Arrows of Time

by Kim Falconer

  Nell followed them, keeping to the shadows and slipping from tree to tree, crouching low to cross the bridge. All of Rosette’s attention was focused on where she was going, not where she’d been. A mistake. ‘Who trained this girl? Surely not me.’ Nell tailed her to the steps, ducking behind a redwood as Rosette caught up with her companions and disappeared into a cleft in the side of the rock face. Torgan? What happened?

  It’s easy. I see what she does.

  Excellent. Come back now, lovely. Let them go. She crossed her arms and stepped out from the shadows. ‘Thank you, my dear Rosette,’ she said. ‘You’ve shown me exactly what I needed to know.’

  Torgan came slinking down the steps, his rust-black coat turning vermilion in the afternoon light. The dark tabby stripes on his forehead and legs stood out like a tiger’s.

  And you could see where they went? Nell asked her familiar.

  Not exactly, but I saw what she did. The daughter-girl touched the edge of the rock and it jumped out to meet her—purple snakes of light zapping into her hand. She didn’t look alarmed, but the bite of them knocked her down.

  Did it cause injury?

  I don’t know. I couldn’t tell.

  Then what happened?

  They all disappeared.

  ‘It’s our portal. Finally,’ Nell whispered.

  The exit we’ve been searching for?

  Yes! It’s been here all along, right under our noses. She caught up to Torgan and stroked the feline’s massive head.

  There’s nothing below my nose, Nellion, save teeth and tongue.

  Nell laughed. ‘It’s a figure of speech, my love. Let’s go.’

  Do we follow them?

  Not yet. Tonight, when the moon changes signs. Come, we mustn’t be missed at meditation. The witch wrapped her robe tight against the rising wind and headed back across the bridge. ‘We’ll need supplies.’ She talked more to herself than her familiar. ‘Warm furs, plenty of dried food, my dagger…’

  Long trip?

  ‘It could be that way.’

  I don’t mind.

  She laughed, roughing Torgan’s neck. ‘Then let’s be over-prepared, just in case we decide to make it so. There’s a sword master out there that I’m dying to meet, and some kind of sentient as well.’

  Sentient?

  ‘That’s all I caught, save his name is Jarrod and he has some intriguing qualities.’

  ‘She told you?’

  ‘She did, in more ways than one.’ Nell felt for the letter deep in her robe pocket, rubbing her thumb over the edge of the broken seal. ‘This is going to be quite a journey.’

  Torgan purred, his tail held high.

  Jarrod left the palace, his hands clasped behind his back. The Caller had presented him with a curious dilemma. No births—no human births anyway—yet no known cause. More confusing still, there was no sign of Rosette and Drayco. They never arrived, according to the strange woman who vacillated between flippancy and focus. She emanated a strong psychic association with the energies of this world, though, and her intuition matched that of any High Priestess on Gaela or Earth. Not surprising she was a Caller. If she said Rosette and Drayco never set foot on Tensar, he believed her. But why had they been barred, or were they diverted? More pressing, where were they now? He shoved his hands into his pockets and descended the steps.

  He felt a chill and turned back. At first he saw no one. The only movement came from the purple and black flags whipping across the entrance, straining at their poles like unschooled dogs eager for a run. He ran his hand through his hair and studied the columns on the left until Selene appeared from behind one. He waved, and she trotted down to meet him, her hand going to her sword hilt to keep it from jostling.

  ‘I’m glad you waited,’ Jarrod said, giving her a quick smile.

  She didn’t respond immediately.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  She kept close, staring past his face into the distance. ‘I need to get you out of here,’ she whispered.

  She continued down the steps, Jarrod falling into place beside her.

  ‘Are we in danger?’ he asked.

  ‘Not now,’ she said, her lips barely moving. ‘Walk as if you hadn’t a care.’ She smiled at a group of men heading up the steps and quickened her pace.

  Jarrod followed her lead, loosening his shoulders and lifting his face, his expression light and pleasant. She did the same. ‘Where are we going next?’ he asked, keeping his voice cheery.

  ‘To the market streets.’

  ‘Something we need to acquire?’

  ‘You could say that.’ She waved and called out a greeting to several women as they passed. Jarrod shot her a quick look. The smile transformed her face—she became strikingly beautiful.

  ‘You’re a stunning woman,’ he said, before turning his eyes forward again.

  She kept her face light, but her voice was stern.

  ‘I meant pretend you didn’t have a care, not actually be that way.’

  ‘Is there a difference?’

  She turned to him. ‘Between pretending and being? Of course there is.’

  ‘If you say so, but you become what you pretend to be.’ Jarrod shrugged. ‘Selene, can you tell me what’s going on?’ He said the words frivolously, as if discussing the best vendor for spicy fruit rolls.

  ‘Things aren’t what they seem,’ she said as they turned down a busy thoroughfare.

  He laughed at that. ‘Things haven’t been what they seem since I stepped out of my hardware.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Only that they haven’t been what they seem for quite some time.’

  He brushed against her shoulder as a cluster of pedestrians forced them together. She didn’t move away when the group passed. The contact thrilled him; the rush of energy was like fire in his veins. ‘Where to now?’ he asked, his palms sweating. They had come to an open square and it took discipline not to scan the surroundings. He suddenly felt vulnerable. It was a curious sensation.

  She smiled at him, projecting her voice. ‘I need to buy some beetroots and check on the horses. Will you join me? I’d love your opinion.’

  ‘On beetroots?’

  She chuckled, pulling his sleeve as they dodged an oncoming oxcart. ‘On the horses, silly one.’

  ‘We have horses?’ he whispered, his hand cupping his mouth.

  She ignored the question, continuing to chat in her lightest tone. ‘Your gelding’s thrown a shoe, again, remember? I’m thinking he needs toe-clips this time.’

  ‘How did you know I was a blacksmith?’ He leaned in close as he spoke, brushing his lips across her ear.

  ‘Didn’t,’ she whispered back. ‘But I was hoping.’ She grabbed his arm and stopped to face him. The intensity of her eyes was startling. His head automatically pulled back as if blasted by a floodlight. When he relaxed, she kissed him. It was unexpected, and quick as a new lover might kiss, more a question than a statement. Her eyes searched his face for a moment after, then she hurried on across the square. He touched his lips, the sensations lingering. She was headed down the street, and he ran to catch up.

  She didn’t look up when he was shoulder to shoulder again. His heart was pounding double time. He wondered if her actions were part of the act or something else. His curiosity rose further. There was nothing to do but play along, and he didn’t mind in the least. ‘The gelding will need a toe-clip, I think, if we plan on crossing rugged terrain,’ he said, continuing the conversation.

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘Will it be rugged, Selene?’

  ‘Partially.’

  ‘In that case, a toe-clip—possibly two.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so,’ she said.

  Jarrod made sure his face did not look as confused as he felt. She guided him through a maze of streets, passing by fruit markets, vegetable stands and colourful clothing stalls. At a stock feed vendor’s stall, she purchased a sack of grain and compressed hay, and a bag of be
et pulp.

  Jarrod grabbed the burlap sack and hoisted it over his shoulder. ‘This is more than a few beetroots,’ he said, shifting the weight of the sack.

  She smiled at him for a moment and shrugged. It was a casual gesture, one that made her bodice strap slip off her shoulder to reveal smooth freckly skin. ‘So it is.’ She led him to other stalls, buying more supplies—flat bread, dried fruits, seeds and nuts, and several new waterskins. After leaving the market area, they turned down a narrowing side street and entered a large, two-storey horse barn.

  ‘We’re off on a bit of a journey?’ he asked as he followed her into the building. He took a deep breath. The scent of alfalfa greeted him along with the sweet smell of cracked corn, oats and molasses. Mingled with horse sweat, manure and leather, the aroma brought a spontaneous smile to Jarrod’s face. There were at least fifty animals stabled here and half a dozen grooms going about their tasks. He wanted to laugh aloud. So much of his existence in the last few centuries had been in the company of horses, and now, for the first time since leaving Gaela, he felt completely at home.

  ‘You’re right. I’m planning a little trip for us,’ she answered, her emphasis on the last word.

  They walked down the rows of tie stalls, multicoloured round rumps and tails pointed towards them—black and brown and bay and white, all of varying heights and composition, from draughters to cobs to shaggy-haired mountain ponies. Some of the horses stood with their heads high, ears back, switching their tails and stomping their hooves. Others, the ones already fed, had their noses in the mangers, munching away. When they stopped in front of a red chestnut mare, the graceful creature turned her head towards Selene, nickering through a mouthful of hay.

  Selene smiled, transforming to beauty again, and directed Jarrod to leave the beet pulp on a nearby bench.

  ‘Where are we headed, Selene?’ He dropped the sack and rubbed his shoulder.

  She shushed him with a wave of her hand.

  ‘It’s a reasonable query,’ he said.

  She stopped, pulling him into her with both hands, her green eyes turning dark as her pupils dilated. ‘Your world,’ she said in a whisper. ‘You’re going to take me there.’

  He raised his eyebrows and was about to speak, but she pushed him back, placing a saddle and bridle in his arms.

  ‘Tack her up, and please don’t tell me you’ve never done that before.’

  ‘I can manage.’

  ‘Finally, one that can,’ she said under her breath. There was no trace of a smile any more.

  ‘And what about the toe-clips?’ Jarrod asked, lifting the horse’s hoof out of the deep straw.

  ‘Already done.’

  They rode out of T’locity, away from the sun as it touched the horizon. Jarrod jogged alongside Selene; he was mounted on a well-schooled gelding, black as lava rock with four white socks and a long white blaze from his forehead to his muzzle. She rode the chestnut, a younger animal but also neatly trained. He turned to see the amber light drop below the skyline, and with one hand buttoned his jacket against the coming night. ‘We’re heading east?’

  ‘West,’ she said, correcting him without further comment.

  He twisted around in his saddle again. ‘The sun is setting behind us?’

  ‘Obviously.’

  Selene’s expression didn’t change. If she felt annoyed, or fearful, or any other emotion, it didn’t show.

  Mirror universe then, not parallel. Interesting. I should have noticed that before, he thought. ‘Selene, can I ask you something?’ He took her silence as a yes. ‘That kiss back there, in the marketplace. Was that part of the act, or was it something else?’

  She stared ahead. ‘Did it feel like an act?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Then why do you need to ask?’ She moved her horse into a trot and he urged his forward to keep up. ‘Selene, I asked so we could talk about it,’ he said. When she didn’t respond he scratched the back of his hand. ‘You aren’t one for light conversation, are you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Right…’

  This woman was very different from Rosette or from any of his Richter women. Conversations with them had always flowed like water coursing downstream. Could this be more mirrors? He cleared his throat.

  ‘Are we really heading for my world?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And you know how to get there?’ He clucked to the gelding, moving into a collected canter to keep up. The horses were confident in the failing light, the road a smooth, broad strip of well-packed dirt. The percussion of hoof beats filled the air.

  ‘I know where the portals are hidden,’ she said above the sound.

  ‘How’s that?’

  She turned, narrowing her eyes. ‘Is there a problem with your memory?’

  This would have felt a bit like a stab if he let it. ‘Actually, no. My memory is virtually perfect.’ He drew in his breath and let his tone take on a narrative quality. ‘As the first marshal of the border scouts, you would be aware of all the nooks and crannies of your realm, including the portals that link to…other places. That is, if someone had taught you of their existence, and how and where to look for them.’

  ‘Someone did.’

  ‘Who?’

  When she didn’t answer he tried another tack. ‘Do you know where the portals lead?’ He kept his voice light, hoping this wasn’t going to be another dead-end conversation.

  ‘I was told they are pathways to the many-worlds.’

  He exhaled. ‘You were told correctly.’

  ‘Thought so.’ She leaned forward in the saddle, allowing the mare to gallop up a side track. ‘This way,’ she shouted as they ran. ‘It’s nearly dark.’

  ‘You make it sound like dark is the enemy,’ he said as they crested the rise.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Why? What happens after the sun goes down?’

  She looked at him, her eyes gleaming. ‘We get off the road.’

  He was about to question further, but her expression changed his mind. They galloped on, dusk settling over them like a thick quilt, the cadent rhythm of the horses’ hooves and their measured breaths a mantra: hurry along, hurry along.

  When they crested the last in a series of undulating hills, Jarrod spotted the cabin. The outline was visible in the rising moon. It nestled in a narrow valley and was made from the logs of the surrounding trees. Beyond the small barn was a pasture, knee-high in grass and fenced with wooden posts and slat rails. A creek meandered through the far corner, flowing in a rush towards a dam below. It reminded him of his adopted family’s land in Lividica, except for the massive mountain behind it. He tilted his head. It was jagged and snow-capped, the wind from its slopes icy cold.

  He buttoned his collar as they walked the horses down the winding pathway. Not many travellers took this road, judging by the overgrowth. Certainly no wagons or carts would make it.

  ‘Is this your property?’ he asked Selene when they reached the barn.

  ‘It was my family’s.’ She opened the wide doors and led them in.

  ‘Was?’

  She nodded. ‘Now it’s mine.’

  She lit a few lamps, then tied her horse away from the water barrel until she was untacked and rubbed down. He did the same with his mount, currying the damp coat in brisk, circular motions. After letting them drink, they turned the horses out into the paddock and followed the path to the cabin.

  Inside was a cosy home with a high, open-beam ceiling, many windows and central stairs leading to a loft. Selene busied herself at the hearth, making a fire while Jarrod lit more lamps. The main downstairs room had a huge fireplace, tall bookshelves and a long sturdy table surrounded by many chairs.

  ‘Large family, yours?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  They shared a meal of nut and black rice porridge laced with dried fruit. Selene didn’t talk about her past, but she was very keen to know more of his. Surprisingly, she didn’t ask about his conversation with the Call
er. Jarrod suspected that she was one of those spies the other woman had been so concerned about. The wind picked up outside and Jarrod scooted closer to the fire. ‘You never told me why we had to be off that road after dark.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ She shrugged. ‘It gets cold at night.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  She turned her face to the fire, warming her hands. ‘That, and the occasional band of thieves.’

  ‘They’d attack the first marshal of the border scouts?’

  ‘No, but it wasn’t me I was worried about.’ She smiled. ‘Come. We need to sleep. Tomorrow we find the portal and cross to your world.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling you have an agenda of your own, Selene?’

  She held out her hand, ignoring his query. ‘You do sleep where you come from, don’t you?’ she asked.

  He smiled. ‘And then some.’

  ‘That’s encouraging.’ She led him to the loft, but didn’t let go of his hand.

  EARTH—TIME: BACKWARD

  CHAPTER 18

  ‘Dr Kelly, we need help!’

  Everett looked up from his monitor and frowned at his med student. ‘Get an intern, I’m busy.’

  ‘We need you. It’s an emergency.’

  He took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses, replacing them back on his face. ‘What do you mean, emergency?’

  ‘It’s the Jane Doe. You said to inform you immediately if…’

  He leapt out of his chair. ‘What are her stats?’ he asked, pulling on his lab coat. He’d crossed the room before the words were out.

  ‘She crashed. No breath sounds, ECG flat line.’

  ‘A cardiac arrest? Why didn’t you notify me?’

  ‘It only just happened and then she…’

  ‘I should have been beeped.’

  ‘By the time you received the message and rang back it would be…’

  Everett tore past the cluster of staff blocking his way—attending physicians, patients, nurses and students—snapping on gloves and a protective gown as he entered the treatment room. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Dr Kelly?’

  The words stopped him.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

  It was her voice, rich and melodic, as if it had been trained in elocution, each syllable and phrase full of warmth and promise. He stepped up to the bedside, glancing briefly at the chart his nurse held in front of him. He nodded, waving it aside. Everything around him faded. Only his patient came into focus. Only his Jane Doe.