Seher sighed. “A handful of mind-mages. This one”—she gestured to Julianne—“is terribly strong, the others less so. They have a bunch of villagers barely recovered from the Dawn’s attack, and a couple of… what were they called? Roricks?”
“Rearick,” Julianne confirmed. “Two of them, both furious fighters.”
“Furious drinkers, by what I saw in your head.”
“That, too,” Julianne laughed. “But they really can fight. Marcus is even better than that, and he has a natural gift for shielding, at least when he’s not snorting anti-magic smoke.”
“Wait. You mean they drugged me? With incense? I knew it! There’s no way someone got through my shield without some kind of sneaky trick.” He settled back with a smirk now that his honor had been restored.
“It’s the only way to make our performances effective,” Madam Seher admitted. “We’d have hidden it from the Dawn, but we’d already put on three shows before we found out what was happening. We didn’t want to change anything, in case it drew more attention to us.”
“What was your plan before we came along?” Marcus asked.
Seher shrugged, turning a shoulder away from him. “Protect our lady. Everything else has hit a dead end. We can’t find Rogan; we don’t even know what he looks like. We just know he’s here, somewhere. George has ordered him away, and imprisoned, and beheaded, but he just returns once the guards have ‘forgotten’ their leige’s instructions.”
“So, why haven’t they taken the city? And how is George resisting?” Marcus shot questions at her like quick barbs.
“George is like your man here, blessed by the goddess with an iron mind. As for the city? I’m guessing they don’t have the strength,” Seher explained.
Julianne thought for a moment. “They can’t control a whole city, probably not even an army. Once they move out of range, most compulsions wear off and mind tricks dissipate. If the people care for their lord, they’d revolt at any outward moves by Rogan to take control.”
“Right,” Adeline said. “Though, their numbers have grown since August returned a few weeks ago. Whatever he was doing in Tahn, I think he’s trying to replicate it here, on a larger scale.”
“We need to take them down,” Julianne said. “The methods they use don’t rely on mind tricks. They torture and brainwash, even kill. If you don’t cut the rot out now, it’ll infest too deeply to remove it without destroying lives.”
Madam Seher’s eyes fell. “I’ve spent my life keeping my family safe. All those performers… every one of them was beaten or shunned for their gifts. I helped them to see the beauty in themselves, and kept them safe. I can’t risk them. Not without a better plan.”
Julianne’s heart ached. “I know. I won’t ask you to.”
“But—” Marcus spluttered.
Julianne shook her head. “I was happy to fight for Arcadia and for Tahn. I wouldn’t ask others to die for either of them, though. You can’t make someone fight. It has to be their choice.”
“Thank you,” Madam Seher said. “I will help if I can.”
“So will I,” Adeline said. “But I agree with Madam Seher. We need a plan. A good one.”
Julianne pursed her lips. “I might have one, if you can get us a private audience with your father.”
A smile spread across Adeline’s face. “Tomorrow night. I’ll send a carriage for you.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Julianne said. She nudged Marcus. “If anyone asks, you’re going to see your secret lover.”
“And where will you be?” Marcus spluttered.
“Right beside you. No one will see me, though.”
“Bitch’s britches,” he muttered. “What am I in for now?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The heels of Julianne’s boots clicked on the cobblestones as they headed home through quiet streets. They had stayed with Madam Seher and Adeline until well after the show had finished, fine tuning their plan.
Adeline would let slip to her father she had created a scandal—another scandal. Rogan had little interest in her love life and would likely leave him be for their discussion. Adeline would steal George away, and Julianne would stay back to impersonate him until she could take down the New Dawn.
“You’re sure this is a good idea?” Marcus asked.
“If you ask me that again, I’ll brainwash your mouth shut for the rest of the walk,” Julianne joked.
“So, you’re not the least bit worried about kidnapping the local lord?" he pressed.
She shrugged. “We’re not kidnapping him. Ade said he’s pretty agreeable when his lapdogs aren’t close by. He knows what they are, and he’d do anything to get rid of them.”
“All it’ll take is one Dawner to get in his head and for him to cry out for help. We’ll have the whole city guard on us in a heartbeat.”
“Once we have him, I can keep him safe,” Julianne reminded him.
“And who’s going to keep you safe?” Marcus asked.
“You are, of course. George isn’t the only one going missing, and I can easily disguise the two of us for a while.”
“You have way too much faith in a simple city soldier,” he said. Still, her confidence in his ability made him stand a little straighter… at least, until he realized what she’d meant. “Bitch’s honor. You’re going to turn me into Adeline?”
Julianne grinned. “You’ve got the legs for it,” she pointed out. Then, she stopped walking and caught his arm. “Marcus, I have faith in you. You’re one of the best fighters I’ve seen, and I’d trust you with my life.”
“Only one of the best?" he asked, eyes wide with shock. “Julianne, I'm hurt!”
She slapped his arm and he winced. “Smartass.” She took off again, not waiting to see if he was still beside her. “Last time I give you a compliment.”
“Oh, no, don't stop. It’s good for a man’s constitution.”
“Bitch’s sake, Marcus, I’ll never tell you you’re good at it again!” Julianne rolled her eyes, but grinned at him, her white teeth flashing in the darkness. They rounded a corner and the warm lights from the inn brightened the night.
“That’s not all I’m good at.” At her glare, he raised his hands defensively. “Fine, fine. Look, I’m going to do a little recon before our adventure tomorrow.” Marcus said.
“Now? It’s the middle of the night!”
Marcus shrugged. “Best time for it.”
He checked to make sure his weapon was strapped to him and that his pocket was full of coins. He might need them if he got into any difficulty. He might not have mind control, but he did speak a universal language: Money.
“I’ll be back by dawn. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.” He winked, then stepped back into the shadows. A moment later, he was gone.
With a groan of frustration, Julianne pushed open the door of the inn. Without a second glance at the bartender or the few straggling drinkers still seated at the tables, she dragged her tired body upstairs. She had slept poorly the night before, not used to the thin, lumpy mattress.
“It’s going to take one hell of a meditation to work these knots out.” Julianne rolled her shoulders back and stretched her neck as she slipped into her room. Dropping her robe on the floor, too tired to do anything more—she sprawled on the bed.
Someone jumped on her. Hands pressed her arms and legs into the bed and a painful blow slammed her skull. Lights flashed, then dimmed as she lost consciousness. A moment later, she was bundled into a sack and tossed out the window into a waiting cart.
Chapter Thirty
Annie thumped the heavy pot of porridge down on the table. “All I’m saying is, I expected her to have sent a message by now.”
“Julianne is more than competent,” Danil reassured her. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
Annie’s mouth twisted. “Mark my words, you’d best have those pointy sticks at the ready.”
Danil sighed, but when Francis gulped down his food and left in a rush, a heavy lump of un
ease settled in his gut.
After breakfast, he went to find Garrett. “How go the troops?" he asked.
Garrett rubbed his beard. “Well enough. They can point a spear without stickin’ it in their asses well enough. Can’t say I’m happy, though.”
“What’s wrong?” Danil asked.
“Just seems like we’re running out of time. Julianne and Marcus have been gone a few days now. Surely they’d have sent word?” Garrett finished lacing up his boots. “Either way, I plan ta ride them hard and get ’em as ready as I can. Might pay to increase the watch, though.”
“I’m surrounded by worry warts,” Danil muttered. “I suppose a few more on guard can’t hurt. Can you fix the schedule?”
Garrett nodded. “Aye. The reality be sinking in now, they know that if young Julianne doesn’t talk us outta this, we’ll have a real fight on our hands. It’s one thing stabbin’ a stick at a sack of straw, quite a bit different to shovin’ it through a man’s belly.”
“Or having it stab back,” Danil pointed out.
“Aye. Ye think ye could spare some time today? I’d like ta put our top recruits through one of those conjured up battles ye do.”
Danil agreed and they set a time. Just as he turned to go, Garrett cleared his throat.
“Oh, err… before ye go, there’s something I wanted to talk to ye about.”
Danil winced. “What’s that?” He could guess the answer and would have given a sack of gold to avoid the discussion Garrett was so eager to have.
“Well, it’s about Bette. Ye see, I canna get her outta me head.”
“Try harder?”
Danil’s advice fell on deaf ears. “She’s unlike most I’ve ever seen, lad! The way she swings that wee axe of hers, and the look in ’er eye when the battle madness hits her…” Garrett grunted in satisfaction, his eyes glassed over as he imagined his rearick princess flying into battle.
“Bitch’s balls, Garrett. Just ask her!”
“Are ye crazy? She might swing that axe at me head. Or worse, she might say no! Do ye have any idea what kind of hurt that does to a man?”
Heaving a sigh, Danil wondered just how deep he was getting. “Garrett. She likes you. Just ask her out before I die of old age. Please?”
Garrett chewed on a stray whisker. “Ach, yer right. I should just do it.”
“That's the ticket! Now, I'm going to go hunt down Francis and see how his wall is going.”
“Aye. Yer worried too, aren't ye?”
“Aye.” As much as he didn't want to admit it, Danil was.
He didn't expect to hear from Julianne, not until she had secured a solution to their problem. But this was the third day now, and George Junior’s deadline was growing closer every minute.
“Chin up, lad.” Garrett slapped his shoulder. “Yer lass is a clever one. She'll be fine, and she'll save the day. Not the first time, won't be the last.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Danil grumbled. Julianne seemed to attract trouble. World-ending trouble, sometimes.
Chapter Thirty-One
A cold, hard surface pressed against Julianne’s face, chilling her skin. She lay still, eyes closed as she listened.
Someone breathed nearby, a quick, hard sound. They were stressed. But was it because they were about to hurt her, or because they had been caught in the trap with her?
Grit pressing into her flesh suggested she was on a dirty floor, but wasn’t grainy enough to be outside. No light seeped in between her eyelids, so it was dark. Carefully, in case she was being watched, she cracked an eye open.
A small barred window above her let streaks of flickering light in to bounce off the heavy stone walls. Wincing as she turned her head, she noted she was in a tiny room—more of a cell, really—and someone was leaning against the wall beside her.
“Marcus?" she whispered.
He jumped and bent down to examine her. “Are you ok? Thank the Bastard, Jules!” He helped her to sit up and held her steady as her stomach turned from the movement.
“Where are we?" she asked.
“In the bowels of the lord’s manor. It’s a proper dungeon down here.” He kept his voice low, suggesting someone was close enough to hear them.
Julianne narrowed her eyes, trying to force past the throb in her head to summon magic. Marcus shook his head. “The guy that slammed the door on us said we’re being guarded by Dawners. No tricks, or he’ll send one in to thump us.”
“You believe him?” Julianne whispered.
He shrugged. “Probably best not to test his theory until you’re ready to go full mind-fuck on them.”
She gave a soft snort at his description of her powers.
“I’m serious, Jules. When you’re up to it, no half measures. You get in their heads, and you fuck them up. We can’t risk calling any more people down here than you can handle.”
Julianne nodded, then winced as it made her head pound harder.
Marcus noticed. “How’s your head?”
“Nothing broken. It’ll hurt for a few days, I’ll bet.”
She stopped talking when footsteps clomped down the hallway. The metal doorway clicked and a small hatch opened at the bottom. Someone slid a plate of food through, then a water flask before it slammed shut. It clicked again. There’s a lock on the outside, Julianne realized.
Marcus watched her as the boots stomped away. He didn’t ask if she had managed to harness her magic—her clear eyes suggested she hadn’t. Without letting his disappointment show, Marcus passed her the water.
“Drink. It’ll make you feel better.”
She took a small sip of water, rolling it around her mouth. Then, she took a long swallow. “That does feel a bit better,” she said.
Picking up a roll of bread, Marcus let his eyes drift towards the small grate in the door. He had spent an hour calling out for help when they had first locked him in here. When Julianne's comatose body was tossed in later, he’d stopped. Clearly, there would be no fair trial and no audience with the city lord.
A bite of the bread made him screw up his face. When I get out of here, he thought, I’m going to kill whoever decided to feed us cold stew and stale bread. He let the roll drop back to the plate, then offered Julianne some.
She nibbled at the bread, dampening his fear about her head injury. It’s the first place he would attack a mystic—addle their brains and reduce their spellcasting, it was just common sense—but he wouldn’t forgive whoever had caused that injury.
“You’ve blood on your face,” he said. Marcus dampened a corner of his shirt with water, and used it to clean Julianne’s face.
“How long have we been in here?" she asked, her face close enough to tickle his eyebrow with her breath.
“You missed breakfast.” He finished and moved back. “You’re lucky. The cooks here couldn’t hold a candle to Annie. Hell, even Danil can make better food than this lot.”
Julianne shuddered and Marcus could imagine what she was thinking. The one time they had let Danil cook, they had all decided to go hungry rather than eat the mucousy slop that landed in their bowls, or the bread rolls that thunked on the table like stones.
“So, lunch time, at least,” she murmured.
“Maybe. It’s too dark in here to really judge, but I’d swear that was dinner they just fed us, not lunch.” He rubbed his stomach, wondering if maybe he was hungry enough to risk that congealed stew after all.
“I suppose a few herbs for an aching head is too much to ask.” She slumped back against the wall. “Marcus, what the bloody hell are we going to do?”
“Nothing we can do,” he replied, settling back next to her as comfortably as he could. Against cold, knobby stone that wasn’t very comfortable at all, but he was used to roughing it.
“Bullshit.” She gave him a halfhearted slap. “We can plan. Tell me exactly what happened.”
Marcus had been accosted in the street outside the inn. He had scouted the town, chatted to some lowlifes who had told him which of the
guards could be bribed. Of course, that information itself had cost him a few coins.
He hadn’t found out much more than they already knew—the local soldiers had escalated from being generally well-respected peace-keepers to roughneck dictators, using violence to control the citizens of Muir. Of course, most of that behavior was directed at the lower end of town.
That the nobles hadn’t yet been targeted rankled Marcus. Back in Arcadia, he had seen what could happen when the class divide had stretched too far. Lord George had, so far, ruled Muir fairly. Marcus’s quick jaunt through the slums showed them to be in pretty fair condition.
They were clean, for slums, and not as crowded as he had expected. Fresh water pumps were plentiful in the streets and, though closed so late at night, more than one market stall was erected in the area, showing that the locals had access to trade.
Satisfied with the information he had collected, Marcus decided to head back to a warm pillow to try and catch an hour or two’s sleep before morning. He had just rounded the final corner when some thugs jumped him, slipping a sack over his head and tossing him in a carriage.
They had left him bagged and bound for the journey, only untying him after he was safe in the prison cell. They hadn’t spoken much, but Marcus had easily recognized the blue robes of the New Dawn on two of the five.
“Five? They sent five men to take you down?” Julianne didn’t sound entirely skeptical, but Marcus saw one of her eyebrows climb a little higher than usual.
He puffed out his chest. “They must have heard the rumors.”
“Which one?" she asked casually. “Was it the story of how you dissolve into a quivering mess every time a sex worker strolls past? Or the one about the lady who almost had your pants around your ankles before you shook her off outside the inn?”
He glared, and she couldn’t contain her laughter any longer.
“The rumors about my superb fighting skills, smartass,” he said. “You know, for someone with so much responsibility, you don’t act like it sometimes.”
A New Dawn- Complete series Page 35