Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2)

by Lauren L. Garcia

  Stonewall knelt before the One's altar and took several deep breaths, drawing in the cool night air; while he could not see the incense burners, the scents of frangipani and sandalwood drifted through the columns. He closed his eyes, trying to dispel his anxieties and allow the presence of the One to fill his heart. The temple was silent, though it was not an empty silence. It was the silence of a calm and quiet mind.

  He focused on the rhythm of his breath, but soon other things crept into his attention: the tickle of incense in his nose; the solid flagstones beneath his armored knees; the distant, perpetual rush of the White River that reminded him of ocean waves. The longer he sat in stillness, the more he felt that he would be able to handle the tasks ahead. After some time, he dug into his belt-pouch and pulled out one of the lapis pebbles he always kept on hand. He had a handful of these; before he had left his home city of Pillau, he had collected them so that he would always have a piece of himself to offer the gods. The dark-blue color made him think of home.

  He set the pebble upon the altar, amid a handful of rose petals. It rested among the other offerings as if it belonged there and a sense of rightness and peace passed through him. Although he did not have an answer to his problem, he was not afraid any longer. It will be well, he told himself as he got to his feet. All things happen as they should. There is a balance to the world, even if you cannot always see it.

  Heart lighter, he slipped between the columns and made his way to the steps. The city was spread below, washed bone white by the moons, with pinpricks of light from lamps and candles scattered throughout. How beautiful the night was, with the sky clear enough to reveal hundreds of stars not dimmed by Seren or Atal’s glow. It wasn't that late. Perhaps he could get a few hours of sleep before–

  “Sergeant Stonewall.”

  He froze on the topmost step. What peace had filled him evaporated and his heart slammed against his ribs. He fought to keep his composure as he gave a warrior's salute to the woman who waited several steps below. “Commander Talon.”

  Like him, she wore her armor. As she ascended towards him, the chips of hematite embedded in the cured leather gleamed in the moonlight, as if her gear had been recently cleaned. She did not pause until she was level with him. He did not meet her eyes, only kept his head ducked in deference.

  “It's very early to be at prayer,” she said. “Or were you already awake?”

  “I had not yet seen the One's temple in this city, ser. I rose early today, for a visit was long overdue.” Not quite a lie; not quite the truth. Perhaps Talon outranked him in this life, but it was not her concern how and when he spent time with the gods.

  She did not reply for a moment, and then sighed. “At ease, for Atal's sake. I can't talk to you when you're bent like a willow tree.”

  He straightened, but slid into parade-rest, keeping his expression impassive while his thoughts were in turmoil. Had she followed him here, or had they met by chance? If the former – why?

  As if reading his thoughts, she nodded to the stairs. “Let's walk back together. I've a few matters to discuss with you.”

  Stonewall took her words to mean that she'd intended to meet him. If that was true, the next few minutes did not bode well. At best, she wanted to readdress his failure to capture a Sufani nomad. He tried not to think “at worst,” but his stomach twisted into painful knots anyway. He nodded and they began to descend. Talon did not speak until they were about mid-way down. “I received a message this evening, regarding the soldier you and your squad found in the outskirts.”

  “The Aredian captain taken by the thrall?”

  Talon nodded. “Apparently he'd been missing for about a week prior to your squad's arrival to Torin. His commanding officer was grateful for his body's return, and passed on her gratitude to the queen and High Commander Argent.” She cleared her throat. “The Circle clergy in Torin identified the marks on his body as a result of chafing from his gear; apparently his armor was new, and he had not yet adjusted it to his preferences.”

  Chafing? No, they had been burn marks, Stonewall was certain of it. Why had the Circle claimed otherwise? He considered questioning Talon further, but chose to let the matter go. For now. “What became of the rest of his unit, ser?” Stonewall asked instead. “We feared they might've been… changed as well.”

  “They were unharmed. But according to Argent, the queen grows uncertain of the Canderi's intentions; the thralls seem to have originated along the border, with more spreading down to Aredia every day. The queen’s messengers to the Canderi samaat have not returned.” She paused. “Argent believes that such silence from the Canderi leader signals her intention to end to the Avalanche Truce. He fears the storm of war is brewing.”

  A chill swept through Stonewall's body as he recalled his history lessons. “The truce has been intact for… what, three hundred years? Well before the second moon appeared, at any rate. Why would the Canderi break it now?”

  “Who knows why the barbarians do anything?” Talon replied, frowning. “Perhaps they grew tired of fighting each other, and decided to have another go at us.”

  She was right – to a point. Aside from a small number of brave, foolhardy merchants, few Aredians had any dealings with their northern neighbors. Until recently, Stonewall had only encountered the fierce, blue-eyed warriors a handful of times.

  “Does the queen believe the Canderi are responsible for the thralls?” he asked at last. “I didn't think any of them had magic.”

  “They don't, as far as we know,” Talon replied. “But that, too, might have changed.”

  “I’ve heard some folks say they believe mages are responsible.”

  Talon inclined her head in his direction. “And what do you think of that?”

  “It’s impossible, ser,” he replied at once.

  “How so?”

  Surely she didn’t believe the rumors? Stonewall couldn’t help his frown. “Perhaps if I’d not fought so many thralls, I might think mages capable of creating such monsters. But I’ve spent a lot of time around mages, and I know that they don’t have that much power. And if they did…” He glanced up at waxing Seren. “We’d all be dead, already.”

  To his surprise, Talon chuckled, though her next words were serious. “I feel much the same way, as does Argent. He does not yet know the queen’s feelings on the matter, but believes she is investigating it. But the potential connection between mages and thralls in the minds of civilians is… worrisome.”

  “Aye, it could make a lot of trouble for us, ser.”

  She nodded. “Between the Canderi, the thralls, and the Assembly, the queen has her hands full and the army is already pressuring Argent for the sentinels' aid in the approaching conflict. We must stand together, now more than ever. We must present a united front if we are to survive whatever the coming days will bring.”

  Talon paused at the base of the steps. In the midst of the city, the darkness was thick; the street lamps had burned out, and the only real light came from Seren. Atal cast little more than a wan glow. “Even after your failed mission last month,” she continued, making him wince. “I did not regret my decision to bring you into the Whitewater garrison and promote you to sergeant. You are a capable officer and skilled warrior.”

  Stonewall ducked his head in acknowledgment, but did not reply. Surely the other boot would drop soon; no way in the blazing void had she sought him out at this hour just to share the latest news and compliment his abilities.

  “However,” she continued. “Your insubordination shows that you still have much to learn. As a leader, you do not have the luxury of getting what you want.”

  The knots in his guts tightened, but he forced himself to remain calm and resolved to deal with the disaster as it came. “I'm aware of that, ser.”

  “You are one man. The greater good is more important than your desires. Are you also aware of that?”

  It was so quiet around them, as if the entire city was holding its breath. On
ly the White River rumbled, heedless of anything but its own journey. “I realize the greater good must come first, ser,” he said at last. “But I also believe that the One does not set us on a path without reason.”

  “That may be true. But you are in a position of leadership now, and cannot afford to be blinded by your personal feelings. Your choices and your actions do not just affect you; they affect your squad and all others around you.”

  Kali’s words returned to him, unbidden. “An eye for an eye, then? That poor woman.”

  I did the best I could, he told himself. No lasting harm was done. But Flint still got hurt on their mission to find a Sufani, he had still taken a civilian prisoner, even if only for a little while. And his squad had shouldered the burden of his punishment – at their request, but even so. He’d hoped to avoid their suffering at all.

  Stonewall and Talon stood together in the shadows, with no one else in sight. She stepped closer to him and pitched her voice low, though there was steel behind her words. “Stonewall, I understand that personal sentiment is a powerful motivator. We’re not forbidden from forming romantic ties, but we cannot let those bonds overpower our sense of loyalty and duty. The sentinels’ role is to keep a distance between mages and the rest of the world, to keep the magic-users from doing harm as much as to keep them safe from those who would harm them.”

  He swallowed. “I understand that, Commander.” When she said nothing else, he made to salute again. “I should get going....”

  But she pinned him in place with her stare for a long, long moment; long enough to further unsettle him, until she said, “I expected better of you.”

  “Ser?”

  Talon scowled. “Do not play this game with me, Stonewall. If you do, she will lose.”

  Kali. His breath caught. His heart raced beneath his cuirass, but he still schooled his voice to be steady. “Please tell me what you're talking about, ser.”

  “Your trysts with Mage Halcyon,” she said sharply. “You sticking your sword where it does not belong. Do you understand me now?”

  “My sword is not your concern,” he replied, equally as sharply, before adding the honorific a beat too late. “Ser.”

  Talon drew herself up so that she stood almost even with him. “It is when it finds its way within a mage. Did you believe you could keep your assignations a secret? Did you think I wouldn't find out?”

  I'd hoped. But he was smart enough not to say that, at least. The commander regarded him before shaking her head, disgust plain on her face. “Your little dalliance with the mage ends now. If I catch a whiff of any inappropriate conduct between the two of you, her life is forfeit. Be thankful the High Commander does not know; if he thought a mage had corrupted one of us, he would slaughter every mage in this bastion, and no doubt send every sentinel here to the mines.”

  Stonewall tried to swallow the hard lump that had materialized in his throat. “She's done nothing wrong, ser. I…” In Tor's name, he could hardly form the words, but he had to try, for Kali’s sake. “On our journey here, I craved a release, and forced myself upon her. I told her to keep silent, or I'd claim she'd magicked me.”

  Surprise flashed across Talon's face before she frowned. “A poor lie, and a foul one. You shame yourself with it.”

  “Mage Halcyon is innocent,” he tried again. “I'm the only one at fault. Demote me and send me away—to the mines, to the Laughing God, wherever you like—but leave her be. Please, ser.”

  But Talon was already shaking her head. “Her fate is in your hands, Stonewall. I trust, as a godly man, that you will do the right thing.”

  His heart fell to his stomach and he could not meet the commander's eyes, so he nodded vaguely and looked away, into the shadows of the street around them. But Talon did not leave. Instead, she shifted closer, making him glance up in bewilderment. What else did she want?

  “If you seek a release,” she said quietly. “You do not need to look for it in the bastion.”

  She emphasized her meaning with a light brush of her gloved fingers against his cheek, just as Kali had touched him this morning – so long ago. Shock rolled through him like sudden thunder and he reacted without thinking. He jerked away from Talon as if she were a sandviper with bared fangs.

  He did not speak, but he did not need to. She stilled, blinking at her hand, then her face went cold and hard as the sword that hung at her hip. “I don't want to look at you any longer,” she told him, turning away. “Get back to your quarters, where you should be. Dismissed.”

  With that, she strode toward the garrison.

  Stonewall stood frozen on the steps. Not until Talon was well out of sight did he make his own return trip to the garrison. Each step was slow, for his heart was heavy, but by the time he reached his quarters, he knew what he had to do. The stack of parchment on his desk shrank with his efforts; again and again he wrote until his hand ached, read over his scrawling Aredian script, then tore the parchment up and started again. The right words came slowly, painfully, but at last he got them down.

  He prayed that one day she would forgive him.

  Twenty-One

  Sweat trickled down Kali’s back, despite the cold air. An icy wind bit through her cloak, but she barely noticed for the white-hot pain that lanced through her left knee and the warmth that Sadira emanated. Two different sorts of heat, contrasting. The former was enough to bring tears to her eyes while the latter was soothing. The combination meant that Kali could do little more than keep her breathing steady as she fought to remain upright on the wooden bench, just outside the bastion's main building.

  At last the searing pain began to fade, though she could not bring herself to look anywhere but her knee, innocuously covered in her woolen leggings. Despite her knee's mundane appearance, Kali’s head spun with the effort of not passing out from the pain of Sadira's healing magic.

  A light touch on her shoulder pulled her attention to the woman seated beside her. “Kalinda?”

  Sniffling, Kali swiped at her eyes and tried to smile at the Zhee woman. “Done already?”

  Sadira swept her pale blue eyes from Kali's knee to her face. Her solemn expression proved that she did not believe Kali's light tone. “I hurt you. Please, forgive–”

  “I’ve said a thousand times, it's fine,” Kali interrupted, shaking her head. “We both know you didn't do it out of malice. It's just…” She sighed and squinted into the white clouds that had overtaken the sky since first light. “It's how magic is, sometimes. Painful and frustrating.”

  “Your knee is healing, if slowly,” Sadira offered. “A few more months of this, and I think your limp will be much improved.”

  Months. Kali withheld her grimace. Right now, she wasn’t sure she could withstand another healing session at all, let alone a few months’ worth.

  Sadira added, “And if Gideon is able to make a braise for you, perhaps, it won't be noticeable at all.”

  “Brace,” Kali corrected, emphasizing the sound. “Braise is something you’d do in the kitchen.” Another chill wind blew and Kali hugged her cloak closer. Almost immediately, the warmth radiating from Sadira strengthened, such that the cold receded further. Kali smiled at the other woman. “That's a handy skill to have.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “I suppose you don't get cold much, if ever.”

  The Zhee mage touched the hematite torc around her neck. “I don't feel the cold as others do.”

  Nodding, Kali glanced around the open yard. Given the chilly day, most of the other mages were indoors, though she'd had a desire to be outside in the hope of seeing Stonewall again, in case his squad was on bastion patrol today. But no sentinels had made an appearance yet. She was probably the only mage in the bastion—and in Aredia—who felt disappointment about that fact.

  Her gaze slipped toward the garden and the bastion wall behind it. After several rounds of experiments, she had decided to let the jessamin vines grow in peace; the first ones she’d coaxed had d
ied off by now, but she'd been able to urge more and more to grow the last week or so. A true frost had not yet arrived to kill them off, so they still blanketed that section of the wall in green. By now, transferring her energy to and from the little plants was, if not exactly easy, somewhat easier. The memory of the jessamin’s borrowed energy clung to Kali’s thoughts as the vines themselves clung to the bastion wall.

  Perhaps she should attempt to transfer energy from something more substantial than the vines, but she was hesitant. Ever since she'd worked magic on Stonewall, she was wary of using her abilities to do more than influence some unimportant flowers in the garden for fear of the repercussions – whatever those might be. But the question of what else she could do lingered. Surely the solution to her bum knee lay within magic, but she didn’t yet know how.

  This in mind, she looked at the Zhee mage beside her. Though they'd spent a great deal of time together, Sadira did not often speak of her own past. But their connection somehow went beyond the sharing of histories; despite what Eris and Gideon seemed to think, Sadira was not in league with the sentinels – or Foley, for that matter. What would Sadira say if Kali shared her newly discovered abilities? Kali didn’t think the other mage would tell anyone, but at this point, she was getting desperate for an end to her constant pain. Perhaps it was worth the risk to share the story of her magic with her friend. “Sadira… may I ask you a question?”

  “You may.” Sadira's lips pulled to one side in a faint smile. “Though I may not answer.”

  “Fair enough.” Kali considered the best way to proceed. “Why do you wear the torc?”