Keystone (Gatewalkers)

by Frederickson, Amanda

  Jack squinted at the map. “Ah! Cruatan. It’s the central trading city for the north. Yes, I could see why one would start there for a search of the mountains.”

  “Can you get us there?” Charlie said. On Tom’s map it looked awfully far away.

  Jack shook back his sleeves and made more marks on his diagram. “It’s a stretch, but I traveled there as an apprentice as part of my application for journeyman status. They also have a platform set aside for gate travel, so no worries about materializing in a tree.”

  Charlie tried not to think of that sort of possibility.

  Jack’s runes began glowing with a soft blue light, and bent themselves into a circular shape, the ground rippling faintly in the middle. Jack happily rubbed his hands together. “Ladies first?”

  “You go on,” Charlie said, suddenly nervous. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Jack shrugged, shouldered his pack, and hopped into the circle. Charlie couldn’t help “testing the waters” first. She poked a finger into the ripples and felt… nothing. No temperature difference, no tingling sensations. Nothing but air.

  Tom tugged on her ear. “It’s all right, Charlie. You’ll be safe.”

  Charlie shrugged and stepped into the circle. When her feet didn’t meet the sandy ground she felt a jolt as if she’d missed a stair. Instead her feet met solid stone. The seaside landscape of Alta blurred and rippled, the warm spring air replaced with the sudden bite of winter cold. Jagged mountain peaks brushed with snow towered before her, still distant though their size threatened to eclipse the pale, weak sun.

  Something jabbed her sharply in the ear.

  “Ow!” Charlie started to slap at her ear, but then realized it was Tom clutching it so tightly that it pinched. “What’s the matter?”

  “I - ” Tom began, but a hand grasped Charlie’s arm and yanked her aside, out of the path of a team of oxen pulling a wagon that materialized just after she had.

  “You must be wary of your surroundings,” Jack chided. “This gate landing is a common one.”

  “This is Cruatan?” Charlie said. She’d expected something larger than Alta, since Jack said it was a major trading city. What she saw, clumped together as if huddling against the cold, was a series of earth mounds topped by dark thatch. Smoke rose from the “city” in diffused columns. Though wide, they seemed barely high enough to be dog houses much less a city for people.

  Jack smiled enigmatically. “Come,” he said, drawing her to follow the thin column of people and wagons trailing their way along an icy, trampled “road.” It brought them to a ramp carved down into the earth, where a pair of sentries dressed in thick furs guarded a set of wooden gates. The gates were swung open, allowing the travelers into the underground city of Cruatan.

  Sinking the city into the ground was a clever sort of natural insulation. Tunnels between “buildings” meant that no one needed to go out into the full bitterness of the cold. It also seemed to mean that the concepts of privacy and personal space did not exist.

  The air, smoky and musty, was nonetheless breathable. For being a closed-in space filled with fur-wearing inhabitants both animal and people (she couldn’t say human anymore), it was downright fresh compared to the reek of a few of Alta’s streets. The occasional waft of truly fresh air told Charlie that some sort of air circulation system was in effect – probably magic in nature, letting in air but not cold.

  Charlie found herself bounced between fox fur shoulders, deerskin, rabbit, bear fur (which truly reeked, even with the magical air system), white spotted pelts she didn’t recognize, and more (and that was only the people) as Jack led her through several narrow “roads.” Once beyond the areas near the entranceway, all animals disappeared, leaving only foot traffic between the units. The wider building mounds seemed to be common spaces, with family units branching from them on thinner tunnels. Charlie didn’t consider herself claustrophobic, but Cruatan might convert her.

  “I can get us put up with the Cruatan mage guild,” Jack said. “I can say I’m here as part of my application for full mage status. Which it is, really.”

  “Is that why you were so eager to come?” Charlie said.

  “No, of course not.” Jack seemed shocked at the idea. “No, no. I’ve… I’ve…” Jack abruptly turned shy. “I’ve always had the sense that I was meant to be part of a grand adventure. What with the…” he lowered his voice, “the not dying.” He flashed her a bright grin. “Then you came along. Wait here,” he said, directing her to a nook in the curve of a “road” where a natural spring had been converted to a pool rimmed with stone wide enough to sit on. “The mage guild is to the left of that crossway. I will return shortly.”

  Charlie acknowledged and took a seat on the rim of the pool. She watched Jack disappear.

  Now that they were here, she felt a little cast adrift. Her plan only took them this far. The road ahead was a frightening blank.

  Tom abruptly sat up straight on Charlie’s shoulder, eyes shining bright. “She’s coming! Lallia. She’s coming closer.”

  “Coming closer?” Charlie said, twisting to peer through the crowd, following Tom’s intent gaze. “Where?”

  Tom quivered. “Coming fast.”

  Charlie shifted uneasily. Her little plan was discovered sooner than she’d hoped. “Even if Rhys is coming, we’re not going anywhere,” she said, trying to sound firm. “He can’t make us go back to Alta.” But he could leave them behind again without a pixie to follow.

  A familiar pink light streaked out of the dimness. “Tom!” Lallia shrieked, and bowled him straight off of Charlie’s shoulder. They fell into a purple pixie pile.

  “Where’s Rhys?” Charlie asked, scanning for his pale figure.

  “I snuck away,” Lallia said. The pixies were wrapped in each other’s arms so tightly it was a wonder either could breathe. Lallia paused, then said reluctantly, “I can go back….” But Charlie could tell she loathed the idea.

  “No,” Charlie said, resigned. “We’ll work something out.” At least they knew he was here.

  The pixies brightened, huge grins lighting their faces. They scampered off, exploring their new surroundings. Leaving Charlie entirely alone in the dimness.

  In this section of Cruatan, even those traveling the “roads” were few and far between. Even though Jack told her to stay put, she turned restive quickly. She wasn’t used to having no windows to look out of, and though she knew they weren’t completely underground the tunnel began to feel like just that.

  Charlie jumped to her feet. She wouldn’t go far, but she wanted to see what was around her. Somebody had to have a window to the outside.

  “Trying to sneak up on a vampire,” Rhys’ cool breath fell across the side of Charlie’s neck, “is generally considered to be a bad idea.”

  ***

  An arm snaked around her shoulders, pinning her back against his chest. “One bite,” he said. His dry lips brushed lightly against her skin. “To open the artery here and spill your life blood.”

  Adrenaline flared through her gut. Charlie tried to squirm away, yanking at his arm, but it was unyielding as stone. “You wouldn’t,” she said, though her pounding heart believed otherwise.

  “Would I not? There is no one in this world to care if you died.” His fangs pressed against her neck, but did not break the skin.

  Her heart stuttered. “I think you would care,” she said quickly. Convincing him or herself? Maybe both. He wouldn’t have saved her from the other vampire just to chew on her neck now. Besides, he contracted with her to save the princess. And then there was what he’d said at the guild. “You aren’t a cold blooded killer, remember? You’re not going to start with me.”

  His fangs left her neck, but he didn’t let go.

  She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I am not staying behind like some… some… wilting wallflower, pining away waiting for you to bring back the Keystone someday so I can finally go home. If you ever came back at all. I would rather get hurt than sit ar
ound doing nothing in a world that isn’t mine, knowing there is nothing I can do to get back to my family.”

  Rhys’ hand tightened slightly, almost an involuntary twitch. For a long moment he said nothing. “You would risk your life for the sake of returning to your family.” His voice was neutral.

  Charlie glanced down, at the contract encircling his wrist, glistening as if the ink were still fresh. “Aren’t you?”

  Rhys released her so abruptly that Charlie nearly lost her balance. She spun to face him. He regarded her coldly from beneath his hood.

  “This is not for the sake of Seinne Sonne’s royal blood,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Why then?” Charlie challenged, lifting her chin.

  Rhys let out a low hiss. “Because every time I close my eyes I see her face. Maelyn. If she is alive, as you believe, then I cannot abandon her.”

  He didn’t believe it himself, Charlie realized. He thought she was dead. But he must want to believe otherwise, or else he wouldn’t be here. “We’ll find her,” Charlie said gently. “It makes sense to keep her alive as a hostage.”

  “Perhaps,” Rhys said slowly, but she could tell he would not believe until they found the princess alive and well. Or otherwise.

  “Come on,” Charlie said. “Let’s go find Jack. I’ll introduce you.”

  “Jack?” Rhys said.

  “You didn’t think I got here on my own, did you?” Charlie said. “Jack gated us here. He’s off getting us a place to stay for the night.”

  “’Us?’ You brought the pixies with you?” Rhys rubbed his forehead, hiding his eyes. “I should have known you wouldn’t leave the pests behind.”

  “Technically you brought one,” Charlie said.

  “I brought one?” Now he seemed horrified.

  “That’s how we tracked you here,” Charlie said. “You mean you didn’t follow Lallia here to me? How did you find me?

  Rhys held out his hand palm down, the one with the contract wrapped around the wrist. “Charlotte,” he said. The contract’s dark “tail” unlaced from the inky bracelet to slide out onto the skin of the back of his hand. Pointing at Charlie. Rhys passed his hand back and forth, showing that the “tail” still indicated her.

  “Rhys,” Charlie said, but her contract showed no inclination to unravel and point to him.

  “It requires one’s True Name,” Rhys said. “Most are intelligent enough not to give it.”

  “Hey!” Charlie said indignantly. Now that she thought of it though, when Jack introduced himself, he’d said “I’m called Jack Danielson,” and Rhys hadn’t actually told her a name at all. Not once in Seinne Sonne had anyone said, “My name is….”

  “So…” Charlie said slowly. “Should I be worried about this?”

  Rhys gave her a level look. “Have you spoken your Name to anyone aside from Scatha and I?”

  Charlie paused, thinking about it. “No. I guess not.”

  “Well, then,” Rhys said, and left it at that.

  That didn’t really answer her question.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Twilight and Shadow

  The bustling common room of the mage guild seemed to serve as dining hall, living space, and practice room. Tables with benches took up most of the room, a few of them set up with arcane equipment, but it seemed there was no rhyme or reason to the table arrangement - anyone could claim any table. Mages – and apparently a few non-mages – packed in almost elbow-to-elbow in the windowless space, the earthen walls melding conversations and chants into a deafening roar, punctuated with the odd crackle or pop.

  The three of them claimed a table toward one of the far walls. The packed earth wall (the better to absorb spells?) had no windows, of course, but it disconcerted Charlie more than she thought. Maybe she was a touch claustrophobic after all. At least the thatch roof was reasonably high, but something about the space seemed odd, dimensionally. Maybe it was bigger inside than out; it was a mage guild, after all.

  Charlie pulled out her pocket comp and made a panning video of the cramped space. Come to that, it was brighter than a windowless room should have been. More magic to get used to.

  “What is that device you carry?” Jack said.

  “This? It’s a pocket computer.” Charlie turned the screen toward him. “It’s….” How to explain? “It’s sort of the army knife of gizmos. It has lots of functions, see?” She showed him the menu screen. “In fact.” Charlie opened her photos and showed him a snapshot of himself. “Look here. I took that earlier. And here.” She pulled up a picture of Eva and her kids from one of their many day-trips. The beaming kids were perched on an ancient iron cannon. “That’s my sister, Eva, and her kids James and Laura.” She flipped through more pictures. “That’s their dad, Eva’s husband, Harry. He’s an accountant. That’s my dad. He keeps talking about retiring, but he’s a bit of a workaholic so I don’t think he’ll ever actually do it. That….” Charlie paused, caught off guard by an unexpected eye misting. “That’s my mom and us.” Eva and Charlie sat on either side of their mother in her hospital bed, their mother looking thin and fragile between them, but that was when they could still manage to smile. “She died of cancer my senior year of high school.” Long enough ago that she thought she’d gotten through hurting every time she saw her mom’s picture. Apparently not.

  Charlie cleared her throat and clicked through to a different picture. Any picture. “This is from last Christmas.” Eva, Harry, and both kids in front of the tree. All of them faced the camera, but James’ hand slunk toward one of the brightly wrapped presents.

  “This is what you are fighting to return to.” Rhys’ murmur in her ear made her jump almost clear of the bench.

  “Yes,” Charlie said firmly, recovering. She impulsively elbowed him in the chest, but he didn’t budge. “This is what I want to return to. My family.” And her world. Her job - if she still had it. Her life.

  Rhys offered no other comment, but returned to the other side of the table.

  “May I?” Jack said, reaching eager fingers for her pocket comp.

  “Sure.” Charlie pulled out the stylus and showed him how to work it and how to open programs. “Just don’t move anything to the trash. Anything.”

  Jack nodded vigorously and took the pocket comp from her hand with unexpected delicacy. He set it on the table in front of him and studied the menu intently.

  Charlie wasn’t alarmed until he brought out his chalk. “Um. Jack?”

  Jack drew a circle around the pocket comp then made marks that started looking suspiciously similar to his gate spell.

  “Um. Jack?” Charlie stole a glance at Rhys, but he looked mildly amused. No help there. Magic wouldn’t mess up her computer, would it? “That’s not going to affect anything, is it? Jack?”

  “Oh, no, it won’t affect the device,” Jack said in an offhand manner that she didn’t trust at all. “I’ve used this spell many times; I have it completely memorized.”

  Was that supposed to be reassuring?

  Jack hovered his hand over the pocket comp and the marks he made. “Ancient mysteries, reveal yourself to me.” The chalk marks did a slow spin and turned into ordinary lettering.

  “Hey, I can read that!” Charlie craned her neck around. “‘Secrets revealed’?”

  Jack rubbed his chalky hands together in glee, dispersing white dust. “A basic reading spell. Now I can understand what is written in your device!”

  “Woah!” Charlie caught his wrist before he could scoop up her computer. “Dust off those hands thoroughly. Pretend that it’s a delicate book.”

  Jack did so.

  “So you can really read it now?” Charlie said as he picked up her pocket comp.

  “Yes. Oh, look! The temperature of the room is 76 degrees! How marvelous! What is ‘wallpaper’?”

  Charlie showed him how to change the background picture. “So this is why I could read things in Taryn’s shop? There was a spell on things? Because I couldn’t read anything at the mercenar
y guild.”

  “Ah,” Jack said smugly. “That’s a pretty bit of mind magic. This spell I used was for learning an individual kind of script, but Taryn has an enchantment over her shop that convinces the mind to understand all written script, no matter its origins. You see, her wares come from all corners of the kingdom - some of them from beyond our borders - and so do her clientele. It would be impractical to write labels in every sort of script there is. The mercenaries probably don’t bother to read their books. I tried to get Taryn to tell me who cast it for her but she threatened to use my eyes in her next potion.”

  Jack’s expression turned distant and a little wistful, telling Charlie he’d wandered into the maze of his own thoughts. “It’s a funny thing, mind magic,” he mused. “Very rare these days. After the Wars it sort of… faded away.”

  “Vampires work mind magic,” Rhys said, breaking his silence. Charlie hadn’t thought he was paying attention. “Few have defenses against it anymore.”

  Fright flashed across Jack’s face. “Which is why you must never meet their eyes. If you do, they’ll have you offering up your own throat.”

  Charlie couldn’t help it. She glanced at Rhys, and her gaze went straight to his colorless eyes. Was that how he hunted? With those eyes? He met her gaze full on. His mouth twitched in a hint of sardonic smile before he broke the contact.

  “Ok,” Charlie said. “Here’s another one for you: How am I understanding the language here? I think it’s a bit of a stretch to think that Seinsonnian-or-whatever-it’s-called just happens to match mine.”

  “Simple.” Jack’s eyes sparkled. “It’s a function of the Great Gates. The Gate imprints the dominant language on your mind so that you can understand common speech. If the regional dialect is distinct enough, you’d be imprinted with that. For example, you speak with a categorical Alta twang.”

  “What?” Charlie said, her face flushing instantly crimson. She thought she’d just been talking normally!

  “Jack is putting you on,” Rhys said. “You only have a touch of coast. Fish tang is more marked.”