The Gate of Bones (47 page)

The hedgedragon turned about in Bailey's lap and then froze. A string of sounds burst from her that sounded Chinese, although Bailey had never really heard Ting speak it. She didn't know if Ting even actually knew Chinese. The hedgedragon put up a curled paw, then flexed it, and talons snapped out, like a cat putting out claws. It might have been impressive if the hedgedragon was anywhere near the size of the other.

The thing leaned down to peer at them. “Who are you?” it said, the man's voice as thin and hard to describe as the wind. “You who throw ancient curses at me?”

“I am Ting!”

“You guard this house and all who dwell inside?”

“I do!” The hedgedragon punctuated that with another few words in Chinese.

“Do you know who I am?”

The hedgedragon let out a low hiss. Stalling, Bailey thought, or bluffing. Ting whipped her curling tail about, looking fierce. “Is that wise?” Bailey asked in a low whisper.

“I protect,” Ting declared, “what is mine.”

“As do I.” The being, which had been leaning over peering at them, now stood and stretched. It raised its arms and looked as if it could hold up the sky with them even as insubstantial a ghost as it seemed to be. “This is mine.” With a gesture, the being indicated everywhere about them. Its eyes gazed down at them again to see if they understood.

A terrible idea struck Bailey. She pulled on one of Ting's wings to get her attention. “Ting. Ting, I think that's—”

The hedgedragon let out a boiling hiss of warning as the being reached toward them. It paused, and its body moved as if it might have been shaking with laughter, though not a sound reached them.

“Ting, do you think that could be—”

The hedgedragon swung her tail around, whapping Bailey right in the mouth. “Ow!” Startled, she put her hand to her lips.

Ting put her ears flat, and uncurled all her talons, arching her back. “Touch us if you dare.”

“A dragon is a dragon is a dragon, it seems.” The hand that had begun to extend downward withdrew.

“A pact is a pact. We are both guardians in this place.”

“So you know me, then.”

“I do. You take from all so that you can protect all.”

“A balance is reached.”

Ting's whiskers wiggled. Her ears flicked up alertly. “You've overstepped here.”

The being crossed his arms. “You mistake my powers, small dragon. I take a little, to guard a little, to guide. That is all I can do now.” It made a sad noise, like waves crashing upon a seashore, and then withdrawing. “The one who takes much now lies inside, asleep.”

“Gregory!” muttered Bailey, then immediately clapped her hands over her face again, wary of the hedgedragon's snappy tail.

“It is disturbed. There is much imbalance here,” and the being looked across the valley, toward the faraway hills and the Dark Hand's fortress. “I have calmed the sleeper, but know this. We are entangled, he and I, from centuries ago when we walked together in this land, and we learned much from each other. He draws from you to live, as I draw from my people to stay in this existence, and we learned this together. There is nothing that exists without balance or it ceases altogether.” It inhaled, a great sucking in of air, and the very forest moved and shivered with it. “He tried to awaken, but there is not enough power he can draw to do so without harming you. He wanted to defend you against that which has opened, but he is helpless. As I am helpless.”

Ting made a sound in her throat.

“You are not helpless. Yet. Time is running out . . .” The apparition began to grow wispy and shred, like an insubstantial cloud on a windy day, and then it was gone.

Bailey leaped to her feet, dumping the hedgedragon to the ground. “That,” she said, “was the Warlord Spirit!”

Ting shook herself off, scales making a fine, chiming noise. “I know.”

“You knew?”

“Inside me. Something dragonissssssh.”

Bailey's crystal bracelet began to warm, very slightly. She sighed in relief. “It's coming back.”

“Good. I think.” Ting scrubbed a paw at her whiskered snout. “I can't go in like this. I can't!”

A roar sounded from the Iron Mountains, a roar that carried the scent of hot copper and magic with it. Bailey cringed. “We may not have to. I think we've been summoned.”

E
XPLAIN TO ME AGAIN why I'm carrying you up this mountain.”

“Becausssse,” hissed Ting, “I hafffft to meet Jason's dragon to find out what'ssss going on.”

“No, no. I've got that part,” Bailey said, as she shifted the hedgedragon from arm to arm. “I meant, why do I have to
carry
you. You may be as small as the average cat, but you weigh as much as a big dog. Why aren't you flying? Dragons do fly, don't they?”

The hedgedragon ruffled its wings, then said sadly, “I don't know howwwww.”

“Oh, sure, like that's a good excuse that's gonna hold. I think I'll try that at home. I don't know how to make my bed or wash the dishes. How long is that going to work, hmmmm?” A little out of breath, Bailey paused, swapping Ting from side to side again, as climbing took all her attention. For long moments she clambered up the side of the Iron Mountain until she reached a plateau.

Ting let out a hissing sigh. “Do you think this is eassssy?”

“Look, sister, I don't know how you cut it, but being carried up this mountain has got to be easier than climbing it one-handed with a heavy reptile in the other!” Bailey put the hedgedragon down. “All right, call up the big guy.”

The hedgedragon curled up and ducked its head inside its wings. “Don't want to,” Ting said sulkily.

Bailey looked around. Besides the slope they had climbed, leading down to the academy and the pool of water of the small valley, and the grove, the other side of the plateau had a steep drop-off. “I wonder how dragons learn to fly,” she observed. “I wonder if they have that ‘kicked out of the nest' first lesson, like falling off the side of a cliff.” She leaned her head to look off the steep side, then looked back at Ting.

“Nooooo!” The hedgedragon scuttled away from her, and Ting's words evaporated into high-pitched dragon squeals.

“Oh, jeez, I was just kidding. Lighten up, Ting. This isn't easy for anybody. It's not every day your best friend turns into a dragon, you know?” Bailey sat down and crossed her legs, and made a coaxing sound like she made to Lacey whenever the pack rat was being stubborn.

A great shadow fell over the two of them. “Well. And well, well. I didn't believe it when I sensed it.”

Jason's dragon hunkered down on his forelegs, and looked the two of them over curiously. “Yet, here you are. We don't have a cutoff to qualify for dragons, but if we did, I'm not sure you'd make it.” The large beast rumbled in gentle laughter.

“Both of you!” Ting huffed and puffed, and a tiny bit of blue-gray smoke came out her nostrils. “Ewwww! That ssstings.”

“What is it you called her?”

“A hedgedragon,” said Bailey firmly.

“Yes, indeed. Most appropriate, I think.” The dragon put out a claw to poke Ting. “I am not an expert, but I think it could grow to some size, given enough time.”

“I'm . . . sssstuck like thissss?” Ting curled up again, wings over her whiskered face, and wailed.

“No, no, little one. And do show some dragon dignity. We do not wail in public. Or,” the dragon coughed. “Ever.” He shook himself. “You'll return to yourself when ready. With enough lessons, you'll become adept at going back and forth.”

“Like Stefan-bear!”

“Yes, well, rather like that, although one hopes with a bit more aplomb and less angst.”

“Whatever.” Bailey reached out and gathered up Ting, scratching behind one scaly ear. “See?”

“Will I fly?”

“Eventually. Think of it as swimming, that will help.” Jason's dragon pulled back to sit on his haunches. “You have a great deal to learn about yourself, young Ting.”

“So it seemsssss.” Ting rested her chin on Bailey's shoulder.

“Let me say this. A guardian's ability is not always in its size or its fierceness. You learned that earlier, however, did you not?” The dragon looked her over. “I think you'll do.”

“I will?”

“Let us hope. Now off with you two.” Jason's dragon curved his talon and gave Bailey a nudge back the way they had come.

“But—but . . . we're not done,” Bailey spluttered.

“Of course you are.”

“We have more questions.”

“But I,” the dragon intoned deeply, bass voice rolling out of his chest, “have no more answers.”

“One more, one more, pleassssse!” Ting fluttered anxiously.

“Perhaps one.”

“How do I change back?”

“By the pearl, naturally, although why you would want to, I can't begin to guess. Being a dragon is so much better.”

“But I'm not a dragon.”

“Only sometimes. One last word of advice. Never eat a friend. It can cause all sorts of disconcerting trouble you can't imagine, and simply isn't worth it.”

Bailey paled. Ting dipped her head saying, “I'll remember.”

“Now off with you. There is some worrying going on downhill, and you've some explaining to do.”

Bailey picked Ting up. Both of them called out thank yous to the dragon, even as it lay back and melded into the great mountains, its brilliant red-orange color dulling until it became one with its background and they could not tell where the dragon ended and the mountain began.

As for the dungeon, Bailey expected they were both going to end up in one after all, for the trouble they'd put everyone through.

 

Freyah was stunned when they told her about Gregory. They finally went upstairs to tell her, after watching Ting POOF in and out of dragon form a few times, to everyone else's amazement and delight. She grew tired of it, though, and hungry.

The hedgedragon beat Lacey to a cricket and gobbled it up. Then, POOF! As the pink smoke cleared, Ting put her hand to her stomach. “I can't believe I did that! Ew! Bailey! You let me eat a bug.”

“Not only did you eat it, but you beat a famished pack rat to it. There was no one here going to stop you.” Bailey coaxed Lacey over and gave the little rodent a bit of very stale biscuit.

“Grandfather used to carry a sign with him,” Madame Qi said. “It read, Don't Feed the Dragon. He kept it for many, many years after he retired. I used to ask him why. He told me, it was a reminder that the dragon must feed him, not he the dragon. It was a matter of discipline and control. You may be very wise to remember that, Ting, and not feed as the dragon lest its instincts overcome your own.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Plus, I'm not sure I can handle any weird meals.”

Bailey glanced at Ting. “Are you stable now?”

“Stable?”

“No more POOFing?”

“I hope so.”

“Good.” Bailey looked upstairs. “We need to talk to her.”

Freyah had moved to a chair, sitting near the sarcophagus, knitting needles and something made of fluffy yarn in her lap, with George patiently at her side holding the ball of yarn on his tray. “I can't believe my brother would draw on us like that, jeopardize all of us.”

“I don't think he meant to. From what I can tell, he absorbed most of the explosive energy of the war between himself and Brennard. He expended that, keeping everyone safe, but it left him no reserves. You've been keeping him alive and asleep, Aunt Freyah, ever since. Now he feels the imbalance, the jeopardy, and wanted to awaken to help, but he needs that energy back just to do it.” Ting held her hands like scales. “Energy in, energy out, energy in. He had to draw from us and yet, when he realized it could damage us all, he couldn't stop. The Warlord felt the imbalance and stepped in. He can't awaken yet. We just don't have the input to give him.”

“That makes sense, in the magickal equation, for our side.” Freyah told her. “And it seems the Warlord's Spirit has been tapping all of us a little, capping our abilities, to keep his own world in balance, but he's failed with the Dark Hand.”

“There's nobody to stop the Dark Hand but us, and I'm not so sure about us.” Bailey rubbed her eyes in worry.

Freyah started knitting again, needles clicking quickly. “Sometimes great sacrifices have to be made.” Smiling wistfully, her gaze fell on her brother's motionless face and stayed there.

The girls left quietly.

 

The search party came home in the middle of the night. While they ate and rested, Stef wouldn't be satisfied till Ting had POOFed for him in and out of hedgedragon form at least three times. His hand wrapped about a huge sandwich, which he then consumed in three bites, he managed to say, “Wow. Does that hurt? It does me, sometimes. Not like they show werewolves in movies or anything, but my bones and muscles ache.”

“I get heartburn.” Ting coughed, and a little puff of pink smoke came out. She blinked in surprise.

Trent and Stefan nearly fell down laughing, and she shrank back, her mouth in a small pout.

“Be that as it may, we had as busy a day as you did.”

“Did you find Renart?”

“Possibly. Packs of wolfjackals are roaming the countryside. We've identified at least three. Some attacks have been quite hostile, and some are merely coming in after bone fiends, as we know wolfjackals will do. Renart appears to be one step ahead of one of the packs. As Henry said, give him credit. He seems to be quite resourceful and hmmm . . .” Gavan grinned tiredly. “Fleet.”