She tried to think over the escape, but the memory was dim; all she really recalled was a furious drive to get away, followed by being too exhausted to sit upright. Had the magic altered her physical appearance to the extent he described? Perhaps he's being melodramatic, she thought. But she didn't think he was prone to exaggeration.
She gave the sentinel her best approximation of a smile. “Well, I feel fine, but I suppose it would be foolish to push my luck. Guess it's the horse for me, then.”
She moved to the mare's left side in order to mount, but the saddle looked awfully high and she wasn't sure she could manage on her own, especially with the cuffs. Stonewall spared her an ungraceful ordeal by offering to help. She hesitated, thinking of his shoulder-wound, but he shook his head.
“I'm fine,” he said, shifting the area in question as if to prove a point. “I changed the bandage last night. It doesn't even hurt any longer.”
“You're certain?”
He gave her a solemn nod. “I swear it.”
Stars above, he was so serious. Part of her wanted to laugh, and she could not help but wonder what it would take to make him laugh as well – a real laugh, not a helpless chuckle. She'd seen evidence that he could manage a nice smile, at least.
“Well, if you swear it...” She stood aside. Stonewall knelt and laced his hands together, creating a surface on which to step up, and soon she was astride the horse. Once she was secure, he urged the mare onward with a cluck of his tongue, and they began to walk.
The road was not far, only over the next hill; once they reached it, Stonewall paused to pull out his map and peer around. Kali studied the map as well, though she couldn't make out the symbols from her vantage point in the saddle.
“Where are we, exactly?” she asked, hoping to coax more conversation from him.
He indicated a particular spot. “Just here, I believe. Near the edge of Silverwood Province.” He pointed in a direction to the east. “According to Aderey, Whitewater City is that way. A few days, at least, though the nomads did some of the traveling for us the night they held us captive.”
There was a grudging respect in his voice that made her smile. “So it wasn't an entirely horrible experience?”
“Except for the part where they attacked us in the night and held a dagger to your throat, no, it wasn't.” This was said with the very faintest of smiles in her direction, though it faded immediately when he nodded to the road ahead.
As they traveled, Kali drank in the wide open world. The vast landscape and the dome that stretched above her head made her dizzy if she looked at it for too long, while the ubiquitous wind teased the loose strands of her hair and rippled the saffron grass like water. Hours passed and the sun climbed into the cloudless blue sky. Even bound by hematite, she found the world almost painfully vivid. There was just so much of it.
While she marveled, a particularly strong burst of wind pulled her hair free of its already loose plait. Cursing softly, Kali worked to gather the strands back into order.
Once she was finished, Stonewall slanted her a brief, curious look.
“You've the right idea, I think,” she said with a nod to his closely-shaved hair; his head was still uncovered as his helmet was fastened to his belt with a clever, metal clip. “Sometimes it's more trouble than its worth,” she added, tossing the new plait back over her shoulder. “I should just cut it all off.”
But he shook his head. “You'd be doing the world a disservice.”
She thought he hadn't meant to say the words, for he immediately cleared his throat and added, “It always struck me as odd that this province is called 'Silverwood' when there's barely a handful of trees in the whole place.”
Kali chose to ignore his initial comment – and the way it pleased her. “There's a protected section of old-growth forest north of Lasath. But most of the silverwood trees died out centuries ago.”
“Died? How? Were they cut down?”
Kali leaned back in the saddle. “A few were, but silverwoods are so massive, they're not easy to fell. No one knows for certain what happened to them; their disappearance is often referred to as 'the Blight.' Delian Colm, the naturalist, petitioned the king at the time to try and preserve a section of the silverwood trees.”
She couldn’t see his face, but something in the sentinel’s voice made her think he was frowning. “How could he save some and not others?”
“I don't know,” Kali said. “No one knows. Some claim Colm was a mage, but the Blight happened well before the first documented cases of magic.” Another strong gust of wind tugged at her hair, but her plait was secure and it did little more than pull a few strands free from around her face. “But the trees that remain are beautiful. Taller than any others in Aredia, with silvery bark that shimmers in the sunlight. Their leaves never fall, only turn gold in the autumn, white in winter, and back to green in spring.”
Stonewall made a wordless noise of acknowledgment, then glanced up at her. “How do you know what they look like if you've never been anywhere but Starwatch?”
“There are some fine illustrations in the Historea Naturales,” she said, tilting her head when his forehead creased. “Colm's greatest work? The collection of his research?”
“Never read it,” he grunted, abruptly turning away from her and urging the horse to a slightly faster pace.
She shrugged. “It's quite common. I think you can find it at any library.”
The horse's hooves clopped against the hard-packed dirt of the road. After a moment of consideration, Stonewall shaded his eyes from the climbing sun and surveyed the landscape again. “I haven't had much use for...reading, in my life, though I'm sure it's very interesting. Thank you for the information, Mage.”
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, but it was not as easy of a silence as it had once been. She wasn't entirely certain why. 'Mage,' she thought with a sigh. That's all I am to him. It shouldn't have bothered her.
So she ignored it for now, and turned her mind to something he'd said before. “You said you've traveled all over the continent. Where were you stationed before Starwatch?”
Her words seemed to break him out of a reverie. “Greenhill. Though I wasn't there very long.”
She waited a beat, and when he did not elaborate she made a motion with her hand. “And before that?”
His eyes were still fixed ahead. “Stonehaven.”
This made her smile. “You must have felt at home, there.” At his look of confusion she chuckled. “Stonewall...Stonehaven. It... fits.”
“Maybe,” he replied. She didn't see the trace of a smile that she'd hoped for, and she sighed inwardly. However, in the next moment he looked up at her again. “It’s not usually considered a pleasant posting, but I did like it there,” he said slowly. “But not as much as Indigo-By-the-Sea.”
“Indigo-By-the-Sea? Have you been to the Blue City, then, or just the province?”
“I'm a Blue City native, born and raised in Pillau itself.” Now he offered a fledgling smile, though his gaze was distant. “I grew up with the sand in my toes and the sound of the ocean sending me to sleep each night.”
“It sounds lovely. I've never seen the ocean.”
“You should. Everyone should. It's...I mean, it's the ocean,” he added, wincing. But when he looked back at her, his eyes were alight. “The air smells like salt and the waves are like a song that never stops.”
There was passion in his words and she felt something in her heart swell just a little bit, though she only nodded. “I would like to see Pillau, one day.”
He was quiet for a few moments. “I miss the sea,” he admitted at last. “And the sun. Especially the sun.”
“Why did you leave?”
This made him look forward, and there was a longer silence between them. “I go where I am sent. Rarely do sentinels have a choice of postings. We can request, but there are no guarantees.”
She had a feeling there was more the story, but she did not press him. Despite the cool
air and the constant wind, the sun was warm on her back, and Kali soon drifted to sleep for a little while, her body rocked by the steady motion of the horse.
When she opened her eyes again, she caught the distant but distinct silhouettes of trees against the horizon. “Looks like we're making progress.”
While she'd been dozing he'd replaced his helmet, so his eyes were barely visible beneath the curving steel and hematite embedded within the metal. “We're approaching the border between Silverwood and Whitewater provinces,” he said with a nod. “Might be a good place to let the horse rest for a bit.”
“The horse will need rest,” she agreed. “So will Stonewall, I think.”
She could not read his expression as he replied. “I'm fine, Mage Halcyon.”
“Please...'Kalinda,' or 'Kali.' No more of this 'Mage Halcyon' business.”
“It's proper,” he replied at once, a scowl in his words. “It's how things are done.”
“It's tiring and I don't like it.”
“Not everything is as you would have it. That's how life goes, sometimes.”
Well, that was true enough, but Kali shook her head. “It doesn't have to be that way. Sometimes we have a choice.”
Stonewall made no comment for a few minutes, as the distant trees grew less distant. Just when she'd resigned herself to the notion that he'd finally tired of talking to her, he spoke again. “We're making good time, so we'll stop when we reach the border.”
Beneath his helmet, she could just barely see the crease of his brow as he glanced up at her and added softly, “Kalinda.”
EIGHT
In the outskirts of Whitewater Province...
The two squads reached the site of the ambush in the wee hours of the morning. The forest was silent, but as Milo pulled his horse alongside the others', he imagined the sounds of battle echoing through the trees: the clang of weapons, muffled shouts, the terrified whinnies of horses.
For perhaps the first time since his Burn, the notion of a fight did not set his blood to running hotter.
“Ea's tits,” Beacon breathed as the two squads approached the mage-carriage. “Is that all that's left...?”
Gray had warned them, but Milo had honestly thought she'd been exaggerating. Raiders, even rogue Canderi, were creatures of habit. Generally, they either slit their victims' throats or ran them through with their fierce claymores. With their opponents dead, the brigands would do as they wished with whatever remained. Raiders, no matter how ruthless, were not supposed to leave the limbs and torsos of their victims strewn about like fallen branches across the road.
But not just sentinels had fallen. Perhaps Milo should have been glad to see a handful of dead Canderi, but the sight brought no pleasure.
So much blood. Milo winced and turned his gaze toward Flint, mounted on his other side. As always, the moment their eyes met he felt a measure of comfort, even if her expression was as hard as her chosen name.
Captain Cobalt and Lieutenant Dev had taken point during the journey. Mica, Cobalt's mender, sat with Gray on an open wagon while Beacon rode his horse on her other side. The two squads had been dispatched almost the moment Milo's squad returned to Whitewater City, only taking the time to drop off the mages and change the carriage over for the wagon. Everyone had suffered a long stretch of hours with little rest, but Gray was about the color of her namesake by now.
The captain studied Gray, though he spoke to Mica. “How is she?”
“Same as she was before we left,” the mender replied peevishly. “She needs rest.”
Cobalt glared at him, but Gray shook her head. “I'm fine,” she said. “Or at least, I would be, if you'd give me another dose.”
“I won't say it again,” Beacon replied. “If you have any more hematite, you'll burn out. Is that what you want?”
Gray's eyes narrowed beneath the helmet she'd borrowed from the garrison's quartermaster. “I want to find that fucking moon-blood. I must learn why this happened to my squad.”
“Enough.” Cobalt nudged his horse toward her and removed his helmet, so that his pale scar seemed to glow in the thin, predawn light. No one knew how he'd gotten it, but there were as many guesses as there were sentinels. “We needed your guidance here, Gray, but now your part is over. You are under menders' orders until you've recovered fully. Is that clear?”
She stared at him before she dropped her gaze. “Yes, ser.”
“The sentinel that fled with Mage Halcyon,” Dev said, drawing Gray's attention. “You said his name was Stonewall?”
“Aye.”
“Is he a burnie? Or an older cinder like me?”
Gray shook her head. “Neither. A few summers younger than me. Pious,” she added in a dry voice. “But skilled enough. Hopefully that saved him.”
Cobalt looked at Lieutenant Dev. “My squad will search the area for Stonewall and the mage while you clean up here as best you can. Look for anything that may prove useful in understanding how this happened. When I return, we'll take our fallen brothers and sisters back to the garrison for their rites. Until then, be on your guard; the Canderi may yet return.”
“Pinion,” Gray said suddenly. At the captain's look, the Starwatch sentinel rushed to clarify. “He helped me and Stonewall escape, but the bastards killed him on the road. Please look for him, ser.”
Cobalt nodded. He raised his hand in a silent signal, and his squad – save Mica – urged their horses down the road ahead. Once the captain had gone, Dev surveyed the carnage and sighed deeply. “Tor help us all.”
“Ser, their weapons are still here,” Rook said as she knelt before the body of a female sentinel.
“That's strange,” Milo said. “Why would the Canderi leave them?”
“Maybe they had no interest in our blades,” Rook replied.
Flint frowned. “Aye, Canderi only use those sodding claymores.”
“But these were different,” Gray said. Her gaze fell back on the fallen Starwatch sentinel, and only because the forest here was so quiet did Milo catch her next words. “Look what they've done. I wonder if even the gods know what compelled them.”
A chill swept through Milo. The lieutenant's mouth thinned as he glanced about the area once more. “After we take care of our own, we'll collect their weapons and supplies; it's all too valuable to be left behind. The Canderi, we can burn here. Stay on the alert.”
While Mica remained with Gray and the horses, Milo, Flint, Rook, and Dev began the task of gathering the sentinels' bodies – as best they could – and placing them reverently upon the wagon.
Back straight, eyes hidden beneath her helmet, Gray murmured their names. “Fox. Stark. Blaze. Jay. Taras; Nox bring your spirits safely over the river. Tor guide your steps into the next life...”
She trailed off, ducking her head. But Milo and the others took up the final words: “The One keep you in all your days.”
***
It took the better part of the morning for the squad to finish their task. After covering the Starwatch sentinels with large linen sheets, provided by the Circle, the squad piled the Canderi off of the road and set them afire.
“I don't understand,” Gray said. “They look normal now. But I swear by Atal they weren't.” She shuddered. “They were monsters. They are.”
“They look mortal to me,” Beacon replied. “Shall we bring one back to examine?”
Bright flames eagerly climbed to the top of the bodies, the emanating heat strong enough to make everyone take a step back.
“Too late, now,” Flint said.
As the Canderi burned, the squad gathered the sentinels' weapons and other supplies, while Milo found himself drifting to the mage carriage. The horses were gone; their leather traces slashed. He glanced around again. No horses at all. The surviving barbarians must have taken them. Poor creatures.
Mage carriages were sturdy things. Save a trio of ugly gashes in the sides, this one bore no worse scars from the attack, though when Milo pushed the door aside, a few splinters fluttered
to the ground. Within the carriage were the standard two benches, and aside from a few scrapes, the interior was unscathed.
“See anything?”
Milo straightened at the lieutenant's voice, stepping aside to let the officer examine the carriage. “Not really, ser. It's actually in pretty good shape.”
Frowning, Dev peered within. “Odd. From Gray's report, it seemed like the Canderi wanted the mage. Why else would they have attacked?”
“It doesn't look like they truly tried break in,” Milo said.
Dev nodded. “Nothing here but questions, it seems.” He glanced at Rook and Flint, each carrying an armload of sheathed blades. “Is that everything?”
Milo missed the reply, for something else caught his eye. Beneath the carriage was a patchwork rucksack, contents scattered through the dirt. Further investigation revealed that the contents were nothing more than a woman’s clothes. Buried under the sweaters, cloaks, and tunics, however, was something dark, leathery, and wholly out of place alongside the bright fabric.
“What's that, Mi?” Rook asked, coming to stand beside him.
Rather than answer, Milo examined the scuffed leather of some sort of case. Carefully, he flipped the latches, revealing a padded interior and a broken viol.
“It probably belonged to the mage,” Rook said, wrinkling her nose.
“Think it's worth taking?” Milo asked.
“Why should we?” Flint approached from the wagon, dusting off her gloves. “We've enough to do without fetching a rogue mage's belongings.”
Dev regarded the musical instrument. “If this was in a mage's custody, the commander will want to inspect it. The viol comes with us.”
Milo nudged the rucksack with his toe. “These too, ser?”
“Aye.” Dev glanced over at the makeshift pyre. “How's it looking, Beacon?”
Beacon had been circling the Canderi, stamping out any wayward flames and pushing back any bits of forest that might catch. “It should be safe to leave,” he replied. “Everything's fairly damp. There must have been a storm here recently.”
Catalyst Moon: Incursion (The Catalyst Moon Saga Book 1) Page 10
