Dawn Of Darkness

by Amy Hopkins

  The sound of fighting behind her caught her attention. “Haven’t you finished with them yet, Marcus?" she called out.

  One of the men spun and whipped his large hammer. She easily slid under it and sidestepped in to Marcus’s side.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want me to have all the fun,” Marcus said behind her.

  “Hi, Joff. I’m Julianne. Would you like to surrender now, or after I cut your dick off and shove it down your throat?”

  Joff snarled and swung his hammer in another clumsy move.

  Julianne slammed her staff down onto the blacksmith’s fingers. He snatched one hand off his weapon, but quickly grabbed it again. He swung it wide, the clumsy weapon too slow for Julianne’s quick dodge.

  “I appreciate it,” she said as she slapped her weapon at Blacksmith’s side. He caught it easily. Julianne used his support as leverage, launching herself into a kick that connected her foot with his windpipe. “That Larry was a real piece of work.”

  “Not just an innocent man trying to feed his family?” Marcus, his attacker already on the ground, stood back to watch Blacksmith slowly turn purple. The big man dropped to his knees, hands at his throat.

  Julianne sighed. “God help any one of his victims that ended up with his child.” The thought made her sick.

  Ignoring the suffocating man at her feet, she nodded at Marcus’s opponent. “Cormorant strike?" she asked. It was a finishing move Marcus had taught her during the revolution.

  He grinned. “I’ve tweaked it a little. I’ll show you, if you want?”

  Blacksmith’s eyes bulged as he gargled a thin wisp of moist air. Then, he fell to the ground, silent.

  “Should we check the body?” Marcus gingerly nudged the fallen man with his boot.

  “He’s definitely dead,” Julianne said flatly.

  Marcus gave her a concerned look. It was unlike Julianne to be this matter of fact about taking a life. “He was that bad, huh?”

  Finally, a glimmer of emotion showed on her face. She turned tortured eyes to him. “I don’t give a damn if I’ve just sent that man to hell, Marcus. I just wish I could fix some of the lives he’s destroyed.”

  Mystics held only the highest regard for human life, treating it as a sacred gift and only killing in the direst of circumstances. These men, however, had spent a lifetime destroying lives.

  The brief glimpse Julianne had into his mind sickened her, made worse because she had almost left him alive, none the wiser to the evil he had spread across the land. He was a power-hungry monster, lacking in real authority.

  He took it out on those around him to build himself up. Bullying men and women, forcing himself on those he wanted and was not above killing someone who sparked his ever present rage.

  The only solace Julianne had from the muck that now felt etched onto her brain was the knowledge that he would never hurt anyone again.

  “I suppose you want me to clean up this mess?” Marcus asked dryly.

  Julianne shrugged. “I’m just a weak little girl. I couldn't possibly lift those big, heavy bodies.” She dusted off her robes, then set to work trying to scrub out the blood with a cloth and some water from her flask.

  Marcus snorted. He knew Julianne was stronger than most women and many men he knew. Despite his earlier teasing, if anyone had grown soft, it was him. His pants were just a little tighter than when they had arrived in Tahn, thanks to the villagers’ generosity to their saviors.

  Julianne, always rushing about from one job to the next, usually waved off the jams and cookies the residents baked for her. She helped with physical labor as much as the organization of the recovering town, and with the extra responsibility that went with being leader of the mystics.

  He picked up the first body and dumped it in the bushes. There would be no ceremony for these men, and Marcus didn't really care if they were discovered by local soldiers.

  Marcus hoisted the second body over his shoulder. Julianne tucked her now-stained handkerchief away and grabbed the foot of the final man, dragging the corpse over to the bushes.

  “You'll get blood all over you,” she said, wrinkling her nose as Marcus dumped the second body.

  “It’s ok, I won’t ask you to wash my shirt.” He gave her a cheeky grin.

  Julianne raised a cool eyebrow. “I should hope not,” she said, a warning in her voice.

  “I seem to remember doing quite a lot of washing clothes just a few weeks ago,” he said, sliding a glance her way.

  He had taken on a lot of the more menial duties for their group as Julianne and the other mystics grappled with the effects of the brainwashing by the New Dawn.

  “I don’t recall ever asking you to,” Julianne reminded him.

  “No, that’s true.” Marcus wasn’t brave enough to push the matter further.

  Garrett had, once. Raised in a patriarchal society, he was used to letting women do the cooking, cleaning and sewing, even though he had the skills to do it himself when on the road.

  Julianne had caught wind of him asking Annie to wash a shirt for him. He had walked around with an itch in his ass for the next two days, inflicted by Julianne and only relieved when he begged Annie’s forgiveness for—in his words—‘being a lazy hog scrotum’.

  As soon as he had apologized—properly, not like his first attempt made through clenched teeth and full of half-cocked excuses—the itch had disappeared. It left him in a foul enough mood that no one mentioned it to his face, but the entire village had talked of nothing but that for a week after.

  “It’s ok,” Julianne said. “I’m not going to inflict you with imaginary worms.”

  Marcus almost fell out of the saddle. “Shit. You got past my shields? I didn’t even notice you trying.”

  Julianne burst into giggles. “No. The look of terror on your face was enough to tip me off. You were thinking of Garrett, weren’t you?”

  Wincing at the memory, Marcus nodded. “I wouldn’t wish that on any of my friends, but I guess he deserved it.”

  “He didn’t tell you the whole story,” Julianne said. “You know how I found out he’d tried to dump his washing on Annie?”

  Marcus shook his head. He assumed she had seen it in Garrett’s mind, or Annie's.

  “Bette.”

  “You saw it in her mind?” Marcus asked. When Julianne gestured a no, he frowned. “I can see her unleashing her own wrath on him, but I wouldn’t pick her to tattle on another rearick.”

  “She didn’t have to.” Julianne started to laugh again and slowed her horse, afraid she would lose her balance. “I heard her screaming at him from upstairs. When Annie told him to get stuffed, he went and asked Bette to do it!”

  Marcus’s jaw dropped. “He asked Bette to wash his clothes?”

  “I had to intervene before she killed him. I damn near left it too late; she had his head in the water trough when I got down there.”

  Marcus shuddered. “Bitch’s oath, what was the idiot thinking?”

  Julianne shrugged. “He’s all over the place with Bette. I’m glad they fought last night—it’ll give them both a fresh start and maybe let Garrett work out his feelings for her.”

  “So, he does have them?” Danil had told him about the events leading up to Garrett’s challenge.

  Julianne shrugged, not willing to give away too many details of another person’s private thoughts. “The whole town can see how he dotes on her, at least when he’s not acting like a dipshit. The rearick are very traditional when it comes to courting.”

  “And Bette breaks tradition,” Marcus finished. “So, Garrett doesn’t know how to move forward.”

  “Not without getting his balls cut off,” Julianne agreed. “If they can work it out, they’ll be setting new traditions, changing the status quo of a whole community.”

  “Could make for some big changes.” Marcus reached back into one of his bags and pulled out a bright, red apple. He tossed it to Julianne, who caught it easily. She sank her teeth into it and closed her eyes, savoring
the taste. “A bit like when you took the throne at the Temple, I’d guess.”

  Julianne finished chewing, then swallowed the food. “An expert on mystic culture now, are we?”

  “No, but I’ve seen how you react when people make assumptions about you. Especially the ones based on you being a woman. That doesn’t happen without a fight or two over it in your past.”

  “It wasn’t anything so dramatic,” she said. “I mean, we don’t have secret prejudices back at the Temple. We can’t. And we don’t harbor assumptions based on silly things like gender, because we can see perfectly well how kind, or smart, or greedy a person is.”

  “So, no one batted an eye when Selah chose you?”

  Julianne paused. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But most of the judgement came from outside. Adrien, not that I gave a camel’s shit what he thought; the rearick didn’t want to deal with me at first. And I knew my people supported Selah’s choice, even though they thought a man might hold up better in the long run.”

  “That must have stung,” Marcus said. He pulled out another apple and broke off a chunk with his teeth. It crunched loudly, and he wiped the juice from his chin.

  Julianne shrugged. “It is what it is. It didn’t take long before my own people, at least, accepted me as their leader.”

  “And a damn fine one you are, too.” Marcus leaned down, letting Julianne’s horse steal the apple core from his fingers. Then, he kicked his horse a bit faster. “Come on. Let’s get this trip over and done with. We haven’t even been gone a day, and I already miss Annie’s hot breakfasts.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Danil stepped onto the porch as the crowd on Annie’s front lawn muttered and grumbled.

  “Ho, neighbors!” They quieted and looked up, waiting to hear the mystic’s explanation. “I know you’ve heard rumblings and they’re true, for the most part. Yes, we’ve been threatened. Some dickbag from the next town over came looking for some taxes.”

  “Old George ain’t done a damn thing to deserve ‘em!” Someone called out.

  Danil nodded in agreement. “That’s true. Julianne has gone to settle it with Old George—it was the younger one that came busting in with a stick up his ass, but she thinks his father might have a bit more sense and compassion.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Jarv asked from up in the front.

  “That’s why I called you all here. Training will increase. We think George, either junior or senior or maybe both, has a few of those muckers on the payroll. We need to be prepared. Training schedules are on the wall, so read them before you go. If you’re not learning, go practice, or help Francis build that damned fence.”

  Danil had already heard tales about the fence Francis had already begun to erect. In the few hours since daylight, it seemed he had made incredible progress, though Danil only had excited impressions to judge by.

  “How long until that little pig-fucker comes back for his money?” Tessa asked.

  Danil almost stumbled back. Whenever he had spoken to her, she had acted the lady, wailing at her husband whenever he let a curse word slip. Now, though, she looked ready for battle. Her eyes blazed with fury.

  “Is it true he wanted women and girls?" she demanded.

  Suddenly her rage made sense. “Do you really think we’d let that happen?” Danil asked. He sent a wave of reassurance towards her, but she only bristled more.

  “Stop with the feel-good bullshit, mystic. Is my daughter in danger if she stays?”

  Danil looked her in the eyes. He couldn’t see, she knew that, but the gesture still mattered to him. “Tessa, I swear on my life—I will not let a single woman or child in this town get hurt. He will not take you, or your daughter. You’re all safer here, under our protection.”

  He watched his own face through Tessa’s eyes. He saw the ferociousness he felt in his breast reflected in the set of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils. He meant it. He would give his life for these people.

  Tessa watched, judging his words. Then, she nodded. “Then tell us what to do.”

  Danil smiled. “There will be no cap on class numbers for the next few days. If you have talent, please, help with the teaching. Our first priority is to get everyone shielded. The second is to hone any innate magic that can be used in battle.”

  “Aye, just set Francis on ‘em! He’ll toast the bastards!” Mack laughed at his own joke.

  “The able bodied should also see Garrett and Bette. They’ll teach you to wield a weapon without cutting off your arm.”

  “What weapons?” Mack asked. “We’re already doubling up in training.”

  “Ye pile of bloody wringers,” Bette snapped. “Yer telling me a town full of bloody farmers can’t come up with a pile of blunt sticks ta bash heads with?”

  “Ye don’t need a fancy point on the end of a weapon,” Garrett added. “Just a bit of weight and a lotta balls.”

  Bette jabbed an elbow in his side. “Or a tough pussy! Ye ever seen a wee babe come to the world, ye know those things can take a beating!”

  A smatter of laughter ran through the crowd as Bette rolled her eyes. “What my good friend is tryin’ ta say is that anything can be a weapon. Bring what ye got to the trainin’, and we’ll show ye how ta make do.”

  “And don’t pike out on the weapons classes just because yer a woman,” Garrett yelled. “Sharne is the best bloody fighter in Marcus’s troop. We need some bloody skirts in there to show these men how it’s done!”

  Bette looked at Garrett in surprise. Grinning, she leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Keep that up and ye might have to start lockin’ yer door at night if ye don’t want ta be interrupted.”

  Garrett blushed, paled, and blushed again. “But… but I don’t have a door. We sleep in the stables.”

  “I know,” she purred. Bette turned on one foot and marched away, leaving Garrett dumbstruck and frozen in place.

  After a minute, Danil nudged him. “You done?" he murmured.

  Garrett nodded. For some reason, his mouth wasn’t working. Danil herded him off the porch and dismissed the villagers, who mingled around the lists he had posted with guard rosters, mental magic classes and fight practice.

  “What happened?” Danil asked, itching to just delve into the rearick’s head and see the answer for himself. He was mindful of his promise, though.

  “I think… I think Bette just flirted with me.”

  Danil’s eyes widened and he backed away, hands raised defensively. “Oh, no. No. I am NOT getting involved in that again.” Tripping over his feet, he bolted away before Garrett could say anything else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Artemis, we need you.” Bastian sidestepped into the doorway, blocking the old man’s attempt at scurrying away. “We just don’t have enough people to train the whole damn village.”

  “I told you, I don’t like people!” Artemis snapped.

  “What’ll it take?” Bastian folded his arms and glared down at Artemis. With a start, Bastian realized he was taller than him. He was sure that wasn’t the case when they had first met a few short months ago.

  Artemis shook his fist. “You have nothing I want!”

  “Oh, no?” Bastian raised an eyebrow. “I’m a mystic. One with the ear of the Master. In fact, she’s already agreed to help me with a little project I think you’ll find quite interesting.” Ok, Bastian admitted to himself, safe behind a mental shield. She said she’d think about it. Close enough, right?

  Artemis narrowed his eyes. “What kind of project.”

  “Oh, nothing exciting. Just a multi-modality school. Here. In Tahn.”

  Artemis froze. “Here?" he whispered.

  “Of course, it’ll take a lot to set up. We’ll need loads of the regular teaching books, but also some of the more obscure scrolls and histories. I mean, we’ll be breaking new ground here.”

  “The histories? Of the other magics?” Artemis’s eyes were like saucers, shining in excitement.

  “Of course, access to those
records will be highly restricted.” Bastian shook his head regretfully. “They simply wouldn’t be shared with just anyone. Only a trained mystic who’d sacrificed themselves for the greater—”

  “I’ll do it!” Artemis threw his hands up in defeat. “I’ll take all the bloody classes! Just promise me, you’ll give me access to everything. And there won’t be any more strings! I’m not letting you round me up as some kind of overrated babysitter for this play center you’re starting up.”

  Bastian laughed at his fierce scowl. “Honestly? I don’t think we’d put the students through that.”

  Artemis scowled even harder. “I’m the best teacher they’d get, short of the bloody Founder.”

  “Do we have a deal? Your help now, for access to the school library on an ongoing basis, if and when we get it set up.” Bastian held his breath, hoping Artemis didn’t catch the ‘if’ clause.

  “Fine, fine. And I suppose you’ll be skipping your own sessions with me?”

  “Unless you can show me how to teach a physical user.” Bastian turned to go, then whirled back as Artemis clicked his tongue. He only did that when he was thinking, hard. “Wait… can you?”

  “It’s all theory, mind,” Artemis said. “And I won’t take the students on myself. I can give you some pointers, though.”

  Bastian cried out in glee, then jerked the older man into a rough hug. “Artemis, you’re the best damn asshole I’ve ever met.”

  He stayed in the stables that Artemis had made his home for another twenty minutes, hashing out the details of Artemis’s new classes, and getting a basic rundown on the magic types and how they were used.

  “Right. And you’re sure you can’t show me the hand gestures?” Bastian asked when they were done.

  “Did you listen at all? The gestures are unique to the magic user. Physical mages just flop their hands about, the same way we garble gibberish when we cast.” Artemis waved him off. “Go away. I want at least five minutes of peace before I wade into this shit hole of a job you’ve given to me.”