Discordant Harmonies 3: Measure of Resistance

Chapter Twenty-Three

He didn't care if he didn't see food until supper. Asthané made his way to his room and entered with as much care as he could muster to find Wodé seated on the bed, facing the cold, empty fireplace.

"What time is it?" He shut the door, not caring that it sounded loud; Asthané wasn't the only one who'd been up fighting all night.

The Custodian scooted close to his nightstand, where his pitcher stood, and poured himself some water. "In Respite before five. Want some water?"

For a minute, Asthané considered the offer. His stomach clenched, though. "No, thanks. Gift reaction." At least it was only an upset stomach this time. Though the exhaustion more than made up for it. He crossed to his side of the bed and flopped onto it, not bothering to take his boots—or any of his armor—off. "Gods. Isn't sixteen too old for spending all night at war?"

This made Wodé bark a laugh. "Hardly. I'm almost twenty-eight."

"You're just a Custodian, though."

Wodé's cup tapped the wood of the nightstand and he rose, chuckling. "Stop complaining, Thané."

Asthané grinned, watching his roommate round the foot of the bed to go to the wardrobe. On the way, Wodé glanced at him with another chuckle. Groaning, Asthané forced himself to sit up and stopped there for a minute, trying to decide if it had truly been as uncomfortable lying down in his armor as he'd thought just a moment ago.

"What's news?" Wodé opened the wardrobe and started taking a fresh set of clothing out of it.

Sighing, Asthané got to his feet and crossed to his armor's stand across the way. "We were at it most of the night. Poor Géta was knotted with Gift reaction by the time the fighting stopped."

"Did he do it?"

Asthané paused in unbuckling his second vambrace. "Yes, that's what started last night's mess."

The Custodian only grunted. After that, neither of them spoke for a few minutes as one undressed and the other put on clothing. After getting some assistance with his armor and helping Wodé put on his, Asthané left his shirt on with his skivvies and went to get under the covers as Wodé finished up preparing for his day at watch.

"Any word on when the Imperial Army will get here?"

He brightened up a bit. "Actually, yes. Esqué mentioned they're several days away—could be anywhere from seven days to a week. There are two contingents on the way. One will surround our lot here at the post, the rest will go on to the Inskiti border to prevent more Inskiti coming over."

"That's good news!" Wodé grabbed his helm, ensured his sword was buckled on securely with one hand, and walked as quietly as possible to the door. "Want me to bring you anything from breakfast?"

Asthané barely heard the question. "No, thanks." He wiggled a little and let his eyes drift completely shut. The last thing he heard was the click of the door's latch.

★

He couldn't usually, but now Géta could see the web of power as it extended from him. It shot across the ground, a bright, golden net of his own life-force, toward the Inskiti commanders' tents. Géta had no trouble at all identifying the commanders, and he played the Gods' Will away from them.

Then one of them noticed what was happening. He raised his head, looked around, and reached out to grasp the net—and jerked on it.

Back on the top of the tower, Géta lost his footing and staggered to the Wall. He threw himself across it involuntarily. In his Vision, the aware Inskiti commander stood up and moved his arms, gathering the net of Géta's life force around them, then stepped back, pulling hard on the net again. This time, Géta slid over the Wall, between crenelations. He tried to grab one, felt his Mage and Esqué holding onto his legs—to no avail.