The Spell of Rosette (30 page)

‘Yes, but he would have only just discovered that bit of truth and, if I know Rosette, she won’t make things easy for him.’

‘She never did with John’ra.’

‘So I heard.’ Nell sighed. ‘The Sword Master brought her here in the first place—hardly a protective act. His allegiance, it seems, is to Makee—always has been.’

‘I’ve got to get to her.’ Jarrod started forward. ‘Will I double you?’

‘The climb’s too steep, even for Wren. Ride up and I’ll meet you there.’ She gestured to the sky.

‘Of course.’ He moved off, heading up the trail.

‘One note of caution, Jarrod.’

He looked back, pulling Wren to a halt.

‘If the messengers are on the summit when you arrive, don’t let them see you. Don’t let them smell you. It’ll mean your death if they do.’

‘Just like that?’

‘They kill first and ask questions later.’

‘I’m fairly resilient.’

‘You think you’ve got the time to conjure up a whole new Tulpa-body?’

He rubbed his chin. ‘I’ll be careful.’

B
y midday, she heard the howls. At first Rosette thought it was the wind telling of some deep crevice ahead. She always listened to the wind. It had saved her life on more than a few occasions and it might be doing so again today. She frowned, listening harder, straining to catch the nuances embedded in the whirl of sound. Holding her breath, she realised it was not the wind that spoke. It was something else, and it was getting closer.

The horses’ heads tossed, eyes rolling, showing the whites. The beasts tried to look behind and to either side of the ridge all at once, taking small, prancing steps, tails held high. An’ Lawrence dismounted and Rosette did the same, holding the reins firm as her horse alternately pawed the snow and minced back and forth.

Something’s ahead. It climbs from the other side. I don’t recognise the scent.
The warning cut sharply into her thoughts, alarming her even more than the horses’ behaviour. Drayco was apprehensive. She had seldom sensed that in him, not since the day they had met.

Human?

Not quite, more canine, or wolf.

Rosette went to An’ Lawrence and yanked on his long coat until he turned around.

‘Drayco says some
thing
is up ahead, on the other side of the summit.’ She leaned into him, pressing her face next to his. ‘He says it’s not quite human. Care to explain?’ She pulled her face back from his ice-encrusted hood.

‘We’re expecting a messenger, remember?’

Rosette pursed her cracked lips. ‘It’s not difficult to recall the things you tell me, Sword Master, considering how few and far between they are.’ She glared at him, fishing out Nell’s tin of ointment. Fumbling with the lid and still holding her reins, she managed to dab some on her lips.

‘So this messenger isn’t human?’ she asked, the small gesture of shoving the ointment back into her pocket without offering him any giving her a sense of satisfaction.

‘That’s correct,’ he said.

‘And I’m guessing it’s the thing making the howling noises, terrifying the horses?’

‘It is.’

‘So, it’s like, what…a wolf?’

‘A wolf, but not a wolf.’ He raised his voice over the wind. ‘Several by the sound of it.’

‘How many?’

‘We’ll find out soon enough.’

‘We can trust them?’

‘They’re terribly dangerous, and not to be trusted. They are more dangerous at night, of course, but the important thing is to keep your mind-shield up. Don’t ever let them hear your thoughts, especially fearful ones. They will use them against you.’

‘These pointers might have been more useful if discussed earlier, Sword Master.’

‘When would that have been? While struggling in the
blizzard perhaps, or in the training ring, making sure you could defend yourself?’

‘There were times in between.’ She crossed her arms. ‘You could have been a lot more forthcoming.’

‘I didn’t know for certain what today would bring—who she would send. Just remember, whatever you do, don’t let your mind-shield slip…’ He looked past her. ‘Heads up! See to your horse.’

Rosette spun as her mount backed away, the leather reins slipping fast through her gloved hand. She could scarcely clench her numb fingers against the leather as her arm snapped to its full length. The horse’s forelegs were braced against the tension, nostrils flaring.

‘Whoa now,’ she soothed, stepping forward to stroke the rigid neck. ‘They’re more dangerous at night, it seems, so we have hours to go before we’re dog food.’

‘This is not a joking matter, Rosette.’

‘Isn’t it?’ She looked wildly around as the horse backed further towards the edge of the trail. ‘We’re scaling a mountain, ice and snowdrifts hiding sudden drops into oblivion. The trail’s so narrow we couldn’t turn around and go back, even if we wanted to. And we don’t want to.’ She shook her head. ‘We want to go on, straight towards the howling that has me, and the horses, feeling like glass about to break!’

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 were 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.