by Amy Hopkins
Francis bowed his head, relieved that he hadn’t given away some great secret. “Well, perhaps you could have a word with him? As much as we’d love him to stay and help, we don’t need him, as such. I wouldn’t want him to stay out of a sense of obligation.”
Julianne laughed. “Obligation? You don’t know Danil. It’s pure curiosity keeping him here. He can’t stand not knowing someone else’s secret, especially if he’s got money riding on it—I assume he has?” Her eyes twinkled, and she grinned when Francis nodded.
“I believe he has a hefty bag of coin wagered. He bet for the return of the Matriarch, I believe.” Francis shrugged. “I suppose it’s as likely an outcome as anything else… Except maybe Gerard’s theory that it’s all another mucker trick, and neither the creatures nor the portal really exist.”
Julianne raised an eyebrow at that. “Any other theories I should know about?”
“Well… the leading theory is that they’re beasts from beyond the stars, a species from another world. Danil’s bet accepts that but adds on that their presence here signifies the return of Queen Bethany Anne. Mack thinks they’re slipping through from the world of dreams, and Harlon put money on the chance of them being from another time.”
Julianne shook her head. “I wish we knew with certainty, but if I hadn’t learned from Danil never to place a bet against him, I’d run with the stars theory. Though our research so far doesn’t give any weight to that theory, apart from the stories of Bethany Anne’s departure.”
There was one man who might know—Ezekiel. She had sent a group of mystics to seek him out, but knew it was a long shot. He’d left in that ridiculous flying device Adrien had built, and could be halfway across Irth by now, if not flying out to the stars themselves.
If only we’d discovered the amphorald devices before he’d left, she mused. Apart from the pressing issues they faced, Julianne was also filled with curiosity about Hannah, the young magician Ezekiel had rescued and taken with him.
Bringing her thoughts back to the present, she asked Francis how the townspeople felt about the strange incursion.
“Well, the creatures don’t seem to be more than a nuisance,” he said.
As if on cue, Julianne’s tiny companion wriggled in her pocket and tested the air with a skinny snout. With a clumsy heave, it pulled itself up, tumbling out of her pocket too fast for her to react. It tumbled onto the floor, wrapped itself into a ball before it landed, and stayed that way afterwards.
Francis snorted. “And it’s not as if they seem to have the aptitude for a full-scale invasion.”
Julianne bit her lip, then scooped up the spherical beast and nestled it safely in her lap, one hand cupping it in case it tried to scurry away again. Its well-fed warmth tingled on her fingertips.
“They don’t,” she said. “But what if there’s something else out there, waiting to come through?”
Francis sobered. “That’s why we’ve got the elite guard out watching the portal.”
Julianne cocked an eyebrow, gesturing for him to explain.
“Bette and Garrett are leading them—Sharne has taken over the town guard. They’ve got a few of their best fighters out there, in case something does force its way through.” Francis raised a finger in warning. “Everyone thinks they’re just there because of the remnant. I’d rather the idea of more monsters out there stay amongst us, if that’s ok.”
“Wise idea,” Julianne murmured. “Though I personally think the remnant are the bigger threat now, anyway.”
“Yes.” Francis ran a hand through his hair. “Garrett is sure the portal is pulling them closer, but I don’t see that pattern myself. From what snippets the remnant have actually told us, intentionally or not, it seems they’re just displaced.”
“And the attacks on these guys?” she asked, gesturing to the one in her lap that was just starting to unfurl. She rubbed its belly with a finger, and it stretched lazily.
“Remember what Bastian said? About the monsters attacking that ‘Chet’ fellow and his horde?” Francis drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair nervously. “I wonder if they weren’t right. If some beast came through and attacked, and they recognize these little critters as being linked to the same event…”
“You think the remnant are scared of them?” Julianne asked dubiously.
Francis shrugged. “Portals to the stars? Traveling through time? The Queen returning? Tell me my theory sounds crazier than any of those.”
“You’re right,” Julianne said. “In fact, you’re making the most sense of anyone so far.” Frustration building, she let out a soft curse. “If only we knew more.”
There was a loud knock at the door, and the tiny creature Julianne held snapped shut, catching her finger as it rolled into its protective shell.
“Ow!” she yelped, holding up her hand to view the dangling, cracked ball hanging from it. “Could you not do that?” Julianne begged. Grabbing it with her other hand, she squeezed her eyes shut and yanked, pulling her finger free but leaving a thin layer of skin behind.
Francis stood and hurried to the door, glancing over his shoulder at the injured mystic. “And here I thought they aren’t dangerous.”
“Only if you’re stupid enough to get your finger stuck inside one,” Julianne sighed, examining the damage. Thin lines of blood beaded along her finger, which was red and puffy.
She wiggled it carefully. “At least it’s not broken.”
“Jules!” Bastian peeked his head in as Francis swung the door back. “Master, it’s so good to see you!”
She stood and embraced her former pupil, marveling at how much he’d changed since they’d started their journey together. No longer a hesitant young man, Bastian wore the confidence of a leader and the mental strength of one who had seen war.
Though she mourned the loss of his innocence, she was proud of his accomplishments and his ambition, and she let the emotion flood towards him through a light mental touch.
Bastian grinned, then grimaced. “Don’t expect too much from a man stupid enough to let his schematics get eaten,” he said, flashing an apologetic look at Francis.
“Again?” Francis chuckled. “Lucky I thought ahead.”
Francis stepped over to a cupboard and slipped a key into a hole below the handle. He opened it, catching a handful of papers that flew out. The cupboard was stuffed to the brim with stacks of paper.
The bundle in Julianne’s lap suddenly clicked open, snout sniffing the air.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She grappled it by the back shell, picking it up and letting it scrabble in the air with its tiny legs.
“Is that the one you took to the Temple?” Bastian asked.
She nodded. “It’s been on one hell of a journey,” she confirmed. “Though perhaps not as big as the one that brought it here.”
Francis held out a large drawing to Bastian. “You’re a genius and a lifesaver, Lord Francis.”
Francis grinned. “No, I’ve just lost too damn many things to those vermin.”
“At least they’re cute?” Bastian said, examining the one Julianne held. He drew back when its snout made a grab for his plans. “What’s his name?”
“Name?” Julianne asked, confused. “They don’t talk, Bastian. Do they?”
“No,” Bastian laughed. “I mean, what did you name it. You did give it one, didn’t you?”
She shook her head, perplexed. “Why would I do that?”
Bastian erupted into a deep belly laugh. “You’re keeping it as a pet, Jules! You tickle its belly—Don’t deny it, it slips through the mental link all the time—and you feed it and carry it in your pocket. What is it with you and naming things?”
Julianne shrugged, contemplating the little animal she really had grown to care about. “I never had a pet as a child. I’ve never really been around animals at all, in fact, unless you count the horses I borrowed to travel.”
“You’re hopeless,” Bastian laughed, shaking his head.
Julianne scowled i
ndignantly. “Fine! You name him.” She folded her arms expectantly.
“Ardie.” Bastian threw out the name without hesitation.
“What?” Julianne dropped her arms, bewildered. “How did you come up with that so fast?”
Bastian shrugged. “Remember back at the Temple, in the records, we had those little books with hard pages?”
“You mean the children’s books with the pictures?” Julianne asked, wrinkling her face as she stretched her memory.
Despite her many hours spent in those rooms, digging through books and literature, shuffling through records to find any mention of strange portals cracking the sky, or incursions of even stranger creatures, that particular pile of books had never been in her sights.
“Bastian…” She looked up, eyes wide. “Are you saying you saw these creatures in one of those books?”
He chuckled and shook his head. Julianne sank back into her chair, deflated.
“No,” Bastian confirmed. “Not these. But Irth used to have an animal that reminds me of them. They’ve got shells like armour, and long noses. But they weren’t red, and the back carapace was different.”
Julianne reflexively ran a finger over Ardie’s back. It was smooth and hard, a material that by rights, shouldn’t have the ability to flex and bend as the creature moved, let alone seal up into a seamless sphere when it was scared.
“So, these… Ardies?”
“Aaaard-varks.” Bastian spat the word out clumsily, tripping over the pronunciation of a name he’d never heard spoken, only read.
Julianne lifted her hands and narrowed her eyes, searching the beady, black spots looking back at her. “Ardie?” she said, gently.
Ardie snorted and rolled back up into a ball.
Julianne knocked on the hard, round shell. “Well, unless you come up with something better, you’re stuck with it.”
“What do we call them, then,” Francis asked. “The creature name, I mean. They can’t all be Ardies.”
“Ardie the Vark,” Marcus said laughing. “I guess Francis is right. We’ve discovered a new animal. It will need a name.”
“Vark works fine for me,” Bastian said. “What about you, Ardie? Are you a vark?”
A thin, fleshy rope snuck out of an opening that formed in the ball. It nuzzled Julianne’s finger, then latched onto a fresh bit of paper she dangled before it. Snatching it back through the crack, it snapped shut.
“He seems ok with it.” Julianne patted the protective shield and slipped it back into her pocket. She felt the warmth on her leg as the creature’s digestive system kicked into gear.
“I swear you pay that thing more attention than you do to me,” Marcus said from across the table.
“That’s because Ardie is better looking,” Bastian shot back.
Marcus turned to Julianne, face beseeching.
“Don’t look at me,” she said primly. “I agree with him!”
Wounded, Marcus settled back in his chair. “Stay single,” he told Francis.
Francis just shrugged. “I’m not getting involved in this one. I’ll lose an arm… or my mind. And quite frankly, I’d rather give up a limb.”
“Speaking of minds,” Bastian said, wrinkling his brow in thought. “Why do you think the druids can’t reach these creatures?”
Julianne shook her head, sighing. “Mathias said maybe it’s because they’re not from around here. If a druid goes far enough away from their native area, their bond with the land gets weaker. It can take time to re-establish it.”
“Well, maybe he’ll have some answers when he comes back.” Bastian rolled up the schematic and tapped it against his hand, thinking. “Jules… this is going to sound crazy, but you don’t think they’re somehow related to remnant?”
Julianne's eyebrows shot up. “Why would you say that?” She didn’t point out the obvious—the creatures from the rift were, or at least seemed like animals. Remnant weren’t quite human, but they were more than just beasts. She saw no reason for them to be connected.
Bastian blushed. “I tried to mind-read one. It didn’t work, obviously—I’d have told you if it did. But, it wasn’t the usually blank fuzz of an animal. I got… well, still static, but noisy static. I could see red, feel pain. It reminded me of our trip through the Mads, when Danil got his brain eaten by that remnant girl.”
Julianne shuddered, thinking back to her dive into Danil’s tortured mind. Those images had come as pain, smell, touch, and noise; disjointed sensations that weren’t coherent but still made a wild kind of sense.
Julianne schooled her face, hiding her growing excitement. “Bastian, I absolutely forbid you to try that again. If there is some link between remnant and whatever is coming through that rift, connecting with them could be very dangerous.”
Bastian nodded. “But you think there might be something to it?”
Julianne put her hands up. “We’re in foreign waters here, Bastian. We can’t rule anything out.” She grinned. “But if anyone is going to try this… it has to be me.”
“What?” Marcus and Bastian yelped at the same time. They looked at each other, mirrored images of concern.
Julianne snorted. “Come on. You think I’d let anyone else be the first to jump through this particular trap door?”
Bastian opened his mouth, but she snapped a hand up and cut him off. “Bastian, I’m not letting you risk yourself like that. And after what Danil went through when he used magic on that remnant, I’m not letting him anywhere near this idea.”
“And I suppose you’re invincible?” Marcus stood, hooking his thumbs through his belt. He stood in a dangerously relaxed pose, face calm.
Julianne recognized that stance. He’d used it at bars, and in the streets of Craigston during her recovery. Usually, it was during some drunk bully’s rant about why he was entitled to punch a girl in the face, or walk out of Ophelia’s without settling a bill.
And every time she’d seen it, it had ended in violence.
Julianne narrowed her eyes.
Marcus let a small smile touch his lips. He sank down further, looked more at ease and yet somehow, five times more dangerous.
“You wouldn’t.” Julianne’s voice was just a shade uneven, and she swallowed, hoping he’d missed it.
“The pigs have been enjoying the weather, lately,” he mused, flicking a glance out the window.
Her heart thumped once, a painful beat. There were no pigs in view, but Julianne recalled seeing three fat pigs wallowing in a giant mud pit on their way to see Francis.
Marcus turned to Bastian. “Bastian, how hard do you think it would be to hold a spell if you’d just been dumped on your ass in a cold, wet puddle of mud?”
“Pretty hard,” Bastian said with a grin. That grin faded when Julianne shot him a dark look, but flashed again as Marcus continued.
“And, if a couple of pigs decided to start chewing your hair and licking your face?” Marcus’s eyes shifted back to Julianne.
Julianne sighed. “You can’t stop me, Marcus. Someone has to find out if this is possible.”
“There’s got to be another way,” he said, not backing down. “Someone you can ask, who might know what these things are. Do you know where the Founder is?”
The beginnings of an idea flickered at the edges of Julianne’s mind. “He’s gone. Up north somewhere. But…” She trailed off, wondering if the idea was even worth trying.
It has to be at least as crazy as trying to get in the head of something even more distant than a remnant, she reminded herself.
At Bastian’s questioning look, Julianne smiled. “But there may be a way to contact him. Maybe.” She glanced at Bastian. “I’ll need help, though?”
Bastian nodded eagerly. “Anything, Master.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Ignoring the sudden flicker of worry on her fellow mystic’s face, Julianne stood. “We’re all going to have a busy day. I suggest we get started.”
She brushed past Marcus and Bastian, reaching for the doorkno
b. She hesitated, then suddenly ducked to one side as the door burst open.
“Lord Francis!”
The pink-faced girl in the doorway heaved heavy breaths and wiped sweat from her brow. She was young—maybe fourteen—and lithe, with the cocky posture of a seasoned performer.
“Yes, Clarke?”
“There’s been another breach, and it’s not like the others, but Bette went after it, and a remnant got it first, and Garrett said to come, but Danil wanted to know first, so I have—”
“Stop!” Francis snapped.
Clarke’s mouth snapped shut.
“Slow down, child. You said there was another breach?”
She nodded. “Yes, Lord Francis. But, it wasn’t like our little tumblers.”
Trying to stay up with the girl’s excited story, Julianne brushed her mind. ‘Tumblers’ was a name the theatre troupe had given to the little creatures, due to their resemblance to the colored bronze spheres used in the circus acts.
Julianne plucked an image from her mind, muttered quietly, and deftly threw up an image for the room to see. A shimmering red bug sprawled on the ground, spiked legs twisted and face smashed into a pulp. It certainly wasn’t a vark…
Clarke squealed in delight as Marcus and Francis gasped.
“That’s it!” Clarke yelled. “That’s exactly what I saw!”
Bastian looked on, somber. Julianne banished the image with a wave of her hand.
Marcus jerked to his feet. “We have to go help.”
Clarke shook her head, still grinning. “Too late, soldier-boy. It’s dead, and there won’t be another one through for ages now. By the time you get there, Captain Bette and Lieutenant Garrett will be back in town, probably looking for you.”
“Garrett seemed sure the remnant came for it,” Julianne said, after sorting through Clarke’s memories. “But… I don’t know. I’d like to avoid making a judgement on that until I see it with my own eyes.”
Marcus nodded. “The bastard we saw was in the wrong place to be headed towards the rift.”
