Catalyst Moon: Incursion (The Catalyst Moon Saga Book 1)

by Lauren L. Garcia

  Catalyst Moon

  Book One: Incursion

  Lauren. L. Garcia

  Copyright © 2016 by Inkitt

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is published by Inkitt the Hipster’s Library – Join now to read and discover free upcoming bestsellers

  Contact the author:

  Email: lalogareads@gmail.com

  Website: http://www.llgarcia.com

  To my parents, for laying the foundation.

  To my brother, for showing me the path.

  To my husband, for inspiring my courage.

  To you, for joining me on this journey.

  - Above all other things, this is a story about love -

  CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  ONE

  Thick leather cuffs, embedded with hematite, dragged at Kali's wrists. The chain between the cuffs gave a metallic clink that muted her footfalls. As the sentinel hauled Kali into the courtyard, the waiting men and women in gray armor seemed to blend with the bastion's stone walls. But such a sight was not due to the dim, predawn light.

  When Kali glimpsed the gates beyond the waiting carriage, she smiled. In a few days' time, she would be whole. In the interim, she could finally put this place behind her.

  Gray, the sentinel leading her, tugged the chain along again, this time with enough force to send Kali stumbling. Gray grunted at the misstep, but continued to lead the limping mage toward the center of the yard. As they went, the other sentinels closed in around Kali and her escort, effectively cutting the mage off from the bastion where she'd lived all her life. None spoke, but Kali felt their eyes upon her. Some rested their hands on the daggers each wore at their hips, ready if she tried to run.

  As if she could. Kali chuckled at the very idea and her left knee twinged like it was in on the joke. This brief moment of levity earned her a sharp look from Gray - quite a feat from behind the sentinel’s cured leather helmet. When Kali did not duck her head in contrition, she received another tug at the chain between her wrists. Kali stumbled again, but recovered quickly and lifted her eyes to watch the first sign of dawn. Pale light crept across the horizon, nearly obscuring the jagged crescent of the second moon.

  When Kali and Gray reached the carriage, one of the sentinels stepped forward to take Kali's rucksack, filled with her meager worldly possessions. As he stuck the patchwork bag in a compartment in the vehicle's midsection, she inhaled, savoring the sharp bite of autumn air even though it made her shiver.

  “Wait,” she said as the sentinel prepared to close the compartment's door. “You'd think I'd be used to this cold by now, but I suppose not. I'd like my cloak, please.”

  Gray exhaled loudly. The male sentinel, however, reached for the bag again. As his fingers closed over Kali's lovely wool cloak, Lieutenant Taras stepped between him and the carriage, effectively stopping him. The lieutenant was a tall, wiry woman, and after giving the male sentinel a nod, she looked warily down at Kali as if the mage was about to burst into flames.

  “Is Mage Halcyon ready?” Taras asked Gray.

  “She needs to be.” Gray urged Kali forward again.

  But this time Kali resisted, bracing her feet on the flagstones. “I'd really like my cloak,” she said, looking between her surly escort and the lieutenant.

  The male sentinel straightened. “Ser, I was about to–”

  “Leave it, Stonewall.” Taras jabbed her thumb at the carriage. “The mage will warm up once she's out of the wind. We've delayed too long as it is.”

  As Kali was about to clamber inside, she caught the sound of boots crunching across the gravel of the bastion courtyard. For one moment, she thought it was one of her fellow mages who hadn't been present when she'd said her goodbyes, but no. It was another sentinel, carrying an instrument case.

  “Mage Halcyon,” Ganister huffed as she trotted up, “you forgot your viol.”

  Unlike the sentinels already present, Ganister carried no daggers or sword, though she wore the rest of her armor and her helmet bounced against her hip. Her face was ruddy from too many hours in the sun and wind. The furrows that crossed her forehead and bracketed her mouth were those of a woman far older than her mid-forties. When she was within arm's reach, she thrust the case out to Kali, eyes crinkling as she smiled.

  Kali stared at the case's battered edges, where every scratch and dent was as familiar as the lines on her palms. A chill moved through her again, but this one had nothing to do with the wind.

  “It's not mine,” she said hoarsely. “It was Captain Jonas'.”

  The elder sentinel shook her head before Kali had finished speaking. “You played it more than he did, especially toward the end.”

  Lieutenant Taras cleared her throat. “Ganister, that's thoughtful of you, but we must get moving. Whitewater City is no short journey.”

  Ganister ignored the officer and kept her eyes fixed on Kali as she offered the case once more. “It's yours. Don't you want it?”

  Perhaps she would later, but not now. Now, all she wanted was to be away. She looked at the world beyond the iron and hematite gates. Away. A new, better life awaited her in Whitewater City.

  But when she left this place, she would truly have nothing left of Jonas but the blood in her veins. Would it be enough? It will have to be, she thought bitterly. She shook her head as she met Gan's eyes again. “I'm sure someone here could make better use of the viol.”

  “It'll do nothing but collect dust here. No one else can play it like you.”

  Kali's mind raced to come up with another excuse. “But I'll be busy with one of the healers in Whitewater. I won't have time–”

  “Rubbish,” Gan broke in, snorting. “Even if another mage spends hours every day on your poor knee, you'll still have plenty of time to yourself.”

  The other sentinels started to shuffle in place. If Ganister noticed or cared, she made no indication of it. Instead, she reached for Kali's hands, drew them up, and wrapped the mage's fingers around the case's wooden handle. Out of the corner of her eye, Kali swore she saw Gray and Taras flinch when Gan touched her.

  “Please, Kali,” Gan added, low enough that only Kali could hear. “He would have wanted you to inherit it.”

  Kali opened her mouth to object again, but the words didn't come. Memories overtook her, stealing her voice and pricking her eyes with heat. Ganister released her hands and the familiar weight tugged them down, more so than even the cuffs. Somewhat defeated, Kali glanced at the leather case. Perhaps Gan was right. Perhaps it would be good to play again...

  She pushed the notion aside at once. She'd not played a n
ote since her father had died. She never would again. Music had left her when Jonas had passed to his next life.

  But in the meantime, Lieutenant Taras glared at Ganister, mouth pursed as if she'd eaten something sour.

  Kali had no wish for Talon to reprimand Gan for her kindness. “I suppose it would be a crime for it to collect dust.” She met Gan's eyes and hoped the other woman understood what she couldn't voice. “Thank you.”

  Ganister gave her a fond, proud smile, though it was lined with sorrow. She'd lost someone too, but didn't have the luxury of leaving Jonas' memory behind. She seized Kali into an embrace, wrapping her arms around the mage like she was something precious.

  “Take care of yourself, Mage Halcyon,” Gan said when she pulled back. “Stay out of trouble.”

  Kali's throat was still tight but she managed a breezy reply. “No promises.”

  The elder sentinel chuckled and stepped away. Lieutenant Taras and several other sentinels closed around Kali, blocking her view of Gan. Taras gave the viol to Stonewall to store with Kali's rucksack while Gray dutifully checked the binders around Kali's wrists one more time. The blustery day made the cold press of hematite even worse. Kali shivered again as Gray ushered her into the carriage while the other sentinels mounted up. Someone called the all clear, and the bastion gates creaked open.

  As the carriage jolted forward, Kali debated twisting in her seat to get a last glance at the only home she'd ever known, but decided against it. There was no reason to look back.

  ***

  They traveled for an hour or so before Kali's melancholy gave way to boredom. The sentinels had not allowed her to bring anything to read and there was no point in attempting any magic while wearing hematite cuffs. If she wanted entertainment, she'd have to make it herself. She studied the sentinel who sat opposite of her. Though Gray's helmet hid most of her face, she seemed engrossed with the carriage wall behind Kali's ear, and the thin line of her mouth indicated that she was disinclined to make conversation.

  Even so, Kali had to try. “I hope the clouds break soon. It's much too early for a winter storm, don't you think?”

  Gray was silent.

  Kali tried again. “I've read that the Whitewater City was built upon a waterfall. It sounds lovely. Have you ever been?”

  Still, the sentinel said nothing.

  Kali sighed. Not everyone was as kind as Ganister, of course, but it would be a dull journey indeed without someone to talk to. She may as well try to catch up on her sleep, which had been sparse lately. Given the cramped space and her bound wrists, she curled up on the padded seat as best she could, and shut her eyes.

  If she did sleep, there was always the hope that she would not dream.

  ***

  Stonewall sat on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, his back turned to the other sentinels. They ignored him in kind, devouring their midday rations and chatting while they sat beside the carriage not far from the main road. A gust of wind skated over his neck and over his close-cropped hair, chilling him even through the sheltering layers of his armor. He scowled at the hematite-gray clouds that had begun to clump since the morning his squad had begun their journey, three days ago.

  A storm was coming, but gods above and beyond, it was taking its precious time to break.

  Having already eaten, he withdrew one of his daggers and his whetstone. Taking care not to pierce his skin, he ran his index finger across the edges before he skimmed the whetstone along the same path a few times. A sentinel was only as good as his weapons.

  Snapping twigs caught his attention. Stonewall looked to the tree line, where Gray led the dark-haired mage back to the carriage after allowing her to take care of her personal needs. From where Stonewall sat, he couldn't make out Mage Halcyon's expression, but her limp was evident. Had she been injured at some point, or had she been born with it? Though the mage's hands remained bound, Gray had a firm grip on her arm. It was protocol, of course, but seemed unnecessary in this particular mage's case. Even if she did manage to escape, she would not get far.

  Or perhaps she was more dangerous than he realized.

  Gray and the mage passed by. Stonewall returned his attention to his dagger.

  Behind him, the carriage door slammed shut; a moment later he caught the tread of boots approaching. Thinking that Gray was coming to him, he turned, but she'd gone to stand before another sentinel, a slender, black-haired fellow named Pinion.

  “There, I helped with the female things,” Gray said. “Now it's your turn for shadow duty.”

  Pinion sat with a few of the other sentinels, finishing his meal. As Gray spoke, he gave a bark of laughter. “My turn? Oh, no. I spent all morning with the moon-blood. You said you'd take over when we stopped at midday.”

  Gray tugged off her helmet to glare at Pinion. She was several years older than Stonewall, in her late twenties, and her fair hair was pinned to her head in a single, neat coil. “I said nothing of the kind, and besides, I've been on shadow duty practically since we left Starwatch.”

  “We're barely another day and a half from Whitewater,” Pinion said. “The mission will be over soon enough.”

  “If I have to spend one more hour in that sodding, cramped little–”

  “Duty is duty,” Pinion broke in, smirking. “Didn't you take an oath of service or something?”

  “You both did.” The words left Stonewall's mouth before he could stop them, and heat crept to his cheeks when the others turned his way. Well, he'd gone this far. “'Honor. Service. Sacrifice.' We all took that oath. It's foolish to bicker about it like children.”

  Pinion and a few of the others snickered, though a couple nodded or cast Pinion and Gray stern looks. Gray raised one eyebrow at Stonewall, then glanced over her shoulder to where Taras was checking her horse's girth.

  “Lieutenant,” Gray called. “Stonewall just volunteered for shadow duty. Is that all right with you, ser?”

  Taras' head tilted skyward as if she were rolling her eyes. “Ea's balls. I don't care who guards the mage. Just see that it's done.”

  Shit, Stonewall thought with a grimace. That's what I get for speaking my mind. But he kept his reply respectful. “As you say, ser. I don't mind doing my duty.

  “Good for you,” Pinion said as Stonewall got to his feet. He looked over at Gray. “Nice work.”

  “Delighted to be of service.”

  Gray tossed Stonewall the key for the mage's cuffs. He looped its chain through his belt and made his way to the carriage. Smaller than most passenger vehicles, the carriage used to transport mages reminded him of a trunk on wheels. He had no desire to squeeze himself – and his gear – inside. It had no true windows, only a series of ventilation slots at the top, just below a lip of roof that hung over the openings to protect the occupants from the elements. There was a single door on the left side, with a hefty iron lock; every piece of iron on the vehicle was alloyed with hematite, to further limit a mage's power.

  Taras met him at the door. “Don't let them get to you,” she said as she unfastened the lock. “They're a good lot. None are burnies, but it's been a dull mission, and even some of the cinders are itching for action.”

  Then they're fools. This, thankfully, he managed to keep to himself. “Are all Starwatch missions usually so...?”

  “Boring?” The lock clicked open but Taras held the door closed as she replied. “Generally. Since Starwatch is close to the border, sometimes we come across rogue Canderi, but you'll learn that it's one of the quieter postings.”

  “A little quiet is a welcome change.”

  She chuckled. “Sounds like there's a story there. You'll have to tell me when we reach Whitewater City. You ever been?”

  “No, ser.”

  “It's an... interesting place. Commander Talon's a bit harsh, but she keeps the mages docile, at least.”

  “I've heard much the same.”

  Taras opened the door and Stonewall clambered inside. The carriage shuddered as she slammed the door closed once
more. The slots near the roof provided a little light, but it still took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.

  Hunched over, blinking at the change of light, Stonewall saw Mage Halcyon. Though he'd seen her in passing at the bastion, this was the first time he'd been on shadow duty with her. Dark hair fell down her right shoulder in a messy plait. Her skin was a few shades lighter than his own but her eyes were a much darker brown than his; in the shadows of the carriage, they looked almost black.

  Ea's tits and teeth, she was still without her cloak. Her tunic was a colorful array of patchwork panels, no doubt cobbled together from other clothes that had been donated to Starwatch Bastion. Most mages wore similar garments. She seemed cold, for her right knee was tucked to her chest, hands wrapped close to her torso. Her left knee rested in front of her, slightly bent to accommodate for the small space.

  She didn't speak to him, only kept her gaze fixed on the ventilation slots, as if trying to get a sense of the world outside.

  Tor help him, but the carriage was too small. Stonewall was not an overly tall or broad man, but by the One it was difficult to get himself situated. It took him several minutes of shifting and rearranging his gear to sit down, while silently cursing whomever had created these sodding boxes on wheels. The boiled leather of his armor creaked with each movement, and his dagger hilts dug into his hips as he adjusted his sword sheathe. Just when he thought he was settled, he tried to lean his head back and succeeded in knocking his helmet against his ears.

  I just want this mission to be over, he thought with a scowl as he set his helmet on his knee. But after this journey there would be another mission, and another, until... He shook away the melancholy thought. He'd taken an oath. Nothing else mattered.

  “Is everything all right?” At his look, the mage's jaw tightened in the manner of someone biting her tongue to keep from laughing outright. Only then did he consider how silly he must have looked, shifting around in the carriage. Oddly, some of his irritation fled at the sight of her withheld laughter.