Winter Door (30 page)

“He is still at the gates of Stormkeep.”

“You just left him there?” Rage demanded.

“Puck and I tried to get him,” Thaddeus said, “but the gray fliers swooped on us. They no longer come into the settlement, but they attack anyone who ventures outside. Puck’s wing was torn and he fell, but I managed to get him back inside.”

“No need to boast,” Puck snapped, but there was less real anger in his voice than before. “I would have recovered and saved myself if you hadn’t interfered.”

“If the gray fliers attack anyone leaving a settlement, how did Elle leave?” Billy asked.

“She left to tour the other settlements right after you vanished, Rage. No flier tried to stop her or her summerlander followers, but we do not know why.”

“What do the other settlers say about what has been happening?”

“Nothing,” Thaddeus said. “They are like the Stormlord. They don’t want to feel anything. But some of them can’t help themselves because their children are summerlanders. The woman who has looked after the wizard is one. She also gave Mr. Walker fever medicine, though I fear his madness will have undone any good it did him.”

“We have to help him,” Billy said to Rage.

The inner door opened and the wizard entered slowly. Rage was startled to see how thin and frail he was. In Stormkeep, he had been so swathed in cloaks and shawls that it had been impossible to tell.

“I thought I heard you,” the wizard said in a thin voice. “Billy Thunder, I am more glad than I can say to see that you are safe. I take it you woke in time.”

“I was woken by a friend, sir,” Billy said. His nose twitched, and Rage wondered what he could smell on the old man.

The wizard hobbled to sit by a small fire in a hearth that had been set up to one side of the chilly room. “I have been thinking about why Prince Walker was not taken with Noma and Rally, and it has come to me that if Elle is right about the machine drawing power from the despair of those linked to it, then it may be that Prince Walker is serving a similar role by lamenting at the gate to Stormkeep; I mean, he is feeding its master his despair.” He lifted salt-and-pepper brows above piercing Winnoway amber eyes.

“I think you are right,” Billy said.

The wizard smiled at him. Then he looked at Rage. “Despair is a power, you see. Was it not you who once told me that sorrow is a contagious disease that can be passed from generation to generation?”

Rage felt herself flush, then pale.

“You were right,” the wizard said softly. “But the rightness of your accusation only served to deepen the hurts caused by my actions, because your words ate into me and crippled my strength. They made me feel that there was nothing but to give myself to guilt and regret. The words you said generated deeper despair. I do not blame you, child. It was I who allowed them to do this.

“Strangely, coming so close to seeking the oblivion offered by this world, I see that although what you said was true, it was not the only truth or all of the truth. Pain does cause pain and sorrow causes sorrow, but to accept it and allow oneself to be crippled by it is a choice one makes. One can also choose not to be shaped by pain and sorrow, given or experienced, but to grow because of them and then leave them behind. Yet such a choice requires courage.”

Rage was trembling because the truth of all the wizard was saying was like a knife gliding into her. For hadn’t she even begun to see that she could no longer blame the wizard for what his brother had done to her mother and Uncle Samuel, and what they in turn had done to her? She felt humbled by the way Nomadiel had gone on believing in her fierce, proud little way that she deserved to be loved by her father. And she thought how Billy had gone on loving his mother, no matter how she hurt or rejected him. He had not despaired nor held the pain close, allowing it to gnaw at him. He had let go of it and passed on only his steadfast love. That was the highest kind of courage.

Rage looked into the wizard’s lined face and drew herself up. “You are right. I said the things I did to you in Valley because I wanted to hurt you because I had been hurt. Forgive me.”

The wizard’s amber eyes grew bright. “Forgive
me,
” he said.

“Maybe we can forgive one another,” Rage said, and brushed aside her own shyness to step forward and put her arms around the wizard. How wonderful it was to be hugged back so tightly, as if she was precious and worth living for. And how strangely easy to let go of anger and resentment and bitterness.

The ground shuddered. Rage and the wizard drew back in startlement.

“Can’t you do something about Mr. Walker using magic, sir?” Billy asked.

“I have too little strength to work a spell that would transport him,” the wizard said regretfully. “Especially when he does not will it.”

Rage had an idea. “Do you have enough power to make me invisible?”

“My dear Rage, invisibility is no small thing. But because it is you, and we are connected by blood, I may be able to make you extremely hard to see, which is almost as good as invisibility. But I won’t be able to hold the spell for long.”

“I will go to him,” Rage said, feeling that anything could be possible now. The world shuddered again. Rage wondered with a little thrill if
she
had caused that tremor. She hoped so.

“I’ll go, too,” Billy said.

But the wizard shook his head. “I will not be able to hide you as well as Rage.” He looked at her. “But perhaps you should think on it a little. Prince Walker is small but if he fights you, it is likely that you will both fall into the abyss spanned by the bridge. Or he might call the attention of the gray fliers.”

“I don’t mean to force him,” Rage said. “I am sure that he will come away willingly once he realizes that he is helping the Stormlord.”

The wizard looked at Rage. “Can you wait until the Lady Elle returns? My strength grows with each hour that passes. By tomorrow, I will be capable of much more than I am now.”

“I would wait, but Mr. Walker has been out for three days.”

“Very well. When will you go?”

“Now,”
Rage said decisively, and her pulse began to race at her own audacity. “Do you have a coat that will fit Mr. Walker, and something I can carry a hot drink in?”

In a short time, she was padding along a snowy street. Billy and Thaddeus were with her and would wait at the edge of the settlement until she returned. Rage hugged Billy hard. Then she turned to say goodbye to Thaddeus, who held out his hand. She thought he meant her to shake it, but instead, she found it held another of the small pouches of sleep dust.

“Just in case Prince Walker is unable to listen to reason,” he said. “He will be easier to carry if he sleeps.”

“Thank you,” Rage said, putting the soft pouch into her pocket.

She turned and began to walk away from the buildings. Ahead, the glacier glowed white, and the stone bridge to Stormkeep looked as insubstantial as a thread stretching out across the black abyss. The torches that had lit the fortress crenellations had been extinguished, so Stormkeep was no more than a vague dark shape. Rage expected to hear the chittering clamor of gray fliers, but she heard nothing save the snow crunching under her boots. When she reached the stone bridge, she hesitated. Not only was it very narrow, but there were no rails. It also curved steeply up. Once she was standing on it, she could not see the other side.

Rage forced herself to step onto the bridge, and at once she shivered, for the glacier gave off an icy aura. She took a deep breath, fixed her eyes ahead, and began to walk. When she was about to pass over the edge of the glacier where it fell into the abyss, she made the mistake of looking down. Her head spun as she saw the white, glittering icefall plunging into blackness. She dragged her eyes back to the bridge and went on. She had taken only a few steps before it grew windier in blustering surges. If Rage took one wrong step, she would fall, and the chances of Logan waking her at that moment were very slim.

When she came to the midway point of the bridge, she was surprised that she could see the end of it: the great black doors to Stormkeep. But there was no sign of Mr. Walker. It was not until she had her feet on the broad platform of stone leading to the doors that she noticed a dark shape on the ground. She ran to where Mr. Walker lay half buried under snow, his face pressed against the pitiless gate.

“Mr. Walker,” Rage whispered, kneeling beside him and setting down the flask so that she could pull him around to her.

He was blue with cold, with a crust of ice over his face and long, furled ears. She unwrapped the cloak Thaddeus had given her and put it around the little dog-man. Then she unstopped the flask and poured a tiny amount of the steaming soup into his mouth. It trickled out at once, but he began to cough. The coughing did not stop. It built to a jagged, phlegm-clogged spasm that made her fear it would draw unwanted attention. At last the spasm ended, leaving Mr. Walker gasping.

“Mr. Walker,” Rage whispered urgently. “Prince Walker!” He did not move. “Mr. Walker, you must wake up and come with me, for Nomadiel’s sake.”

Brown eyes as dull as pond stones opened. “Nomadiel is gone. It is my fault,” he croaked.

“No. She chose to go,” Rage said firmly.

“She is a child.”

“Yes, but still she chose to go and try to get help because she has great courage.”

“I have been a bad father.”

“Maybe you have,” Rage said softly. “I don’t suppose you could help it if you were. But I don’t think she hates you for it or even blames you. She loves you, which is why she deserves for you to be better to her from now on.”

“It’s too late—”

“It’s never too late!” Rage said. “How could it be too late for you to love her and be a father to her? You must give up grieving for Kelpie and become a father to her daughter and yours.”

“I cannot forget her,” Mr. Walker said brokenly. “I loved her so much.”

“I didn’t say to forget her. You’ve spent too much time thinking about her dead instead of remembering her alive. You have to stop hurting yourself and Nomadiel because she died. Kelpie would be so sad to see how the two of you are.”

“Nomadiel is better off without me.”

“That’s not true,” Rage said fiercely, wondering if her mother had thought this, and maybe her uncle, too. “How can it possibly be better not to have a father? She loves you, and you have to be brave enough to love her. Now get up, because the spell hiding me from the gray fliers could wear off any time.”

“How can I love Nomadiel when she is lost to me?” Mr. Walker said.

“She can never be lost to you, any more than Feluffeen can. Plus we are going to defeat the Stormlord and free her. But your despair and guilt are just making him stronger right now. That’s what his machine and his world are made from and what keeps them strong. Bad feelings. He took Nomadiel because she is brave and bright and because she loves you.”

“Then…he did not take me because I…”

“Mr. Walker, there is no time for this. We can talk when we are safe.” At last, Mr. Walker allowed her to help him sit up. Rage gave him another drink from the flask. She lifted him to his feet, but when she let him go, they crumpled under him.

“It’s no use,” he said.

“I can carry you,” Rage said, trying not to think how narrow the bridge was. She braced herself and hauled him as gently as she could onto her back. He tried to help but was too weak. “The main thing is for you to keep really still,” Rage told him, setting off.

Oddly, this time she found it easier on the bridge because their combined weight steadied her and the wind could not buffet her so easily. Despite the impulse to hurry, she forced herself to walk at a measured pace. Three-quarters of the way across, Mr. Walker began to cough violently. Rage stopped until the fit of coughing abated, then continued. She had just reached the end of the bridge when a chittering cry filled the air. The spell had worn off!

She heard the whirring of wings overhead and stepped with awkward haste down onto the snowy ground. She continued doggedly toward the settlement, keeping to the furrow she had made earlier. She would not have dared run even if she had the strength left for it, because Mr. Walker now flopped loosely against her and she was afraid he had fainted. If she was right, any sharp movement would topple them both.

The whirring grew louder and more menacing, and Rage remembered the sleep dust in her pocket. She pulled the pouch out with her one free hand, but the wind tugged it from her. The contents whirled away in a glittering arc.

There was no option but to keep trudging on.

“Go back over bridge,” chittered the nearest of the fliers, hovering between her and the settlement. Rage noticed absently how the snowflakes beginning to spiral down melted the moment they touched the smooth surface of its armor, and dimly wondered why it didn’t simply grab at her, as the other flier had done in Stormkeep.

“Let me pass or you’ll be sorry!” Rage gasped, because what did it matter now?

Rage expected the creature to attack then, for more fliers were hovering about. Then all at once she heard Billy calling her name. She looked through the fliers and saw him hurtling toward her from the settlement.

“No!” she cried as several fliers turned to face him, brandishing their long lances.

Billy stopped and so did Thaddeus, who was coming along behind him. They only had knives, which would be no use against the armor of the fliers. One of the creatures threw its lance. It struck Billy a glancing blow that sent him to his knees in a flash of bluish light. Rage screamed as the other fliers lifted their lances.

At that moment, a cry rang out across the barren waste. Rage turned to see Elle racing toward them, her blond hair flying like a pale, bright flag. Behind her were dozens of young summerlanders, their faces pale and determined in the light of the torches they carried. The fliers retreated as if some unbearable ray had been turned on them. And softly as rain, it came to Rage that the fliers were retreating not from the summerlanders’ makeshift weapons but from their courage and hope.

“Yes, fly away!” she shouted, exultant, understanding that this, too, was a weapon against them.