by Kim Falconer
Jarrod nodded. ‘Does she have any notion of what the spell means or your link to it?’
‘She’s never been to Earth. I doubt anyone could fully comprehend what the spell does—or the nature of the DNA links—if they’ve never seen what can happen when things go wrong. This is an agrarian society. Technology is far beyond her grasp.’
‘But magic isn’t.’
She pressed her lips together. ‘You’re right there. Magic isn’t. Those idiot Corsanon priests…’ She ground the last few words with her teeth.
‘The Corsanon high council?’
‘They were the ones who helped fracture the Entity in the first place, sundering it from the portal with their attempt to pass through.’
‘Perhaps we should grant them their wish.’
‘How’s that?’
‘I’m thinking they might benefit from a little offworld travel.’
‘They wouldn’t last a minute on Earth.’
‘You’re probably right.’
Nell smiled. ‘Interesting thought,’ she said, but she didn’t elaborate.
‘You’ve been through recently?’ he asked after they crested a hill.
‘Fairly.’
‘What’s left?’
‘You really want to know?’
He nodded.
‘Take a world utterly dependent on technology for survival and without warning, pull the plug. Then picture it rotting from the inside out as attempts to bolster the remaining life forms backfire, turning the seas and valleys and forests into cesspools. I must say, the bacteria and insects are thriving, along with many new strains of virulent microbes—bacteria, protozoa and viruses.’
‘And the worm? With you here, is anyone working on that? I can’t go back until…’
‘I was working on it, until trackers got wind of me.’
‘Do they know who you are?’
‘I don’t think so. It was more a witch-hunt than anything else. Still, computer or biological, viruses are rampant on Earth.’
‘Water?’
She shook her head. ‘People are clawing over each other to get it.’
Jarrod closed his eyes and asked no more.
The sound of the horses’ hooves on the packed clay thudded out a regular beat, punctuated by the squeaking leather saddles and an occasional caw from the Sisters.
‘That’s what it’s like, Jarrod,’ she said after a long pause. ‘That’s what’s happened to our mother Earth.’
She moved her horse into an easy canter and Jarrod urged Wren to catch up.
‘So,’ he said as they loped along side by side, ‘nothing much has changed since I’ve been gone?’
She chuckled. ‘Not much, but if we can sort out the Entity it might be time for you to return soon.’
‘What about the worm?’
‘I’m working on a plan.’
‘From here?’
Nell winked and rode on.
Rosette climbed, step by step, as glacial winds howled through the pass. She had no idea of their exact whereabouts. All distinction was swallowed up by the tempest, a blur of wind and snow. Her earlier optimism was swallowed up as well.
At first the journey had been instructional and near enough to fun. An’ Lawrence had been open, telling her a great deal of history and even about his own past as they’d sat by their evening fires. Much to Rosette’s surprise, he had revealed feelings as well as facts. But An’ Lawrence became quieter as the landscape had changed, his mood introverted. The easy flow between them ceased, replaced by a haunted silence.
Demons blight you, Scorpion Moon people!
Maudi?
These moods are driving me mad.
Then maybe don’t focus on them.
It’s pretty hard to ignore.
Not for me.
She smiled. But the contrast still bothered her. An’ Lawrence barely responded to her queries. He didn’t look her way as they rode into the foothills. It was as though he had forgotten she was there. The environment became treacherous. The wind howled—a menacing sound that penetrated the warm layers of her sheepskin-lined coat, biting into her skin. And now a blizzard on top of it all.
She led her horse on a loose lead, clinging to the leather reins through icy gloves. It was difficult keeping ahead of the animal. Her booted heels had been clipped several times by his iron-shod hooves before she’d gotten the hang of it. The trail was tight.
An’ Lawrence led his horse in front. She could make out the contours of his mount’s brown rump, its tail whipping about in the sudden gusts. Scylla must be further on, or so she guessed. She couldn’t see a thing. Drayco followed behind, his mutters about the cold and wet invading her mind. His constant drone was the only thing undiminished in the stress of the climb. It was also her only comfort.
‘Whoa!’ Rosette commanded, almost smacking into the horse in front of her. She squinted, searching through the snowfall. Why was he stopping now?
She wrapped her full-length sheepskin coat tighter around her body, cinching the belt another notch. Her gloved hands were pinned under her arms, searching out some modicum of warmth. They found none. Her fingers wouldn’t move. She felt nothing but burning tingles and numbness in all her limbs. An’ Lawrence was at her side. How he had turned his horse around on the narrow path, she didn’t know. He bent his head towards hers, his face obscured by the hood.
‘Scylla has found…’
‘What? I can’t hear you.’ Her voice was thin, whisked away from her lips as she spoke.
‘Shelter! We can shelter over there.’ He made the shape of a tent with his hands and pointed off in the distance.
‘We’re stopping in this?’ she said, rising up on tiptoe to press her mouth against the side of his fur hood. She tried to shout, but she couldn’t force the air out of her lungs. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
‘Follow me,’ he shouted back.
He looked different.
He took the lead, turning his mountain horse around on point. He may have been concerned, or simply matter-of-fact. She couldn’t really tell. It was impossible to read him, her mind felt so distracted. It was like she couldn’t settle on a single thought.
Concern. The answer came from Drayco, though she couldn’t even see where he was now. He’s very concerned.
Why?
Because we’ll freeze to death if we don’t get out of this blizzard.
‘It’s his fault if we do. I could have told him the crossing would be like this.’
It’s serious, Maudi.
‘Still his fault.’ She followed, her pace slowing—each lift of her leg getting lower, each step smaller. Actually, I think it’s all right, Drayco. I’m starting to feel warm. It’s getting better. Feels good.
You’re starting to fade. Keep walking. I come!
Her toes dragged on the ground and she stumbled, the horse halting before he trod on her. He stretched his nose down to sniff the icy lump in the path.
Get up, Maudi! Get up!
Rosette struggled, clenching the horse’s mane, pulling herself up.
Keep walking.
She followed An’ Lawrence blind, her eyes closed, her body leaden. It seemed to take an eternity to get where they were going. The roaring wind, the ice and the chill had infiltrated her mind, slowing movements and deadening her already frozen limbs. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes and her knees buckled again. An insidious peace rose up through her, an embracing, soothing radiance—a spell of warmth and ease. It called to her, impossible to deny. Heavenly, blessed sleep.
Her body dropped and she didn’t fight it. She didn’t try to get up. Just a little rest, Dray-Dray.
The last thing Rosette remembered was a disturbing sound—a vicious screech from Drayco. It annoyed her terribly, interrupting the languid descent into oblivion. She tried to raise her hand to shoo away the intrusion, but Drayco’s hot breath assaulted her face, his tongue rasping across closed eyelids. She heard him scream again, this time from far away. Where was he,
she wondered.
After a moment, she heard nothing at all.
Jarrod led his horse beside Nell, skirting the small town below. The pre-dawn sky glistened with stars, white sparkles against a deep purple background. The new moon had not yet risen. A dot of light shone from the village, a solitary glow in the silhouette of rooftops. It had to be a bakery with its ovens stoked. Columns of smoke rose above the chimneys, unbent by any wind or gust. It was a peaceful scene—unlike Jarrod’s mind, which buzzed like a hornets’ nest.
He and Nell walked their horses in silence. The Three Sisters perched on the back of Nell’s saddle, eyes closed and soundless. When well past the outermost dairy, they mounted and returned to the main road. The sun was rising now in a haze of red and orange that washed over the landscape, heralding a bright, new day. Nell watched it with reverence, as she always did. The Three Sisters woke, squawked a surprise at their strange surroundings and took flight.
‘Why are they always so noisy?’ Jarrod’s mouth was turned down, his shoulders slumped.
‘They like to comment.’
‘On everything?’
Nell smiled. ‘Pretty much.’
The look on her face made him laugh, and in the glow of the early sunrise Jarrod felt the turmoil subside. He even thought the landscape had improved, but once the sun was fully above the horizon he saw the same desolate brown hills, drought-stricken fields and scrawny cows.
‘I’m going in alone,’ Nell said as they trotted across a wooden bridge.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ll go in first and find out what’s happening.’
‘I thought we were in this together.’
‘Jarrod, how do you feel?’
He put his hand on his stomach and frowned. ‘Anxious. Twisting knots in my stomach. Like I want to run, or fight.’
‘Exactly. I feel the same and we’re going to heed the warnings. We’re going to keep you out of the picture until we know more. I don’t think Rosette is here. I can’t feel her close at all, and there may be trackers.’
Jarrod looked over his shoulder. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘Simple. You wait at the edge of the valley, out of sight, and I get an audience with Makee. We’ll meet up before dark.’
‘And?’
‘We’ll take it from there.’
‘So I wait again?’
‘I know you’ve been waiting a long time, Jarrod.’
‘Generations,’ he said.
‘A little longer won’t be too hard.’
They rode for a few more hours and the terrain became luxurious. Ripe grain swayed in the wind, and stacks upon stacks of hay were piled up in the corners of freshly mowed fields—the collective energy resonating from Treeon made for fertile surroundings and enlightened farmers. They stopped by a stream to water the horses and share a meal, the smell of alfalfa mixing with the hint of apple cider.
‘How close are we?’ Jarrod asked.
‘It’s just over the rise.’ Nell held him back when he tried to stand. ‘Patience. We’re nearly there.’
When they reached the cliffs above Treeon, Jarrod let out a shrill hawk whistle. ‘That’s quite a view,’ he said.
Nell didn’t answer. She stared out over the valley while untying her hair. She fished her black-cowl robe from her pack and secured the fur-lined one to the saddlebags. Flipping up the hood, she moved off towards the descent.
‘Good luck,’ Jarrod called to her, retreating back into the woods.
‘I won’t be long.’ She twisted in her saddle to face him. ‘Why don’t you hunt us up something nice for dinner while I’m away? Girls,’ she called, smiling at the Three Sisters, ‘give him a hand, will you.’
Jarrod mumbled, rolling his eyes as the Sisters flapped and cawed in the branches above him.
The gates of Treeon hadn’t changed at all. They stood tall and imposing just as Nell remembered. She took a deep breath, shielding her thoughts and schooling her manner. Whatever happened, the last thing she wanted was for Makee to discern that the spell had been here, right within reach. The guards approached and asked a few questions before returning to the guardhouse, whispering between themselves. Nell smiled. This is one visit that Makee and An’ Lawrence were probably not prepared for.
She touched the blade strapped to her thigh, trusting she’d made the right choice.
‘Nellion Paree,’ the female guard spoke. ‘Re’gad will escort you to the Temple. You can ask for an audience there.’
‘I hardly need an escort. I was walking these halls before you were born.’
The woman looked up, her composure unruffled. ‘No doubt. Still, we’ll stick to tradition, shall we?’
Nell smiled obligingly. ‘Of course.’
She rode along the cobbled thoroughfare to the main courtyard, falling into her memories. The trees had grown, making the massive statues in the plaza seem smaller but so much more alive. There were many students rushing about, but then, it was midmorning. Most would be on their break. In front of the temple steps, Re’gad, who had said nothing as they rode, nodded for her to wait. He trotted up the steps to the temple doors, whispering to the attendant. Within seconds, the doors swung open and La Makee came rushing out, red hair flaming behind her. She descended halfway and stood, legs apart, her left hand on the hilt of her sword, her right shielding the sun from her eyes.
‘About to spar, Makee, or do you always wear your sword in the temple these days?’
‘Nellion! What a pleasant surprise.’
Nell lowered her voice. ‘So we’re going to be civil?’
Makee eyed her up and down. ‘What are you doing here?’
Nell dismounted, pulled the reins over her mare’s head and handed them to Re’gad. He looked surprised. ‘Mind her for a moment, will you, lad? I won’t be long.’ She winked at him and went up the steps to stand square in front of Makee. She leaned down to kiss her right cheek, then her left, then her lips—the contact so light she barely touched her soft skin. Then she stood back, her arms relaxed at her sides.
‘Can’t a mentor come to visit her student? It’s been a year. I want to know where she’s been apprenticed and how she’s doing. I’ve had no word for months.’
Makee studied her before answering. ‘This is such a shame. If you’d only written first, you’d have known that she’s travelling.’
‘Travelling?’
‘Off on a training task with the Sword Master.’
‘Is she his apprentice now?’
‘She’s in the running.’
‘Ah, well. I wish her luck.’ Nell stared out at the statue of the winged lion. ‘How’ve you been, Makee?’
‘Well. And you?’
‘Very well.’ She let out a breath. ‘The place looks magnificent. Just as I remembered it.’
‘Twenty-three years is a long time.’
‘A long time to remain silent?’
Makee took her hand from her sword hilt and reached towards Nell. ‘Cup of tea?’
Nell nodded and together they walked into the temple.
Jarrod leaned against a twisted oak, braiding strands of grass into tiny stick figures. A brace of rabbits lay by his side, and Wren grazed clover at the foot of the trees, cropping it into a smooth green lawn. Nell had been gone for hours and the sun was getting low. He kept peering through the brush, scanning the road, but nothing moved. The only creature that stirred, besides him and the ravens, was a whistling bird of prey. It flew high overhead, circling in ever-descending spirals. The Sisters took flight as it neared, joining it.
Peculiar. Jarrod squinted, scratching the back of his neck as he watched the bird getting closer, heading directly for him. Maybe it’s a message from Nell?
He stepped out onto the road, checking left and right. Empty. He rolled down the cuff of his leather jacket so the hem covered his hand up to his knuckles. Looking skyward, he extended his arm out like a scarecrow.
He whistled his goshawk cry and bent his elbow. He hadn’t handled
many raptors, but he’d hunted with his mentor at Montava University over the last few years. He was a falconer, Ra’Jamison, a well-respected one, and a surgeon too—a brilliant man. He’d taught Jarrod some basics.
Keep your arm steady, your mind relaxed, he’d instructed. The last thing you want to do is tense up with a falcon inches from your face.
The gust from the bird’s back-winging blew hair into his eyes. He watched, spellbound, as she landed on his arm. He didn’t recognise the species. Its talons wrapped around his forearm and its head dropped at an odd angle to look him in the eye. It had no trusses.
‘You’re magnificent,’ Jarrod said as he stroked the blue-black feathers of its neck. ‘Even if you don’t have a message for me, I am delighted to meet you.’
The black falcon whistled and extended her wings. The span was broader than Jarrod’s shoulders by double. She launched off his arm and landed on the side of the road. A blast of energy hit Jarrod in the face. He threw up his hands, shielding his eyes from the force. When he looked again, the bird shimmered, distorted and transformed. Inside of one breath the falcon was gone and Nellion Paree stood in its place, black robe wrapped tightly around her.
‘Nell!’
She rubbed her shoulders and hands. ‘Let’s get off the road. I don’t have much time.’
‘Did you see Rosette? Is she all right?’ he asked as they slipped into the shade of the oak. The Sisters landed above them, noisy as ever.
‘No, and probably not. She’s headed for Los Loma.’
‘Alone?’
‘The Sword Master’s with her, which is something. He won’t let any harm come to her.’
‘How do you know that? You said yourself we don’t know who the enemy is. What if he…’
‘Jarrod, take a few deep breaths. I’m still not sure why they’re heading for Los Loma, but An’ Lawrence would give his life to protect Rosette.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Nell looked him straight in the eye. ‘Because she’s his blood.’
Jarrod stared at her, his mouth open. ‘What?’
‘An’ Lawrence is her father.’
‘How?’