Ar reached out with both hands. Jael, please!
But there isn't, is there? she continued, not responding to his gesture. Ar, I have to do this—to try, anyway. At least, that's the way I feel. She swallowed, knowing that she couldn't make the decision alone. Not only would that be unfair, it would be impossible, if Ar opposed her.
Awk! The parrot flapped his wings violently. Try! We Try! Yes, Jayl?
Ar looked askance at the bird before addressing Jael again. What do you think you . . . or we . . . can do?
Jael had no plan, and she feared that there was little time left before Highwing's execution. She wished she could remember more clearly what the iffling had tried to tell her in the dream. What would Highwing say to her if he could speak? Windrush, she said suddenly, can you reach out to your father with your thoughts?
The dragon's breath hissed out unhappily. I have tried. But there is a barrier preventing me—a sorcery. I cannot break through.
Was that what he was doing when he was ranging outward with his thoughts in his sleep? Jael wondered. She nodded in disappointment. What about the ifflings, then?
A raised eye ridge conveyed the dragon's puzzlement.
Couldn't you contact the ifflings and ask them to help us? If they have touched Highwing's thoughts in prison, then they must know how to reach him!
The dragon shifted position suddenly. He raised a talon, dangerously close to Jael, and scratched at the knobby bumps on the back of his head. A good idea, perhaps. But I do not know how to reach the ifflings, either. They come to me when they will, not when I will. I wish I could call them to me.
Jael squinted at him, then paced. There had to be a way. Do you know how to get to where he is being held? she asked.
The dragon's eyes glowed dully. To the Black Peak? Of course. But that won't necessarily help us find him.
Why not? Don't you know where he is imprisoned?
That, I fear, is a closely guarded secret, Windrush murmured. He is somewhere deep within the mountain, in a dungeon protected by tightly woven spells that alter the very shape and substance of the world. That is all know. I do not know the way, nor can I penetrate those spells.
Jael remembered the magical entrance that had brought them into this cavern. She believed Windrush when he said that such knowledge of Highwing's prison would be kept from him. But there had to be a way!
There was a sudden rasping sound behind her, and then a fluttering of wings, as Ed flew to her shoulder. Rawk. Coming. Something coming, the bird muttered in her ear.
Windrush must have sensed the approach at the same time. The dragon's eyes brightened, and he raised his head, sniffing. It comes! he hissed in astonishment.
Jael turned to look and her heart nearly stopped. The creature from her dreams was crossing the cavern floor, walking toward them. It moved with four-footed grace, and its head was raised, eyeing them each in turn as it approached. It looked, as she'd remembered, like a sleek, huge-eyed lemur. Hello, Jael whispered, scarcely knowing how to begin, knowing only that she had a thousand urgent questions.
You must go to Highwing now, if you would go at all, the creature said, its voice a willowy sigh in her head. Its eyes shone dark and glistening; but the real contact, Jael sensed, was not through the eyes but directly through the mind.
You know how to reach him? Jael whispered. Can you take a message to him?
There is no time. Highwing rises to the peak now, and if you would speak to him in this lifetime . . .
Jael felt an electric shock go through her. You mean . . . he is being taken to his—? Her voice caught; she could not speak the words.
You must not delay, urged the iffling. For the draconae, if you will not do it for Highwing. For the memory of Skytouch!
Jael did not fully understand the iffling's words. Nevertheless, she pleaded with it. Will you come with us?
I cannot, it whispered. But you know the way.
I don't. But one of us does! Jael spun, crying to Windrush. Do you hear that? You are the only one who knows the way! Will you take us or not? I must know now! Her breath ran out with a great cry. She gazed at the dragon, then turned back to the iffling.
But it was gone.
Where—? she choked, her breath a cry of pain. But she knew that the creature had delivered its message and departed.
The dragon's breath rumbled indecisively in the back of his throat. Suddenly his eyes glowed with anger and determination. Climb onto my back, he said. The time has come.
Yawwwwk! Now! shrieked the parrot.
Jael looked at Ar, a growing lump in her throat—and through her own welling tears she saw him nod. Together, they scrambled up onto the dragon's shoulders and clung to his scales.
She never even saw the mountain open up around them as the dragon leaped with full fury into the air.
* * *
A predawn wind blew damp and chilly around them as Windrush beat his way uprange, northward and westward. Jael was astonished at the dragon's speed. She glanced back at the barely perceptible ghost of their spaceship riding on the dragon's back, and thought that this was probably the fastest she had ever moved through the Flux—under control, anyway. She and Ar huddled close behind the dragon's head, but even so, the powerful movement of Windrush's wings threatened to hurl them off. Ed was hunkered down in the shelter of her body.
Do you have any idea what we'll do when we get there? Ar asked, his voice barely audible over the wind, as the landscape spun by.
She shook her head, blinked tears from her eyes. Even as they flew, memories of her father were rising to the surface. She remembered accompanying him into space as a young child, standing with him at the portals as he showed her the hypnotic beauty of the stars of deep space, and shared with her the joy and the desire to cross the gulfs between the stars. This was a long time before the failure, the bitterness, the hatred. She shivered. Why was she remembering this now? Was it because she was getting closer to Highwing? She remembered the dragon's magic, and thought that it was almost as though it were at work again now, finishing a task that had been left undone, stirring up memories that had been buried for good reason, memories she wanted left hidden. As if to torment her, one more image rose into her thoughts, an early memory of sitting and watching him frown in concentration over his work, of admiring him as she watched the smoke curl up from his pipe, of loving him. Loving him?
She blinked the thought away, determinedly shaking her head. Ar had asked her a question. What would they do when they reached the Black Peak? She had no idea. She knew only that she had to be there. If there was any way to save Highwing's life . . . but what could she possibly hope to accomplish against dragons massed and bent upon murder? And what about Tar-skel? Now that she knew its name, did that mean that she was tied to it forever, always to be its foe? She shivered, and felt a tremor pass through Windrush's massive body.
The mountains changed slowly as they flowed past. The peaks were becoming bolder, more pronounced against the sky, black against grey. The frail light of dawn only hinted at the sunrise that was surely to come. In the air, Jael noticed tiny flecks of light drifting toward them, like windborne sparks in the night. Windrush veered slightly to intercept them. They flashed and twinkled for an instant, as he snapped them out of the air with his great jaws. His wing-strokes seemed to grow stronger, as though he had gained sustenance from the sparks. Lumenis wind-dust, he remarked, but didn't explain further.
Jael didn't ask; she had more urgent things on her mind.
There, Windrush said a few minutes later, indicating a dark, massive peak directly ahead. There you will soon see dragons . . . more than you can imagine. And you will see one dragon worth more than all of the others together. Sparks from his exhalation flew back past his head, past Jael and Ar.
The sunrise came quickly, a sudden blaze of maroon and gold from the range off to their right. In the glory of the new day, Jael suddenly descried what Windrush had promised: dragons—dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of them—a va
st ring of dragons circling the summit of the peak ahead. She recognized it from the images Windrush had shared with her: the Black Peak, highest peak in the realm. It loomed, a great and terrible turret against the sky. The dragons were still far away; they looked more like a thick flock of blackbirds. If only they were mere birds! Somewhere among them should be the one dragon who mattered to Jael. Somewhere among them should be Highwing.
She realized that she was having trouble breathing, and she forced herself to take slow, deliberate breaths, and to relax slightly the grip of her whitened knuckles on Windrush's knobs. She glanced at Ar, and saw in his eyes a sober acceptance of what was to come. If—she began, and stopped. If we don't . . . Her voice hurt; she swallowed and shook her head. What was there to say that he didn't already know? Ar smiled, his lips a forced crinkle pattern, and he peered straight ahead, not meeting her eyes. She thought she heard him humming. She nodded and focused on calming herself, trying to gather her strength.
She felt a wave of dizziness and, just for an instant, felt thoughts that were not her own. It was a familiar touch, but it was gone already, and she cried out silently, trying in vain to recapture it. But it had triggered something else in her mind. Another memory rose up hauntingly, infuriatingly, into her thoughts. Not now! she cried silently. Please not now! It was her father again, scowling, signing the permissions that would send her to rigger school. She wanted to scream her plea—Not now!—but she was helpless to speak as the memory flushed through her. Whatever else her father had done, he had allowed her to become a rigger, had left her the money that let her finish the training that took her to the stars, that kept her alive and brought her here. That was what Highwing had seen, and had tried to show her, so long ago.
She felt that distant other's presence again now, but only for an instant, a tickle in her awareness. She recognized the touch of Highwing's magic—still at work, even in the face of his impending death.
Then she saw him. Her breath went out in a frightened gasp.
He was a distant, still tiny figure, perched on the very summit of that black mountain. The other dragons were circling around him like buzzards. Jael could not have said how she recognized Highwing from such a distance, or how she knew precisely what the other dragons were doing—that they were executioners awaiting their moment of triumph. But those facts were as stark in her mind as the newborn daylight, and as hurtful as a searing sun. They're going to throw him down! she whispered, scarcely able to voice the words.
No, Windrush answered. Far worse than that. And his wings beat with even greater urgency, carrying them ever more swiftly toward the peak. Butchers! Devils! he cried out in anguish.
Jael struggled to draw breath into her lungs, but she felt as though a giant fist were crushing her chest. Gasping, she fought to speak. Closer, Windrush! Closer! Faster!
The dragon did not answer, but his wings furiously drummed the air. Jael squinted through tears, trying to focus on the peak. Highwing! she thought. Damn them all—I'm here, Highwing!
They soared so fast and high that the peak mushroomed in size before them. The dragons circling the peak were now just ahead of them, and to the sides. But Jael scarcely noticed; she saw only the lone dragon atop the peak, turning his head to and fro, flapping his wings wide, but not flying. The air around the peak shimmered as though with heat, and it reverberated with the sound of chanting, and that was when she realized, when she felt with a shivering certainty, that more than just a multitude of dragons opposed Highwing. There was a powerful sorcery at work, altering the very nature of the Flux, and it was that power which held him prisoner. She heard a thin Rrrrrr . . . graggons . . . and realized that Ed was smelling the executioners. He was hunched as low as he could get in front of her, and was trembling with fear.
Highwing's head was turned away from them now. She urged Windrush onward. Closer. Suddenly, a hot, reeking blast rocked them, and two black dragons swooped in from either side, nearly colliding with Windrush. DO YOU WISH TO JOIN HIM, BROTHER? they bellowed, in voices that seemed to erupt from the bowels of the earth. WATCH, RIGGER-DEMONS! WATCH! AND YOU TOO MAY JOIN HIM! The chanting swelled in the air, in a terrifying tongue that tore incomprehensibly at her ears and her mind and her heart.
Clinging to Windrush as he veered from the other dragons, she drew a desperate lungful of air, and the cry exploded from her, full of rage: FRIEND OF HIGHWING! I AM JAEL, FRIEND OF HIGHWING! HIGHWING, I AM HERE! And she froze, thrilled and terrified by her own words.
For an instant, all motion in the sky seemed to cease. She saw Highwing turn his head, and across the emptiness of space between them she glimpsed the fire in his emerald eyes, and she felt his mind brush against hers one more time. Windrush, turn back to him! she pleaded, and the dragon wheeled around and arrowed toward his father. AWAY FROM ME, BROTHERS! Windrush bellowed. And Jael cried, HIGHWING!
The chant rose louder and faster, and the air was dark with dragons swarming, and alight with dragon-fire. And through the fire and smoke, she saw Highwing spread his wings wide and full, and leap from the mountain peak. Yes! she cried silently. You can escape!
But Highwing banked and flew straight toward her, straight into the swarm of his captors. A thundering outcry arose. The air was torn apart like a curtain, and there was a dazzling flash where Highwing had been, and through the din she heard the cry: You came, Jael! You came! But when the light faded, Highwing was gone. A chorus of triumph from the executioners was cut short by a tremendous concussion, which lifted Windrush and his passengers and hurled them back from the peak.
Highwing! Jael screamed.
But he was gone. Only the other dragons remained, and they were already turning to attack their new foes.
Windrush, where did they send him? she cried, her voice cracking with grief.
For a prolonged breath, she heard nothing but the sound of rushing air, and then the dragon saying, To the static realm . . . to die alone, separated from this world forever . . . in a voice so dulled by grief and despair that his words seemed to make no sense at all. Jael rose high on the dragon's shoulder and leaned forward over his forehead ridges to gaze into the corner of his left eye. As she linked for just an instant with the dragon's mind, the image came clear in her own . . . to the static realm . . .
And she knew what realm that was, a realm that dragons feared as deeply as any human feared the fires of Hades . . .
And in the space of one breath, with no time at all to think about it, she drew all of her strength around her, drew Ar and Ed close, and let the full gleaming shape of her starship billow out behind her. Ignoring the screams of rage from the other dragons, and Windrush crying to her to wait, she leaped away from Windrush's shoulders with a shout of farewell. And she hooked her fingers into the stuff of the Flux, and heedless of the babble of voices around her, clawed a rent in the continuum and wrenched the ship upward, spiraling upward, out of the Flux.
Chapter 27
The Static Realm
THEY EMERGED nearly inside a billowing red sun. The star loomed enormous before them, filling half the sky with its crimson photosphere. Seemingly dark granules and spots swam across its massive face, livid in the sensory-net image. The star poured out a ferocious radiation that was already threatening to overwhelm Seneca's shielding.
Jael, what are you doing? Ar shouted. Get us out of here! He was already retuning the flux-pile, preparing to take them back into the Flux.
Ar, no! He's here somewhere! They threw him out of the Flux, into our space!
Ar was stunned silent for a moment. Jael, it's too late! There's nothing we can do for him!
Jael worked frantically to engage the ship's normal-space controls through the net. We don't know it's too late! Ar, help me! We've got to scan for him! As she spoke, she turned on all of the normal-space sensors, setting them to search for anything solid.
Yawww! Ed took wing in the net. Find him! Find him!
Yes—help us! Jael was fumbling with the controls. It was awkward, piloting
the ship in normal-space from within the rigger-net. Ar—can you pull out of the net and handle the ship from the bridge?
The Clendornan's face loomed large before her. All right, Jael—but I'm not giving you much time. We can't last long this close to a star, and I'm not going to kill us trying!
Just do it! He must be close. We left the Flux almost together.
Ar's face vanished, and a moment later, she felt the normal-space controls slipping out of her grasp. She waited, nearly frantic, as the sudden silence seemed to stretch forever. She found herself shaking with fear, and under the terrible strain she felt something shake loose from her subconscious mind. Space itself seemed to quiver as a face rose up and floated before her, in her mind, exactly as Mogurn had appeared in the Flux after she'd killed him. She panted, struggling not to scream. It was her father's face, and she recognized the memory at once. It was her father in his final, tormented year, babbling, "Master your demons, Jael, master your demons!" He had never made peace with his own failures, yet still he haunted her with his failed advice. And yet . . . without him, she realized, she would not even be here . . .
The face disappeared as Ar's voice reverberated into the net: Incredible, Jael—there's a small asteroid nearby. Its orbit is taking it into the sun's photosphere.
Her heart jumped. Is there anything on it?
Checking now. The imaging is very difficult . . .
Jael's heart pounded as she waited for his report. Then she heard: There is something on it. I can't tell what. We'd have to shift our orbit inward to approach, and we don't have much maneuverability.
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