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

by Lauren L. Garcia

  There was no other mark.

  Kali looked at him. “No tier mark?”

  “Not for me,” he said, lowering his wrist. “My mother couldn't afford one.”

  “If it makes you feel any better,” she said, showing him the twin crescent moons that marred her wrist. “I don't have a tier mark, either. See? We have more in common than you thought.”

  He rubbed her mage-mark with his thumb as he continued. “I never knew my father, and I hardly remember my mother. Mostly the sound of her voice as she told me glimmer stories. She loved glimmer stories.” A faint smile crossed his face with the recollection, though it faded almost immediately. “She wasn't around very long. Fell-fever.”

  “I remember reading about an epidemic of fell-fever in the south,” Kali said. “About twenty years ago?”

  “Aye. It took my mother and the rest of our siblings when I was in my fourth summer. I wouldn't have lasted without Bahar, though he was only seven. He basically raised me on his own in Pillau, until we joined the sentinels. After, we stuck together through our first Burn and our first postings.

  “About three years ago we were on a routine mission while we were stationed in Greenhill. Our squad was taking a mage to a village that needed a healer, and we were attacked on the way.” Here, Stonewall frowned and rubbed his temple, as if his head ached. “It's always hard to remember this part, though I don't know why. I've dreamed about it, often enough. There were bandits...maybe half a dozen. I fought them. Well, we all fought them, I suppose.”

  Stonewall's eyes fell on her as he spoke, but his gaze was still distant. “What I remember best is waking up, after. The folks that found us said someone had drained the mage's blood. There was no sign of my brother.” He sighed heavily. “I looked for days, but never found his body. Our commander at the time thought the bandits left him to rot in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Stone, I'm sorry,” she said when he didn't say anything else.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  Three years. Not so long, though from where she stood, it seemed a lifetime away.

  He was so warm and solid. She knew she should get up, tend the fire, perhaps find another blanket. Dawn was probably close; soon they would have to leave this place. But she didn't want to be anywhere except here.

  “So it gets easier?” she heard herself ask. “When you lose someone, I mean.”

  “Over time, you don't think about it as much.”

  “How long does that take?”

  “When I know, I'll tell you. Sometimes, it doesn't hurt to think of him. Other times, it hits me like a mule kick right in the guts. But after a while, the kicks come less often.” He sighed. “You'll see. It will be better one day.”

  “No one ever told me that,” she said, leaning against him again. “After Jonas died, the sentinels and Circle folk said a lot of grand things about how he 'did his duty,' which meant something to them, I suppose.”

  Stonewall's reply was quiet. “Those words bring comfort to many. Especially those of us who live by the blade.”

  “I know. But to me they felt hollow.” She made a noise of exasperation. “He wasn't a sentinel to me. He was just...my father. He taught me how to play the viol.”

  “He did a good job of it,” Stonewall replied. “You were marvelous back at the Sufani camp.”

  “That was the first time I managed to play more than a few notes since he died.”

  Silence again, but it was not uncomfortable. Kali tried to get a look through the window to see if dawn was coming, but the shutters were tight and she could make nothing out beyond this room, so she retreated back to the warm shelter of Stonewall's arms.

  Stonewall's next words held notes of curiosity. “So, no one else knew he was your father?”

  “He had a... close friend,” she said slowly. “A woman named Gan. He hardly spoke of her to me, but I think they loved each other. I think she knew the truth, though she never said as much. The others in his squad knew he and I were on...good terms, but he was their officer. They didn't pry.” She sighed as Stonewall began to rub her shoulder. “None of them ever understood how much it hurt when he died, and I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tarnish his memory like that, not that they'd have believed me.”

  She managed a wry look up at him, and her heart leaped at the affection in his gaze. Heartened, she smiled. “It strikes me...we're both orphans. One more thing we have in common.”

  He kissed her forehead. “One of many, it seems.”

  They fell asleep again, in each other's arms.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Cold fear tightened a fist around Talon's heart but she kept her voice steady. “None?”

  Sergeant Thom shifted beneath her gaze, his eyes darting back to the bastion gates, before nodding once. “Aye, Commander. All the mages have been accounted for.”

  “That's impossible.”

  “We checked, ser. Here's the list.” The young sergeant offered her a trembling piece of parchment with a tally of names. As Talon read it over, Thom swallowed tightly. “I should say that it did take them a while to assemble. A long while...”

  Talon looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “First off, it took us the better part of a few hours to even find them all–”

  “Find them?” Talon broke in. “You said none were missing.”

  “Er...none were missing, ser,” Thom said, flushing. The more agitated he became, the more pronounced his Redfern accent became, lengthening his words with a faint drawl. “Not exactly. But...well...let's just say wrangling a herd of wet cats would have been less trouble.”

  Gods above and beyond, she was too tired for this. She and the others had been scouring the city for hours; this was the first moment she'd had an opportunity to return to the bastion. But even as she narrowed her eyes at the young man, she held her temper in check. Anger was useless. It would solve no problem and create far too many more.

  Still, her words escaped through clenched teeth. “Explain, Thom.”

  “Ser. The mages were...not entirely cooperative. Just when we'd get a dozen or so together, a couple would say they'd forgotten to check on something or other, and wander off before we could stop them.” His helmet was tucked beneath his arm, so she could see his forehead knit as he considered something. “Mage Talar kept claiming trouble with the ovens; said she couldn't leave the kitchen unsupervised for too long. And Mages Jerolin and Selle nearly came to blows over...” He frowned again. “Well, I don't rightly know.”

  Adrie Talar. Cai Jerolin. Marcen Selle. The names reverberated within Talon's mind, but she could do no more than place faces with each. But something niggled at her. Their names were significant, somehow. “What about Eris and Gideon Echina?” she asked.

  Thom scratched his chin, where a scruff of dark hair had not quite accumulated into a full beard. “They were late, ser, but we found them. Eventually.”

  “Eventually?”

  The sergeant nodded and, to Talon's irritation, flushed again. “They were both a bit...ah, disheveled when we finally roused them from their room. Not without protest, mind. Gideon kept going on about how we'd 'interrupted' them. You wouldn't believe the names he called me–”

  “How long did it take you to...rouse them?” she broke in.

  “Quite some time, Commander.” Sergeant Thom winced. “They were probably the last ones we were able to track down.” He thumbed in the direction of the bastion gates, firmly locked and guarded. “It wasn't but a few minutes ago, if you'd like to see them for yourself.”

  The sound of several pairs of boots crunching across the courtyard drew near. Talon shook her head. “No, Sergeant. That won't be necessary.” For now.

  “Commander Talon.” Cobalt's familiar voice made her turn to see the captain striding toward her, two other sentinels at his heels. When the trio reached her, Cobalt removed his helmet, saluted, and met her gaze. “I have news of the escaped mages.”

  For all of his sternness, Cobalt's pale blue eyes alway
s gave away his agitation. Talon steeled herself, dismissed Thom, then glanced back at her captain.

  But, to her surprise, he did not immediately launch into his report. Instead, he cleared his throat, and the two other sentinels flanking him stepped forward. Milo and Flint; two of Dev's burnies. Both stood arrow-straight, staring directly ahead, and through the slits in their helmets, she could see that their pupils were small and tight. So Cobalt was not the only one who was agitated. What in Atal's name was going on?

  Talon looked back at the captain. One of his hands tightened upon his sword hilt, but his words were steady. “The burnie twins spotted one of our errant mages. And,” he added sharply, making each young sentinel flinch, “failed to apprehend her.”

  “'Her?'” Startled, Talon looked between Flint and Milo. “Whom did you see?”

  “It's difficult to say, ser,” Milo said, wincing. “We didn't exactly get a good look at her face.”

  “Then what did you see?” Talon asked.

  Beneath the commander's gaze, Milo shifted in place as a pink flush crept to his cheeks, then said, slowly, “She was tall for a woman, with long, black hair. Light eyes, I think.”

  “What was she wearing?”

  If anything, he flushed harder. “She...ah, didn't have any clothes on, ser...”

  Talon did not hesitate to cast him one of her most stern glares. “If you can't identify her, how do you know it was a mage?”

  “Because of this.” Flint withdrew a single, glossy black feather from her belt pouch and presented it to Talon. Without preamble, the burnie added, “She used her magic to change into a crow, ser, but we were able to track her.”

  “But not,” Cobalt broke in, “catch her.”

  “Haven't you been listening?” Flint shot back. “The moon-blood turned herself into a crow. She flew. How in Tor's name could we have caught her? Grow wings of our own?”

  Too stunned by the news of a shape-changing mage, Talon could not form a reply at first. Sweat prickled her palms at the idea of a mage that could transform into another creature. Foley had never so much as hinted that such a feat was even possible. Did he know? Could it be true? If so, how could any mage be kept under watch? How could anyone be kept safe?

  While Talon tried to wrap her mind around what she'd just heard, Captain Cobalt stepped closer to Flint, glaring down in that threatening way of his. “Mind your tongue, burnie,” he said darkly. “Unless you want to find yourself arse deep in the mines at Stonehaven.”

  Flint scowled up at him, and opened her mouth to reply.

  But her brother nudged her side, causing her jaw to snap shut as he began to speak. “Sorry, sers. We're both just tired from the chase and the...unexpected incident.” He saluted sharply. “No disrespect meant, sers. Right, Flint?”

  She nodded once.

  Cobalt scoffed. “Burnies? Tired?”

  Milo shrugged and cast the captain a sheepish smile, though his voice was hopeful. “Aye. Maybe it means we're not burnies any longer?”

  The captain frowned, but Talon felt a soft, weary chuckle rise from some place within, some place as yet untouched by this weight she carried. She shook her head once, drawing everyone's attention. “Was this mage alone?”

  “Aye, ser,” Milo replied at once. “We even doubled back and checked the area where she first...appeared. There was no sign of anyone else. There was no sign of anything unusual. After that, we came straight here to report.”

  Talon clutched the black feather. “You're certain this mage...changed her form?”

  Flint's tone was more respectful now, and her hands crept to her daggers as she replied. “Aye, Commander. We didn't see it happen, exactly, but...we just knew it was her.”

  Cobalt regarded her. “You 'just knew.' How?”

  “I don't know how, ser,” Flint said, brows knitting. “I just knew. We just knew,” she added with a glance at her twin.

  Milo lowered his eyes and nodded, though he was silent.

  Cobalt shot Talon a glance, one brow barely lifted in skepticism, though she knew he would defer to her judgment on this bizarre news.

  At least she had a method of dealing with it.

  Talon looked back at Flint. “Other sentinels have reported similar instincts when it comes to sensing mages. Perhaps your brother was right. Perhaps you are reaching the end of your days as burnies.”

  The younger woman's blue eyes widened a fraction before she ducked her head in acknowledgment, but not in time to hide the small smile that touched her lips. Her brother, however, seemed to go very still.

  No matter. Talon pushed on. “Aside from your disrespectful tone, Flint, you have both done well.” Both younger sentinels glanced up at this, faces eager and open as Talon continued. “So you should consider yourselves duly rewarded with only a week's worth of scullery patrol, rather than a month. You'll begin at dawn.”

  Two nearly identical faces fell in bewilderment as Talon motioned for them to depart. As they did, she called their names. When they paused and looked back, she added, “Do not think the captain mentioned Stonehaven in jest, young ones. I have no qualms about sending insubordinate sentinels to the hematite mines.”

  On that note, they trotted off quickly. Once she was certain they were out of earshot, she looked back at Cobalt. His gaze was on the bastion; his face was a dark mirror of her own agitation.

  “You believe them?” he asked.

  “I do.” Gods above, she wished her answer was different. But nothing could be left to chance. If they were wrong, no true harm would come to anyone, but she could not afford to let one mage slip from her control.

  Cobalt accepted her judgment with only a single, deep breath. “Aye. From their description, it must be Eris Echina.”

  “I agree.”

  “No doubt Gideon had a hand in it,” Cobalt added darkly.

  “I imagine so.”

  “Your orders?”

  It was something of a facetious question, as Eris had left only one real option, and both captain and commander knew it. But Cobalt was nothing if not professional.

  Talon twirled the feather in her fingertips, noting how the inky black was an echo of Eris' hair. The feather captured the flickering torchlight as if it were a part of the fire. Using magic to any degree drained a mage of energy. If Eris had indeed performed a feat of this nature, she would likely be exhausted for hours, perhaps even for a full day.

  She looked beyond the locked gate, at the bastion. Judging by the near-black sky, dawn was perhaps only an hour away. Plenty of time, and yet not nearly enough. Why her heart was suddenly racing was not a mystery, but she ignored the foolish feeling. Her heart would lead them all astray if she allowed it.

  “Gather several squads,” she said to the captain. “We move at first light.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  A sharp series of knocks sounded at the door, followed by Faye's voice. “Good morning! Your horse is fed and watered, and ready to go when you are.”

  Kali looked at the man beneath her, and sighed with regret. There was no telling when they would have this chance again. Too bad they'd managed nothing more than a few kisses this morning.

  But maybe they could ignore Faye, just for a little while... Stone seemed to be of the same mind, for he pulled her down for another kiss while his hand slid up her chemise. It was a deep kiss that left her aching for more, and she whimpered against his mouth. When his hips tilted up, she could feel that he was just as aroused as she.

  The knock sounded again. “I'm afraid I must clean this room at once.”

  “We'll be right out,” Kali called. As Faye's footsteps faded, she looked back at Stonewall. “I think I hate her.”

  “Aye. Damn that woman to the void.” He sighed as she slid off of him and they began to dress.

  As she fastened her cloak, Kali watched him strap on his armor. He worked the dozens of tiny buckles on his arms, chest and legs easily though his attention seemed elsewhere. When he caught her gaze, he lifted his brow in silent in
quiry.

  “How's your neck?” she asked.

  The bandage she'd wrapped remained. He ran his thumb across the edge peeking out of his cuirass. “Saved, for the moment. My shoulder's still a little stiff.”

  “Just the shoulder?”

  He gave her a dry look. “Don't remind me.”

  While he finished suiting up she gathered their supplies. Everything had dried during the night, so she packed as quickly as she could, lest Faye come hammering on the door again. Finally, all that was left was Stonewall's strange map. She'd never traveled very far from Starwatch, so she'd never had an opportunity to see a sentinel map like this. She tried to study it as best she could while folding it up. Aside from the usual patterns of trees, mountains, roads and borders, there were no proper labels on the thing, just dozens of strange markings that Stonewall alone seemed to understand.

  “We should have an easier journey today,” Stonewall said. “The road from here to Whitewater City is generally clear of bandits.”

  She looked up to see him reaching for his sword, though for once, the sight of the weapon did not make her blood run cold. Like her magic, it'd saved both of their lives. Kali folded the map and handed it to him, watching as he stuck it in a pouch at his belt, beside the pair of hematite cuffs. These, too, did not hold the same weight they once did.

  “I hope it's clear of demons too,” she said.

  “Gods above and beyond,” he said as they made their way to the door. “Me too.”

  ***

  Flint tossed the bowl into the washbasin, causing a spray of soapy water to splatter both her and Milo. “It isn't fair.”

  Tilting his head to prevent soap from trickling into his eyes, Milo swiped the now-damp drying rag over his forehead, but said nothing. In this early hour, the garrison's kitchen was alive with activity, though the twins were the only sentinels on scullery patrol this morning. Workers, both the usual volunteers from the Circle and a few sixth tier servants, bustled through the main kitchen that housed the ovens, pantry, and cooking stations. Something sizzled on a nearby skillet, tended to by a slender young woman with white-blonde hair.