Arrows of Time

by Kim Falconer

  ‘That was your block, lad?’ An’ Lawrence asked. He sheathed his sword and signalled his students to do the same. The Lupin picked himself up and stepped back into line. He didn’t wince, though An’ Lawrence knew that his shoulder would sting like demons after that blow. ‘Is anyone still confused as to why we are using practice swords today?’

  The class was silent, their collective gaze fixed ahead. Although none of them made eye contact, they were completely attentive.

  ‘You did well, all of you. Maluka, your work is exemplary, though you need to think further ahead.’

  A Lupin girl squared her shoulders and gave a slight nod.

  ‘Teg, your initial move was smart. Where was the follow-through?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I’d like all of you,’ he said, raising his voice, ‘to practise moving from block to cut to block this afternoon. Focus on each action completely, and when it is executed shift fluidly to the next. There is always a next move, even when your opponent is lying at your feet. Questions?’

  Maluka stepped forward, her eyes resting on his. They were a deep teal blue and lined with black lashes. Her hair, held back in a short ponytail, was red as sunset—strange colourings for a Lupin. But the potency in her gaze alone gave her away—it was beyond human. ‘Sword Master,’ she said, her voice melodic, sweet, ‘when will we be working more with energy forces?’

  There was a murmur of approval from the other students. He smiled. This one will have to meet Rosette.

  ‘You mean magic?’ he asked.

  The entire class nodded, eyes bright.

  ‘When you can protect yourself without it,’ he answered.

  Some of the faces fell, but Maluka dipped her head, her eyes never breaking contact with his. It was a challenge. He felt a fire rise up his spine, and he gathered it, blazing it back to her. She didn’t look away. The breeze fluttered loose strands of hair across her face and she relaxed, brushing them aside. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I look forward to it.’

  He exhaled. In the distance a bell tolled, indicating the noon break.

  ‘Done, and well done,’ he said to the class. ‘And, Teg, get some cold packs on that shoulder.’

  The other Lupin met him with much the same look as Maluka before turning away. As his students cleared the practice arena, forming small groups as they headed towards the manor house, he smiled. They’ve got talent, he said to his familiar.

  Some more than others.

  He turned to find Scylla sitting under a willow tree, her eyes glowing like amber jewels in the shade. She was framed in the weeping branches, a curtain of green tendrils wafting in the breeze.

  You think so, Scylla?

  I know so. Watch out for the male.

  ‘Are you warming to the Lupins, Rowan?’

  He hid his surprise at Kreshkali stepping out from behind the tree. Thanks for the warning, he said to Scylla.

  She gave what felt like a mental shrug. I thought you’d have sensed her.

  I didn’t. He took the towel Kreshkali tossed him and wiped the sweat and dust from his body. ‘They’ve got potential. They all do.’

  ‘And they fit in?’

  ‘Maluka, definitely. Vivacious girl, much like Rosette.’ An’ Lawrence searched for Teg, but he’d vanished.

  ‘And Teg?’

  ‘Talented.’

  ‘In the group?’

  ‘He’s a loner, though the others respect him.’

  ‘Good enough.’

  An’ Lawrence ducked under the rail, then took a long drink from his waterskin. ‘What’s up, Kali? I know you didn’t come out here to chat about my students.’

  She’s got news, Rowan.

  Good news?

  Not really. She’s worried.

  He didn’t react to his familiar’s insights, his face remaining smooth and placid.

  ‘I’ve not heard a word from Rosette since they left the Isle of Lemur. I thought perhaps Scylla or you…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘But no, I can see you’ve not heard from her either.’

  ‘Scylla can’t reach Drayco mind to mind. The distance is too far, wherever he is.’ He watched his familiar preening herself for a moment before she returned to her statue-still pose. ‘She’s not perturbed.’

  ‘Well, I am. They’ve been gone three months now.’

  ‘Three months our time. No knowing how long it’s been for them.’ He headed for the manor.

  She fell into step with his long stride. ‘I can’t shake this sense of concern, Rowan. I’m crossing over to Treeon to see if there is any word there.’

  ‘Makee may know something?’

  ‘I’m hoping she will.’

  ‘She wasn’t there last time you checked.’

  ‘Sabbatical. She’d be back now. She’s never far from the Dragon Bone Chair.’

  ‘Even with the new High Priestess, La Teeka, there?’

  ‘Makee remains principal adviser, though she’s free to come and go, as she desires.’ Kreshkali frowned. ‘I wonder just how far she’s exercising that freedom.’

  ‘The coming or the going?’

  ‘Both.’

  An’ Lawrence draped his arm over her shoulder. ‘When are you off?’

  ‘As soon as you agree on the name.’

  He tightened his grip for an instant before letting his hand slide away. ‘You’re dead set on Los Loma?’

  ‘Temple Los Loma,’ she said. ‘It suits.’

  He looked at the landscape. Beyond the surrounding oasis were endless barren plains, rent with cracks and tumbled red rocks, a desert without visible signs of life, though much dwelled there.

  ‘Doesn’t Loma mean “hill”?’ He opened his arms wide. ‘You may have noticed that there are no hills, dales or mountains of any kind here. It’s mostly as flat as my blade outside of this valley, and there certainly aren’t any snowcapped peaks, save leagues to the north. I don’t see the connection to Los Loma, Gaela.’

  ‘The name honours the Lupins, for one.’

  He ground his teeth. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘The numerology fits.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Fives and nines,’ she said.

  ‘Please refresh me on the relevance, witch.’

  ‘Freedom, unconventionality and the gift to adapt and change as need be. Also, the skill to stand alone.’

  He looked into the distance again. ‘We’ll certainly need that. There’re no other temples on Earth, are there?’

  ‘Not any more. None that I can detect, anyway.’

  He exhaled a long breath, tapping his lips. ‘The lack of boundaries?’ he asked. ‘How will that relate?’

  She glanced at him sideways. ‘So you do know your numbers, after all.’

  ‘I’ve had need to understand the nines,’ he said, a smile curling his lip. ‘It’s given me great comfort to study that one in particular.’

  She cleared her throat. ‘Have you? It’s not necessary to walk you through it, then.’

  ‘Would you mind, though? I’m curious how it applies to a place as opposed to a person.’

  ‘Person, place or thing, all have an identity, an energy. You know this.’

  ‘And the number nine in Temple Los Loma?’

  ‘I see it as the link to the portals more than a loss of centering. We are in a fixed position here, but we travel to and fro via the corridors.’ She swept her arm towards the courtyard, empty now as everyone else sought shelter from the blistering midday sun. ‘We are a mix here, unlike any other. We come from different lines, different worlds. Our boundaries are truly blurred, mingling to create something new, something unique.’

  He put his arm back around her shoulder and drew her close. ‘Let’s hope you’re right,’ he whispered in her ear.

  ‘So you agree?’

  ‘When you put it that way, Temple Los Loma it is,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you.’ She beamed, looking up at the sky. ‘I won’t be long.’ She stepped back, energy swirling towards her like a dust storm.

&n
bsp; He felt a rebound wave hit his chest and when he blinked she was gone—a black falcon shooting up above the tree line and heading for the gates. Three ravens, squawking a reprimand, flapped after her.

  ‘You best not be,’ he said, though she disappeared as he spoke.

  Scylla pushed her head under his hand, the purr in her throat vibrating his fingers. She manipulated you well.

  What do you mean? It was my choice. She wouldn’t use the name if I didn’t agree.

  That, Rowan, is true.

  He roughed her neck. ‘Come, lovely, let’s find some food. I’m famished.’

  And a cool spot? I can’t feel my full appetite in this heat. She panted as they walked out of the sun.

  ‘I know just the place. You’ll love it.’ He headed towards the shaded pool, his temple cat by his side.

  TENSAR—TIME: CIRCULAR

  CHAPTER 7

  Rosette reached out into the darkness, taking small, cautious steps. The ground was uneven, the rock wall crumbling at her touch.

  ‘I can’t see a thing, Drayco,’ she whispered, keeping one hand on the hilt of her sword. ‘How about you?’

  There’s a light ahead.

  The voice of her familiar felt like a soft blanket that comforted her in this dry atmosphere, but the words made her shiver, chills prickling her spine. ‘Whoa. Hang on.’

  What is it, Maudi?

  ‘I just had a massive déjà vu.’

  He leaned against her. I don’t get those.

  ‘I know, but I do, and it was a big one. Can you sense Jarrod ahead?’

  There was a pause as her familiar considered. He’s not here.

  ‘What do you mean? He has to be.’

  She cupped her hands to her mouth, tipped back her head and started to call out, ‘Jar—’ She stopped herself short. ‘This is really weird. I feel like…’

  It’s okay, Maudi. You know how time can play tricks. He may have come through well before us.

  ‘That’s not what I meant…’ She strained into the distance, cupping her ear. ‘Do you hear that?’

  Those birds?

  ‘It sounds like a flute to me.’

  A bard?

  ‘Maybe.’

  Bards, birds. Not much difference really.

  She laughed before calling again. ‘J-a-r-r-o-d!’ Her voice echoed through the cave. Before it completely died away, pebbles trickled down the walls. The mountain answered with a deep rumble of its own. Rosette held her breath.

  I wouldn’t be yelling until we are out of this hole. Besides, it’s not Jarrod. He doesn’t make the bard music. Why is that? Drayco rubbed his ear on her thigh as he sent the thoughts.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  It’s someone else, Maudi. He’s strangely familiar.

  ‘I thought you didn’t get déjà vu.’

  I don’t. Drayco’s hackles went up and she gripped her sword.

  ‘Whoever’s out there may know where Jarrod is.’

  Of course, we will ask.

  ‘They might…’ She stopped short and drew her sword. It sang as she released it from the scabbard, the edge glinting in the dull light. ‘What’s that?’ A tremor ran up her legs; the ground beneath her rolled like the sea.

  Earthquake?

  ‘Run!’ she screamed above the sound of tumbling rock. She sprinted towards the opening of the cave, Drayco loping by her side, the ground churning. Torrents of pebbles and dirt flowed down the walls, turning into rock slides. Dust swirled, grating her eyes and stinging the back of her throat. She couldn’t breathe. The ground cracked, splitting open. She ran hard to stay ahead of the rifts. The light increased, and beyond the mouth of the cave a landscape of dead trees and mire appeared. ‘Keep going!’ she said as they rushed out.

  She sheathed her sword and hit the swamp, muck saturating her boots and caking her bare legs. Deeper into the mire they ran until the ground firmed up at the base of a huge oak tree. She turned in time to catch the thunderous clap from the mouth of the cave, which was suddenly obscured by boulders, rock and rubble. Dust rolled upward, plumbing above the newly reshaped rock face. Within seconds, the landscape went deathly still.

  ‘Drayco, this seems uncomfortably familiar to me.’

  The temple cat didn’t answer. He bristled, staring up into the tree.

  Rosette followed his gaze. ‘What, Dray? What’s up there?’

  A man with a sword.

  ‘Shane?’

  ‘Rosette?’

  What’s happening? She and Drayco said the words at the same time, looking at each other, then back up the tree as Shane dropped down to the ground in front of them. ‘This is more than déjà vu,’ Rosette said, looking from her familiar to Shane. ‘I think we’re going in circles.’

  EARTH & GAELA—TIME: FORWARD

  CHAPTER 8

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Jarrod asked. Selene stopped for a moment, cocking her head. A gust of wind rustled in the bare branches, shaking the twigs like nervous fingers. A raven cawed in the distance. ‘Hear what?’

  ‘Sounded like an explosion.’

  ‘You’ve got good ears,’ she said, moving on again. ‘It’s probably a shaker. We get them a lot this time of year.’

  ‘You mean an earthquake?’

  Selene frowned. ‘I don’t know. Do I?’

  ‘The ground rolls like the ocean.’ Jarrod waved his hand through the air in undulations. ‘Teacups fall off the shelves, mountains slide, trees uproot, bridges fall.’

  ‘That’s a shaker. What do you call it again?’

  ‘Earthquake.’

  ‘Did you hear one?’

  ‘I think so, from back the way we came.’

  Tremors rolled underfoot.

  ‘That’d be one, for sure,’ she said. ‘Worried about your friends?’

  He pushed his hair off his forehead. ‘I’m…concerned.’

  ‘Semantics,’ she said. ‘I can see the worry on your face.’ She stared at him. ‘We can’t go back.’

  ‘What about Shane? Don’t you worry about him?’

  Her face smoothed. Whatever she felt about the man was suddenly pushed away. ‘What about him?’ she asked, her tone void of inflection.

  Jarrod shrugged. ‘It’s possible he was caught in the earthquake. That doesn’t concern you?’

  ‘It certainly doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘Right.’ Jarrod wondered at her response. ‘I just thought he might be…’

  ‘He’s fine.’ She cut him off with a wave.

  Definitely some tension there. Jarrod decided to change the subject. ‘Can I ask where we’re headed?’

  ‘T’locity.’

  ‘Person, place or thing?’ he queried, looking at the bleak surroundings. It was hard to imagine a township in this terrain. The landscape was one huge quagmire.

  ‘Place.’

  ‘Village?’

  ‘City. It’s quite grand. You’ll see.’ Selene adjusted her sword belt and led him on. ‘This way.’

  Eventually the mire gave way to a firm dirt road, the dead oaks and rotten stench replaced by fragrant groves of pines with sticky-sweet resin dripping down the trunks and dark green needles poking skyward. The trees were interspersed with the red branches and peeling bark of Manzanita in full bloom. The white velvet bell blossoms were rimmed in blood-red and they dangled on the twisted branches—puppets bobbing in the breeze. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, turning Selene’s face golden. The landscape had radically altered from decayed to fecund, reminding him of her abrupt change of mood. She was definitely of this land, both dark and light.

  There were still plenty of Corvids about, though once out of the stark background, they looked more like curious friends following the travellers’ progress than ominous scavengers waiting for mishap. There were other birds as well, all contributing their songs, verse and chorus, to the atmosphere. Tiny blue fairy wrens and red spotted finches chattered in the undergrowth, teetering on brambles and vines, searching for grasshoppers and grubs. A raptor whistl
ed above. Jarrod didn’t recognise the call, though it sounded similar to that of a black falcon. A large family of magpies chortled back and forth, flapping and swooping about them. It made him feel quite at home.

  ‘We’ll stop for a wash.’ Selene’s voice jarred him out of his musings. She was pointing towards a line of trees at the side of the road.

  ‘Where?’ he asked, seeing only a deeper forest.

  ‘There’re hot pools at the bottom of that ravine.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind a drink and a wash.’

  ‘It’s not about what you would mind or not mind,’ she said. ‘It’s about presenting well to the Caller. You probably don’t realise how you smell.’

  ‘That bad?’ Jarrod rolled up his sleeves as he followed her along a winding path towards the water. ‘The swamp was noisome…’

  She spun her head around and smiled so briefly that he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. ‘Exceedingly,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I don’t smell any better.’

  A short way into the woods they came to a gorge, nestled between the trees like a temple garden. A path wound down to the bottom where head-high boulders stood sentry around the river basin. Some rocks had miniature pine trees and tiny oaks growing from cracks in their sides, reminding him of the bonsai grown on the Isle of Lemur. Steam rose from the water where it pooled in deep green eddies. The mist hung about, as it did over the swamp, but the smells here were fresh and aromatic—thyme, pine needles and eucalyptus blossoms—a welcome change.

  Jarrod knelt in the white sand, cupping his hands to sip the sparkling water. ‘It’s icy!’ he said, turning to her, his lips tingling from the touch.

  ‘Not in the depths,’ she answered.

  ‘Subterranean thermals?’