The Spell of Rosette (24 page)

‘Morzone? Really? Isn’t it more like a small fishing village south of San Francisco? Of course, they can’t fish there any more, can they? Not in those dead seas.’

Nell froze with her wine mug halfway to her lips. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible: ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘I get around.’ He lifted his head. ‘One more question, Nell. Do you know your matrilineal ancestry?’

She stared at him, mouth open.

‘Who’s the first remembered in your line of priestesses?’

‘We go way back…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘Tell me her name, please. It’s important.’

‘We call her
Docturi Janicia,
but it’s really…’

‘Janis Richter.’

Nell dropped her mug, tipping her chair over as she leapt to her feet. Mozzie wove his way across the rafters, lowering his head to hover just above her eyes. She had never heard that name spoken, but had found it with the things her mother had left her. It pulled her mind back to the late-night talks between herself, her mother and her grandmother in the secret places of her childhood training, and she faltered. She gripped the edge of the table. ‘Who are you?’

‘Can’t you guess?’

‘The JARROD?’ she whispered, not knowing if her legs would support her.

‘I always liked the name,’ he said, lifting his face with a smile.

‘Jarrod?’ she whispered again.

‘Still in the flesh.’ He opened his arms. ‘A newer Tulpa, several actually, since I saw Janis last, but me just the same.’

‘Oh, Jarrod.’ Nell walked towards him, the cottage so quiet she could hear the floorboards creaking underfoot. She stood in front of him, tilting her head up before she fell into his arms.

‘Tell me, Nell, is Earth hanging in there?’

She gave him a strong squeeze. ‘By a thread.’ She released him. ‘Where have you been? You’re the one missing piece I didn’t know how to find. Why didn’t you answer me? I’ve been calling for you from ridge to mountain top, Corsanon to Morzone, for the last twenty years.’

Jarrod took her hands. ‘It’s your first-class glamour, Nell. I couldn’t spot the blood of the Techno-Witch, even this close up. I thought it was Kreshkali who carried it. I’ve been tracking her for at least that long, but damned if I could catch the woman.’

Nell chuckled. ‘She is tricky, isn’t she?’

‘But, Nell, why does Rosette have Passillo? I thought it was to lie dormant until…’ His face beamed. ‘Is the worm deleted? Are we ready to go back?’

‘No, not yet. I’m still working on that. Jarrod, Rosette doesn’t just have Passillo, a charm around her neck.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m not the last of my line.’

‘What?’ He stared at her, holding her at arm’s length. ‘You have a child? A daughter?’ He let go his grip. ‘Where is she? Earth? Is she safe?’

Nell winked. ‘Oh, she’s not lost, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just hidden.’

‘Where?’

‘Can’t you guess that yet?’

He looked into her eyes. ‘Goddess of the night…right under my nose too?’ he whispered.

Nell nodded. ‘Though that connection was a fluke. Didn’t see it coming at all.’

‘Rosette?’ His voice choked.

‘She’s all mine.’

Jarrod lowered his head and moaned. ‘That would explain the attraction…’ He let out his breath and wiped his eyes. ‘How’d she end up with the Matosh clan? Is John’ra her father or…’

‘No!’ Nell stopped him short. ‘No, no,’ she said again, softer, looking at the fire. ‘Rosette’s not a Matosh.’

‘Who’s her father then?’

‘A man from the ancient line.’

‘Ah,’ he smiled. ‘Rosette was born in Gaela?’ He looked around the cottage as if the answer were somehow there. ‘Things haven’t exactly gone to plan then, have they?’

‘Not exactly. I disturbed Passillo inadvertently. The rivers had changed to a gorge. I couldn’t put them back. But I had exactly what was needed to hide Passillo when I conceived. I came here for the sanctuary of Dumarka, had my child and hid the spell.’ She sighed. ‘Then I hid her.’

‘But Rosette doesn’t have Passillo. She took almost nothing with her that night. I know. I was there.’

‘
Almost
nothing.’

‘Are you saying she has the spell?’

Nell winked again.

‘How?’

‘It’s in her, Jarrod. It was the only way.’

‘But that means if you can’t find a way to delete the worm…’

‘I know. She can’t set foot on Earth now, nor can you, not while the worm exists. I’m the last of my line there, the last hope.’

Jarrod buried his face in his hands. ‘Does she know?’

Nell moved her head from side to side. ‘Not yet.’

‘But, Nell, it could get out of control. She has no guidance!’

‘I wouldn’t say
none.
’

Jarrod slumped in his chair. ‘I can’t believe you sent her to Treeon.’

Nell smiled. ‘I had my reasons…’

In another world, Kreshkali awoke from a troubled dream. She looked at her chronometer: 11:11 a.m. The opaque window, and the sheeting acid rain, made it difficult to distinguish day from night.

She kicked back the covers and stretched. ‘Well now, isn’t this interesting.’ She smiled. ‘Jarrod Cossica, I’ve got plans for you!’

A
n’ Lawrence stood in the centre of the dusty arena, heart pounding, his sides heaving. The autumn sunlight warmed the back of his neck as sweat dripped down his face. He hadn’t trained like this for years—not since he was a journeyman in the elite ranks of the Timbali high-guard. Because of his background he had already been initiated and trained at the Timbali Temple, and who would have guessed that those simple things—magic, acknowledgement from a higher-ranking officer, a meeting with a witch—would have led to such machinations?

He took a deep breath. Rosette was turning out to be as brilliant with her use of magic as her mentor. It was potent, and he never felt it coming. No-one here could have easily taught her such skill. It was either innate or learned from long hours of training. He shook his head. What bothered him was that Nellion Paree didn’t use her magic quite this way—at least, she hadn’t twenty years ago. Rosette’s style was unique, and it made him uncomfortable.

He took another deep, focused breath to slow his respiration and steel his thoughts. The sun was dropping far to the west and the shadows from
surrounding sycamores cast long, cold fingers through the arena. An’ Lawrence mopped his forehead and raised his sword. This would be their last round.

‘Again,’ he commanded, his voice challenging his opponent.

Rosette dived towards him, feigning a swipe to his shoulders before tucking down low and cutting for his knees. He blocked the move—only just—propelling her backwards with the momentum of his blow. An’ Lawrence smiled through gritted teeth. She improved with every hour of training. What a delight to work with such aptitude, a delight and a mystery.

‘Good, but next time see if you can actually strike a blow!’ he said, his mouth quirking.

She leapt to her feet and he gauged her stance. She shielded her mind and body so well it was impossible to predict her moves. Her agility astonished him. The combination of flexibility and strength proved an effective weapon in itself. Mixed with enchantment, it became invincible—almost.

‘Quickly,’ he commanded when she stood for several heartbeats. ‘Don’t give your adversary any time to recover.’

Her body glistened with sweat and her chest rose and fell in controlled breaths. A snarl lifted the left side of her mouth. ‘Quickly, is it?’ she countered, still not moving.

Rosette was as obstinate as she was skilled. The Sword Master suppressed a laugh. More shades of Nell. He felt the familiar rush of energy course down his spine as he observed her. She couldn’t know how much she reminded him of her mentor. An’ Lawrence strengthened his mind-shield as he speculated. What was Nellion like now? Had she told Rosette of their past? Doubtful. Nell had made it clear that he was someone she never wanted to speak of or to again.

The instant his mind drifted, she was on him, inches from his face, her sword pressed against his chest, the move toppling them both. He rolled as he hit the ground, intent on pinning her down.

Rosette de Santo seemed to have other ideas.

As the Sword Master sprang back towards her, he felt her knee thrust up between them, driving into his abdomen and throwing him back into the ring netting. He paused against the ropes, judging as his student vaulted to her feet. She must have been exhausted, but she showed no sign of fatigue. Crouching like a wildcat, she barely moved to fill her lungs.

An’ Lawrence leapt forward, his eyes on hers. He was aware of the sun setting behind him, the blood-red rays slanting across the ground between the lines of shadows—spears of light in his peripheral vision. The breeze whispered past his face, bringing the scent of horse sweat, alfalfa hay and leather. The students lining the ring diffused into silhouette and a distant bell rang three times. Dinner. Still he kept his eyes locked with hers until their breathing synchronised.

‘Done, Rosette. Well done,’ he said, allowing a smile. ‘Bathe and refresh. We start all over again in the morning.’

The young witch dipped her head in acknowledgement, sheathing her training sword and ducking under the netting. The students made way as she passed, looking at her with respect. An’ Lawrence was obviously not the only one she had impressed. He chuckled quietly as he stood alone in the arena with the darkness setting in. He was creating quite a warrior. What would Nell think of that?

He rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t dispel his musings. She clearly had him remembering feelings he hadn’t counted on, and didn’t want.

Are you going to the baths as well?
The voice of his familiar came to him from behind the armoury.

His brow relaxed. ‘Scylla, it’s a wonderful idea, but that would keep me in her presence. It’s not the most beneficial plan. I’m having enough trouble coping when she is attacking me with a sword. I can’t imagine what would happen if I let my guard down.’

She reminds you of another, that’s all. You miss the one I’ve yet to meet.

‘I never said that!’

You didn’t have to.

‘I’ve sworn an oath, Scylla. She—Nellion and I—we’ll never meet again and I want…’

You want Nellion. It’s as clear and clean as the fur on my belly.

‘Hush, Scylla. It’s more complicated than that.’

When has a little complexity ever kept you from a task, or an adventure? All this magic in the arena is forbidden to her rank as well. The girl’s not even your apprentice. The journey itself…

‘I know. It’s a sticky situation, but we can’t talk about it here.’

Rowan, no-one can get through our mind-shields, so stop avoiding. Complex or not, you want to see that woman, the girl’s mentor. The Nell witch. Admit it.

‘Saying it, Scylla, doesn’t help my resolve one bit! I’ve sworn to stay away and I won’t break that oath.’

As you please,
she purred. It was an alluring sound.

‘It’s a moot point, my love. I am the Sword Master of Treeon Temple and my life isn’t completely my own. Plans have been made. We’ve a much greater road ahead than rekindling an old romance—an affair, I might add, that went disastrously wrong.’

Okay, Rowan. You can stop explaining. I’m convinced.

‘Then why are you still pestering?’

Because you’ve yet to convince yourself.

‘Scylla, I haven’t seen Nell in…’

Decades!

‘You’re keeping track! Just because these feelings have resurfaced doesn’t mean they’re important. It’s just a ridiculous memory.’

I’m sure you’re right.

‘It’ll pass!’

If that’s how you see it…

‘That’s how I make it!’ He laughed at the cat’s mental equivalent of exasperation. His familiar was obviously perturbed. It wasn’t the first time they’d broached the topic, finding themselves with opposing views. ‘Let’s see about some dinner, shall we?’ An’ Lawrence changed the subject.

Cooked meat?

‘Good idea.’ He smiled. It didn’t take much more than the thought of a rump roast to get Scylla onto another track.

Ducking out of the arena, he saw her emerge from behind the far shed. No doubt her quest for rats had gone unfulfilled. Rosette’s familiar had cleaned out the entire training complex over the last few weeks, now that she allowed him to hunt here.

‘Magnificent creature, the Dumarkian black.’

On that we agree.
Scylla met him halfway down the path, pressing the top of her head into his hand.

It was unfortunate that things had ended so badly with Nell all those years ago. He’d been young, stubborn and fixated. She’d been detached, though patient with his adoration, until she’d let her guard down, for a while. The attraction they’d had for each other had become unbearable. It had to be expressed.

Looking back in the direction of the arena, now the colour of ox blood as the sun dropped below the skyline, An’ Lawrence shook his head and sighed.
Rosette was so much like her. Amazing how a mentor can transfer herself into her pupil.

Rowan, the young bard comes. He’s upset.

He’s back? Finally!

Indeed, and he’s spitting mad. Watch out.

The Sword Master looked over his shoulder. He didn’t see anyone on the darkening path, but that was no surprise. Scylla would have warned him the moment the lad set out from the dorms.

‘Thanks for the tip,’ he said, entering the welcome sanctuary of his lodge. He quickly put away his thoughts of Nellion Paree and stoked the fire. He’d heat bath water and bathe here, make some food, have a peaceful night.

Within minutes, there was a knock at the door.

‘Sword Master?’ he heard the bard call out. ‘I have that ballad ready, if you’d care to hear it now.’

The door opened and Clay looked him in the eye for a moment before pulling his guitar from his back.

‘Thank you, Clay. Let’s hear it.’