by Amy Hopkins
Bastian nodded. “More or less. But they normally travel in packs, so—”
A loud crack behind them startled Tansy, and she jumped, whirling. Two hunched figures, as twisted and ugly as the first, blocked the path behind them.
“Run!” she screamed and pushed Bastian forwards.
She ran, years of practice at running and jumping lending her feet speed and balance. The remnant were fast, too, though. The slap of footsteps inched closer, and their mangled growls were too close.
Bastian tripped. He fell, his momentum skidding him along the dirt until he came to a painful stop.
A shriek of glee behind them made Tansy’s breath catch. She dove off the path, into the trees as the remnant pounced on Bastian.
She spotted a young, thin sapling stretching high into the shadowed canopy. Beside it, a sturdier tree covered in knots and stubby branches gave her an idea.
Tansy scaled the thicker tree, lifting herself up like a cat skittering up a wall. She jumped onto a branch and threw herself through the air, landing on a thicker branch, as balanced as she would be during a well-rehearsed performance.
A quick look down at the ground below made her grin. “This is no tent,” she muttered as quick steps brought the sapling into view.
Tansy took a second to check her balance, standing with two feet securely on the wider branch as she stared at the swaying tip of the smaller tree.
“One… two… listen to the crowd roar.” Narrowing her focus, she blew out a sharp breath.
She hurled herself forwards, grabbing the sapling with one hand. It stretched and bent, the pliant trunk building tension as it lowered her to the ground… right before a remnant.
She swung, wrapping her legs around the tree and freeing her hands. When she grabbed the startled remnant, yanking his flimsy shirt over a nub protruding from the trunk, she wondered if she had any chance of her plan working.
She dropped down and kicked the remnant, shoving him further onto the tree as the spring-loaded trunk was relieved of her weight. It shot up into the air, taking the screaming remnant with it.
Tansy punched the air, then fell forwards as something hit her from behind.
“Oh, you can’t let a girl celebrate?” she asked, falling into a roll and coming back up on her feet. She grinned, tipping her head to one side as the remnant charged her.
“Hot head,” she teased, stepping to one side at the last minute.
The remnant skidded to a halt and turned, roaring in wordless fury. It dropped into a low stance, breathing hard. “Chet take city!” he growled. “Not yours. DIE!”
His scream sent birds shooting into the air as he jumped.
Tansy darted to the side, but this time, he was ready. A hand darted out and grabbed her shirt, pulling her to the ground. The remnant rolled on top of her.
Tansy kicked, swinging her weight from her legs to overturn him. She overcommitted, though, and the roll that was meant to land her in the dominant position took her right back to where she had started.
A hand clamped down on her throat.
“Monster took our home,” the remnant hissed. His breath smelled of death and rotting rust. “Now, we take yours. We monster now.”
Tansy choked, hands scrabbling at his wrists. She dug her nails in, tearing his flesh, but he didn’t budge.
Darkness swam at the edges of her vision. Her eyes drifted shut as a thud vibrated through her body.
Air sucked into her lungs and she coughed, throat aching and swollen, but breathing.
Bastian tossed aside a branch and bent over her.
“Tansy!” he gasped. “Are you alright?”
“Get up!” she rasped. “Might be more.”
She coughed again, hoping the growing lump in her throat was something she could dislodge. It wasn’t.
Bastian jumped up and pulled her to her feet, his eyes darting around. “Let’s go,” he said.
“Your—” she swallowed. “Your pack.”
“Leave it,” Bastian insisted. “Come on!”
Half dragging her by the hand he set off down the trail.
Tansy yanked her hand back, eyes wide as a loud, clambering rustle came from ahead. “What’s that?” she whispered.
A tear leaked down her face as she reached for her knives. It wouldn’t be enough, she knew. Her body ached, her throat burned, and she had run out of tricks.
“Bastian?” a voice called. “Tansy, are ye here? Where are—ack, what the fuck is that?”
“Garrett?” Bastian called out.
Tansy’s tears ran freely now, and she sank against a tree, relief flooding her bones.
“AHH!” Garrett screamed. Tansy jumped, heart rate spiking again. “Get it off, get it OFF!” A quick scrambling noise ensued. “Fuck! That was the biggest fuckin’ spider I’ve ever seen!”
A sob burst from Tansy’s chest and she debated throwing one of her knives at the terrified rearick. When he finally emerged through the trees, though, she threw herself instead, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Then, she slapped him.
“What the fuck was that fer?” he yelped, pressing his hand to his stinging face.
Sharne and Carey arrived together, both with hands lazily resting on their weapons as they watched the exchange.
“A SPIDER?” Tansy yelled at him. “I thought you’d been attacked by a horde of flipping remnant!”
“Oh! Aye, about the remnant, ye see…” Garrett narrowed his eyes, finally noticing the bruise around her throat. “Oh, shite. Ye either already know, or young Bastian here needs a painful lesson on how to treat a lady.”
“Hey!” Bastian squealed. “How could you even… I would never…”
“Untwist yer knickers, lad. I know ye wouldn’t do that. And if ye, did, ye’ve learned yer lesson.” Garrett sniggered.
Bastian raised a hand to his face where a purple bruise flourished beneath his touch. “You knew there were remnant?” Bastian asked.
Tansy whirled around to glare at Garrett.
“Well… I knew there could have been remnant,” he admitted, backing away. “But we killed all the ones we saw, and then Bette was hurt, so I was—”
“What Garrett means to say,” Sharne interrupted. “Is that he’s very, very sorry for not sharing that vital information sooner, but he was so traumatized by the injury Bette sustained he wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“What? I didn’t mean—” Garrett stopped when Sharne firmly tapped her hand on the back of his head. “Oh, fine. That’s what I meant. Are ye both alright?”
Tansy nodded, her fury at Garrett fading as the reality sank in. “There might be one still alive. He’s… well, he’s stuck up a tree.”
Garrett’s eyes shot open at that, but she didn’t let him speak. “One accosted us at the ruins. He’s dead. Then, two more found us on the trail. I snared one, he was dangling at the top of a sapling, but his screams stopped before we heard you. He’s either fallen, or climbed down.”
“And the other?” Carey asked, voice rich with concern.
“Dead,” Tansy confirmed. “Bastian knocked him on the head.”
“You’re sure it killed him?” Sharne asked gently.
Tansy nodded, then winced as her throat muscles protested. “He looked dead, and he didn’t complain when I cut his throat. So... I’m quite sure.”
“Good, lass!” Garrett gushed. “I can’t believe the two of ye fought three of the bastards off! And wee Bastian here without a lick of talent in ‘im.”
Garrett grinned widely, ignoring Bastian’s offended glance.
“Can we go home now?” Tansy asked in a small voice. Her exhaustion pressed harder than her pride, and her breath still came in rasping gasps past the swelling in her windpipes.
“Aye,” Garrett said. “We brought the horses, so ye don’t have to walk.”
Sharne wrapped an arm around Tansy gently. “You look beat to hell,” the guard admitted as she helped her along.
Tansy mustered up a grin. “You should see t
he other guy.”
“I have no doubt I will,” Sharne said. “I don’t imagine Garrett will let those bastards run around the forest freely.”
Tansy gasped. “Surely you won’t come back here?” she asked. “It’s not safe!”
“It’s not. But do you think they won’t come for the town eventually?” Sharne shook her head. “We can’t survive without trade, not this winter, and the traders won’t come if they know there are remnant running about.”
Tansy rested against Sharne as they walked. “I know,” she said quietly. “I just… I’ve never seen one before. I didn’t know they could be so vicious. And who is Chet?”
Sharne moved under Tansy’s weight. “Chet?”
“Yeah,” Tansy said, her mind drifting over her aches and pains, wondering how far they would have to walk to find the horses. “They kept talking about him, said he took the land after they were driven out by a monster.”
“We’d best talk to Garrett about that,” Sharne said. Then, looking down at the exhausted girl, suggested, “But maybe we’ll wait until we’re home, hey?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Julianne regarded the three men trussed up on the ground before her.
“Hank,” she said to the fourth trader. He squatted on the ground next to her. “I need you to tell me exactly what she said—or, as close as you can remember.”
Hank’s brow furrowed. “Filthy pigs, trying to turn a profit off those in need. Now, I’m going to profit off you. Kill the bitch. Don’t let her pass. And don’t speak to me again, you boor.”
Julianne sighed. “There’s nothing for it,” she said. “I have to unwork the spell she put on them, there’s no way around it.”
Marcus groaned. “How long is that going to take?” he asked.
“Well, Hank’s already done. Maybe an hour? Unless Artemis deigns to help.” Julianne's eyes lit up as she delved into the mind of the second man, shaking off her irritation at her mystic companion.
Artemis had barely spoken since they had left his friends, apart from the occasional mumble about the unsatisfactory weather, the uncomfortable horse, or the long trip.
Marcus pulled a strand of grass and examined it, then nibbled it between his teeth. Hank sighed. Marcus stretched out. A fly buzzed overhead.
He lasted all of five minutes before he was up pacing again.
“You’re distracting me,” Julianne said pointedly. “I can put you to sleep, if you want.”
With an irritable sigh, Marcus flopped back down on the ground. “I thought she wasn’t as strong as Rogan,” he muttered.
“She wasn’t, not really. But she had the training of a full mystic, and she was powerful. Just… broken.”
The active part of Julianne’s mind drifted to a memory she had from inside Donna’s mind, and she shuddered. Rogan wasn’t just cruel; he was destructive. He had left gaping holes in Donna’s mind.
“Actually, Rogan may have made her stronger,” Julianne mused. “Either through his spellwork or his death.” She paused, teasing out a snarled bit of mind control magic from her patient’s mind.
“You’ll have to explain,” Marcus said. “Because I didn’t think that was possible.”
“The biggest dampener on anyone’s magic is a natural aversion to pushing against our limits,” Julianne said. “We can do it, but it’s uncomfortable—for good reason. Push too hard and you burn yourself out.”
“Like lifting a heavy weight?” Marcus asked. “A normal person can only lift so much, but if a child is crushed under a rock, we can push through that limit.”
“Yes,” Julianne said. “Ezekiel would compare it to a remnant mind. They have no natural limit. They will push harder and harder, past injury and damage, because they lack that aspect of their mind.”
Marcus’s face twisted into a grimace. “So, Donna is like a remnant now?”
Julianne shook her head. “Not really. And I can’t say if this is even true—so far, it’s just a theory. But she shouldn’t have been able to use this level of power, even if she did know the mechanics.”
“So, how do we combat that?” Marcus asked. “Could she be more powerful than you?”
Julianne shrugged. “Maybe. But if I’m right, and if she pushes that hard, she will burn out. That would be one end to the problem.”
“And the other?” Marcus asked.
“I’ll just have to kill her.”
Julianne fell silent and let Marcus to dwell on her words. Of all the people Julianne had killed—and he had to admit, it was becoming quite a list—the ones that bothered her most were the mystics.
Those were the deaths that kept her up at night, that gave her nightmares and made her doubt herself. The mere thought of someone who shared the same gift she had, someone who could ignore the pain and suffering they caused and use that gift for evil, went against everything she believed in.
Marcus rolled over onto his side to watch her. Julianne sat quietly, eyes glossed over, hands gently resting on her knees. She couldn’t have just killed the men, he knew. No, not her, he thought. She would do her best to save them, even if it meant letting Donna sneak even farther out of their reach.
“Done,” she finally said.
“That took longer than expected,” Marcus commented.
She arched an eyebrow. “All three of them,” she clarified.
Marcus sat up, frowning. “You said it would take ages.”
“I did.” Julianne grinned. “But once I figured out a shortcut, it was much easier.”
“Mental magic has shortcuts?” he asked.
Julianne chuckled. “Not really, but some spells have a specific neural pathway they follow. That makes them easy to study or replicate. Or, in this case, undo.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Marcus said, untying the three men. He gave the snoozing Artemis a nudge with his toe on the way past.
They set the traders on their way, once Julianne had given them all a brief check over.
“You’re sure they won’t have any nasty side effects?” Marcus asked, thinking back to some of the citizens of Tahn.
She shrugged. “Probably a nasty headache by morning. Maybe some disorientation, confusion. They should be fine in a day or two, and I planted a gentle suggestion in each of them to take it easy for a few days.”
“You really do think of everything,” Marcus grinned.
“It’s my job,” she sighed.
“Damn straight,” Artemis snapped, coming up between them. “And I’m glad it’s all hers and not mine.” He jabbed his horse in the ribs and wandered ahead.
“What’s wrong?” Marcus didn’t have to see in her head to notice that as they drew nearer to the Temple, her mood was dropping.
Julianne mustered up a brave smile. “Nothing.”
Marcus yanked on his reins, bringing his horse to a stop. Warily, Julianne tugged on Cloud’s, too.
“Look,” he said. “I know you’re important. You’re a leader, and you’ll be busy and have secrets, and you won’t always have time for me. But Julianne… I want to make this work. I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me.”
“I can’t promise to tell you everything,” she pleaded.
He shook his head. “I’m not asking for that. I’ve worked around higher-ups long enough to know there are some things that can’t be shared.” He nudged the horse over, so he could look her in the eye. “But don’t say you’re fine when you’re not.”
She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. I guess I was trying so hard to ignore it that I didn’t want to admit I was lying to myself, too.” She took a deep breath. “Marcus, I’m going to be so busy when I get back! There will be people around all the time, asking me for things, usually not with their mouths.”
He reached a hand out and touched her knee. “We’ll be ok,” he said. “We can make time. Little snatches, here and there. I won’t make you choose between me and the Temple.”
Giving him a wobbly smile, Julianne put her hand on his. “Thank
you. Next time I’m being stupid, don’t wait so long to point it out?”
“Oh, that’s a promise I can keep.” Marcus laughed and set off again. “Let’s see if we can’t hit Craigston by nightfall at least. Race you!”
They rode as fast as their horses could comfortably maintain, quickly catching up to Artemis and not slowing until the road began to creep upwards and the horses started to snort and huff. Drawing in to a walk, they trudged up the mountain.
“We’re not going to beat the sun,” Julianne said, eyeing the long shadows.
Marcus nodded in agreement. “Too dangerous to camp halfway up, though,” he said. “Once the light drops, we’ll walk. We can stop in Craigston for the night and head up to the Temple first thing. That is, if you’re not too tired?”
His tone was loaded with a challenge, and Julianne snorted. “I’m not the one who whined about a blistered foot for three days after a hunting trip back in Tahn,” she reminded him.
“Oh, that smarts.” Marcus said. “You’re never going let me to live that down, are you?”
Julianne shook her head eagerly. “Did you think I would? You had Annie running about after you like you’d lost a damn leg!”
“It hurt!” he protested.
“It was a grass injury,” Julianne said with a laugh.
“If you ever have a clump stuck in your shoe for six hours, let me know how you do,” he grumped back.
“Whatever, tough-guy.” Julianne stuck her tongue out and nudged Cloud a little faster up the mountain.
They made good time, only dismounting a mile short of Craigston—though, that was still too soon for Artemis. The moonlight was bright and clear, lighting their way along the mountain road, so he stayed on his horse and let Julianne lead it along the narrow path.
“Who goes?” a call rang out through the quiet evening.
“Julianne, Temple Master,” she called. “And two others.”
“Ye’ve a hide comin’ back here,” the voice snarled. A short man stomped over to them, hands on hips as he glared up at Julianne.
“Oh, Bitch’s oath,” she muttered under her breath. Then, louder, “I haven’t set foot in Craigston for some months. Are you saying otherwise?”
