by Amy Hopkins
Marcus slammed his head forward. Cartilage crunched, and the remnant howled. "That’s the problem. He needs to stop trying."
Julianne jabbed the butt of her staff into the ribs of a remnant and her target coughed and gasped. A second thrust landed higher and Julianne groaned.
“Ugh. This bastard just got brain on my staff. Now I’m going to have to find somewhere to wash it.” She shook the gobbets of flesh away, then ducked a flailing arm.
Marcus swung his sword and his opponent crumpled to the ground. Its head rolled away into the bushes.
“I’m just saying…” he continued, leaning one hand against a tree, “the only thing Garrett’s cooking is doing is clearing the entire valley of anyone with a sense of smell.”
Julianne smacked a remnant in the back with the head of her staff, then spun to clip the other in the jaw.
"Speaking of helping," she growled. “Are you just going to stand there all day?"
"You seem to have this in hand," he said, not moving. "I didn't want to cramp your style."
Julianne let out a grunt of frustration and Marcus was sure he heard her mutter something rude under her breath. He hoped it was just rude—he took heart from the fact her eyes didn’t change color when she said it.
He didn't move, mesmerized by the graceful motions of her arms as she dropped her staff, drew the twin daggers, and leaned backward to avoid a spear thrust.
“Next time I'll leave you back at the campsite to cook dinner," she said. "Danil’s getting better at fighting, but if he doesn’t pull his weight against the beasts he’ll at least wash my boots for me afterward."
“Sounds like Polly has him well-trained." Marcus snorted.
He was rewarded with a furious glare "Really?"
Marcus backpedaled. "I mean… He’s trained to…to look after leather properly.” He grinned nervously. “You know how boots get when you don’t clean them right. Right?"
Julianne was silent, but he thought she was attacking with more force than necessary. She rammed her blade into the throat of one remnant and spun to kick the other in the midriff. As it stumbled back she continued her momentum and swept out a leg. She hooked her foot around the remnant’s ankles and it tumbled to the ground. Julianne stood over it, panting for breath.
"I'll leave my boots outside the tent for you," she told Marcus with a glare. "And my robes. And my staff, too. And you know how much I hate it when my staff hasn't been properly scrubbed."
Julianne stomped away, ignoring the remnant who jumped back to its feet in a rage. By the time the beast had regained its bearings Marcus was the only one left in the clearing.
He sighed. "I deserved that," he told the remnant. "Really, I did. Unfortunately, you're going to suffer a lot more for it than I am."
A minute later Marcus strode back toward the campsite. A spray of fresh blood decorated his sleeve and he had a satisfied smile sat on his lips.
He ran his eyes over the four people sitting by the glow of the campfire. Julianne had already shed her robe and dumped it by one of the simple tents next to her boots and staff.
Julianne noticed his glance and raised an eyebrow as if daring him to sit down.
“I’d best get those clothes clean, hey?” He coughed awkwardly. “Before the blood gets dry and crusty.”
“Sensible idea,” Julianne said with a grin.
Marcus sighed dramatically and clomped over to the piled mess. He bundled everything into his arms and disappeared in the direction of the ruined village.
“Should he be headed that way alone?” Danil asked.
Garrett snorted. “Aye. He’s not a wailin’ child—”
Something thwacked him in the back of the head and he scurried to his feet to see what had attacked him. When another slap stung his cheek, he spun back to Danil.
Danil shrugged and pointed at Julianne. Her white eyes were easy to see in the darkness.
Garrett opened his mouth angrily, only to have a sock stuffed in it. Not a clean sock, either. He coughed and gagged, trying to use his fingers to dislodge the cloth. As he swiped at his mouth, the eerie sensation of feeling an object with one part of his body but not the other made him dizzy.
He turned beseeching eyes to Julianne.
All right, I’ll bloody behave meself, he thought, trying to form the words clearly in his mind.
The suffocating sensation vanished immediately. Garrett sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring in anger.
“I’m—”
All it took was a raised eyebrow from Julianne to deflate him. “I’m…thinkin’ I might go help the lad wi’ the cleanin’,” he mumbled.
As Garrett stomped off, he swore he could still taste the lingering flavor of old sock in his mouth.
—
“Who’s there?” Marcus called when he heard boots crunch on the dirt road. He gripped the wet staff in both hands.
“Steady on, lad,” Garrett said. “I just came ta see if ye needed a hand.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “You want to help me wash Julianne’s stuff?”
The rearick nodded ruefully.
Marcus’s eyes bulged, then a laugh bubbled up. “You did something to piss her off, didn’t you?”
Garrett snarled and picked up a boot. He grabbed a piece of Julianne’s robe that Marcus had soaking in a horse trough and started rubbing grime off the leather.
They worked in a companionable silence for a while, scrubbing and dunking, then changed the dirty water for a final rinse.
“I’m bein’ an arsehole,” Garrett finally sighed. “I’m just on edge, ye ken?”
“I know,” Marcus said. “I mean, come on… demon monsters from the stars? Tiny villages at the mercy of hordes of remnant?”
Garrett dropped the boot he was holding and looked up in surprise. “What? No, lad. I’m just fidgety because it’s been a whole week since me lady tended me nethers!”
“Your what?” Marcus choked.
“Me nethers!” Garrett grabbed his crotch for emphasis. “A well-endowed rearick like meself has considerable needs! Me balls are so heavy they’re damn near draggin’ on the ground!”
“That’s because your legs end at your knees instead of your ankles,” Marcus replied. “Your ass brushes the ground when you walk, too.”
“Oh, that’s low…” Garrett said. He flicked his hand in the water, sending a spray toward Marcus.
“Garrett! This is my last clean shirt.” Marcus shook the water off with a scowl.
Garrett’s face fell. “Ach, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean ta be an arsehole about it. I only came over ta—”
He yelped as Marcus tackled him, his momentum propelling them both into the trough. Garrett gasped as the chill soaked through to his bones.
“Ye fuckin’ bastard!" he wheezed.
Marcus rolled out of the trough and onto the ground, barely managing to hold himself up on all fours since he was laughing hysterically. Garrett struggled, unable to get purchase on the sides. A boot was jammed in his ass cheek and each time he tried to roll himself over, his only reward was a face full of water.
Eventually he stopped trying. “Get me the fuck out of here.”
Marcus staggered to his feet and offered a hand. He helped Garrett out and steadied the rearick as he removed his boot and tipped a thin stream of water onto the ground.
“Sorry,” Marcus said as Garrett shoved his foot back into it with a noisy squelch. “I couldn’t resist. You looked so sad when you thought I was angry with you!”
“Aye, well. Been a bit of a crotchety old bastard, haven’t I? I deserve a good thrashin’. Or a splashin’.”
“What has got you so pissed?” Marcus asked, serious. “And don’t lie—I know it’s not just that you miss Bette.”
Garrett shrugged. “It’s like ye said. Beasts from the sky, and Bitch knows what’s happenin’ ta the people wi’out our protection. I feel like I shoulda been pushin’ ta come out here earlier, but we had our hands full in Tahn with that bloody rift…”
Garrett furrowed his brow, then nodded slowly. “Aye, I think I do. Bloody useless thing ta be dwellin’ on, innit?”
“Useless is right,” Marcus said. “We’re here now—let’s give those red bastards a run for their money while we are.”
Garrett gave a resolute nod, then flung his head to the side and smacked himself in the head. “Water in me earhole,” he explained, seeing Marcus’s bewildered expression.
“If you thump the Skrima as hard as you just hit yourself in the head I won’t need to lift a finger,” Marcus pointed out.
“Can’t get the water out unless I dislodge the rocks first!” Garrett chuckled.
CHAPTER FOUR
Polly carefully packed away the wooden bowls they had used for breakfast and drew the drawstring of her bag tight. Although Julianne had told her she wasn’t responsible for menial duties like packing up the campsite and cleaning up after meals, Polly felt a sense of satisfaction in tidying up and leaving a campsite looking as though they’d never been there.
“Polly, do you have the map?” Julianne called.
Reaching deep into a saddlebag, Polly groped through the contents until her fingers brushed paper. She pulled it out and smoothed the creases before passing it to Julianne.
“This is the route we’re taking?” Julianne asked dubiously, following one of the lines with a finger. “Why are we skipping that little village, Sweetwater?”
Polly leaned over the map to compare it to what Tansy had told her.
“That shadowed area along here?” Polly pointed to the section she was talking about. “It’s marshland—really dense and boggy. Tansy said the troupe tried to pass it once and they almost lost two ponies. We’d have to backtrack along this road, then loop around. That’ll lose us days of traveling.”
“I see,” Julianne said. “Once we’ve headed through Kells up to Anrock, we can come back this way?”
Polly nodded. “That’s the route Tansy said would be fastest.”
“I don’t like leaving that nearby town vulnerable while we traipse the countryside,” Marcus said from nearby. “Jules, are you sure this is the right choice?”
Julianne nodded. “We have to weigh the needs of the many against those of the few. Besides, what if we get there and it’s been abandoned too?” She shrugged.
“We could split up,” Danil suggested. “Polly and I could go to the closer location while you guys travel ahead.”
Polly slapped him. “Are you stupid?"
“What?” Danil rubbed his arm.
“Haven’t you ever read an adventure tale? When a party splits up everyone dies. Well, not the hero, but I’m damn sure that’s not you.” Polly crossed her arms and gave a decisive nod.
“I’m not the hero?” Danil pulled a face like a wounded puppy.
Polly's heart melted a little but she didn’t give in. “You are to me, but let’s face it…you’re up against the mighty Julianne. If only one of us survives it’d better be her, right?” Polly flashed Julianne a quick grin and the Master Mystic stifled her own.
“I’m not the damn hero?” Danil muttered. “All this time I thought—”
“Polly’s right,” Marcus broke in. “We’ll be safer if we stick together.”
Polly breathed a sigh of relief. As bad as she felt about leaving a small town to struggle along without them for a while longer, she’d seen enough on their journey to know that the world had changed.
Remnant hordes moving en masse, the threat of alien monsters. Even the bandits had abandoned the roads, unwilling to take the risk against the threats that seemed to pour from every direction.
Julianne shrugged. “I’m with Polly. Besides, if what Tansy said about the locations is correct, it will take weeks for you two with catch up to us. We need you.”
Danil turned a beseeching gaze on Garrett.
“Don’t look at me, lad. I’m just the axe-swinger.”
“Why are you so eager to split up anyway?” Polly asked, frowning. He hadn’t mentioned wanting to leave the others earlier.
Danil pouted. “You have no idea what’s in Sweetwater, do you?”
He was met with blank stares. It was the wounded expression on his face that gave Polly an inkling of what he was thinking.
“Danil, this Sweetwater place doesn’t happen to make its own booze, does it?" she asked dryly.
A grin spread across his face. “Jakob wagered their mead was even better than elixir. We all know that can’t be true, so I need to get some and try it.”
A chorus of groans surrounded him. “You’d risk our lives—and the people waiting for us—for a drink?” Julianne asked.
Danil shrugged. “I wouldn’t leave anyone hanging. I mean, if we went there first we’d still be saving people, right?”
Julianne’s eyes flashed white. Polly didn’t see the exchange between her and Danil, but he colored with shame and dropped his head. He kicked a clump of dirt with his toe, but when he looked up his expression was a little brighter.
“So it’s settled?” Julianne asked.
Danil nodded happily.
“Let’s move. We’ve wasted enough time in an empty village. Let’s go find some someone who needs saving.” Julianne walked toward the horses.
Polly ran to catch up with her. “What did you say to him?" she asked. “I haven’t seen Danil change his mind that fast in…well, ever!”
Julianne snorted as she checked the straps on her saddle. “He didn’t change his mind.”
“What do you mean?” Polly checked her horse, then easily swung onto its back.
“Before we left Francis was running some calculations, trying to figure out where the other portals were. He thought if we knew which direction the remnant were coming from it’d give us a clue.” Julianne mounted her horse and gave it a gentle pat on the neck.
“They’re coming from Anrock, aren’t they?” Polly asked quietly.
Julianne nodded. “In his eagerness to avoid riding straight into a portal he hadn’t put two and two together. If the portal is near Anrock, its people are in the most danger.”
Polly’s heart sank, and not just at the prospect of Anrock being demolished by the time they got there. The only reason she hadn’t spent the entire trip shaking in her boots was that she’d put all thoughts of another rift out of her head.
She thought about the silent conversation she’d watched. “What else did you say to him? Danil brightened up at the end.”
Julianne grinned. “I bet him that I would punch a Skrim in the face before we got back to Tahn.”
Polly’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “He didn’t bet against you, did he?”
Julianne nodded and Polly laughed. “You would think he’d lost enough money doing that. Never bet against the mighty Julianne!”
Lifted by the mystic’s confidence, Polly kicked her horse and set off on the trail to Kells, determined that if Julianne really did punch a Skrim in the nose she would damn well do it too.
CHAPTER FIVE
“No, don’t stir it like that!” Annie grabbed the spoon that was stirring a pot all by itself. “It has to scrape the bottom or it’ll burn. Haven’t you ever cooked before?”
Tamara raised a slender eyebrow. “No, I have not.”
The Arcadian noblewoman really hadn’t. At her manor there had been servants to do all that. Even since the revolution, during which her husband—idiot that he was—had sided with Adrien and lost everything, Tamara herself had been taken in by her family.
Oh, she could have helped manage the household. Bitch knew her mother, abandoned by her staff, could have done with the help. Tamara had rarely been home, though. She’d spent her days using every bit of magic she had to try and rebuild the mess that Adrien had caused.
“Scrape the bottom,” she repeated. Tamara’s eyes turned black and she waved her hand, this time applying just a touch of downward pressure on the spoon.
&
nbsp; “Can’t see why you don’t just use your hands,” Annie grumbled.
Tamara smiled. “If I’m going to teach physical magic to young students I need to keep my skills up to date. Besides, if my hands are free I can knit.”
Annie eyed the pile of wool in Tamara’s lap and grunted. “You’ll be waiting a good while before that school is up and running. Won’t happen while the world is all upside down like it is.”
Tamara laughed. “That’s exactly when schools are most needed. Keep the kids out of the way while the grown-ups do what they must to keep them safe. If my experience in Arcadia was anything to go by, giving children just a little bit of knowledge can be a powerful weapon in itself.”
Annie peered into the pot of stew. “Looks like you’ve got the hang of it. If you can manage not to burn it, I’ll go see to Angelica.”
Tamara shuddered inside. After three weeks on the road with the insufferable woman, she’d rather scrub a latrine than pay her a visit.
“I saw that look.” Annie scowled. “The woman is a simpering ninny, but she’s useful. Try not to scare her away just yet?”
Tamara nodded, chagrined. “Of course, Annie.”
The older woman stepped outside and closed the door behind her as Tamara wondered just how exactly Annie had come to wield so much authority over the two Arcadian noblewomen.
When they had arrived in Tahn and found the school initiative dissolved and the town preparing for battle, the Arcadian entourage had immediately made plans to return home. That had been weeks ago.
Instead of leaving, Tamara had been persuaded to stay at Annie’s and help fortify the town, as well as provide food and shelter for the refugees pouring in from smaller settlements.
Angelica had been tasked with looking after the smaller children. She’d opened a crèche, teaching the young ones their letters and entertaining the babies. As irritating as the woman might be, she did have a knack for calming frightened babies.
Angelica’s own children had adjusted less well. David and James had been raised as most Arcadian children were; well, the children of a rich and respected noble anyway. Spoiled and waited on hand and foot, the twin brothers had been shocked at the small rural village and even more flabbergasted when they had realized they would be expected to work for their keep.