by Amy Hopkins
“Surprise!”
He lashed out, slicing across with his axe and feeling it bite into soft flesh and organs. Guts spilled as the last remnant whispered a single word. “Fuck.” Moments later, the life in its glowing red eyes flickered out.
Garrett planted a foot against the door and shoved. Outside, Tansy dropped a limp remnant to the ground while Marcus watched approvingly.
“Holy shit,” she gasped. “You guys got here just in time.”
“It looked like ye were about to become dinner,” Garrett agreed.
Tansy laughed. “Not that. I just didn’t want to miss my dinner. It would have taken ages to fight them all off ourselves!”
Garrett couldn’t do anything but laugh at the girl’s plucky courage. “Aye,” he said. “It would have taken ye a wee while.”
“Where did they come from?” Marcus asked, kicking at a twitching body. He leaned down to run his sword through it, and it fell still.
Bastian sat, hands trembling. “I don’t know. They just rushed in all at once, screaming. We barely had time to find cover.”
“You might need to rethink being here alone,” Marcus suggested.
Bastian quickly nodded. “Don’t you worry, I’m not coming out here without an armed guard from now on.”
Tansy pouted. “You don’t think I could have taken them?”
Bastian threw his hands up. “Sure! You against thirty slavering ghouls. But like you said, we’d have missed dinner.”
Tansy flung her arms around him. “I love that you believe in me!” She landed a wet kiss on his cheek. “But realistically, we’d have been dead in about twelve seconds. I didn’t even have a weapon!”
“How’d ye take down that one?” Garrett asked, using his axe to point at the body at her feet.
“Quick head twist,” she said. “I can show you if you like?”
Garrett gave her a mournful look. “Lass, I’m not tall enough to wring a neck like that!”
Tansy giggled. “Then you’ve got to lop it off at the knees, first!”
Garrett stretched, realizing he felt calmer than he had in days. “Ah, nothin’ like a good tousle with some dead heads to calm the nerves.”
Marcus snorted. “If you say so. Do you two want to head back to town, or come with us?”
Tansy looked at Garrett and wrinkled her nose. “We probably shouldn’t walk back in the dark, alone. Where is the nearest place ol’ Garrett here can take a bath?”
“What?” Garrett sniffed loudly. “I can’t smell a thing!”
“You’re the only one here who can’t,” Bastian said, pulling his head back away from the rearick. “What is that? It doesn’t smell like remnant blood.”
“It’s vark,” Garrett said with a smirk.
Tansy squealed. “You didn’t! Those adorable little balls?”
“Ack, no. More like a… super-vark. A vark-sect?” Garrett pursed his lips, thinking. “Insectovark!”
“He went a little crazy when one of the nasty ones came through the rift,” Marcus explained. “Come on. Julianne is waiting for us back at the rift. There’s a horse trough there we can tip over stink-guts here.”
They walked back together, quiet in the deepening twilight. When they returned to the camp, Julianne greeted them with a heavy bucket.
Garrett eyed it warily. “What’s that f—”
Julianne tipped it over his head, sloshing water down his face and drowning out his words. “You stink, Garrett. And if you don’t clean that off, I’ll make you spend the next three weeks thinking you can smell dogshit on your boots.”
“Oh, fine.” He laughed and shook off the droplets, then made his way to the trough of clean water.
As he stripped off his shirt, Bette leaned over the railing at the top of the watchtower. She gave a loud whistle. “Hello, sexy! Ye feel better after yer little adventure?”
“Aye!” Garrett called, drubbing grime off his bristling chest. “Feel like a real man again! Ye want to know what a real man feels like?” He unbuttoned his pants, sending Julianne and Tansy running inside, screaming and giggling.
“Ach, they don’t know what they’re missin’,” Bette hollered down.
“We don’t want to find out, thanks!” Tansy yelled from inside.
Garrett dropped his pants to scrub off the last of the grime. Marcus raised a hand over his eyes. “I’m blind!”
“Ah, ye jealous, lad?” Garrett bellowed a laugh.
“Oh, for Bitch’s sake,” Sherp yelled from the rift. “Has Garrett got his pants off again? Stop scaring the wildlife, man!”
Garrett, skin shining clean and white in the moonlight, flashed a sparkling grin. Then, he took off, sprinting for the rift, naked as the day he was born. “Yer just jealous I’ve still got both me balls!” he yelled. “I’ll show ye what a real man looks like!”
Inside, Bette landed on the ground floor of the tower. “Looks like me man is back to his usual happy self,” she said with a grin.
“Yes,” Julianne said. She shook her head slowly. “I’m glad… but I wish he wasn’t quite so happy as that.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bastian squinted against the glare as the heavy beam carefully dropped into place.
“How are you doing, Jakob?” he asked once it was secure.
Jakob’s eyes cleared from black to brown, and he smiled weakly. “Feels great! I’ve been getting lazy in Muir, living off pastries and being waited on hand and foot.”
“I know that’s a lie,” Bastian laughed. “I don’t need magic to tell you feel like a used ass-wipe. Even Lord George was worried you were going to burn yourself out with all the repairs and building you’ve been helping with.”
Jakob’s laugh was interrupted by a growling burp. “I really haven’t done that much. Some buildings in the lower end of town were badly neglected for a while. They just needed some patching up, and I wasn’t the only one getting his hands dirty.”
“And the patrols?” Bastian probed. He knew Jakob was one of those who spent nights manning the walls of Muir to guard against the increasing number of remnant attacks.
“Rarely more than an excuse for a long game of cards with a nice view.” Jakob’s eyes clouded over with the color of midnight, and he turned back to the building site.
“Huh.” Bastian let the matter slide as he watched the magic user painstakingly lift another heavy beam into the air. Jakob didn’t just look worn out—he looked like he was going to deposit his breakfast on his own boots.
The post hovered, then carefully inched up to the upper platform where three men stood, waiting with outstretched hands. They grabbed the beam as soon as it was close enough, but Bastian noticed a tell-tale wobble as it was lowered.
“Jakob, seriously.” He turned to the other man, who gave him an embarrassed grin. “If you need to take a break, we can keep going for a while without you. There’s plenty to keep us busy.”
Jakob ducked his head. “Alright. I was going to rest for a bit after the next one anyway.”
“Samuel!” Bastian called. “Jakob’s off for a bit. Can you secure the new beams? Make sure the railings are tight first—I don’t want anyone falling overboard.”
“Sure, boss,” Samuel yelled back. “As soon as these pussies finish pulling the splinters from their delicate little hands.”
“Hey, it’s the size of a fucking nail!” Taven called, lingering out of sight up above. “It’s a pisser, too!”
A hand darted out over the edge, squeezed into a fist. A steady dribble of tiny red droplets spattered on the ground.
“Hey!” Bastian yelped. “That’s fresh-cut pine you’re bleeding on!”
The hand disappeared, and a chagrined ‘sorry’ sounded from the upper level.
Bastian cursed and leaned down to inspect the damage. A messy stain covered one of the planks and dripped down the side.
The boards were to cover his office walls. Though he’d increased his floor plan on Julianne’s advice, he still intended to keep the ro
om plain. To him, that meant comfortable.
“Pre-loved torture chamber isn’t exactly the look I was going for,” he muttered as he scrubbed at the mark with his sleeve. “Pigs balls! It’s already soaked in.”
As he straightened, the ground rumbled below his feet. Bastian jerked his head up, eyes locking on the structure above.
The upper level wavered and shook. He scurried backwards, tripping over his robe in his rush to get away. “Brace!” he screamed. “Brace yourselves!”
The building collapsed. Dust clouds rose from the wreckage, stinging Bastian’s eyes. Over the creak of settling timber, he heard screams.
Immediately, he reached out with his magic. He grit his teeth as his mind locked onto the workers. His pain sensors went into overdrive as their agony flooded into him, and he hunched, trying to center himself and temper the sensation.
My legs. My legs, I can’t feel them.
IthurtsithurtsithurtsohgodI’mdying.
Wha—what happened…
Bastian sorted through the mental ramblings of the fallen men as other workers rushed towards the wreckage. As they started pulling posts and boards free, one of his mind-connections wobbled.
“STOP!” Bastian screamed. “Stop! It’s unstable! Samuel’s trapped under there.”
The men jumped back as Jakob stumbled over, face pale.
“Bitch strike me!” He gasped. “I thought the noise was just my guts turning over!”
“What?” Bastian looked over and saw the wet stain on Jakob’s shirt.
Jakob closed his eyes and rested a hand on his stomach. “I knew I wasn’t right—I don’t normally get tired that fast. Guess I shouldn’t have eaten that ham for breakfast. It smelled funny, but I thought I’d...” he turned and vomited on the ground.
“Fuck a dead remnant,” Bastian groaned. “Jakob, go home. You can’t use magic in that condition.”
Jakob squared his shoulders and made to protest, but Bastian cut him off.
“Three men are trapped. One wrong move, and they’ll be crushed. I can’t afford mistakes, Jakob.”
Jakob spat the sour taste out of his mouth. “Fair enough. But I can still ride—I’ll send for help.”
Bastian gave a short nod as Jakob ran off, the other man already banished from his thoughts. Bastian could still feel the pain of the fallen men, but it had faded to a dull throb. Their fear prickled at his soul, though.
Stay calm, he thought, sending out a wave of comfort and security. The fear ebbed a little, but Taven’s thoughts drifted further away. The man had a head injury, Bastian was sure of it.
It made the situation even more urgent. “Right!” Bastian barked. “We’re going to take off one beam at a time. Carefully!”
Summoning every ounce of concentration, he reached out to Jessop and Andy. Once his mind had connected with theirs, he pointed. “These two will do the lifting. No one else is to touch the rubble—just be ready to take pieces off them when they ask.”
The remaining four men clustered around. Carefully, Jessop and Andy lifted a long pole.
I don’t have the energy to talk, Bastian explained. But I’ll guide you.
Bastian sent another wave of calmness towards Samuel and Jayne, dampening their panic as they felt the rubble pinning them begin to shift.
He nudged Jessop away from a beam that shifted the pile, pressing down on Samuel’s torso. When a different plank relieved pressure on Jayne’s arm, Bastian felt Jessop and Andy strain to lift it.
He pushed out a short, sharp breath, then reached his magic out to a fifth man. Help them, he sent to Lior.
With a start, Lior jumped in and grabbed Jessop’s end of the beam. Together, they levered it up and shifted it to the right.
No, left! Bastian sent urgently. The men changed direction and pulled off the beam. Hold it—HOLD it! He sent a burst of determination towards them.
Free… Jayne saw his chance and pulled himself towards the opening, then collapsed back as pain engulfed him. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Despair clustered in around the agony as tears streamed down the man’s face.
Bastian’s own eyes began to leak as Jayne’s helplessness reached him. You can do this, Bastian sent.
Barely aware of the voice in his head, Jayne groaned. Can’t move. Hurts.
I’ll help, Bastian sent. You have to move. Now!
The men above heaved deep breaths as they held the large beam still as Bastian whispered a spell to take away the sharp, biting pain in Jayne’s leg.
Normally, that would go against every rule the Temple had taught. Taking away the body’s ability to recognize pain meant a man could exceed normal limits—leading to further injury.
If Jayne didn’t move, he would die under the stack of planks and pillars. Go. Now! Bastian gasped a word through gritted teeth and filled Jayne with urgency, a feeling so strong it overrode his fear and despair.
Jayne scrambled out, dragging one limp limb behind him. As soon as he was free, Jessop, Lior, and Andy lowered the beam with shaking hands.
“No time to rest, boys,” Bastian said. “We’ve got two more men to free.”
I’m sorry, Samuel, Bastian sent. Taven is losing consciousness, we have to get him out first.
Reading the resolute patience in the team leader’s mind, Bastian sighed with relief. Samuel was in pain and gripped by the same fear every worker would know facing death, but he put his friend’s lives first.
Keep them safe. Bastian heard the wisp of thought just as he withdrew from Samuel’s mind.
I will, Sam, Bastian thought to himself. He steadied his lock on Taven’s thoughts, a task growing harder by the minute as the man’s mind wandered farther and farther away.
Stay awake, Taven! Bastian snapped in the man’s head. A startled Taven responded with thoughts of his father yelling at him for daydreaming.
Bastian hurried his workers along, ushering them into position. The strain of holding the three workers and forcing Taven’s mind to stay conscious sent biting spearheads into his temples. “Lior, just follow the others. Don’t grab anything before they do.”
He let go of the spell that linked him with Lior, letting him see through the man’s eyes and communicate with him by feel.
“Right.” Bastian took a moment to center himself—a difficult process while holding so many mental threads. “Start at the top,” he directed Jessop.
The old man gave a quick jerk of his head and gingerly pulled at a wee sheet of board. Bastian carefully cradled Taven’s mind, letting himself feel what the trapped man felt.
The space he was trapped in was musty and smelled of damp soil. Bright pricks of light scored his eyes where sunlight peeked through gaps. His skin shuddered and trembled as the rubble pressing his flesh was disturbed.
“Not that one,” Bastian whispered.
His speech was reflexive—the thought behind the words was sent directly into Jessop’s mind. “Yes. Careful…”
The ache of burning so much magic, stretching his mind so far while inflicting it with the agony of the injured men, prickled at his skin. He fought for control.
Taven’s world shuddered and slipped as a stack of planks slid off the pile, freeing him.
As the pressure faded from his body, Taven slipped away.
Bastian collapsed. “No…” Kneeling in the dirt, he stretched for Taven… and didn’t find him. Bastian prayed the man was only unconscious.
Jessop nudged his shoulder. “You ok there, mystic? Still a man to go.”
Bastian nodded. He clenched his fists and cleared his mind, reveling in the brief lapse that let his mental muscles drop the burden for just a few moments. “Samuel.”
The name grounded him, brought images of the man as Bastian had last seen him. Coarse and surly, running his small building team with a no-nonsense approach. A strong work ethic had etched lines into Samuel’s tanned face and built muscles that looked more suited to a man half his age.
Bastian muttered a word and reached for the mind that matched the im
age in his head. Samuel ached with a resignation that broke his heart—the man had already accepted his likely death.
“Jessop,” Bastian whispered.
Beside him, someone stepped forwards. The scent of fresh-cut pine, stale ink, and fresh sweat reached his nostrils. Yes, that was Jessop.
The cavalry has arrived! Need a hand?
Danil’s silent voice washed over Bastian like a cool balm, filling his body with life and energy. The razed nerves in his head calmed, easing the searing pain.
Bastian nodded, knowing Danil would see it no matter how far he was.
Closing his eyes and working purely by the sight and feel of the two men he held in his spell, Bastian put Jessop to work.
One beam came free, then another. When Jessop tugged at a third, Bastian sent a blast of control, freezing him into stillness.
Jessop carefully turned his head and worked his mouth. Bastian let him, but held the muscles from his neck down in a tight grip. “How bad?” he asked in a low voice.
“That beam,” Bastian said, just loud enough for the man and those around him to hear. “It’s holding everything. If you move it an inch…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They knew what would happen if the pile collapsed.
Danil’s consciousness slid around Bastian’s mind, carefully evaluating the situation. There’s only one way to save him, Danil sent. I’m sending in Sir Puke-a-lot.
Danil pulled a tendril of Bastian’s mind along with him, gently draping it over Jakob’s mind. Bastian had to throw up a hurried mental shield to stop Jakob’s nausea emptying his stomach.
Sorry. Despite the tension, Danil’s voice held a thread of laughter. Should have warned you about that…
“Jessop, don’t move,” Bastian called. “But when I give you the signal, get the hell out of the way!”
Jessop nodded.
Unfolding images in Jakob’s mind, Bastian showed him Samuel’s predicament.
Jakob’s face screwed up in concentration. “I’ve got this.” He blew out three fast breaths.
The pile of rubble exploded. It shot in the air, hung still for a moment, then swept off to one side, slamming against a partially collapsed wall before crashing to the ground.