by Amy Hopkins
Julianne nodded. “You’re right, on all counts. Glad you can see it.”
She winked at Marcus, then guided their horses off the path and into the brush.
It took a little time to find the body. The flesh had entirely decomposed, fertilizing the nearby soil. Fresh ferns and bright flowers had sprouted in the months that had passed, hiding the bones of the fallen girl.
Marcus helped Julianne clear the brush. Julianne sighed, looking down on the wasted life.
“You weren’t really human,” Julianne said quietly. “So, I don’t know that you would appreciate a human burial. Perhaps this way was best.”
She closed her eyes, slipping into a meditation that connected her with the trees and sunlight, the still air and the distant birdcall. An idea came to her.
Julianne stood, and started pulling long grasses and plucking the bright flowers nearby. Marcus joined her, without questioning why they were clearing brush in the middle of an overgrown, abandoned forest.
By the time they had finished, Julianne’s cheeks were pink with warmth and a trickle of sweat inched down her back, despite the cold weather. The pile of grasses and flowers was now two feet high.
Julianne carefully draped a layer of grass over the skeletal remains.
“I bid you pass into the arms of our Queen, wherever she may be, for eternal protection and love,” Julianne whispered as she worked. “I bid you pass…”
She chanted the words three times. When she finished speaking, she stood, examining her work.
There was now a mound of grass, scattered with flowers. No sign of the dead remnant remained. “They should have been like us,” Julianne said. “The magic inside us is what sent them mad, turned them into beasts. If only Ezekiel’s efforts had worked for all.”
Marcus slid an arm around her shoulder. “They are what they are,” he said. “And you gave her a beautiful farewell. Unfortunately, I doubt the other remnant will appreciate it quite so much, and if we’re found here—”
“If we’re found, we’re dead,” Julianne said. “Or more likely, they’re dead. I don’t want to ruin another pair of pants, though, so let’s go.”
They guided their horses back to the path and mounted up. Marcus took the lead, moving at a brisk pace.
“You were quiet back there,” Julianne called to Artemis.
“I may not understand the preoccupation with empty flesh-bags, but I do know people get angry when I tell them that,” he replied. “I’ve found it best to stand by and act interested in most cases.”
Julianne groaned. “I appreciate your attempt at humoring my efforts,” she said diplomatically. “What do you think happens to a soul after death?”
Artemis shrugged. “No evidence to suggest any of the preferred scenarios. It’s a mystery I’m afraid I’ll have to wait to research.”
It hadn’t occurred to her he would want to ‘research’ it, and hoped his statement simply meant he would find out when meeting his end to natural causes, not some ridiculous experiment that might cause his actual, permanent death.
“My interests lay specifically in the realm of magical application,” Artemis said. “The afterlife is merely a curiosity I will not have time to invest my intellect in.”
“I’m glad of that,” Julianne muttered.
“Quiet, you two,” Marcus hissed, dropping back so he was level with them. “I think we’re being followed.”
Julianne snapped her mouth shut and strained her ears. Over the steady, muffled thump of hooves on flattened grass, she heard a branch snap.
She lifted her hands to halt her horse, but Marcus grabbed her arm. Shaking his head, he pressed a finger to his lips.
Alright then, she sent to him. We’ll play their little game.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bette threw her helmet into the center of the room, shrugged off her jerkin, then slammed it on the table.
“Can ye believe those damn fools? Remnant! Taken in by a bloody ruse and so afraid of some men in face paint that they’d wet their pants before doin’ their bloody job!” She thumped down into a chair.
Garrett eased his own armor off and set it down gently. “Aye, it seems like that’s the sum of it. But, Bette, if they really thought they were facin’ remnant…”
“They were paid ta do a job, Garrett!” she snapped. “If yer too stupid ta know a bandit from a beast, ye shouldn’t be promisin’ people yer protection!”
He gave a tired nod. “Yer right, me love. But fer all yer angry words about those men, I think ye might just be blamin’ yerself even more.”
Bette scowled at him, blinking her eyes quickly. Then, she stood up and walked over to punch him in the arm. She stood back, hard-faced and trembling, waiting for his response.
Garrett winced, rubbed his arm and sighed. “Ye can’t take responsibility for this,” he said in the same soft, even tone, as though he wouldn’t have a bruise as black as a strangled testicle in the morning. “George never asked ye ta patrol the roads, just our wee town.”
Bette sagged, all the fight taken out of her. “He didn’t ask, but I should have offered. We knew his army was gutted by that bastard Rogan, and I should have—”
“Ye should have done what ye needed to fer Tahn. And ye did! His army might be wounded, but it’s still a damn sight bigger than ours.” He grabbed her arm. “Ye did the best with what ye had, and that’s all anyone can do.”
Bette dropped her eyes. “I suppose yer right.”
Surprise spread over Garrett’s face. “I am?”
“Aye. We did our best, but what we had wasn’t enough. So, I’m gonna fix that.” Bette stood and made for the door. “Thank ye, ye wee bastard.”
As he watched her go, Garrett wondered what he had landed himself in this time. Not that it mattered—he would follow her to the end of the world and beyond.
“Now, I just have to make sure it doesn’t kill us,” he muttered, deciding that whatever she was up to, he had better find out now rather than later. Or, knowing Bette, she would tell him at the last possible moment.
He jogged outside and almost tripped over Jessop, storming over to Danil’s cottage.
Jessop shoved the door open and stormed inside. “You’ve been avoiding us, mystic!” the old man snapped.
“Ah,” Danil said, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head. “I had hoped you wouldn’t notice.”
“Those mischief makers in the hall are eating too much. My wife can’t keep up with their demands for butter and bread!” Jessop scowled at Danil, waiting for an answer.
Danil simply shrugged. “Jessop, I know Julianne took care of a lot while she was here—and I mean a lot—but I’m going in a few weeks and Bastian will be busy with his school.”
“So?” Jessop demanded. “You’re here now, aren’t you?”
Danil sighed and stood. He walked over to the small cottage window and looked out. Hurry up, Francis, he thought. He could sense the young man heading his way, but slowly.
“The people of Tahn need to choose someone to lead them. Bastian has told you that—now I’m telling you. We won’t be here forever, and even if we were? It’s not our place.” Danil slid a plate of toasted bread over to Jessop as a peace offering.
It worked. Of course, Danil had known it would—he could sense Jessop’s gnawing hunger. He had stormed over there in such a rush after his morning conversation with Tessa, he had forgotten to eat.
As Jessop munched begrudgingly, Danil felt the gears turning in the old man’s mind. Jessop was no fool.
“You’ve got someone in mind already, don’t you, Danil?” he asked.
Danil shrugged. “Do I? Who would you pick?”
As if on cue, Francis burst into the room. Danil smiled quietly as Jessop stood a little straighter.
“Jessop! Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you here. Am I interrupting?” Francis made to go.
Danil grabbed his arm. “Not at all! What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask your opinion. Madam Seher’s
performers have been draining our resources a lot lately. The town won’t be able to sustain them indefinitely, not without causing ill will between them and the people of Tahn.” Francis paused, twisting his hat between his hands.
“And?” Danil prompted.
“Well… I thought a trade would help. If each of the newcomers can offer their services for two hours each day, that would go a long way to creating some good will. The stronger ones—and the magic users—can help build, or farm.”
“And the rest of them?” Jessop asked curiously.
“Well, a couple of their acrobats could go out picking,” Francis explained. “They could jump into the trees without even bothering with a ladder. They have at least two seamstresses, and Seher said the man who creates their fancy smoke is a dab hand at creating garden supplements.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to milk a cow, either,” Jessop mused. He caught Danil’s gaze on him and understanding dawned.
Jessop looked at Francis with new respect. He nodded slowly. “It’s a fine idea, lad. A fine idea.” Then, he snatched another piece of Danil’s toast and hurried out the door. “Thanks for sorting that out, Francis!”
“Do you think I should?” Francis asked.
“How would you go about it?” Danil asked.
Francis pursed his lips. “I was going to approach the Madam. If she’s agreeable—and I think she will be, because I’ve seen her pushing them to contribute more—then I’ll talk to the Tahn folk, see who can do with some help.”
Danil nodded. “Good idea to speak with her first. She’ll know how to address it with them.”
“Then, I thought we could try just having a list of the things that need done. We can pin it up, and let the performers choose what they want to do. Or let Seher delegate, I suppose.” Francis sat down with a thump.
Danil noticed his hands still gripping his head, and gently brushed his magic against Francis’s mind. “You’re just realizing what’s happening, aren’t you?” he asked with a wide grin.
Francis shook his head quickly.
“Don’t deny it. You’ve been taking charge more and more, ever since Julianne told you to build that bloody wall.” Danil sat next to Francis, and took a bite of his toast. It was his last piece and was starting to go cold.
Francis blew out a slow, steadying breath. “That was different. The wall, I mean. Master Julianne gave me that order, so asking people to work on it and provide materials… well, it was for her.”
“But now, you’re having ideas of your own. Good ones. And people are noticing, and turning to you for advice.” Danil finished the toast and washed it down with a swig of goat milk. “Bloody good thing they are, too. I was getting sick of the interruptions.”
He stood and walked to the door. “Now, I believe you have a meeting with a certain theatre owner?”
Francis stood and came over to the door. He paused before stepping outside. “You’re not… upset?”
Danil snorted. “Francis, we didn’t come here to run your damn town. Just save it from those asshole muckers. Now, I suggest you go see Seher. Don’t ask permission, mind—just inform her of what you’ve decided.”
Francis turned a little green at the thought of being so assertive with Madam Seher, but dipped his head respectfully and set off towards the hall.
Danil leaned back against the door jam and breathed a satisfied sigh. Footsteps in the hallway brought a tender smile to his lips.
“Danil, did I just overhear you manipulating Francis into becoming the new mayor of Tahn?” Polly asked as she came around the corner.
“Why, yes, Polly. Yes, you did.”
She leaned over to peck his cheek. “Fine choice, my dear. And… once he’s instated, we’ll leave?”
The smile dropped away from his lips, and he looked deep into her eyes—which to Danil meant looking into the reflection of her pretty blue eyes in his darker ones. “Yes, my dear. We’ll have our adventure, just as soon as Tahn is in safe hands.”
He leaned down and kissed her deeply, wondering how his world had turned so far upside down in such a short time.
CHAPTER NINE
Julianne, Marcus and Artemis continued down the forest path, the silence growing more uncomfortable by the moment. Despite Julianne’s mentally-transmitted pleas, Artemis kept craning his head around, trying to see if anyone was behind them.
“I can’t see anyone following us,” he whispered loudly.
Marcus cringed. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by hollering shrieks as five remnant burst from the trees. Two more jumped down from above, landing just behind Artemis.
His horse reared in fright and bolted forwards, throwing him off. Marcus slapped Cloud Dancer’s rump and she took off, while Marcus wheeled around to grab Artemis and haul him up from the ground, gesturing for the old man to hurry.
“Leave the papers!” Marcus yelled.
Artemis ignored him, taking up precious seconds to snatch loose papers from the ground. Finally, tucking them close to his chest, the old man looked up with desperate eyes. “My research!” he wailed, but let Marcus yank him up on the horse.
Artemis slid in behind Marcus and wrapped his arms around the soldier's waist as they took off after the Mystic Master. Marcus could just see Cloud’s tail flicking as she ran ahead.
“Maybe we can shake them off,” Marcus muttered.
“Ambush!” Artemis yelled.
Marcus gasped as Cloud suddenly stopped, blocking the path with her rump. She tried to turn back, but Marcus’s horse almost slammed into her.
“Remnant ahead!” Julianne yelled.
The clatter of weapons and raised voices reminded Marcus there were remnant behind, too. Julianne plunged forwards again, this time with her staff raised high. A scream rang out as Cloud’s hooves came down, and another when she turned and kicked out with her back legs.
“Hold on!” Marcus grunted, swinging his mount around to face the oncoming horde.
Four remnant had caught up to them. Marcus dispatched the first with a quick sword thrust.
“Cover your faces!” Artemis yelled. He threw something, and it landed in the midst of the remnant, a trail of fine smoke showing its path.
Two of the remnant glanced at the device, but quickly lost interest. They turned back to Marcus, only to be swallowed by a thick, billowing cloud. The remnant coughed and spluttered, choking on the pungent smoke.
Marcus slid off his horse and quietly stepped inside the hazy barrier. Though his sight was immediately obscured and his eyes watered, the shirt pulled over his mouth let him breath quietly.
He stabbed towards a hacking sound and felt soft resistance. The noise fell silent. Marcus spun towards a cough, then swung his sword out again. Hot splashes of blood sprayed his clothes as intestines spilled over the ground.
Artemis cried out, and Marcus dashed back in time to see a remnant stagger out of the billowing cloud towards the horse. The remnant, still heaving and wheezing, turned as Marcus’s boots crunched on the ground.
It wasn’t fast enough to avoid the bite of steel. It fell silently when Marcus’s sword sliced at the beast’s throat.
“Jules?” Marcus cried.
He dashed forwards to find her wrestling with a female remnant. They both clutched Julianne’s staff, wrestling with it, each trying to fend the other off. The remnant gnashed yellowed teeth at Julianne’s neck.
“Oh, Bitch’s breath!” Julianne gasped.
She lashed out with a solid kick, shoving away her attacker as Marcus arrived. He ran towards the remnant.
“Don’t you dare!” Julianne yelped.
She swung her staff over her head in a wide sweep, dipping it down, then bringing it back up to connect with the remnant’s jaw. Then, she pulled it back and shoved the narrow end into the teetering remnant’s chest.
The remnant buckled. Julianne nudged it with her boot, then nodded, satisfied her opponent was down for the count. She turned to shake her head at Marcus.
“You know better than to interrupt me,” she said. “I’ve wanted to use that move since you taught me. She was all lined up for it!”
Marcus laughed. “Guilty as charged,” he said. “Next time, I’ll stay back until I’m sure you need help.”
“What makes you think I will?” Julianne asked.
Marcus shrugged. “You probably won’t, but can’t I at least pretend you need me around?”
“I do need you.” Julianne grinned. “You always know the best way to get blood stains out of my whites.”
The idea of being relegated to Julianne’s laundry boy tickled something inside Marcus. He let out a deep belly laugh, loud enough that two crows took fright. They burst out of a nearby tree and shot into the sky, disappearing into the afternoon sun.
“Damn,” Marcus said. “It’s getting late. I’d hoped to be out of the Madlands by nightfall.”
“How far do you think?” Julianne said.
He shrugged. “If we ride hard and don’t have to stop again, we’ll make it to one of the border camps a little after dark. Are you up for it?”
The ride through had been easier than their first trip together, but it had still been rough.
Julianne regarded him, eyes narrowed. An uneasy feeling prickled down his spine. “Now, Jules,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I’ve got Artemis riding with me. No crazy—”
“Are you telling me your horse can’t handle it?” she asked.
He slumped defeatedly. “At least let me mount, first?”
She gave a short nod. Marcus’s ass had barely hit the saddle when she called out again.
“Last one to camp gets to clean my boots!” she yelled as she kicked Cloud Dancer in the ribs. Her horse shot off, leaving Marcus for dead.
“Dammit,” he said, urging his horse into a gallop. “I knew she was gonna do that.”
Julianne’s horse disappeared into the forest ahead, though he could still hear the hoofbeats on the path. Her horse was small, but quick. His was strong, but weighed down by two men.
Shit. Julianne sent the thought with a mental image of the path branching in two directions. Left?
