Strange Attractors (8 page)

Teg morphed, stepping up to take the reins as An’ Lawrence dismounted. Their eyes met briefly and then Teg led the horse towards the corridor at a trot, not pausing to run up the stirrups which clanked at the horse’s sides. The animal’s ears were pinned back. It would be tough going, getting the stallion up the grade. An’ Lawrence tossed a calming spell their way and turned back to the charging warriors.

He had to be quick or they’d be skewered. He had no intention of dying here in some other-time Gaela, stuck by a Corsanon he’d well and truly defeated in the past—his past, anyway. He didn’t want Teg getting stuck either. Kreshkali had taken a shine to him and even though it rankled, he felt it best to bring the Lupin back in one piece. As for his familiar, he would
protect her with his life.
Into the portal, Scylla. I’m right behind you.

An’ Lawrence took a fraction of a second to still his mind, releasing the conflicting thoughts. He drew in his breath and with it he called on the four Elementals—Fire, Gaela, Air and Water—filling his body with sparks and snaps of energy from each. He contained its building mass until an arrow fell just short of his foot. It was too soon to release the spell. He knew it instantly. Cut loose now it would lack the volume needed to bowl over this many, but he was out of time. He let the spell rip, like an invisible shock wave radiating out from his centre. As it sped away, he turned to race up the cliff to the portal. He didn’t bother to look back and see the results. He could tell from the shouts and hoof beats that the effect was minimal.

You knocked down the front row, and tripped up the second.
Teg’s report was not encouraging.

And the rest?

They come. Run!

An’ Lawrence scrambled up the cliff face, his sword sheathed as he made his escape. Arrows fell around him, one grazing his hand as he reached high to pull himself up the incline. He was nearly there. One more foothold and a clasp of Teg’s outstretched hand and they’d be safe.

Quickly, Rowan. The arrows!
Scylla’s voice screamed in his mind.

To the portal, lovely
, he commanded his familiar.
I follow.

You’re nearly there
, Teg said.
Keep climbing!

An’ Lawrence heard the whiz and thwack before he registered the pain. His hand slipped out of Teg’s grip.
Run, both of you! Get away!

A searing cold snaked its way from his leg, up his spine and to his head. He wanted to scream but he fell to the ground instead, sliding down the length of his hard-won advance. He tried to connect to Scylla but his mind blurred. He lost all sense of where he was, what he was doing and whom he was with. He slid further down the embankment before he felt the hands clutching at him, grasping and dragging. He was hoisted like a sack of feed, but he couldn’t tell which direction he was taken. He opened his eyes. Dull shapes surrounded him, blurring into darkness. There were voices in his head, but the language was foreign. He made one final attempt to struggle free but it was feeble, a child’s fist against a warrior’s chest. He gasped at the pain as something struck his head. Scylla screamed and he passed out.

Teg had managed to get the horse through with only a few scrapes. He’d worried when the animal stumbled to his knees but the stallion continued on without a limp, thank the goddess. Amarillo’s heart, it seemed, was as golden as his hide. He slapped the warhorse’s rump as he sent him through the portal, hoping the Entity would keep him safe until he returned with An’ Lawrence. He hadn’t had time to warn Rosette that the beast was charging in but he didn’t dare wait. The Sword Master was about to be ambushed.

There was no way An’ Lawrence could do much to slow the Corsanon warriors in such a short time. He wouldn’t be able to conjure a potent enough spell in the few moments it would take for them to be in range. Even if Teg contributed, the arrows would be on them soon enough. Sooner. The archers fired, their stings landing not far from the mark.

He watched the wave of energy emanating from the Sword Master. He’d released it too soon. It was a ripple over the top of a pond when what they needed was a tidal wave. Teg scuttled down the embankment, greeted by arrows clanking to the ground. They’d gone wild with that blast, small as it was, but the archers would refit their bows. Nothing would stop their accuracy the next time.

Teg was desperate to shift into wolf form, but he needed his human hands to help An’ Lawrence up the cliff. He anchored himself to a twisting shrub and reached out, ready to grip the Sword Master’s arm. Scylla paced at the top of the cliff, roaring before she leapt into the portal.

You’re nearly there
, Teg said.
Keep climbing!
He gripped his hand.

An’ Lawrence let out a curse seconds after the sickening thud. Teg watched helplessly from his perch as the Sword Master slid down the cliff face. Without thought, Teg morphed into wolf form and leapt down after him, his teeth bared, back bristled. He may not be able to haul him to safety, but he could keep the Corsanon warriors back. The arrows that hit him stung like demons, but they did not penetrate his Lupin skin. Many warriors fell before he saw the club. When it came down on his head, he saw nothing at all. Blinded, he leapt to the top of the cliff, falling unconscious in front of the portal.

When Teg awoke, it was night and the sky was filled with stars. They twinkled against the dark vault and he smiled, recognising the constellation called the Lion of Ishtar. Was it summer then? The ground felt so cold, but the hand on his forehead was warm and tingling with energy. It soothed him like a sweet song and he
needed that. His head ached as if blacksmiths were pounding their way in, or out.

A conversation murmured in the background, like a small waterfall. He didn’t try to make out the words but let the sound wash over him as he watched the gleaming stars. Slowly a single voice distilled out of the babble and he recognised the speaker. It was her. Kreshkali. That confirmed it. He wasn’t dead.

‘That’s correct, Teg. You’re not dead, but you may wish it before I’m through with you.’

He flinched. ‘Mistress?’ His tongue felt thick and dry.

‘I’ve got one question, Teg. If you want to keep your apprenticeship, you’d best have a sharp answer.’

He swallowed. ‘Yes, Mistress?’

‘Where is Rosette?’

Teg frowned, searching his memory. Nothing surfaced immediately. Like floating puzzle pieces, all the fragments were there, but not in the right places. He started with the only thing he was sure of, hoping the rest would follow. He cleared his throat. ‘We ran into the corridor, ahead of the arrows. Then the Sword Master called me back.’

‘The Sword Master? You found An’ Lawrence?’

‘We did. At the Corsanon Fields. There was a battle. The numbers were a little lopsided.’

‘So we gathered. What happened next?’

Teg frowned. He couldn’t find a piece to fit this shape. ‘I don’t know. I got the warhorse through, Scylla shot past, I think. She came back out, and then…I don’t really remember what happened.’

‘And what about Rosette?’

The question came in even measures, devoid of emotion. It would be easier if she had yelled. Her cool detachment was much more unnerving.

‘They were ahead.’ He coughed, rubbing his chest. ‘She and Drayco are safe in the corridors. They have to be.’

‘And the archers? Did any find their mark?’

Teg wrinkled his brow again. Someone was hit. Who was it? He scanned for the answer, shifting the question around in his mind. ‘One did.’ He closed his eyes against her urgency, her anger. She grasped his biceps and shook him.

‘Who got hit, Teg? Tell me now! Was it Rosette?’

‘Easy, Kali,’ a deep voice said.

For a moment Jarrod came into focus, his hands prying loose her grip. Teg felt the blood rush back into his arms. How long had she been clutching him?

‘He has a concussion, Kali,’ Jarrod said. ‘You don’t want to rattle his brain any worse than it already is.’

‘He has no brain to rattle. If he did, he wouldn’t be here.’

I’m sorry, Kali. I’m so sorry.
Teg sent the message to her mind with all his heart.

‘Apology not accepted,’ she said aloud.

‘Kali, he’s not the first apprentice to take action on his own. He’s…’

‘Why are you defending him?’ She turned on Jarrod. ‘He risked Rosette. He risked you, for that matter, and the future of Earth.’

‘I did what?’

‘There. You see?’ Jarrod said. ‘It wasn’t intentional. He has no idea what’s at stake.’

‘We followed, is all.’ Teg’s strength was coming back. He tried to rise. ‘Rosette and I got to Dumarka and it felt wrong. We came here to help.’ His voice trailed off, not so much because of the pain but because of the weakness of his argument. He and Rosette had ignored the direction of their mentor, their High Priestess, for
no other reason than they didn’t want to be left behind. Teg groaned again. How could he redeem himself?

Kreshkali paid no attention to his discomfort, though she kept her hand on his forehead. Her words carried an edge, but her touch was soft. It was the longest she’d ever held him, he thought, realising his head was in her lap.

‘And where is An’ Lawrence?’ she asked. ‘His signature is all over this mess but I can’t trace him.’

‘He’s…’ Teg forced himself to concentrate. Where was the Sword Master? They had run with him from the battlefield near Corsanon all the way to the foothills of Prieta. It was coming back to him, their wild escape. Rosette and Drayco got into the portal but An’ Lawrence had stopped him. He conjured the spell, releasing it too soon and then…‘Shot,’ Teg said, blurting it out.

‘What?’

‘The Sword Master was shot and the Corsanon warriors took him away.’

Shane couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked, closing his lids then opened them wide again. A kelp garden? He was weightless, buoyed up by the liquid around him. His toes barely touched the sandy bottom and he felt himself drifting along as if in a dream. Tiny fish swam inches from his face, clinging to each other in close-packed schools. When he reached towards them, they darted away, all turning in the same direction as if guided by a single mind. That confirmed it: definitely a dream. Either that or he was drunk. Perhaps it was both.

Everything was soft, blurry; a landscape ringed by underwater plants. They undulated around him, dancing to an invisible breeze. He gripped a rock,
resisting the pull. Reeds were bent at an angle, shaped by the current. Was it getting stronger? The plait at the nape of his neck streamed out to the side, longing to escape. He guessed it would be best not to breathe but, strangely enough, he had no inclination to.

Brightly coloured fish emerged from the rocks—yellow with blue dots, black with white stripes—or was it the other way around? White with black stripes? In any case, they looked like banded saucers with bulging eyes and transparent fins. It was the most peculiar, wondrous experience—watching them navigate in the current. It had to be a dream, though if it was, he was in no hurry to wake up. He let go his grip, pushing off the bottom, exploring, smiling, until it all came to a stop.

Something gripped his shoulder, clamping like a vice. He rolled away from the grasp and kicked hard. He couldn’t see the lovely gardens any more. It was dark, murky and cold, the rapids dragging him over rocks. Again the attacker grabbed him, this time with two hands, and before he could get away they yanked him upward, pulling him into a pale light. When next he opened his eyes, Selene was sitting astride him, pushing on his chest. Water came up out of his lungs and she rolled him over, thumping his back none too gently.

‘Breathe, you idiot!’ she said, slapping him hard between the shoulder blades. ‘Breathe!’

Her hand against his wet skin stung like a cactus. He coughed and choked, trying to push her away as he braced himself for another blow. It fell hard, pressing his cheek into the ground. He went into fits of coughing. ‘Leave off, woman. I’m breathing.’

She sat next to him, her arms crossed. ‘You weren’t when I found you, so stop grumbling and thank me.’
She pressed her fingers into his jugular vein, feeling his pulse. ‘I just saved your life.’

Shane pushed her hand away. ‘I wasn’t dead. I remember fish. Brightly coloured little things and the most lovely kelp gardens.’

‘Then there are fish on the other side of life because you, my friend, were dead. Unconscious, anyway. Why didn’t you just swim up? You were under the opening.’

‘What opening?’

‘This one.’ She waved her hand. ‘Look around. We’re out of the mountain and…somewhere else.’

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the action no longer sending him into sputtering fits. ‘Where else?’

‘See for yourself.’

He propped up on his elbows. They were in a meadow fringed by unrecognisable trees, their thick trunks sprouting twisted branches and small prickly leaves. The grass beneath him was clover green with white flowers. A few bees hovered, alighting on the blossoms briefly before moving on to the next. Slender willows swayed overhead, filtering the sun and creating shifting patterns. The air was filled with the warble, cluck and chitchat of dozens of birds. A river ran past, a short distance from his toes. He wiggled them, blue shrivelled nubs. He sat up, tucked his feet underneath himself and straightened his back, wincing at the pain in his side. ‘We came out of there?’ he asked, pointing at the rushing water.

The opposite bank was further away than he could throw a stone. It looked dark and still in the centre but the edges bubbled, white water flowing around the rocks.

‘I did. You had to be rescued.’ Selene avoided his eyes.

‘How did you manage it?’ He shivered.

‘I dragged you. Come on. Let’s get into the sun. We need to warm up.’

‘Where’re my clothes? My pipes! Didn’t you get them?’ He looked around, seeing nothing on the shore but grass and sand. ‘Annadusa gave me those instruments. I can’t leave them behind.’

Selene stood naked in front of him. ‘Be grateful you’re alive to play another tune, bard.’