The Gate of Bones (25 page)

They hit. Jon went down, sliding across the rough and broken paving of the alleyway under him, both grunting, and their blades shining like lightning bolts in the darkness. Stef rolled off the other and hauled him to his feet, panting, resisting a howl of triumph. Jon's foot lashed out, and pain shot through Stef s knee. Reeling back, he lost his grip on the other, and Jon shoved him back farther, bringing up his saber.

“Now,” he said. “Face a master.”

“Gladly!” Stef brought his guard up, feeling Jason still with him, anchoring him, and filling his mind with the moves that Madame Qi had taught him, as she'd tried to teach Stefan. No longer afraid the bear would rule him, he tapped into its strength as well, and a blend of himself and Magicker, he faced Jonnard.

Blades slashed and met one another, struck and countered, parried and stung the air. They rang and clashed off each other's blows, and Jonnard frowned as Stef met him cut for cut. It wasn't pretty or smooth, but neither did Jon outmatch him as he'd intended. Stef found himself grinning in a kind of fierce joy. Right blow, left, up, down, his blade answered Jon's.

He knew a lot of the flow came from Jason. He could feel it running through his mind and memory, Jason in Ninjalike combat with the Dark Hand, flowing through hand and feet and sword. He did not mind. This was what his body was meant to do, had been training to do. He couldn't master it yet, but he
would,
someday and when he did, this was how he would fight!

Stef threw his head back in a gleeful roar as Jonnard stepped back, sword arm trembling with effort.

“Freak,” snarled Jon.

“And proud of it!” He raised his sword for another blow, strength still in his arms, and fury coursing through him for what Jon had done, and intended to do.

Jon broke. He grasped his crystal and disappeared in a flash of light.

Stef stood for a moment, anger still at high tide in him, and faced nothingness. He lowered his blade reluctantly. Jason's presence inside him began to fade away, leaving only the softest touch inside him, a congratulation for doing well, and then the other Magicker was gone as well.

Stef took a deep breath. He swung about, getting his bearings in the city, and then trotted back to the forge. Tiredness hit him like a falling tree, and he shook it off with a bearlike growl. By the time he found the streets he needed, he was staggering and laughing at himself.

Rich and Beryl met him.

“How's Tomaz?”

“Thickheaded, like you. Jon clubbed him with the sword hilt. How are you?” Rich swept his hands over him quickly.

“Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure.”

Beryl eyed him, her face hiding its concern after a quick look. “Then I suggest you get that sleep. Tomorrow's lesson will be on gauging your opponent and knowing when to retreat!” She slapped his sword arm, not lightly, before walking away.

Rich said, “I think I agree. That was stupid going after him.”

“Oh, yeah? Well I caught him and guess what? Bear and I made him run!” Stef let out a growling laugh. The night might be late, but it was good!

 

“Are you sorry we didn't get to go anywhere?” Ting spoke softly into the darkness of their room.

“There's time. I'm just glad Stef got to go. I mean, there's not much he asks for, you know? So, it's his turn to be Cinderella.”

“Only he doesn't turn into a pumpkin at midnight, he turns into a bear!” Ting giggled softly, her voice almost like a wind chime.

Bailey grinned into the night. “Besides,” she said. “We still have that map.”

“True! We'll have to plan that out very carefully.”

“Do you think our theory is correct?”

“I think that we are definitely losing power quicker than we did at home, and we're slower getting it back. That's not good.”

“It sure isn't.” Bailey turned onto her side. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could almost see Ting's slender figure curled on her cot across the room. “We can't prove anything yet.”

“I'm not sure if it's the kind of thing we
can
prove.”

“It's likely,” Bailey said quietly, “they already know and have decided not to tell us.”

“You think?”

“It wouldn't be the first time. The question is . . . will it be really important at just the wrong time?”

“Yeah,” breathed Ting.

Neither said another word, and after a long moment, Bailey realized Ting had slipped into sleep. She pulled her blankets closer about her, one of them brand new from Laura Squibb, and snuggled in as well. Just before she drifted off, she felt the tentative, tiny movements of Lacey climbing in as well and curling up close to her ear. Bailey fell asleep smiling.

 

“Good morning,” Rich said cheerfully as he slid into the hot mineral waters, and sank down with a blissful look on his face. His fair, pale skin immediately pinked from the heat, his freckles standing out, and his red hair began to curl into a mat of frizz, but it was obvious he could care less.

“Isn't morning. Still night from what I can see.”

“That's what you get for all the gallivanting around. And wait till Tomaz gets up. Even with that headache of his, I think you're going to catch it from him.” Rich peered at Stef. About all of Stef that showed was the top half of his head, his nose barely clearing the bubbling pool of water. “If you can see anything through the steam.”

“I can see.” Stef jammed a thumb up at the shed's roof, where the sky could still be seen as dark. “Nighttime.”

“The sun is on the horizon and Tomaz will be here any minute.” Rich paused. “I'm sorry we have to go home early. At least you got some sword work in last night. Urmmmm . . .” He reached out and touched Stef's shoulder under the water. “Wow. That's some welt. She must pack a punch.”

Stef emerged a bit and gave a proud grin. “Yeah, she's good with that sword, dull or not. Really good.”

“Maybe we can convince Gavan to let us come back regularly, like we were doing before.” “I hope so! She says,” and Stefan cleared his throat, “she says her dad is forging a real sword for me. Special one. The hilt is this rearing bear, like.”

Rich whistled. “You're kidding.”

“Nope.”

“That's, wow, that's some sword.”

Stef looked intently at his friend. “You know I don't talk about myself, right?”

“Yeah, I know, buddy.”

“Beryl thinks I could be, well, like a hero. Her father says, the lands are gonna need a few. He says the Spirit is getting weak. No one wants to talk about it or admit it, but he can't protect them like he did. If he could, the Dark Hand wouldn't have done what they've done. Jonnard coming into the city last night like he did just reinforced that.”

“So the old guy believes in this Spirit, huh?”

“They all do. From what I heard, Rich, it exists. The Warlord existed, and he left this mighty Spirit behind to keep his people safe. But he's a Spirit, see, and he's not meant to go on forever. The other side is pulling on him, wants to make his soul whole. He's thinning out, and some day, the Spirit will be gone.”

“What then?”

“Heroes.” Stef nodded grimly. “They're going to need warriors to stand up for 'em. I'm not saying I fit into that, you know. I think I could help, though. That, I could do. This strength I get from the bear, this fearlessness. Sometimes that's what it takes.”

“Stef—” For a moment, Rich felt very cold, in spite of the hot water of the pool.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything stupid like I did last night. I met Jon, okay? But he's far better and I know it. Still, I like learning the sword. It makes my muscles work, like football used to, and my mind work in a different way. Magick stuff drives me kinda crazy sometimes, you know? I miss football. If I got mad at anything, I could just push it into there. Now, it's got no place to go and that isn't good for me.”

“Gavan's just looking out for all of us.”

“I know that. Doesn't mean he's doing the right thing, though, for everyone.” Stefan stood up, water cascading off his stocky body, and wrapped a towel about himself. Rich could see three good-sized welts on his torso and a couple of purpling bruises on his legs. He wouldn't ask whether the training or the encounter with Jon had made them.

Rich had been a trainer for the football team, and he'd seen Stefan all bruised up any number of times. That had never bothered the big guy. What had bothered him was trying to do his best for the team.

His best for this team, Stef seemed to feel, did not lie in his Magick. Rich began to understand that. He made up his mind to talk with Gavan and Tomaz and the other elders and see if he could make them understand that, as well.

Stef had dressed completely and Rich had gotten most of his clothes on when Tomaz appeared at the shed door.

“Good. It looks as if you are ready.” Tomaz nodded in approval, even as he lifted a finger and scratched the small white diamond on the chest of the otherwise glossy black crow on his shoulder.

“Who's that?”

“Snowheart,” Tomaz told him. “She came back with me, as did her mate. I do not know if this world will accept them, but I needed them. We must hurry. After last night's retreat, I don't want Jon coming back to test our weakness.” He rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. “He might have tried more if it hadn't been for Stefan.”

“I'm ready for more!”

Rich thumped his shoulder. “This ain't the time, big guy. You yourself said you weren't quite ready yet.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stef's face wrinkled up in disappointment, but he stepped back in agreement. Instead, he gathered up his things and Rich's herb bags.

“There will be a time,” Tomaz told them both. “And let us hope it is a time we can be prepared for.” Snowheart cawed sharply at his words, punctuating them.

J
ASON WOKE IN THE EARLY dawn, warmer than usual, and feeling it was darker than usual as he looked up and saw the roof overhead. He reached over and touched a fingertip to the crystal lantern, setting off its glow, and the reflector behind it broadcast light throughout the room. Trent's deep breathing indicated he wasn't even close to waking yet, and Jason wondered what it was that had awakened him.

A sensation prickled over him, something unfamiliar and possibly unpleasant, but he wasn't quite sure. Gooseflesh rose on his arms and the back of his neck, and he looked about without seeing anything. He rubbed his arms. He didn't like feeling spooked. What could intrude, with all the wards they had laid into the very wood and stone of the academy?

Jason shifted uneasily, then got up and dressed. Downstairs, in the kitchen, he found no one about but Madame Qi, leaning on her bamboo cane while shaking tea leaves into a china pot. She smiled as she poured steaming water into it.

“Henry brought back some truly excellent Chinese tea.” She smiled, her seamed face breaking into many wrinkles, as she took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma. “Have some with me?”

“That would be great.” He sat down on one of the three-legged stools, leaving a sturdy chair for her. She said nothing, and he said little more, as she busied herself fixing their drinks and putting biscuits with jam out on a plate. The biscuits had to be from yesterday, but that was all right; they'd be good dunked. Jason waited politely for Ting's grandmother to sit and pour him a cup. It was then he noticed the goose bumps had slowly gone away, although the feeling that something had been watching him was still there.

“Jason, my student, always the quiet one and yet even quieter today. What brings you so early in the morning?”

He pulled the delicate, handleless cup close to him, the heat of the tea warming his fingers through the china. She had not been trained as a Magicker, yet she had told all of them stories of her grandfather who was a Chinese magician in his time, and who had undoubtedly had some kind of Talent as did she, and certainly Ting, her granddaughter.

She did not watch him as she gathered her own drink and biscuit, as if giving him a break from her sharp eyes. Otherwise, she always seemed to see more than others.

“Did you feel it,” he asked then. “Something odd.”

“We live in a world other than our own, where a dragon comes to talk with you, and someone offers you a six-fingered hand in welcome . . . and you ask if I feel something odd?” She sat back with a chuckle.

He cleared his throat, feeling very awkward. “I don't know how else to put it. It's as though I woke up and something had been watching me.”

She nodded then, holding her teacup at chin level. “That, young man, is precisely what woke me. Whatever it is, the wards do not seem to bother it.”

“Then I'm not the only one who felt it!”

“Even if you were, would you doubt it had happened?”

He thought a moment before shaking his head. “No. No, something was stirring. I don't know what, but I felt it.”

“Like a ghost walking over your grave.”

“Exactly!”

“And then, perhaps it was. Here, they speak of the Spirit often enough.”

Jason sipped his tea. It was strong and slightly smoky flavored, with a bite. He wished he'd had some sugar for it, but they used sugar sparingly. It was hard to store and had become a luxury. “The Spirit. Looking us all over? I wonder.”

“Wonder more if Gavan and Tomaz did not feel it. Has it cloaked itself against them? Will it test us? What is it looking for in us, and will we pass? Many questions to wonder about.”