by Amy Hopkins
Tavich thumped into a chair next to her, face glowering. There were only two chairs, so Marcus stood awkwardly by the door with Artemis. “And how do we know what’s real?” he asked. “All yer mystics parade through here, usin’ yer magic on us like we’re dogs ta be used fer training. Magic users’ve been through here and have made a few friends by savin’ a few lives, but they didn’t use that mind shit. I still don’t trust it, but I trust it more than I do you.”
He spat on the floor, and Marcus’s hand went to his side, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t armed.
“I’m sorry,” Julianne said. “The relationship between the mystics and the rearick has always been friendly—I would hate for that to end now. I have done nothing to cause that to happen.”
“So, me men are alive?” Tavich asked with an accusing tone.
“Bette and Garrett? They’re fine. A rural lord offered them a chance to lead a small army in defense of a growing town, and they took it.” Julianne sighed. “Look, I crossed the Madlands months ago. I haven’t been back this side of them until the last couple of days, and didn’t step foot on the Heights until this afternoon.”
“Even if that were so, do ye have any idea what we’ve been through here? Bandits robbin’ and killin’ my men. Good, honest rearick dyin’ on their way to Arcadia with the amphoralds. We’ve been considerin’ puttin’ a stop ta the trips, but fer now, we need the coin. Now, after that, we have all this with the damn mystics. We’ve found some remnant sniffin’ around the area again, too. It’s been hell since ye’ve been gone. And now ye claim ye ain’t been back ‘til taday, eh?”
Julianne’s eyes widened. She had no idea all that had been happening. Bandits here, too? What did that mean? And they were after the amphorald crystals? Unless they had engineers, those wouldn’t do them a bit of good. She wondered if Amelia was aware of the situation, but then promptly shut that down when she realized she must be. There was no way the shipments were being taken without her knowledge.
Clearing her throat and pushing all her questions aside, she decided to stick with the problem that arose right now. “Yes. That’s right. I’ve met several people on my way back that claimed to have seen me before, which was impossible because I took a different path upon returning than I did when crossing through. I know it’s difficult to believe or hear, but today truly is my first day back on the mountain.”
“Show me yer hire papers,” Tavich barked.
Someone tapped on the door and pushed it open, passing through a leather satchel. Marcus immediately recognized it as Julianne’s.
Guess they did grab my weapons after all, he mused, confident the presentation of Bette and Garrett’s hire agreement would convince Tavich of what he needed to know.
Tavich passed the bag to Julianne and waited while she rustled through it. After a moment, she looked up, her eyes meeting Marcus’s, face white. “It’s not here,” she said quietly. Suddenly standing, she dumped the contents of the bag at her feet. A sprinkle of fine white dust puffed out.
“Bitch-Damn it,” she cursed. “Where do my papers keep disappearing to?”
Artemis snorted. “You’re a mystic, just make him think you have them.”
Tavich’s face flushed a deep shade of red. “How dare ye?” he sputtered. “How dare ye come into my town after what ye’ve done.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Julianne protested. “I’m sorry for my colleague—I wouldn’t dream of—”
“GUARDS!” Tavich had barely finished bellowing when six heavily armed rearick busted open the door and trotted inside, angry faced and weapons at the ready.
“Ye will escort these traitorous filth to the cells. Lock ‘em up, not together. Send word to the Temple we have their leader—if that’s even who she is.” Tavich walked up to Julianne, jabbing a finger into her chest. “And if ye even fart magic, I’ll destroy every treaty we have and burn them beneath yer feet as ye scream fer mercy.”
Julianne swallowed, but bowed her head in deference. Outsiders might assume Tavich was nothing more than a businessman, but she knew that to the rearick, his rank was equal to hers.
Marcus’s mind raced as he opened his shields to Julianne, but she didn’t dive into his mind or send him any messages. He fell back on her earlier words—be polite.
Despite his instincts screaming for him not to, he followed her lead, holding out his hands to be tied. Artemis did the same, with a pleasant expression that Marcus was sure would turn into an ‘I told you so’ tirade as soon as he had the chance.
The guards led them to a small, dismal building hewn out of the rock. Three heavy iron gates were carefully unlocked, the keys attached to the first guard's belt with a thick chain.
A row of cells lined the walls after the third gate, lit by flickering lanterns that did little to dispel the shadows this deep in the mountain.
Julianne was thrust into the first cell. The guards dragged Marcus down to shove him into a small room beside her.
Once Artemis was secured in a third cell, the guards filed out the door, slamming it shut before keys jangled in the lock. A loud click made Marcus’s heart sink as the thump of boots on stone faded away.
“Everyone ok?” Marcus called.
“Peachy,” Artemis snapped. “Just peachy.”
“I’m fine, Marcus,” Julianne said with a sigh. “They didn’t hurt me.”
“What now?” he asked, sure that Julianne had a plan.
“We wait,” she said. “Best get some sleep. I’m not sure what morning will hold, but it will be easier to face if we’re clear-headed.”
“Ha!” Artemis barked loudly, then fell silent.
“Julianne, tell me you have a plan to get out of here?” Marcus begged. “Was I supposed to do something back there? I could have fought them, but—”
“No!” Julianne stressed the word. “You shouldn’t have done that. Marcus, remember when you said you knew that sometimes I wouldn’t be able to share things with you? For the sake of the Temple?”
“Yeah,” Marcus said dubiously.
“This is one of those times. I have to ask you to trust me, but I can’t tell you what’s going to happen. Just that we must preserve the relationship between mystics and rearick.” Marcus heard a sigh, one loaded with the weight of responsibility.
“Ok.” Marcus stifled his own heaving sigh—one of frustration. “I trust you. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“Just…” Julianne paused, and he imagined her biting her lip. “Go with the flow, and try not to kill anyone. And also try to get some sleep.”
“Bitch help me,” Marcus muttered as he rolled over, pulling his coat tightly around him. “This is going to be an interesting couple of days.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Bastian yelped as Polly pressed the wet cloth to his face.
“Oh, for goodness sake,” she snapped. “Man up; it’s just a graze.”
“Easy for you to say,” Bastian grumbled.
“Go and ask your girlfriend how many times she whined about her wounds. She was a lot worse off than you are,” Polly said pointedly.
Bastian’s cheeks flamed. “She’s not my girlfriend!” He winced, then sighed. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this sort of stuff.”
“You? You crossed the Madlands! Danil told us all how together you fought off hordes of remnant, fighting for your lives.” Polly’s eyes were wide and excited.
“Danil?” Bastian snorted. “He wasn’t even conscious for half the trip. Did he leave that out?”
Polly’s mouth flattened. “Perhaps he did, the sneaky bastard. No matter. It still must have been dangerous. Is Tahn making you soft?” she teased.
Bastian smiled. “I was born soft, and I’ll die soft. I’ve given up trying to compete with the others—fighting isn’t my strong point.”
Polly grinned. “That’s ok,” she said. “You’ve got other talents. Do you think it will be long until your school opens?”
Bastian groaned. “Years. Decad
es, even, the way things are going!”
Polly frowned, her finely shaped eyebrows drawing together with only a delicate pucker between them. “Why?”
“You didn’t hear? The site I wanted to use has been infested with remnant.” He heaved a disappointed sigh. “With those monsters running around the countryside, I’m not even sure a school is a good idea.”
Polly clicked her tongue. “Don’t be silly. You know Garrett won’t let them just wander freely—he’ll hunt them down, wipe them out and make your little plot of land nice and safe.”
Bastian turned woeful eyes up to her as she removed the cloth and nodded, happy that the wound would heal on its own. “You think so?”
“I’m as sure of that as I am of my own name.” She winked. “And I’m as sure of that as if I’d picked it myself… which I did, by the way. Imagine growing up to be called Gertrude? Ridiculous.”
Bastian snorted. “Gertrude? You’re joking, right?”
She shook her head primly. “And if I ever go back to that godforsaken little farm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, I’ll tell them what a horrible idea it was.”
“You haven't seen your parents in a while, then?”
Polly shook her head. “We come from a little village—well, it’s not even that, really. It’s doesn’t have a name, but there’s a little cluster of five families way up past Muir. Beautiful area, even if it’ll kill you dead in the wintertime.”
“Wow,” Bastian said. “I didn’t even know there were towns out this far before we crossed over the Madlands.” He blushed, realizing how backwards that sounded. “I mean, I knew there were towns, of course… I just didn’t expect it to be so much bigger than home.”
Polly grinned. “And people wonder why Danil and I want to go and explore it.”
The smile fell from Bastian’s face. “Danil’s… leaving?”
Polly’s eyes shot open and a hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, damn, he hasn’t told you? Bastian, I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head, fighting off disappointment. “No, it’s ok. I mean, Danil doesn’t owe us anything. He’s a grown man and can do what he wants.”
Polly rested a hand on his shoulder. “It won’t be for a while. He’s determined to stay until you’re well on your way to setting up the school. He said he might even be able to send some students your way.”
I need to get my hands on another amphorald, Bastian thought. I can’t do this alone. Losing Julianne was bad enough…
Seeing his crestfallen expression, Polly flew into a motherly tizz. “Oh, Bastian. You won’t be left alone.” Polly leaned down to hug him, her bosom pressing against his face. “The people of Tahn adore you. They’ll look after you.”
“Bitch take me, Bastian! Why is your face in my girlfriend’s chest?” Danil’s angry voice filled the room.
Bastian shot back, heart screaming into his mouth, sore muscles shrieking at the sudden movement. “I didn’t—I’m sorry!” he gasped.
A moment later his wits returned enough to see Danil leaning over a chair, almost doubled over in wheezing laughter. Polly walked over and slapped the back of his head.
“That was mean!” she snapped. Then, she hit him again. “And you were supposed to tell Bastian about leaving weeks ago!”
That sobered Danil quickly. “Ah, shit. You know?” he asked.
Still reeling at the sudden changes in Danil’s demeanor, Bastian scowled. “You’re an ass, Danil.”
“I agree, but which particular asshole act are we referring to?” Danil asked, sitting down at the table. “Just so we’re clear.”
“All of them!” Bastian exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought it would just make you worry more. Bitch knows you already do enough of that for the two of us.” Danil reached over to grab Polly’s hand and tug her onto his lap. When she sat, he kissed her cheek.
“You still could have warned me,” Bastian said.
Danil shrugged. “I should have. I’m sorry, Bastian.” Danil narrowed his eyes. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Oh, no,” Bastian walked over to the door. “If you really mean it, don’t do anything to prove it. No spontaneous parties, no madcap plans, nothing. Promise?”
Danil let out a snort. “No! As if I’d ever promise that.”
Bastian rolled his eyes. “You’re incorrigible. I’m starting to realize why Julianne wanted to leave you behind.”
“Hey!” Danil called as Bastian disappeared. “She never said that!”
Bastian blinked, eyes adjusting to the fading light. He realized he had nowhere to be. Plans for the school would now grind to a halt, until he found a new location, or the remnant had been thoroughly rousted from the area.
Thinking of the unexpected attack, he decided to go and see Bette. He wouldn’t burden her with the issue, but perhaps she had already been told. If anyone would have a plan to kill some dirty remnant, it was Bette.
He tapped on a window of the cottage shared by the two rearick. Inside, a lantern bobbed as it was brought to the door. It swung open and Garrett peered out, his beard dimming the light in his hand.
“Ah, yer all patched up?” Garrett asked, seeing Bastian.
“Yes,” he said, “Though I might need to bribe Mathias for a heal in the morning. Bastard’s balls, my muscles are aching.”
“Aye, ye’ll find that’ll hurt like a bitch tomorrow.” Garrett ushered him inside. “Come and say hello to me lass.”
“She’s awake?” Bastian hovered at the door suddenly having second thoughts.
“Aye, and in a right foul mood. Don’t think yer gettin’ out of it, lad. Ye’re here, so yer gonna go in there an’ talk to ‘er.” Garrett pushed Bastian towards the hall.
“That bad?” Bastian asked.
“Aye. She’s a right cow while she’s stuck in that damned bed, but Mary says she’s not ta leave it at least ‘til morning.”
With one last mighty push, Garrett shoved a stumbling Bastian into a small, brightly lit room at the back of the cottage.
“Bastian!” Bette exclaimed. “Have ye come ta smuggle me out, then?” she whispered loudly.
“I heard that, woman!” Garrett yelled from the next room. “An’ he’s a good lad. Wouldn’t risk losing his balls ta old Mary, not fer you.”
Bastian shrugged. “He’s right,” he admitted. “Mary feeds me, so I’m not about to piss her off.”
Bette’s gleeful smile dissolved into a frown. “Ye prick. Fine, then. What do ye want?”
“I just came to say hi.” Bastian raised his hands defensively and backed towards the door. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Och, sit down ye precious wee thing.” Bette patted the bed with one hand. “I know I’m a grouchy old nag, but if I don’t have someone ta talk to other than that old goat out there, I’ll go madder than a remnant!”
Bastian tentatively sat on the end of the crisply tucked sheets. “So… how do you feel?” he asked, wondering if it was the wrong question.
“Bloody well fine,” Bette heaved. “Achin’ ta go kill those bastard runts that did that ta yer face,” she said, nodding at the scrape on Bastian’s cheek.
“They’re mostly dead, I think,” Bastian said. “There were only three—Tansy killed two of them, Garrett got the one she stranded up a tree.”
Bette hooted with laughter. “Aye, he told me about her little trick. Clever lass! Yer lucky she went with ye!”
Bastian shuddered, realizing for the first time how lucky he was that she had seen him ready to sneak out without her. “I’d be dead if not for her.”
“Aye, ye would!” Bette said happily. “Now, I’ll bet me ass that there are more of the beasts out there. Between the three ye saw and that Chet fellow they were rantin’ about, and the thieves Garrett caught, who said the remnant rousted them out of their home…”
Impatient fingers drummed the bedspread as Bette’s eyes twinkled. “Aye, a mighty fight we’ll be up for! We’ll lead a patrol
and hunt the remnant down, we will, and I’ll get me vengeance fer this bloody thing.” She waved a bandaged arm, then winced.
“You should be careful with that,” Bastian said, then clamped his mouth shut as she glowered.
“I’ve done nothing but be bloody careful fer days! What do they think I am, a bloody porcelain doll?” Bette huffed, blowing a tendril of hair away from her face. “Ach. Never mind that. How is Tansy?”
“She’s ok,” Bastian said. “A little banged up, but Mathias fixed her up.” He cocked his head, suddenly realizing something. “Why hasn’t—”
“Don’t ye even say it!” Bette snapped. “He’s a lovely man and all, but he can keep his Bitch-cursed magic to himself, thank you.”
Bastian’s eyebrows raised, surprised. “I thought you didn’t mind magic use?”
“I don’t,” Bette confirmed. “As long as its use is directed somewhere other than me.”
Bastian shook his head in awe of her stubbornness. “He could have you fixed up in a few heartbeats,” he pointed out.
Bette screwed up her face even harder. “It’s nothing a few days won’t fix,” she said. “And scars make ye tougher!”
Bastian winced at the thought of putting up with a gaping shoulder wound for a week or more when a druid was right down the lane, ready to help. He knew Bette wouldn’t see it that way, but he wondered if he could change her mind.
“Ok,” he said, standing to go. “I’d best go see Francis, make sure the curfew is being held and the travel restrictions are in place.”
“Curfew?” Bette sat up, despite the sharp look of pain that shot across her face as she moved. “What travel restrictions?”
Bastian shook his head sadly. “Well, you can’t expect him to let people wander about with deranged beasts running about. It’s not safe! Without you to protect us, and Garrett so worried about—”
“Bullshit,” Bette said, throwing off her blanket and swinging her legs of the bed.
Bastian jumped up, hands raised, unsure whether it was worth the risk to his life to try and manhandle her back to bed. “Garrett?” he called in a wavering voice.
