Julianne touched his mind, surprised to see how passionate he felt about the idea. She hadn't pegged Bastian for a teacher, but it seemed his recent experiences had opened him to the possibility.
Julianne nodded. “Maybe. It would take a lot of work to set up, but maybe we could do… well, something.”
He grinned. “Thank you, Master. When the time comes, I'll do anything you need me to. I really want to help.”
Julianne was still mulling over that when she knocked on farmer Jessop’s door. His wife, Tessa, called out from the back of the house. “You’ll have to let yourself in!”
Julianne pushed the door open and made her way down the hall. It opened into a big kitchen, where Tessa was elbow deep in a giant pot of violet liquid.
“Sorry. May came home so excited about the festival, she couldn't stop squealing. I told her I'd make her a new dress for it; I'd been meaning to anyway. Do you know that girl has grown four inches since last summer? Four inches!” Tessa shook her head in disbelief. “So, I said to her, if I dyed the fabric, she'd need to feed the animals and milk the cow. A fair deal, don't you think?”
Julianne nodded, still trying to get her head around the rapid-fire conversation. “What festival?” was all she could come up with.
“Why, the festival of magic, of course! Danil told us all about it. We don't celebrate that kind of thing around here, but it seems like the thing to do after what you all did for us. My own dress won't be nearly as fancy, but it's May’s first time at anything like this.” Tessa lifted the soaking fabric and squeezed it, working the dye into the weave. “I don’t want her feeling like a wallflower, not that that girl could ever pass for one.”
“Danil?” Julianne narrowed her eyes. “Danil hasn't told me a damn thing about a festival.”
Tessa opened her eyes wide. “After what he said about you being guest of honor, I should have known it was a surprise!” Realizing she had likely given away another secret, she slapped a hand over her mouth.
Violet droplets splattered her face, and the white apron that covered her dress. “Oh, now I've gone and done it. What a mess, and me trying to catch up with everything before the… well.” She heaved a dramatic sigh.
Julianne pressed a hand to her own mouth to smother a smile. A perfect purple hand print covered Tessa’s lips. “You might want to wash that off before it stains.”
Julianne gestured to the mark and Tessa started scrubbing at it with her apron. “Bitch strike me; there's a reason I try to stay out in the fields.”
The door slammed open and May tumbled in, her long brown hair tousled by the wind outside. Seeing Julianne, she immediately straightened, patted her hair and dropped into a small curtsy, suddenly looking much older than her twelve years.
“Good day, Master Julianne.” May turned to her mother. “Mam! What have you done to your face? No, stop rubbing, you're making it worse.” She darted to the sink and grabbed a cloth, bringing it back to dab at Tessa’s face.
Tessa tolerated her daughter’s attention patiently, only raising one eyebrow to Julianne as May darted back to rinse the cloth. “I swear, child, sometimes I wonder if you're the mother in this relationship.”
“Don't be silly, Mam. Now, have you offered Miss Julianne something to drink?”
Remembering her original reason for coming by, Julianne shook her head quickly. “Nothing to drink, thank you. I actually came by to see if you had some butter I could buy.”
“Sure, we do!” Tessa went to wipe her hands on her apron, but May grabbed her arm. “I won’t be taking your money, though. Think of it as a peace offering, so Danil doesn’t come storming over here when he finds out I ran my mouth, ok?”
“That sounds fair,” Julianne answered, trying to keep a straight face.
“I'll get it, Mam,” May said. “You finish up, then wash your hands, yeah?”
Tessa grinned at her daughter. “Fine.” May disappeared through the back door.
“Really, I don't think it would have stayed quiet for long,” Julianne said. She tapped her head to remind Tessa why.
The woman's eyes lit up in understanding as May ran in, a small pat of butter wrapped in oiled cloth. “Here you go. Could you tell Danil the thing I said about the thing is ok, and when the other thing is done I'll let him know?”
Julianne tried her best to keep a straight face. “The thing and the thing, then the other thing. Right.”
She made her farewells and hurried back to Annie's, hoping Danil would finish his classes soon and get back. She had more than a few words to say to him.
Chapter Eight
Artemis slammed into Julianne's shield again, his strike weak but irritating nonetheless. Her concentration was torn between blocking him, and attending the other tasks he had set her.
One part of her mind controlled May, moving the girl’s body against her will in the slow poses of sword practice. Julianne had learned the sequences during her time with the Arcadian soldiers, and Artemis insisted they would be perfect due to the concentration required.
Beside May, a willowy tree stood tall in the middle of the room. It swayed as flowers blossomed, wilted and fell, disappearing before they hit the ground. To further complicate the illusion, a small dragon perched in the branches, occasionally rubbing its maw on the bark or flapping its wings for balance.
Julianne herself stood in the center of the school room, eyes white and hands outstretched. To any onlooker, she was dressed as a queen. Her normally brown hair was piled high in blonde tresses, offset by a crown that sparkled in a light that didn't actually exist.
Her robes were speckled with diamonds, the weight of her train held by Thom, a youngster from the village who had volunteered for Artemis’s experiment. No one could see the sweat that beaded on Julianne's forehead or trailed down her back between her shoulder blades.
It was that drop, inching slowly down her skin and tickling her senses, that finally broke her concentration. The dragon and the tree flickered and vanished, and May stumbled, coming to a stop in her movements. Julianne’s hair faded back to brown, and the glamorous dress dissolved, leaving her in the simple linens she always wore.
Thom’s hand jerked, suddenly devoid of a weight that was never real, as much as he believed it was.
“Concentration!” Artemis barked. “You didn't run out of power, you ran out of concentration!”
Julianne glared at him. “Really? You try holding three totally different spells for twenty minutes without breaking. Hell, even do it without the sweltering heat.” She fanned herself and puffed air onto her face.
Artemis snorted. “You weren't concentrating. Your shield dropped four minutes in! It's the middle of the bastard fall, how hot do you think it's going to be?”
Julianne slammed her shields up and immediately, her skin chilled. She touched her head, and frowned. “Why am I sweating?” she asked. “Mental magic can only create illusions, so why is my body reacting?”
“Basal temperature. You let your brain believe it was hot, and your physiology changed as a result.”
Julianne sighed. “Artemis, you know as well as I do. Mental magic doesn't—can't—have a physical effect.”
“I'm not disputing that, although I could, because it's not entirely correct, but in this case your theory does apply. You see, the physiological basis for body temperature…” Artemis slipped into a vacant gaze, his mouth working silently.
Julianne didn't have the energy to slip into his mind. She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes and waited until he blinked before she spoke. “Out loud, please.”
“Wasn't I already… oh. I did it again, didn't I?”
Julianne nodded patiently. Artemis sometimes dropped so far into his thoughts, he completely forgot what was going on around him.
“The human body is a strange thing. If you slice your hand, there is a physical reaction as well as a physiological one. The physical is when the skin opens, and the vessels begin to leak. Then, the body responds to the perceived damage.
It heals it, makes it hurt so that you don't injure it further. Yes?”
“So… temperature is more like the healing than the cut?” Julianne tried to wrap her tired mind around the theory.
“Oh, no, it's an entirely subjective state of being. Huh. I suppose the cut is, too. If you can convince your body there is no cut, will it heal at all?”
“Artemis!” Julianne snapped, seeing where this was going. “You are not, absolutely not to run human experiments to find out.”
“Oh? Oh. I suppose that would be rather dangerous. Not even a little one?”
“If you even think about it, you'll have to spend a week trying to figure out whether I've strung you up by your toenails or you just think I did. I can guarantee you won't like the answer.”
Julianne caught his eyes and didn't let him look away until he nodded. Then, his forlorn expression dropped away.
“You could run the experiment on—” he began.
“Not a chance in hell, old timer. Not even the New Dawn deserve to be treated like medical experiments.” Julianne held her hand up to ward off further argument.
Diverting Artemis from one of his projects was like trying to move a mountain. He simply couldn't grasp the ethical problems with his ideas. As far as he was concerned, if his subject said yes, there was no reason not to.
“Promise me you'll drop this one, Art?” Julianne said, softening. “For me.”
He grumbled, but eventually nodded. “Fine. But I want you to keep practicing as we did today. And focus on keeping your shield up, yes?”
Julianne nodded. “Fair enough.” She knew the practice would make her stronger, though how much, she couldn't know. “Artemis, is there a limit to the power someone could use? I mean, if I do this every day for the next year, will I reach a threshold or just keep getting stronger?”
Artemis shrugged. “The weaker vessels do tend to. I don’t know if it will be different in your case.”
Julianne narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was telling the truth. She nudged his shield, but it was solid. She wondered if she could force her way past it, but it was more of a fleeting thought and she didn’t try.
“Time’s up, anyway,” she said instead. “I have to run. Danil is planning some kind of bloody festival, I need to shut it down before he gets people too excited about it.”
“Shut it down?”
Julianne whirled to see Danil standing in the doorway of the small cottage they had turned into the magic school.
“Why would you need to do that?" he asked. “Jules, these people need something to liven them up, put a firecracker under their asses. It’s not enough to tell them magic is needed, we need to show them what it can do.”
Julianne pursed her lips. “You’re planning to put on some kind of display?" she asked.
He grinned. “It is, after all, what I do best! Look, it won’t just be about magic. The men training under Marcus are itching to show off their new skills, and the whole town wants to show you how grateful they are for what you did.”
“What we did,” Julianne corrected him.
“No, Jules. You led this expedition. You’re the one they look up to around here.”
“Well, I can see why they wouldn't hold you in any kind of esteem,” Julianne joked. “But Danil, our food supplies are still low, and everyone is working half to death to prepare for winter. Are you sure you want to load them up with preparations for a frivolous… whatever this is?”
He reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders. “They’re scared, and exhausted, and sick, and bloody tired of being scared and exhausted. One night off won’t hurt, and they’re already volunteering—eagerly, I might add—to help set everything up.”
Julianne risked a glance over to Artemis, but he was off in his own world, counting something on his fingers while he whispered calculations to himself. May was watching them, though, hands clasped and eyes wide. “Please, Master Julianne?" she said. “It’ll be so much fun!”
Faced with the wide, adoring eyes of a twelve-year-old, Julianne couldn’t help but cave. “Fine. But this nonsense about me being some kind of guest of honor?” Danil blushed guiltily at that. “That stops now. Alright?”
“Damn, you drive a hard bargain. You have my word, I will not say one more thing to anyone about you being a guest of honor. I promise.” He jerked his head at May and left, the young girl skipping out behind him with a wave.
It was only then that Julianne realized she hadn’t asked what he’d already said about her role in the festival.
Chapter Nine
“Form three! Now drop! Up! Preseeeent arms!” Marcus barked the orders at his guard crew relentlessly. “Hannity, lift that bloody weapon up properly. It looks like a limp dick hanging out.”
“Sorry, Sarge!” Hannity jerked his spear up so it neatly lined up with the ones on either side of him. He grinned, flicking his unruly red hair out of his eyes. “It’s nice and stiff now!”
“Now, this is our last practice left before we’re on display in front of the whole town.” Marcus ran his eyes over the line of soldiers. “I know you’re all new at this, and I know you’ve all been working hard. But this is our chance to show off what you’ve learned. And what’s that?”
“Protect and serve!” The cry rang out along the line in perfect unison. “Bravery in the face of danger! Hoorah!”
Marcus raised his own weapon and shook it, joining in with the war cry he had taught them, one passed down through generations of fighters. “Right, boys!”
“Fuck you, Sarge!” The thin cry came from the end of the line and Marcus let out a bellow of laughter.
“Got me, Sharne. Right, boys and girls!” He waited for the response.
“That’s better, Sarge.” Sharne leaned forwards to see past the line of men to her left and cocked him a wink. “Now, what was it you were saying?”
“I was saying,” Marcus said with a point of his weapon. “That we’re going to run through our formations one last time. Then, we’re going to draw up a guard roster for the night. No use having an army if they’re all at the same party, am I right?”
“Yes, Sir!” The cry was loud, punctuated by the stamping of spears on the dirt.
“And I don’t want anyone—not even you, Gerard, you pisshead—drinking if you’ve got a shift coming up. For those who are on last rotation, you’ll have to stay sober all night.”
A chorus of groans was quickly stifled by a glare. “Having said that, if you are on last shift, I’ll put a tab up at Mary’s for you the following night.”
Mary’s was the local stopover. Not quite big enough to be an inn or a bar, it functioned as both anyway. The one room Mary had to let out hadn’t been hired in a decade, so the story went, and the ‘tavern’ she ran was really a living room with a bar in it.
Cheers replaced the groans as Marcus signaled them to begin the drill.
With a quick march, the line split into two groups, nine soldiers in each. Sharne stood at the center front of her group and a man named Carey led the second. One by one, they presented their defense and attack stances, slipping into each and moving smoothly and in unison.
Marcus watched them, occasionally pointing to a slow movement or slack posture, but overall, he was impressed.
He had spent time with the Arcadian guard, time with seasoned soldiers out in the most dangerous of places, the Madlands. There, the enemy was clever but brutal, and utterly lacking in the instincts that made people human.
They didn’t feel pain, or love, or fear. They just attacked. Greed without emotional ties made them an easily fractured society, but it didn’t stop them from banding together to attack a contingent of guards or a passing trade caravan.
Even with all the years of training his old contingent had gone through, these fledgling fighters were giving them a run for their money. Well, at least in training, he admitted to himself. They hadn’t seen a real fight yet, and as much as they were itching to, Marcus hoped they wouldn’t.
“Sold
iers!" he yelled.
They stopped mid-movement and snapped a stiff salute, one hand to their heads, the other forming a fist over their hearts.
“That’ll do, men. And woman,” he hastily added. Julianne would have his balls if she found out he kept forgetting to include Sharne. “Practice is over. Go powder your faces, or whatever it is you pussies do before a festival.”
“Yes, Sir!” they hollered before dissolving their lines and mingling to chat before they left.
“Looks like they’re coming along.”
Marcus jumped and spun around to see Julianne leaning against a fence post behind him. “Jules! I didn’t see you there.”
“I didn’t intend for you to,” she said. “I didn’t want to make your soldiers nervous, so I kept hidden.”
“They’ll have to get over it by tomorrow,” he said.
So far, each time Julianne had come by to watch the drills, the group had fallen over themselves either from nerves, or by trying to outdo each other to impress her.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” she said. “You’ve got a roster for tomorrow?”
“Doing that next,” he explained. “Any requests?”
Julianne shook her head. “As long as your name isn’t on that list, I approve.”
It was Marcus’s turn to groan. “Seriously? You’re gonna make me go to that damn festival?”
She grinned. “Suck it up, princess. If I have to, we all do. Besides, Danil told me you were partly responsible for this whole idea.”
“I was not!” Marcus protested. “It was all him, and if I happened to be mumbling something about it being a good idea, that was just so he’d stop bloody talking about it.”
“The day I believe you’re innocent is the day I kiss Garrett on his left ass cheek.”
“Och, Lass, that’s a day I’d look forwards to!” Garrett laughed at Julianne’s shocked face. “I wouldn’t hold ye to it. Ye’d be picking hairs out of yer teeth for days after. Real rearick rug I got, enough to make any Craigston girl want to grab it and...” He gnashed his teeth like a dog latching onto a juicy bone.
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