by Amy Hopkins
“I wouldn’t go that far myself,” Charles said as he lowered himself into a chair, which creaked under his impressive weight. “But I do think many of us geriatrics have shut ourselves in for too long. I admit you have more expertise on current world matters, but damned if I’ll let you start arming my students before it’s necessary.”
“It’s long past necessary,” Danil said. “Did you hear what that woman said? And I’m twice as worried by the fact that not one—not one of us—could make it past her mental shield except Julianne.”
“You what? I must have missed that, what did you see?” Charles asked.
“Not much,” Julianne admitted. “Enough to know she’s under the sway of a very powerful mystic. Her mind is warped. Though I think the contempt she felt was real enough, there’s someone more powerful standing behind her.”
“Aldred said somewhat the same, Master.” Gunther nodded respectfully. “Seems he knew that Donna woman before she left. Said the girl he knew wouldn't break the Temple tenets like that, not if the world turned over.”
“Surely,” Melanie said, “the best thing we can do is to bunker down, close our doors and lay low.”
“And if another band of pilgrims knocks on our door?” Gunther asked. “How will we know if they’re regular mystics returning from pilgrimage, or a bunch of crazies?”
Melanie shrugged.
“You can’t mean to turn away our own people,” Julianne gasped. “Donna and her companions are mystics, remember? They’re our people. Our own! We can’t turn away every journeyman who comes back seeking refuge. Even if we had the numbers to sustain ourselves, I wouldn’t permit it.”
Melanie grimaced. “Fair enough. I didn’t know any of her lot personally, I just can’t fathom any of our people speaking like she did.” She gave a slight shudder at the memory of Donna’s words.
“Danil has a proposal.” Julianne gestured to him to present it. She didn't mention it was one he'd been working on since she'd left for Arcadia so many months ago.
Danil explained that he wanted the few mystics who had trained themselves in battle magic to pass that knowledge on to all of the teachers, who would then filter it down to the students. As it stood, only the guards and a small handful of others knew offensive magic techniques.
“I still don’t think the younger initiates should be exposed to such things,” Melanie snapped. She folded her arms, her stance mimicking the resistance in her mind.
“Melanie, they just saw a madwoman plotting the enslavement and demise of non-magicals!” Danil sat back in his seat, stretching his arms over his head. “And they all heard about the incident of the Capitol Guards infiltration while Ezekiel was here. I get the feeling if we don’t do something to get them involved, they’ll take it into their own hands. Don’t you remember what it’s like at that age?”
All eyes turned to him, no doubt remembering what he was like at that age.
“Melanie is right,” Julianne said. The other woman’s plea to keep the children out of the battle training had made Julianne think of the children who’d come to her at dinner. “The children can’t be expected to bear this burden, nor should they be saddled with the weight of it. We will adjust the junior teaching programs to introduce effective mental blocking and simple disguises a little earlier, but nothing more. Are we all in agreement?”
All heads nodded, even Danil’s. It was rare he’d come up against Julianne, even when she contradicted him. Though it often grated on her, she welcomed it now.
“I can double roster my lot so they have a session at the gates, and a session of passing on what they know.” Gunther pursed his lips, thinking. “I figure we can run that for at least a couple weeks before they start to grumble. If you’re willing to lend us some bodies to ease the workload once we’ve got a few trained up, we’ll have half the Temple up to scratch in under a month.”
“That’s another pressing issue, Master,” Charles said. “When Gunther says, ‘half the Temple’, that only makes about one hundred and forty people. Adrien might be gone, but we still only have twenty-two initiates and most of those are almost ready to graduate. If we don’t replenish our numbers soon, we may find the greater problem we face lies within our own walls.”
Heaving a sigh, Julianne leaned back. That was a problem she'd been avoiding. The once teeming Temple was now full of dusty, unused rooms, and the school wing had been reduced to a single class.
“One thing at a time,” she said. “We deal with this threat first, or at least evaluate it. I don’t want anyone off galivanting through Arcadia alone with these nutters running loose. As soon as it’s deemed safe, we’ll start sending out search groups, like we used to. No one who’s not trained in battle magic, though.”
Melanie sat up and opened her mouth, but Julianne cut her off. “No, Melanie, I won’t force anyone to learn it. I can’t really force anyone to stay in the Temple, either, but I will stress it’s highly recommended at this time.”
“What about Arcadia?” Danil asked. “Surely, we need to send a message to them. Perhaps a rearick?”
“I can do that on my way to the Madlands,” Julianne said. “I leave tomorrow.”
Silence fell for a heartbeat. Then, the protests erupted.
Julianne waved them down. “I’ll be perfectly safe, and you will function perfectly well without me. I’m far overdue for a pilgrimage of my own.” She turned to face Jonsen. “No, Arcadia was not a pilgrimage, it was a rescue mission. I didn’t have a damned moment to myself that whole time, and I’m aching for some solitude.”
Danil’s emotions prickled behind her, but he quickly suppressed them. Julianne assumed it was just worry for her safety.
“I’ve tried to convince her to stay. Believe me, she’s stubborn as a damned mule.” Danil ducked the hand that almost swatted his ear. “You're prettier than one, though.” He ducked the next blow, too.
“She’s right,” Charles said. “The Temple will function without her, however unwilling we may be to do so. Julianne has made considerable headway in making sure we can stand on our own feet after the mess she had to deal with when Selah died.”
Julianne winced. “I wouldn’t call it a mess, Charles. It was just a bit… disorganized, is all.”
Charles snorted. “That’s the understatement of the year. It took you months just to sort out his papers. No, dear, no fault of yours. The man was a pack rat, and we do appreciate the changes you’ve made. Besides, we survived just fine during your trip to Arcadia. Well, most of us. Those that weren’t moping about the halls and pining for your company.”
Julianne pointedly ignored the bright red flush creeping up Danil’s face. “Thank you, Charles. Now, do we have anything else to address?”
“How long will you be gone?” Melanie asked. “What do we do if that lot come back?”
Julianne shrugged. “What we normally do, I guess. We pull back to the safety of the Temple and close our doors until we think of something better. I don’t like it, but I also don’t want anyone starting a war with these people until I can find out more about them.”
Melanie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to try and find them, aren’t you?”
“Not exactly,” Julianne said. “But by chance, I’m headed in the direction they came from. If I happen to ferret out some information, all the better. My main mission hasn’t changed, though. I want to find Artemis, see if I can coax him back to the Heights for a bit. What little work he left behind showed him to be an expert on battle magic, and he may know more about the exact threat we’re up against if he’s in the same region.”
Melanie nodded. “Can’t say I envy your position, Julianne. I appreciate your decision regarding the young ones. Now, I imagine we all have a lot to organize before our Master’s departure. I shall see you all at dinner.”
With that, the meeting was over.
Butterflies danced in Julianne’s stomach as she contemplated the journey ahead, and the possible danger she was leaving behind. In her hea
rt, she knew she couldn’t delay this trip. No magic could foretell the future, but Julianne had something better than magic in that respect: common sense.
She needed Artemis and damned if she wouldn’t go get him, even if she had to drag him back by the toenails.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Julianne spent the rest of the day in a frenzy of preparation. There were schedules to be altered, to reduce the impact of her absence. A pile of paperwork was set aside for ‘later’ and wouldn’t wait until she got back. Bags needed packing, horses looked over, and money counted.
Though Julianne intended to travel light, she would still need clothes, a bedroll, food, water, maps, papers, and a jumble of other necessary items. She’d also need at least one nice robe and the required items to make herself presentable for her brief visit to Arcadia.
“Do I really need six pairs of socks?” she asked Margit, who was helping her pack.
“Have you forgotten what it’s like to walk in wet ones, or how long it takes wool to dry?” Margit shook her head and stuffed the extra pairs in Julianne’s pack.
Julianne’s previous forays into Irth has mostly involved traveling village to village, with no more than a night or two spent sleeping on the road between inns. A trip across the Madlands would take longer, though, and there would be no safe haven or clean bed to sleep in.
Margit dropped a gold belt into her bag. Julianne plucked it out.
“You're being ridiculous.” Margit shook her head and threw the belt back in. “You can't go out into the world, representing the Temple while looking like a hobo!”
“Margit, do you think I’m crazy?”
“I think you're devoid of any sense of style.” Margit clicked her tongue, tying up the bag’s strings and setting it on the floor next to the bed. She smoothed out the blanket and sat, close enough to put an arm around the younger woman. “I wouldn’t like you much if I didn’t. But this journey? I think you’re doing the right thing.”
“You knew Artemis best. What should I expect?”
“A fight.” Margit removed her arm and turned to look Julianne in the eyes. “You have to remember, Jules. He’s not like us. He’s… different. Don’t appeal to his better nature, and don’t think for a moment you can guilt him into coming back for the good of the people. He doesn’t give a damn about the people.”
A sliver of worry snuck through Julianne's bones. “Margit… you don’t think—”
“That he’s the leader of the New Dawn? Hah!” Margit slapped her knee, laughing. “That old codger would jump off a cliff before he took charge of an apprentice, let alone a gaggle of moon-eyed cows like that. No, he’s different, but in a way I can’t even explain.”
“Then how the hell am I supposed to get him to come back with me?” Julianne pulled at a loose blanket thread, trying to wrap her head around this strange man she’d never met.
“Make it a puzzle. A challenge, if you will. Julianne, where your drive comes from protecting the innocent, his is to find the answer. It sounds dry and heartless, and that’s because he is. Well, not heartless, but he just doesn’t understand people enough to care about them like you and me.”
“You told me he’s a good man. How can he be if he doesn’t care about what’s right, about helping people?” Julianne’s brow wrinkled.
Margit pursed her lips, thinking. Then, she touched a hand to Julianne’s head and muttered a word as her eyes turned white. Julianne’s vision blurred. When it cleared, she didn’t see the room she’d been standing in a moment ago.
She saw a man, older than her, but not ancient. He walked through the Temple halls, past a tapestry she recognized. Instead of faded and moth-eaten, it was bright and clean. The man strode around a corner, not looking up from the book he was buried in.
A young Margit approached him. “Get your head out of that, Art. You’ll miss dinner, and I know you didn’t have lunch.”
“But Megs, I think I’ve found it! I know why Queen Bethany Anne left, and I think that’s why everything changed when she did!”
“Eating first won’t make her come back, and sure as hell won’t make it so she never left. Come on.”
Margit tugged on Artemis’s arm, but he resisted. “Don’t you understand? I’ve been looking for this information for years! I can’t, I can’t stop. Not now. Just… not now.” His face was pained and as he spoke, his breathing picked up. Through Margit’s memory, Julianne could feel his panic, his worry that stopping now might make him lose it all.
“Ok, Artie. It’s ok. You sit here and read, find your answers.”
Artemis nodded blankly, his emotions receding as he backed off into a quiet corner, slid down against the wall and sank back into his book. He didn’t react to Margit’s instructions to stay but, when the vision blipped forwards a little, he did rouse enough to absentmindedly nibble on the fruit and bread she had brought from the dining hall.
“We took care of him as best we could, but we couldn’t make him stay.” Sadness touched Margit’s voice and feelings. “Oh, he could function alright as long as he remembered to eat and bathe, it’s just he wasn’t very personable. I knew he’d be happier away from here, in a place that’s quiet and lonely, but it’s hard to really understand that. Even with powers like ours.”
Julianne shook her head, wondering how in the world she would be able to get this man to help her. Then, setting her shoulders, she decided it didn’t matter. She had to, for the good of her people, so she would. She would find a way.
“That’s my girl!” Margit cuffed her under the chin, then pushed herself to her feet. “Now, you get some sleep. You need to meet your escort nice and early, and rearick don’t like to be kept waiting.”
That was true, Julianne thought with a grimace. She pulled back the bedspread and slipped underneath, determined to relish her last night on a soft mattress. After only a short meditation, she slipped into turbulent dreams.
Julianne stood at the great doors of the Temple. Her people gathered behind her, cheering and celebrating the first steps of her journey and ahead, a horse waited patiently, saddled and ready to take her to the Madlands.
Danil appeared on one side of her, Zoe on the other. “We hope you have a wonderful journey, Master, and return with the help you seek.” Zoe kissed the back of her hand and gave a gentle push.
“Master, your horse is waiting.” The kind faced rearick smiled and gestured her forwards, but Julianne's heart tore at the thought of leaving her people behind.
“Go on. We'll be fine,” Margit said over her shoulder.
Still, Julianne hesitated, poised on the top step, one foot out and a hand on the door frame for balance. She tried to ignore the feeling of wrongness, that this wasn't what she was meant to be doing.
“Where are my bags?” Julianne asked. A tumble of butterflies writhed in her stomach, and she wracked her mind for anything she may have forgotten.
“On the horse,” Danil said. “Everything’s ready.”
Julianne looked into his clear, blue eyes. Her heart reached out to him, but she didn’t speak.
“You’re nervous,” he said, smiling. “Here. I picked these this morning. Your favorite color, for luck.” He plucked a pretty purple flower from his pocket and tucked it behind her ear.
Julianne had never seen one like it before, with its deep throat and curled tips. “Where did you find it?” she asked.
Danil laughed. “A pretty little sparrow came to my window this morning. I think it was gathering pretties for a nest, and it left me this. As soon as I saw it, I knew you’d love it.”
Ice slammed into Julianne’s chest and her eyes widened. This wasn’t her dream. Never, in all the years she had known him, had she dreamed of Danil as anything but what he was: blind. Her Danil could not have ‘seen’ the sparrow, or the flower.
Gasping, she squeezed her eyes tight shut. Forming a wall of stone, she shoved, shattering the small weight that pressed against her mind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Julianne ope
ned her eyes, and almost screamed. She was perched on her windowsill, one foot out and ready to take a single step that would send her plummeting onto the stones below. She spun, jumping down onto the floor as her attackers still stood, dazed after being shoved so brutally from her mind.
Her movement shocked them awake. Adrenaline pumping, she knew her mind wasn’t calm enough for a calculated attack. It didn’t have to be. Their defenses were down and even as she pushed an alarm to every mystic in the Temple, she thrust into the mind of the first man.
Normally, mind control was a delicate thing. You didn’t want to cause damage, or leave a lasting impression.
Not this time.
Julianne twisted and hammered, severing connections and pulling out virtual wires. The man screamed, his shriek dying down to a gurgled stammer as he fell to the floor convulsing.
His companions looked on in horror until one turned to Julianne. Satisfied her first victim wouldn’t be joining the fight again, she went to work on the next, piercing a soft spot in his mind, his mental shield warped by terror.
She fed into it, building paranoia onto the horror of his comrade’s death, pulling in the dark of the night and his suspenseful trek through the sleeping Temple. His fear grew, swallowing him.
A noise outside was the final catalyst and he shoved past Julianne, knocking her down as he ran past. Desperate to escape whatever monster he’d helped her create in his mind, he cast himself out the window, his screams ending with a sickening crunch and silence.
Julianne threw her mind at her final attacker, but he’d had time to erect his defenses. He didn't have the impenetrable shield Donna used, but Julianne had burned through a massive amount of energy dealing with his friends.
“Your tricks won’t work on me, bitch,” he laughed.
“Please…” Julianne took a step backwards, raising her hands.
He moved closer, his greasy smile growing as he watched her plead.