Earth Gate (Wine of the Gods Book 17)

by Pam Uphoff

  He slept, dreamed, and woke up in the predawn of the next day. Deena looked around. "Well, you look almost awake."

  He yawned. "I didn't even think about a guard. Sorry, I'm slacking."

  She snorted. "Just get us a route to Fascia and we'll forgive you."

  "Will do." There were other things he also needed to do and not in front of Deena, so he stepped through the southern corridor.

  The smugglers path was . . . minimal and twisty. He pissed over the edge of a cliff, then grabbed a bubble and pinned an opening here, and threw the far end as far as he could push it. He stepped into the bubble, opened a hole in the far side and stepped through, teetered on a loose boulder, and hopped to another. Caught another bubble and threw it . . . The fourth one was at least to a reasonable place to stand, so he pinned that end solidly before he stepped back through. He detached the northern end, and carried it with him, back through all the other bubbles. Back in camp he gave it a good shake to free it from the other bubbles and pinned it open.

  The camp was stirring. Deena handed him a plate of scrambled eggs, and he munched while Lefty got out his instruments and stepped into the corridor. And back. "How did you combine them?"

  "It's . . . when you pull them through each other, they can be shaken loose, if there's a lot of divergence in their path. Then you can either leave the old ones in place or pop them."

  "I . . . see. I think Rustle did that once, with the corridor to New Tokyo. What happens if there's not much divergence in their paths?"

  "They sort of melt into each other. That's why we put the ends so far apart, when they're running parallel to each other for long distances."

  "Ah. Like the incoming and outgoing corridors on the heavily traveled routes."

  Xen nodded. "And I'll show Yellow and Fuchsia how that works as well." Xen dumped his plate in a bucket of soapy water. "We've got, what, a bit over three thousand miles to go? I can probably do three bouts a day like that, maybe more, but it's going to take at least six days."

  "Figures." Yellow staggered out of a tent. "I was thinking it was going to take at least three months. I'd hate you if I weren't so relieved to be handing it all off."

  Xen grinned. "Don't worry. I have another job for you, if, of course, Lefty would like a single simple corridor to Farofo, or for that matter, all the way to Karista."

  Fuchsia rode out of the corridor, her mount's hooves clattering on the stony ground. She handed a packet to Lefty and eyed Xen. "I suppose you're here to show up the witches?"

  "Nope. I'm going to show Yellow a trick with the corridors that my mother came up with. Then I'm going to see if I can throw corridors half as well as my little sister." He finished the eggs and crooked a finger at Yellow.

  "See, we anchor a bubble over here, and drag it through the first corridor." He ducked through, a single step that landed him ten miles away. Yellow popped out behind him. "Then through the next corridor . . . " He waited until she was watching. "Then we give it a good hard shake, like snapping a towel. And it pops free of the other two corridors. So, take it to Farofo. Ask the commander if he wants any of your short corridors. If not, or if not all of them, walk back through them, popping them behind you as you go. You know how to . . ."

  Yellow threw her hands into the air. "It's that easy? Good grief. Next you'll be asking me why I didn't just pick up the end of the corridor the next day and pull it along."

  "Well . . . "

  "I couldn't get them loose!" She plucked the bubble from his hand and set off to turn her twisted path into a single step.

  Xen snickered, and turned back to the camp. Where Fuchsia was poking into all the bubbles he'd stuck on the rock face.

  He opened his mouth to say something about nosy parkers . . . except she wouldn't have the same exposure to twenty-first century books and terms and wouldn't understand . . . She skipped back suddenly as a big red dog leaped out at her, tail wagging madly. Three more even larger dogs . . . no, three quarters grown puppies. Wet, muddy, and smelly. As if they'd been romping in the sulfurous half frozen mud along the creek just before being tossed in a bubble by an angry witch . . .

  "Ack! Get away, you dirty oversized . . ."

  Xen tried to whistle, and started laughing. The short-haired red one—only small by comparison to the others—looked around, and pounced. Xen sat down under the vocal and energetic onslaught of four oversized puppies who obviously remembered him. "Down, hounds, you're a bit large for this aren't you?" They clearly didn't think so, and all four tried to crowd on his lap.

  Deena and Easterly were laughing.

  "That's what you get for holding them in your lap when they were little." Lefty shook his head. "And don't deny it, we all saw you doing it."

  "Three-quarters Hell Hound? They look more like pets than guard dogs." Easterly eyed them. "Big paws. I don't think they're done growing."

  "Why did you bring them?" Deena extended a hand and attracted the next puppy attack.

  "I didn't mean too. I was just stuffing stuff in bubbles to bring along, and then grabbed all the bubbles."

  :: I told you Rustle bubbled them. :: Pyrite snickered. Or whickered.

  Xen nodded. Great. Even the horse thinks I'm funny. "I know. I just didn't realize the bubble was up in my room."

  Deena lifted a boot and thumped his shoulder. "Stop pretending the horse talks . . . " Her voice trailed off as the four mutts ceased wiggling and focused on her. Growling.

  "You know, t'pups just might make watchdogs after all."

  "Yeah." Xen reached out and grabbed the black and white one. "Deena's a friend. She can kick me if she wants to, like a play fight. Save the growling for bandits."

  All four looked at him with more comprehension than a normal dog. Ears pricked, listening. The red one lowered his ears and looked at Deena with an apologetic wag of tail. The other three joined in, back to wiggling, but a bit more subdued.

  "Xen . . . can't you even have normal dogs? The red one, that's Pig, right?"

  "Right. Shark and Piranha, Piranha has the white chest. And Barracuda's the only girl. And just black and white, no gray patches." Xen eyed them. "So, why don't I take the puppies with me, and maybe we can find enough clean water that they'll stop smelling like hotsprings."

  Fuchsia sniffed. "Pity about the wet dog smell underlying it all."

  Xen looked at Pyrite. Sweating already.

  He swiveled an ear around and shook his head. :: Too hot, and I hate jumping out onto nasty sharp rocks. ::

  Lefty put away the last of his reading. "Just stuff for my information, nothing pertinent. Now Xen, show me how to throw corridors." He stood up and stepped through Xen's corridor to the south.

  Xen followed.

  "And," Lefty glanced back at the corridor. "What the hell do I do with Fuchsia?"

  "Umm, you've got, counting yourself, four trained magic users? Two who need more training and two poorly to not-at-all trained?"

  "I know. I ought to be delighted to have another trained Halfmoon witch available." Lefty sighed. "But the attitude is a bit hard to take."

  "If you have her wait until Yellow returns, the triad ought to be able to hollow out some caves, use the excavated rock for more buildings, or roofs for shade, and so forth. Maybe a big tank for water. I'll keep my eyes open, and bring back a bubble full—they leak like mad, but not so fast that I can't get you a good sized reserve."

  "Caves. Shade. Good plan. Now I just need to put up with her for a few hours."

  "And if you start up another spy post on One, she'd be a natural."

  Lefty rocked back on his heels. "They're that arrogant?"

  "Not all of them. Send her to my mom to get a little patch of skin changed to have the One gene, and to Heliotrope to learn how to shield like a Oner. And I'll bet I can make some charms that the non-magical can wear, to shield their thoughts. Then they ought to be able to pass for halfers. But you'll have to figure out how to get those identification cards and money over there."

  "Huh. That's
one of the things that Q's working on. I'll tell her to hurry up, before I try to do something I probably won't live to regret."

  Xen snickered. "Stop being so afraid of witches. If she gets too uppity, just have Question drop by."

  "She's off with Never, again, in that damned airship. 'Don't worry, we just want to see Africa' she says."

  "Don't worry, Uncle Lefty. She probably just wants to capture a zebra to give to Nil for his birthday. Whenever that is."

  "Striped horses. That's all we'd need." But there was a hint of smile behind the growl.

  Xen grabbed a bubble. Pinned it down and threw the other end. He stepped in, opened a hole and stepped out . . . teetered on a cliff edge, sidestepped to a better spot and peered over. Two hundred feet down to the canyon bottom, and a rushing river. He pulled the corridor to a slightly less precarious spot and attached it lightly. Grabbed another bubble, anchored it and tossed it down to the bottom of the canyon. He stepped, opened the bubble and anchored it. Back to the top, he grabbed the first corridor and pulled it through the second.

  "Xen . . . couldn't you see that you were walking into thin air?"

  "Err, no. It's all foggy because I can see the energies of the corridor. Well, if I shut down hard enough I can see better."

  Colonel Lebonift cleared his throat. "Look first, and leap afterwards. Consider that an order, Captain."

  "Yes, sir." Xen stepped back through to the river bottom.

  Lefty followed. "Break off and start a new corridor here. Having access to the river may be very useful. I think it must be the Big River, flows into the Karab Sea. I'll take some star shots tonight, but I think we're still in Jyth territory, not far enough east to be in Verona.

  "Now I'm going to go tackle some witches, please don't kill yourself while I'm gone." He stepped back through the corridor. A moment later the puppies leaped through, knocking him flat, and leaping into the river.

  Xen thought about curling up on the patch of sand for a nap . . . but rather muzzily realized he wouldn't wake up for three days. He whistled up the pups—and they actually came! Then he threw a corridor and stepped through, and another . . . then staggered back to camp to wolf down some food and crawl into his tent. Closed it and hoped it was still working the right way.

  He slept for days, couldn't wake enough to do more than swallow a couple of cookies packed with nuts and fruit before he slept again.

  And finally crawled back out.

  Middle of the night, or at any rate well before dawn. The coals of a campfire glowed in the dark.

  A figure looked around. Deena again. Pig was sitting next to her, and wagged over to greet him.

  "How long was I asleep?"

  "Scared it's been weeks? Nah, just since you crawled home yesterday afternoon."

  "Oh, good. I was afraid I'd missed something."

  "Dinner." Deena pointed. "Easterly made it. It was . . . edible eight hours ago."

  Stew, cooked down to thick globs. He ate it all, and let Pig lick his bowl.

  "I'd say something rude about teaching him bad habits, but your pups have been keeping me company. They rotate like soldiers, three sleeping and one on watch. Mind you, they seem to think two hours is long enough for a watch, but it's handy." She waved a hand toward the crest of the cliff. "They spent the afternoon up there, keeping watch."

  Xen snorted. "If we stay here through summer, they'll bake up there."

  "Count on it. If the Earthers were just trying to find lost personnel, they wouldn't have brought in the people and the machinery."

  Xen hissed. "How true. Well, if we're going to have to fight them, we'd better do it before they bring in more people and equipment."

  He could barely see Deena's nod in the dark. "We know a lot more now, about how to fight people who have tech. We'll need to hit fuel stores, electrical generators, and ammo dumps."

  "And figure out how to close their type of gate." Xen scratched his chin. I need to head for the river and clean up. "Dad said that 'gate anchor' of theirs is just a beacon to help the gate mechanism find the right spot. Same as the Oners. Once the Earthers destroyed the Oner beacon on Granite Peak, they couldn't find it again."

  "So that will be one of our main goals." Deena stretched. "Take the gate anchor out to cut off reinforcements, then deal with the fuel, generators and ammo. So they either stay in Fascia, or we kill them all."

  "Something along those lines." Easterly joined them, poking at the embers. "So, Xen, isn't it your turn to cook again?"

  "What did you do? Send Fuchsia away?"

  "Yes, but she keeps coming back. A couple of hours ago. She'll probably sleep in. And Yellow's cooking is . . . interesting. So you're the best cook here."

  "Sheesh. There's a limit to what can be done with those indestructible . . . sacks of things you've brought here." Xen looked around for the dogs. "Would you pups like to go catch something for me to cook for dinner?"

  "Xen!" Deena glared. "You can't just tell them to go catch something. Hunting dogs need a person along to guide them, dispatch the game they corner, and bring it home. Even if they catch something, they'll just eat it."

  "Not if they want it cooked. What lives around here? Besides rattlesnakes and lizards?"

  "Mountain goats, rabbits, wild turkeys . . . "

  "Mmm. Roasted turkey." Xen eyed the dog. Could they really do it? "You guys are three quarters Hell Hound, so you can probably figure out the hunting thing. But don't tackle any bears or rattlesnakes, got it?"

  Pig barked agreement and wagged his tail.

  Fuchsia woke up and kicked Pig.

  Xen slid pans onto the fire and filled them with bacon. Then he threw together some pancake batter. Hunted through his mother's idea of what food he needed and failed to find maple syrup. Apple butter worked.

  Then he coached the witches in throwing corridors. Fuchsia could reach a hair over a mile. Yellow was good for a bit less.

  "Good enough for getting in and out of canyons. Or across them." Xen assured them.

  "When we need them." Lefty eyed the witches. "Now, how about some improvements to the camp?"

  The three witches made the worse triad imaginable. Bad personality match. Fuchsia is ambitious and arrogant. Yellow deals with it by ignoring her. And Deena outranks her and isn't about to back down and cede control to a private with barely two years of army experience. Xen hoped they would be able to mold enough rock for at least a water tank. He bit his tongue and headed out to throw corridors. He returned a few hours later to find the dogs gone. He slept for days, then threw two more corridors. Returned to find Easterly plucking turkeys.

  "T'came back with a turkey apiece."

  They were delicious.

  It took ten days to get the corridor to Fascia. He was practically sleep walking in between episodes of corridor throwing.

  Xen and Lefty warped light around themselves and walked the final corridor in close.

  A nice little hill just a hundred feet from the perimeter fence of the fast growing military base looked about right. Xen pinned the corridor out of sight behind the crest.

  "Perfect." Lefty scowled down at the Earthers' base. "They've brought in a lot of equipment. And what the hell it that!"

  A noisy awkward thing floated up into the air . . . "I think it's called a helicopter. Interesting. No antigravity? The Oners are ahead of them, there." Xen stifled a yawn, tried to keep his head from sagging. "Illusion, you need an illusion overhead . . . or form the rock."

  "Go back to camp . . . no, go home, Xen. I'll send someone for you, if we need you again."

  "Ummkay. I'll go to Harry's, so I'm just a step away from Karista."

  He took Pyrite and his tent bubble with him. Took a real room anyway, but slept in the bubble. Slept, ate, exercised enough to hopefully stay reasonably fit, slept, dreamed too much . . . He was pretty sure most of the dreams were just dreams. Otherwise he was going to have as many children here as he had on the One World.

  Lefty sent an occasional note. They didn'
t need him. He slept.

  Chapter Nine

  12 February 3512 ce

  Winter 1395 px

  Fascia, Auralia, Comet Fall

  Jaime found the switch back and forth from the Amma's gofer to the Army Captain's aide, distracting. The captain appeared to have the same problem, but worse. Captain Sean Orobona had been playing the part of Amma Lyle Lilian for so long he had trouble stopping. Not that the newcomers wanted him to stop, they just expected the poor man to turn it off and snap to like a good little officer. A dozen times a day.

  Right now, to plan some covert operations to pin down the alien gate tech.

  "As far as we can tell, the so called 'magic tech' is based in the Kingdom of the West." Lieutenant Paul Hamza (field promotion being reviewed) was looking eager.

  At least they want to start by collecting intel. Out loud, Jaime added. "Karista can be checked through the embassy there, but I also have an approximate location of someplace they call the wizards school. And then there are all the rumors about Rip Crossing. So, three obvious approaches."

  Orobona nodded. "In fact, there are moles who've established themselves in the Kingdom. They very rarely communicate, so they may know more than we do."

  "Contact them. And find Mike Furnace. He's got a unit for infiltration and subversion. Talk to him about how we’re going to locate and secure this so-called magic tech. The scientists on Earth can analyze it and determine if it has any dimensional possibilities. And HQ wants us to report in person so they can ask questions. Friday. Be ready."

  Damn . . . reporting in person on Earth? The captain will need an aide. I could call the Purple Embassy and find out if my parents are still there. And . . . I should write up a complete report . . . well edit the multiple reports I've already got, put in background for the people who haven't been here for twenty years . . . have them ready to hand off, if anyone from the United Earth Council Intelligence Agency shows up looking for me.

  In all the years Jaime had spent, off and on, in Karista, pretending to be the Amma's son, visiting . . . He'd done the social scene and met people who glowed. Met a few who did things when they thought themselves unobserved. But he'd never managed to follow any of them anywhere useful. All the men in the royal family glow. And a few lords, a few officers. And the Sisters from Hell. But the most interesting ones hardly glow at all, but they do things. There was that duel at the palace. Lieutenant Wolfson and his sweet little sister dived straight in . . . I could see the spells flying. Fireballs.