Arrows of Time (49 page)

Maudi!

It was a scream in her head.
Drayco, don’t yell. I’m right here.

You’re neither here nor right, Maudi. You’re fading. Come back!
His voice was choked. He was running towards her, racing up to the higher plateau.

How did you get so far away, Drayco?

You’re drifting! Come back!

She’d floated up so high that Drayco’s sleek body was a speck on the red earth. Jarrod took off at a run after him. He was incredibly fast, catching up to stop the temple cat. Drayco’s hackles went up and he spun around him, rolling back on his haunches.

We’re losing her, Jarrod.

Rosette heard his mental message, surprised.
Losing me?

The temple cat ran on. When he was directly beneath her, he stood, sides heaving, nose to the sky.
Maudi, don’t leave me. Jarrod says we must go to the temple. Please come back.

She loved the sound of his voice, even when he was screeching at her. It filled her with warmth and delight. Her ascension faltered and when she looked again, she was hovering within an arm’s reach.
I’m here, Drayco. I am with you.

Where did you go? For a moment I couldn’t sense you at all.
He stood rigid, his tail snapping.

I don’t know. I heard voices in the distance. At first I thought it was Grayson. It sounded familiar. But it couldn’t have been. He’s over there, with that body.
It was getting difficult to concentrate.

Maudi, stay with me!

Drayco was insistent. She ignored all her other thoughts and hovered over him, wrapping her energy around his body until he purred like a honeybee. His limbs were shaking, his heart racing.
I’m here, Dray. I won’t leave you.

You must stay close. Jarrod says so too.

It was odd that she couldn’t hear Jarrod herself, though she had to concentrate to remember exactly who he was and why she needed to go with him. The effort was exhausting.
I’m so tired, Dray. I want to sleep.

No!

Drayco’s voice agitated her. Why couldn’t she let go and drift into a lovely peaceful sleep? It felt so soft and easy—like floating downstream, warm water lapping, frothy whitecaps buoying her up.

Maudi! Stay with me.

There he was again. This time his words snapped her to attention, the distress in his voice like a magnet, drawing the final threads of her dispersing energy back together. She thought she heard a click.
I’m awake.

Stay that way! Jarrod says I am to keep you talking.
She heard him snicker.
That was never much of a challenge.

Ha!

Not your fault, Maudi. You were born under the sign of the Twins, ruled by the messenger of the gods.

Meaning?

Talk, talk, talk
…

Excuse me. The capacity for verbal communication is not actually a fault, Drayco.

What would you call it?

An attribute!
It was easier to stay awake now, though she wasn’t completely certain why that was important.
I love to banter.

We can banter ‘til dawn if you follow me to the temple. We have to get your body out of the sun.

She couldn’t remember which temple he was talking about, or why the sun was bad. Her consciousness was a lighthouse surrounded by fog.
Where are we?

They call it Temple Los Loma.

For the Lupins?

Apparently. Follow me.

She took in the terrain as they travelled along—rusty red soil cut with erosion and cracked like peeling skin; darker boulders jutting out at crazed angles, a game board whose pieces had been scattered; desiccated tree trunks, petrified into hollow, twisted shapes.

It doesn’t seem that much like the lush green woods of Dumarka to me.

It’s not Dumarka, Maudi. It’s Los Loma.

Can’t be. There are no mountains.

Los Loma, Earth.

It’s like a dried-up eggshell. Where’s the acid rain?

Gone. It hardly rains at all, but Jarrod says there is water at the temple and fresh green trees.

What temple?

Temple Los Loma. Do you remember it? We’ve never been there but
…

The estate Kreshkali was searching for? She found it? She named it for the Lupins’ stronghold?

That’s it. Demons, Maudi, you are muddled up. Do you remember anything else?
He kept asking her questions, his streams of thought holding her attention.

I remember tossing an apple towards that gate. Look! There are apple trees.

Those would be your doing.

How long have we been away?

A fair bit of time, it seems. Or none at all.

Both are one and the same, I think.

That’s right, Maudi. Come on. Keep up.

Why again?

We’re going to the temple. Almost there.

‘Where’s he off to?’ Shane asked as Drayco ran, red dust billowing behind him.

‘Fire demons! I’ve got to stop her,’ Jarrod cursed, racing after the temple cat.

Shane glanced at Selene, who simply shrugged, covering her mouth and nose until the dust settled. Fynn sat down, whining, apparently still too wobbly to pursue.

Grayson went pale, his eyes focused on the distance. ‘We have to keep moving,’ he said, sweat soaking his shirt. ‘We’re running out of time.’

‘Are you all right?’

Grayson kept his eyes ahead. ‘The sun’s too hot for her. She’s dissipating.’

‘Dissipating?’

He didn’t explain. Shane scooped up Fynn and carried him under his arm, breaking into a jog to stay abreast with Grayson.

‘What about them?’ Shane asked, jerking his head towards Jarrod and the temple cat. The two were halfway up the ridge behind him.

‘They’ll catch up, and hopefully Rosette will too.’

‘I guess it won’t work without her,’ Selene said. She jogged easily next to Shane, their shoulders touching.

When they crested the small hill, the temple lay before them. Fynn wiggled in Shane’s arms and he let
the dog spill out onto the ground. When he straightened, he whistled. ‘Some place you’ve got here,’ he said. ‘What’s it called again?’

‘Temple Los Loma.’

‘It’s so lush,’ Selene said, catching her breath. ‘Where does the water come from?’

‘Underground.’ Grayson held the gurney back as they descended towards the plaza. It jostled over the bumpy drive.

The trees lining the entranceway were in bloom. They had white-skinned trunks and purple flowers. A gentle honey fragrance drifted on the air. Blossoms littered the ground, creating a lavender carpet releasing more sweet fragrance as they walked down the slope. A marble fountain dominated the centre courtyard. In the midst of it stood an impressive statue—a black horse prancing with one foreleg drawn up so high it looked as if the hoof was ready to strike. Water sprayed in mini-geysers, creating flecks of sparkling rainbows.

‘That’s amazing,’ Shane said.

Fynn made a beeline for the water. He didn’t stop to lap at the edge but plunged straight in. He was greeted by a trio of large red dogs with long cowlicks down the ridge of their backs. He was dwarfed by them but still pup enough to cool their aggression with submissive gestures.

People were coming towards them, calling out to Grayson, their expressions of joy changing quickly to concern as they saw the corpse. They poured out of the main manor, the temple gardens, training grounds and the stables. Some were leading horses, some had garden hoes and rakes in hand, some carried books and folders, some swords and bows. All stopped what they were doing to converge on his small party. A man thrust a waterskin into his hand and he drank deeply, handing it over to Selen.

Grayson was talking to a grey-haired woman who soon gave orders to the gathering. Before he could take another drink, they were ushered into a spacious, open-air temple with polished wood floors and walls that rose only halfway to the ceiling. It reminded him of Temple Dumarka. In the breezeways, hanging from the open beams, were baskets of flowering plants, deep crimson, violet and yellow blossoms spilling over the edges, long air roots reaching towards the ground. He didn’t know their names, but the look of them was immediately heartening, the fragrance heavenly, like sunshine after rain, and something sweeter. Honeysuckle?

They laid Rosette’s body on the stone altar, the grey-haired woman giving further instructions. She pointed towards the entrance, moving with a grace that fascinated him, her long blue robe flowing behind her as she directed people this way and that. Her hair was swirled on top of her head, wisps escaping to give her an ethereal look. Grayson had introduced her as Annadusa, and he seemed to know her well. As Shane watched, she caught his eye, waving him to her. He gave Selene’s arm a quick squeeze. ‘I’ll see what she wants.’

He had to wait when he reached her. She and Grayson were directing a group of dark-robed students that clustered around, answering their questions in low, smooth voices.

‘But she’s dead,’ one woman said, ‘What do you mean you’re going to bring her back?’ She stared at the body still in its black shroud.

‘This isn’t a funeral, Maluka,’ Grayson said. ‘Rosette is here. We just need to get her back in there.’ He indicated the corpse and the young woman frowned.

‘The energy must be lifted,’ Annadusa said, her tone
commanding everyone’s attention. ‘Think strong, happy, vital, enthusiastic thoughts. Fill the temple with them!’ She pulled the group in tighter. ‘Instruct everyone, face to face, row by row, to conjure their best memories, their most cherished dreams, their greatest talents and greatest loves. These are our gifts to Rosette. Anything that brings a spontaneous smile, that’s what we all need to dwell on. That’s what it will take to bring Rosette back.’

‘And Kreshkali?’ a woman in a green robe asked.

‘She’ll come. She has to. We need the High Priestess here as well.’ She clapped her hands and they dispersed, all but Shane. ‘Grayson tells me you’re a bard?’ She looked at his backpack. ‘You’re not far from your flutes, I trust?’ Her eyes were a dark brown with flecks of gold. Mesmerising.

‘Unfortunately, they were lost in a bit of trouble. I…’ He wanted to say more, but his mouth was dry, his hands sweating. He wiped them on his pants.

‘There are plenty of instruments around.’ She waved at a young man by the door, miming a flute. He ducked out. ‘There are more on the way. Will you start some tunes? Others are setting up, but you were with her last. Your music will be more familiar.’

‘I’ve a few she liked. Would there be a low whistle?’ The man returned, handing him an instrument bag. He tested several and took the low whistle. ‘Perfect, thank you.’ Standing next to her body, he faced the temple hall, which was swelling to capacity as more and more people filed in. His stomach heaved and he looked down, the corner of the body bag in sharp focus. He swallowed. This was for Rosette.
Happy thoughts. Joyful reunion
, he reminded himself.

He took a deep breath and lifted his whistle to his mouth. He started with a haunting tune, one that he wrote on Tensar while waiting for Rosette to appear,
over and over again, as they were caught in that strange loop.

Happy thoughts!
He cringed at his own reprimand. This was going to be tricky. The time loop, the strange way they met, seemed so long ago now. Maybe it was.
That’s a little better.
They certainly had some excitement on their journey, like when they escaped from the Treeon Temple guards and he learned how to ride. The exotic experience of Temple Dumarka and all those beautiful priestesses.
That felt better too.

The tune was perfect, enchanting in its reverence, and he could feel it binding people’s hearts together as they began to meditate, pouring out thoughts of love, peace, happiness, appreciation and joy. Other bards joined him with guitars, ouds, mandolins, sitars and flutes. They surrounded the altar, some standing behind Rosette’s body, some sitting on the steps in front. A group of women with percussion instruments began an accompaniment, bringing a powerful syncopation to his piece—shakers, small drums, sticks and castanets came together, creating a dynamic rhythm that lifted him higher. It was the first time he’d performed the piece in public and he had a veritable orchestra behind him. Bliss!
Are you hearing this, Rosette? We’re playing for you.

He let his mind wander as the music washed through the temple, like waves against a pebbled shore. He caught Selene’s eye and shifted into another tune, one that he knew both she and Rosette loved—a melodic slip jig. Selene brightened, beaming him a smile. He felt his chest swell as he took quick breaths between phrases. It was the first look of appreciation she had ever offered him as a musician. His eyes smiled back.

E
verett stared at the woman lying on the ground. She lay face up, drained of colour, her limbs motionless. For a fraction of a second he knew who she was. It was a memory from long ago—his last year as an intern. Then the memory was gone and an impenetrable wall replaced comprehension. He knelt beside her, automatically checking her pulse and heart rate. It was weak, irregular and thready. He reached into his pocket and hit his recall pager. An ambulance would be here within minutes. He needed to get her on a monitor, fast.
Lucky I was passing by
.

As he checked her for wounds, a siren wailed in the distance, and security troops closed in, their boots circling the body as he knelt on the ground. Where did they come from?

‘You found her,’ the captain said, out of breath. ‘Medics are behind us.’