Julianne did as he suggested, handing over her reins and settling into her saddle. The light meditation soon turned into a deeper one, and her eyelids drooped until only a slit of light showed beneath them. Twice, Danil nudged her gently as they closed just a little too far.
When they finally stopped, it was all Julianne could do to pull herself down to the ground and stumble into the tent Bette quickly erected for them. With an appreciation only gained by absolute fatigue, Julianne collapsed onto her thin mattress and finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She woke the next morning with a crick in her back. Rubbing sleep-gritted eyes, she crawled out of the tent to find Garrett distributing oat biscuits for breakfast.
“Here, lass. We thought ye might be needing the extra sleep, so I filled yer water bag while ye slept. We’re about to be off, though, so ye’d best get a wriggle on.”
“Thanks, Garrett.” She took a long swallow and washed the cold water around her fuzzy mouth. She’d missed out on a chance to change and wash in the trickling stream she could hear nearby, but there was no use dwelling on that.
“Jules!” Marcus trotted over when he saw her. He bent close, examining her face carefully. “That bruise on your face is healing well. How’s that bump?” Gentle fingers touched her scalp as he felt for it, his touch somehow tender, yet clinical.
“I feel fine, Marcus.” She mustered up a smile and realized she did, indeed, feel fine. Until he prodded the tender lump, anyway. “Ow! You pig-fingered bastard, it’s not going to get better if you poke at it like that!”
“Sorry.” He gave her a chagrined look. “Are you ok to ride out? I don’t feel safe waiting in one spot for too long after sunrise.”
Julianne nodded. They quickly tidied up the campsite, Marcus obliterating any sign they’d been there. Julianne pulled herself up onto Cloud Dancer’s back and waited as Garrett finished loading his things.
A cool breeze tickled Julianne’s arms and sent the hairs on her neck stiff. The sounds of the forest lulled, a momentary break in the rustling leaves and singing birds, a speck of time when everyone was still.
The silence was shattered by a scream. High and afraid, it broke through the party and made the horses shudder and dance. It cut off with a thud.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The scream pierced the air again, this time sounding of pain and desperation. “Over there!” Marcus yelled. They forced their horses through shrubbery and fallen branches and kicked them up a bare rock face.
There, on the ground by a cliff face that stretched to over half the height of the ancient trees, lay a woman. Tears streamed down her face as she cowered over a twisted leg. Julianne blanched at the sight of white bone jutting past blood and flesh. The girl flinched at their presence, then moaned again as pain shook her core.
“Is she…” Bette began.
“A remnant.” Garrett spat on the ground and turned away.
“Ye canna just leave her there, ye beast.”
“Fine!” Garrett turned and swung his sword, almost cleaving Danil in two as the mystic jumped between the girl and the weapon intended for her. She choked mid-shriek and whimpered, eyes wide as she stared at the people around her. “What the bloody hell are ye doing ye blind fool?”
“Please,” Danil gasped. “Let me try to reach her.”
Garrett gripped his weapon so tight his knuckles went white. Then he gave it a shake and lowered it. “Ye damned fool.” He turned away and headed in the direction of the path they’d left.
“Danil, you can’t save her.” Marcus took Danil’s shoulder and gave it a shake. “Look at that leg, she’ll never survive an injury like that. Not out here.”
“I have to try, if only to give her a comfortable end.” Danil turned his head in Julianne’s direction. “Help me, Jules. Please, help me.”
“Help me.”
All eyes turned to the girl on the ground. Garrett spat again. “The wretches don’t just speak. They think and they plan, too. Not like us, but enough to set a damn trap by shoving one of their own off a mountain.” He eyed the cliff wall and the trees with distrust.
“Garrett’s not wrong,” Marcus said. He shifted, keeping a close eye on their surroundings. “Whatever you have to do, do it fast. Then, we go.”
Julianne reached into Danil’s mind. He was cut to the bone at the sight of the almost-human. Her bedraggled hair, crooked teeth and tear-swollen eyes had touched something in him. The certainty of her death weighed heavily on him, and he craved to ease her suffering before that happened if he could.
“Do it,” she said. If it was a trap, she assumed, it would have already snapped closed. If Danil even had the smallest chance of reaching the remnant, so close to human and yet not, she had to know.
Danil pushed Julianne away as he prepared to try and direct his magic at the remnant. His usual spells used for seeing were released and his eyes cleared. The girl heaved and let out another yell, keening to the sky and gnashing her teeth, beside herself with pain. Julianne held her breath.
If anyone could do it, it would be Danil. His reliance on mind-reading to live his day to day life had given him unbeatable stamina and skill at penetrating difficult minds. Though Julianne was stronger as a whole, and more skilled, his single-minded practice was born of necessity and this gave him the edge.
His own mind-control skills were weak, but if he could link with the remnant, Julianne could use that as a conduit. Then, she would be able to twist the girl’s comprehension of pain and give her a degree of comfort and peace before she left the world.
Danil’s eyes turned white. Julianne watched as they fluttered. His knees bent and his back arched, then he flopped to the ground.
“Danil!” she screamed. “Danil, what is it?” She dove into his head and found only pain, hunger and fire. Teeth snapped at her and claws raked at her face and she cut the connection abruptly. Her face stung with scratches that didn’t exist.
“Stop it, stop her!” Julianne desperately pointed at the girl, who lay writhing and gasping. Marcus walked over and raised his sword.
The remnant flinched back from the weapon, panting. Then, just before the blade sliced down, she jerked upright, baring the white, dirt-streaked skin of her throat.
With a single strike, he took her life. Both girl and mystic fell into stillness.
“Bitch and Bastard, Jules. Is he ok?”
“He’s been… infected. Something is wrong with his mind,” Bastian gasped. “It’s like… like he’s one of them.” The boy's voice shook, and his pale skin betrayed the fear he couldn’t voice.
Julianne pulled him to her in a fierce hug as Danil lay prone on the ground before her. “It’ll be ok, Bastian. He’ll be ok. He has to be…”
Julianne swallowed and braced herself. She tried to broach Danil’s mind again. A growling wolf barred her way, baring its teeth when she tried to press past. Fear clutched her stomach. Noting the sensation, she took a step back.
Breathe, she told herself. There’s an answer to this. There’s always an answer. We just have to find it. Right now, she didn’t know what that answer was. Danil was sick, but she would find a way to heal him. For now, they needed to find a way to safety.
“He needs rest,” she said, words now calm. “There has to be somewhere safe we can go.”
“We can’t stop here.” Marcus stood, face grim. “The noise will have the bigger packs headed this way. We need to leave, now.”
As if to prove his point, a hollow war cry echoed through the valley. Marcus and Bastian lifted Danil onto Julianne’s horse, where she cradled his lax body. Garrett, who had returned at hearing her cries for help, led her horse as Danil had just a day before.
The somber procession made their way back down the embankment and set off to continue their journey.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Danil roused twice during the day’s travel, flailing his arms as though he was falling and once, lifting his head to look Julianne in the eyes.
“Danil?” she whispered, hope welling in her chest.
He bared his teeth, then sank back into unconsciousness.
“You dick bag,” she muttered. “If you don’t get through this, I’ll never forgive you.” She had to believe he would recover. If he didn’t, she would never forgive herself.
They pressed on until late into the night, trying to put as much distance between them and the howling gang of remnant they’d heard earlier in the day. When they finally stumbled into a small clearing, the only preparation made was to designate a guard rotation, roll out sleeping mats, and collapse onto them.
Julianne laid Danil down with the help of the others, then settled in next to him. His breathing was steady and even, his eyes closed as if in a restful sleep. She hesitantly reached out to him with her mind. Before making contact, she withdrew.
Whatever was going on in his mind, she hadn’t been able to push past it. He seemed peaceful and the quiet rest would probably help. Withdrawing, she let her eyes close against the flickering shadows beneath the bright moon.
A rough hand shook her awake, then pressed her mouth. Julianne’s eyes shot open to see Bette leaning over her, shaking her head frantically. Julianne nodded and Bette carefully removed her hand.
What is it? She projected into the rearick’s mind. Bette couldn’t send an answer back, but it was clear in her thoughts. Garrett had woken her, and she’d immediately realized why. Though the sky had just begun to show streaks of vibrant pink and orange, the forest was silent. No birds, no chattering squirrels. A twig had snapped and Garrett had nodded knowingly.
Someone was nearby, and they were doing their best to hide it.
Julianne rose, careful not to disturb the leaves and sticks around her. Her eyes adjusted to the growing light quickly and she saw that she, Bette, Bastian, and Danil were alone. Marcus and Garrett were concealed in a tree, she quickly read in Bastian’s mind.
They think it’s a remnant party, Bastian sent. They’re not sure how many there are, and want to surprise them. A quick image of Garrett and Marcus scaling nearby trees let Julianne know where they were.
No, don’t look for them, she sent to Bastian, who’d reflexively tipped his head up. She reached down slowly to grasp her walking staff, hoping the movement would be hidden by the shadows. Bastian, she knew, was armed with a small magitech device, courtesy of Marcus. A brief memory of their last fight crossed her mind.
I’ve got this, Marcus showed me some moves while you slept last night. Bastian’s mental projection was a confusing mix of fear, doubt, and resolute confidence.
She nodded grimly, eyes searching the forest for signs of movement. When it came, it was almost too late.
“Attack!” The shout went up as a handful of remnant burst into their camp simultaneously. Two went for Bastian, and one ran full tilt at Julianne.
She sprung to her feet, staff gripped across her body with both hands. A club slashed at her. The shock of the impact against her weapon vibrated through her arms.
“Die, whore!” the remnant screamed at her as a shadowed figure dropped from the sky behind it. Marcus shot the beast and its chest exploded, a cloud of flesh and stringy muscle erupting behind it.
“Behind you!” Julianne shouted.
Marcus spun just in time to parry a blow from another remnant. Metal clanged against metal again and again as Marcus tried to maneuver his weapon to get a blast in. Shouts from the other side of the camp drew her eyes to Bette in silent combat with another. The rearick was fast and precise, and she was winning.
Garrett, however, was not. Julianne sprinted over and swung her staff, the double-handed strike lashing out like a batting game that children played. Instead of a ball, her stick connected with spinal bones. The remnant collapsed, gurgling.
Help. Bastian’s sharp, mental cry pierced Julianne’s consciousness. She spun to find him across the camp in a defensive stance, waving his knife at two remnant while in his other hand, he frantically clicked the whirring magitech device. Danil lay at his feet, still and defenseless.
One of the remnant lunged forward at Bastian just as his weapon charged enough to send out a blast. The remnant twisted at the impact, but ignored the gush of blood as its shoulder disappeared, leaving one arm hanging limply by a few tendons.
They wrestled and, with Danil’s defender otherwise occupied, the second remnant pounced on the unconscious mystic, arm raised to smash his head with a rock.
Time froze. Across the clearing, the rearick launched simultaneous blows as their opponents fell. Marcus had his weapon pointed, tip glowing as he prepared to fire on an enemy. All of them were too far away to help. Just like Julianne.
She reacted without thought, slamming her mind into Danil’s attacker with every bit of force and focus she possessed. Sights and smells overwhelmed her as she plummeted through. Wolves gnashing teeth. Foxes rutting under moonlight. Fish gasping, dying as they drowned in the air.
Master! Bastian sent the strained cry soaked with the heady scent of bread, the taste of sweet elixir, and the feel of worn parchment. Images of stone walls and thick tapestries warred with the urge to bite, scratch, and mate.
The figure of Bethany Anne rose like a cross stitched goddess, the image from a hanging in the Temple entryway.
Julianne wrenched herself free of the dizzying images in the remnant’s mind, doing as much damage as she could in the process. When her eyes cleared again, the figure over Danil wobbled. The rock dropped to one side, and the remnant collapsed only a moment before Bastian’s knife plunged into its back.
Thank… Julianne’s sending went unfinished as darkness closed over her for the second time since leaving the Temple.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Marcus took the entire night shift on his own. He knew it was a stupid move—a twist of pain drove that thought home as he shifted and fresh blood seeped through the bandage Bette had bound his chest with earlier.
The fight ran through his mind over and over. As guilty as he felt for leaving Danil at risk, he knew that if he’d stayed close, Julianne or Bastian could just as easily have been hurt. The thought of Julianne falling into a stupor like Danil almost brought him to tears.
A twig snapped beside him and he spun, weapon ready.
“Settle down, lad,” Bette admonished. “I just came out to see if you’d slept yet. By the shadows on yer face, I’m guessing not.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. Too jumpy from the fight.” He forced a grin.
“Aye, that’s a bullshit excuse if ever I heard one. You’ve got skills like a veteran, but yer still carrying the ego of a young one.” Bette shook her head when Marcus tried to argue. “Don’t bloody say ye don’t. I can see it on yer face.”
“It’s not ego. I let two of our party members get hurt.”
“You let them?” Bette raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Ye weren’t hired on, lad, not by them. Yer only here as backup—our backup. If anything, it’s me and Garrett that deserve a tongue lashing for letting the rest of ye down.”
“But I’ve fought here, I know these monsters,” Marcus hissed.
“Aye. And we know ‘em, too. Oh, not like yerself, but enough to not let a bloody fiasco like that happen.”
Marcus leaned back with a deep sigh, wincing as the breath caught in his pained side. “You’re right. It’s nobody’s fault, and I’m an idiot for thinking it’s mine.”
She grinned broadly. “Now, give me a peek at those bandages. Ye need to thread it up, I’ll bet.” The grin fell away when she saw the soaked cloth. “Aye, lad. Ye need to get this seen to. How long until we hit the other side of this mess?”
Marcus grunted as Bette gently examined the area. “In our state, we’ll be lucky to hit a village by nightfall. We’d be out of the hot zone now, if I hadn’t been so worried about Danil.”
Bette cursed. “Well, we can get to a safe place and clean it up, and I’ll have a shot at stitching it meself, if yer willin’. I can’t say I’m much of a seamstress, but I’ll wa
ger I’m better than Garrett.”
“I heard that!” Garrett’s muffled protest was soon joined by the man himself. “It’s not polite, talkin’ about a man’s sewin’ skills behind ‘is back. Even if it is true.”
“Out with ye, rearick. The lad don’t be needin’ any of yer sass.” Bette shooed Garrett away. “Go and find him somethin’ to eat. The poor wee thing’s been up all night, look at the state of ‘im!”
“Stubborn. All the young ones are,” Garrett grumbled as he wandered off.
“You know I'm older than you, right?” Marcus called to his retreating back.
Once Bette had rebound his wound, Marcus went to sit by Julianne’s side. He’d spent much of the night sitting on a fallen log, watching over her, willing her to wake up. When she’d collapsed, mumbling softly, his heart had almost burst.
“Come on, Jules. You’re strong. You can get over this, I know you can.”
“Marcus?” Julianne’s dry mouth stifled the soft word. She worked her tongue, then tried again. “Marcus?”
“Julianne!” Soft hands cupped her head. “You’re ok? Can you see?”
Julianne nodded. “I feel… ok, actually. What happened? My memory of last night is a bit spotty.”
She tried to force her mind back to before she’d collapsed. The remnant, his mind feral and animalistic. Before that, her desperate bid to save— “Danil! Is he alive?” Fear clutched at her chest, making it difficult to breathe.
“He’s fine, Jules. Hush.” Marcus laid a hand on her, but she threw it off and sat up. “He hasn’t woken yet, but you killed the remnant before it could lay a hand on Danil.”
She squinted, her mind reaching for something forgotten. Then Julianne scrambled to her feet. “Bastian!” she called, loud and urgent.
Bastian shot up from his bedroll. “Yes, Master?”
Julianne strode towards Danil, still lying in the same spot she’d left him. A dark stain on the grass by his head fueled the excitement in her breast. “Bastian, you sent to me while I was attacking the remnant. Why did you send what you did?”
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