Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [1]
‘Earthquake!’ Kreshkali’s horse crow-hopped as the ground shook beneath them. ‘Ride!’ she shouted. She cracked the tail of her split reins behind her, snapping them like a whip. Both horses pinned their ears back and sprang, churning up dust and stones as they scrambled out of the box canyon. Shoulder to shoulder, the animals vied for the lead, charging towards the summit. Under them, the earth groaned and cracked and rolled.
‘Head for open ground!’ An’ Lawrence yelled as he crested the gorge, Scylla leaping in front of him. He pointed at the wide expanse, a barren landscape that looked like an endless field of red, sunbaked bricks.
‘Gee-up!’ Kreshkali shouted over the roar.
They took off at a dead run. Kreshkali leaned forward, reins in both hands, her arms gliding smoothly over the mare’s neck in time with the rocking motion. The horse’s mane blew over her arms—whitecaps cresting in a dark sea. Her robe was streaming behind her. Looking down the mare’s shoulder, she watched the horse’s hooves hit the crusted ground. They sank deep into the red clay as the iron shoes compressed the dry earth to powder. ‘Mind the holes,’ she yelled to An’ Lawrence. ‘There’re deep ones.’
I can watch for them, Kali, but at this speed there’s little to be done but observe the fall.
She tightened her jaw, hearing his thought directly in her mind. He was right. When she reached the centre of the plateau, she straightened, easing the mare down. ‘Whoa, now, girl. This is as safe as it gets, right here in the middle.’
She brought the mare down to a jog, taking some time to stop. An’ Lawrence and his temple cat shot past, skidding to a halt further ahead. Both horses were blowing, steam rising from their backs, their flanks slick with sweat. The ground beneath them rattled like a frying pan on high heat.
‘You call this safe?’ An’ Lawrence shouted at her over the sound of tumbling boulders and cracking ground.
‘As can be…’ she shouted back. ‘Give it time. It’ll pass.’
Rents in the ground opened up, creating arm-length fissures around them. The tearing of the earth was like bones breaking. Scylla braced against the gyrations, all four paws at wide angles to her body, her ears pinned back and bobtail pointing skyward as she hissed, the sound swallowed up by the roar of the earth. Sweat dripped from the horses’ bellies, making dark spatters on the ground like drops of rain.
Kreshkali checked the surrounding hills and ravines, watching the horizon. She imagined a feeling of stillness returning to the land. Ignoring her fear, she focused on calmness, peace and quietude. ‘It’s okay. It’s backing off,’ she whispered to her horse. ‘It’s all over now.’
The earth continued to rumble, then an eerie stillness fell. Suddenly, the loudest sounds were the horses’ blowing and the squeak of leather as Kreshkali twisted in the saddle. A trio of caws filled the air, and three ravens appeared, scolding as they circled overhead.
‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘All’s safe.’
An’ Lawrence grimaced. ‘When are these wretched shakers going to stop?’ He glared at the hills in front of them, as if they were responsible. ‘There’s nothing remotely like this on Gaela.’
‘The known lands of Gaela sit on a single tectonic plate. Of course it’s stable,’ Kreshkali said. ‘This is California—what’s left of it.’
‘And that means?’
‘It’s sitting on broken glass.’
‘More like dynamite.’
Kreshkali turned her mare around in a circle, her eyes on the horizon. A smile lit up her face. ‘Don’t be so sour, old man. That shaker got us going in the right direction.’ She pointed towards a dark fence line that undulated into the distance. ‘There it is, and the gate still stands!’
‘It’d be about the only thing that does.’
She laughed, stroking her mare’s dappled grey neck and urging her into a jog. ‘Come on. We’ve found it. This is