Strange Attractors (4 page)

Not everyone in Corsanon knew of the portals that linked the many-worlds. Most that had heard of them didn’t believe they were real. She and Xane did, though. She’d learned about them from Rall, a toothless woman, with lava-black skin and eyes the same, who lived in a dead-end alley near the refuse
dump. She survived, just, by selling news to the High Guard. Apparently Rall had been a witch of the Corsanon Temple once. She never talked about it and Shaea never asked, but Rall had taken a liking to her and Xane and that was a gift. The witch had taught them things, secret things—things that helped them survive. The magic Rall knew saved Shaea’s life more than once, especially after Xane had gone to apprentice with the Stable Master—when he was no longer there to watch her back. She stared at his grave, her lower lip trembling.

She and Xane had believed they would someday find a portal and get out. They would escape from their life before it consumed them. When Xane was offered the apprenticeship—a miracle in itself—her hopes had risen. Though they were both gifted with animals, it was Xane the Stable Master had spotted the day of the fire and Xane who was offered the job. She closed her eyes, remembering.

The city of Corsanon was dotted with stables and kennels, usually next to inns for the convenience of travellers. Last autumn there had been a fight in the Shek, a substantial inn next to the bakery where they begged. Fights were not uncommon but this one was wild. What caused it she never heard but a table was cleaved in two and an oil lamp with it. When the fire broke out, the men continued to brawl and the place went up like a tinderbox.

Shaea and Xane had heard the screams—horses, mules and dogs terrified by the smoke and heat coming through the stable walls. Onlookers had released the animals. They’d opened the stall and kennel doors but by then the flames were so high the horses wouldn’t budge. They backed into the rails, their heads tossing, whites of their eyes showing. Only the mules pinned
their ears and charged through the flames, bucking like broncos when they emerged into the street.

Shaea and Xane acted fast. The heat seared her skin and the thick smoke choked her lungs as she and her brother blindfolded each horse, keeping a calming hand on their necks. One by one they led them to safety. When the High Guard Stable Master arrived, he saw Xane leading out the last mare and nodded his approval. Shaea slipped into the background when they started to talk and before she knew it, he was packed off to begin a five-year apprenticeship with the most respected horse master east of the Prietas. Pride had swollen her heart.

Xane had to pretend he didn’t know her, of course. Corsanon’s homeless were shunned, thought to be diseased, so he lied, making up a story about parents who had come for the Festival of the Five Rivers. Parents who would be proud of his chance to train. They believed him, and they took him on. Though she missed him terribly, it was the best bit of luck in their short lives. Now he was dead, buried in the dirt of the Corsanon Fields, shot by one of their own arrows. What were the odds?

She pushed matted hair from her face and struggled to her feet. Following the path of the witch, she headed south towards the water hole, towards the portal that would lead to the many-worlds.

Kreshkali loosened the reins as the mare lowered her head to drink. The sound of slurping broke the monotonous drone of crows, the horses taking their fill. They’d crested the lip of the water hole with increased enthusiasm and would not be stopped, even for their riders to dismount. Kali vaulted to the ground, her boots splashing in the mud. She patted the
glossy black shoulder as the mare’s muzzle glided over the surface of the spring, ripples expanding out from the contact.

‘Apparently this water hole is not guarded,’ Jarrod said, keeping his voice low.

‘Except for him.’ Kreshkali pointed at a kingfisher poised on a branch overhanging the water. The bird took flight as the Three Sisters arrived, retreating to a higher branch. Kreshkali’s eyes went to the horizon but she was too low to see over the crest. A chill ran up her spine. ‘Did you hear that?’

The mare lifted her head. Her ears were pricked forward, the last mouthful of water splashing down to the surface as she rolled her tongue over the bit.

‘Someone’s coming.’ Jarrod’s eyes were closed.

‘We can’t gallop off with their bellies full of fluid,’ Kreshkali said. ‘Demons!’ They’d cut it too close, she knew, but the animals had had to be watered. What choice did they have? ‘Suggestions, Jarrod?’

‘We need to do something unexpected,’ Jarrod said, his eyes opening.

‘Like what?’ Kreshkali could feel the rumble in the ground beneath her. They had to get away, and quickly. The agitation of her familiars added to her own.

They come
, the ravens cawed in unison.
Bright spears and fast running. Fly, Mistress. Fly with us.

I know, my darlings. Thank you. We’re making a choice now.

‘We could cut An’ Lawrence off,’ Jarrod said, leading the sated gelding up the slope.

Kreshkali followed beside him, scanning for approaching riders. ‘How do you mean?’

‘We could take the portal to the foothills of Prieta and ride back this way. An’ Lawrence has to be somewhere in between.’

‘Interesting. We’d be riding straight into the blades of a hundred warriors,’ Kreshkali said. She tightened the mare’s girth, feeling the horse’s muscles bunch as she mounted. She shortened her reins. ‘And that’s only if we’re lucky enough to come out at the right time.’

‘Still, it seems preferable to trying to outrun this lot.’

‘Can you see them?’ she asked.

‘They’re coming up the ridge.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Demon’s death,’ he said under his breath. ‘They’re closer than I thought.’ He mounted up, holding the gelding back as the horse pranced in place, hooves mincing the grass. ‘They’re charging! We won’t outrun them, even with a head start.’

‘What’s it to be?’ Kreshkali followed his line of sight. She could just make them out, coming at full gallop. They’d be spotted any second. ‘The portal?’

‘Looks like our best choice now.’

Kreshkali summoned the Three Sisters who swooped alongside her, wings cutting through the air, voices shrieking. ‘To the portal, my ladies,’ she said to them. ‘Hurry now. Lead the way.’

The horses were uneasy; their sides were raw from the thorns and they were clearly not accustomed to the large birds’ proximity, but they made it to the portal before the riders had them within bowshot. The sheer rock face surrounding the opening shot skyward like a great wall. On the other side was a quarry, the city of Corsanon’s southern border. If it wasn’t for the portal, they’d be stapled to the wall any second. Kreshkali shivered before nudging the mare forward with her heels, careful not to tap the thorn wounds. ‘Gee up, beautiful. Let’s disappear.’

The Three Sisters swooped into the portal but the mare didn’t move. Her front legs braced, her nostrils
flared. The gelding was worse. He shied to the side, backing away when Jarrod tried to urge him onward.

‘They’ve never been in a portal, it seems,’ Jarrod said, keeping his mount from bolting as it spun around. He turned the gelding back, stroking his neck and talking to him. The horse finally stood still but his limbs were shaking. He snorted at the opening between the rocks. The galloping Corsanon warriors were gaining.

‘We don’t have time for this!’ Kreshkali stood up in her stirrups and chanted a calming spell. She directed it towards both animals, feeling the tension in her mare melt away as she did. ‘In we go, no hesitation,’ she said, clicking her tongue. ‘This is a safe place.’ She tightened her legs around the mare and nudged her heels deeper into the horse’s sides. After a single baulk, the horse jumped across the opening as if it were three lengths wide, lifting her hooves with exaggerated steps when she landed on the far side. Jarrod didn’t follow.

‘Demon palomino!’ Kreshkali yelled. ‘Get your horseflesh in here.’

‘That tone’s not helping, Kali.’

An arrow whizzed by Jarrod’s head and bounced off the rock face. He spun his mount around to face a barrage of arrows which fell just short of the mark and backed him into the portal. He kept backing up until the sound of the approaching Corsanons vanished. Soon the echo of hooves on fine gravel and the horses’ laboured breathing was all that could be heard. ‘Do you think they know about the corridors?’ he asked.

Kreshkali leaned over the mare’s shoulder, swiping the plasma stream before she answered. All her focus was on the shape and contours of the portal in the foothills of the Prieta Mountains—their intended destination. It was a day’s ride away as a crow flies—or a blink of
an eye through the corridors. If they got there before An’ Lawrence, they could find him easily enough. If he’d already gone through, she hoped there would be a sign left behind offering some clue to his intention. The energy signatures of the Entity remained altered for some time after each pass. She was getting better at reading them. With any luck she’d know where he’d gone. ‘What’s that, Jarrod?’ she asked.

‘Do you think they’re aware of this portal? Will they follow?’

‘Not likely. If they knew about the portals, they would have sent troops on ahead.’

‘Any sign of that?’ Jarrod made to dismount and she stopped him with a warning hand.

‘No Corsanon’s been through here in ages, I’m certain. But we don’t know what we’ll find on the other end. Best stay mounted. This won’t take long.’

‘What’s going to stop them now? Haven’t we just given away the location of the portal? All ye world travellers come hither?’

‘Good point.’ Kreshkali closed her eyes and called in the Elementals, sending them to the entrance of the crevice as she chanted. She stroked the mare’s neck to keep her still then opened her eyes and smiled. ‘That should fix it.’

‘I’m almost afraid to ask what you’ve done,’ Jarrod said.

She winked. ‘I conjured a bit of a glamour over the entrance. It won’t look like more than a pothole in the road for quite some time. Nobody’s going to be following us today.’

‘Unless they saw us go in.’

‘The riders were too far away, even with hawk-eyed scouts. We’re safe, so you can relax.’ She looked at the trembling gelding. ‘And then maybe your horse will
too. He’s a wreck.’ She sent a further soothing spell to the animals, filling the portal with a warm glowing light.

The horses exhaled and lowered their heads. The mare cocked a hind foot and swished her tail. The gelding stretched his neck down to his knee, rubbing his face on his outstretched foreleg.

‘Thanks,’ Jarrod said. ‘But don’t take it too far. We’re already here.’

Kali waited in front of the portal as the whirl of colours, like the curtain of lights in the far northern skies, dissipated. In front of them was a familiar view—the foothills below the Prieta Mountain Range. The wind swept by her face as she urged the mare forward, only to halt abruptly.

‘Back!’ she yelled as an arrow whizzed by her ear and hit the granite wall behind her. ‘We mistimed it!’

The horses took little encouragement to retreat, but they weren’t fast enough. A shower of arrows fell, one skimming Kali’s shoulder, the others glancing off the rocks. The mare squealed but kept backing. The portal whisked them away. Kali didn’t have time to focus on a new destination.

‘Jarrod! Are you with me?’ She tested her shoulder. No blood. ‘Jarrod?’

‘Over here.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘You’d better come see for yourself.’

She dismounted and led the mare further back into the corridors. When she found Jarrod, he was leaning over Teg. The Lupin wasn’t breathing.

Shaea stared at the ground. All she could see was a pothole in the rutted wagon track, a deep rent where the wheels of a cart had been stuck. This couldn’t be a
door to another world. No way. It wasn’t even a place to hide. A mud worm would have trouble finding shelter here. She examined the area for some other means of escape but nothing came into view save the charging Corsanons. At the sound of a kingfisher, she looked up.

There was a high rock face in front of her, impossible for the horses to climb. They couldn’t have gone that way. The road itself ran north and south and there was no movement for as far as her eye could see, and that was to the horizon, both ways. ‘Where in all the demon’s magic did they go?’ she whispered.

They had vanished in a snap. One minute they were in front of her, the horses baulking when they tried to get them to climb. Idiots. No horse could manage that cliff. When she looked again, after marking the warriors’ approach, they’d vanished. It was like they’d dropped out of sight, falling foot first into the underworld. But nobody could do that, could they? It was only a child’s story—a witch who could disappear into the ground. She twisted around again to gauge the distance of the warriors. Too close! The sun glinted off their drawn swords and she could feel the ground beneath her rumble as the horses thundered towards her. She had to hide, and quickly. The Corsanon troops were out for blood and she had no intention of letting them have any of hers. ‘Damn you, witches! Where did you go?’

She swung the shovel from her shoulder and thrust it into the ground, blinking as a purple light wisped through the air. Before she could investigate, the rumble of the troops turned into shouts. The blow and churn of the horses brought her head around again and she saw how fast they’d advanced. ‘Damn you too, Corsanon pigs!’

If this was a portal, it was shut tight and they’d
left her no key. She stomped the shovel with her foot, sinking it deeper into the soil, and started up the cliff, her tattered brown cloak a perfect camouflage. She scrabbled over boulders, pressing herself flat and climbing higher and higher up the quarry wall. They couldn’t ride after her. She was safe from that threat, but their scouts might follow on foot. Of course, their bulk would slow them down, if they could manage at all. No one she’d ever known could climb as well as her, not even Xane. Like a spider, she could find footings and handholds where there were mere juts of rock to grasp. She could squeeze into cracks only a waif of a girl would fit. Her thin, boyish body wouldn’t have made her much on the streets of Corsanon but it was her best friend here. Like the witches she’d been tracking, she vanished, leaving only her shovel behind to baffle them.