Sacrifice (Catalyst Moon #5), page 40
“As do you, I’d wager,” Flint replied. “But I’m mostly just glad you’re alive and well.”
Cries of alarm rippled behind them in the streets, then thrall-shrieks lifted through the darkness, piercing the night air. An icy ball of fear froze in Flint’s stomach. “Stonewall,” she hissed. “Do your shadow squad thing again.”
He paused, Kali still sleeping in his arms. “I can’t…” he murmured. “Even with Wild Eyes and the others…there’s too many of us, and it’s too far.” He rocked on his heels, his forehead shining.
“Too far to where?” Beacon asked.
“The silverwood grove,” Milo replied, cradling the Pillar. “That’s where we can defeat Argent.”
“Forget Argent,” Beacon said. “Our injured friends must be our priority.”
Stonewall’s breath was short. “If they’re killed because I can’t keep them safe, this will all be for nothing.”
“We must split up,” Talon said. “Some of us can take the injured to the grove, while the rest cover the retreat.”
Stonewall glared at her. “Your suggestion is noted, but disregarded, ser.”
“I see you’ve picked up Kali’s sense of humor,” Talon replied. To Flint’s shock, she didn’t sound angry, but amused. Another long story, no doubt.
Rook pointed to a shadowy alley. “I know a shortcut. Turn left at the end of that alley, then follow the lamps until you reach the grove.”
Stonewall shook his head. “No one gets left behind.”
The worst part was…Talon was right. Damn her. Flint caught her former sergeant’s eye. “Let someone else play hero. Get to the grove. Rook and I will stay out of your shield and watch your backs.”
She knew without looking that Rook was nodding. Stonewall’s eyes widened but he accepted her aid. “Fine. Milo, Beacon, Sadira…Talon. You’re with me. I’ve got Kali if you can help the Cipher and…the other one. Flint, Rook – thank you.”
“I’ll send Pig with you to help,” Milo added. Sure enough, the raccoon sidled up to Flint, sniffing around her boots. “He will,” Milo added as Flint frowned. “Just trust me, all right?”
Leaving his side now, after they’d found each other again, made her heart ache, but there wasn’t time to argue. She was a sentinel; she could handle herself. “All right,” she said to her twin. “But be careful.”
“I will if you will,” he said.
She bared her teeth in a feral grin. “Deal.”
More thrall-cries sounded behind them; the tenor of celebration tilted into terror. Stonewall’s eyes glowed briefly with gold fire—unnerving, to say the least—and then he and the others vanished. The air rippled with their passage, but had Flint not been watching, she’d have lost the trail completely.
Pig chittered and darted forward. Flint and Rook followed at a slower pace, both bracing for thralls to appear. The air stank of wine and unwashed bodies, of smoke and incense, creating a miasma of sensation that made Flint’s head pound as she and Rook dodged drunken embraces and sloshing spirits. The thralls screamed again, but the sound was distant.
As they drew further away from the temple, the crowd thinned. They reached a small square that held a statue of Tor at its center. Someone had set candles around the base and laid flower garlands over Tor’s towering horns, but the square was empty.
“I can’t see Stonewall or the others,” Rook murmured. “Can you?”
Flint squinted ahead. “No. But I see lamps along the next street. Is that the way to the grove?”
Pig growled. A thrall cry tore through the quiet streets, far closer than Flint had expected. Her ears rang with the dissonant shriek as she and Rook converged on the statue of Tor, back-to-back, daggers ready. Hopefully Stonewall and the others were at the grove by now, or close to it. Flint and Rook exchanged glances, and Flint saw her own resolve mirrored in Rook’s freckled face, even from beneath her helmet.
Then a pair of faintly burning eyes appeared out of the darkness and Flint’s throat tightened. The shadows separated and a cloaked figure stalked toward her and Rook. Pig stood before the two women, hackles raised and snarling, but the figure did not slow their approach until they paused several arm-lengths away.
“Whoever you are, stranger,” Flint’s voice sounded far more confident than she felt, “stand aside. We have no quarrel with you.”
“Stranger? Is that all I am to you now?”
Flint’s stomach dropped at the familiar voice, and when the figure slid back his hood, Marcen’s eyes glowed. Most of the dye had left his hair, leaving it a dull grayish brown, and his expression was calm. Too calm.
Flint’s heart galloped wildly in her chest. “Mar?” she whispered.
Rook swore.
Marcen beamed, but there was nothing of the man she loved—had loved—in his face. “Well-met, Mira.”
He spat her birthname like a curse. Flint stood frozen, too horrified to move despite how Rook touched her elbow, trying to snap her out of her shock.
“You…you’re a thrall,” Flint managed to choke out.
Marcen lifted a brow. “I’ve broken the chains of my own fate.”
“By…joining Argent? By letting him…possess you?” Flint shook her head as Pig snarled at the mage. “You’re delusional. He’s using you!”
“No shit,” Marcen shot back. “Everyone uses someone else, Mira. It’s how the world works. I fought the system, but it’s too strong. So I must play the game to change it. Don’t you understand?” He stepped forward and the hairs on the back of Flint’s neck rose. “Argent’s a mage, too,” Marcen went on. “He understands our plight; he will change things for the better. He showed me.”
Flint took a step back, but her heel hit the statue of Tor. “He’s a monster, Marcen. He’s a liar.”
“Everyone lies,” Marcen replied, still far too calm. But his eyes brightened, drawing Flint’s gaze like a moth to twin flames. “Argent is no different. Except now he’s the most powerful person in the world and he trusts me. I showed him Kali’s trick of stealing energy, and he introduced me to that shriveled husk, Etia, before the ceremony today. She gave me a glimpse of what real power looks like. And now I’m a part of something great, something real. For once.”
Marcen’s eyes bored into Flint’s and her vision turned white with fear. The urge to flee was overpowering, but her legs didn’t move. Unwelcome tears spilled down her cheeks as she stared at the man she had once loved, the man she’d risked everything to protect; the man she’d given her heart to before he’d thrown it aside.
Marcen drew closer and Flint could not move. “Poor Mira,” he crooned, lifting off her helmet to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek. His touch burned.
“Get away from her,” Rook growled, a dagger at his throat.
Marcen shoved past Rook; her dagger bit into his skin, drawing blood, but his eyes shone and the wound began to close. Rook gasped and he smiled. “You see how the Legion takes care of its own.” He fixed his glowing eyes on Flint again. “Don’t fret, love. You’re strong, too. Argent doesn’t yet know of your betrayal. You can come with me and we’ll be together, fighting on the right side. For once–”
Pig leaped at his face, teeth bared, snarling, and Mar grunted as he careened to the cobbled street. Rook struck next. She kicked his stomach, then his groin, then she grabbed Flint’s hand. “Let’s go.”
Flint stared down at Marcen, who lay groaning at her feet. “I can’t leave him.”
“He’s made his choice.” Rook tugged at her hand again.
She ignored Rook and knelt beside Mar, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look at her. His eyes glowed even brighter. “Snap out of it,” Flint cried, shaking him. Each movement made her own traitor tears fall harder. “You’re better than this! Come on, Mar!”
Burning starlight looked back at her. “You always pick the wrong battles,” he murmured, and grabbed her cheeks with both hands.
Exhaustion slammed into her; despair close on its heels. Maybe he was right. Maybe the only way to make true change happen was to join the fight from another angle. If Argent could create thralls, he could stop them… What was Flint fighting for, anyway? Sweet Mara… She’d been fighting her entire life, but for what? What was the point of her struggles and fears, when the world was so much bigger than she was? Flint relaxed into his grip.
“Mira.”
She closed her mind against the soft, sweet voice. All she was good for was anger and weapons and death. Honor. Service. Sacrifice. She’d made an oath but bungled everything. Perhaps with that last bit, she could redeem herself. Gods above, she was so tired!
“Mira!”
Something shoved Flint backward, away from the starlight eyes. Training bade her try to shield her head with her arms as she struck the street. Pain blossomed through her shoulders and jaw at the impact and for a second, she could only lie still, staring into the night sky, the edges of which were glowing strangely. The smoke smell was stronger now. And the thrall cries! She would never forget the sound, no matter how hard she tried. Pig nuzzled her cheek, squeaking softly as if begging her to get up. Flint touched the ringtail’s silky fur, and her head started to clear.
She finally sat up, dazed, and found Rook standing between her and Marcen. Rook’s daggers caught the light from Marcen’s eyes as he struggled to his feet. Why hadn’t Rook struck him down for good?
Because I don’t want him dead, Flint realized. Her hands gripped her blade hilts and tears burned her eyes, but she chose the third option and laughed aloud for the sheer hopelessness of the moment.
Rook spared her a brief glance. “More thralls coming. We’ve got to go. The others should be there by now.”
The clatter of too many boots on cobblestones echoed through the streets. The sound made Flint’s stomach churn. “Those are sentinels.”
Marcen hauled himself to his feet, chuckling. “Not just sentinels.”
Flint’s head spun and she couldn’t stand yet. “What do you mean?”
“Goodbye, Mira.” He blew her a kiss. “I might have been content just to love you, but I realize now I have a greater destiny.”
He darted off into the night. Rook didn’t watch him go but helped Flint to her feet. The shouting was louder now. New sounds emerged, too: screams and the roar of flame, and the cracking of stone – and crystal. Pig faced the direction of the noises, hackles raised, growling.
Flint’s head pounded, and she looked around wildly. “Shit, that sounds bad.”
“It’s worse.” A new voice made both women whirl, but this fellow made Flint’s heart leap with joy.
“Drake,” she whispered, sagging with relief. Atanar followed him, along with Leal and a few others Flint only vaguely recognized. A massive caradoc cat paced around them, scenting the air and letting out a few warning snarls. Pig sniffed after the creature but did not approach.
Drake enveloped Flint in his massive arms. “Stonewall said you might want backup. Either of you need a healer?”
“No, we’re fine, but Marcen…” Flint tried to choke out the words, but her voice failed her. “He’s gone.”
Rook placed a comforting hand on Flint’s shoulder. “Argent’s turned him into a thrall. By his own desire, I think, but that makes him even more dangerous.”
Drake exchanged looks with Atanar and Leal, then Drake’s eyes closed briefly. “Unfortunately, Marcen’s not the only mage who’s met that fate.”
The Legion of the One. Flint’s stomach dropped again. “The other mages in the bastion…”
The caradoc cat growled again, tail lashing, and Drake nodded. “Aye. We spotted them a few minutes ago.”
“A sodding army of mage-thralls,” Leal hissed. “Heading for the silverwood grove.”
“Marcen must be connected with them,” Rook added. “Leading them, perhaps.”
“More power,” Atanar added quietly. “That’s all the thralls desire. Argent must want to destroy Kali and that other Pillar.”
“Drake, can you warn Stonewall?” Flint asked.
“I tried, but I’m not sure my message reached him.”
Stonewall probably knew trouble was coming, but if a mage-thrall army was on the way, he and the others would need help. “Let’s move out,” Flint said, and the group set off.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t save him,” Rook murmured as they hurried through the streets.
A few more tears slipped free. Flint let them fall and shot her companion a wavering smile. “Me too. But I’m glad you’re here.”
Rook smiled back and Flint’s heart did a strange spinning dance. “I’m glad we both are,” Rook said, softly.
THIRTY-THREE
In Kali’s dream, she stood upon a memory of a starborn ship and stared at her blue and white marbled world. “What was your life like, before my people came?”
Baat did not answer at first, only sulked in the back of her mind. But he was at her mercy now, as much a part of her as her own heart. And Kali was patient.
At last, he replied, “I helped my kindred cross over to the Shadowlands. When we first discovered how to travel there, we thought it was a sacred place, and so believed that only the dead or dying should cross over. But in time, after we learned more about the Shadowlands, more of my people wanted to cross the river. I helped them.”
A shiver went down Kali’s back and for once she was thankful for her priestess robes, which kept the worst of the chill air at bay. She gripped the beaded skulls of her belt. “You’re Nox,” she whispered. “The river-walker.”
“Yes,” Baat replied. “But I have not been called so in a long time, even by my people’s reckoning.”
A new voice echoed around them. “You always had a gift, my friend. I wish you would have used it more wisely.”
Kali sucked in a breath as another fellow approached. He had Stonewall’s tawny skin, but deep furrows upon his face marked his age. His eyes glowed golden. He came to Kali’s side and looked out upon the marbled sphere. “Amara hoped that Project Serenity would do more than shape this world; she hoped it would give her human descendants some defense against our powers. As she and I learned, the Fata were susceptible to the human’s strange, new magic.”
Kali stared at him, her mind turning over his words and racing to the conclusion. “That’s why you kept the second moon out of our memories—and our sight—for so long. Because you didn’t want us to remember, to question how we’d come to be here – or why.”
The thought sent a thrill down her spine. Why had the starborn come to this world in the first place?
Tor nodded. “But the Elders’ magic could not last forever. First, Amara’s gift seeded the silverwood trees. Then, over time, more and more humans started developing these abilities.”
“It was decided to allow the starborn to finally see the moon,” Baat added in a mutter. “We called it Seren to irk Tor.”
Tor gave a sad smile. “You succeeded.”
Kali ignored their banter and looked around her, trying to get a sense of this strange ship. No doubt it’d take several lifetimes to discover the secrets held within these smooth walls – let alone understand.
She was ready.
* * *
Kali awoke but did not immediately open her eyes. Although she could feel the silverwood trees’ comforting presence close by, a raw torrent of emotions beat against her mind. From her place within the silverwood grove, she could feel Lasath’s citizens: confusion, panic, desperation. Their emotions fought for dominance within the city as thralls overran the people.
All this, she knew because of Baat’s presence within her. He remained at the edges of her mind, bitter about his defeat but also eager to get a taste of her magic. Even now as she lay on someone’s cloak, her knee throbbed and the urge to steal another mage’s power pounded at the door of her brain. Although the urge was familiar, Kali could not say for sure if it was entirely hers, or Baat’s. They were joined now, and it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Overwhelmed with hunger for magic in her depleted state, Kali reached for her staff with a shaking hand, but found only a curving branch-root, cradling her. She blinked up at the opalescent bark that flickered faintly.
Kindred.
Kali pressed a hand to the branch-root, and Baat’s eagerness to steal magic faded.
Screams sounded in the distance as a great boom rent the air, and the nearest building she could make out through the branches—a crystalline spindle—shattered into broken starlight. Kali gasped and pushed herself to a seated position, looking around wildly for her allies and mentally calling to Stonewall.
I’m here. He appeared at her side as if he stepped out of thin air and took her hands in his. His eyes held a latent gold glow. With her new Fata senses, he shimmered in her mind, like he was made of starlight. Threads of glowing energy connected him to her, and both of them to the others nearby. Was this how Fata saw the world?
You…took on a glimmer soul of your own, she said. You…saved me.
You saved yourself, as always, he replied wryly. I just…reminded you of what Baat wanted you to forget. You are loved, Kali, and you are worthy of that love. I’m sorry if I ever made you think otherwise.
The bond of their hearts shone brighter in her mind’s eye and at first, she was too overwhelmed to reply. You aren’t…angry that I joined with Baat? she ventured at last.
A tendril of uncertainty coiled along the thread between them. I think I’ve loved you from the first time we spoke, he said. Loving you was never a choice. But trusting you is. Before, at the temple, I realized I couldn’t help you on my own, so I made another choice. We’re both meridians now. We’re of both worlds: this one and the Fata realm.
Meridian. She rolled the term around in her mind, assessing its contours and textures, and smiled. “I like it better than ‘Pillar,’” she said aloud.
His answering smile filled not only his face, but his spirit – and hers, too. Drake, Eris, and their allies are on the way, he said, sending both emotion and images into her mind to share this news. Do you remember what happened at the temple?
“Argent…stole my power,” she replied in a shaking voice. She flexed her hands; her veins felt empty and her body exhausted, like those times she woke but felt she’d not slept at all. “I don’t remember getting here.”
