Dawn of Days: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A New Dawn Book 4)

by Amy Hopkins

  “Yes, left!” he called as he raced past her.

  “You dirty cheat!” she yelled.

  They shot through the ruins and past a group of startled remnant sitting around a fire. They grunted and yelled, but didn’t give chase. As the trail wound through the old building and started to climb upwards, they slowed to allow the horses to choose their path, stepping carefully along the steep mountainside.

  Marcus led the way, until Julianne shoved past him when they reached the top.

  “Eat my dust, dipshit!” she called, laughing.

  “Just don’t get lost this time!” he called back as she took a wrong turn, and he ran past her. Cursing, she wheeled Cloud around to give chase.

  Marcus spotted the white marker that designated the safe place to stop. He leaned low, kicking his horse and telling Artemis to hold on. Behind him, he could hear Julianne approaching.

  He pulled his horse up to jump over a fallen log. As the jolt from the landing slammed his teeth together, something white flashed on the corner of his eye. A tail flicked him as Julianne shot ahead.

  Marcus let out a yell of frustration and let the horse slow. She had won.

  “Oh, Bitch, that was close,” she panted. “And I really don’t want to spend the afternoon scrubbing clothes again.”

  Marcus pulled a face at her as he slid off his horse. “You think I do?”

  “You don’t have a choice,” she pointed out. “You lost.”

  Marcus helped Artemis down. The old man was trembling. “Are you ok Artemis?”

  The old man’s eyes lit up as a grin spread over his face. “That was wonderful! Shall we do it again tomorrow? Maybe I should ride with Julianne, she goes so much faster!”

  “Thanks for the moral support,” Marcus muttered. He pulled the bags off his horse and threw them on the ground. “Smells like rain,” he said as he unrolled one of them. “We’ll sleep inside, just in case.”

  He stuck his head inside the small, stone building and sneezed. Motes of dust swirled in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window and a cupboard in the corner sat ajar. He pulled it open to reveal a ratty old broom and empty, cobwebbed shelves. A moth-eaten blanket sat on the bottom shelf.

  “Someone’s raided it,” he said. “We should hunt for dinner tonight, and leave some of our supplies here.”

  “Why?” Artemis asked, poking his head in.

  “Because it might be us that needs it one day,” Marcus said. He pulled out the broom and dragged it on the ground, sending the dust particles into a frenzy. He sneezed again.

  Artemis withdrew, leaving Marcus to tidy up the dusty room. It didn’t take him long to coax the room into something resembling clean. He set up the bedrolls, his and Julianne’s beside each other and Artemis’s against the wall of the other room.

  Marcus grimaced at the short distance between his mat and the old man’s. Artemis would spend the night practically snoring in Marcus’s ear.

  Julianne popped her head in. “So glad I picked up a domesticated man,” she commented. “Margit’s going to adore you.”

  Marcus had heard enough about the Temple elder to make him shake in his boots. He knew Margit looked at Julianne like a daughter, and would be fiercely protective over her. He hoped Julianne was right—if Margit didn’t like Marcus, he had no doubt she would let him know in the most painful way possible.

  “I’ll get some water,” he said, wiping the dust off his face with his sleeve.

  “I’ve already done it,” she said, holding up an old pail. “And Artemis is collecting sticks for the fire.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Marcus asked. “We don’t want him to wander off and get lost… do we?” A hopeful lilt touched his last words.

  “I told him you’d catch a rabbit for dinner. He won’t go far.” She watched his expression flicker between satisfied and disappointed, and thumped his arm. “Oh, come on. He’s not that bad. Most of the time.”

  Marcus grinned. “Wait until morning. You think he was loud in the open air? That little room will echo, his snores will be as loud as a room full of miners chipping stone.”

  Julianne groaned. “I can’t wait to get back to the Temple,” she said wistfully.

  “Me either,” Marcus agreed.

  “Marcus, you’ve never been to the Temple,” she reminded him.

  Marcus shrugged. “So? Soft beds, warm blankets and the love of my—” He sneezed again, then choked and spluttered, eliciting a giggle from Julianne.

  “What, scared of telling me how you feel?” she taunted.

  “I just don’t want you to go getting a big head.” Marcus dropped the broom and caught her in his arms, holding her tenderly.

  “Who, me?” she asked, relaxing in his embrace. “I couldn’t, not with you making sure I keep my feet on the ground.” She leaned into him, tilting her face up for a kiss.

  “Is that enough?” Artemis’s voice was close enough to make them both jump, and he gave an evil cackle when they jerked apart. “None of that kissy-face rubbish until we’re back at the Temple,” he said. “You get distracted out here, and it’s a remnant that will bite your face off.”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. “An expert on the Madlands now, are we?”

  “I travelled this way more than once on my own,” Artemis said haughtily. “No weapons, no supplies. Made my way through on my own merit.”

  Marcus gave a low whistle, impressed despite himself.

  “Which only proves you’re an idiot,” Julianne said. “Were you asking to be killed? What kind of fool crosses the Madlands alone?”

  Artemis scowled at her, then turned his back, flipping his cloak in a fit of irritation. “Get your own damn sticks.”

  Julianne sighed. “Fine. I’ll get the sticks.”

  “I’ll help,” Marcus offered.

  Julianne shook her head. “No, I’m the one who put him in a bad mood. You see to your snares.”

  Once Julianne had collected enough for the fire, they sat down to go through their supplies.

  Julianne stretched out to warm her toes by the crackling fire, eyeing the sky with unease. Clouds moved overhead, fat with moisture.

  “It’s a few hours until sundown, which might buy us time to catch some dinner. If we snare a rabbit now, that’ll buy us an extra day or so,” Marcus said. “But we really need to stop somewhere to stock up before we head into the mountains.”

  “We could stop by Arcadia again. I’d like to see how Amelia dealt with her little problem.”

  Artemis cleared his throat. “That will take us away from the most direct path. I have a friend with a smallholding on the way, if you’d like to visit there instead?”

  Julianne nodded her agreement. “The weather is starting to turn, so the path to the Temple may already be difficult. The faster we get there, the better.”

  As if to prove her point, a fat raindrop splattered on her nose. Julianne squeaked and grabbed her blanket, diving for cover inside the little hut just as the skies unleashed a downpour.

  “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to predict the weather?” Marcus muttered.

  Beside him, Artemis snorted. “That’s a construct of the human mind. You’re simply more likely to—"

  “It’s just a figure of speech, Artemis,” Marcus said, cutting off the mystic’s tirade. He sighed. “There goes our fire, though.”

  They spent a cold, damp night in the shelter, wriggling to and fro to try and avoid the occasional leak in the flimsy roof. When the first shafts of sunlight peeked through the window, Marcus rolled over to face Julianne.

  Her hair, frizzed by the moisture in the air, stood around her face like a fuzzy wreath, glowing in the morning light.

  “Marcus?” Julianne cracked an eye open. “Did you just snort at me?”

  He grinned. “If you saw your hair, you’d snort, too.”

  Julianne did snort, then rolled over and flipped the blanket over her head to hide her hair.

  “You can’t stay under there forever,” he taunte
d. “You’ll run out of air.”

  “Fuck you,” came her muffled reply. “Go find me some breakfast, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

  Marcus rolled off his mat and folded his blanket, then gathered up the bedroll into a tight bundle. As a soldier, the move was second nature to him.

  “I’ll see if I can restart the fire. Looks like the sky is clear, but it might still be too soggy out to cook anything.” He walked out, carrying his bundle.

  Julianne pried open her leather packs to check everything inside was dry. She rummaged around her clothes, frowning when her hand grasped something smooth and round.

  She withdrew a small, round stone. It was a glossy, reflective color that threw hues of red and ochre as she twisted it in the cool morning light.

  “Where’d that come from?” she mused before setting it aside. Pretty as it was, she didn’t need any added weight.

  She kept digging through the bag, clicking her teeth when she couldn’t find what she was looking for.

  “Where are my letters?” She mumbled

  She had taken a note from Selah with her, a keepsake she rarely travelled without. Alongside it, there would be a letter of introduction from Amelia, and some papers that verified her place as leader of the Mystic Temple. “Huh. I must have put them in with my other papers.”

  She checked the second bag, assuring herself the pieces of parchment in there weren’t damp, then reluctantly shoved them back in without checking through them. She wet her hands in a small, clean puddle on the floor, smoothed down her hair and gave it a quick comb.

  Then, straightening her shoulders, she walked outside. “So, Artemis,” she said. “How far to see this friend of yours?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bastian lifted the shiny paperweight and rifled through the stack of documents that lay below. He had already gone through them four times, but had run out of places to look.

  “Dammit, where could it be?” he muttered.

  Slamming the paperweight back down, he winced as it thunked loudly on the table. Whatever it was made out of, it was sturdy.

  He picked it up again and turned it over in his hands. So far, no one had admitted to leaving it in his office. “I don’t have time for this,” he sighed, and put it back down. He would have to re-write the list of supplies he would need to start building.

  Bastian grabbed a satchel and threw an apple in it before setting off to Mary’s. The little bar would be empty at this time of day, meaning the food would come out quickly and be fresh and hot.

  Not that anyone’s ever had a bad meal there, he mused. Mary’s had become his second home. Unused to the seclusion of living alone, he often escaped there to work on his monumental project.

  Today, he would be meeting with Francis, though he hadn’t divulged why he wanted the young man there when he had asked him.

  Bastian arrived early, slipping in behind his favorite table. He waved at Mary.

  “Same as usual?” she asked cheerily.

  Bastian grinned. “How can I refuse?” he asked, mouth already watering at what lay in store.

  Francis arrived at the same time as a giant platter of cheese, cold meat, olives, fruit, and bread arrived. “That’s quite a spread,” Francis said.

  “Oh, I expect to have more visitors than just you,” Bastian said. “Anyone who sees me here alone will stop for a few words and a few bites. I learned quickly that if I wanted to eat, I had to order enough for all.”

  “That must be annoying, having everyone wanting you all the time.” Francis frowned, his low voice giving the question more weight than Bastian would have expected.

  “Not really,” Bastian answered lightly. “It’s nice to be wanted.”

  Francis gave a nervous grin. “Speaking of wanted, what can I do for you?”

  “I wanted some help calculating the materials I’ll need to start building. I’ve had quotes from Arcadia, but I wondered, if it’s not too much of a drain on Tahn’s resources…” Bastian raised his eyes to Francis's, hope glimmering.

  “We’d love to help!” Francis exclaimed. “In fact, that will help me with another problem I have.”

  “What’s that?” Bastian asked.

  Francis explained his idea about asking the theatre troupe to start contributing more to the town’s resources, then told him about his meeting with Seher. She had insisted all her members work at least four hours a day—leaving Francis to figure out what to do with the huge workforce.

  “Bette needs more men and women to join the guard, at least short term. She wants to send patrols out, wipe out those bandits that have been roaming around,” Francis said. “But if she succeeds, she won’t need them forever.”

  “You can’t just set them to work around Tahn?” Bastian suggested.

  “There just isn’t that kind of work to be done! But if I can set the men to logging, we can start up the old sawmill again. I’ve got seamstresses for curtains and people to cook, build, and haul materials,” he said with a grin.

  “And I suppose the money will help the local economy?” Bastian said. He hated to admit Danil had been right.

  “Money?” Francis chuckled. “After all you’ve done for us?”

  Bastian shrugged. “And you’ve kept us up, given us places to live. I can’t even get Mary to charge me properly for lunch! You’ll be paid fairly, or you won’t do it.”

  Francis set his mouth in a line, hesitating. Then, he stuck a hand out. “Fine. It’s a deal, then?”

  “Deal!” Bastian felt a weight lift. Having the resources locally would make his job so much easier. “Now, I just have to find a site… and recalculate all my material lists. I can’t believe I lost that!”

  “You’ve been working hard,” Francis said. “Ma always says she can’t remember which way her face goes on when she’s been putting in too many hours.”

  “How’s Annie?” Bastian asked. “I haven’t been out to the farm in weeks.”

  Francis smiled. “As sharp as ever. Why don’t you go see if she knows of a good site for your school? Our Pa was from Muir—Ma used to visit him there before they wed. She would know every inch of land between here and there.”

  Bastian eyed the spread on the table. “I might just do that.” He hailed Mary and packed up his things. “Mary, can you pack this up for me? I’m going to take it up to Annie’s.”

  “About time you went to see her,” Mary chided. She rustled under her counter and brought out some waxed cloth and a small crock, and brought it over to Bastian. “Here, use this for the meats and put the cheese in here. You can take that basket by the door if you promise to have it back by sundown.”

  “I’ll return it,” Bastian said. “Thank you!” He hurriedly helped her wrap the items and stack them neatly in a basket.

  “You can take my horse,” Francis said. “I need to go back to the hall, then talk with Garrett about forming a new patrol.”

  Bastian waved and headed out the door.

  “What a day,” Francis muttered.

  “What’s bothering you, love?” Mary asked. She patted his shoulder in a motherly fashion. “Is it a lady?”

  Francis laughed. “I wouldn’t have time for one of those. No, it’s just been a day of… well, revelation, I guess.”

  “Ah. Well, I wouldn’t know too much about that,” Mary said. “I just work in the bar and serve beer and food. Too old for excitement, I am.”

  Francis ducked his head. “Ma’am, you happen to have the best food this side of the Madlands—probably both sides, but I’ve no desire to go and find out. And your little tavern here might not be as fancy as some of those in Muir, but for us in Tahn, it’s the grandest establishment that exists.”

  Mary swallowed and blinked quickly. When she spoke again, her voice was husky. “Why, Francis, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said. I always did know your mother raised you right.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Julianne closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of fresh grass, letting the swish of a so
ft breeze through the leaves above mingle with the rhythmic thump of hoofbeats. Bundled up against the crisp breeze, she tipped her face up to catch the feeble warmth from the sun.

  “Don’t fall asleep up there,” Marcus teased. “Or I might tip you off into a stream.”

  Julianne cracked an eyelid open. “Try it, I dare you.”

  Marcus laughed and moved his horse over a little, out of arm’s reach. “I’m suitably afraid now. What were you thinking about?”

  “Meditating,” she said.

  “About?”

  She slid a glance his way. “The whole point of meditating is to empty the mind, Marcus.”

  “So… the answer is nothing?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Julianne smiled. “And yet, when people ask mystics what they're thinking, they never seem to believe us when we tell them that.”

  Marcus shrugged. “I guess because for most people, having a head full of bunches of nothing seems…”

  “Crazy?” Julianne finished.

  Marcus nodded. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We get it all the time.”

  She slipped back into silence, glad for the rest. Her anxiety levels had been bristling all the way through the Madlands, her magic constantly roaming, seeking the twisted minds of the remnant.

  She had hoped that her encounter with them some months ago would have heightened her perception of them, allowing her to sense them from a distance. It had worked, but only sporadically.

  Perhaps their minds are as different from each other as they are from ours, she mused. The thought of mentioning it to Artemis just made her feel tired, knowing the question would haunt him until he had found the answer.

  Julianne was so wrapped up in her own mind that she almost rode straight past the small cluster of buildings by the road.

  “Jules!” Marcus called. “We should stop, see if they can sell us some food.” His snares had come up empty and their rations were low, despite deciding against leaving some provisions to top up the safe haven outside the Madlands.

  “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.