The Gate of Bones (30 page)

Stef grabbed Ting and Bailey by the elbows. “Out, out,” he cried. “Everyone out!” His voice growled ever deeper as his words ended and dropped into a low roar as the bear in him fought to emerge.
“Now!”
and he lost his human voice and body altogether as he pushed the girls out of the burning building.

Bailey linked an elbow with Ting as they ran out, trying to keep their feet under them, propelled by Stefan's berserker strength. The bear loped past them, charging at two horsemen as they rode in, their hands filled with burning torches. The horses screamed in fear, their riders shouting and sawing at the reins to control the plunging beasts as Stefan reared in front of them, bear roars filling the night. His paws boxed at them, horses reeling back under the blows.

“Grandmother!” Ting called out in dismay, as Bailey guided her into the sheltering woods. She struggled and pointed at the school. Bailey narrowed her eyes, peering back at the academy as raiders and flashes of crystal Lightning flashed by again and again. She saw two figures then. “Mom has her,” she yelled to Ting, drawing her back under a low branch where they could see but not be seen.

Rebecca Landau made her way around the corner of the building, her arms about Madame Qi who seemed very bent and fragile, hunched over her cane. Horsemen thundered near, and the tiny woman straightened in a heartbeat, her cane lashing out, bashing one rider in the leg. The man wheeled his horse away, yelping in pain and anger. Bailey let out a piercing whistle the way only Bailey could, and her mother's head jerked up, a smile cutting across the worried expression on her face. She guided them both toward safety, the two women scuttling quickly before the raiders decided to make another charge.

Ting's teeth chattered with cold and nerves, but she managed to say, “You absolutely have to teach me how to do that.”

“Tomorrow,” promised Bailey. She watched her mother and Ting's grandmother inch across the open ground, dodging raiders and Magickers as Trent and Jason both took up crystal Shields and two by fours, whatever they could wield, as the raiders closed in. Henry's crystal knocked a rider from his seat, tumbling him off his saddle, but he held onto the headstall and managed to drag himself back onto his mount while Henry danced around in excitement.

Dokr and two of his men circled Rebecca and Madame Qi to hustle them in under the trees, before the wanderer's leader said quietly, “I go to make my own people safe,” and disappeared in the shadows as silently as he'd appeared.

Ting wrapped her arms about her grandmother to provide some protection against the cold, and held her tightly, while all of them stared at the fight in the courtyard.

The academy danced in flames, and the sting of smoke and fire crackled, as the raiders now ringed about Stefan and Rich, Henry, and Jason and Trent. Bailey could see Jonnard in the foreground as his crystal shot forth another shrieking lightning bolt of fire and damage and the edge of the rooftop splintered, giving way. Wrapped all in dark cloth and cape, only Jonnard's face and hands revealed who he was, but they all knew. Isabella could not be seen. Stefan's bear mumbled and growled, swiping at the horsemen, his eyes white with anger and ursine fear of the fiery torches in their hands.

Gavan and Tomaz emerged from the building last, and as they did, Jonnard pulled his horse into a rear, then pivoted it and shouted out a command that snapped through the air. All retreated then, the horsemen plunging about and galloping off, their taste for conflict gone. Jonnard's cape snapped in the wind as he put his heels to his horse and led the retreat. The night went deadly quiet except for the noise of flames. Gavan spoke a tired word, and the fires licking about the academy went out as if they'd never existed.

Bailey crept out from the trees first and went to one of the sooty spots on the wall where fire had just been. She put a hand out cautiously. Warm, yes, hot to the touch, but the wood barely showed a mark. She let out a whoop.

“We did it!”

Gavan smiled tiredly, and rubbed his hand across his face, leaving a charcoal smear over his eyebrow like a salute. “Good warding.”

Tomaz held up his crystal and let its Lantern light spill out as he examined the structure, striding the length of the wall. “Morning will show us how good, but I suspect other than a corner of roofing, we'll see little damage.” He shook his crystal in triumph before letting out a howl of victory, sounding rather like a desert coyote.

Dokr emerged from the shadows, too, his face folded into worry and curiosity. He trotted about at Tomaz's heels. “It was burning, was it not?”

“A little. Like green wood, Dokr, some flame, some smoke, but not really catching.”

“That is good.” He tilted his head. “It is a spell? Magick?”

“It is a treatment of the wood,” Gavan answered firmly. He caught up with Tomaz, his expression guarded, and Tomaz nodded in agreement.

“It would be good to know such a thing,” the wanderer said.

“Perhaps some day I can teach it to you and your workmen.”

Dokr hid his disappointment, bowing. “Some day, then.” He waved his crew back to camp. “When the sun rises fully, we shall begin repairs.”

Rich sat with Stefan, who slowly began to quiet, his growls muffling as his friend rubbed his ears. His change back might take time. “I've got bear cub for a while,” Rich said. He poked his feet under the thickly muscled body for warmth. “I'll sit out here with him.”

“Want company?” Henry nervously pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose.

“Sure! Hey, you knocked that one guy off his horse!”

Henry's face flushed. “I did, didn't I? Too bad he got right back up.”

“We wouldn't know what to do with him anyway,” Bailey laughed.

“I would,” said Jason quietly, and he did not laugh. He shoved his hands in his pockets, filling each with a crystal, and took another walk around the academy despite the darkness of the night which had barely begun to give way to dawn.

“What's eating him?” Ting looked after Jason, puzzled.

“It's hard to fight back with your hands tied,” Trent answered her. “Well, I'm for more sleep unless someone wants to fix breakfast?” He looked about eagerly, and no one answered. He shrugged good-naturedly then and headed back inside, true to his word.

 

Jason trotted about slowly, shining his crystal wherever he thought he saw smoke stains, but Tomaz and Gavan seemed right. The warding had kept the wood from truly catching and whatever burning had happened, was little more than surface charring which could easily be sanded off. He should be happy about the victory, small as it was. Jonnard had intended heavy damage, perhaps even total destruction of the academy. He'd no doubt about that. What were they supposed to do? Take it? They had no choice.

He stood in the shadows between the Iron Mountains and their Academy, his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets now, cradling his crystals, and staring at the ground in thought.

Part of the mountain's foot seemed to flow toward him, glowing like molten volcanic lava in the night, rising up and wrapping itself close, reflecting the heat of the earth. It took shape with a graceful stretch and arranged its curving bulk about Jason.

“Early morning, is it not?”

Jason wrinkled his nose at the dragon as he opened his eyes wide and then settled down on his forepaws, watching him. “Does dawn come,” Jason asked the vast beast, “when the sun rises or when the soul realizes a great truth?”

“My. Early for philosophy!” The dragon stretched a paw out, unsheathed his glittering black talons and admired them. “I'd say you just realized one, Gatekeeper.”

“I've lied to you,” Jason said simply. “I didn't mean to, but I have, and that's that.”

“Oh?”

“When I passed the trial to open the Gate here, you asked me to choose. I chose guardian. I lied. I realize now I should have chosen warrior. I'm fighting back.” He gazed down the valley, along the path of the raiders' retreat. “I'm not going to stand by and take this.”

“Do you think guardians just stand and watch?”

“I don't know what they do. I only know what I'm going to do. I brought them here, now I'm going to take them out.” Jason shifted weight. “Gavan has some plan to get Eleanora and FireAnn back, as a ransom. It might work, but it probably won't.”

“And your plan will?”

“If it takes everything I have, it will.” Jason stared at the dragon, into his large gold-and-amber eyes, and stood fast.

“I cannot help you.”

“I didn't ask you to.”

“Yet you apologize?”

“I don't like to lie,” Jason answered.

“That, I know well.” The dragon sheathed his talons, his orange-red scales rippling. The coming morning light began to dance upon his body, tiny motes of white fire upon molten red. “You may find yourself surprised, Jason Adrian.”

Jason took his hands out of his pockets. His clear crystal, laced with bands of gold and lapis filled one, the lavender crystal of Gregory the Gray's was in the other. Both glowed with power. “As long as I don't fail.”

B
EFORE JASON COULD SAY more, or even blink, the dragon withdrew into the mountain or wherever it was he disappeared to, with as little noise as he'd made appearing, taking his warmth and smell of copper with him. Jason waited a moment to be polite before leaving, wondering if he had done right or wrong and knowing that he wouldn't know until the end of it all—if even then. That was the way of some decisions, he thought uneasily.

He put his crystals back, and his left hand began to ache and sting across the old scar; he smoothed the puckered skin down. The old Shakespearean quote, “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes” ran through his mind, but it was not through his thumbs, it was always the scar. He twisted about in the dawn where black shadow still streaked heavily, and light had barely started to part the night.

They only howled twice. The first hung in the air like a questioning wail, and the second, sharp and loud, answered. Then the noise of galloping, of paws covering the ground, drawing nearer, and the sound of panting as long-toothed jaws bit at the cold and tongues lolled out to scent what lingered on the air. From the very clouds that hugged the valley wolfjackals spawned, one, two, three, five, seven, a pack, ranging down on the academy, their eyes glowing green. Their silver-and-black fur quivered as they circled the building, snapping at the air, swallowing the traces of the Magick fire that had burst all around.

Drinking Chaos, Tomaz would say. Jason stood still and watched them, the scar on his hand pulsing as they loped by. They took little notice of him save for the last one, a great-shouldered, hulking beast of a wolfjackal who paused and stared at him, black-and-silver mask unreadable even for an animal, save for the showing of sharp ivory fangs. After a long breath or two as if he recognized Jason by look or scent or scar, the beast galloped off after his pack mates and they encircled the academy one last time before disappearing into the woods, much like any wild wolf pack.

It took a few moments longer for his scar to stop throbbing painfully. Then and only then did he enter the school. Upstairs, Trent could not be seen under the hump of blankets. Jason lay down on his cot and took out his lavender crystal, staring at it.

Found on a world seemingly populated by wolfjackals, and sometimes filled with an image of the elder Magicker who'd taught many of them, the crystal was his and yet not his. It had come to him, he supposed, because he was the only one who could carry it back, but carry it to whom? No one else wished it. Why was it where the wolfjackals roamed? Had Gregory been thrown there when Magick exploded? Or had he gone there purposely, and left a clue as to his passage? Was he a Gatekeeper, too, among his many Talents, or was Jason the only one left?

He pulled out the faintly lavender crystal and stared into it, his eyes adjusting to the dark, but his mind carrying the image more than the actual sight. It was a totally transparent gem, unlike his which had a band or two of rock embedded in it, and he could see into and through it. On more than one occasion, he'd seen Gregory the Gray within it. Never had the image acknowledged him, so he did not think it living. But he couldn't know, for sure. He only knew that Gregory was not trapped inside the crystal and that, once, it had been bonded to the great Magicker.

It warmed inside his fingertips. All good crystals did, as if they had a life of their own. Gavan said they vibrated faintly with the energy charged throughout them. Supposedly, that resonance also held the elder Magicker although Jason often thought there was more to it than that. Jason rubbed it. He could feel a hum through the object. The more he rubbed it, the louder the hum got.

Although everyone thought Gregory had died in the great conflict between himself and Brennard, Jason had become more and more certain the man had not. He felt him. Where and how, he did not know, and the crystal certainly wasn't telling him. That didn't keep him from trying, though. It hadn't fallen at his feet by accident!

Something stirred inside the crystal. Jason gripped it tightly. Imagination, or had he felt the humming change, grow more intense? He cupped it, staring into it, trying to delve into its depths. Without pouring himself into it, he tried to reach as far as he could, not wanting his own power to flood the power that seemed to be blossoming in the stone.

The gem crackled with heat. He held it together, fearing that it might fracture from the inside out, shattering itself with the strain. Instead, a white snowflake bloomed inside it, and in a moment or two, the optical illusion rearranged itself into a face he knew as Gregory the Gray. The room glowed with the crystal's power, a soft blue yet somehow a warm light, and he could see the wide-browed, strong visage of the man as clearly as if he stood next to him.