Flint looked up, her gaze landing on the falls. “Tie down…? Are you… Oh, no. No, no, no, no!”
Stonewall began to crawl toward Kali. “Do it, Flint.”
While the others scrambled to fasten themselves down, Eris, Drake, and Adrie each grabbed Kali’s arm, while Kali shut her eyes and concentrated. Sweet magic, indeed. Oh, it flowed through her veins like fire, like wind, like the waters that licked their craft. She trembled with the force of the raw power surging through her body, making her eyes roll back in her head and her breath come in gasps. No greater pleasure had she ever known, for there was no doubt, nor fear, nor pain. Only magic.
Kali clutched the skiff with one hand as the boat hurtled toward the edge. I can do this. She concentrated on the skiff’s particles, on the infinitesimal motes of wood that made up the floating vessel. The wood was old, not as old as the bridge she’d destroyed, but weary nonetheless. Without magical aid, the skiff would not survive the trip over the falls, let alone the inevitable crash at the waterfall’s base.
But magic was stronger than wood, stronger than water. Drake and Eris’ grips were hard enough to staunch blood flow, but Kali ignored the numbing sensation in her arm. She inhaled cold air and river mist, but shunted both from her mind, concentrating only on the skiff’s particles, shivering as if with terror as they sidled to the waterfall.
Hold, she ordered the vessel while still clinging to the wooden railing. Hold.
The skiff lurched and rattled. Its particles trembled harder as the craft tilted over the fall’s edge. Kali’s eyes flew open in time to see darkness and falling snow, with nothing but churning waters below. Only magic could break their fall. Stomach roiling, Kali squeezed her eyes shut again and sent her will through the skiff. Hold.
Magic pulsed through her veins, sweet and wild and dizzying. In the back of her mind, she knew she was going to faint, but if she lost consciousness, if she lost control, they would all be killed. Someone shouted; another person prayed aloud. A third spoke to her, although she could not piece his words together. Then Stonewall was at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and saying her name, again and again, aiding her as she fought to retain that single thought that would save their lives. Hold.
The skiff canted forward as if trying to buck them loose. A scream cut the air. Kali heard the sound only as the final echo of a call within a mountain pass. Her head lifted from her body, leaving her weightless, but her mind was clear and strong; anchored to the moment by the man who held her fast.
Hold.
Thirty-Six
Heat caught thick in Talon’s lungs and throat as the inferno wrenched every drop of moisture from her body. Her helmet felt like liquid metal, so she ripped it off and hurled it away. Her head swam and the edges of her vision began to fade into blackness. Everywhere, mage-fire closed her sentinels within a wall of flame that danced in mockery while Stonewall and the others fled to the river. Hands clenched, Talon stepped forward—as if she could pursue—but her foot caught on something and sent her to her knees. She landed atop Vigil’s lanky form. The other woman had been too close to the flames when they burst from the street; her helmet had fallen away, revealing the charred remains of her face.
Talon scrambled upright and backward, only to crash into Gray, clutching her side, and Hornfel, leaning on Gray, an arrow embedded in his right thigh. He pointed to the flames and shouted something, but Talon couldn’t make out his words. No one could speak over the fire’s roar; Talon could barely breathe. The Laughing God drew closer. Those who lived gathered at the center of the fiery ring, pressed close together and Talon looked straight up into the sky, where the clouds were finally dissipating.
Mara, have mercy.
A gust of icy air brushed her cheek. She turned to see Foley kneeling outside of and several paces away from the inferno. The cobblestones were gone, leaving only churned earth, into which Foley had buried both his hand and hook. Gradually, as the darkness crept across Talon’s vision, the ground seethed, reaching the base of the fire to suffocate a swathe of flames. The resulting path was barely the width of Talon’s shoulders, but it was a safe way out of the firestorm.
“Go,” she cried, though the word came out as a choking cough. She shoved Hornfel and Gray toward the makeshift path and urged the others after. One by one the surviving Whitewater sentinels stumbled out of the fiery ring. Talon went last, pausing to look at the bodies of Vigil, Griffin, and Jerrod, who would not rise again.
Talon staggered until she could feel no more heat, and then collapsed to the cobblestones, coughing, gasping, each attempted breath a lance of pain in her chest. Although she was away from the inferno, the danger had not passed, for her head was light and she could not think anything other than breathe!
“The fire wardens are here,” Foley called, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It will be well, child,” he added in a murmur meant only for her ears. “You’re safe.”
Tears sprang to her eyes – how? There was no water left in her body; she was as dry as old parchment. She could not speak.
Nox bring your spirits safely over the river. Tor guide your steps into the next life. The One keep you in all your days.
Mica knelt beside her and offered a cup of liquid that smelled sweet, like thalo mixed with water, but tasted like nails and hot coals. Talon made herself drink the entire thing, and soon she could take a deep, wheezing breath. In the corner of her vision, she watched more sentinels, city guards, and the volunteer fire wardens dart toward the roaring flames with buckets of sand and water. Gradually, the mage-fire died, bathing the docks in darkness once more.
“The others?” Talon croaked to the mender, who knelt beside her on the cobblestones.
“Vigil, Griffin, and Jerrod died in the fire. Haste made it out of the blaze, but died a few minutes ago. Stout, Shard, Hornfel, and Gray sustained injuries during combat, but should recover. Ferro’s unconscious, but Binder thinks he’ll live.” Mica paused. “Silver Squad is unharmed, as are all of the Silverwood sentinels that the High Commander brought with him.”
Talon couldn’t summon the strength to be angry, only nodded. Mica regarded her. “How do you feel, ser?”
She took another gulp of mercifully cool air. “Well enough to stand, I think.”
“With respect, ser, I advise you to rest a while longer.”
But she was already getting to her feet, wincing at the ache that seeped through her entire body. Gods above, her armor felt like it was made of hot lead, and even her slow, halting rise made her lightheaded. She staggered forward, but Foley and Mica caught her before she hit the cobblestones again. When she looked up—and her vision stopped swimming—her heart sank at the sight of the bodies someone had dragged from the circle of desolation.
“That one’s not a sentinel,” she managed, pointing to one of the corpses.
Mica glanced over his shoulder. “Aye. One of the…others got caught in the flames. A civilian man, by the look of him.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “The High Commander claims the fellow is part of the Assembly – one of the ringleaders, no less.”
Was it wrong of her to feel relief at this news? Argent could bring the dreg’s body back to the Pillars, and perhaps then their attention would turn away from Whitewater City. But her relief was short-lived. After this debacle, Argent would never let her keep her rank, let alone her posting.
The survivors not involved in putting out the flames had gathered to one side, where Binder and some of the Circle healers moved among them. Argent spoke in low, urgent tones with his squad and a group of city guards. Civilian onlookers filled the streets, gawking at the smoldering remains of the mage-fire. More than a few folks cast dark glances at the sentinels, but thank the One, no one seemed inclined to show more ire than that – at least for the time being.
All for nothing, she thought as she watched Binder wrap Hornfel’s injured leg. She looked at Mica. “I’ll be fine, thank you. Go help Binder.”
“I’ll watch her, se
r,” Foley added.
“I believe it,” Mica replied. “Commander, if it weren’t for Mage Clementa’s quick actions, our brothers and sisters—and you—would all be corpses.”
“I know,” Talon said. “The First Mage’s bravery will not go unrewarded.”
Foley dipped his chin but said nothing as the mender hurried off. Talon and Foley stood in silence while she focused on sucking in fresh air, although a rasping cough accompanied every other breath. Her eyes itched and her head ached, and the urge to retch rested at the back of her throat. She fought the feeling, lest she expel the healing thalo.
“I wish I could do more for you,” Foley said quietly. “But you still burn with hematite.”
Yes, she could feel the latent fire flickering through her veins, although in this moment she wanted to be like stone: cool and passive. The clatter of boots on the street made her turn to see Silver Squad and a group of city guards rushing off in the direction of the city’s main gates, no doubt to try and track down Stonewall, Halcyon, and their allies.
Except High Commander Argent, who strode up to Talon. Unlike everyone else, not a speck of dirt or ash marred his gleaming armor, and only a few snowflakes had fallen upon his broad shoulders. Captain Cobalt and Rook came with him, each looking all the more wan and disheveled next to Argent’s immaculate presence.
The High Commander had tucked his helmet beneath his arm, revealing the grim set of his mouth. “Rook tells me that two mages somehow…joined their abilities to create this destruction,” he pointed to the charred ground, “and sent the group over the falls.”
“Aye,” Talon said, coughing. “One mage is from Zheem, and supposedly gifted with fire. She’s powerful, but has never caused any trouble.”
“Until today,” Argent replied. “And the other? This…Kalinda Halcyon?”
“Mage Halcyon has proven to be the more dangerous of the two,” Talon said. Between coughing fits, she began to relate the story of Halcyon’s unorthodox transfer, thrall possession, and attempted execution.
But the High Commander held up his hand and stared at Talon, his gray eyes piercing. “I know all of that. What I don’t understand is how a sentinel and a mage formed such a connection under your watch.”
“Surely it doesn’t matter now,” Rook interjected, voice shaking. “Surely they’re all dead. No one could survive the drop. Even if they did, the White River’s current is swift.”
To Talon’s surprise, the High Commander did not reprimand Rook for speaking out of turn, only shook his head. “Mages are treacherous and clever. They would not have made for the falls if they did not think they would survive. No, magic aided their escape. Powerful magic, unlike any I’ve encountered. But Silver Squad will find these renegades.”
Talon was too exhausted to reply, and simply nodded. Hoping to change the subject, she glanced at Cobalt. “I’m glad to see you unharmed, Captain.”
He ducked his head once and removed his helmet, pale eyes sweeping across the docks, resting on the corpses.
“I am in his debt,” Argent replied. “Captain Cobalt ensured that I was fully informed of the severity of matters in Whitewater Bastion. And I see,” his gaze skimmed over the bodies and landed upon the ring of charred ground, “that he was not exaggerating.”
Before Talon could reply, a sentinel she did not recognize trotted up to the High Commander. “Ser, shall we take the mages back to the bastion?”
The newcomer pointed behind her, where a group of Whitewater mages stood in a clump, with bowed heads and bound hands, each one of them collared. Except Foley, who kept close to Talon.
Argent did not spare the renegade mages a glance. “Aye, take them back and deal with them as we discussed.”
Foley’s head jerked up. “Deal with them, ser?”
Talon turned to give him a quelling look, but Argent merely regarded Foley as one would consider a stray weed in the garden. “They are corrupted and must be destroyed.”
“You’re mad,” Foley said, breath short. “You can’t kill them all. It’s not fair! They’ve done nothing–”
“They tried to escape,” Argent broke in. “Given this bastion’s history, I can’t allow these mages to survive. The Pillars agree with me. What if the other bastions hear of such weakness on our part?”
“You can’t leave the province with no mages,” Foley shot back. “People need us.”
“Intractable magic-users are a plague, and the province is better off without them.” Argent glanced at Talon. “Well, Commander, it seems the situation is resolved for now. Your garrison is stocked with hematite again, with more on the way.”
Nothing in his voice or manner suggested anger. Perhaps she’d been worried for nothing. Hardly daring to hope, Talon gave the best warrior’s salute she could manage. “Thank you, ser. I am in your debt.”
“However,” Argent went on, and Talon’s stomach dropped to her knees as he pulled his sword free of its scabbard. “There is one other matter that requires my attention.”
*
Cobalt should have been paying more attention to Argent and Talon’s conversation, but he could not stop scanning the surviving Whitewater sentinels, searching for his own squad-mates. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Vesper and Mica, although that relief quickened into fear at the looks on their faces and the realization that Vigil was not with them. Perhaps his second-in-command was still recovering, or… He followed Mica’s gaze to the burned bodies, and his heart sank.
Oh, no. Sweet Mara, no.
“Captain,” Argent said, making Cobalt start. “It’s best we take care of this now. Restrain the mage.”
Cobalt blinked stupidly at the High Commander. “Ser, the mages are being taken to the bastion.”
“Except one,” Argent said in that same easy tone. He pointed his sword at Mage Clementa.
Talon looked from the High Commander to the First Mage, her bloodshot eyes going huge and round. “Ser, please! Mage Clementa has remained loyal, and–”
“Silence,” Argent snapped. “Captain, that was an order.”
There was ice in the High Commander’s voice; ice on cold steel. Heart hammering, Cobalt turned to Foley Clementa who shrank away from him but did not run – for all the good running would have done. Cobalt had no cuffs, so he took Foley’s thin forearm and led the mage to Argent.
Talon scrambled forward to place herself between the High Commander and the First Mage. “Ser, please listen to me! Foley’s not done anything wrong.” She paused, gasping and coughing. “He had nothing to do with the other mages’ escape. He told us what they were planning. He stayed. He saved our lives. He–”
“Captain, make him kneel,” Argent broke in, gaze fixed on Mage Clementa.
Cobalt’s stomach roiled, but he grasped the mage’s shoulder and pushed him down to the ashes by the docks. The First Mage trembled but did not resist, nor look down. Rather, he stared directly ahead with unfocused eyes, his lips moving in silent prayer. The sky lightened with dawn’s approach. The onlookers that remained muttered and stood on their tiptoes to see better. Behind Cobalt’s back, someone was weeping.
“Ser, please don’t do this!” Talon shoved past Cobalt to stand before Mage Clementa once more, her eyes wild and red-rimmed, and her face streaked with cinders and tears. Her gear was filthy and her hair had come undone from its habitual neat braid, scorched and dusted with ash. But the raw desperation in her gaze was what made Cobalt’s heart sink further.
“All of the mages in this bastion are too dangerous to live,” Argent said. “But those with...close bonds to sentinels are the most insidious of all.”
Talon froze. “Bonds…?”
“Don’t play coy, Talon. It doesn’t suit you.” Argent swept her aside, sending her stumbling. “Besides, you know I keep my promises.”
His sword lifted, descended. Foley’s head and body fell to the ash and mud with separate, muted thumps.
Talon screamed. The sound broke through the air like a cracking whip, th
en the commander fell to her knees beside the headless body, displacing a flurry of ashes. Cobalt wanted to look away, but he could not tear his eyes from the sight. He’d never seen Talon as anything other than Commander. Though she did not weep, he thought something inside of her had broken.
Argent had to know the truth, Cobalt told himself. You did the right thing. But then why did he hurt all over?
Argent wiped his blade on the back of the First Mage’s coat before sheathing it again. “Talaséa Hammon, because of your incompetence and your attempt at deception, I name you Forsworn. You are hereby stripped of your rank and privileges. You will be sent to the Pillars for their judgment.”
He made a signal and four Silverwood sentinels came forward, grabbing Talon’s arms to pull her upright. She sagged in their grip and made no effort to rise, let alone walk. One of the Silverwood sentinels muttered a swear and they began to drag Talon toward a group of waiting horses.
“Commander Cobalt?”
It took Cobalt a beat too long to register the rank and his name in the same breath. “Ser?”
Argent nodded once. “Congratulations on your promotion. It’s well-earned and long since due.”
What else could Cobalt do but salute? He did, but the sick feeling in his gut did not vanish and his voice was weak. “Thank you, ser.”
Argent stared at the churning falls, where the first few rays of sunlight brushed the mist. “You’ve inherited quite a mess. I’ll send some replacement mages to tend to the province’s needs, but I fear the bastion and garrison will not recover for some time. But you have proven yourself to be an intelligent and loyal sentinel. I pray you have the strength to guide these godly men and women.” He turned to leave, tossing the final words over his shoulder. “Good luck.”
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