by Amy Hopkins
Finally, they broke free, stepping out into air that was still smoky, but no longer bore the odor of fresh sweat and old dust. Behind them, rearick shouted in victory as the last of the fire was smothered.
“Hurry,” Julianne said, stumbling forwards. “I can’t hold this spell much longer.”
Marcus leaned down and carefully scooped her up, nestling her against his chest to immobilize the arm he suspected was broken. She gave a low cry of pain, then settled into him.
“Go,” she whispered.
Marcus took long strides, keeping his movements steady as he walked quickly along the path. He slowed as fresh ice covered the path, quickening his pace again when it cleared. Overhead, snow began to fall again, sparse flakes brushing his face and shoulders.
Julianne shivered, and he gently tightened his grip, pressing her against his chest. The exertion of carrying her uphill flushed his skin, banishing the cold from his bones and helping to keep her warm.
He crept around a narrow corner, then slowed as the trail sloped steeply uphill. “Jules? Jules, are you still with me?”
Marcus looked down. Julianne’s eyes were closed, her face pale and breathing shallow. He glared up the mountain at a trail that seemed impossible to climb with no idea how much farther he had to travel.
“Best place for you is at the Temple,” he grunted, panting. “So, no stopping. But I need you to stay with me, ok?”
She murmured something softly in her sleep and Marcus took it as an affirmative. “Right, then. No stopping. Bitch’s oath, I hate mountains.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bastian twitched in his sleep, twisting at the blankets, one arm curled up awkwardly against his chest.
“Put me down,” he mumbled. “I can walk.”
Someone banged on his door, and he shot upright, sweat beading on his forehead. He stretched out his arm, rubbing away a cramp in his bicep. “Damn,” he muttered. “That was a really shitty dream.”
He had been lying on the side of a mountain, arm hurt. Then, someone had plucked him up and carried him away, jostling the sore arm. Snow had lashed his skin, chilling him. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, sleep creeping back through the darkness to lull him into a relaxed snooze.
Bang, bang, bang.
“Shit!” Bastian jumped up again, remembering what had woken him so abruptly the first time. He raced down the narrow stairs and yanked the door open, squinting into the first rays of dawn.
Garrett leaned on the door jamb, sword at his hip, scratching his beard.
“Garrett? What’s wrong?” Bastian’s heart jumped into his throat, wondering what crisis had brought the rearick to his door at this early hour.
Without thinking, Bastian’s eyes went white as he slipped into the rearick’s head, ready to grab any vital information about the impending emergency.
He saw Garrett’s intent and groaned. A moment later, he slammed the door shut and stomped away.
“Hey! That’s no welcome fer someone come ta help ye out, ye prick!”
“You came for breakfast, you greedy hog,” Bastian called back, hesitating with one foot on the stairs.
“I can’t deny a good feed was on me mind, but I’m here ta help yer school. If ye don’t wanna hear it…” Garrett’s voice trailed away.
Bastian sighed, warring for a moment with his desire to climb back into bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, though, so he went back to the door and fumbled it open.
He pointed to the kitchen. “There’s a cold box with some bacon and maybe two eggs left. The pan is in that cupboard, and the fire starter is in that drawer.”
Garrett grinned happily. “Sit yer ass down, ye lazy shit. I’ll cook fer all of us!”
“All of us?” Bastian asked, before suddenly remembering the last time Garrett had been allowed to prepare food. “Uh, you know what? I’ll do breakfast. It will help wake me up.”
He chased Garrett out of the kitchen, and when someone knocked at the door, he sent the rearick to open it.
“Good mornin’, Bastian!” Bette called, striding in with a woven bag on one arm. “Och, sit yerself down. Annie sent a basket, and I can’t eat it all meself. It should do for the lot of us.”
“Who is ‘us’?” Bastian asked again, staring at her with a pan in one hand and a small package of bacon in the other. “And what are you doing here?”
“Didn’t Garrett tell ye?” Bette asked quizzically, hoisting her basket onto the dining table. “We’re off to roust those bloody remnant from yer castle in the woods, and make it nice and safe, like.”
Bastian breathed out a slow breath, trying to dampen the excitement that uncurled in his gut. “You can’t, not for me. It’s too dangerous and—”
“Those bastards attacked Lord George,” Bette reminded him. She pulled out some cloth-wrapped packages and set them on the table. “They’re loose in the forest, and it’s not safe for travelers.”
“How do you know they’re the same ones?” Bastian asked, finally putting away the breakfast he had pulled out and grabbing some plates instead. He set them on the table, lifting an eyebrow when Bette gestured for one more plate.
“They’re all the bloody same, the beasts,” Garrett mumbled as he threw Bastian a bread roll. Bastian caught it and set it down on his plate.
“We don’t know, but either way, remnant are there in the castle, and it’s too bloody close to the major road. We can’t be lettin’ them run around like they own the place, can we?”
She eased herself into a chair, absentmindedly rubbing at her now-healed shoulder. Her gesture made Bastian reach for his own again, the last tattered ribbons of his dream brushing against his mind.
Bette frowned, but didn’t say anything. Another sharp knock made Bastian forget it altogether.
“Who is it now?” he asked, not expecting an answer. When he pulled open the door, Francis met him with a timid smile.
“Good morning, Bastian. I hope we’re not too early?” Francis held out a plate with a fat lump of ham on it.
“Some warning would have been nice,” Bastian admitted. “But I won’t say no to a slice of that.”
“You didn’t know?” Francis asked as he came in. “Garrett, you said he invited us!”
“I didn’t say it, exactly,” Garrett said, words muffled through a mouthful of bread. “I just let ya think I did.”
“Oh, ye prick.” Bette swatted him on the shoulder. “Poor Bastian, were ye even out of bed?”
Bastian shook his head, reaching for the slab of butter. “Still dreaming. Scared the shit out of me when this idiot came pounding on the door. I thought we’d been attacked.”
“We were!” Garrett protested. “A few days ago, anyway.”
“Ye wee shite. Pass me that ham.” Bette held her knife out. “And slice it for me, too.”
“Oh, aye, yer highness.” Garrett sliced a thick chunk of ham for Bette and another for himself. “Treatin’ me like yer bloody slave.”
“As if ye’d change it,” Bette scoffed.
Garrett shrugged. “Ye know I wouldn’t, but that’s no reason ta take so much bloody joy in bossin’ me around!”
“As fun as this is,” Francis said, “if you’re planning to ride out in an hour, we should discuss the plan.”
“An hour?” Bastian yelped.
“Aye. Did ye think we’d give ‘em time to scare anyone else?” Garrett asked. “I’ve got me men assemblin’ now.”
“How many are you taking?” Francis asked. “And who will be left on guard?”
“I’m staying back,” Bette said. “Mathias is bein’ a shit about it and says I’m not ta go exerting meself fer another day yet.”
“I’ve got Sharne, Jakob, Mathias, and Mack,” Garrett said. “Though I’ll wager it’ll be a one-way trip fer young Jakob. Fair itchin’ to see his lass, he is.”
“I hope he’s not itchin’,” Bette pointed out. “Or she might catch it off him.”
Bastian choked on a bite of food, coughing
and spluttering until Garrett gently suggested it was Adeline that gave him the itch in the first place.
Red-faced and unable to breathe, Bastian’s chest trembled in a silent laughter as Francis thumped him on the back.
“I would suggest you don’t mention that to Jakob,” Francis said calmly. Bastian caught the shadow of a suppressed smile tugging at his lips.
“Aye, fair enough,” Garrett agreed. “But on to our plan. We’ll get Mathias ta scout the area, then we’ll run in and thump their heads.”
“That’s not a plan!” Bette exclaimed.
“It is, too!” Garrett protested.
“Thump their heads is not a plan. Ye need more than that! What if there’s a whole horde of them? Or you can’t find them? Or,” she dropped her voice, eyes wide. “What if they’re really a band of monsters disguised as remnant!”
“Stop yer bloody rot, woman, ye’ll have the town talkin’ of monsters and remnant and hiding in their beds all bloody day!”
“He’s got a point,” Francis said. “People are already afraid right now. We don’t want to be spreading any more rumors.”
“Bloody fools,” Bette muttered under her breath. “But not as fool as a man without a plan.”
“We’ll make one up when we get there,” Garrett promised. “If there are too many for us to fight, we’ll come home and grab a few more bodies.”
“And the horses?” Bette asked.
Garrett opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I know! We’ll get Mathias ta ask them ta wait somewhere!”
Bette shook her head. “Ye just thought of that, didn’t ye?”
“Aye!” Garrett said, proudly.
Bette shook her head. “Some days I wonder what goes on in yer wee head.”
Garrett winked. “I bet ye can guess.”
“I don’t want to know,” Bastian broke in. “Garrett, can I come?”
“Where?” Garrett asked, startled. “To fight the remnant?”
Bastian nodded. “I’ll stay out of the way, I swear.”
Garrett shot Bette a glance, and she shrugged. “Lad has ta go out there one day. Best let him face the nasty buggers now.”
“Alright, then,” Garrett said. “But see if ye can convince yer girlfriend ta come, too.”
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Bastian yelped. “Why do people keep saying that?”
Bette winked. “Ye’ll find out sooner ‘r later.”
Bastian dropped his head, focusing on the food on his plate. Somehow, his appetite had been replaced by the gnawing rumble of nerves. “I should get dressed, then?” he said tentatively, still half-expecting Garrett to tell him to stay home.
“Aye. Get yer ass into some clothes, and meet us at the gates.” Garrett took a large bite out of a blueberry muffin, spilling crumbs down his shirt. The rearick rolled his eyes as Bette fussed, trying to brush them off. “Yer just puttin’ them in me lap, lass. Leave it—I’ll shake off when I stand up.”
“Not on my floor, you don’t!” Bastian called down.
He quickly undressed, pulling on some sturdy leather pants and a linen shirt. He slipped a stiff leather tunic over it, the only armor he owned. As he laced up the sides, pulling it firmly together, his fingers trembled.
He didn’t relish the thought of seeing another remnant. When he had decided not to return to the Temple with Julianne, a wash of relief had soaked him through when he had realized that would mean no journey back through the Madlands. Now, it seemed, the remnant had moved into his territory.
Beneath his fear, he couldn’t help but feel grateful towards Bette and Garrett. Despite their claims, there was no real reason to drag a troop of fighters that deep into the woods. He knew they were doing it for him and for his school.
“Not that Garrett isn’t a prick,” he mumbled, grinning.
Once he had added thick socks and sturdy boots to his attire, Bastian danced downstairs. Garrett was still eating, while Bette stretched back in her seat, watching him. “Yer like a starving pig,” she remarked as he shoveled another whole muffin into his mouth.
Garrett tried to reply, but a crumb caught in this throat. His face turned purple, and his eyes watered as he swallowed, an overstated action that made the rearick wince. Heaving a breath that ended in a flurry of coughing, Garrett waved to Bastian.
“I’ll be… down… in bit…” the rearick spluttered, before laughing into another hacking cough.
“I’ll see you there.” Bastian grinned, and darted out the door.
He made his way to the hall, where people were already up and beginning to move about. Jakob and Mathias were outside, saddling horses. A large pack sat next to Jakob’s horse.
“Morning,” Bastian called. “Have you guys seen Tansy?”
“Inside,” Jakob said.
“You’d better be bringing her along,” Mathias called after Bastain. “Or she’ll have your balls!”
Bastian shook his head, then tiptoed through a few sleeping members of Madam Seher’s troop. One end of the hall was set up with tables and behind one, standing with a hand on an out-thrust hip and sporting a pair of fluffy ears, Tansy stood.
Bastian crept past the snoring bodies.
“And he didn’t even tell me,” Tansy said to Madam Seher, her back to Bastian.
Seher’s eyes glittered, but didn’t leave Tansy’s face. “Perhaps he had good reason,” she suggested gently.
“Good reason? The man couldn’t fight off a swamp rat. I saved his life! And now, he’s off hunting remnant while I sit around waiting for him,” Tansy snapped.
“You’re not exactly sitting around,” Bastian said over her shoulder.
Tansy spun around, whipping out a knife that hovered a finger’s width away from Bastian’s eyeball. When she recognized him, she gave the knife a casual flip and it disappeared.
“And what do you want?” she asked in a lofty voice.
“Well,” Bastian said patiently. “A couple of rearick woke me up this morning. Apparently, they’re leading a raid on the remnant we found at the ruins.”
Tansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You only found out this morning?”
Bastian nodded. “Though, everyone else seems to believe Garrett told me first. I asked if I could come, and he said yes.”
“He said you could go?” Her nostrils flared.
“Yes,” Bastian said. “And where I go, you go, right?”
She regarded him, pouting, then nodded once.
“So? Are you going to get ready or what?”
Flashing a grin, Tansy threw her arms around Bastian’s neck. “I never doubted you for a second!” she cried, despite all evidence to the contrary. She dashed over to a small pile of neatly stacked belongings in one corner of the hall.
A few minutes later she was ready, an ornate leather corset and matching leg guards strapped on, and weapons dropped into every pocket or strap she could reach.
She spun to face Bastian when she was done. “Are you still standing there?” she asked. “Hurry up! We’ll be late!”
She danced off out of the hall, leaving Bastian to follow behind. The gates of Tahn were already open for the morning and a group clustered around them, listening to Garrett shout instructions.
“And we’re not going to engage the bastards if there’s too many!” he yelled, scowling. “Ye hear?”
“Define ‘too many’, Sarge,” Sharne said dryly.
Garrett’s eyes twinkled. “About as many as would cause us certain death… plus ten.”
The team in front of Garrett saluted, then turned back to their horses.
“Took yer sweet ass time, mystic,” Garrett grumbled. “Hope ye weren’t suckin’ face behind a barn somewhere.”
Bastian gulped, but as an apology to Tansy reached his lips, the girl beside him scoffed.
“You just wish it was you, rearick,” she said with a laugh. “Now, stop teasing. If Bastian’s face gets any redder, it’ll start to glow—and we don’t want a shining beacon to warn the re
mnant we’re coming, now, do we?”
“Aye, that’s a fair point,” Garrett said with a wide grin. “Now, get yer horses and let’s go!” He waved his hand, gesturing at two small mares that were saddled and ready.
Tansy vaulted onto hers in a single jump. Bastian sighed, and clumsily clambered onto his. No matter the days he had spent in the saddle since leaving the temple, he always felt gangly and awkward on horseback.
“Ride out!” Garrett called.
He led the way, Mathias and Jakob riding abreast behind him. Sharne and Mack rode next, and Tansy and Bastian brought up the rear.
“He really thinks we can handle that many remnant?” Bastian asked, nerves digging into his gut.
Tansy shrugged. “If we kill three each, that’s twenty-one dead—though, I’d wager Garrett alone could take down five, at least, and the physical mage could kill even more than that.”
Bastian snorted. “You think I could take down a remnant? On my own?”
Tansy lifted her head. “You won’t be alone, mystic. Stay by me, and I’ll make sure you come home in one piece.”
Once clear of the town, the horses launched into a trot, then settled into a canter. The trees passed by in a flash, and all too soon, the forest loomed overhead.
“There it is!” Garrett called, pointing at the snarled, burnt metal pole. He reigned in his horse and ambled up, muttering, “The bastards.”
“What is it?” Bastian called, picking his way through the others.
The Iron Tree had been smooth and pale when he had seen it last. Now, it was black, painted with some kind of flaking, crusted substance. Bastian reached out and pressed a finger to the tacky surface.
“Blood,” Garrett said.
Bastian snatched his hand back and wiped it on his shirt, forcing down a sudden nausea.
“A warning?” Sharne asked.
“Aye.” Garrett looked up, eyes shining over a wide smile. “They don’t know what’s comin’ fer ‘em.”
He casually turned his horse down the path to the ruins, and they followed single-file down the narrow trail.
Bastian kept his eyes up, darting from tree to tree and from trees to ground. He flicked his eyes ahead to Tansy and saw her hands resting lightly on two short swords.