A New Dawn- Complete series

by Michael Anderle

  About halfway, Julianne jerked a hand up. Everyone froze. A man stumbled towards them, cursing at the uneven ground and lack of moonlight. “Bloody fools errand, this is,” he grumbled. “I’m not a fighter. I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “That’s a mental magician,” she whispered.

  She straightened and stepped forward, then leaned over to pull Polly’s sword from her scabbard. Lifting a finger to her lips and cautioning them to silence, Julianne quietly stepped up behind the man as he undid his pants.

  When he was done pissing, he stumbled around to face Julianne. The sword she held was an inch from his eye.

  He stepped past it without blinking. Julianne smiled and handed Polly back her weapon. Once he was a short distance away, Julianne said, “Sorry. Just making sure the spell is working.”

  Bastian gave a nervous giggle. “Guess that means it is,” he said.

  “You thought it might not?” Polly asked, head twitching back and forth as she watched for danger.

  Julianne shrugged. “Usually, it’s fine. But with all these mystics running around with triple-layered shields, I didn’t want to find out the hard way.”

  “Fair enough.” Polly waited for Julianne and Marcus to move back into the lead.

  They finally spotted a small group of men sleeping on the grass, separated by a short distance from the main group.

  “Start there,” Julianne said. “Adeline, are you ready?”

  They walked over, staying quiet and waiting until a three-man patrol had passed by. Julianne whispered something. “I’ve taken off the disguise,” she whispered. “Say your piece and leave them with this.” She thrust a handful of jerky and fruit into Adeline’s hand, then stepped back.

  Adeline approached the nearest man, shaking him awake gently. She pressed a hand to his mouth when he jerked up, then released it slowly.

  “Hush,” she said quietly. “I can’t be seen by the others.”

  “Who… Lady Adeline?” the man said, eyes wide in wonder. The distant bonfire reflected in his eyes as tears welled.

  “Joseph, isn’t it?” Adeline said. “I met you, once. Your daughter goes to my father’s school. Her name is Jessie?”

  “Yes.” Joseph gulped down a quiet sob. “Yes, Jessie’s my girl. But your father—”

  “That creep is not my father,” she hissed. “His name is Rogan. He’s a magic user, a despicable man masquerading as Father and lying about me, too. Joseph, I wasn’t kidnapped.”

  “What?” he asked, bewildered. “Why are you here, then?”

  “I fled here to escape Rogan,” she explained. “Father is here, too, safe inside the city walls. Jospeh, you must leave. Don’t fight Tahn. The people there are innocent.”

  Joseph screwed up his face in confusion. “That makes no sense.” He rubbed his face. “Wait… is this a dream? Maybe I’m imagining you.”

  Adeline glanced at Julianne in alarm. “No! Joseph, I’m as real as you are. Please, you have to listen to me!”

  “Adeline, we have to move,” Julianne whispered. The sound of men chatting to each other buzzed in the distance, coming closer.

  “Take these. Remember what I said.” Adeline shoved the small pile of food at Joseph and rejoined the others.

  They snuck out, and Julianne cast the invisibility illusion on Adeline once they were out of sight.

  “This is useless,” Adeline said. “By morning, he’ll think it’s all a dream, and he won’t pay any attention.”

  “That’s why you left him food,” Julianne said. “Rogan destroyed their rations. When they see that, they’ll know something happened, and when they start talking, only to find they all had the same dream?” Julianne smiled. “Trust, Adeline. Trust your people.”

  When they approached the next group, Adeline woke three of the sleeping men. Though dazed and wary, they seemed to accept that she was real. “Save the food until morning,” she said, handing them each a small portion.

  “Of course, Lady Adeline,” they murmured, gazing at her in awe. “But… if you want us to desert Lord Geor—Rogan’s army, shouldn’t we go now?”

  She shook her head, falling back on the instructions Julianne had given her. “You’ll be caught by his patrols. Wait until morning, when Rogan calls the attack. When his men go forward, run like hell.”

  A chorus of assent buoyed her heart, and she left them feeling more confident than when she had spoken to Joseph.

  Julianne’s plan will work, she told herself. When the men who aren’t sure see the others leave, they’ll run, too.

  They managed to speak to six more groups of men, Adeline insisting that they do their best to spread the rumor of her safety and encourage other Muir civilians to flee when the attack was called in the morning.

  To some, she gave more details—about Rogan’s tricks, and her father’s status—but twice, she was interrupted by a guard or patrol and had to cut the meeting short. Each time, she left a small handful of snacks to fill their stomachs.

  “This is the last one,” Julianne said. “It’s getting dangerous.” A scan of the army’s minds had showed they were getting restless. Some of the people Adeline had spoken to were already telling their friends of her visit, and sharing the small bounty she had left as proof.

  “So, I’d better make it a good one,” Adeline said, nodding confidently.

  She crept past two tents and then into a third. Waking the two men inside, she quickly told her story, now well-rehearsed.

  “If Rogan is really pretending to be your father, how do we know who you really are?” one of them said, suspicion etched all over his face.

  Adeline faltered. So far, they had taken her appearance at face value.

  “I know,” the second man said. “Who really snipped your father’s buttons off before his presentation, back when you and George were children?”

  Adeline blushed. “Really? Of all the things to ask, you chose that?” She glared at him a moment, then said, “It was me.”

  “Ha!” the first man said. “It wasn’t! You’re fake, just like you said your father is.”

  The second one, though, shook his head. “Nah, Harvey. She’s telling the truth, alright. My aunt was working in the manor and said Miss Adeline here was caught with a big pair of scissors and a handful of buttons in her room the next week. No one ratted her out. If she was lying, she’d have blamed her brother.”

  “I was trying to replace them with ones I’d made,” she admitted, chagrined. “I was too young and silly to know paper buttons wouldn’t hold worth a damn. When I couldn’t fix it, I hid the evidence and let George take the fall.”

  “That’s our Ade, alright,” the second man said. He dropped his head. “I’m sorry, my lady. We shouldn’t have questioned—”

  “No!” she snapped. “It’s a lack of questioning that got us here. Has no one noticed my supposed father’s change of personality? Has no one asked why?”

  They exchanged glances. “Well, can’t say we couldn’t see something had changed. Only, every time someone had the chance to ask him, they came back all convinced it was definitely him.”

  “Part of the magic,” she explained. “Look, I’m running out of time. Will you help tell the others? I’ve only gotten to a few men, but if I don’t get back to Tahn, things could go very badly in the morning.”

  They nodded eagerly. “At your service, Lady Ade. Life and soul.”

  They saluted and she impulsively leaned over to hug each of them. “Thank you. I know the people of Muir look up to me and my father, but honestly, we’re the ones who are blessed.”

  She wiped away a tear and scurried away, safe under Julianne’s spell once again.

  “We’ve done what we can,” Julianne said. “Hopefully, it’s enough to disrupt the attack tomorrow. All I need is a chance—if I can get to Rogan, that bastard will go down.”

  Adeline nodded. “The more that flee, the less we’ll have to worry about hurting innocent people.”

  “Do you really think we can
pull this off, Jules?” Marcus asked.

  She knew without asking that he was really asking a different question. He wanted to know if she could really sneak through an army, kill Rogan, and return in one piece.

  “With one hand behind our backs,” she said with a grin.

  “Which begs the question,” Polly said, “why you don’t just sneak on in and kill him now?”

  Julianne shook her head. “He’s surrounded by a group of soldiers and mental magicians who are completely under his spell, and well-shielded to boot. If I try it now, then either they’ll catch me, or Rogan will die by mistake.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Polly asked, one eyebrow shooting up her forehead.

  “If Rogan dies, his minions will go nuts and kill a bunch of people, then themselves,” Danil explained. “War is messy and disorganized, especially when you’re fighting with an untrained force. Much better chance of sneaking in, knocking him out, and buying enough time to dismantle the death spell.”

  Polly just stared. “Wow. This guy is a grade A villain, isn’t he?”

  The whole party nodded in unison.

  “Well, good thing we’re not gonna let him get away with it,” she said. Polly pulled out her sword and gripped it. “Let’s go. We’ve got a war to win.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rogan stood high in his horse’s stirrups, poking out over the swollen mass of men. Most were on foot—only his trained soldiers and loyal magicians were allowed horses.

  The silence would have been unnerving to a lesser man. As Rogan eyed the woman atop the the wall, though, every fiber of his being was pulled to her.

  “Julianne, we have you surrounded!” he called. “Surrender. Open your gates and give your people the chance to live.”

  “Fuck you, Rogan!” she called back.

  He cursed her shields. It would be so much easier to communicate using their magic. “Now, dear, cursing is for the dregs of society. We’re better than that, aren’t we?”

  “How is this for better? Order your men to stand down. Give yourself over to us. We’ll make sure you get the help you so clearly need.” Her frosted gaze gave no hint of the fear she must surely be feeling.

  Rogan heaved a sigh, only now paying attention to the mutters of his men.

  “Rogan? Who’s Rogan?” Several eyes turned to him. Farther off, the murmurs held hints of resolve rather than confusion or surprise. “Kev was right!” And “...telling the truth?” reached his ears, but he brushed them off.

  “We know you have Adeline, the Lady of Tahn. And I—Lord George, her father—” Rogan looked around as if to reassure his men that he was speaking the truth. “I demand you turn her over, safe and unharmed.”

  A second figure stepped up next to Julianne and Rogan’s heart jumped into his throat. Two women, one in shining white and the other wearing vibrant blue, stood tall and proud.

  “I am not a prisoner!” Adeline called.

  Rogan smiled, a bubble of laughter rising in his chest. Damn fools! They walked right into my trap.

  He whispered a few words and for the briefest moment, those watching felt a flicker in their vision, like a distant wave of heat rising up to distort the image of the women standing above them.

  Buzzing filled their ears and drowned out speech as the white-robed figure raised a hand. A dagger sparkled in the morning sun for a moment as time seemed to freeze. It plunged towards the woman in blue, stabbing into her back.

  She fell, crumpling, then tumbling backwards off the wall as Julianne turned her glare to the army.

  Breathing hard and flushed with excitement, Rogan released the spell. “Now who’s in charge, bitch?” he panted.

  Julianne ripped off her cloak. Rogan started, squinting for a better look. How?

  “I am Adeline, and this is my father!” She shook out her long, dark hair as the illusion fell away. Lord George—the real Lord George—stepped up beside her.

  “That man is an imposter!” George yelled, thrusting a finger at Rogan.

  Rogan desperately whispered the words for another illusion spell, but without a clear plan, the magic fizzled away.

  Roars of outrage went up, and the army seethed. Some ran. Others turned toward their leader, trying to fight their way through the brainwashed soldiers and hired mercenaries protecting him.

  “You bitch!” Rogan screamed, wheeling his horse around. “I’ll have your head, and your bastard father’s, too!”

  “Charge!” Bette screamed from behind the wall.

  Ropes slithered down, tethered to railings, and men began to slip down. On the watchtower, George and Adeline quickly jumped to the ground, their fall cushioned by Jakob.

  “This way, my lord,” he said, ushering his girlfriend and her father away to safety.

  Julianne lowered herself to the ground as fast as she could, not stopping to wait for Marcus before plunging into the fray.

  She used her staff to block blows and leverage her way through the press of bodies. She burst into a small clearing, then was yanked back a moment before a horse kicked out, narrowly missing her face.

  “Bitch’s oath, Jules! Be careful!” Marcus pushed her forwards again as the horse turned and they scooted past it. “I told you, we should have gone around the back.”

  “No time,” Julianne said. “I can only track him while he’s surrounded by people.”

  She angled away to the left, then changed directions before swinging back around. “Dammit! He’s being pushed back and forth.” She ducked a swing from a sword, then flinched as Marcus stabbed the man with a spear, splattering her with blood.

  “Pick a direction,” he said. “And I’ll clear a path.”

  Julianne reached out for the small space where a conspicuous absence of minds formed a tiny circle in the middle of the battle. “That way!” she cried, pointing.

  Marcus lifted his rifle. A flash signaled the blast that threw men out of the way, and he grabbed Julianne’s arm, dragging her forward. “Two minutes, and I can do it again,” he said. “But it’s tight with fighting ahead.”

  Behind them, they heard a rearick battle cry.

  “Suck me balls, ye hairy goat scrotums!” A kerfuffle nearby erupted as men ducked and ran.

  Garrett plugged through, smacking the last man in his way with the flat of his sword. The soldier yelped and cringed, ducking as Garrett swung it again, whirling the lady before thumping the hilt into a temple.

  The soldier crumpled to the ground. Garrett stepped on his back, using the valuable added inches to scan the battleground.

  “Where’s that slimy mucker, eh?” he muttered.

  Julianne sighed. “Garrett? We need a little help over here.”

  “Aye! Who do ye want me ta hurt-without-killin’? Or, who do ye want me to kill? That’s the preferred option.” He chuckled at his own joke, then stepped off his unconscious footstool.

  “Kill the ones in heavy armor,” Marcus said. “They’re overpaid, angry, and mean. Leave the ones fighting them, they seem to be Muir soldiers revolting against Rogan.” He looked to Julianne for confirmation, and she nodded.

  “Just be careful,” she said. “We don’t want Rogan to die. Not yet, anyway.”

  “If we’re fightin’ through that lot, let me get me girl,” Garrett said. He sucked in a breath, then screamed “WHERE’S ME LASSIE? WE GOT SOME KILLIN’ TER DO!”

  A whoop and a holler bellowed out from behind, and Bette flew over a soldier, planting her foot on his face to kick off and jump over into the small area Marcus had cleared.

  “There ye are, ye handsome barrel of curls,” she growled. Grinning, Bette twirled around to face a soldier who had followed her. Two thrusts of her sword and he was dead.

  “Oops. Sorry, Julianne, I forgot we’re not supposed to be killin’ ‘em.” She winced apologetically.

  Julianne kicked at the fallen man’s thick, shiny armor. “I think that one’s ok,” she said. “But we need to head for Rogan. You and Garrett take the lead.”
r />   Marcus was an expert fighter, but Bette and Garrett were like heavy buffalo. They hurled themselves at the wall of men, chopping their way through, strokes flying in unison.

  “They’ve gotten better,” Marcus panted. He jabbed his rifle into a man’s throat, then aimed over the rearick’s heads. “Incoming!” he yelled, firing off another round.

  They filled the emptied space and continued to push through. Julianne held her own, cracking heads and shattering knees with her heavy staff. Some way in, she paused, listening to something no one else could hear.

  “He’s close!” she yelled, pointing in the direction of the void she could sense.

  They soon burst through, coming face to face with a cluster of scared mystics and a handful of ferocious guards.

  ‘Lord George’ stood in the middle of them, clothes muddied and hanging oddly from his body, part of a cloak draped over one shoulder, hiding his arm.

  His guards attacked. Marcus threw himself in front of Julianne, pushing off a heavy mace and stabbing the man in the gut before turning to face the next soldier.

  Julianne’s eyes turned white as she summoned her power. She slammed into Rogan’s shields and felt them buckle.

  She pounded again, and his illusion fell away. She ignored the gasps from those watching as the kind-hearted lord was revealed to be his cruel advisor.

  Julianne knew his shield was almost down. Just one more strike…

  Someone stumbled in front of her, and Marcus jumped on him, shoving aside a spear aimed at Julianne. Rogan stepped forward.

  “You’ll never take me alive,” Rogan hissed. He lifted his hand to reveal a long, thin sword. He plunged towards Julianne.

  Marcus yelled. “No!” as he flung his sword out and felt it bite into the soft flesh of Rogan’s belly.

  “Marcus, NO!” Julianne screamed.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Marcus marched alongside the two rearick as they carried out Rogan’s body, wrapped in a torn banner that displayed Lord George’s coat of arms.

  The fighting was done. A few small tousles still flared up here and there, but for the most part, the soldiers had either dropped weapons when Rogan’s deceit had been revealed, or turned on those so far gone that they still fought in his name.