Storm

by Lauren L. Garcia

  Stonewall shook his head. “I don’t know if we can trust anyone from the Circle. Not when they’re holding these orders over our heads. Not when they claim that thralls aren’t the real threat right now. Remember what Talon told me about the Pillars claiming that poor soldier we found in Torin wasn’t burned?”

  Beacon frowned, his gaze on Milo’s belt-pouch. “Aye, that was odd.”

  “It’s more than ‘odd,’” Flint scoffed. “It’s fucking idiotic.”

  “There’s more than that,” Stonewall added. His breath grew shorter as he considered everything he’d learned. The pieces began to fit together, and the picture was not pretty. “Beacon, it’s different for you, but Flint and Milo: didn’t you ever wonder why the Circle took us off the street, fed us, sheltered us, trained us, but didn’t bother to teach us to read?”

  “We don’t need to know that,” Flint said, brows knitting.

  “Reading would come in handy,” Stonewall said. “But they never taught us. Instead, we had to learn an entirely different code, and for what?”

  Rook was shaking her head. “I think you’re making too much of that, Stonewall.”

  “I’m not wrong,” he replied. “But something in this situation is.”

  Beacon held up a hand. “Conspiracy theories aside, we have a situation of our own to deal with now. Mi, do you really think this Cipher will give you more hematite?”

  “She nearly said as much to me the last time we spoke,” Milo replied.

  “We could use the time to gather supplies,” Beacon said to Stonewall.

  “Aye, and I need to get Kali,” Stonewall replied. “She’s been…ill since Parsa.”

  All eyes turned to him. “Ill?” Beacon asked. “Can she still try to cure thralls?”

  How to explain Kali’s state to them, when he didn’t fully understand it? Stonewall took a deep breath. “Her efforts to cure the thralls…affected her in a bad way. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, but I fear the worst if Talon discovers her state.”

  The others exchanged glances before Beacon nodded. “Aye, well, another reason to hurry. She’s the key to curing the thralls, after all. Her, and probably Sadira.” His face fell. “Though, something tells me Sadira won’t want to leave.”

  “Then she’s a fool,” Flint muttered.

  “She has her reasons,” Beacon shot back, adding a softer, “Or so I imagine.”

  Stonewall’s hands were shaking, whether from excitement, fear, or something more sinister, he could not say. He gripped the keys like a lifeline and looked at each of his squad-mates in turn. “You all must take care. Talon doesn’t need an excuse to lock me up, but the rest of you are still somewhat in her good graces.”

  “Fuck her good graces,” Flint replied. “She’s no better than the High Commander. Kissing the Pillars’ asses just to get us more poison. For all the good it’ll do. Look at you three,” she added, waving a hand at Stonewall, Rook, and Beacon. “Not one of you can keep your eyes off of Mi’s belt, like any moment, you’re going to lunge.”

  Stonewall hadn’t realized it, but she spoke the truth. Shame flooded him and he took a step back, away from Milo. Rook and Beacon followed his lead, albeit with reluctance.

  “Besides,” Flint went on as if she’d not noticed the older sentinels’ actions. “There’s a chance for us to do something worthwhile in this life, besides chasing Sufani and watching the mages play in their garden.”

  Beacon gave a weak laugh. “When did you get so dutiful?”

  “Shut up, frip.”

  Milo placed a hand on his sister’s arm, quieting her. He looked at Stonewall. “We’ll be back soon.”

  “No, it’s too risky to return, and we shouldn’t linger in the garrison.” Stonewall’s mind raced over their options. “Meet us at the inner gates. We’ll ride out onto the bridge from there.

  “But what if you…” Milo trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

  But Flint chimed in. “If anyone runs into any trouble and we can’t meet up, what should we do?”

  “Take care of each other,” Stonewall said. “Do what you must, but be safe.”

  The twins exchanged worried looks, but they did so in unison. Tor keep them together, and safe, Stonewall thought.

  “I’ve been stockpiling some of my medical supplies,” Beacon was saying. “Just need to fetch them.”

  Rook’s pulse beat visibly at her throat. “I’ll try to get us some rations.”

  Everyone looked at Stonewall. “I’ll get Kali,” he said. Bahar, his heart urged, but he shoved the thought aside. “And Sadira, if she wants to come.”

  A faint smile crept to Beacon’s mouth, but the mender seemed to banish it at once. “I hope she does. I’d feel a lot better with her firepower at our backs. Literally.” He laughed weakly.

  “Aye, we know,” Flint said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Mi.”

  “Be careful,” Rook said as the burnies went for their horses.

  Beacon started for the garrison with quick steps, but Rook remained in place, her shoulders rising and falling with her breath. Stonewall placed a hand on her upper arm, drawing her attention. Wide brown eyes, wet with tears, looked up at him. “I’m fine,” she said before he could ask. She swiped at her eyes. “Just...”

  “Me too,” he replied when she trailed off. “Rook, I meant what I said. You don’t have to–”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I do. I’m ready.” She took a deep breath and patted his hand, smiling wanly. “Thanks, though. You’ve become a fine leader.”

  “We’re a team,” he said, heat creeping to his neck at the praise.

  Her smile turned sad. “Aye. A team.” With that, she trotted for the garrison, leaving him alone.

  Before heading for the bastion, Stonewall glanced up at the upper level of the garrison, searching for Talon or anyone else who might cause trouble. Until now, he could probably explain everything away. But the moment he set foot inside the bastion, alone, he could not go back.

  He’d been lucky so far. The lack of hematite in the garrison had been his ally, in an odd way, but his luck would run out soon. If Talon caught him now…

  Best not think about that.

  Stonewall strode to the bastion, his boots echoing in the chill air. He considered going to his quarters first, but he already carried most of what he needed. He’d probably miss a change of clothes later, but he could do without. There was the river rock Kali had given him; he was sorry to leave it behind, but he did not want to risk too much time in preparation. He and Kali would be together. That was a gift worth risking his paltry possessions.

  Drake. The thought of his brother made his steps falter. Could he really leave Drake behind? He abandoned me, Stonewall told himself, but the thought lacked its usual bitterness.

  No. He could not afford doubt now, nor deviate from their admittedly lackluster plan. If we had time, he resolved, I’d try to free him, too. Drake had even said as much: Kali and his squad came first.

  Even now, he could see her face in his mind’s eye: jaw trembling as she clenched her teeth against her constant pain. Her voice reverberated in his mind, clear as if she’d spoken in his ear: “Stop! Please! Leave me alone. Go away. Please…”

  Surely the clarity of her voice was an echo of his own thoughts and memories. But a sense of panic colored the words, filling his chest and spurring his heart to pick up its pace. The harder he tried to set aside his worry for her and focus on his task, the more insistent her presence became. Thoughts of Kali pounded on the barriers of his mind, howling for entry, while her fear beat upon him like waves in a summer storm.

  “A foreign presence,” Sadira had said. “Kali alone investigated.” How could he protect her from something she carried within herself?

  Stonewall tried to shut out his rising panic and focus only on keeping his steps quick and quiet, but he swore he could hear Kali’s ragged gasps. Terror—not his, but hers, he was sure—prickled along his hands and down the small of his back. What i
n the blazing void was going on?

  There was no guard at the gate, only a heavy iron lock laced with hematite. Stonewall slipped inside and closed it behind him without letting the latch fall into place. The creak of iron sounded dull beneath the blood drumming in his veins. This could end so badly. But they had to try. If not now, there might never be another chance.

  We leave together, or not at all, he thought, and hurried through the silent bastion.

  Eighteen

  Milo’s heart thudded harder than his horse’s hooves against the cobblestones. Flint was the more skilled rider, so he followed her lead as she urged her mount through Whitewater City. This late in the afternoon, all tiers could ride through the streets, but only fleet riders—the messengers of Aredia—higher tiers, and sentinels were allowed to keep any pace faster than a trot. But that didn’t stop folks from lobbing obscenities at Milo’s back after they had to leap out of the way of the sentinels’ horses. Milo tried to ignore the curses. Mind on the mission.

  At last he caught the scent of water and fish, and heard the clanging harbor bells beneath the constant roar of the waterfall. Soon after, Milo called to his sister as he pulled Nutmeg up about a block away from Mara’s temple.

  Flint leaned back, coaxing Ginger to a stop and glaring at Milo at the same time. “What are you doing? We’re nearly there!”

  “We can’t go barreling up,” Milo replied as quietly as he dared. “Remember how Stonewall made us sneak up on those thralls near Torin? He said, ‘when you’re on the hunt for something, it’s best to take an easy approach.’”

  Flint pursed her lips. “Makes sense, I guess.”

  Milo slid from his horse, but Flint didn’t move. “You’re not coming?” he asked.

  She held out her hand for his reins. “I’ll watch your back.”

  The knot in his chest that had been growing since before Heartfire seemed to expand and tighten all at once. “Do you really want to leave?” he asked.

  “You saw how they were looking at you, Mi. You saw it in their eyes.”

  “I trust them with my life,” Milo said, frowning. “Don’t you?”

  “Aye. But that’s not what I’m getting at.” Flint shuddered, gripping both sets of reins. “I watched Redfox die in Cobalt’s arms. If we don’t get out now, that’ll be our fate, too.”

  Milo went still. “You didn’t tell me you…were there, with Red.”

  Flint looked away from him to survey the streets. “It doesn’t matter now. We’ll be gone soon. So get a move on, burnie.”

  Mara’s temple teemed with beggars, supplicants, and Circle clergy, and at first, Milo was certain the crowd would spell his downfall. But the advantage to being around so many other people absorbed in their own troubles was that no one paid him much mind. Granted, he got a few curious looks—the armor usually had that effect—but no one questioned him or told him to leave. Small victories.

  At first, he merely stood by Mara’s quartz statue like a fool, trying to decide how to actually do what he’d said he would. Stupidly, he hadn’t thought much beyond getting here; had he hoped he’d just bump into the Cipher? Should he ask about her, or just go looking on his own? Even if he did find her, would she remember her promise to aid him? Well, he wasn’t going to help his squad-mates by waiting around, so he made his way toward the corridor he’d been to before. The gods were with him, for he met a young man about his age, dressed in the gray robes of an initiate and carrying a stack of scrolls.

  Milo flagged him down with a nod and a greeting. When the fellow came over, Milo removed his helmet to better speak to him. “I’m looking for a Cipher Natanaree.”

  The young man’s gaze stuck on Milo’s sword, but he managed to pull it away long enough to nod. “Aye, Ser Sentinel. She’s at prayer.”

  Thank Mara! Milo quelled the urge to race off and tried to keep his own advice in mind. Take it easy. “Thanks. Where can I find her?”

  “Serla Natanaree won’t appreciate anyone who bothers her during prayer,” the initiate replied, brows knitting.

  Milo made a show of looking around before he leaned in to pitch his voice to a lower, more conspiratorial register. “I can well imagine. But you see, she told me wouldn’t appreciate it if I was late for our…meeting.” He tried to add a look that he hoped came across as knowing, not like he had palsy.

  Thank Mara and all the gods, the other fellow seemed to catch on. A sly smile crept to his face and he nodded. “Sounds like her.” He flushed and cleared his throat. “Err… I mean, Serla Natanaree is a Cipher of the highest order. Her time is valuable.” He jerked his chin down one of the corridors. “Third one down. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’ll need it.” Milo made to step away, but paused. “Do you know if she’s alone?”

  The other fellow coughed in his hand. “She should be.”

  They parted ways and Milo slipped down the stone corridor, his heart hammering again. Each step brought him deeper into the temple, sconces flickering along the walls, casting the way ahead in dancing shadows. Each step brought more doubts. What if the Cipher’s promises had been empty? What if he and Flint were late meeting up with the others? What if–

  “Milo?”

  He jerked to a stop too late, and collided with the Cipher. Luckily, he caught her before she fell, but the result left her in his arms, their faces close. Cheeks hot, Milo released her immediately and stepped out of reach. He bowed. “Serla Natanaree.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That ‘serla’ business is tiresome. ‘Naree’ will do. Why are you here?”

  “I need your help.” He told her of the destroyed hematite shipment, and of how many other sentinels had died or become too ill to stand because of lack of hematite. The words tumbled out of his mouth, no doubt making him seem even more foolish than he felt, which was saying something. But she only listened, her expression graver with each moment.

  When he finished, she took a deep breath. “How much do you need?”

  “As much as you can give me.”

  “Are you…ill, as well?”

  “No. But my squad-mates are getting worse and…” He trailed off. He’d not mentioned they were going to leave, and he probably shouldn’t. But if she asked, would he lie? Could he lie to a Circle priestess? Wouldn’t that be blasphemy or something?

  “I heard that Iban gave your commander some,” Naree said, brows knitting.

  “It wasn’t enough. Several sentinels have died since, and apparently, we don’t get any more until we bring in Sufani. That’s where the others are now.”

  She muttered something beneath her breath. “Does your commander know you’re here?”

  He shook his head.

  Naree ran a hand over her braids. “I’ll meet you by the fountain in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you,” he began, but she shook her head.

  “Don’t thank me yet.”

  With those ominous words ringing in his ears, Milo went back to the temple’s entrance. He saw no sign of the young man he’d spoken to earlier, but there were even more people about now. A few shot him dark looks, so he eased his way to the street, where he could see the fountain without being on the temple grounds. He waved to Flint, who waited about a block away with their horses. When she spotted him, she led over their mounts.

  “She’s bringing some,” he said when Flint drew close.

  She stood on the balls of her feet to see better. “How much?”

  “I dunno. Hopefully a lot.”

  The seconds crawled by, edging into minutes, and then what felt like hours, though Milo knew it wasn’t that long. Even so, every moment they delayed seemed like a lifetime. How was their squad faring? Had Talon found them out? Would she really arrest all of them? Again and again, Milo tried to voice these questions to Flint, if only to hear her reassure him that he was worrying for nothing. Again and again, the words stuck in his throat.

  At last, thank Mara, Tor, and all the gods, a white-and-black robed figure strode out of the temple’s entrance
, tattooed hands clasped before her. Those she passed stepped out of her way and bowed in deference, but the Cipher paid them no mind. She reached the waiting sentinels, who both bowed out of long-ingrained habit.

  She withdrew several small pouches from beneath her cloak. “It’s all I could get.”

  Flint sucked in a breath and Milo’s eyes bulged as he accepted the heavy pouches, although he still wasn’t sure it would be enough to sustain his squad-mates. “Thank you, Serl – Naree,” he managed to choke out. “This is more than I dared hope for.”

  “Thanks, serla,” Flint echoed.

  “I would’ve gotten more, but I worried that Iban would grow suspicious. But I did learn something useful. Do you know why the Circle wouldn’t send you any more hematite?”

  “No,” Milo said, his stomach knotting. “But something tells me you do?”

  The priestess’ face twisted into a study in leashed fury. “To make an example of the Whitewater City garrison. To show the other sentinels in Aredia the price of failure.”

  Milo went still, but Flint swore. “Sodding, miserable bunch of…” She trailed off. “Sorry, serla. It’s just…”

  Naree nodded. “What they’re doing is wrong. More than wrong; it’s an abomination. Such treatment goes against every edict of the One, and I’m ashamed to…” It was her turn to trail off, her inked hands clenching into fists. “In any case, you have everything I could gather.”

  “Will you get in trouble?” Milo asked.

  “Possibly,” Naree replied. “But I don’t much care about that, right now.”

  Milo and Flint exchanged looks; he read his own apprehension in his sister’s eyes. “You shouldn’t take such a risk for us,” Milo began.

  But the Circle priestess cut him off. “I shall do exactly as I wish. Besides, Telfair would have wanted me to aid you.” When she looked at him again, he only saw the cool Cipher in her eyes. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  Flint shot him a startled look, but Milo nodded. “Aye, Naree. We can’t stay in the sentinel order any longer. Not after…everything. Not when there’s even the tiniest hope we can cure thralls, even without the Circle’s blessing.”