Storm

by Lauren L. Garcia

  Not yet.

  Understood, he replied, and glanced at his squad. “They need a few minutes,” he murmured, and then ensured his words would carry through the falling snow. “High Commander Argent. Commander Talon. Captain Cobalt.” He gave a brief bowing salute. “Please stand aside so we may leave.”

  “You are a traitor and will be dealt with accordingly,” Talon replied, her voice ringing through the docks. “Your mage allies, as well. But your sentinel companions still have a choice. If they return to me, they will suffer no consequences from this misguided attempt at rebellion.”

  “No consequences?” Milo repeated. “You stabbed me!”

  “By all rights,” Flint added, “you ought to let him stab you back. You know, for balance’s sake.”

  “At the very least, you should apologize,” Beacon said. “Perhaps send Mi a nice bottle of wine as compensation.”

  “For stabbing him?” Flint snorted. “I think five bottles, at least.”

  “Well, five bottles is a lot, and I don’t like wine that much,” Milo said thoughtfully. “But five bottles’ worth of honey-cider would be nice.”

  “Oh, yes,” Flint replied. “I could drink that stuff all day.”

  “Who said I’d share any with you?” Milo asked.

  Stonewall bit back a chuckle at Flint’s huff of indignation. “What about me?” he said.

  “You, Beacon, and Rook can all have some,” Milo said. “And Kali and Sadira, of course. Flint…well, I’ll have to think about whether she deserves any.”

  “Enough.” Argent’s grip on his sword had tightened with each word of banter. Now, he stood poised for attack. “You’re all under arrest.”

  “If we are, then Talon should be, too,” Flint shot back. “Stabbing one of the men under your command is so much worse than fucking a mage. No offense, Stonewall.”

  “None taken,” he replied. Another brush of his mind to Kali’s; she and Sadira were still working on their magic, so he looked back at Talon. “You crossed the line from strict to ruthless a long time ago.”

  “Commander Talon is not on trial right now,” Argent said. “You are under arrest. All of you. However, if you relinquish your weapons, your lives will be spared.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that, ser,” Stonewall said. “But we still wish to leave in peace. I’ll say it again: please stand aside, and we will offer you no trouble.”

  Silver Squad and their allies chuckled amongst themselves, though none broke formation – nor lowered their crossbows. Stonewall allowed himself an internal sigh.

  I’m sure that tactic will work, one day, Kali told him through their bond. But for now, we’re ready to fight.

  Thank Tor.

  The High Commander’s reply was polished steel. “I don’t bargain with murderers and traitors. I have heard of you, Stonewall. How you abandoned your brethren to lie with a mage. How you cast aside your oath of service and betrayed the innocent people you were sworn to protect. I didn’t want to believe such heinous accusations…but I see now that Rook’s words were true.”

  Flint sucked in a breath. Stunned, Stonewall risked a glance at the petite sentinel who stood beside him, whose helmet could not hide her stricken expression. That, more than anything else, formed a handful of hard, cold stones in his belly. So it was true.

  “He’s lying,” Flint whispered, voice thick. “Rook…he’s lying. Right?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Rook cried. She ripped off her helmet and grabbed Stonewall’s hand. “I just…I had to tell him what was going on in the bastion, yes, but he’s twisting it all around!”

  Stonewall could hardly wrap his mind around her words. He snatched his hand out of her grip. “I trusted you. We all trusted you.”

  Argent called through the snowfall. “Rook is a valued informant, who has served her purpose and will be duly rewarded.” Now he drew his sword, causing Stonewall to rip his gaze away from Rook and look back at the High Commander. “No more games. Stonewall, former sergeant of the Whitewater garrison, you and all those who stand with you are to surrender now, or be sent to the Laughing God.”

  Despite the frigid air, sweat pricked along Stonewall’s spine and his heart hammered behind his ribs. He took a deep breath to try and quell his fear and his anger. It only worked a little. “Go,” he said to Rook, speaking through clenched teeth. He jerked his chin toward Argent. “Run back to your master.”

  Tears streamed down her freckled cheeks. “I’m sorry. I never meant to–”

  Gods above, he hated it when his worst fears proved true. Stonewall cut her off with a shake of his head. “Just leave.”

  Rook looked at Milo, who was silent, and then at Beacon. The mender met her gaze with the same calm detachment he used on his critical patients. “Goodbye, Rook.”

  She bit her lip, and then took a step toward Flint, who held perfectly still, arms tense as she gripped her sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. “Flint,” Rook began. “I–”

  “Get the fuck out of here, traitor,” Flint snarled.

  Rook’s shoulders slumped and she trudged across the docks to Argent’s squad, who shifted to allow her a place among them. Argent did not watch her, only raised his hand in a silent command. Every crossbow lifted, waiting for their targets to come into range.

  “The gods are with us,” Stonewall called. He tried to reach out to Kali, but couldn’t get a sense of her. Flint was close beside him, trembling with rage, and he added, “But don’t do anything stupid.”

  “She was my friend,” Flint whispered.

  “I know, but now’s not the–”

  Flint didn’t shriek or cry out, simply charged without warning. Talon met her like a wall and deflected the younger woman’s blades with an almost careless swipe of her sword, and then called to her companions. “Take them down!”

  “Flint, get back here,” Stonewall cried. “You’ll be killed!”

  “Relah,” Milo called, and surged forward, gripping his sword in his good hand.

  Stonewall swore. Nothing for it now; he had to trust that Kali and Sadira would protect his team. He signaled Beacon and Drake, and they darted forward, Leal and Rilla on their heels. A hail of crossbow bolts fell over them, only to catch fire and burn to ash before they could strike flesh. The High Commander shouted an order, and then the other Whitewater sentinels joined Talon. The world was only falling snow and clashing steel. Stonewall’s blood ran hot and his mind took a step backward to let his body lead the way. He’d trained against sentinels since he was a boy. He knew how these men and women fought. But they knew him too, and their numbers were greater. Another volley of bolts rained down and met the same fate as the first. But how long could Sadira manage that? They still had a river to reach.

  As Stonewall dodged Vesper and Hornfel’s combined strikes, he knew his allies would not win this fight. But we don’t have to win, he reminded himself. We just have to survive.

  Instinct kicked in, screaming a warning. Stonewall whirled to block Gray’s thrusting sword, and then risked a glance back at the mages, only to see Kali and Sadira standing together, hands joined, eyes closed. There was no sign of Eris or the other mages – had they abandoned the group? Leal fought beside Milo and Rilla, her spear a blur, while Brice lobbed arrows.

  “Look sharp, Stonewall,” Beacon called.

  As another swarm of bolts burned, Stonewall turned in time to see Talon charging his way, sword raised. Her eyes were black as the void and empty as a thrall’s. Stonewall’s dagger met hers, blocking her strike and leaving them face-to-face. Despite his recent half-dose, he was breathing hard, but Talon’s strength had not waned. She bared her teeth in a feral grin and shoved past him, heading for Kali and Sadira.

  Stonewall leaped after his former commander. He was taller than she, but not by much. She moved with preternatural speed, no doubt granted by hematite, but sweet Mara’s mercy, she must have eaten a handful to move so quickly! The battle had scattered the group and taken him too far from Kali�
�s side; his lungs burned, but he pushed himself harder, faster. Too late, this time, too late.

  Not five strides away from the dark-haired mage, Talon raised her sword.

  Kali’s voice reached him through their silent speech, incongruously calm. Stonewall, get everyone away.

  Kali, what the–

  Her reply was less coherent speech and more akin to a slap upside his head. Message received, Stonewall thought, and turned to shove Milo and Leal backward toward the alley. “It’s time,” he called. “Fall back!”

  Thank Tor, thank sweet Mara, they all acted immediately. Even Flint followed his order, knocking Gray aside and back-pedaling to stay with her squad-mates. Stonewall scrambled past a bemused Talon, behind Kali and Sadira. The other sentinels shared the commander’s confused expression at their opponents’ sudden disappearance. A few made to follow, but Argent, perhaps sensing danger, called an order to regroup.

  “Kali,” Stonewall cried. “Now!”

  Kali’s eyes flew open; they were dark and human, and held nothing but delight. Sadira knelt and pressed her hands to the cobbled street, which exploded in a spray of bricks and dirt. A wall of fire bloomed up and around Talon and the other Whitewater sentinels, encircling them with saffron and yellow flames that reached above the buildings, well into the night sky. Heat billowed toward Stonewall, sending him stumbling away from the mages, stealing the moisture from his eyes and the air from his lungs. The heat choked; he could hardly keep his eyes open for the force of it, let alone take a proper breath. Someone screamed.

  Though his head spun, he could not pull his gaze from the climbing flames, for within them, a pair of golden eyes looked back at him and he heard a voice, as surely as he had heard any sound in his life. Come, Elan. Come home, my son.

  No sodding way. Stonewall shook away the hallucination. Argent, Silver Squad, and some other sentinels from Silverwood had managed to escape the fire, but barely. They knelt against the cobblestones, coughing and sputtering and trying to scrabble further away from the flames. The rest stood hemmed in, pressed close together in the center of the massive, fiery ring. How close they were to the fire, Stonewall could not say—the flames distorted his vision—but he could not imagine they’d survive more than a few minutes in the maelstrom.

  “Ben!” Drake cried. Only then did Stonewall see the Assembly man crawling away from the flames; he’d not reacted in time and his legs were caught in the ring as the fire gnawed his clothes and hair. Drake rushed to his side, but the heat pushed him back, coughing, and he had to stumble away.

  Ben shouted; Stonewall saw the movement of his mouth, but the flames took him over and soon he moved no more. Drake collapsed to the street, calling Ben’s name, and Stonewall darted for his brother, scrambling through the smothering heat to grab Drake’s forearm. His elder brother whirled and Stonewall’s heart clenched at the desperation looking back at him. “We have to go,” he called, tugging his brother’s arm. “Come on, relah.”

  Drake stared at him, but then nodded and struggled upright, swiping at his face. Someone prodded Stonewall’s side. He whirled to see Leal, hood askew and scarf mottled with embers. “Eris and the others made it to the boat,” she cried, pointing toward the docks, beyond the fire, where Brice and Rilla had already fled. “Let’s go!”

  “I’m fine, Stonewall,” Drake said, nodding in Kali’s direction. “Go help your girl.”

  Still reeling, all Stonewall could do was grab Kali—and her viol case—and race for the dock. Beacon grabbed Sadira’s arm to pull her along, but swore and immediately released her, flapping his gloved hand as if he’d been burned. Thank the One, Sadira could run on her own, though her jerky movements belied her exhaustion. Kali wrapped her arms around Stonewall’s neck, clinging to him as he clambered down the rickety ladder. There was no time for them to descend one by one; Flint, Beacon, and Leal leaped into the waiting skiff. Drake followed suit, landing with such force that icy water splashed across the passengers.

  Someone had freed the skiff of all but one line tying them to the docks. As Stonewall ensured Kali and Sadira were safely inside, bolts slammed into the skiff’s sides with sickening thwacks.

  “Heads down,” Stonewall ordered, and he was gratified to see everyone—even the mages—duck to avoid the onslaught. He cut the line with his dagger and they were off.

  “Ea’s balls,” Flint swore. “Where’re the sodding oars?”

  Eris’ eyes widened and she turned to Cai and Marcen, who exchanged horrified looks. “They were here, I swear,” Cai began.

  “Argent’s people must’ve dumped ‘em,” Drake said. “All we’ve got is a bunch of rope. We’re as good as trapped.”

  It made a grim kind of tactical sense but Stonewall couldn’t appreciate the High Commander’s cleverness right now. More crossbow bolts fell, but they had no way to get upriver, and the waterfall was fast approaching.

  Stonewall’s throat went dry. “Paddle by hand! We’ve got to avoid the falls.”

  Drake leaned over the side and thrust his arm in the water. “This isn’t going to–”

  His words died as a crossbow bolt bit into his upper back and he lurched forward, gasping. Stonewall’s blood froze; he reached for his brother, but Drake shook his head. “I’m fine. Keep going…”

  “We can do this,” Cai called.

  Another bolt struck, this one hitting the mage’s heart. Cai clawed at the shaft of wood jutting from his chest as blood welled from the wound. The other mages frantically tried to reach for him while the skiff wobbled upon the freezing, fast-flowing river. Stonewall looked toward Kali and Sadira; the latter crawled to reach Cai, but Kali sat at the bow, staring at the approaching waterfall.

  The skiff could hold their motley crew, but navigation without oars was next to impossible, especially given the storm of crossbow bolts. Stonewall stuck his arm in the icy river and furiously began paddling with the others, trying to coax the skiff away from the center of the river where the current was strongest. They had to get across! More bolts fell like hailstones, striking the boat and the water, and the White River’s current seemed fiercer with each second. Stonewall’s arm burned with effort, and his fingers were going numb.

  Then he heard Kali’s voice in his mind. Let the river take us to the falls.

  “Are you mad?” he shouted, not caring what the others thought.

  “All signs point to ‘yes,’” Beacon grunted.

  Probably, Kali replied through their silent-speech. But trust me. Our plan is sound, but going upriver isn’t going to work. We must follow the river’s path. Her resolve crystallized. Trust me.

  Gods above and beyond, he did.

  “Flint, Beacon,” Stonewall called despite the queasy feeling in his gut. “Stop paddling. We’re going for the falls.”

  “Now you’re sodding insane,” Flint cried.

  “Just do it,” he shot back, ducking to avoid another bolt as Kali turned to Sadira, Adrie, and Eris, who were bent over a groaning Cai.

  More bolts struck the skiff and the rushing waters on all sides, but all Stonewall could hear was the roar of the falls pulling them toward the edge.

  *

  Kali gripped the skiff’s railing with white knuckles. Inhale. Exhale. She could do this. She already had – in a sense. If she could disintegrate a bridge on her and Stonewall’s journey to Whitewater City, surely she could hold a single boat together. But she was weary, not just from her imprisonment and time as a thrall, but also from giving energy to Sadira for that fiery spectacle. Sadira hadn’t needed much help, thank the stars, but judging by her ashen cheeks and rapidly cooling skin, the stunt had taken much of her vigor.

  “Eris, Adrie,” Kali called to the mages crouched over Cai. “I need your help.”

  “He’s dying,” Adrie cried.

  “We’ll all join him if you don’t help me.” More arrows fell around them. One skimmed by Kali’s hand on the bow, close enough for her to feel the wind from its passage, but soon they’d be out of the crossb
ows’ range.

  The falls loomed ahead, little more than a smudge of mist above the dark water. A thick rope net hung across the lip of the falls, between the two shores; it would stop the skiff, but for how long?

  “No, no, no,” Eris cried. “He’s gone! Cai!”

  Kali fought back a swell of grief and bitterness—and longing for the others’ magic; she could not deny the feeling—and forced her words to be as strong and certain as Stonewall’s always seemed. “Eris, I can save us, if you help me.”

  “Shut up, metal-licker,” Adrie ground out.

  Eris, though, stared at her. “You want our magic?”

  Sweet blood. Give it to us.

  Kali shoved away the memory of the Fata’s litany. “Yes, I need your strength. Now!”

  Adrie was shaking her head, clearly prepared to tell Kali to do something rude, when Drake crawled toward them. Kali gasped at the sight of a crossbow bolt sticking out of his back, but he shook his head once. “Hurts like hell, but I’m not dying today. You need magic?”

  Kali nodded dumbly. Drake offered his hand; broad, with thick fingers, darker than Stonewall’s but calloused in the same places. “Take mine.”

  No time for hesitation. Kali grabbed Drake’s hand and savored the small rush of energy through her veins. All other things fell away. Even the pain in her knee began to ebb. But Drake’s magic alone wouldn’t be enough and they were nearly at the waterfall. The rope net that spanned the river began to smolder at the center. When Kali glanced at Sadira in surprise, the Zhee mage gave her a weak nod.

  Kali took a deep breath and looked between Eris and Adrie. “Eris, I’m sorry we couldn’t help the others. I’m sorry Cai’s gone. But if the rest of us are to survive this, I need your help.”

  Green eyes wet with tears, but still sharp as daggers, bored into hers before Eris nodded once. “Do as she says,” she said to Adrie as she ripped off her glove and held out her hand. “Hang on with the other,” Eris added, raising her voice. “Everyone, tie yourselves down and hang on to the skiff.”