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

by Lauren L. Garcia

  But protocol was protocol. It wasn't really appropriate to speak to mages unless absolutely necessary, so he kept his reply swift. “I'm fine, Mage Halcyon.”

  Nodding, she pursed her lips in consideration. “You're new to Starwatch, aren't you?”

  “I was transferred there a month ago.”

  “Your accent is...southern?”

  “Aye.”

  A staccato beat against the outside of the carriage door drew both of their attentions, and the lieutenant called, “Ready, Stonewall?”

  “Ready,” he replied. The carriage began to move once more, jolting both him and the mage.

  “Ah, you're Stonewall,” the mage said, sitting upright. “You tried to give me my cloak.”

  “Aye.”

  “That was terribly decent of you.”

  By now his gear was situated, but he still shifted in his seat. “Well, it was cold,” he managed at last, frowning. “Still is.”

  “It's not so bad. But I imagine you'll never be used to the weather here.” She leaned back against the carriage wall and smiled at him. “Your southern blood is too thin.”

  Heat crept to his face, but he shrugged. “Maybe it's just too cold in this part of the world.”

  “Maybe.” Her smile died. “I wouldn't know. I have nothing to compare it to.”

  There was no reason for him to feel embarrassed but he looked away from her and reminded himself of his role in this life. When he withdrew his other dagger and his whetstone and said nothing else, the mage seemed to take the hint. She turned her gaze back to whatever she could see between the ventilation slots, and they traveled in silence.

  ***

  Stonewall hadn't been sleeping, but his mind had wandered far afield of his present circumstance, so he was snatched back into reality when the carriage jerked to a stop. Clanging weapons and the squeals of surprised horses interspersed the shouting men and women. Given the slivers of sky he could make out through the carriage slots, it was evening. Had he been outside he would have launched himself at the nearest attacker, but shadow duty dictated that he remain close to the magic-user. Besides, he barely had room to stand properly. He prayed the battle would be over quickly, but prepared himself for the worst.

  Taras' curt orders blended with the other sentinels' cries. Steel clattered directly outside the carriage and something heavy thudded against the door, causing the mage to bolt upright. Stonewall shoved his helmet on and pulled his daggers free of their sheathes while his blood ran hot – eager for the promise of a fight.

  A high-pitched shriek cut through Stonewall's skull, making him wince. He'd fought his share of opponents, but had never heard any make such a sound. Another joined the first, and another, until the shrill cries nearly drowned out all other noises. Foreboding curled within Stonewall's gut, but he fought to ignore it and put himself in a ready position.

  “Release me.”

  So intent was he on the battle outside that he hardly heard her at first. Only when the mage repeated her request did he spare a moment to gape at her. “Are you mad?” he asked.

  Her face was almost white with fear as she held up her bound wrists. “Please. I can't–”

  Her words died as the carriage door flew open. Stonewall tensed in preparation, but it was only Pinion, sword drawn and a gash along his cheek. His helmet and daggers were gone.

  “Taras says we're to take the mage and flee at once,” Pinion gasped. “Canderi bandits; there are too many of them to take down. Gray's got some horses and the others are trying to hold them off, but we must go! I'll cover you.”

  Canderi were making those horrible noises? Unlikely, but now was not the time to investigate. The situation must be desperate for Taras to have resorted to this plan.

  Something tugged at his belt; when he looked up, the mage was right beside him, frantically working the key upon her cuffs. Before he could reprimand her, she spoke without looking at him. “I want a fighting chance.”

  “You don't have to fight,” he told her. “That's what I'm here for. Drop that key at once.”

  Something clicked and the cuffs clattered to the floor as the key fell back in place, thumping against his thigh. The mage met his gaze. “I refuse to die defenseless.”

  Duty came first, always. He had no time to argue with her about any of this. “Then we should hurry.”

  He sheathed one dagger, grabbed her forearm and drew her close, quickly, but carefully enough so she wouldn't fall. He left the carriage first, pulling the mage after him. Gray was a few paces away, bleeding from a cut on her temple, holding the reins of a trio of wide-eyed horses with one hand while her other gripped her sword. Pinion followed on Stonewall's heels, pausing only to strike a Canderi who'd come too close.

  Beyond them, the others were engaged in heavy fighting; the dark gray hematite embedded in their armor glinted even in the waning light. Their attackers looked normal enough. Stonewall caught glimpses of the massive claymore swords and fair hair common to the Canderi people, but he could make out little else in the battle's chaos. He did see an odd flash of something like starlight, but surely that was a trick of his eyes. A human scream pierced the air but it was quickly lost in another of the shrieking wails, and his hands itched to take up his sword.

  Gray passed him the reins of one of the horses, so Stonewall sheathed his other dagger, lifted the mage into the saddle and swung up behind her. Gray and Pinion mounted as well. Whitewater City was to the north-east; they could reach it in a day if they hurried and their luck changed.

  Someone behind him shouted in pain, though the sound was almost lost within the clatter of swords and daggers. More ferocious shrieking drowned out the bright song of steel. There were other noises as well: strangled sobs, cries of pain and fury, and the sickening thwack of blades against bone. Sentinel brothers and sisters died as he prepared to flee; a stronger man would have hardened himself to this kind of loss by now.

  Stonewall gritted his teeth against the urge to turn back. Honor. Service. Sacrifice. Tor was with him. He knew this as surely as he knew his own name.

  “Hang on,” he told the mage, and urged his horse into a gallop.

  Behind them, the sounds of battle ceased.

  TWO

  Kali twisted her head to see if the fight had ended, but all she could make out was the dark, near-silver glint of hematite armor and the strands of her hair that had come undone from her braid.

  The sentinel behind her was as silent as his namesake. Perhaps Stonewall's calm back at the carriage should have been reassuring, but never had she felt more vulnerable, malformed knee or not. Stories echoed in her memory: mages hunted like rabbits; mages with their throats slit and their blood bottled, to be sold as some sort of curative potion.

  Seren's light...did the Canderi want her blood? Was she the reason they'd attacked? Her heart leaped into a more desperate pace.

  Don't just react, her father had always said. Act. Thank the stars, Kali was not helpless; with the cuffs gone, surely she could manage something.

  She tightened her grip on the horse's salt-and-pepper mane. Her thundering heart melded into another sound: more hoofbeats. When she managed another look over her shoulder, her stomach twisted. For whatever reason, the Canderi bandits had not given up their pursuit so easily and were fast approaching on horses they had no doubt taken from the sentinels they'd slain.

  “Hold still.” Stonewall's voice was nearly lost in the clatter of hooves and the rush of blood in Kali's ears.

  “Behind us,” she managed to choke out. “Canderi...”

  At this, he twisted around, then let out a string of remarkably colorful swears for a pious sentinel. “Pinion, Gray,” he shouted, turning forward again. “They're catching up.”

  Panic caught in Kali's throat. She looked forward as well, where the road lurched with each stride of the horse. The trees were thick on either side and the sky darkened as the entire world closed around them like a fist. The clatter of the bandits' horses grew louder; the Cande
ri gained ground, and fast. Kali's breath was too short and she felt lightheaded, so she gulped down a few deep breaths and worked to thrust her fear aside. Only if she was calm could she use her abilities. Only if she had control over herself could she hope to get out of this alive. The controlled breathing worked a little. Her mind cleared, and if she concentrated, she could sense the particles of magic. Without hematite binders to dull the feeling, the possibility of magic swam through every vein.

  The black-haired sentinel cried out, breaking her concentration. Kali glanced over in time to see his body jerk as an arrow bit into his exposed neck and he slid from his horse to crumple to the ground.

  They didn't stop. Stonewall murmured something that Kali couldn't make out, and urged their horse on, faster, faster.

  The next arrow struck Stonewall. He slammed against her, his sudden weight shoving her into the saddle pommel and forcing the breath from her lungs. At first she was certain he was dead, but then she heard his rasping voice in her ear. “Hang on, Mage Halcyon.”

  She tried to reply, but couldn't get her voice to work. How badly had he been injured? She had to assume she was on her own. A new resolve filled her. Everything else faded as she focused on reaching the tiny particles that made up all things, hoping to fashion them into something useful – fire, perhaps, or turning the ground to quicksand. But what could she grasp? They were galloping full-tilt and she could not find a physical focal point for her magic. The only things within her reach were the horse, the sentinel...and herself.

  Madness. She would do better to grasp at the empty air that whistled past her ears than to attempt magic on herself; it had never worked for her before. But once she wondered if she could, she could not turn away from seeking an answer. Besides, she had no better options.

  Kali's attention veered away from the external world: the drum of the horse's hooves; the pressure of Stonewall's body against her back that was even now starting to lessen; the keen of their attackers that echoed her own fear. Magic needed concentration, focus and desire. Magic could cause any number of things, and while she could wish for lighting crackling from her fingertips, there was only one thing she wanted right now.

  We have to get away.

  She ducked her head and turned her focus inward, winding it tighter and tighter until she saw the particles – the distilled essence of life, of everything. In her mind's eye, the particles moved, like rippling grains of sand suspended both within her body and in the air around her. Kali's desire reverberated through her whole self as if she were a struck tuning fork; her will stretched, shivered through the particles, and prodded the first stirrings of magic into movement. Within her mind the entire world teemed with her desire, her true desire.

  Away.

  The world changed. It blurred, shifted, shimmered, until she couldn't make out individual trees or even the road itself because the horse now moved at an alarming speed, faster than any creature should have been able to travel.

  Kali had no way to quantify what her vision showed her, but knew that her conscious part was done. The magic was working. All she could do was watch numbly as the sunlight brightened, as if it ran backwards through the hours that had already passed...but surely that was impossible. Surely she was feeling the tiring effects of using her abilities to this degree. Was the horse was running faster, or was the entire world moving around it? Were they falling, or had the world turned on its head?

  Before she could decide, Stonewall leaned back, pulled her weight with him, and shouted, “Stop!”

  The horse jerked and skittered and slid to a halt. The sentinel's grip around Kali's waist slipped and she kept going, first forward, then down. Her vision spiraled. When she reached out, she grasped only empty air. The bright sky careened below her feet before she tumbled over and saw what was surely the entire world stretched out below.

  Magic could do nothing for her now.

  A strong hand grabbed her shirt collar and wrenched her backward, slamming her hip against something hard and unyielding, then scraping her up and along something else equally as unpleasant. Her head swam and she cried out, but the pain was nothing compared to the relief of pebbles beneath her palms. Solid ground. Kali grabbed at the earth and held on with white knuckles. The world stilled, or perhaps it was just her.

  At first the only sound was the ringing in her ears. Slowly, she blinked in the full sunlight until she realized she was looking into the sentinel's eyes. His helmet was gone and if the twist of his mouth was any indication, he was unhappy with the fact.

  Among other things, no doubt.

  “Stonewall,” she managed. “Are you all right?”

  He was breathing hard as well, but at this, he shook his head. “What did you do?”

  It was the last thing she heard before the world went dim.

  ***

  Stunned as he was, Stonewall could do no more than stare at the unconscious mage for a long, long time as he tried to understand what had just happened.

  They were on a sloping cliff, where they'd somehow arrived moments ago, after the most bizarre ride of his life. After he'd saved her from falling into the crater, he and the mage were only a few paces away from the cliff's edge. When the horse had skidded to a stop, both Stonewall and Mage Halcyon had been thrown from the saddle. Now, the dapple-gray mare stood several paces behind him, nosing the nearby bushes, safe, sound, and wholly unconcerned with her riders' fate. After easing the mage into his arms, Stonewall began to back up slowly, kneeling to better keep his balance and not topple over, which would be very bad.

  The rush of energy from the attack and the pain relieving properties of the hematite in his veins were each starting to wear off, so it was a bit of a struggle to carry the magic-user's small frame. Well, she seemed small to him, though perhaps he was too used to the company of women in bulky armor. He did not set the mage down until he was far from the cliff's edge.

  Late afternoon sunlight coated the grasslands, throwing Mage Halcyon's face into stark relief. It was as if her very life had been sucked away, leaving only a thin shell; her skin was white and

  sickly, her hair was dull and her cheeks were hollow. But her breathing was steady, and aside from a face streaked with dirt she was not visibly damaged.

  When he straightened, his shoulder protested the movement. Indeed, the Canderi's arrow was lodged into the spaulder at his shoulder. After he removed his upper-body armor, he frowned at the nasty gash left by the arrow. Perhaps a civilian would have been more concerned, but honestly, this wound was the least of his troubles. He'd survived far worse; most sentinels had. But it was bad enough that he'd need another dose of hematite sooner than he would have liked. Thankfully, the pouch that held his hematite vials was still safely attached to his belt.

  The gods were truly with him, for his horse was unharmed and his map had not been lost. Keeping the mage in sight, Stonewall stepped over to a nearby hillock so that he could get a better idea of where in Ea's realm they were. There were few places in Aredia he was not aware of by name, and given the crater, he had an inkling. But he couldn't believe it until he saw for certain on his map.

  There was no trace of the old growth forest where his squad had been attacked; only a few stands of scrubby trees dotted the landscape of gently sloping hills that stretched to the horizon. A steady wind rippled the thick, saffron-colored grass like ocean water, occasionally revealing a slender dirt road that wound into the hills. The sky was bright blue with a few thin clouds scattered across the zenith and the sun's position indicated that – wherever they were – it was early afternoon. It was quiet, aside from the wind as it shifted through the grass.

  It took him a few moments of looking from his map to the vista, and even then he wasn't exactly certain but...

  We are at the edge of Silverwood province, he thought, eyes widening at his map. At least three days' journey from their last location and in the complete opposite direction of Whitewater City. But how? Before their sudden journey across the countryside, all
Stonewall could think of was to get away. Everything else had fallen aside: the mage; the arrow that had struck his left shoulder; even Pinion and Gray.

  Both had sacrificed their lives so that he could fulfill his duty, and he'd thought of them as fools, even accused both of being lax with their oaths.

  Nox bring your spirits safely over the river. Tor guide your steps into the next life. The One keep you in all your days.

  The mantra was ingrained in his memory. Nox, the River Walker, the guardian of the threshold between one life and the next; Tor, the Unyielding, the patron god of all sentinels; the One who was everything: endings and beginnings and in-betweens.

  Calmer now, Stonewall released another shaking breath and went back to the unconscious mage. He'd never heard of a magic-user who was capable of sending two adults and a horse leagues and leagues across the countryside. He could not imagine the amount of energy it took to perform such a feat. No wonder she'd fainted.

  To untrained eyes, she seemed harmless. But despite looking weak, she'd freed herself from the hematite cuffs and performed some powerful magic. The thought made his stomach churn. She is dangerous, training whispered to his better sense. She is not to be trusted.

  He could not risk her to be free from hematite, so he fastened his spare set of cuffs over her wrists and ensured that the accompanying key was tucked out of sight. But he was still uneasy. Had she done magic on him? Or had he simply been unlucky enough to be along for the ride? Had she planned her escape, or simply taken the opportunity when the Canderi had attacked?

  The Canderi. Stonewall removed his helmet and scrubbed at his face, wincing at the blossom of pain in his shoulder. Even a large group of those ragged barbarians should not have managed to overwhelm eight fully trained sentinels in so short a time. The whole thing struck of something out of a myth or legend, something told by a campfire at night; a herald of dark, unpleasant events.