Winter Door (19 page)

At last and incredibly, they reached the bottom of the hill. Again she fell, this time because she had trodden too hard, not expecting the jarring suddenness of flat ground. Billy bit her on the hand hard enough to startle her into the realization that she was sitting there with the snow melting under her and seeping into her clothes.

Rage struggled to rise, but her legs wouldn’t seem to work. She slid her fingers under Billy’s collar and he surged forward, hauling her to her feet. She used her free hand to rub at her face and eyes. She could feel neither and understood that if they did not find shelter soon, she would freeze to death. If she did, Billy would freeze, too, because he would never leave her. Leaning down carefully so as not to overbalance, she put her face next to Billy’s ears and shouted, “We need to find shelter quickly, Billy. Sniff out the hut. The hikers’ hut.”

Billy barked, a flat, hollow thump of sound against the roaring vibration of the storm. Rage braced herself when he pulled forward. His strength alone drew them at first, but as her legs moved, the exertion warmed her slightly. She was so stiff that she fell again and again. Gradually a fatigue rolled over her so great and compelling as to make her wish that Billy would leave her. Then she could lay her head upon snow that felt suddenly as warm and softly inviting as her own lilac pillow, and sleep. The next time she fell, she closed her eyes, thinking that she would just have a little nap before she went on. She would go after Billy in just a moment.

Rage woke and sat up, heart pounding at the knowledge that she had almost gone to sleep in the snow. Struggling to her feet, Rage found that she was still stiff but no longer numb. The momentary lapse seemed to have done her good. She went a few steps forward and was startled to find that she was not at the bottom of the slope but on a jutting-out section that offered a little plateau. She frowned, feeling certain that she and Billy had reached the dam level before she fell. Or had she dreamed that?

She began to descend the dark slope carefully, straining her eyes to see the bottom. It was so easy to get confused in the snow and wind. If it hadn’t been for Billy’s help, goodness knows where she would have wound up!

And where was Billy, anyway? Worrying about him kept Rage toiling downhill when it seemed that the slope must be endless. Her legs were aching abominably by the time she finally reached flat ground. It was clearer here, not that being able to see helped much, because nothing was the least bit familiar. She seemed to be in a narrow canyon between hills rather than in a valley. Since the canyon went out of sight in both directions, there was not even any way to suggest which direction she ought to walk to find the hikers’ hut. She opened her mouth, took a deep breath, and shouted Billy’s name.

Her blood froze when her only answer was the long, ululating howling of a wolf. Rage might have panicked, but she noticed a single, fitful light, like a flashlight with a bad battery, a little way down the canyon. Hoping it was her uncle, she broke into a slow, stumbling run.

“Hello! I’m here!” she shouted.

The light stopped, then it began to bob toward her. Only when the light was close did she realize that it was not a flashlight but a torch like those they had lit in the hut in Deepwood. She stopped, confused, then she saw who was carrying it and her mouth dropped open.

It was Mr. Walker.

“However did you get
here
?” Rage gasped incredulously. She wanted to throw her arms about him, but instead of smiling, he was glaring at her suspiciously.

“What are you? Some sort of phantom sent out to deceive us?”

Rage wanted to laugh at the melodrama of his words. However, the look on his sharp little face was serious, and his free hand was resting so purposefully on a small silver sword that she sensed he knew how to use it. “Mr. Walker, it’s me! Rage! Did you come here to find me?”

His face cleared. “Rage! It really
is
you. But how did you get here before us?”

“I…I was here all along. How did
you
get here?”

“We came through the winter door, of course.”

Rage was too confounded to speak.

The little dog-man twitched his huge soft ears and demanded, “Have you hit your head?”

It was like a repeat of their arrival in Valley through the bramble gate. Mr. Walker had done nothing but scold her and tell her she had been knocked senseless, because it had taken her so long to understand that the dogs and goat had been transformed. “Mr. Walker, listen to me. I have just been out walking with Billy in the hills around Winnoway looking for the bramble gate. But it started snowing hard and the wind got so strong. Anyhow, I fell and Billy must have thought I was hurt and ran off to get help. The next thing, I see your light and now you’re telling me that you came here through the winter door.”

Mr. Walker stared at her. “This is not the world of Winnoway Farm where once we all lived with the Cold Man. If it were so, I would have smelled it. This is the land on the other side of the winter door, which we have named Bleak.” His sharp little eyes widened.

“But how did I get here?” Rage asked softly.

“I do not know,” Mr. Walker said. “But I think we had better go to the others and let them know that you have come. In stories it is always a bad thing for expeditions in dangerous places to split up.”

Rage had no idea what had happened, but it was easier to imagine she had been magically transported to the world beyond the winter door than that Mr. Walker had passed through it and ended up in
her
world. She noticed that Mr. Walker was looking around uneasily, and remembered the wolf call. “What is it? Can you smell another animal?”

“Not an animal. Something else. Perhaps it is coming from the settlement.”

“A settlement?”

“You can’t see it from here,” Mr. Walker said. “It is farther down that way.” He pointed back the way he had come, then he took her arm and began to walk with her in that direction.

“What kind of settlement?”

“A human settlement, from the smell.”

“Don’t you know?” Rage asked.

“We intended to enter the village at once, but at the last minute we changed our minds. You see, something smelled…not wrong, but not right exactly. Thaddeus said we ought to camp and go into the settlement in the morning. He found us this cave to sleep in.”

Thaddeus was the witch Mother’s friend. He was the renegade keeper who had rescued some sprites when she was rescuing Elle and Billy from the High Keeper’s prison tower. She wanted to ask who else had gone through the winter door, but she thought of something else.

“Have you picked up Elle’s scent?”

Mr. Walker’s face fell into somber lines. “We have found traces of it closer to the village, but she is not there now. That’s another of the reasons we don’t want to rush in.” He changed the subject suddenly in his characteristic way. “I heard you calling Billy just now,” he said. “I thought I must be imagining it.”

“Is that why you came out of the cave?”

“I came out because there was a ground tremor. Didn’t you feel it? There have been several since our arrival. Then you called out. I thought I was imagining that someone was calling Billy’s name until I saw your face. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Rage said. “Maybe he’s back there while I’m here.” Her heart twisted at the thought of Billy wondering what had happened to her. “Who else came through the winter door besides you and Thaddeus?”

The little dog-man was angling away from the canyon now and moving toward a pile of broken boulders topped with snow.

“Puck, but Billy would have told you about him?” Rage nodded as Mr. Walker led her around a big boulder. There was a cave opening behind it. Rage wondered at the coincidence of a good cave in just the right place at just the right time.

Never trust coincidence,
a strange voice spoke in her mind. “Who else came through with you?” Rage asked.

“No one,” Mr. Walker said.

“But Billy told me that eight were supposed to go through. If I count you three and Elle and the wizard, that’s only five. Even if you count me, there would still be two missing. Unless Billy
did
come through—”

“I would have smelled him,” Mr. Walker said. “If he comes, he will make six, but only if he comes through the winter door. We are not to count you because you did not come through the winter door.”

The cave was quite small but warm and well lit because a fire crackled in a shallow pit at the center of it. Thaddeus, a big, curly-haired witch man, was seated cross-legged by the fire, his cloak lying stretched out beside him to dry. Puck was perched atop a boulder on the other side of the fire, frowning disconsolately into it and flexing his wings. Like all wild things, he wore only a few scraps of tattered cloth because he didn’t feel the cold. He noticed Rage and Mr. Walker, and his exclamation alerted Thaddeus, who jumped to his feet, dropping his hand to a long-bladed sword at his side.

Then Puck’s face cleared and he bowed low. “Child Rage! How good it is to see you! Though I understand that it is less time for you than for us in Valley. How came you here?”

“She doesn’t know,” Mr. Walker said.

Rage sat by the fire and told her story again. When she had finished, Thaddeus pressed a bowl of hot berry juice into her hands. She gladly drank, although the warmth of it did not reach the chill she felt deep inside.

“I cannot think how you came here, unless the storm you mention has opened a rift to this world, through which you managed to stumble,” Thaddeus said, looking interested.

“It would be a pretty big coincidence,” Rage said doubtfully.

“I think it matters less how any of us came here than what we do now that we are here,” Puck said heavily. “The sooner we close this door, the sooner we can go home.”

“Perhaps you are correct,” Thaddeus said with faint reluctance. “Nevertheless, this is a puzzle that I will work at in the alcoves of my mind.”

“There will be many of those, most filled with bats and worms,” Puck said rudely.

“Now, now, little man,” Thaddeus said, laughing. But the sound of his laughter rang strangely hollow in the cave.

“How is it that Gilbert didn’t come?” Rage asked.

“He meant to, but an hour before we were to pass through, he tripped down a stairwell and broke his leg,” Mr. Walker said, exasperated. “He is now convinced that the expedition will fail because of his clumsiness, even though the witch Mother said that he mustn’t be meant to go through.”

“I think you are right that we must forget about who else might come and proceed as we best can,” Thaddeus said firmly. “I would suggest that we all try to get some sleep now, for tomorrow looms large, and it will require all our wits and will to accomplish our task here.”

“
I
do not need sleep,” Puck retorted, giving the big man a look of open dislike.

“Then you will make a perfect watch,” Thaddeus told Puck smoothly. “Especially since you do not feel the cold. Summon us if you see aught to trouble you.”

Puck gave him a cold look before flapping his wings and flying gracefully out the entrance.

When he had gone out of sight, Thaddeus smiled at Rage. “Poor little fellow thinks I am his rival for his beloved mistress’s affections, when he ought to know she adores him.” He opened his mouth in a cavernous yawn. “I daresay it is rude of me when you have only just arrived, Child Rage, but I must sleep.” So saying, he rolled himself up in his cloak and lay down close enough to the flames that his eyebrows would be singed if a spark flew. Within seconds, he was snoring loudly.

“Oh, for Bear’s sake,” Mr. Walker snapped, giving the sleeping man an affronted look. He reminded Rage so much of the snappy little Chihuahua he had once been that she couldn’t help reaching out and hugging him. He stiffened, then hugged her back. The strength of his small arms was a reminder that Mr. Walker was far more now than he had once been.

“Prince Walker,” she said softly as she let him go. His eyes darkened with sorrow, and she regretted her words immediately, knowing they must remind him of his wife. Yet now that they had been said, there was no unsaying them. “I am so sorry about Kelpie,” she said, using the name Princess Feluffeen had called herself.

Mr. Walker swallowed as if he were choking down his grief, then he said in a strangled voice, “I will find this wizard that sent a fell winter of death and despair to us, and I will revenge myself.” Rage found her skin prickling into goose bumps at the intensity of his oath.

He drew his cloak about him as Thaddeus had done. The gesture warned her not to ask any more questions that would open up another wound. The death of Princess Feluffeen seemed to be the reason for Mr. Walker’s harsh manner with his daughter, though how it could be her fault that her mother had died, Rage did not know.

There was a faint ground tremor, but it lasted only a moment.

“Perhaps we should lie down and rest, and sleep, too, if sleep will come in such a place as this,” Mr. Walker murmured. He glanced one more time at Thaddeus, whose face looked younger in sleep, then he lay down with his back to Rage and the fire both.

Rage tried to stretch out and was startled to discover that she was wearing her knapsack. She slipped it off and stared at it in surprise. It was not her cheap rucksack with its rusted buckles, but a small, light, nylon backpack with a multitude of useful-looking pockets and Velcro fastenings. She opened it and found her own solid thermos inside, as well as a squashed package of sandwiches. She didn’t feel hungry, but she unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured herself a mug of hot cocoa, marveling at the steam rising from its surface.

The hot drink comforted Rage in some elemental way, perhaps because it reminded her of better days with Mam. Gradually all the mysteries and puzzlements and anxieties buzzing about her faded, or seemed so trivial that she need not concern herself about them. She lay down by the fire, using her arms as a pillow, and slept.

She dreamed of a snowstorm. Billy was pulling and barking frantically at her in the dream, but his barks were barely audible over the wild screams of the wind, which was like no wind she had ever experienced. The dream shifted and she dreamed of her uncle, wandering lost in the same furious storm. That shifted into a dream of Mam, also wandering lost in the storm.