Arrows of Time (38 page)

‘What do you make of this?’ Shane whispered to Jarrod as he whisked past him.

Selene followed, mumbling her concerns as she slipped between Jarrod and the pole. ‘That witch is up to something more than she’s telling. I’m sure of it. I want my sword back.’

‘Keep your eyes open,’ Jarrod said at the next pass, though it wasn’t necessary. They both looked alert, nervous. ‘Be ready for anything.’

Jarrod kept Nell in full view. She was only one step in front of him, holding a yellow ribbon, her arm extended as she danced along. She slowed with the music at the end of the tune. The pole was laced with rainbow streamers, each of the dancers tethered close to the centre. He took a deep breath, about to exhale in relief, when he caught a glint of steel. ‘Nell!’ he shouted, leaping forward. ‘Don’t’

Nell was on the man before Jarrod could do anything. When she stepped aside, she dropped her blade, red and wet in the short green grass. The band stopped and the oblivious crowd broke into cheers. Nell turned away, her glamour gone.

Screams rose around them, the shrill sound cutting through the applause. The man, who had come so lightly to the dance, his partner laughing at his side, doubled over, collapsed to his knees and fell face down. Nell let go of her basket, the bright flower petals spilling over the blood seeping from his wound. They rested for a moment on the dark pool before
the yellow centres turned black and sank under the slick surface.

Before Jarrod could grab her, Nell threw back her head and sent a blast of energy from her body, repelling all who closed in. In a whirl of light, she morphed; the backlash of her transformation knocked him down. She emerged from the shock wave as a black hawk, streaking skyward. The raptor shrieked in a high-pitched whistle that sent Torgan tearing across the field. The familiar shadowed his mistress high above, climbing out of the Temple valley.

The woman was cradling the dead man in her lap, tears streaming down her face. One hand was on his cheek, the other pressed hard against the wound. Her fingers were red, blood gushing out between them. Jarrod turned around, following the hawk’s flight until it disappeared. Then he saw the guards.

Shane and Selene backed into him, half-a-dozen swords pointing at their throats. In front of him he faced a similar barrage. Suddenly, the area was empty of other dancers, save the victim and his companion. Jarrod lifted his arms over his head. ‘Tio,’ he whispered. ‘I give up.’ He was in no position to fight.

Selene hissed into his ear. ‘When we get out of this, I’m going to kill that bitch!’

‘Not if I can do it first.’ Jarrod stared at the blades, leaning into Shane and Selene, pressing back to avoid the metal tips. He didn’t doubt the guards’ intentions. They’d happily carve him up for fish bait if given the slightest provocation. Maybe even without it. Fortunately they were having trouble controlling the crowd—the chaos around them kept any clear order from being delivered. At his feet the dead man bled out. The crowd was wailing his name, ‘Corvey, Corvey’. The woman who held the lifeless body spoke to the guards. They referred to her as the High Priestess Le Saint.

So much for Nell’s ‘accident’ story. The woman seemed in perfect health. ‘Get them out of here,’ she screamed, her bloody finger pointing towards Jarrod.

The guards shoved Shane and Selene forward, grabbed their packs and weapons and marched them down towards the main temple. By now the crowd had become hysterical. The news was travelling fast. People were pressing in, shouting to make way for healers and more guards, but seemingly reluctant to take their own advice. They did part in front of the captives, though, some staring wide-eyed and others hissing and spitting. Corvey was well loved. His death would be avenged, Jarrod felt sure of that.

‘Keep moving,’ the guard said, pushing him forward.

The prisoners walked with their hands on top of their heads, fingers laced. They were herded up the steps of the temple and along the side walkway until they came to a set of stairs leading down. The light vanished into a black pit and Jarrod smiled to himself.
Perfect,
he thought, wishing he could communicate their good luck to the others. He knew this labyrinth, with all its twists and turns. At least, he did on his Gaela.

They were led down the spiral stairwell. It opened into a rock-hewn chamber. Jarrod frowned. This was new. The stone walls were damp, the air musty. Jarrod kept his heart rate steady as they approached a room with no windows and only a single door. They were directed to enter and sit with their backs to the wall. One of the guards dumped their packs and weapons on the ground, tipping the contents into a pile.

‘Watch it,’ Shane said when his low whistle and flute clattered to the floor.

The guard picked up the instruments and examined them one at a time. He tossed the whistle back into the pile and pocketed the flute.

‘You’ll not be taking that!’ Shane stood up; the guard immediately knocked him down.

‘What’s the problem?’ the guard asked. ‘You think you’ll ever be playing music again?’ The others laughed. ‘You’ll be lucky if you live out the night.’

Shane collapsed, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

‘
Y
ou like the protein packets, do you?’ Everett laughed at the animal as it gnawed into the brown squares of amino acid compounds, ignoring the phtyo-fructos balls.

It’d been tricky working out what to feed the little guy, and he still wasn’t sure if he was giving him ‘dog candy’ or the nutrients his body needed for growth. He’d established the animal was young and yet to reach maturation—the scan of his long bones revealing open growth plates—but he couldn’t find any reference to dietary requirements in the public archives. No point drawing attention by searching the historical records for the care and feeding of
canis familiaris
. Trial and error would have to do.

‘You want more, Canie?’ He patted the dog. ‘Last time I fed you that much, you chucked it all back up, remember?’ Everett grinned as the animal wagged his tail and yipped.

The semiotics were obvious, once you observed the behaviour long enough, though he found it astounding how much of his own words seemed to be interpreted by the creature. Was it tone of voice, body language, or was it something else? Everett stroked the soft fur on top of the dog’s head. There was so much joy there. Want more food? The tail wags. Chase the ball? Yips and barks. Have a rest? Whatever you say. It seemed to Everett that the canine’s brain was hard-wired for happiness—something humans lacked. Why hadn’t that been appreciated before the exterminations?

‘I’m going to have to buy a parkland permit now, and sneak you out of here. You’ll be needing exercise, won’t you?’

Canie yipped again and raced to the door. Everett shook his head and punched in his order, checking credits. He purchased a month’s worth of daily excursions. It wouldn’t be questioned, though he would have to explain to Cryo why he couldn’t find a requisitions order for the revival. Perhaps he could fake his return to the vat. Now that he was getting to know Canie, he’d not be keen to hand him back over to Labs. The little guy wasn’t just a clue to his Jane Doe any more. He was starting to feel familiar, like a companion. It was delightful—a new feeling for Everett—and he didn’t want to let him go. ‘Come on with you now, Canie. Into the backpack. We’re going for a little outing.’

Canie ran in circles, yipping as Everett scooped him up. He allowed himself to be smuggled out in the pack as if he knew stealth was necessary, the reward well worth it.

Grayson sat under the bare tree. The limbs were brittle, like long bony fingers reaching skyward. The air was chilly and left a metallic taste on his tongue. Nothing stirred in this place, nothing but the rise and fall of his
chest—and the stranger who appeared on the path below. Grayson hooded his eyes, mindful not to move or attract attention. This was the first person he’d seen in this deadwood-rotten world, and although a thrill welled up in him at spotting another being, he chose caution over expression. The young man seemed agitated, out of place. He wasn’t dressed for a hike in this rock cemetery and he kept looking over his shoulder as he hedged along.

The man took off his backpack, struggling with the weight. Grayson couldn’t see what it contained until he’d straightened, lifting a wiggling animal. It jumped from his arms and hit the ground running. The creature came back the instant he was called to heel. It returned to sit in front of the man, licking his hand, brimming with gratitude. Why not? Even this desolate place had to be better than being stuffed in a backpack.

Grayson smiled, recognising the species,
canis familiaris
. He’d never encountered one in his years confined at ASSIST, though there were plenty on Gaela and Temple Los Loma. Rosette had introduced him to the hunting hounds of Treeon and the tracking companions on Rahana Iti. He’d taken to them immediately—wonderful animals, though rambunctious. He thought of getting one himself, someday.

When the young man waved his dog on, it shot out into the distance, nose to the ground, coursing through the tussocks of dry grass, rocks and stumpy tree trunks. It seemed to be on more than a frolic; the animal was clearly searching for something. The man appeared concerned, hurrying to keep up with it, still looking over his shoulder and glancing from side to side.

Grayson edged towards the mouth of the crevice. The others hadn’t arrived and he couldn’t imagine what was taking them so long. Drayco and Kreshkali
had been next to him when they entered the portal, An’ Lawrence and Scylla right behind. Only the Lupin, Teg, had kept to himself.

When the portal had opened onto this world, he’d thought they were following as he stepped out, anxious to find Rosette. When they didn’t appear, he thought they may have come out ahead, but after a day and a night, it was clear they hadn’t. Waiting was tedious and non-productive, but so would be wandering the infinite twists and turns of the corridors unguided. He was here for a reason, and that had to be Rosette. If she was anywhere on this strange world, he would need help to find her. Maybe the man below was just such a help—and maybe not. Time would tell.

Grayson stiffened as the dog let out a yowl and quickened his pace.
Demons! He’s onto me.

The pup had caught his scent, no doubt from his morning’s jaunt to the lake. He was sniffing his way towards him at increasing speed, following an invisible zigzag path up the slope. The man was right on his heels. Grayson backed further into the crevice, dirt crumbling in his hands as he pushed against the walls. He crouched just in front of the portal and exhaled, stilling his energy. He could feel the Entity’s aura warm against his back, a light caress. The temptation to slip into the portal weighed against his desire to explore this world—to find if Rosette had been here or if there was some other reason the Entity had popped him out in this strange place.

He’d stretched his awareness outward, leading with his heart, but he couldn’t sense her anywhere, certainly not in a specific location. Yet he did have the strange feeling, ever since he entered the sewers under Half Moon Bay, that Rosette was close by. It might have simply been his longing for her that pervaded his senses, and not a real presence, like the image of water
on the horizon to a desert wanderer. What had she called that? A mirage?

He shook his head. Damn the dog. It was nearly upon him. He had to make a decision fast—stay or go. What would it be?

‘Are you all right there, sir?’

The voice came from above. The man had followed the pup right up to the crevice and was hovering over him, a look of concern on his face. In an instant Grayson realised he’d slipped partway into the portal and had lost awareness. The pup was sniffing over his boots, the animal’s white and grey velvet ears brushing the ground, his black nose huffing. He wiggled and sat square in front of Grayson, tail sweeping the ground, making a smooth arc behind him. Grayson patted his head and stood. ‘I must have dozed off,’ Grayson said, brushing his pants.

The man in front of him was youthful, well framed, with refined hands, kind eyes and a strong jaw. His face was pale, though, his expression tense. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

Grayson gave him a light smile, allowing his energy to soften. ‘I was out for an early morning walk.’

The pup jumped up, yipping. He dashed off for a few feet before running back to Grayson, sitting at his heels and looking up, the yips and yowls getting louder. Grayson frowned. ‘What is it, lad? You trying to tell me something?’

The dog dashed around him in circles, coming back to face him. Grayson calmed him down, saying a few soft words until the little dog settled.

The man leaned forward, his brow creased. ‘Is he yours?’ he whispered.

‘This dog?’ Grayson said. ‘I thought he belonged to you.’

The man straightened. He had caught sight of a tattoo on Grayson’s chest, a loop of serpent peeking out from the front of his shirt. He stared at it as if seeing a ghost. ‘Where are you from?’ he asked. He took a step back, patting his leg to attract the dog’s attention. It didn’t respond.

Grayson frowned. The man was out of his element, lost or confused. They might have much in common. He made a choice. ‘My name’s Grayson Nath,’ he said, extending his hand.

The man took it and gripped it, a familiar custom. ‘Everett Kelly,’ he replied. ‘Medical student at the ASMIU.’

‘Branch of ASSIST?’

‘Isn’t everything?’

Grayson nodded, looking around. ‘And what do you call this place?’

Everett shrugged. ‘Parklands South.’

‘Parklands, eh?’ Grayson raised his eyebrows. ‘Some place for a park. And ASMIU, where’s that?’

Everett lifted his chin, glancing from the pup to the portal entrance. ‘Sector Six.’

‘A sector of…?’

‘Allied State One, of course.’

Grayson rubbed the back of his neck. A sudden tightness wrenched him as he considered where he might be. Allied State One was only a concept before he left ASSIST. After the insurrection, it wasn’t anything at all. ‘Mr Kelly, I think we should talk.’