DragonKnight - Donita K. Paul [82]
Only Bromptotterpindosset and Granny Kye stood there.
Granny had a sketchpad in her hand and drew rapidly, her concentration on the shimmering gateway. The tumanhofer looked up as Bardon approached.
“We can hope the first managed to go through. Holt was the last, and he entered twice before pushing beyond.”
“What happened?”
Bromptotterpindosset picked up a stick and threw it. The leafy piece of wood splatted against the surface of the opening, clung for a moment, and then dropped to the ground. Bardon picked it up. He pushed the stick into the quivering air. It sunk in, and then he could push it no farther. The resistance increased, and Bardon was forced to allow it to resurface on his side of the gateway.
“Any ideas?” he said over his shoulder to the tumanhofer and the emerlindian.
“Granny Kye has been drawing the gateway. Come look.”
Bardon moved behind the small woman and looked over her shoulder. The lines on the paper clearly depicted the gateway. Around the edges, Bardon saw the unraveling threads.
He glanced up at the surface. The lights playing in the air had dimmed.
Granny Kye looked at Bardon over her shoulder. “Jue Seeno said you have woven the threads before. She said if you could see them, you could do it again.”
“She has more confidence in me than I have. Besides, the colors of the threads are important, and I cannot see the colors in your sketch.”
“Put your arms around me so that your arms are draped over mine. Put your hands on the backs of my hands.”
Bardon reluctantly followed her instructions. He did not want her help to see the threads. If he saw them, he would be required to make an attempt at weaving, an attempt he was sure would fail.
“You can do this, Squire Bardon,” said Granny Kye. “Concentrate on the edges, relax, follow the pattern. I see what needs to be done, and although I have never tried, I am willing. Show me, and I’ll follow your lead.”
“This is pointless, Granny Kye. I merely did what the others did. I don’t remember.”
“Relax, son.”
More to appease the old woman than with a real conviction that something would happen, Bardon stared at the flowing threads of color. At first the frustration of being put in this position rumbled through his brain. Then Greer’s presence seemed so real that Bardon glanced away from the weakening gateway to see if the dragon were really in the glen. The feeling faded immediately, so he turned back to focus with Granny Kye on the threads binding the edge of the portal. Greer’s presence returned, and Bardon realized it was in his memory. The likeness and voice of Sir Dar also flitted through his mind.
The next image was of Kale, and the impression strengthened with every breath he took. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He heard her voice.
“It’s like the beat of a drum behind the music, Bardon. Just react to the rhythm.”
He knew she had said these exact words to him before.
The sensation of his friends being at hand intensified the comfortable state of mind that Greer had started. He saw a loose thread and where the end should pass between two others. The colored line moved of its own accord and slipped into place. He spotted the next errant strand and located its true position. The thread moved. When he aided in the building of a huge gateway in a swampland in Trese, he had acted in response to the arrangement established by someone else. He would never claim it was his own instinct. Now he realized he was the one creating the sequence and beat.
In addition to Kale, Bardon recognized the presence of Cam, Fen, Lyll, and Regidor. He knew these people did not physically stand beside him, yet their proximity seemed more real than that of Granny Kye, who stood within his arms with her back against his chest and her head tucked under his chin.
Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Bromptotterpindosset approaching the gateway. He wanted to call out, to say, “Not yet.” But the words would not form