Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

“The New Dawn,” Julianne said softly.

  Annie looked surprised. “Yes, that’s them. I take it you’ve had dealings with them before?”

  “You could say that.” Julianne’s voice was carefully neutral, but Annie wasn’t fooled.

  “They take someone of yours, too?”

  “Take them? They killed two of the Temple Guards. They were my friends,” she added, face hard. “If their words are true, they mean to do much worse than that.”

  “You mean like take a village hostage with their mind tricks, leaving children to starve while their parents work to the bone? Taking men from their homes and setting them to work the farms and the mills, for no pay and no food and discarding them when they work themselves to an injury?”

  “Bitch take me,” Julianne muttered, her eyes widening a bit.

  “There’ll be no use of the Goddess’s name like that in my house, I’ll thank you.” Annie tapped her left breast with two fingers.

  “Of course. I’m sorry, Annie. Where we come from, the Bitch and the Bastard are… worshipped quite differently.” Julianne spoke carefully, not wanting to offend the woman who’d taken them in.

  “Fair enough. I heard about some strange religions over the border, so I don’t blame you for having your ways.” Annie ducked her head. “Though if you’ve got the magic, that no doubt changes things anyway. You’re touched by the Goddess?”

  “Touched?” Julianne asked. “You mean with magic?” Annie nodded. “Ahh. The teachings in our land say that everyone has the capacity for magic. Some are just stronger than others. I’m… well, quite strong, but only in mental magic.”

  “Many of our preachers say the same, that the Goddess has touched all, but some got a helping heap of her favor. They’re the ones what can do the real magic. Not like me, all I can do is whistle the plants up and keep them growing. Not that I need that now.” Annie cast a forlorn look at the mantelpiece. On it were two hats, both overly large for the frail old woman.

  “Annie, who did the New Dawn take from you?” Julianne asked quietly.

  “My sons.” Annie coughed, clearing the sudden huskiness in her voice. “They resisted, better than most. Eventually, they fell to the magic of the priests. That’s no act of the Goddess. What those assholes do? Remnant have more heart.” Her eyes glittered and Julianne reluctantly dropped her probing questions.

  Instead, she dropped her eyes and fiddled with her dress, trying to calm her mind enough to ignore the nagging headache. It was no good. The smell of coppery blood soaked the air, sending a frisson of anxiety along her skin. Her thoughts jangled inside her head, unwilling to sit still or give her the space to block them out.

  Julianne wanted to pace, to work off the nervous energy. She wanted to growl and curse and rip the heads off the people perverting her magic. She wanted to avenge Annie, a woman she barely knew but cared about the moment she’d invited them in. Most of all, she wanted to grab Marcus’s pretty face and press her…

  Shoving her chair back with a screech, Julianne quickly stepped over to the nearest window, pretending to look out. She rested her head against the cool glass and willed the flames from her cheeks.

  And with Marcus? What in the ever-loving world am I thinking? She thought. Bitches oath, but I’ll be glad when this wears off. At least she had the sense to lock down her shields.

  Vaguely, she realized the conversation had turned from religion. Raging emotions now tightly under control, Julianne turned back.

  Annie peeked over at Marcus. “That wound doesn’t look good.”

  “No,” Bette said as she tied off the stitching. “I have some antiseptic, though. It should be enough to fix it.”

  “That some kind of standard issue stuff? My husband, bless his soul, did a term with the rangers up in Arsa. The stuff they hand out is weaker than a crooked barman’s beer.”

  Bette shrugged wryly. “Seems some things are the same wherever ye go.”

  Annie stood. “I’ve some tincture of lavender and seal. It’ll sting, but it’ll clear that fester up in no time.”

  “I might check on Bastian,” Julianne said.

  She followed Annie to the kitchen and through the back, almost bumping into Garrett as he returned.

  “Everything well?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Aye,” he said. “No sign of remnant this far out, and the nearest farmhouse was abandoned.”

  That gave Julianne a measure of unease, but she waved him in the direction of the dining room and left him to it.

  The vegetable garden, a small, fenced-off section of the overgrown farm, looked like an absolute jungle. Tomatoes stretched high, stalks strong despite the lack of trellises for support. A pumpkin vine wound its way over one fence, and a thick, bushy plant dripping with beans over another. Seeing the untouched beans, Julianne frowned. Bastian should be almost done by now, and she expected more from him than to shirk off such a simple duty.

  The gate screeched in protest as she pushed it open and a dark head popped up from the back corner. “Master Julianne! I’m sorry, am I taking too long?” Dirt smudged Bastian’s face, and a leaf jutted from his hair.

  “What in the world are you doing?” Julianne carefully picked her way through a matted clump of thyme surrounding an overloaded eggplant, then took a large step to straddle an overgrown parsley. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting beans?”

  Bastian held up a wooden bowl. “I did! Julianne, this garden… the old lady must have some kind of druid magic. These plants are as healthy as I’ve ever seen. The weeds are atrocious, though.”

  Julianne finally got close enough to see what he’d been doing. A pile of scraggly, uprooted weeds lay in the corner, while a large square patch of garden had been freshly tidied. The soft brown dirt had been smoothed over, and a drooping vine wound back over the fence posts.

  “Wow.” Julianne looked at him with new admiration. “You’ve really made a difference here.”

  “It needs a lot more work. If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep going. After the trip we’ve had, it feels good to sink my hands into something familiar.” Bastian waggled his dirty fingers.

  “Actually, that’s why I came out. My brain is still too fried to mind-read, and I really need to know what the New Dawn have been up to here. I wondered if you could look at Annie's memories to see what’s been going on.”

  “Ah.” A crestfallen look crossed Bastian’s face, making Julianne hesitate.

  “It can wait,” she said. “Here, I’ll take the beans in. Just make sure you wash up before you come inside.”

  “What is it with women?” Bastian grumbled, just loud enough for Julianne to hear. “It’s not like I was born in a barn.”

  She hid a smile and hoisted the bowl to her shoulder and carried it inside.

  “Annie?” she called, depositing it on the counter. “I’ve got the beans, Bastian wants to continue working in the garden.”

  “Working?” Annie ducked into the kitchen, face glowing. “I must say it’s appreciated. My back isn’t what it was and now my boys aren’t here to help, I just haven’t been keeping up with things like I should be.”

  Julianne chewed her lip. “Annie, how would you feel about putting us up for a few more days? I can pay in Arcadian coin, and we’ll do what we can to help while we’re here. Between us, we should be able to make some progress.”

  “Well now, that would be just wonderful. My big old house has been far too quiet, I was already beginning to think I’d miss you when you’re all gone.” She smiled at Julianne, the wrinkles in her face creasing around it. “Keep your coin. If you’re happy to work for your keep, that’ll do me just fine.”

  28

  Bastian didn’t come in until dinner time, by which time Garrett had been roped into helping him fix the fallen fence around the garden. Bette re-shingled the roof of the chicken coop while Marcus watched on, and Julianne mucked out the long-abandoned horse stalls. When dusk fell and the temperature dropped, they tumbled inside with dirt on their c
lothes and smiles on their faces.

  “Go on, straight to the basin with you. You’re not going to traipse that mud through my house, not over my dead body.” Despite Annie’s admonishments, Julianne could feel the relief emanating from her bones.

  Instead of worrying about rats breeding in the stables or her chickens freezing in the winter, she’d gained a slight reprieve from the work that had been piling up. The vegetable garden was now weed-free and properly fenced off from roaming pigs, and had yielded a bounty of food carefully prepared for the evening meal.

  “Annie, lass, this is the best feed I’ve had in a long time,” Garrett gushed through a mouthful of potato. He piled mushrooms on top of his fork and shoved another lump in his mouth.

  “Yes, I suppose it would be,” Annie said. “On account of you being on the road and all.”

  “Oh, it’s been years since I’ve eaten this well.” He licked a clump of beet sauce off his whiskers.

  “Annie, really, it’s a beautiful meal,” Julianne said. Looking down at her plate she added, “Do you often cook for a horde like ours?”

  Annie scowled. “If you have a question, girl, ask it.”

  Julianne mentally gave the woman a point. “What happened to your sons? And the town—you said the New Dawn had been taking people. Can you tell us more?”

  Glaring down at her plate, Annie stabbed a limp bean and held it up for scrutiny. “They came a few months ago, touting their status as Goddess-touched. Seemed like a fair claim, they certainly had magic—but no Goddess of mine would have sanctioned what they did with it.”

  “And what was that?” Bastian asked.

  “Used it like that opium syrup what ravaged Arsa a few decades back. They’d ask a small favor and when it was done, their eyes would glow white and the person they were talking to would fall back, like in a rapture. If the favor was declined, they’d instead walk away with a terrible itch on the mind. Not a real one, just a certainty that something wasn’t right, that they’d just done something terrible. Been on the end of that one more than once,” she admitted.

  “They all had the same magic?” Julianne asked.

  “A little.” Annie shrugged. She’d pushed her plate away a little as if she’d lost her appetite. “But mostly it was August, their leader. He was the one who was most gifted in that way.”

  Julianne stifled a curse. August wasn't who she'd come to find. Still, he might know where Rogan was, if she could get to him. Either way, what he'd done to the village couldn't continue.

  Bette tapped her fork on the plate. “So, the Dawn was using pleasure to make the villagers addicted to them? Sounds like something out of a children’s tale.”

  “Ain’t no difference to me if you believe it,” Annie said.

  “Oh, I wasn’t saying I didn’t. Just that it’d take a real twat to come up with something like that. Err, sorry, Annie.” Bette winced as she remembered Annie’s thoughts on cursing.

  “Can’t argue with you there. Real twats. Yup, that’s about the sum of them.” She passed Bette a wink, which drew a crooked smile in response.

  “You can’t be telling me they can control a whole town like that, can you?” Marcus sat upright, carefully still to avoid aggravating his wound. Somehow, he still looked ready to leap into battle and strike down the villains who’d taken Annie’s sons.

  Annie hefted a sigh. “Sounds crazy, I know. But once a person gets to liking the rewards, that’s it. Those who tended to the drink and the smoke went first, and a few of the mothers who enjoyed a particular herb tea a little too much. Old Weyland was an early convert, after they fixed his joints.”

  “Fixed them how?” Bastian asked.

  “Well, he says they don’t hurt no more. They’re still as lumpy and chapped as ever, but he does say he can’t feel the pain no more.”

  “Mind trick,” Bastian muttered.

  Annie darted her eyes up. “You mean he’s not healed? He just thinks he can’t feel it?”

  Bastian nodded, and Annie collapsed in on herself, just the smallest bit.

  “Why, Annie?” Julianne prodded gently.

  “Max, my son. He has a wife, a pretty thing if she ain’t too bright. Susie… well, she had a lump in the back of her throat. We all know how those things tend to end up. Wouldn’t get it cut out, said she’d never, even if we dragged her to a surgeon kicking and screaming.” Annie shook her head, mouth tight. “Anyway, not too long ago, Susie came running home, said those Dawn folk had fixed it. She couldn’t feel the lump no more, and the pain she’d had was gone. She opened her mouth to show and… well, I thought it was just my old eyes couldn't see any different.”

  “That’s when your wee Max joined them?” Bette twisted her mouth as if she’d bitten into something sour. “All for a bloody trick. Annie, no matter what these people say, there’s no such thing as healing magic.”

  “Well that’s a bloody lie,” Garrett exclaimed. “Hannah can heal! And them druids, too. What, ye didn’t hear the stories?”

  Annie perked up at his words, but Julianne raised a hand to ward off his claims. “Hannah is a special case. The druids can heal, yes, but they can't play with minds like a mystic.”

  “I don't know this Hannah girl, or what a druid is, but I'm reading your words to say there ain't much chance our Susie is really better.”

  Julianne nodded, her face grave.

  “It’s alright.” Annie speared another vegetable, looked at it, then put it back on her plate and pushed it away. “I thought as much when it happened. Bess always had an eye for that kind of thing.” Annie calmly took a swallow of water.

  “Bess?” Julianne asked.

  “My cat. She took a fancy to Susie, but when she got sick, that cat was the first to know. Went and sat on her lap and never left her side after, even when she said she’d been cured.” Annie abruptly stood and began to clear the table.

  Garrett and Bette jumped up to help, snatching plates away from each other in an effort to carry the most. Julianne stretched and yawned. “Bette,” she called. “I made a plate for Danil. Could you pop it in the cold room so it’s there for him later?”

  “No, don’t.” Julianne swung around to see Danil behind her, his eyes white as he walked confidently into the room.

  “Danil! I didn’t know you’d woken.” Julianne felt her muscles sag with relief at seeing his magic had returned.

  “Just in time for you to go to bed,” he replied.

  “No, I’m fine—”

  “Don’t be a fool, Jules.” Danil grinned to soften the sting of his words. “Everyone in this room is trying to think of a way to tell you how awful you look. Go on; you get to bed. I won’t let you sleep too late, I’ve already missed too much.”

  Julianne stopped on her way past to wrap her arms around him. “I’m glad you’re ok,” she murmured.

  “Except for the pit in my stomach.” He laughed as it let out a growl. “Where’s that food?”

  Julianne left Danil to the care of the others and traipsed upstairs to bed. The bags were in the doorway of the larger room where she’d left them, and the fresh sheets smelled of lavender.

  She untied her set laces, then gave up and collapsed onto the mattress fully dressed. By the time she’d dragged the blankets over her shoulders, she was fast asleep.

  29

  When she cracked an eye open the next morning to find sunlight streaming through the window, Julianne was surprised to find her mind loose and relaxed. The days of riding, coupled with the stress of the mission and later, her run in with the remnant, had left her with a near permanent headache and a band of tightness that ran from the base of her skull down her back.

  She stretched and sighed peacefully, unwilling to leave the warm blankets. Noises downstairs suggested everyone was up, so eventually Julianne rolled out of bed and stripped off her wrinkled clothes and dressed in clean ones. Bette’s bag had been moved and lay open, but Julianne had slept so soundly, she’d never noticed the rearick come to the bed they’d agre
ed to share.

  She stepped out into the upstairs hall and almost ran into Garrett, who was carrying a folded set of sheets into the room the men had shared.

  “Oh look, it’s sleeping beauty.” He grinned and she swatted him.

  “Why didn’t someone wake me?” she asked.

  “Danil’s fault, not mine. Though he did try to lay a wager that at least one person would feel the back of yer hand for it.”

  “I hope you didn’t bet against him then,” she shot back.

  “Do I look like a fool?” He peeked at her over the pile of linen, his short beard pressing down on top of it to keep it from toppling. Julianne didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow. “Aye, well, blame me mam for that. And a night on the couch. Your Danil might have to take it tomorrow night if he doesn’t reign in that cheek of his.”

  “He’s not my Danil,” Julianne retorted and rolled her eyes at the rearick. Downstairs, the table had already been laid with plates of bacon, beans and bread, and a big jar of honey was being passed around.

  “Good morning. Annie, I’m sorry I overslept.”

  “It’s of no matter to me; I’m not your keeper. The chores have been done for the day, and I appreciate the help of your friends. I suppose you’re going into town later?”

  Marcus choked on his bread. “You mean towards the psychotic cult that brainwashes everyone in their path? I don’t think so.”

  Annie raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t nobody ask questions like you all did yesterday unless you’re planning to go into the jaws of the mountain cat.”

  Julianne cut off Marcus’s protest. “That’s exactly what I intend to do,” she said. “Will you help us? With information, I mean.”

  Annie nodded. “Seems like if anyone’s going to sort this mess out, it’d best be done sooner than later. That’s the last of the bacon I stored over winter, and I don’t like being without.”

  “Jules,” Danil said, hurriedly swallowing a large mouthful of bread. “There’s something else. I was talking to Annie late last night, and it seems Artemis has passed through here.”