The Magickers (7 page)

“Not everyone has to look alike!” he shot back at Bailey.

“True.” She nodded sagely. “You don't look like anyone I've ever seen before.”

As if overhearing, Eleanora apologized. “Forgive my attire. I was giving a dulcimer concert earlier.” She tapped her music case.

“Oh, dulcimers!” Joanna clapped her hands together. “What a beautiful instrument to master.”

“I'm afraid I've far from mastered it, but the tea seemed to go well. I may not look ready to be a camper, but I'm sure we're all eager to hit the road. Thank you for trusting us with your children.”

Gavan knocked on the side of the short bus and threw open the luggage bay. “It's getting late, ladies and gentlemen. Let's start loading while we're waiting.” He stood by while those sitting got to their feet, stretched, and began to toss their bags into the bays.

Bobbing for sleeping bags and duffels, both Jason and Bailey went to work, while he watched her out of the corner of his eye to avoid another skull rapping.

His stepmother loomed over him, her eyes glistening. He paused, holding his breath, and straightened. She actually looked sad to see him off. He wondered at that. Would she really miss him? More than just politely?

Joanna tried to smile. “Have a good time, then! We'll write you from the islands. If there're any problems, Grandma McIntire will come and get you.”

If he had to eat gruel, he would not come home to Grandma McIntire. Whatever other doubts he might have, he was firm on that one. “I'll be fine,” he said confidently.

Alicia waved smugly. He waved back. His stepmother pressed some bills into his hand before giving him a hug and walking away quickly, Alicia in her wake. He hardly dared breathe till the McIntire van disappeared in the distance. Then he let out a whoop, and ducked his head when Gavan turned, raised an eyebrow, then grinned.

“Dibs on the back seat,” the two cardplayers said. The one with flaming-red hair and blue eyes squinted against the sun, adding, “Anyone have a problem with that?” The other, square, muscular, with dark eyes and dark hair buzzed around the ears, looked around for a challenge. He didn't get one.

Bailey hugged her mother good-bye fiercely. “Be safe driving home.”

“I will.” Her mother hugged her back, not letting her go for many moments. Then she got in her car and drove away quickly, without looking back at her daughter standing in the school parking lot. The car let out a small cloud of smoke as it turned the corner, disappearing.

Bailey rubbed her nose. “She's got a long drive. I hope she'll be okay.”

Eleanora Andarielle moved to the girl's side in short, gliding steps, and put her hand on her shoulder. “I'm sure she'll be fine.”

Without a word, like a shadow, the other girl passed by them, got on the bus, chose a window seat, and curled up, book in hand.

Rainwater tugged on a long silver chain, pulling a pocket watch out of his jeans. He clicked it open. It chimed softly as he read the watch face. He looked at Eleanora. “We can't wait much longer for young Master Squibb.”

“Of course.” She ushered Bailey on. With a solemn nod back, she gathered her skirts and got into the bus in the front passenger seat, setting the dulcimer case near the dashboard.

Jason started toward the bus door, but the two players brushed past him, one of them accidentally kicking his splint. He stopped, wincing. They clambered aboard without a look back. The small bus shook as the bigger boy mounted the steps and disappeared inside.

The tall older boy passed by as well, turned, and put his hand out to Jason. “Don't mind them,” he said. His dark hair gleamed like the blue-black paint on the Ravenwyng.

“Oh, I don't.” Jason got up the steps. Who could be worse than Brinkford and Canby?

He stood in the aisle and watched as the older boy picked a seat by himself, settling down his backpack.

Someone tugged on his sleeve. “There's room here. Come on! Misery loves company.”

Jason looked down into Bailey's freckle-dusted face. He didn't think she meant quite what she said, but she did have a faintly unhappy look on her face, as she glanced out the window. He slid into place next to her as she pointed out the ends of the seat belt.

Gavan pulled his baseball cap into place. It had
Wizards
embroidered across the front in rainbow thread. Jason tried to remember which team that was, and couldn't.

“I'm Bailey Landau.” She stuck out her slender hand.

He rubbed his forehead gently. “I think we've met. Jason Adrian.”

She looked around and then said conspiratorially, “Are you nearly a winner?”

It took him aback for a moment. Then he grinned. “Yeah. You?”

“You bet!”

She seemed normal enough. He didn't quite know what to expect. Alicia had regaled him with stories of past camps she'd attended. Short sheeting, snipe hunts, shoes tied together and filled with unspeakable swamp goo. Maybe Bailey was already setting him up, in a good-natured way, for a prank.

“What happened there? Scooter?”

“Here?” Jason pointed at his splint, and shook his head. “Soccer.”

Her eyes widened. “How?”

“Sliding tackle. At tryouts.” Jason looked out the window.

“Who won?”

Jason grinned at Bailey. “Neither of us made the team. I was too injured, and he was too mean.” He looked at his leg. “Only a sprain. I get to take these off in a week or so.”

“Cool beans.” Bailey leaned over, looking at the air splint. “If you have to wear something, those are radical. IMac bandages.” She sat back with a giggle. She took a Gameboy out of the knapsack. “Want to play Monopoly?”

“Sure.”

In a few moments, Bailey had them set with electronic tokens going round and round on a miniature electronic Monopoly board. She was beating him soundly when they both looked up and saw that the Ravenwyng bus was the only one left.

The empty parking lot suddenly came ablaze with headlights and a honking horn. The headlights blinked frantically in the late afternoon sun as they pierced the gathering shadows.

Doors opened. A jumble of family members popped out like bees swarming out of a hive, depositing their charge at the bus steps, he red of face and panting. He seemed to be Jason's and Bailey's age. His short, spiked brown hair, glasses, and round face gave him a slightly bewildered owllike expression.

“You're late,” Eleanora said quietly from her corner of the front seat.

“But not very!” Gavan countered cheerfully. “And, look, it's almost the cool of the evening.” He opened the passenger door to the front seat. “Need a hand?”

The camper huffed and puffed on board, trailing bag after bag, slung from his hands, around his shoulders, waist, and neck. The owlish lad plopped down next to the older boy although the bus was still half-empty. “I'm Henry,” he said cheerfully and stuck his hand out. “Henry Squibb.”

The other smiled faintly. “Jonnard Albrite,” he said, and shook Henry's hand. “Call me, Jon. You just barely made it.”

“Got that right. Dad wouldn't stop for instructions!” Henry let out a rolling laugh, and Jason instantly liked him. Bailey grinned, too. He waved cheerfully at the reading girl. “Ting!”

She looked up, her mouth curved, and she waved back.

“That's Ting Chuu,” Henry announced cheerfully. “Ting is Chinese for graceful. I met her at the Imagination Festival.” He tugged his windbreaker around his chunky form, getting comfortable on the seat as the bus engine started with a roar and began chugging. “Is everyone a winner?”

A snicker came from the back of the bus. “I see a bunch of losers.”

Before anyone could protest, Gavan called out, “We're off!”

With a lurch and a hum of tires, the vehicle shot forward, and Jason saw the beige blur of his home-town slide past. The vehicle surged along the highway as the sky darkened in a blaze of pink-lemonade clouds and a layer of blues, deepening where it touched the foothills.

Eventually tired of Monopoly, both Jason and Bailey put their heads back and must have dozed. He woke and stared, disturbed. The countryside seemed to be flying past, but a look over Gavan Rainwater's shoulder showed the speedometer well within the speed limit. The crystal in his wolfhead cane caught the slant of the late afternoon sun and sent prism light dazzling into Jason's eyes. He sat back and rubbed his right one a little.

They could not possibly be headed the right way. Nor did any other car or truck seem to be on this highway. And that was truly incredible. Roads in Southern California simply were not empty. Not unless they headed off across the bleak desertlands or something but that would be headed east, not north to the mountains. And, by his calculations, they wouldn't arrive till the middle of the night or later.

Bailey had a small denim knapsack and hugged it to her, before loosening the flap. “Hungry?”

He shook his head. She pulled out a granola bar, unwrapped it, and began to pick at it delicately. While crinkling the bright foil, she bent her head and said, so only he could hear, “This trip has a time of its own.”

He looked at her. “That's impossible.”

“Cross my heart, hope to barf.” Bailey finished half her bar, rewrapped it, and neatly put it away. “We're going nowhere fast.”

Bailey saw the worry on Jason's face and looked out the window, too. She frowned and whispered, “Told ya.” He didn't like the fact she'd been reading his mind.

Bodies to the rear shifted uneasily as well. “Hey, man, we're in the middle of nowhere.”

A small green sign appeared, coming into view. Roadrunner Way off-ramp, it notified, ¾ miles. There was no way of determining if the sign was correct or not, as the highway itself was turning in and around small golden hills, browned by the sun and summer heat. As he peered toward them, he thought he saw a small, dun-colored dog trotting down the road. It swerved and dashed away as the car roared past. No homes out here, it could not have been anyone's pet. Coyote? His glimpse was too fleeting to tell.

As they turned down a gradual slope, the off-ramp of a much smaller road forking off came into sight, along with a faded and battered sign proclaiming: Gas Food Lodging. Someone had X'd out Food and Lodging.

Eleanora frowned. “We're lost,” she said softly to Gavan. Jason could barely hear her.

“Nonsense. There's nothing out here to get lost on.”

Her head came around sharply and she whispered something that sounded like Dark Hand that made Gavan look thoughtful. But Jason was almost sure she couldn't have said that, because it made no sense.

It immediately became very quiet. Jason found himself nearly asleep again, his chin jerking as he almost tumbled into a dream. His eyes did not want to stay awake. He pinched his kneecap and, though it smarted, the pain flung his eyes wide open. He found himself staring into a great dark mountain and the road ending abruptly at its foot.

Gavan murmured something to Eleanora. She answered back softly and leaned out of her seat to put her hand on the wolfhead cane. The car shuddered as if on rough road. Gavan struggled with the steering wheel. They bumped from side to side. The vehicle's lights beamed yellow rays into inky shadows. Jason found himself holding his breath.

Bailey jerked at Jason's elbow. Her eyes opened wide. “We're gonna die!” She covered her face with her hands and let out a squeaky shriek.

Eleanora looked around at them. “It's just a tunnel.” But her voice seemed strained as if she could barely find the strength to say another word. Her hand quivered, and the wolfhead cane trembled in her hold. The bus danced and swerved on the dusky road.

Jason stared into the night. He could see no tunnel's edge in the massive rock ahead. Only pitch-black mountain dead in front of them. He took a deep breath.

They plunged into a cold darkness.

5

T
HE tunnel swallowed them whole. The car bucked and tossed in the coldness. Jason scrubbed his eyes against the nothingness. It flowed past him, slimy and cold. Bailey shivered against his shoulder. He inhaled.

“Come on, Eleanora. Forget about your shoes and give me all you've got,” Gavan muttered. Eleanora gave him an annoyed look, then frowned. The crystal in the wolfhead cane seemed to be the only light left. The silvery head seemed to glow with warmth, and the crystal flared. It let out a tiny flash and then, suddenly as if ejected, they shot forward and out of the tunnel.

Bailey hiccuped. Henry Squibb let out a shaky laugh as pale light flooded in through the windows. Someone whooped from the back of the bus.

Not only was it not total darkness . . . it was no longer evening, though close to dusk. Gavan slowed, dirt and gravel crunching under the tires, as he turned down a lane edged by wilderness. Thick with evergreens and other trees, and a jagged ridge of true mountains off to the east. A very blue sky with lowering purple clouds. A cardinal winged past in a streak of scarlet.

Bailey said, “Go tell Dorothy we're not in Kansas anymore.” Her head swiveled about, taking in a for ested area that obviously got far more rain than any forest in Southern California.

Jason was beginning to understand what she meant. He sat on the edge of the bus seat.

Eleanora settled back with a sigh, dropping the wolfhead cane. Gavan called out cheerfully, “We'll be just in time for the first campfire!” He drove in under a swinging white sign over a sagging metal gate, white paint flaking and edged with rust. Faded dark letters read CAMP RAVENWYNG, with another version of a bright-eyed soaring raven. The gate didn't look as if, even closed, it could hold fast. The terrain itself sloped gently as the road wound uphill. He could spot large cabins, roofs peaking through small clusters of trees and shrubs, the buildings grouped by twos and threes. The road broke into a very big clearing with three very large buildings, and Gavan pulled to a stop next to several other battered but evidently reliable old buses, their sides white with dark-winged logos.