Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [181]
Shaea handed over the mare’s reins and wrapped her cloak tight, cinching up the belt. The woods looked cheery but they didn’t feel that way; nothing like the playful energy of the other day. A storm was brewing. She flinched when the glamour fell over her. Even though she could see her hands and feet, she was certain no one else could. They glimmered, iridescent. Shaea made her way down the path, stumbling on the rough stone steps. The creek babbled, and the air turned cold under the bridge. She squatted on the highest ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. The grass was pale and squishy under her boots. I’ll wait and I’ll get your spell, but that’s all. She kept her mind shield up, her thoughts to herself. I’m through doing your tasks, Entity or no—after this, I’m getting out.
Rosette didn’t move. She was still sandwiched between Drayco and Teg, brambles poking like tiny knives. She’d linked minds with the Lupin and together they were praying rain—a colossal storm—by picturing it as if it were already there. She made it real with her mind. Rosette imagined she could hear the crack of thunder on the horizon, like a bull whip snapping, silencing the birds, sending the bees back to their hives, squirrels to their hollows. Clouds obscured the sun, gathering thick and fast like a total eclipse. The air around them went still.
She pictured the darkness, the ominous silence punctuated by thunder and flashes of lightning. The first drops of water fell, large splatters hitting her nose, her eyelids, sweet rain running into her mouth. She felt the icy touch on the back of her hand; the droplets turned into a pounding rain, leaves jumping from each hammer fall. Rivulets formed around her, soaking her clothes and streaming down her fingers, along her arms, over her boots.
She imagined Drayco’s ears wet, the weight of the tufts making them droop, his eyes hooded, whiskers heading. His breath became visible puffs, his respiration increasing as the storm gathered. His coat spiked, his tail snapped. Each flash of lightning brought the trees closer for an instant before they retreated into darkness again.
I hate this, Maudi.
I know, lovely, but it’s working.
Teg leaned over; it was like pressing a wet sponge against her ribs. Great conjure, Rosette. I love working with you!
Don’t gloat, you two. It’s only half done. I want a revealing spell with each lightning strike. It’ll take the three of us to keep it up. Are you with me?
Rosette understood immediately. They couldn’t unravel the Corsanons’ glamour directly—the High Priestesses’ spell was too tightly woven for that. They couldn’t conceal all the Lupins and themselves either—it would take more thought than they could spare. What they could do was expose them during the instants of every lightning flash, if they wove their revealing spell right. She took Teg’s hand. Ready?
He nodded and the deeper layer of the spell began.
Shane grabbed Clay by the coat, pulling him back before he ran smack into the horse’s rump. Clay clearly hadn’t seen the animals standing in front of the portal. It was dark, sure enough, but Shane had spotted their silhouettes outlined against the rocky cavern wall. One was a warhorse, the size of a small pub. He didn’t know how it had happened, but it looked like the portal had shot them smack into the backside of two warriors and their beasts.
‘I thought you said if you focused on Rosette, the portal would take us to her,’ Clay whispered. ‘Now do you see why I thought we best ride straight to Dumarka? We weren’t that far away.’
‘Ride?’ Shane kept his voice low. ‘We’d have ridden on the heels of the Corsanons, or maybe the other way around. This is a war zone, remember?’
‘We don’t even know where this is. Looks to me like we could be anywhere.’
Shane shook his head. ‘Listen.’ A whipbird called, the whistle-crack ringing loud. ‘It’s the Dumarkian Woods.’
‘Maybe, but if so, who are they?’ Clay pointed towards the two women at the entrance.
Shane pulled him back and they crouched in the shadows.