The Magickers (41 page)

“Oh, he'll learn soon enough.” Jon tilted his head as though listening. “Storm's coming, can you feel it?”

“The manna storm?”

Jonnard arched an eyebrow. “No other storm would catch my attention.” He lifted a hand. “Wild manna. There for the taking, bringing with it high winds and rain, lightning and thunder, as violent as it can be. Some storms are mild, some very powerful. I intend to drink deeply of the power, and it will be great. The storm grows every day. I don't think anyone in this camp can stand against it.”

Jason listened. He heard nothing, and the heaviness settling over him could have come from anything that had happened in the past few days, but he wouldn't let Jon see it. He remarked instead on the other's lack of emotion. “Don't you even care?”

“No,” answered Jonnard, slipping his hand into his pocket. “Not really. I won't be here.” He brought out his crystal. “Shall we see just how good you are?” He held his crystal high and dark amber light blazed out like a sword, piercing the white cloud of illumination from the stone Jason held. It angled through; touching him, slicing like a knife with a pain that made him let out a high keening sound.

Jason stumbled back as it hit him. One breath, two, and then he realized he was under attack, as his own stone faltered, the light thinning and breaking up. It spun away, scattering about the cabin like a thousand tiny stars before winking out, one by one. He took his eyes off Jon and Focused on his crystal, pouring his thought into it. No time or breath to ask why. The life of his crystal depended on what he did, as Jonnard continued to attack.

The light of each crystal sharpened, Jason's flaring out until he was shielded by it. The amber sword cut at it, bounced off with a humming sizzle. Jon frowned. He took a step across the room, raising his crystal in his hand. As he moved, the crystal rang with a pure, clear note, and its light darkened. It thinned, widened, and began to descend on Jason. Wide and winged, like a great dark cloak, it hovered overhead. Then, slowly, both boys breathing hard, it began to envelop him.

Part of him wanted to scream at Jon. He stuffed that part away so that he could concentrate, or he would lose his crystal . . . and who knew what else. He furrowed his brow and thought as hard as he could into his precious stone. The bond between them warmed steadily, yet he could feel the cloak start to wrap its icy wings around him. It sucked at the light, absorbing it. Something in him began to realize that Jonnard knew exactly what he was doing, and had done it before.

Every muscle in him tightened. Where was Trent? Should he shout for anyone else? And even if he did, would they get here in time before Jonnard did . . . what?

Jason shuddered. He drew on everything he had inside him to keep his crystal light without firing up or going empty. The stone grew warm in his palm, faceted planes shimmering. Yet still Jonnard's dark cloak fell over him and began to wrap him tightly, its coldness sinking into his very bones. Jason reacted instinctively.

He dropped and rolled. As he did, he clenched his hand around his stone, cutting off all light, and the cabin went dark. The icy shroud disappeared. Jason rolled again, into the far corner, and lay in the shadows, clutching his crystal under him. He wasn't quite sure what had happened or had worked, but the attack stopped.

A long moment ticked by. Then Jonnard said carefully, “Jason?” A board creaked as he took a step. “That was really very clever. Yes, I need to see you to target you. At least . . . now I do. When I get stronger, we shall see.”

Jason held his breath. His crystal felt hot against his chest, and his marked hand twitched as if to toss it aside. He clenched his teeth, fighting himself, to stay down and quiet and unseen.

“A coward's way out. But clever, yes, I'll remember that. Is that your secret, Jason? You're a coward?”

Another board creaked, closer. He could almost feel the wood vibrating in his ear. Jason tried to decide what to do next. He was trapped, and they both knew it. The only thing he didn't know was what Jonnard intended to do with him.

He would have to try to make it to the door.

The screen door banged, loudly. Jason flinched and he could hear Jonnard jump, startled.

“All right, you two. It's payback time. It's time to get even for you narcing on Stefan.” Rich's thin, unpleasant voice snaked through the air. Behind him on the porch, something heavy shuffled and lumbered up and let out a bleating whine. The smell of bear filled the cabin.

Jonnard let out a curse. Moonlight streamed through the opening door, outlining his tall body. He raised his crystal and then, in a blink, disappeared.

Jason stood slowly. The cabin door flung open and Rich turned on the light. “What are you two, mushrooms?” He stood in the threshold, hands on his hips, mouth curled unpleasantly. At his back, the bear that was also Stefan stood up and filled the entire doorway.

“You won't believe this but, number one, am I glad to see you! Number two, we didn't tell anyone about Stefan, and number three, I have to see Gavan.” He uncovered his crystal and white-hot light shot out. Like a small star, it went nova in the cabin.

With a surprised yell, Rich and Stefan scrambled for their lives, rolling off the cabin porch in their haste. Jason watched the flare with eyes that immediately began watering. He shoved his crystal in his pocket, bolted out the doorway, did a leapfrog over Stefan-bear who was whining on all fours at the bottom of the porch steps. He hit the ground running and did not stop till he skidded into the bright lights of the Gathering Hall, the other two pounding on his heels and they all ran full tilt into Tomaz Crowfeather as he came around the corner.

29

A
LL three of them barreled into Tomaz. The Mag icker rocked back on his heels with an
ooof
collaring Rich with one hand and Stefan with the other. No longer a bear, but a stocky boy again, Stefan rolled his head around and let out a low bearish grunt as though he might turn, and Tomaz said warningly, “None of that, now.”

“Jon—in my cabin—spying,” Jason blurted out.

“Now? It's late. Everyone's at the bonfire, and it's nearly Lights Out.” Tomaz directed that last in a stern voice at the two he held in his grasp.

He had caught the sleeve of Jason's T-shirt, but he wriggled around and got loose, standing up as Tomaz added, “What's the story with you three?”

“He's a troublemaker,” said Rich sulkily. Stefan only grunted unhappily.

“I told you—we didn't tell on Stefan.” Jason cast his gaze on Tomaz. “I've got to see Rainwater. He's got to know what happened with Jonnard. Please.”

Tomaz gave Rich and Stefan a little shake. “You boys will have to sort this out later. But it wasn't Jason who gave you away. Do you think I could track you all over camp for a week and not know?”

“Well.” Stefan shuffled about. “Guess not.”

“All right, then. Back to the cabin. I'll see you in the morning.” He leveled a look into Stefan's face, and the other grunted and backed up, almost bearlike, before turning around and following Rich down the camp lane as Tomaz released him.

“Now . . . what's this about Jon?”

“I caught him in the cabin. He was going through everything. He said he was spying, had been, all along. And then he came at me with his crystal.”

“Came at you? He attacked you?”

Jason nodded, still a little breathless.

“You find Rainwater, I'll check camp for Jonnard.”

He bolted into the Gathering Hall corridor, uncar ing of quiet or wards or anything else. The alarms went off with a howling screech as he skidded into Rainwater's office, startling Gavan. Amid bells and whistles, he skidded across the floor and thudded into the desk, panting, “Jonnard is spying . . . on everyone! I caught him, and he attacked me with the crystal, and he almost killed mine like he killed Henry's, and he said it was too late!”

Gavan narrowed his blue eyes and stilled the alarms with a wave of his hand. The office fell suddenly silent. “Explain yourself, and do it slower this time.” He pointed at an empty chair.

Jason fell into it, and told the story again, this time from the beginning to the spy's vanishing end. As he told it, he realized what he had blurted out about Henry's crystal. Jon had been with Henry. He had no doubt and no proof that somehow what had happened to Henry had been something Jon had done . . . and Henry had not even been aware of it. Henry hadn't lost his power on his own . . . Jon had done it to him. How could they all have been so blind?

“Jonnard?” repeated Gavan again, tapping his cane on the floor. Disbelief filled his face. “Damn me for not catching it.”

Tomaz came back in the doorway, a bit out of breath. He tugged on his vest as if to compose himself. “He's gone, not a trace.”

“But how—” Jason looked from one Magicker to the other. “How could he do that?”

“His crystal.” Tomaz stared at Gavan.

“But . . . but . . . he walked inside it, like Bailey?”

“No, Jason, he knows how to use it to move.” Gavan sat down again, heavily. “I'm a fool, Tomaz. He has to be one of the Dark Hand.”

“No more a fool than I.”

“But so young . . .”

“He's obviously been recruited, taught. Did we not recruit him ourselves? Dr. Patel brought him in. No doubt they placed him where she would run across him. They knew enough of us to infiltrate and spy effectively. I didn't catch him either, and who knows . . . there might be more here.”

Gavan buried his face in his hands for a moment, then looked up. “We haven't long.”

Infiltrated . . . Jason thought of the dark voice in his ear, the smooth coaxing promises. They'd reached for him, too! Caught by the shock of it, he stood speechless. He stared at the back of his hand. Had he any choice?

“All right, then.” Gavan took a deep breath. “First things first. The Dark Hand knows we're here, can attack from inside as well as outside, whatever element of surprise we hoped to have is gone.” He stood again, as if gathering his energy. “We need to find the Gate.”

Tomaz gave a slight shake of his head. “Send them home.”

The two stared into each other's faces. Gavan said slowly, “I refuse to give up like that.”

“FireAnn has enough Draft for all.”

Jason's eyes widened. Give them all the Draft of Forgetfulness and ship them home?

“Crowfeather, I can't bundle up thirty-some campers and send them home this early. The others who have gone were a big enough risk. This camp . . . this
school
has to stand. It has to, if we're to have any future. There is Haven beyond the Gate.”

Tomaz hooked his thumbs in his concho belt.

“What kind of haven?” Jason asked, almost certain neither would answer him. He could feel the tension in the air. He understood then, that the Magickers were still fighting for survival, still unsure of what path to take. Older than him by far and yet, in some ways, no more the wiser.

“The Borderlands,” said Tomaz shortly. “Think of them as pockets of free manna. They are next to us, but are not us. As the world changed, many things that were Magick fled there. For most, however, it was too late, and they died anyway, or so my people tell it. Coyote was once thought to be a Gatekeeper, and sometimes he is, but mostly he is a Trickster. He lives off the delusions of others.”

“This is not a delusion.”

“No, of course not.” Tomaz answered Gavan. He set his jaw stubbornly.

Jason scratched his temple. Something nagged at him to be remembered. What would they have to do to be safe? Was Gavan going to try to hide all of them? What was it Bailey had said . . . hide in plain sight? He shifted his weight, tangled in his undone shoestring, and nearly fell over. Stooping over, he re-tied his shoe. The one lace, still frayed badly where the lake dweller had tugged and pulled at him, looked as if it could give at any time. Memory rushed in.

He blinked as the blood rushed to his head. “Excuse me . . . tell me about the Gates.”

“The Borderland Gates? There is a long and dark history to them, Jason. I had planned to cover that in next summer's class, if not a bit sooner. The Iron Gate is the closest to us right now, and the easiest to traverse, named for the great Iron Mountain and its valley just beyond. The others . . . the Fire Gate and so on . . . well, some are even thought to be sheer mythology, and of course, it doesn't help that strange and odd things happen near the Gates, because of the manna that seeps through. Not to mention an occasional denizen the likes of which haven't been seen in modern man's world.”

Jason waved his hands. “No, no. I mean the camp's gates, front and back. Why can't we just shut the camp's gates against the wolfjackals and everything?”

“Most of the camp is not fenced, just staked out to show the boundaries,” Tomaz began, “And with the manna sweeping in for them to use as they will, ordinary gates won't stop them—” Gavan stopped him sharply

“Wait a moment.” Gavan stared at Jason. “Did you say, front and
back
gates?”

“Well, yeah. The ones under the sign at the front road coming in, and the old ones by the back of the lake.”

“Ravenwyng has no back gate.” Gavan reached out for Jason. “What did you see? Tell me.”

“When Trent and I took the canoe way out that time we got grounded, we had a . . . a problem . . . I went overboard. We had to beach the canoe for me to climb back in. Anyway, I found the back gate there, just off the shore. There's a rough lane crossed by this huge, swinging gate. It's already open, though.”