The Dragon Guard (30 page)

At the sound of the crash, Jon ran in, and stopped amid the rubble, his face chalk white. He looked down. “What happened?”

“Did you not feel it?”

Jon looked as though searching for an answer, then said, “How could it not be felt? It roared through here like a typhoon or cyclone.”

“Backtrace it.”

“I cannot. It recoils from me as if knowing my power and its are opposite from each other.”

“Find someone who can!” Brennard bellowed. “I want to know who unleashed that kind of Magick on the world.”

“Want to . . . or need to?” asked Jonnard quietly, studying his father's face.

“You can be a fool.”

“We are both fools if you think you can chase that down, and triumph against whomever sent it.”

“I do not think it an attack.”

“But you do not know for sure.”

“No.” Brennard clenched one hand. “It could have been deliberate or the residue from some deliberate act, a backlash they had no idea would occur. Either way, I need to know who did it.”

Jon inclined his head. “I will find out.” His ties with Henry Squibb had been very weak the last day or so, but only because he hadn't tried to reinforce them. Squibb had been fighting him, and it seemed wiser to conserve his strength for other problems. Now he had other priorities and Squibb could be useful again. “Anything else?”

“The vase,” Brennard answered, looking down on the floor as if in sudden recognition of the accident.

Jon waved his hand. A thousand fine pieces of porcelain rose in the air, circling about aimlessly and then more and more into a maelstrom pattern that grew closer and closer together until the vase re-formed itself. Jon dropped his hand and the Ming vase settled to once again to rule a corner of his father's desk in dark blues and milky whites and incomparable porcelain. “Please be careful, Father,” Jon noted mildly. “You could have cut yourself.” He turned and left the inner offices of his father's domain.

An excitement woke in him. He could do something Brennard could not. The days of his father's unlimited power seemed to be drawing to a close. He would need Jonnard more than ever, and perhaps even finish his training, and confide in him.

And then the day when Jon could take over entirely would be that much nearer. He wanted the power, and he wanted it now.

He'd had a taste of his father's strength, and knew the rest of it could be his any time he wanted. When he had it, he could then command the army his father had assembled over the years, mercenaries from lost wars over the centuries, lean and hungry men who slept in the catacombs below their estate, ready to be awakened and used however necessary.

They had not been born in modern times. Like Brennard, like Jon, they did not have a fondness for modern sensibilities. They had all sprung from eras in which survival of the fittest was the highest code. Thanks to Isabella's unwitting help, Jon could now make Leucators of any of them, not to hunt down its twin, but to hunt with it. Unstoppable.

Jon smiled slowly. They had the means to make the world theirs, whether by might or Magick. It was up to him to make sure that the time was now theirs as well.

G
AVAN bent over his crystals, sifting, searching, and finally found the thread he looked for. He seized it with a shout of joy, bounded to his feet and ran through the corridors of the Gathering Hall and out to FireAnn's cottage where the herbalist sat in a rocking chair, making notes in a cookbook the size of a massive dictionary as she watched Eleanora.

“It's the kids,” he announced.

“We thought as much, since they were gone.”

“True, but now I can locate them.”

FireAnn had her kerchief off, and her luxurious red hair had fallen to her shoulders in a fiery mass of curls. “And the power, lad? Either they got the dragon or it got them.”

“Possibly.”

“Ye're not about to go charging in there by yourself, are you?”

“Not that I want to, but it seems wisest.”

FireAnn put her fountain pen in her book and closed it thoughtfully. “ 'Tis a sad day when we canna trust our allies, Gavan.”

“I know. But who on the Council would you call in? Other than Tomaz.”

“I'd have to say, we're pretty much it, as it stands. What do you expect to find?”

“Trouble, one way or the other. An unleashing of power like that could mean anything, although I hope not what it might mean.”

FireAnn raised an eyebrow over her sparkling green eye. “Not the Forbidden.”

“We have no idea what resources Brennard has hidden, although Gregory told me he feared the worst when Antoine turned.” Gavan rubbed his wolfhead cane. “To my way of thinking, I don't see how Brennard could hope to get away with it. This is a different world. We balance on science instead of superstition. Our shadows are too well lit. And anything he could raise that was Forbidden would bring attention to him he wouldn't want. My real fear is that he would stop at nothing to expose us, and then flee to leave us facing the consequences, as he has already tried with the children.”

“Then he has to be stopped. Am I going or staying with our lass?”

“Staying. Here's the thread of power I'm following . . .” Gavan let it graze FireAnn's mind and thoughts till he felt she could grasp it herself if needed. “I'll send word one way or the other. If I can't come back.” He stopped.

“She'll know how much ye loved her, and I'll see to her. We'll beat this, I promise.” FireAnn rubbed her hands together lightly, wincing at the pain of the arthritis-swollen joints. “Perhaps it's only right that time catches up with some of us, eh? We've been a tricksy lot.”

“Not like this, FireAnn, not like this.” He kissed her forehead, then bent down and kissed Eleanora's mouth gently. Standing, he grasped the thread he intended to follow and Crystaled out of the existence of Camp Ravenwyng.

 

Ting's grandmother leaned heavily on her, as they burst through the plane of her crystal, and emerged in a green valley she knew well. “Haven!” cried Ting happily as her feet touched ground, and she tightened her arm about her grandmother's waist. A rainbow of color met their eyes from the grove at the edge of the deep blue pond, where shirts appeared to have been knotted together. From under their canopy, Bailey burst out, shouting, “Ting! Ting!”

She ran across the ground and gathered both of them in joy, her ponytail bouncing. “What are you doing here!” Into her ear, she whispered confidentially, “This place is awesome. We are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

Ting shook her lightly before letting go and giving a little, formal bow. “Bailey Landau, I wish you to meet my grandmother, Qi Zhang. Grandmother, this is my best friend, Bailey.”

Bailey gave a little bow back, saying, “I am honored to finally meet you, Ting's esteemed grandmother.” She tilted a glance at Ting as if asking if she'd done it properly.

Ting grinned. “Qi means fine jade, Bailey.”

“Cool name! Are you feeling better?”

Ting's grandmother lowered the paper mask from her mouth, and took a deep breath. “Much better,” she announced. “Can you not feel the power in the dragon bones of this earth?”

“Not exactly,” Bailey admitted, “although we did see the dragon. He seemed pretty well fed, too, not at all bony, mostly teeth and claws and bright shining eyes. That was just before Jason opened the Dragon Gate.”

“And I missed it!” Ting gave a hop. “Is that what hit us? We felt it all the way in San Francisco!”

“It was incredible,” Bailey said to her, as Lacey poked her head out of her pocket, whiskers shaking as she gave a pack rat squeak of agreement.

“Tell us about it! But first, we need a place for Grandmother to sit. She had chemo this morning, and sometimes . . .” Ting gave her grandmother a worried look.

Qi, however, shook her head as she leaned on her bamboo cane. “I am fine, Granddaughter. However, I want to listen to this tale being told, and I see others waiting for us.”

Bailey took each by the hand and led them to the canopy under the treetops, where Rebecca sat beside a sleeping Jason who looked pale even in the shade. Ting came to an uncertain halt. “Ooooh . . . what happened?”

Qi leaned over and touched his forehead. “He is fine. Much power went through and out of him.” The tiny Chinese woman frowned. “I shall have to teach him the ways of Wu Shu. He must be a fighter inside and outside of his body.”

“Wu Shu?”

“Martial arts. You Westerners have many names for it, but in northern China, I was taught the Wu Shu. It disciplines your mind and soul and health as well as your body. It makes one a whole person, in order to live well, not just fight a little better.” She winked.

She sat down on a small, flat rock, tucking her silk trousers around her, and laying her cane across her lap. She put her hand on Rebecca Landau's knee.

“You must be the mother of Bailey. I see a resemblance of face and soul.”

Rebecca smiled. “Thank you. Are you one of . . .” She stopped helplessly and made a gesture.

Qi inclined her chin. “I am honored you think so, but my abilities are small compared to the others gathered here.”

“Not true!” Ting protested. “Eleanora calls her a Hidden One, one of Talent although untrained.”

“Blood runs true to blood, do you not think so, Mother of Bailey? She favors you in Talent as well as heart.”

“Oh, I'm not.” Rebecca paused, and got a thoughtful expression on her face. “At least, I never thought I was.” She leaned back and grew very silent.

Qi smiled at her granddaughter. Her paper mask hung about her neck now, like an odd necklace, and her dark eyes snapped with humor. “I am trained,” she corrected softly, “although perhaps not in the way of the long noses.” Her wrinkles creased deeply with her silent laugh at that. “So, now, the tale.”

Ting sank onto the grass and pulled Bailey down with her. “Spill it! Everything.”

Bailey opened her mouth to say something, interrupted by the bawling of a bear cub as it barreled past them, Rich chasing in hot pursuit. No one but Ting's grandmother seemed to think it odd, as the two raced past and into the woods, Rich yelling, “Stef! Darn it! Come back here!”

Three or four paces behind them trotted Trent and Henry. At the sight of the girls, they stopped their pursuit and dropped to the grass as well, both boys a little out of breath. No one wore shirts because it was their garb that made the canopy overhead that shaded them without being deeper in the colder woods. “That cub can run!”

“Maybe he'd stop, if he were not chased?”

Trent thought over Rebecca's statement before shrugging. “Stef is out of control right now. I think it's the surge we had through here. He went bear and can't get back, and he's terrified.”

“Another who could use training in the ways of Wu Shu,” said Ting's grandmother wisely.

Squibb said nothing, except that he gave Ting a beaming smile. He sat back uneasily, braced against a tree trunk. “I think we're safe here,” he told Ting.

“If Jason opened the Gate, we are.”

Bailey pointed at the Iron Mountains, with the massive dragon carved out of rock at its foot, darkness in its yawning jaws.

“Wow.” Ting stared in unabashed amazement. “Okay, now I
have
to know what happened.” She scooted over to her grandmother's knee, and touched her, as if checking to see all was well. Qi smiled down on her.

Trent grinned at Bailey. “You tell it and I'll fill in the blanks when you get excited.”

Bailey turned blazing pink, but that did not stop her from flinging herself headfirst into the tale, starting at the soccer game. No one spoke for long moments after she finally finished, with occasional explanations inserted from Trent in a strictly helpful way. “And then he keeled over, nearly squashing Lacey, and that's it.”

“Exhausted,” said Rebecca. She nodded. “I don't think it's anything worse than that.”

Ting stood and dusted herself off. “We should get back, then. We can leave, can't we?”

“No one's tried yet. We all seem kinda burned out for the moment. I can't reach anyone, but it's coming back. I think we just have to wait.”

Qi put her hand out to Ting. “I am staying, Granddaughter. Tell your mother that I love her and gather up my things.”

She blinked. “What?”

“My father, the magician and acrobat Jinsong, had a prophecy when I was born. It was told that I would spend my last days in the shadow of the red dragon. He feared it meant the communism that gripped our country and sent me to the United States when he could. I was a woman grown then and he old and dying, and we did not understand the prophecy at all, and so feared it. But now I believe . . .” Qi looked at the rusty cliffside with its sculpture. “I believe that this is my destiny, and a worthy one. There is work to do here, am I right? A haven, a school to be built. And I have strength here, Ting. I can feel it.”

“Grandmother, your medicine . . .”

“My medicine works by killing me little by little and hoping that my body can survive it longer than the illness. But it cannot give me more than a few more years, even if it works. Here, I feel strength. My soul has purpose rather than merely surviving.”

“Yes, but—”

“I wish to stay.”

Ting stammered a bit. Her eyes sparkled brightly. Bailey jumped to her feet. “You'll be back!”

“I will?”

“How could you not? You're a Magicker!”