Storm

by Lauren L. Garcia

  “No, there’s not,” Kali said as heat swam into her chest and cheeks. “So may I have some privacy, please?”

  Foley sighed and made his way to the door. When he was over the threshold he looked back at her, concern etched on his face. Stars and moons, he wore the same expression her father had when he was worried for her safety. Some of Kali’s anger softened.

  Then Foley placed his only hand over hers. “If you have a problem you cannot solve on your own, please come to me. I shall do everything in my power to help you.”

  His words barely registered, for the moment he touched her, all Kali knew was hunger: for magic, for power, for… revenge? She inhaled at the intense, foreign emotion, tried to let it wash over her so she could examine it more closely. Revenge; yes, that was rooted with the Fata’s anger. Give it to us. Now.

  “Kalinda?”

  “That’s…good to hear,” she managed, drawing her hand back around her mug. “Thank you, Foley.”

  He regarded her again before turning to leave. Kali shut the door and leaned against it, heart racing hard enough to make her dizzy. Only when Stonewall plucked the mug from her grip did she remember she still held it.

  “What in the blazing void was that?” she asked him as he set the mug on the bench.

  He looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  Kali pointed to the wall where he’d apparently been hiding the entire time. “You’re skilled, but you’re no shadow. Why didn’t he see you? Why didn’t I see you?”

  He harrumphed. “Maybe I’m more skilled than you realize.”

  She opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. “Come on, we’re too exposed here. Let’s go to my room and talk properly. I’ll make sure the way is clear…unless you want to play shadow again?”

  He frowned at her but made no reply. Thank the stars, the corridor was empty, so they made it to her quarters without incident. Once they were in her room with the door latched, she faced him. “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do anything.”

  Her heart beat in her throat as she turned over the scene in the bathing room. “I saw you close your eyes, as if you were concentrating…” She sucked in a breath. “Do you…have magic?”

  Stonewall’s mouth fell open, but he did not deny the possibility, which set every one of Kali’s hairs to standing. Sweet fucking stars…but if he hadn’t had a hematite dose in some time… And it might explain their mad dash through the countryside on their initial journey to Starwatch. At the time, she’d believed she had somehow performed the magical act, for she’d been exhausted in the aftermath. But she had been unable to replicate the magical movement in the time since.

  Still, the idea that Stonewall had magic of his own was too much to swallow. “Elan…?” she whispered.

  His face went gray as he stumbled through the detritus of her room and collapsed onto her sleeping pallet. “It can’t be,” he muttered. “It’s impossible…”

  Kali limped to his side, her knee burning with the simple movement, and flopped down beside him. She pulled his hand to hers and laced their fingers together. Once they were skin-to-skin, she braced herself for the onslaught of hunger—not the kind she normally felt for him, but another sort—but felt only that same, warm familiarity; that sense of coming home. A relief, but it did not solve the dilemma.

  “Elan, talk to me,” Kali said, squeezing his hand.

  He pressed his free hand to his forehead. “My brother’s alive. He’s here. Talon’s got him locked up in one of the garrison’s hematite cells…because he’s a renegade mage.”

  Well, this was a far cry from whatever she’d thought he’d say. Kali stared at him. “Drake? I thought he was–”

  “So did I.” Stonewall’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous pitch as he related the strange, sordid story. How his elder brother had kept his abilities a secret their whole lives, even after both had joined the sentinels. How Drake had eventually fled that life with his mage lover who was later killed. How Drake had apparently fallen in with the Assembly and had orchestrated the theft of Whitewater Bastion’s last hematite shipment.

  The whole tale was astonishing, but the last bit made Kali’s blood leap with dread and she temporarily set aside her desire to learn how Stonewall had done magic. “He helped Eris and the others escape?” she said.

  “Aye.”

  Had Eris known Drake was a former sentinel? Likely not, as she probably wouldn’t have agreed to work with him. Would Drake know where Eris had gone? “Have you had another chance to speak to him?” Kali asked.

  “Once was enough,” Stonewall said, scowling. “I’ll not give Talon the pleasure of taunting me again.”

  “Yes, but she doesn’t have to know. You could just–”

  “He abandoned me, Kali. I mourned him as dead for three fucking years.”

  “But did he say why?”

  Stonewall gripped her hand. “He lied to me. Does it matter why?”

  She chose her words with care. “It might. Besides…no one in this room can say they’ve always been completely truthful.” At his look, she gave a wan smile. “I never told you about the others escaping. And you tried to make me think you’d grown tired of me. So if you’re going to be angry at your brother, you may as well be angry with me – and yourself.”

  His grip relaxed, but he did not drop her hand, only looked at the floor. “Those lies were different. You never believed I was dead.”

  “There were moments I wanted to.”

  This made him look up in alarm, but Kali shook her head. “I was angry, Stone. And afraid. And you were, too. You did something foolish, something you shouldn’t have, but we worked through it. Maybe you could try to do the same with Drake.”

  But Stonewall was already shaking his head. “He died once; he’s dead to me now.”

  Kali stood up as abruptly as she could and tried to quell the hot flush of anger that coursed through her veins. Stonewall rose too and touched her arm, but she shook her head, too furious to speak. Only after a few deep breaths did she collect herself, although she still bit out the words. “Do you have any idea how sodding lucky you are?”

  “Lucky?”

  “I would give…” She was shaking with anger and couldn’t think of a clever analogy. “I would give anything—money, magic, my very blood—to see my father again, to speak to him, to just hear his voice. I would give anything to even see my mother’s face and nothing more.”

  “This is different. This is–”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she broke in, glaring at him. “Stonewall, magic aside, you and your brother have been given a second chance, but you speak as if you don’t care. Is your anger so important to you, is being righteous so sodding important to you, that you’ll throw this opportunity away? Yes, Stone, your brother lied to you. Yes, he left you alone. Perhaps his reasons for doing so were foolish or beyond your understanding. But if you turn your back on him now, then you’re a fool and a horse’s ass, and I’m not sure I can ever look at you again.”

  He’d held still through her tirade, eyes widening with every word, until she stopped and silence hung thick in the air. At last his shoulders slumped. “You may have a point.”

  Kali rolled her eyes. “So glad to hear it.”

  “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll find a way to hear what he has to say, but I can’t promise more than that. I can’t promise I’ll forgive him.”

  Kali’s anger had burned itself out. She rested her hands on his armored waist. “My happiness has nothing to do with this…situation. This is about you and your brother – and your happiness. Don’t you wonder if you turn your back on him now, that you might regret it later?”

  He grunted. “Maybe.”

  Sweet stars, he was always so stubborn! “Maybe?”

  Stonewall sighed and pulled her close, cupping her cheek and meeting her eyes. “Was I hallucinating, or did Mage Clementa really ask if you were with child?”

&nb
sp; She ignored his attempt to change the subject. “You can ask Drake if you have magical blood.”

  “That’s not possible,” he said again.

  “How else can you explain what just happened?” She pressed her palm against his hand. “You did magic, Stonewall. Whether you meant to or not, you did it, and you need to figure out how.”

  Rarely had she seen him frightened—truly frightened—but now she read his fear as surely as if it were her own. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t understand.”

  “What were you thinking when you tried to hide behind the door?”

  His gaze went distant as he considered. “Nothing at all, really. I just saw the shadow and thought, hide. That’s not magic, right?”

  A faint smile tugged at Kali’s mouth at the hope in his voice. “It could be. What did it feel like?”

  “Nothing. I felt like I was just…hiding, and not very well, at that.” He frowned. “What’s magic supposed to feel like?”

  “Magic feels different for everyone,” Kali said slowly. “But generally, it requires lots of concentration and focus.” Which her stalwart sentinel had in abundance. Seren’s light, could it be true? But she had never seen a crumb of magic from him in all their time together, save for that first, wild escape from the Canderi. But that had been her doing, right?

  “Do you…” He hesitated. “Do the Fata want my magic? Does it feel the same to be near me as it does Sadira?”

  Kali stared at him as a strange mixture of joy and apprehension washed over her. “No…” She trailed off as the familiar sense of home returned. What in the stars was going on?

  “Even when I was a boy,” Stonewall said when she did not continue. “I never felt a hint of magic – I don’t even know what it feels like. Four siblings, and none of us showed a trace.”

  “Other than Drake.”

  “He never showed it. He kept it a secret. I don’t know how.”

  “Nor do I.” Magic was as much a part of her as her breath and blood. “Perhaps he wasn’t very strong,” she ventured. “Or perhaps he started taking hematite so young, his abilities never had much time to manifest. Perhaps that’s what happened to you.”

  Stonewall shrugged. “Drake and I have different fathers. His must’ve been a mage.”

  His curt tone indicated that he would tolerate no more discussion on the matter, and for once, Kali chose to let it go as well. Absently she tried to slip her fingers beneath the collar. She could manage, but little more than that, and the increased tightness made the sodding thing that much worse. “Well, I don’t blame him for not wanting to live in a bastion.”

  Stonewall touched her collar, too. “Does it hurt?”

  “Sort of. It’s a little tight, but that’s not the worst bit.” She lowered her hand and looked out her window, where moonlight was starting to creep over the bastion wall and into her room. “It…dims the world. Makes everything…less.” She laughed weakly. “Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing, with the Fata…around.”

  Around. Stars and moons, she was a fool several times over to stay this course. But she saw no other option.

  Warm, calloused hands gripped hers, rooting her in the moment. “I’ll help you, Kali,” he whispered. “I promise.”

  She looked up into his honey-brown eyes, still bright, despite the lack of light in her room. “I’ll hold you to that, Elan.”

  Fifteen

  Life was better on the wing.

  The afternoon sky was overcast, the sun hidden by a thick layer of clouds, and the air held a promise of snow. Had Eris been in her human shape, the biting wind would have been far more unpleasant, but now she hardly noticed the cold. Or perhaps she simply cared about discomfort less when the wind’s only purpose was to carry her crow-self. She kept a sharp eye out for eagles, hawks, or other raptors, but saw none, and so for a few minutes, she savored the joy of flight.

  Eris and her allies—magical and otherwise—had spent the last several days making a careful trek north of Whitewater City to avoid sentinel patrols, travelers, and, perhaps most alarmingly, a contingent of royal soldiers decked in shining plate metal. Leal and Marcen had followed the soldiers for a few hours to discover they were heading north, likely for the Canderi border. War was on its way. Another person might have felt dismay at the news, but Eris’ first thought had been one of satisfaction. Perhaps all the dregs would kill each other and leave the mages alone.

  She tipped her wings to catch the next updraft and wheeled toward Whitewater City. At this height and distance, the sprawling provincial capital was little more than a smudge next to the river. Mist from the falls cast a veil over one side of the city, and beneath the whistling wind, Eris could hear the constant drum of the falling water. She folded her wings to drop lower, angling for the bastion.

  Then she saw the bridge.

  A row of city guards stood at both ends, while a sentinel squad—she would know that sodding armor anywhere—waited at the outer gates, at the place where that guard had murdered Gideon. There was a weak flow of traffic into and out of the city, but even from Eris’ vantage point, it was clear that the guards were being very careful not to let the wrong sort of folks in – or out.

  Her little heart seized and she cried out; a pitiful caw that no one would notice. Eris wheeled ungracefully to get as far away from the gates as she could. Each beat of her wings, each cry from her throat, sounded like Gid’s name.

  It’s hopeless. The thought was utterly human. It weighed upon her, forcing her down to the city, for she could not find the strength to move her wings any more. Eris descended and managed to land in a secluded alley near the docks alongside the river. She had no idea that she’d returned to her human form until she felt the cold, hard press of cobblestones against her legs.

  Shit, she thought. Leave it to me to find myself naked in the middle of the sodding city. But no. When she looked down, she gasped at the sight of her tattered wool cloak clinging to her neck by its brass clasp. Her other clothes were where she’d transformed back in the forest, but the cloak…

  She had not even tried to change it with her, but she had done so anyway. Shape-changing in general was getting easier. Was that a sign of her strengthening abilities? A memory of Gid’s whisper echoed in her mind: “I knew you could do it, love.” Eris fingered the rough wool as something like relief coursed through her. At least one part of her plan had gone better than expected. She dared not hope for more, but the cloak bolstered her spirits enough to give her the strength to find her bearings. She went to the alley’s entrance, ensuring that the shadows concealed her, and surveyed the area.

  Dozens of vessels cluttered the harbor: lithe sloops and hulking barges, low and flat to carry cargo to and from upriver. A group of men and women maneuvered a large, sturdy skiff toward the docks, their oars slapping the water in time with their shouts. The scents of water, sweet biri smoke, fish, and wet wood clung to the air. People shouted, harbor bells rang, wheels and wagons grated on cobblestones as goods were loaded on and off waiting vessels. There were so many people: sailors, merchants, traders, guards, beggars, and countless others Eris couldn’t identify.

  How many of those dregs hated mages? How many would turn her over to the sentinels without a second thought?

  Heart pounding, Eris slunk back into the alley. Even if she could get Kali and Drake out of the bastion—and that was a massive if—how could she possibly get them out of the city? The gates were guarded, which left the river, swollen with potential enemies. And there was the little matter of the waterfall churning in the background.

  How can we do this? Despair filled her again and she tried to calm herself with deep breaths. She had no choice; she had to free Kali and Drake. Then she could put Whitewater City behind her and try to make some sense of this new life without Gideon. You and me, little one, she thought, resting a hand on her flat stomach. We’ll get through this, somehow.

  Her resolve hardened. Grief and doubt were distractions she could ill-afford. Eris f
ocused on shifting once more. She had work to do.

  *

  Kali’s hands were numb with cold, but she welcomed the sensation as she sprinkled grain for the eager hens. Sometimes numbness was preferable to feeling. She glanced over her shoulder, toward the mage dormitories, but saw only a warm light emanating from the windows and the figures moving within. Good. Everyone was at supper. Something tapped her boot and she smiled at the little white and rust-red speckled hen who peered up at her hand.

  “Sorry about that.” Kali sprinkled more grain and the hen struck before the feed hit the ground.

  Seren had hidden herself already, but Atal rose: a waxing crescent vying for dominance with the shifting clouds. The moon’s sharp lines reminded Kali of a blade, and she shivered.

  “Kali.”

  She closed her eyes against the surge of hunger Sadira’s presence sparked. Sweet blood. Sweet magic. “You should be inside,” Kali said. “I’m fine.”

  “Stonewall came to you, did he not?” Sadira’s tread was careful, closing in. A bloom of heat preceded her, making Kali’s fingertips prickle back to life. “We had no chance to speak the day he came to see you, but before that, he seemed…discerned.”

  Kali frowned. “Concerned?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Sadira, you must leave. Please.”

  “You are my friend.”

  “Aye, which is why I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You should know by now,” Sadira’s voice drew closer; the heat of her brought spring to the air, “that you cannot harm me.”

  Sweet blood, the Fata growled, coiling within Kali, preparing to strike. Give it to us. Now.

  Kali’s body moved as if to turn, but she dug her heels into the dirt, the opposing forces making her knee cry out in pain. But pain was good; pain shifted her focus. Her trembling hands made the grain scatter atop the waiting hens. “Am I not speaking clearly?” she ground out. “It’s not safe for you to be around me. Go. Away. Now.”