Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [121]
‘Keep your eyes open,’ Jarrod said at the next pass, though it wasn’t necessary. They both looked alert, nervous. ‘Be ready for anything.’
Jarrod kept Nell in full view. She was only one step in front of him, holding a yellow ribbon, her arm extended as she danced along. She slowed with the music at the end of the tune. The pole was laced with rainbow streamers, each of the dancers tethered close to the centre. He took a deep breath, about to exhale in relief, when he caught a glint of steel. ‘Nell!’ he shouted, leaping forward. ‘Don’t’
Nell was on the man before Jarrod could do anything. When she stepped aside, she dropped her blade, red and wet in the short green grass. The band stopped and the oblivious crowd broke into cheers. Nell turned away, her glamour gone.
Screams rose around them, the shrill sound cutting through the applause. The man, who had come so lightly to the dance, his partner laughing at his side, doubled over, collapsed to his knees and fell face down. Nell let go of her basket, the bright flower petals spilling over the blood seeping from his wound. They rested for a moment on the dark pool before the yellow centres turned black and sank under the slick surface.
Before Jarrod could grab her, Nell threw back her head and sent a blast of energy from her body, repelling all who closed in. In a whirl of light, she morphed; the backlash of her transformation knocked him down. She emerged from the shock wave as a black hawk, streaking skyward. The raptor shrieked in a high-pitched whistle that sent Torgan tearing across the field. The familiar shadowed his mistress high above, climbing out of the Temple valley.
The woman was cradling the dead man in her lap, tears streaming down her face. One hand was on his cheek, the other pressed hard against the wound. Her fingers were red, blood gushing out between them. Jarrod turned around, following the hawk’s flight until it disappeared. Then he saw the guards.
Shane and Selene backed into him, half-a-dozen swords pointing at their throats. In front of him he faced a similar barrage. Suddenly, the area was empty of other dancers, save the victim and his companion. Jarrod lifted his arms over his head. ‘Tio,’ he whispered. ‘I give up.’ He was in no position to fight.
Selene hissed into his ear. ‘When we get out of this, I’m going to kill that bitch!’
‘Not if I can do it first.’ Jarrod stared at the blades, leaning into Shane and Selene, pressing back to avoid the metal tips. He didn’t doubt the guards’ intentions. They’d happily carve him up for fish bait if given the slightest provocation. Maybe even without it. Fortunately they were having trouble controlling the crowd—the chaos around them kept any clear order from being delivered. At his feet the dead man bled out. The crowd was wailing his name, ‘Corvey, Corvey’. The woman who held the lifeless body spoke to the guards. They referred to her as the High Priestess Le Saint.
So much for Nell’s ‘accident’ story. The woman seemed in perfect health. ‘Get them out of here,’ she screamed, her bloody finger pointing towards Jarrod.
The guards shoved Shane and Selene forward, grabbed their packs and weapons and marched them down towards the main temple. By now the crowd had become hysterical. The news was travelling fast. People were pressing in, shouting to make way for healers and more guards, but seemingly reluctant to take their own advice. They did part in front of the captives, though, some staring wide-eyed and others hissing and spitting. Corvey was well loved. His death would be avenged, Jarrod felt sure of that.
‘Keep moving,’ the guard said, pushing him forward.
The prisoners walked with their hands on top of their heads, fingers laced. They were herded up the steps of the temple and along the side walkway until they came to a set of stairs leading down. The light vanished into a black pit and Jarrod smiled to himself. Perfect, he thought, wishing