“Danil was by earlier. Said my head is as good as any. I'd like to request to be the next to submit to sentencing.”
Julianne bristled. The prisoners called it sentencing, though anyone who referenced the procedure around her was careful to use the word ‘examination’. She didn't bother arguing with Jeffrey. Not just because it wouldn't do any good, but because, in a way, he was right.
"Very well." Julianne ignored the slightly surprised and overly fearful look on Jeffery’s face. "Marcus, bring him to the room, and we’ll get started right away."
"My pleasure," Marcus said, just a bit too gleefully.
Without a backwards glance, Julianne walked off. She crossed the yard again, nodding curtly to another guard stationed nearby. As she passed, she gently pressed against the shields in his mind. It bowed.
Marcus, that man needs a rest. She passed the instruction to Marcus mentally, not wanting anyone to hear it.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his minuscule nod and was reassured the guard would be relieved before he became vulnerable to their prisoners.
Marcus had been one of the first people she had met who had no magic, yet could erect a decent mental shield. She still didn't understand how he had learned it, but it damn sure came in handy around here.
The New Dawn couldn't control a man who was shielded unless they could break through. Those chosen to guard them had the capacity to block them out, or in a worst-case scenario, notice their shield had been breached in time to send out a warning.
Normally, this would make mind to mind communication difficult. Julianne, however, had trained Marcus in the art of communicating with shields up.
Marcus practiced no magic himself. He couldn't read minds, or send messages outside his own head. What he could do, however, was allow Julianne through his shields enough to receive a message she pushed to his mind, or to let her read a thought in the front of his.
“Uhh… what exactly is it you do to us out here?” Jeffrey asked. His face had lost color, and he fidgeted nervously.
All he could know is that one by one, his companions had been taken out to this little shed, sometimes kicking and screaming.
They would never return.
Julianne knew the remaining ‘Dawners’, as she called them, had numerous theories. Most erred on the side of the missing being taken and subjected to a violent and painful end.
She let them believe that because it suited her purpose. Over time, she'd felt less and less sympathy for the brainwashed victims of Rogan. Though she had tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, each examination had proven the subject was well and truly capable of hurting people.
Apart from exposing their own debase tendencies, none of them had given her any real information on Rogan. He had used August as his intermediary and passed messages to him through Donna, a former Temple student with fiery red hair.
Rogan was like a stone in her shoe that slipped away each time she looked for it, only to dig in as soon as it was back on her foot. With only a few minds left to rummage through, Julianne had all but given up on finding out anything that would help her catch their ringleader.
“What is it you think we do, Jeffrey?” Julianne asked.
Marcus, silent and grim, shoved Jeffrey down onto a chair. He bound the man's hands behind his back, then stood to one side, arms folded across his broad chest.
“I… I don't know. The others think you're taking me out to my execution, but you're not… are you?” Jeffrey glanced back at Marcus, and Julianne felt his fear grow.
Julianne smiled, but it was a cold gesture. Then, she slammed into his head, shredding the weak mental shield he had put in place.
Have you used your magic? she demanded, sending her mental voice booming through Jeffrey’s thoughts. Her eyes glowed white.
He flinched at the sound, even though it was only in his head.
N… no. Yes. Only once, I swear. I just wanted to see where you were taking the others. I didn't see anything, I swear! His thoughts were fast and urgent, laced with fear. Please, I don't want to die.
Julianne ignored his lead and rummaged through his immediate memories. He hadn't lied. Apart from a single attempt to read Marcus's mind—not Julianne’s—two weeks ago, he hadn’t tapped into his power.
She hid a smile at the assumption the easy-going soldier with no apparent magic would be an easy mark. Tell me about the New Dawn, she sent, lacing the instruction with a magical compulsion that would make it impossible for him to resist.
For the others, she had peppered them with questions, trying to lead them to the answers she was looking for. Unfortunately, the hierarchy of the organization meant the members she had caught only had a rudimentary knowledge of the greater plan and didn't know anyone higher up except their immediate handler, August.
I was chosen. He said I was gifted. Jeffrey's mind wandered into a memory of that day. He had been visiting one of the cities to the south, looking for dyes to color the silk he would then sell at a premium.
In the memory, Jeffrey had argued over the price, haggling with the vendor and landing a substantial discount. All the while, he had kept an arm crossed over his middle. When making a business deal, showing weakness would immediately reduce leverage.
Jeffrey was missing a button, torn off during an argument at the local money lender. His skills hadn't extended quite as far as he had wanted, and he'd lost his temper. The button came off in the scuffle, and he now hid it as best he could to maintain the appearance of being a rich, successful trader.
He closed his deal with the dye merchant and turned to go, almost bumping into the man behind him. He looked up, a growl on his lips as he readied to push whoever had held him up.
August. Julianne recognized him from a memory she had seen in someone else's mind.
“My, you do have a gift for persuasion, don't you?” August whispered.
Jeffrey had blushed. “From the Goddess.” He had tried to shuffle away, but August snared him in a glittering gaze.
“A man of your talent should be running this city, not slumming in it.” August dropped his eyes to Jeffrey’s coat, and the missing button.
Jeffrey kept his head down, wanting, needing August to leave him alone. Usually, tapping into this part of himself gave him what he wanted. Not this time.
August raised an eyebrow. “My friend,” he said, putting an arm around Jeffrey. “I've been looking for a man of your talents. Let me buy you tea, and we can discuss it.”
The memory faded and Julianne reached Jeffrey’s mind to grab the conversation. August, his words dripping with a low-level beguilement spell, had insisted that Jeffrey could learn to use magic to become the man he wanted to be.
Julianne noted that what Jeffrey “wanted to be” wasn't exactly a force for good. No, he wanted money and power, gained in the easiest way possible. It was a trait he had in common with all of his colleagues.
Frustrated, Julianne forced a memory of her own into his head. The first time she had ventured into Tahn, Jeffrey had been overseeing work in a field. He had forced a punishment onto an elderly man who couldn't keep up with the grueling demands of physical labour.
Guilt suffused Jeffrey's mind, and Julianne saw his version. August had been frustrated, doling out punishments, not just to the serfs they had enslaved, but to the New Dawn, too.
If he didn't get those damned apples harvested in time to pay the tithe, he was the one who would be writhing in pain.
Julianne didn't spare the man much sympathy. He had lain with snakes and should have expected that sooner or later, he would get bitten.
“That man was old, weak,” she whispered. “You could have killed him.”
“But I didn't. He lived!” Jeffrey twisted his face up to her. “He could have died, but I didn't let him!”
Julianne kicked the stool and Jeffrey tumbled to the floor. She planted a foot on his chest. “He lived because I intervened,” she yelled. “You didn't even notice. Don't you dare give yourself a pas
s for not killing a man that only lived because of me.”
Jeffry cringed, shame and guilt pouring from his mind so thick it was cloying. “I'm sorry!” he whimpered. “I'm sorry.”
Marcus hauled him onto his seat, not bothering to wipe his snot-covered face.
“That's nice,” Julianne said evenly. All trace of her rage was gone, swallowed by the effortless control she had honed for years. “At least you have some kind of conscience. I can't tell you how many of your friends couldn't get far enough past not wanting to die to actually apologize for what they'd done.”
Jeffrey shook, too scared to look her in the eye. “Just kill me.” His voice trembled. “I know I deserve it. I'm as much of a rat bastard as the rest of them. Just… please, don't make it hurt too much?”
Julianne stepped back. “I'm not going to kill you.”
“You're… not?”
“I didn't kill any of them, not those that survived the battle anyway. I'm not overly sorry about the lives lost that day, but I'm not a cold-blooded monster, Jeffrey. I'm not like August.” She regarded him coldly, waiting for him to look up. He finally did. “That doesn't mean you go free. Not entirely.”
Julianne's eyes glossed over, her irises and pupils fading back to the opaque white of a mental magician using their gift.
Your magic has changed. You can still use your talents, for good or for ill, but something broke inside you. Something snapped while you waited for your sentence.
The thoughts she forced into his head became his, her words knowledge that couldn’t be ignored.
The next time you cast a spell that causes pain, you will feel that pain. The next time you make someone obey you, you will be obedient.
Anything you do to another will be reflected back upon your mind. This breaking cannot be undone. It will affect everything you do from this point on.
Julianne whispered a quiet word to seal the spell, and her eyes cleared. Though she had no power to change a person’s magic, mental magic often didn't need to have a physical effect to work. Jeffrey would believe, and therefore, he would feel.
Julianne couldn’t be entirely sure how long the spell would last. Back at the Temple, Selah had tasked her to try a similar spell, but a simpler version that was a bit kinder to the recipient.
For the last nine years, every time Margit touched the doorway to her room she had smelled lavender. The compulsion hadn't worn off yet, and Julianne had strengthened and refined the spell over the years. This version was a little different, formulated with help from Artemis.
This rendition was a little more complex, but Artemis had assured her it would work. She trusted him and, more importantly, trusted his research.
Aloud, she said, “If you ever wish to return to our people, a penance must be paid. You will walk there, from here. You must wear no shoes and climb no beast or wagon. Every step between the town of Tahn and the Mystic Temple will be one where your bare feet meets the earth.
Jeffrey's face fell. He didn't speak, so she continued.
“When you arrive, you will spend one hundred and twenty days in the chambers of reflection. You will speak to no one, only eat, sleep, and breathe the purpose of those rooms.”
Jeffrey's body collapsed in on itself. “May I go?” he asked.
Julianne nodded, expecting him to leave immediately. Instead, he reached down to unlace his boots. “Give these to one of the townspeople. Bitch knows I've taken enough from them.” Setting the shoes side by side, he walked away.
Marcus watched his retreating back. “You don't think… He's not going straight to the Temple, is he?”
Julianne nodded slowly. “You know, I think he is. Idiot.”
“You disapprove?” Marcus sounded surprised.
Julianne shrugged. “I didn't say he couldn't stop to sleep and eat first. If he wants to martyr himself, that's fine, as long as he doesn't blame me when he's chewing on a remnant’s leg because he was too damned stupid take something to eat.”
Marcus laughed and shook his head. “You're the embodiment of pragmatism, Jules. The guy’s off on an epic quest for redemption, and you've already made him a cannibal.”
Julianne rolled her shoulders. The spell had taken a lot out of her. “Come on; let’s go in.”
Marcus trailed behind her, locking up the door to the small shed. “You think any of the others you let go will turn up at the Temple?”
Julianne shook her head. “I don't even think he will. For a guy so ready to take up arms against a village for his own gain, I'm surprised he even bothered taking his shoes off.” She shrugged. “I hope he makes it, though.”
Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You know August took their worst parts and made them all they could think of. They weren't good people, but they weren't all bad, either. I think you'll have more than one of them show up. It might just take some time.”
Turning in his arms, Julianne gave Marcus a brilliant smile. “You do know how to make a girl feel better, don't you?”
He winked. “I could make you feel a lot of things, given the chance.”
“You horny bastard.” Julianne slapped his shoulder, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested she didn't mind his teasing. “It's all you men ever think of.”
“Hey, you don't know that!”
She raised an eyebrow. “Did you know that your shields drop when you sleep?”
Marcus's jaw dropped, and he blushed a shade of vivid scarlet. “Ahh. Fuck.”
“That pretty much sums it up.” Julianne gave him a wink of her own. Then she wriggled out of his arms and strode off towards Annie's, swaying her hips just a little more than usual as she left.
“Damned if I haven't fallen for the most incredible woman in the world.” Only the wind heard Marcus's words, snatching them away before they could reach human ears.
Chapter Seven
Julianne spent most of the day in bed, sleeping off a monstrous headache. All magic had energy requirements and a permanent one like those she had cast on the insurgents didn't come cheap. Even limiting herself to one of them every few days was exhausting, though she could swear the incredible effort was getting easier each time.
When Annie knocked on the door with a cup of hot broth, the shadows were beginning to lengthen. “You missed lunch,” was all she said.
“Thanks, Annie.” Julianne yanked at her dress to straighten it, then patted her hair. “I'll come downstairs to drink it.”
Annie nodded. “Seems you might sleep better tonight if you do.”
Her advice was always sound, and delivered in a flat voice that brooked no argument. Julianne shook off the lingering sleepiness and headed down behind the woman who had taken Julianne and her friends in.
Annie was a strong woman, not prone to complaining. She did seem to appreciate having helpers around to get her small farm running again, though. When Francis and Harlon were taken by the New Dawn, she had struggled to keep up with the work.
Now, she was back to running the kitchen and her small vegetable garden. The boys had rounded up most of the pigs. They found them wandering three fields over after they had broken down a fence. The family cow had returned, milk dried up but otherwise healthy.
“I was fixing to make a potato dish, but I don't got any butter for the roux.” Annie let the comment hang, too stubborn to ask for what she needed.
“I could do with a walk,” Julianne said with a smile. “I’ll see if old Jessop can spare us some. I saw his wife washing out a churn yesterday. What's her name again?”
Annie nodded. “That'd be Tessa. I'd be most grateful for that, Julianne.”
The old woman stiffened when Julianne wrapped her in a hug, then briskly squeezed her back.
“It's no bother. I already feel better for being up and about.” Julianne stretched again and realized it was the truth.
“First time you went to visit those louts, you were knocked out cold for two days. You're getting better at whatever you're doing, mark my words.”
Juli
anne grinned. “I am. Since my mentor died, I haven't pushed myself as hard as I should. I'm getting lazy in my old age!”
Annie snorted and tossed Julianne her robe. “You be back before dark, now. The air is starting to hold a chill, and I don't want you catching cold.”
“Yes, Mother,” Julianne shot back. She flinched when Annie flicked a tea towel at her.
“Enough of that sass, young ‘un.”
Julianne tumbled out of the door before Annie could take another shot. Though she had never been on the end of a serious attack, she had heard Bastian yelp as the taut fabric caught him in the ass one day after he had tracked mud inside.
She couldn't blame Annie. He had made an awful mess.
"Julianne!"
She turned to see Bastian coming up the road. He waved her down, letting her know he needed to speak to her.
"Hi, Bastian. Has something happened?"
"Well, yes. Oh, no, nothing bad," Bastian said, hurrying to reassure Julianne when her face fell. "Julianne, did you know that Francis had a gift for physical magic?"
Julian started. "No, I didn't. Did he tell you that?"
"I don't think he knew himself,” Bastian replied. “I was trying to teach him to shield. You know how he is—he carries that anger everywhere he goes. He was dwelling on what the New Dawn did and almost set his damn hand on fire.” Bastian eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Hell.” Julianne rubbed her face. “How are we going to teach a physical mage? It's bad enough that half the town seems to have an innate talent for some kind of nature magic. All this untapped magic, going to waste…”
Bastian bit his lip. “Look, this might be a dumb idea, but what would you think about setting up a school here? Like Adrien’s, only—you know—not run by a giant asshole and with teachers from all the magical fields.”
Julianne took a deep breath. “Bastian, I know you want to help, but right now—”
“I don't mean now! I know we have too much to do, and it's dangerous here while those nutters are wandering around. But… one day?”
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