Dawn Of Darkness

by Amy Hopkins

  “What? Hell, Garrett, I had no idea!” Bastian clapped Garrett on the shoulder roughly.

  “Oy, fuck off ye bastard. That’s got nothing ta do with either of ye.” Garrett dropped his hand away from his weapon, but then thought better of it. He rested his fingers on the haft as if daring Danil to push the matter.

  “Garrett, it’s ok to be nervous.” Despite the white glow in Danil’s eyes, Garrett could have sworn they twinkled with mischief anyway. “All you need is a few more mugs of cider, maybe with a little extra boost.” Danil drew out a small flask from his pocket and waggled it at Garrett.

  “I don’t need yer pansy brew. I ain’t nervous, just… makin’ sure I approach the situation with due care, ye withered goat testicle of a man. Besides, if I’m drunk, she’ll say no outta principle.” He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, thinking the idea over.

  “You can do it!” Bastian said, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “Go on; I’m sure she’ll say yes!”

  Garrett straightened his shoulders. “Well, there’s no reason she wouldn’t, eh? Fine specimen like meself? Right.” Garrett charged through the crowd, Danil and Bastian hurriedly chasing after him.

  Danil… you did check that Bette is going to say yes, right? Bastian sent the thought behind a shield, unsure what Julianne would think of them using mental magic to play matchmaker between the two rearick.

  Hell no. Do you know what Jules would do to me?

  Shit on a stick, Danil! If he gets rejected in front of all these people, who do you think will get the snot beat out of them? Bastian halted and Danil jostled him as he passed.

  Don’t be an idiot. If he gets mad, I’ll just siphon it off a little. At least enough that he won’t completely kill us. Danil grabbed Bastian’s arm and yanked him forward after the disappearing rearick.

  Goddess Bethany Anne, I pray to your good graces… please don’t let us be killed tonight. Oh, and please let Danil wake up with a really bad case of genital lice in the morning for putting me through this.

  No need to be a limp dick about it, Danil sent back, then skidded to a halt.

  Bette was standing by Julianne, who the villagers had insisted on giving space. A small clearing had formed around her chair and Garrett now stood before it.

  Julianne’s eyes were just fading back to their normal color as Danil and Bastian burst through the wall of people. She gave them an icy look, and Danil’s heart plummeted. She’s going to fucking kill me, he realized. When he realized she was blocking him completely, his heart almost stopped altogether.

  “My fine lady,” Garrett said, sweeping a low bow.

  Danil’s senses confirmed that the whole room’s attention was on Garrett, who was now stepping up to stand toe to toe with Bette.

  “I beg a boon of ye. Bette, yer the finest fighter I ever seen in me life. Ye got muscles like a hard-worked ox, and ye legs are like fat tree trunks.”

  Danil winced, but let him continue. Bette was nodding slowly, and Danil realized with a start that her mental shield had gotten stronger. He decided not to push his luck by trying to force past it.

  He knew the rearick had strange ideas about what constituted a compliment, and hoped Garrett wasn’t stupid enough to put his foot in his mouth.

  “It has been me pleasure ta be travelling with ye these past months, but now, I feel it’s time to… well, make our relationship clear.”

  Bette’s eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. Danil’s heart had climbed back up from his boots and now sat firmly in his mouth.

  “I ask… I beg of ye, face me in a battle of arms!” Garrett dropped to one knee, a beseeching look on his hairy face.

  “Wait.” Danil turned to Bastian. “Battle? I thought he was going to ask her out!”

  “Yes!” Bette clapped in delight, and the crowded room gave a tentative cheer.

  “Oh, holy mother of fucking fucks.” Danil turned to Bastian. “We’re well and truly fucked now.”

  Yes. Julianne sent the message to both mystics. Yes, you fucking are.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Despite Danil’s desperate protests, the two rearick soon stood at the front of the room, facing each other. Julianne ushered the watching people back to give them room.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked Garrett. He nodded.

  “Weapons?” Bette asked.

  Garrett shook his head. “I’d rather do it by hand, if ye don’t mind.”

  Bette nodded and pulled a sword from her belt, tossing it to the ground behind her. She slid a knife from her boot, and slipped another from the back of her shirt somehow.

  Finally, Bette slipped one hand into the tight roll of her hair and shook it free. Garrett’s eyes widened when he saw the slim stiletto dagger that had come with it. That, too, was discarded.

  He coughed when her belt was removed. “No knives there?" he asked.

  “What? No, just a garrotte.” She chuckled at the look on his face. “It’s ok. I think I have them all now.”

  “Right, then.” He undid his belt and tossed it to the side with his axe. The only other weapon he had brought was a boot knife, and he flicked it away, eager to begin.

  “Are there rules?” Julianne asked, watching the display.

  “Aye,” Bette said. “No weapons, now that’s been agreed. We fight until one of us is incapacitated, or taps out. If it’s the latter, it’s best outta three.” She twisted a smile at Garrett. “We won’t need three.”

  “Very well,” Julianne said. “Begin.”

  The simple word sent a hush over the crowd. Bette and Garrett stood, knees pliant and hands slightly raised, each waiting for the other to attack.

  Julianne’s eyes shone white as she slipped into Garrett’s mind. Bette had quietly asked her to watch him, make sure he wasn’t holding back at all. Julianne agreed, knowing the result of this fight would change the dynamic between them, no matter who won.

  It would be a good change, as long as the fight was honest. Julianne noted the adrenaline sharpened Garrett’s mind, and she felt his blood explode with energy as he attacked.

  Garrett leapt forwards, past Bette’s quick sidestep. Without pausing, he rolled on the floor and spun, kicking out a leg that she easily jumped.

  Bette swung a fist down at Garrett’s head and he dodged, trying to grab her arm. She was too quick, and once again they faced off. They were both flushed and grinning.

  Bette took a short step forwards. Then, she spun a kick out. Garrett jumped back, then swung his fist as she came to a stop. Bette whoofed out a breath as it connected, but managed to snatch his arm and jerk him over her shoulder and onto the ground.

  She jumped, driving towards the ground elbow-first. He rolled, but too slow and caught the point in his calf. Garrett yelped, then kicked at her head.

  He missed, but the distraction was enough to let him scurry away and limp to his feet. “Ye warmed up, now?" he asked.

  “Aye,” she said with a terrifying grin. “Let’s show these overgrown lumps how real fightin’s done.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before she ran at him, jumping at the last moment to angle her feet into a kick.

  Garrett raised his arms to block. Her feet planted on his thick muscles, using his block as a springboard as she backflipped. Garrett lashed out with a kick of his own, and Bette flung her body back until her head almost touched the ground, feet still planted solidly on the floor.

  She twisted as she came up, then drove her shoulder into Garrett’s midsection. She lifted him and dumped him back, but he rolled, only just saving his head from contacting the hardwood below.

  Bette threw a fist. Garrett didn’t block it, taking the punch to his gut, and he smashed his fists together over her ears.

  They fought in silence, punches and kicks were blocked or parried, or withstood with quiet grunts. Julianne marveled at Garrett’s quickness, his instinctive movements that barely registered as thought.

  Then, it happened. Bette caught a punch thrown
at her face, pulled Garrett’s arm down, kicked his foot out from under him, and kneed him in the face.

  Julianne heard the crunch even as she felt it through her connection with him. Tempted as she was to pull away, she didn’t. She had to be sure.

  Head reeling, Garrett tried to drop back into a defensive stance, but Bette didn’t let him, hammering his face with blows hard enough to make his ears ring. When she finished with a solid roundhouse kick, Julianne quickly assessed the damage, then dropped the connection.

  Garrett was out cold.

  There was a moment of silence as Bette prodded him to make sure he was down. When she stood up and raised her fist, the villagers went wild, screaming and shouting and showering her with applause.

  “I think we have our winner!” Julianne called over the noise, raising Bette’s hand in triumph.

  “He flubbed it!” one of the men yelled from the back.

  “No, he didn’t! I was watching!” Bastian called.

  Julianne smiled at him. “So was I. He fought with everything he had. Bette won fair and square.”

  The cheering intensified, until a groan from the floor made Julianne step back.

  “How are you feeling?" she asked, quickly jumping back in his head. She checked his mind for damage and, as she expected, found none. Rearick physiology didn’t just cause a height difference. Their bones were stronger, especially the skull.

  “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head by a horse—by a strong and beautiful woman,” he quickly amended, seeing Bette looking down at him.

  “Bloody good fight,” she said.

  “Aye.” He took her hand and Bette hoisted him to his feet. “Damn, woman, ye pack a punch. And a kick, too.”

  “Are you ok, Garrett?” Danil asked. “Because if you are, I’m going to hit you myself. What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?” Garrett squinted at Danil.

  “I thought you were going to ask Bette…” Danil looked at Bette, who was listening intently. “Uhh, something else. Who asks a woman to brawl?”

  “What, ye think a woman is too precious to kick yer ass?” Bette asked menacingly.

  Danil took an involuntary step back. “No! No. Definitely not. Woman are great at brawling, really.”

  Garrett erupted into laughter. “Good man, ye’ve got the right idea. Never tell a woman she can’t fight, or ye’ll get the snot knocked out of ye in a hot minute.”

  “It must be a rearick thing,” Bastian said. “I can’t imagine any Arcadian lady who’d go toe to toe in a fist fight.”

  “Ah, the lad hasn’t met our Hannah, then?” Garrett looked to Julianne for confirmation.

  Hannah, the leader of the Arcadian revolution some months back, was a lot like Bette, Julianne realized. “No, he was tucked up safe with the other initiates then.” Hannah wasn’t just the strongest magician Julianne had seen, though her mental magic could do with some more practice.

  Hannah was street-smart and could fight like… well, like a rearick. Living on the streets in a slum, under the oppressive rule of nobles like Adrien would either make you or break you. It was definitely Hannah’s making.

  “Bette has spoken to me about it, a little. She’s been waiting for Garrett to finally work up the balls to ask her to duel.”

  “You knew this would happen?” Danil asked, wondering if it was too early to feel relieved.

  Julianne nodded. “It’s a tradition amongst the men, mostly, to establish hierarchy. In most cases, position in a team is determined by seniority and competence, but sometimes there are disputes.”

  “So, they settle it with a cage match.” Danil’s voice was flat, and he said it as a statement, not a question. He was beginning to wonder if he’d been played.

  “We’re not animals, Danil. Who’d wanna fight in a cage, anyway?” Bette chucked him over the shoulder, a friendly jab that made him wince nonetheless.

  “So, if this fight was always going to happen, I’m off the hook for instigating it?”

  Julianne regarded him coolly. Still shielded, face calm, she didn’t answer until his face had paled. Then, she burst out laughing. “I think I’ll let you off, this time. But for Bitch’s sake, don’t get involved with things without asking questions first, ok? You’ll get a reputation for being a literal blind fool if you’re not careful.”

  “Ha fucking ha. I’m going to get a drink.”

  Danil stomped off, planning to get well and truly shitfaced before the evening was over. Now that the entertainment was at an end, people were starting to go home and the number of children running around had dropped noticeably.

  Just as well, Danil thought as he caught the words to a scandalous ditty the banjo players were singing.

  “…and just as her dress flipped o’er her head

  And her lover fell flat on the prostitute’s bed

  Only then did his wife throw the door open wide

  And drag him downstairs by the hair on his hide…”

  Sitting back on a bench, eyes closed, Danil didn’t bother to rouse when Bastian and Garrett came to sit next to him. He could see just as well with them shut anyway.

  “Thank ye for settin’ me on the straight, Danil. No better feeling than this.”

  “No better feeling than getting the snot kicked out of you?” Danil asked, bemused.

  “Aye. Now, she knows I respect her and I know she respects me slightly less. As it should be.” Garrett took a long pull of his drink. “Did I ever tell ye about a lass—”

  The doors to the hall burst open, and through his mental vision, Danil saw Marcus with one of his soldiers. He looked pissed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Julianne!” At Marcus’s urgent yell, Danil’s eyes shot open. He reached the soldier a moment after his Master did.

  “Which gate?” Julianne asked, and Danil realized she had already read the emergency from Marcus’s thoughts.

  Rather than plough through an untrained mind looking for details, Danil went straight to Julianne.

  A small army, headed for the town. They’re threatening our guards, asking for the mayor. Something about taxes, but there’s too much shouting to know more.

  Julianne sent the information with words, filling in the blanks with quick images and sounds. Danil picked out one man who seemed to be leading the group, dressed in polished silver armor and decked in ribbons and finery.

  “He looks like a right prick,” Danil muttered.

  Marcus, used to the silent exchange of information, laughed. “That he does, one with a right sharp stick up his ass.”

  “Come on,” Julianne said. “Let’s go find out what he wants. Bastian, Garrett, stay here and make sure no one follows us. I don’t want this getting out of hand.”

  Since the town’s enslavement and consequent liberation from the New Dawn, Tahn had no elected officials. The townspeople had been working together so well, no one had even thought about replacing the deceased mayor.

  Julianne kicked herself for not seeing to it earlier, but figured that, as the evening’s ‘guest of honor’, she may as well earn her keep. Besides, after all they had been through, the last thing these people needed was another headache.

  Making their way to the eastern road into town, Julianne soon saw the commotion. The soldiers were riled up, and she could feel the tension in the air. If someone didn’t diffuse this situation, it would get ugly, fast.

  Danil, calm them. She sent the message silently, on the hopefully small chance that the newcomers had a mystic with them.

  Her shoulders dropped as anger and fear was sucked out of the air. Not too much—Danil left them enough unease to keep them on edge, alert for danger—but enough that a wrong word shouldn’t start a war.

  She picked out their leader simply by seeking the arrogance that leaked out of him. Determined not to give him the upper hand, she strode directly up to him, head high. Even looking up at him astride a stunning horse, she managed to tilt her head back enough that she was looking down her nose
.

  “Is there a problem?” The man was probably a noble, but as Master of the Mystic Temple, Julianne held a rank at least equal to his, if not higher.

  He sneered down at her. “You’re the leader of this pathetic rabble? Control your men. If they act like whimpering dogs, they’ll be bitten by my wolves.”

  The men behind Julianne bristled, and she felt for Danil. Controlling the emotions of a crowd this worked up wasn’t easy, but she didn’t want to distract herself by helping him.

  “These are the men of Tahn. They are their own people; I am just an emissary from across the Madlands.”

  “I thought as much.” The man spat on the ground. “You look too clean to be from this shithole. Name’s George. Of course, that’s my father’s name, too. I’m George the Third.” He leaned forwards with an outstretched hand. Julianne didn’t need magic to know he was looking straight down her top.

  She didn’t react, ignoring his hand and looking at his men. Her eyes misted over for the briefest second; then, as she altered her appearance just the tiniest bit, they turned her regular shade of green.

  It was an old trick the mystics often used in public, though it was of little use amongst themselves. Covering their white eyes made outsiders more at ease, letting them think the mystic wasn’t using magic at all.

  It was a practice Julianne avoided on principle. She didn’t like hiding her powers out of courtesy, but right now, it was all she could do not to kick this man in the teeth. Hiding my eyes is about as courteous as this meeting will get, I suspect, she thought to herself.

  “What is your business with Tahn?" she asked.

  She already knew—she had pushed past his surprisingly strong shield to read his mind, and knew someone had sent him to investigate the area and see what had happened to the New Dawn stationed here.

  The figure that gave his orders was blurred out in his mind, along with any more specific compulsions. Julianne’s hackles were raised, but she steadied her heart rate with careful breaths to cover her revulsion.