by Amy Hopkins
Annie finally looked at Julianne. “And no one caught onto the fact that you were a woman?”
“Eventually, yes.” A corner of Julianne’s mouth turned up. “But not until she thought I’d slept with her a dozen times.”
Annie barked a cackling laugh. “Oh, fine. You’ve made your point, girl. You just be careful out there. Much as I hate to say it, you lot have grown on me, and I’d hate to lose one of you.”
Julianne stood to go. “I’m relying on you just as much as the others, Annie. This is your town. You know it better than anyone—the people, the moods, the whispers in the woods. The moment you feel something is wrong, tell my people. They’ll listen.”
“That they will.” Annie’s needles clacked again. “A good solid bunch you’ve got. Enough to make a girl proud.”
Shining with happiness, Julianne crept out of Annie’s room. She snuck into her own bed, beside a snoring Bette, and closed her eyes. A few moments later, she slept.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sunrise came far too soon. Julianne rubbed sleepy grit from her eyes as Marcus gently shook her awake. “Dammit,” she muttered. “I hate early mornings.”
“Come on, lazy bones.” Marcus spoke softly, almost drowned out by Bette’s rumbling gasps.
“I’ll give you lazy,” Julianne muttered.
She rolled off the bed and quickly threw her things into a bag. She didn’t need much—a nice dress, some riding clothes, and a few personal items—but she cursed herself for not seeing to it before she turned in last night.
“Are you going on a rescue mission, or a month holiday?” Marcus teased.
A hiccup from the other side of the room made Julianne wince. Bette was hard to wake accidentally, but when she did, the whole town would know about it.
“Shut up,” she said softly. “Bette hates mornings more than I do.”
“Too fuckin’ right she does, now fuck off and let ‘er fuckin’ sleep!” Bette threw a pillow at the door, then pulled another over her head. Julianne was sure she heard another muttered “fuckers” from underneath.
Marcus couldn’t stop a snort from escaping, even with both hands pressed to his mouth. Julianne kicked him.
“Hurry up!” She glared at him in the dark.
“I was waiting for you!" he hissed. “Got everything?”
Julianne nodded, and they went downstairs. Marcus gestured at the table by the front door, where a cloth bag sat tied with a string.
“You’d better not be asking me to take your shit as well as mine,” Julianne mumbled.
Marcus grinned. “Not mine. Gift from Annie, if I’m not mistaken.”
Julianne picked up the slip of paper sticking out from beneath the cloth sack. “Travel safe, travel fast. Thank you.”
The eloquent handwriting was Annie’s, for sure. “I swear, that old woman must never sleep,” Julianne said quietly.
A quick peek in the bag didn’t show much, but the scent of bread wafted out immediately. Marcus nudged her forwards, and she wrapped it up again.
Shivering in the crisp morning air, they saddled the horses, loaded their bags, and climbed up. “Let’s hope this trip is easier than the last one,” Marcus said.
“You mean the one where we all nearly died?” Julianne chuckled.
“Well, that’s a bit melodramatic,” he replied. “But yeah, that’s the one.”
“We’re only going to the next town over. Francis said it’s only a day and a half’s ride, if we’re quick.” Julianne stretched and let out a giant yawn.
“Or three if we go at your pace.” Marcus kicked his horse from a walk to a canter as they headed into Tahn.
The village looked like a different place. Soft streaks of early sunlight touched the tips of nearby trees, making them glow like fire. The fences they passed were strong, the fields harvested, the long weeds by the road slashed down to a manageable level.
As they drew closer, the transformation of the last few months became even more obvious. Houses were tidy, and fresh paint was obvious on more than one. Broken windows had been replaced and roofs re-thatched, while window boxes sung with bright flowers instead of withered, dead husks.
“The town’s certainly coming along,” Marcus remarked as they passed the town hall, still littered with decorations from the night before.
“Not so much the villagers,” Julianne giggled. She pointed to a pair of legs sticking out from a rose bush.
“Ouch. Do you think we should check on him?” Marcus slowed, but Julianne didn’t.
“Already did. It’s Jarv, and he’s fine, though I don’t envy the headache he’ll have when he wakes. Keep up, slowpoke.”
She launched her horse into a gallop, not waiting for Marcus to catch up. Marcus yelped and kicked his own horse, chasing her through the streets.
They raced to the edge of town, where a low, stone wall marked the boundary of Tahn. Julianne let out a belly laugh as her horse leaped over the crooked gate first. As they slowed to a more moderate pace, Marcus sighed.
“Do you think they could really protect the place if it came to it?" he asked.
Julianne frowned. “I didn’t think an old woman could stand up to the New Dawn like Annie did, or that a young girl like Lilly could survive on her own while the town was under their control.”
Lilly had spent her days between the forest and the town, relying on her animal friends and the magical connection between them to keep her safe. At just nine years old, she had not only fed herself and kept safe, she had sabotaged the New Dawn operations on more than one occasion.
“Marcus, do you think the world is changing?” Julianne mused.
“It never stopped, did it?” Marcus’s mind was, as always, shielded.
It itched at Julianne. Usually in a conversation like this, she could skim a person's thoughts—politely, of course—and get a better hold of their feelings. Marcus’s block was irritatingly strong, though.
Most times, she didn’t bother to push it aside. Now, with nothing better to do and little chance she would need to save her energy for an emergency, she tried. Julianne let her eyes fade to white as she bobbed along on the horse.
She nudged his shield gently, more an experimental flick than any kind of real effort to dismantle it. Immediately, she felt the shield strengthen in response.
Good, he’s been practicing, she thought.
She pressed harder and again, the power that pushed back increased. She was just gearing up for an almighty shove when he spoke.
“You know, if you want to know something, you could just ask me.”
Julianne jumped, startled. “You noticed?”
“Of course, I bloody noticed. You were like a bull in a china shop.” Marcus slid a glance her way. “You’re not the only one giving me lessons, you know.”
A feather of jealousy tickled at Julianne’s mood. “Danil has more important things to do than muck around with that,” she said.
“Wasn’t Danil.” He shot her a beaming smile. “I bribed Artemis with one of Tessa’s cream pies. He somehow managed to ‘show’ me what to look for when someone was trying to break through my shields.”
Julianne bit back a sharp retort. Bloody Artemis, she seethed.
“Wait… you’re not mad, are you?” Marcus slowed a little.
Taking a moment to center herself, Julianne thought about it. Why did it bother her so much that he had learned from someone else?
“I guess I just liked having you all to myself,” she said at last. “It doesn’t matter.” She smiled to let him know she meant it. “I’ll just have to be a bit quieter next time.”
“I bet you bloody will,” Marcus chuckled. “I’m gonna have to be on my guard every moment, aren’t I?”
She batted innocent eyes at him. “Why is that? Something to hide?”
“Only the fact that—”
“Ssh!” Julianne held out a hand, cutting him off. She pulled her horse to a stop and looked around. “Someone is waiting for us… and they’re not f
riends.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Francis saw Julianne and Marcus leave in the early light. He had been up all night, scratching plans onto paper, scribbling them out and starting over a dozen times at least.
It had been a long time since he had built anything with meaning, and although this wall Master Julianne wanted wouldn’t be pretty, it would be the best damn wall he could build. He moved from rough sketches to lists, line after line of the items he would need, with notes on who might have it and how much he would require.
“Old Jessop has an old hole digger; that’ll help,” he muttered. “And I can ask Mack for wire. If he doesn’t have it, he’ll know where I can get some.”
Francis snatched up his notes in a charcoal-stained hand and tucked it in his pocket. He had work to do.
The horses were still restless from Marcus and Julianne’s departure. He quickly saddled Moses, an old cart horse, and led him outside to hitch him to the only cart he had. By the time he was pounding on Jessop’s door, the sun had barely peaked.
“Pipe down, pipe down!” Jessop yanked the door open and stomped out onto his porch. “The missus is still sleeping, and she’ll have my balls if you wake her. I imagine you wouldn’t be making a ruckus if it weren’t important. What do you need?”
Tripping over his words, Francis quickly explained what had happened the night before. “Master Julianne has me in charge of the battlements.”
“Battlements? We’re in a village out at bumfuck nowhere, not a goddamn castle.” Jessop spat over the balcony, face curious.
Francis shrugged. “Still, I need to build a wall. Can you help?”
“If it means giving those mind fuckers a good kick to the balls, I’m in.” Jessop led Francis down the steps and off to a gate beside his house. “I reckon I got just what you need.”
Francis followed quietly behind. He had never been a man of many words and nowadays, he just didn’t see the point of idle chatter.
“Remember old Mavis’s barn?”
Francis grunted a yes, but his curiosity was suddenly piqued. Mavis, when she was alive, had lived in a rambling old country house beside the nicest barn on Irth. It was made of a material that was neither wood nor metal, but solid as rock and easy to clean. It was one of the few relics in town from before the time of madness.
It was built to house at least twenty horses, or perhaps some other kind of animal that lived before the madness. The high ceiling was the right size for the animals, though, with vents to let the fresh air circulate; and doors big enough to push a carriage through.
Jessop shoved the sliding door to his own red, weathered barn. The sun was a little higher now, and caught motes of dust swirling in the air.
“You kept it?” Francis asked.
The barn was crammed to bursting with crisp white panels stacked flat, and jammed in as best they would fit. A section to one side revealed the end caps of metal posts, square in shape with odd cross pieces jutting out and making the pile look haphazard.
“That I did. Her son told me to haul it off after she died. Never told me what to do with it.”
Jessop latched his fingers on the edge of a panel. It was past his head in height, and he lifted himself onto his toes to reach. With a gentle tug, it came loose and slid to the ground with a whoosh, clanging when it landed on the hard dirt.
Francis reached out and, at Jessop’s nod, lifted a corner. The sheet weighed no more than thirty pounds at most. “What are you keeping it for?” Francis asked in wonder.
Jessop shrugged. “Something or other. Thought to build an extra room with it, but…” He faltered and Francis looked away.
A lot had been left undone once the New Dawn moved in. None of the townspeople blamed each other, but it didn’t stop them from blaming themselves every now and then.
“Well, I guess it’s good you took it,” Francis said. “How will we put it up, though? I seem to recall Mavis complaining she couldn’t hammer a nail through it to hang her blankets and tack.”
Jessop grinned, memories pushed back to the recesses of his mind. “Easy as pie. See those posts?” Francis nodded. “Just gotta sink them in the ground and these slip right in. I still have the pulley system I used to strip it down. All we need is a few men…”
“We could have it up in a few days,” Francis remarked. He rubbed a hand down the gleaming white panel, then snatched his notebook out. “How many panels would you say you have? Will the roofing panels work with the walls? And are they all the same size, or different?”
He rattled off questions as he scratched out notes in his book and jotted down what answers Jessop could give. Then, he clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Thank you, neighbor! Thank you!”
He barely spared a wave as he raced off, almost tripping over his own feet. He would need a bigger wagon to bring the panels to the town gates, and some people to help him assemble them.
Hopefully the support posts would be made of a different material, one he could drill into. If not, he supposed he could use clamps to string up some barbed fencing wire along the top.
The time saved in building the wall might allow him to work on some more elaborate defenses, but the barrier was his first priority. As he kicked his old horse and tucked his notebook safely back in his pocket, Francis smiled.
The feeling in his chest was one he had almost forgotten, one that had been absent since the day the New Dawn rolled into town. He held onto it, fanning it to life, letting it take on a shape of its own.
For the first time in a long time, Francis had hope.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Julianne’s eyes faded back to her normal color. “They’re incapacitated,” she told Marcus. “They’re over in that stand of trees. Should we just leave them?”
He sighed. “Never thought I’d see the day. Oh, Jules.”
“What?” Confusion wrinkled her brow.
“You. You, of all the many people I’ve known and trained with.” He paused dramatically. “You got soft, Julianne.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said primly. “I’m simply preventing an ugly situation.”
“You don’t think we could have beaten them? You are soft!” Marcus shook his head.
She didn’t seem moved. “Marcus, it’s one thing to fight in the middle of a battle. These men are probably starving, just trying to feed their families. If it came down to a fight, one or more of them might die. Over what, a few coppers?”
Marcus laughed. “They’re bandits, Jules. Nicking a few apples and a loaf of bread from the market is a far cry from highway robbery.”
Julianne scowled, then let her eyes go white. “Let’s see, then. The first one’s name is Joff… Oh.”
“Oh?” Marcus prodded her with a grin.
“Well, he’s not a very nice person. Neither is Ben.” She paused, then her white eyes widened and fury washed her face. “Oh, Larry, you son of a goat scrotum. You do not think that about a lady, especially not one who can kick your ass.”
As soon as Julianne moved, Marcus slid down from his saddle. “Here, tie the horses to this tree.”
Julianne did that, then pulled her walking staff out. A noise behind them made them both turn.
“Shit, Jules. You didn’t tell me they were awake.” Marcus yanked his magitech rifle free and turned back to face the approaching men. Two had axes and one carried a blacksmith’s hammer. He had the muscles to suit it, too.
Julianne eyed the weapon, disappointed. “Come on,” she teased. “If you use that big old boom stick, these men will think you’re overcompensating for something.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “Fine.” He dropped it and drew a short sword instead.
“Gentleman!” Julianne called.
One, a balding man with wisps of reddish blonde hair sticking out over his eyes, gave her a slimy grin. Julianne would have guessed it was Larry, even if she hadn’t already recognized him.
Redhead’s mine, she sent to Marcus. He gave a slight nod to acknowledge her
claim.
“Hello, lovely,” Larry said. “Why don’t you put that twig down and see what a real big stick can do.” He grabbed his crotch and yanked it.
The guy’s gapped teeth and filthy skin was enough to make Julianne gag. She didn’t show any reaction, though.
“Now, Larry. I know you talk big, but I’ve seen inside your head. You know you have a tiny, limp cock. I suppose that’s why you’re so angry all the time.”
She hit her mark. Larry didn’t even bother to ask how she even knew his name. He lunged. His friends dove in a second after, towards who they saw as the greater threat—Marcus.
Julianne whipped up her staff, catching the tip of his axe and yanking it. She didn’t dislodge his grip, but it unbalanced him and his body turned a little to follow the momentum.
She flung the staff out, slapping it on his ass hard enough that she would have bet the bruise already showed.
Larry stumbled back, right into an elbow thrust at his kidney. He cried out, spinning around to fling his short blade at Julianne’s head.
The weapon whistled through empty air. She kicked, connecting with his kneecap with a solid crunch. The staff came up, smashing into his jaw.
Larry dropped his stance to favor his good leg. He spat, a bloodied tooth flying at Julianne and spattering her robe with red droplets. “I’ll knock you down, slut, and fuck you while your boyfriend watches.”
He jabbed an uppercut with the axe, which Julianne easily knocked away. He had been expecting that, and his other hand punched into her gut.
Julianne gasped out a breath, falling back into a defensive posture. “I know what you’ve done. You’re a monster and you know it. Rapist, murderer, abuser.” She snorted a wry laugh. “All because of your tiny prick.”
She slammed her staff up, catching him between the legs. His eyes crossed and he collapsed, hands again grabbing his crotch. This time, there was nothing salacious about it.
Julianne finished him off with a roundhouse swipe to the head, again splattering her robe with bits of flesh and a spray of blood.