Aldred stepped forwards, his weapon pointed at the ground. “The boy speaks truth,” he called. “I myself looked into Master Julianne’s mind and saw it.”
“She is a trickster!” Tavich called. “Like all of your kind! If she means to undo this mess, she should have stayed and faced trial, not run like a thief.”
“You dare call me thief?” Julianne stood at the temple doors. Light bathed her, reflecting of pristine white robes and highlighting the barest shades of mahogany through her brown hair.
“I call ye how I see ye,” Tavich growled, fist gripping his weapon tightly. “If ye wish to avoid war between our people, come with us.”
“I will never leave my people,” Julianne hissed. “Not to go with the likes of you.”
Blood drained from Marcus’s face as the men before him shuffled, standing low and ready for their next order.
“Stop!” Marcus darted back up the hill towards Julianne. “Just explain, Jules. Tell them about Donna.”
Julianne shook her head. “They know. They choose not to believe. Tavich has come here for war, not peace. It is war he shall have.”
Julianne rose her staff into the air and brought the heel down against the rock she stood on. Her robe flapped and overhead, lightning struck from a clear sky. Mystic and rearick alike cowered, before some of the rearick growled and yelled, screaming “Fake!” and “Illusions!”
“Julianne?” Marcus cried from below. “What are you doing?”
Julianne spared him a cold glance. “I have done all I can. Using magic to force their compliance would stand against everything we have fought for.”
“Julianne…” Something wasn’t right. Certainty burrowed into Marcus’s gut, and he took a step backwards.
“What’s wrong?” A frown furrowed Julianne’s brow and for a moment, he almost believed it was really her. “Aldred?” she called.
The guard approached, breaking formation to let another man scurry to take his place. “Yes, Master?”
“Do you think the rearick pose a genuine threat?”
Aldred shifted his gaze to the mass of stocky men barring their way down the path. “No arguing that, Master.”
“If we fight… will we win?”
Aldred nodded reluctantly. “But if there is some way to keep the peace—”
“Would you give me over to them?” Julianne asked. “Or let them into the Temple to take our people captive? This is why we trained our fighters, Aldred. To defend.”
“Aldred,” Marcus said in a low voice. “It’s—” Someone slammed into his shields, so hard and strong that he had no time to react. A presence ploughed through his mind, scattering his thoughts and sending his suspicions reeling.
“It’s Donna,” Marcus gasped. “She’s in the Temple somewhere. I can feel her!”
Aldred looked to Julianne, fear and urgency in his face.
Julianne nodded. “Go, both of you. Find her! Perhaps then they will believe us.”
Marcus raced into the Temple, Aldred hot on his heels.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Wake up.
Julianne groaned and tried to roll over, but her limbs were too heavy. She reached for the blanket, but something caught her wrist.
Wake up.
She slumped, brain refusing to kick into gear. She was uncomfortable—sore, even. If she just went back to sleep, maybe everything would stop hurting.
Oh, for bitch’s sake, girl. WAKE UP!
Julianne’s eyes shot open, and she sucked in a gasp of pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them back open. They slowly focused on the ropes binding her hands, the sling dangling uselessly across her chest.
“Oh, fuck that hurts,” she whimpered.
“It’s broken, of course it bloody well hurts,” Margit snapped. She stooped down, slipping a small paring knife from her belt. “Stop complaining. Do you know I almost lost my toes, hiding out in that weather for four days?”
“Ow!” Julianne yelped as Margit cut through the bonds.
“Shh!” Margit hissed. “We don’t know where that horrible woman is. Now, stay still while I block the pain from that arm.”
“Margit, that’s dangerous!” Julianne hissed.
“So is getting hit in the face by a psychopath,” Margit said. “Have you seen inside that woman’s head?” Margit clicked her tongue. “Of course, you couldn’t. You never were good with broken minds.”
“What are you talking about?” Julianne’s head swam, but her pain faded as Margit’s eyes shone white, blocking the sensors in Julianne’s brain so she wouldn’t feel her injury.
“That Donna is as broken as a shattered glass,” Margit said. “Oh, her shields are strong enough, but a good mystic would be able to push past them… the problem was recognizing that it wasn’t the shields causing the barrier.”
“She finally snapped,” Julianne whispered, her heart thudding a painful beat. “Rogan finally broke her.”
Margit shrugged. “Someone did. But even a broken mind wouldn’t wreak this much havoc if there weren’t some nastiness deeper inside.”
Julianne shook her head sadly. She didn’t know Donna’s whole story. Perhaps she really was just an innocent caught in a manipulators net, as unlikely as that seemed.
Margit pressed a knife into Julianne’s hand. “The rearick are here,” she said, urgency clipping her words short. “She’s out there with them. Itching to start a war, that woman.”
A smile crept over Julianne’s face. “Perfect.”
“What?” Margit squinted, then relaxed her face. “I see you’re up to something. Something devious, no doubt… well, off with you then.”
“Aren’t you going to help?” Julianne asked.
Margit shook her head. “If I turn up now, that will just cause confusion. I did quite the job of pretending to be dead, you know.” Her face lit up at the memory. “The funeral was wonderful, Julianne. And here I thought they all hated me!”
“Bullshit,” Julianne said dryly. “You know we’re all wrapped around your little finger, even if it is a bit arthritic these days.”
Margit grinned. “Oh, Julianne. You’ll make such a wonderful, cranky old bat one day.”
“Not this day,” Julianne replied, gathering her skirts with one hand. “I need to deliver a very stern message to one of my subjects.”
Julianne trotted down the steps, ducking into a doorway when she heard footsteps around a corner. When two men passed, she grabbed one of their sleeves. “Marcus?” she asked.
Aldred reared back. “Master?”
“Yes, it’s me. I know, Donna is outside.” She gave Marcus a gentle shake. “You ok there, soldier?”
He looked at her with vacant eyes. “I have to find Donna,” he said. “Julianne told me to.”
“Fuck!” Julianne harnessed her magic, eyes turning white. “Aldred, help,” she said.
The guardsman’s eyes turned opaque to match hers. Julianne touched Marcus’s shield. “Come on, Marcus,” she whispered. “It’s me.”
Somewhere on the smooth wall surrounding his mind, a ripple trembled. She reached up to touch his face, and his defenses melted. “Follow me,” she directed her helper.
Julianne was aware of Aldred’s presence tailing her past Marcus’s fallen shield. He had let Julianne in because he recognized her, not because she had forced through—she was still tired and needed to save her energy to address Donna.
Julianne flitted through Marcus’s mind. As she touched memories, they flared to life, almost blinding her with the brightness and joy that he felt every moment. His love for her shone like a beacon, lighting her way through his mind.
Through the exuberant lightness, she noticed a tiny corner of darkness.
Donna, she thought, drifting towards it. Sure enough, a tendril of compulsion wrapped around a thought.
Aldred, here. She felt the guardsman join her and directed him towards the spell Donna had lodged in Marcus’s mind. She watched as Aldred’s magic reached out, gently tug
ging at the threads until it began to unravel.
The compulsion loosened. Then, with a shudder, it snapped back, cutting deeper into Marcus’s mind.
Together, Julianne thought to her companion. Aldred started again, his patience soon rewarded by a loose end that unrolled to give them room to work. Julianne delicately unwound the spell, gripping it tightly when it tried to tighten again at the disturbance.
She held it out, threaded between prongs of magic, and raised it before Aldred. A glowing blade grew from his insubstantial form and sliced through the spell. It fell away, the scattered remains dissipating.
Julianne withdrew, staggering back to lean against the wall for support.
Marcus blinked slowly, and shook his head like a wet dog. “Jules?” he asked once he had steadied himself. “What are—oh, fuck me!”
“In the hallway?” Julianne asked. “I know I said mystics were open, Marcus, but that’s a bit extreme even for us.”
His ears turned fiery red as he ducked his face away from Aldred. “I didn’t mean—I just… Oh, you’re a bitch,” he said.
Aldred raised an eyebrow at that. “I take it we are ready to proceed, Master?” he asked.
Julianne held up a finger, still slumped against the wall. Her eyes lit up again as she slipped into the deepest meditation she could manage without cutting herself off from her surroundings.
The men waited, Aldred patiently, Marcus less so. After a few minutes, Marcus whispered, “Jules? I hate to interrupt, but there’s a real problem brewing out there.”
“The rearick?” she asked, still staring with clouded eyes. “They can wait. As long as Donna doesn’t get away this time.”
Marcus didn’t seem convinced, but leaned against the wall next to her, frowning as he drummed his fingers on the wall.
“That should do.” Julianne pushed herself up, letting her eyes fade back to normal. She felt the sluggishness fall away. Though she was far from being at full strength, her lessons with Artemis forcing her to work through exhaustion and fatigue had conditioned her to working under such conditions.
Straightening her shoulders, Julianne strode outside, flanked by Marcus and Aldred. She didn’t need to tell Marcus to tighten up his mental defenses—a quick prod at his shield showed it to be strong and steady.
She reached out to Aldred and brushed his shoulder. His shield relaxed enough to let her inside his head.
In a flurry of thoughts and impressions, she showed him how to create a looping shield between three anchor points. When she pulled in the third mystic, his face paled.
Margit? Aldred’s stunned thought bounded through Julianne’s head.
Oh, don’t be an idiot, Aldred, Margit responded. You don’t think I’d really just die, do you? With the Temple in danger?
Julianne felt Aldred bristle. I buried you. I spoke at your funeral!
And I appreciate it. Didn’t know you had such a way with words, boy! Margit gave a mental chuckle.
“Blowed if I’m going to your next funeral,” Aldred muttered aloud.
“What?” Marcus looked at him oddly, but Aldred just shook his head.
“Are we ready, gentlemen?” Julianne asked.
She strode through the door, flanked by the soldier and the guardsman. Cold wind whipped at her robes and streamed her hair across her face, but she ignored it.
Ahead, Donna stood atop a flat rock, her magic giving her Julianne’s face and creating a halo of light around her.
“Showoff,” Julianne said. Her eyes were sparkling white orbs, glowing in the dimming light of day. She lifted her head and called out, her voice laced with magic that made it echo in the minds of those who heard her call. “Traitor!”
The false Julianne spun on her rock, surprise etched on her features. Then, she laughed. “Imposter!” she yelled back.
A force slammed against Juliane’s shield. Though it was buffered by Aldred and Margit, neither were trained in the art of holding a looping shield. The barrier shuddered under the force of Donna’s attack.
Julianne fed her own power into the shield, steadying it. Beside her, a fat bolt of lightning smashed into the earth, shattering a nearby rock. Sparks flew from the stone, and the grass smoldered.
She let out a slow breath, steadying herself as the smoke cleared. The rock was still whole, smooth, unmarried by the stormy illusions.
Marcus jumped, his movement a blur in the corner of Julianne’s eye. She turned her head to one side, just a little. He raised his sword, snarling at Donna.
More lightning, three bolts, one after the other, crashed down into the rearick army. They scattered, screaming as mind tricks made their armor burn.
Marcus staggered. He fell forward, catching himself before turning to Aldred. His eyes jerked to Donna, then back to Aldred.
“Fight it!” Julianne barked. “Fight!”
Marcus raised her a tortured glance, pain etched into his features. His sword raised.
Julianne drew back from her shield, enough to let it waver under Donna’s brutal pressure. She used the remains of her power to slam into the other woman’s mind, shoving against a shield far stronger than it should have been.
Marcus’s sword flew down towards Aldred’s neck, the guardsman’s sweating face and closed eyes too distracted to notice.
At the last moment the sword twisted. Instead of cutting through Aldred’s neck, the flat of the blade slammed into his shoulder. Aldred jerked back, and Julianne felt the joint shield crumble.
Marcus flung the sword, letting it slide, clattering down the rocks. He raised his hands, looking at them in horror before stumbling away.
Julianne’s final defense, her last shields, crumbled.
Before Donna could force her way through, Julianne groped for a familiar presence, a mind to call to. She found it.
Now, she sent.
Donna flooded into her mind, raking at Julianne’s immediate impressions. Pain scored her flesh, and she fell to her knees, writhing as Donna’s magic inflicted sensations of burning agony on every one of her nerves.
Julianne screamed.
The pain stopped.
Donna’s presence in her mind vanished.
Julianne lay on her back and sucked in a deep gasp. Above her, heavy grey clouds banked across the sky. A snowflake fell on her cheek, a tiny pinpoint of ice that quickly melted and dripped down her face.
“Jules!” Marcus scrambled to her, his face obscuring her view of the sky. “What the fuck?”
Julianne smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice weak.
“What?” Marcus slipped an arm under her and lifted, helping her to sit. “Julianne… what the fuck just happened?”
A wavering smile touched her face. “Tavich.”
Marcus looked over his shoulder at the burly rearick leader stomping towards them, barely sparing a glance at the body sprawled on the snow, red hair splayed out around her.
Marcus reached for his scabbard, but Julianne put her hand over his.
“Julianne!” Tavich reached a hand out, and Julianne took it. With a swift jerk, he pulled her to her feet.
Legs still wobbling, she had to cling to Marcus to stay standing, but a giddy giggle escaped. “We did it,” she said.
“Aye! Clever lass. Ye didn’t have ta leave it til the last minute, though!” Tavich waved his finger at her, then chuckled. “But ye wouldn’t be Selah’s favorite if ye didn’t have a touch o’ the battle fever, would ye? Well played, lass.”
“Uh, Tavich?” a rearick Julianne didn’t recognize approached, eyes darting from his leader to the Mystic Master. “Are we not going to storm the Temple, then?”
“What?” Tavich’s eyes bulged. “Don’t be a dipshit, Carrup. Storm the Temple? Fucking rearick.”
“But you said—”
Julianne interrupted smoothly. “I’m sorry, Carrup. Tavich and I worked out a plan, but it wasn’t safe to tell anyone—anyone.” Her eyes flicked to Marcus beseechingly. “Only Tavich and Margit knew.”
�
��Margit?” Jonsen wandered over, his face dark. “Margit is dead. Isn’t she?”
Julianne gave a polite cough.
“I was as surprised as you,” Aldred said. He rolled his shoulder, then pulled back his robe to examine the black welt from Marcus’s sword. He prodded it and winced.
“But… ah, Bastard’s luck.” Jonsen scowled. “She’d better not think she’s getting another funeral like that one. Next time she dies, I’ll box her up in cheap pine and toss it over the mountain.” He wandered off, muttering about the cost of funerals.
“Sorry about the shoulder, Aldred.” Marcus bowed his head apologetically.
“You couldn’t help it,” Julianne said. “I’m amazed you managed to turn the blade.”
Marcus rubbed his head. “Is this what it’s going to be like?” he asked. “Living here?”
“And you thought we were boring when you got here,” Julianne chided. “Now, let’s get this mess sorted out before my arm falls off.”
Chapter Thirty
Julianne relaxed into her thick pillows, the soothing warmth of a jug of elixir suffusing her body. Her fractured arm was splinted and bandaged and now rested on the blanket next to her, while Marcus sat at her other side, holding her good hand.
Sunlight filtered through the window, a crisp, cool light that did nothing to offset the frost speckling the edges of the window. Julianne shivered and turned her eyes towards the crackling fireplace.
“A prostitute.” Across the room, Margit perched in a high-backed chair, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have believed that if I hadn’t seen it in your head.”
“I know,” Julianne said. “But I’m glad he’s happy.”
“And this school?” Margit took a sip from the pewter mug in her hand. “You really think that Bastian has what it takes to undertake such a big project?”
Julianne nodded. “He was so young when we left,” she mused. “But he’s grown. We all have.”
“Nothing stays the same forever,” Marcus commented.
A New Dawn- Complete series Page 76