Dawn Of Darkness

by Amy Hopkins

  “Go on with ye,” Garrett groaned. “I thought you at least would know.”

  “Life in the Temple… it's different to the outside. Less complicated, for the most part. Fewer misunderstandings due to this”—Danil tapped his head—“and we do tend to have more leniency towards casual flings than the outside world. Still, women? You're asking the wrong man, my friend.”

  “Bah. Well, I'll ask ye anyway, because Marcus is too bloody smitten with Julianne to be of any damned use.” Garrett stood back and scratched his beard. “I've been fixin’ to ask Bette a question, the sort that a man can't just come out and ask a lass.”

  A grin almost cracked Danil’s face in half. “Oh, I know exactly the sort of question.” He clapped Garrett over the shoulder. “And I know exactly what to do.”

  “Ye do?” Garrett asked warily. “Because I like me balls round and intact, if ye know what I mean.”

  “Oh, I know,” Danil said.

  He winced as he contemplated just what punishment an angry Bette would dish out to an unsuspecting rearick. Bette was a firecracker, and no one bore the brunt of that more than Garrett.

  The two men scraped the last of the mess off the ground, conversation stalled as they carefully lifted it up on the cart. They managed to do it without a repeat of the earlier attempt and Danil stood back as Garrett strapped it in securely.

  “Look,” Danil said. “I've had an idea brewing in the back of my head for the last few days, and it might just be the answer to your problem… and to a few others, not to mention being a shit-ton of fun. If you help me out with it, I'll make sure you get the perfect opportunity to ask Bette that question of yours.”

  Garrett narrowed his eyes, knowing Danil had a love of mischief. Still, he figured it would all be worth it if Bette said yes.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Julianne left the stable as close to a run as she could without being obvious. Artemis meant well, but he could talk the ear off a drunk raccoon. She wondered if he would have even noticed if she had snuck out twenty minute earlier. Admittedly, she probably wouldn't have cared if he did.

  Even now, his voice rambled on to no one in particular as he contemplated the physiological difference that caused each type of magic to affect the eyes differently. So far, he hadn't managed to crack the code, and it bothered him greatly.

  Mystics’ eyes turned white when using their powers, while nature mages’ eyes were green. Physical magic turned a caster’s eyes an eerie black and recently, another type of magic had been discovered that made the girl’s eyes glow a violent shade of red.

  That had been startling to see, not least because Bethany Anne, believed to be the first magic user, had been depicted with red eyes. Though the records never did agree on where she went exactly, she had left earth hundreds of years ago, and her legend was one of the most prolific in this new age.

  Bethany Anne’s departure had eventually spawned the Age of Madness, a period where the elements that connected humans with magic sent them mad. Thanks to the Founder—who had ended the period of darkness and returned to teach people like Julianne’s old Master, Selah, how to use magic again—the world was finally coming to rights.

  Still, the power they had was far from what Bethany Anne, also known as the Queen Bitch, was known to do. Immortal, invincible and yet still full of compassion (at least according to the legends), she was most often depicted with glowing red eyes.

  Julianne made a mental note to tell Artemis about Hannah, the young girl Ezekiel had found with unheard of powers and crimson eyes.

  She spared a quick wave to Danil, who was deep in conversation with Garrett, then wrinkled her nose at the smell. They must be off to cart the animal castings to a neighboring farm for composting.

  Annie had a magical talent for growing things, a tiny sliver of untrained nature magic that eliminated the need for fertilizing and extra water.

  The town was still reeling after months of neglect. The New Dawn had pillaged the harvests and taken everything of value. Whether they had only planned to stay until they had run the place down, or were just incredibly stupid, she wasn't yet sure.

  Maybe today's examination will finally shed some light on that, she thought.

  Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at an old stone wheelhouse. She waved at Josh, the guard out front. “Is Marcus here?” she called.

  He raised a hand to his head as he thumped his chest, a salute some of the townspeople had taken for the mystics. Though Josh's hair was as white as the cotton wool clouds overhead, he stood tall and proud. “Yes, ma’am. Inside with the muckers.”

  Julianne pressed her lips together at the insulting term. She knew the townspeople didn't think of Julianne and her friends as muckers—a term coined from the shortening of ‘mind fuckers’—but she had been on the pointy end of hate for mystics before.

  She chose to ignore it, though, figuring the people who used it had been treated badly enough by the ‘muckers’ to call them whatever they damn well wanted to.

  The old wooden door cracked as she pushed it open. It was dark inside, the tiny windows at the top of the building filtering the only spears of light with dirty glass and muddy streaks.

  "Oh, for goodness sake, Marcus. I know it's meant to be a containment center, but you don't need to make it look like a dungeon." Julianne squinted into the shadows to where Marcus lazily leaned against a wall.

  "It's not me," Marcus said with a shrug. "They’re still punishing themselves. If you want the lantern, it's over there." He gestured to the wall beside the door Julianne had come through.

  Her shoulders dropped. "Not again," she mumbled.

  The last remaining members of the New Dawn were like a thorn digging into her foot. Sure, they were scum, but not quite the level of scum that August, Rogan’s second in command, had forced them to be.

  "Present!" Marcus barked.

  The full figures, almost hidden by the dark shadows in the room, stood swiftly and saluted. It wasn't the tap to the head and fist to the heart that Julianne's people were familiar with. Instead, they slowly raised a hand then stiffly touched one ear, a gesture she knew they’d been taught by August.

  "If I may speak, Master?" A man stepped forwards, shoulders slouched and eyes to the ground.

  Julianne bit back an impatient report. "Of course, Jeffery. You know you don't need to ask permission to speak.”

  “Thank you, wise leader.”

  Julianne rolled her eyes. The group she faced had a clear split of personalities: those that resisted any attempt to show respect towards her, and those who layered it on thicker than the shit that had filled Garrett’s barrel earlier.

  “Danil was by earlier. Said my head is as good as any. I'd like to request to be the next to submit to sentencing.”

  Julianne bristled. The prisoners called it sentencing, though anyone who referenced the procedure around her was careful to use the word ‘examination’. She didn't bother arguing with Jeffrey. Not just because it wouldn't do any good, but because, in a way, he was right.

  "Very well." Julianne ignored the slightly surprised and overly fearful look on Jeffery’s face. "Marcus, bring him to the room, and we’ll get started right away."

  "My pleasure," Marcus said, just a bit too gleefully.

  Without a backwards glance, Julianne walked off. She crossed the yard again, nodding curtly to another guard stationed nearby. As she passed, she gently pressed against the shields in his mind. It bowed.

  Marcus, that man needs a rest. She passed the instruction to Marcus mentally, not wanting anyone to hear it.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his minuscule nod and was reassured the guard would be relieved before he became vulnerable to their prisoners.

  Marcus had been one of the first people she had met who had no magic, yet could erect a decent mental shield. She still didn't understand how he had learned it, but it damn sure came in handy around here.

  The New Dawn couldn't control a man who was shielded unless they could brea
k through. Those chosen to guard them had the capacity to block them out, or in a worst-case scenario, notice their shield had been breached in time to send out a warning.

  Normally, this would make mind to mind communication difficult. Julianne, however, had trained Marcus in the art of communicating with shields up.

  Marcus practiced no magic himself. He couldn't read minds, or send messages outside his own head. What he could do, however, was allow Julianne through his shields enough to receive a message she pushed to his mind, or to let her read a thought in the front of his.

  “Uhh… what exactly is it you do to us out here?” Jeffrey asked. His face had lost color, and he fidgeted nervously.

  All he could know is that one by one, his companions had been taken out to this little shed, sometimes kicking and screaming.

  They would never return.

  Julianne knew the remaining ‘Dawners’, as she called them, had numerous theories. Most erred on the side of the missing being taken and subjected to a violent and painful end.

  She let them believe that because it suited her purpose. Over time, she'd felt less and less sympathy for the brainwashed victims of Rogan. Though she had tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, each examination had proven the subject was well and truly capable of hurting people.

  Apart from exposing their own debase tendencies, none of them had given her any real information on Rogan. He had used August as his intermediary and passed messages to him through Donna, a former Temple student with fiery red hair.

  Rogan was like a stone in her shoe that slipped away each time she looked for it, only to dig in as soon as it was back on her foot. With only a few minds left to rummage through, Julianne had all but given up on finding out anything that would help her catch their ringleader.

  “What is it you think we do, Jeffrey?” Julianne asked.

  Marcus, silent and grim, shoved Jeffrey down onto a chair. He bound the man's hands behind his back, then stood to one side, arms folded across his broad chest.

  “I… I don't know. The others think you're taking me out to my execution, but you're not… are you?” Jeffrey glanced back at Marcus, and Julianne felt his fear grow.

  Julianne smiled, but it was a cold gesture. Then, she slammed into his head, shredding the weak mental shield he had put in place.

  Have you used your magic? she demanded, sending her mental voice booming through Jeffrey’s thoughts. Her eyes glowed white.

  He flinched at the sound, even though it was only in his head.

  N… no. Yes. Only once, I swear. I just wanted to see where you were taking the others. I didn't see anything, I swear! His thoughts were fast and urgent, laced with fear. Please, I don't want to die.

  Julianne ignored his lead and rummaged through his immediate memories. He hadn't lied. Apart from a single attempt to read Marcus's mind—not Julianne’s—two weeks ago, he hadn’t tapped into his power.

  She hid a smile at the assumption the easy-going soldier with no apparent magic would be an easy mark. Tell me about the New Dawn, she sent, lacing the instruction with a magical compulsion that would make it impossible for him to resist.

  For the others, she had peppered them with questions, trying to lead them to the answers she was looking for. Unfortunately, the hierarchy of the organization meant the members she had caught only had a rudimentary knowledge of the greater plan and didn't know anyone higher up except their immediate handler, August.

  I was chosen. He said I was gifted. Jeffrey's mind wandered into a memory of that day. He had been visiting one of the cities to the south, looking for dyes to color the silk he would then sell at a premium.

  In the memory, Jeffrey had argued over the price, haggling with the vendor and landing a substantial discount. All the while, he had kept an arm crossed over his middle. When making a business deal, showing weakness would immediately reduce leverage.

  Jeffrey was missing a button, torn off during an argument at the local money lender. His skills hadn't extended quite as far as he had wanted, and he'd lost his temper. The button came off in the scuffle, and he now hid it as best he could to maintain the appearance of being a rich, successful trader.

  He closed his deal with the dye merchant and turned to go, almost bumping into the man behind him. He looked up, a growl on his lips as he readied to push whoever had held him up.

  August. Julianne recognized him from a memory she had seen in someone else's mind.

  “My, you do have a gift for persuasion, don't you?” August whispered.

  Jeffrey had blushed. “From the Goddess.” He had tried to shuffle away, but August snared him in a glittering gaze.

  “A man of your talent should be running this city, not slumming in it.” August dropped his eyes to Jeffrey’s coat, and the missing button.

  Jeffrey kept his head down, wanting, needing August to leave him alone. Usually, tapping into this part of himself gave him what he wanted. Not this time.

  August raised an eyebrow. “My friend,” he said, putting an arm around Jeffrey. “I've been looking for a man of your talents. Let me buy you tea, and we can discuss it.”

  The memory faded and Julianne reached Jeffrey’s mind to grab the conversation. August, his words dripping with a low-level beguilement spell, had insisted that Jeffrey could learn to use magic to become the man he wanted to be.

  Julianne noted that what Jeffrey “wanted to be” wasn't exactly a force for good. No, he wanted money and power, gained in the easiest way possible. It was a trait he had in common with all of his colleagues.

  Frustrated, Julianne forced a memory of her own into his head. The first time she had ventured into Tahn, Jeffrey had been overseeing work in a field. He had forced a punishment onto an elderly man who couldn't keep up with the grueling demands of physical labour.

  Guilt suffused Jeffrey's mind, and Julianne saw his version. August had been frustrated, doling out punishments, not just to the serfs they had enslaved, but to the New Dawn, too.

  If he didn't get those damned apples harvested in time to pay the tithe, he was the one who would be writhing in pain.

  Julianne didn't spare the man much sympathy. He had lain with snakes and should have expected that sooner or later, he would get bitten.

  “That man was old, weak,” she whispered. “You could have killed him.”

  “But I didn't. He lived!” Jeffrey twisted his face up to her. “He could have died, but I didn't let him!”

  Julianne kicked the stool and Jeffrey tumbled to the floor. She planted a foot on his chest. “He lived because I intervened,” she yelled. “You didn't even notice. Don't you dare give yourself a pass for not killing a man that only lived because of me.”

  Jeffry cringed, shame and guilt pouring from his mind so thick it was cloying. “I'm sorry!” he whimpered. “I'm sorry.”

  Marcus hauled him onto his seat, not bothering to wipe his snot-covered face.

  “That's nice,” Julianne said evenly. All trace of her rage was gone, swallowed by the effortless control she had honed for years. “At least you have some kind of conscience. I can't tell you how many of your friends couldn't get far enough past not wanting to die to actually apologize for what they'd done.”

  Jeffrey shook, too scared to look her in the eye. “Just kill me.” His voice trembled. “I know I deserve it. I'm as much of a rat bastard as the rest of them. Just… please, don't make it hurt too much?”

  Julianne stepped back. “I'm not going to kill you.”

  “You're… not?”

  “I didn't kill any of them, not those that survived the battle anyway. I'm not overly sorry about the lives lost that day, but I'm not a cold-blooded monster, Jeffrey. I'm not like August.” She regarded him coldly, waiting for him to look up. He finally did. “That doesn't mean you go free. Not entirely.”

  Julianne's eyes glossed over, her irises and pupils fading back to the opaque white of a mental magician using their gift.

  Your magic has changed. You can still use your talents
, for good or for ill, but something broke inside you. Something snapped while you waited for your sentence.

  The thoughts she forced into his head became his, her words knowledge that couldn’t be ignored.

  The next time you cast a spell that causes pain, you will feel that pain. The next time you make someone obey you, you will be obedient.

  Anything you do to another will be reflected back upon your mind. This breaking cannot be undone. It will affect everything you do from this point on.

  Julianne whispered a quiet word to seal the spell, and her eyes cleared. Though she had no power to change a person’s magic, mental magic often didn't need to have a physical effect to work. Jeffrey would believe, and therefore, he would feel.

  Julianne couldn’t be entirely sure how long the spell would last. Back at the Temple, Selah had tasked her to try a similar spell, but a simpler version that was a bit kinder to the recipient.

  For the last nine years, every time Margit touched the doorway to her room she had smelled lavender. The compulsion hadn't worn off yet, and Julianne had strengthened and refined the spell over the years. This version was a little different, formulated with help from Artemis.

  This rendition was a little more complex, but Artemis had assured her it would work. She trusted him and, more importantly, trusted his research.

  Aloud, she said, “If you ever wish to return to our people, a penance must be paid. You will walk there, from here. You must wear no shoes and climb no beast or wagon. Every step between the town of Tahn and the Mystic Temple will be one where your bare feet meets the earth.

  Jeffrey's face fell. He didn't speak, so she continued.

  “When you arrive, you will spend one hundred and twenty days in the chambers of reflection. You will speak to no one, only eat, sleep, and breathe the purpose of those rooms.”

  Jeffrey's body collapsed in on itself. “May I go?” he asked.

  Julianne nodded, expecting him to leave immediately. Instead, he reached down to unlace his boots. “Give these to one of the townspeople. Bitch knows I've taken enough from them.” Setting the shoes side by side, he walked away.