Windblowne Part 6

"It will not short-circuit anything," said Oliver. He did not know what short-circuit meant, and he wasn't about to admit it.

"Very well," sighed Lord Gilbert. "You are lucky, boy. You have traveled from one Windblownea"an unsophisticated, backward placea"to another Windblownea"an advanced, forward-thinking place. A different world entirely."

Oliver was surprised. Or rather, he expected to feel surprised. But he remembered Great-uncle Gilbert asking him if he were Oliver from this mountain, and he remembered his great-uncle's scrawled poem: whisper to me, of oaks which dwell across the worlds. And he remembered landing here and how the colors and scents and especially the sound of the winds had not been quite right.

Lord Gilbert got up and paced, lecturing. "Travel between these worlds is possible, of coursea""

"Another world," whispered Oliver. "Great-uncle Gilbert discovered how to travel to another world!"

A pained expression came over Lord Gilbert's face. "Yes, months ago, with a sort of beginner's luck, he accidentally stumbled upon the secret, though I'd seen hints of it years before that. Naturally, it is up to me to perfect the process, to mechanize and maximize it! I've nearly mastered it with my own machinea""

"Nearly?" said Oliver.

Lord Gilbert grimaced. "There are still certaina"imperfectionsa"in my machine. The process damages the subject in transita""

"Damages?"

Lord Gilbert cleared his throat. "My experiments have revealed that the traveler, shall we say, gradually sickens as a result of the transfers. The more trips, the more damage. Eventually, he dies. This is rather inefficient, of course. Somehow hea""

"They sicken and die?" said Oliver, shocked. "But I feel fine!"

"Yes," replied Lord Gilbert sourly. "Don't interrupt. It seems that in his primitive way, he had a kind of native cleverness, and he was able to construct one of these kites"a"he spat the word with derisiona""in such a way that it could carry someonea"only someone small, such as a childa"across the Way Between Worlds and between Windblownes, without harming the pa.s.senger."

Carry a child between Windblownes. Oliver glared at Two.

"But of course, more capacity is needed!" said Lord Gilbert. "I need to be able to stride through all the worlds myself, spreading my wisdom everywhere! Backward worlds like yours shall be modernized by my inventions! Think of it, boy! I'll need to move peoplea"whole towns! I'll need to move machines, so thata""

"All the worlds?" Oliver said, surprised. "You mean there's more than just two?"

Lord Gilbert gave him a pitying look, shaking his head. "Primitive boy. Yes, there are far more than two, and you should ask yourself why your great-uncle never told you about any of this. He probably did not trust you, nor think you capable of grasping this concept."

"That's not true!" said Oliver hotly.

Lord Gilbert smirked. "Perhaps," he said. "But it is something for you to think about, isn't it? Which of us trusted you with the truth?"

Oliver could not answer. Two was looking at him now, with those hollow, sunken eyes. "What did you do to Great-uncle Gilbert?" Oliver snarled at the other boy.

"Now, now," Lord Gilbert continued. "Two is hardly responsible for the capture of my idiot twin."

Oliver bristled at this description. Great-uncle Gilbert might be a number of things, but he was no idiot. "But I saw him. My great-uncle was fighting those hunters." And if I hadn't distracted him, Oliver remembered, he might have won.

"Yes," said Lord Gilbert. He strolled to the counter and spooned up some of the baconish cubes. "But the plan was mine. Unfortunately, Two failed miserably at maintaining the element of surprise, and as a result failed miserably at his secondary objective. An objective that you have managed to accomplish for me." He tossed the plate onto the table with a clatter. "Have some breakfast."

"No," said Oliver. "I want my great-uncle."

"Don't be uncooperative," said Lord Gilbert severely. "Your great-uncle was uncooperative. He would not explain the workings of his device, so I banished him to a h.e.l.l-world, the most loathsome and horrible of the worlds I have discovered so far." He pushed the plate closer to Oliver. "Eat."

A h.e.l.l-world? Oliver's blood began to pound. "No," he said, crossing his arms. "I want my great-uncle and I want my kite."

"Ah, the kite," Lord Gilbert continued, clapping his hands together. "I am looking forward to examining it. After last night's debacle, I wasn't sure I'd ever see it again. Fortunately, you've brought it straight to me."

"No, I haven't," said Oliver.

"Yes," replied Lord Gilbert, "you have." He reached into a cabinet and brought forth a cylinder, which to Oliver looked like a handvane without the vane. The thing was made of metal, like so many things in this world, and was covered with b.u.t.tons and dials. Lord Gilbert snapped the cylinder onto his wrist, and a number of blinking lights appeared on its surface. With a giggle, he pushed some of the b.u.t.tons in rapid succession.

"What is that thing?" asked Oliver.

"This," proclaimed Lord Gilbert, "is one of my most clever and useful inventions. I call it the Handvane Mark IVa"HM IV for short!"

Oliver was unimpressed. "What good is a handvane without any vanes? You can't read the wind."

Lord Gilbert rolled his eyes. "An utter waste of time. The HM IV can do far more interesting things."

"Doesn't look like it's doing much right now," Oliver observed.

"Just you wait, Oliver One." Lord Gilbert smirked. The lights on the HM IV, which had been blinking randomly, began flas.h.i.+ng on and off in unison. "This is just one of the wonders you'll discover, my boy, living here under my command!"

"That sounds great," said Oliver, standing. He edged toward the door. "I'll just need to get my kite and fly home and get a few of my things."

With a surprisingly agile leap, Lord Gilbert was in front of him, blocking his way. "Oh no, Oliver One a you can't go home again, ever. You are far too useful to me. I've long needed another a.s.sistant of Two's caliber, and now I have one!"

"I'm leaving," announced Oliver. He moved to push past Lord Gilbert.

"Sit down," said Lord Gilbert.

"No."

"Sit!" commanded Lord Gilbert.

Oliver sat.

Or, more precisely, he fell, and Lord Gilbert slid a chair underneath him on the way down. Oliver's entire body had gone numb. He tried to move, but nothing below his neck would respond. He looked at Lord Gilbert, who gave him a wink. Oliver saw that he was twisting a dial on the HM IV.

"Don't despair, my boy," Lord Gilbert said, resuming his mad pacing. "You wouldn't have gotten far anyway. My beautiful and deadly hunters would have seen to that! As they will see to your crimson kite. Then the dissection can begin."

"Dissection?" said Oliver, straining to move his arm.

"Ah yes," said Lord Gilbert. "You wouldn't know about such things. But you'll learn! A dissection involves slicing up the device into its const.i.tuent components, so that I can learn how it performs the transport without damaging its cargo."

Oliver glared at Two. "Liar! You said it wouldn't be hurt! Youa""

"I didn't know!" protested Two. "I thoughta""

"Olivers!" shouted Lord Gilbert. "Rule one in this house is that there is to be no fighting! Oliver One, you really must learn some manners. Manners are one of the first things I was forced to teach young Two here, after his parents' disappearance."

His parents' disappearance? Oliver struggled futilely to move his legs. "I want the kite and I want my great-uncle!"

"Your one-track mind, my boy," said Lord Gilbert severely, "is becoming quite irritating. I see that I shall have to teach you some manners as well, now that you are living here with me."

"I'm not living with you," said Oliver, glaring. "I'm taking the kite and finding my great-uncle and going home."

Lord Gilbert licked his lips. "Oh, you will live with me indeed. You shall a.s.sist me with my experiments. And you shall make me many more hunters."

Oliver was stunned. "You want me to make them?"

"Of course!" snapped Lord Gilbert. "Using your extraordinary kitesmithing talents, the same as Two. I provide the brains and he provides the kite! I need more hunters, many more, and with two of you I can double the output!"

Oliver was just opening his mouth to tell the bitter truth about his kitesmithing skills when the HM IV suddenly emitted a loud, birdlike chirp. Lord Gilbert grinned. "Ah, my creations have returned." He twisted the dial on the HM IV, and Oliver sensed feeling returning to his arms and legs. He stood immediately.

"Now don't get any ideas, Oliver One," warned Lord Gilbert. He waved the HM IV threateningly. "Let's go see my hunters." He gestured, and Oliver went grudgingly onto the balcony at the top of the steps. Lord Gilbert followed.

Oliver stepped outside into a bl.u.s.tery, late-morning wind. Instantly, his piercing headache returned. He closed his eyes, wincing.

"Something wrong?" asked Lord Gilbert idly, coming alongside.

Not wanting to show any weakness, Oliver took his hands from his head, formulating a sarcastic reply. He opened his mouth to deliver ita"

and opened his eyesa"

In all the history of Windblowne, going back 455 years, the giant oaks had always stood unyielding. They gave the people of Windblowne homes and protection. No one in Windblowne could ever consider harming an oak.

Or so Oliver had thought.

If you had asked him what the most terrible, horrible thing you could possibly do to an oak would be, Oliver might have said, with a shudder, "Cut it down."

Now Oliver saw there was a far worse fate, and it was the fate of the great oak nearest Lord Gilbert's treehouse.

For Lord Gilbert had touched another b.u.t.ton on the HM IV, and the big metal gates next to the treehouse had slid smoothly aside, revealing an oak, or what was left of one.

The oak had been stripped of its branches and split down its center. The two broken halves leaned out to either side, where they sagged against supporting struts made of metal. Tubes running into the tree seemed to be collecting sap, and the oak was scorched and burned in many places. It was pierced by spikes covered with blinking lights. Surrounding all of this was a ma.s.s of cables, spilling from the base of the tall metal shaft and spiraling around the oak before twisting into openings connected to humming machines. Amid the jumble of machines was a large, mirror-like disc, the place at which all of the tubes from the mutilated oak converged. The oak was ripped and gutted and torn and broken. The ground around the tree, however, was well-tended, and another machine was carefully applying water around the roots.

Horror-struck, Oliver realized the oak was still alive.

"I see you're admiring my project," said Lord Gilbert proudly. "Isn't it marvelous? All those little machines working as one." He glanced at the sky. "Ah, my hunters have returned. And they've brought me a present!"

Oliver, glad to look at anything besides the tortured oak, looked up. Seven dark dots, arcing and weaving, had appeared against the sky.

Lord Gilbert went on. "A kite, Oliver One, can be more than a silly toy made from bamboo and silk. It can also be a beautiful, deadly predator, a hunter of the sky, made much more dangerous by my brillianta"" He broke off, frowning and flicking b.u.t.tons on the HM IV. "Why haven't they got it yet?"

The dark dots drew closer. Oliver could see that one of them was the crimson kite, darting about, trying to break free from the orb of hunters that surrounded it. At each dart, one of the hunters flew swiftly to intercept. With each of these maneuvers, the kite was forced closer to the treehouse. In seconds they were directly overhead.

Lord Gilbert muttered angrily and jabbed a b.u.t.ton on the HM IV, and the shrieking hunters collapsed upon the kite.

Oliver cried out as the crimson kite burst free in a desperate dive.

One hunter, wings folded, dove after it.

The kite streaked directly at the machine, threading a harrowing path through the wires, the hunter only inches behind. At the last moment, the crimson kite pitched upward. Unable to react, the hunter slammed into the mirror disc with a thunderous crack. Blinking lights went wild as sparks and smoke exploded from the machines around the oak. The hunter ricocheted off the disc, banged into the metal treehouse wall, and collapsed onto the balcony.

Lord Gilbert howled and raced to the balcony railing.

Oliver found himself at the top of the steps, shouting. For a moment he thought the crimson kite might be able to fly to him, and they could somehow escape. But the remaining five hunters had taken a tactically commanding position above the disc. The crimson kite flew straight into them and was attacked immediately. Then all of them were obscured by the smoke pouring from below.

Oliver whirled toward the damaged hunter, which was writhing and jerking on the balcony floor.

Oliver had never seen anything like this kite. It had the trim frame and bowed spars of a fighter but the shape of a hawk, with an array of metal spars forming a skeletal head and body. Knifelike talons protruded from the ends of what would be its legs. The sails were made of something, not silk, that Oliver didn't recognize. One of its wings flicked up, and Oliver saw gears and spokes, mes.h.i.+ng and grinding as the hunter struggled on the balcony. It flipped itself onto its back, and beneath the head Oliver spotted a metal box with a kind of screen that emitted horrid soundsa"buzzes and whirs and hisses and shrieks like nothing Oliver had ever heard before.

And then something on the metal box clicked open. A gla.s.s eye.

Oliver stumbled backward, frightened, as the thing jerked about, shrieking, metal talons scrabbling on the balcony.

The flock of hunters flew out of the smoke. Four of them glided gracefully to the balcony railing. The last circled just overhead, screeching triumphantly. Oliver saw the crimson kite twitching helplessly, clenched in metal talons.

Lord Gilbert glared at Oliver. "Well," he said, his voice tight with anger, "it seems your friend put up quite a fight." He touched a b.u.t.ton on the HM IV, which gave a whistle, and held out his arms.

The hunter swooped in toward the balcony and released its quarry. The kite fell into Lord Gilbert's hands.

Lord Gilbert's face was filled with fury. Oliver looked at the kite and cried out. It had been terribly hurt. Half its tail was torn away, and there were two long slashes in its sails. Lord Gilbert clenched it in quivering hands that had turned bloodless white. The kite trembled painfully, ripped and wounded and helpless.

Then Lord Gilbert's look of fury vanished, and his face went suddenly, terribly, cold. "You," he said grimly, "you'll never escape from me again."

And then, with one swift and devastating move, he grasped the spine of the crimson kite and snapped it in half. The crack echoed through the silent forest. The kite's trembling ceased. Lord Gilbert threw the shattered spar to one side, then hurled the kite to the floor, where it lay crumpled and still.

Oliver screamed and lunged at Lord Gilbert.

9.

Oliver reached for Lord Gilbert's throat.

Halfway through the lunge, he froze and crashed to the balcony deck. He found himself looking at one of Lord Gilbert's exquisitely polished shoes, unable to move a muscle. The shoe reached out and tucked itself under his shoulder, then flipped him onto his back.

He stared up at Lord Gilbert, whose smirking face was framed by the branches of his oak tree. "Naughty, naughty," said Lord Gilbert, lifting a finger from the HM IV and wagging it at Oliver. "Mustn't attack your legal guardiana"rule number two." Whistling, he retrieved the crimson kite from where it lay in a crumpled heap. He spread it on the railing and examined it. He seemed cheerful again after his brief bout of fury.

Out of one corner of his eye, Oliver could see the wounded hunter, still sputtering and sparking on the balcony floor.

"Prop him up against the wall. I don't like him lying there," Lord Gilbert said. Two's face came into view. Oliver felt hands under his shoulders. He was dragged to a wall and propped awkwardly against it. Two would not meet his eyes.

Two crept over to the injured hunter and knelt beside it, stroking it gently as it lay writhing on the deck. A breeze blew over them all, bringing a swirl of dead oak leaves that pattered against Oliver's skin. His skull buzzed with pain.

He fought to speak, but this time he could not even move his jaw.