A New Dawn- Complete series

by Michael Anderle

  Marcus raised his hands defensively, trying his hardest to keep a straight face. He didn’t speak, though, knowing that if he did, he'd burst into laughter at the rearick’s ire.

  “Fuckin’ prick. Sit with the fuckin’ children, he says,” Garrett muttered as he shoved his way through the crowd. Still, a smile split his face when he burst through to find a vacant spot on the floor in front of Danil and Bastian.

  When two children approached, he bared his teeth and growled. Instead of crying or running away, they giggled. “Hello, Garrett,” the boy said as he waved. “Can we sit with you?”

  Faced with two beaming faces, Garrett melted. “Aye, I suppose. Behave yerselves, though, or I’ll pull ye out by the ears.”

  The boy nodded, eyes wide. Garrett wondered if his words had had quite the effect he had wanted, as the boy looked almost eager to see if Garrett would follow through on his threat.

  Shaking his head, the rearick settled in for the show.

  “Behold! The power of the Mystical Mind!”

  Garrett flinched as Danil’s voice boomed out over the room and his words were punctuated by a glittering shower of sparks. The golden, shimmering flecks floated toward the floor. Before they landed, each speck exploded again, turning into tiny yellow butterflies. Garrett allowed himself a smile as the children near him giggled, skin tickled by the soft wings.

  The crowd gasped and clapped as the butterflies darted up and around. Garrett craned his neck back, watching as they swirled in an undulating spiral. They drew closer until the whole swarm formed an egg-shaped ball.

  Faster they flew, so fast their tiny wings were no more than a blur. The effect made the egg shape seem solid, until a moment later, it was. The giant, shining egg cracked, pieces falling to the ground. The rearick dodged a piece, then noticed that others were dissolving to nothing before they hit solid ground.

  Remembering the egg above, he looked up. A serpentine infant had hatched and now lifted a sleepy head.

  Light glittered off rainbow scales as it stretched its wings. Launching into the air, it let out a melodic cry. Trumpets answered the call, booming from every direction. The small dragon twisted and flung its wings wide, showering small objects into the crowd. Children screeched in excitement, picking up the small candies with glee.

  “Oh, no!” A voice next to Garrett made him turn. A woman was trying to shove a finger in the mouth of a fat baby. “Spit it out, Truitt! You’ll choke!”

  Garrett laughed and tugged the woman’s elbow to get her attention. “He won’t choke. It’s an illusion.”

  “But… I can feel them.” The woman looked confused.

  “Nope,” said Garrett. “Ye think ye can, that’s all.”

  As if to prove him right, the child opened his mouth. It was empty, completely free of the stickiness or stains that a hard, red candy would have left.

  “Oh, how clever!”

  “Aye, clever… until ye sit down to a lovely roast lunch and have it vanish when it hits yer lips,” Garrett grumbled.

  The woman looked confused, but he didn’t explain, unwilling to admit he had fallen for that particular prank of Danil’s not once, but twice.

  Garrett turned from the young mother to watch the rest of the display. The dragon was gone, and Danil now stepped back to let Bastian take the stage.

  If Garrett didn’t know Danil so well, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight sheen of sweat on his head, or the pallor to his face. He had expended a lot of effort to create those illusions and would likely suffer for it the next day.

  “Friends and colleagues,” Bastian said taking a bow. “I’m afraid my skill doesn’t come close to rivalling that of Danil’s. Instead of the glorious wonders he showed you tonight, my performance will be something much simpler, and it will rely on something we mystics are taught from the very beginning of our training: Storytelling.”

  A pinprick of light appeared over Bastian’s head, high enough that even those in the back would be able to see. It expanded, until it was a large, round image hanging suspended in the air. It showed a scene that reminded Garrett of Arcadia, if Arcadia had been built like the ruins they had passed through in the Madlands.

  It was a city, full of tall, shiny buildings that pierced the sky. One of them glittered in the sun, and Garrett recognized it. They had seen it on their journey, tipped over and crumbling away, but still somehow proud as it sparkled above the ruins below.

  The image changed. Instead of a city, it showed a girl. She was strong and proud, with a firm body and perfect face. Her flawless image was only made all the more striking by her eyes. They glowed red.

  “Many legends exist about our predecessor: The Matriarch, Bethany Anne, known to some as The Queen Bitch.” Voices rose in the crowd and Garrett saw some press hands to mouth or chest. “We know she was a warrior queen, that she forged the way to freedom for our people and saved us from a threat that our people couldn’t begin to imagine.”

  The image of Bethany Anne slid into a battle stance, then pounced. A dark, faceless figure attacked her, and she whipped out a foot, kicking it back into another that appeared. She jumped, first connecting with a figure swooping down on her from above. She fought like a godess, dispatching enemy after enemy.

  “She wasn’t just a warrior, though. To assume that neglects another side of her story, that of the protector.”

  Bethany Anne launched another kick, this time flying over the head of a blue figure huddled near the ground. Bethany Anne stood by the figure, fighting off dark ghosts that hammered down with attacks, all foiled effortlessly by Bethany Anne.

  The air cleared. Bethany Anne reached out and cupped the silhouette of a face. The trembling woman raised her hands and fell to her knees in praise.

  “The world she was born into was fraught with injustice, injustice that she fought and defeated. Once she had succeeded here in our world, she took her battle to the stars to fight others like her, the gods and goddesses of the skies.”

  The image changed again as Bethany Anne leapt into the sky, one hand tucked into her hip while the other pointed towards the stars. She flew like a powerful arrow, past the buildings and beyond the clouds. The sky darkened as the world fell away below her, and the celestial bodies in the sky grew near.

  “Bethany Anne left us her greatest gift,” Bastian continued. “She taught us that the weak and innocent should be protected, that good will always triumph over evil. She left this world a better place.”

  The image fell away. Bastian’s gaze was hard as it ran over his audience. “We squandered that gift. Time and again, mankind has run itself into the ground, over and over.”

  A new image, one that vaguely looked like a crumbling city sprang up. Flames rose and engulfed it, leavening fresh greenery behind.

  Out of the foliage, new buildings grew like trees, reaching for the sky and then crumbling again.

  “And yet, thanks to Bethany Anne, and the gifts she gave us, we continue to rise. Over and over, we rise to try again, to try and live up to her ethos and make this world what it should be.”

  This time, the city that rose from the dirt was Arcadia. Garrett shivered as he recognized it, tall and proud. It wasn’t quite a truthful image: even before the recent revolution, Arcadia had never looked so… well, clean.

  “This is our time.” Bastian spread his arms wide, and the image burst into a thousand butterflies that swooped into the air. “This is our time. You and me, today. We will make this the world Queen Bethany Anne dreamed of.”

  Silence dropped like a lead weight. A moment later, applause thundered as the watchers clapped and stomped and shouted, promising to fight until the world was truly free of evil.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Bastian stumbled over to Garrett, he was cold and sweating. Garrett clapped his shoulder and shoved a cup of cider into his hand, which Bastian gulped down quickly.

  “Steady on, brother!” Danil swept up behind him and plucked the cup out of his hand. “That’s no elixir, my
friend.” He winked, then put the cup to his lips and drained it. “Tastes bloody good, though.”

  “Feeling better then, ye blind fool?” Garrett enquired. He hustled the two mystics away from the crowd that was trying to gather around them.

  “Me? Oh, sure. A few minutes meditation, and I’m right as rain.” He gestured to Bastian, who’d already sunk into a white-eyed stupor.

  “Aye, well I’m glad I don’t have ta carry ye home. Do you mind plonkers spread that tale around everywhere?”

  Danil grinned. “It’s no tale, my friend.”

  “Bullshit.” Garrett thrust his chest out. “I might be a little challenged in the vertical sense, but I’m no fool. We all know Bethany Anne died hundreds of years ago. There’s no bloody way ye could know how she lived.”

  “Records.” Bastian’s voice was tired, but his face had regained its color. “There are records in the Temple, piles and piles of them. Everything we’ve ever found while our people are on pilgrimage gets brought back. We have a small team that catalogues and stores them, and we can access them any time we like.”

  Danil snorted. “I wouldn’t call Angry Steve and that mange-ridden cat of his a ‘team’. More like a crazy old hermit and his crazier pet. The room smells like old piss, and you practically have to suck his dick to get a look inside.” His eyes widened. “Wait. You didn’t…”

  Bastian gagged. “Oh, damn, that’s disgusting. Steve is a beast of a man! I just bribed him with sardines, you idiot.”

  Danil’s brow furrowed. “Sardines? Is that why he stinks?”

  “For the cat.” Bastian rolled his eyes. “Look, some of the pictures are just guesses, and I’ve changed the pictures I was shown since we went through the Madlands.”

  “Aye, I saw that shiny tower,” Garrett interrupted.

  “That was a bit of poetic license,” Bastian admitted. “I mean, old Steve has never left the Temple, so his mental pictures weren’t that great.”

  “Don’t you lot, I don’t know, read minds or somethin’?” Garrett asked irritably. “He doesn’t need to see it if he saw someone who saw someone who did.”

  Danil nodded. “True, but memories get distorted over time. We’re trained to reduce that as much as possible, but it still happens. More gets lost in the translation from person to person.”

  “Like that whispering game we played as bairns?” Garrett frowned, trying to understand.

  “The one where you whisper a line and pass it on a dozen times, to see how it changes?” Bastian asked.

  “Aye.”

  Danil nodded. “Pretty much. But forget all that… we have a more important mission tonight.” He wrapped an arm around Garrett’s shoulder and drew him close.

  The rearick ran his hand along his axe and looked around worriedly. “We do at that. Don’t ye worry; I’ve got yer back.”

  Danil raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t got a goddamn clue what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Not a fucking clue. I’ve still got yer back.” Garrett glared at the crowd of revelers, still looking for any sign of trouble.

  “Bitch help me,” Danil muttered.

  “You gonna let us in on the big secret?” Bastian asked.

  “There’s no secret. Tonight is the night that Garrett is going to ask Bette a very important question.”

  “What? Hell, Garrett, I had no idea!” Bastian clapped Garrett on the shoulder roughly.

  “Oy, fuck off ye bastard. That’s got nothing ta do with either of ye.” Garrett dropped his hand away from his weapon, but then thought better of it. He rested his fingers on the haft as if daring Danil to push the matter.

  “Garrett, it’s ok to be nervous.” Despite the white glow in Danil’s eyes, Garrett could have sworn they twinkled with mischief anyway. “All you need is a few more mugs of cider, maybe with a little extra boost.” Danil drew out a small flask from his pocket and waggled it at Garrett.

  “I don’t need yer pansy brew. I ain’t nervous, just… makin’ sure I approach the situation with due care, ye withered goat testicle of a man. Besides, if I’m drunk, she’ll say no outta principle.” He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, thinking the idea over.

  “You can do it!” Bastian said, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “Go on; I’m sure she’ll say yes!”

  Garrett straightened his shoulders. “Well, there’s no reason she wouldn’t, eh? Fine specimen like meself? Right.” Garrett charged through the crowd, Danil and Bastian hurriedly chasing after him.

  Danil… you did check that Bette is going to say yes, right? Bastian sent the thought behind a shield, unsure what Julianne would think of them using mental magic to play matchmaker between the two rearick.

  Hell no. Do you know what Jules would do to me?

  Shit on a stick, Danil! If he gets rejected in front of all these people, who do you think will get the snot beat out of them? Bastian halted and Danil jostled him as he passed.

  Don’t be an idiot. If he gets mad, I’ll just siphon it off a little. At least enough that he won’t completely kill us. Danil grabbed Bastian’s arm and yanked him forward after the disappearing rearick.

  Goddess Bethany Anne, I pray to your good graces… please don’t let us be killed tonight. Oh, and please let Danil wake up with a really bad case of genital lice in the morning for putting me through this.

  No need to be a limp dick about it, Danil sent back, then skidded to a halt.

  Bette was standing by Julianne, who the villagers had insisted on giving space. A small clearing had formed around her chair and Garrett now stood before it.

  Julianne’s eyes were just fading back to their normal color as Danil and Bastian burst through the wall of people. She gave them an icy look, and Danil’s heart plummeted. She’s going to fucking kill me, he realized. When he realized she was blocking him completely, his heart almost stopped altogether.

  “My fine lady,” Garrett said, sweeping a low bow.

  Danil’s senses confirmed that the whole room’s attention was on Garrett, who was now stepping up to stand toe to toe with Bette.

  “I beg a boon of ye. Bette, yer the finest fighter I ever seen in me life. Ye got muscles like a hard-worked ox, and ye legs are like fat tree trunks.”

  Danil winced, but let him continue. Bette was nodding slowly, and Danil realized with a start that her mental shield had gotten stronger. He decided not to push his luck by trying to force past it.

  He knew the rearick had strange ideas about what constituted a compliment, and hoped Garrett wasn’t stupid enough to put his foot in his mouth.

  “It has been me pleasure ta be travelling with ye these past months, but now, I feel it’s time to… well, make our relationship clear.”

  Bette’s eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. Danil’s heart had climbed back up from his boots and now sat firmly in his mouth.

  “I ask… I beg of ye, face me in a battle of arms!” Garrett dropped to one knee, a beseeching look on his hairy face.

  “Wait.” Danil turned to Bastian. “Battle? I thought he was going to ask her out!”

  “Yes!” Bette clapped in delight, and the crowded room gave a tentative cheer.

  “Oh, holy mother of fucking fucks.” Danil turned to Bastian. “We’re well and truly fucked now.”

  Yes. Julianne sent the message to both mystics. Yes, you fucking are.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Despite Danil’s desperate protests, the two rearick soon stood at the front of the room, facing each other. Julianne ushered the watching people back to give them room.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked Garrett. He nodded.

  “Weapons?” Bette asked.

  Garrett shook his head. “I’d rather do it by hand, if ye don’t mind.”

  Bette nodded and pulled a sword from her belt, tossing it to the ground behind her. She slid a knife from her boot, and slipped another from the back of her shirt somehow.

  Finally, Bette slipped one hand into the tight roll of her hair and
shook it free. Garrett’s eyes widened when he saw the slim stiletto dagger that had come with it. That, too, was discarded.

  He coughed when her belt was removed. “No knives there?" he asked.

  “What? No, just a garrotte.” She chuckled at the look on his face. “It’s ok. I think I have them all now.”

  “Right, then.” He undid his belt and tossed it to the side with his axe. The only other weapon he had brought was a boot knife, and he flicked it away, eager to begin.

  “Are there rules?” Julianne asked, watching the display.

  “Aye,” Bette said. “No weapons, now that’s been agreed. We fight until one of us is incapacitated, or taps out. If it’s the latter, it’s best outta three.” She twisted a smile at Garrett. “We won’t need three.”

  “Very well,” Julianne said. “Begin.”

  The simple word sent a hush over the crowd. Bette and Garrett stood, knees pliant and hands slightly raised, each waiting for the other to attack.

  Julianne’s eyes shone white as she slipped into Garrett’s mind. Bette had quietly asked her to watch him, make sure he wasn’t holding back at all. Julianne agreed, knowing the result of this fight would change the dynamic between them, no matter who won.

  It would be a good change, as long as the fight was honest. Julianne noted the adrenaline sharpened Garrett’s mind, and she felt his blood explode with energy as he attacked.

  Garrett leapt forwards, past Bette’s quick sidestep. Without pausing, he rolled on the floor and spun, kicking out a leg that she easily jumped.

  Bette swung a fist down at Garrett’s head and he dodged, trying to grab her arm. She was too quick, and once again they faced off. They were both flushed and grinning.

  Bette took a short step forwards. Then, she spun a kick out. Garrett jumped back, then swung his fist as she came to a stop. Bette whoofed out a breath as it connected, but managed to snatch his arm and jerk him over her shoulder and onto the ground.