“Of course it fits.” Eris rose and offered her hand. “You should try it out now.”
Kali rose stiffly, clutching Eris for support, and her first few steps were halting. But those that followed were smoother. The tightness of her jaw eased and Kali smiled at her friend, suddenly very much the young girl of Eris' memory.
Eris found herself smiling back. “How does it feel?”
“A little strange, but not uncomfortable.”
Eris glanced about the garden again with a warier eye. Ostensibly, they were alone, but she didn’t want to risk being overheard. She had even seen sentinels on top of the sodding bastion wall a few times. As if the hemies stalking around inside the bastion wasn’t enough of an intrusion!
“Come on,” she said to Kali, nodding toward the dormitories. “Let's put your knee through its paces.” Kali glanced at the books and scrolls, hesitation clear on her face, but Eris tugged her hand. “They'll be here when you come back.”
“What's going on? Why can’t we stay here?”
“We can't talk here,” Eris said.
“Of all the sodding days to be popular,” Kali muttered.
Eris exhaled. “I must speak with you privately.”
“Privacy is why I came out here.” Kali added a pointed look in Eris’ direction.
Irritation surged through Eris’ veins, but she held it in check. “The garden is not… suitable for the conversation I want to have. Your room would be best.”
Kali's eyes widened and she shook her head. “Fine, we can talk… anywhere but there.”
“What’s wrong with your room?”
Kali looked away and began to fiddle with her braid. “Too messy and cluttered. And… I wanted some fresh air.”
Stars, she was a terrible liar. Eris sighed. “Is the chicken coop all right, then? No one but me ever goes over there.”
“That will work.”
Eris began to walk to the bastion’s makeshift farmyard, trusting her friend to follow. Indeed, Kali fell in step with her, though at first her movements were halting and slow. Gradually, they smoothed, until she only had the faintest trace of a limp.
“How is it now?” Eris asked once they reached the edge of the coop.
Kali bent her knee a few times. “Not bad. I feel as if my knee has more support than before. I suppose I won't know exactly how well it works until I've worn it for a few days. I must thank Gid.”
“You'd best do so sooner rather than later,” Eris said. “Otherwise, you won't get the chance.”
Kali nodded. “You're leaving tonight.”
At least she'd whispered the words. Eris ensured her own voice was as soft. “Aye.”
“Where are you going?”
“South.” It was enough of an answer. Frankly, it was all the answer Eris had at the moment, though she hoped that would change once she and the others were free of the city. It was difficult to think more of the future than tonight.
The hens trotted over upon seeing their caretaker and Eris belatedly realized she hadn't brought any feed. She'd have to return later – for the last time. A strange pang of regret struck her, and she knelt outside the fence, reaching one hand through to stroke Pollie as the little hen looked up in hope of breakfast.
“South,” Kali repeated. “And what will you do when you get there?”
Eris shrugged. “Does it matter? We won't be prisoners any longer.” She took a deep breath to gather her calm, and then turned to her friend. “Kali, come with us.”
Kali's lips parted, but she did not speak.
Annoyance flashed through Eris, pricking like a dozen hot needles, and suddenly she was tired of being courteous. “What’s wrong?”
“It's just…” Kali swiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s complicated.”
Eris frowned at her. “Not from where I stand.”
“I have to think about leaving.”
“You’ve had weeks to think it over. Do you really want to remain a prisoner of the sentinels for the rest of your life?”
“It's dangerous.”
Eris scoffed. “Of course it is. But I'm willing to risk all the danger in the world if it means I don't have to live in the shadow of hematite any longer.” Eris studied her friend. Now that they were closer, Eris could see her swollen lids and the red striations in her eyes. Kali’s nose, too, had a deep pink tinge, and she’d been sniffling.
Eris almost could not bring herself to ask, “Is it complicated because of him?”
A flush crept over Kali's face. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you really want me to say it?” Eris asked, rising from her kneel. When Kali did not reply, Eris cast her eyes to the endless white sky. “The sodding sentinel you're taking to your bed. The metal-blooded moron who keeps you behind walls even as you spread your legs for him. Don't look at me like I'm the crazy one. I saw you together. I saw him go into your room.”
“Don’t, Eris,” Kali managed at last. Her hands were clenched into trembling fists and tears trickled down her cheeks. “Please.”
Realization swept through Eris like wind through her feathers, and she was both shamed by her misdirected anger and furious in an all-too familiar way. As if she needed another reason to hate the sentinels. She'd heard of no hemies being killed recently, which left only one conclusion as to why her friend would shed tears over one of the bastards. Haven't they done enough damage? she thought, her own fists clenching while her friend wept. Haven't they hurt us enough?
Eris only hesitated another second before embracing her friend and speaking softly in Kali’s ear. “Don't you see? He doesn’t feel as you do, not really. How could he?”
“No,” Kali whispered. “That’s not true. He does feel as I do. I know it. He’s just–”
“He’s using you,” Eris broke in, all but spitting out the words. Her anger spiked; she fought to keep it from her voice. “All of them – they only care about how much we can do for them, how much use they can wring out of our magic. After we no longer serve a purpose, they lock us away. They treat us no differently than they treat their weapons.”
As Eris spoke, Kali sagged against her, and gradually the weeping subsided. Eris waited until her friend collected herself before drawing back to look at Kali directly. “You’re gifted beyond measure, Kali, and you’re wasted within these walls. You could do so much good for your fellow mages, but you must take the first step. Please, come with me.”
Sniffing, Kali’s gaze slid to the bastion wall, then back to Eris. “I think I'd like to leave.”
“Leaving is the right thing to do.” On a whim, Eris laced Kali's hand in hers and held her friend's gaze. “There is nothing for you here, Kali. Nothing worth having, anyway.”
“I thought he...” Kali's words trailed off as her breath hitched. “I thought he was a good man,” she said at last.
Sorrow warred with anger; the latter won, but Eris forced herself to speak normally. “He's your jailer. One day, he might be your executioner.”
“Mage Halcyon.” A male voice made both women start as a hemie officer approached.
At first, the sentinel was only vaguely familiar in the way of his kind, for all hematite armor looked the same to Eris. But as he drew closer, the morning light threw his face into relief, and Eris caught her breath. She didn't know the details of his features, of course, but she'd seen him sneaking into Kali's room, enough to remember his shape. Even if Kali had not tensed, nor sucked in her breath in surprise, Eris would have recognized the sod called “Stonewall.”
Hemie bastard, she thought, clenching her fists beneath her sleeves
Despite her anger, at the sight of the sword at his belt, a flash of instinctive fear swept through Eris before she tamped it down. Her collar looked secure. Talon and Cobalt had even checked on it themselves a few times over the last month. She was a mage in a mage bastion. She'd done nothing wrong – yet. And by the time the hemies got wind of anything amiss,
she, Gid, and their friends would be far away.
Somewhat more at ease, Eris studied the metal-blooded moron, searching for any sign of hematite deprivation. Of course, she had no way of knowing when his last dose had been, but she’d smelled biri smoke coming from the gates almost every night lately, which meant that some sentinels were starting to miss their precious poison.
“Do you need something?” Eris heard herself ask.
“The village of Parsa was attacked by thralls last night,” the sentinel said. “The people there are in desperate need of healing magic. Sadira already agreed to come, and I thought...” He faltered, shifted in place, and did not meet Kali's gaze. “I thought Mage Halcyon would be… interested in this mission.”
Eris frowned. What in the blazing void was he talking about? She stole a glance at her friend, only to see Kali's expression wavering between anguish and… thoughtfulness?
“The thralls are not long gone,” the sergeant added when Kali did not reply. He seemed to force himself to look her in the eye. “I shouldn't be surprised if any of them might have… lingered.”
Kali sucked in a breath, eyes wide, then she looked at Eris. “I have to go.”
Eris was flummoxed. “What? Of course you don't. Anyone can go! Stay here. Stay with me.” Once we're gone, you can put this idiot behind you, she added silently.
But Kali was already shaking her head. “You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.” Eris squeezed Kali's arm. “Don't let yourself be used in this way,” she said softly.
Kali blinked, still fighting back tears, but took a step away from Eris, toward the hemie sergeant who watched her movements like a bird of prey. “I'm so sorry, Eris.”
“Kali…”
Her friend didn't acknowledge her as she went to the sentinel. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak to one another; only when the sergeant withdrew a pair of hematite cuffs did they touch, and even then, it was perfunctory. Kali held out her wrists; the sentinel fastened the cuffs quickly before gesturing at her to walk in front of him.
Kali took a step, but she must not have been paying attention, for she stumbled. She would have hit the ground had the sentinel not caught her in an iron grip. The moment Kali righted herself, she snatched her arm out of the sentinel's grasp like the sod had burned her.
Eris' heart hammered with fury and she stepped forward, readying herself for–
For what? A fight? Here? Now? Foolish. Her friend was in a sentinel’s grip—in more ways than one—and was out of Eris’ reach. For now.
But she couldn’t let Kali leave without one last word. “I will see you again, Kali. Soon.”
It was as much of a promise as she could make.
Twenty-Four
Stonewall shouldn't even have looked at her.
A foolish notion, of course. Before he approached Kali for the mission, he realized there was no way he could reasonably avoid looking at her. And indeed, when he stood close to her again, trying to play the role of obedient, pious sentinel, he could not tear his gaze from her beautiful dark eyes. Putting the hematite cuffs on her wrists was an exercise in self-control like nothing else he’d known; he tried to ignore his desire to undo the cuffs and let her run away from him, as she clearly wanted to. And as he escorted her to the waiting mage-carriage, he realized she had been crying. That, too, he tried to ignore.
Kali didn’t speak to him, nor did her expression convey anything other than bitterness. Perhaps she hated him after all. But even as he hoped for such a thing, guilt gnawed at him, for that sort of hope was cowardly. It was dishonorable to wish such emotions on another person for his own comfort.
It only took a few minutes to secure Kali and Sadira in the carriage. Soon, the squad was on the way to Parsa. Glad to be on the move again, Frost fairly danced beneath the saddle. Had Kali recognized the dappled gray mare? Would she be glad that he'd gotten to keep Frost?
Tor, give me strength. Stonewall’s decision to end their relationship was for the best. He had to stand firm. Besides, he had a duty to do, so he tried to turn his mind to other matters, like what Talon would do once she learned he had brought Kali along. Captain Cobalt had given Stonewall his orders, but he had not specified which mages to bring, only that the squad needed to set out immediately. When Stonewall had gone to find Kali, he had not seen the First Mage, but surely Foley would have learned of Kali’s absence by now. Talon would most likely learn soon after. No doubt she wouldn’t be pleased, but Stonewall had made his choice.
He prayed that Kali would not suffer the consequences.
Once the squad left the confines of Whitewater City, they quickened their pace. The mage-carriage was bulky and the horses couldn’t pull it at a continued gallop, so the group settled on a steady but rapid trot. Parsa was only about three hours away, but they could waste no more time than necessary.
The fields and forests on either side of the road shuffled beneath a gentle wind and a pale gray sky. There was no conversation among the squad on the holiday morning, which further set Stonewall on edge, though he tried to keep his mind on their mission. When they were almost upon Parsa, he spotted dark smoke on the horizon.
Rook, who had been scouting ahead, galloped back to the squad, pulling her gelding Ox right up to Stonewall's side. “I met a boy at the gates,” she said breathlessly. “He said some of their injured died during the night; others draw closer to Nox and the river every moment. We must hurry.”
Nodding, Stonewall brought Frost beside the carriage and rapped upon the side. “I’m sorry,” he called to Kali and Sadira. “But we’ve got to pick up the pace. The wounded are getting worse.”
“Very well,” Sadira called back, her voice muffled by the carriage walls.
Stonewall glanced at Milo, who urged the carriage horses into a canter. Beacon and Flint, now fully healed, followed suit, and the squad hastened toward the village.
Parsa's gates were little more than kindling. Puffs of smoke, from a smithy or cooking fire, perhaps, blew across Stonewall's field of vision, and the dirt road that led to the center of the village was churned and muddy. The majority of the wooden buildings still stood, though some were charred from a few small fires that must have run unchecked while the raiders swept through. There was no one to greet the newcomers—not even the lad Rook had supposedly met—nor could Stonewall hear anyone in the distance. It was as if all noise had been sucked out of the world.
The aftermath of violence was chaotic: shattered windows and kicked-open doors; streaks of blood on the ground and speckled along the sides of buildings. It looked like a veritable army had pummeled Parsa, though only a few bodies lay stacked on one side of the dirt street; Canderi, judging by their bulk, though Stonewall spotted a few Aredians as well – some in sentinel armor. As the squad passed through the gates’ remains, Stonewall's heart constricted, but he tried to push his agitation away. They were here to do a duty; gawking at the damage would help no one. He dismounted. The others followed and tied their horses to the carriage.
By now, Stonewall had heard the account of the squad's previous visit to this town, under the leadership of their former lieutenant. But the report was dim next to the stark reality of the broken village. He shot a glance at Rook, who was closest to him. Her lips were pressed tight in the manner of someone trying not to cry; how much worse was this for her, to return to the town where her last officer had fallen?
“Was it this bad, last time?” he murmured.
She shook her head.
“Why'd the blazing things come back?” Flint asked. “There's nothing here worth taking.”
Milo's voice was soft. “They're thralls. They're not human any longer. Maybe they came back just to cause pain.”
“Shall we get the mages out?” Beacon asked.
So quiet. A chill skated up Stonewall's spine.
“Not yet,” he said, peering through a puff of smoke, where several figures approached. They materialized into a group
of villagers coming to meet the sentinels, led by a single, robed figure: a Circle priestess, judging by her stark black and white cloak.
To represent the balance in the One's world, one side of the cloak was black, while the other was pure white. This priestess’ garment was muddy and torn. A messy bun held dark blond hair out of her face, which was sooty and streaked with dried blood. It was difficult to tell for certain, but Stonewall thought she was a few years younger than he.
Behind her, the villagers gathered in a loose clump and studied the newcomers without speaking, though more than a few eyes flickered toward the mage-carriage the way a hungry dog might regard a particularly juicy bone. Within the crowd, Stonewall thought he caught a glimpse of something glittering, but when he blinked, the apparition vanished.
When the priestess reached him, he gave a warrior's salute. “Well met, serla. We're from–”
“Whitewater City, yes,” she interrupted. “At last. I was starting to wonder if my message didn’t make it.”
“Where are your injured?”
The villagers shifted behind the priestess, many of them still eyeing the carriage. An elderly man stepped forward and thumbed in the direction of a large, stone building behind them. “All our wounded are in the temple.”
“We think there may be more,” the priestess added. “But we're still searching.”
Stonewall nodded to the others, who began to open the carriage and bring out Kali and Sadira. As much as he wanted to avoid Kali, the prickling of unease here was too strong to ignore, so he positioned himself near the mages and bade the others do the same with a silent hand gesture. Once the mages were safely hemmed between the sentinels, he looked at the priestess.
“Please take us to your wounded, serla.”
She cast a wary look at the mages then nodded to Stonewall. “Come,” she said, and set off at a brisk pace. The clump of villagers parted before her and stood aside as the sentinels and mages passed through. The faint patter of boots on dirt seemed to echo, and even the creaking of the sentinels' leather armor was jarring. Stonewall caught a glimpse of more people watching from behind half-shuttered windows and half-open doors, but no one said another word to the group. Once the squad had passed, Stonewall shot a glance behind him; the villagers closed their ranks, effectively forming a solid wall behind the sentinels and mages, between them and their horses.
Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2) Page 29
