Julianne nodded, accepting his logic. Sleeping out with the rearick, the hired guards from their homeland, would at least stop her heart from jumping every time Harlon rolled over. “Thanks.” She gave Marcus a gentle shove and sent him back to bed.
Julianne scowled at Harlon. She knew it wasn’t his fault—it was a side-effect of the mind control he’d been under. When released from the spell, he and a small percentage of the other affected villagers had suffered side effects, things like raging migraines and night terrors.
Harlon was Annie's son, and Julianne felt she owed it to the old woman to help as much as she could. After defeating the New Dawn, Annie had insisted on putting them up, giving them a place to stay.
This was the sixth night in a row that Harlon had woken screaming. It didn’t seem to be getting any better. Again and again, Julianne and everyone else in the small, crowded cottage was pulled from their slumber during the night by the man’s screams. Her heart burned with sympathy, but even a mystic as powerful as Julianne had her limits.
Julianne glanced out the tiny window. The moon was almost full and hung low in the sky, painting white ripples on the barren field outside. It would need to be planted soon, before they missed the season. She chewed her lip as the thought of what lay ahead weighed on her mind.
Julianne rolled her shoulders and made to leave, but paused. She looked back, then tucked a corner of Harlon’s blanket under his chin. After all, it was cold tonight.
Chapter Two
Annie pursed her lips as she laid the table for breakfast. Hands on hips, she stepped back to admire the pristine gingham tablecloth, the neatly placed condiments and the pretty flowers poking out of a little vase in the middle.
“Best enjoy it while it’s clean,” she mumbled. “Because it won’t be like it for long.”
Harlon shuffled in, his dirty blonde hair matted on one side. “Morning, Ma.”
“Pick your feet up, son, and stop dragging your ass about like it weighs too much. I know you're tired, but that's no excuse to walk like a worm-riddled dog.” She softened her words with a smile and tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Bring out the hot food, will you?”
She stood by the table, mistress of her domain, and braced for the influx of people.
“Aye, what a bonnie sight ye are this mornin’, Annie!” Garrett gave her a cheeky grin as he stomped straight past her, into the kitchen where he loaded his arms full of plates.
“Don't you drop those, rearick,” Annie admonished. The stocky rearick was the shortest man she had ever seen, but he was strong as an ox. An ox in a china shop, she thought to herself wryly.
“Don’t worry yerself, Annie.” Bette, as squarely built and heavy footed as Garrett, went to help him. Between them, the two rearick managed to bring out all the food, Harlon trailing behind with a pitcher of milk. “Ye know I'd break his balls if he broke anything.”
“You'd have to find them first!”
Annie whirled, startled by the new voice. Marcus winced. “Sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump, Annie.” Now this man, he was no rearick. Tall and good looking, Annie could see why Julianne had set her eye on him. Why, if Annie were a little younger herself…
Francis poked his head out from behind Marcus. Annie hadn’t noticed him follow the strapping young guard in. “Ma? You ok there?”
Annie blushed, but before she could answer, Marcus slid past with a wink. “I’d say your ma is mighty fine.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “I don't believe you mean that for a moment, you rapscallion.” She eyed him as he sidled towards a seat and, as he got a bit closer, flicked his ass with her tea towel. She hid a smile when he yelped. “Wash first. You know the rules.”
The rearick had been up since well before dawn, tending the cattle and horses. She had heard them clean up earlier, but both obliged her by lifting their spotless hands for inspection. She nodded. Her house might be full, but she still ran it, damned if she didn't.
“Good morning, Annie.” As Julianne stepped out, a giant yawn cracked her jaw. She shrugged an apology as she slid into one of the chairs at the table.
“Morning, Julianne.” Annie gave her a nod. “I've some fresh honey for the bread. I know how you like it.”
Julianne's face softened into a smile. “You shouldn't have… but I'm glad you did. Thanks, Annie.”
Danil and Bastian came down last, the two mystics already in their white robes. Danil’s eyes, white as snow, no longer gave Annie the creeps. He, along with his companions, had more than proved themselves different from the mystics who had ravaged their little town.
Once they were all at the table, Annie glanced at each face at her table. The two rearick, Bette swatting Garrett’s hand as he reached for a second sausage. Marcus, who was carefully lifting some sauerkraut onto Julianne’s plate as she gave him a tired smile. Bastian, his head close to Danil’s as they discussed their plans for the day as they went about trying to repair the village. Finally, her sons. Francis and Harlon sat quietly, eyes on the table.
“Here, Francis. Throw me one of them bread rolls, will ye?” Garrett called.
“Don’t ye dare, lad,” Bette interjected. “Ye’ll make a right mess doin’ that, and I know what yer mother will do to the lot of us if yer do.”
The corner of Francis’s mouth turned up, and he gave Annie a sideways glance. She pretended not to see.
Eyes twinkling, Francis lobbed the bread roll. If it had been anyone else, Annie would have called it bad luck brought on by bad manners. Francis, though, was a crack shot. If that bread roll landed straight in Garrett’s milk, it was because he meant it to.
Garrett squealed like a neutered pig and jumped up, patting his beard and shaking the warm drink all over the table.
“Watch it, yer bloody oaf,” Bette yelled. “I dinna want to wear yer damned drink!”
“It’s not my fault!” Garrett said with a wounded look. “He’s the wanker what threw it!”
Francis was silent, face in hands and shoulder shaking uncontrollably. Annie placed her hands on the table ready to leap to her feet, thinking it was some kind of seizure, until he gasped in a breath and erupted into laughter.
Garrett pegged a mushroom at Francis, hitting Harlon in the cheek by mistake. The big man barely reacted, digging his spoon into his porridge for another bite. A moment later, that ‘bite’ was stuck to Marcus’s shirt.
“Oh, you’re on,” Marcus said.
Julianne scooted her chair back in alarm. “Don’t!” she yelped. “That’ll go ev—”
Too late. Marcus flicked his cup of milk at Harlon and the warm liquid showered everyone.
“Bitch help me,” Danil moaned. “I know you’re in love, Marcus, but spraying your milk all over the table is a bit much!”
“Danil!” Julianne snapped, her face bright red.
Annie chortled. That girl was cool as a cucumber in the face of battle. She didn’t think she had ever seen Julianne rattled like that.
Danil ducked the first chunk of bread lobbed at his head, but then Julianne’s eyes misted over to match his.
“What? No fair, blocking me is against—” his words were swallowed as Julianne darted up from the table and dumped a whole bowl of porridge on Danil’s head.
By now, bits of food were flying across the table at lightning speed, and the tablecloth was more ‘shades of sausage and gravy’ than the red gingham it had been moments before.
Annie sat back, suspiciously free of the debris that whizzed past. When a bit of gravy splashed in front of her, everyone froze. Annie eyed them.
“As long as you all clean up after yourselves, I didn’t see a damn thing.” Picking up her plate, she stood and calmly walked out of the dining room.
As she placed it in the sink and ran the water over it, she wondered if, despite the trials facing them all, her house had ever been so full of happiness.
Chapter Three
“No, stop trying so hard. It'll come to you, you just have to let it. Tessa, you look
exhausted. Why don't you take a break?” Danil kept his voice even, relying on his many years of meditation to keep from losing his cool.
The three women in his class bowed politely, then left the room quickly. This was only their fourth lesson, but Danil was starting to feel the pressure. This wasn't the mystic Temple, where students had all the time they needed to hone their skills.
It was no more than a tiny, abandoned cottage, repurposed as a small magic school where the village inhabitants came for weekly lessons on how to shield, and where those with a talent for mental magic could learn to hone their skills.
If the New Dawn returned, the simple shields now known by most of the residents wouldn't be enough to stop them being brainwashed and enslaved again, so Danil pushed them hard.
The teachings of Ezekiel, the Founder who had taught the very first magic in the land, said that everyone possessed a spark of magic. Not everyone could harness it, though, and even those who could had no guarantee of being any good at it.
This meant that much of his efforts would be wasted trying to teach those with no skill, or who would never progress enough to shield with any degree of usefulness. Still, every person he could help was one that might be saved if the New Dawn launched another attack.
That is, if they could convince the villagers that what they were doing was important. So far, none had refused to come, but the effort they were putting in was more to humor the mystics than because they saw the importance of it.
“You're frustrated,” Bastian commented.
“Well, that's stating the obvious,” Danil snorted in return. “They're trying, I know that, but they're trying too damned hard.”
“You don't think that has anything to do with the fact that they're shitting their pants waiting for another attack, and exhausted from trying to run the farms and look after their loved ones?” Bastian kept his face bland, turning so he didn't have to look Danil quite in the eye while he asked.
Danil might be blind, but it didn't make him any less intimidating when he was mad as a cut snake. It didn't help that he was Bastian’s superior.
“What did you say, Bastian?” Danil asked.
Confused, Bastian shook his head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“How kind of you to offer!” Danil exclaimed, a grin spreading over his face.
“Offer? I didn't—”
“Oh? I could have sworn you just offered to take the next class, show off that sage wisdom a bit. Bloody good idea, my friend. I'll be down at the watering hole if you need me, eh?” Danil clapped Bastian on the shoulder and walked off, ignoring Bastian’s curses. “Don't let anything interesting happen while I'm gone!" he shouted over his shoulder.
“Sly bastard,” Bastian grumbled to himself when Danil was gone. “I can't believe I fell for that.” He set about tidying the room, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. He hadn't taught a class before—hell, he was only a student himself a few short months ago.
“Hello? Master Danil?” Bastian looked up to see Lilly at the door.
The little nature magician was barely nine, but three months spent hiding in the city streets as she watched her town fall apart had aged her beyond her years.
“Sorry, Lilly, you just missed him. I think he's gone off to find some lunch.” Bastian pulled two more chairs into the circle, hoping that the five men Danil had pissed off last week would all return.
“Oh. I came to see if he still needed any help with the class. Is it not on, Master Bastian?”
Bastian frowned. “Lilly, please. Julianne is our only Master, and she's told you that you don't even have to call her that. We're not your masters, none of us are.”
She ducked her head and turned to go.
“Wait! I mean… I'm taking the class.” Bastian wiped sweaty palms on his robe, cursing his bad luck that it was this class Danil had stranded him with. “I'm taking the class today. You can go play for a bit if you like.”
“Of course, Ma— err, Bastian.”
He gave her a grateful smile as footsteps alerted him to the student’s arrival.
“Master Bastian, Tollin is birthing one of his sheep, so he said to tell you he can't make it today.” Francis twisted his hat in his hands as if expecting to be yelled at.
Bastian couldn't blame him. Last time, Danil had become so frustrated during their lesson he had nearly snapped the man’s head off. He had a suspicion the sheep was more excuse than anything, but didn't push the issue.
“It's fine, Francis. You're all here by choice, you don't owe us an explanation if you miss a lesson.” Bastian gestured to the seats. “And please, don't call me Master.”
The men filed in and sat, looking around nervously. “Where's Danil?” Jarv asked gruffly.
“Couldn't make it,” Bastian said without explaining.
“Got sick of us, did he? I don't blame him. We can't shield for shit.” Mack leaned back in his chair, unworried. “If I were him, I wouldn't waste the time either.”
“Then why are you here?” Bastian asked mildly.
“S’pose even a slim chance is better than none. If those bastards come back, I don't want to be licking their boots again. Rather kill myself first.”
Bastian nodded. “Danil isn't sick of you; he's sick of himself. Back at the Temple, we go through these exercises over years, slowly coaxing the power out of people. It took me a whole season just to learn how to shut my bloody head up long enough for a basic meditation, and I was dying to learn.”
“But you're an expert now, aren't you?” Mack asked. “I mean, you helped fight off those bastard Dawners.”
“Barely,” Bastian laughed. “I passed the last of my tests just before winter. I'm just a baby compared to Danil, and a worm next to Julianne.” He left the honorific off her name, knowing she wanted the town folk to call her by name, not her title.
“So, he left the baby to teach us?” Jarv looked skeptical.
Bastian nodded, trying to act confident. “He's low on sleep, and mad as a bear. He knows his teaching skills are out of date because he hasn't held a class in over two years. And he knows that his failure is putting you at risk.” Bastian met each man’s eyes, one by one. “He's trying. Trying and failing. That's why he's so frustrated.”
“He's a good man; we know that.” Lewis spoke quietly. “Our heads might be broken, but we can see his heart is in the right place. Maybe that's why some of us snap back at him. We see him trying, and we just can't keep up.”
Bastian pressed his lips together, breathing deeply. This was the most conversation either of the mystics had gotten out of any of the men, except maybe Francis. “Maybe we all need to take a step back. This isn't the kind of thing you can force.”
Then, he narrowed his gaze on Lewis. “But you're not broken. Danil has examined all of you, cleared you for learning. We wouldn't be here otherwise. You four were the first to get that ok. You know what that means?”
The four men exchanged confused glances.
“You're strong. You had an entire group of psycho mind fuckers get in your heads, rummage around and screw things up in there. They did it for months! And despite that, you're still ok. Guys, that's incredible!” Bastian’s voice rose as he let his excitement show.
Lewis frowned. “You sure you're not just saying that to make us feel less shitty about all this?”
Bastian raised his eyebrows and spread his hands, as if inviting Lewis to examine the proof himself.
“Boy has a point,” Mack said. “Either way, I got a field what needs some work. We gonna do this or what?” He leaned forwards in his seat, face creasing as he tried to slip into a meditation.
Bastian bit his tongue, then cursed at himself. If Danil wants me to run this class, I'll damn well run it my way.
“Not like that,” he said. Mack sat up, startled. “You're trying too hard. It's… it's like a pretty girl. You go in with a glower and start demanding she dance with you, you're gonna go home alone. You have to ease in, gently.”
�
�Last time Mack eased into a girl she threw him off a building,” Jarv snorted. “What, you never wondered why he was so ugly? She rearranged his face!”
Mack did have an unusually asymmetrical face. Bastian let out a chuckle, but stopped at Mack’s sad look of defeat. “Wait. You mean he wasn’t joking?”
“Oh, it weren't like that! Her pa came home early, and she was so eager to hide me, she weren’t still in the downstairs bedroom.” He grimaced as Bastian laughed even harder. “Broke my nose and half my jaw on some stupid statue her Ma had on the front lawn.”
Bastian’s lungs heaved, trying to catch his breath. “Bitch’s britches, Mack. That's the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!”
Mack turned up one corner of his mouth, a smile that had just a hint of pride to it. “I dare say so, Bastian. I dare say so.”
“Old papa Jefferson felt so bad he paid the surgeon to fix it up and didn't even cut his balls off for diddling his daughter,” Francis piped up. “Now, that's an achievement to be proud of. When Jefferson caught young Hannity in her room, the kid came out with one bean halfway to his throat and the other one in his left boot, and I don't think he ate sausages for a year after.”
With that, the whole room fell into loud, raucous laughter. “Oh, hell, I'm glad Lilly wasn't here for that one,” Bastian whimpered as he wiped the tears from his face.
By the time they had themselves under control, their lesson time was half over.
“So, we just ease into it, right?” Lewis asked.
Bastian nodded.
“Sounds easy. Or it would if I knew what the fuck that meant,” Jarv grumbled.
Bastian sighed. Danil had been driving most of the students, but these men especially. As victims of the mind control spell the New Dawn had mastered, they were the most vulnerable if it happened again. After a forced period of rest, they had been deemed strong enough to try using the magic that was innate to all.
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