Storm

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Storm Page 41

by Lauren L. Garcia


  Milo frowned at his sister. “You shouldn’t talk to Mage Halcyon like that. It sounds like she and Sadira saved my life.”

  Flint glanced down at her weapons belt, where only one dagger rested near her sword. Where had the other gone?

  Rather than ask, Milo turned to the dark-haired mage. “Thank you, Mage Halcyon.”

  “Kali.” At his confused look, she pointed to herself. “Just call me Kali, please.”

  “Very well…Kali.” Mara’s mercy, he almost had to force out the name, and she gave a soft chuckle in response. It wasn’t the mocking sort, which he knew well, but rather the sort that encouraged a similar reply, so he chuckled too.

  Stonewall put a hand on his right shoulder, drawing his attention. The former sergeant briefly explained their situation—which left a lot to be desired—and then added, “So we’ve got a boat to catch. Can you walk?”

  Good question. It hurt too much to move his left arm, but once the others helped him upright, Milo swung his legs over the table’s edge and stood on his own. The pain in his chest built to a dizzying throb and there was a dodgy moment where he slumped against Beacon and Stonewall, but then his head cleared and his legs stopped shaking.

  Before he put his shirt back on, Beacon insisted on examining the wound, so Milo relented. “It’s fine,” Milo said to Flint, who hovered over him like a blue-eyed hornet. “I’m fine. Stop acting like I’m going to keel over.”

  “You look like five kinds of shit, Mi. Am I supposed to be happy about that?”

  “No, but I need room to breathe!”

  “Both of you, shut it,” Stonewall broke in.

  “Yes, ser,” the twins replied in unison, more out of habit than anything else.

  Once Milo was standing, he glanced around the table where he’d lain moments ago, trying to ignore the bloodstains upon the wood. “Where’d my gear end up?”

  Beacon pointed to a neat pile of armor stacked under the table. “Can you get dressed on your own?”

  Not really, as it turned out, and at first it was humiliating to have his sentinel brothers help him suit up away from the others. But both Stonewall and Beacon were efficient, and soon Milo felt more or less like his old self. Well, maybe less, because his left hand didn’t work. No matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn’t get his fingers to close around his dagger’s horizontal grip. Could he even hold a sword?

  “Mi.” Flint’s gloved hand pressed over his, securing the dagger. When he looked into her eyes, she gave him a faint smile. “Don’t mope. Just keep moving.”

  She knew him too well. His throat tightened, but he nodded and concentrated on at least holding the weapon. Flint squeezed his fingers one more time before releasing him and looking at their former sergeant. “I think we’re ready. Are the others?”

  “Kali’s ready,” Stonewall said. “And Sadira.”

  “Is Milo fit to travel?” a new voice asked.

  Milo twisted around, too quickly, for his wound burned, but he didn’t care when he met the Cipher’s dark eyes. “Naree?”

  She was hugging her white and black cloak tight against her body, and her lips were parted in what he thought was surprise. When he said her name, a slow smile spread across her face. “Milo.”

  He swallowed. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “I didn’t plan on it,” she replied. “But I was summoned to mark a child born on Heartfire, whose parents live near the garrison. When I was done, something pulled me here.” Her expression held nothing but wonder. “Sometimes the One guides our steps in unknown directions. We must trust that we’re on the right path.”

  Heat crept to his ears. “I suppose.”

  “Are you…” She looked him up and down, brows knitted. “Are you truly well?”

  “Enough, I guess.” He tried to smile. “Thank you. For…well, everything you’ve done. Everything you’re going to do. Has Serla Iban punished you?”

  She pulled down the hem of one of her fine leather gloves, so he could see the intricate whorls inked into her dark skin. “My place in the One’s world is firm. Iban may become angry with me, but I’m not afraid of him. Ciphers ultimately answer only to the Pillars – and the One, of course.”

  “Must be nice,” Milo said before he could stop himself.

  Flint cleared her throat, making Milo start. She stood behind him, fully kitted up, including her helmet. At his and Naree’s looks, she jabbed her thumb toward the door, where the others were gathering. “Time to move out, relah. Ready?”

  Not really, and he wasn’t sure when he would be. But there was no time for moping, so he nodded and shoved on his own helmet. “Let’s go.”

  *

  Eris was the first to emerge from the bastion and into the worst of winter. Snow fell at an alarming speed, blotting out all sound and color, and there was no wind to speak of. She felt no cold, but the air was oppressive and heavy and wrong. She could not take a proper breath. As the others crept out after her, she hunched in her cloak and peered upward, squinting through the snow.

  “No, you can’t fly in this,” Adrie said, voice muffled behind a scarf she’d wrapped around her mouth. “It’s too thick.”

  Eris had made the same determination, but when she caught sight of Stonewall helping Kali step out of the dormitories, a flare of stubborn indignation shot through her. “Watch me.”

  She lowered her gaze, preparing to concentrate, but a strong hand grabbed her shoulder. She whirled to face Cai, staring down at her beneath his knitted cap and scarf. “Don’t be stupid. You’ll freeze.”

  She jerked out of his grasp. “I can handle it. Crows are hardier than you realize. Besides…” She glanced at the bastion gates. “I have to scout ahead. I have to know if the others reached the docks.”

  A strange warmth crept up her back. When Eris glanced behind her again, she saw that Sadira had stepped into the courtyard, a look of concentration on her face. One of the knots of anxiety that had formed in Eris’ stomach eased a tiny bit. Perhaps they wouldn’t all freeze to death out here. At least, not right away.

  But surely Sadira’s power couldn’t withstand a blizzard. They had to get moving. Eris glanced over at Leal, who held her sister’s hand as the Sufani gathered around the Circle priestess, along with the other mages who had decided to brave the tunnels – and trust the Cipher. She caught Sirvat’s eye; the other mage nodded and hugged her child close, both wrapped beneath several cloaks. Even so, it would take a miracle for them to reach the temple of the One without losing any fingers – or worse. If the gods did exist, Eris hoped they would watch over mother and child. Having already said her goodbyes to her mage friends, Eris stood by while the Circle priestess offered platitudes to those not accompanying her.

  “The One will be with you.” The snow muted the Cipher’s words as hematite muted the world for a mage. “Have faith in the One, and have faith in each other.”

  Eris rolled her eyes and strode toward the bastion gates, gathering her strength with each step. They were all wrong; she could fly now. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

  Leal was at her side in a moment. “Let me go first, in case the sentinels are waiting. And no, you shouldn’t fly in this.”

  “I wasn’t–”

  The Sufani interrupted her with a hand upon her arm. “Don’t.”

  Eris scowled. “We’ll need a scout.”

  “We’ve got several,” Leal replied. “You know, most of us have to make do without magic.”

  With that, Leal trotted toward the gates. Rook followed the Sufani’s heels, slinking through the falling snow as easily as a cloudshadow over grass. They disappeared through the gates while the others waited. No one spoke. At last, Leal reappeared, motioning for them to follow. The Circle priestess led her new flock first. The remaining mages came next, then the Assembly folk. The sentinels went last.

  “Any sign of Argent?” Stonewall asked as he passed Leal. He and the sentinel mender helped the injured burnie struggle along.

  The Sufa
ni shook her head. “None. But this snow will blot out any tracks.” She pointed behind them; sure enough, Eris could see no trace of their passage. She shivered, but only in part from the cold.

  Drake exhaled in a fog. “Something’s not right.” He looked over at Rook. “You’re sure you saw no sign of Argent? He must be here by now.”

  She shifted the quiver of arrows upon her back. “I’m sure.”

  “Maybe the One has truly cleared the way for us,” Milo offered.

  His twin snorted, but made no comment. No one did, other than a stern, “be on your guard,” from Kali’s sentinel lover before the group slipped toward the garrison’s main gates. Eris pulled her scarf closer around her mouth; her breath had dampened the fabric, which would likely be uncomfortable when it dried, but she had bigger problems now.

  Once they reached the gates, the group prepared to part ways. “We’ll meet again, I know,” Aderey said to Kali, clasping her gloved hands.

  Kali smiled at the Sufani man. “Especially since you told us where to find you if we all get free of this city.”

  Aderey chuckled. “When, not if. Let us think happy thoughts.”

  Eris tried to fight back an irrational swell of bitterness. Save Leal, none of the Sufani had treated her or her friends so kindly.

  Drake bowed to the Sufani man, who embraced him. When they parted, Aderey said, “Consider your debt repaid.”

  “Huh?” Drake asked.

  “You don’t recall the biri I gave you?” Aderey clucked his tongue. “Ah, youthful oblivion.”

  “No one has time for your foolishness,” Ytel said, urging her husband along after the Circle priestess.

  “Except you, love,” Aderey replied.

  She took his arm. “Always.”

  The groups parted ways; Eris stole a few moments to watch the Circle priestess lead the Sufani and a most of the other mages away, into the night.

  Seren, watch over them. The thought was as sudden as it was unexpected, and Eris shook it away. Seren was a moon, not a goddess. The gods weren’t real. Only magic was real; only what she could feel in her blood and bones. She looked up, into the falling snow that obscured the entire world. Beyond the confines of the bastion and garrison walls, despite the presence of so many buildings all around, the air seemed colder. The snow had even muted the roar of the White River. The urge to fly tore through her like wind, but even if she could fly, she wouldn’t get far.

  But her frequent reconnaissance trips had granted her a better understanding of the city’s layout. She would never get lost again, and when she left the bastion this time, she would never come back.

  Thirty-Four

  Talon’s eyes had closed, but she knew every nuance of her father’s voice and could picture his earnest, worried expression. “You struck Milo in self-defense,” Foley was saying. “Argent will understand that.”

  Neither of them had moved. She was a prisoner and he would not leave her side, no matter how much she begged, pleaded, or threatened.

  “I pray he will.” She burned no longer. She had turned into a pile of ashes that would scatter with the slightest breeze. “But if he doesn’t…”

  She could not finish the thought. A warm hand on hers made her look up. Her sight had adjusted to the dim light in the detention area, so she could make out Foley’s face as he peered at her through the bars.

  “You’re crying,” he said.

  Only when she swiped at her cheek did she realize he spoke truly. “I’ve failed you,” she whispered. “Everything I’ve worked for—everything we’ve worked for—will be meaningless if Argent finds you out of the bastion. He’ll kill you.”

  “This province needs mages. Surely the High Commander will–”

  “If he finds you–”

  Foley squeezed her hand. “I am loyal to you, and to the Circle. Argent is a rational man.”

  How badly she wanted to believe him, or at least take comfort in his surety. “Perhaps.”

  Footsteps made them both look up to see torchlight flickering in the stairwell, growing brighter. Heart beating fast once more, Talon pulled herself to her feet in one fluid motion and prepared to face the High Commander. Foley rose as well, although he kept his head bowed.

  But it was only Gray, Vigil, and Ferro, swords ready, movements cautious.

  The moment Gray spotted Foley, she lifted her weapon and Foley raised his arms in surrender, but Talon called, “Hold! The First Mage means you no harm.”

  The sentinels looked at each other in confusion before Vigil came forward. Captain Cobalt’s second-in-command was a lanky woman, about as tall as Talon, but without Talon’s strength. Still, Vigil was as professional as her captain as she opened the lock and then saluted as Talon slipped out of the cell.

  “Ser, are you injured?” she asked.

  Talon rubbed her side and gave a convincing grimace. “Only bruised, I think. Stonewall caught me by surprise.”

  “Didn’t think the sod had it in him,” Gray said.

  Talon leveled the other woman with a stern glare. “I was ambushed during an attempt to execute Mage Halcyon, who is indeed a thrall. Stonewall and his squad have turned traitor.” She glanced between the sentinels. “You were all near the void when last I saw you.”

  “The High Commander is here, ser,” Vigil replied. “He brought us hematite and sent us to search for you.”

  “He brought enough for the entire garrison,” Gray added, notes of awe and adoration in her voice. “He saved our lives.”

  “Thank the One,” Talon said, despite how her stomach flipped. “Where is he now?”

  “In the common room,” Ferro said. He cleared his throat. “He said if we found you, he wanted you to go to him at once.”

  I’m certain he does. Talon nodded. “Of course.”

  “What should we do with him, ser?” Vigil pointed at Foley with her sword, causing the First Mage to shrink back against the wall.

  Talon pretended to consider, though her heart hammered and her tongue felt thick. She had to maintain her role of calm, collected leader if she had any hope of keeping her father safe. “Mage Clementa has remained loyal. He will stay with me, for now.” Without waiting for the others to reply, she looked at Foley, who straightened. “Keep close, but out of harm’s way,” she said. “If there is a fight–”

  “I meant what I said, Commander,” he broke in. “You have my loyalty, now and always.” He added a very credible salute that made the other sentinels glance at each other curiously.

  Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? Talon thought, glaring at her father, who only regarded her in that steady way of his. But no one objected. Gray offered Talon her sword, which the renegade mage had discarded in the corner. Her daggers were nowhere in sight. No matter. She hefted the sword’s familiar weight, savoring how the metal hilt already started to warm in her grip, and looked at the sentinels who stood before her.

  Be calm, she told herself. You can both survive this. Have faith in the One.

  “Duty calls,” she said, jerking her chin in the direction of the garrison proper.

  “Yes, ser,” they chorused.

  *

  To Foley’s immense relief, the sentinels did not question their commander’s orders. Vigil led the way out of the detention area, Talon and Foley following, with the others at their heels. For once, the knowledge that he was under observation did not set Foley on edge. He was by his daughter’s side. Everything else, he would face as it came.

  Several minutes later, they reached the garrison’s common room. Not long ago, every surface had been filled with sick sentinels. Now the space was alive with armored men and women returning from the edge of Nox’s void. Creaking leather and jingling buckles interspersed tense conversations, and more than a few narrow-eyed gazes shifted in the direction of the bastion. A tall, broad-shouldered blond sentinel stood at the front of the room, silver-toned gear glittering in the torchlight as he spoke with other, similarly dressed sentinels. The moment Talon and Foley ent
ered the room, the chatter ceased and all eyes fell upon the newcomers.

  Foley fought back a grimace but his daughter stood straighter, using every inch of her considerable height to make her presence all the more impressive. How like Isra she was in that way. Isra had never cowed to anyone, even the sentinels. But that pride had drawn the sentinels’ ire and ultimately been his wife’s downfall. Would it be his daughter’s too?

  High Commander Argent watched Talon approach with an expression Foley could not read. He was younger than Foley had expected, with an aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and sharp, intelligent eyes that tracked Talon’s steps.

  Captain Cobalt stood at the High Commander’s side. Like most of the other Whitewater sentinels, the captain’s eyes were bright as if with fever, and he had the bearing of one who had recently ingested hematite.

  “Commander,” Cobalt said, stepping forward and offering a salute. “We feared the worst when we couldn’t find you. Thank Tor you’re alive.”

  “Thank Tor, indeed.” Her salute to the High Commander was a deep bow, deeper than any Foley had seen her use before. “Gray told me how you found the High Commander and brought him here.”

  Cobalt dropped his gaze to the floor. “I only did my duty, ser.”

  Bootlicker, Foley thought, mentally rolling his eyes.

  “As you can see,” Argent said. “The Whitewater sentinels are back to rights – for the most part. A few are still recovering in the infirmary, but my mender assures me they will be back to readiness within a day or so. Unfortunately, there are some who will not rise again, but they will be given proper rites when this business is over.”

  Talon saluted again. “Thank you, ser. I am in your debt, too. But one of my officers has gone rogue. I believe he has absconded with his squad and at least one mage, if not more. We must–”

  “Sergeant Stonewall will be dealt with,” Argent interrupted.

  “Of course, ser,” Talon replied. “Do you have a watch posted at the gates? One of Stonewall’s men was injured; if they had to tend to him, they might still be here. There could still be time to stop them.”

 

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