Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2)

by Lauren L. Garcia

  Dark, bloodshot eyes met Eris’. “I don’t…” Kali began to tremble. Her knees buckled and she would have hit the floor had Adrie and Gid not grabbed her arms. “I think I should lie down,” she added weakly.

  “Good idea,” Adrie said. “Marcen – help her, won't you?”

  “Wait,” Eris said as Marcen stepped toward Kali. Eris glanced around the empty common room and dropped her voice. “What has happened here must stay between the six of us.”

  Gid nodded, all business now, despite the merry twinkle in his eyes. “Aye. Agreed.”

  “Of course,” Adrie said, frowning. “I won’t breathe a word to anyone else.”

  “You have my silence,” Marcen said, though he was looking at Kali.

  Cai rubbed his nose but nodded, his expression stern. “And mine.”

  All eyes turned to Kali, who blinked in confusion before she sighed. “Why would I tell anyone else? And if I did, who would believe me?”

  Gideon gave a wry chuckle. “She has a point.”

  “Aye, and she’s exhausted, poor thing,” Adrie added. “Matter-of-fact, you should all get some rest.” She began to collect the mugs and bottles.

  “But you'll need help cleaning up,” Eris replied, though a yawn broke her words.

  Adrie eyed them sternly, reminding Eris of a mother hen attempting to keep her chicks in line. “You and Gid have been through enough. Besides,” she chuckled, “Cai's already volunteered.”

  Despite the enormity of what he'd just witnessed, Cai had all but fallen asleep where he sat, chin tucked into his chest, hands laced over his stomach. At the sound of his name, he jerked awake. “What's that?”

  Gideon shifted Kali's weight onto Marcen's shoulder, and grinned at the brown-haired man. “Tough luck, my friend.”

  “Huh?”

  Adrie nodded to the stack of mugs she'd set aside. “Work first. Sleep later.”

  Cai blinked at her, then swept into a convincing sentinel bow. “Honor, service, sacrifice. Your command is my...something.” He winced. “I'm not drunk.”

  Eris could not help but chuckle; she caught Kali's eye, expecting to see her friend giggling as well, but Kali only looked…

  Stricken. There was no other word for it, though perhaps the expression could be attributed to Kali's exhaustion. Eris fought an urge to question her further. Not now, she thought as Marcen helped Kali out of the room. I'll ask her about it after we've both gotten some rest.

  A few moments later, the group said their good nights – or, rather, good mornings, since the sky outside the window of Eris and Gideon's room showed a faint trace of light. Neither spoke as they removed their shoes. Now alone with Gid in their room, Eris decided it was safe to examine the collar once more. It rested in her palm as harmless as a feather.

  She touched her other hand to her throat. “It feels like a dream. That, or I'm going mad.”

  “Then I'm here with you.” Gideon came behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. His breath was warm and smelled of wine, but his touch made her shiver. “How did she manage it?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Did she ever do anything like that when you were kids?”

  “No, nothing like this.” Eris gripped the collar with white knuckles. “Gid, Talon will make good on her word to check that I’m still wearing this dreadful thing. What will she do when she sees it's gone?”

  He swayed a little as he considered. “I could probably rig up a new fastening so that it looks right from the front, though you'd have to be careful to keep the buckle part hidden. But that way, you can wear it around the bastion enough for the hemies to believe you’re playing along. You can take it off when you’re here or in my workshop.”

  The idea of wearing the collar at all was abhorrent, but there was no other solution. Eris leaned into his chest, savoring his arms around her. “Well, being free of it, even occasionally, will be welcome. At least this nonsense won't be for very long.”

  “Aye. The solstice is only a month away.” He exhaled slowly. “Then we can start our lives.”

  One month. Could she wait one more month? “No,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

  “Eris?”

  She turned to face her husband and let the collar drop to their feet. “I missed you so much,” she murmured against his lips. “Gideon… I don't want to wait any longer. I want to start our life together now.”

  Was it the wine talking, or Eris? She didn't know, or care. All that mattered stood before her, arms wrapped around her as if she were something precious.

  “I missed you too, love,” he said hoarsely. “But now? Are you certain...?”

  “Aye.”

  He swallowed hard, his pupils wide and dark as he stared down at her. “We aren’t free yet.”

  “I know.”

  “So much could still go wrong.”

  Eris’ heart swelled at the tremor in his voice. “Yes, but we can’t let fear cage us any longer, Gid. Nothing is promised – even freedom. And besides,” she cupped his cheek, “I want this. I want you. Now and forever.”

  Gid gave a helpless laugh. “You’re supposed to be the sensible one.” In response, she kissed him, hard. When they came up for air he held her face close as he met her eyes; there was steel within his gaze. “I promise you, that's the last time we'll ever be apart.”

  “Don't make promises,” she said breathlessly. “Just kiss me again.”

  A smile spread across his face, equal parts devious and delighted. “As you say.”

  He caught her mouth with his again, and there was no conversation for some time after.

  ***

  How Kali and Marcen had reached her little room in the dormitories, she could not recall.

  “Thanks,” she managed as she toed off her boots, letting them fall atop her clothes from yesterday. Her bed, a pallet stuffed with straw and goose down, beckoned. All she could think about was sleep.

  He stood by her door, shifting from foot-to-foot, before he cleared his throat. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Not unless you've got any viol strings.”

  He made a show of checking his pockets. “Fresh out, I'm afraid. Didn’t I hear you tell Eris that you fixed your viol?”

  “Just the strings are left.” Kali stumbled as she settled onto her bed, but thankfully did not fall.

  “We should play together, sometime. Once you fix the strings, that is.”

  Stars, it was an effort to meet his gaze; her eyelids were heavy and her entire body ached as if she'd run across the countryside. Dimly, she thought she should strip out of the rest of her clothes once he left her room, but couldn't find the strength. “That would be nice,” was all she managed.

  Marcen took a deep breath. “What you did for Eris…” he trailed off, a flush rising to his pale cheeks. “Well, I don't know how you did it, but it was incredible.”

  I've done it before, she wanted to say, thinking of her and Stonewall's mad escape from the Canderi. She'd tried and failed to explain, and besides…

  She yawned again. “Sorry. The magic took quite a lot out of me.”

  “I imagine so.” He hesitated, and then said, very carefully, “I enjoyed playing with you tonight. I mean,” he flushed harder, “making music. You have a beautiful voice.”

  “You too,” she replied blearily, sinking onto the pallet. Oh, it was soft and cool, and she sighed in relief.

  “Well, good night, Kali.”

  “Good night, Mar....”

  She didn't hear him leave. But she could not fall asleep immediately, though her thoughts were slow with wine and exhaustion. She rolled over to look out the room's single window: a small, half-moon of mage-made glass beside her bed. Her view wasn't much, just the bastion wall, but moonlight could spill in to reach her eyes. Not for the first time did she wish she were not alone.

  “Stay safe, Stonewall,” she said to the empty space be
side her, and dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  ***

  After a sparse meal of rations and a patrol of the surrounding area, Stonewall sat alone before the fire. The entire world around him was thick and black and cold, and though the pocket of warmth and light held his gaze, his thoughts were leagues away.

  “I will find you again, Kalinda Halcyon. Even if all I have to say is goodbye.”

  “It was just a joke, Stone. I don't need an oath to know I can trust your word.”

  “Will you take it anyway?”

  “I will.”

  He could still feel her in his arms, still taste her on his lips. The last time they'd spoken was over two weeks ago, but right now, alone in the pressing darkness, that moment might as well have been another lifetime. Would he ever get to kiss her again?

  Bastion patrol was part of a sentinel's duties; he and his new squad had been sent to Whitewater Province's outskirts almost the moment he'd been promoted, but this mission would be over soon. Tomorrow morning, his squad would return to Torin to bring the fallen soldier to the Circle priest stationed in the little village, then return to Whitewater City. Surely after that, Stonewall would be sent to the bastion. Soon enough, he and Kali would see each other again.

  What would happen then?

  A memory of Captain Cobalt's voice rang in his ears. “You have done your duty. She is no longer your concern.”

  True words, sharply spoken. And even if they did manage to find a way to be alone, at best they could only bring each other a few moments of happiness. Although he and Kali had both acknowledged that possibility on their journey to Whitewater City, the reality had not sunk in until they had been parted from one another. Could he even keep his promise to see her again, or had his intention been a hopeless dream? We are their jailers, after all.

  “Stonewall?”

  It was not Milo's presence but the confusion in the younger man's voice that snapped Stonewall out of his reverie and made him look up. The moment their eyes met, Milo winced and saluted smartly. “Sorry, ser. But you weren't answering to sergeant. I was about to fetch Beacon.”

  “I'm fine, Milo.” The lad still looked nervous, so Stonewall added, “The rank and title are still a bit...strange to me.” He nudged the outermost log with one of his daggers. “Never did picture myself as an officer.”

  Milo glanced between Stonewall and the other sentinels, curled in their blankets a few paces away from the fire, then cleared his throat. “Mind if I sit with you on watch? I can't sleep. I know I should try harder, but…”

  He looked so hopeful.

  Stonewall hesitated, then nodded to the space beside him. Milo grinned and plopped down about an arm's length away, folding his knees and sinking onto the ground with ease, despite his gear. He glanced at the others again and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “At least Beacon's not snoring tonight.”

  “He snores?”

  “Aye, something terrible.” Milo chuckled, then caught himself and dropped the pitch of his voice again. “Mostly when we’re in the garrison, thank Mara. Don't ask him about it, though. He'll deny it 'til his dying breath. Thinks it makes him seem… less professional or something.”

  Despite himself, Stonewall smiled. “I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Mi.”

  Pleased, the younger man considered the sleeping squad. “Rook's a light sleeper. Matter-of-fact, she's probably wide-awake, listening to every word we say. But she'll never let on. She's kind like that. She looks out for us.”

  “And Flint?” Stonewall heard himself ask.

  Milo studied his sister, who lay with her back toward the fire, arms positioned over her dagger grips. “She's… careful,” he said at last. “Usually, she sleeps light, like Rook, but sometimes, if we're safe in the garrison and have the morning off… she has to be shaken awake. I'm the same way. If I've nothing to do and nowhere to be, I sleep like the dead. I guess it comes from…”

  He trailed off but Stonewall had guessed as much over the last two weeks. “Growing up on the streets?” At Milo's startled look he pressed a hand to his chest. “I can relate, maybe a little too well. Pillau,” he added, “until I was about seven summers. Then we,” he caught himself, “I joined the sentinels.”

  “We were born in Callat,” Milo replied.

  “That's… Greenhill Province?”

  “Aye,” Milo said, nodding. “Not too far from the border of Indigo-by-the-Sea, actually. So we were neighbors – sort of.”

  Stonewall couldn't help but smile. “Aye. Callat… never been, but I hear it's beautiful.”

  Milo was quiet a moment. “I dunno. The last time I saw the city was when Flint and I were nine summers – she says she never wants to see it again.” He fidgeted with his glove. “You said 'we.' Do you have a sister, too? Or a brother?”

  Stonewall shoved the nearest log with his dagger again, sending sparks and ash spiraling into the night. “Not anymore.”

  “Oh.” Milo ducked his head. “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be,” Stonewall replied after perhaps a moment too long. “My older brother Drake died three years ago, during a mission our squad was on.”

  Milo’s eyes widened. “You were both sentinels?”

  Stonewall nodded. “Joined when we were kids. It was better than living on the streets. But even before then, Drake always looked out for me.”

  “You must miss him.”

  Stonewall’s throat tightened but he ignored the feeling; it would pass eventually. “It's behind me.”

  Bright blue eyes met his, and there was no small amount of pity within them. “I don't know what I'd do without Flint. I know she's an ass, sometimes, but she's all I've got. And she's not all sharp edges.”

  Stonewall looked back at the fire. What was he supposed to do with pity? Like grief, it was useless. It wouldn't change anything. “You should try to get some rest, Mi. We've a long journey back tomorrow.”

  Milo's face fell, but he recovered quickly. He rose and dusted off the dirt, but before he walked away, he looked at Stonewall again. “May I ask you a favor, ser?”

  “Aye.”

  “Next time you go after a demon… take us with you. You don't have to fight alone.”

  Chagrin washed through Stonewall and he could not bring himself to reply. So he simply nodded and Milo slipped back to his blanket. Stonewall nudged the fire again, but barely felt the swell of heat it emitted. The glow, too, seemed dim and distant. He thought over his encounter with the thrall, mere hours ago. Milo was right; he’d been a fool to go after the creature on his own.

  Alone. It had been the shape of his life for three long years. Could he learn how to be otherwise, again? Did he even want to?

  What I want doesn’t matter, he told himself. He was a sentinel; he would do as he was ordered, what duty and honor demanded. Sworn service should come before desire. But try as he might, he could not stop wanting something that he shouldn’t, something that had nothing to do with duty.

  In the moment of death, a good sentinel would have thought of the One, or Tor, or any of the other gods. A good sentinel would have gladly given their life in service of something larger than themselves. Honor, service, and sacrifice, above all.

  Yet in what he had believed were the last moments of his life, Stonewall had harbored no thoughts for honor or service or sacrifice; no, it was Kali who had filled his mind's eye.

  Five

  “What in Nox's void is all over you?” Talon asked as she stood by the inner gates within Whitewater City’s walls.

  Sergeant Gossan, a burnie, judging from his youthful face and the faint, feverish gleam in his eyes, was a good head taller than her and easily twice as bulky. He shrank under her stare. “Sufani tripe, I imagine. It's not harmful, ser. At least, I don't think it is.”

  Some sort of dust or powder covered him head-to-toe in garish shades of blue, violet, saffron, and red. Splotches of blue and yellow covered his nose and chin, which his helmet wo
uld have left exposed, but the rest of his face was clean enough to reveal the young officer's flush. The two sentinels who accompanied him were similarly… decorated. Behind her, the Whitewater City gate guards sniggered at the sight and she scowled harder.

  Of all the reasons she could have been summoned from her bed at this wretched hour, stolen hematite was the most troubling. Talon resisted the urge to rub sleep from her eyes and instead glared at the armored man before her. “You’re certain the attackers were Sufani?”

  “Aye, ser. Commander. At least… I thought that's what they were, all swaddled in robes and such. But then, I've never known the gypsies to give a shit about hematite, so there's no telling–”

  “How many?” she broke in.

  “Thank the One, we were only bringing a single shipment.”

  She gritted her teeth. “How many Sufani?”

  He winced. “Half a dozen or so. We couldn't get an, ah, accurate count. But they weren’t working alone.” When Talon only stared at him, he rushed to add, “There was also a mage.”

  A chill swept through Talon’s blood; she would have happily eaten three vials of hematite in that moment just to counteract the feeling. “A mage?”

  “Aye, ser. A wild one. Working with the Sufani.”

  Gossan went on to explain how the supposed Sufani and their magical ally had ambushed his squad on the open road – in full daylight, no less! With trickery, tactics, and the infernal colored powder, the thieves had taken what they wanted and disappeared as suddenly as they'd arrived.

  When he'd finished, Talon studied him long enough to make him shift his feet and fidget with the helmet tucked beneath his arm. Fifth and sixth tier travelers, finally allowed to cross the bridge and enter the city now that dawn had broken, passed by, shooting curious looks at the sentinels. All of the dregs knew better than to interfere.

  “Where is the rest of your squad?” Talon asked at last.

  “I sent them back to Lasath, ser. With the hematite gone, I didn't see any reason for them to continue the journey here.” He paused. “High Commander Argent doesn't much care for wasted efforts, ser.”

  “No doubt the High Commander will have a great deal to say about your deft handling of this task, Sergeant.”