by Amy Hopkins
Danil snorted. “If you’d sent the runner to me first, maybe I’d have been quicker.”
“Aye, but where’s the fun in that?” Garrett motioned Danil over. “Come on, I have ta get this ugly little prick to town. Hope ye weren’t expectin’ a rest when ye got here!”
Bette shouldered through the doorway behind him. “Stop yappin’, ye mouthy shit. I need ye ta give me a hand with this wee pest, so we can get him back in one piece. Well... Three pieces. Ye know what I mean.”
Garrett and Bette disappeared into the bottom level of the tower and emerged again a moment later, a board hoisted between them.
Danil peered over Garrett’s shoulder. The spindly beast he’d seen in Clarke’s mind was carefully stretched out, tied at each end to secure it in place. One leg was missing and a chunk of its head was splayed open.
“That’s… disgusting.” Danil couldn’t think of a better word to describe the carnage. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“In a bag on the table. Can ye get it fer me?” Bette asked sweetly. “I don’t have enough hands.”
Wincing, Danil peeked inside the room. A copper bowl sat on a table, with a cloth sack inside. He stepped further in, and his sight vanished.
“Bette, come back. I can’t see!” He groped for the table.
“Erm. It’s probably best that way.” Bette sounded uncomfortable.
Danil ran his hands along the table and found the bowl. He lifted the bag—it wasn’t heavy, so he tucked it under his arm. When he wrapped his hand around the bottom, though, something thick and sticky coated his fingers.
Danil froze, and quickly realized whatever the substance was, it was soaking his clothes, too.
“Bette?” he called, voice flat.
“Yes, Danil?” Bette asked, sweetly.
“What’s in the bag?”
She coughed. “The missing bits, of course.”
As Danil stepped back outside, every set of eyes he was borrowing looked his way. He saw himself, hair mussed up from the frantic run, face pale, and mouth drawn tight as he considered what else he could see.
A cloth bag nestled under his arm. The top was tightly knotted, the corners of the white linen dropping down, ends slowly turning red as they soaked up the liquid that dripped from the bottom of the bag.
Deep red ichor soaked the bottom half of the bag. It oozed through his fingers and spread across his shirt.
“Bits of what, Bette?” he asked, just as sweetly.
“Him.” Bette jerked her head over her shoulder, towards the alien body.
Danil gritted his teeth and took in a slow breath. “I’ll get you back for this,” he said. “Just you wait.”
Laughter exploding behind him, Danil adjusted his grip on the bag—no point dropping it now, the damage was done—and strode off towards Tahn.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lord George disembarked from his carriage, greeting Francis with a slap on the shoulder. “Glad to see you again, Francis. Looks like Lordship suits you!”
“Thank you, sir,” Francis said, a pink flush creeping up his neck.
“Patrick, get one of the men to see to the horses.” George waved at Julianne distractedly. “Keep them out of trouble, this time, will you?”
Patrick nodded seriously and jogged off to organize the entourage.
“Interesting choice of troop leader,” Marcus commented under his breath.
“Lord George!” Julianne said.
George beamed and grasped her arms, leaning in to kiss her on each cheek. “My dear girl! So good to see you back. I trust your journey through the Madlands was uneventful?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” she said, gesturing towards Marcus.
Marcus stepped forwards and bowed, then clasped Lord George’s hand.
“Good job, soldier. Glad to see you’re both safe and well. Bastian told me about that mischief in your homeland—bit of a tussle with that Donna, eh?” George raised his eyebrows knowingly at Julianne.
She smiled softly. “I believe the New Dawn is officially defeated.”
“Just in time to face this new dilemma, too.” George slumped a little and sighed. “Just when I think I can ease into retirement softly, another disaster rears its head.”
“Retirement?” Julianne took his arm and led him towards Francis’s house. “You’re too young to be thinking of that, surely!”
George shook his head. “You flatter me, girl. But Adeline is practically managing the city now, with Jakob by her side. Do you know, she’s already rebuilt the trade industry and started exporting medicines from our local herbalists?”
Julianne wasn’t surprised. Adeline had a good head for business and the steadiness to make an excellent leader.
Raised voices caught her attention. Julianne stopped, glancing over at the cluster of soldiers. Patrick was toe-to-toe with one of his men, a ragged looking soldier with long, ratty hair down to his shoulders and four days’ worth of growth on his face.
“New guards?” she asked quietly. Her eyes shone white as she dove into Patrick’s head.
George snorted. “Mercenaries. Patrick might have a checkered background, but damned if he can’t fight. His experience with remnant has saved more than one traveler these past months.”
“So, you gave him a squad of his own?” Marcus said skeptically.
“I did,” George said. “Only recently, I might point out. My own general has had some troubles keeping the hired fighters in line. Patrick offered to have a go at it, and he seems to be doing well enough.”
“It was a good decision,” Julianne said, to Marcus’s surprise.
“It was?” The Lord of Muir sounded almost as surprised as Marcus felt.
Julianne nodded. “You’ve given Patrick purpose—and you took his men in. They will fight to the death for you. That other man, though…” Julianne frowned. “Lord George, be careful. That sort of greed and lust for violence almost always ends badly.”
Worry settled in Marcus’s gut. His eyes ran over the contingent of guards, picking out the few he remembered from the bandit attack on Lord George’s convoy. The men looked different, face paint and ragged outfits swapped for the Muir livery.
Those men looked proud to be there. The others? Marcus recognized the look of resentment darted towards Patrick.
“Jules, you want me to keep an eye on them?” Marcus asked quietly.
She shook her head. “I need you at this meeting,” she said. “Patrick can handle any trouble that crops up.”
George watched the exchange curiously but didn’t say anything. He let Julianne guide him inside and soon, the meeting was underway.
***
George slapped his palms on the table. “It doesn’t matter what comes through that damn rip in the sky. The men just aren’t there! You saw the guards I brought into town—half of them would fight for a demon if it offered them enough money!”
“Without the guarantee of safe passage between towns, the traders simply won’t come to Tahn,” Francis said patiently. “We’ve managed to keep rumors of the rift to a minimum, but we can’t hide the increase in remnant attacks.”
George sat back and sighed. “Five. I can spare five men and no more.”
“Eight.” Francis rested his own hands on the table, palms down.
“If you must have eight, half will be from the mercenary group.” George flared his hands, chin wobbling as he capitulated.
“Why don’t you mix up the guards?” Julianne asked. “Pairing the less reliable ones with a more seasoned officer may temper their bad habits a little.”
“Perhaps.” George sat back, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’ve been keeping them separate, but I can see how your plan could work. It might show the newer men what real honor and integrity look like.”
Julianne nodded. “And your men will be able to quash any bad behavior. I don’t want you getting stabbed in your sleep,” she admitted. “Or sold to a demon,” she added with a grin.
George sighed
in relief. “I’ll organize the change as soon as I return to Muir. My townspeople aren’t exactly thrilled at the sight of these ruffians. There have been rumors… Well…”
Julianne turned as something fluttered against her mind. “Someone’s coming,” she said.
Conversation halted as they waited. A moment later, the door swung open, and Clarke stumbled back in.
She jerked to a stop when she saw Lord George. “Oh! Err, sorry, my lords. Bette said—and Garrett… Um.” Flustered, Clarke stuttered to a stop.
“They’re coming here?” Julianne prompted.
Clarke nodded. “But… Well, Danil…” She pulled a series of strange faces, eyes wide, mouth grimacing, and head nodding at Julianne.
Stifling a chuckle, Julianne jumped into her head.
“Oh.” Julianne stood. “I’d best go meet them at the gate.”
George moved to stand, but she quickly put a hand on his shoulder. “No, no. Stay here. I’m sure you have lots to discuss with Francis.”
She held her breath, hoping he would take the hint. She didn’t want to use compulsion on him, but if he saw Danil in the gruesome state he was in…
“Well, if you don’t mind going alone…” George settled back into his seat with a grin. “My old bones would rather stay put, anyway.”
Julianne grinned. She waved Marcus down. “No, you stay, too. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
***
Danil’s mental tirade reached Julianne long before she saw him.
I fucking hate rearick, Danil thought loudly. Mountain-loving, swill-suckers. Goat-humping, bearded fuckers. As lovable as sand in your ass-crack. Or, no, like one of those spiked river-worms that swim up your piss-hole and stab you with their tails.
Someone’s in a good mood, Julianne sent softly.
A fast, irritable barrage of images and sensations flooded her mind. The stench of old, warm blood; a ruined shirt; fingers glued together by a crusted, sticky substance hit her with all the annoyance that Danil felt.
The torrent continued for several minutes. Julianne was tempted to block the mental sending, but knew it was Danil’s way of letting off steam. She let the feelings wash through her, despite the discomfort.
Even knowing what he felt couldn’t stifle the quick giggle that bubbled up when she saw him.
Caked in old blood, hair on end where he’d thoughtlessly swiped at it with his filthy hand, Danil looked like he’d come from a glorious battle, not a sweaty trip through empty fields.
“Fuck you,” he muttered. “Here.”
He threw the bag at Julianne, who deftly caught it by the knotted ends. She held it out at arm’s length.
“Go and wash,” she said.
A wolfish grin finally lit up his features. “You don’t want a hug from your best friend?” he threatened, spreading his arms wide.
“I dare you,” she said with a grin of her own.
Sighing, Danil wandered off towards the barracks.
“Make sure you don’t leave that mess in the horse’s trough!” she called.
“I’ll leave it in Bette’s sheets if she’s not careful!” he called back.
Julianne grinned and carefully placed the bag on the ground. She could sense the rearick coming and peeked out the gate.
“I’d avoid the barracks for a bit, if I were you,” Julianne cautioned as Bette and Garrett paraded through, still carrying the corpse like a wounded soldier.
“Thanks for the warnin’,” Bette said happily. “I’ll send Gus down ta clean up after ‘im. Bastard owes me a favor, he does.”
“Take that to Francis’s,” Julianne said. “Try not to drip the entrails on the floor, though?”
Polly trailed in last and stopped to whisper to Julianne before she went past. “How mad is he?” she asked.
Julianne shrugged. “About as mad as you’d expect.”
Polly nodded slowly. “I’d best go speak to him, then. I don’t think Lord George would appreciate losing his captain and his lieutenant before he gets here.”
“He’s already here,” Julianne said. “Are you sure you can calm him down?”
Polly nodded. “Anyway, he likes old George. I don’t think he’d want to scare him. And Bitch knows, he’s in a scary-ass mood.”
Julianne sighed in relief. “I’ll wait here. I want to see him before we go in.”
Polly trotted off, soon returning with a soggy, but mostly clean Danil. His hair dripped, and his shirt was balled up in his hands, but at least the blood was gone.
Julianne spread her arms.
“Are you sure you want a hug?” Danil asked dubiously. “I’m all wet.”
“As if I care,” Julianne said.
He folded himself into her arms and she squeezed, inhaling his familiar scent and allowing their minds to touch.
Surprisingly, whatever Polly did had worked. Danil was calmer and even content, and Julianne felt his joy at seeing her. Though a trace of irritability remained, his mood had improved immensely.
“Is Bette safe to go to bed tonight?” Julianne asked.
Danil snorted against her shoulder. “Far from it,” he said.
Julianne angled her head towards Polly, who shrugged innocently.
Whatever you’re planning, I don’t want to know, Julianne sent to her friend.
Plausible deniability? I can work with that, Danil silently replied.
He let go, pulling back to stretch his arms out. “You saw the beetle they brought in?” he asked.
Julianne nodded. “I saw it, and I don’t like it. Danil, if there’s one thing bigger than a vark on the other side of that portal, there’s likely more. And who knows what else…”
“Vark? You named them?” Danil mulled it over as Julianne nodded. “Fair enough. It suits them.”
“It was Bastian’s idea.”
He draped an arm over Julianne’s shoulder. “Well, it’s lucky we’ve got three clever mystics to come up with a plan, then, isn’t it?”
CHAPTER NINE
Julianne looked around the table, wondering if her plan would work. Even if it did, there was no guarantee of a helpful result.
Lord George blinked slowly, fatigue setting in. Once he’d received the message from Bastian asking him to meet with the Mystic Master, he’d assembled his traveling guards and journeyed through the night to be here.
Danil, now dressed and back to his usual jovial self, gazed at Polly. Polly, in turn, chewed her lip as she did her best to avoid looking over her shoulder at the bug-like body behind her.
Francis and Bastian chatted quietly about the progress of the school. Now that the building was underway and Arcadian nobles were coming to evaluate progress, Bastian had begun to feel the pressure.
Julianne glanced at Marcus, who gave her a small smile. He nodded for her to speak, seeing she had something on her mind.
“I have an idea,” she said abruptly. “I don’t know if it will work, but I think it’s something we need to try.”
Danil sat up quickly, sensing the excitement in her tone. “What are you up to?” he asked.
“Before I left the Heights, Artemis and I were playing with the amphorald devices. He had a theory—but I haven’t had a chance to test it out. I left as soon as the rearick brought the new bracelets up.” She took a breath, aware she was talking too quickly.
Bastian cocked an eyebrow. “You’re talking about a new spell, aren’t you?”
She nodded, and Danil sucked in a quick breath. She let him nudge her mind, but resisted letting him in. She wanted to make sure she had the explanation—and the warnings—right.
“We might be able to create a link, similar to the three-way shields Rogan used. If we do that with the communication devices, there might be a way to send a signal to someone who doesn’t have one.”
Danil rubbed his bracelet, wrist still stinging where the needle had pierced his skin. He’d worn it less than an hour, but the security it gave—letting him stay in touch with those he cared about no matter how
distant—made him wonder if he could ever take it off.
“But everyone that matters has one now,” he said. He’d already used his to reach Margit, Jonsen, and Amelia. “Except Zoe. Bastard knows if that girl will ever return to the heights, now she’s had a taste of freedom.”
Julianne felt his fondness for the young mystic. “She had quite the adventure in the Dark Forest with the druids, but she has returned home. Still, you’re forgetting someone. Two someone’s, actually, though you’ve only met one of them.”
She watched Danil work through the clues. When he connected the dots, his eyes shot open. “You don’t mean…”
Julianne nodded. “If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s Ezekiel. I don’t think it’s entirely coincidence that this rift developed right after he left on his great adventure.”
“Ezekiel? You mean, Founder Ezekiel?” George asked, bewildered. “I thought he was like Queen Bethany Anne—a mythical god, not a man who goes on adventures.”
Julianne settled back in her chair. “He’s as real as you or me. A little older, though.” She ignored Danil’s bark of laughter. “He left Arcadia before I did the first time. He didn’t tell me much about where he was going, but I saw enough to know it would change the world.”
“You just forgot to mention that?” Marcus asked.
“There was nothing to tell,” Julianne said. “He was so vague. I just know Hannah was involved somehow.”
“And Hadley?” Danil asked.
Julianne rolled her eyes. “That boy wouldn’t have stayed behind if I’d tied him to a tree. No, Hannah was the key to Ezekiel’s success, whatever his mission was.”
“If she’s as strong as you say…” Danil trailed off.
“Stronger.” Julianne bit her lip. “At least, she will be if she’s listened to anything I told her. If she’s kept up with her practice, it may be even easier to reach her than the Founder.”
Francis coughed. “Excuse me for interrupting—but it sounds like you’ve got a lot to deal with that doesn’t involve Lord George and myself. Do you mind if we leave you to it?”