by Amy Hopkins
Satisfied they were in good hands, Julianne released her magic. The steady pace made for a comfortable ride, and she enjoyed being out in this part of the world.
Tahn’s weather patterns were different to Arcadia’s, and the trees and flowers in the countryside were slightly different. Edging into spring, this was even more obvious than on Julianne’s last visit.
Pretty blue flowers stretched over fields, and a giant fig sported glossy purple growth on bare branches. Overhead, puffy white clouds drifted through a flat, blue sky.
Julianne shaded her eyes as she watched them lazily pass, casting shadows on the ground below. She wondered if Bethany Anne really was up there somewhere, still fighting to keep the people of Irth safe from dangers they didn’t even know existed.
“What are you dreaming about?” Marcus rode up behind her, startling her with his question.
“Bethany Anne,” she admitted. “Also, Hannah. That girl is turning into as much of a legend as the Queen herself.”
“It’s a new era,” Marcus said with a shrug. “We need new heroes. Spunky girls with pet lizards. Old men with scraggly beards.” He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Pretty girls with the power to bring men to their knees.”
“And who would that be?” Julianne asked primly.
“You, of course.”
Julianne rolled her eyes. “Marcus, I don’t deny I can bring men to their knees… but it’s not because I’m pretty.”
He laughed. “Well, your stunning good looks bring me to my knees.”
She did allow herself a chuckle at that. “You’re such a romantic. Still, I’d rather have well-honed skills than a nice face. What happens when I get old?”
“What does happen when you get old?” Marcus asked seriously.
“What do you mean?” Julianne asked.
“Well, Ezekiel was, like, a thousand years old. Will you live that long?” He let his gaze drift away.
“You’re worried I’ll leave you when you’re old and grey, and I still look twenty?” Julianne pulled her horse closer to his and reached out to grab his hand. “I’ll still love you. Even if you get ugly.”
“Gee, thanks,” Marcus said.
“Besides, Ezekiel is not a thousand years old. Just a couple of hundred. I think.” She frowned, trying to remember if he’d ever given her an exact number. “And he doesn’t look twenty. I might live to a thousand years old, but spend nine-hundred and seventy of them looking like him.”
Julianne’s eyes misted over. Suddenly, she looked like Ezekiel—though she added a few touches to make him look even older than when they’d seen him last. Marcus recoiled in mock horror.
“Will you still love me when I look like this?” she asked, her voice ringing out clear and bright despite her decrepit appearance.
“Uhh… yes?” Marcus didn’t sound at all confident. “I mean, old-Julianne I could love. If you actually turned into an old man? Not so sure about that!”
“I knew your love was only skin deep!” she teased, not dropping the illusion.
Marcus didn’t answer right away. “Jules, I love you… but, I’m sorry, that’s just disturbing.”
Julianne giggled and finally dropped the spell. “It’s ok. I think I’d have a hard time making out with you if you suddenly looked like Annie.”
Marcus sniggered. “I’ll keep that in mind. Next time I have a headache and need the night off, I’ll ask Bastian to spell me up.”
Julianne squealed in outrage and slapped his shoulder. “You beast!”
“You started it!” Marcus laughed.
“Fine! No more Ezekiel mask!” Julianne said. “I like your cute, curly locks just the way they are.”
Marcus ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. “They are quite cute, aren’t they?”
“Adorable,” Bette called from behind. “Just the right length to grab a hold of and lop yer head off, though.”
“She’s right,” Julianne said. “You do need a haircut.”
“What?” Marcus protested. “You just said they were cute!”
“They are!” Julianne assured him “But they’re also a health risk. We can ask Annie to do it next time we visit. She loves cutting your hair.”
Marcus sighed. “I’m not gonna win this one, am I?”
“Nope,” Bette called as Julianne shook her head.
Marcus sighed and nudged his horse ahead, leaving Bette and Julianne to ride together.
“Ye look nervous, lass,” Bette said gently.
Julianne considered the question. “Just… not sure what to expect. Usually when I’m walking into something, I’ve seen the important details from someone else’s mind. This time, it feels different.”
“Ye can’t wrap yer head around it, can ye?” Bette nodded to herself. “Aye. Took us all a few visits and a few more drinks to believe it was real. It’s not like a fancy buildin’ or a new breed of mountain cat. It’s an impossible thing, hangin’ in the air like nobody’s business.”
“I think you’re right,” Julianne said. “My mind keeps trying to come up with explanations, refusing to grasp that the images I’ve seen are real. And I’ve seen a lot of things, real and false.”
“And ye’ve made a few of them yerself,” Bette reminded her. “But just because ye’ve seen a lot, doesn’t mean ye’ve seen it all.”
“That’s the beauty of it, though.” Julianne glanced at the bright clouds drifting across the sky again. “No one person ever will see it all. Not even the Queen herself.”
“The Queen?” Bette asked. “She’s seen everything! All those stories, they make it sound like she’s been everywhere!”
Julianne raised a finger. “She’s not here, is she? She didn’t see us free Tahn or fight off Adrien. She doesn’t know about his flying machine or our magitech weapons.”
Briefly, an image flitted across Julianne’s mind. Amongst the barrage of information Hannah had sent, was a view of a large, scaly beast that flew through the air. The emotions that came with it had immediately brought Sal, Hannah’s magically-altered pet, to mind. That flying monstrosity couldn’t be the tiny creature Hannah had back in Arcadia… could it?
Unable to solve that particular mystery while on the road, Julianne banished it from her mind. With all the revelations they’d had in the past few days, nothing seemed impossible anymore.
And if monsters from other worlds and portals through space are possible… what things are we capable of? Things we’ve never dreamed of? Julianne sat deep in her saddle, allowing her mind to wander for the rest of the journey.
When they turned off the main road to Muir, Julianne forced her mind back to the present. They wove through the forest, taking the newer, wider path that Francis had ordered built.
They passed the school, and Julianne insisted they stop.
“Master! You’ve come for an inspection?” Bastian took her hand and helped her off the horse.
“I didn’t realize you’d made so much progress,” Julianne admitted. To be fair, she hadn’t been keeping up to date with the new build—too busy with more pressing matters to give the school the attention she wanted to.
“It’s going well,” Bastian said. “Though, we’ve had two accidents. No one was hurt, thanks to Jessop’s help.”
“Jessop?” Julianne hadn’t realized the old man was involved in the build.
“He’s the only one who knows as much as Francis when it comes to building,” Bastian explained. “He insisted on extra bracing in a few areas. That saved lives when a platform came loose one day.”
“That doesn’t sound normal,” Julianne said with a frown.
Bastian shrugged. “We still have no idea how it could have happened. Jessop thinks maybe a beam was flawed or damaged somehow.”
“And the other accident?” Julianne pressed.
Bastian blushed. “That was me. I was up top—” he pointed to a narrow boardwalk near the second floor, which was still under construction. “I tripped over my own damn boots
and slammed face first into the safety railing.”
Julianne shook her head at that. “I’m glad you’ve got someone to help. I know that construction isn’t exactly your area of expertise.”
Bastian chuckled. “You mean, you know I’m a klutz, and completely ignorant of the intricacies of building.”
Julianne grinned. “I was being polite.”
He led her on a brief tour, pointing out gaps in the stone walls that would serve as windows or doors, and showing her the layout of the lowest floor.
“You know,” she said, turning a slow circle in the roughly-framed room that would become his office. “There’s not a lot of space in here.”
“I don’t need much to be comfortable,” he said.
Julianne laughed. “You may not… but if you remember the gigantic piles of paperwork I had sent to me every day, you’d know why a big office is a gift from the Queen Bitch herself.”
Bastian winced. “But you ran a whole Temple. This is…”
“Just a school?” she teased. “You know that’s not all this is. You’re going to become a center of education, a bastion of all that Arcadia could have been if Adrien wasn’t so short-sighted. Combined with talent training? You’re breaking new ground, and the whole world will want to know how it’s going and will look to you for leadership and advice.”
Bastian was pale. “All l wanted was to teach some kids, Master. I’m not cut out for that kind of responsibility.”
She patted his shoulder. “Too late now, my friend. I have faith in you, though. I think you’re exactly the right person to do this.”
He blew a puff of air through his lips, then mustered a grin. “You’ve never been wrong before!”
“And you’ll have Tansy beside you to keep your feet on the ground. Right?” Julianne looked around and found the performer hanging upside down, legs wrapped around a beam as she secured a rope to it.
Bastian glanced at her, then quickly turned away. “It doesn’t matter how many times she does that, I can’t watch.”
Julianne laughed. “I trust in you. You need to trust in her.”
He sighed, then forced himself to watch as Tansy tested her knots, then dropped down onto the rope, grasping it with one hand. She swung out over a wide space, kicked off a beam on the other side, then leveraged her momentum to land on another beam with a quick bow.
A smattering of applause from below made her grin, before tossing the end of the rope around a post. She bent down to secure it, then yelled to a builder on another platform. “Ready!”
The rope became a pulley and soon, a flurry of work had commenced. After watching and breathing in the excitement, Julianne turned to Bastian.
“I’m sorry, Bastian. I can’t stay.”
“Off to see the rift?” he asked. “Can’t deny that’s a lot more exciting than my sticks and bricks.”
“The potential here shouldn’t be underestimated,” she said, smiling. “But yes, I need to see the rift. Bastian… is it as strange as it seems?”
He shuddered. “More. I can’t explain, though. You’ll see.”
Brushing off a momentary discomfort at his words, Julianne left. She pulled herself up onto her horse, nodded to her companions, and began the last leg of the journey.
“Here’s the wee bastard,” Bette said as they rounded the last bend in the trail.
“Where?” Julianne looked around, intent on seeing the rift for the first time without the interference of anyone else’s thoughts.
Bette thrust her chin toward the watchtower. “Over there. Go on.”
Julianne dismounted and slowly walked over to the tower. The structure had been placed so that it obscured the view of the rift from the trail, and a line of thick bushes further camouflaged it.
The guards—Sherp, Jarv, and Lewis today—nodded respectfully as she passed. Sherp waved to get her attention.
“If you need to chuck your breakfast, that’s the direction you want to aim in.” He pointed to a low bush and gave her a wink. “No shame in it. Pretty much everyone has that reaction the first time.”
“That bad, then,” Julianne murmured.
She pushed aside a flimsy branch and stepped through to the clearing on the other side.
“Ohh…” Whatever she’d meant to say was lost in a breathy sigh as she walked closer.
Rustling behind her couldn’t pull her attention from the frozen bolt of blackness that absorbed the light around it.
“Careful, Jules,” Marcus warned her.
Julianne nodded absentmindedly as she slowly circled around the rift. From the side and back, it didn’t exist. It just… vanished. There. She caught a glimpse as she came around the other side, and ducked her head back to confirm that, yes, the paper-thin slice twisted and disappeared when viewed from a different angle.
“I’ll be damned,” she whispered.
Her eyes ached to bring it into focus properly. It hung in the air, its distance difficult to gauge as her eyes struggled to make sense of the startling narrowness that somehow held unfathomable depths.
“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” Marcus whispered. He shifted uncomfortably as Julianne stepped closer to it.
“It’s ok,” she said and held out a hand to settle him. “I won’t touch it.”
Still, she raised her other hand and held it an inch away from the face of the rift. Her eyes glossed over, and Marcus bent low, ready to tackle her to the ground to break whatever connection she might make.
Julianne’s breath caught as Marcus held his. She staggered back, and he rushed forwards, catching her in his arms.
“There’s… there’s something on the other side,” she gasped, pulling away and righting herself.
She stalked over to the rift, eyes clear and face drawn.
“Something, or someone?” Marcus asked.
She shook her head. “It was jumbled. I couldn’t tell, but… I think it saw me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Garrett slapped a plate of bread and ham on a rickety table near the watchtower.
“Ye can’t be wastin’ away, not when the wee beasties are out for yer blood!” He could hear the manic edge to his own voice, but Bitch take his soul if he wasn’t pining for another round with the claw-legged bastards.
“And how are ye goin’ ta fight with a tummy full of bloat?” Bette jabbed a finger at his middle and laughed.
“It’s not fer me, lass. I don’t want young Julianne to go hungry, is all.” He looked at the table and crossed his fingers that the smell of hot rolls that had been baked fresh in hot coals would somehow pass through the rift and lure the demon spawn through.
“Sit yer ass down and eat,” Bette snapped.
“Is everything ok?” Julianne asked, casting a glance between them.
Garrett prickled under the collar. “I’m fine. Fine!” He glared at Bette as he jerked a chair out and sat down hard. Go on, he thought. I dare ye ta disagree.
Bette shook her head mournfully. “He’s anything but fine.”
“Bitch,” Garrett muttered.
“He’s afraid.” Bette held a hand out to examine her fingernails. “Poor dear got a right scare when that wee vark tried ta kill Marcus. Shook him up bad, the poor lad.”
“I’m NOT FUCKING SCARED!” Garrett bellowed, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.
Silence fell over the camp, and all eyes turned to him.
Garrett cast a nervous glance around, then slowly sat. “I’m not scared,” he repeated quietly.
“It’s alright, love,” Bette said soothingly. “We know ye were just scared for Marcus’s sake.”
Marcus opened his mouth to speak, then yelped. He leaned down to rub his ankle under the table, studiously avoiding Garrett’s glare.
“Yeah,” Marcus said. “For me. I was scared, too, dammit!”
Garrett barked a laugh. “Ye were fuckin’ terrified, weren’t ye? But we’ll show the pricks. Next time they come through, we’ll stab their beady wee eyes, and gut t
he bastards, and spread their entrails over the camp. We’ll show ‘em!”
“Aye, love.” Bette patted his arm. “We’ll spread ‘em all over. Now, have a roll.”
Garrett shoved a bite into his mouth, and promptly choked on it. Coughing and wheezing, he grabbed Bette’s arm, mouth open like a fish flopping on the floor of a boat.
“I’ll get ye some water, dear.” Bette stood far too slowly for his liking, but went towards the watchtower, where the drinking water was stored. “Err… Julianne, can ye help?”
Garrett’s eyes prickled, and bile rose in his throat. With a mighty heave, the lump of soggy bread shot out of his mouth and across the table. Marcus lurched out of its way, then prodded the offending lump with the end of his fork.
Garrett lurched to his feet.
“What are—” Marcus asked, then quieted when Garrett waved a hand to shush him.
Ignoring Marcus’s curious gaze, Garrett stumbled over towards the tower, as quietly as he could, despite the burning urge to cough.
“...and he just hasn’t been right since,” Bette was saying inside.
Garrett crouched, stuffing a hand into his mouth and biting down to stop the tickle in his throat.
“I could try and soothe some of his fear,” Julianne replied. “But sometimes using that particular spell on a rearick can—oh, dear.”
Julianne’s bright face popped out of the doorway. “Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” she scolded Garrett.
“My m—” Garrett felt his throat seize and wracking coughs overtook him. He gasped and started again, snatching the waterskin from Bette when she joined Julianne beside him.
“Ye traitorous bitch!” He wheezed. “I’m not fuckin’ scared, I’m tellin’ ye!”
“I know, Garrett.” Julianne placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked deep into his eyes, her own fading to white.
He tried to jerk away, but instead of a false calm, he felt understanding. He felt Julianne’s own fear—not for herself, but for the people she’d sworn to protect, for her friends, and especially for Marcus.
