by CM Raymond
“Doyle,” he screamed, shaking the glass in the windows.
Before he finished his assistant’s name, the man was through the door.
“Sir? Everything OK?”
Adrien glanced back out the window and then back at his assistant. “Something isn’t right, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He paused for longer than was comfortable for Doyle. Then finally, he asked, “Stellan and his men, are they... well, normal?”
“Normal, sir?”
Adrien cocked his head. “Yes. Have they been acting odd—out of sorts?”
Doyle searched the ceiling. As Adrien’s long-time assistant, he knew he had to hedge his bets. Get something like this wrong, and the consequences could be dire. “Not that I know of, sir. Seems all is in order. Do you want me to question them again? Maybe Alexandra could have a little conversation with them.”
Adrien laughed. Alexandra, his inquisitor and part-time lover, certainly had a way with men… in more ways than one. But putting her to work on Stellan might be a bit much.
“No. Alexandra might be more than the head of the Guard can handle. She might just ruin the man; she has ruined many before. But, Doyle, do this for me—put someone you trust on Stellan. Nothing too intense, just have somebody keep an eye on him. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’d rather know for certain.”
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
Adrien looked down at the letter; a wicked smile crept across his face. “Actually, Doyle, I do have something in mind for you. A special assignment that will give you some close, personal access to Stellan and his men. You’re going on a trip North.”
Adrien could hear the man gulp from the other side of the room. “Are you sure you want to send me, sir?”
Adrien’s smile turned to ice. “Are you saying you’re not capable of doing what I ask, Doyle?”
“No! No, sir. Absolutely not, sir. I will take care of it. Whatever you ask.”
Adrien smiled again as the man backed out of the room. He turned to stare out the window—it was nearly dark in Arcadia, and Adrien cursed missing the full sunset. He dropped into his leather chair, placed his feet on the ottoman, and watched darkness take over.
Something isn’t right, he thought. His plan was nearly perfect, and its completion was imminent. Still, something chewed at his gut—that something was his old mentor.
If I were him, I would have someone on the inside. But who?
Adrien pushed the thought from his mind. The airship was nearly complete. Doyle was too much of a coward to screw up his assignment. And Ezekiel wouldn’t be able to stop the progress.
Once the machine took flight, no magician in all of Irth would be able to stop Adrien’s plans.
CHAPTER THREE
“Magitech is the future for Arcadia…”
Another day, another boring ass class, Hannah thought as she struggled to stay awake. Yesterday had been alright—she couldn’t deny that turning wood and stone into glass was a pretty cool skill—but today was class with Professor Nikola, which meant it was a lecture on magitech, which meant it was a total bore. How the hell could magic be boring? And yet, Professor Nikola had a way of putting students to sleep even when talking about the most exciting content.
She found her mind wandering, trying to imagine what the day could have been like, running around the streets with Parker, making the Prophet look like an idiot. Instead, she was stuck at a desk, surrounded by students she despised.
Well, she didn’t despise every student.
Hannah looked over at Gregory who was studiously taking notes. He wasn’t bad for a noble—hell, he wasn’t bad by Boulevard standards. The truth was that Gregory was a good man—if only he had some more confidence. Either way, she was glad to have made at least one friend here, even if his magic work was for shit.
Thankfully, Nikola was a stickler for time, and he ended his lecture without going over. Hannah couldn’t wait to get out of the stuffy classroom. She grabbed Gregory’s sleeve and bolted for the door. But as they stepped into the hallway, a voice behind them called out.
“Gregory, do you have a second?”
They spun to find Professor August standing outside the classroom door. He must have been waiting for them. His face was serious—which was more than unusual for the smiling man—and Hannah wondered for a minute if he had figured out that it was her that had changed the elephant and not Gregory. She glanced at her friend who was stiff as a board. He was thinking the same thing.
“Sure,” he said, walking toward the professor.
Hannah went with him. She knew that in a pinch, Gregory was pretty much useless. Not to mention, she was the one willing to do the dirty work that might have to happen if things went really bad.
“It’s about yesterday, Gregory,” August said.
“Yes, sir?”
Finally, a grin cracked across his face. “Well, all these months, we’ve been expecting a lot out of you—with your father’s position and all. And it probably wasn’t fair. Hell, I’d hate to be in your shoes. But then there was your work yesterday.” August pursed his lips and shook his head. “It was just so damned good.”
“Well,” Gregory said, stealing a glance at Hannah, “thank you, Professor. I’ve been practicing a bit.”
“I’d say. Now, there’s a little matter of business I wanted to talk with you about. You’ve heard of the Chancellor’s Scholar’s Program?”
Both students shook their heads, faces lacking all expression.
August continued. “I’m not supposed to make a recommendation for first years until the end of the term, but I thought what the hell…”
“Sir?” Gregory asked.
“I’m putting your name in. Tomorrow. If you want me to, that is.”
Gregory’s mouth dropped wide open. Hannah jumped in, saying, “Does that mean he won’t be in class with us any longer?”
August finally looked at her. “No. No, he probably won’t. That is, if he’s accepted. And, Deborah, I think this could be a good thing for you. I’ve noticed that you’ve been leaning a bit too strongly on your new friend here. Maybe Gregory leaving could be the shove out of the nest that you need. You haven’t shown much, well, potential as of yet. But I know your father is a man of great influence.” He turned back to Gregory. “Let me know tomorrow, will you? I’ll give you a night to think it over.”
August turned and left them standing in the hall.
“Asshat,” Hannah said as he left.
“Nah. He’s a good one,” Gregory responded.
She shook her head. “There aren’t good ones in the Academy. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the bloody problem. August has chosen to side with Adrien. That makes him an enemy in my book.”
They walked out into the quad, each thinking about the conversation that just transpired. Hannah’s ego was a little bruised, but the professor’s words showed that her ruse was working, at least on one person.
Finally, she said, “You really suck at lying, don’t you?”
“Sorry.”
Hannah laughed. “It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. I know I can trust you, so that’s good. Now, these two douche nuggets on the other hand.” She nodded toward Ben and Jonas. Hannah and Gregory had spent the night running through the names of students and they landed on those two as good options. At least they weren’t complete numbnuts, which was a start.
Hannah took a breath and turned to approach them, but Gregory grabbed her arm. “Be careful,” he said.
“I know what I’m doing, Gregory.” Her tone was short, and she pulled away from him. This would be a piece of cake.
As she approached, the two men froze, stopping their conversation mid-sentence.
“Hey, guys,” she said. “How’s it going?”
They were both skinny—although, after that their similarities ended. Ben, the taller one, had a pimply face and shockingly bushy eyebrows. Jonas was in the process of growing a beard—a few years too early. Neither looked like
rebellion material, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Um, hi, Deborah,” Jonas said, stroking his non-existent beard. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Hannah said with a smile. “I’m just bored after Professor Nikola’s lecture.”
Hannah tried her best at making casual conversation. She had been working with Maddie to work on her tone and mannerisms, but it was the difference in content that made talking with them so difficult. But, she made the right comment because Ben went off when she mentioned Nikola. Apparently, he didn’t like the prof much either. She was hardly even aware of what he was saying, however. Her focus was elsewhere.
Her intentions were directed past their words—into their minds. It was difficult, keeping up her illusion work while delving deeper—all while maintaining a smile. Since Ben was doing the talking, she decided to focus on Jonas. She had to empty her own mind and pull in the thoughts of the boy in front of her—letting them fill her. Finally, the words bubbled up inside of her, and she whispered them under her breath.
Immediately Jonas’s voice was inside her head.
Man, what I wouldn’t do for just one night with her, he thought. She’s so damn hot for a country girl. I could show her how we do it in the city.
As Hannah listened to the boy’s thoughts, anger began to fill her, pushing out the connection. The words became harder to hear.
...make her scream... why she’s hanging around with that needle-dick Gregory…
The anger inside Hannah pulled up, but she couldn’t contain it. Suddenly, Jonas grabbed his head and screamed. “What the hell?” he yelled, clutching his temples with his hands. The pain drove him to a knee.
Ben gaped at his friend, then turned back to Hannah. “Hey, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
Hannah blinked and looked back at the boy. It was as if she had just woken up. She must have lost focus on her own illusion, which means that her bright red eyes would have started to shine through—definitely not a normal sight amidst the “civilized” company.
She looked down at Jonas who was still rubbing his head. Shit, did I do that? she thought.
“I’ve got to go,” Hannah blurted, as she turned and rushed back to the other side of the quad.
As she left, she caught the last trace of Jonas’s thoughts. What a freak! What the hell kind of people are they letting in here now? I’m going to talk to my father about this.
Hannah cursed herself again, grabbed Gregory’s arm, and pulled him away from the school.
****
The sound of loud men shouting to one another filled Julianne’s ears as she laced up her boots. Of course, they weren’t her boots, and she wasn’t really lacing them. The whole thing was an elaborate illusion designed to fool her new “companions” in the Arcadian Guard.
Julianne had been playing dress up as Stellan for weeks—ever since Ezekiel killed the man in the Heights. As Stellan’s dead body cooled on the Temple floor, Julianne knew she had only one choice. She was the only mystic capable of perfectly mimicking another person. And if Stellan never returned, Adrien would attack her people in force. So, she put on the “uniform” and joined the Guard.
She missed her mountain home, and as far as the day-to-day went, pretending to be the brute was just on the bad side of tolerable. But, there were many parts of the mission that were downright terrible.
Like the bathhouse.
At the end of each shift, the Guardsmen were expected to hit the house, where most of them enjoyed a steam bath and would rinse off with a cold shower. It would be unusual for Stellan to skip the ritual, which meant that Julianne spent her afternoons surrounded by sweaty asses and shriveled dicks.
Far from ideal for the head mystic. She hadn’t spent her life training in the mystic arts for this—but she was faithful to the cause.
Keeping up the illusion as Stellan was taxing for the mystic. It was a constant, strenuous labor. Creating the illusion sapped her mental capabilities to the point that some evenings she was all but worthless once she was back in the safety of the mansion. Not only that, but it was also emotionally taxing. It was more than just looks; she had to be Stellan.
Playing someone else for a few days wasn’t bad—it could even be enjoyable. However, not being yourself for months was enough to break lesser mystics than Julianne.
Pretending to be someone as crude as Stellan took her right up to the edge.
There was also the issue of her physical body. Although she looked like the guard, she still maintained her own physical stature behind the image of Stellan—and the one thing the dead Guard had going for him was that he was jacked. While not out of shape herself, Julianne had spent the last two decades sitting in meditation—not swinging weapons and training in the yard. Being Stellan required proof of his strength—and sometimes martial skill. A few times she had been able to use her mental magic to convince the others, but some things just couldn’t be faked, and Julianne’s dead-tired muscles were the proof.
Then there was the little matter of Stellan’s regular trips to the Arcadian brothels...
Needless to say, Julianne was ready to get back to the Heights—back to her people and out of the ruse that had overtaken her life. Compared to the serenity of the mountains, Arcadian life was always a scramble. People ran in every direction trying to make something of themselves, always caring not to waste time on things like silence and contemplation.
Life in the lowlands was upside down, and Julianne couldn’t wait to turn things right-side up.
Although she never wanted to join Ezekiel’s mission, she knew that her collusion was for the good. Not only for Arcadia, but also, likely, for all of Irth. It was abundantly clear that the Governor was up to something. The size of the Guard continued to swell, and souls were being added from outside of the walls of Arcadia. Most of the new men were in training, practicing maneuvers that were more akin to wartime offensives than urban civic defense.
Over the time that she’d been in the city as Stellan, she had done all she could to garner information out of the other Guards. Through both explicit conversation and her mystical wandering through the men’s minds, there was little to be found. They all knew what she did: something was going to happen. Something big, but nobody knew what it was—even her immediate supervisor.
As she finished getting dressed, Julianne overheard Dirk and Dietrich, the two other Guards she met in the Heights—who were now under her direct command. They were filling the air with their usual inane prattling.
“Nah, man,” Dirk said while toweling off his ass. “I just keep having the same dream over and over again. I’m walking around, minding my own business, when the floor opens up and swallows me whole.”
Dietrich laughed. “It’s sexual.”
“What do you mean?” When Dirk asked questions, his eyes furrowed like a puppy’s.
“Let me ask you, when was the last time you got laid?” Dietrich responded.
Dirk scowled. “What the hell does that matter?”
“They say dreams are all sexual. So, you getting swallowed whole by the ground, it means something. You have a woman hit ya in bed or something? Or maybe you’re having some problems with your bits.” Dietrich motions to Dirk’s crotch with a laugh. “Has your twig been saggin’?”
“My twig? What the bloody shit you talking about? I’ve got a trunk down here, if you know what I mean.”
Julianne couldn’t help smiling to herself as she heard the two squabble. Apparently, Dirk’s psyche remembered Ezekiel’s attack. Thankfully, his waking mind still had no recollection of any such thing happening.
As she stood to leave, a young man, naked from the waist up stood in front of her. He was cut, unlike most of the other Guards, but he stood at attention like a soldier. Clearly, he was part of the Arcadian forces but Julianne didn’t recognize him. She was weighing whether or not it was likely Stellan would have known him when the man answered the question for her.
“You Stellan?” he asked.
/> “Who’s asking?” Julianne responded in Stellan’s gruff tone.
“I’m Marcus. Doyle sent me to join your unit. Says you’re going to need some help in the coming days.”
Julianne coughed up phlegm and spat it at his feet. “Why the hell does Doyle think we need you?”
“Shit. I don’t know,” Marcus said. “I’ve been out at an outpost halfway to the Mad Lands. Just got my ass home, and before I could even store my gear, Doyle sent me your way.”
Julianne focused and tried to get inside of the man’s head, but it was blank.
That’s bizarre, she thought. It meant the man’s mind was well protected.
