Arena (23 page)
Awestruck, Callie stared for a full minute without moving, afraid even to blink. Then a warm, copper-scented breeze blew out of the opening and coursed around her, pushing her from behind. Warily she mounted the red-lit stair.
At first the staircase didn’t appear long enough to reach the rim. But by the time she’d ascended fifty paces she saw no end to it at all, just a blurry red line disappearing into dark distance. Looking at it made her dizzy, so she fixed her gaze on the step in front of her and realized that the stairs were moving, carrying her upward like an escalator. A wave of disorientation wobbled her knees, and she groped for the wall, trailing her fingers along it for balance and reassurance.
Up and up and up she went, until it seemed she’d gone much farther than the height of the cliff. She dared not look back, dared not even imagine how high she had to be. As it was, the end of the ride sneaked up on her. One minute she saw only the interminable red line, the next, a white doorway loomed before her.
It opened into a granite basin where a pool of snowmelt reflected a star-spangled sky. The Gate swept upward out of the pool, radiant streams of crystal, silver, and gold woven together and sparked with spears of crimson. A film of silver-and-gold flecks shimmered across the opening, and the air and ground thrummed with an immense power, tingling across her skin and deep into her vitals.
Trepidation seized her. This gate was something alien, something mighty beyond imagination—as different from any power she had known as light was from dark. To even approach it seemed sacrilegious— to pass through it, suicidal. Surely no earthly flesh could touch this presence and live.
And yet, though the pulsing brightness was almost palpable, though the organs in her chest vibrated in resonance with its power, Callie felt no heat and heard no sound beyond the soft rush of the wind—still swirling around her, still urging her onward. She swallowed and clenched her fists. He
had
opened the rock for her, and his stairway
had
carried her up here. If he intended to kill her, he could’ve done so long ago. Besides, what else could she do? Go back and serve Mander?
She lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and stepped off the granite shore into the water. It was unexpectedly warm and effervescent, fizzing playfully around her shins. The arch loomed closer, and the humming vibration intensified. At its threshold she stopped again, her heart pounding, her hands icy, palms slick with sweat. She tilted her head back, lifting her gaze to the shimmering, blinding, living gateway above her, and caught her lip in her teeth. It was going to change her. She did not know how she knew that, but she did.
A whisper of air caressed her cheek and memory bloomed—Alex offering her the day pack.
We intend this for your benefit. . . .
For the first time, the expression in his eyes registered—compassion, sadness, resignation. There was no anger in him, no malice. He had been telling the truth. He really wanted to help her.
Setting her will, Callie dropped her gaze, clenched her fists, and plunged across the threshold.
A man stepped into her path so suddenly she couldn’t avoid him. Blinding light flared at the impact, and an intense heat sizzled across her, something that should have birthed agony, but didn’t. For a moment she was blinded, lost in a well of shimmering whiteness, her other senses as numbed as her eyesight. Then shapes began to emerge from the light, a corridor of crystalline arches stretching before her into an infinity of brightness. The wind rushed around her, carrying the sweet ring of chimes and words that danced just beyond comprehension— though she felt if she listened closely enough, all the secrets of life would be hers.
The corridor vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, and solid ground once more pressed against the soles of her feet. Then she was gasping and staggering in the shin-deep water, her vision throbbing with the red afterimage of lost brightness. When her eyesight cleared, she saw she had come thirty yards past the Gate in a single step.
I’ve made it
, Callie marveled, blinking at her surroundings. Humps of granite sporting smiles of old ice reflected the Gate’s light, and the basin’s placid pool held its perfect mirror image, radiant against a starry sky. Who was that man she’d run into? An alien? Alex? What had happened? What did it all mean?
A breeze stirred around her, and she realized she was soaking wet and should have been cold with evaporation in the night air but was not. It took her a moment longer to notice her hands. Where seconds ago there had been cuts and scrapes and torn nails, now lay smooth, unblemished skin shimmering with a golden iridescence. Even her cheek was soft and whole, the scab sloughed off in the passage.
The breeze stirred again, ruffling the water and drawing her attention to a white path leading from the pond to the ridge above. Stars sprinkled the black sky beyond, bright and piercingly brilliant. In fact, everything seemed brighter, clearer, more . . . significant. As if her eyes were seeing it all in a new way.
Pushed encouragingly by the breeze, Callie waded ashore and followed the path to the ridgetop, where she stopped again. A starlit valley lay before her—spiring evergreens, pale meadows, and a silver lake, all ringed with snowcapped peaks. On the slope directly below stood a multileveled complex of buildings that reminded her of college dormitories— except for the fortresslike tower-studded wall encircling them. Most amazing of all was how clearly she saw it. Where distant objects had previously looked like a wet-in-wet watercolor, now every window, every line, every tree stood out in sharp detail. She saw as well as if she had her glasses back, her eyes apparently fixed along with her scabs.
The path switchbacked down the hillside to the complex in clear indication of where she was to go. And yet she felt reluctant to leave the Gate. So much had happened here that she didn’t understand, so much wonder and joy. More than ever, its power pulled at her—
But when she turned around to gaze at it again, she found with a stab of profound dismay that it had vanished, the pool along with it. All that remained was a dry, unremarkable mountain basin. For a moment she almost cried. Then the breeze curled around her comfortingly, nudging her toward the walled complex below. “I’m supposed to go down there, huh?”
The breeze nudged her again, almost playfully.
“Okay,” she relented. “I’m going.”
It was only as she descended the hill that she began to wonder why the pool had disappeared—and why her friends still hadn’t joined her. Were the two events related? Had the others been afraid to enter the cleft? Had it closed before they could? Had Mander come and stopped them?
A clatter of rock brought her around, eyes scanning the hillside. Then a familiar voice called, “Callie! Wait up!” and she saw John bounding down the starlit switchbacks toward her, beard braids flapping around his shoulders. She climbed back toward him, giddy with relief. “What happened?” she cried as they met. “Did the doorway close? Did you need another key?”
“I just followed you.” He looked around. “Can you believe this? After all this time? And it was so easy!”
An echoing whoop heralded LaTeisha’s arrival. She was soon followed by Whit, Rowena, and someone who was obviously one of the climbers. Short and wiry with close-cropped brown hair, he still wore his climbing harness and bubbled with excitement.
“When I saw the light and y’all going through, I knew I’d found the answer. My friends couldn’t see it. I had to rappel down alone and cut m’self free, but here I am! What a rush!” He turned full circle, taking in the landscape. “This is
out
standing! And who was that guy in the Gate?”
“You saw him, too?” Callie exclaimed.
“Walked right into him,” the climber said. “Couldn’t help it!”
“I think he was the Benefactor—the
real
one,” Whit said. The healing powers of the passage had not, Callie noted, replaced his lost eye.
“I remember a corridor of endless arches,” LaTeisha said.
“Yes!” Callie exclaimed. “But it was so bright I could hardly see.”
“I ended up thirty yards away,” Whit said, “and I only took one step.”
“Me too,” John said. “But I feel fantastic. All my aches and pains— they’re gone.”
“I feel like I could climb Everest in a day,” the climber agreed. “By the way,” he added, sticking out a hand. “Gerry Felder from San An-tone. Pleased to meet y’all.”
The next person to come through was Wendell. He stood among them in his gray robe, smiling sheepishly, as if he couldn’t quite believe it all.
“What happened to Pierce?” Callie asked.
“He was just standing there when I went in,” LaTeisha said.
“Maybe he couldn’t see it,” Gerry suggested.
“It might have scared him,” Wendell added. “My friends thought it was a trick and ran away.”
“With Pierce, who knows?” Rowena said. “He may stand there brooding for the next ten years. Me, I’m heading home!” She started down the path.
The rest of them followed, marveling at their good fortune. Only Callie remained, filled with a mounting sense of loss. Surely of everyone,
he
would see it. The way he’d looked that night in the loft, that undeniable yearning on his face—how could he not come through?
But as the minutes crept by and he did not appear, she began to fear the pull of the Trogs had been too strong. Or that passing through the fire curtain might somehow preclude passing through the cleft. Or the Gate.
She was turning away when movement caught her eye, and there he was, standing on the ridge. “Yes!” She shook her fist and called to the others. They waved and shouted to him, but she alone went back.
He seemed not to see her, standing like a captain at the prow of his ship, straight and tall as if some awful burden had lifted from his shoulders. He was staring over the valley, the breeze ruffling his hair and beard, his black eye having vanished in the passage like her own injuries.
“What kept you?” she asked, coming up beside him. “I was starting to worry.”
He did not answer at first, the breeze hissing through the grass around them, laden with the sweet, moist scent of night. Then he turned to her. “After everything we’ve tried. . . . For it to be so simple.”
So simple.
As you have asked, so shall it be. . . .
It was right there in the manual all along. But they’d been so busy looking for someone they could see, or something they could do—so busy blaming and hating their kidnapper—that they’d missed the simple truth.
“I don’t think it was so simple for him, though,” he added softly. His gaze caught her own. “Did you hear the screaming?”
“Screaming? There wasn’t . . .” Wait. In that instant when the light had overtaken her, there had been something. She had been too overwhelmed by what her eyes and balance were reporting to pay much attention to her ears. There’d been singing, yes, but before that . . .
“Why would he have screamed?” she asked. It must’ve been the man she’d run into.
“Couldn’t stand to touch us, maybe? It’s obvious our bodies are different from theirs.”
“Then why step in our way?”
“I don’t know.” Pierce’s gaze swept the valley, and he sighed. “I feel as if I’ve been stumbling around with my eyes closed, and finally I can see.”
She knew what he meant. It was as if something dead in her had come alive, a part never recognized, never named, just waiting for the right kiss of power to awaken it. It wasn’t just an increased ability to sense and appreciate the world, but an awareness of . . . something more, something wonderful just beyond what she had always known. It sparked in her a renewed yearning, not for the Gate anymore, but for the one who’d made it.
“You two gonna stand up there all day?” John’s voice echoed up to them. “We’re not home yet, you know.”
Pierce smiled down at him. It was the first time Callie had ever seen him smile, and the expression changed his entire face, taking her breath away.
His eyes came back to hers, and he sobered. “I wish I’d listened to you sooner. And now I almost wish . . .” He trailed off, then sighed and turned away. “Well, John’s right. We’ve got another gate to find.”
He left her staring after him, reeling from his smile.
I’m going to
miss that guy
, she thought. And laughed aloud.
Here I’m on the brink of
victory, and I’m wishing I didn’t have to leave!
Inside the compound they joined the others on a cypress-lined patio fronting a building marked with the familiar triple-circle symbol. They were trying the building’s locked doors when two men and a white-haired young woman, all in white jumpsuits, approached.
“We’ve just come through the Gate,” said Rowena, gesturing up the hill.
“Yes,” said the taller, auburn-haired man. “Welcome to Rimlight.”
“Is this some kind of Safehaven?”
“Sort of.” He had a boyish face, a slight paunch, and a receding hairline. “I’m Tucker,” he said. “This is Alicia. And Ian.”
Rowena shook their hands, introducing herself and the rest of them. “I gather the exit portal isn’t here?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She cocked her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
The auburn-haired man, Tucker, shook his head. “There’s a guide that’s supposed to lead us to it. We’re waiting for him now.”
LaTeisha stepped forward. “A guide?”
“You mean,” asked Callie, “like an alien?”
“We don’t know. We were told to gather and wait—that someone would come to show us the way.”
“So coming through the Gate was for nothing?” Rowena cried.
“Oh, not for nothing. The exit will kill you unless you’ve gone through one of the Benefactor’s gates. We do know that much. Apparently our molecular resonance has to be realigned or something. Anyway, you’ve made it to the halfway point. That’s more than most do.”
John tugged nervously on one of his braids. “How long have you been waiting for this guide?”
“I’ve been here about two weeks. But the others—” Again Tucker glanced at his companions. The girl, Alicia, clung to Ian like a wraith, so pale of skin and hair she hardly seemed solid. She stared at something in the middle distance, ignoring them all.
