The Gate of Bones (44 page)

Without waiting for an answer, he unfastened the scroll.

“Where's it from?”

“I left Midnight at Avenha, so it should be from Mantor or Pyra.” Tomaz unrolled the small bit of paper. He ran a crystal over it, frowning, deciphering what he could of the writing. Talker crystals worked much better, although Renart had been giving them books from which to try to build a Writer crystal. “It's from Pyra. Renart is missing. Another attack while . . . I think she means the wanderers . . . trying to finish his mission with them. The wording is not exact, but that seems to be what she's trying to get across.”

“No! Not Renart.”

Tomaz ran his crystal over the scroll again. “Missing,” he repeated, although his voice sounded disheartened.

“Not as bad as dead.”

“Bad enough.” He twisted the scroll in his hands. “I need to find Gavan.” Without another word, he walked off, and Rich and Stef traded looks.

“Not good.”

“Definitely not good,” Rich agreed. He shuddered, and his teeth chattered violently.

“You don't look good either.”

“Thanks.” Rich stomped off, headed back inside in search of his blanket and solitude. Stef made a puzzled snuffling noise as he went.

 

He felt no warmer despite the fever boiling off him and not much better when Bailey came strolling by the door. She poked her head in. “Rich?”

He nodded miserably.

She took a hesitant step in. “You want me to get someone?”

“N-no. My fault. I didn't take enough stuff yesterday.” He clenched his jaw shut for a minute.

“Take more?”

“I did.” He looked down at the floor miserably. He'd dropped his waterskin, and the thick liquid pooled around his feet.

“Oh, Rich.”

“I've got s—some more. Somewhere.”

Bailey picked up an old shirt in the corner and tried to wipe the mess up. “Ugh. This just smells sickly sweet.”

“Tastes good, too,” he said sarcastically. “I'll brew more up tomorrow.”

“Ting and I can help. What do you need?”

“Dried keffelberries and thane grass. I've got the berries. Thane grass is that stinging, needlelike grass down by the river. It grows here and there. And water, gotta boil it all day.”

“That's easy enough.” She bounced to her feet. “You go ahead and drink what you need, we'll brew up more, okay?”

Rich heaved a sigh. “Thanks, Bailey.”

“Don't be so stubborn. If you need help, ask for it.”

“I have to learn how to deal with this.” He shook again.

“We all do,” Bailey told him solemnly. “Today it's you, tomorrow it could be any one of us, okay?”

It chilled him even more to realize she could be right. He watched her miserably as she ran out to find Ting.

Ting got gathering pouches for both of them, while Bailey tried to explain what it was they were looking for. Finally Ting said, “Ooohhh! Those awful grass things by the rocks.”

“Right. Thane grass, looks like a blade, and if you're not careful, you'll slice your fingers up good on 'em, and they sting like crazy.”

“Gotcha. I haven't seen any by the pool lately. I think we're going to have to follow the river down a little.”

“He says it boils down so if we both get a bagful, that should make at least one batch, don't you think?”

“It should.” Ting fretted.

“What?”

“Let's stay close, just in case.”

“No problem. I don't want to go outside the wards anyhow. You start here, and I'll walk down the river. Any problems, go for the crystal.”

Ting nodded and began to search the edge of the deep water pool. Bailey followed the river, skirting the rocky shore carefully.

 

Having been there once, it was no problem to get inside the wards a second time. Rainwater lacked a certain finesse and strategy for subterfuge, Jon thought, as he guided his horse through the intricacies of the alarms. He wanted to get close enough to observe, though not close enough to be observed. The key to Jason was the sense of obligation he felt to others, and if he was going to trap Jason, that would be the way. They'd taken the wrong person in taking Eleanora, he thought. One of the girls would have been better. The slender, almond-eyed Ting or the vibrant Bailey. Gavan had stayed cool over Eleanora despite his feelings for her. But the younger ones, they did not have the experience or the maturity. He could have broken them over the girls. He knew each of them well enough to know how they would react to one of their own being in trouble.

The sound of running water covered his movement through the woods as he let the horse pick a cautious way closer to the academy building. He sensed it, more than saw it, for it had its own aura and he knew that Gavan and Tomaz had imbued the place with a great deal of energy.

The bay put his ears forward in curiosity, listening. Jon reined him back, and pitched his senses as well.

When he recognized her voice, he thought it must be a moment of wishful thinking.

“All right, all right, down you go. You see if you can find the stupid grass.” And there was a Bailey laugh when a series of indignant squeaks and chirps answered.

Jon leaned forward, peering keenly through the foliage. A slow smile broke across his face. If it was an illusion, it was the one he most hoped to see. And alone, although no Magick worker was ever alone, if they used their senses properly. No, he would have to isolate her. He'd lost one chance to do that, he wouldn't do it again. Coax her to come with him willingly. He sat for long moments, considering, remembering, sifting through the times he'd lived among them and they'd not known him for what he was. Then he thought he had it.

 

Bailey watched Lacey scurry off, whiskers flattened to her cheek pouches, little tufted tail snapping now and then in irritation. She let the rodent scamper across the mossy rocks, picking up glistening pebbles here and there that shone prettily in the partial sunlight of a day where there were as many clouds as not. The thought of thane grass flitted through the kangaroo rat's mind and left, but Bailey let her go. Lacey had been, after all, a wild thing, and sometimes Bailey wondered if she should ever have bonded with the small creature. It had happened suddenly, though, without either really knowing.

Lacey ran right through a patch of brilliantly green blades, her body barely bending them as she twisted through, intent on something she saw and coveted with her pack rat mind.

“You found it!” Bailey went to her knees. A saw-like edge whipped through her touch. “Ow!” If she'd had any doubt this was the stuff, it fled. Wryly, she pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting the blades down, cautiously putting each one in the pouch as though it were a thorny rose stem. Even so, she found herself sucking on a cut finger every few minutes. She'd quit, but this patch was a treasure trove, enough to fill her gathering pouch and more, and she could get back to Ting. Next time, gloves!

Faintly. “Bailey.”

She looked around. “Mom?”

“Where are you, hon? Bailey?”

Anyone else could Crystal for her. She got to her feet, wondering where Ting had gotten to.

“Bailey, I need you.”

She sounded hurt. Fear rushed through Bailey. “Mom?” She whirled about, trying to catch the direction. “Where are you?”

“Here. This way . . .”

Bailey walked toward the overhanging trees. She left the pouch and Lacey behind.

She stopped dead in her tracks. “You!”

“Not another word. To anyone, by any way. Think on it carefully.”

She stared at Jonnard. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help, actually. I need you for that, though, Bailey.” He crossed his hands on his horse's neck, his clothing all in black like the shadows he stayed half hidden in.

“Like I believe that.”

“If you want to or not, it's of little matter to me.” Jon leaned forward, the expression on his pale but handsome face very intent. “Warfare between us will destroy Haven. It opened the abyss, and it will spread the contamination until that chasm devours all of us.”

Bailey shivered. “You're lying.”

“Am I? I was alive when Gregory and Brennard fought. I know what Magick, when it explodes, can do. You, of all people, should know that as well. You're a Magicker. Why do you think Gavan and I don't just go toe to toe and end it all, for once? Because after that once, it became the single, unthinkable thing to do. Our hatred for each other is great, but not great enough to destroy an entire world for it.”

Bailey breathed out. “You are serious.”

“I am.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I came for help. It will take two of us to close the abyss. Myself and one of you.”

“You're sneaking in.”

Jonnard gave a crooked, dry smile. “I think my reception probably warrants that, don't you? The need to avoid conflict is great, however. With every attack between us, the abyss widens, and gets more powerful.”

“My mother—”

“A trick, one I apologize for. I wanted to draw you close enough to have a chance to tell you the truth, to convince you . . . I need help.” Jon's voice trailed off. “Desperate times mean desperate measures.” He leaned forward, extending a gloved hand. “Will you come with me, Bailey, and mend the abyss?”

How could she not? She took his hand reluctantly.

“All right. But if you're lying to me, Jonnard, there'll be hell to pay.”

He laughed as he pulled her up on horseback. “How could I doubt that?”

 

The thing was as gruesome as she'd heard. It made her sick to look at it. Jonnard reined to a halt, putting away his crystal, and dismounting. He put his hands to her waist and helped her down as well. They'd ridden and Crystaled, so she knew they'd come a distance, but she also had a good idea where they must be.

“What do we do?”

“We get as close as we dare,” Jonnard said. He took her hand reassuringly. “You'll feel it, Bailey, it has an energy all its own. It'll fill you as much as you let it.”

Bailey took a step closer, but Jonnard's hand was tight on her and pulled her even nearer. Then, his other hand whipped out and he began tracing his crystal through the air. She saw lines of light falling about her, caging her, disappearing almost before she even realized she saw them. Her feet froze to the ground. Her arms would not work. She looked at Jonnard, stricken. Words failed her.

“Yes,” he said. “It is a trap. I have you where I want you.” He ran a gloved finger through a strand of hair that had fallen loose across her forehead. “If he doesn't come in time, then the bones will take you, and you'll still be mine. If he comes in time, then I'll have him. Either way, it's a win-win for me.”

He hesitated, his fingers on her cheek. “Of course, it doesn't have to be that way. I have been watching you grow. Blossom. I can wait for you a little longer, if I knew you would join with me.”

She glared at him. “You must be crazy!”

Jon sighed sadly. “Not yet. Although that day is probably coming. I take it your answer is no.”

He traced his hand across her mouth then. “One scream I'll give you, then silence.” Jonnard smiled thinly.

It burst from her throat. She heard it ring through the air and through her crystal. “Jason! Help me please!” Then her mouth sealed shut and it was all she could do to even breathe. The ground began to sink under her feet as the abyss yawned wider to swallow her.

Jon backed away from her slowly, still smiling, swung aboard his horse and began to ride away. She saw him pull it into shadow and sit there to watch her, his pale face an oval moon, just out of reach.

She struggled. Every slight movement pulled the cage closer and tighter about her. She could feel hot tears of fear sliding down her face. She could sense the abyss aching for her and she thought her heart was going to jump right out of her chest.

Wolfjackals came. Their howling filled the air, joining in chorus with the howling of the Gate of Bones. Their green eyes caught the light, flashing, as they circled, tails lowered, teeth gleaming. Watching her, they came nearer and nearer. Bailey fought just to breathe. Swallowed by the abyss or torn by wolfjackals? What was her fate?

A wolfjackal broke away from the pack, all silvery and black, with a white throat. It paced near, nostrils flared, sniffing, voice in a low warning snarl. Then it reached for her hand with ivory fangs. Closed its mouth upon her wrist, gently, and pulled. A second wolfjackal trotted up, licked her other hand, its tongue hot as flame, grasped her in its massive jaws and pulled as well.

Their gentle tugs did not move her, and the wolfjackals whined anxiously. They milled around, talking to one another in low growls and yips. Two or three pawed at her boots, digging, and then yelped as the shadow and fog rolling out of the Gate touched them.

Jonnard raised his arm. He spoke a harsh word, and whipped the air with crystal Fire, lashing the pack with ropes of power. They snapped at him, backed away, tails down, eyes slitted. Then the leader gave a yipping howl as the pack formed about him, and they raced off.

Bailey knew something important had happened, but she was not quite sure what. She took a very careful, long slow breath, as if sipping the air, for it was the only way she could breathe now, as the cage of power tightened again, and the abyss began to pull her feet out from under her.

 

Tomaz frowned over the scroll. “It doesn't mean we've lost Renart, only that Renart is lost.”