Dawn of Days

by Amy Hopkins

  It had included a scathing line about the two rearick sent as hired guards, calling them useless and untrained, and, the line that caused the most pain, ‘better use as carrion for the birds’.

  Thinking that two of his guards were dead and that the Temple had broken faith, Tavich had barred passage through the town for any mystic, or for anyone returning from the Temple.

  This had cut off trade, meaning that the mystics had no access to food they didn’t already grow. Facing the impending winter had caused more than a little anxiety in the Temple, and the mystics had begun to turn on the false Julianne.

  The ill feeling had culminated in Margit’s death four days later. Deep in grief, most of the Temple residents had given up fighting against this cold new version of Julianne, one who wore her shields so tightly that even her most trusted advisors couldn’t peek into her mind.

  “Bastard rearick,” Aldred said, then spat on the ground with disdain. “Treating our Master with such disrespect.”

  “After what Donna did to them?” Marcus asked.

  Aldred dropped his eyes. “Bitch take me. This is a mess I don’t know how we’ll get out of.”

  Marcus shouldered his way through the line of Temple defenders. “Tavich?” he yelled.

  A rearick clad head to toe in black armor stepped forwards. Two thick hands grasped his helmet and pulled it off. “You,” Tavich sneered.

  “Listen,” Marcus said, pleading. “Your fight is not with us.”

  “No,” Tavich snapped, and jutted his chin at the mystics. “It’s with them. Stand aside, lad.”

  “No!” Marcus drew his sword, holding it high for the rearick army to see. He tossed it aside, letting it clatter and skid over the ice-covered rocks. “Your fight is with the New Dawn. Not Julianne and not the Temple.”

  “Julianne is the Temple, and the Temple is who our contracts were with!” Tavich cried. “The Temple is who tore them up and scattered the shreds at my feet. The Temple spat on the graves of our dead!”

  Marcus jumped down the slope, coming face to face with the man who led the army in front of him. Several rearick stepped forwards, hands on weapons. Two pulled swords and brandished them.

  “You don’t understand. You’ve been tricked!” Marcus spread his arms wide to show he was unarmed. “Donna is a mystic who went rogue. She got involved with a cult—that’s why we crossed the Madlands with Bette and Garrett.”

  “Don’t ye dare say their names!” A rearick spat from within the crowd. Muttering grew, and men shifted anxiously.

  “They’re my friends!” Marcus yelled. “And they are alive! I swear it on my mother’s grave.” He pointed back at the Temple. “Donna came back before us, and used her magic to mask herself as Julianne. She’s the one who told you Bette and Garrett were dead. She’s the one who ripped up treaties when she had no right to do so.”

  Aldred stepped forwards, his weapon pointed at the ground. “The boy speaks truth,” he called. “I myself looked into Master Julianne’s mind and saw it.”

  “She is a trickster!” Tavich called. “Like all of your kind! If she means to undo this mess, she should have stayed and faced trial, not run like a thief.”

  “You dare call me thief?” Julianne stood at the temple doors. Light bathed her, reflecting of pristine white robes and highlighting the barest shades of mahogany through her brown hair.

  “I call ye how I see ye,” Tavich growled, fist gripping his weapon tightly. “If ye wish to avoid war between our people, come with us.”

  “I will never leave my people,” Julianne hissed. “Not to go with the likes of you.”

  Blood drained from Marcus’s face as the men before him shuffled, standing low and ready for their next order.

  “Stop!” Marcus darted back up the hill towards Julianne. “Just explain, Jules. Tell them about Donna.”

  Julianne shook her head. “They know. They choose not to believe. Tavich has come here for war, not peace. It is war he shall have.”

  Julianne rose her staff into the air and brought the heel down against the rock she stood on. Her robe flapped and overhead, lightning struck from a clear sky. Mystic and rearick alike cowered, before some of the rearick growled and yelled, screaming “Fake!” and “Illusions!”

  “Julianne?” Marcus cried from below. “What are you doing?”

  Julianne spared him a cold glance. “I have done all I can. Using magic to force their compliance would stand against everything we have fought for.”

  “Julianne…” Something wasn’t right. Certainty burrowed into Marcus’s gut, and he took a step backwards.

  “What’s wrong?” A frown furrowed Julianne’s brow and for a moment, he almost believed it was really her. “Aldred?” she called.

  The guard approached, breaking formation to let another man scurry to take his place. “Yes, Master?”

  “Do you think the rearick pose a genuine threat?”

  Aldred shifted his gaze to the mass of stocky men barring their way down the path. “No arguing that, Master.”

  “If we fight… will we win?”

  Aldred nodded reluctantly. “But if there is some way to keep the peace—”

  “Would you give me over to them?” Julianne asked. “Or let them into the Temple to take our people captive? This is why we trained our fighters, Aldred. To defend.”

  “Aldred,” Marcus said in a low voice. “It’s—” Someone slammed into his shields, so hard and strong that he had no time to react. A presence ploughed through his mind, scattering his thoughts and sending his suspicions reeling.

  “It’s Donna,” Marcus gasped. “She’s in the Temple somewhere. I can feel her!”

  Aldred looked to Julianne, fear and urgency in his face.

  Julianne nodded. “Go, both of you. Find her! Perhaps then they will believe us.”

  Marcus raced into the Temple, Aldred hot on his heels.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Wake up.

  Julianne groaned and tried to roll over, but her limbs were too heavy. She reached for the blanket, but something caught her wrist.

  Wake up.

  She slumped, brain refusing to kick into gear. She was uncomfortable—sore, even. If she just went back to sleep, maybe everything would stop hurting.

  Oh, for bitch’s sake, girl. WAKE UP!

  Julianne’s eyes shot open, and she sucked in a gasp of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them back open. They slowly focused on the ropes binding her hands, the sling dangling uselessly across her chest.

  “Oh, fuck that hurts,” she whimpered.

  “It’s broken, of course it bloody well hurts,” Margit snapped. She stooped down, slipping a small paring knife from her belt. “Stop complaining. Do you know I almost lost my toes, hiding out in that weather for four days?”

  “Ow!” Julianne yelped as Margit cut through the bonds.

  “Shh!” Margit hissed. “We don’t know where that horrible woman is. Now, stay still while I block the pain from that arm.”

  “Margit, that’s dangerous!” Julianne hissed.

  “So is getting hit in the face by a psychopath,” Margit said. “Have you seen inside that woman’s head?” Margit clicked her tongue. “Of course, you couldn’t. You never were good with broken minds.”

  “What are you talking about?” Julianne’s head swam, but her pain faded as Margit’s eyes shone white, blocking the sensors in Julianne’s brain so she wouldn’t feel her injury.

  “That Donna is as broken as a shattered glass,” Margit said. “Oh, her shields are strong enough, but a good mystic would be able to push past them… the problem was recognizing that it wasn’t the shields causing the barrier.”

  “She finally snapped,” Julianne whispered, her heart thudding a painful beat. “Rogan finally broke her.”

  Margit shrugged. “Someone did. But even a broken mind wouldn’t wreak this much havoc if there weren’t some nastiness deeper inside.”

  Julianne shook her head sadly. She didn’t kn
ow Donna’s whole story. Perhaps she really was just an innocent caught in a manipulators net, as unlikely as that seemed.

  Margit pressed a knife into Julianne’s hand. “The rearick are here,” she said, urgency clipping her words short. “She’s out there with them. Itching to start a war, that woman.”

  A smile crept over Julianne’s face. “Perfect.”

  “What?” Margit squinted, then relaxed her face. “I see you’re up to something. Something devious, no doubt… well, off with you then.”

  “Aren’t you going to help?” Julianne asked.

  Margit shook her head. “If I turn up now, that will just cause confusion. I did quite the job of pretending to be dead, you know.” Her face lit up at the memory. “The funeral was wonderful, Julianne. And here I thought they all hated me!”

  “Bullshit,” Julianne said dryly. “You know we’re all wrapped around your little finger, even if it is a bit arthritic these days.”

  Margit grinned. “Oh, Julianne. You’ll make such a wonderful, cranky old bat one day.”

  “Not this day,” Julianne replied, gathering her skirts with one hand. “I need to deliver a very stern message to one of my subjects.”

  Julianne trotted down the steps, ducking into a doorway when she heard footsteps around a corner. When two men passed, she grabbed one of their sleeves. “Marcus?” she asked.

  Aldred reared back. “Master?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I know, Donna is outside.” She gave Marcus a gentle shake. “You ok there, soldier?”

  He looked at her with vacant eyes. “I have to find Donna,” he said. “Julianne told me to.”

  “Fuck!” Julianne harnessed her magic, eyes turning white. “Aldred, help,” she said.

  The guardsman’s eyes turned opaque to match hers. Julianne touched Marcus’s shield. “Come on, Marcus,” she whispered. “It’s me.”

  Somewhere on the smooth wall surrounding his mind, a ripple trembled. She reached up to touch his face, and his defenses melted. “Follow me,” she directed her helper.

  Julianne was aware of Aldred’s presence tailing her past Marcus’s fallen shield. He had let Julianne in because he recognized her, not because she had forced through—she was still tired and needed to save her energy to address Donna.

  Julianne flitted through Marcus’s mind. As she touched memories, they flared to life, almost blinding her with the brightness and joy that he felt every moment. His love for her shone like a beacon, lighting her way through his mind.

  Through the exuberant lightness, she noticed a tiny corner of darkness.

  Donna, she thought, drifting towards it. Sure enough, a tendril of compulsion wrapped around a thought.

  Aldred, here. She felt the guardsman join her and directed him towards the spell Donna had lodged in Marcus’s mind. She watched as Aldred’s magic reached out, gently tugging at the threads until it began to unravel.

  The compulsion loosened. Then, with a shudder, it snapped back, cutting deeper into Marcus’s mind.

  Together, Julianne thought to her companion. Aldred started again, his patience soon rewarded by a loose end that unrolled to give them room to work. Julianne delicately unwound the spell, gripping it tightly when it tried to tighten again at the disturbance.

  She held it out, threaded between prongs of magic, and raised it before Aldred. A glowing blade grew from his insubstantial form and sliced through the spell. It fell away, the scattered remains dissipating.

  Julianne withdrew, staggering back to lean against the wall for support.

  Marcus blinked slowly, and shook his head like a wet dog. “Jules?” he asked once he had steadied himself. “What are—oh, fuck me!”

  “In the hallway?” Julianne asked. “I know I said mystics were open, Marcus, but that’s a bit extreme even for us.”

  His ears turned fiery red as he ducked his face away from Aldred. “I didn’t mean—I just… Oh, you’re a bitch,” he said.

  Aldred raised an eyebrow at that. “I take it we are ready to proceed, Master?” he asked.

  Julianne held up a finger, still slumped against the wall. Her eyes lit up again as she slipped into the deepest meditation she could manage without cutting herself off from her surroundings.

  The men waited, Aldred patiently, Marcus less so. After a few minutes, Marcus whispered, “Jules? I hate to interrupt, but there’s a real problem brewing out there.”

  “The rearick?” she asked, still staring with clouded eyes. “They can wait. As long as Donna doesn’t get away this time.”

  Marcus didn’t seem convinced, but leaned against the wall next to her, frowning as he drummed his fingers on the wall.

  “That should do.” Julianne pushed herself up, letting her eyes fade back to normal. She felt the sluggishness fall away. Though she was far from being at full strength, her lessons with Artemis forcing her to work through exhaustion and fatigue had conditioned her to working under such conditions.

  Straightening her shoulders, Julianne strode outside, flanked by Marcus and Aldred. She didn’t need to tell Marcus to tighten up his mental defenses—a quick prod at his shield showed it to be strong and steady.

  She reached out to Aldred and brushed his shoulder. His shield relaxed enough to let her inside his head.

  In a flurry of thoughts and impressions, she showed him how to create a looping shield between three anchor points. When she pulled in the third mystic, his face paled.

  Margit? Aldred’s stunned thought bounded through Julianne’s head.

  Oh, don’t be an idiot, Aldred, Margit responded. You don’t think I’d really just die, do you? With the Temple in danger?

  Julianne felt Aldred bristle. I buried you. I spoke at your funeral!

  And I appreciate it. Didn’t know you had such a way with words, boy! Margit gave a mental chuckle.

  “Blowed if I’m going to your next funeral,” Aldred muttered aloud.

  “What?” Marcus looked at him oddly, but Aldred just shook his head.

  “Are we ready, gentlemen?” Julianne asked.

  She strode through the door, flanked by the soldier and the guardsman. Cold wind whipped at her robes and streamed her hair across her face, but she ignored it.

  Ahead, Donna stood atop a flat rock, her magic giving her Julianne’s face and creating a halo of light around her.

  “Showoff,” Julianne said. Her eyes were sparkling white orbs, glowing in the dimming light of day. She lifted her head and called out, her voice laced with magic that made it echo in the minds of those who heard her call. “Traitor!”

  The false Julianne spun on her rock, surprise etched on her features. Then, she laughed. “Imposter!” she yelled back.

  A force slammed against Juliane’s shield. Though it was buffered by Aldred and Margit, neither were trained in the art of holding a looping shield. The barrier shuddered under the force of Donna’s attack.

  Julianne fed her own power into the shield, steadying it. Beside her, a fat bolt of lightning smashed into the earth, shattering a nearby rock. Sparks flew from the stone, and the grass smoldered.

  She let out a slow breath, steadying herself as the smoke cleared. The rock was still whole, smooth, unmarried by the stormy illusions.

  Marcus jumped, his movement a blur in the corner of Julianne’s eye. She turned her head to one side, just a little. He raised his sword, snarling at Donna.

  More lightning, three bolts, one after the other, crashed down into the rearick army. They scattered, screaming as mind tricks made their armor burn.

  Marcus staggered. He fell forward, catching himself before turning to Aldred. His eyes jerked to Donna, then back to Aldred.

  “Fight it!” Julianne barked. “Fight!”

  Marcus raised her a tortured glance, pain etched into his features. His sword raised.

  Julianne drew back from her shield, enough to let it waver under Donna’s brutal pressure. She used the remains of her power to slam into the other woman’s mind, shoving against a shield far stronger than
it should have been.

  Marcus’s sword flew down towards Aldred’s neck, the guardsman’s sweating face and closed eyes too distracted to notice.

  At the last moment the sword twisted. Instead of cutting through Aldred’s neck, the flat of the blade slammed into his shoulder. Aldred jerked back, and Julianne felt the joint shield crumble.

  Marcus flung the sword, letting it slide, clattering down the rocks. He raised his hands, looking at them in horror before stumbling away.

  Julianne’s final defense, her last shields, crumbled.

  Before Donna could force her way through, Julianne groped for a familiar presence, a mind to call to. She found it.

  Now, she sent.

  Donna flooded into her mind, raking at Julianne’s immediate impressions. Pain scored her flesh, and she fell to her knees, writhing as Donna’s magic inflicted sensations of burning agony on every one of her nerves.

  Julianne screamed.

  The pain stopped.

  Donna’s presence in her mind vanished.

  Julianne lay on her back and sucked in a deep gasp. Above her, heavy grey clouds banked across the sky. A snowflake fell on her cheek, a tiny pinpoint of ice that quickly melted and dripped down her face.

  “Jules!” Marcus scrambled to her, his face obscuring her view of the sky. “What the fuck?”

  Julianne smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice weak.

  “What?” Marcus slipped an arm under her and lifted, helping her to sit. “Julianne… what the fuck just happened?”

  A wavering smile touched her face. “Tavich.”

  Marcus looked over his shoulder at the burly rearick leader stomping towards them, barely sparing a glance at the body sprawled on the snow, red hair splayed out around her.

  Marcus reached for his scabbard, but Julianne put her hand over his.

  “Julianne!” Tavich reached a hand out, and Julianne took it. With a swift jerk, he pulled her to her feet.

  Legs still wobbling, she had to cling to Marcus to stay standing, but a giddy giggle escaped. “We did it,” she said.

  “Aye! Clever lass. Ye didn’t have ta leave it til the last minute, though!” Tavich waved his finger at her, then chuckled. “But ye wouldn’t be Selah’s favorite if ye didn’t have a touch o’ the battle fever, would ye? Well played, lass.”