The Dragon Guard (36 page)

“FireAnn didn't let her go easily.”

“No.” Gavan scrubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes. “What do they want of her?”

A shadow in the corner of the cottage shuddered and undulated and Brennard stepped out. His Shield of deep obsidian sparkled about him, carrying the shadow with him as he moved.

“Tell your boy to open the Gates and keep them open. If you want Eleanora alive. Otherwise, I shall leave her in Isabella's untender care.”

‘And FireAnn.”

“And the redhead as well.” Brennard waved his hand. “We will take Haven.”

Gavan got to his feet. “And if I say no?”

Brennard crossed the cottage. With a word, he reduced the wall to rubble, and through its broken framework, they could see a convoy forming. Gavan managed a breath in spite of the emotion gripping his chest. He rubbed the head of his cane, and Tomaz's thoughts sprang into his own.

“Rainwater,” said Brennard impatiently. “Get us passage.”

“You shall have it,” Gavan said, his voice dull, even though his mind churned with thoughts, and plans. “The boy is a Gatekeeper. I can ask him to open the Gates. I cannot keep him from defending them.”

“I'll deal with him then.”

“Leave Eleanora!”

“You'll have the two once we're safely across the borders. Don't do anything, Gavan, that you will regret later.”

Too late, he thought. He'd already brushed Jason's mind and told him to throw the Gates open and why, and what he and Tomaz planned to do.

He wondered if he'd put too much on Jason's shoulders, boy, not quite man.

He had no choice.

“
R
EMEMBER,' whispered Qi's voice inside his ear. “Wu Shu is an inner defense as well as an outer. Even more true for one such as yourself with the power. The enemy will press you on both fronts, but you will succeed.” Ting's grandmother sounded confident and proud.

Jason drew himself together with those thoughts ringing through his mind. He knew he'd grown in just these few days, for the mysterious aging factor had only matured him, not weakened him. Not yet. Even more importantly, although he looked very much alone, he was not. Locked inside were the strengths of every Magicker he had ever touched, and every friend he'd ever shared with. The only thing he doubted was if his own strength would be enough, but it wouldn't be because he hadn't tried.

The corner of his mouth crooked up a little. He wondered what kind of brownie points against the Dark Hand he'd get for just trying.

He shifted his weight on the rock outcropping. From where he stood, he could see the four corners of this tiny pocket of Haven, which he'd once thought was the entire face of it. Now Jason knew better. A wind came through the valley, faint and clear, playing against his face and carrying the scent of spring on it, of green grass, a hint of faraway rain, and blossoms he had no names for because they were of Haven and no place he had ever been to before. After this was all over, he made a note, he'd ask FireAnn about some of those herbs and flowers. Or maybe he and Bailey could go on a walking tour.

He wondered about what the dragon had hinted at. As he fought here, when the battle came to him, would it be reflected elsewhere? Were all great battles in his world and Haven ripples of battles somewhere or somewhen else? And did the battles they started on their own create ripples that in turn carried grief and strife? Somehow he had always thought when war came to him, he'd be wearing a uniform and carrying a weapon of another sort, rather than a Chinese grandmother's cane.

Jason ran his hands over it. “Good, Chinese bamboo,” Qi had said. “Nothing harder, not even a stubborn boy's skull.” He wasn't sure what he'd do with it, other than what she'd shown him. His version of Wu Shu would have moves in it no master could have envisioned.

A trembling came on the wind. He felt it, more than heard it. Magic was even harder to define or see than the wind that carried it, but it pricked at his nerves. A storm rode the wind now. Jason swallowed. He was as ready as he could ever be, he hoped. He was to keep the Gates open, yet hold them here while Gavan and Tomaz gathered their allies and came from the rear. He was to let them in, but not to let them pass.

Or, as Bailey put it, “We're the cork in the bottle,” which made sense in a Bailey sort of way. Jason hadn't thought to ask her whether the Dark Hand was breaking out of, or into, that bottle. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. All that mattered was that he stood there, his face tilted to the wind, trying to catch the first glimpse of the attack.

He heard it first. Borne on the wind came an eerie howling that he knew all too well, the battle song of the wolfjackal. He shaded his eyes as the horizon darkened with clouds of storm gray and the wolflike beasts seemed to rip the very sky apart with their flashing teeth as they raced toward him. The back of his left hand twitched in pain from the long-ago scar, and he rubbed it slightly to distract himself. From Chaos itself, the wolfjackals seemed to obey no rule of time or space as they raced across the building clouds, descending to earth only when they drew near. That did not surprise him.

What immobilized him for a long moment was the sight of riders upon their shaggy backs. To see the Dark Hand mounted shot defiance into his heart. The dark powers would feed upon each other, making both more powerful than they would have been alone! Tomaz must have known this, even as Jason could sense it. Had he betrayed them to the Dark Hand as well, as Henry had, as Isabella had, some in lesser ways, others in far greater? Had he shown them this fact unwillingly or willingly? Dare he trust Tomaz now, at Gavan's side, planning a rescue?

Jason narrowed his eyes after one fierce blink to chase away a bitter tear. He had no way of knowing and no time to guess.
I know what I know. Doubt brings weakness, and is the way of the enemy.
Tomaz had never failed him before. He would not believe the Magicker had failed him now!

He placed both hands on his bamboo cane once more and centered his thoughts. The crystal pendant at his throat answered with a flare of warmth. Strengthened by his exercises, he no longer had to cup it for Focusing. It answered him by sheer thought and will with a beacon of light that enveloped him in a luminous glow that muffled the ever sharper howling. The bamboo seemed to mold to his grip on it as he eyed the wolfjackal riders.

Jonnard moved to the fore, brandishing a black sword. Behind him rode Brennard and two of the Dark Hand he had seen before but whose names he'd never known or he'd forgotten, young men, pale, angry, wearing long duster coats straight out of the
Matrix
movies, and the fifth rider of the Hand was a Leucator of himself. Jason inhaled deeply, his breath hissing through his teeth. Isabella had always thought herself so clever.

The galloping wolfjackals covered leagues of ground in bare minutes, coming toward him at a dead run. He could hear their hot breath between howls and snarls and the sound of the men riding them urging them after him. Jason stood on high ground, but that wouldn't protect him, and he bent his knees slightly for the force of the first physical attack even as he readied for the mental unleashing of power they would send against him.

The glow of his Shield took on a rainbow-edged hue as Ting and Bailey and Rich and Stef bent their own powers through the clever gemstone pendant Ting had fashioned. They were out of his sight, in strategic corners of the green vale, protecting the other Gates, like him, trying to hold an invisible line. Like linking hands, Ting had said hopefully, and he could feel it now as if they did and prayed it would continue to hold the bond she'd forged for him. Only Henry did not filter through his crystal for obvious reasons. Trent, for less obvious.

The wolfjackals and riders leaped up below him. He moved, raining tiny pebbles and sand downward, and scarcely felt the first stings of power they sent against him. His Shield made tiny spits as it repelled each attempt to touch him. He felt as though he wore a great suit of armor and they could not touch him. If only it would last!

The Leucator dropped to the rear of the pack, watching him with eyes that would have looked like his own, but they were flat with the lack of expression. Dead eyes, Bailey would say. Something odd caught his attention as the Leucator raised his hand to guide his surly wolfjackal into submission but exactly what it was escaped him.

Jonnard stretched upward on his wolfjackal mount. “Give us passage.”

“The Gates were open. That is all we promised.” His voice sounded braver than he felt.

“We don't need promises to take what we can take.” Jonnard threw his hands up, lightning shivering between them. Jason reeled back, as he threw his hands up in response, barely holding onto his cane.

He let his Magick talk for him. He swung around, aiming his gaze at one of the dark riders he barely knew, and the power swung with him and shot out with a sizzle. A wolfjackal dodged with a yelp and snarl, nearly unseating its rider. The smell of burned dirt filled his nostrils.

He brought his attention back to Jon and Brennard.

Brennard cuffed his wolfjackal to a crouching standstill. “So,” he noted. “The boy becomes a man.”

“Not man enough.” Jon spit out a curse and gestured. Jason's feet went out from under him as the earth moved, tossing him, and he landed, rolling, on the sharp rocks. He came up on his knees and catapulted into a back flip, courtesy of Qi's teaching, twisting his body into balance as he did, settling firmly onto his feet.

The look of satisfaction on Jonnard's face bled away.

A rumble like thunder cut through the stormy sky and Jason looked up toward it. None of the Dark Hand did, and that meant they expected it. He frowned. Out of the depths of dark clouds great forms rolled forward and then halted, waiting.

Huge wagons with black canvas tarps over them appeared, with hooded drivers, their dull brown draft horses stamping on the dirt restlessly, the fittings on their harnesses jingling like bells. He could not imagine what they carried but was afraid they would all find out before this fight was over. Behind them, he could see human figures, also waiting. An army. Brennard had brought an army with him. Jason shook his head as though he could clear his vision of that sight.

On the seat of the leading wagon, Isabella sat brazenly, and she held a limp Eleanora across her lap as if she were a rag doll or already dead.

Just hold them
, Gavan and Tomaz had said.
Hold them until we arrive.

Jason tightened his hands on his cane, feeling as though caught in some heroic movie and knowing the outcome couldn't possibly be the same. He might stand against the five drawing nearer and nearer to him as though they were a noose and he the neck they would tighten around, but an army?

Panic shot through him. He considered the options they'd planned beforehand, getting Ting, and Grandmother, and Bailey and Rebecca to safety if anything happened. His hand jerked in a reflex upward to grasp his crystal and signal a retreat.

How could he hold against an army?

A bamboo splinter came off in his palm, sharply, as he moved. Jason bit off a cry at the surprising hurt, then stifled a second exclamation. Qi's voice cut through his memory. They will fight you inside and out, Jason. Remember that!'

Yes. He had forgotten that . . . momentarily. He bit his lip against the sting of the splinter and gazed at one of the wolfjackals who paced and snarled, and then Jason took aim. A shard of white fire exploded at its feet and the beast bolted with a howl of dismay. It took to its heels. The Hand riding the wolfjackal thrashed and whipped it, unable to halt it, and no one moved to help him as the beast whirled about. They disappeared back into the storm that had brought them. Jonnard put a heel firmly to the side of the shaggy beast he rode, reminding it who was in charge, and it paced sideways to flank Jason. The Gatekeeper moved to watch Jonnard. That was a mistake.

In a flash, they were on him from two sides. He felt a claw rip at him and the heat wave of a power surge. Jason ducked his head and let his body soar as Qi had shown him, diving into a tumbling somersault and coming up, swinging his cane. He connected even as he kicked about, pivoting out of range as a wolfjackal snarled at his ear. No time to look, just react. Let his body avoid the danger. His spirit sensed the blows before they would hit and carried him away.

He waved a hand, crying out for Light and the Magick gave it to him, flaring in the eyes of the beast snapping at him. The wolfjackal veered away yelping and stumbled down the small hill, pawing at its blinded eyes. It dumped its rider who put a hand out, then pulled back his duster coat and stood his ground. Jason shrugged a shoulder and sent a lance of song at him that vibrated through him. He stared in astonishment at his hand, at the spear he held, as it shook harder and harder and then disintegrated into metal dust and rained out from between his fingers.

Jason turned away from the backlash on that spell but it hit him anyway, the noise of drums bursting in his skull until his own Shield rattled under the turmoil and he could hear Ting gasp softly in her own pain as she tried to protect him. He brought his Focus back on himself to dispel the sonics and then stood, panting, feeling something wet drip down the side of his jaw.

Jason touched fingers to his face and brought them away crimson. Someone had marked him, Shield or not, Magick or not. How badly was he cut? Was it a gaping wound that would drain him of all his blood? The thought of flesh opening to his skull, exposing nerves and muscles, made him shake and he stared at his fingers.

Jason, stop it. That's what they want you to think. It's a surface wound, minor, or I'd be out there bandaging you!
Rich's voice echoed faintly in his head. Jason shook himself. He couldn't take his eyes off the blood dripping from his hand.