Strange Attractors (56 page)

Shane pulled him back and they crouched in the shadows.

‘How do we get past them?’ Clay whispered.

‘We wait.’ When the two women moved off, he grabbed Clay’s arm and led the way out into the sunrise. ‘See,’ he said. ‘Eyes open. Rosette must be nearby.’ Shane scanned the woods but the smile he had ready disappeared along with the sun. The warm glow of the woodland went cold as clouds swept over the canopy. Thunder rumbled and large drops of rain began splattering down, hitting hard. A wolf howled in the distance. Another answered, and then another. Shane pointed towards the creek. ‘Under the bridge. Hurry.’

He ran down the steps; the moss was turning slick, water flowing over the stones. The creek roared, whitecaps cresting. He ducked under the high arch of the bridge, staying as far back from the water as he could. Clay followed.

‘Ouch! Get off my foot, you big ox!’

Shane leapt to the side and smacked into Clay. ‘Did you say that?’

‘Say what?’ He shoved him forward. ‘Move! It’s sheeting down out here.’

‘Listen. Someone’s there.’ He pointed at the ground.

‘You’re bats. There’s no one there, but we ought to be. I’ve glimpsed more than trees in the woods. Let me by.’

There was a flash of lightning and before them stood a witch, sword drawn, cloak snapping in the wind, red hair streaming behind her.

Shane backed away. ‘La Makee?’ His words hung on the air long enough for him to see her smile, then everything went dark.

‘Why’d you do that?’ Shaea asked Makee. She kicked Shane’s boot as he lay face down in the mud. ‘Do you know what a fine musician he was? The other one too. Now they’re dead.’

‘I’ve hardly killed ‘em. They’re just having a little rest. Stay put, Shaea. Stay alert. I’ll be back.’

Shaea had a retort ready but La Makee was gone before she could get it out. ‘Stay put?’ She looked at the comatose bards; their faces were obscured and their limbs were at odd angles. ‘It’s an unnatural sleep you put them in,’ she called out. ‘Can’t be good for their health.’

Her only reply was laughter in the distance.

Shaea’s old life in the streets of Corsanon was looking better by the moment. ‘How’d I get into this?’ She bit her lower lip. The sight of the bards in the mud was too strong a reminder of Xane. She couldn’t stand seeing them like that. ‘Come on. Let’s get your faces out of it at least. Can’t see how you’d be breathing like that.’

She dragged them up from the water’s edge and turned them on their backs. Their chests were rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. It became hypnotic watching them until a crack of thunder made her jump. It pealed across the treetops, then lightning revealed the clearing. She wrapped her cloak tight. ‘How long am I meant to stay here?’

Not long, girl. The battle is getting closer. Be ready.

‘Great.’ She slumped down next to the bards, folding her hands in her lap. ‘I can’t wait.’

An’ Lawrence tore up the valley, the palomino’s hooves churning out clods of dirt behind him. His second-in-command was there to meet him. They conversed
before he rolled the horse back on its haunches, his sword pointing straight towards the camp. ‘Charge!’

Like a damburst, the sword riders from Temple Los Loma stormed the valley, galloping down the slopes and straight into the thick of the Corsanons. The warriors that met them were ill prepared, unhorsed and clumsy. An’ Lawrence led his riders, cutting tent ropes and trapping the enemy under their shelters. He kept his eyes open for temple witches, but none appeared.
They’re idiots for not keeping a High Priestess or two about.

They probably thought the death dogs would be adequate, Rowan.

He stood up in his stirrups, scanning ahead.
Good point. Where are they?

Coming around the corner, full pelt. Heads up!

An’ Lawrence saw them before Scylla had finished her thought. Three had broken loose from their chains and were barrelling straight for him, or so he thought. Their jaws were open, lips pulled back over long fangs, strands of saliva, red with blood, hanging from their mouths and sticking to their tan chests. They shot past him, their eyes set on Scylla. ‘To me!’ he screamed, his blade held high over his head.

He pulled the horse to a stop and spun around, bolting back towards his familiar. She had jumped on top of a wagon and was lunging left and right, swiping at the dogs’ faces as they reared on their hind legs, snapping at her. Their skin was being torn to strips. One fell back, his jugular lacerated, pumping blood like a geyser. Another caught sight of An’ Lawrence and turned on him. Before he could swing his blade, the palomino reared, his front hooves striking the beast in the skull, driving it into the ground.
Champion move!
He stroked the gelding’s neck. When he looked up, the last death dog had Scylla in its jaws.

He kicked the horse forward, his sword levelled at the dog’s chest. Scylla screamed, rolling around in her skin, her jaws wide, sabre fangs catching the dog behind his neck and under his throat. An’ Lawrence’s sword pierced the dog’s side and he drove it down, through heart and lungs. It released the temple cat and fell dead.

Scylla shook; her fangs were still bared and her hackles were spiked with blood. She screamed towards An’ Lawrence and he turned to find a dozen more dogs bearing down on them.

Where are the Lupins when we need them?
she asked, panting.

‘Stay behind!’ He held his sword overhead with both hands, controlling the horse with his legs only. He called on the Elementals, drawing to him Air and Fire. His blade turned red as an energy wave built up. When the dogs were a horse length away, he swung, releasing the spell and blasting the beasts with full force. They were thrown back as if flicked aside by a giant hand. Wagons overturned and tents were ripped from their pegs, the grass torn from its roots. Flames ignited everything in the spell’s path. The charging warriors were bowled over as well, swords flying from their hands.

More are coming!
Scylla screamed in his head.

An’ Lawrence gave the signal to retreat, sending a blast of blue light high into the morning sky. Scylla jumped down from the wagon and led the way out of the valley, blood oozing from her shoulders as she ran. The Temple Los Loma warriors evacuated as plumes of smoke rose from the valley. They retreated to the foothills of Dumar, skirting the Goregan River gorge. An’ Lawrence stopped to take stock of his riders when they filed by. They were in excellent shape, for the most part, though a few horses came back riderless.

‘You’re still bleeding, lovely,’ he said, examining Scylla’s wounds. The tooth hole at the back of her neck was particularly deep. ‘How do you feel?’

I have a slight headache.

‘I’ll bet you do. We need to flush that wound out straight away.’ He led the palomino to the picket line, noting he was sound.

Your new horse beast is injured too.

He looked again, realising the animal had lacerations on his front legs and chest. When he ran up his stirrups he saw the tiny brass plaque riveted to the horse’s saddle. It read
Fortuna.

‘Fortuna!’

The horse’s golden ears pricked at the sound of his name.

‘Didn’t you just prove right by me,’ An’ Lawrence said softly. ‘Brave lad, you are, and smart fighter too. We will see to your wounds, and your feed.’

‘The Desertwinds did well, Sword Master,’ his second said, taking the reins. ‘As did Cheetah.’

The palomino closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead on the Sword Master’s shoulder.

‘I’m pleased with them all.’

Are you taking the golden horse, Rowan?

He stroked Fortuna’s neck. ‘I’d say he’s a keeper, wouldn’t you?’

Before she could answer, a raven swooped overhead, screaming once before it disappeared. All heads turned, following the bird’s path.

‘A warning, Sword Master?’

‘More like a threat.’ He surveyed his troops, selecting twelve riders, all uninjured. ‘One hour to attend your horses, then you ride with me.’ He turned to Zero who’d come up late with his section from Half Moon Bay. ‘Injuries?’

Zero beamed. ‘None, Sword Master.’

An’ Lawrence nodded. ‘We need to keep the Corsanons moving east, but don’t engage them again.’

‘That won’t be hard. They’re heading that way now.’

‘They’ve got wind of Bangeesh?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘Good. I’ll meet you at south Prieta.’

Which way are we going, Rowan?

‘Through the portal to Temple Dumarka. I have a feeling the distraction didn’t work.’

More like it worked in reverse.

‘How so?’

I think they were there to distract us.

Rosette signalled to Teg. The rain was sheeting down and they needed to get out of the culvert before they were swept away. Drayco was cursing in her head, and the Corsanons had just sent in more scouts.

They won’t keep that up
, Teg said.
Sending them in a few at a time never to return.

Rosette watched the stream of warriors enter the woods.
They’re all following! To the temple ruins. We have to run!

We have to remain hidden as well.
Teg held her back.
Glamour?

We can’t hide and keep the storm and lightning conjure going at the same time
, she said.

They’re doing it.

Of course they are—a dozen High Priestesses can. They’re four to our one.

Twelve to our one
, Teg said.
If you’re counting High Priestesses.

Exactly.

They waited until the troops had gone further from the entrance before they morphed, concealing the
shock waves. The rain was less torrential under the trees, but a fog was rising and the atmosphere dank. When the lightning flashed the clearing was revealed. She saw the outline of Lupins lurking behind trees, Teg on her left, Drayco on her right—and, in front of her, a Corsanon warrior with his sword raised, about to cleave her head in two.

Drayco sprang but when he connected with the Corsanon, the lightning flash winked out and it looked like he hung in midair, his jaws clamped around an invisible being. The glamour remained, even in death, and as Drayco dropped the warrior he fell with the body, slow motion to the ground. The temple cat stood over the invisible victim, shaking his head free of blood. That she could see. The ground turned red with it.

At the next flash, Rosette morphed back into human form and grabbed the victim’s sword, tucking the scabbard into her belt. It was an unwieldy blade, as were all forged in Corsanon. The broad, double-edged steel was bulky and the thick hilt felt strange in her hand. She drew it though, and kept it ready. They waited for the next lightning flash before moving forward. By the time they reached the temple ruins, the battle was in full fury.

Every crack of lightning revealed the enemy, Corsanon warriors attacking the Lupins, two or three to one. When the illumination winked out, the clash of steel rang in her ears. Rosette could hear that clearly now, but the growls and snarls she knew must be screaming through the woods were still beyond her register—too low a vibration for her tattered eardrums. When the light flashed brightly she again saw the Lupins, some in wolf form and some bipedal with swords and shields. They were tearing into the warriors, even though outnumbered.

Rosette was by the river, holding the broadsword in the guard position, waiting for the next wink of light. Teg and Drayco were behind her and she pressed tight against the Lupin, keeping back to back, moving slowly towards the shelter of the bridge.

Mind you don’t slice my ears off with that thing, Maudi.

She felt the vibration of Teg’s chuckle through her spine.

Mind you don’t slice mine either,
Teg said.
It’s double-edged, in every sense of the word.

It’s a heavy mother of demons, is what it is. I’d like to see you wield it gracefully!

I’m sure Kreshkali would say it serves you right for losing track of your own.

Thank you, Teg. Lovely reminder. And by the way, what happened?

What do you mean?

I know something’s up with you and our mistress. You pass some test I didn’t hear about?

Teg didn’t answer for some time.
I certainly hope so…

The lightning ripped and Rosette pushed them all back, out of the kill zone of another opponent. Before the light vanished, she blocked a strike and lunged forward, driving the sword tip through the warrior’s abdomen, pulling down hard as she drew back. She pivoted, her sword arm pointing behind as counterbalance, and threw a spinning side kick to his throat, launching him backwards into the creek. Without thinking, she made to flick blood from her blade, but the weapon was sluggish, too heavy to snap at the end of her wrist. ‘Blast this ramrod that passes for a sword!’ She turned to Teg and Drayco who stood under the bridge.

What are you two staring at?

Maudi, you’ll never guess.

What?

Look who’s here.

Shane and Clay were propped up, side by side, chins resting on their chests. Drag marks led from the water’s edge and they were soaked to the skin. Rosette sheathed her sword, kneeling next to their bodies. Teg and Drayco stood guard.

Are they alive?
Teg asked without turning around.

Rosette sat next to Clay. His face was grey, his red curls caked with mud. She patted his cheek. He didn’t respond. With her hand on his heart, she counted the beats against her own, his one to her every ten.

He’s alive, just.
She checked Shane.
So is he. It feels like a sleep spell of some kind, or a slow death spell. Demons! How did they end up here?

Perhaps they were drunk and took a wrong turn at the last pub, Maudi. Clay used to pass out often. Remember?

A smile parted her lips.
I do.