The Magickers (42 page)

“That makes no never mind,” said Tomaz. “What you saw may not be what actually
is
.”

Gavan repeated firmly, “There is no back gate.” He stared at Jason. “Could you find it again? Have you marked it in your mind?”

“I couldn't forget it.”

“All right then. I'll get Eleanora, and we'll all take a look at it. Tomaz, get Lucas, Sousa, Hightower. Tell them about Jonnard and see if . . . well, see what you can do? He's probably covered his tracks, but you might be able to back trace him. Secure the camp against the storm if you can.”

Tomaz nodded.

Eleanora was in the music room, practicing, stroking her fingers over her dulcimer and coaxing out beautiful strains of music. Gavan and Jason stood quietly in the doorway till she looked up, sighting them. She put her palm across the strings of the dulcimer to still it. She smiled faintly. “We each have our own way of dealing with things. I like my music.”

“And it is no wonder, that.” Gavan tried a smile. “I need a word with you, though I hate to interrupt.”

A frown replaced the smile. “Sounds serious.”

Gavan strode in, drawing Jason with him. In quick, terse words, he told her of Jonnard's betrayal and attack on Jason. Her face paled and her hands shook slightly as she slipped the instrument into its tapestry case. She reached for Jason's hands.

“Are you all right?”

He nodded.

“But that's not all,” Gavan added, with a dramatic flourish of his cane. “He saw a Gate.”

“Really?” Eleanora considered Jason. “Well, it's about time.”

“About time?” Gavan's brows shot up, and he stared at Eleanora.

“Well, I should think it is, don't you?” She stood up and put her instrument away on a deep shelf. She looked over her shoulder at Gavan. “You didn't know?”

“Blast me for being blind,” Gavan grumbled. “I was almost certain it was Bailey. Brash. Always rushing ahead to explore . . .”

Eleanora smiled faintly, and shook her head. “Bai ley's power is with animal lore, that is plain.”

“Know what?” Jason asked.

Gavan coughed. “Of course, there was a possibility . . . but with forty-nine of them to look over—”

Eleanora turned around with her hands on her hips. “The signs were all there. He was always about and around at night, restless, couldn't sleep. Looking for something, never quite sure what. It took me a while, too. He is very circumspect.”

“Well.” Gavan cleared his throat a bit. “I've been busy. There's no doubt we all recognized he is Talented. . . .”

Tomaz agreed. “I would have missed it, too, with the Council on my back. In fact, I did miss it . . . till now. Now it's as obvious as the nose on your face.”

“Know what?” demanded Jason.

“That you are a Keeper of the Ways. In short, a Gatekeeper. I would bet my dulcimer on it.” Eleanora tossed her head. “And I thought Gavan was keeping his eyes on you, because he knew that, too. I should have realized other things had you distracted, Gavan.” She took out her crystal and began polishing it in the deep folds of her brocade skirt.

The Magicker muttered something darkly. He leaned on his cane. “I don't intend to waste more of it. The Gate is at the far end of the lake.”

“You've seen it?” Eleanora smiled sweetly at Jason.

He nodded.

“It's marked well in your mind?”

He nodded again.

“Then we won't be canoeing there.” Eleanora took up Jason's hand again, and said briskly, “Hold onto him, Gavan.” She raised her crystal in her free hand. “Picture it in your mind. Absolutely, firmly, no wavering. Focus on it!”

“What are we doing?”

“We have been practicing moving objects with the crystals. Now we are going to move ourselves,” said Gavan flatly. He took up Jason's other hand. “Do as she tells you.”

Eleanora held out her crystal to Jason. “Look in. This is a door, and it is opening. When you see, on the other side, that picture in your mind . . . just as sharp, just as clear . . . I want you to step through that door and go there. Don't worry about us, we'll follow.”

“But . . . but it's your crystal.”

“Yours isn't quite trained yet. Trust me, Jason.” Eleanora leaned closer. “Think on it. Quickly now. Make it true and clear.”

He looked into the pale rose quartz, thinking of the rugged shoreline, the split boulder just off the lake with the pine growing stubbornly out of it. He tried to think of the gate, too, but it would not stay in his mind. But the beach where he'd finally scrambled to safety, that he had. The gate would only be a few strides beyond that. The plane of her quartz began to open, like a door swinging inward, and beyond it, the vision of his thoughts lay. With a squeeze of their hands he stepped into the gemwork.

There was a moment of nothingness. It was dark and cold, and his whole body stopped as though he had sneezed violently. Then he stepped onto firm ground, stumbled, and Gavan and Eleanora tumbled out of nowhere next to him. All three of them went sprawling.

“I shall have to teach him about landings,” Gavan said dryly. He bounded to his feet, and helped Eleanora up.

Eleanora winked at Jason. “Just remember it's like parachuting,” she said. “That first step is a long one!”

“You've parachuted?” Gavan considered Eleanora with an odd expression on his face. “Wonders of the modern age.”

She did not answer but adjusted her skirt and blouse and bent to tighten the laces on her high-button shoes. When she straightened, she rose in the air her customary elevation of three or four inches as though nothing could be amiss.

Jason stood up. They faced the lake, with its deep waters like a mirror, reflecting the rain clouds mounding up over the hills, silver and black in the moonlight. He turned round. He could see the metal glint through the underbrush. “There,” he said, and pointed.

They hurried to keep up as he went to it, his face all knotted in a frown because he
hadn't
been able to focus on it clearly and that worried him. Even as he approached it now, it seemed to have moved a bit from where he'd seen it originally . . . yet how could it? Rusting metal gateposts buried in the dirt, and fencing fading off into the heavy underbrush, and a huge swinging gate fastened back among the evergreens couldn't move on their own.

“Impressive.” Gavan tapped his cane on the ground.

“It's rusting.” In fact, the more Jason looked at it, the less sturdy it appeared.

The Magicker shook his head. “No, lad, not that. You landed us practically on top of it.”

Eleanora put her hand on Jason's shoulder. “Gates, you see, shift in time and place. That's why we can't hope to find them without help or Talent.” Her ruffled blouse moved restlessly in the strong, cooling wind off the lake.

“It
did
move, then.”

“No doubt.”

Gavan reached out with his cane, probing. “And it is on Ravenwyng property, or within a jump of it.” He smiled thinly. “I think even Tomaz would agree we ought to be able to get the Border to take the camp in.” He tucked his cane under his elbow. “All right, everyone through for a quick look-see, and I'll leave word what we're trying to do with the camp, and then we go batten the hatches.”

The moon was engulfed by clouds. A dark shadow fell across them, as the wind howled up, cold and harsh. Eleanora turned as a wailing howl broke the air, followed by another and another.

“Too late!” she cried.

Harsh clouds hid the sky and the moon's light boiled in shades of black and gray. Lightning split the clouds as the wolfjackal pack touched down in triumph. Ivory fangs flashed, and pewter claws raked the ground. Dull thunder rolled behind them. The very air seemed to shiver and dance as they materialized out of the nowhere to the now.

Eleanora drew her crystal, and Gavan brought his cane up to face the pack. “Stay behind us, Jason.”

He drew his own stone and cupped it. Uneasily, he waited for its welcoming glow, worried that the battle with Jon had harmed it. The unpolished edges jabbed him as he held it tightly. The wolfjackals paced and stirred around behind their leader, just as the clouds in the sky seemed to rise and fall and boil behind one immense thunderhead as it grew over the mountains. The beasts snarled and snapped at the darkening air, their eyes flashing with an eerie green glow.

“Now we both know where the Gate is,” Gavan said grimly.

“They would have found it anyway.”

“Yes . . . eventually. No time to set up wards.”

Eleanora did not look at Gavan but kept her gaze leveled on the wolfjackals as they stopped, then circled and fanned out into an attacking stance. Ivory fangs gleamed in the scant moonlight left. He counted a pack of seven, larger than before, and the wolfjackal in front loomed the size of a small pony. “They're bigger,” he stammered, surprised.

“Feeding on the manna storm.” Gavan braced himself. He focused his wolfhead cane so that the immense crystal held in the wolf's jaws aimed less than a few feet away. “That's far enough,” he called out.

The wolfjackal pack slowed to a stop, and the others began to pace back and forth behind the leader, who seemed momentarily content.

“A Gate,” growled the wolfjackal leader. “We but seek to pass. We have that right.”

“Not here and not now.”

“Our rights!” The pack leader threw his head up, letting out a baleful howl.

“You have none.”

“The Gate is as much ours as yours.” The packleader snarled and snapped at thin air.

“I deny it to you. Later, perhaps, when I've talked with the Hand.”

The wolfjackal grinned, his tongue lolling out of his sharp jaws. “Sooner!” he promised, his thick tail low and moving from side to side, but it was not a canine wag. Every move the dun-and-silver beast made was one of menace. Jason found he was holding his breath, and tried to relax enough to get some air.

A bolt of pale green light shot from the cane Gavan gripped tightly in his hand. It struck the ground in front of the pack, sending up a puff of scorched dirt. The wolfjackal jumped back with a startled yelp. He reared back against his followers, then shook himself indignantly. His ruff bristled up, and he lowered his head as he paced forward. “You shall pay for that.”

“Here they come,” Gavan warned needlessly, and the three of them braced themselves.

With a snap and snarl, the pack launched itself. Jason froze. His marked hand twitched so hard, he could barely grip his crystal. His breath caught in his chest as he tried to bring up a shield of light from his stone, but all he could manage was a pale, quivering glow.

Gavan abandoned the crystal embedded in his cane, and drew forth one hanging from a thick-linked gold chain about his neck, drawing it out of his collar. Instead, he used the cane like a wooden sword, parrying, thrusting, and sweeping. The wolfjackals yelped as he rapped sharply at their heads and limbs. Froth flew from their snapping jaws as they bit at the cane and caught only air.

The pack leader crouched and lunged at Gavan. Rainwater parried with the cane, catching his jaws, but unable to stop the body from ramming him. Both fell and tumbled. The wolfjackal ended up on top, jaws spread wide as Gavan shoved the cane crosswise into them. The wood clattered against ivory fangs.

Eleanora let out a small sound, as three battered at her shield, and she retreated a step, coming up against Jason. “Run,” she said. “We're outnumbered!”

“I can't leave you.”

Gavan gave a loud grunt and yell and shoved the wolfjackal back onto his haunches as he scrambled up, panting. “I think retreat is advisable.”

“Where?” Jason backed up, as the pack re-formed and began to slink close, their hot breath filling the air.

He pointed toward the open Gate. Jason turned to lead the way. Something hot and heavy hit him full tilt, sending him rolling through the gateposts. It snarled and snapped as he threw his hands up to protect his face, and the crystal flared weakly. He shoved the beast away and clambered to his knees, but the wolfjackal jumped again, jaws snapping. Jason fell back.

His head snapped against metal with a stinging, slashing jolt. He cried out as pain lashed through his scalp, red hot and pounding. Dazed as the beast drove at his chest, teeth gleaming, he rolled over and managed to stagger up. He clung to the gatepost, evergreen branches whipping around his body. Sickened to the pit of his stomach by the sudden pain, Jason fell against the Gate. Hot blood poured from his scalp, into his eyes and, over the metal framework. The Gate moved as he clung to it, swinging inward. Double vision wavered in front of him. Jason groaned as the Gate dragged him through the dirt, a vast great Iron Gate of intricate scrollwork and heaviness that he clung to desperately, his hands and face slick with blood.

As he hung on it, stomach heaving with the pain shouting through his head, the Gate shut with a heavy clang, all of them on the outside.

Eleanora and Gavan swung around. “Oh, no!” she cried in dismay.

“We'll make a stand here,” Gavan said grimly. He swung out and slashed the wolfjackal away from Jason's ankles. “Hang on to me, lad!” He reached out, and slipped an arm under Jason's shoulders.

“We can't hold out here, Gavan.”

“I won't lead them back to camp. Not yet.” Holding Jason on his feet, he parried, then slashed at a wolfjackal slinking close.

“I know where wolfjackals won't dare to follow.”

“Oh . . . no . . . Eleanora . . .”

His words did not slow her. She linked elbows with Jason and cupped her crystal close, crying out a single word: “Auntie!”