Strange Attractors (53 page)

Visions appeared, vivid and confronting. The one that entranced him the most was the wolf, the Lupin, if that’s really what it was. He felt like he knew more than his mind could remember. Could that man sitting with the lovely witch in the carriage have really been Lupin? His face was striking enough—legend had it they were beautiful, in either form. Beautiful, and dangerous as demon’s fire. The witch was striking as well, and the temple cat. He sighed. Maybe they all were Lupins!

While he speculated, the creatures in the depths of his mind began to climb. They did so quietly, innocuously. If they could only reach the surface, come to light. If only…Xane shuddered, catching their approach and slamming the hatch door of his awareness, knocking them back down into the pit. How long would he have to battle this? Would he ever feel himself again?

What’s wrong with the lad?

It was the voice of a temple priestess. He heard it in his head and resisted the urge to yelp his surprise.

Hemlock.
Another spoke.
He was shot in the skirmish.

Skirmish? You call what happened on the Corsanon Fields a skirmish? We lost half a legion.

There was a sudden pause.

Shield. Someone’s listening.

Who?

Quiet. Shield.

Xane pinched the bridge of his nose. He was hearing voices in his head again. Were they imagined or real? They were women’s voices. One he clearly recognised as the Corsanon High Priestess who rode several horse lengths ahead of him. He wrinkled his nose. Had he really caught part of their conversation? If so, it confirmed it. They thought the hemlock had sent him mad as well. Perhaps he would die from it, after all.

He rode on, staying mindful. He didn’t want to miss a chance to hear more, and he didn’t want his daydreams to give those inner creatures the opportunity to rise. A wind rippled under his skin and he sat up, the mare leaping over a tangle of vines as if she’d seen a snake. He steadied her, focusing again into the distance. ‘Too cold for snakes, Rose. Take it easy.’

But it wasn’t too cold for Lupins. Dozens of them. Wolves, anyway, up ahead. He was certain of that. They ran, powerful legs churning, heading northwest, the same direction as he and the witches were going. Could they be called to Temple Dumarka? In its defence? He’d not imagined Lupins would align with any temple. They kept to themselves, or so the stories told. He cleared his throat, ready to alert the priestesses. Why hadn’t they spotted them? Then he realised the distance. It was leagues away. Nobody could see that far. No one could sense that far either. That’s why the horses were still calm, unaware. He had to be dreaming. Hallucinating.

But what if the vision were true?
He rubbed his neck, picking at the wound. The witch beside him rode closer, her face unreadable beneath the dark cowl. ‘What frets you?’

‘Senneca, leave him.’

‘But he’s seen something. Look at him. He’s sweating.’

The lead witch called a halt, motioning Xane to her side.

‘What do you see, lad?’ Her voice was not unkind—like an elder speaking to a foolish child.

‘Up ahead,’ he said, pointing into the distance. ‘Can you see them?’

She didn’t answer.

‘There are more…wolves, Mistress.’

The temple witches scanned the horizon, turning left and right, taking in the rolling terrain. It was scattered with oaks, brambles and tall gums with clusters of thistles, pale green with mauve flowers. The sun slipped further behind the clouds and the land lost its colour, the leaves a carpet of mist. Fog rolled in from the North Seas and the air became moist, their voices echoing.

‘How many?’ she finally asked.

Xane tightened his fists, dew heading on his horse’s mane. ‘I can’t see them any more, but there were many. Over a dozen.’

The High Priestess didn’t move. They had to have been conversing with each other but Xane couldn’t hear them now, if he ever had.

‘Back to the road. There’s nothing here but a boy’s illusion.’

They turned as one, galloping north. Xane didn’t like the choice. They would make faster time to Dumarka by road, but the Lupins would get there first in any case. He scratched his head. Why did that make him feel better? A falcon whistled again, long and mournful in the distance. He couldn’t find an answer that made any sense. He turned his mount and followed the priestesses.

Rosette had the edge of the woods in sight. Drayco ran ahead, his instincts leading him through the thick fog as he raced towards his ancestral home. Teg ran with her, shoulder to shoulder. They jumped a fallen log, landing lightly on the opposite side, covering the miles effortlessly. Lupins were made to run.

Horses were made to run as well but Clay and Shane had fallen behind. She’d told them to stick to the road—the fog would be too difficult to navigate otherwise. She also knew that Shane’s horsemanship wouldn’t handle the woods. There were too many fallen trees, culverts and ravines. She hoped the bards didn’t meet any trouble. Why Nell would send them to her she couldn’t work out.

Teg, did Kreshkali mention anything about those two?

The bards? Not that I recall.

Strange, don’t you think?

It’s all been strange for me, this whole venture. Ever since Kreshkali took me on…nothing but strangeness.

They crossed a stream, leaping up the far bank, running on.

I feel the same way.
Rosette couldn’t see the sun dropping to the horizon but she felt it. Darkness came quickly and they slowed their pace. When Drayco halted, Rosette sighed. They’d reached the borders of the Dumarkian Woods ahead of Corsanon.

Straight to the temple, Drayco?

This way.

They followed him, the air thick, the trees closing in. Tall redwoods surrounded them, interspersed with the pines. The forest floor was covered with deep leaf mould, silencing their footfalls. There wasn’t a sound save for their panting.

We’re close, Maudi. I’ve found the waterway that surrounds the temple.

How far downstream are we?

A short sprint. Drink first? Refresh?

She tested her hearing, ears pricked before shape-shifting back into human form. ‘Good idea.’ Rosette wrapped her arms around Drayco’s neck, covering his eyes with her hands as Teg morphed.

He was breathing hard, smiling. ‘Great run!’

‘You’re in a particularly good mood, Teg, considering how close you came to being skewered by the temple witches.’

‘I am.’ He smiled wider.

‘And also considering we have half of Corsanon bearing down on us, no idea if Hotha’s clan will get here before them, have had no word from Kreshkali and as far as I can tell An’ Lawrence is surrounded, cut off, and La Makee a wild card.’

His smile faded. ‘There are a few unknowns, I admit.’

‘What’s that?’ She cupped her ear.

More than a few unknowns. But sometimes it’s the uncertainty that
…He didn’t finish his thought. His smile grew again.

They went down to the edge of the creek and drank. Drayco stayed above the bank, peering into the dark, his tail waving back and forth.

What’s wrong, lovely?
she asked, joining him.

No one answers.

None of the temple cats hear you?

Not a one.

Are we in the right time?
Teg asked, taking over watch while Drayco slid down the bank and lapped at the edge of the stream.

‘You saw Kreshkali last. Did she say what was happening here?’ Rosette turned him towards her, catching his eyes. ‘What’s that look for?’

It’s nothing.

‘Are you blushing?’

No, I’m thinking. Kreshkali said to meet us here. That’s all.

There’s no one here, Maudi. The temple is gone, just like it’s always been.

Could we be too late?
Teg asked.

Rosette put her hand on Drayco’s back.
I can’t smell battle, can you?

There’s been no battle, Maudi.

‘No battle,’ she repeated aloud.

What next?
Teg asked.

There’s only one way to find out, Maudi. Shall we check the temple grounds?

Lead on, Drayco.
She turned to Teg.
Eyes open, all of us. Traps, glamours, ambush. Be aware!

Shaea grimaced as she dismounted. Her back ached and her legs nearly buckled when she touched the ground. The constant riding was getting her down.

‘Water them, be quick about it.’

So was the constant nagging from La Makee.

They’d jogged for the last hour, picking their way through the foothills until they came to this creek. La Makee was animated. She said they were nearly there. Where
there
was, Shaea didn’t know, but the Entity was close. It had spoken to her again. It had told her to do whatever La Makee asked, no matter how strange or dangerous it sounded.

She frowned. It seemed very convenient, that directive. Convenient for La Makee. She loosened the girths and led the horses to the stream. They tugged at the reins, their heads dropping to the water the moment they reached the sandy bank. She squatted beside them, watching the ripples expanding out from the horses’ muzzles. When they lifted their heads, water fell from their mouths. The stallion rolled the bit with his tongue, turning to sniff the top of her head.

‘Hey, that’s wet!’ She pushed him aside, thinking of Xane and how much he would have loved caring for these horses. ‘At least your last year was happy,’ she whispered to him. ‘Wasn’t it?’

‘Get them up here.’ La Makee’s voice cut into her thoughts. ‘Let’s go, girl.’

Shaea bristled. She wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone. Living off the filth of Corsanon, she was free. She never knew if she’d find food, or if she would survive the streets and alleys through the night, but she was her own spirit. She answered to no one else. She’d never appreciated that before. Never thought her life
lucky. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. If it weren’t for the Entity’s instruction, the promise of travel through the corridors, escape to another world, she’d be re-thinking her company. ‘Coming, Mistress.’ She hustled, leading the horses back, waiting for Makee’s next order.

The witch was gazing up at a granite cliff face. ‘Take them the long way around,’ she said, pointing to a side track. ‘But don’t go into the portal. I’ll meet you there.’ Makee morphed into a raven and shot towards the mountain.

‘Where are you going?’ Shaea asked.

Checking on the enemy.

The enemy? Shaea had no idea who that was. She led the horses up the track, wondering if she would recognise the portal when she saw it. This time, she did. It was a wide, tall opening in the side of the cliff. She stood at the entrance and poked her head into the dark. ‘Entity? Are you in there?’

She waited for a reply, kicking at stones on the ground when none came. She had half a mind to lead the horses straight in and take her chances when the raven landed on a gnarly oak growing between the boulders. La Makee morphed, the wave of energy stirring the dust, the horses backing down the trail.

‘A little warning next time, if you don’t mind,’ Shaea said.

La Makee ignored the quip. ‘Follow me. They’re getting away!’

Shaea led the horses into the cavern. Neither baulked, which surprised her.

‘Been this way before, have we?’ she whispered.

‘Listen up, girl.’ Makee stood directly in front of her. ‘When the portal stops spinning, we’re going to be in a dark woods.’

‘Dumarka?’

She snapped her fingers. ‘Don’t interrupt. I’m laying a glamour on you that’s going to be a protection.’

‘What kind of glamour?’

‘One that’ll keep you safe among the Lupins.’

Shaea sucked in her breath, shooting a glance towards the horses. ‘Lupins?’ she whispered.

‘You’ll be fine. They won’t hurt you.’

‘But why the Lupins?’ She looked over her shoulder.

‘We’re going to find Rosette.’ Makee smiled. ‘Remember what she looked like?’

Shaea nodded. ‘I remember. She’s beautiful. A mother, or about to be, anyway.’

‘That’s right. You’re going to find her and you’re going to ask for a spell—
the spell
. It’s in a vial, probably hanging around her neck. You ask for it, like you mean it, and she’ll hand it over.’

‘A spell? In a vial? You want me to ask for it, just like that? What makes you think she’ll hand it over?’

La Makee chuckled. ‘You’ll be looking like someone she trusts.’

‘Who?’

‘You’ll be the spirit and image of the High Priestess Nellion Paree.’

Clay shivered under his cloak. The fog thickened and his horse stumbled to a halt at the crossroads. They were far behind Teg and Rosette now. He was cold, tired and hungry. Shane didn’t look much better; his lips were blue, his shoulders hunched. ‘We’ve got to stop for the night,’ Clay said. ‘The horses have had it and I don’t know about you, but if I don’t eat soon there’ll be nothing to feed.’

Shane nodded. ‘Which way?’

‘To the town of Dumarka.’

He turned his horse, taking the north fork. Shane trotted to catch up.

‘How far away is it?’

‘Should be over this rise.’ Clay smiled when he saw the town below; the main street was lined with lamps, glowing softly in the fog. The wharf was filled with boats, lanterns swaying from the clipper ships’ masts.

‘I didn’t know it was such a big harbour,’ Shane said.

‘Biggest capacity on the north coast, save for Romanon Bay.’

‘You know your way around Gaela.’

‘That’s the life of a bard.’ He tipped his hat. ‘Come on, I can smell dinner from here.’

The horses picked up on his enthusiasm and trotted the rest of the way to town. They stabled them, tossing the grooms a few extra coins to rub them down and check their hooves.

‘I thought we could hire their care tonight, unless you’d rather do the work.’ Clay could see the relief on Shane’s face.