Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

They pressed on until late into the night, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the howling gang of remnant they’d heard earlier in the day. When they finally stumbled into a small clearing, the only preparation made was to designate a guard rotation, roll out sleeping mats, and collapse onto them.

  Julianne laid Danil down with the help of the others, then settled in next to him. His breathing was steady and even, his eyes closed as if in a restful sleep. She hesitantly reached out to him with her mind. Before making contact, she withdrew.

  Whatever was going on in his mind, she hadn’t been able to push past it. He seemed peaceful and the quiet rest would probably help. Withdrawing, she let her eyes close against the flickering shadows beneath the bright moon.

  A rough hand shook her awake, then pressed her mouth. Julianne’s eyes shot open to see Bette leaning over her, shaking her head frantically. Julianne nodded and Bette carefully removed her hand.

  What is it? She projected into the rearick’s mind. Bette couldn’t send an answer back, but it was clear in her thoughts. Garrett had woken her, and she’d immediately realized why. Though the sky had just begun to show streaks of vibrant pink and orange, the forest was silent. No birds, no chattering squirrels. A twig had snapped and Garrett had nodded knowingly.

  Someone was nearby, and they were doing their best to hide it.

  Julianne rose, careful not to disturb the leaves and sticks around her. Her eyes adjusted to the growing light quickly and she saw that she, Bette, Bastian, and Danil were alone. Marcus and Garrett were concealed in a tree, she quickly read in Bastian’s mind.

  They think it’s a remnant party, Bastian sent. They’re not sure how many there are, and want to surprise them. A quick image of Garrett and Marcus scaling nearby trees let Julianne know where they were.

  No, don’t look for them, she sent to Bastian, who’d reflexively tipped his head up. She reached down slowly to grasp her walking staff, hoping the movement would be hidden by the shadows. Bastian, she knew, was armed with a small magitech device, courtesy of Marcus. A brief memory of their last fight crossed her mind.

  I’ve got this, Marcus showed me some moves while you slept last night. Bastian’s mental projection was a confusing mix of fear, doubt, and resolute confidence.

  She nodded grimly, eyes searching the forest for signs of movement. When it came, it was almost too late.

  “Attack!” The shout went up as a handful of remnant burst into their camp simultaneously. Two went for Bastian, and one ran full tilt at Julianne.

  She sprung to her feet, staff gripped across her body with both hands. A club slashed at her. The shock of the impact against her weapon vibrated through her arms.

  “Die, whore!” the remnant screamed at her as a shadowed figure dropped from the sky behind it. Marcus shot the beast and its chest exploded, a cloud of flesh and stringy muscle erupting behind it.

  “Behind you!” Julianne shouted.

  Marcus spun just in time to parry a blow from another remnant. Metal clanged against metal again and again as Marcus tried to maneuver his weapon to get a blast in. Shouts from the other side of the camp drew her eyes to Bette in silent combat with another. The rearick was fast and precise, and she was winning.

  Garrett, however, was not. Julianne sprinted over and swung her staff, the double-handed strike lashing out like a batting game that children played. Instead of a ball, her stick connected with spinal bones. The remnant collapsed, gurgling.

  Help. Bastian’s sharp, mental cry pierced Julianne’s consciousness. She spun to find him across the camp in a defensive stance, waving his knife at two remnant while in his other hand, he frantically clicked the whirring magitech device. Danil lay at his feet, still and defenseless.

  One of the remnant lunged forward at Bastian just as his weapon charged enough to send out a blast. The remnant twisted at the impact, but ignored the gush of blood as its shoulder disappeared, leaving one arm hanging limply by a few tendons.

  They wrestled and, with Danil’s defender otherwise occupied, the second remnant pounced on the unconscious mystic, arm raised to smash his head with a rock.

  Time froze. Across the clearing, the rearick launched simultaneous blows as their opponents fell. Marcus had his weapon pointed, tip glowing as he prepared to fire on an enemy. All of them were too far away to help. Just like Julianne.

  She reacted without thought, slamming her mind into Danil’s attacker with every bit of force and focus she possessed. Sights and smells overwhelmed her as she plummeted through. Wolves gnashing teeth. Foxes rutting under moonlight. Fish gasping, dying as they drowned in the air.

  Master! Bastian sent the strained cry soaked with the heady scent of bread, the taste of sweet elixir, and the feel of worn parchment. Images of stone walls and thick tapestries warred with the urge to bite, scratch, and mate.

  The figure of Bethany Anne rose like a cross stitched goddess, the image from a hanging in the Temple entryway.

  Julianne wrenched herself free of the dizzying images in the remnant’s mind, doing as much damage as she could in the process. When her eyes cleared again, the figure over Danil wobbled. The rock dropped to one side, and the remnant collapsed only a moment before Bastian’s knife plunged into its back.

  Thank… Julianne’s sending went unfinished as darkness closed over her for the second time since leaving the Temple.

  24

  Marcus took the entire night shift on his own. He knew it was a stupid move—a twist of pain drove that thought home as he shifted and fresh blood seeped through the bandage Bette had bound his chest with earlier.

  The fight ran through his mind over and over. As guilty as he felt for leaving Danil at risk, he knew that if he’d stayed close, Julianne or Bastian could just as easily have been hurt. The thought of Julianne falling into a stupor like Danil almost brought him to tears.

  A twig snapped beside him and he spun, weapon ready.

  “Settle down, lad,” Bette admonished. “I just came out to see if you’d slept yet. By the shadows on yer face, I’m guessing not.”

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to. Too jumpy from the fight.” He forced a grin.

  “Aye, that’s a bullshit excuse if ever I heard one. You’ve got skills like a veteran, but yer still carrying the ego of a young one.” Bette shook her head when Marcus tried to argue. “Don’t bloody say ye don’t. I can see it on yer face.”

  “It’s not ego. I let two of our party members get hurt.”

  “You let them?” Bette raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Ye weren’t hired on, lad, not by them. Yer only here as backup—our backup. If anything, it’s me and Garrett that deserve a tongue lashing for letting the rest of ye down.”

  “But I’ve fought here, I know these monsters,” Marcus hissed.

  “Aye. And we know ‘em, too. Oh, not like yerself, but enough to not let a bloody fiasco like that happen.”

  Marcus leaned back with a deep sigh, wincing as the breath caught in his pained side. “You’re right. It’s nobody’s fault, and I’m an idiot for thinking it’s mine.”

  She grinned broadly. “Now, give me a peek at those bandages. Ye need to thread it up, I’ll bet.” The grin fell away when she saw the soaked cloth. “Aye, lad. Ye need to get this seen to. How long until we hit the other side of this mess?”

  Marcus grunted as Bette gently examined the area. “In our state, we’ll be lucky to hit a village by nightfall. We’d be out of the hot zone now, if I hadn’t been so worried about Danil.”

  Bette cursed. “Well, we can get to a safe place and clean it up, and I’ll have a shot at stitching it meself, if yer willin’. I can’t say I’m much of a seamstress, but I’ll wager I’m better than Garrett.”

  “I heard that!” Garrett’s muffled protest was soon joined by the man himself. “It’s not polite, talkin’ about a man’s sewin’ skills behind ‘is back. Even if it is true.”

  “Out with ye, rearick. The lad don’t be needin’ any of yer sass.” Bette shooed Garrett aw
ay. “Go and find him somethin’ to eat. The poor wee thing’s been up all night, look at the state of ‘im!”

  “Stubborn. All the young ones are,” Garrett grumbled as he wandered off.

  “You know I'm older than you, right?” Marcus called to his retreating back.

  Once Bette had rebound his wound, Marcus went to sit by Julianne’s side. He’d spent much of the night sitting on a fallen log, watching over her, willing her to wake up. When she’d collapsed, mumbling softly, his heart had almost burst.

  “Come on, Jules. You’re strong. You can get over this, I know you can.”

  “Marcus?” Julianne’s dry mouth stifled the soft word. She worked her tongue, then tried again. “Marcus?”

  “Julianne!” Soft hands cupped her head. “You’re ok? Can you see?”

  Julianne nodded. “I feel… ok, actually. What happened? My memory of last night is a bit spotty.”

  She tried to force her mind back to before she’d collapsed. The remnant, his mind feral and animalistic. Before that, her desperate bid to save— “Danil! Is he alive?” Fear clutched at her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

  “He’s fine, Jules. Hush.” Marcus laid a hand on her, but she threw it off and sat up. “He hasn’t woken yet, but you killed the remnant before it could lay a hand on Danil.”

  She squinted, her mind reaching for something forgotten. Then Julianne scrambled to her feet. “Bastian!” she called, loud and urgent.

  Bastian shot up from his bedroll. “Yes, Master?”

  Julianne strode towards Danil, still lying in the same spot she’d left him. A dark stain on the grass by his head fueled the excitement in her breast. “Bastian, you sent to me while I was attacking the remnant. Why did you send what you did?”

  “I… I was watching your attack. I’m sorry, I know it was dangerous. I just wanted to see what it was like, in case you ended up like Danil. I thought maybe if that happened, if I saw it, I could help.”

  “Bastian, why. Why the bread, why the paper?”

  Bastian blushed and dropped his eyes to the ground, uncertain. “It felt like you’d forgotten what it was like to be human. Like as soon as you entered that… that thing’s head, you were one of them.”

  He paused, trying to remember what had spurred his automatic reaction. “When Mavis taught us about entering the mind of a person in a panic, she said that can happen. She told us it can make us panic, too, and the best way to ground yourself is to remember the present. I just... wanted you to remember, I guess.”

  Julianne paused. Then, maternal instinct took over, and she dashed over to envelop him in a tight hug. “You clever, clever boy.”

  Dropping him abruptly, she flew to Danil’s side, crouched down and placed her hands on his head. The contact wasn’t necessary, but would help her focus.

  Danil.

  She didn’t enter his mind, instead cloaking herself in the feel of home. The musky smell of the Temple library. The gentle hum of the dining hall. Zoe, her bright face smiling in a shaft of sunlight. The leathery creases of Margit's hands. Cold, stone walls and footsteps so often trod that he didn’t need to see to navigate.

  Jules? Jules... I remember.

  Tears slipped down Julianne’s face as she bombarded him with memories, feelings, sensations from home.

  Never thought I’d find you crying over me. Danil’s wistful sending brought a joy like no other and she leaned down to wrap her arms around his limp body. When a shaking hand rose up to caress her hair, she sobbed.

  Bitch and Bastard, Danil. I was so afraid.

  You wouldn’t bet against me, would you? Danil wriggled and she let go, helping him to sit. You didn’t even give me a chance to make any money off it.

  ‘How do you feel?” she asked, wiping her face.

  “Like something the Bastard shat out after a hard night on the spirits.” Danil scrunched his face and his eyes flickered white, then cleared. “Looks like I’m off the magic for a while, too. Damned if I wouldn’t kill for a flask of elixir now. Or mead. Even that piss the rearick drink would do.”

  “Hey, now,” Garrett said. “You lot are downright complimentary this morning, aren’t ye?” He shook his head and continued over to the horses. “Glad yer back with us, Danil, but I’m afraid there’s no rest fer the wicked. Yer soldier lad over there needs to make haste to the nearest town before he bleeds out like a gutted…” Garrett caught sight of Julianne’s white face and immediately changed tack. “Er, well he needs some stitches is all. I’m sure the lad’ll be fine.”

  Julianne bit her lip and Danil nudged her with one shoulder. “Go on. I’m not going anywhere. Except for a piss, so unless you want to help me with that?”

  Julianne stood as Danil motioned Garrett over for some assistance. She headed to Marcus, who sat talking with Bette. His eyes didn’t leave Julianne’s face, despite the serious conversation they seemed to be having.

  “Marcus, you didn’t tell me you were hurt!”

  “That’s because he’s a man. Stubborn, they are,” Bette proclaimed. “He’ll live as long as it heals over and stays clean, though he’ll have a scar to show for it.”

  “Do we have anything to clean out wounds?” Julianne asked, frowning. One of the stipulations of the rearick contracts stated that they were responsible for bringing equipment for emergencies.

  “Aye, but it needs a proper goin’ over, and I don’t think making him bleed all over the hot zone is the best idea.”

  “How far?” Julianne asked, repeating Bette’s earlier question.

  “A half day’s walk should get us somewhere safe enough.” Julianne frowned, and Marcus explained. “There's a good chance the remnant who attacked us were from the same area as the one that fell and died. They were likely in her pack, and followed us. It’s unusual to find a group hunting this close to the Madlands edge.”

  “Marcus, how could you know that? You said yourself, you’ve never been this side.”

  “The intelligence comes through regularly. More traders are crossing the borders and keeping us updated. Look, it’s no guarantee, but I’m confident.” And I don’t want to ride all bloody day with a hole in my side.

  Julianne nodded, as much at his words as the trail of thought that followed them. “I trust you.” She meant it. This man was their leader, and she would follow him to the ends of the world.

  Marcus quirked a smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “As much as I hate to break up this little chat, we really should be goin’,” Garrett said. “Bastian’s packed the gear, and Danil said he feels ok to travel, so if yer all well enough to make a move?”

  Marcus nodded. “Thanks, Garrett. And you, too, Bette. You’ve done a hell of a job patching me up.”

  25

  They moved out slowly, Julianne turning her head away from the bodies piled up by the side of the trail.

  Garrett said that’ll scare off any other packs that come this way, Bastian sent as they passed it.

  Anything that helps, I guess. She paused, then launched into something she’d been stewing on all morning. Bastian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked the remnant like I did, not after what happened to Danil.

  You don’t need to apologize to me. You’re my leader, not the other way around. I’m just glad you’re ok. Bastian ducked under a low branch, then glanced back to make sure Julianne did the same.

  Being a leader doesn’t mean doing what you want. It’s a responsibility. It’s my job to make sure you and Danil, and everyone back at the Temple and even the pilgrims are as safe as I can make them. What I did yesterday went against that. If you hadn’t pulled me back, you’d be stuck out here alone with two catatonic mystics to take care of.

  Julianne rubbed her head absentmindedly. It still ached, but it was due to overwork now. The bruise behind her ear was almost gone and only tender to touch.

  But because you did, Danil’s ok. This sending came with a flood of emotion, both tender and grateful.

  Thank you,
Bastian, but I think you had more to do with that than I did.

  The boy prickled with embarrassed pride, but didn’t reply. Julianne slipped back into her own thoughts, while quietly keeping tabs on Bette, who rode with Danil, and Marcus, who shifted more and more uncomfortably as the morning progressed.

  Eventually, Julianne pushed her horse up ahead to join him. “If you stop for a little, I can ease the pain for you.”

  “I can’t,” Marcus grunted. The morning warmth didn’t warrant the sweat beading on his head. “If I can’t feel it, I’m more likely to do it more harm.”

  “I can prevent that,” she said. “I can take away the tedious pain, the constant, wearing hurt. I’ll leave the sharp pain, the signal pain alone.”

  “You can do that?” he asked, surprised.

  She winked. “I can do a lot of things to a man's body without him even knowing.”

  Marcus gaped. Then he shook himself and lifted a hand to call a halt. “Do I need to dismount?”

  “No,” Julianne said. “But for deep work, it helps to touch. Give me your hands.”

  He took one of her hands gently, then the other, like lovers in a handfasting ceremony. Julianne quickly banished the errant thought and mumbled a word to help her begin. She touched his pain, followed each tendril and read the messages it took. Some she numbed, others she left.

  “How does that feel?” she asked, still holding his hand.

  “It feels good. Really… ow!” He flexed his body, yelping as his pain sensors admonished him for it.

  “Working as intended, then.” The rough warmth of Marcus’s hand brushed her senses. Out of nowhere, a hot tide of desire washed over her, and she dropped it quickly.

  “Thanks. Ready to go?”

  Julianne took a breath to clear her head. “Just give me a minute.” Julianne slipped into a deeper trance with some difficulty. Her usually stable emotions seemed shot, and for some reason, she couldn't shake the sudden need that drowned her when she looked at Marcus.

  Oh, for goodness sake, she snapped at herself. Julianne clenched her muscles then relaxed them and reached out with her mind. She pushed past the discomfort and fatigue, stretching as far as she could. Just as she was about to give up, she felt it. A flicker of consciousness on the outskirts of her range.