Strange Attractors (58 page)

Bones cracked in her jaws, hot blood filled her mouth. She dropped the next body and tore back to Teg, morphing into human as she reached him. She crouched, drew Teg’s sword and sprang. The thin curved blade came alive in her hand and she waited for the next lightning flash.

A wall of Corsanons charged. She held the blade in both hands, guard position, drawing up a boost of power from her solar plexus. The energy burst from the tip of the sword as she lunged, dropping to her knee. She cut through the enemy, her blade a foot above the ground, slicing shin and bone in a wide arc. She let the momentum of the swing pull her upright, wet cartilage flying from the steel; the centrifugal force wheeled her around and blood spattered her cheeks. When her sword was high overhead, she loosened her grip, letting the hilt spin. Clamping tight, she stepped back, her weapon behind her back, parallel with her spine. In a smooth arc, she swung again, dropping the sword towards the Corsanons. It cut this time through shoulders, shields and ribs, felling another row like sapling trees.

Maudi. Help. The temple witches!

She flicked blood from her sword as she turned
towards Drayco. Her face drained of colour. They had him bound by the neck and hind legs and were stretching him. She screamed, and with sword high she ran towards him but hands grabbed her, knocked her down from behind. Her face was pressed into the mud, limbs pinned, a boot between her shoulder blades. She struggled for an instant and then stopped.
Deep breath. Don’t let them see it coming.

She let go her human form, like releasing sand through her fingers. It fell away and in its place she took the form of a python, the body like a twisting tree in the mud. The boot lifted and she reared, striking the face of the warrior as he stumbled over himself, hands flaying. The men who’d pinned her arms and legs fell forward, fists empty. She hissed, striking again. They recovered. Swords came out and she coiled, springing to strike, her wolf form morphing out of the snake’s head as she did.

The closest fighter swung wildly towards her throat as she leapt. Rosette latched onto his forearm and dragged him to the ground. Lupins pressed in behind her, attacking those that blocked the way to Drayco, but she couldn’t get through. She growled and snarled in the darkness, shifting again, falcon wings rising out of the wolf’s forelimbs. As the lightning flashed, her talons ripped the neck of the nearest warrior, catching his windpipe and taking it with her as she rose above the battle. The rain beat down, washing the blood from her claws, striking her feathers like needles, running off her back. She screeched.

From above she could see the cowled hoods of the temple witches forming a circle around Drayco, keeping the ropes taut. He was choking and spitting and they held him down with their intention. She gauged the force of the spell, folded her wings behind her back and dove straight for them. A second before connecting she
opened her wings, pivoting her body to drive her talons forward. A witch bent over Drayco, a knife in her hand. Rosette screeched again, slitting her throat. Back-winging, she stopped her momentum with powerful downstrokes and rose out of the circle. The witches were wielding staffs, more Corsanons coming to their aid. She dove again as lightning cracked the sky.

The momentum of her strike snapped the arm of a witch who was raising her staff. Bones protruded and blood sprayed the air. Rosette hit the ground next to Drayco’s head, talons first, severing the neck rope. Darkness blinded her, the enemy disappearing with the light. She jumped back out of her falcon form and shifted; drawing her sword in a wide arc, she cut through staffs and limbs alike. The fools were all in her kill circle now. Drayco’s head lifted and he struggled to stand. Nearly retching, he lunged at the captor behind him. Lightning flashed. The temple witch let go of her rope, hands coming up to throw a spell. Drayco connected, jaws wide, fangs closing between her shoulder and neck. Blood sprayed, and he dropped the limp body. The other witches faltered.

Rosette fought beside him, cutting and blocking, boosting her power into the sword. The rain fell harder; her hands were soaked red, the ground slick beneath her feet.

Behind, Maudi!

She spun too fast, lost her footing and slipped to her knees. She blocked with her sword but a Corsanon knocked it out of her hand with an axe blow. She crouched, shifting into a temple cat. With one swipe of her claws she raked his chest, hooking in between ribs, puncturing his heart and lungs. She flung the body aside and sprang, not waiting for the lightning to reveal her foe.

They’ve got Teg, Maudi!

She spun inside her skin, jaws open, leaping to the warriors who were dragging Teg away.

They want one of us alive. Stop them, Maudi!
Drayco screamed in her head while he held three more warriors back.

A wave of energy welled up. She connected with the guards blocking her way to Teg, shifting to wolf, crushing bones before shifting back to feline, severing limbs, and up to falcon, slicing jugulars, her talons dripping red. She ripped from shape to shape, the essence of each totem so strong it hung midair, still fighting, as she shifted to the next. Each beast of her making battled beside the other, guarding her back and flanks. She leapt to her sword, buried to the hilt in mud, drawing it as she shifted again to human form. Mud slung in a high arc over her head as she lifted the blade. The lightning flashed, revealing her foe. Each alternative form hovered like ghosts around her, gathering for the next assault.

Drayco stood over Teg, fangs sinking into anything that came near, a sea of bodies around him. The rain diluted the pools of blood; it washed dead faces clean and filled vacant eyes then streamed across the ground, racing to the foaming creek. It ran dark red. Gaela’s tears washed through the Dumarkian Woods and the battle raged on. Lupins lay among the Corsanons. Rosette seethed, her chest rising and falling as she turned to face the last of the enemy. Her sword came singing through the air and she screamed a war cry, her blade poised to sever the head of the young warrior in front of her. His broad blade swung as well, the double edge coming up in a block across his face. Steel struck steel and the reverberation jarred them both back. Lightning flashed.

The jolt vibrated the ground and her shape-shifting forms snapped still, sucking back into her as she drew a deep breath. She let the momentum of the impact turn her side on, her blade again singing through the air, building for a backhanded strike. She called on the Elementals and brought the blade down over her enemy.

Their eyes locked and he whispered a single word. In the heartbeat before impact, she stopped, her sword freezing before it struck his bare neck. There hung a falcon pendant at his throat, the wings upstretched, a ruby sun on top of the raptor’s head.

Tio
, he said again. This time the voice sounded in her mind.
I give up.

She didn’t move. No longer did she see a Corsanon warrior in front of her but a young man, a boy really, who had dropped to his knees. His eyes were soft, staring up at her; his hands raised as he said the words again, mouthing them aloud—the words she had only ever heard from one other living soul.

‘Tío. Rosette. Tío.’ Tears streamed down his face. ‘It’s me. I’m…Jarrod.’

Her sword arm lowered, holding her blade out to the side. Darkness fell and when the lightning flashed again he stood to face her. The rain beat down on them, the battle raged, and still they didn’t move.

‘Jarrod,’ she whispered.

He nodded.

‘I’ve been looking for you.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

I got lost.

Drayco shouted in her mind.
Maudi, a little help over here?

She and Jarrod turned as one and charged towards the warriors circling the temple cat.

Some tulpa you made, Jarrod. I like it. Attractive, but isn’t it a little…young?

Not actually a tulpa, Rosette. That’s been the problem.

She did a double take.
What?

I healed the body but couldn’t get past the memories of the previous occupant. I thought I was him.

You’ll have to explain but in the meantime, please keep it in one piece, will you? I’d like to check it out before you get any scars.

He winked and they screamed a war cry together that shook the depths of the Dumarkian Woods.

Xane watched the shape-shifting witch. She tore through the High Priestesses to get to her familiar. The sight of the temple cat stretched between the ropes enraged him too. The animal was not the enemy. As the lightning flashed and he took in the death toll, he reconsidered. They had the advantage in numbers but the wolves, the witch and her familiar were decimating them. His head throbbed as he watched. The creatures in his mind were gaining the rim of his consciousness. He was losing his willpower. He was losing control.

He couldn’t pull his eyes away from her assault—a frenzy of shape-shifting, a savage and invincible woman. As he lifted his blade the lightning flashed again and she stood before him. His breath caught. Her totems rushed back into her body like water into a whirlpool. Her blade lifted, ready to sever his head. She had him. It was the end.
Surrender!
the chorus in his mind shouted.

He blanched, falling to his knees. ‘Tio…’ The creatures grappling to escape the prison of his mind gained the rim of his unconscious and in one sudden thrust they burst to light. He convulsed, the memories falling away. The echo of Xane’s past that had kept him entombed was gone. In an instant he knew who he was. He was Jarrod, quantum sentient who’d lost
his tulpa body over the cliffs of Corsanon. In front of him was a warrior woman about to split him in two—Rosette, the love of his life. He raised his eyes to hers. ‘Tío. Rosette. Tío. It’s me. I’m…Jarrod.’

Her face transformed, the contorted lines of fury softening to wonder, rapture. Each of her totem animals appeared for an instant, peeking around her as if she were a tree in the wilderness, their eyes wide, blinking. They saw him, recognised him—and so did she.

He wept, warm tears chasing the cold raindrops from his face. He wanted to fall into her arms, to hold her. The battle around him disappeared—the flashes of light, the sounds of clashing steel, screams and snarls—all was subsumed by his awareness of her and his recognition of Self. He opened his mouth to speak then his eyes drifted to her flat belly. ‘The baby,’ he whispered.

She shook her head, her own tears flowing freely.

Maudi, a little help over here?

They turned together at Drayco’s call.

Drayco!
They ran.
We’re coming!

Jarrod?
The temple cat’s voice was quizzical.
You’ve shrunk.

He heard Rosette’s laughter as he grabbed his sword.
Ah but, Drayco, this body’s real and I’m not through growing yet.

That would explain it then
, Drayco said, snarling at the enemy.

Explain what?

Why I couldn’t recognise you.

You told me that young glamour witch was Nell, Dray
, Rosette said as she cut down two Corsanons who were swinging their heavy blades her way.
I think maybe you need your nose checked.

She was, Maudi.

Kreshkali didn’t agree.

She has the same blood as you and Nell, and Kali.
Drayco dodged a blow.

How?

Ask Nell.
He spun around.
Here they come! About time.

‘Who?’ Rosette asked aloud.

Scylla! And the Sword Master.

An’ Lawrence charged down the ancient steps from the portal riding a brilliant palomino, leading his sword riders straight into the heart of the battle.

‘Fortuna!’ Jarrod cried out.

Definitely fortunate!
Rosette whooped delight in his mind.

I meant the horse! He’s riding Fortuna.

Rosette looked confused, but he had no time to explain. The witches were cornered now and he fought to clear a path to Teg. He cut through the surprised warriors, wielding the heavy double blade. When he reached Teg, he dropped to the Lupin’s side, sheathing his sword.

‘Teg? Can you walk?’

The Lupin struggled to raise his head, fangs snapping.
Teg, it’s me. Jarrod. Don’t take my hand off. I’m rescuing you.

Teg hesitated.
Jarrod? You smell like a Corsanon stableboy.

That’s just my body. Come on. An’ Lawrence is here. You don’t want him to see you floundering in the mud.

Teg morphed bipedal and leaned on Jarrod as he pulled him up. ‘My sword.’ He reached to the empty scabbard.

‘Her High Priestess has it,’ Jarrod said, nodding towards Rosette. ‘Seems she mislaid her own.’

‘High Priestess?’

‘When you see the new trick she’s learned, you’ll elevate her too.’

‘I already have.’ Teg’s voice was a whisper but Jarrod heard it. He walked Teg to the edge of the cliff, the rain washing blood from the Lupin’s face. The battle had moved down to the river, the Corsanons gathering their temple witches, trying to escape. It was over.

‘Speaking of worship, where is Kreshkali in all this? You’ll need her to heal that shoulder. Massive rent. I don’t know how you’re standing.’

Teg groaned, whether from the reminder of the wound or Kreshkali, he didn’t know.

‘What’s this?’ Jarrod pulled them up short. The broken body of a Lemur raven lay before them, wings bent, face buried in the mud. The feathers were lank, soaked in blood and rain. Her blue eyes were unseeing.

‘Oh no. Makee…’ An’ Lawrence appeared behind them, handing his reins to Jarrod. He knelt, pulling the bird out of the mud; he tried to fold the wings to her back but they kept falling open. He looked up at Teg and Jarrod, his face white. ‘She’s still breathing.’ As he stood, he put the black bird under his cloak; rain was sheeting off his face and shoulders. ‘Enough of the rain and lightning,’ he shouted. ‘It’s over. Call it off. Bring out the sun.’