The Dragon Guard (37 page)

Two of them jumped him at once. He went down between them, rolling and kicking, feeling his flesh tear and his soul shiver. He kicked them apart and got back to his feet, battered, and wondered how much more he could take.

 

Trent watched from his position beside Henry, and saw Jason sway with pain. He muttered to Henry, “Now.” Jason hadn't yet given the signal, but he wasn't sure Jason could even think clearly. He saw his friend struggle to remain standing.

“Now?” repeated Henry. His own face had gone deathly pale, as Jonnard leeched power from him. Tiny drops of sweat beaded his forehead.

Trent gripped his shoulder hard. “If you're going to do it, Henry, it's now or never! Finish him!”

“Tug-of-war,” Henry muttered with determination. He squeezed his eyes shut. “He shut me down earlier, but he won't this time!”

Trent watched anxiously. Jason traded more blows, as the wolfjackals and riders circled up the small hill toward him. He wouldn't have much of a defense left on the high ground when they reached him in another jump or two.

Trent pulled his crystal from his pocket. Of all of them there, he was the least. He knew it, they knew it. It was of no help at all to be able to see the Magick raging around Jason now. There were no subtle traps. He would either stand or he wouldn't, and the rest of them had the other Gates to hold. The only thing he could do was help Henry a bit, and damnit, he was tired of being the cheerleader.

He thumbed his rock. Beautiful but obscured, a clouded white crystal it had been when he picked it and that was the way it stayed. Yet, it had been out with all the others gems for bonding with the new Magickers. Surely someone should have seen it was a dud and cast it out, just like him. He rolled it between his fingers even as Henry groaned.

“Hang in there, Henry! You're stronger!”

He didn't even know if Henry could still hear him. They crouched in the Y of a tree, Henry having made cheerful comments about being in the arms of an Ent, one of Tolkien's fantasy tree people. Trent had tied him to the main trunk just to make sure he wouldn't fall out. He guessed it was just the way he saw things. He didn't trust the fantasy the way Henry did.

A wolfjackal howled as Jason let go with a mighty blow, the bamboo cane KER-AKing as it hit. Rider and mount fell heavily on the hill and slid down to a quiet heap at the bottom. Trent could see the effort trembling in Jason's torso as he stood, and steadied, and readied himself for yet another assault from Brennard and Jon. And the Leucator that was Jason's double waited to the rear, an eerie apparition. It was so like Jason that it had already fooled Trent once or twice at a glance.

Where were Gavan and Tomaz and whatever others they could reach?

Henry let out a sharp cry as he bit his lip and crimson ran down his chin. Trent gripped the other's shoulder again. Henry opened his eyes and said weakly, “I've got him!” He managed a grin.

Trent didn't think it would be enough. “Good man, Henry,” he answered in spite of his apprehension. “Just don't let go!”

 

Stef fought himself. He could feel the bear cub trying to burst through the seams of his body, and he shook with the effort to stay human. The Magick rolling about him tore away his control and he could not help himself. He let out a deep, groaning sound from the very depths of his body, before turning a helpless look at Rich. “Rich . . . I'm sorry . . .”

“It's all right, man.” Rich's face stayed pale against his freckles, his shock of brilliant red hair standing disheveled about his head, all his thoughts bent on the Water Gate. He could feel the caravans rolling into the valley, feel the sting of their corruption as it pierced the goodness that had been Haven's heart. The bear cub stood on its hind legs, weaving, and growled heavily. Then it dropped to all fours and lumbered to where Jason had chosen to take his stand.

“Stefan!” cried Rich after his friend, but the burly bear cub never looked back. His growling rose in intensity, sensing a fight.

Brennard looked down the vale and saw the half grown bear shambling toward them. He gave a chill smile. “We've broken the first,” he said to Jonnard. “Now after the others.” He circled his wolfjackal about, riding back to the black wagons and waving his hand in a signal. The tarp rolled up. A single Leucator got down, and looked about, nostrils flaring for a scent. Then with a low hissing, it loped away.

 

Qi collapsed with a tiny sound and fell to the grass. Ting immediately knelt at her side, pulling her grandmother to her, feeling her face. Qi took Ting's hands in hers, saying weakly, “This battle is not for the old. I am very, very weary.”

“I'll take you home!”

“This is my home now. Only let me rest. Do what you must, Granddaughter, or . . . or I'll never forgive you!” Qi tried to squeeze her hands hard, but the effort proved too much for her, and her fingers just trembled about Ting's.

“You can't stay here.”

“I can and will.” Qi struggled to sit up, pulling her black, quilted jacket and pants straight.

“Back in the grove then,” Ting insisted, getting her grandmother to her feet. “I'll be back!” she called to Bailey as she helped Qi hobble toward the safety and shade of the trees.

Bailey had felt the weakening of their Shields the moment Ting let go, but she said nothing. She bit her lip in concentration, knowing that somewhere beyond this curve of Haven, a battle to keep the Dark Hand at a standstill raged. She could feel it in her crystal and in the jewelry Ting had fashioned.

Lacey let out a series of worried chirps, ran out of her pocket, and climbed onto her shoulder, nestling against the curve of her throat. Her tiny furred body felt incredibly warm and comforting as the pack rat clung to her. Rebecca gently laid her hand over Bailey's, saying, “I don't know what I can do.”

A strengthening surged into Bailey where her mother touched her. “Wow! Mom . . . you're a battery!”

“A battery?”

“You're like stored energy. I can feel it!” Bailey grinned at her mother, the moment of uncertainty when Ting left her gone. She felt its glow and goodness wrap about her, helping to fill in the gap Ting had left behind. She beamed her power to Jason, feeding him, feeling the tremendous need he had for whatever help she could give him. Her eyebrows lowered.

“What is it?”

“I don't think it's going well,” said Bailey quietly.

“It will,” Rebecca told her with a fierce pride in her voice. “You've got to believe the others are coming to help.”

“If they can.”

Rebecca leaned against her daughter, trying to will belief and hope into her, not truly understanding the battle they were waging except that much of it came from inside, and that could surely be encouraged by positive thoughts.

Neither of them heard the third person approach until his voice rose around them.

“Wife and daughter.”

Rebecca swung about. “Jerry!”

“They told me you were hiding here. They told me they'd help me find you.” He put a hand out, walking slowly toward them, but his chest heaved as if he'd been running. “It's time to be a family again.”

Bailey turned wildly toward them, and then began backing up. “Mom! Mom, that's not Daddy. Don't let him touch you!”

Rebecca put herself between them. “Jerry?”

“Mom, don't!” Bailey's hand jerked. “It's not human.”

“Is that any way to talk about your father? Who carried you around when you had colic? Who took you to your first pony ride? Baseball game?”

Bailey's mouth twisted. “You took me to the ball game because it was Nickel Beer Night.”

“A man deserves a little reward now and then.” The thing stopped, mouth working at a smile.

“Bailey, stay behind me.”

“Look at its eyes, Mom. That's a . . . a Leucator. It's a made thing.”

“All you've done is twist her against me, Becca. What a horrible, horrible thing for a mother to do. You should be punished!” He lunged at her.

He grabbed Rebecca. She screamed at the chill pain that jolted her at his touch, her arm going numb, as he pulled her away from their daughter. “Come to Daddy,” he said to Bailey. He threw Rebecca away, on the ground, where she went limp with shock and lay there, dazed.

“Mom!”

He batted at her. Their hands connected even as Bailey tried to dart away, and her amethyst went flying.
Never drop your crystal.
She fell backward and scrambled to get away from the thing that looked like her father. Her Shield, her power, winked out, leaving her very much alone. Lacey squeaked in her ear and then bit her earlobe,
hard
. “Ow!” Bailey shot to her feet and the Leucator lunged past her, just missing. The chill of its body passing felt as if someone had opened a freezer door.

Bailey danced back. She removed Lacey from her neck and gently tossed her to the grass. “Go get it!” The fuzz ball squeaked off, tufted tail twitching in her quickness.

It wasn't quite alive. Therefore, it couldn't be quite as fast as she was. Bailey dodged and danced, staying just out of its reach, drawing it away from her mother who lay quite still below. She was wrong.

The Leucator was deadly quick, like a striking cobra. It came after her again, and she twisted out of its hold, icy hands leaving white brands on her wrists as she got clear. Both arms screamed with the pain and hot tears blurred her eyes. She dodged again, barely escaping it. She felt the soft ground give as it leaped at her again and Bailey fell.

It knocked the wind out of her. She lay gasping a second, then heard the panting and frantic chirping of her tiny familiar as Lacey hobbled toward her, laboriously dragging the amethyst. She caught both up and swung about, just as the Leucator came at her with a deadly embrace.

Purple fire split the air. It sizzled deep into the being, and her father's double opened its mouth, crying wordlessly. Then it began to melt into itself, and the sight made Bailey stumble away, choking. Her father's face looked at her, crying out, “Baby gurrrllllll,” the voice melting with it. When it was done, and nothing left but a heap of smudge on the ground, she turned her head and vomited.

“Oh, Bailey!” Rebecca crawled to her and stood, wavering, one arm and shoulder limp as she pulled her child close with all the strength remaining in her uninjured arm. Lacey let out a squeak of protest then quieted as both mother and daughter cried. Then Bailey made a strangled noise and looked up. “Jason!”

She took off at a run, headlong into the fray of the battle on the other side of the hill.

 

Jason staggered back, spent. He took a moment to spin around, as if looking uselessly for his supporters scattered about Haven, and finding no reserve, turned back to Jonnard. Trent could see the despair in his face. Stef-cub barreled into the wolfjackals with a bawl, sending them wheeling about, dumping their riders to the ground. With a deepening bear yowl he ran around the lupine beasts, chasing them back into the inky pass of the Iron Gate.

Trent rubbed his stone again. He looked into its useless depths. The milky white cloudiness reminded him of the energy he'd seen surrounding George, Aunt Freyah's dancing service tray.

Jason let out a sharp cry. Trent's head snapped up to see Jason and Jon locked in deadly combat, hand-to-hand, toe-to-toe. They traded blows, somersaulted away, and drove back in, their hands and feet moving like blurs. It was more brutal than anything he'd ever seen before, and he knew it would kill one of them.

Brennard made a pass with his hands, and darkness ribboned the valley. He could feel its oppression, its workings. The Dark Hand had begun to block Haven off as the Gatekeeper failed.

Trent shoved at the dead stone in his hand with all his anger and frustration. Nothing! He was worth nothing, he could do nothing to help!

The gemstone warmed and then its interior swirled. A nova of a thousand stars spun in the palm of his hand, then cleared away. A transparent quartz rested within his fingers, marked only by a few mica and pyrite flecks along one facet.

Trent's jaw dropped.

He stood up in the tree. His gaze scanned the bowl of the valley. He could see the bright, shimmering band of energy that surrounded it. He always had seen it, since they'd tumbled in desperately looking for the dragon. He tapped into it.

The sky ribbon shimmered. Then it filled him. It shot through the darkness of the gathering storm, blazing it away, with a Light of its own, and a fierce kind of singing filled him.

Noise sounded in his ear. He could hear Bailey's whoop and Ting's excited squeal, in his thoughts,
in his freaking mind!

Trent stood in amazement, his crystal clenched in his fist. He pushed against the darkness being wrought by the Dark Hand, and he could feel it give!

 

Jonnard reeled back. Sweat slicked his black cloth to his body and he panted heavily. His hands moved in defensive mode, and welts striped his face.

Jason pressed forward. “Henry isn't there anymore,” Jason said. “You're on your own.”

“No!” Jon reached out, and a charcoal lash of power rayed out from his hand, striking the ground wildly. “Father!”

“Fight as you've been trained. You have him!” Brennard raised a fist in rage, crystal flaring, missing Jason as he swung on him.

Jonnard sank to his knees, sucking breath through clenched teeth, gone so pale his skin was gray. Jason drew near, prepared to take him out. Jon hissed and raised a hand toward his father. A snake of energy roped through the air, latching from one to the other. Antoine Brennard, who sat at the bottom of the crest, looked up in sudden surprise as his son took everything he had from him. He raised his hand to his chest, where the energy snake was sucking his life from him, and then looked at Jonnard in anguished surprise.