Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2)

by Lauren L. Garcia

Every instinct screamed at him to end this conversation now, because it would only bring unhappiness – and danger. “You’re a healer, Kali,” he managed. “Not a killer.” He clenched his hands into fists. “Not like me.”

  “I am what I am,” she said after a moment. “And I would like to be of more use than sitting around here all day.”

  Surely she was joking. He shook his head. “But you’re safe here.”

  “Safe,” she repeated. “Aye, safe and sound, behind walls and hematite. A good little mage.”

  Should he have been startled at the guilt that suddenly washed through him, cold as the White River? Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the faint fingers of sunlight creeping across the wall, reaching for his sword.

  He took a deep breath, suddenly wishing he wasn’t completely naked for this conversation. “What do you expect me to say to that?”

  She winced. “I don’t know.”

  “Me either.”

  “It’s just…” She sighed heavily. “It’s not fair, sometimes.”

  “It’s not,” he agreed. “But I don’t make the rules.”

  Kali shrugged and began to fidget with the blanket around her shoulders. When she looked at him again, her gaze was about as serious as he’d ever seen. “The problem with the thralls is bigger than you and me, Stone. I want to help solve it. I believe I could learn a great deal, but I’d need your help. I know our… situation is complicated, and that you can’t always control where and when your squad is sent out. But I’m asking you to try. Please.”

  Stonewall was quiet for several moments, debating. What she asked was… unorthodox, but not impossible. The trick would be finding the right mission. And she was right about her magic’s effect on the demonic creatures, though he was loathe to put her in harm’s way. This was not a decision he wanted to make, but he was starting to think it was out of his hands.

  Perhaps she was supposed to help fight the thralls in her own way.

  He swore under his breath. “Very well. If the chance arises for you to come with us to,” he grimaced, “study any thralls, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to bring you. Will that satisfy?”

  Gods above, the smile on her face was worth everything, but it was her solemn tone that let him know her gratitude. “Yes, Stonewall. Thank you.”

  “Glimmer stories and children's tales,” he muttered. “I don't trust any of it. But,” he added when she opened her mouth, “if I hold stake in the stories of the gods, I suppose I ought to give these some consideration, too.”

  Kali rolled her eyes. “How noble of you.”

  “Are you teasing me?”

  She pressed a hand to her chest, eyes wide and innocent. “I'm shocked you'd even suggest such a thing. Shocked and appalled.”

  He tried to be irritated, but couldn't summon the feeling. Instead, he pulled her close for a kiss. When they parted, she rested her head on his chest, above his heart, and he could feel her mouth move as she spoke. “I suppose the Heartfire celebration in Whitewater City is much larger than at Starwatch, but I doubt I'll get to see any of it.”

  “I won't get to enjoy it, either,” he said. “I imagine we'll be on guard duty the entire time.”

  “That's true.”

  “But if I see anything interesting,” he added. “I'll be sure to pay careful attention, so I can describe it to you later.”

  “Later.” There was a pause before she lifted her head to smile at him, softer than before, but truer. “I would like that, Stone.”

  There it was again: that strange constricting feeling in his chest that somehow sent his heart spiraling into the ether. Dangerous, his better sense whispered, but he brushed the notion aside and drew her to him again. Duty called, yes, but he lingered, still.

  Nineteen

  Far too soon, Stonewall had slipped from Kali’s window and replaced his gear, though he'd lost one of his gloves in her room’s clutter. But as he opened his mouth to wish her goodbye, she shimmied, not without difficulty, out of the window, and landed ungracefully on the ground. Her knee buckled; she nearly fell completely, but he caught her arms and held her upright, allowing her a chance to find her footing.

  “Are you–”

  “I'm fine.” She laughed. “I sound like you.” She straightened and reached back through the window to pull her blanket free, wrapping it around her shoulders again, then nodded in the direction of the bastion gates. “I'll walk you out.”

  Stonewall stared at her. “You can't,” he managed. “If someone sees you…” He could hardly finish the thought.

  “It's too early.” Her breath fogged the air. “And far too cold. No one's up yet, I promise. Let's go.” She began to limp toward the gates, not pausing to see if he followed.

  Well, what else could he do? He caught up with her in a few strides and took her arm, compelling her to stop as gently as he could. “You shouldn't risk it, Kali.”

  “You do.” She did not jerk free of him, only met his eyes.

  They were only a few strides away from her window; the bastion wall and mage dormitories provided some cover, but his heart still raced as if in preparation for a fight. “I'm a sentinel in a bastion. No one will think twice to see me here.”

  “And I'm a mage in a bastion. The same could be said about me. Besides,” she added quietly. “I'll stop well before we reach the gates. I'm just… not ready to be parted from you. That's all.”

  What meager amount of annoyance he'd felt evaporated at her words. That was troubling, but he ignored it for now and released her arm. “I'm not ready, either,” he said as she regarded him. “I don't think I ever am. But nor am I willing to let you risk yourself.”

  “My life is my own to risk.”

  “Don't say that.”

  “It's true.”

  Stonewall ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, working to quell his nerves. Images swam through his mind as past experience and future fears merged: Kali in chains; Kali collared and cuffed like a beast; Kali’s death, ordered for crimes that wouldn’t have touched a normal person. He ground his teeth and fought to keep his voice quiet. No one else was in sight, but every sense was alert, ready for danger. “Do you know what Talon would do to you, if she found out about… us?”

  Kali paled but kept calm. “I hardly think she’d–”

  “I do,” he interrupted. “I’m no burnie, Kali. I’ve seen how your people can be punished. Yes, there might be some risk for me, but it’s nothing compared to what could befall you.”

  “Then why bother?” she asked, a touch of bitterness in the words. “Why even come to me, if I’m in such terrible danger from your mere presence?”

  He stared at her, struck silent with guilt and a horror colder than the wind. “Because I’m an idiot,” he managed at last. “Because I…”

  The rest of the words died in his throat.

  She sighed and brushed back her dark hair, hanging loose and fluttering in the wind. “That’s a foolish question. We’re both idiots, I suppose. Aren’t we?”

  This last she said with a faint, wry smile that flooded him with relief. “Some people might say that.”

  But his relief was short-lived. Already, the conversation had gone on too long. By his estimation, a patrol was not due for another half-hour, but sometimes—depending on the squad—morning patrols ran early. Also, the First Mage had an annoying habit of dawn walks. Stonewall knew Foley Clementa’s favored route enough to avoid running into him, but a delay of any sort could be disastrous.

  Besides, Stonewall had been absent from his quarters all night. What if one of his squad had gone looking for him? What if thralls had struck another town nearby, and the sentinels were needed to fight the monsters? The world was sinking further into chaos right now; there was no such thing as “normal”. He could not afford complacency.

  “Please,” he added. “Please go back to your room. I'll come to you later, I promise.”

  “When?”


  “I can't say.”

  She was silent.

  “It must be this way,” he whispered. “Please, Kali.”

  He thought she would object again, but then she exhaled sharply, her breath spiraling in the chill air. “Very well.”

  His heart sank at the coolness of her reply – until she kissed him. It was no more than a light brush of her lips against his cheek as she leaned up to reach, but a familiar heat swept through him in the aftermath and he forgot to be wary.

  He forgot everything, foolish man that he was, and caught her mouth with his. Again, it was a brief kiss, but he made it count. When they parted, her lips and cheeks were pink, and she was smiling. “That was a proper goodbye,” she told him, touching his jaw. “Though I'm not sure I'll be able to go back to sleep.”

  Stonewall glanced around; the area just behind the dormitories was still empty and silent, thank Tor. He took a breath to collect himself, for his heart raced and his blood was hot. “Later,” he said to her again, knowing she'd catch the meaning.

  She nodded. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  There was nothing else for him to do but slip away, so he did, striding in the direction of the gates with a confidence he did not feel. Each step carried him farther away from her; each step brought him closer to the cold reality he could not ignore.

  The gate-guards were chatting, biri smoke lingering in the air around them. Their watch should have begun about half an hour ago. As Stonewall approached, Redfox stood up, peering at him from the outside, between the bars. “Have you been in there all night?”

  Stonewall’s heart beat so loud; surely they could hear its pounding. It took him a moment too long to reply. “Certainly not,” he said. “I'm an early riser. I like to make sure everything's quiet at this time.”

  “So diligent,” the cinder replied dryly. “No wonder Talon fancies you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She did not reply, only made to unlatch the gate. The other guard, another cinder named Slate, flicked his spent biri away and pulled another from his belt pouch, lighting it on the lamp beside him.

  “Play innocent if you like, Sergeant,” he said as the gate swung open. “It makes no difference to us.”

  Redfox waved Stonewall through, but he didn’t move, only schooled his face to a steely, authoritative glare that he cast between the two cinders. “You know you’re not allowed to smoke biris when you’re on duty. Or do I have to make it an order?”

  Redfox and Slate exchanged glances before the latter made a show of stubbing out the biri and sticking it in his belt pouch. “Yes, ser,” Slate said, too emphatic to have been serious, but not enough for Stonewall to call him out on the fact.

  Stonewall stepped through the gate, which latched behind him with a clang that echoed through the yard. He hurried toward the barracks, his thoughts chasing each other in circles.

  “No wonder Talon fancies you.” The commander had not spoken more than a handful of words to him after the Assembly debacle, and those had been perfunctory at best. He thought back to their other encounters, but could find nothing that might arouse such a statement, so he tried to shake off the guard's words; likely it was just idle gossip, borne of boredom, a lack of hematite, and too many biris.

  Sodding cinders.

  But the uneasy feeling in his gut returned, and the closer he came to the barracks, the harder it was to shake.

  ***

  Dawn was Foley's favorite time. The world was fresh; another day unfolding like a flower, filled with possibilities. Though his troubles were never far from his mind, they were easier to set aside when the rest of the world had not yet woken. He meandered through his garden, savoring the contrast between the crisp air and the mug of tea warming his gloved hand. Mint and honey – a combination his wife Isra had never much cared for, though his daughter had always enjoyed it.

  The hot liquid trickled down his throat as he paused beside the wall in the far edge of the bastion to regard the jessamin vines. No one knew exactly when they'd sprung up; he'd asked a few others, but no mage had admitted to having anything to do with the climbing plants, and really, a bit of stray greenery wasn’t so great a problem. Actually, he rather liked the jessamin’s tiny yellow flowers and the way the vines blanketed the otherwise imposing wall. But their appearance, so vigorous and out of season, was something of a mystery.

  Foley sipped his tea, idly studying the vines, until movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was someone by the dormitories. Who in the stars is about at this hour? Unless they had a mission or task to see to, most of the mages here were not the early risers he was. Curious, Foley moved through the persimmon trees to get a better look–

  And froze in place when he marked the gleam of hematite armor. A sentinel. Not so uncommon in a bastion, nor even entirely strange at this hour, but alone?

  No. Not alone. Foley's breath caught as a mage—a woman with dark hair—emerged clumsily from her window, nearly collapsing to the ground as her knee gave way. The sentinel caught her neatly, touching her with a familiarity that Foley recognized all-too-well.

  His missing hand ached with a phantom pain.

  He was not close enough to hear what they said, or even distinguish their features clearly, but there was only one mage in the bastion with a limp such as this woman's. As for the sentinel…

  Short, dark hair; light brown skin. Beyond that, Foley could make out nothing more, but it hardly mattered. The mage began to walk in the direction of the main gates, but the sentinel grabbed her arm to stop her. They exchanged a few hushed but heated words, with the sentinel occasionally glancing around, though he did not seem to sense Foley’s presence. But that was not unusual; only some sentinels had that ability. The pair spoke until, to Foley's horror, Mage Halcyon leaned up to kiss the sentinel, who returned the gesture with eagerness. When they parted, she reached up to him again before he turned and strode away. She stood a moment, swaying slightly as if in a stiff wind, then made her way back to her room.

  Heart racing, Foley backtracked into the trees, hoping to lose himself in the boughs. He did not bother to watch Mage Halcyon return to her room. It didn't matter what she did now. Her fate was probably sealed. It was his duty to ensure that the same did not hold true for the rest of them.

  Only when she had disappeared from view did he realize his mug had fallen from his grip, the tea soaking into the cold ground beneath the jessamin vines.

  ***

  The first stirrings of dawn hung in the air as Talon crossed the garrison’s main courtyard, her boots crunching on the gravel, her hands still warm from the mug of mint and honey tea she’d finished minutes ago. Captain Cobalt waited at the center, fully kitted up, as she was, with his hands clasped behind his back. At her approach, he saluted once, and then nodded across the courtyard to the stone steps that climbed to the upper level. There was room for them to walk abreast, but Cobalt let her go first.

  The sentinel garrison was a separate structure from the mage bastion; a set of hematite and iron gates connected the two spaces. A high wall surrounded the bastion, but the garrison was its own fortification: a five-sided stone building with an open courtyard at the center and a walkway on the upper level. It was here that Talon and Cobalt ascended until they overlooked the garrison and the city. The constant thrum of the White River seemed louder up here and the ever-present wind held the promise of winter.

  Talon regarded her captain. “Well, here we are. What did you wish to show me?”

  “This way, ser.” He pointed toward the bastion and they began to walk. “I’ve been thinking of ways to keep better watch over the mages,” he said as they went. “And I think I have a solution.”

  They reached the bastion wall, which was even with the low bulwark that surrounded the garrison’s upper level, though the bastion wall had no barrier to prevent anyone from falling to the river below. “The bastion and the garrison are connected,” Cobalt said as he ind
icated the unbroken line of stone from one wall to the other. “So it occurred to me… why not patrol on top of the bastion wall as well? Get a bird’s-eye view of the mages, so to speak.”

  “Did you just make a joke?” Talon asked him, thinking of Eris’ supposed shape-changing abilities.

  Cobalt winced. “An unintentional one, it seems. Sorry, ser.”

  “Don’t be,” she said. “I simply wasn’t sure you knew how.”

  He did not return her smile, only nodded to the bastion again. “What do you think?”

  She studied the bastion wall. The top had not been built for anyone to walk upon and was not nearly as wide as that of the garrison’s upper-level. But the surface was flat enough to accommodate a sentinel with good balance and without a fear of heights.

  Below, the bastion’s garden was quiet. Although she could not see the First Mage, she knew Foley would probably be strolling about with his tea. What would he say to this new type of patrol? Well, it hardly mattered, in the end. The mages must be used to sentinels’ presences by now; one more form of watchfulness could not possibly make a difference.

  “I think it’s a grand idea,” she said, nodding to the captain. “Good thinking, Cobalt.”

  His lips twitched, fighting back a smile, and his answering nod was stern. “I hope so, Commander. I’ll add this to the patrol schedule and report back once we’ve had a few rotations under our belts.”

  “Good.”

  She was about to step over to the bastion wall to try it out for herself when he spoke again. “There’s something else.…”

  Cobalt was always serious, but something in his tone made her pulse leap. “Yes, Captain?”

  He glanced around, probably more out of habit than a real fear that someone would be eavesdropping. “Gray came to me last week. She mentioned seeing Sergeant Stonewall entering the bastion – alone. She said she’s seen him come and go alone a couple times, always at odd hours; he claims to be on unscheduled patrols, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.” He studied Talon with his sharp, pale eyes. “Did you give the sergeant such an order, ser?”