by Amy Hopkins
“There’s no one—oh.” Absent the telltale mental presence, Julianne had assumed the area was deserted, but some washing billowed on a line and an unseen horse whinnied. She focused, but still couldn’t find the people that should be around.
Just as she opened her mouth to tell Marcus that, a door slammed shut and a moment later, a pair of curtains were yanked closed.
Whoever is here is shielded, she sent to Marcus. He nodded, and moved his hand to rest on his sword.
“If only my rifle was loaded,” he muttered. He couldn’t tell if the snort from behind him came from Artemis, or his horse.
A man stepped out from behind a small outbuilding. He was tall and broad, and a sword hung from one hip. A faded scar traced a line from his scalp to his chin.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Julianne pressed against his shield, but it was strong. Marcus, I can break through his mental barrier, but it will probably tip him off.
Don’t do it just yet, Marcus thought. We’ll hope they’re friendly, but assume they’re not. He certainly doesn’t look like a man who welcomes visitors.
“We’re travelers, returning to the Heights,” Marcus called. “We’re just passing through, friend.”
“The Heights?” The man’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what she said last time she passed through.” He pointed at Julianne.
“I’m sure you’re mistaken. I haven’t passed this way before,” she said coolly.
“Bullshit. You think we don’t remember? You tricked us into giving you half our supplies, you traitorous mystic bitch. Adrien was right about your kind.”
Julianne opened her mouth to protest, but a noise made her turn. Four more men stood behind them, twisting their hands into complicated movements. As she watched, their eyes turned black.
Arcadians! Just as Julianne harnessed her magic, the ground exploded below her. Cloud Dancer reared, and Julianne slipped to the ground, her trance dissipating. She yanked out her staff, only to have it stripped from her hands. It flew through the air towards one of the magic users. He raised his other hand and squeezed.
“This time you’re ours, whore.”
A hard band tightened across Juliane’s throat, cutting off her air. She threw herself against the man’s shield and forced through it. She tore at his mind until he collapsed, but the pressure didn’t change.
As dark spots floated in her vision, she realized she had attacked the wrong man. Giddiness made her weak as she suffocated, but she shoved her way past it, and dove back into the mind of the man she had attacked.
Through his eyes, she saw Marcus hanging upside down, suspended in the air three feet off the ground. A man nearby clutched his arm, blood dripping through his fingers. Artemis lay on the dirt, face already swelling and beginning to darken into a bruise across his cheekbone.
Julianne took control, taking the Arcadian’s body as her own. She drew his sword and lunged at the nearest of his companions, relishing at the feel of the oxygen in his lungs as her own starved for it.
The second Arcadian lunged back. “Take out the bitch, she’s got Ronald!”
“Kill her!” another one yelled as a solid force crashed into her skull.
Her tenuous grip on consciousness dissolved and, sending one last, feeble cry for help, Julianne fell into darkness.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bastian staggered, grabbing onto the table with white knuckles. “Julianne!” he gasped, feeling her cry for help ricochet through his mind. He reached out mentally, but could not find her.
“No.” He collapsed into a chair and let out a mighty sob. “Julianne!”
Hands grabbed him, and a sharp sting blossomed into heat when someone slapped him across the face. Bastian shook his head, blinking hard.
“What is it?” Danil demanded. “What happened?”
“She called for help,” Bastian said. “Now… she’s gone.”
“Gone?” Danil snapped. “Is she dead, or ignoring you? So help me, Bastian, if you don’t tell me what’s—”
“Not dead,” Bastian gasped. “Not if the connection is the same as it normally is.”
“You’re sure?” Danil pressed.
Bastian nodded. “I did my time in the hospital, so I know what it feels like when someone slips away.”
“Can you bring her back, Bastian?” Danil’s face was white as a sheet and Bastian’s arm ached where he gripped it tightly.
Julianne. Bastian sent the message with a push of force to it. Julianne. Wake up. Wake up, Master.
“Nothing,” he said aloud.
“Try harder,” Danil growled.
Clenching his teeth, aware the frustration he felt at Danil’s words were governed by his panic over their friend, he closed his eyes.
JULIANNE!
Trapped. Julianne’s reply wavered, a paper-thin version of the strong voice Bastian was so used to.
Bastian’s eyes shot open as he sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s there. Weak, I can barely hear her… but she’s there. Stay with me, Julianne,” he muttered before reaching for her again.
Julianne, you cried for help and then slipped unconscious. You’re not safe.
Safe… came the weak reply. Safe while I sleep.
You can’t sleep! Bastian sent, making his thoughts as loud as he could
Safe while they… think I’m asleep. Julianne’s thoughts became clearer by the second. They’re near, I can hear them.
What happened? Bastian asked, unwilling to let her stop.
Arcadians. Bad ones. Must be exiles that served Adrien. They attacked, but I wasn’t fast enough. Julianne’s thoughts faded out for a moment. I have to break through one of their shields. Bastian, if I don’t survive this…
You will, he sent, more a plea than a statement of fact.
Yes, but if I don’t, you must know—Donna was here, masquerading as me. The memories of what had happened were still fragmented, but the Arcadians statement that she had passed through recently and taken their goods was lodged firmly in her mind.
She knew Donna was broken. Not just her will or her emotional health, but her logic. Rogan had treated her so badly, abused her mind so many times, it had shattered into a mere semblance of humanity.
Donna? Bastian asked, a hint of concern in his voice. Not nearly enough concern for what she had said. Julianne realized he thought she had been hallucinating.
She sent him a snippet of memory, of the recognition on the Arcadian’s face and the words he had spoken.
Oh, shit! Now Bastian sounded suitably distressed. Do you think she’s gone for the Temple?
Julianne almost nodded her head, but the act of tensing her neck muscles made her flinch. Her throat ached like fire, and exploded into dagger-sharp pain when she reflexively swallowed.
Her breathing quickened, but she forced it steady. She could not let these men know she was awake. Now that her wits had returned, she paid more attention to her surroundings.
Yes, she sent to Bastian. Tell Danil. I’ll contact you… wait, is it morning or night?
It’s not yet midday, Bastian replied. Only a few minutes since you sent the cry for help.
I can’t thank you enough for waking me. Julianne wanted to say more, but tears threatened. He had likely saved her life.
Someone grabbed her wrists and bound them roughly. She kept her body limp as they picked her up and heaved her across the back of a horse. She landed face down, managing to make sure her head was turned so she could crack open an eyelid.
“Toby, take care of that soldier. He’s no mystic, I guarantee it.” The voice came from beside her, rough and low.
“Fine. You really think she’s worth the hassle, though?” Toby asked.
“She’s their mistress, the head bitch in that cesspit of mind rapists. They’ll pay, alright. They’ll pay in hard coin, just to watch me slit her throat.”
Toby stooped down in front of a body that had fallen in a heap. Julianne’s heart leapt into her mouth and without w
aiting to see if her mind could handle it, she pummeled through Toby’s shield.
It wasn’t very strong, and he wasn’t very smart. Before he could blink, Julianne had full control of his body.
Toby bent down over Marcus, a knife in his hand. Marcus stared back, eyes wide over a tight gag.
“Told you you’re getting soft, sweetheart,” Toby whispered.
Marcus sucked a breath in through the thick wad of cloth over his face. He didn’t move as Toby quickly glanced around, pulled his long, navy sleeve up, then drew the knife over his own arm. Blood welled immediately, pouring out in a steady stream.
Toby rested his arm on Marcus’s chest and shoved the knife at him, twisting it so it didn’t pierce the skin. As Marcus felt the bonds on his wrists come apart, he let out a convincing cry of pain. Toby pulled his sleeve down and grinned. “Wait until my horse is out of sight, then count to one hundred.”
“Do you have any idea how creepy this shit is?” Marcus hissed, laying his head back and closing his eyes. He coughed dramatically before falling still.
Julianne dug around in her host’s mind for a moment as Toby walked back to the horses. His face was already pale, but no one noticed the sticky, dark patch running down his sleeve, growing larger by the second.
Toby’s eyes flicked over the gang, counting men and noting Artemis hanging over a horse as limp as Julianne was.
“I need to shit,” Toby told Alec, their leader. “Whatever Macey fed us last night has turned my guts.”
Alec, grunted. “I’m not waiting for you, boy. You can catch up when you’re done. If you can’t tolerate the food, you can miss your rations next meal.
Toby nodded and walked off, rubbing his guts and letting out a small groan.
Don’t worry, Alec, Julianne thought. Toby won’t be needing rations from now on. Then again, neither will you.
She walked Toby into the bushes and, pushing away his terror, drew the knife again. She plunged it into his stomach, forcing down any cry of pain he might have made.
Just before he died Julianne slipped away, certain he wouldn’t be bothering them again. Alec called out and the horses moved off, leaving a blood-covered Marcus lying by the road.
Julianne’s head bounced against the horse’s side, bits of saddle poking into her uncomfortably. Her throat was still swollen, making breathing a chore, and it hurt like a bitch with each little jolt.
The road ran straight for a time and Julianne took the time to chip away at the weakest man’s shield. She slipped into his consciousness, then grabbed for the information she needed.
Hello, Cedric, she thought. Sword at your hip. Crossbow in your bag. Dammit, that crossbow could come in handy.
She turned Cedric's head and saw her limp form draped on a horse in the middle of the procession. Cedric, however, rode at the back.
Stifling a grin both from her face and his, she quietly reached back and drew out the weapon. The path was curved—Marcus had just dropped out of sight. She didn’t have long.
Her first shot rang true, lodging in the skull of the man ahead of her. He toppled off his horse, his silent fall marred by the sudden shying of his horse as a foot tangled in the stirrups.
A guard turned around and saw his fallen comrade.
To buy herself another moment, Julianne made the man she controlled call out. “Bandits! Bandits in the grass!”
She aimed the crossbow and yelled again, firing two shots into the grass. Alec yelled and raised his hands. The grass slammed flat to the ground, like a giant sheet of glass had been dropped on it. Julianne shot the crossbow again, and it slammed into his shoulder.
Alec screamed. “The mystic bitch! She’s awake!”
He raised a hand and Julianne’s air cut off again, but this time, she was prepared… and armed. Well, poor old Cedric was armed. He fired another round and Alec choked as an arrow sprouted through the bottom of his windpipe.
This time, the spell that choked Julianne vanished before it could strip her consciousness. Thank the gods old Cedric can aim, she thought. Julianne lifted her head and slid off the horse, then heard running footsteps behind her. She prepared to confront her next adversary, then grinned when she saw who it was.
“Soft, my ass,” Marcus yelled as he leaped into a jump and collided with an Arcadian. A blast of unseen force threw him off, and he rolled away.
Julianne slipped into a trance, ready to break her way into the mind of Marcus’s attacker, but something hit her from behind, and she sprawled forwards.
“Fuck the bounty, just kill the bitch!” Someone screamed.
There were three men left—one fighting Marcus, one twisting his hands and the other holding a giant, flaming fireball between his. Julianne gasped, knowing he would throw it before she could break his shield.
He raised the glowing ball, then threw it forwards. Julianne threw herself to the ground, but it sailed past her, towards Marcus. It slammed into the Arcadian’s chest, and Marcus jumped back with a yell.
Relief flooded Julianne, her knees shaking at the close call. “Thanks, Artemis!” she yelled as she prepared to take control of their last enemy.
There was no need. Before she could act, he burst into flames. He screamed, running for the bushes before falling to the ground, desperately rolling to put out the fire.
Julianne slipped into his mind—the pain had stripped away his shields, making it easy—and numbed his pain until finally, his brain gave out.
The last Arcadian, the one Artemis held in thrall, bowed. “Never say I didn’t contribute to this wretched journey,” he said in a gruff voice. “Now, for the sake of the good Queen Bitch, come and untie me before I vomit.”
Then, he plunged his knife into his eye and dropped to the ground, convulsing.
Marcus let out a low whistle as Julianne dashed over to a beige horse, stooping to grab a knife from one of the dead on her way. She quickly sawed through the ropes binding his limbs and helped him down.
“Ack, my head’s spinning like a drunken farmer,” he said. Artemis staggered over to a tree and leaned against it, pale faced and shaking.
“That was one hell of a trick,” Marcus said. “I didn’t know a mystic could use magic through mind control!”
“Neither did I,” Julianne said, her eyes narrowing. “Have you been holding out on me, Artemis?”
He shook his head irritably. “I never share my theories until I’m certain they are correct. Do you think I want to make myself look like a fool?”
Marcus opened his mouth, but Julianne elbowed him. Don’t you dare, smartass, she sent sternly.
Yes, ma’am. Marcus’s reply was sarcastic, but held an undertone of downright disappointment.
Artemis glared at Marcus anyway, as if he knew what the soldier was thinking.
“What a waste of life” Julianne murmured. “These men could have done so much… Instead, they chose to plunder and kill.” The words triggered a memory and Julianne jumped. “Marcus, we have to hurry. If Donna is at the Temple…”
“Donna? Why would you think that?” Marcus asked.
Julianne huffed impatiently. “You heard Alec say he’d seen me already? His memories showed it to be true. Someone with my face came through this very spot a week ago. She used mental magic to coerce them into handing over some supplies and money.”
“No wonder they were pissy,” Marcus remarked.
“No, they really were just assholes,” Julianne said. She looked around at the horses blocking their way. “Where are our horses?” she asked.
Marcus scowled. “The Arcadians locked them in a barn with a handful of feed and some water. Said they’d come back for them if they lived long enough.”
“Bastards,” Julianne hissed, sick at the thought of leaving the animals to starve. “What should we do with this lot? Let them loose?”
“My friend will take them,” Artemis butted in. “It’s really not that far.”
Decision made, Julianne grabbed the reins of the two horses closest to h
er. The injury to her throat still throbbed, but she could breathe properly, and figured the walk would soothe her still jangling senses.
One of the horses leaned over to nuzzle her face. “It’s ok, you big beast. We’ll leave you somewhere safe, or set you free to run the hills.”
He snorted in appreciation as she scratched him under the chin, then gently shoved him away. Julianne caught Marcus’s humorous look.
“What?” she asked. “Do I have drool on my shoulder?”
“No,” he said with a grin. “I’ve just never expected you to be so polite to a horse.”
Julianne rolled her eyes. “Come on. We have to get a move on. I want to get home as fast as I can.”
They collected the horses and formed a train, Marcus riding at the front, Julianne and Artemis herding the other animals along from the back. They stuck to the road, and the horses didn’t seem to mind. The long grass on other side seemed to dissuade them from wandering off, and the two riders at the back kept them moving forwards.
“Marcus, you see that field of lavender ahead?” Artemis called. “There’s a road just beyond it. Turn down there.”
Marcus waved to show he had heard.
You can speak to him mentally, Julianne reminded Artemis silently.
He frowned. I keep being told that’s rude. We’re only supposed to do that with mystics, aren’t we?
Julianne thought carefully before answering. Well, mind speaking to someone who isn’t expecting it can cause a bit of a shock, and make regular people uncomfortable. And using silent communication in front of others is rude, yes, if they know you’re doing it.
All these bloody rules, Artemis said. I’ve tried all my life to adhere to them, but I don’t bloody understand a single one.
A stab of empathy made Julianne reach out to brush his arm. I know you try, she sent. But as much as you fail to understand about people, you do understand magic. You have knowledge most of us could only dream of.
I do, don’t I? Artemis sent, smugly.
For once, his show of ego didn’t bother Julianne at all.
