The Curse of Arkady (32 page)

“What would we do?”

“Oh, lessons at home, mostly, perhaps a field trip now and then. Gavan is working very hard to get Ravenwyng established as the Iron Mountain Academy.”

Henry felt his eyes get rounder behind his glasses. “An academy?”

“So we all hope. Anyway, I should go. You have duties here, although . . .” and Dr. Patel paused, listening. “Your sister sleeps well.”

“I should hope so.”

Anita stood and put her hand on his head. “This is a time when you need to be most careful, Henry. You are very vulnerable.”

He looked up at her. “I know,” he said, and his voice broke, to his further embarrassment.

She took off a wraparound bracelet, which he saw when she handed it to him was a snake which curled upon itself so that its own jaw clamped to its tail. Small crystals made up its eyes. “If there's trouble, break this, and I will know and come immediately to help.”

“Break it?”

She showed him a tiny line. “It is meant to be undone there, by breaking it open. There is a hidden hinge inside. You're not actually breaking it. But it is a magical circle and when that is changed, I'll know it, and I'll know immediately that you did it.”

“All right.” Gratefully, Henry shoved it deep in his pocket, where he could feel its heavy weight against his skin even through the cloth. “Thank you.”

“I expect it back when you've a new crystal and can defend yourself.” Anita smiled encouragingly. “Until then, the cobra, which is also a guardian of my country, will watch you.” She smoothed her sari down, and brought her shawl up about her shoulders. She raised her hand, palm out, in a kind of wave and as he blinked, she was gone.

Only the half finished tea proved she had even been there. That, and the bronze bracelet in his pocket. He finished his quickly and put everything away in the dishwasher. To his disappointment, neither Trent nor Jason were on-line for some quick game time, so he picked out a book and curled up in the old chair in his bedroom and read till everyone got home.

 

Jason stirred and woke again, from a dream that was really a memory of camp, from their lessons learning how to bring a lanternlike fiery glow to their crystals. Henry had set his on fire . . . twice . . . singeing his eyebrows as flames fountained upward, and the only thing protecting his hands had been a pair of FireAnn's oven mitts. It had been both funny and scary, scattering campers and adult Magickers alike. They said that in every Talent, there was a leaning toward certain elements. Obviously, Henry's had been fire.

With a sigh, Jason swung his legs over the edge of his bed. Dawn was still an hour away, school another two hours after, but it was plain the night held no more sleep for him. Too much depended on him, and he had no idea what to do or which way to go. Or perhaps he did.

He dressed quickly and as quietly as he could, although the deep rumbling snore that always accompanied McIntire's sleep thundered gently throughout the house. He left his lavender crystal behind, tucking it away in a corner of his desk drawer under a soft piece of cloth he kept for polishing his original focus.

He held up his original quartz and gently spoke a word, and it glowed with a steady golden light. He held it close with both hands, and thought of Iron Gate. In a moment, it stood before him where his bedroom wall had been, and Jason stepped through.

For all that Gavan had shown him how unstable it was, he felt good when he stepped into the dale. The sun had risen here, and although the small valley was still a bit chilled by late autumn, he could feel warming rays on his back. He put his crystal into his pocket after quenching the lantern spell, and stepped down the pathway, not exactly sure what he was here for, but knowing here was where he needed to be.

Here was where he needed to bring all the Gates to open and anchor this Haven. So . . . this was where his clues should lie. Shouldn't they? He yawned slightly, and as quickly covered his mouth. No sleepiness on the job! He needed to be keen and observant. And quick, if wolfjackals showed up again.

As he descended to the pool of water which formed from a thin veil of a waterfall issuing from the rusting mountains, a thin spray of mist dappled his face. It felt icy and left him shivering. He looked at the rim of encircling mountains which, from high up where the Gate swung open, always looked to him like a great, dark orange dragon slumbering. Once, he thought he had seen just that. But only once.

He sat on a flat slab of rock that bordered the small pond, and slid his hand into his pocket where his fingers curled comfortably about his crystal. He should not stay, in case another quake or shift struck the valley, but he liked it here. Something scampered over the toe of his sneaker, paused while he glanced down at it, and then skittered away, slithering through the grass. A small salamander, or fire lizard. His shoe even felt a trail of warmth where it had been. Jason grinned at the tiny lizard which moved so quickly and hid itself so well.

He leaned back, tilted his face skyward, and let the sun chase away the icy veil of mist. For a moment, he felt just like the salamander, basking in the sun and wondered how a dragon might have felt, if the Iron Mountains had ever once been a great winged beast.

“Why don't you ask me how I feel?”

The voice rumbled out of the very ground, its timbre deep and yet light. It was like no voice he'd ever heard before. Jason opened his eyes. Very, very slowly, he turned his head because it seemed to be all that he could move.

He wondered that he hadn't seen it before, for it was clearly visible now, its dark orange-and-rust body lying against the foot of the mountain range that mimicked it. But perhaps, like a chameleon, it could only be seen when it moved or willed itself to be seen. At any rate, a dragon rested not far from where he sat, golden amber eyes watching him. He could feel its heat and smell its coppery blood. The immense creature could only be dwarfed by the mountains themselves, and he asked himself yet again how it was he hadn't seen it!

“Sometimes one looks too hard,” the dragon provided. It curled up a forepaw and considered its magnificently taloned foot. “Or so I find it.”

Jason managed to inhale. “How . . . how do you feel?”

“Lazy. I am still greedily absorbing all the sunlight I can, and I am feeling drowsy with it. You?”

“Grateful. The water is very chilly.”

“It will ice over in a week or so.”

Jason vaguely remembered reading that one wasn't supposed to look into a dragon's eyes, but it was too late now; he was already staring directly at the great, luminous amber eyes. “I don't mean to disturb you,” he said finally, feeling rather lame.

“Not at all, not at all. I rather enjoy company. Company is so much better than the stray dinner or two which often bolts past, right under my nose. Dinner, if it knows it is a repast, seldom stays to chat.”

“I'm not dinner?”

“Of course not.” The dragon rumbled in what must have been draconic laughter. “You're literate. Do you eat books for lunch? I think not!” He stretched his wings out, the great bones and spines in them nutmeg-colored shadows under the russet-scaled skin, and folded up again. The dragon peered at him. “You
are
literate?”

“Sometimes I wonder, myself. As a race, I mean. As people who live on the face of the Earth . . .” Jason halted. “Hard to explain.” He thought of recent events, and stopped talking altogether.

“Hmmm.” The sound came out as a grating rumble, heated and raspy. “This could be awkward. I think you should decide whether you are or not.”

Jason winced. “Or I could be lunch?”

“That seems to be the way of the worlds.” The dragon bared its many sharp teeth in what could have been a smile or a snarl.

“I'm afraid it isn't a snap decision. I think being literate, or civilized, is something that takes a while to happen. It's realized after the fact. It might take me a whole lifetime of living to prove whether I am or not,” Jason concluded sadly. “Or one awful deed could do the same.”

“Weighty thoughts.”

“No kidding.”

The dragon stretched again, rather like a serpentine cat. “Is that why you came here?”

“No, actually, I came to think about the Gates.”

A long, amber blink. “The Gates? Is that all?”

“All?” Jason twisted about on the rock slab to better look at the talkative dragon. “Seems important to me.”

“Well, yes, it would. You're a Gatekeeper, but haven't they trained you? It should be as easy as roasting a sitting duck. Think of what you are, and what you need. No other Gatekeeper at all?”

Jason shook his head. “There only seems to be me at the moment.”

“Hrmmm. Bad luck, that. And no wonder I've not had more company.”

“Yes.”

“Seems to me that finding and opening Gates would be a . . . hrmmm . . . an instinctual thing. Rather like flying, once you get a bit of strength and practice.”

“Could be. Or . . . falling off a log.”

“Rather like that.” The dragon flexed his talons.

“Would it upset you, if I got all the Gates opened for here?”

“Not at all. This is only my sunning spot. I get here rather like you do. My own place is a Gate away. I can say this, it would be rather amusing having a bunch of you running around here. I would be asking myself constantly if you were appetizers or apprentices.”

Jason grinned.

The beast got off its belly, and rested on its haunches, straightening its forelegs. Again, he was struck by the catlike quality of the dragon. “A word of advice. It is easier than you make it. It is right in front of you, and all you have to do is look at it. Three more Gates have you, each as elemental as it can be. I shall repeat, think of what you are and what you need. Think too much and you will Open that which should never be touched!” With that, the beast reared up, roaring with a sound that began like deep bass thunder and rose in volume and pitch until it keened into a screech. It leaped skyward, stretching out its wings, and was airborne in a heartbeat or two, leaving a wake behind that rolled him about as if a giant hand shook him, throwing him off the rock.

He flailed out to catch himself, the Haven tilted and shifted, and his stomach wrenched as everything
changed,
and he was thrown headlong back through Iron Gate.

“W
E made a deal,” Coach said, his square face creased in a heavy frown. “Three weeks ago, and this is what I get. I won't have this, Adrian. Either you're a player on my team or you're not, and this tells me you don't want to be.”

The long night had turned into a long day, and Jason's baffled feeling about being called in turned into out and out worry. “I don't understand—”

“Statler wants to see you. Now.” Coach tapped a piece of paper on his desk. “I thought we had this worked out. Not only does he want to see you, but he's told the vice principal he wants to see Canby, Brinkford, and your friend Sam. He feels a need to interview them about you, and possibly add them to counseling as well.”

“We did make a deal. I've been to every session. He wants to see me now?” Jason's chest felt heavy. First a home meeting, now more meetings at school. What did the man want of him?

“Now,” repeated Coach flatly. His face wrinkled even more, till he reminded Jason of a thundercloud about to burst into rain and lightning.

He shifted uneasily on his chair. “I didn't have anything to do with that,” he said earnestly. “Honest.”

“Maybe not, but what I told you originally stands. If you can't make practice regularly, you're off the team. Your teammates deserve to play with someone who works as hard as they do, and is reliable. Not only that, but with these three, he's not leaving me with much of a team! I can't have that.”

Jason tried not to clench his hands. “What does he want?”

Coach shook his head. “All I know is, I'm to send you over. This is your last chance, Adrian. Straighten these meetings out, or I will drop you from the team. Understood? You've ability, but if I have to drop you to save more players from getting caught up in your mess, I will.”

Jason gulped. “Yessir.” He jumped to his feet. “I'll be back as soon as I can!”

Halfway outside the P.E. building, Sam caught him by the elbow. “What's up? What was Coach so mad about?”

Jason had one tight-lipped word for him. “Finch.”

“That perv.”

“I have to go see him.”

“I thought your appointments were Friday mornings.”

“Exactly. Coach says if I miss any more time from practice, he's dropping me. And you're gonna get hauled in, too.”

Sam breathed in and out indignantly. “Can he do that?”

“Yeah, he can. Listen, I've gotta go, I'll be back if I can.”

Sam nodded, and watched Jason with a forlorn expression as he trotted off across campus.

Students still milled around in the hallways, going through their lockers or bunched in small groups talking, classroom doors banging open and shut as he made his way to the cubbyhole Statler Finch called an office. No one seemed to be inside as he peered cautiously through the doorway. Relief flooded Jason. He'd come back later, at his regular appointed time then. . . .

“Ah, Jason! Go on in, I'll be right there. Just getting a cup of coffee from the staff room!”

Jason whirled. Statler stood behind him, coffee mug in hand, blocking the corridor, a most curious expression on his face. He gestured through the air with the empty cup. “Go on, go on. I'll just be a minute.”