Rather than reply immediately, Cobalt cut his gaze to the rest of the mages. “Aye, I have news.”
He was silent. Eris flushed again. All traces of weariness had fled. The hot anger pulsing through her veins seemed to grant her a stronger sense of power than usual. Adrie gasped softly behind her; Gid grabbed her wrist.
“What news?” her husband asked through clenched teeth.
Cobalt narrowed his eyes. “None of your business, moon-blood. You need to remember your place.” His gaze flicked to Eris' arm, where Gid's hand rested. “You didn't answer my question.”
Heat and power; the rush of it flew through Eris' veins like a hot wind on a summer's day. She could do this. She could do anything.
But Gideon spoke before she could. “Shove your question up your ass, hemie.”
The captain drew his dagger without so much as a sound. One moment the dagger rested in its sheathe at his hip; the next it was in his hand. Cai, Marcen and Adrie took a collective step backward, but Eris and Gid held their ground.
Dagger drawn, Cobalt stepped toward Gid. “What was that, mage?”
The word was a curse. They were already prisoners here. How dare he speak to them this way too? Eris clenched her fists and something prickled along her spine. Gideon sucked in his breath.
Cobalt frowned and tilted his head up, as if to peer over her shoulder.
Then, “Ser, you wanted to see me?”
Another sentinel appeared just outside the barrier of the brushwork. Cobalt did not turn, but nor did he study Eris more closely. “Wren. The commander has a mission for you.”
With that, he edged away from the mages, careful not to turn his back upon them. Within a few moments he'd gone, and Eris let out a long, slow breath, squeezing her eyes shut so she could find some semblance of calm. When she looked up, Gid and her friends stared at her, mouths agape.
Something cold sliced through her gut. “What is it?”
Gideon still had her wrist. “Here.” He turned her palm up and pushed her sleeve aside to reveal a patch of short but sleek feathers. “And here,” he added, touching the back of her neck, along her spine.
It was a light touch, but it sent a thrill across her skin. Eris reached to feel and found...
“More feathers,” she murmured. Handfuls of them, tucked beneath her black hair. “Seren's light.”
Marcen smiled. “That wasn't so hard, I guess.”
“Right,” Cai snorted. “Just have to get your dander up by a sentinel and hope he doesn't stab you through the heart.”
Gideon's voice was soft in her ear. “I knew you could do it, love.”
Maybe for the first time, Eris almost believed him.
TWELVE
“Are you going to walk all night?”
Stonewall jerked to attention and instinctively took stock of his surroundings. Judging from the moon's position, it'd only been a few hours since sunset. Seren barely hung above the forest, sidling to the horizon's edge, but even the faint silver light was welcome on the otherwise dark road.
Ea's tits and teeth. He'd nearly fallen asleep. Stonewall resisted the urge to rub his eyes, instead tightening his grip on the horse's reins and the binders' chain. “We need to keep moving.”
Behind him, seated upon the horse, Kalinda gave a derisive snort. “Aye, but at this rate, you're going to kill yourself with exhaustion. And the horse. And me, too, probably.”
“No one's going to kill anyone.”
“Such conviction,” she said wryly, but her tone changed in the next moment. “Shit.”
Pausing, he glanced back to see her twisted in the saddle, back straight, gaze fixed down the moon-washed road.
Mentally chiding himself for a lapse in focus, he reached for a dagger. “What is it?”
“Someone's coming,” Kalinda replied in a whisper.
Frowning, Stonewall studied the road, but he saw nothing. “Are you...”
He trailed off when he caught sight of a dark shape cresting a small hill, perhaps thirty yards away. A single woman, on foot. Running...but from what? He began to pull a dagger free of its sheathe even as he took a deep, calming breath.
“What in the void she doing out here, alone?” Kalinda murmured.
“Nothing good, I'll wager,” Stonewall replied, just as softly, scanning the road for whatever in Nox's void the stranger was running from
The stranger was nearly upon them. She paused to brace herself against a tree along the road, swiping her forehead with a shaking hand. Closer now, and illuminated by Seren's faint light, her distress was clear. She sniffed and swiped her eyes. Despite the brisk air, her round face gleamed with sweat. When she pulled herself away from the tree, she saw the mage and sentinel.
“Gods above and beyond,” she pleaded, all but gasping for air as she hurried over. “Please, help me!”
Before Stonewall could respond, Kalinda slid from the saddle and made her way to the woman, keeping her bound wrists and the chain tucked out of sight beneath her cloak. “Are you wounded?”
“Is danger coming?” Stonewall added, coming to stand beside the mage.
The woman swiped at her eyes again and looked between them, blinking in surprise. “Sweet Mara's mercy,” she breathed, once she caught sight of Stonewall's gear. “A sentinel. And...” Her gaze fell on Kalinda again, this time more discerning, and she took a step backward. “You're a...”
“Someone who can help you,” the mage said firmly.
The woman tensed, then looked back at Stonewall. “I'm fine, but my husband is badly injured. My children are home with him now, but I don't think he'll last the night. I'm trying to get to Fash, to find a proper healer.”
“Fash is hours away,” Stonewall replied. “You won't reach it before dawn even if you ran without stopping.” He paused, uncertain. Should he offer Kalinda's services, or wait for her to do so? Would she? She seemed willing enough to help others, so far, but this woman did not seem to harbor friendly feelings toward magic-users.
But Kalinda stepped forward and allowed her bound hands to fall into view. “Take us to your husband.”
“Moon-blood.” The woman's voice was a whisper. She took another step away from Kalinda and made a gesture of warding with one hand. “Your kind are corrupted. I can't have you near my children.”
“Then your children won't have a father when the sun rises,” Kalinda shot back, hands clenching. “Is that what you want?”
“I want a healer,” the woman replied, voice breaking.
“You're looking at one,” Stonewall said sharply. “Are you being pursued?”
At this, the stranger winced. “No, thank Mara. The monsters didn't come near the farm.”
Kalinda's voice was tight. “What's your name? What happened?”
“I'm Jennet Bywater. My husband is Riel. We've a small farm – bees, goats, turpentine, the like – but Riel sometimes likes to hunt with a neighbor of ours, a man called Neff. They were out all day. Now, Riel does that sometimes, but when it got dark and he still didn't come home, I started to get worried.
“I sent Saph – my daughter – to fetch some water for dinner, and she came running back, screaming about her Da. He'd...” Jennet's voice broke, but she pushed on. “He made it as far as the well. By the One's mercy Saph and I got him back to the house, but gods above...”
When Jennet did not continue, Stonewall glanced her way. “What happened to the other man...Neff?”
“Dead.”
“Are you certain?” Kalinda asked.
Jennet frowned. “No. But Riel said there was no way he could have survived. They was ambushed, by...” She shook her head. “My poor Riel. First he said it was the blue-eyed barbarians – this far south! – then he said something about monsters, but he wasn't making any sense by then.”
The road seemed to stretch ahead, bone-white beneath the moon. Stonewall gripped the horse's reins and tried to fight the urge to break into a run. He could do nothing for the wounded man.
“What else did
he say?” Kalinda asked Jennet, gentler now.
“Nothing...sensible. Just nonsense about monsters and demons, and something about their eyes burning like stars.”
Something hard and cold formed in Stonewall's guts; he saw the same misgiving mirrored in Kalinda's face. His gaze dropped to her bound wrists and he made a decision. Her eyes widened as he gently took her right wrist in one hand while the other went for the key tucked within his belt.
“Stonewall, what are you–”
“Serla Sentinel, are you sure that's wise?”
Stonewall did not look at Jennet as he spoke to her. “I give you my word that Mage Halcyon will not harm you or your family. But if you want to help your husband, we should leave now.” The cuffs slid free; he fastened them to his belt and met Kalinda's gaze. “Ready?”
Her eyes closed briefly, her hands clenching and relaxing as she took a deep breath, then she looked back at him. Despite everything, there was something joyous in her face. He could relate; somehow, he felt lighter, too.
“Aye,” she whispered.
He nodded once. “Let's go.”
***
Every step was agony. By the time they reached the Bywater's farm, Kali regretted her decision to travel on foot to let the exhausted Jennet ride and spare the horse a double burden. Spots danced before her eyes and the coppery tang of blood filled her mouth from when she'd bitten her tongue to keep from crying out.
But she didn't care about pain in her knee when her arms were light as bird's wings and her senses were clear. She was free.
The Bywater farmstead was nestled between a copse of oak trees and a small creek, over which someone had built a humble wooden bridge. Goats bleated behind the closed doors of a sturdy, wooden barn. An acrid scent Kali vaguely recognized as turpentine emanated from a small workshed next to the main house. The house itself was modest, though it sported a high roof; judging from the color of the wood, the roof had been expanded in recent years, perhaps to accommodate the Bywater's growing family. A bright, golden glow emanated behind the curtained windows.
“Riel's inside,” Jennet said once she dismounted. “Saph and Cop are with him, but…” she trailed off, voice shaking.
Kali's foolish heart ached, and she placed a hand on Jennet's shoulder. “It will be well, s–”
The farmer tensed and jerked away from her touch, as if it burned. Well, then. It wasn't easy to push aside her disappointment, but Kali tried to focus on the task at hand.
Stonewall seemed to be of the same mind, for his words were curt. “Take her to your husband, please. Can I leave the horse in your barn?”
“Aye.” Jennet shot Kali a wary look, paying particular attention to her unbound wrists, but – for a mercy – did not comment. Instead, she nodded to Stonewall and led Kali to the house, calling as she went. “Saph! Cop! I've returned from over the creek.”
Over the creek? That was an odd thing to say. Kali glanced back at the little creek they'd indeed crossed, but thought no more of the phrase when the door opened and two brown-haired children spilled into the night.
“Mama!” They shouted in unison and ran to Jennet, sweeping their mother in a tearful embrace.
Jennet soothed them, then looked at the girl, the eldest of the two. “How's Da?”
The girl swiped at her runny nose with the back of her woolen sweater. She was probably between nine and ten summers, and the boy perhaps five or six. “He's breathing an' his heart's beating, but it's all so slow, Mama. He's white as a fish!”
“Is Da gonna die?” the little boy asked his mother, tugging on her trousers.
Jennet shot a look at Kali; there was mistrust in her gaze, yes, but there was something else. “I hope not, Cop.” She nodded to Kali. “I've brought someone who can help.”
Both children started; Kali thought they'd not noticed her until just now. “Who's she, Mama?” the boy asked. Saph only studied her.
Kali tried to ignore the lump in her throat at the family's reunion. “Riel?”
“This way.” Jennet swept past her children and into the small house.
Kali followed, but paused at the threshold to look back at the barn, where Stonewall was closing the door. At her look, he glanced up as if she'd called his name. Their eyes met and he nodded to her. She didn't know why, but the small gesture was reassuring. She nodded back and stepped inside.
Within, the house's single room was roughly divided into three sections: the sleeping area held a small, wood framed bed; the small kitchen with a table, chairs, and pantry; and an iron, wood-burning stove that served as the room's focal point. A wooden ladder rested at the far side of the room, leading up to a loft. A few woven rugs lay about the clean swept floor, and herbs hung among the rafters to dry, scenting the air with lavender, rosemary and sage.
Riel lay upon the bed. Brown-haired and slender, he was perhaps in his mid-thirties. On the journey here, Jennet had given Kali some idea of what she'd be walking into, but now, beneath the warm glow of the oil lamps set upon the kitchen table, the wound was much, much worse than Kali had thought. Worse than Ytel's; worse than any Kali had seen. Sweet stars...his chest had nearly been cleaved in two. How had he even survived the journey home?
A cold, hard block of ice seemed to form in Kali's stomach. Unless she could do something drastic, this man would not see another sunrise. But could she? Would she be strong enough?
Focus, she chided herself as she knelt beside him.
“Mama, what's she–”
“Hush, Cop,” Jennet replied softly.
Kali ignored them and poured her attention into Riel as she knelt beside him and relaxed so she could sense his particles. She sought the most damaged ones and worked to smooth out their jagged edges, layering her will upon them and urging them to regenerate. Time slipped away and she lost track of her surroundings. So when the farmer coughed and let out a ragged moan, she started in surprise.
“Oh, Riel,” Jennet choked from someplace behind her, and the little boy began to cry. Kali tried to push the family out of her mind – she could not afford to waste more than a few seconds of concentration – but the weeping grew louder and the farmer's wife said his name again.
Then Stonewall spoke. “Ser Jennet, please keep your children quiet. Kalinda can't have any distractions while she works.”
Footsteps, then nothing. Kali was vaguely aware that Stonewall remained nearby – when had he entered the house? – but all of her focus had returned to Riel. Before she'd arrived, his particles had naturally tried to heal themselves. But the body that housed them was weak. Riel's particles slipped away as if Kali was trying to hold handfuls of sand in the middle of a storm. Even with her magic's aid, his body could not heal fast enough. Riel coughed again and a little more of him slipped into nothing.
Another broken body filtered through the memories she'd tried to cast aside since leaving Starwatch. Another man who'd been pushed past his limits, until his great, strong heart finally gave out. But Riel was not her father. He was an injured stranger. There was no reason for Kali's heart to ache at the thought of his passing.
Because Riel was going to die. Two more children would lose their father.
No! Every other thought fled her mind. Every drop of concentration fixed on the man before her, on his injuries, on the particles of his body as she urged them to heal, because she would not let him die, she could not let him die too. This man needed his life. Somehow, she would give it to him.
Kali inhaled again and gathered what remained of her strength. Free from hematite, bolstered by her own determination, magic answered her call.
As it had during her flight across the countryside, magic swelled within her; it washed away her consciousness as it took over her awareness. Magic hummed through her body like the plucked strings of a viol. She released whatever control she had. She allowed the magic to work its own will.
In the depths of her mind's eye, Riel's particles regenerated, faster than she'd ever experienced. Heal, she thought, half-awest
ruck and half exhilarated by the realization that he was not going to die. Even as she had the thought, the particles coalesced, solidified. Healing. He was healing.
Heal, she thought again, mentally sitting back and watching in wonder. It was over within moments; the magic had done whatever it was going to do. Those children would not lose their father today. Kali wanted to laugh and cry all at once, but she had never been so tired in her entire life, and she didn't know if she was sitting or standing, or where in the world she was, for that matter–
“Kalinda?” Stonewall's voice pulled her from her exhaustion and made her eyes open. He knelt at her side, one gloved hand on her shoulder as if propping her upright. His face held equal parts fear and awe.
“Stone...” Her body seemed to collapse in on itself, but she tried to force the words out. “Tell them they still have their father.”
His eyes widened but he nodded. “I will.”
But she heard nothing else because the darkness took her and she faded into unconsciousness. Her final realization was that she had not fallen to the floor because Stonewall had taken her in his arms.
THIRTEEN
Stonewall could not think of anything else to say. Kalinda nodded once, then collapsed, but he managed to grab her before she hit the floor. In his arms, she seemed so fragile, a stark contrast to the enormity of what she'd just done. Gods above and beyond, she felt hollow. Empty.
What had it cost her to save this man's life?
Kalinda had fought a war he could not see. Her magic was the weapon; Riel's body, the battleground. As they’d knelt by a stranger’s bedside, Stonewall had tried to rouse her from the thrall of magic, if only to save her, but as had happened at the creek, she had not responded to his voice. Even a hand upon her shoulder only served to furrow her brow and make Riel groan. So Stonewall had sat by, helpless to do more than watch.
Once Stonewall had urged them to keep quiet, none of the Bywater family had made a peep. Now, the children slept on a blanket by the hearth, while Jennet dozed in a chair across the room. Riel's pallor was better and his breathing was regular. Through the blood and torn fabric of his homespun shirt, the angry wound had disappeared, leaving only a pink, shiny scar, as if weeks and weeks of healing had taken place over the course of...
Catalyst Moon: Incursion (The Catalyst Moon Saga Book 1) Page 14
