by Amy Hopkins
Trini’s consciousness separated as she entered the minds of two others. The shield strengthened, wavered, and fell.
“Concentrate, you idiots,” Trini snapped.
“It's not us, you dumb cow. It fell apart at your link.”
Julianne's mind raced. If what they were doing only worked with three minds, as they'd told poor old Henry, it was likely her presence that held them back.
She had learned as much as she could without exposing herself, and it was all she needed. Julianne send a tendril of frustration into Trini’s mind, feeding her anger at the men beside her. Fanning it, Julianne nudged Trini towards the small knife she kept in her belt.
Julianne exploded fury inside Trini’s mind, and the New Dawn woman grabbed the weapon. It had been a gift from Trini’s father, more ornament than a real weapon. Still, when Trini thrust it into Henry’s cheek, it did the job.
Julianne increased the pressure on the woman's mind. Trini held the short knife pointed at her own stomach.
No. No, please.
Julianne planted her resolve, pushing against the other woman’s desire to live. Too far for direct control, Julianne dragged up the image of the man she’d just stabbed, flooding Trini with guilt.
She barely responded. Gritting her teeth, Julianne searched the woman’s mind, trying to find her motivation. There. Trini was ambitious, proud, and shallow. She was also fearful. The people she was involved with were harsh masters and dealt out punishments like candy.
Trini fought against the terror that built as images of those punishments flashed through her mind. “No, no… They wouldn’t, not to me.” she murmured. The words were a lie. She was now a weak link, a gaping wound. The only thing they could do to fix that wound was to cauterize it.
They would not do so kindly. Trini sobbed, then plunged the knife between her ribs. A painful death, but a fast one. A kinder one than she’d have been given if she’d survived this battle and made it back to her people.
Julianne slipped away as it pierced, bubbles filled Trini’s lungs. She had missed the heart; it would not be a peaceful death.
Bastian, Danil, do what you can to break their shields. They operate in groups of three—take one down, two more will follow.
How? Bastian asked. While they're up, they're impenetrable.
Think about what makes you lose focus. Do that to them, one hundredfold. Julianne sent the image of a tapestry that hung in the initiates dorms. It showed a woman, hand out, warding off anger, fear, fatigue and pain. The four symbols defined the things most difficult to overcome when using mental magic.
So… piss them off, make them cry, wear them down, then punch them, Bastian sent. Got it.
Jules? Danil’s sending held a note of caution.
There are two exposed. You and Bastian need to take them. I'll give the rearick a heads up and take a moment to gather myself.
Danil replied with a jab of warning and Julianne took it to heart. She'd used a dangerous amount of energy already, and the fight had barely begun.
She ducked away from the door and signaled to Bette, who was hidden outside by a window. Julianne scurried over and whispered instructions to her.
“Cause as much havoc as you can. Ten wounded is better than two dead. Once they lose focus, their shields go down in groups of three.”
“Aye. Shoot many, shoot well. I like the sound of that.” Bette grinned and ducked back down, darting off through the shadows towards Garrett by the barn.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Wait,” Lilly called from behind Marcus.
He turned, ready to scoop the girl up and carry her if need be. Instead of the tired child he expected to see, though, Lilly stood tall, her eyes sparkling with green light.
The bushes nearby trembled and Marcus tensed.
“Easy, boy. Girl knows what she’s doing.” Annie touched his arm reassuringly and then gripped tighter when a large bear ambled onto the goat track they followed.
Marcus sucked in a hissing breath when it approached the child. Instead of running or cowering, she grinned. “Thank you, Snuffy.”
“Snuffy?” Marcus asked, heart still racing.
“I don’t know how to say his bear name with words. Snuffy suits him, though. He likes to smell things.”
As if to prove her words, Snuffy rose on his back feet and sniffed at the air. Then he dropped back down, and Lilly climbed on his back. “It’s ok. He won’t hurt you. He said he’ll carry me a little way, but he doesn’t like people. He’ll go before we get there.”
Wondering how things had gotten so weird so fast, Marcus looked at Annie. “Get where?”
At least the old woman had the decency to look abashed. “Some secrets just aren’t mine to tell,” she said.
They walked on, their progress made faster by the heavy animal that forged ahead, snapping stray branches to clear the path for Marcus and Annie.
“Was she always like this?” Marcus asked Annie quietly.
She nodded. “Goddess blessed her early. Even as a kit, the animals looked to her. She’d walk through the forest attracting the biggest beasts around, and not a one ever hurt her.”
“Seems like a handy gift to have,” Marcus said.
“True. Until you’re damn near run out of town by those who are jealous or don’t understand. People round these parts might worship Queen Bethany Anne, but damned if they don’t pick and choose how they apply her teachings.”
“So, you believe the Queen Bitch is a Goddess?”
Annie nodded. “Oh, not like in those kids’ fairy tales. We’re backwater, but we’re not stupid. Still, seems sure enough Bethany Anne had something to do with the gifts that appear every now and then, if the stories had even a grain of truth to them.”
“Huh.” Marcus pushed a branch out of his way before it snapped back in his face.
When Marcus looked back up, he saw Snuffy had stopped. Raising his head, the bear sniffed again, hackles raising as he let out a low, menacing rumble.
“Lilly?” Marcus called in a low voice. “You need to get down.”
Lilly shook her head, face pale. “No. Snuffy said I’m safer up here. He said I have to hang on, though.”
“Hang on to what?” Marcus asked.
Before Lilly could answer, three remnant dropped from the forest canopy above. One landed on Marcus, sending his weapon flying down the embankment beside him. He kicked hard and the remnant thumped back to the ground.
It sprang to its feet faster than Marcus could. He scrambled backwards, keeping an eye on the bush his magitech device had caught in. If he could just get down there…
A body flew across the path, tumbling into the remnant that bore down on Marcus. He darted a look back just in time to see Snuffy thump back down onto all fours, Lilly clinging to the thick fur on his back.
The bear whipped his head to one side and let out a screaming roar, spittle flying at the remnant Annie was warding off with a thick branch. The bear lunged, taking the remnant’s head in its giant mouth. He shook it like a playful dog.
After the remnant’s body had flown into the bushes, Snuffy casually dropped the soggy head from his mouth. He looked to Marcus and flared his nostrils angrily.
Marcus, now sure the bear did Lilly’s bidding, looked behind him. The remnant that had tumbled into the brush was right behind him. It was holding his weapon, but like a spear instead of a shooting weapon.
Marcus dodged the first attack, ducking as the remnant swung the magitech staff. He looked up as something cracked above him and almost lost his head to Annie’s tree branch. The remnant was halfway down the slope before Marcus realized what had happened.
“Damn, Annie, you’ve got one hell of an arm on you.”
“What do you expect?” she called down after him as he went after the remnant. “I raised two boys with no Pa to teach them how to play catch.”
Marcus found the fallen remnant. It staggered back up the hill, clearly dazed by the blow to its head. Marcus had no trouble dispatching it with h
is boot knife. On his way back, he spotted the magitech weapon and picked it up, sighing in relief as he hefted its weight in his hand.
Marcus nodded thanks to Annie as he reached them. “You ok up there, Lilly?” he called.
“We’re ok,” she called back, leaning down to cuddle the bear. “Snuffy kept me safe. He doesn’t like the mad people.”
“Err… Thank you, Snuffy,” Marcus said warily. He gave the bear a halfhearted wave.
“He said you’re welcome.” She paused, eyes glowing green as she frowned. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that? Silly old bear.” Her eyes cleared. “One of the mad people bit Snuffy on his front paw. He said it’s not very bad, but it does hurt. We might have to slow down a bit.”
Marcus looked at the bear, whose beady black eyes watched him closely. He warred with himself for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “Will Snuffy let me look at it? Those bites can go septic pretty quickly.”
The bear lifted a paw and Marcus saw it was matted with wet blood. He dribbled some water over it from his flask.
“Here,” said Annie. She handed him a small tin box. It reeked of the stuff Bette had dressed his wounds with earlier.
Tamping down the fear and nerve, Marcus explained to Lilly that he wanted to apply some cream to the injury, then bind it. The girl’s eyes lit up again as she relayed the instructions, then nodded for Marcus to begin.
He’d never doctored a bear before, but he soon realized that with Lilly’s firm hand to guide it, his patient was better behaved than some of the soldiers he’d worked with.
Once he was done, Snuffy gingerly dropped his paw to the ground and tested his weight on it. Apparently satisfied, he bumped Marcus’s hand with his nose.
“Uh, you’re welcome?” he said hesitantly.
“I think he likes you,” Lilly giggled.
They kept on for another hour, their pace a little slower, but still faster than Lilly could have walked on her own. Eventually, the bear stopped again, sniffed, and slowly stood up.
“What is it?” Marcus asked, slipping into a defensive stance and looking around.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Lilly said as she slid down’ Snuffy’s back. “We’re close now. Snuffy can’t come any further, or they’ll get scared.”
“Scared? Who?” Marcus looked to Annie for an answer, but she just tapped the side of her nose.
Stifling his frustrated curiosity, Marcus let Annie take the lead. She called out a terse thank you to Snuffy for his services, then stalked ahead.
Marcus trotted to catch up as she disappeared around a bend. He stepped around the corner then stopped dead in his tracks.
“What the fuck?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Julianne stood at Annie’s front door, resisting the urge to send her mind wandering towards the enemy again. It would be easier to work once they were in view, and she needed to save her energy.
Julianne meditated, drawing back the energy she'd used. When a scream echoed through the night, she blew out a slow breath. Killing was anathema to mystics, but sometimes, it was needed.
To take a guilty life in order to protect an innocent one was a burden she was willing to bear, as many times as it took to free the people her magic had enslaved. She reminded herself of that as the sound of the enemy drew near.
“To arms!” Julianne screamed, using magic to echo her voice to sound like an army. It wouldn't affect the shielded mystics, but the mind-controlled guards would be squirming in their boots. The less they wanted to comply, the greater effort the mystics would have to expend to keep them under control. And, she thought with a smile, the greater the chance the guards would begin to break free.
Her cry signaled the rearick, and the quiet sound of running feet let her know Bette, at least, was on her way.
An arrow flew through the air, aimed at the corner the army would round in just a few moments. Three more flew before a muttered scheisse sounded from the trees.
Steady on, Julianne thought. She didn't send the words, too focused on the empty road.
Surrenderrrrr. The word whispered through her mind like a gentle breeze. Julianne gripped her staff tighter. Then, Bette screamed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Annie stood proudly in the center of the small crowd that had gathered beneath the rocky overhang. Beside it, an open clearing was dotted with small tents and basic buildings.
“Don’t look so insulted, boy. I told you, it wasn’t my secret to tell. These people fled for their lives, nearly all of them are weak and vulnerable and couldn’t stand up to those cretins down in the village. I couldn’t break their trust, not even for your pretty girlfriend.”
Marcus blushed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“What have you brought us, Annie?” A burly man stepped forward from the small group of refugees. He leaned heavily on a walking stick.
“Settle yourself, Hank. He's part of the group I sent word about. Turns out, they're not a bit like those twats that took our town. They're here to help.”
Hank frowned, putting himself between Marcus and the women and children behind him. “How do we know you won't just take their place? Small town like ours is just ripe for the picking.”
“You trying to give him ideas, Hank?” an old woman called from behind him.
“I'm just stating what any fool can see with their own eyes.”
“Please, just hear me out.” Marcus put his hands up defensively. “Julianne is the leader of a colony of mystics, from across the Madlands. A few weeks ago, a woman named Donna turned up, spewing hate and saying she and her friends wanted to take over the whole damn world.”
Marcus scanned the faces before him. Some had started at Donna’s name. Others simply nodded with recognition. “Julianne refused to let that happen. She’d just risked everything to save Arcadia from the same fate, from Adrien’s rule.” Now, they looked blank, confused. He screwed up his face, wishing she were here to help him talk to these people.
“Look, Adrien was a bad guy, ok? He had magic and used it to push people into the dirt, elevate himself above them. Julianne was part of the revolution that took him down.”
“She saved a bunch of these mystic people from a dictator?” Hank asked.
“No.” Marcus took a deep breath. “She saved people like you. Well, like you, but piss poor and crammed into an overpopulated slum. Adrien created that slum, forced the people into it and took what money they had so they had no hope of getting out.”
“And your woman took his head off?”
Marcus smirked. “Not alone. But she was there, fighting for the people when it happened. So was I. And we won’t stand by and let another self-righteous dictator ruin lives. Now, who wants to take some heads?”
“I never can tell. Did you mean than in a literal sense?” Another old man stepped forward, his matted hair swinging down past his elbows and his beard almost as long—and disgusting. He noticed Marcus’s grimace and snorted. “You’d look like shit, too, if you were living in a damned cave for this long. Gah, the manners of some people.” He turned away irritably, and it was only then that a shocked Marcus had realized what was different about the old man.
Not his tattered shirt or gnarled fingers. Not the coating of grime. His eyes. His eyes were white as snow.
CHAPTER FORTY
Julianne swallowed hard, but didn't rush forward. Instead she carefully reached out, finding Bette still in the trees unharmed. A trick, and a lousy one at that. Julianne strengthened her shields and stepped back into the shadows. She threw her mind forwards again, to the army that slowed a few hundred feet from the final bend in the road.
They walked carefully now, losing their tight formation to spread over the road, some of them ducking into the trees.
An arrow pierced the neck of a mystic, and Julianne pounced, slashing through the first weakened shield she could find. This one controlled a guard, and an unwilling one at that. Despite the desperate craving for the mind-pleasure, he fought against it and ach
ed to resist the presence in his mind.
Fight, she whispered to the trapped soul. Run if you want, or fight with me.
She left the guard, satisfied when a moment later, all hell broke loose. Still riding in the mind of a dazed mystic, she watched as one of the rear guards suddenly started thrashing, plowing through the tail end of the group with his weapon and laying waste to any who got in his way.
Two more arrows flew, meaty thwacks punctuating the cries of rage and pain. Then, two more. The army was in chaos, as mystics fell and their guards turned on them.
“Pair up, pair up!” The cry went out and bloodied hands reached out to form bonds.
One touched the hand of the mystic Julianne still held in thrall, and she let them begin the shielding process. Her partners gave her a mental shove, then screamed as their minds were engulfed in illusions.
Julianne showed them fiery arrows raining down, explosions and scorched, smoking bodies thrown into the air. One of them ran, the other sank to the ground screaming, arms over his head to protect him from the imaginary attack.
The hysteria spread as Julianne touched mind after mind, forcing her way through inadequate shields and infecting them with horror and despair.
Her knees buckled, and she pulled back. Exhaustion washed over her and she knew she'd come dangerously close to overdoing it. The sounds of battle clanged in her ears and even her meditation didn't dull them.
A hand grabbed hers, pulling Julianne away from the door.
“Come on, they're too close.” Bastian wrapped an arm around her waist and half pulled, half lifted her towards the back of the house.
The front door slammed open and without hesitation, Bastian sent a magitech blast straight at the bearded man who filled the doorway. He was flung back onto the porch. Bastian kicked the door closed and threw the latch over it.
Moments later, footsteps thundered along the old wooden boards. “Come out, whore!” The rough voice sent chills down Julianne's spine.
She and Bastian ran along the back of the house. Fighting near the barn drowned out the voices that had joined the one in the house.
