“What are you talking about?” Ytel called out, adding a few choice words of Sufa that Kali could not have deciphered even if she were in her right mind.
But the Fata did not answer with speech, silent or otherwise. Instead, their mocking laughter prickled Kali’s skin, made the hairs on her neck stand upright, and sent a shiver of dread through her entire body. Instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. And although she was among allies, she was still alone.
Suddenly, her body seized, her limbs going rigid against Drake as if pinned in place by invisible hands. Beneath her back, Drake’s arm smashed to the wall with a sickening thud, and he cried out in pain and surprise. Something closed around Kali’s throat, but she saw no one else but Drake, and it was not his hand at her neck. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she struggled beneath the unseen grip.
“We will take back what is ours,” the Fata snarled in Kali’s voice. With each word, the pressure on her throat increased. “And this time, we will take more. We will take the blood of the second moon; that sweet magic that first came to the trees. We have only grown stronger, and we will take everything from you.”
Abruptly, the pressure released and Kali fell forward, gasping and coughing. She managed to catch herself with her palms, scraping them roughly against the stone floor, but her knee struck the floor as well, making it throb. As she tried to right herself, her heart raced and sweat prickled across her whole body.
“Drake? Your arm–”
“It’s not broken,” he ground out. “Just fucking felt like it. Shit, fuck, Ea’s sodding balls!”
“Please keep talking to them,” she gasped. “We need more information.”
Drake cursed again, clutching his forearm, but managed to collect himself. “Blood of the second moon. You mean mages’ blood? You want our magic?”
At first the Fata did not answer, and Kali thought she had botched the pseudo-interrogation. But then she felt the Fata’s attention shift, as if they had heard a distant call.
“Sweet magic,” the Fata said at last, in Kali’s voice. “New magic. Brought by the usurper moon, first to the trees, then to your people. We laid the trees to waste, but your magic spread. But we are patient and our lives are long.” The Fata’s attention shifted again, centering on Kali this time. “This one’s blood is the sweetest of all.”
Kali’s mouth fell open, but it was Drake who replied. “Kali’s blood? What do you want with her?”
The Fata did not answer immediately, once more giving Kali the impression that they were listening to something she could not hear. This time, she strained to listen as well; she thought she caught a faint echo of her own name, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Answer me,” Drake barked. “Or are you full of lies and posturing? Who’s the fool, now?”
Again, no response came, and the silence was worse. Because even though Kali was not near temptation now, she remembered the desire for Sadira’s magic, and Eris’, and the magic of all her mage friends. What would happen if the Fata controlled her completely? No other mage would be safe. She thought of Neff, Shada, and the two city guards she’d killed. No one would be safe, mage or otherwise. Kali leaned back against the wall and shuddered.
“You take what you want to make yourself stronger,” the Fata said suddenly, and Kali’s throat ached with each sharp word. “We heard the song of your magic; our own blood awakened and answered.”
Although her eyes were closed, she could hear the frown in Drake’s reply. “What does that mean?”
But the Fata had apparently grown tired of the conversation, for Kali felt their presence recede. In their place, a roaring hunger overtook her, coming on so suddenly that she cried out in surprise. Sweet magic. Sweet blood. This was an urge unlike anything she’d ever known; a lust so deep and strong, it would surely never be sated. The desire filled her mind and body to its shattering point. An otherworldly thrall-shriek built in her throat, but this time she bit her tongue to keep the sound at bay. No! She would not let these monsters take over her mind; she would not be used as a weapon against innocents. She was human. She was Kali.
Someone called her name. Kali’s eyes snapped open, illuminating the entire cell as if by a lightning strike. The cell was bare, save for a chamber pot and cup of water, and silent, save for her and Drake’s panting breaths. She closed her eyes again and tasted copper. Sweet blood. Sweet magic.
Give it to us.
Drake said her name again, but Kali could not reply, for she could not think. She could hardly breathe. She clenched her fists, pressed her back to the stone wall, and prayed. Tor, help me.
Twenty-Four
Three days after Sergeant Stonewall’s arrest—and Kalinda’s imprisonment in the sentinel garrison—Foley stepped out of the mage dormitories and into a world turned white. A light dusting of snow covered the dormitory roof, the chicken coop, workshops, and the high walls surrounding the bastion. Although no flurries fell, Foley could smell snow on the wind and see its promise in the thick cloud cover.
His boots crunched over the frosted ground as he went to his garden, thinking to ensure that the hardy trees and other plants were still alive, but his focus soon shifted to the garrison. None of what had passed that day should have startled him in the least, but he could still hear the clatter of the sergeant’s sword as the sentinel tossed the weapon to the flagstones. No doubt Talon would send Stonewall to Lasath too, unless she killed him first. Well, it was her right, and Foley had played his own role in Stonewall’s misfortune, but a part of him regretted that the situation had come to this grisly end.
The path turned and Foley got his first full view of the garden since the snowfall. He halted, gaping. Each bare branch should have been covered in white, but there was no trace of snow in the garden and the air was almost warm.
Foley glanced around the shrubs until he spotted a familiar figure, clad in a dress the color of a summer sky. “This is your doing, I take it?” he said as he approached Sadira.
The Zhee mage stood beside a pear tree, one hand on its scaly bark. She still wore the hematite collar, but her torc was gone. “I did not think you wanted your plants to die,” she said without looking at him.
“They’re not just my plants,” Foley replied. “But all of ours. And you shouldn’t flaunt your magic. You’ll make the sentinels uneasy.”
Sadira kept her hand splayed upon the bark and tilted her head up to the branches. The air around them grew even warmer and sweat prickled at the small of Foley’s back, beneath the layers of wool and fleece which had seemed so sensible only minutes ago. “Will they unrest me as well?” She frowned. “Arrest?”
“They might. I know you’re angry about Kalinda,” Foley added quietly. “But she brought her fate on herself the moment she took that sentinel to her bed.”
“You believe this?”
“Such truths are the way of our world. I shall tell you what I keep telling Hazel, Druce, and all the others: Kalinda put the rest of us in danger with her careless actions.” He exhaled and could not see his breath. “She and Eris. Both have no regard for those left behind.”
“Do the other mages feel as you do?” she asked.
“They should.”
“Many now speak of leaving.”
“Aye, and they’re fools for it.” Foley tapped a gloved hand against his own collar. “You, of all people, should know how dangerous we can be.”
“Dangerous,” Sadira repeated, looking back up at the pear tree’s bare branches.
“Keep your head down,” Foley said. “Keep your voice low and keep your eyes on your own path. That is the only way for a mage to survive in the One’s world.”
A gust of wind picked up, scattering snow at Sadira’s feet, although it melted before it touched the ground. “Perhaps that is how it used to be.”
When she said nothing else, Foley could not help his impatience. “Where is your torc? The sentinels won’t like seeing you without it.”
Sadira’s pale
-blue eyes met his as she withdrew the heavy necklace from a pocket in her dress. As she did, the air around Foley swam with heat so sudden and strong, sweat beaded at his forehead. But the heat faded immediately and the next cold wind made him shiver. Sadira’s bare hands closed over the torc before she tucked it out of sight.
“Wear it,” Foley said, although the words fell flat.
“No, Mage Clementa. Never again.”
She began to walk away from him, toward the chicken coops. Frozen with shock, Foley could only call after her. “They’ll arrest you, too!”
“They will try,” was Sadira’s calm reply.
When she was out of sight, Foley leaned against the pear tree, scrubbing his face and beard. This place, these mages, would drive him to madness! Why did none of them understand the danger that Kalinda had put them all in? After Kalinda’s arrest, the others had plagued him with questions about why the sentinels had arrested her, as if it wasn’t obvious, as if Kalinda hadn’t blithely thrown the natural order of their world into disarray.
Magic was too dangerous for hearts drawn to chaos.
He exhaled again, frowning at the stream of fogging breath. With Sadira gone, the chill in the air had returned in full force, biting his nose and cheeks, so he turned back for the dormitories. However, a flash of metal on the ground caught his eye. He knelt and brushed aside a few fallen leaves to reveal a set of keys on a circular ring. Foley’s heart froze and his hand stole to his collar. But why the keys to the mages’ collars and the bastion gates were lying in the garden was beyond his understanding.
Take them and run. The iron pieces were without decoration, but delicately wrought; beautiful in their simplicity. Although he could not see the hematite that had been mixed with the iron, he could feel the void left by the ore. Foley’s hand closed around the ring and he glanced in the direction of the bastion gates, where the burnie twins stood guard. His heart began to race. The twins were kind, but naïve, and could be easily distracted or misled. But there would be no need for verbal trickery if he could remove his collar, if he could once more touch the place within him where his magic lived.
Run.
Foley scowled at the iron keys. What was he thinking? He could not abandon his daughter to her fate any more than he could abandon the other mages here. Thank the One he had found the keys, and not Sadira, for only the One knew what sort of commotion their discovery would have caused.
He pocketed the keys and made his way toward the bastion gates. Once he left the perimeter of the garden, the sound of his boots crunching on snow startled him, but he should have known better.
*
Talon’s gloved hand closed around the keys, which felt heavier than she remembered. She looked at Cobalt, who squared his shoulders. “These are yours.”
“Yes, Commander,” he said. “I gave them to Stonewall prior to leading the others out for Argent’s,” he grimaced, “mission. The sod must have dropped them when he went to fetch Mage Halcyon.”
Talon looked back at Foley, standing opposite her and Cobalt, inside the bastion gates. “Are you certain no one else has seen these?”
“Quite,” he said, nodding. “I found them in the garden, out of sight.”
“So they were hidden deliberately?” Cobalt asked.
“Not deliberately, no. Just…misplaced.” Foley added a knowing look at the captain, who scowled, and then glanced back at Talon. “I knew you would be missing them, Commander.”
She caught her father’s meaning at once, and her heart swelled with love for him. “Your loyalty is noted and appreciated, Mage Clementa.”
“I don’t like this,” Cobalt muttered. He shifted again, resting trembling hands on his daggers. “Ser, something’s not right. Clementa’s lying. I know it.”
Foley drew himself up, his brown eyes narrowed, his hook gleaming in the morning light. “You know no such thing, Captain.”
“You’ll speak when you’re given leave, Mage,” Cobalt shot back.
Talon held up her hand to quell any further bickering and looked at the burnie twins, who’d been waiting beside her. “I want you two to check that the others are still collared, but I believe the First Mage is telling the truth.”
Cobalt stared at her. “Ser, he’s one of them.”
One of them. The vitriol was plain in Cobalt’s voice, and Foley flushed even as he looked at his own boots. Talon’s fist closed over the keys and she forced her voice to be calm. “If you won’t take even a little hematite, you should rest, Captain.”
All eyes crept to Cobalt, whose jaw clenched as he seemed to stand even straighter. “I’m fine, ser. Just a little tired. Save what we have for those who truly need it.” He nodded to the burnies. “You heard your commander. Get to work.”
Milo and Flint both looked at Talon, who smiled at the young sentinels as she handed Milo the keys. “Keep them, for now,” Talon said.
Cobalt made a noise of frustration while the burnies exchanged incredulous glances. “Ser,” Cobalt said. “I see no reason for–”
“You don’t have to,” Talon interrupted. “But I do.” She nodded to the twins, who both stared at her with huge, blue eyes. Gods above and beyond, some burnies seemed to be in a perpetual state of shock. Had she ever been so young? She made a shooing motion. “Go on.”
Foley stepped back so the twins could enter the bastion. “Shall I accompany them?”
Talon nodded. Foley’s presence would soothe the other mages and make the burnies’ task easier. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have concerned herself with such a thing, and she was loathe to send only two sentinels into the bastion in such stressful times. But it couldn’t be helped.
As Foley followed the burnies to the dormitories, Cobalt glanced at Talon. “With respect, Commander, you place a great deal of trust where it might not be warranted.”
“The burnies might be some of the only ones left standing, soon,” she replied. “Along with Hornfel and a few others.”
“I wasn’t speaking of the burnies.”
“Clementa is loyal,” was all she said, and nodded back to the garrison.
Cobalt’s steps were halting, almost staggering at first, but with effort, he seemed to right his pace. “I’ll divide the essential garrison duties between the burnies. Have you heard from the Circle? Will we get more hematite?”
“Yes. Soon.” She glanced over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see the burnie twins or Foley through the gates any longer. “I hope.”
“You hope, ser?”
She frowned in thought. She had sent a message to Serla Iban as soon as Cobalt and the others had returned with their Sufani and mage prisoners. But her message had been answered by one of the senior priest’s underlings: Cipher Natanaree. The Cipher had assured the commander that once the Circle confirmed that the Pillar’s orders had been carried out, more hematite would be sent immediately. No time frame had been given, but Serla Natanaree had seemed unusually sympathetic to the sentinels’ plight.
But before she could say any of that to Cobalt, the captain stumbled and dropped to the gravel, catching himself with both hands. He waved away Talon’s aid and rose with great effort on shaking legs. “I’m fine,” he managed as she knelt beside him.
“You’re not,” she said, rising as well. Her head swam with the simple movement, and something sharp stabbed at her guts. “Go to the infirmary,” she added.
“It’s full. I’m fine, ser. Really. I just need a second to get my bearings.”
Clattering hooves drew their attention to the garrison’s main gates, where a fleet rider pulled up her mount. “Anyone here?” the rider called. Like all the fleet riders, she was petite and slender; the massive deer she rode dwarfed her. “I’ve got a message for Commander Talon.”
Talon went to the gates. “I’m the commander.”
“Where’s Rowen?” the rider asked. “She usually meets me.”
“We’re…short on staff at the moment,” Talon said, holding out her hand.
&n
bsp; The rider passed a scroll through the bars, and then frowned over Talon’s shoulder. “What’s wrong with him?”
Talon did not reply at first, for she spotted Argent’s seal and her heart began to race. “What? Oh.” She looked back at Cobalt, who stood hunched over, hands braced against his knees. “He’s…not feeling well,” she said to the girl. “Thank you. Stay safe on your travels. The One keep you.”
“Aye, you too,” the rider replied. She frowned at Cobalt again before turning her mount back toward the street, disappearing in a clatter of hooves and a flurry of snow.
Talon ripped open the seal and scanned Argent’s neat, fluid script.
Commander Talon,
By the Pillars’ request, every remaining mage in Whitewater Bastion must be destroyed. The Pillars believe them to be unstable, corrupt, and treacherous, and wish Aredia cleansed of their poison. It is the will of the One.
By the time you read this letter, Silver Squad and I will be but a few days from your garrison to carry out this task and return to Lasath with your renegade mage. Additionally, we will bring ample hematite to be distributed among your sentinels.
Your loyalty thus far has been commendable, although I cannot say the same for your competence, which the Pillars have questioned at length. We will discuss the matter further upon my arrival.
Honor. Service. Sacrifice.
High Commander Argent
Silverwood Garrison, City of Lasath, Province of Silverwood
“Commander?”
Talon’s vision had gone white. Although the sun hid behind a thick layer of clouds, the sky was painfully bright and the glare cut through her head. The letter trembled in her hands. She blinked and the world came into focus again; more snow drifted down to cover the garrison courtyard, creating a peaceful winter scene.
It is the will of the One.
“Da,” she whispered as dread coursed through her veins. It wasn’t fair. She had done everything right, everything according to protocol, but the situation had spiraled out of her control. Her father’s fate was sealed. She could not catch her breath and had to bite back the urge to retch.
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