The Gate of Bones (49 page)

Stef stepped out boldly, his sword in hand, and Rich took up a position at his back, crystals in his. Stef's big square body dwarfed Rich's in width, but both were of a height, and the wolfjackals slowed as they neared them, foam splashing from their teeth as they gnashed and snarled at the boys. Stef turned his broadsword slowly hand over hand. “Come and get me,” he said.

Jason and Trent nodded at each other and took up similar stances, although Trent's weapon was more of a basher than a blade. He hooked one elbow with Jason, as the crystals in Jason's hands flared, and Gavan spoke to all of them through their gems.

Jason repeated it aloud for Trent who set his jaw in answer. The pack circling them was huge, the biggest he'd ever seen, and the first time he'd noted young cubs running with them, wolfjackals probably still young enough to be nursing. He frowned.

Bailey let out a shriek. Jason peered around the corner of the building to see the hedgedragon caught in Bailey's hair. Well, no, not caught—Ting seemed to be determinedly yanking at Bailey's golden ponytail with all of her hedgedragon strength, all the while spitting and hissing. Bailey bounced on one foot.

“Get her off, get her off!” She stopped bouncing for a moment, frowned, then yelled, “Get Madame Qi! I can't understand a word she's saying, it's all in Chinese, I think!”

The hedgedragon let go of Bailey's ponytail and let out a teakettle whistle and began to fly around Bailey in excited circles, tail lashing.

Jason gestured to the academy, alerting Henry inside, asking for his aid. Eyes nearly as round as his face, Henry darted out, helping Madame Qi through the makeshift barricade. She put her palms in the air.

“Granddaughter, Granddaughter, slow down. I have not heard this dialect in many a decade.” Qi tilted her wizened head and listened intently as the hedgedragon perched on her wrist, rather like a dragonish bird of prey. The exchange had gone silent, mind-to-mind. Qi's face frowned in concentration, and then she put her chin up. “Everyone stop! Ting says the wolfjackals are here to help, not harm! Please note, she says, wolfjackals have always come after an attack before, to absorb the Chaos. Or they have attacked with the Dark Hand. But this is a family pack, see the cubs? They are here to help.”

Tomaz loped from the far end of the academy, the silver roundels at his wrist and belt flashing in the late afternoon sun. The wolfjackals stopped circling and came to a halt, still growling, teeth bared, enough of them to ring the building. The ones facing them lowered their heads warily, tails stiff behind them. The elder Magicker paced toward an enormous male wolfjackal, likely to be an alpha member in any pack, his hand held out.

“He's gonna lose that hand,” muttered Stefan.

The hedgedragon swam clumsily through the air and made a slow circle about Tomaz as Tomaz continued to approach. The wolfjackal peeled his lips back in a long, slow, continuous snarl. But he did not snap nor did he back up as Tomaz drew within range.

“She's sensed something,” Tomaz said calmly. “This pack is different. I have run with one or two, not all are savage.”

The wolfjackal male scratched at the ground. He looked over his shoulder with brilliant green eyes, as if he could see into the distance.

Gavan's voice flared from Jason's crystal, and he could hear a dim echo from other nearby crystals.
Are they here to help? If so, aid against what?

Snowheart flew overhead, diving down and then drawing away, her white diamond chest skimming the trees leading from the valley. Tomaz tilted his head as he followed her flight with his mind.

“Raiders,” he said. “Raiders riding hard.”

The wolfjackal growled low in his throat and shifted restlessly. Then, as if making up his mind, he put his muzzle to Tomaz's hand in canine entreaty.

Jason had never seen a wolfjackal act like that. Ting made a giddy circle about Tomaz, whistling in delight. Tomaz said, “I think we have allies. Asked for or not.”

The circle of wolfjackals drew close. Jason felt the hair on the back of his neck and his arms rise, as one of the beasts brushed by him, fur grazing his leg. He'd never been so close to one not focused on killing him. He swallowed tightly. Before he had much more time to think on the strange partners, war whoops filled the air, with the thunder of hooves, and the crackle of crystal energy, as raiders charged through the grove.

Henry took Madame Qi by the elbow as she brandished her cane with her free arm, her voice ringing out in a high-pitched Chinese phrase that sent the blood drumming through all of them. Reluctantly, Ting's grandmother returned inside the more secure academy, Henry Crystaling the doorframe as he moved through it, restoring the door's strength and locks. Sparkles danced along the wood before sinking into its very fiber.

Jason turned to face the raiders, and as soon as he saw them, his stomach clenched and shrank inside him, and he let out a wordless sound.

Trent shuddered beside him, and the two backed up a step in disbelief. These riders bearing down on them now came from the jaws of the Gate of Bones itself. With ashen-gray faces, bloodless wounds still gaping open on them, the raiders were echoes of all the battles they'd fought in other villages over the last weeks. Stef let out a low rumbling in disbelief, “I killed that lead rider last week.”

Fiends from the Gate of Bones rode down on them as if seeking the very life inside them. They whipped and spurred the horses under them, and the poor beasts trembled with every jump as if they could not bear to carry the riders on their backs, their flanks heaving with ragged breaths and foam. No longer afoot, the undead could range as far as a horse could go before it dropped.

Tomaz made a gesture with his hand as if warding himself. He sent both his crows back into the air with a shout, and his hand came down with a blade of crystal light, slicing across the horde of fiends.

Jason raised his own hands, feeling Gregory's crystal as well as his own grow heated in answer to his need. Let them last, let them give until the fight was over. . . .

And he understood why the wolfjackals had come. Chaos drew them, they fed on it as if it were air itself, and the fiends of the Gate of Bones were Chaos itself. Yet their corruption roiled about them like filthy boiling water, and it stank, and he realized that the aura they gave off was as deadly to the wolfjackals as poison. They had come as much to save themselves as to save the Magickers.

He had no more time for thought than that as the raiders closed on them, and they fought for their lives. What he could not get with crystal, Trent got with his shovel, and what they could not get with either, wolfjackals tore from their sides, growling and snarling and pawing at their muzzles after as if the touch of the bone fiends disgusted them.

Gavan set flash fires on the cleared ground about the academy. The wolfjackals and horses sprang over them, but Stef and Rich dragged raiders' bodies into them as soon as one could be unhorsed. The stench of burning filled the air. The afternoon sun nearly spent, Jason found himself fighting shadows as often as a dead raider in dark shrouds.

He swung his crystal blade and Shielded until his arms ached and he did not think he could stand, and he backed up, leaning on an object for strength. The object, a panting wolfjackal, leaned back on him and for a moment they drew power from each other.

A horse veered past, eyes wild, rearing at the scent of fire and smell of death. Its rider bailed, landing on his feet, and he bared his teeth at Jason in a grin. “You are mine,” the dead man said. “Gatekeeper.” He gave a low hoarse sound that might have been meant for laughter. He stalked toward Jason. He bore himself with the ease of a fighter, and Jason recognized a man who in life had been the second headman of Avenha. Pyra had mourned Flameg, but this . . . thing . . . resembled him only vaguely.

Trent swung around, shovel in hand. The raider grabbed it and pulled Trent to his knees, then clubbed him with the back of his hand. Trent went down, stone cold.

Stef growled, but he and Rich struggled with their own fight, too far away to help. It was just Jason and the wolfjackal as the dead man stalked closer. Flameg drew a short, curved blade from his waistband. The last, lowering rays of the sun glinted off it. The old, crescent-shaped scar on the back of Jason's left hand throbbed with a painful stabbing.

The wolfjackal sprang. Jason stumbled as the beast launched past him, with a growl and a snarl. He did not stop growling even as the sword blade impaled his body, and the heaviness of his weight brought the raider to his knees. Jason blinked. He brought his crystal up, and took the dead man's head off before he could think about it twice.

For a moment, the raider's body stayed upright, on his knees, and Jason wondered if there was a way the things could be killed. Then it toppled, taking the wolfjackal with it.

Pain creased Jason as the animal let out a low groan, and then, a gasping whine. He went to it, but he could see nothing could be done. The beast whimpered a moment, then put his muzzle to the back of Jason's hand and his tongue gave a slow, hot lick. The light of knowing fled from his bright green eyes, and the wolfjackal died.

Wetness stung Jason's eyes. He swung about, with a remembered cry. “Trent!”

Trent lay on his back, staring upward, but his chest moved and then he kicked a foot out with a moan. He sat up, with Jason's help. “What hit me?”

“Never mind. Are you . . . you're all right, right?”

“Sure. My head is probably the best place on my whole body to get hit.” Nonetheless, Trent wobbled as he stood, face pale.

It took Jason a moment to realize they stood in relative quiet. The fiends, or what was left of them, had fled into the shadows, their weary mounts stumbling off. Wolfjackals, what was left of the pack, lay on the ground, panting. Magickers, all of them, took a step back, exhausted, their crystals going dim one by one.

Gavan came out, as did Henry. Henry lifted his crystal solemnly after all the bodies had been rolled into the front fires. His Talent of Fire roared as he raised his crystal high and the flames answered, shooting skyward with a brilliant hot fury that almost instantly seemed to burn away the dead raiders. When the fires died down, no one spoke for a long moment.

Jason didn't see Bailey. He swung around on one heel, in the smoke, feeling panicked for a moment.

“Bailey? Bailey!”

Had they lost her somehow? But how?

A whimper answered him. Frowning across the fires and haze, he saw her seated at the corner of the academy, a fur bundle across her knees. She looked up, tears streaking her face. A wolfjackal pup huddled in her arms. “His mom . . . his dad . . .” she said, slowly.

Jason nodded then, understanding. Tomaz moved across the ground, and stood with Jason, hand on his shoulder, watching Bailey.

“He's . . . he's stuck,” she said.

“Hurt? I mean . . .” Jason tried not to think of the wolfjackal who'd saved him, impaled on a sword blade.

“No. In my head. We're—” Bailey took a deep breath. “I think we're bonded.”

The pup let out another whimper and laid his head on her shoulder, shoving his snout into the curve of her neck. An outraged squeak greeted him, as Lacey pushed her way out of Bailey's pocket and glared at the newcomer. The wolfjackal turned his silver-streaked mask quickly, snuffling at the rodent who chirped and dove headfirst back into the safety of Bailey's pocket. The interested pup tried to shove his nose after, but Bailey thumped him. “Stop that!”

The pup chuffed and buried his face on her shoulder again. Bailey stood, holding the animal in her arms, its legs dangling. Ting, still in hedgedragon form, came to ground.

“I think we won,” Trent remarked.

“This time,” Gavan replied. He signaled to Henry to snuff the fires. “Only this time.”

The wolfjackals got to their feet, put their noses to the sky, and let out a series of mournful wails. Then they faded into the forest as well, not a one of them looking back after the orphan Bailey carried. “Hey!” she called. “Hey! Hey! You can't just leave him.”

“I think they already have,” Tomaz told her.

She hugged the furry pup closer.

 

In quiet time, Trent worked on his maps of what he'd seen on dragonback, using a purloined copy of one of Renart's maps to help him. Jason came into the study after him.

“Bedtime.”

“I'm almost ready. I'll be able to give this to Gavan soon.” Trent raised an eyebrow at him. “You're up late.”

“Been thinking.”

“Gate raiders?”

“I think I was their target.”

“Couldn't prove it by me, I think I was out cold at the time.” Trent's voice trailed off, as he saw the serious look on Jason's face.

Jason said quietly, “I've looked at this from all the angles I can think of, and there's only one way I can be sure will close the Gate of Bones.”

Trent paused in his sketching, and flicked a look at Jason in disbelief to which Jason shrugged, adding, “I think the Dark Hand is correct about this one.”

“You're kidding me, right?”

“Wish I were. Think about it. In all your beloved myths and legends, this boils down to it . . . someone's gotta go slay that dragon, so to speak.”

“No. I refuse to believe that. The only solution they've come up with is a human sacrifice. And not just any human, they've elected you, Jason. I don't think they care whether or not it
works,
they just want you out of the way.”

“I know.”

Trent dropped his drawing pencil and lifted both hands. The sheet of paper he'd been mapping upon began to roll up slowly, as if cringing and hiding. “This is crazy. You're walking right into their trap. Without a fight?”