The Spell of Rosette (27 page)

‘She can chastise me all she likes, once I know she’s all right.’

‘I feel the same.’ Nell lifted her hand as she spoke and turned to wrap it around Maka’ra’s neck. She kissed him before taking one last look at her cottage. The brilliant summer garden was buried under several feet of snow, the trees all bare bones save for the pines laden with drifts of white powder. Only the cobbled path had been shovelled clear, and that was quickly succumbing to a new fall. The Three Sisters circled overhead, strangely silent.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, swinging her attention back to Jarrod.

Finally!
‘Yes, milady. Let’s.’

Jarrod led his horse away from the gate and mounted up. He nodded to Nell, and they headed towards the broad road that wound through the valleys and foothills, a six- or seven-day ride south to Treeon Temple if the weather didn’t turn fierce.

On the morning of the fifth day, Jarrod tied his overcoat to the back of his saddle and stowed his gloves deep in the pockets. They had left the relentless cold behind and the air felt fresh but welcoming, no longer an adversary to be overcome. Nell didn’t seem to mind either way, whatever the temperature, though her familiars did. He looked at the massive oak tree beside them, smiling at the raucous sounds.

‘Are they still with us?’

Nell put her fingers to her lips and whistled. The caws and clatter suddenly stopped as three ravens shot out from the centre of the tree and circled above them.

‘They go where I go, for the most part.’ She smiled, following their line of flight. ‘Snow, wind, storm or calm, though they’re thrilled now that it’s warmed up.’

‘So am I.’ He said the words, but he didn’t really feel thrilled.

‘We’ll ride until midday,’ she said, mounting up beside him.

She stroked her horse’s neck and settled into the saddle, scanning the distances. The hills were a dirty brown—the same colour as the wasted cows that were strewn across them. She moved out at an easy jog.

‘Midday?’ Jarrod’s brow wrinkled. ‘But that means we won’t get to Treeon until after noon tomorrow. We
could be there in the morning if we kept going. The horses are in fine shape, and surely there’s a town…’

‘Yes, there surely is a town, Jarrod. It’s just a few hours’ ride northeast of the temple. That’s why we’re stopping well before it and skirting around at dawn, undetected.’

He frowned. ‘Why, exactly?’

‘The local pub will be full of bards from Treeon tonight. It’s where the apprentices go to perform and unwind, if customs haven’t changed. The last thing I want is to announce our arrival. The less attention we attract, the better. Remember, we don’t know who the opposition is, and if La Makee has a hand in it, I don’t want her to see us coming.’

Jarrod nodded, shortening his reins as the mare snorted at a burnt-out tree stump by the road. The dead hulk was a startling shape, twisted into the form of a looming bear with outstretched claws. He smiled, leaning forward to pat her shoulder, whispering softly that there was nothing to fear. When she settled he caught up to Nell.

‘You don’t trust La Makee?’

Nell was quiet, still watching the hills as if searching for something, someone. ‘I did once…’ she said under her breath.

‘What’s that?’

Nell cleared her throat. ‘Makee won’t be happy to see me at her gates.’

Jarrod nodded. ‘Does she have any notion of what the spell means or your link to it?’

‘She’s never been to Earth. I doubt anyone could fully comprehend what the spell does—or the nature of the DNA links—if they’ve never seen what can happen when things go wrong. This is an agrarian society. Technology is far beyond her grasp.’

‘But magic isn’t.’

She pressed her lips together. ‘You’re right there. Magic isn’t. Those idiot Corsanon priests…’ She ground the last few words with her teeth.

‘The Corsanon high council?’

‘They were the ones who helped fracture the Entity in the first place, sundering it from the portal with their attempt to pass through.’

‘Perhaps we should grant them their wish.’

‘How’s that?’

‘I’m thinking they might benefit from a little offworld travel.’

‘They wouldn’t last a minute on Earth.’

‘You’re probably right.’

Nell smiled. ‘Interesting thought,’ she said, but she didn’t elaborate.

‘You’ve been through recently?’ he asked after they crested a hill.

‘Fairly.’

‘What’s left?’

‘You really want to know?’

He nodded.

‘Take a world utterly dependent on technology for survival and without warning, pull the plug. Then picture it rotting from the inside out as attempts to bolster the remaining life forms backfire, turning the seas and valleys and forests into cesspools. I must say, the bacteria and insects are thriving, along with many new strains of virulent microbes—bacteria, protozoa and viruses.’

‘And the worm? With you here, is anyone working on that? I can’t go back until…’

‘I was working on it, until trackers got wind of me.’

‘Do they know who you are?’

‘I don’t think so. It was more a witch-hunt than anything else. Still, computer or biological, viruses are rampant on Earth.’

‘Water?’

She shook her head. ‘People are clawing over each other to get it.’

Jarrod closed his eyes and asked no more.

The sound of the horses’ hooves on the packed clay thudded out a regular beat, punctuated by the squeaking leather saddles and an occasional caw from the Sisters.

‘That’s what it’s like, Jarrod,’ she said after a long pause. ‘That’s what’s happened to our mother Earth.’

She moved her horse into an easy canter and Jarrod urged Wren to catch up.

‘So,’ he said as they loped along side by side, ‘nothing much has changed since I’ve been gone?’

She chuckled. ‘Not much, but if we can sort out the Entity it might be time for you to return soon.’

‘What about the worm?’

‘I’m working on a plan.’

‘From here?’

Nell winked and rode on.

Rosette climbed, step by step, as glacial winds howled through the pass. She had no idea of their exact whereabouts. All distinction was swallowed up by the tempest, a blur of wind and snow. Her earlier optimism was swallowed up as well.

At first the journey had been instructional and near enough to fun. An’ Lawrence had been open, telling her a great deal of history and even about his own past as they’d sat by their evening fires. Much to Rosette’s surprise, he had revealed feelings as well as facts. But An’ Lawrence became quieter as the landscape had changed, his mood introverted. The easy flow between them ceased, replaced by a haunted silence.

Demons blight you, Scorpion Moon people!

Maudi?

These moods are driving me mad.

Then maybe don’t focus on them.

It’s pretty hard to ignore.

Not for me.

She smiled. But the contrast still bothered her. An’ Lawrence barely responded to her queries. He didn’t look her way as they rode into the foothills. It was as though he had forgotten she was there. The environment became treacherous. The wind howled—a menacing sound that penetrated the warm layers of her sheepskin-lined coat, biting into her skin. And now a blizzard on top of it all.

She led her horse on a loose lead, clinging to the leather reins through icy gloves. It was difficult keeping ahead of the animal. Her booted heels had been clipped several times by his iron-shod hooves before she’d gotten the hang of it. The trail was tight.

An’ Lawrence led his horse in front. She could make out the contours of his mount’s brown rump, its tail whipping about in the sudden gusts. Scylla must be further on, or so she guessed. She couldn’t see a thing. Drayco followed behind, his mutters about the cold and wet invading her mind. His constant drone was the only thing undiminished in the stress of the climb. It was also her only comfort.

‘Whoa!’ Rosette commanded, almost smacking into the horse in front of her. She squinted, searching through the snowfall. Why was he stopping now?

She wrapped her full-length sheepskin coat tighter around her body, cinching the belt another notch. Her gloved hands were pinned under her arms, searching out some modicum of warmth. They found none. Her fingers wouldn’t move. She felt nothing but burning tingles and numbness in all her limbs. An’ Lawrence was at her side. How he had turned his horse around on the narrow path, she didn’t know.
He bent his head towards hers, his face obscured by the hood.

‘Scylla has found…’

‘What? I can’t hear you.’ Her voice was thin, whisked away from her lips as she spoke.

‘Shelter! We can shelter over there.’ He made the shape of a tent with his hands and pointed off in the distance.

‘We’re stopping in this?’ she said, rising up on tiptoe to press her mouth against the side of his fur hood. She tried to shout, but she couldn’t force the air out of her lungs. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

‘Follow me,’ he shouted back.

He looked different.

He took the lead, turning his mountain horse around on point. He may have been concerned, or simply matter-of-fact. She couldn’t really tell. It was impossible to read him, her mind felt so distracted. It was like she couldn’t settle on a single thought.

Concern.
The answer came from Drayco, though she couldn’t even see where he was now.
He’s very concerned.

Why?

Because we’ll freeze to death if we don’t get out of this blizzard.

‘It’s his fault if we do. I could have told him the crossing would be like this.’

It’s serious, Maudi.

‘Still his fault.’ She followed, her pace slowing—each lift of her leg getting lower, each step smaller.
Actually, I think it’s all right, Drayco. I’m starting to feel warm. It’s getting better. Feels good.

You’re starting to fade. Keep walking. I come!

Her toes dragged on the ground and she stumbled, the horse halting before he trod on her. He stretched his nose down to sniff the icy lump in the path.

Get up, Maudi! Get up!

Rosette struggled, clenching the horse’s mane, pulling herself up.

Keep walking.

She followed An’ Lawrence blind, her eyes closed, her body leaden. It seemed to take an eternity to get where they were going. The roaring wind, the ice and the chill had infiltrated her mind, slowing movements and deadening her already frozen limbs. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes and her knees buckled again. An insidious peace rose up through her, an embracing, soothing radiance—a spell of warmth and ease. It called to her, impossible to deny. Heavenly, blessed sleep.

Her body dropped and she didn’t fight it. She didn’t try to get up.
Just a little rest, Dray-Dray.

The last thing Rosette remembered was a disturbing sound—a vicious screech from Drayco. It annoyed her terribly, interrupting the languid descent into oblivion. She tried to raise her hand to shoo away the intrusion, but Drayco’s hot breath assaulted her face, his tongue rasping across closed eyelids. She heard him scream again, this time from far away. Where was he, she wondered.

After a moment, she heard nothing at all.

Jarrod led his horse beside Nell, skirting the small town below. The pre-dawn sky glistened with stars, white sparkles against a deep purple background. The new moon had not yet risen. A dot of light shone from the village, a solitary glow in the silhouette of rooftops. It had to be a bakery with its ovens stoked. Columns of smoke rose above the chimneys, unbent by any wind or gust. It was a peaceful scene—unlike Jarrod’s mind, which buzzed like a hornets’ nest.

He and Nell walked their horses in silence. The Three Sisters perched on the back of Nell’s saddle, eyes
closed and soundless. When well past the outermost dairy, they mounted and returned to the main road. The sun was rising now in a haze of red and orange that washed over the landscape, heralding a bright, new day. Nell watched it with reverence, as she always did. The Three Sisters woke, squawked a surprise at their strange surroundings and took flight.

‘Why are they always so noisy?’ Jarrod’s mouth was turned down, his shoulders slumped.

‘They like to comment.’

‘On everything?’

Nell smiled. ‘Pretty much.’

The look on her face made him laugh, and in the glow of the early sunrise Jarrod felt the turmoil subside. He even thought the landscape had improved, but once the sun was fully above the horizon he saw the same desolate brown hills, drought-stricken fields and scrawny cows.

‘I’m going in alone,’ Nell said as they trotted across a wooden bridge.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll go in first and find out what’s happening.’

‘I thought we were in this together.’

‘Jarrod, how do you feel?’

He put his hand on his stomach and frowned. ‘Anxious. Twisting knots in my stomach. Like I want to run, or fight.’

‘Exactly. I feel the same and we’re going to heed the warnings. We’re going to keep you out of the picture until we know more. I don’t think Rosette is here. I can’t feel her close at all, and there may be trackers.’

Jarrod looked over his shoulder. ‘What’s the plan?’

‘Simple. You wait at the edge of the valley, out of sight, and I get an audience with Makee. We’ll meet up before dark.’

‘And?’

‘We’ll take it from there.’

‘So I wait again?’

‘I know you’ve been waiting a long time, Jarrod.’

‘Generations,’ he said.

‘A little longer won’t be too hard.’

They rode for a few more hours and the terrain became luxurious. Ripe grain swayed in the wind, and stacks upon stacks of hay were piled up in the corners of freshly mowed fields—the collective energy resonating from Treeon made for fertile surroundings and enlightened farmers. They stopped by a stream to water the horses and share a meal, the smell of alfalfa mixing with the hint of apple cider.

‘How close are we?’ Jarrod asked.

‘It’s just over the rise.’ Nell held him back when he tried to stand. ‘Patience. We’re nearly there.’