The Gate of Bones (31 page)

He expected it to speak to him. Gregory seemed to look into his eyes, into him, much as he looked into the crystal. Jason's hand shook a little. The heat of the gem burned but there was not enough heat to force him to drop it.

A thought reached him, slow and quiet as if coming from the bottom of a great ocean somewhere, as if it took much effort and came out of great depths.
I sleep, and must sleep. If you find me, do not awaken me. I have promises to keep in my sleep. Those promises keep you all safe, and the oath must be met.

What oath? Jason closed his hands tightly about the searing gemstone. Where . . . why?

Nothing else stirred through his mind. No echo, no sigh, no other feeling of support as though the effort to send that much had cost Gregory dearly.

Jason let out his breath, slowly, and released the crystal. Its warmth fled as he did so. Gregory lived, somewhere, some-when. He knew they were all there, and somehow, he held his energy to ward them. Knowing that would have to be enough. Should he tell the others?

Eleanora should know. It would comfort her, he thought. When Eleanora was freed and she was ready, he would tell her.

The more he learned, the more bewildering questions he seemed to have. For now, though, the only one left to really dig at him was . . . if he attacked the Dark Hand's stronghold, would the wolfjackals fight with or against him? Or would they merely rise for the Chaos which would ensue? He would not know till too late, so he decided to prepare against all possibilities.

Somewhere, deep in his thoughts, he fell back asleep as well, not to awaken till Trent opened their shutters and the full-blown sun's rays glared at him.

 

“That does it,” said Ting firmly. “The crystals are definitely draining much faster than they should. Dormant, charged crystals seemed to be only a little faster, but charged ones in use . . . well, look at this.” She waved her hand over the table they had covered with bits and pieces of gemstones and quartzes and other crystals, as well as the larger ones they used every day.

“But what does it mean?”

“It means something outside is drawing on them, because they lose power even when we're not using them. And when we do use them, it's as if . . . how do I say it . . .” Ting wrinkled her nose. “It's like opening up a can of soda with four or five straws and everyone having a drink at once. Only, we didn't invite anyone to share.”

“Isabella!” Bailey smacked one hand into the other, sharply, and the retort made little Lacey jump on her shoulder. She let out a resentful chitter before running down Bailey's sleeve, leaping to the floor, and scurrying off to her nest for some peace and quiet.

“Maybe. That, I don't know. I can't find a way to trace where the Magick goes, just that it does. Trent might be able to; Jason says he can see it.”

“He has, a few times. Traps and such. I wouldn't count on it, though. It seems to be erratic with him. Jason says they're not even sure if it is a Talent or just a quirk.” Bailey tapped the tabletop, setting the crystals to dancing slightly. “When are we going to tell them?”

“Now. We can't wait. Suppose a crystal failed entirely?”

Bailey stood, drawing Ting to her feet as well. “Let's go face the music and tell them the dancing slippers have serious holes in them.”

“Ummm,” Ting answered as she trailed after Bailey. “Right.”

The two girls found Gavan outside in a serious discussion with the wanderer Dokr who seemed to be taking his leave. They hesitated at the fire ring, unsure if they were intruding or not, but Rainwater gave them a quick smile before clasping Dokr's hands.

“May your roads be smooth and lead always to home,” he said, and the wanderer beamed at that.

“We will return in the spring,” Dokr promised, with a short bow. “To do repairs and finish other projects you may wish.”

“That is a deal. And, if you need anything through the winter, you have only to let us know.”

Dokr smiled. “We are self-sufficient as we have learned to depend on ourselves. Not depending on a Spirit to guide us or watch over us, we have had to be.” He stepped back, then hesitated. “We are outcast because of our beliefs.”

Gavan inclined his head. “As I have known and respected. So are we.”

Dokr gestured. “No, that is not what I mean. I know you understand who we are, but not why, perhaps. The Spirit exists. We feel it. Others says we cannot feel it, so we reject it, but that is not our way. We
can
feel it. That is why we do not follow it.” Dokr took a deep breath as if trying to keep his words from stumbling. He thumbed the crystal on his belt loop that translated his words for him. “The Warlord was a great man, but his time is gone. Like all of us, there is another place for him now, yet he resists and stays. To stay, Gavan Rainwater, he must take from all of us. I say that giving up a bit of my own soul each day is too big a price to pay for his watching over us. So I say to you, in warning, the Spirit takes. It gives, but it takes.” Dokr put his hands together then, and bowed deeply, touching them to his forehead, before disappearing into the grove. After a few moments, the sound of the wagons departing could be heard, wheels rolling as hooves paced steadily pulling the loads, and the soft shouts of the children calling back in farewell.

Gavan looked after them, with a strange expression on his face.

“Whoosh,” said Bailey, finally. “Maybe that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Ting and I have been doing experiments. Our crystals are failing. Kaput. Zip. Null and void.”

“Indeed?” Gavan raised one eyebrow. He sat down on a stump, stirring up the morning ashes of a nearly burned out fire. “We all grow tired. If I have taught you one thing, it's that the magic you have, you draw from within you. Crystals are only a focus, and sometimes a reservoir.”

“And sometimes a leaky faucet.” Bailey and Ting plunked down across from Gavan.

“Pardon me?”

“Maybe that's not what I mean. It's more like . . . there's a hole in the bucket.”

Gavan leaned forward, propped on the tree branch he'd been using as a poker. “What are you talking about?”

“It's like this,” Ting rushed in. “We've been testing crystals for days. Dormant ones fade a little, even though they're not being used. They shouldn't. Nothing draws on them. Charged crystals lose power at four times the rate they should when being used. So, it's not like we're drawing that much power out by ourselves. It's as if power is rushing out of them, like a full bucket that has a hole in it, when it isn't supposed to.”

“Indeed.” Gavan sat up, dropped his branch and brought out his cane. The wolfhead cane's crystal looked unfamiliarly dark. “We've all been working very hard. I think it would be normal to need recharging, don't you?”

Ting and Bailey shook their heads. “Not like this!” Bailey shot back. “It's like burning the candle at both ends, but we didn't light the fire to do it.”

Ting shot Bailey a look, then said quietly, “Something is drawing the power off besides ourselves. We thought it might be the Dark Hand somehow, that they've learned to tap into us. But after listening to Dokr, could it be something else?”

“And that's not even what matters,” Bailey interrupted. “The point is, all of us are going to reach for our crystals sooner or later and find them dead. We're going to need them and they're going to fail us when we need them most, if we're not careful.”

Gavan's mouth worked a moment before he said, “I'll take this into consideration. Discuss it with Tomaz, and see if we can find a way to test it ourselves. I appreciate your efforts.” He stood then, rubbing his palm over his cane. The crystal nickered as if it tried to warm and could not. He closed his hand over it, hiding it from their sight. “I'll spread the word to conserve until we have a better idea.” He left Bailey and Ting at the dwindling fire.

Bailey watched a coal break in two, both halves bright orange and then cooling quickly to gray ashes as she watched. “Think he believed us?”

“Yes and no. If we're right, it could mean a lot of trouble. I don't think we need any more trouble right now,” Ting finished miserably.

“The thing about trouble,” Bailey said positively, “is that there's always a pot of gold to be found when it's over.” She pushed rocks from the fire ring into place with the toe of her boot, banking the last of the fire carefully.

“ 'Zat right?”

“Of course it is.”

“Oh-kay.”

Silently, they watched the fire burn down, and the yard fill with noise as the boys awoke and came out to exercise with Ting's grandmother in military control.

T
HE ACADEMY SEEMED very still with the wanderers gone, and the incessant work on the building slowed considerably without them. It wasn't finished yet, but the work left they could do themselves over the winter, interior work and, as Bailey put it, “Hopefully, warm showers.” Hot showers would have been a bit too much to expect.

Tomaz sent them outside to enjoy a warm, bright autumn day, with baskets of crystals to charge, as well as their own. They swapped looks at each other in anticipation, and Jason seemed grimly satisfied.

“Do you think,” Henry began in a half whisper to him, but Jason didn't let him finish, answering, “I sure hope so.”

They worked quickly, exchanging crystals and gemstones among themselves, for they all seemed to have preferences as to the color and composition of the crystal that worked best for them. Trent could not help. Instead he began to sketch a map of the magical lines as he'd perceived them from dragonback, and listened to their banter, his mouth twisted in a crooked almost wistful smile when he looked up every now and then.

Tomaz came by, Midnight on his forearm. “Good work. Put the crystals up, and wait inside for a bit. I have to talk to Gavan, and then we'll let you know what's going on.”

“Words, words, words,” complained Trent, throwing himself at the kitchen table. “They're going to talk themselves to death before anything gets done.”

“Plans have to be made.”

Trent's fingers drummed on the table. “Talk, talk, talk.”

“You're ready, then?”

“I don't know about that, but I know it's time to do
something.
Anyone can see that. Grab a sword and let's go spank these guys!”

“Swinging a sword isn't easy,” argued Rich. He pointed at Stef. “Bear boy, here, can tell you that much.”

“Sword work,” Stefan said gravely, “is complicated and demanding, and is nothing like the swashbuckling movies you've seen. Forget any sword fight you think you've seen. They're faked. Choreographed and with anything but real weapons. Real blades are a lot heavier, for one, and one or two hits can bleed you of the strength you need to keep swinging. The moves might be similar, but the ability to carry them out is different. Beryl says my muscles are too old to remember some of it. Real blade users start when young, just like any athlete.”

Rich let out a low whistle. “I think that's the most I've ever heard you say in a lifetime.”

Stef reached out and cuffed the top of Rich's head. “Listen up, carrot top, this is serious stuff!”

“Yeah, yeah, big guy, you gash 'em and I'll stitch 'em up.” Rich snorted and combed his hair back into place, freckles dancing in animation across his nose and cheekbones as he grimaced at Stef.

Bailey shrugged. “What do we do, then?”

“Run?”

Bailey threw an empty basket at Trent's head. Although he ducked, her aim had accounted for that and it still flew off the side of his face.

“Good shot!” Stef's face lit up in appreciation and Bailey took a bow. Trent rolled on the floor, laughing before sitting up and sticking his tongue out at her.

“I guess you can throw stuff and then run,” he said, crossing his legs and leaning back.

“My suggestion is that you fight them with your strength, not theirs. These guys can ride, and they can use a short sword. They're used to crystal attacks around them, but they can't use Magick themselves, so there's a lot you can do to hit them and hit them hard.” Stef folded bulky arms. “That's all the advice I have.”

“Seriously, bro, I am impressed.”

“I just want everybody to know that this ain't a toy.” Stefan rubbed at his nose, heavily embarrassed and said not another word but stepped back, holding his sword.

“That's all right by you guys,” Trent spoke into the silence. “I'd like to swing a light saber myself like the rest of you, but there's no way I can manage that, and it looks like the real thing is out for me. So where do I fit in?”

“You will probably be the guy who keeps the rest of us from getting killed. You can see the wards as they're laying them. You can spot the spells as they throw them at us. Anything Magick that comes through the air to hit, hamper, or hurt us, you're going to see. If this works at all, Trent, it'll be because of you,” Jason told him.

Bailey swung her head. “And some of us have to stay home, probably, whether we can throw and run or not.”

“We might not have any way of getting back if you three can't pull us, you know that.” Jason looked at her.

She sighed heavily. “I know, I know, but I wanted to have fun, too.”

Rich patted her on the arm. “You can have fun with me after we get back, putting all the bandages on.”

“Not
that
kind of fun.”

“Why not? It's fun to me.”

“Well, you're strange.” Bailey edged away from him.