Nightrise (32 page)

And this…" He picked up Frost. "I feel this sword was made for me. I'd never killed anyone in my life, but as soon as I had it in my hand…" He stopped, preferring not to remember the slaughter of the day before.

"One day you will fight another battle," Matt said. "And by that time, you will be equally skilled. The past learns from the future and the future learns from the past. I've already told you. We are always the same Five."

"But we have different names."

Matt nodded. "It's true. But where do names come from? We don't choose them. They are given to us."

Jamie thought for a moment. He had been called Jamie because it was the name of the doctor who had examined him when he was found abandoned as a baby. Scott had been christened after a box of grass seed. Those weren't their true names. They were just something to put on a form.

"In this world, Inti was named after the sun," Matt went on. "But in the future, he will simply be called Pedro. It doesn't matter. The names make no difference to who we really are."

"What is your real name?" Jamie asked.

Matt fell silent. "I prefer to use my name from your world," he said. "I'm just Matt."

Jamie had pins and needles in his leg. He wondered how long they had been sitting here. The sun was rising higher all the time. "There's not much more to add," Matt continued. "But you might like to know where you are. Ten thousand years from now, this country will look very different. It will have formed into a small island. Its name will be England. The forest will have been replanted and there will be a village about a mile from where we're sitting now. The village will be called Lesser Mailing, and although the people there will have forgotten all about the Old Ones and the battle that we've just fought and won, they will have faint memories that something important happened here. There will be a stone circle, built around the very place where you and I, Inti, Scar, and Flint finally met. That circle will come to be known as Raven's Gate."

Matt smiled to himself and pointed down.

'You see this river where we're sitting? One day, it will save my life. Well, not exactly mine." He pointed upstream. "The other Matt will swim from over there and he'll come up spluttering and half drowned right at this spot. And when he drags himself out, he won't know anything about me. Because, you see, he belongs to the future. And I'm here in the past."

"What happens now?" Jamie asked. 'You're going to send me back."

'Yes. You have to find your brother. I have to warn you, Jamie, if Scott has been taken by the Old Ones, you must prepare yourself for the worst. They'll hurt him. They may try to change him. If you do find him, he may not be the same."

"He wasn't at Silent Creek," Jamie said. He suddenly felt miserable. With everything that had happened in this other world, he had forgotten how he had failed in his own. Scott had been at the prison but he had gone. The search had to begin all over again. "Where do I look for him?"

"Use your dreams. The dream world that we visit acts in a strange way. Sometimes it sends us messages in the form of pictures or symbols. Always remember what you see there. It may mean something."

Matt stood up.

"I have to go," he said. "There's still a lot of work to do. And in a few days' time, I'm going to travel with Inti to his country. There's a weak spot there and we have to construct a second gate to make sure the Old Ones can't break back in. Inti has a brilliant idea for a sort of lock, but on a huge scale. We're going to design it together so that it can be built into the desert floor."

"But what's the point?" Jamie interrupted. 'You've already told me that the Old Ones are going to come back again."

"Well, that's an entirely different argument. Just because we know they're coming back, doesn't mean we can't try to stop them. And the longer we keep them out, the more time the world has to restore itself."

"Do you really have no idea where I can find Scott?"

"I'm sorry. But he must still be alive. If he'd been killed, Flint would have replaced him and he would have somehow managed to find you."

There was a loud screeching sound and something swooped out of the sky, landing on the outstretched branch of an oak tree on the other side of the river. Jamie started up, alarmed —but it was only an eagle.

He wondered where it had come from. It wasn't moving now and seemed to be staring right at him.

Matt had noticed the bird, and Jamie had the impression that it meant something to him. "There's one more thing I can tell you that might help," he said.

"What's that?"

"There are two gates that exist in my world and yours. We made the first of them ourselves today. Inti and I will design the second very soon. But there's something else that you need to know about. There are also twenty-five doorways."

"What do you mean?"

"How do you think we've traveled these great distances to find each other? Inti has come from the other side of the world, and I can assure you he didn't take a boat! The doorways are shortcuts. You go in one door and you come out another a thousand miles away. There are doorways in your world too."

"Where?"

"They are all in sacred places — or places that have become sacred mainly because the doors were there.

Places of worship. Buildings of one sort and another but also caves, burial chambers, even hills. They're marked with the same five-pointed star that we carried on our banners. It's the symbol of the power of Five. You're going to need to find them. All of you."

"How do we do that?"

"There's a map. It was drawn by a man called Joseph of Cordoba. He was a monk but they made him into a saint. He was one of the very few men who knew about us and our war with the Old Ones. He put the map in his diary and it shows all twenty-five doorways. Find the diary and it will give you the secret paths around your entire world."

"How do I get back to my world?" Jamie asked.

"That's easy. Someone has sent a guide for you."

Jamie looked across the river. "The eagle?"

Matt nodded.

"What do I do?"

"Follow the eagle. He'll show you where to go." Matt got to his feet.

The two boys stood looking at each other.

"Good-bye, Jamie," Matt said. 'You and I will meet again."

"I'm glad I was able to fight alongside you, Matt. Say good-bye to Inti and Scar for me. And to Flint."

Jamie unsheathed his sword one last time. He held it for a moment, not wanting to let it go, but he knew he couldn't take it with him. He handed it over. "Look after Frost," he said. "I only had it for a little while but it served me well."

The two of them looked at each other one last time. Then, leaving Jamie beside the river, Matt turned around and walked back toward the camp.

Jamie glanced at the eagle, which stirred slightly, ruffling its feathers. "Which way?" he called out.

The eagle flew the short distance to the next tree, then a little farther to one set back from the river. Its message was clear. Jamie was expected to swim across. He wasn't sure he liked the idea. The river was deep and cold and the water was flowing very fast. But it seemed he wasn't going to be given a choice.

"Whatever you say…" He climbed down the gully and waded in.

He was halfway across and well out of his depth when he realized that the current was too strong and he wasn't going to make it. The river had him in its grip and it was carrying him downstream, sweeping him along between banks that rose up ever higher, blocking out the light. Worse still, his clothes were weighing him down, threatening to drag him beneath the surface. Jamie began to panic. He turned around, wondering if he could call out to Matt for help. But Matt was far away by now and the moment he opened his mouth he found himself swallowing water. Desperately, he thrashed around. If he couldn't reach the bank or catch hold of something, he was going to get pulled under. It was crazy. Had he come through so much simply to drown?

The eagle was still watching him, perched in another tree. Jamie caught one glimpse of it and guessed that what had happened had been quite deliberate. He had been invited into a trap and like a fool he had walked into it. The water — freezing cold —churned and foamed all around him. He went under.

Gasping, using all his strength, he managed to break through the surface and breathe again. Ahead of him, he saw a cave, a jagged hole in the rock. The water was rushing into it and Jamie was being dragged along too.

He managed to scream once and then he was sucked into utter blackness. He was pulled under again —

and this time there would be no coming back up. Water flooded into his nose and mouth. He was spinning round and round. How had he allowed this to happen? He was certain that this was death.

And then nothing.

***

He was lying on his side, wrapped in a blanket: He was in the Mojave Desert and it was dusk. There was a small fire in front of him and he could feel a burning pain between his shoulders. Joe Feather was leaning over him. The intake officer was smiling, his face filled with relief.

He was back.

TWENTY

Back to Reno

"How long have I been here?" Jamie asked.

"Two nights and two days," Joe Feather replied.

"And where exactly are we?"

"We're south of Boulder City. In the mountains. Nobody's going to find us here."

Jamie made a quick calculation. His time unconscious in this world seemed to equate with his time fighting and surviving in the other. He watched as Joe poked a stick into the campfire, making the sparks leap up. The sun was setting and soon the evening would grow cool, but the fire was really there to boil water, to cook their meal, and to provide them with a little light once the night came. There was no sign of Daniel. He was asleep in the tepee.

"There are things I need to ask you," Jamie said.

"Are you well enough to talk?"

Jamie moved his shoulder blade. The moment he had returned to his own world, the wound had come back. He could feel where the bullet had hit him. He would probably feel it for years to come. But it wasn't hurting too much now.

"We had to cut you open," Joe said. "We took the bullet out and dressed the wound with willow bark."

Jamie looked puzzled. "It's traditional. But it also makes sense. Willow bark contains salicylic acid —

it's a natural painkiller."

"Who did it, Joe?"

"Me and a friend."

Jamie nodded. "Well, thanks…" He certainly wasn't going to complain. He'd seen much worse injuries in the last forty-eight hours.

"Here." Joe lifted a kettle from the fire and poured boiling water into two tin mugs. Whoever had driven them here had left them with plenty of supplies. Joe had made a rose-colored tea that tasted slightly bitter. "Meg gel tea," he explained. "It purifies your blood. Maybe it'll push some of the toxins out of your wound."

"Thank you." Jamie took the steaming liquid but he didn't drink. "Are you sure we're safe?"

'Yes. The authorities won't be looking for you here, and if they are they won't find us. My people are Washoe. We know how to hide."

'You're Washoe too?"

'Yes. Like you and your brother."

'You knew about the Five." Jamie remembered what Joe had said when he came to the isolation cell.

"Do you know about the Old Ones?"

Joe fell silent for a moment. "That is not what we call them," he said. "Each tribe has a different name for them. The Navajo call them the Anasazi. That means 'ancient enemy.' We speak of them as the People Eaters. They are the same."

"How did you know who I was?"

"I had been waiting for you." Joe sipped his tea, inviting Jamie to do the same. "How do I begin to tell you everything you want to know?" he said. "Perhaps I should ask you how much you know about the Washoes — and about the other Native Americans."

"I don't know very much," Jamie admitted. "We talked about Indians at school. About what happened to them."

"Then you must begin by understanding that my people were destroyed," Joe said. He spoke the words as a matter of fact and without rancor. "The Washoe were a mountain tribe and we learned how to hide.

But even so, there are only a few hundred of us left today, and we have almost nothing. Of course we were not alone. All the native people in America suffered the same way. The white people took our past from us and we grew up with little hope of a future. Many of our parents turned to alcohol to try to forget what had been done to us. Many of our young people have turned to drugs for the same reason.

"But there are some of us who walk two worlds. We work in modern America — in the hotels or casinos or, like me, in the prisons. But we have not forgotten our history. And we still tell the story of a great battle that took place at the beginning of time and of two heroes — twins — who helped to win it."

"Flint and Sapling."

"Those are not the names we use. Those names are Iroquois, I think. But it doesn't matter. There was a time when all the tribes were one tribe. And anyway, the stories have never been written down. They change with the passing of time.

"But even today we still tell stories of twin heroes. The Apache, the Kiowa, the Navajo, and many others. The twins are always boys of your age. In many of the stories, Flint is evil. He causes the death of his brother, Sapling."

"He wasn't evil," Jamie said. "Sapling wanted to die."

"We were always told that the twin heroes would return at a time of great need and that we should watch out for them. There was one way we would be able to recognize them." Joe reached out and touched his own shoulder. "They would carry a mark. Here…"

"A tattoo…"

''You call it that, but it was not something injected into you. I saw that at once. It is something you were born with."

"What does it mean?"

"Indian symbols have many meanings. But the spiral is a symbol of human life. Every human being has a spiral on his or her body — look at your fingerprints or the hair on the crown of your head — and to us, these parts have always been sacred. A spiral is circular and never ends, so it can also mean immortality. As for the line, dividing it in two, that could signify many things. Night and day. Good and evil…"