by Kim Falconer
An’ Lawrence opened his mouth to reply. She stopped him with fierce eyes.
‘But wait,’ she said, ‘I’m not done. Not only are we close to freezing to death, again, on a trail made for something the size of a miniature goat, we’re to meet up with these wolves that are neither wolf nor human and…well, of course I can’t finish that sentence because I haven’t the faintest idea of what comes next. The horses are terrified. The temple cats are edgy…’ she held up her hand ‘…and, to top it off, I just found out who my real parents are, but there’s no time for my own flesh-and-blood father to tell me why in the name of all the underworld gods it took us twenty-two years to meet!’ She slipped a few paces back as the horse dragged her. ‘I mean, if you can’t laugh at this, I’d love to know what you do find amusing.’
An’ Lawrence raised his hand, mouthing a few words towards the alarmed beast. Rosette felt the boost of magic whiz by her. The horse’s neck dropped immediately, blowing a soft, languid snort. He took a step forward to rub snow-speckled eyelids on Rosette’s shoulder, the quivering in his limbs subsiding.
Why didn’t I think of that?
‘Listen,’ An’ Lawrence hissed at her, brushing snow off his shoulders. ‘I know there’s been no time to talk, to explain about…anything, and there’s no time now. We have to focus on getting up this cliff. The summit is not far.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then we have to make contact with the beasts, before nightfall.’
‘I get the feeling they will be meeting us whenever they please,’ Rosette countered.
He shrugged. ‘In this, daughter, you’re probably right.’
Rosette had a piercing retort ready on her lips, but she didn’t speak. It was the first time anyone had called her daughter since she’d fled Lividica. Certainly it was the first time she’d heard it from him. An’ Lawrence hadn’t taken his eyes from her the entire time she ranted, but it was clear that he was much more concerned about their immediate danger than anything else. Fair enough. Up until this moment, she’d been venting her rage. She was cold and angry and hurt by his detachment. She was more perturbed by his lack of communication than any theoretical danger. She realised now the wolves-not-wolves were much more of a concern than the teething problems of their relationship.
‘Right,’ she said, turning towards the howling sounds. ‘Lead the way.’
An’ Lawrence continued up the narrow path with Rosette following, guiding the now placid horse behind her. Scylla stayed close to An’ Lawrence, and Drayco brought up the rear. By noon they’d crested the peak.
The view from the plateau took Rosette’s breath away. The sky cleared, offering a panoramic vista. Drifts of snow-powdered wind raced along inches above the ground, reminding her of the Mobbie Desert where white sand blew over the contours of the dunes, shaping and reshaping them in endless rows of corrugation. The horses’ hooves crunched into the virgin snow, leaving prints that were quickly erased by the wisps of powder. Rosette took a deep breath and walked into the circular clearing. It was the heart of the peak, the heart of Los Loma.
‘This is it,’ she said, realising that everything had gone quiet.
There was a gentle breeze, the howls of both wind and beast gone.
He nodded.
‘Now what?’
‘Shush,’ he cautioned with his gloved finger to his lips. ‘We wait.’
And so they waited.
Rosette thought it had been cold plodding up the mountain in the wind, but this waiting was infinitely worse. Even though the sun shone from behind thin clouds, its pallid light held no warmth. She couldn’t feel her fingers and was long past feeling her toes. She and An’ Lawrence stood motionless, holding the reins of their exhausted mounts, the temple cats sitting side by side, their ears pricked, scanning for the faintest sound or movement.
Then Drayco stood, hackles rising along his back, emanating a low-pitched growl. They come.
Rosette looked up at her father as he nodded. Both familiars had warned simultaneously. Both were growling.
‘Quiet him, and unsaddle your horse.’
‘What?’
‘Demons, Rosette. Do as I say! We have to let the horses loose. It would be too tempting to have them in tow.’
‘Tempting? For what?’
The Sword Master’s brow wrinkled as he undid the girth and hauled off the saddle. ‘They’re Lupins, Rosette; the messengers are Lupins. Do you understand what that means?’
Rosette gasped. ‘Lupins? But…’
‘Quiet him!’ An’ Lawrence tilted his head towards her familiar.
Drayco, my lovely, shush. You mustn’t growl. It’s worse than I imagined.
‘Untack your horse and cut it loose now! With any luck and a little magic, they’ll head back to the cave and we can collect them later.’
Was he joking?
‘Do it now, Rosette.’
The tone of the Sword Master’s voice was frighteningly soft and urgent at the same time and it propelled her into immediate action. She threw the near stirrup over the saddle and unbuckled the girth with clumsy fingers. She unclipped the breastplate and hauled the lot—saddlebags, fur roll and all—off the horse’s back from where they thudded onto the frozen ground.
She slipped the reins up to her mount’s ears, grabbing as best she could the broad leather headstall. She couldn’t get her frozen fingers under it. Sinking her teeth into the wet tips of her glove, she pulled her hand free and thrust her blue fingers under her coat, into her armpit. It felt like a hot iron branding her skin.
Pain shot through her as the blood returned to her hand, but she finally worked the bridle from the horse’s head, easing the bit from its mouth. Looking up, she saw An’ Lawrence watching.
‘Stand back.’ He lifted both his hands skyward and cast them, like fishing rods, one at each horse, mouthing a word she didn’t understand. The horses reared, bolting back down the path. The sound of falling shale mixed ominously with thundering hooves and high-pitched whinnies. Rosette watched their rumps as they turned the sharp bend and disappeared.
There was no time to think of the animals’ welfare or how she and An’ Lawrence might retrieve them for the journey back. Something more pressing grabbed her attention, sending chills down her spine.
Three wolves approached, black against the white ice and snow. Did wolves get that big? They were enormous. She felt for the top of Drayco’s head. The temple cat moved in close, sitting by her right side. Scylla was sentinel-still on her left and An’ Lawrence stood in front of them all. Though his sword was not drawn, she saw his hand on his hip, inches from the hilt, and she heard him whisper back to her.
‘They aren’t simply wolves, Rosette. They shift shapes by refracting light from within. It’s an ancient magic, but they have mastered it like no other clan. Keep your hand close to your sword. Be ready. They’re basically men.’
‘They look like beasts to me,’ she whispered back.
‘An illusion, though they are that too.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
Eyes wide, she watched as they came inexorably closer, stiff-legged with heads high.
I won’t let them hurt you. Her familiar’s voice offered comfort, even though these beasts were twice Drayco’s size.
I know, lovely, but let’s not pick a fight.
She had never seen a Lupin before. If the stories she’d heard were anything to go by, she was in big trouble. Lupins were shape-shifting creatures that came to Gaela through the corridors from an ancient land—outcast or of their own accord, she didn’t know. The accounts claimed they were wolves by day and human by night. Or was it the other way around? She didn’t quite recall, but they were reputed to have strange powers—mind control being one of them. The only thing consistent in all the tales was their voracious appetite for blood. There was no chance of survival should their ire be raised. She shuddered. Myth portrayed them as survivors of a tragic race, one hunted to near extinction. Some thought they we
re just a story told to keep children from wandering at night. Others swore they were real.
The stories said they had fallen from grace in that other world and they couldn’t return. It didn’t make them happy. She didn’t know how it had happened—the sundering—and right now she wished she’d studied her history more diligently. It was clear they were not just a bedtime story.
She scanned her memory. If anyone had a big enough heart, they might befriend the Lupins. Big heart? Rosette was simply trying to control her shaking limbs. She knew Lupins were to be avoided. That was at the beginning and end of every account she had ever read. So why were they seeking them out? Messengers? For whom?
Think. Think. Think! she urged her frozen mind.
What had An’ Lawrence said? He didn’t know who she would send? What did that mean?
Kreshkali!
The Lupins were said to inhabit the labyrinths beneath the mountains—the landscapes of the nether world hidden from the sun. The only one strong enough to command the Lupins would have been Kreshkali—the legendary witch of the labyrinths. What could Treeon possibly want with her? She also was to be avoided at all costs.
‘So they’re not make-believe creatures after all?’ Rosette whispered to An’ Lawrence as the Lupins approached.
‘Hardly,’ he replied.
‘What’s our business with them?’
‘We’re here to make a trade.’
‘What are we trading?’
‘Hush!’
Rosette had no more time to wonder. The Lupins advanced, large dark wolves, sleek and beautiful, treading lightly over the snow. Their images shifted and blurred. A shock wave hit her as their front legs rose from the ground and they stood upright. Long snouts flattened, altering canine fangs and lolling red tongues into smooth, clear faces. Human faces. Angelic faces. Their tails vanished, and all three now appeared clothed in leather—dusky black, like their curling hair. They were male and their dark eyes narrowed in the light as the sun flashed fully from behind a cloud. They drew in the air, until their gaze fell on her. Their attention made her throat dry—impossible to swallow.
They halted as one before the Sword Master, but their gleaming eyes were not on him, or the familiars. They were on Rosette.
‘Why are you here, An’ Lawrence?’ the central Lupin asked, his voice deep, the words articulate.
‘They know you by name?’ Rosette whispered through chattering teeth.
He ignored her, his full attention on the central Lupin. ‘We have come to offer a trade.’
She wondered how An’ Lawrence could speak with such confidence. Her neck felt like it was in a noose. She didn’t think another word could escape without her voice squeaking and cracking.
Panic rose and she increased her mind-shield, calming herself and her thoughts as best she could. Then she noticed something even more unusual about the Lupins. The way they behaved and moved so subtly, it was almost as though they were one entity.
She sent a silent message to Drayco. How many do you see?
Three.
But how many do you sense?
Drayco took a moment to reply before she heard his silent answer filtering through her mind-shield. Interesting, Maudi. They communicate as one. They’re linked.
Rosette reached forward and tugged on the Sword Master’s coat, but he brushed her hand away. She tried to send a mental message, but his shield was up, impenetrable.
Tell Scylla, Rosette instructed Drayco. Tell her to tell him.
His familiar got through. She knew he had received the message by the way An’ Lawrence straightened his spine.
‘You have nothing we want,’ the Lupin said.
The three of them leaned towards Rosette, drawing in her scent.
‘We do,’ An’ Lawrence countered evenly. ‘Treeon has uncovered a vein of lapis lazuli. I believe the stone is sacred to your race. We offer it freely, unasked.’
All three shifted in their tracks.
‘Show us.’
Rosette was relieved to be out from under their scrutiny. The Lupins were riveted as the Sword Master pulled a black velvet bag from his coat lining. Holding it by its braided cord, he handed it over without hesitation. The Lupin opened the bag.
Rosette marvelled at how the Lupin’s face softened. He hardly glanced at the contents but simply held it to his chest for several heartbeats. Tucking it into a fold within his leather coverings, he released a sound, the murmur of a she-wolf to her first pup.
‘We admire the courage it must have taken to return what is ours.’ His eyes narrowed; his face, though wildly handsome, became severe. ‘Why do you risk it?’
‘You’d have sniffed it out sooner or later, and it occurred to us that doing so would be the more dangerous option,’ the Sword Master replied.
The Lupin did not smile back.
Rosette wondered at the Sword Master’s frankness. He didn’t seem to be trying to hide anything from these creatures. Maybe he was of the same mind as Nell—Speak as close to the truth as you can.
‘We ask a favour in return,’ An’ Lawrence continued. His voice was strong and clear.
I’m glad you’re so confident about all this. Rosette shot him the thought though he didn’t answer back.
‘We owe you no favour,’ the Lupin replied.
‘Think of it more as a trade. The source of lapis within our lands is rich. If we can come to some agreement…’
The Lupins looked at each other in silence.
‘Ask what you want. Be quick.’ The leader glanced up to the cloud-covered sun, the opaque glow rapidly heading west.
‘We seek an amulet, a faceted-crystal vial that glows blue at night, clear in the light of day. It was taken from an estate in Lividica six winters ago. I think your queen has something to do with it.’
Rosette gasped. What was he saying? She yanked on his coat again and this time he hit her hand, smacking it hard.
‘We know of this amulet. What does it contain?’
‘The Spell of Passillo.’ He said the words softly, like a prayer.
Passillo? No wonder he had told her nothing. Goddess forgive them! They can’t be messing with Passillo.
What had she gotten mixed up in? The Spell of Passillo was buried centuries ago by an ancient witch, if history had it right. It was not to be found, not to be touched. And if somehow it was found, it was not to be used, not unless all the demons and angels of Gaela commanded it, and Rosette was certain there had been no such command. Sword Master or not, An’ Lawrence had no right to dabble with such a power. No-one on Gaela did.
What are you doing? She screamed the thought at him through clenched teeth. What amulet?
She clamped her jaw tight, her eyes popping. He must have it wrong. She knew that vial, and it had nothing to do with Passillo. It was a charm given to her mother by Nell who…She gulped. Oh no. Nell found Passillo?
‘We have heard of this,’ the central Lupin said.
And Bethsay gave it to me? Rosette’s mind continued to race. Who did An’ Lawrence think could carry the spell back to Treeon if these Lupins actually had it and were willing to offer it up? Only females could work this kind of magic. Only…She swallowed hard again. Then she growled under her breath, Demon’s death to you, An’ Lawrence. You have no right to use me like this!
Had the Lupins sacked her house and killed her family for the amulet? Her hand went to her sword. Were these the murderers? Rosette didn’t know who she wanted to cut first, An’ Lawrence or the Lupins.
What’s Passillo, Maudi? The warm touch of Drayco’s question interrupted her fervour. Rosette stilled her mind, shielding the rage, keeping her exterior a calm shell.
Finally, something I know that you do not!
I don’t know your star-lore.
But you seem to know everything else.
Not this. What is it?
Passillo is the cause of all the temple wars. What everybody wants and no-one should have.
Why?
I don�
�t know. Something to do with keeping the worlds apart.
Worlds?
Apparently. Be ready, Drayco, for anything. This can’t go well.
Maudi, swap! Drayco’s voice commanded.
What? she queried. Now?
Get out of your body and let me in. You’ll be safer if we swap.
We can’t, Drayco. I have to keep my mind-shield tight.
I have no problems with that and you know it. He lifted his paw and placed it on her leg, claws extended.
She almost made the exchange, her familiar was so insistent. But then she shook her head. No, Drayco. It’s going to be all right. Besides, it isn’t always about safety.
I think today it is.
Trust me. We’re fine.
The Lupins had not moved. They did not look at one another or respond in any noticeable way. What they thought of the request was anyone’s guess. Not a twitch or sniff crossed their faces. Their exhalations were smooth and visible, little puffs of steam shooting down from their noses in regular bursts. She suspected hers were doing the same.
In the distance, she recognised the sinking whistle of a bird of prey calling high above the jagged peaks. An answering call followed. For a moment, that sound made her skin flush with a warmth she hadn’t felt in years. It was a goshawk, the same cry Jarrod had been able to imitate so well. The region was full of these birds, but it was the first time she’d noticed now that the storm had passed. Strange what stands out when the body is shaking with fear.
Without realising it, tears welled up and trickled halfway down her cheek before freezing into diamond droplets. The sound of the hawks echoed from mountain top to mountain top. Everything seemed vast and desolate, and still there was no response from the Lupins.
Do something, Sword Master. My shield’s starting to slip.
What little blood Rosette had in her extremities drained, despite her attempts to appear calm, humble and unimpressed. Drayco nudged her with his nose. There was comfort there, but no warmth. The sun was lowering into a thin red line on the horizon. Her mind-shield faded until it seemed to wink in and out like a firefly. They were wearing her down.