The Spell of Rosette

by Kim Falconer

  ‘You will?’

  They drained their cups and stood.

  ‘I’ll get my coat.’

  Kreshkali took a deep breath as she waited for the other witch to return. She hadn’t had the benefit of the horary chart when she found Jaynan. She hoped this time, things wouldn’t go wrong.

  CHAPTER 15

  Jarrod awoke, in the dark. The fire was mere coals, banked with warm stones. Nell was sleeping close to it, a short distance from Scylla and the Sword Master. Judging by the regular breathing, he guessed their dreams were sweet and the injuries mild. Thank the goddess for Nell’s herbs and magic. The feline wouldn’t be doing well without both.

  He didn’t see Drayco until he went outside. The temple cat stood staring up the path that led to the summit, the early-morning light turning him golden. He was completely still except for his whiskers. They twitched with every breath.

  ‘Are you feeling better, Drayco?’ Jarrod asked.

  The feline turned his head briefly before looking back up the track.

  ‘Will you let me see?’ Jarrod stretched out his hand, keeping it steady, determined to check the feline’s vital signs. Drayco lashed his tail and sat down in the snow, wrapping it tightly around his front paws.

  ‘I’m going to take that as a “yes”. Just give me a warning and I’ll back off. I only want to help.’

  He knelt beside Drayco, lifting his hand slowly to the temple cat’s thickly furred neck. He stroked it, working his way to the ear and giving it a good scratch. A soft vibration issued from Drayco’s throat. Confident that he had permission, Jarrod grasped the massive head in both hands and pushed the top eyelids back with his thumbs. He looked at the left eye, then the right, turning each towards the sunrise.

  ‘Pupils are equal and both react to light. I’m guessing the headache is gone and you’re fit to travel.’ He smiled at the deep orange eyes. ‘Shall we go to the summit and wait for Rosette? The Sword Master says she’ll be there.’

  Drayco’s ears pricked at the sound of his partner’s name. When Jarrod stood he leapt to his feet, heading up the track.

  ‘Wait for me. I won’t be long,’ Jarrod called. ‘I’m going to check on the others and saddle up. It’ll be quicker if I ride.’

  Drayco sat halfway up the track, his tail sweeping back and forth across the snow, piling it into drifts on either side.

  Nell came out of the cave wrapped tightly in her fur coat. ‘Making friends?’

  ‘I think we have an agreement.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Concussion’s gone.’ Jarrod nodded towards the cave. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Sleeping. Scylla’s fever’s down but still present. I’m going to get more agate and snow root if I can find any. She shouldn’t travel yet.’

  ‘Not surprised. But your herbs…’

  ‘Have helped,’ she interrupted.

  ‘I’m going up to meet Rosette. If she’s not at the summit…’

  ‘I know. I’ve fed and watered the horses, and saddled Wren, though she won’t be of use underground.’

  ‘Underground?’

  ‘The Lupins took Rosette to the witch Kreshkali. She’s got a den down in the bowels of Los Loma. If Rosette isn’t back by the time you reach the summit, Drayco will find a way in. Wren will get you as far as the entrance, but you won’t convince her to enter the darkness. She’d be blind there anyway. She’s a good mare, but she’s no grunnie.’

  ‘Maybe I can persuade her to wait for me. I don’t plan on taking too long.’

  ‘I love your optimism, Jarrod.’

  ‘And I love your daughter.’ He winked at her and went back inside the cave.

  Nell frowned. That could get tricky.

  When he emerged with the copper-red mare, Drayco jumped to his feet.

  ‘Take these.’ Nell handed him dark lenses. ‘The snow will blind you without them, unless you have time to think yourself up some UV-screened optics.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Jarrod took a risk and roughed the temple cat’s neck with a gloved hand. ‘Ready to meet Rosette?’

  Drayco launched up the path and Jarrod followed after him. As he started to climb, the sunlight warmed his face—the only skin exposed. Thank Zeeka, goddess of the mountain wind, that the morning was calm and clear. When he reached the summit, he could see forever in all directions—a magnificent panorama.

  ‘She should be here soon. Let’s give her some time.’

  Drayco snapped his tail and continued across the summit, ignoring Jarrod’s halt.

  ‘Or, let’s keep going…’ He clucked to the mare, jogging after the temple cat. Winding down a path on the other side of the summit, Drayco stopped suddenly before a cliff face. Its rocks and outcroppings were thick with snow, but on close examination, Jarrod realised the rock wall was a deception. It hid a narrow fissure—an entrance into the mountain.

  ‘Did she go this way?’

  Drayco entered the crevice.

  ‘I guess she did, then. Wait for me.’ Jarrod dismounted and unbridled the mare, leaving the halter on her head. He loosened the girth slightly and tied the lead rope securely to the saddle. ‘I’m hoping you’ll wait for me, my beauty. If we haven’t returned by dusk, go back to the cave. There’re shrubs at the summit, to keep you occupied. Do you understand?’

  The mare fluttered her nostrils and rubbed her face on his shoulder, leaving a flurry of copper-coloured hairs floating in the air. Jarrod removed a torch from his saddlebag, shouldered his backpack and followed Drayco inside.

  A wall of pitch black hit him. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face as he fumbled to light a match. When the torch was blazing, he held it high over his head, searching for the temple cat. Drayco was nowhere in sight.

  ‘It’s going to be really hard for me if you disappear. I’ll never find you in this black soup.’ He inched forward until he came to three rough archways. ‘Drayco, really. We have to communicate more effectively.’ He stared at the archways. ‘Where in this underworld are you?’

  Drayco’s head appeared from the darkness of the central arch. You’re right. We have to communicate better, and you have got to stop nattering and try to keep up.

  Jarrod’s stomach turned somersaults. ‘Drayco? Is that you talking?’

  The temple cat’s eyebrows lifted. Who else would it be? Let’s go!

  ‘But, what are you…I mean, I can hear you…I thought only…’

  Still I hear the nattering…

  ‘But how?’

  I’ve known you always.

  ‘What?’

  She dreams of you.

  ‘You can see her dreams?’

  We see each other’s.

  Jarrod shook his head. ‘How does that work?’

  Jarrod, you’re a quantum sentient from another world, walking around in a Tulpa-body, chasing a young witch whose DNA holds the key-codes to your operating determinates. Why do you find this such a surprise?

  ‘You know all that?’

  I do, now that I’m talking to you.

  Jarrod did an internal scan and found every front end file accessed.

  Let’s go, shall we, Jarrod? It’s this tunnel. I’ve got her scent, but I can’t hear her mind. She must be deep under the mountain, or deep asleep.

  Jarrod didn’t speak for a moment. ‘So she dreams of me?’

  Focus, Jarrod. This way.

  He smiled for a moment, before following Drayco into the dark.

  Rosette awoke with a start. Two Lupins had entered the chamber, made a quick bow and signalled for her to follow. She scrambled to her feet before grabbing her coat and shoving her arms into the sleeves. The haze that permeated the corridors had cleared and a bright, dazzling light prevailed. Was there a second sun in the heart of Gaela? She turned to the Lupin beside her, wanting to ask.

  ‘Mirrors,’ he answered her unspoken question. ‘The sun shines brightly on the surface this morning.’

  ‘Mirrors? Quite a few, I’d imagine.’

  �
��Thousands.’

  He steadied her when she tripped over a rough stone.

  ‘Thanks,’ Rosette said as she clenched his arm. She released it quickly.

  Her short but intense introduction to the race of Lupins left her in two minds. They were strangely appealing and also aggressive and wicked. She was certain Drayco did not like them. It was hard to sift the lore from the facts. Hotha was particularly alluring, and he’d stopped the others with a word, those three who had been so brutal and quick to anger. They had a powerful magic, though. She couldn’t help wonder about that. Could she learn it?

  They took several turns before stopping in front of another door. The Lupin pounded on it—three resounding thuds—and stood back. Rosette felt butterflies in her stomach as it opened without a sound. The Lupin nodded for her to enter and she did so. Inside, there were more mosaic panels covering the walls. The artwork was astonishing, and under different circumstances she would have loved the chance to study it thoroughly. She had trouble pulling her eyes away.

  ‘It draws you in, doesn’t it?’

  Rosette startled.

  ‘Anything you recognise?’ Kreshkali said. She sat at a large table in the centre of the room.

  Rosette took in the tall trees, the plaza with a fountain and four corner statues, the apple orchards. She nodded. ‘Treeon, of course.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Treeon of a different time.’

  Silence filled the room and Rosette continued to study the panels. When Kreshkali spoke again she was standing only inches away. ‘Is it Treeon’s past or Treeon’s future?’

  Rosette tilted her head. It had to be the past. Dragons filled the air and a battle raged on the training grounds. There didn’t seem to be as many stables or any cabins by the river. ‘Past,’ she said.

  ‘Is it?’ The witch leaned closer, whispering into Rosette’s ear. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘I can’t see how else…’ Rosette faltered as chills ran down her spine. ‘How could it be anything but the past?’

  ‘How indeed? You and I have much to discuss, and very little time.’

  She directed her to the table, gesturing for her to sit.

  Rosette looked at it before she pulled out a chair. It seemed to be carved from bone, like a huge vertebra, level with her hip, wings jutting out to either side. Whalebone? It couldn’t be. Nothing that large moved on land or sea.

  Not in this world, perhaps, but have you thought of others?

  Rosette jumped at the voice and tightened her mind-shield.

  Kreshkali pushed back her hood, running her fingers through her spiky, pale hair. Rosette thought she looked tired, or maybe distressed.

  ‘Here’s the deal: I’m High Priestess here—and “here” means you’re in the tombs of Los Loma. Welcome to my realm.’

  Rosette bowed her head briefly. ‘And I am Rosette de Santo of Treeon Temple, apprentice to Sword Master An’ Lawrence.’

  ‘So he has finally made you apprentice. Took him long enough.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘My Lupins tell me he may have little left to teach you.’

  Rosette didn’t flinch. Her mind-shield was secure and she didn’t let the implication rattle her.

  ‘Why was I brought here?’ she asked.

  Kreshkali grinned and sat down. She folded her hands on the table and tapped her thumbs together. ‘Several reasons. Firstly, I wanted to test the Lupins’ mind strength against you lot.’

  ‘Not much of a match, was it?’ Rosette said, interrupting.

  ‘It wasn’t. You think you learned adequate mind-shielding at the temple, but clearly it failed both you and An’ Lawrence, so you’re not ready for much as far as I’m concerned. I’d need to see improvement there.’

  ‘You make it sound like it was my test.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Rosette straightened her shoulders. ‘So we’ve established that your Lupins can penetrate my mind-shield.’ Her thoughts were working fast, shuffling through myriad possibilities, looking for the most likely reason Kreshkali sat before her now. ‘What else have we learned?’

  She wasn’t feeling subordinate to the High Priestess of Los Loma, regardless of her station. A warm glow flowed through her, offering confidence and strength.

  Kreshkali lifted one eyebrow. ‘There’s the business of Passillo.’ She reached into her pocket and held a vial up to the light before placing it on the table. ‘I understand that you were the last to wear this.’

  She pointed a long, black-enamelled fingernail at Rosette’s face. ‘Do you know where the Spell of Passillo is?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘I used to wear the vial around my neck—a gift to my mother, passed on to me—but it’s been empty all my life. I can’t tell you anything else.’

  Kreshkali touched a finger to her lips. ‘Well, doesn’t that leave us in a conundrum…’

  Rosette resisted the urge to bolt. There was something so alien—so un-Gaelean—about Kreshkali that even her scent made her nervous. She took a deep breath and let it out. ‘A conundrum?’ she asked.

  ‘A dilemma…a pickle.’

  ‘I understand the term,’ Rosette snapped back.

  ‘If you don’t know anything about the Spell and La Makee still searches…’ Kreshkali groaned. ‘Then there’s too much to do and not enough time.’

  Rosette’s mind was in a whirl. The witch talked in riddles. One moment her eyes glared and she looked fit for murder, another and there was something else—something soft and almost intimate in her gaze.

  ‘I assure you, I do not know where Passillo is,’ Rosette continued, filling in the silence. ‘Perhaps it really has been lost.’

  ‘Lost?’ The High Priestess laughed. ‘It can never be lost, never be unmade. It has to be awakened; it has to be used!’

  Kreshkali looked at Rosette anew, her eyes losing their intensity and filling with a kind of wonder. ‘Who gave that vial to your mother?’

  Rosette flooded her aura with a self-assurance she didn’t actually feel, hiding the inner turmoil that wiggled in her guts. She had a very good idea of where that spell had gone and she didn’t like the notion one little bit. More issues to take up with Nell, when she saw her again.

  ‘Can you answer me?’ Kreshkali asked. ‘Do you know?’

  Rosette lifted her eyes and locked them onto the other woman. ‘It was never discussed.’

  ‘All right then, I am going to make you an offer.’ Kreshkali spoke softly, sipping from an ornate cup.

  ‘What offer?’

  ‘You tell me what you are concealing, and I’ll let you return to the surface.’

  ‘Let me? I thought I was invited.’

  ‘You were. And now I’m inviting you to tell me everything you know.’

  ‘I’ve told you all I remember,’ she lied.

  ‘Have you?’ Kreshkali pushed her chair back, reaching for Rosette and guiding her towards the exit. ‘Then you can stay in my underworld until you remember more. La Cot!’

  The door flew open and a Lupin entered.

  Rosette’s mind raced. ‘Wait!’

  Kreshkali held a hand up to La Cot. She waved him out.

  ‘Yes, child? Did something come to mind?’

  ‘There was a rhyme; I’ve always known it, but I never thought it more than a bedtime story.’

  Kreshkali visibly relaxed, leading Rosette back to the table and handing her a tumbler of water.

  Rosette sat down, heart pounding like a bunny’s.

  ‘Who taught it to you? Your mother?’

  ‘My mentor, Nell.’

  Kreshkali’s eyes gleamed.

  ‘Do tell,’ the witch said.

  Rosette contained her hope, hiding her anticipation in a façade of calm. ‘You’d like to learn it?’

  ‘Of course!’

  Bingo! She took a sip of the sweet water. ‘Repeat it as I say it, High Priestess, word for word.’

  ‘Shoot.’


  ‘From the depths of Tatari five rivers flow.’

  ‘From the depths of Tatari five rivers flow,’ Kreshkali repeated in a smooth, sensual voice.

  ‘Into my hand and into my heart.’

  ‘Into my hand and into my heart.’

  ‘A vial for Passillo, sweet blessed Passillo.’

  ‘A vial for Passillo, sweet blessed Passillo.’

  ‘To recall again, to recall forever.’

  ‘To recall again, to recall forever.’

  ‘So that all shall be made anew.’

  ‘So that all shall be made anew.’

  Rosette sighed. ‘Again. Close your eyes.’

  Together the two sat at the table and repeated the verses over and over.

  Rosette kept on and on, adding new phrases, changing nuances, and weaving the enchantment right under the nose of the High Priestess of Los Loma. With every new breath she was sure she’d be caught out, but she wasn’t, and she felt the spell weave tighter and tighter around Kreshkali until it had bound her firm.

  The lamp above them dimmed, and the beams across the ceiling began to creak. It was almost as if they were on a great boat, rising and falling with the sea swell. Rosette felt ill, perspiration breaking out on her forehead. Still the spell grew, and she knew a power within her was mounting. Her limbs were on fire with it, her eyes blazing.

  The spell was old. She’d learned it from her mother—surrogate mother—Bethsay Matosh, and Rosette had never known where the woman acquired it. All Bethsay had revealed was that it was older than she — much older.

  Rosette had thought it was a mother’s spell to bring sleep to a child after a nightmare, and it was all she could think of to satisfy Kreshkali for the moment while she thought of something else. The word Passillo wasn’t even in it. This spell was about Somnia, a lesser slumber deity. At least, that’s what she’d been told. Rosette was starting to doubt everything now.

  Still, she’d substituted Passillo for Somnia and Kreshkali was in a trance, and in the midst of it, Rosette clearly glimpsed where the Spell of Passillo was hidden. Her eyes went wide. She swallowed to keep from choking. Could it really be living in her blood and bones? It felt like it was.

  ‘It’s in your blood…’ The words came from nowhere.