by Amy Hopkins
Despite Marcus's hope, he didn't allow them to dawdle for long. They gathered the firewood as fast as they could and headed back into the small town. Disappointingly, Polly and Julianne still stood exactly where they had left them, alone and with frustration evident on their faces.
It was a good idea, Julianne sent Marcus. But these people are just too afraid.
But are they hungry? he sent back.
Julianne smiled hopefully. Starving. Though come to think of it, so am I. Aloud she added, "Let's get this fire going so we can eat."
Marcus squatted to light the fire and listened to Garrett talking to Julianne behind him.
"Why can't ye just use yer magic make them not afraid anymore?" he asked the mystic.
Julianne sighed "I could, but it's a bit unethical. Changing a person’s emotions like that changes the choices they make. It takes away their freedom to act however they normally would. Plus, we can't predict how they’ll react when we leave. When you force the fear out of a person, it often comes back stronger when the spell wears off."
Garrett nodded in understanding. “Woulda been a wee bit easier than all this standin’ around though, aye?”
By the time Marcus had served up five bowls of hearty venison and vegetable stew, he was almost ready to give up hope. Despite the tantalizing aroma that drifted from their pot, not a single door had opened and not a single curtain had been drawn back. Marcus sat down next to Julianne with a thump.
"I really thought this would work," he muttered.
”Don’t be so sure it didn’t," Julianne murmured quietly. “Look over there.”
Late afternoon shadows obscured the doorway that Julianne had pointed out, but Marcus watched as a strip of black widened and a pale face appeared. The face was followed by a body as a frail old man slipped out the door and closed it firmly behind him. He sidled over to the group clutching a small bowl in his hands.
Marcus casually moved over to make a spot at the fire for their guest.
The man fidgeting nervously behind him. "I know why you did this," he said in a weak voice. "Trying to lure us out with the smell of food, thinking we’ve spent the last weeks starving. Well, it worked. No one in this town has had a solid meal for over a month. You can kill me if you like, but if you do it before you share a bowl of stew I'll come back and haunt you until the end of your days."
With a quick nervous movement, the man sat down beside Marcus and proffered his bowl.
"No one is going to hurt you,” Marcus said gently. “Or anyone else in Kells.”
He waited for Julianne to speak, but she nodded for him to continue. "We've come from Tahn. Lord Francis—given the title by Lord George of Muir—sent us out to see if any of the outlying villages and towns need assistance."
The man snorted but licked his lips as Garrett filled his bowl. After the rearick had passed it back the man popped a piece of meat into his mouth, ignoring the scalding heat as he chewed and quickly swallowed.
"This is a small town," he said, stopping to eat another morsel. "I don't know any of those places you're talking about, and I don't know any of those people. I know about the remnant, though. No one would venture out and risk an attack from them unless they thought they could profit from it. And when one man profits, it’s usually off the back of another." He stopped talking to shovel more food into his mouth now that the meal had lost some of its heat.
"I don't know what kind of people you've met out here," Marcus said, "but we hail from a long way away. We come from a place where people do their best to look after each other. When we came to Tahn last year, we found the people there had similar values. We helped them, and we'll help you.”
The old man didn’t speak. He chewed his mouthful of food, swallowed noisily, and tipped the bowl up to gulp the last of the gravy.
"What's your name?" Julianne asked.
"Jackson," the old man answered softly. He was silent for a few minutes as he mulled over their words. "You really just came to help?"
Marcus nodded. "It's what we do. In the morning, gather your people. We’ll bring you with us—all of you—and take you somewhere safe."
Jackson sighed and shook his head. “As much as it pains me, I have to decline your offer. This town…these people. All we have left is each other and this place. We know our days are numbered, and we've come to terms with that."
“You can’t stay here,” Marcus insisted. “Even Anrock must be safer than here. Or come with us to Tahn. We have the defenses to keep out the remnant and the Skrima and there’s enough room—”
Jackson stood, abruptly cutting off Marcus’s words. He cradled the empty bowl in his hands. "If you mean what you said about helping you’ll leave some of the food. You can sleep in the building over there. It's a bit drafty since it’s been abandoned for some months now, but at least it's a roof over your heads. We'll expect you to be gone in the morning."
Without a word Jackson turned his back on the fire and the rich food and walked back to his house. The door opened a moment before he got there, leaving Marcus to wonder who was inside. Whoever it was, Jackson had just doomed them to a terrible fate.
"Don't be so morose," Julianne scolded quietly. "For all we know these people will be fine. They’ve lasted this long, after all."
Marcus gaped at her. "How can you be okay with leaving? These people are defenseless and starving!"
Julianne frowned. "I'm far from okay with it, Marcus, but if that's their choice—"
"Choice?" Marcus asked. “You've got the word of one man. One. Who's to say he speaks for everyone here? How do we know that's what these people want?"
He scowled at Julianne, but she gazed back at him steadily. It took a moment for her meaning to sink in and when it did, Marcus's heart sank.
"He really does speak for all of them?" he asked weakly.
Julianne nodded. "It’s a tightly-knit town. They’ve gotten very close, especially since they’ve been cut off from everyone else. They trust Jackson to lead them. From what I've seen in their minds these people would follow him anywhere, as terrified as they are."
Marcus snorted. "I seem to remember there being a few people who would follow Rogan anywhere too."
Julianne clicked her tongue. "You don't think I'd know if something like that was going on?"
Marcus tossed his bowl to the ground, fighting to squash the irritation that rose inside of him. "It's just not right!" he cried. "We can help them. We can take them somewhere safe! Why wouldn't they want that?"
Julianne rested a hand on his shoulder and Marcus felt a wave of compassion and understanding flood in. He more than anyone knew that Julianne understood his point. It must frustrate her just as much, but she had the added burden of feeling these people's minds.
"I'm sorry, Jules." Marcus leaned into her and she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “I just wish it was different."
"Me too."
Julianne and her team did as Jackson asked. Marcus washed the bowls at a nearby water pump and left them stacked neatly by the fire, where the large pot of venison stew bubbled. They gathered their belongings and closed themselves into the little hut that Jackson had directed them to. It was small and cramped and smelled like old dust.
As soon as the door had closed behind them Marcus ached to open it again. To compensate, he cracked the windows and took in a deep breath of fresh air.
"Stay away from the windows," Danil said quietly. "They're starting to look outside, to see if it's safe to go for the food. I think that if they see us watching it will scare them off."
"I can't imagine what it would be like to live in such fear," Polly murmured with a hint of sadness in her voice. "I don't know how you could call it living."
Marcus clenched his jaw to hold back his agreement. This town, these people… They didn't make sense to him. Raised as a warrior, there was nothing inside him that could relate to the defeatist attitude these people held.
"Remember, you had the love and support of your family, the traini
ng of a soldier, and thick walls and sharp weapons between you and danger when it threatened," Julianne reminded him. "These people have only known loss. There is nothing between them and the monsters outside. They know that any moment can be their last, and they accepted that a long time ago."
Marcus didn't answer. He just lay down his bedroll, turned his back, and tried to go to sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marcus didn't think he'd be able to sleep, but when dawn sent the first cracks of light seeping through the window he shook off the last vestige of sleep with surprise.
He felt stiff and sore and had the gritty eyes of someone who’d had a restless night, but he sat up. He took a moment to watch the motes of dust swirling in the sunbeams that pierced the gaps in the timber cladding the little hut.
Garrett's snores almost shook the beams that held up the roof, but Julianne and Danil both seemed to be sleeping through it just fine. Across the room, Polly stared back at him with sad eyes.
"I know there's nothing we can do," she whispered, "but that doesn't stop it from hurting."
Marcus nodded, trying to ignore the pain of understanding. He would sacrifice anything to change these people's minds; to force them to accept the help that had been offered. He would give one of his limbs just to see their faces light up with hope and experience the joy of truly living.
Marcus stood and rolled his head to work the knots out of his shoulders. His movement roused the others, and it didn't take long before they were up and packed to go.
"They didn't even steal a horse!" Garrett exclaimed when he cracked the front door and peered out. "They were tied there all night and they're all still there!”
Julianne snorted. "Not everyone thinks like a rearick."
“What’s that supposed ta mean?” Garrett asked in mock offense.
"So, we’re just going?" Danil asked.
Julianne nodded. "If we see Jackson this morning I’ll try to change his mind again. Nothing forceful, mind you."
Danil heaved a sigh. "These damn ethics of yours are going to get this whole town killed," he muttered, but before Julianne could protest he waved her down. "Oh, I know, I know. If we took away their free will, that would make us as bad as Rogan. Still, there must be something we can do."
“Not unless they want us to,” Julianne told him firmly.
She nodded to Marcus and he reluctantly began to gather their things. He piled blankets and clothes into bags and strapped his rifle to his back. In a few minutes he was done.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” he said quietly.
Marcus stepped outside before the others, shading his eyes against the sudden glare. Once he’d adjusted to the bright morning light he saw Jackson waiting patiently.
Marcus waved to him and the old man hobbled over.
“Didn’t seem right to let you go without a thank you,” Jackson said.
“Or to trust we’d go without a fight?” Marcus asked, noting the slim sword strapped at Jackson’s waist.
Jackson spread his hands apologetically. “I told you…I have to take care of my people.”
Filled with a sense of urgency on behalf of the people they were leaving behind, Marcus's brain scrambled for something to say that might change the old man’s mind. "We could stay, Jackson. We could teach you how to fight them off."
Jackson gave a sad laugh. "That would just be drawing out the inevitable. Go, friend. Go and save the people who want to be saved and forget about us. There's no need to feel bad about it. We won't be around to care for much longer."
Marcus's heart twisted, but he saw there would be no arguing with the man. His eyes raked the little village one last time, desperately hoping to see a curtain twitch or a door creak open to reveal the pleading face of someone who would accept their help.
Nothing moved. It seemed everyone in this little town was resigned to their deaths.
"We've left what food we could," Julianne said. "Goodbye, Jackson."
Jackson raised one hand and waved with his fingertips. Marcus bit down hard on his frustration and pulled himself onto his horse, then rode out of town without looking back.
"This is bullshit," Polly said after a few minutes of silence. "I'm going back. I don't care if they won't come with us. I'll stay with them. Even if I have to fight off a whole damned horde of remnant all on my own." She wheeled her horse around and took off.
Danil turned pleading eyes toward the Master Mystic.
Julianne rolled her eyes and nodded. "Go on, you lovesick fool. See what you can do. Try to change their minds before we pick you up on our way home."
Danil saluted. "Thanks, Jules!"
"What the fuck are they doin’?" Garrett screeched. "How are the three of us goin’ ta tackle a big ragin’ horde if we come across one? Bitch's sake, how are they goin’ ta fight off a whole horde if it attacks Kells?”
Marcus laughed. "Garrett, I've seen you fight. You could take on the biggest remnant horde we've ever seen all by yourself if you wanted to. I'm convinced the only reason anyone else gets a kill in is because you feel sorry for us and don't want to bruise our fragile egos."
Garrett smiled coyly. "Aye, yer right.” He scowled again. “But they're signin’ their own death warrants fer people what don't even want ‘em there!"
"The people of Kells chose not to come with us, and I had to accept that choice—just like I have to accept Danil and Polly's choice to go back." She shrugged. "If they get into any trouble, I'm sure Danil will let us know." She raised her hand and waggled her wrist, letting the communication bracelet sparkle in the sunlight.
Garrett brightened. "So if they see a horde we can go back and fight it too?"
Marcus barked a laugh. "I knew it wasn't like you to worry so much about Danil's safety. You just don’t want to miss out on a fight!"
Garrett grinned and nodded. "That weaselly little mystic is only nine kills behind me this trip. Can ye imagine what the bastard’s ego will be like if he gets to kill twenty remnant and I miss out?"
Julianne kicked her horse to make it go a little bit faster, shaking her head. "Men!”
At least when Polly had been with them there was someone who understood the trials of traveling with boys. Now that she was gone, Julianne didn't even have anyone to complain to. She debated using Margit to bear the brunt of her rants since she wasn’t limited by mere geography, but knew the old woman's sly wisecracks wouldn't help the situation at all. Besides, she propbably had her hands full since she was doing Julianne’s old job at the temple..
“Let's get this trip over with," she said. "The sooner we figure out the situation in Anrock, the sooner we can head back to pick up Danil and Polly…and hopefully the rest of Kells." With a pointed look at Garrett she added, "And any remnant we run into, we fight together."
They rode on, and Julianne tried to tune out Garrett’s and Marcus's discussion as they argued over how many kills Danil really had.
The point of contention was whether a remnant who had tripped and fallen onto a spear that Danil had shoved through one of its kin counted.
Marcus was quite adamant that it did, because Danil had been holding the spear at the time. Garrett argued that intent mattered more than action. Danil hadn’t intended for the second one to die right at that precise point in time, so the death didn’t count toward Danil’s total.
Skrima! Danil’s voice echoed through Julianne’s head as loudly as if he’d shouted it right next to her.
Julianne wheeled her horse around and kicked it hard. She didn't bother to call to either of her companions, trusting them to follow without question. As she raced back to the tiny village they had left not an hour before, she hoped they would not be too late.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Go, go, go!" Polly ushered the women and children past her, almost shoving them through the tiny door to the underground cellar.
"Hurry up!" Danil yelled, his voice distant because he was at the other end of the tiny town.
"Is that everyone?" she
cried.
"Shut the door!” Jackson yelled, still standing outside.
Polly spared him a glance. He gave a small shake of his head. "I'll fight—or I'll try, anyway. It might not make a difference, but I'll try."
A woman pushed her way out before Polly could slam the door shut. "So will I!" she said firmly.
Polly sighed impatiently. "Anyone else willing to join the army of four?"
After the slightest hesitation, three more people barreled out. A moment later, the door was locked.
Polly turned to her unexpected team of fighters.
"You." She pointed to a man who, though clearly younger than Jackson, was still old enough to be her grandfather. “What’s your name?”
“Travis, Miss.” He licked his lips nervously.
"Ok, Travis. Stay here and watch this door. If anyone comes near it, scream for help. Don't try to fight them until you've done that. If you die and we don’t know the bad guys are here, everyone in that room is screwed."
The man turned a sickly shade of green but nodded. He planted his feet and clenched his fists. "You can count on me."
She turned to the others. A middle-aged woman, Jackson—who was as old as the hills, and two more men were all she had. None of them looked like fighters. In fact, none of them looked like they could survive an altercation with a four-year-old street kid.
"If you want to survive—if you want your people to survive—this is not the time for heroics.” Polly glared at them, waiting for her words to sink in. “Run like hell, distract them if you can, and stay out of our way. If you can buy Danil and me some time we might just win this thing. We can't do that if we're trying to save your arses."
Leaving them with those basic instructions, Polly took off running. Her feet flew over the bumpy unkempt street that ran through the town, ears straining. She couldn't see Danil, and she couldn't hear him anymore either.
She passed a small building, and the door exploded. Two remnant burst out, eyes glittering an unearthly red. One smiled slowly, and the other leapt toward her faster than any remnant should be able to move.
