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

by Lauren L. Garcia

  He straightened and searched for a suitable spot within the cairn. There was a slender fissure about chest-high that looked promising, so he wedged the pebble within the gap while he offered a prayer. Tor guide my steps; keep my eyes open and my resolve firm. Fill my spirit with your strength and my faith will remain forever, unyielding.

  “What does Tor ask of you?” Her voice was quiet.

  Already, he felt more capable of handling the problems that had been set upon him. Already, he felt stronger. “Courage,” he said as he studied the mage. “Strength. Unwavering dedication to the path I have chosen.”

  There was a beat where she said nothing, only nodded once and regarded the cairn again. The horse's head dropped to graze and the sudden movement seemed to draw the mage out of her thoughts, for she blinked back at Stonewall. “I suppose I never considered the gods in such a way, before; so...close to your heart.”

  Stonewall gave her what he hoped was a warm look. “It's never too late to learn.”

  “I suspect one first has to believe.”

  “You don't have any beliefs?”

  Kalinda looked at the horse, grazing contentedly. “Knowledge and belief are two very different things.”

  “Knowledge may satisfy my curiosity, but belief guides my path and keeps my spirit strong. What guides you?”

  “My magic helps me understand how the world works, so I can make my own judgments and decisions. I don't need any...gods for that.”

  She was being diplomatic, but he saw no reason to skirt the heart of the issue, so he held her gaze. “Mages don't believe in the gods.”

  He hadn't meant the words to sound challenging, but they did and she tensed, though her voice remained calm. “Many of them don't.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.”

  Strangely, the single word set his heart to beating faster, as it did when he was preparing for a fight. He scanned the horizon, ostensibly to ensure that there was no danger nearby while he thought over his response. Like anyone who lived by the blade, Stonewall knew there were times for fighting, just as surely as there were times when raising a weapon in anger would only make things worse. He refused to give way to his emotional reactions about something so important.

  Ultimately, curiosity trumped a desire to argue. “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I don't need to.”

  Although he detected no hint of mockery or derision within her words, he still frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It just seems...strange to me to think that anyone would worship something they can't even prove to be real, though they believe it controls every facet of their lives.” She looked back at the cairn. “To be honest, I never used to think about the gods very much.”

  Her voice was heavier, and he got the sense that he was treading on uncertain ground, but he couldn't find it within himself to stop the conversation just yet. The cairn stood beside them, solid and unmoving. It gave him strength.

  “Has that changed, recently?” he asked.

  Before she answered, she handed him the horse's reins and knelt slowly, one hand braced on the cairn for balance while she ran her fingertips across one of the lower stones. Her expression suggested she was upset about something, and he felt a twinge of regret for pressing her about whatever-it-was. Everyone had memories they did not want.

  Her voice was quiet; he had to lean close to hear her words. “I can't put my faith in something I cannot see or touch any more than I can trust gods who demand that people...sacrifice themselves, for whatever reason.”

  Was that a veiled insult to the sentinel oath? Her demeanor made him think not, so he kept his reply soothing. “It's not for us to know everything about the world. Only the One truly understands it all.”

  However, before he'd even finished speaking, her head was shaking. When she did reply, her voice wavered. “I don't think I can accept that.”

  His stomach sank. The words he'd said to her had offered him a measure of comfort in the aftermath of his brother's death; he did not know what else he could say that would set her at ease. How bleak it must be, to live without such a faith that made his own life vibrant. Faith brought security, joy and purpose; would she ever know even a small portion of that feeling?

  Would she even want to?

  She looked...lost. Scared and uncertain. He told himself it was because of his role as protector that he wanted to erase the sorrowful expression from her face.

  “There is a pattern to all things that is too big for us to see,” he said at last. “After all, we are humble, and the world is vast.”

  Even as he said the words he cringed inwardly. They sounded idiotic; no doubt she'd think the same.

  “Maybe.” Her words had no inflection, though her expression was a study in sorrow. “I don't know.”

  “I hope you do, one day. I hope you get all the answers you want,” he hesitated, then added, “Kalinda.”

  There. Let no one say he was entirely unmovable. Indeed, the sorrow he'd noted on her face fled, replaced by genuine shock. The sight made him chuckle inwardly.

  “In case you thought the first time was a fluke,” he added.

  She smiled, though the expression faded quickly. “You don't wish to convert me?” she asked as she rose and shook dust off of her cloak.

  Perhaps there was nothing he could say that would change her mind about the gods, at least not right now. Clearly, mages had their own sort of reason. Perhaps it was better to try and accept what she'd told him with the hope that maybe one day they could understand one another, even if only a little.

  Leal's words echoed in his mind. “There must also be tolerance.”

  “I believe everyone must walk their own path,” he told her, straightening his spine out of habit. “I know the gods are real, but I also know that it rarely does any good to try and force another to your way of thinking. I certainly wouldn't want it done to me.”

  “So says the One,” she replied as the wind teased wisps of her dark hair. “Right?”

  This time, he did not answer. Instead, he used his free hand to dig out another pebble. “Would you mind if I made an offering on your behalf?”

  Her lips parted in surprise and again, she seemed at a complete loss for words, which pleased him for some reason he didn't want to think about too hard. Finally, she shook her head. His heart sank. If she didn't even try to understand this part of him, could he continue to think well of her?

  Well, maybe that was for the best. It would be better, wiser, to let the subject go, continue on with his duty, and leave his personal feelings out of the equation.

  But Kalinda surprised him. She plucked the dark blue pebble from his hand and made her way back to the cairn. She did not kneel this time, but he thought he saw her lips move in speech that he could not hear. A moment later she stuck the pebble in the fissure, next to his offering. When she turned to him her face was hopeful and he was again irrationally pleased, although he only nodded once in return.

  “Perhaps I do have something like faith,” she said. “But it isn't the same as yours.”

  “Then...why make an offering at all, if you don't believe in the gods?”

  In reply, Kalinda gave him a beaming smile, the kind she'd given in the carriage, the kind that made his breath catch. “Call it...a peace offering.”

  Stonewall blinked. “To me or to Tor?”

  The mage did not answer; he wondered if she knew. Instead, she indicated the road, and the forest not far beyond. “Shall we keep going?”

  ***

  The forest in this part of Whitewater was different than any sort Kali had ever known. In Starwatch, the evergreens took up what space they could, coating the paths between them with needles that swallowed each step. Forests back home were gray and cold, and often overrun with snow.

  Here, the trees were on fire. Shifting sunlight streamed through the canopy to tint the autumn leaves in a red-gold translucence that seemed to burn on all sides. Wind from the nearby plains stole throug
h swaying treetops, dappling the sunlight on the path that mage and sentinel followed. Thankfully, the wind could not tug Kali's braid loose again, nor drown out the noises of the forest: chirrups of birds; rustles of small creatures within the brush; the crunch and crackle of hooves across dried leaves.

  By contrast, Stonewall's passage was silent. As before, he walked at the horse's shoulder, though at some point he'd replaced his helmet. With his back arrow-straight and his face forward, he presented the picture of an ideal sentinel. No doubt this silence was his usual taciturn behavior, but she hoped it was a different kind of quiet that had descended upon him since they'd left the cairn. Or perhaps he was more offended by their conversation than he'd let on.

  It had been interesting to get a glimpse of his beliefs, for all that she didn't share them. Jonas had spoken to her so rarely about the gods. She'd known her father was a devotee of Atal and had spent much time at that god's temple in Starwatch, but he'd never shared his personal views. It was as if he'd chosen to keep that part of himself separate from her. With good reason, perhaps, given their situation, but she would have liked to have known more about her father.

  Kali shifted in the saddle in an effort to give her poor arse some relief. “This looks like a nice place to stop for a bit. Let the horse rest, let the mage stretch her legs, maybe even let the sentinel eat something.”

  When he glanced back at her, the corner of his mouth lifted, but if it was a true smile, she could not make it out beneath the helmet. “If memory serves, there's a creek up ahead. I thought we could take a break there. Will that suit you?”

  Kali nodded. Sure enough, as they walked she heard the burbling sound of water, and several minutes later they reached the creek. It was something from a storybook: a perfect ribbon of water that meandered over smooth stones and between copses of yellow-leafed trees. On either side there was a sloping bank draped with more leaves. The path paralleled the curving stream and the surrounding forest was painted in shades of red, amber and gold.

  Once the horse was tended to and they'd each taken care of personal needs, Stonewall pulled out some of the food that the Sufani had provided and offered her part of a loaf of dark bread and a hunk of cheese. The sentinel took a seat on a fallen log by the creek's edge and began to tuck in. After a long day of riding, Kali needed a respite from sitting, so she tore through her lunch while pacing around as far as the chain would allow, studying the trees, the creek; anything she could see or touch.

  Even with her senses muted by hematite, she could tell that this forest was very old and teeming with life. While there was an assortment of massive trees, some of which she recognized from hours spent pouring over natural history books, most were of one type whose name she couldn't recall. Their bark was the color of milk and etched with occasional knobby protrusions; their leaves were bright yellow, though she caught glimpses of a few that were still green, as if untouched by the season. There were oaks, too, and a few maples, and a smattering of climbing ivy–

  “What are you looking at?” Stonewall's voice broke her out of her thoughts. He'd finished his meal and was regarding her with curiosity, his helmet resting on his knee. The chain that bound her cuffs still hung at his belt. They were only a few paces from each other.

  Words were difficult to come by. “There's so much to see,” she said. “I've never been anywhere like this place. It's...beautiful.”

  His brows furrowed as he looked around with skepticism. “It's just a forest, like any other,” he said as she approached the creek. “Isn't it?”

  “It's more than 'just a forest,'” Kali replied, inhaling deeply. Even with the hematite, the air here was green and sweet and alive. With some difficulty, she gathered her cloak about her shoulders and dropped to a crouch before the water's edge.

  Hematite placed a wall between mages and the rest of the world, so Kali could not manipulate or influence the water's particles. However, she could still sense them, so she dipped her fingertips within the cool, flowing water. A deep breath, another and another, and she dropped into the restful place where she could sense the particles. There were so many. Those of the water swirled and eddied around her fingers, mimicking the movement of the creek itself. She relaxed further, allowing her awareness to travel with them down the current until she could taste the water in the back of her throat and feel it across her entire body as if she were immersed.

  Still more particles flowed within the water, though they were not a part of it. She had no way to quantify what they were; she only knew they were alive. Tiny, innumerable, they called the swirling waters home.

  After a few moments, she pushed her hands lower, past the cuffs at her wrists, until she touched silt, then sand, then several stones worn smooth by the water's constant caress. As her fingers closed around one stone, something firm wrapped around her shoulder, jerking her out of the hypnotic state. A baritone voice said her name again and again, and when she opened her eyes, she was staring directly into Stonewall's.

  When he spoke, he did not sound overly pleased. “What are you doing?”

  Something lapped against her boots; the hem of her cloak had fallen to ripple gently against her legs, propelled by the current. She and the sentinel now stood about an arm's length from the shore, though she had no recollection of getting here. The chain still hung loose at his side; at least he'd not tugged it to get her attention.

  Stonewall's eyes were wide as if in alarm but his voice was relatively calm in comparison. “Kalinda? Can you hear me?”

  A deep breath helped her ground herself and allowed her to speak. “Aye. Sorry. I suppose I got a little carried away.”

  “You nearly fell in headfirst,” he replied. “Not that it's particularly deep, but you didn't seem to hear me.”

  They sloshed back to the shore and even though she had to wring out her cloak, she was thankful for the boots Aderey had given her, as no water had seeped through. Again, Stonewall took a seat on the fallen tree and she remained standing, but this time he watched her carefully.

  “You weren't doing magic, were you?” he asked.

  Her sleeves were sodden and she knew she'd be chilly before they dried, but it hardly mattered as she studied the river-rock closely. It was rounded and smooth, pale gray, laced with green, and fit perfectly in the hollow of her palm.

  “No,” she said. “I was just...exploring.”

  He tensed as she sat beside him on the fallen log, and his eyes darted to her cuffed wrists. “What does that mean?”

  She tried to keep her voice neutral. “Hematite is a barrier, not an outright blindfold.” When he frowned, she tried to clarify. “Hematite...mutes the world around me, but does not make me deaf. So while I can't perform magic while wearing these binders, I can at least observe the...place where magic lives.”

  Stonewall's gaze flickered to the stone in her hand and she could practically see him turning her words over in his mind. When he looked back at her, to her relief, his expression was nothing but curious. Suddenly she wanted him to understand, even a little.

  “'The place where magic lives,'” he repeated slowly. “Isn't that within a mage's blood?”

  “Some of us think so, but others aren't so sure.”

  “What does Kalinda think?”

  She tried to ignore the way his accent shaped her name, and the way her breath caught at the sound. Instead, she cupped the stone and tried to sense the traces of swirling energy that lingered on its surface. Even with her abilities dulled by the cuffs, in her mind's eye, the particles of the stone flowed across the topmost layers, as if it held the memory of the rushing water that had formed it. Deeper within, the stone's heart was still and solid.

  “I'm still figuring that out,” she admitted, looking back at him.

  Her heart sank a little at the unease in his gaze as he watched her. “You are dangerous,” he said, so quietly, she wasn't sure if he'd meant to say it aloud. “All that power and so little understanding of it.”

  The words stung. She co
uld not help but bristle. “At least I seek to understand that power, rather than shut it away unless I have a need for it.”

  “If you're referring to the bastions, then you should be thankful for them. They keep your kind safe from those who would do you harm.”

  Your kind. She held up her hands so that the chain between the cuffs clinked softly. “There's a line between keeping someone safe and keeping them prisoner.”

  This caused him to start, as if she'd truly shocked him. “Is that what you think we mean to do?”

  “Mages are prohibited from living among non-magic folk. We cannot leave the bastion unless in the presence of a sentinel. We cannot travel anywhere unless we have permission from a sentinel. When we use our magic, even if it's for a good purpose, we are regarded with suspicion and mistrust.” She paused and regarded him. “Shall I continue?”

  He frowned. “It's for your own good, yes, but also the good of the rest of the world. You act like we're doing something horrible by trying to keep you safe and separate, but you've told me – twice now – that your understanding of your own abilities is limited, and I've seen you perform an act that any army would give its best general to manage.

  “Kalinda, you seem like a decent person, but what if you weren't? What if your magic was in the hands of someone cruel or desperate? Think of the damage that could be done–”

  Her fist tightened about the stone. “That's no excuse to lock us away. The possibility of something going wrong exists all the time, for everyone. What about you, Stonewall?” She gestured to his sword. “You're a skilled warrior and you are one of many. What would happen if the lot of you decided to take up arms against the rest of the world? Think of that damage.”

  The sentinel's face darkened into a scowl. “That would never happen.”

  “You think that would never happen,” she corrected. “Nothing is certain. Nothing is written in...well.”

  His scowl deepened and for a moment they stared at one another. Finally she sighed and looked back at the stone in her palm, warm from the contact with her skin. “I don't think this is an argument either of us can win,” she said at last, risking a look back his way. “At least right now.”