After a few, too-long moments of silence, the mage rubbed her arms and took a seat at the hearth. “First things first, I suppose.”
Nodding, Stonewall pulled his tinderbox out of his belt pouch and frowned.
“Oh, I know that particular frown,” Kalinda said wryly. “Something's wrong. But not in a life-threatening way.”
He had to fight back a chuckle as he opened the tinderbox to let droplets of water dribble to the floor. “Sodding thing's useless.”
She clasped her hands demurely in her lap and smiled up at him. “Oh, dear. Whatever shall we do?”
Stonewall sighed and waved at the hearth. “Go ahead.” He thought of her stunt at the river and added, “If you aren't too...tired, I mean.”
Her smile was bright in the darkness, but she did not reply. They stacked some logs upon the metal grate within the hearth, then Kalinda closed her eyes, holding perfectly still in concentration. After what felt like a long time, Stonewall thought that whatever she was doing wasn't going to work and she couldn't afford to strain herself again. Perhaps he should try to break her out of the trance.
Then he saw the smoke. It curled upward, immediately carried away into the flue. After that, orange and gold embers flared to life at the logs' edges. Last came the flames. They were small, fragile things, but they cast light and created heat. Stonewall murmured a quiet prayer of thanks to Amaranthea, the goddess of all things bright and warm.
He looked at Kalinda to thank her as well. Her eyes were still closed and she was slumped over like she could barely support her own weight. A flash of apprehension passed through him at the thought that he'd failed in his task after all they'd been through. All for a measly fire! In a hearth, no less.
He knelt beside her and touched her shoulder. “Kalinda? Kali?”
Before he could say her name a third time, her eyes opened and she straightened.
“Are you well?” Stonewall asked.
She blinked as if emerging from a deep sleep. “Aye. Just more tired than I thought. But the fire should burn for a few hours, so we won't be cold while we...” Spots of pink colored her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “Well, we won't be cold tonight.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replied. “I've been cold enough the last few days to last a lifetime.”
“Me too.” She cast a longing look at the washbasin. “Thank the stars! Even after our unexpected swim, I'm covered in about five layers of grime.”
“Have at it,” Stonewall replied. “I'm too tired to do much beyond shed my gear.” He turned his back to her because it was all he could do to give her privacy.
“I wasn't planning on getting naked just now.”
He kept his eyes on the now-merry fire dancing in the hearth. “Well, you have my word I won't look, should you change your mind.”
While she headed for the basin, Stonewall removed the bulky layers of his armor; the thick leather would hold up until he could clean it properly, but his tunic and pants were damp and stiff with cold, and would remain so until they dried.
The process took him far too long, for his arms felt leaden and each movement seemed to reveal a new pain. With effort, he set his boots, greaves, and dagger-sheathes by the fire, though he lamented the loss of his daggers. He could get more at the sentinel garrison of Whitewater City, but his old ones had served him well for many years. At least his map and the river-rock Kali had given him were all safe. His medical supplies were also unharmed and he'd have to tend to his wounds soon, but right now it was good to simply be warm and not in combat.
Stonewall held his hands up to the hearth, sighing as warmth seeped through his skin. After a moment he leaned forward so that the fire licked against his palms, but where most would have recoiled from the burn, he felt only a pleasant tingle. A few of the flames seemed to dance away, as if repelled by the hematite in his blood. As it never had before, the sight captivated him. After a few moments, the warmth sharpened into a bite, and he pulled his hands back, rubbing them to ease the sting of the magic-made fire.
To prevent himself from thinking about the faint splashing sounds from across the room, he rummaged through their supplies. Regrettably, the hematite cuffs had not been washed away by the river, but his store of hematite was gone. Stonewall ran a hand through his close-cropped hair, assessing his own strength. He would be fine; he'd taken some only days ago, but it was unsettling to be without any extra, just in case.
A soft knock at the door made him look up. “I'm done,” Kali called from the corner. “But can you get that?”
When he opened the door, all he found was a tray of food and two more mugs of honey-cider resting on the floor. As he set the tray on the rug before the fireplace, Kali approached. She only wore the thin chemise and leggings; he wore a pair of close-fitting breeches and a simple tunic. They were both barefoot, socks and boots set to dry by the fire. Her hair was damp and her skin was clean, though her temple was bleeding a little.
“Better?” he asked as they settled down cross-legged.
Gods above, that smile would be the death of him. “I feel almost human again,” she replied.
They didn't speak much as they ate. The food was excellent: dark bread and butter, baked russet potatoes, and roasted chicken with squash and mushrooms. After setting the tray and plates aside, they sat before the fire and sipped their cider.
Now that his belly was full, Stonewall turned his mind to other things. Both the initial wound to his shoulder and the slice on his neck that the Canderi had given him burned, but an application of an herbal poultice would ease the sting.
Aside from what would probably be a nasty bruise on her cheek, Kali had a few other scrapes but the cut on her temple seemed to be the worst. Stonewall rooted through the leather pouch that contained his jar of thalo. “Put this on that cut on your temple, and any other injuries you come across.”
She accepted the jar and sniffed the contents. “Seren's light! Is this genuine thalo?”
“Aye.”
Her brows lifted. “This isn't easy to come by – or cheap. Especially this far north.”
Stonewall shrugged. “The Circle provides it for us.”
This, and all of his supplies, for that matter. Sometimes he wondered what his six summers-old self would make of this fact, when that age had seen him and his brother digging through midden heaps for their supper.
As she began to daub the pale green substance on her temple, Stonewall stripped off his tunic and set it on the chair by the fire, where she'd laid her cloak.
As he reached for the mend-kit, she gasped. “Sweet fucking stars, look at you!”
Stonewall glanced down; he had bruises aplenty from their misadventures, and a trail of dried blood trickled from his neck down to his chest. “What?”
“That.” She pointed to his neck. “You're covered in blood.”
“Hardly. It's just a scratch. It's fine; it doesn't even hurt. Why are you looking at me like I've sprouted another head?”
Her cheeks flushed, but she gave him another smile that made his entire body warm. “I think you could be missing an arm and still say you were fine,” she said, shifting across the rug to get closer. “Does anything affect you?”
“Lots of things. I'm just good at pretending otherwise.”
This made her laugh, which he'd not quite intended, but he decided to be pleased with the result. Before he could say anything else, she plucked the mend-kit out of his hand. “Hold still. Let me do this.”
“It's–”
“You'd better not say 'fine,'” she broke in as she rummaged through the leather bag. “You've surpassed your allotted stoicism for the day. For the week.”
Stonewall chuckled. “Very well, Mender Kali. I'm in your hands.”
She bit her lip as if to stave off her initial reply, and instead offered a slight bow. “Why, thank you, Serla Sentinel.”
While she sat beside him and began to daub his neck with a rag, he watched the fire in an effort to distract himself from her p
resence. By now, the little room was pleasantly warm, cast in a sheen of gold by the flames. The rest of the world was hidden behind the shuttered window.
“This might sting a bit,” she murmured.
She pressed the elderberry poultice against his neck, but all he felt was the faint brush of her breasts against his bare arm as she leaned over him. He did his best to keep his breathing steady in an effort to keep other parts of his body from revealing his interest in her closeness. Thankfully he managed – to a degree.
He'd known women before; not a great many, but a few. He was no stranger to the female form. Even so, when she leaned away to get the jar of thalo, he shifted his arms to conceal the physical signs of his arousal. He could not fool himself into believing that the heat racing through his body was due to the fire, but he wanted to. They'd been alone many times on this journey, but not like this. There was so little between them now...
Think of something else, he told himself as he stared down at his folded hands. Think of something else, think of–
She returned and leaned over him again, probably to get a better angle on the cut at his neck. Unfortunately, it also served to give him a lovely view of her, all of her; this close, he could see that her chemise was not completely dry, for it clung to her every curve.
Think of something else, idiot! “What happened, back there?”
“Back where? The river?”
“Before that.” His arousal faded as the memory swam before his eyes: she was on the ground, she was about to be killed... “Neff,” he said.
She was silent.
“Kali,” he kept his voice quiet, “what happened?”
She took a deep breath as she continued tending him. “I don't know, exactly.”
“I wish you wouldn't say things like that.”
Her dark hair swayed as she shook her head. “I wish I understood. It felt like...” She leaned back and studied the jar of thalo, though her gaze was distant. “Like what I did with Riel, and whatever I did that got us in this predicament in the first place. It felt as if the magic built itself into something powerful that...got away from me.”
Her voice was soft and she fiddled with the jar. He tried to push aside his instinctive unease from the talk of magic.
He tried. “It's unnerving when you start throwing magic around without knowing what you're doing.”
“I tried to recreate...whatever happened to start us off on this journey, but it didn't work.”
Stonewall gave a tired chuckle. “I'm actually sorry to hear that. Do you know why?”
“I have no idea.” She frowned. “After Neff died, I felt like I had more energy than I should have had. Not at all how I felt after healing Riel. That was very...draining.”
Suddenly, she set the jar of thalo aside and began to dig through his mend-kit, though he thought there was something she wasn't saying. He waited while she withdrew a linen bandage, then tried to prompt her. “So it wasn't like when you healed Riel? Because that seemed to nearly kill you.”
The frown looked strange on her face, like a visitor to an unfamiliar country.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
She leaned forward again and began to loop the bandage around his neck and armpit, loose enough to allow him room to breathe, but tight enough to be secure. She said nothing until she'd finished, then she met his eyes. “It felt like I made Neff...get weaker, somehow. Like I pulled all of his life or energy into me, which in turn gave me the strength to tear the bridge apart.”
“You mean...” He could hardly form the words. “You...killed him? With magic?”
She looked down. “I think so.”
Stonewall stared at her. It took him several long, long moments to collect himself enough to speak. She seemed to grow more agitated under his gaze, until finally he was able to snap himself out of his shock.
“Are you certain?” he managed.
“Not at all.” She smoothed trembling fingers through her hair. “I have no idea what really happened; that's just how it felt. I didn't want to kill him, or mean to. I just wanted to survive. But the magic...had a mind of its own.”
Tor help me. He shut his eyes and ran a hand across his face. When he looked back at her, she'd turned away to stare at the fire. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them; she looked much smaller than he'd seen so far, and he felt a strange mixture of compassion and fear.
Save a few occasions, fear was useless. Fear could keep one alive in a tight spot, keep one sharp and strong, but there was a point where a person had to let the feeling go if they wanted to keep going. A sentinel's role was to protect. Honor and service ruled his life, and there was no place for fear in sacrifice.
But as she'd shown him, compassion was never misplaced.
What came next would shape how things were to be between them. Stonewall measured his words before giving them voice. He rolled them around in his mind, testing their strength, assessing their weight.
At last he shifted to sit close beside her, also facing the fire. She tensed but said nothing. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed again, but he offered her a faint smile; a peace-offering. “My personal feelings on magic aside, you saved our lives. Thank you, Kali.”
She took a deep breath and nodded once. “You're welcome, Stone.”
A few moments passed before he lifted his hand. “I've been thinking about what I'm going to have to say to the commander once we reach Whitewater City.” He tried to keep his tone casual, but her lips parted in surprise; perhaps this had not occurred to her. “Protocol is to report any strange or unauthorized use of magic. All of it has to be accounted for, at least as much as we are able.”
“Oh.” Her face fell and she looked down again. “I suppose that makes sense.”
“Sometimes.” He sighed. “But if I do that, it will probably mean that you'll be locked up. If the commander hears of your magic, she'll no doubt think you're too dangerous to be allowed to roam free – even within the bastion.”
Again, Kali seemed to shrink before his eyes. “You should do what you think is right, Stonewall.”
“I intend to.” He paused, gathering his conviction. Finding it steadfast, he continued, pitching his next words softly. “I won't say anything about it. I won't give you away.”
She studied him with dark eyes that reflected the fire. “Truly?”
“Aye.” He kept his voice deadpan. “Shall I swear it?”
“No need.” She smiled. The expression erased his doubt. “Thank you.”
“Do me a favor though,” he added wryly. “Try to figure out how you managed that feat.”
This made her chuckle. “I intend to.”
TWENTY-FOUR
They sat before the fire for a few minutes before Kali seemed to truly relax. Stonewall tried to follow her lead, but his attention kept drifting. She closed her eyes, savoring the fire's warmth, and he could not help but study the tilt of her chin and the smooth curve of her cheek, and how the firelight shone against the dark waterfall of her hair.
“How much farther are we from Whitewater City?”
Stonewall blinked, realizing a second too late that she'd asked him a question. “If we leave early and travel at a decent pace all day, we should arrive tomorrow afternoon,” he said.
He reached for his belt, lying with the rest of his gear, and withdrew his map. The parchment was damp; he needed to lay it out to dry along with everything else. Unfolding it, he asked her to hold one side, and soon they were seated even closer than before while he explained.
“Here's Oreion.” He indicated a marker beside a patch of forest that was perhaps half a day's journey from Whitewater City. “There's the bridge where we crossed over the White River. There's Fash, which is near where Riel and Jennet live.” He pointed to the marker for Whitewater City, at the eastern edge of the province. “Here's where we're headed.”
Kali skimmed her gaze over the map before she pointed to the marker for Oreion. “That means a city?”
He nodded and she furrowed her brows as if she didn't quite understand something. But the moment passed and she looked at him again. “So Whitewater City isn't that far away.”
He didn't want to hear the regret in her voice, but he did. He didn't want to think that the sentiment was echoed within his heart, but it was. He set the map off to the side to dry. “Not far at all.”
When he looked back at her, she'd scooted closer to the fire and was rubbing at her upper arms, her eyes fixed on the flames. Neither spoke until she glanced at him again.
“What will you do when we get there?”
“My mission will be over.”
“That's not an answer.”
“So ask a different question.”
“Could you stay in Whitewater City?”
He watched the glowing embers while he considered his reply. “Depends.”
She made a noise of frustration. “On what?”
“If the commander allows it.”
“Do you think you'll be sent back to Starwatch?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug that he hoped looked more casual than he felt.
She nodded, though her expression was troubled. Stonewall took a breath, then angled his body so that he faced her. “You don't want me to go back north.”
“No.” The word nearly disappeared when laid against the crackling of the fire.
“Neither do I.” Gods help me. The reply left him before he could stop it; when it did, a small, hopeful smile curved her lips.
Her cheeks colored but she held his gaze. “Something else we can agree on, then.”
“Aye,” he replied, and her smile widened.
Honor. Service. Sacrifice. These tenets left little room for others. Yet each time she smiled at him made it more difficult to pretend he felt differently than he did. Stonewall was growing tired of fighting this particular battle.
Catalyst Moon: Incursion (The Catalyst Moon Saga Book 1) Page 23
