by Amy Hopkins
The quick clump of feet rang, and Garrett burst in. “What the bloody hell did ye do to her?” he screeched. “Get back to yer bed, lass!”
“Fuck off!” Bette snapped. “I’ve got a druid to see.”
She shambled past him, cupping her bad arm while trying to keep it still as she walked.
“How the bloody hell did ye convince her ta see Mathias?” Garrett whispered.
Bastian shrugged. “I just told her how much we needed her.”
Garrett slid a narrowed glance Bastian’s way, then ushered him out. “Off ye go. Give the druid some warning he’s about ta be accosted by an angry woman, lad.”
Bastian waited until Bette was clear of the door. As she stopped a moment to catch her breath, he slipped past, running for Mathias’s tent.
“Ye bastard,” Bette grunted. “Why didn’t ye tell me the town was under curfew? And travel restrictions? Tahn will starve if we don’t hurry up and trade for winter.”
“Curfew?” Garrett asked. Then, realizing, he nodded. “Aye, the curfew. Very serious, that curfew. Must be keepin’ the people safe.”
Bette spared a suspicious glance his way, then continued her ambling progress to the door. By the time she stepped onto the road, Rhea had run to collect her.
Bette jerked back. “Oh, no. Not a bastard chance, I’m not havin’ no apprentice work on me!”
Rhea laughed. “I’m just here to watch and help. No magic, just fluffing pillows.” She hailed the druid who was making his way through the dark streets towards them. “Over here, Matti!”
“Matti?” Bette whispered to Garrett. “How bloody long was I in that room?”
“Bette, I could have come to you, you know,” Mathias gently admonished. “Here, don’t go too far. We can do the healing here.”
“In the middle of the bloody road?” Bette protested.
“We can go back to your room if you prefer?” He raised a slender eyebrow.
“Middle of the road is just fine,” she grunted. “Hurry up. And no dickin’ about.” She hesitated, then said, “And not too much. I don’t want the scar ta be gone, if ye understand me?”
Mathias winked and grinned as his eyes lit up, a green glow softly shining in the darkness. Bette sucked in a shuddering gasp, squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. Mathias’s eyes cleared.
He waited. Bette still stood, face puckered, straining for breath. “Hurry up,” she squeaked.
“Hurry up?” he asked casually.
“Yes!” Her eyes shot open as a rush of air left her lungs. “What’re ye waiting for?”
He shrugged. “It’s done.”
“It’s not—oh.” She flexed her arm and peeled the blood-encrusted linen shirt off it, peeking in. “Oh! Ye did a bloody good job.”
She pulled the shirt down, scrubbing at the blood staining her skin so Garrett could see a shiny knot of scar tissue protruding from the healed wound. “Ohh! That looks hideous!” she squealed happily.
“Aye,” Garrett said, smiling softly. “A true warrior’s mark, that one. Not that ye need it in me eyes, love.”
“Aww, ye wee darlin’.” Bette leaned in with her lips pursed, but Garrett jerked back.
“Would ye stop calling me that! There’s only a few inches difference between us!” he yelled.
“Ye vain prick, yer shorter than me, so yer wee. That’s how it works, ye numpty!”
Mathias bowed. “I’ll leave you two to discuss matters of height. I’m off to bed.”
Both rearick watched in shock as Rhea slipped her arm through Mathias’s, gave them a cheeky wave, and walked off into the darkness with him.
“When the bloody hell did that happen?” Garrett asked.
“Fucks me,” Bette said. “I’m not surprised, though. He’s quite tall. Ladies like that.” Garrett whirled on her, and she burst into giggles. “Yer lucky I’m no lady, me love.”
“Women!” He threw his hands up in the air and stomped back home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marcus shot to his feet when something rustled, hand once again searching for a weapon he didn’t have. There was a scrape of metal on metal, and the outer prison door swung open.
Marcus jumped up to peer out the small hatch in his cell door, but couldn’t see anything except the wall across from him.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
“Gus. Where’s the lady?” a gruff voice answered.
Be careful, Jules, Marcus thought, hoping that by some chance she was in his head. He may not be who he says he is.
“I’m over here,” Julianne said. “What are you doing down this way, Gus?” she asked cheerfully.
“Gettin’ yer ass out of the lockup. Not right what Tavich did, not right at all.”
Metal clinked again, then Marcus heard the snick of a lock opening. A creak sounded as a shadow passed the tiny window at his door.
“Thank you, Gus. Do you have all the keys there?” Julianne asked.
Gus mumbled an affirmative, and Marcus heard a jangle. A moment later, Julianne’s face appeared, grinning. “Looks like I’m saving your ass once again, dear.” Another snick, and his door swung open.
“Pretty sure this one is down to Gus,” Marcus pointed out, shaking the rearick’s hand in thanks. He watched Julianne slip the key into a third door. “Do we really have to let him out?”
“Shut your mouth, or next time you see your girlfriend naked, you’ll start thinking about your mother,” Artemis called from inside his cell.
“Artemis! You do that and I’ll have you walking around the Temple nude for a week,” Julianne snapped, yanking his door open.
“Ha! You think that would worry me?” Artemis cackled, standing to brush off his wrinkled robes.
Julianne arched an eyebrow. “No. But it wouldn’t worry Esme, either, or a few of the other older women. You’d have all their attention.”
Artemis’s face fell. “Bah. Fine. You won this round, but if you don’t keep his manners in check, don’t you complain about mine.”
“Manners be damned,” Gus said in a low voice, handing a bundle to Marcus. “If ye don’t all shut yer mouths, ye’ll be back in those cells and me with ye!”
Artemis grunted, but fell silent. Julianne winked at Marcus as he strapped his weapons back on.
“Thank you,” he mouthed.
Next time, don’t antagonize him, Julianne sent back.
Marcus bit back a reply, but Julianne grinned, already having seen the snarky comment float through his thoughts.
When we get to the Temple, she sent, make sure you’re shielded to everyone but me. Hell, even shield me if that makes you more secure.
What if you need me? Marcus thought.
I’ll give your shields a shove, Julianne replied. You’re getting really good at noticing that.
Gus led the way out of the dank, damp prison, unlocking each of the doors with one of the cluster of keys jangling from a large, rusty ring. Marcus itched to know where he had gotten it, but didn’t risk speaking aloud.
Gus held a hand up as they approached the last door. Light flickered through the window grate on this one, and when Gus thrust the key in noisily, someone cried out in alarm.
“Shut yer trap, Marrick, it’s just me,” Gus snapped.
“What are ye doin’ down there?” Marrick asked. “Bastard’s oath, Gus, yer not down there with a lass, are ye? After all the strife ye were in last time—”
Something thudded, and Marrick fell silent. Gus waggled his fingers, gesturing the others through.
Marcus peered in first, spotting Marrick unconscious in the corner with a red welt on his head. As he passed, Marcus gave a sympathetic grimace. Gus caught his look and chuckled.
“He’s had worse from his Ma after a hard night at Ophelia’s.”
Julianne shook her head with a sigh, but a small smile tugged at her lips.
Gus tipped his head to her. “Master Julianne, I don’t suppose ye could use that magic stuff ta disguise yerself?” He waggled his fingers, and Ma
rcus wondered if he had ever really seen a mystic cast before. “Not on me, mind,” he added with a shiver.
“Scared?” Marcus teased, then thought better of it when Gus nodded.
“I’ll never forget that day on the mountain. Not right, thinkin’ yer friends are bandits and not right tryin’ ta kill ‘em, either.” Gus’s bushy brow furrowed, and he chewed his whiskers. “Any rate, let’s be goin’. Just follow me, there’s an easier way to get back than the one ye know. And don’t be seen!”
“Stay close, gentlemen, and quiet,” Julianne said quietly, her eyes shifting to a solid white glow.
Gus opened the door, and a gust of wind blew in, bringing a few stray snowflakes with it.
“Jules, if we leave footprints can you mask them?” Marcus asked.
She shook her head. “Not for long. Be careful where you step.”
“If we get caught, run,” Artemis said. “I’ll cover your escape. Don’t turn back and don’t come for me.”
Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but caught Julianne’s stern nod.
They won’t hurt him, she reassured Marcus. Once we get back to the Heights and roust Donna out, we can patch things up with Tavich.
Another fluffy swirl of snowflakes gusted past as they stepped outside, and Marcus was dismayed to see the dark, hard packed dirt of Craigston speckled with white tufts and slippery patches of frozen ground.
“Go slow,” Julianne warned Gus. “We’ll need to be careful where we step.”
Gus frowned, but walked off towards the back of Craigston, his followers behind him dancing between patches of dry ground. Around them, Craigston bustled despite the late hour.
“Where are you taking us?” Julianne asked in a low voice.
Mumbling into his beard, Gus explained. “There’s a huntin’ trail out past the amphorald mine. If ye follow it, it goes way up the mountain and comes out near yer Temple.”
“And no one mentioned it to us?” Julianne asked pointedly.
Gus shrugged. “Rearick’s gotta have his secrets.”
Marcus watched a train of workers head away from the mines towards Ophelia’s bar. Skin smudged with dark dirt, and hair and beards frizzed in the crisp weather, they looked exhausted, but satisfied after a hard day’s work.
“Should’a waited until the evenin’ shift was home,” Gus muttered under his breath.
“Wozzat? Gus!” one of the workers yelled. “What ye doin’ out this late?”
“Business!” Gus yelled back tersely.
“Just because ye pay yer girlfriend for her love, don’t make it a business!” the rearick yelled back, causing hoots of laughter from those around him.
“Go fuck yerself,” Gus called, eyes darting worriedly around to the three people behind him.
“What, ye got that itch in yer ballsack again, ye cranky old bastard?”
“Shut up!” Gus yelled, nostrils flaring.
“Easy now,” Marcus said in a low voice. “We’re avoiding attention, not looking for it.”
It was too late. A gang of miners swaggered over, all clamoring to know what kind of condition might affect a man’s nether regions so badly it turned him into a dick to his friends.
“I’m just going for a fuckin’ walk! Nothin’ ta see,” Gus said. “Not unless yer wantin’ to hold me dick while I take a piss in the bushes.”
“Traitor!” The loud yell came from the direction of the jail. “The prisoners escaped! Mystics on the loose!”
“Oh, shit,” Gus muttered. “Go!” he yelled directly at Marcus. “I’ll be fine, just get her home!” He jerked his head towards Julianne, then turned to meet the crowd of rearick who watched the exchange, suspicion growing.
Marcus grabbed Julianne’s arm. He reached for Artemis, but the old man jerked back, eyes glowing. “I’ll meet you there, boy.”
Then, a deep, booming voice reverberated in his skull. Let the Master be hurt, and I’ll tie your balls to a string and make you jerk it every time you blink.
“Bitch’s oath,” Marcus muttered. “Get the fuck out of my head, you old grump!”
He tugged Julianne, and they set off running. Behind them, the sound of an explosion from deep in the mine sent up screams of fear.
“Was that real?” Marcus said, feeling the blood drain from his face.
“No,” Julianne muttered. “They won’t be fooled for long.” She cast an agonized glance over her shoulder, the lapse in concentration leading her to slip on the icy ground.
She went sprawling, and Marcus, still latched onto her arm, went with her. They skidded over a small embankment and tumbled down a hill, sharp branches slicing at their skin as they rolled over bushes and underbrush.
“Oh, shit!” Marcus gasped as they came to a stop. He looked around, barely able to see past the deep shadows. “Jules, are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” she said, voice shaking.
Marcus quickly reached out for her hand, tugging her to her feet. When she cried out in pain, he dropped it. “What is it?” he asked urgently.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just my arm. It’ll be fine.”
Marcus peered up the hill. Pinpoints of light wavered, growing brighter. “They’re coming after us,” he said. Then, a rush of fire at the top of the hill whooshed upwards, crackling trees and filling the air with smoke.
“Another illusion?” he asked.
Julianne frowned. “Yes, but…” A line of flame raced down the mountain towards them. “That’s real.”
“What?” Marcus helped her to stand, and she leaned on him as they hobbled away.
“There was a small fire. Artemis must have made it look bigger, but parts are real.” She pointed up towards the source with one hand, cradling the other across her middle. “We have to get up there, find the path Gus told us about.”
Marcus drew his sword and wrapped the other arm around Julianne. “Come on, then!”
They awkwardly made their way uphill as the fire grew. Marcus coughed, and Julianne covered her face with the edge of her robe. Ahead, screams and yells combined into an urgent plea for help to fight the rapidly growing flames as others yelled for the guard.
“They’re up the hill! Get them!” someone yelled.
“I hope that’s a trick,” Marcus rasped.
Julianne nodded, her eyes still white. Though the smoke now blew away from them and the flames seemed to be dying a little, tears streamed down her face. “Artemis has Gus hidden in Tavich’s house.”
“What?” Marcus yelped. “He’s an idiot!”
Julianne shook her head. “Genius. He’ll be able to disguise them there until the excitement dies down. Then they can sneak out.” Her face tightened, and she muttered, “If you don’t sneak out, I’ll come get you myself, you old coot.”
Marcus stopped, letting Julianne rest on a tree for a moment. They were almost at the top of the hill.
“There’s a lot of people out there, Jules.”
She sucked in a deep breath, her face slackening. Marcus was familiar with the procedure. Julianne had slipped into a trance, not one of magic, but one that centered her mind and calmed her thoughts.
“I’ve got this,” she said.
The trail they had run down was full of people. Julianne directed Marcus into the center of it. If we bump into someone, they won’t notice if there are heaps of people around, she explained.
Marcus nodded, still holding her close as they wove through rearick. Someone jostled Julianne, and she gasped in pain. When Marcus looked to see if they were noticed, it was another rearick who bore the brunt of the irritated glare.
Faces swam around them as buckets were passed and terse orders shouted just inches away from Marcus’s ears. His feet were kicked, and he tripped, body thrown about like a leaf in storm water as rearick shoved him to and fro.
Julianne pulled a little away from Marcus. With her ability to mind read, she could predict the movements of those around them, sometimes nudging a rearick out of their way by making them take a step to on
e side. As they moved forward, bodies pressed in behind them.
Marcus stayed silent, mirroring Julianne’s movements as she darted left, took two steps forward, ducked right, and stepped back to let a stocky man with a bucket lunge past.
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.”