Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [6]
Kreshkali braced her hands on her knees, leaning over. ‘Show me.’
‘It’s the shoeing technique. Three toe-clips, front and back, for extra grip, and heels on the hind hooves, for traction. There’s only one temple I know of that follows that tradition.’
‘Treeon?’
‘You got it.’
‘Treeon,’ she whispered. ‘Can you follow the warhorse’s tracks?’
‘They’re muddled—like a stampede ran past—but we can check the perimeter of the hill. You go left and I’ll go right. Call out if you spot the shoe pattern again.’
Kreshkali headed down the hill, keeping her eyes on the ground. She came up with nothing but Jarrod yelled from the other side of the knoll. When she caught up to him, he was scanning the horizon, pointing towards the northwest.
‘Anything?’ she asked, knowing his eyesight was remarkable.
‘I can’t see through mountains, Kali.’
She squinted. ‘I can’t even see the mountains,’ she said.
‘Send the Three Sisters ahead for a look. They can’t be that far off.’
‘They?’
‘The tracks are fresh. And look here—Scylla’s prints, definitely.’
Kreshkali agreed. ‘And what about these?’ She pointed to another set of tracks, wolf and feline.
Jarrod studied them. ‘It can’t be,’ he said. ‘Rosette’s in Dumarka.’
Kreshkali nodded. A gust of wind blew her cowl back and she let loose a high-pitched whistle. The Three Sisters arrowed towards her. ‘Will you search that way, my sweeties?’ she asked, opening her arm towards the northwest. ‘Find the Sword Master?’
They answered by shooting out across the sky, black wings flapping hard.
‘He’s headed for the Prieta portal, I’ll wager,’ Kali said.
‘What was wrong with this one?’
‘Maybe there was a legion of Corsanons in his way.’ She scanned the ground again. ‘In their way…’
‘We’ll never catch them on foot.’ Jarrod inspected the terrain. He turned a full circle. ‘We need transport.’
‘I can shift and fly ahead but that would leave you behind.’ She wrinkled her nose at the battleground. ‘Not a good choice. They will come to bury this lot.’
‘That’s the only disadvantage to my tulpa body. It still takes me too long to think up a different species.’
She laughed. ‘I could train a pair of green-broke fillies to precision level before that was accomplished. Come on. With all this death, there must be some loose horses around. Spot any?’
‘I’m looking.’
She linked minds with her familiars. Horses, my lovelies? Did you see any without riders?
Many colours and many hues. What would you like?
Sound, sturdy and sensible. She smiled. Black’s always been my favourite colour, of course.
The ravens cawed out their delight, circling in the distance. Pines’ edge. Two. One black as should be, the other golden like the sun.
‘Golden like the sun?’ Kreshkali repeated, her voice a whisper. ‘What time are we in?’
‘You found some horses?’
‘The Sisters have. I can’t spot them from here, but they’re at the edge of the woods.’
‘Got ‘em,’ Jarrod said, shielding his eyes as he stared towards the trees. ‘Don’t know how I missed them. One’s as bright as a gold coin. It looks like they could use some help, too.’
‘Injured?’
‘I don’t think so but they’ve managed to get their reins caught up in the brambles.’
‘They’ve managed to lose their riders too. Be careful. We don’t want to be pulling arrows out of each other’s backs.’
They crossed the battlefield with their swords drawn, sheathing them when they reached the horses. The black mare took to Kreshkali immediately, nickering as she approached.
‘It’s like she knows you,’ Jarrod said.
‘I can’t see how, poor dear. She’s Corsanon-bred. Not bad, though, considering the conditions. Desertwind.’
‘An elegant breed,’ Jarrod said, stroking her arched neck. Her coat was sleek and her black mane long. Her dished face had a thin white stripe down the centre, her brown eyes wide-set and kind.
The mare’s reins were caught at a low angle, anchoring her face to the spines of the blackberry brambles. She was impaled all along her off side, thorns gouging her flesh and scoring the leather of the small