by Kim Falconer
‘I want you to follow her, as soon as you’re able. She flew north, we know that much. I want you to pick up her trail and see what she’s doing. Get to the islands, if that’s where she’s going. We need to keep a close watch on that witch.’
‘If you think that’s best.’ He disguised his exuberance. This was exactly what he wanted but couldn’t have asked for.
‘I’d like to see you on your way before the new moon.’
‘No problem. And you? What will you do?’
‘I’m going to see what’s in the vial so I can work out where the rest of the spell is. If all the Lupins in Los Loma were after you, then Kreshkali doesn’t have it.’
‘You suspect Nell?’
‘Don’t you?’
He looked into her brilliant green eyes. ‘I do.’
‘Then go get her.’
Rosette and Jarrod led the horses into Morzone, their rhythmic hoofbeats punctuated by the severe hobble of the mountain horse; her unshod hoof had cracked right to the quick and she limped with each step as if the leg was broken.
‘Farrier first?’ Rosette asked.
‘Definitely. We need to burn the top of those cracks before they go any higher.’
‘Can she be re-shod?’
Jarrod bent down as they walked, studying the damaged hoof. ‘I think so. There’s enough wall left on the sides, in places anyway.’
‘We can’t leave her here.’
He nodded. ‘She wears a Treeon brand and it’ll be as clear as your tattoos when she sheds in the spring—might as well be sending a letter to Makee saying, Rosette’s alive and she went this way.’
‘Is that who we’re running from? Makee?’
Jarrod kept his eyes on the lame horse. ‘According to Nell.’
‘In any case,’ Rosette said, ‘we’re taking her with us. We’d never sell her lame.’ She shielded her eyes and scanned the long thoroughfare. ‘Do you see a blacksmith’s shingle?’
He pointed into the distance at a barn with wideopen double doors and smoke coming from a chimney in the high rooftop. ‘That looks like one.’
She squinted. ‘Demons, I’d forgotten how good your eyesight is.’
‘Can’t you see it?’
‘I can now,’ she said.
‘We’ll need to find the docks and book our passage as well.’
‘I can smell the docks from here.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Reminds me of home. Doesn’t it you?’
He nodded, quickening the pace.
Rosette ignored the stares from the early-morning shopkeepers and the townsfolk hurrying up and down the street. Drayco was the main attraction, an oddity it seemed. A familiar walking at her side marked her as a witch, and not everyone—or every town—was comfortable with that. She hoped that in Morzone it would work to their advantage and not against, but that was looking like a slim chance already.
‘Wait out here in the sun,’ she suggested to her temple cat when they reached the farrier’s barn. ‘If you come in with us, it could cause a commotion.’
The people out here are more uncomfortable than the beasts in the barn.
‘I know. We won’t be long.’
After giving their horses a thorough grooming and discussing treatment for the lame one, Jarrod and Rosette returned to find Drayco hadn’t moved. His spine was stiff and his tail lashed back and forth.
‘What is it, Dray?’ Rosette asked, squatting beside him, stroking his neck.
They’re searching for us.
‘Who?’
I don’t know, but they search and I don’t like it.
‘Are they here in Morzone?’
Not yet. They’re on their way, riding fast.
Rosette looked to Jarrod. ‘We’ll have to keep moving.’
‘So much for the relaxing night in a soft bed we’ve been talking about.’ He kicked at the dust.
‘Judging by the stares we’re getting, it’s for the best anyway. The trick will be to book passage to the islands without anyone saying where we’ve gone.’
‘Quite a trick.’
‘I could weave a glamour for myself, but not all three of us.’
Jarrod was about to respond but closed his mouth instead. The three of them sat in a row against the barn sharing dried meat and fruit, the last of the rations from their packs. The sound of the blacksmith’s hammer rang clear in the background, pounding iron into shape.
‘How far is it across the straits to Rahana Iti?’ Jarrod asked as he took a drink from their water-skin.
‘Two days if the Emerald Seas are calm.’
‘And if they’re not?’
‘However long it takes for them to calm down. No ship will set sail to the west if there’s more than a ripple of waves.’
‘Rough crossing?’
‘You could say that.’
‘It’s quiet enough today. I’ll go organise it.’
‘Sounds grand,’ Rosette said, frowning.
‘You all right?’
‘I wanted a hot bath, is all.’ She reached into her coat pocket and fished out her purse, handing Jarrod eight gold coins.
‘That’s more than enough,’ he said.
‘You’ll need a few extra.’
‘For?’
‘Convincing the captain that we need privacy.’
‘Rosette, if these ships are anything like the clippers in Lividica, there’ll be dozens of people on deck, and below. We won’t be able to…’
‘Not that kind of privacy, Jarrod!’ she laughed, pulling him to her for a kiss. She released him, laughing again at the look on his face. ‘The coin is to buy their silence in case anyone asks questions.’
He stared at her.
‘It’s a bribe,’ she added.
He straightened, dusting off his pants. ‘I get it. I won’t be long.’
GAELA AND EARTH
CHAPTER 18
The ship beat against the storm, the backlash reverberating through the hull and up the masts. Waves crashed against the bow in relentless succession, each one threatening to knock the vessel to splinters. Rosette’s stomach hit her throat with every lift, her spine jarring as they slapped back down again. She dug her fingers into the railing. It’d been this way for three days and she didn’t think she could take much more.
‘Can’t you do anything?’ Jarrod begged before dryheaving over the edge.
Rosette joined him, her stomach now an empty sack.
She had never experienced such wretchedness. Her previous crossings of the straits had been like a day sail in Lister Bay: smooth, sweet and glassy. Now the swell was overhead, the water black with geyser-like whitecaps. The vessel tossed like a toy in a sloshing bucket and groaned under the force of the wind. Wet ropes hung in loops, whipping and slapping against the boom, making pinging sounds that kept time with the rocking. All but the jib was down as they rose and fell, rose and fell, hour after hour.
‘What would you like me to do?’ she screamed over the maelstrom.
‘You’re a witch. Talk to the sea,’ Jarrod shouted into her ear. ‘Coax it a little. Make it lie down and go to sleep!’
Rosette lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do you really think she’ll listen?’
‘Worth a try.’ He heaved over the side again.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It feels uncanny to me.’
Rosette swallowed against the bile in her throat and gripped the railing tight; her legs braced wide, her knees absorbing the plunge of each hammering drop. Closing her eyes, she raised her hand and slowly filled her body with a charge of energy. She called to the elements of Air and Water, imploring them to mellow. Light flew from her fingertips as she let go of the railing.
Thunder rumbled overhead. Lightning cracked in her direction. It felt malevolent, ripping across the sky like a predator, striking nearer and nearer as the craft tossed uncontrollably. The clouds billowed as high as mountains, shooting more shafts of lightning that split the sky in two. The rain redoubled its intensity with stinging pellets of ice.
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‘Stop!’ Jarrod yelled.
‘What?’ She could barely hear him over the storm.
‘You’re making it worse,’ Jarrod yelled again, wrapping his arm around her as a wave broke over the deck. ‘We need to get below. We’ll be drowned out here.’
‘Aggravation before amelioration,’ she replied, her voice hoarse from yelling. She held onto him with one hand and the railing with the other. Wave after wave washed over the deck, ripping at her legs until they slipped out from under her.
‘There is no amelioration! We have to get below. Now!’ Jarrod shouted.
Come, Maudi. To the hatch.
Rosette squinted, squeezing the salt water out of her eyes. Another wave came when they were halfway to safety. Rosette looked up to see a wall of water come plummeting down towards them. She opened her mouth to scream before everything went black.
‘Rosette, wake up!’ Jarrod slapped her face again.
She fluttered her lids, wincing at the light. ‘What happened?’ she groaned, her throat raw.
‘You were knocked out. Can you walk?’
Rain poured onto her face, the deck rocking violently beneath her. ‘I’m all right,’ she spluttered.
Jarrod pulled her up and they staggered to the galley hatch.
‘We’ve got to get to the horses. Untie them. They could drown,’ he shouted above the roar of the waves.
Rosette lifted the hatch door and slid down the steps with Jarrod right behind her. Drayco was at her side, all four legs braced.
‘Get the lantern,’ Jarrod said, pointing to the dim light hanging from a beam.
She slid to the galley table, waiting for the boat to rock the other way before handing the lantern across to Jarrod. He had the lower hatch door open and was peering into the dark.
They startled as a loud crack split the sky above them. A bulge in the side of the galley splintered and a rush of water poured in. They were ankle deep in moments.
‘The horses!’ Jarrod said.
‘They’ll be terrified!’ Rosette started to back down the ladder. ‘I can calm them.’
Perhaps you can calm us all. Drayco’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife, his agitation tactile.
Jarrod grimaced, raising the light above his head. They shimmied down the ladder and into the cargo hold. Drayco kept behind Rosette, springing off the ladder and landing hard as the boat rocked up to meet him, his paws splashing in the rising water.
The mountain horse was down, struggling. She’d slipped and couldn’t rise. The boat was rocking wildly and Rosette lurched to the stalls. She thought the mountain horse had damaged a leg, but couldn’t tell for all the thrashing. The copper-red mare stood in a wide stance, her head up, eyes rolled back, screaming as Jarrod approached.
‘I won’t lie to you, Wren. We’re probably all going for a swim, and soon.’
If we don’t drown in this hole first. Drayco was perched atop a stack of chests lashed to the far wall, his claws extended to the full, sinking deep into the thick netting that held the cargo in place. Maudi, I hate this place. Get us out of here!
Rosette reached her hands out to both horses and sent energy, calm and strengthening. She filled the room with it but was careful to keep it in the hold. It was not unlike the spell she’d directed at the storm, and that had certainly backfired. She didn’t want to make matters worse.
How can things get worse? Water’s rising! Drayco’s words were desperate, but his tone was already softer. The calming spell was working on them all. The horses settled immediately, enough for Jarrod to slip into their stalls and untie them and help the mountain horse to stand. Her legs were fine—no worse for the fall—though she still favoured the newly shod hoof.
‘I hope you know how to swim,’ Rosette whispered in her ear while Jarrod unlatched the stall doors, tying them open.
The boat suddenly listed and Rosette found herself sliding away from Jarrod, who clung tightly to the rails. The horses hadn’t budged; they braced themselves against the rush of water churning around their legs.
Boards snapped, a deafening sound, and the ocean rushed in. The speed of it tore the lantern from Jarrod’s hand, and it swirled like a buoy in a whirlpool until it winked out.
‘Drayco!’ Rosette screamed until she felt his wet fur press into her face. He swam beside her, dog-paddling to keep his head above water. Rosette closed her eyes against the dark and sent a bolt of energy to all of them: the horses, Jarrod, herself, Drayco, the others on board. She could hear nothing but the surge of water and the terrible snap and grind of wood being wrenched apart. It was like a sea monster was chewing them up and spitting out the splinters. Without warning, the wall beside her vanished. The boat flipped over and more water sucked in.
She felt Jarrod’s hand grip hers for a second before it was gone.
‘We’re capsizing,’ he screamed above the flood. ‘Take a breath!’
Rosette gulped in air as her head went under.
Drayco, hold your breath. Don’t let it go until we are on the surface.
And where would the surface be, Maudi?
I don’t know yet. Just paddle.
The water was surprisingly warm. Chunks of wood smacked her arms and legs, but it seemed like slow motion. She let the water drag her down and out, the torrent freeing her from the collapsing hold. When she opened her eyes underwater, all was dark and still except for a dull light to the side. She let out a few bubbles of air and followed them, realising that ‘to the side’ was actually up.
This way, Drayco. Stick with me. She swam for that dull light, calling to Drayco in her mind, calling to Jarrod and the horses, following the bubbles up.
Her lungs burned for air. She swallowed against the urge to breathe and kicked as hard as she could. Her arms had begun to tingle by the time she pulled herself to the surface. When her head burst through the choppy swell, she sucked air into her lungs. She heard gasps beside her and yelled between breaths: ‘Drayco! Jarrod!’
I have him, Maudi. He’s hit his head. Help me.
The light around her was sufficient to see, but the swell was so high that she could only glimpse them for mere seconds before she was again surrounded by the heaving wall of water.
‘I’m coming!’ she screamed above the wind. Don’t let him go! She sent the mind message when the swell washed over her face.
Rosette swam in their direction until she bumped into a floating plank—a door that had been ripped in two. Throwing an arm over it, she kicked harder. Drayco, his mouth enclosed around the front of Jarrod’s coat, hauled him right up to her and Rosette dragged him the rest of the way onto the float. He coughed and spat, clinging to the wood.
Drayco leapt up onto the raft and shook himself, riding it like a Rahana Iti islander in the surf. Rosette trod water beside them.
‘Can you see anyone else, Dray? Any crew? Survivors?’
No people.
‘Oh, deep Sednara, goddess of the sea, how have we offended you?’
I can see the horses. They’re heading southeast.
‘Follow them,’ Jarrod wheezed. ‘They’ll sense land if any of us can.’
I want to go that way too, Maudi.
Keep them in sight for me, Dray.
Rosette pushed the board in front of her and kicked. The wind was behind, the current strong in their favour. As she followed the horses, the tips of the masts went under, the sea sucking the rest of the vessel down. When it disappeared, the swell dropped. The wind abated and in minutes, the sea was calm.
‘We paid our price, it seems.’
It’s too high, Maudi. I don’t like it, and I don’t want to go on boats any more.
Nell flew west, straight into the storm. She planned to send word to Maka’ra and cross the straits on the first available boat. It was too long a distance for her to stay in falcon form. She didn’t want to risk it.
Morzone was battened down when she arrived, the harbour deserted. She morphed into her human form and walked the docks, searc
hing for someone to question, but she found no-one about. The wind whipped away the click of her boot-heels on the wooden planking along with the sound of her voice as she called over the moorings.
After checking every berth she stood in the driving rain, looking towards the town. Where would the captains be? She smiled as she spotted a shingle swinging madly. On it was displayed a mug of frothy beer, rainwater making it glisten in the pale light. She pulled her hood down and waded through the storm, hunched against the gale.
The pub was full, lively and warm with the smell of clean straw, beer and spiced wine. She thought it a massive improvement on similar establishments in Corsanon. Light glowed from colourful lanterns overhead and conversation buzzed. No-one seemed to notice her entrance until she pushed her hood back and took off her long black coat, shaking it by the door.
Heads turned as she stepped towards the bar. She smiled inwardly, keeping her face a mask. She didn’t have to put on a glamour. Everything about Nellion Paree said High Priestess, if she allowed it. Her hair fell in damp tangles to her waist and her hazel eyes—matching the colour of the ocean jasper at her neck—opened wide as she leaned against the bar. She lifted her hand to catch the barmaid’s attention and her sleeve fell back to her elbow revealing the tree-and-entwining-snake tattoo of Treeon Temple. She wanted it to be seen. No-one in their free mind would lie to a Treeon witch.
‘Spiced wine, please,’ she smiled, her face seductive in the soft light.
‘Yes, Mistress.’ The barmaid nodded with confidence, though her hands shook when she filled the mug.
Nell placed a silver coin on the counter and headed for a table clearly seated with ships’ captains. Their low conversation came to an abrupt halt as she approached.
‘May I join you?’ she asked, her question bringing the men’s eyes up.
They stared at her, their gazes carefully couched to give no offence. The man nearest her rose from his seat and pulled a chair from the table behind him, dragging it across the floor to her.
‘Aye, milady. It’d be our pleasure.’ His face was tense, as if it was anything but his pleasure for her to join them. ‘How can we serve the Temple of Treeon?’ he added.