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

by Lauren L. Garcia

  The gentle touch should have sent a flare of desire through her, but it was overwhelmed with another stab of anxiety. She tensed and looked at her bare feet. “I wouldn't count on my abilities being so useful.”

  “You've nearly changed shape several times,” he said gently. “I know you can do it, love. You're strong. It's just...” He made a helpless sound. “Mind over matter.”

  But Eris was already shaking her head. “It's not that simple. The wings are impossible to get right; until I can, I won't be able to fly. If I can't fly, I won't be able to scout ahead.” Her stomach began to roil at the thought. “And if we go anyway, no doubt we'll get lost immediately and wander right into a sentinel patrol–”

  “Eris.” A gentle touch at her chin made her look into his face, where even his frown held traces of a smile. “Be easy, love. It will be well.”

  She exhaled. “You always say that.”

  “And I always mean it.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “Have you tried another creature? Even a goose would do...”

  He trailed off when she curled her lip in distaste. “A goose?” she scoffed. “Would you have me shape myself into one of my chickens, too? You'd have to put a ribbon 'round my neck so no one would turn me into supper.”

  “Don't be ridiculous.” He grinned again. “I'd never let another man eat you.”

  Seren's light, she wanted to smack him and straddle him, all at once. “If I had my way, I'd be an eagle, or an osprey. Something strong. But I've only ever seen them up close in books.”

  “So a crow it is, then.”

  She folded her arms before her and looked away, at the window, where dawn crept in earnest down the bastion walls. “I suppose it shouldn't matter. As long as I can fly.”

  A soft touch at her shoulder made her look up, into Gid's warm, dark eyes. “Crow or chicken; whatever creature you choose to be, you'll manage it. I know you will. No one else can do what you can. You're the most talented mage I know.” He smiled again. “And the most beautiful.”

  Eris shook her head. “Even if I could manage to change, three days is no time to prepare. How will we even find our way to the pub? I've never set foot inside the city proper.”

  “Drake gave me a general idea of where it is. We'll manage the rest.”

  “So much could go wrong.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “But this meeting is the first step in what might be our only chance for freedom.” He took a deep breath. “Eris, you don't know what it's like to be free.”

  “I do, too.”

  “You were very young when...when you were brought to Starwatch,” he said softly. “And before that...well, from what you've told me, your family wasn't fond of mages.”

  She clenched her jaw in an effort to stave off the stinging in the backs of her eyes. Gid was her family now. “Aye. And?”

  “You don't know what it's like to live outside of a bastion. Yes, love, three days is nothing, but freedom is worth it.” His words trailed away as he slid one hand to her waist again, then moved lower. “I missed you,” he murmured.

  Gideon's touch sent another, stronger flare of arousal through her, and corroded her already weakening resolve. Suddenly eager to lose herself for a while, Eris took his hand and urged him toward their bed.

  Their room was sparse. Bright woven tapestries, magic-made, of course, covered the cold stone walls and floor. A bird skeleton, a few folded letters, and a neat stack of books rested next to a sleeping pallet barely big enough for two. There was only so much the Circle – and the general, non-gifted population – was willing to provide to mages without some compensation. But Eris would have lived in a tree stump if Gid was there too. Hematite, sentinels, magic...these things fell from her thoughts as she relaxed into his embrace. She was safe here; Gideon would never abandon her.

  Once they were both sated – quite thoroughly, too – she remembered something else he'd said, something that had been lost in the wake of the rest of his news. “What happened on your mission?”

  “Hmm?” He'd been stroking her back, tracing invisible patterns against her skin as they lay together. “Oh, the sentinels guarding us ran into some trouble with a Starwatch hemie.”

  Eris situated herself so that she was leaning over him and their faces were close. “What sort of trouble? Was there a fight?”

  “No fight, but… Well, it was odd. Sadira and I only heard bits and pieces of what they said outside the carriage, but it sounded like some Starwatch sentinel was part of a mage escort who ran afoul of some Canderi thugs. Apparently the hemie barely escaped with her life. More’s the pity,” he added with a snort.

  Though she'd been nearing sleep, Eris became wide awake at the news. “What became of the mage?”

  Though mid-yawn, he sat up, suddenly excited. “Ah, yes. This is interesting. According to the Starwatch hemie, the mage used her magic to make herself and the sentinel on shadow duty...vanish.”

  Eris blinked at him. “Vanish? Are you certain?”

  “Their voices were muffled, but that's what Sadira and I heard.”

  “But...” It was too much. Eris struggled to pull a single question free of those that now crowded her mind. “How? Surely this mage wore hematite binders. Did they come loose?”

  “I don't know,” Gid replied. “The Starwatch sentinel seemed certain the mage was bound. The other hemies were skeptical, but I know for a fact it's impossible to get out of those things.”

  “Aye.” But Eris was only half-listening as she considered. “So assuming she used magic while bound...what in Seren's light did she do? I've never heard of anyone...vanishing.”

  “Nor have I.” Gideon regarded her, eyes gleaming. “Regardless of how...it's happening, love. Others are starting to feel as we do.”

  “You don't know that,” Eris replied. “Perhaps this mage just got lucky.”

  But Gideon didn't seem to have heard her; his gaze had gone to the wall beyond their window. “Soon even hematite won't hold us back.”

  A chill swept through Eris at his words, until something occurred to her. Heart suddenly beating a rapid tattoo, she managed to ask, “What was the mage's name?”

  “No one bothered to tell us.” He stared at her as realization dawned. “Your friend Kalinda was coming from Starwatch, wasn't she?”

  Eris nodded and drew the blanket tight around her bare shoulders. “It must be Kali,” she said quietly. “Her last letter said she'd be coming soon, and I don't know of any other mages transferring here.”

  “She'll be well, love.”

  But Eris' stomach clenched with nerves. “Kali's got that bum knee...I'd hoped that Sadira could help her. Kali's clever enough, but with her knee, I don't know if she could survive,” she gestured to the wall, “out there. Alone.”

  Gid did not reply immediately, only wrapped his arms around his wife and held her close. “She'll be well,” he said again.

  “If she's alive at all.”

  “At least she's free of a bastion. I envy her, for that. And who knows? If she's strong enough to do magic without cuffs, she might have killed the sentinel.” He breathed into Eris' hair. “One day, we'll be free, too. One day, we won't be captives. Then we can start our lives in earnest.”

  His words shone a light into the dark places of Eris' heart. She was too tired to counter his optimism with her own sensible thoughts, so she only smiled back. “Aye,” she said, resting her head on his chest. “But I still hope she's safe.”

  “She's clearly not defenseless,” Gid said with another yawn.

  True enough. Kali's magic had never been particularly strong when they were girls, but perhaps that had changed over time. All it took was practice, as Eris well knew. “With any luck, she'll dispatch the sentinel and stay gone for good.”

  Gid chuckled. “And we'll be joining her before too long.”

  ***

  Kali awoke to the whisper of drawn daggers. Had the sentinel decided she was a threat after all?

  Wan starlight revealed Stonewall, standing
several paces away, daggers raised, facing perhaps half a dozen shadowy figures closing around him. Dressed in darkness, the newcomers wore hoods of inky cloth that only left their eyes visible. More shadowy shapes stood at the hollow's edge, blotting out the stars.

  “Get back,” Stonewall said. “We have nothing of value, and I promise, you don't want to cross me–”

  On some unseen signal, the shadows fell upon him. Kali had seen a skilled sentinel in action many times before. But it was different, somehow, watching Stonewall. She could just make out the sheen of his moving daggers; his movements were powerful and filled with grace, designed for maximum effectiveness with minimum effort. Judging by the others' cries of pain, he got a few strikes in, but for all of his speed and strength, it would only be a matter of time before he fell to the swarm of shadows.

  This in mind, Kali tried to rise, but someone tugged the chain between her bound wrists, jerking her away from Stonewall. Something hard shoved her to a kneeling position where she'd lain moments ago; the ground was still warm. The sudden impact sent a lance of pain through her already unhappy left knee, and she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

  Fear stole her breath, but pain quickened her fear into hot anger. It buzzed in her ears and made her want to set these shadow-attackers on fire, turn their bones to ashes. Something. Anything.

  But she could not concentrate when a strange, gloved hand gripped her neck, nor when someone yanked her braid to pull her head back, so that all she could see were stars. Something sharp and cold pressed against her throat.

  The furious lash of Kali's heart almost drowned out the new voice, a woman's. “Stand down, sentinel,” the stranger said.

  Kali caught a flash of hematite as Stonewall turned her way. “Release her,” he growled. “In Tor's name, release her at once!”

  Someone snickered. The woman who'd spoken before hissed a string of words in a language Kali did not know and the laughter ceased. “This mage is far too valuable,” the stranger said in Aredian. “She's coming with us.”

  “She's no mage,” Stonewall said, breathing heavily from the fight. “Let her go.”

  In response, the strange woman tugged at the chain that bound Kali's wrists. “Do you always bind your companions so? Afraid she'll run from you, otherwise?”

  How in the void did they know I was a mage? Kali thought as the other shadows chortled. Had these strangers overheard her and Stonewall's earlier discussion? Or had they seen a lone sentinel and taken the chance that his companion was a magic-user? Either way, the hematite binders confirmed Kali's identity.

  The strange woman drew back the sleeve of Kali's tunic, exposing Kali's arm to the chill air, and something sharp trailed along Kali's wrist and forearm. “Mage, that moon-tainted blood of yours is more valuable than all the gold and hematite in the world, and more effective than thalo.”

  Kali's mind raced, though it was almost impossible to think clearly, let alone speak. “You have need of a healer?”

  The shadow shifted in place. “Aye.”

  “Then my blood alone will do nothing for you,” Kali managed, forcing herself to speak calmly. “I'm more useful to you with my blood inside my veins. I'll help you. Just...don't kill me. Please.”

  There was a pause – much too long – before Kali heard the shadow again. “You swear this, Mage?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Very well.” The blade at Kali's throat disappeared but the stranger's grip did not relent. “I'll take her to the caravan,” the shadow said. “Get rid of him.”

  Stonewall tensed as the others moved in again, but Kali shook her head. “Please don't kill him either. He's with me.”

  “He's your captor. What does it matter to you if he dies?”

  “Because he's...” She faltered, searching for the right words – and the right sentiment. Why should she beg for Stonewall's life too? No clear answer came to mind. “He's sworn an oath to his gods to protect me,” she said quickly.

  The strange woman laughed. “He's done a poor job of it so far.”

  Kali could practically feel Stonewall glowering. “Take his weapons, if you want,” she said. “But let him live. Please.”

  Another shadowy figure from behind Kali spoke in the same, unfamiliar language. Another added his voice, and another, until the lot of them were arguing. Finally, the first speaker, the one who held Kali, barked an order. The others fell silent.

  When she spoke to Kali in Aredian again, her voice was thoughtful. “Very well, Mage. Neither of you will be harmed – if you cooperate.”

  Stonewall muttered something beneath his breath, but Kali ignored him. “Aye. We'll both do as you say,” she replied.

  “You heard your charge, Sentinel,” the shadow said. “Drop your weapons.”

  Stonewall did not move.

  The knife returned, pressed closer, but this time Kali refused to give into the thrum of terror that burned behind her eyes. Instead, she tried to find Stonewall's face across the shadows, though she did not know what she thought she'd see within it; fear, perhaps, or anger. His armored chest rose and fell with each heavy breath as he looked at her, then his daggers hit the dirt and he lifted his hands in surrender.

  The shadows made short work of his freedom. They checked him for weapons, took his sword and roughly bound his wrists before shoving him toward the hollow's edge. The strange woman hauled Kali to her feet and urged her to follow. Her knee protested the rough treatment; she stumbled, but the strange woman held her upright and all but carried her up and over the hollow's edge. The instant Kali clambered out, someone drew a dark strip of fabric over her eyes and tied it behind her head.

  The heavy tread of boots scuffled the grass ahead of her. “I will warn you one more time, Sentinel,” the shadow said again. “Cooperate, or you will not like what will befall your mage friend.”

  Stonewall said something Kali did not catch, but the others laughed.

  If I'd been able to get more rest, she thought as someone shoved her forward once more. I could do something to get us out of this. But she was still tired, more so than she'd ever been from using magic, and it was all she could do to remain upright.

  They led Kali along for several paces through the thick grass that tangled her legs. The strange woman muttered a curt order and tugged Kali's chain, forcing her to stop. Before Kali knew what was happening, someone lifted her like a sack of potatoes and plunked onto a wooden surface. Stonewall was next. She knew it was so because the others grunted with the effort of lifting him and his armor, and the floor quaked when they dumped him beside her.

  The thump when he landed had a faint echo; they were in some sort of enclosed space. Kali also could not feel the wind any longer and the air seemed to press closer in a way that reminded her of a mage-carriage.

  More anger swelled in her chest. Well before she'd left Starwatch, she'd been on her best behavior, all in aid of reaching Whitewater City. Like a good little mage, she'd endured being bound and shuttered away like a piece of luggage. She'd lost all of her possessions, including her father's viol, to a pack of Canderi raiders. She'd exhausted herself trying to save her own skin and that of her sentinel captor, who seemed to regard her as a spark that would catch the whole world on fire.

  And now these monsters claimed to want her blood. This was the final snap in the fraying thread of her patience. “If you're going to steal me by the point of a blade,” Kali heard herself say. “At least tell me your name.”

  “No.” Footsteps paused before her. Someone lifted Kali's blindfold and she looked around, blinking at the covered wagon. The walls and floor were wood, as was the rear entrance where they'd been brought through. A thick piece of canvas stretched across the top, tied on the corners to provide a makeshift roof in the fashion of Sufani caravans she'd read about.

  Kali saw little of her captor, only a pair of narrowed eyes behind the dark hood that obscured the strange woman's face. “Stay here and keep quiet,” the woman said. “Do not try to escap
e. I will not allow you to see where we are taking you, nor to get a sense of our true numbers.”

  As her captor spoke, Kali considered what she knew of such traditions. “Oh, you're Sufani,” she said, perhaps a bit too pleased with herself, given the circumstances. “That explains a great deal.”

  “Aye, it certainly does.” Stonewall had been left lying on his side and now tried to sit upright – a difficult task given his bulky gear and his bound hands. “Your kind are liars, cheats and thieves.”

  “And you're willing to add 'murderers' to that list,” Kali added, glaring back at the Sufani woman.

  The Sufani's voice was tight, as if her teeth were clenched together. “You made a promise, Mage. For now, you should be grateful for our...hospitality.”

  “When Tor crumbles,” the sentinel shot back.

  “Hospitality my magical ass,” Kali added, though with no less vigor. She'd agreed to help them – but not to be nice about it.

  The nomad ignored them both and slipped out of the caravan, fastening the tarp over the rear entrance and leaving them alone.

  For a few moments they sat in silence, then Kali sighed. “Well, shit.”

  “Are you injured, Mage Halcyon?”

  “Kalinda,” she corrected. “And I'm no worse for wear, all things considered. You?”

  He shifted again, still trying to get upright. “I'm fine.” There was a pause, then he spoke again, a note of chagrin in his voice. “Sufani, eh? I've never been held prisoner by gypsies.”

  She could not help herself. “So far, it's not much different than being held prisoner by sentinels.”

  He was silent.

  Kali turned her attention to the caravan. How many hours of her life had been spent in similar confinement? She couldn't see the moon between the tarp's open edges, but the stars cast a cold light where the wind fluttered the edges of the canvas. From what she recalled, Sufani lived in these wagons, but this one didn't seem very cozy. Perhaps it was meant for hauling goods – or prisoners.