“I wouldn't have even made it through the gates.” Drake's voice was easy, but his gaze darted towards the door when it opened again.
A friend of Gid's he may have been, but Eris could not shake a flash of unease. Was Drake really another dissident? Or was he waiting for sentinel backup?
“Looking like someone else must occasionally come in handy,” Gideon said.
“Sometimes.” Drake took a long drink and pulled a face, though he masked the expression almost immediately.
Eris nodded to the earthenware mug. “They water it down. A lot.”
“It tastes like piss,” Drake replied, peering into his own cup. He glanced up, looking between Gideon and Eris, and offered them a smile that did not reach his green-gold eyes. “They make the best ale back home in Pillau; so thick you can hardly see a candle flame through a full glass.”
Gideon returned the smile, all easiness and good nature in a way that Eris had never been able to replicate. “I remember it well. I'd love to introduce it to my wife and my friends.”
Drake nodded. “How many of your friends are you thinking of?”
“About a dozen of us would like...a change of scenery,” Gideon said, swirling the contents of his mug.
“A dozen...like you?” Drake asked, brows raised.
Gideon didn’t seem to mind, but Eris' gut curled with apprehension. “Is there a problem with people like us?”
Drake regarded her. “I have no qualms with you or your friends,” he said at last. “A dozen is simply more than I expected.”
“There's a high demand for freedom,” Gideon said. “You know it as well as I do.”
“Too well, perhaps,” Drake replied quietly.
Eris glanced around the pub, searching for any sign that their conversation was being overheard. Luckily, most patrons seemed focused on the group of fourth tier youths, whose carousing had taken on a louder, more obnoxious pitch as they broke into a popular drinking song.
“So you'll help us?” Eris asked.
“It will be worth your while to have more mages on your side,” Gid added. “We're not without the means to get a point across.” He chuckled. “If nothing else, tonight's proof of that.”
Drake frowned and looked between them. “What does that mean?”
“Just a minor confrontation with some City Guards,” Gid said.
Drake took a long draw from his mug, but his eyes never left Gid. “Oh?”
Something in his tone filled Eris with misgiving. “It was nothing–” she started to say.
“It was not nothing,” Gideon broke in, shaking his head.
“It should have been,” Eris shot back.
Gid scowled, but kept his voice low. “Aye. It should have been nothing for us to walk through the city like everyone else and not be treated like fucking criminals.”
A thick silence surrounded the trio before Drake set his mug down. “You were discovered?”
“We...found ourselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.” To Gid's credit, he did not mention her inability to shape change, but Eris flushed regardless.
“Familiar story.” Drake's tone was calm, but he shifted in his seat again, and his hands clenched the sides of his mug.
“In any case,” Gideon continued, voice more even now. “We have a pressing need to find a new place to live.”
“You'll get it,” Drake said firmly. “If I have any say in the matter. Though,” he leaned forward and dropped his voice, “you must take care, both of you. Freedom from hematite is not without...unpleasant realities.”
“Not from what I recall,” Gid replied. “If you're talking about those who...dislike people like us, then it's easy enough to avoid them.”
“Folks' attitudes have gotten worse since you've been...away, Gid.”
“Perhaps, but attitudes don't hold anyone prisoner,” Eris said. “Do you understand that? Do you have any idea of what it's like to live as we do?”
“I know enough,” Drake replied with a sigh. “Anyway, I can get you from the city to wherever you wish to go. When can you and your friends be ready?”
“We won't need much time to prepare,” Gid said. “No more than a few days, at most. The trouble's getting out of the province as quickly as possible.”
Eris nodded. “If – when – our absence is discovered...”
She trailed off meaningfully, hoping not to say the word “sentinel” for fear of drawing unnecessary attention.
But Gid had no such qualms. “Every hemie in the sodding province will be put to the hunt. The last thing we want is a bunch of metal-blooded morons sniffing after us. We won't have a moment's peace until they–”
Eris shushed him. In doing so, she nearly missed the look of discomfiture that crossed Drake's face, though it faded when their eyes met. “You made it here in one piece. Could you do it again?”
Gideon nodded. “Aye, it won't be easy with a larger group, but we'll manage.”
“That's the trick, isn't it?” Drake mused. “One or two of you can slip away from the bastion unnoticed, but more than that will set them on the alert.”
Eris regarded the flickering candle on their table before the idea struck her. “Heartfire.” As Gid and Drake frowned at her, she elaborated. “The city will be full to bursting during the solstice celebration on Heartfire. A few more revelers won't make much of a difference. We can probably just walk right over the bridge and out the city gates.”
“Aye, and the city guards should have their hands full,” Gid said thoughtfully. “But I doubt the hemies will be in their cups like all the other godly folks. We'll still have to slip by them.”
Drake took a deep breath. “Their numbers might be smaller. A few squads, at least, may be asked to help the guards. It happens, sometimes,” he said when both mages looked at him in surprise. “If the city guards think they'll be overwhelmed, they will call upon the sentinels to supplement their numbers. It's similar to how sentinels will offer aid to towns in need. But we have no way of knowing how many will be called, or if the commander will even agree to help in the first place.”
“Even so, the Heartfire festival sounds like our best option,” Gid said, smiling at Eris.
But her mind already raced ahead. “Assuming we get out of the city, there's still the issue of where to go once we're outside the walls. And what we'll do when we get there.”
She added a pointed look at Drake, whose face remained impassive.
“I have friends in Pillau,” Gideon said. “Folks are more tolerant in the south, in general.” Drake tensed at the mention of the Blue City, but Gideon didn't seem to notice as he chuckled. “And the southern garrison isn't nearly as organized as dear Commander Talon's hemies. I've no doubt we could slip through their net, should they even know to throw one. We could even keep going south, all the way to Zheem.”
It wasn't a bad idea, actually. But the logistics made Eris' head spin. She'd never traveled any true distance on her own, let alone trekked as far south as Indigo-By-the-Sea. She took a deep breath and glanced at their companion. “What do you think? Do your friends have a...camp or something near the city?”
Drake's gaze darted around the pub before returning to Eris and Gid. “Not quite near, but we're on the move fairly often. It won't be a problem to meet you outside the city gates.”
“Not inside?” Eris asked.
Drake was silent.
“We need your help,” she pressed. “Our freedom depends upon it. Isn't that why you agreed to help us in the first place? Isn't freedom from the tier system what you Assembly folks preach? Well, this is your chance to–”
Gideon put a hand on her arm. “Leave it, love. He's willing to do more than enough, for nothing in return.”
She shook her head. “That doesn't take away any of our risk.”
“Very well,” Drake said, meeting her eyes, albeit with reluctance. “I'll meet you inside the gates.” He frowned. “How in Tor's name did you manage to get out of the bastion, anyway?”
“Now there's an interesting story,” Gid replied, eyes gleaming mischievously.
This time, it was Eris who placed a hand on his arm in a plea for silence. “We have our ways,” she told Drake. “We can give you a specific location to meet us. From there, we should be able to make our way out of the city.”
Drake seemed to consider this, then, to her surprise, gave her a disarming grin. “Very well, Ser Eris. Keep your secrets. I'll keep my word.”
“And may we all be the better for it,” Gideon said, raising his mug.
TWENTY-ONE
The outermost city walls loomed high above Milo's head. The White River rumbled below; torches set upon the gates cast the swift waters in shifting shadows.
Milo stood with Flint, Rook, and several members of Captain Cobalt's squad beside the main gates, keeping an eye out for the renegade mages. The heavy iron and wood gates opened onto a stone bridge – the only way out of the city on foot. The gates were normally bustling during the day, but the late hour, coupled with the presence of so many armored men and women, seemed to have kept most travelers at bay. No one had passed through the gates in the nearly two hours since Milo and the others had arrived.
“It's bad, isn't it, Ser Sentinel?” The guard's voice was rough and he winced with each word. The top of his face, including the area around his eyes, was a red, blistered mess that made Milo cringe. His fellow guards had gathered around him while the sentinel menders looked him over.
“It's not good,” was Beacon's calm reply as he withdrew his jar of thalo.
“Aye,” said Mica, the mender from the captain's squad. “Even with thalo, it will take a while to heal, and you'll have some scarring.”
“But you'll live,” Beacon added. “And see. So consider yourself lucky.”
“Lucky, my ass.” The guard winced again as the mender began to daub the healing substance on the burns. “Fucking moon-bloods.”
“How did they get out of the bastion?” another guard asked, kneeling beside her fellow.
Good question, Milo thought. He'd heard a few whispered theories so far, but everyone seemed to be at a loss. That was not good.
Captain Cobalt stood between the pocket of guards and the sentinels before the open gate. “Sentinel business,” he said briskly. “Not your concern.”
“Ea's balls, it fucking well is my concern now,” the injured guard snapped, pointing to his seared forehead.
“Aye,” said the second guard. “We deserve to know what's going on in the bastion, especially if you metal-addled sods can't do your jobs.”
Flint and several of the other sentinels bristled, but Cobalt's reply was calm. “Sentinel business,” the captain said again, and turned away from the guards before they could protest. Milo caught him rolling his eyes before he looked over Milo's shoulder, where another sentinel approached from the bridge. “Any sign of them out there, Wren?”
“No, ser,” the lieutenant replied.
Milo risked a glance at the churning waters below the bridge, where the river curled around the support pillars before it hurried for the falls on the other side of the city. Naturally, the river's roar was louder here than within the garrison. The sound was normally comforting, a reminder that he was where he was supposed to be, but now the din and the closeness of the rushing waters made Milo uneasy. The river could consume the entire city if it rose too high. It could swallow them all.
His blood quickened and he could not help but shuffle his feet.
If Captain Cobalt noticed Milo's restlessness, he made no mention of it. “Archer reported the same. Where could they have run to?”
Lieutenant Wren's reply was grim. “Magic or not, I doubt the moon-bloods could have gotten past the bridge.” He dropped his voice to a mutter. “Even with those piss-poor excuses for guards.”
“Aye,” the captain said. “The mages must still be within the city.”
Flint cleared her throat, causing both officers to turn her way and Milo to jerk his spine straight. “Why don't we search for them?” Flint asked.
“We've orders to remain here, burnie,” the captain said sharply. “Commander Talon has the rest of the city in hand.”
Flint frowned. “We're wasted just waiting at the gates. You know that.” Milo elbowed her side and she hastily added, “Ser.”
Captain Cobalt regarded her a moment too long; Flint tensed beneath the captain's pale gaze, but held her ground. Orders were orders...but she wasn't wrong. And the idea of moving anywhere rather than standing around sounded like bliss. Thinking to echo his sister's sentiment, Milo nearly spoke up, but he held his tongue. Very likely, she would not appreciate him butting in.
At last the captain nodded once. “You two,” he pointed to Flint and Milo, “burn off some of that extra energy and sweep the area. I doubt Archer's squad missed anything, but it can't hurt to make sure. Rook and Vigil,” he added, looking at Milo's squad-mate and his own second-in-command, “do the same. If you find the mages, bring them back to me.”
“Alive, ser?” Rook asked briskly.
Captain Cobalt considered. “Aye. Unless they hurt another civilian - then do what must be done.” He looked at the twins again. “You understand, burnies?”
Milo's sword suddenly seemed heavy at his belt, but like the others, he bowed a brisk salute. His breath blew out in small spirals, but he hardly felt the cold as the anticipation of a chase coiled deep within him. Rook and Vigil darted off. Without a glance or word at Milo, Flint broke into a jog through the city gates. Sighing heavily, Milo followed.
***
As Gideon knelt before the gate, Eris glanced over her shoulder, back at the main street from which they'd come. “Did you hear something?”
“That's not funny,” he said, frowning at the hinges. “Damn, I overdid it,” he muttered. “Sodding things are melted to slag.”
“I'm not joking. I swear I heard footsteps.” Eris looked at her husband. “I told you so about that gate”
“So you did, love.”
“We don't have time to shimmy through again.”
“Aye. I'll try to open it more–”
“Not too much,” she broke in. “Nothing should look amiss when we're done.”
He sighed. “Just keep an eye out.”
His tone was distracted, for he was already dropping into a trance to manipulate the gate's particles. Eris turned away from him, slowly creeping back to the alley's entrance. By now, it was the deepest part of the night and the streets were empty, bathed only by starlight. In stark contrast to the couple's earlier trip through the city, no revelers were about at this hour. The soft squeal of the gate's protesting iron seemed to echo.
As she was turning back to tell Gid to hush, she heard it again: the distinct creaking of hard leather armor and the accompanying tread of boots. And two voices, male and female, vaguely familiar.
“We're supposed to look for the mages together, Flint,” the man said. “Cobalt's orders, remember?”
“Maybe so, but can't you look...over there?”
Eris' heart began to race, but before she could turn back for Gid, the sentinels' footsteps paused. She held her place, listening. Perhaps they'd not come this way, after all.
“You want me to walk on the other side of the street?” The male sentinel sounded surprised and... upset?
“Preferably on the other side of the continent,” the female sentinel replied. “But the street will work.”
Eris rolled her eyes. Sentinel drama was of no interest. The voices sounded closer now, as if they were making their way down the street, toward her and Gideon. Fucking hemies. Still, though, she couldn't be surprised at their appearance after what Gid had done to that lout of a guard. Word must have quickly spread to the garrison.
After a moment of silence, the male sentinel replied to the female. “If it's what you really want–”
“Ea's balls, finally,” she broke in. “Now check the alleys on that side. I'll look over here.”
“Very well,” he said
, sighing.
Eris' blood froze at the sound of boot steps drawing closer. Any moment, the sentinel would be upon them, and then all of this would have been for nothing. Her mind raced. She looked down at her pale, trembling hands, clenched into fists. The desire welled from someplace deep within: Fly.
With that desire, she found her resolve renewed. Yes, she'd failed again and again, but did that mean she should stop trying? Did that mean she should resign herself to a lifetime of imprisonment?
No. Never.
Anger welled within her again, not reckless, but righteous. Freedom. Even if she was captured and thrown in a hematite cell for the rest of her days, Gideon and the other mages would still have a chance for freedom. That alone was worth any risk.
She slipped back to Gid. “We've got a problem,” she whispered.
“Please tell me it's not wearing hematite.”
“Two sentinels.” Eris glanced over her shoulder. “At least one is heading our way.”
Gideon froze at the word sentinels. When he looked at Eris, the starlight showed the gleam of sweat on his forehead despite the chilly air. The gate was still barely open. The bars near the hinges glowed softly, as if Gid had tried to warp them enough to bend them back. He nodded to the opening. “After you.”
The sound of footsteps drew closer. Eris' throat was dry but she shook her head. “We can't let them find the gate. I'll lead them away and return later.”
“How?” Gid stared at her as realization dawned. “What makes you think you can manage it now?”
“...you hear that?”
Eris ignored the sentinels – just for a moment – as blood pulsed wild and hot through her veins. Her body sang with her desire to fly. She could do this. She must do this. She shook her head. “Just trust me.”
Gideon grabbed her hands. “I won't let you risk yourself.”
“My life is my own to risk. And this,” she drew her hands out of his and indicated the gate, “is more important than both our lives. This is our freedom.”
The sentinels' voices were a stone's throw away. Any moment and they'd be upon her and Gid. She'd have to slip to another alley first, to ensure they never came near the gate. Beyond that... Eris shut her eyes and did a quick assessment of her strength; she'd expended a good bit of energy with her attempt earlier tonight, but by now she'd recovered enough to manage another try at transformation.
Catalyst Moon: Incursion (The Catalyst Moon Saga Book 1) Page 21
