Sacrifice (Catalyst Moon #5), page 19
Kali.
There! After much searching, he could see the bright gold thread that bound him to his soul-bonded, but he could not touch the thread with neither his mind nor his hands. Again and again, he reached, but the glittering thread shied away from his grasp.
With Tor’s absence—or because of Stonewall’s growing strength—Wild Eyes, Loop, and the other younger Fata had gathered around him, waiting. Their eagerness hung in the air like the river of kindred souls. So, too, did their anxiousness linger, swirling around Stonewall’s heart as surely as the river.
Focus. Stonewall gritted his teeth and reached for the thread again. Again, it danced away. Frustration seethed in his heart, adding a frantic edge to each new attempt. Finally, after several more attempts, he relaxed his concentration; like trying to learn a new combat move, some things couldn’t be forced – and desperation never did a warrior any good.
Even so, the defeat stung as Stonewall glanced back at Wild Eyes who stood closer than any of the others. He did not vocalize his disappointment but sent his feelings to her: a wave of bitterness he could not have kept to himself if he’d tried.
She returned the feeling in kind, albeit with a softer edge. She understood. You can try again soon.
Soon. Stonewall ran a hand across his chin and scowled. He should have a sodding beard by now, but only stubble scraped his skin. His hair hadn’t grown at all since Tor had brought him to the Shadowlands.
He looked at the other Fata. Any suggestions?
Loop—the Fata with the curling horns—studied this tributary of the river. Perhaps you must be closer to the source.
The others shifted, their nervousness palpable. That is…not wise, said Wind On Water. The Elders can sense when we get too close.
The Elders already know everything we do, replied Sun Leaf. Anger sparked through this Fata’s presence, prickling in Stonewall’s mind. This is futile. The Elders will win. They always do. This starborn is useless.
Wild Eyes regarded Stonewall but spoke to Sun Leaf. This starborn is already a match for Tor, she said. You abandon hope too soon.
Not soon enough, Sun Leaf replied, more anger flaring. We will destroy ourselves if we keep this up.
A heavy sense of resignation settled upon Wind On Water, bleeding out to the others as the Fata spoke. Perhaps you are right. We should forget this and return to our path.
Alarm caught in Stonewall’s heart and he shook his head. You mean the thralls?
Sun Leaf’s eyes glowed faintly as resolve swam through their words. That is the only way we can defeat the Elders: to fracture the order they have created.
“You make more thralls, and my aid ends,” Stonewall said aloud, sending a collective shudder through the Fata. He caught himself and added in their silent speech, We have an agreement. I kill the Elders and you stop creating thralls.
But Sun Leaf’s regard was like cold starlight: dim, distant. You are too weak to help us. They looked at Wild Eyes. This path is folly. We cannot continue.
Nor can we, added Wind On Water. They and most of the other Fata turned away, their forms fading.
Wild Eyes watched them leave, and then looked back at Stonewall. Sadness coiled around her, an echo of Stonewall’s own heart.
“Where did they go?” he whispered.
She closed her eyes. Away.
“To make more thralls?” he asked.
I don’t know, she replied. They agreed at first, but now… They have closed their hearts to me.
Stonewall glanced at Loop, but their resolve, too, ebbed away, like the tide going out. Give me another chance, he said to them. I’ve already grown stronger. I can keep Tor from stopping me; I can do this. Perhaps if I can step further into the river–
You cannot get any farther, Loop interrupted, gesturing with one long arm toward the glowing source of the river. The Elders guard it closely, for it is the source of their power. They feel all that happens here. Besides, even if you are a match for Tor…
Loop added a mental image of cupped hands holding water, only to disappear beneath a crashing wave.
It should have made Stonewall’s stomach drop, but he dug in his mental heels instead. Even so, I must try. He hurried toward the river’s source, searching for a better spot to immerse himself. The Fata followed; their distress hummed in the back of his mind, dragged at his feet and his heart, until at last he paused to look back at them.
If you don’t believe I can do this, he said, why stay? Why not go with Sun Leaf and Wind On Water?
Loop started, their confusion sidling along the base of Stonewall’s skull. What does the starborn speak of?
This was said to Wild Eyes, and Stonewall swore softly beneath his breath. He’d only named the Fata in his own mind; he’d not shared those names with them. It felt…oddly disrespectful, but he had no other way to think of them.
Wild Eyes did not reply to Loop, only stared at Stonewall. Her eyes looked pale gold now, hardly glowing at all. How did you choose those names?
He pictured the images and feelings that he’d collected from the others: sunlight shining through spring leaves; the delicate lacework of wind caressing a mirror lake. Calm, happy images tinged with longing. This is how you appear to me, he added. I meant no offense.
Shock flared through Loop. You see those things so clearly. You feel them. How?
Because he has experienced them in Hiraeth, Wild Eyes replied, gently. Because he is of that world and he is of this place we are now: he is a meridian. Her hope clung to Stonewall’s mind; foamy surf cast on the sand after a crashing wave.
You and the other Fata sent me those images and feelings, Stonewall added, still not quite certain why Loop seemed surprised. I just…condensed them into a name I could remember. I don’t blame them for choosing such pleasant images to associate with. His own chosen name, while not exactly a pretty image, recalled feelings of protection, of safety. In choosing such a name, he’d hoped to bring those feelings to others.
Loop went very still. Those are not just images, Stonewall Starborn. They are memories of those who have gone before us. We have no knowledge of those things ourselves.
Wild Eyes added, All our people, throughout all the time we have existed, share memories as well as thoughts and feelings. It is how we connect to one another.
Those memories you sensed, Loop said, are all we have of Hiraeth – the world you call home. Though we have never experienced it for ourselves.
Waves of sorrow and bitterness swept over Stonewall at the realization, and the feelings were not solely the Fata’s. “What do you want from all this?” he asked aloud. “What do you hope will happen, once the Elders are gone?”
Wild Eyes and Loop went still; even their emotions quieted, softened with a hope too strong to be acknowledged. At last, Wild Eyes said, We want to go home, Stonewall.
Is it a home if we never knew it? Loop added bitterly.
We can argue the point once we reach Hiraeth, Wild Eyes shot back. She looked at Stonewall again, her eyes dimming a little more with each word. We mean no harm to the starborn who live in Hiraeth; we just want to go home.
“You can’t,” Stonewall heard himself say. “Even if the Elders are gone and their power—their magic—is yours, you can’t cross over into Hiraeth. Not fully. Unless Tor lied about that, too.”
There must be a way, Wild Eyes replied. And we will find it, even if our search takes an eternity.
Stonewall stared between the Fata, torn. They were Fata; they were the enemy. But they were more familiar than he’d ever expected, and this new understanding shook his deepest self.
Don’t lose sight of your goal, he told himself. He had to return home. Then he could sort out the rest of this mess.
Come on, he said, nodding to the source of the river, glowing like a sun-drenched ocean on the horizon. We must hurry.
* * *
Closer to the source, Stonewall tried again and again to grab the wavering thread that bound him to Kali, but it slipped from his mental grasp each time. Frustration resonated from Wild Eyes and Loop, and from Stonewall himself, tugging all three hearts along in a bitter cycle. The worst part was that he could feel Kali now. He could sense her spirit, still bright despite the shades of grief that plagued her. He could feel her, but he still could not reach her.
Stonewall stalked out of the river and began to pace alongside it, wracking his brain for a solution. Only Wild Eyes stood close by; Loop had slipped away to keep watch.
Wild Eyes strode beside him, each step of hers encompassing three of his own. So it is hopeless.
The weight of her desperation pressed upon Stonewall’s shoulders and he paused. It’s…not working. I can feel her, but I can’t reach her. I don’t know what to do.
She does not recognize you, Wild Eyes said. She has shut you out. She is strong.
Aye, and she thought him dead. Did she sense his attempts, like that first time? Was he only tormenting her further? Or did she even notice? One thing was certain: she did not know he was alive and trying to reach her. If she did, she would let him in.
He hoped, anyway. Perhaps she would be angry with him for abandoning her at her weakest moment. He couldn’t blame her if that were the case, but he still had to try to reach her.
A sense of hesitation trickled from Wild Eyes, but she did not speak. Stonewall stared at her. What is it?
You could do as we do, she said slowly, carefully, to access the physical world, at least in a sense.
Stonewall gaped at her as the shock of her words struck him. You mean, turn someone into a thrall?
It would allow you to speak to your anchor, Wild Eyes replied. To convince her to open her heart to you.
“You think I’d turn anyone into a thrall?” Stonewall shot back. Although the Shadowlands swallowed his voice, he let his anger bleed into his words.
Wild Eyes gave the equivalent of a mental wince and did not look at him as she replied. It is the only way we know how to reach across. You don’t have to hurt anyone. You can…step inside the spirit of another, briefly, to speak with your soul-bonded.
Stonewall scoffed and looked at the river again, but Wild Eyes’s words stuck in his mind. Could he create a thrall without causing someone pain? Should he?
Why are thralls always angry? he asked Wild Eyes. Is that…part of the process?
She did not answer at first. What you call thralls reflect those who create them here, she said at last. But everything is…sharper in the physical world. Stronger. More. And… Again, she hesitated. It is no small effort for our kind to step behind the eyes of another. We have no anchors, so we must find a willing host – or, more likely, a weakened one.
A weakened host… Stonewall thought back to all the thralls he’d encountered or heard of. Most—if not all—had sustained some type of injury or illness. He’d thought little of it at the time, but now he realized the connection. But I’m human. Would I have to wait until someone near Kali is injured before I could, he shuddered, possess them?
I don’t believe so, said Wild Eyes. But I do not know for certain.
Great. Stonewall scrubbed a hand across his face and glanced around. There was no sign of Loop, but he could sense the Fata not far off: dejected but still watchful. Sun Leaf and Wind On Water were nearby too, though their emotions were not as clear to him. Even so, sensing the Fata was second-nature now, as was the strange wordless communication. Indeed, everything in the Shadowlands seemed less strange than before. He was getting too used to this place, this state of being.
He was also running out of options – and time. He looked at Wild Eyes. Show me how.
SIXTEEN
Kali flashed her prettiest smile at the groom in the Circle district’s stables. “No carriage for me, thanks. I’ll ride.”
The groom, a young woman with a tight bun, shifted nervously. “Serla Natanaree sent orders to take you to the One’s temple.”
“It’s only a few blocks away, right? Why bother with a carriage?” Kali limped down the line of stalls to the horses Natanaree kept for her own use. The Circle folk living in Lasath had every luxury.
Tal and the groom followed, though the former was silent. The poor groom stammered, “Please forgive me, Serla, but I…assumed, with your condition, you’d not want to walk or ride–”
“I can manage riding,” Kali said through gritted teeth. “But thanks for your concern.” She continued down the line of stalls, leaning on the stable doors as the groom stubbornly trailed her. “What was your name?” Kali asked.
The groom bowed low. “Hennie, serla.”
Kali reached the right stall and smiled as the horse—a mare called Anise, according to her nameplate—stuck her head over the door, wisps of hay sticking out of her mouth like cat whiskers. Anise was a deep mahogany with a snippet of white on her nose, and long, long lashes. Just like Frost, the mare Kali and Stonewall had named on their first journey together. Kali set aside the stab of remorse and addressed the groom again. “Well, Hennie, as Nox teaches us, the only constant is change. Nothing in this world or any other will make me set foot inside one of those contraptions ever again. If you want to put me in a carriage, you’d better kill me first.”
The groom cast Tal a wide-eyed look and the former commander gave a minute shrug.
At last, Hennie bowed again. “As you say, serla.” She hurried off without another word.
Tal chuckled. “For being so new to the clergy, you’ve mastered the attitude.”
“I’ve learned from the best.” Kali unlatched the stall door to step inside, savoring the warm scents of hay and horse, though she could have done without the stink of manure. “I suppose we all must make the best of what we’ve learned, right?” she said to the mare, who nuzzled her purple robes as if searching for treats.
A thunk made Kali look back at the stall door, where Tal had set down Anise’s saddle and other assorted tack. “Perhaps you took too well to your new role, for Hennie is nowhere to be found,” the former commander said. “Can you manage this?”
Kali’s cheeks burned. She hadn’t even noticed that Tal had gone to get the items; she’d meant to go herself, once she’d shaken off the overeager groom. She nodded. “Thanks.”
Tal did not reply, only slipped off to fetch her own tack. She returned a few minutes later and the women busied themselves with saddling their mounts. Kali got the saddle on well enough, but Anise kept fidgeting, making the bridle’s placement impossible.
“Come on,” she muttered to the mare. “Cooperate, will you? Please? I’ll bring you a bushel of apples.”
But Anise only tossed her head, her dark mane flopping, and eyed Kali with what she thought was irritation.
“Trouble?” Tal asked, peering over the door.
Kali clenched the thin leather straps of the bridle and tried to keep her irritation from leaking through her words. “Just need to be about six inches taller is all. There must be a stool around here.”
“Let me.” Without waiting for a reply, Tal slipped into the stall and took the bridle out of Kali’s hands. Anise jerked her head away again, but Tal easily reached up to slip the straps over the mare’s ears, then gently set the bit into her mouth. Anise pinned her ears back, but Tal murmured gently to her and stroked her cheek, and then the mare relaxed.
Tal offered the reins to Kali. “Be sure to tighten the girth before you mount.”
Thank her, Kali told herself, but all she said was, “I’ve ridden before. I know how girths work.”
She reached for the reins, but Tal suddenly went rigid. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened as if she were about to speak, but no sound emerged.
Was she having a bad reaction to hematite? The ore did strange things to older sentinels. Kali tried to pull the reins back, but Tal gripped them with white knuckles. “Tal?” Kali said. “Are you well? You look…”
She trailed off as Tal shut her eyes. When they opened, they glowed faintly, like sunlight through a jar of honey.
Stonewall’s eyes.
“Kali,” Tal whispered, staring down at her. “Oh, Kali.”
But it wasn’t Tal. For though the former sentinel commander’s body stood with Kali in the stables, Kali felt Stonewall’s presence as surely as if he were at her side. The thread of love that bound them glowed bright in her mind’s eye, and his love crashed into her, through her, as if it’d never gone. All she could do was stare.
“Kali,” he said again, in Tal’s voice, though his lilting accent replaced her polished one. He glanced down at Tal’s hands, frowned, then looked back at Kali. “Are you… Are you all right?”
“Not at the moment,” she whispered. “I’m hallucinating.”
“What are you doing with Talon?” His eyes narrowed. “Has she hurt you?”
Kali laughed, but there was no amusement in her heart. “Long story.” Tears burned her eyes. There he was: his strength, his kindness, his devotion, all merged to form the man she loved. He wore another body, but he was still Elan. But beneath the familiar elements, Kali sensed a new landscape: waves of guilt and mountains of regret, choking grief, and a driving urge to protect. But the feelings weren’t just Stonewall’s. They were…
They were Tal’s.
How could she sense Tal, too? Kali was at a complete loss. “Elan?”
“It’s me.” He hesitated, then took her hands in Tal’s. “This is strange, I know, but I don’t have much time to explain. You must trust me. I’m not dead. I’m just… I’m alive, but elsewhere, and I’m trying to get back to you. But I need your help, Kali. You’re my anchor, my rock.” Tal’s mouth quirked in a decidedly Stonewall-like half smile. “See? I can make bad jokes, too.”
“You’re getting better at it.” Tears streamed down Kali’s face, but she could not move to swipe them away. Surely this was a dream, like the ones she had sometimes where he came to her and they made love beneath the stars.
“You must help me,” he said.
“How?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you, but you’ve shut me out. You can’t anymore, Kali.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “You are…were dead. What was I supposed to think?”
