Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2)

by Lauren L. Garcia

  “There you go, woolgathering again,” Eris said suddenly, drawing her attention. “I see some habits haven't changed.”

  Kali managed a weak laugh as she finished her plait. “That one likely never will.”

  To her relief, Eris seemed to have set aside any speculation and regarded her fondly. “I'm glad you made it here safely.”

  Kali smiled – a true smile, no pale imitation. “I'm glad you’re here to be glad.”

  Eris chuckled, but her next words were serious. “I've worked hard for what magic I can do. I know you're the same way. What you did…” Her hand crept to her bare throat. “Kali, it could change everything for us, don’t you understand?”

  So much for no more speculation. Kali tried to keep her voice light as she began to search for her boots. “I understand more than you may realize, but less than I should.”

  Eris frowned. “I’m not asking any favors. I’m only seeking information.”

  One boot was buried beneath a pile of scrolls. Kali pulled it free and did not look at her friend as she tugged it on. “So am I.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  One boot secure; one still missing in action. Kali surveyed her room, frowning. “Whatever I did on your collar… I don’t want to try anything drastic until I have a better understanding. So when you do want a favor–”

  “I didn’t say–”

  “I’ll have an answer,” Kali finished as if Eris had not interrupted. Temporarily giving up on the second boot, she looked over at her friend. “Agreed?”

  Eris met her gaze with only a trace of annoyance. “Agreed.” Neither spoke until Eris gave a huge yawn. “Ugh, I'm still half-hungover from last night. Gideon tried to help me, but he's easily distracted.”

  Kali gave her friend a knowing look. “I’m sure you did nothing to encourage his distraction, either.”

  “Of course not,” Eris said primly, though she could not hide her smile as she rose from the bed. “Ah, well. It's nothing some tea and breakfast won't set right. I'll see you in the common room?”

  “Aye.” A sudden pressure on Kali’s bladder made her wince. Where was that other sodding boot? “As soon as I stop by the privy.”

  Eris paused at the door. “Dressing would go quicker if you cleaned up once in a while.”

  There! Wedged beneath Kali’s bed and the wall, though she had no inkling of how it had gotten there. The boots were plain but fine, made of soft doeskin leather and treated with oil to repel the elements. Along with a wool cloak that lay draped on the edge of her sleeping pallet, they had been a gift from the Sufani nomads whom she and Stonewall had spent a few days with on their journey to Whitewater.

  Kali leaned against the wall to tug on the boot. “You’re a veritable font of wisdom, Serla Echina.”

  In response, Eris stuck out her tongue and slipped away. Moments later, Kali was dressed, but the pressure in her bladder had reached a critical state, so she darted from her room.

  ***

  After breakfast, Kali made her way to the bastion's garden alone, searching for a place to perform her experiments.

  Experiments: a suitably dry word that helped her view the matter from a place of pure investigation. If she allowed her emotions to take the reins, she would never learn anything new. But even so, her stomach flipped at the implications of what she was about to attempt.

  This section of the garden was nestled alongside the bastion wall and contained mainly edible or medicinal plants and herbs, most of which were not in bloom this late in the year. A few flowered—she recognized verbena, aster, and phlox—mostly in areas of full sun in the center of the garden, along with an assortment of neatly labeled vegetables. Kali could name some of the trees: sweet almond, cherry, and a few hardy pears, but there were several more she did not recognize. She paused to run her fingertips along the smooth, waxy surface of a persimmon tree leaf; the leaf's particles circled sleepily, like a cat preparing for a long nap.

  A sharp breeze that smelled of green, growing things stole beneath Kali’s cloak as she walked along the stone path that wound through the trees. It was chilly, but was not unbearable with a mug of tea to warm her hands. She paused at the farthest corner of the garden, along the great stone wall that surrounded the bastion. From the outside, it looked like any other wall, but when she pressed her hand to the stone, her senses dulled. Not enough to stop her from using magic, but enough to let her know the hematite was there, which was likely the point. If she stepped back a few paces, the dullness receded.

  Other than a few flimsy vines, no plants grew against the wall. There were no trees this close either, and as Kali settled cross-legged onto the open patch of ground, several steps away and facing the wall, she wondered if that was so the mages wouldn't try to climb out.

  Though if Eris can change into a crow, maybe the sentinels should start carrying nets. The thought shouldn't have made her chuckle.

  Her chosen spot was relatively private, shielded from the rest of the garden by the trees and bushes. She set her mug out of the way, brushed aside the fallen leaves, and rested her hands on the soil, above one of the vines that struggled for the wall. She did not know what the vine was called, but this particular plant was a sorry thing: pale and weak, grasping for the stones just out of its reach. Hopefully, no one would miss it if the worst came to pass.

  Placing her hands gently over the little vine, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She sifted her attention through the layers of soil and plant matter, down to the innumerable, tiny particles, which built everything in the world.

  All mages were gifted in different ways. For instance, the nature of water was changeable, but Kali generally found it an easy element to work with. Since its particles flowed, they seemed to adapt to her will easier than something solid, like metal. She experienced fire in a similar fashion; although she'd never been able to do much beyond create a little flame. Plants were not quite alive, but seemed to have a will of their own, and were therefore more difficult to influence.

  Regardless of its struggle for survival, the small vine before her was unwilling to be prodded into awakening so close to winter. Kali’s imagination painted its particles the pale green of a seedling – better to encourage growth. But when she pressed her intention upon the vine, trying to urge the particles to grow, they refused to cooperate. Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath and concentrated. The rest of the world fell away as she focused on the vine's particles and urged them to grow.

  Nothing happened.

  Kali opened her eyes and swiped a hand across her damp brow. The vines had not grown an inch. While she might have normally felt a pang of disappointment, now she felt only satisfaction. Her usual methods had not worked. Time to test her theory.

  Another series of deep, steady breaths. Only a quiet, focused mind could work magic, so Kali ignored all distractions and dropped into a state of calm awareness, though she continued to orient the bulk of her attention on the vines. More deep breaths. She reached with her mind, not to the vines, but within, to her own being. Within her mind's eye, the multicolored particles of her body hummed as if separate strings of a viol, each perfectly in tune with the others, vibrating, resonating. Waiting.

  Carefully, as one would unravel a silken thread from a spool, she coaxed her own particles, nudged their energy toward the vine. She likened the action to playing her viol, with the added difficulty of trying to direct where the sound would travel. But all her thoughts of metaphors fell away as her focus tightened, as she pushed her own particles toward the struggling vine.

  No, plants were not alive in the same way as a person or animal, but the vine's particles seemed to brighten in her mind's eye, before they began to shiver, trembling as if with a sudden rush of energy.

  Good. Another breath.

  The vine's particles awoke fully; Kali got the strange sense they were...confused was not quite the right word for something non-sentient, but it was the closest appro
ximation she could think of. The particles shivered harder, brightened, and began to vibrate in tune with the particles that made up Kali, herself.

  In some distant corner of her consciousness, she felt her energy flagging, but she did not relent. Not this close to an answer.

  Inhale.

  Eyes still closed, Kali gathered her own strength, her own energy, all which dwelled within her particles, and prepared to send it outward.

  Exhale.

  She pushed her strength to the vine, layering it and her will across the vine's particles; not a shouted order but a gentle murmur of encouragement. Grow.

  In her mind’s eye, a rainbow of colors swept into the pale green particles as energy rushed from her to the little vine; she and it were briefly connected before she released her focus and mentally sat back. As she had experienced on her journey here, when she had healed Riel, once she set this magic into motion, it plummeted onward, heedless of anything but its own impetus.

  An hour might have passed, or a moment, as she hung suspended, hollow as if she'd just pushed all air from her lungs, until something within the vine's particles gave way. Did it work? She steeled herself for disappointment, just in case, and opened her eyes.

  Where the flimsy little vines had clung so desperately to the ground, barely brushing the wall, now they reached out and up, climbing along the wall, high, high above her head. Spade-shaped leaves and dozens of tiny, five-petaled flowers—yellow-gold, like a moon hanging low on the horizon—bloomed from spiraled buds, too fast to measure. They unfurled as she watched, though all growth halted at her sudden indrawn breath. She exhaled. More flowers opened, and the vine continued its ascent.

  A tickling sensation, like a feather brushing her palms, made her look down. Pinpricks of green poked through the soil as little tongues of plant matter began to creep through the earth and reach for the cool air above. A dozen seedling vines crept out of the dark earth and curled around her hands. With each breath they grew and grew; they spiraled around her wrists, thumbs, and fingers, and kept growing.

  “Sweet fucking stars,” she murmured, breathless. As her focus reoriented back to herself, a heavy exhaustion settled over her – again. But such a thing made sense, if she was indeed giving her energy to another. Rather than feel alarm, she felt a smug sense of satisfaction that at least part of her theory was proving true.

  But there was another part to test, and her smugness faded as she thought back to Neff. Her magic here was intriguing, yes, but there was so much potential for harm. As far as anyone knew, magic had no will or consciousness; it was not alive as people or plants were alive. But what Kali witnessed here made her stomach twist, because here her magic seemed to have a mind of its own.

  It was only a plant now, but supposing her theory was true, supposing this worked–

  She started at the shrill whistle, followed by the stomp of boots crossing flagstones. The sounds came from the direction of the sentinel garrison. Sparring drills, perhaps. The sentinels at Starwatch had often done something similar, though it sounded like there were a great deal more sentinels here than in the little mountain garrison where she'd grown up. Was Stonewall in their midst, just beyond the wall before her?

  Stop, she told herself as anxiety squirmed in her belly. Her lapse in attention had caused the vines to stop growing, but they still filled her vision with a green too bright for late autumn; more tiny yellow flowers had unfurled from spiraling pods, soaking the air with incongruous summer sweetness.

  Kali positioned herself as she had before, in body and mind. But this time, she drew on the energy of the vines, and pulled it toward her, carefully, lest she snap the fragile thread of connection. Since the vines had reacted so well to the pace of her breathing, she tried to keep it steady, and work her magic in tune with her own body's natural rhythm.

  Taking was easier than giving. Each inhale brought her a renewed wash of vigor. Not much—it was only a plant—but a noticeable amount, enough to perk her up a little bit from her previous exertion. She half-wondered if she was simply taking her own energy back, rather than outright stealing the plant's, but the thought was fleeting. Pale green particles lost themselves among her own multicolored ones; strength filled her, energy swam through her veins, sparkling like stars throughout her whole body.

  When her eyes opened, the world was rich and vibrant, alive with color, sound, scent, more than she ever remembered sensing before. It was as if she'd been cuffed with hematite prior to this moment, only to have it taken away, and life breathed back into her world.

  Best—and most startling—was her bum knee, which felt almost normal. Only an ember of pain remained. She could not remember feeling this way after she'd taken Neff's life, but she'd been so frightened and desperate for a means of escape, she might not have noticed.

  The air was sharp and sweet, though there was a sickly edge to the scent. Blinking, Kali focused on the vines. It took her a moment too long to realize they had shriveled to spindly brown fingers clawing at the wall. The flowers had withered to dry scraps of parchment. The vines that had grown beneath her fingers had also died. She plucked a single dried leaf to examine. Its particles were motionless, but it was not the same stillness found in a stone. It was the stillness wrought by spent life.

  Among mages, healing abilities were common, but Kali had never heard of anything quite like this… transfer of energy. Some of her elation faded. What have I done? More importantly, what could she do, if she kept trying?

  But she must take care. Magic without purpose and direction was unruly at best; she'd nearly killed herself to heal a man on her journey here. She should not push herself too far. Manipulating plants in this way would be remarkable on its own, but if she was ever going to put this talent to further use, she'd have to learn to account for all the complexities of human life.

  Just that easy, she thought wryly.

  Kali dropped the leaf as she rose, dusted the dirt off, collected her tea, and began to search for another section of vines on which to practice. Each step was fluid, almost painless, and the rush of energy was strong, though the pain began to increase the more she walked. But that didn't matter so much now. Though she tried to keep the potential for trouble in the forefront of her mind, she could not quell her excitement.

  If she could figure this out, if she could control this wild magic, there would be no limits to what she could do or whom she could help. Perhaps she could even fix herself– permanently. She glanced at the sky, white and empty and endless beyond the bastion walls, and grinned.

  ***

  Time passed; Kali lost track of how much. All she knew were particles: her own and those of the vines.

  Kali trembled, alternately with exhaustion and with energy, and lost herself to wonder. With practice, with her every breath controlled and her concentration tight, life and death bloomed all around, caught, as she was, in the throes of magic.

  When she opened her eyes next, a sentinel stood several paces away, fully armored, mouth agape as his gaze traced the vines that not only clung to the wall behind her, but also coated the surrounding earth.

  Abruptly, her concentration shattered, but she didn't care. When he looked at her, something inside of her that had nothing to do with particles or magic unfurled, and she could not help her smile.

  It took him a moment, but Stonewall smiled back.

  Seven

  The bastion gates were taller and wider than a mage-carriage – but not by much. Hematite overlaid the sturdy, iron bars and two sentinels stood guard on the garrison side.

  As Stonewall and his squad approached the bastion, he tried to reason away his anxiety. Surely it was just exhaustion that made his steps falter. Surely it was the trials of the past two weeks and the lingering embarrassment from his induction that made him want to return to his quarters.

  In his heart of hearts, he knew all that to be untrue; the truth could not be set aside so easily. Even if he found Kali alone, would she want any
thing to do with him? Their time together, though brief, had been alternately strange and wonderful, but a fortnight had passed and they had each dwelled in their separate worlds since.

  “At least this shouldn't take too long,” Rook was saying as one of the guards unlocked the gate.

  “Aye, patrols are simple,” Beacon added. “With any luck we'll be back in the barracks in an hour or so.”

  Flint's voice was dark. “Assuming no mages try to fly away.”

  Before Stonewall could ask what she meant, Milo added, “Aye, especially since–”

  Stonewall turned to him, hoping to quell his words with a stern look: a silent reminder of Talon's instructions. No doubt the stolen hematite would be the subject of much discussion, but it would not be here or now – at least not while he was in charge.

  Indeed, the younger man faltered, and then said, “I'm sure everything will be fine.”

  “I'm sure it will,” Stonewall replied. “For now, keep your mind on our task.”

  They stepped through the gates, which closed with a resounding clang that echoed across the courtyard. The brick building that housed the mages' living quarters took up a good portion of the bastion, along with the various storage sheds, workshops, and other structures, both wooden and brick. From here, Stonewall could also make out a garden, a pen containing a chicken coop, a few geese, and small goats. There were no mages about. Had it not been for the massive stone walls that surrounded everything, it might have made for a quaint, cozy scene.

  Stonewall realized the others were looking at him expectantly, awaiting orders. While he wanted to take off on his own and search for Kali, he knew that would not go over well, particularly after all the pomp of his induction.

  Forget her, his better sense whispered. If you want companionship, look to another sentinel, or even a civilian. But leave the mage alone. Focus on your duty.

  Wise words. He would do well to heed them.