Arrows of Time - Kim Falconer [87]
The tension between him and An’ Lawrence had increased proportionally to the time he spent with Kreshkali. The more they were together, the harsher he became. Could he be jealous? The thought made him smile. In any case, Teg still trained with the sword students, and they were grim workouts when An’ Lawrence took the class. Grim but instructional. Teg sometimes wondered whose benefit the sword sessions were really for—him or the Sword Master. That man’s biases were getting in the way of progress, and he told both Kali and Hotha so.
Kreshkali had suggested it was a mirror. He had to think about that. He shook his head and carried on. Today was different. No need to brood over these details. He would be spending this entire glorious day with his mentor, if all the signs added up. She’d asked him to pack a few things and he suspected they were going on a little trip. He breezed through the temple doors, the scent of cedar, sandalwood and fresh coffee greeting him. So far his apprenticeship was the best time of his life.
Of course it was challenging, and Kreshkali was tough on him, exacting, but he loved the work. The readings she set and the discussions that followed opened his mind in ways he’d never dreamed of. It was like a whole new world. And the magic she taught was different from the Lupin mind spells he’d perfected in Los Loma, Gaela. Kali’s lessons made him feel indescribable joy, and the energy went both ways. She was equally keen to explore the Lupin earth magic. He shivered.
There was something else he found indescribable, something that took him over when he was in her presence. It made his head spin and his heart pound. It made him want to point his nose towards the moon and yowl, Kreshkali! He strode down the hall, his bare feet silent on the carpet. The library was in sight. She would be waiting—his mentor, his queen. He would not be late.
EARTH & GAELA—TIME: FORWARD
CHAPTER 20
‘You’re brooding,’ Kreshkali said.
Grayson glanced at her before returning to his work. If he ignored her, she might go away. She didn’t. Instead, she leaned over his shoulder—not his favourite placement for any onlooker—studying the drawing board in his lap. His stomach grumbled. Would he come poking his nose in her grove when she was brewing a spell? Certainly not. ‘What’s that, Kali?’ he asked.
‘I said, you’re brooding.’
‘I’m not brooding, woman,’ he answered, rubbing out a section of the sketch and redrawing it. ‘I’m concentrating. This is my work. It takes focus.’
Kreshkali exhaled forcefully. ‘I know the difference between concentration and mood,’ she said.
He turned to her. ‘I imagine you would.’
She chuckled. She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘You want to tell me what’s up?’ she asked.
He ignored the question, rubbing out the line again and redrawing it in a higher arc. The image was captivating and he wanted to get it right. The wings needed to be able to carry the beast’s weight, be capable of more than just short hops. It had to be able to fly. The woman who commissioned this tattoo was very specific.
Make it real, she had said. Make it as if you have met this being in more than your dreams.
She called it Ishtar’s Lion and spoke of it as one would a lover, or a god. He didn’t know if this creature existed anywhere in the many-worlds, but he had seen a life-size sculpture of it in the plaza of Treeon Temple. It stood guard in the eastern corner—a winged lion with a long tail and sharp claws, crouched to pounce, or perhaps take flight. They called it something else there, but he didn’t remember the name. He intended to design it as authentically as he could imagine, though, as ‘real’ as he could picture it when she described it to him. What an intriguing notion—a winged lion.
‘Grayson?’
He put down his pencil and pointed towards the waterskin. She passed it over. Kreshkali would linger until he gave her his full attention.