by Kim Falconer
She kept running until she reached the chain-link fence.
‘Where you rushing to, Sugar?’
The hairs on the back of her neck stood out. She heard the flick of a cigarette lighter and turned around. Smoke billowed above a shadowed face.
‘I’m clocked off, buddy,’ she said, walking away. ‘If you want something, talk to…’
‘I’m talking to you, bitch.’
She heard a trigger cock and turned to see a gun levelled at her chest.
Her face relaxed and her shoulders softened. She let her eyes lose focus as she took a slow, deep breath. Without warning she struck, her kick connecting with his right arm, knocking the gun to the pavement where it fired into the empty street.
The heel of her left hand drove up under his chin, dislocating his jaw and sending him sprawling backwards. She jumped after him, catching his neck between her forearms before he hit the ground. With a twist, she snapped it.
‘Said I was clocked off, arsehole,’ she mumbled under her breath, letting the body drop.
She glanced around before disappearing into the gloom.
In her apartment Kreshkali re-read the incantation by candlelight. The book was actually a text on quantum DNA transmutation and reality shifting, but its language had been couched in a poetic vernacular that Kreshkali found difficult to understand. The few surviving works on quantum magic, as well as hyper-dimensional space, astrology, tarot and numerology, were all written this way, to keep the knowledge occult—to keep it safe. So well disguised not a witch alive has a clue what it says.
She knitted her brow. This text, the one she’d paid so dearly for, was particularly meaningful to her. She knew the author had defected from ASSIST centuries ago. He was Luka Paree, a man whose work with quantum communication in DNA broke new ground. She smiled at his image on the back jacket, worn thin but still visible. He was a handsome man, Janicia’s lover.
She rubbed her thumb across it before reading aloud. ‘If the Entity wavers at the door, collect both waters pure as mist.’
She had the pure water from land. She just needed to deal with the polluted sea water. The technique, she discovered, was woven into the spell itself.
‘Add high blood and bottle tight.’
‘High blood’ had thrown her until she realised it simply meant the blood of a High Priestess. On Earth, ‘High Priestess’ described the descendants of the Techno-Witch—Janis Richter—in whose DNA was hidden many things, including the key to neutralising the sea-devils. She’d had the answer inside her, all along.
She pricked her finger and squeezed it over the vial, counting out the drops. She pushed the stopper back in and swirled the contents around.
‘With Luna behind the solar lot.’
It took her quite a while to decode this phrase, but she’d worked it out. Luna was the ancient reference to the Earth’s companion satellite, and lot was another name—even more antiquated—for an astrological mansion or house. The only time the Moon was behind the Sun’s house was just before it turned new—when it was dark as dark.
‘Will the double helix bond right.’
The ‘double helix bond’ was deoxyribonucleic acid—DNA—the long chains of protein that carried genetic information as well as the chemicals that could, on a very small scale, deactivate the sea-devils and make the water pure.
It’s in your blood, her mother had always said.
She read on. ‘And keep open the Ring-Pass-Not?’
The ‘Ring-Pass-Not’ was the portal, and the only thing that worried her about this phrase was that it was a question, not a statement.
Would it work? Even Luka Paree had been uncertain.
If it was successful, the portal would stabilise, at least for the time being. It would stay open, giving her the power to travel through whenever she wanted and bring back whatever she pleased. As it was, she could only take the clothes she wore, the trinkets in her pockets and a few water-skins at a time. If the spell worked, she’d be able to carry more, and avoid some of the less pleasant side effects of dimension travel—debilitation not the least.
Holding the vial up to the candlelight, she watched. The mud-coloured sea water, roiling with microorganisms, began to clarify. In a moment, it refracted the light—crystal clear and sparkling. She smiled. Like an alchemist, she mixed it back and forth with the other vial before pouring the concoction into a small spray atomiser and capping it shut. From what she understood it was simply a matter of releasing the contents as she travelled the corridors between the worlds, an offering to the Entities.
She’d know soon enough. The portal was five minutes away.
GAELA
CHAPTER 5
‘Not a soul in sight,’ Rosette whispered, looking up and down the road.
Hills undulated towards the distance. They were bare and brown, haggard as the cows that dotted them. The beasts walked slowly, heads close to the ground, their nostrils blowing puffs of dust as they searched for grass. Everything smelled of manure, dirt and burnt wood. The air hung thick with smoke, muddying the sky. This place was a striking contrast to the lush fields of Dumarka and their butterball livestock, laden fruit trees and dense forests.
Rosette turned towards the dry shrubs. ‘You won’t wander far, will you, Dray?’ she said, raising her voice above the riotous squabbling of crows flapping amongst the oaks.
She took off her gloves and tucked them into her pack, smiling as three larger black birds shot towards the east, squawking a ruckus as they did so.
‘You don’t have to watch me, Nell.’
Nell doesn’t watch, Maudi. The Three Sisters do.
‘Same thing.’
The sun had finally reached high enough over the eastern mountains to warm the frosty morning. She rubbed her hands together, letting her hood fall back. The scab on the side of her head caught, and she winced, feeling its rough edges. It was yet another one, quite close to her eye. She shrugged. A mark from her own sword, it would match the nick on the left side of her face, a reminder to stay focused and ignore distractions. She shook her head, trying not to think of how skilled the other students at Treeon would be.
It’s not a competition!
Rosette stretched her arms over her head, bangles clinking together when her wrists touched. The silver and lapis bands sparkled in the sunlight. They were a birthday gift from Nell.
Twenty-one years, my Rosette. Look what you have developed—strength, knowledge and a thirst for magic. Now all you have to do is cultivate discipline. Let these bangles be a steady reminder of that intention.
Rosette loved the bangles. She didn’t know if wearing them would help her concentration or not, though it didn’t hurt to have them on. She had felt grounded since she’d left Dumarka, a lot more so than five years ago—the last time she’d travelled. Of course, then she was running for her life. Now she was striding towards a new one.
It’ll come to you, Rosette. It’ll come. Nell had said the words so many times when they’d sparred and studied, they had become like a mantra. Rosette had found it easier to believe when she was within sight of Nell. Now, far away, a niggling doubt snuck in. What if it didn’t come to her? She touched the scab again. What if she failed?
Then she heard Nell’s voice in her mind. Intention! What you think becomes what you experience.
Rosette smiled. ‘I will succeed then,’ she said, aloud to make it stronger.
Stretching once more, she rocked back onto her heels then up to her toes, flexing her whole body. Her muscles ached for some decent exercise. By the looks of it, she’d get plenty of that today.
‘Maybe we should’ve paid the coach driver to take us right up to the gates, instead of hoping for a lift.’
Maybe if you hadn’t argued with him, he would have.
‘He wanted a month’s rent in gold just to get within a mile of Treeon Temple, Dray.’ She scanned the trees while undoing the front buttons of her cloak. ‘What’s the matter with people? Why are they so greedy?’
<
br /> Maybe they don’t think they have enough.
‘Enough what, I wonder?’
That’s a very good question. Do you think we have enough time?
As Drayco’s thoughts filled her mind, Rosette watched the big black feline emerge from the woods. He sauntered around the fringing oaks, head high and tail swaying back and forth like a lazy fan. His orange eyes flashed when he spotted her.
‘You’re right, Drayco. We’d best get walking.’ She held her hand out towards him as he leapt down the embankment. The momentum carried him forward and he bumped her thigh with the top of his head. His purr hummed around them.
When are we meant to arrive?
‘Noon.’ She looked down the road. ‘Can we make it?’
Drayco sniffed the air, turning his face up to Rosette. Nope.
‘Pessimist.’
Realist. On foot, it’s too far, unless you care to run the whole way. I can, of course. Can you?
Rosette scratched behind his ears and sighed. ‘Maybe we’ll get a lift.’
Drayco studied the road, his tail twitching as his head turned left and right. Who from?
‘Honestly? I have no idea.’ She laughed. ‘Let’s go.’ She gave Drayco a final scratch and hoisted her bag.
It wouldn’t be much fun, jogging along with the weight she carried, but it wouldn’t pay to be late either. She set off at a brisk walk, taking in the landscape. Twisted oak trees and groves of tall redwoods spread out to her right while over-grazed pastures rambled off to her left. A rickety barbed-wire fence bordered each side of the dirt road, the posts listing at odd angles where the wire had sagged or snapped. She felt sad for the beasts scattered across the fields. The ones she could see close up looked about to calve.
‘Don’t they cut hay in this part of the country?’
Doesn’t look like it. Drayco sniffed the air. A few valleys further, they do.
‘Good nose, Dray.’
Thank you.
An occasional ‘moo’ haunted the valley, reminding Rosette of the foghorns that boomed across Lister Bay. The sound made the road seem even more desolate. She shivered, glancing at the sky. Aside from a flock of pigeons circling above and a few white egrets amongst the cows, she and Drayco were alone. Even the Three Sisters had vanished. Dropping any hope of getting a lift with a passing farmer, Rosette looked briefly behind her, straightened her shoulders and started to jog.
She’d been travelling for days, mostly in the comfort of a first-class coach. The smooth roads and clear weather had given her time to read and muse while Drayco stretched out across the opposite seat, alternately napping and staring at the countryside rolling by. That luxury had ended abruptly this morning when she had learned how much the driver wanted to take her to the gates of the Treeon Temple. Clearly he’d thought he had her stumped. He quoted a price five times higher than it had cost to get here from Dumarka, a week’s coach ride. She would rather walk than be robbed outright, and had told him so.
‘Be my guest,’ he’d said, laughing as he dumped her heavy pack on the side of the road. ‘See how far you get on your own legs, luscious as they are.’
She felt certain he had more to say, but Drayco had stepped forward, his lips pulled back in a snarl. The coachman had tipped his hat and drove off in a cloud of dust. Good riddance.
Rosette trotted down the road and Drayco loped at her side, energetic and alert. He darted off into the bushes and scuttled straight up tall pines only to shimmy down with much twisting and turning of his head. It made her laugh. He was five years old now, but still such a juvenile at times. His tail lashed as he stalked prey, real or imagined, she didn’t know which. At least the journey was amusing him.
She shifted the weight of her pack and slowed to a walk, trudging up a steep hill, using her staff as a walking stick.
When they crested the rise, she let out a long, hearty exclamation, ‘Woooheeee! Look at that view!’
Quiet, Maudi. I’m hunting. Drayco’s eyes were fixed on a gopher hole by the side of the road, little spurts of dirt shooting from its opening.
‘Oh, come on, Dray. Look out there.’ She pointed towards the magnificent valley, a wide river coursing through it. The pastures were golden, rippling with tall oat grass and pale green alfalfa. ‘It’s so inviting. Let’s get to the water and have a snack.’
My snack’s right here. Hush, before you scare it away. Drayco sat inches from the gopher hole, ears pricked forward, frozen like a statue. Little flicks of dirt were flying up from the depths, making his whiskers twitch with each spurt. He bunched his haunches.
Before he could pounce, Rosette stiffened. ‘Someone’s coming,’ she whispered.
Drayco spun around, his head high, his mouth opening slightly to taste the air. His hackles rose, almost touching Rosette’s hip as he pressed against her. Danger?
She squinted. ‘I doubt it. Looks like a lad on a plough horse to me.’
Drayco took another sniff then yawned. Great. Here come more interruptions.
‘Or, great! Here comes our ride.’
And there goes my snack.
She laughed.
A huge, dappled grey horse trotted towards them, head down, eyes half closed, shaggy fetlocks scuffing the hard-packed dirt, making dust rise with each hoof fall. He carried a young man and a lot of gear. His rider wore a green cloak and a blue scarf with a small guitar slung across his back. Oblivious, he whistled as he bounced along.
He doesn’t smell like a farm boy. Drayco stood watching their approach, his hackles slowly dropping.
‘I don’t know about that, but not many farm boys travel with their guitars. Better let me do the talking.’
If you insist, Maudi.
Rosette and Drayco watched while he crested the hill. She guessed the lad was a little younger than her, perhaps in his late teens. He certainly looked comfortable on that big horse—his expression merry beneath a brightly coloured knitted cap. She returned his smile instantly.
‘Whoa.’ He pulled his mount to a halt.
The horse didn’t seem at all troubled to find a temple cat and a cloaked woman in the middle of the road. He fluttered his nostrils in their direction and then looked quietly into the distance, seeming pleased at the chance to rest. It surprised Rosette. Usually Drayco created quite a stir among equines, at least at first.
‘Finally, some people,’ the young man said. ‘You’re the first I’ve seen all morning.’
Rosette looked up into his bright blue eyes, about to speak.
‘I’m Clay Cassarillo, from the Southern Cusca Plains.’ He made a bowing gesture from atop the horse, pulling off his cap to release a shock of curly red hair.
‘I’m Rosette de Santo,’ she said with a quick dip of her head. ‘This is Drayco, from the Dumarkian Woods.’
‘Wow, two dark beauties from the lands of Dumarka. This is my lucky day,’ he exclaimed as he dropped the reins, kicked free of the stirrups, and jumped to the ground, a large leather bag and bedroll dangling precariously as he landed.
The horse sighed and cocked a hind leg.
‘That’s some cat!’ Clay’s expression became even livelier. ‘Is he your…your…’
‘Familiar?’
‘Is he?’
‘Yes,’ Rosette said. ‘My companion.’
Clay leaned his back against the horse, not taking his eyes off Drayco. ‘I’ve heard of Dumarkian temple cats. I never thought I’d see one this close up. He’s huge.’
‘Drayco is large even for his kind.’
‘Can I pat him?’ he asked, reaching out his hand.
‘I wouldn’t,’ Rosette said, stepping between them.
He can touch me if he wants to lose some fingers. I wouldn’t mind a crunchy snack. The gopher’s gone…
It didn’t sound like he was kidding.
‘Definitely leave him, Clay. He’s not a tabby-cat.’
He clasped his hands behind his back. ‘How did you meet him?’
‘It’s a long story,’ she answ
ered, gazing out across the valley.
Clay brushed horsehair from his pants and followed her line of sight. ‘Demons, it’s beautiful here.’
‘Do you travel much?’ she asked.
‘This is the furthest I’ve ever been, but I plan on doing a lot more.’ He pushed a lock of hair from his face. ‘I’m a bard.’
‘A journeyman bard? Really?’
‘Not quite. I’m an apprentice. I won’t make journeyman for another year, though I plan on covering a lot of territory when I do. I’m headed for Treeon Temple to continue my studies. Gotta be there by noon.’
‘That’s where we’re going.’ Rosette smiled at him, watching his eyes light up.
‘Witch?’
‘You might say.’
‘Apprentice too?’
‘Initiate. I’m to apprentice at Treeon.’
‘Well, Rosette de Santo, you’re never going to make it there on time. It’s too far to walk.’
‘I realise this.’ She took her long cloak off and draped it over her pack; her dark green dress swept around her ankles as she leaned over. It covered her curves like soft skin on ripe fruit; it was something Clay noted, judging by his open-mouthed stare.
‘Want a lift?’ he asked, taking a breath and tearing his gaze from her body to look her in the eye.
‘That’d be wonderful, thank you.’
‘There’s one condition.’ He winked at her as he spoke.
‘Condition?’
‘You have to agree,’ he said in a rush.
‘What?’ Her forehead creased. Here we go. Boys and their one-track minds.
‘Tell me how you got your familiar and I’ll get you to Treeon on time.’
Rosette laughed. ‘That’s it?’
‘Yep.’
‘You’re on.’
Classic, Maudi. You ride all cushy on that fur-topped mountain, no doubt with the lad’s erection pressed against your backside, and I follow along like a dog.
First up, Dray, I’ll ride behind. No pressing of anything anywhere. And second, my black lovely beast, you couldn’t follow like a dog if you tried.
