Strange Attractors (55 page)

Why are you stopping, Rowan? The camp’s awake. Cut the horses loose and get out!

Slight hitch, so to speak.

Hitch?

The mules are tied with chain.

That’s not humane. Perhaps you can…

He didn’t wait for her reply. His arm went up and he sent a wave of energy from his solar plexus to the tip of his sword. It glowed, a white light, and he swung again, slicing through the chain and on down the picket line until every horse and mule was free.

Use some magic.
Scylla finished her thought before snarling.

Scylla?

Death dog behind! Run!

He didn’t look over his shoulder but he heard the growls. They were answered by the high-pitched scream of his familiar. A flurry of screams and snarls followed,
like a back-alley catfight amplified a thousand times. It moved at lightning speed. A dog cried out, shrill until it was suddenly cut off. Scylla appeared at his side, her ruff covered in blood.

‘None of that’s yours, I trust.’

None that I notice. Ride on, Rowan. They’ve set the others loose.

He leaned forward, the palomino galloping hard up the hill, ears still forward. ‘You love battle, do you, lad? Stick with me. This is going to be a big one and you’re on the winning side.’

Rosette closed her eyes, straining to hear the riders from her hiding place in the brambles. Their hoof beats thudded on the hard-packed road. She could feel it in her bones as she lay on her belly, pressed under the thickets of blackberries—their stems like spiky purple sea urchins, their tiny white flowers an illusion of sweetness. She strained harder. Her hearing was still dulled, random at times. High-pitched sounds got through loud and clear, but that was about it. She sent her thoughts to Kreshkali who was circling high overhead in the early dawn light.
We’re ready, Mistress.

Wait for my mark.

She put her arm around Drayco.
Can you tell how many?

About a dozen, Maudi.

She felt the ground beneath her vibrate. They were getting close. It rattled her teeth.
A dozen? It feels like more than that to me.

His tail bristled.
You’re right. It is a fair bit more.

Why didn’t you say so?

I didn’t want to worry you.

Thanks.

Teg leaned over. He was snug against her other side.
I can’t see much from here. How many do you reckon?

About a dozen…or so.

He frowned.
More than that, surely.

You mean how many all together?

They are fifty strong.
Kreshkali’s voice cut in.
Shield. There are plenty of Corsanon witches among them. High Priestesses from the old temple. Beware.

They both looked skyward and then at each other.

Is Hotha’s lot ready?
Rosette asked.

I certainly hope so
, Teg replied.

They scooted back until Rosette could only see a thin ribbon of road in front of her. The sun was rising, washing the edge of the woods with a rose light. Birds burst into song as if a switch had been flipped. Some were like little alarms, others coaxing, all tweeting and chirping and cackling. She smiled.
I can hear the birds!

I knew you’d be all right.
Teg nudged her.

And I am.
She kissed his cheek.

Focus, you two!
Kreshkali cut into their thoughts.

Rosette peeked skyward through the brambles. A stand of white egrets took flight, their wings blood red in the sunrise.

The black falcon shot out of view.
They are here.

The horses came to a halt in front of her, the ground becoming still, dust settling. She could see them from their knees down, golden legs, shod hooves, long flaxen tails swishing. They were in perfect form. She nudged Teg.
Those are the temple priestesses.

How can you tell?

All palominos. That was their way.

A few other horses approached, one with grey legs and a white tail. It was particularly well shod—the
nails perfectly even, a neat row of three on the inside, four on the outside, a well-drawn toe-clip in the middle. Rosette’s spine tingled. It reminded her of Jarrod. He was so precise when it came to farrier work. She flung the thought out, concentrating on the group in front of her.

Orders were barked. A temple witch dismounted along with several Corsanon warriors. Rosette strained, cupping her ears. She could make out fragments of the conversation, the higher frequency of the priestess discernible. It was enough to know what would happen next.

‘This is the only way in,’ the priestess said.

There was a long pause.

What are they saying, Dray?

The warrior is concerned about ambush, Maudi.

As well he should be.

‘That’s what the scouts are for,’ the temple priestess said. ‘Send them in first.’

They lowered their voices to a whisper and Rosette couldn’t follow any more. She sighed, her mind suddenly wandering back to her childhood. She recalled the day she and Jarrod were playing hide-and-seek. She’d buried herself so deep in a bramble patch that he couldn’t find her. She had to yell for help to get out. She clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from giggling at the memory.

Maudi? Hardly the time for such reverie, do you think?

I know, Dray. It just came out of nowhere.

Nothing comes from nowhere.
Drayco stiffened.
Don’t move. They are riding in.
His hackles shot up.

Six horsemen and a priestess rode past, straight into the woods. Rosette felt another shiver up her spine.
Did you feel that?

Neither Teg nor Drayco answered. She pulled brambles aside to get a better view. A temple witch raised her hand, the sleeve falling back from her wrist to reveal a spiral tattoo. She mouthed words Rosette couldn’t hear but the glamour she wove was palpable. It fell over the Corsanons like a gentle mist, erasing them from sight. Rosette squinted, tilting her head to the side. She couldn’t glimpse a thing though the ground moved with each horse’s hoof fall, leaves displaced by their hooves. She leaned closer to Teg.

Can you see them?

Nope.

Anything at all?

The horses were leaving tracks but she’s covered that too.
He leaned away, following the progress of the scouts.
Not good. I can’t see a thing. Some glamour, eh?

She pressed her head into Drayco’s shoulder.
Can you see through the glamour, Dray?

Nothing, Maudi.

She and Teg exchanged a look.

It’s going to take something extraordinary for us to see past the spell. Got any ideas?

He shook his head.
Let’s hope Kreshkali does.

Rosette pointed to the sky.
She’s watching.
Rosette focused her mind on the falcon.
Can you spot them, Kali?

The bird whistled long and shrill before taking off.
Rosette, Teg! Stay there, stay hidden, and keep track of how many enter.

Anything else?
Teg asked.

Pray thunder! I want the biggest, darkest storm you can conjure.

Yes, Mistress
, they said in unison.

We need lightning strikes. Plenty of them. Now!

We’re on it!

Shaea led the horses to the edge of the portal, taking in the dawn. The woods were glowing, birds bursting into song. Far above, a flight of egrets arrowed towards the east. Their bodies glowed in the sunrise until they vanished behind the canopy of trees. It was the same woods she’d wandered in before. Was that only a few days ago? She could see the ruins of the old temple in the distance, the stone bridge arching over the creek. Very pretty, in a ghostly, but haunting, sort of way.

She was feeling more and more like a stable hand than a witch’s apprentice. She didn’t mind so much any more. The thought of being glamoured to appear like a High Priestess and asking Rosette for her spell was not pleasant though. Nor was the idea of being surrounded by Lupins. She sensed them. They were everywhere and she didn’t like the feeling one little bit.

At least, she
imagined
Lupins surrounded her. She had no idea what a Lupin really looked like or what their presence felt like. There were so many different stories about them. Maybe it was all made up—hearsay or myth. But Makee sounded confident they were real and Shaea was pretty sure the witch had seen more than one. She stroked the warhorse’s neck. It was taut and the mare was trembling.
La Makee? Where are you?

The warhorse whickered, tossing his head. Wherever Makee had gone, she must be coming back.

‘We’re too soon,’ Makee said, taking the reins from her hand.

‘Too soon for what?’

‘We’ve got to wait until they’re preoccupied, which shouldn’t be long.’ Makee chuckled.

Shaea had no idea what she meant.

‘I want you under the bridge.’

‘Under the bridge?’ Shaea followed Makee’s pointing finger. ‘In the water?’

‘Not in the water, stupid girl. On the bank, just out of sight. There’s going to be some fighting. Don’t worry about it. No one will see you until I want them to, and then you’ll be protected.’

‘Because I’ll look like Nellion Paree?’

‘Exactly.’ She snapped her fingers when Shaea looked down. ‘Pay attention! When I give the word and cast the glamour, ask Rosette for the spell. When she hands it over, bring it to me. Questions?’

‘Just one. Why are we doing this?’

‘Wrong question.’

‘What about the horses?’

‘They’ll be safe in the portal. Off you go.’ She waved her hand—like shooing a fly from a bowl of fruit. ‘Get yourself to the bridge and don’t move until I say.’

Shaea handed over the mare’s reins and wrapped her cloak tight, cinching up the belt. The woods looked cheery but they didn’t feel that way; nothing like the playful energy of the other day. A storm was brewing. She flinched when the glamour fell over her. Even though she could see her hands and feet, she was certain no one else could. They glimmered, iridescent. Shaea made her way down the path, stumbling on the rough stone steps. The creek babbled, and the air turned cold under the bridge. She squatted on the highest ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. The grass was pale and squishy under her boots.
I’ll wait and I’ll get your spell, but that’s all.
She kept her mind shield up, her thoughts to herself.
I’m through doing your tasks, Entity or no—after this, I’m getting out.

Rosette didn’t move. She was still sandwiched between Drayco and Teg, brambles poking like tiny knives. She’d linked minds with the Lupin and together they were praying rain—a colossal storm—by picturing it as if it were already there. She made it real with her mind. Rosette imagined she could hear the crack of thunder on the horizon, like a bull whip snapping, silencing the birds, sending the bees back to their hives, squirrels to their hollows. Clouds obscured the sun, gathering thick and fast like a total eclipse. The air around them went still.

She pictured the darkness, the ominous silence punctuated by thunder and flashes of lightning. The first drops of water fell, large splatters hitting her nose, her eyelids, sweet rain running into her mouth. She felt the icy touch on the back of her hand; the droplets turned into a pounding rain, leaves jumping from each hammer fall. Rivulets formed around her, soaking her clothes and streaming down her fingers, along her arms, over her boots.

She imagined Drayco’s ears wet, the weight of the tufts making them droop, his eyes hooded, whiskers heading. His breath became visible puffs, his respiration increasing as the storm gathered. His coat spiked, his tail snapped. Each flash of lightning brought the trees closer for an instant before they retreated into darkness again.

I hate this, Maudi.

I know, lovely, but it’s working.

Teg leaned over; it was like pressing a wet sponge against her ribs.
Great conjure, Rosette. I love working with you!

Don’t gloat, you two. It’s only half done. I want a
revealing spell with each lightning strike. It’ll take the three of us to keep it up. Are you with me?

Rosette understood immediately. They couldn’t unravel the Corsanons’ glamour directly—the High Priestesses’ spell was too tightly woven for that. They couldn’t conceal all the Lupins and themselves either—it would take more thought than they could spare. What they could do was expose them during the instants of every lightning flash, if they wove their revealing spell right. She took Teg’s hand.
Ready?

He nodded and the deeper layer of the spell began.

Shane grabbed Clay by the coat, pulling him back before he ran smack into the horse’s rump. Clay clearly hadn’t seen the animals standing in front of the portal. It was dark, sure enough, but Shane had spotted their silhouettes outlined against the rocky cavern wall. One was a warhorse, the size of a small pub. He didn’t know how it had happened, but it looked like the portal had shot them smack into the backside of two warriors and their beasts.

‘I thought you said if you focused on Rosette, the portal would take us to her,’ Clay whispered. ‘Now do you see why I thought we best ride straight to Dumarka? We weren’t that far away.’

‘Ride?’ Shane kept his voice low. ‘We’d have ridden on the heels of the Corsanons, or maybe the other way around. This is a war zone, remember?’

‘We don’t even know where
this
is. Looks to me like we could be anywhere.’

Shane shook his head. ‘Listen.’ A whipbird called, the whistle-crack ringing loud. ‘It’s the Dumarkian Woods.’

‘Maybe, but if so, who are they?’ Clay pointed towards the two women at the entrance.