Discordant Harmonies 3: Measure of Resistance

Chapter Nineteen

Yawning, Géta followed his Mage up the stairs to the section of west-facing wall they were to spend the next several hours patrolling. He shivered in the cool morning air and matched his own boots to the faint bootprints made by the dew of those who had passed before him. They weren't serving with Néja and Wodé today; Wodé had the day off, and Néja had just gotten off a midnight-to-morning shift on one of the Temple's tower parapets. Since they couldn't make regular patrols between their Temple and the northern and southern checkpoint stations, Esqué didn't assign anyone specific bodyguards these days. Though there'd been reintroductions, Géta already couldn't recall the names of the four Custodians who marched up the stairs with him and Asthané.

As they reached the walkway level of the stairs, he checked his sword and parrying dagger to make sure they were loose, even though it was highly unlikely they'd be used today. He resisted the urge to hug his cased flute. The sunlight was bright after the torchlit interior of the stair tower, and Géta blinked until his eyes grew accustomed to it. The two Custodians following him continued on up to the tower's roof with the Mage assigned to stand with them, and the four with himself and his Mage began pacing.

For the first long while, this watch took on the exact same character as every other Wall watch had had since the beginning. Matching his paces to Asthané's, Géta sought an escape from the boredom. Nobody spoke on the wall, though it was permitted; it was just that nobody had anything new to say. All of them lived the same life here, saw the same horizons. There was only so much one could say on the topic of the last meal they'd eaten, or the upcoming meal before exhausting it.

After a time, his gaze wandered to the fields out there. When would the Inskiti Army arrive? How many of them would there be? It was all too likely Kelid would be with them—if not as a matter of course, then because he had valuable information regarding Géta. Remembering this, Géta shivered. He'd betrayed his ability to negate the Gods' Will to Kelid.

In a way, that sort of made it important he use the Gift. Every Inskiti Mage, and likely the army's commanders, would know of it once they met up with Kelid. There wasn't any way Enemy Mage would not announce it to them. Géta's stomach knotted at the idea of what would happen if he ended up in Inskiti hands again. He'd be shackled, then tortured. And he knew he'd break. His time in captivity here had taught him that much. If he didn't break, he'd go into himself. Without his Gifts, without hope of rescue, he'd give up, give in, and go away if he could, like Iléena had. It would be his only option—and even then it wouldn't be a guaranteed escape.

He shook his head, exhaling a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. Not a good idea to think about that right now. This time, Géta wasn't the only one facing this possibility, and that gave him some comfort. He wasn't alone this time around. Every single other person in the post faced the same fate as he did. It gave him a bit of confidence, filled him with a feeling akin to hope, and made everyone here kindred.

Asthané halted abruptly, head turning so he faced the west. After a moment, he scuffed to the wall, put his hands on the crenelations—one high, one low—and leaned forward as though peering through the distance.

"Do you see something?" Géta asked because the Custodians and the other Mage on their section with them eyed his Mage now.

Inhaling a short, sharp breath, Asthané straightened from the wall. "I think I sense the Inskiti Army on its way."

Géta glared over the distance, but saw nothing at all. Didn't sense a single thing, either. "How?"

"Through the earth." Asthané glanced back at him, but quickly looked out over the plains again, focused once more.