  Faint footsteps sounded. At any other time, Talon would have missed them completely, but so much hematite in her system made every sense alight and attuned. She knew the tread, and for the first time this night, true fear swelled in her chest. No. Not him. Not now.

  “You’ll not leave at all,” she said, hoping to distract the traitors, but it was too late. Foley entered the detention area, causing the others to glance over, startled.

  “Foley?” Halcyon said weakly. She leaned against Stonewall, who had one arm wrapped around her waist.

  But Talon’s father ignored his fellow mage and instead gave Talon a pleading look as if they were the only two people here. “We must leave. Now.”

  Her heart stuck to her throat. Her mouth opened, but her tongue was clumsy and useless. “Argent is on his way. It’s too late.”

  “No, Talaséa.” Foley stepped forward, brushing past the sentinels as if they were plants in his beloved garden. “Where there is life, there is hope. There is no other path for us now.”

  Every sense screamed to go to his side, but even had she not been held prisoner, she could not have allowed herself that weakness. Her body burned, her vision swam, her heart sped so fast she could not catch her breath. The litany rolled through her mind, over and over. Too late. I’ve failed. Fear clawed her throat but she stifled a scream. “I can fix this,” she said to him. “Father, I can still make it right.”

  Soft gasps erupted, but she ignored them as she would a fluttering moth. Only one thing mattered, and he was shaking his head. “Oh, child,” he whispered. “If only that were true.”

  She clenched her jaw. “You must get back to the bastion, or–”

  “Or what?” He spread his hand and hook. “Let them go, Talaséa. They don’t matter.”

  “What should we do?” Milo whispered. Of them all, he stood closest to Talon, just within reach.

  Flint scoffed. “Leave them to their family troubles and put this sodding place behind us.”

  “Aye,” Stonewall murmured. Out of the corner of her eye, Talon watched him take Halcyon’s hand, saw them exchange one of those wordless looks that only passed between lovers, friends…and family.

  Hematite flowed through her veins; her vision swam crimson with the burn. Rage filled her heart, pure and sweet, and it washed her clean. In one fluid movement she shoved Flint to the floor, where the girl yelped in surprise before scrambling to her feet. The others lunged for Talon, but fear and hematite spurred her movements to unnatural quickness. She knocked back Beacon and Rook, freed one of Flint’s daggers, and buried it into Milo’s heart. The burnie cried out and staggered backward while his twin drove herself against Talon, blue eyes blazing with fury.

  “You miserable bitch,” Flint shrieked. “I’ll kill you where you stand!”

  Talon had reared back to defend herself, but Foley was not without his own mettle. He grabbed Flint’s hair, snatching the loose tail and yanking her head back, his hook raised as if to spear her throat. But the girl slammed her shoulder into Foley’s nose, and he fell back, ducking his head as blood streamed between his fingers.

  Strong hands grabbed Talon as the Sufani ripped away her keys and shoved her into the cell where Mage Halcyon had been only moments ago. It had all happened so fast. The lock shut with a clang that bounced off the walls.

  “Mi?” Flint knelt beside her brother, who lay whimpering in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. “Mi! Look at me! Beacon…?”

  The mender was at the lad’s side, along with Halcyon. Beacon’s hands were steady as he tore off a piece of Milo’s shirt and began stuffing it beneath the boy’s cuirass to steady the dagger.

  “Take the fucking thing out!” Flint’s voice was high and thin.

  “Not yet, might make the bleeding worse,” Beacon muttered, and then looked at the mage beside him. “He’s got a few minutes, but this is beyond my skill. Can you…?”

  Halcyon bit her bruised lip. “No, but Sadira could.”

  “But the hematite,” Rook began.

  “Won’t be a problem for Sadira,” Halcyon interrupted. “We must find her.”

  No sooner had the words escaped her lips did the others carefully lift Milo’s form to carry him out of the detention area. “Flint, talk to him,” Beacon said as they went. “Keep him conscious.”

  “You’d better not fucking die on me, you stupid oaf,” Flint replied, her fierce words marred by sobs. “Otherwise, I’ll make you regret it…”

  Their words trailed off as the group ascended the stairs. Several of the Sufani cast dark looks at Talon, but a command from their leader made them continue, helping the additional mages as well. Only Rook remained, watching Talon and Foley as the others slipped out.

  “Release me,” Talon said to her. “That’s an order.”

  Rook shook her head. “Mage Clementa is right. Argent’s coming. It’s too late.” With that, she backed out of the detention area and followed her companions.

  The lack of bodies and sound made the space heavy. Talon looked at her father through the hematite and iron bars. By now, he’d staunched the blood flow from his nose with his sleeve, and her heart tightened at the red stain on his left cuff. He came closer to the cell and gripped the bars with his only hand as he lowered himself to sit before the door. He pressed his fingertips to his nose, grimaced, and closed his eyes in concentration.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Never been much of a healer even without hematite around,” he replied wryly. “But I must try to do something for this broken nose.”

  Talon scowled. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She knelt before the bars, gripping them with white knuckles. “You must! Argent will kill you if he finds you here.”

  “I have remained while all the rest have fled,” Foley said. “Doesn’t that count
for anything?”

  Her blood raced, but with ice; she no longer felt the burn. “It won’t. Argent’s coming to kill you all. Da, you must leave. Please!”

  But her father only gave her a sad smile and reached through the bars to touch her cheek with his remaining fingers. “Never again, child. Never again.”

  *

  The coach-and-four pulled up to the garrison gates unhindered. When Eris opened the door, a gust of cold air swept inside, making her shiver.

  “No guards?” she asked Leal as she clambered out. Seren’s light, the cold stole her breath! The instant she stepped into the open air, she both regretted the action and thanked the stars for Serla Vellis’ fine, fur-lined cloak. She hefted one of the traveling cases, filled with warm clothing for the mages they had come to rescue.

  Brice, Rilla, and the others had already dismounted. Leal turned her back to Eris and went to the gates, where there were no sentinels in sight. Eris tried to set aside her irritation at Leal’s non-answer, and instead glanced over at Auda, Izell, Gow, and Davet. “As we planned: you’ll go to the docks and secure a boat – or two. Leave the carriage.”

  The four mages turned their horses away, trotting through sheets of snow and empty city streets. Only Auda and Izell knew how to ride, but the other two had gotten a hasty lesson on the road to the city. Their mounts’ footfalls made no sound against the snow. There was no sound at all, actually, save for the faint drum of Eris’ heart. She pulled the cloak closer and gestured to the gates. “The coach-and-four will be fine for a few minutes. Shall we?”

  “Time to see if your little alliance will pay off,” Cai muttered as they approached the gates.

  Eris could not help a sigh of relief when she pushed open the unlocked gates and stepped through. Sadira and the burnie twins had made good on their word – at least for now. The garrison courtyard was empty and silent, the only movement from the falling snow. As the group crossed the open space, Rilla cast a dubious look at the sky and tugged her cloak tighter.