by Amy Hopkins
The rope became a pulley and soon, a flurry of work had commenced. After watching and breathing in the excitement, Julianne turned to Bastian.
“I’m sorry, Bastian. I can’t stay.”
“Off to see the rift?” he asked. “Can’t deny that’s a lot more exciting than my sticks and bricks.”
“The potential here shouldn’t be underestimated,” she said, smiling. “But yes, I need to see the rift. Bastian… is it as strange as it seems?”
He shuddered. “More. I can’t explain, though. You’ll see.”
Brushing off a momentary discomfort at his words, Julianne left. She pulled herself up onto her horse, nodded to her companions, and began the last leg of the journey.
“Here’s the wee bastard,” Bette said as they rounded the last bend in the trail.
“Where?” Julianne looked around, intent on seeing the rift for the first time without the interference of anyone else’s thoughts.
Bette thrust her chin toward the watchtower. “Over there. Go on.”
Julianne dismounted and slowly walked over to the tower. The structure had been placed so that it obscured the view of the rift from the trail, and a line of thick bushes further camouflaged it.
The guards—Sherp, Jarv, and Lewis today—nodded respectfully as she passed. Sherp waved to get her attention.
“If you need to chuck your breakfast, that’s the direction you want to aim in.” He pointed to a low bush and gave her a wink. “No shame in it. Pretty much everyone has that reaction the first time.”
“That bad, then,” Julianne murmured.
She pushed aside a flimsy branch and stepped through to the clearing on the other side.
“Ohh…” Whatever she’d meant to say was lost in a breathy sigh as she walked closer.
Rustling behind her couldn’t pull her attention from the frozen bolt of blackness that absorbed the light around it.
“Careful, Jules,” Marcus warned her.
Julianne nodded absentmindedly as she slowly circled around the rift. From the side and back, it didn’t exist. It just… vanished. There. She caught a glimpse as she came around the other side, and ducked her head back to confirm that, yes, the paper-thin slice twisted and disappeared when viewed from a different angle.
“I’ll be damned,” she whispered.
Her eyes ached to bring it into focus properly. It hung in the air, its distance difficult to gauge as her eyes struggled to make sense of the startling narrowness that somehow held unfathomable depths.
“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” Marcus whispered. He shifted uncomfortably as Julianne stepped closer to it.
“It’s ok,” she said and held out a hand to settle him. “I won’t touch it.”
Still, she raised her other hand and held it an inch away from the face of the rift. Her eyes glossed over, and Marcus bent low, ready to tackle her to the ground to break whatever connection she might make.
Julianne’s breath caught as Marcus held his. She staggered back, and he rushed forwards, catching her in his arms.
“There’s… there’s something on the other side,” she gasped, pulling away and righting herself.
She stalked over to the rift, eyes clear and face drawn.
“Something, or someone?” Marcus asked.
She shook her head. “It was jumbled. I couldn’t tell, but… I think it saw me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Garrett slapped a plate of bread and ham on a rickety table near the watchtower.
“Ye can’t be wastin’ away, not when the wee beasties are out for yer blood!” He could hear the manic edge to his own voice, but Bitch take his soul if he wasn’t pining for another round with the claw-legged bastards.
“And how are ye goin’ ta fight with a tummy full of bloat?” Bette jabbed a finger at his middle and laughed.
“It’s not fer me, lass. I don’t want young Julianne to go hungry, is all.” He looked at the table and crossed his fingers that the smell of hot rolls that had been baked fresh in hot coals would somehow pass through the rift and lure the demon spawn through.
“Sit yer ass down and eat,” Bette snapped.
“Is everything ok?” Julianne asked, casting a glance between them.
Garrett prickled under the collar. “I’m fine. Fine!” He glared at Bette as he jerked a chair out and sat down hard. Go on, he thought. I dare ye ta disagree.
Bette shook her head mournfully. “He’s anything but fine.”
“Bitch,” Garrett muttered.
“He’s afraid.” Bette held a hand out to examine her fingernails. “Poor dear got a right scare when that wee vark tried ta kill Marcus. Shook him up bad, the poor lad.”
“I’m NOT FUCKING SCARED!” Garrett bellowed, standing up and slamming his hands on the table.
Silence fell over the camp, and all eyes turned to him.
Garrett cast a nervous glance around, then slowly sat. “I’m not scared,” he repeated quietly.
“It’s alright, love,” Bette said soothingly. “We know ye were just scared for Marcus’s sake.”
Marcus opened his mouth to speak, then yelped. He leaned down to rub his ankle under the table, studiously avoiding Garrett’s glare.
“Yeah,” Marcus said. “For me. I was scared, too, dammit!”
Garrett barked a laugh. “Ye were fuckin’ terrified, weren’t ye? But we’ll show the pricks. Next time they come through, we’ll stab their beady wee eyes, and gut the bastards, and spread their entrails over the camp. We’ll show ‘em!”
“Aye, love.” Bette patted his arm. “We’ll spread ‘em all over. Now, have a roll.”
Garrett shoved a bite into his mouth, and promptly choked on it. Coughing and wheezing, he grabbed Bette’s arm, mouth open like a fish flopping on the floor of a boat.
“I’ll get ye some water, dear.” Bette stood far too slowly for his liking, but went towards the watchtower, where the drinking water was stored. “Err… Julianne, can ye help?”
Garrett’s eyes prickled, and bile rose in his throat. With a mighty heave, the lump of soggy bread shot out of his mouth and across the table. Marcus lurched out of its way, then prodded the offending lump with the end of his fork.
Garrett lurched to his feet.
“What are—” Marcus asked, then quieted when Garrett waved a hand to shush him.
Ignoring Marcus’s curious gaze, Garrett stumbled over towards the tower, as quietly as he could, despite the burning urge to cough.
“...and he just hasn’t been right since,” Bette was saying inside.
Garrett crouched, stuffing a hand into his mouth and biting down to stop the tickle in his throat.
“I could try and soothe some of his fear,” Julianne replied. “But sometimes using that particular spell on a rearick can—oh, dear.”
Julianne’s bright face popped out of the doorway. “Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” she scolded Garrett.
“My m—” Garrett felt his throat seize and wracking coughs overtook him. He gasped and started again, snatching the waterskin from Bette when she joined Julianne beside him.
“Ye traitorous bitch!” He wheezed. “I’m not fuckin’ scared, I’m tellin’ ye!”
“I know, Garrett.” Julianne placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and looked deep into his eyes, her own fading to white.
He tried to jerk away, but instead of a false calm, he felt understanding. He felt Julianne’s own fear—not for herself, but for the people she’d sworn to protect, for her friends, and especially for Marcus.
He felt her fear shift. Not changing, but evolving, leading to a burning desire to crush any threat that faced the people she loved.
“I know,” she said when her eyes cleared.
Garrett leaned his back against the wall. “Aye,” he said in a croaky voice. “I suppose ye do.”
“Och, we all know yer a pussy,” Bette said with a grin. “But I prefer ye to be a breathin’ pussy. Next time, chew yer bloody food.”
<
br /> Garrett stuck his tongue out at her, but let the two women guide him back to the table.
Over lunch, they talked of many things. The battle for Arcadia and the one for Tahn; the Heights, the city, and the weather. They danced around the topic of the rift and the threat that faced them but did so comfortably and without fear.
Finally, when the food was gone, and they all leaned back to enjoy the hazy relaxation that always comes after a good meal, Bette sighed.
“If yer stayin’ until we get another visitor ta pop through, ye might be here a good while.” She wiped her hands on her shirt. “Ye may as well get comfortable.”
As it turned out, the wait wasn’t too long at all. Just on dusk, while Garrett was resting his eyelids under the same table they’d lunched at, a cry went up from the bushes.
Garrett bolted upright, cursing as his head made contact with the table. “Fuck!” He grabbed at his axe, lying nearby, and rolled out. Jumping to his feet, he whooped a war cry as he raced for the rift.
Julianne was already there, staff gripped in two hands as she watched the edges of the portal shift and bend.
“Wait for it…” Garrett growled, excitement building. Blood pounded in his ears and raced through his veins. “Come on, laddies. Give old uncle Garrett another shot at yer faces, eh?”
“Don’t scare it off,” Marcus said. “And can you try to let me get a shot in, too? I still owe them a good belting after last time.”
“Och, ye’ll be hard pressed to find an opening once I start swingin’,” Garrett said with a wolfish smile. His eyes drank in the low light of the evening, riveted on the wobbling line before them.
First one arm, then another crawled through. The rest of the creature fell through with a slurping pop.
“What’s that?” Julianne snapped, pointing.
At first, it looked like the beast’s leg had gotten stuck. Then…
“It’s bringin’ a friend!” Garrett screeched, exhilaration smoking him. He launched forwards, twirling his weapon towards the stick-like creature half his height.
“Garrett, stop!” Julianne called.
Garrett froze mid-stride. He looked at her white eyes and snarled. “This isn’t a time for mind-fuckin’, it’s time to splatter some guts!” He whipped his axe forwards and, as he’d expected, it glanced off the hard carapace on his target’s back.
Another slice slipped between the hard coverings on the upper and lower legs, neatly chopping a leg in half. A thin wail pierced his ears, and he dropped the weapon, grabbing at his ears.
The second alien shot straight at Marcus, but was knocked back by a hard, swift swing of Julianne’s staff. It fell back, but landed on its stalk-like legs, immediately hurling itself back towards her.
Garrett threw himself at the whining beast, landing in a puff of dry dirt.
Roaring to drown out the high-pitched noise, Garrett let go of his head. He scooped his axe up and edged around, one of the beast’s eye-stalks following him closely.
It jumped, and Garrett quickly followed suit leaping after it. Man and tiny beast connected, and Garrett felt the barbed hooks latch into his chest.
“I’ve got ye now, ye dick-eye’d wee cockroach!” Garrett thrust an arm up to protect his face, then grabbed one of the creature’s eyes. He yanked it out, roaring again as the painful scream intensified.
He shoved it to the ground and smashed the flat head of his axe into its gut. Ichor and grainy slime splattered out, and he pounded again, ignoring the stench and stickiness that covered him.
Over and over, he brought his axe down on the beast, pounding it into a pile of sticky, brittle shards. Then, he raised his axe to smash down on a leg… and froze.
His body seized, held still except his lungs and eyes. He heaved sharp breaths, rolling his eyes around to see what had him.
Julianne stood over him, looking down with white eyes.
“We good?” she asked.
“Errrgghhh.” His lips and tongue were still frozen.
“Garrett, I’m in your head. I heard that.” She waited, and Garrett relented.
Sorry. Shouldn’t have called ye a bossy tart. Not even in me head.
His muscles released, and he collapsed, face plunging into a pile of acrid alien blood.
“Pah! Ack, blerch!”
“Ye shouldn’t’a made such a Bitch-damned mess,” Bette scolded. “Who knows what kind of scavengers all that blood will bring? Last thing we need here is rats.”
“Rats?” Garrett felt a bubble of laughter rise in his chest. “Rats? Yer worried about rats?” He fell back to the ground, laughing hysterically.
Through his mirth, he heard Bette sigh.
“He’s just a wee bit wound up. He’ll be fine.”
Marcus leaned down to grasp his forearm and pull him to his feet. Sobering, Garrett looked him over. “The other one is dead?”
Marcus nodded. “They go down fast if you slip between the armored bits.” He glanced at the mess at Garrett’s feet. “Or, I guess, if you pound them to dust.”
“Aye,” Garrett said, a smile cracking his face wide again. “Easier than dealing with rats!”
“Garrett!” Julianne snapped. Her eyes glowed in the darkness, and Garrett flinched, expecting another mind-trick.
Instead, her eyes cleared. Worry etched her face. “The school. GO!”
The fear in her voice sent Garrett’s feet running before his mind caught up. Bastian would be at the school—he often worked late. Had a monster slipped through the portal unseen, and attacked the school?
His feet pounded the road, echoing heavy beats behind him. He spared a glance behind and saw Marcus, racing towards him on horseback with one arm extended.
Garrett grabbed the offered hand, swinging up onto the horse effortlessly.
“How’d the shits get past us?” Garrett called, wind snatching at his words.
“Not them.” Marcus shook his head. “Remnant.”
A tight band Garrett hadn’t noticed around his chest eased. Remnant were a vicious enemy, but they were an enemy he knew well.
The sound of fighting quickly reached them. Marcus dashed the horse into the clearing and waited until Garrett had landed on the ground before vaulting off himself. He yanked the horse back around and slapped its rump, trusting the animal to head back to the rift.
Ahead, bedlam reigned. Remnant tore at stone and wood, shoving hard enough to tumble a half-built wall. Others clustered around a small section, where a room with four walls was almost complete.
“In there,” Marcus said, pointing. “I think there are people in there.”
“Yargh!” Garrett hollered, gripping his axe in two hands.
“Yargh?” Marcus asked.
Garrett grinned and nodded. “YARGH!” He plunged forwards, hurling himself right in the middle of the remnant trying to break down a flimsy door.
A hand grabbed his shirt, and he spun, lopping it off. Another flew at his face, knuckles cracking loudly as they connected with the haft of his axe.
“Help!” A feminine scream that was muffled by solid stone walls reached Garrett’s ears, and he fought harder, shoving his way through to press his back against the door.
“COME AT ME YE ROTTIN’ LIMP DICKED MUD EATERS!”
The remnant around him paused, as if startled at his sudden threat. Then, as one, they descended.
Garrett clenched his teeth, whipping his axe with lethal precision. He spun, dodging a blow, then ducked to avoid another. He took a fist on the chin and repaid the attacker with an axe to the temple.
Bodies fell, piling at his feet. Remnant climbed over each other, their prey drive overriding any concept of fear, despite the carnage Garrett was laying into them.
Something grabbed his foot, and he stumbled, going down on one knee just as a rusted sword plunged into the wood behind him.
The remnant with the weapon tried to jerk it back, but it stuck fast. Garrett barked a laugh as he twisted the wrist of the beast who had tripped him, feeling
the satisfying crunch of broken bones. He stood
“DUCK!”
Garrett threw himself back down at Marcus’s cry, hooting in joy as blood rained down, and a head tumbled at his feet.
Instead of standing, he spun low, ploughing his axe through two legs and sinking into the calf of a third. When the remnant stumbled, he punched it in the face, sinking his fist far enough in to tickle what brain it had left.
Garrett looked around. The remnant were starting to retreat. “Not today, ye unlucky bastards!” He had to climb over a stack of bodies, slipping in fresh blood.
Thinking he was unbalanced, a remnant rushed him. He dispatched it with a lazy flick of his blade. He quickly noted Marcus running down a fleeing beast and turned the other way, hurling his axe into the back of a skull.
A noise above, followed by another shriek, alerted him to more danger. Three remnant had scaled the walls and were trying to pry the upper level floorboards apart.
Garrett frantically looked but couldn’t see any way to get up there.
“Marcus!” he yelled. “I need a wee boost, ye lazy shit!”
Marcus pulled his sword out of a limp body and looked up. He glanced at Garrett, then at the three desperate beasts above the rearick. “Be right there.”
Marcus ran, sword gripped tight. Garrett crouched. Marcus slid to a stop on one knee, hands interlocked.
Garrett jumped. He landed well, planting one foot in Marcus’s hands. Marcus heaved, thrusting upwards and rocketing Garrett towards the sky.
Garrett used his strong legs to propel him and flew high enough to grab the top edge of the building. Unfortunately, his hands were slick with fresh blood.
He slipped. A brief trip through the air ended with a hard smack on the dirt. Marcus looked down from above him and shrugged.
Garrett vaulted to his feet in time to see Marcus wrench the door open. Tansy and Bastian tumbled out, faces white.
Garrett grinned. He slipped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
Inside, light seeped through the cracks overhead, highlighting the shadows of the moving remnant. With a groan, one of the floorboards gave way.
Shrieking in delight, the remnant dropped down. Garrett grinned as, one by one, their eyes adjusted to the dim room.