Arrows of Time (47 page)

What’s ahead are those uniforms. I think you need to do something about them.

‘And Rosette…is she from your world too?’ Everett asked.

‘No time. Here they come.’
This is it, Torgan,
she said to her familiar.

You’re convinced it must be done?

I am. Are you ready?

As I can be.

I love you.

I love you too.

I’ll meet you on the other side.

T
eg shifted back to two legs as he landed inside the portal. He let his hand pass over the plasma emission, bowing to the Entity as he skidded to a halt. He’d seen Kreshkali do this many times. He didn’t have the blood, but he knew the ritual.
Keep your mind on where and when you want to go
, she had said.

His thoughts honed in on Kreshkali and the forest near Treeon Temple where he last saw her. He didn’t let doubt enter his head. That was crucial. The Entity would respond to confusion in kind. He had to keep his focus tight on Kreshkali—the smell of her, the angle of the moonlight where she had last stood, the carpet of leaves beneath her feet, the sound of her voice when she said his name. It wasn’t a difficult exercise. He’d thought of little else since they parted.

The corridors were dim, the contours soft and blurry. He leaned against the back of the portal, gazing at the energy flowing past, winding its way like a river through the twists and turns. The speed and flash of it
burned his eyes after a time, but he didn’t look away. How long would it take to get there? Where was ‘there’? He didn’t know. Time travelled at a different pace inside the corridors.

That was an understatement. He suspected he might be outside time altogether, above it somehow, or beside it, no longer part of the arrow, whichever way it was pointing. He finally closed his eyes, still keeping the ‘when’ in mind as much as the ‘where’. The subdued light calmed him and his breathing steadied. He opened his eyes and took a tentative step forward, ready to jump out as soon as he could visualise solid ground and a still frame in front of him. The instant the rushing stopped, he leapt.

The clearing was empty, though he wasn’t sure what he had expected to find.
Did you think she’d be standing here waiting for you, arms crossed and foot tapping? Or maybe arms open wide, overwhelmed with gratitude that you’d come back for her?
He chided himself, then chided again for the self-denigration.
Treat yourself as you would your most treasured friend.
Her words came back to him, and he let out his breath. He realised he’d been holding it for some time.
All right, good friend
, he said to himself.
Let’s find our mentor.

He scented the air, expanding his awareness, searching for Kreshkali with both mind and heart. Chills went down his back. She’d been here, he was certain, but her scent was faint. Had too much time transpired? ‘When’ was he anyway? He looked at the sun. It could be only a few hours after they had left with the impostor.

The earth vibrated beneath his boots. Cantering hooves churned up the ground and he turned towards the sound, ducking behind a blackberry thicket before they charged past. Two riders were heading north-west.
They were followed by several dogs, golden barrels with legs—Labradors, bounding along happily, oblivious to his scent. Their tongues were long and panting—a hard run. He narrowed his eyes. It was a hunting party, and both of the riders carried birds of prey on their wrists. Falconers! Nothing unusual about that, but what was the other scent he caught? Blood. From the kill? No. It was Kreshkali’s blood.

Every cell in his body screamed at him to follow. He checked for threats. The Treeon guards were nowhere about. All he heard was the sound of crows in the distance and a babble of water behind him. He bounded out from the cover, taking off at a dead run. Using four legs meant he could catch up faster and his shift was seamless. He was downwind of the charging beasts and the dogs. So far, the other animals hadn’t caught his scent.

He followed the hunting party north to the foothills of Mt Pele, a lush and rolling pastoral land crisscrossed with creeks, oaks and hay fields. The horses were walking now, cooling off from the sustained gallop. He kept a fair distance back, the terrain lacking the cover he needed to stay close and concealed. He marked where they turned down a driveway and shifted back to bipedal form. The area was dotted with small farms, no place for a Lupin to be seen prowling about, but a young man would pass more or less unnoticed.

He paused at a stream and drank deeply, bathing away the sweat and grime from his soaked vest and letting the sun dry his skin and hair. He didn’t want to burst in on them and raise suspicions. It was only an hour’s ride from Treeon. There may have already been word of the murder and the escaped suspects. He didn’t want to look the part.

The falconers had gone into a prosperous estate, judging by the finely bred horses in the surrounding
fields. He’d clean up, and come a-calling. It wouldn’t take long to find out why he smelled Kreshkali’s blood. He shivered, even though the sun beat down on his bare shoulders.
Kali, where are you?

There was no response. He gathered pungent herbs to mask his Lupin scent and headed down the road—a young journeyman herbalist from Morzone on his way to Treeon in need of directions. The driveway was long, shaded by oaks draped with pale green moss. When he reached the manor house, dogs charged out to greet him, teeth bared and hackles high.
Easy, boys. Is your master about?

Their growls quickly changed to curious yips as they sniffed and wagged their tails.

That’s surely a yes?
He roughed their backs.

A woman with flaxen hair the same colour as the dogs appeared from the stables, dressed for the hunt, her right hand gloved. He recognised her as one of the riders. She smiled at him, unafraid. Good start.

‘Are you lost?’ she asked.

What a lovely voice. The dogs ran to her as she spoke, making to jump up before thinking better of it as she scolded with her finger. They contented themselves with dashing back and forth between them. ‘Not any more.’ Teg beamed a smile that made her blush. ‘I’m looking for the turn-off to Treeon Temple. I seem to have gone astray.’

‘Somewhat.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Lily. Stay for the noon meal and my husband and I will set you straight.’ She put a slight emphasis on the word
husband
.

It delighted him that she felt that was necessary. ‘You’re most kind,’ he said. He crossed the distance between them and followed her into the stables. Two horses were cross-tied in the breezeway, a groom hosing them down. They didn’t startle as he passed, and Teg felt even more grateful for his time at Temple
Los Loma. He’d learned how to relax among a variety of species and had taken quite a liking to horses, and they responded in kind.
Kreshkali?
He sought her with his mind.

‘We’ve an injured bird here; we’re just cleaning her up now.’ The woman guided him into the tack room.

‘What happened?’ Teg asked. He made it sound light, curious. He knew it was Kali, though she hadn’t answered his calls. His palms were sweating.
Kali? Are you all right?

‘A trapping of some kind,’ Lily said, frowning.

‘More than that,’ the man added as they entered the tack room. He turned and extended his hand to Teg, eyeing him from head to foot. ‘I’m Jago.’ His voice was a deep baritone. ‘You’ve met Lily, my wife?’

Teg gripped his hand, finding it interesting that they both added possessive labels to each other’s name. He held Jago’s eyes for a moment, but moved his gaze when he spotted the black falcon on the table. She was hooded, perched on a bar, allowing her wounds to be dressed. Teg felt the sweat break out on his forehead and wiped it with the back of his hand.
Kali? Can you hear me?

Teg?
The voice was soft, distant.
It’s so dark
, she said.

You’re hooded, that’s all. You’re okay. I can see you, right in front of me.

I tried to shift. Nothing happened.

It’s going to be all right. I’ve come to rescue you.

A wafting sound came from the bird.

‘Have you worked with falcons?’ Jago’s question brought his attention around.

‘In Morzone, yes.’

‘Good place for it. I know most of the falconers there. Who’ve you hunted with?’

Teg couldn’t take his eyes off Kali.

Caspian
…
Spates, I think
, she said to him.

Are you sure, Mistress?

In my Gaela, yes.

‘Spates. Do you know him?’ Teg said the words with confidence.

‘Caspian? Excellent trainer. His partner is the better of the two, though…is she still riding that wild red chestnut?’

Sara.
Kali’s voice was weakening.

‘She was last time I saw her. Sara’s been working him hard and steady. He’s coming round, though I wouldn’t volunteer to have a go.’

Jago laughed. ‘That’s saying a lot, especially seeing you’re on foot. It’s a hefty trek, Morzone to Treeon.’

Water.
Kali’s message was a demand.

‘She’s thirsty,’ Teg said, interrupting.

Jago eyed him. ‘Is that so?’

‘That’s what I’m getting too,’ Lily said, handing a dropper to Teg. She righted the bird as it listed slightly, steadying her balance. Black claws gripped her glove. ‘Can you get the hood off?’ she asked. ‘She does need a drink.’

Teg released her from darkness and was rewarded with a shriek. Her wings extended, hanging like a scarecrow’s. She allowed the drops of water to be trickled down her throat.

‘You’ve a way with her,’ Jago said. ‘Are you a healer?’

‘A herbalist’s apprentice, yes. I’m headed for Treeon.’

‘To apply?’ Lily’s eyes went wide.

It was as good a story as any and it seemed to impress them both. ‘Aye. I’ve got some of the blood in me.’

Careful.
Kali sent the message as she dipped her head for more water.

‘I don’t doubt that,’ Lily replied. She eyed him, no attempt at subtlety.

‘We’ll let her rest now. The injuries are not extensive—she’s more exhausted and traumatised than anything.’

Jago led them to a large, open-air space where several falcons of various sizes perched. He opened a cage and helped Lily transfer her to the roost. A breeze fluttered her black feathers as he slipped the hood back on. Teg made no move to go.

‘Come, lad. We’ll share a meal and you can tell me what old Caspian’s been up to.’

I’ll be back for you, Kali. Don’t try to shift. You’re in a cage.

A cage? This is your idea of a rescue?

It will be. Gather your strength. I’m not leaving.

There was no response, but her wings lifted slightly, then folded neatly behind her back.

Teg sat at the dining table, shoulders squared, his hosts firing questions at him one after the other. They were both curious, Lily especially so. She gave him nothing but smiles and sweet laughter—maybe that explained Jago’s increasing interrogation. It seemed he was stirring up old memories, reminding them of someone else. It was just his luck to have to deal with this as well as think of a way to get Kreshkali out—a way other than violence. These were sound people and he didn’t want to hurt them. The rescue would have to wait until she recovered enough strength to fly, or shift, in any case. Would that be hours or days? He stared at his plate, wondering where his appetite had gone.

The table was laid out with a magnificent midday meal—enough for more than the three of them by triple. Bowls of salads and garden vegetables sat next to fresh apples, citrus and berries, and there was meat.
The scent tantalised him, his mouth watering when a platter was brought in—a huge white porcelain dish holding a dozen golden-roasted pigeons. They were stuffed with rice and glazed with sweet orange and ginger sauce.

‘Are these from today?’ Teg asked, steering the conversation away from his personal connections in Morzone, of which he actually had none. He’d never even been to the place. His generalisations were starting to run thin on that topic and he needed a new one, quick.

‘It was a good morning’s hunt.’ Lily smiled at him with more enthusiasm than he thought necessary. Couldn’t she sense the tension in Jago? Was that why she was doing it? He gave her the briefest of smiles in return.

‘Hungry?’ she asked.

He held his plate up and she piled it high with a choice selection. ‘It looks amazing.’ He moved his fingers aside when she brushed them.

‘So tell me, Teg.’ Jago’s voice cut through their private exchange. ‘Have you spent much time near the plateau of Los Loma?’

He choked, swallowing hard to keep from coughing. Lily handed him a glass of water, her eyebrows raised.

‘Some,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘That ginger sauce is full of chilli, isn’t it? Delicious.’ He stuffed his mouth again so he wouldn’t have to speak.

‘The Temple guards were around early this morning,’ Jago said. ‘Seems there’s trouble at Treeon—the High Priestess’s consort’s dead. Murdered, apparently.’

Teg swallowed again, keeping his expression bland. ‘Do they have any clues?’

‘A few. They’re looking for a covey of witches that escaped in the night.’

The food went cold in his stomach. He drank again from his glass.
Kali, we’ve got trouble.

‘They might have been the ones who trapped the black falcon, eh, Teg?’ Jago asked. ‘Seen anyone in your travels?’

Teg wiped his mouth. ‘Not ‘til I found you.’

Jago poured himself a deep red wine and shook his head. ‘Of course not. You’ve come the other way, haven’t you?’ He chuckled, not a contagious laugh. ‘Witches’ business anyway. Isn’t that right, Lil?’

She frowned at her husband. ‘Witches’ business, I suppose, but tell us, Teg, do you know anyone from Los Loma?’ She leaned closer, lowering her voice. ‘Do you know a man named Hotha? He’s from Los Loma, the heart of the mountain.’ Her voice was soft but the question razor-sharp.