Dragon Space

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  There was nowhere for him to flee now, and no strength left to resist. And yet, as the freezing fire blossomed over his helpless body, he felt an astonishing upwelling of joy. It carried away the pain like a stream of cool water; and when he felt his body shudder and die, he knew that the pain was ending forever.

  His last thought as his awareness slipped from him was how welcoming was that stream of water, bearing him away to the Final Dream Mountain.

  * * *

  WingTouch heard Rent's scream—"He's the one! Killll himmm!"—and realized at once whom the demon meant.

  WingTouch threw himself into the air, beating his aching wings. He did not quite become airborne, but he made it to the outcropping where Rent had stood just moments ago, and he clambered toward the sound. Deep in his throat, his own fire was burning to life. A dozen stumbling steps brought him to a sight that made him halt in horror: Rent bellowing down at the mangled form of a dragon, frozen where two drahls were still blowing their killing breaths upon it. In the instant that WingTouch recognized the dragon as his brother, FullSky turned to clear glass and vanished. Rent crowed in savage triumph. Then he turned and saw WingTouch.

  Motionless, WingTouch met the human's gaze with cold fury. "You have killed my brother!" he whispered, and drew a deep breath around the fire in his throat.

  "You!" Rent screamed. "How did you—"

  WingTouch exhaled. His breath caught the human in a splash of fire and smoke, flames gouting around the demon's head and body. The human stood wreathed in flame, and his last agonized cry, "—get freeee—?" was a screech that rose into the air like the fire and smoke that were consuming him. It took only one breath. When the smoke cleared, the human's charred corpse remained crouched in its position of surprise and fear.

  The ground shook with another quake, and the two drahls that had just ended his brother's life stared up at him with eyes suddenly full of fear. Were they afraid of him because he had just destroyed their master? Did they know how wounded he was? He incinerated them with one long breath.

  WingTouch turned around slowly, gazing in astonishment over the ruins of the earth that were the dungeons of the Dark Vale. Overhead, he could hear the sounds of battle. He could hear the cries of dragons here in the dungeons, and he felt their hopelessness like a weight upon the air. He could not free the others as FullSky had freed him, but perhaps he could give them something to rejoice about. What was it FullSky had told him before he died?

  Jael is alive in the Dream Mountain . . .

  Yes.

  Lurching into the air, heedless of the screaming protests of his body, WingTouch began flying low over the dungeons, bellowing out the news.

  "ALIVE IN THE DREAM MOUNTAIN! JAEL IS ALIVE!"

  Chapter 42

  Dragon Rigger

  The one shall fall and the realm shall tremble.

  And the beginning begins anew.

  BUT THE beginning would be, must be, for the Nail of Strength.

  * * *

  In the place where darkness coiled about itself in patterns of masterful deception and power, he who was called Nail of Strength noted the passing of his servant Rent. The human had been useful enough; but his pride had grown too great—and his desire, not just to serve, but to be the Nail of Strength, had become all too evident. And still he had failed in the task to which he'd been entrusted. And so the Nail had changed the terms of his gift of body to his servant, and withdrawn the shield of invulnerability that Rent had grown to take for granted.

  The manner of Rent's death was left to chance, and chance had wasted no time. Rent's terror, and the pain of his passing, were as useful as any dragon's in fueling the fire of the web-sorcery.

  And the web was growing.

  The web was strong.

  The web would pierce the boundaries between the worlds and draw them all, all of the universes, into the power of the one called the Nail.

  The darkness coiled about its center of power, and brooded. The darkness, even in its certainty, felt fear. There was still the problem of "the one."

  How often had the Nail tried to convince himself that the prophecy was meaningless! But he knew; he had seen the ancient vision himself, through the eyes of a servant; he knew the window into space-time that the draconae had seen. He knew the truthfulness of the vision and the words that had sprung from it. And he knew, most of all, how diabolically ambiguous those words were! And so he had woven his web of power carefully, with exquisite care, around such portions of the vision as could be clearly understood.

  And yet, even now, as the Words unfolded, so much was unclear.

  Plotting in his place of strength, the one called Strength had built his plan around the fall of the rigger. But by giving her life rather than having it struck from her, she had sidestepped his plan. And for all that, she yet lived, reborn in the Dream Mountain, thanks to the infuriating treachery of the dragons! But the Nail of Strength remained the Nail of Strength, and the dragons fought their losing battle, isolated from their sustenance of lumenis, and from their mates in the Mountain of Fire. The prophecy might be muddied, but the victory would still be his.

  Now, however, the plan must be changed. It angered him not to wield the power of the Mountain of Fire; but since the draconae, with their petty defenses, continued to resist, he would crush them. The power of the Deep Caverns ran strong in him now; and once he had reached out beyond this realm, there would be no limits to the new sources of power.

  He had been pleased to use the dragons' despair to strengthen his plan. But that time was past, and a new time had come. Time not just to humiliate the dragons, but to destroy them.

  * * *

  As Jael reached out from the Dream Mountain, she felt perilously exposed, even with the power of the draconae helping to keep her kuutekka tight and strong. She felt as if she were stepping off into space from a dizzyingly high mountain, with untested wings. She could see the structure of the Enemy's web with greater clarity than ever—a vast glistening spiderweb enclosing the sky. She could see its power surging from the Dark Vale where the Enemy kept his prisoners and servants in thrall, and from another place called the Deep Caverns.

  It was hard to envision how such power could be defeated. And yet, in places, it was somewhat weakened—even in the Dark Vale, where the dragons' spirit had been bolstered by the news that she was here. Her very presence strengthened the dragons and weakened the sorcery! She felt awed and humbled; she could only trust that she could find a way to complete the task. She had unraveled a small part of the Enemy's skein of sorcery; she must somehow unravel the rest of it.

  In the Dark Vale, the dragons continued to fight a desperate battle; and yet, perhaps not so desperate as they believed. Could the dragons see what she did—that the Enemy's illusions made his forces seem far greater than they were? They could still be defeated; but first she must collapse the illusion of invincibility in Tar-skel's sorcery. First she must join together the power of the draconi and the draconae.

  Riggers can change things, Kan-Kon had reminded her. And who knew it better than she who had defeated Tar-skel once before, at the Black Peak—where she had undone the Nail's plans to hurl Highwing to his death in the static realm, where she had broken his terror by joining rigger and dragon together? Even now, that tear in the sorcery remained unrepaired. She meant to strike there, at the Enemy's weakness; she meant to join once more with a dragon.

  (Hawww, yessss!) hissed Ed, urging her on.

  Come to meet me, Windrush! Come to the Black Peak! she whispered again and again into the winds of the underrealm, as she flew toward that place of smoldering magic.

  * * *

  Surprise twisted through the center of the darkness like a draft of cold air, fanning the inner flame to a dark, angry heat. * She dares, then, to challenge me where she fancies she won a great victory! Let her do so. Let her flaunt her pride and her arrogance. The victory is mine. It is already mine. *

  * * *

  The Dark Vale was a place of chao
s and noise and the stink of death. The dragons fought with renewed spirit and determination, but always the Enemy seemed to have the greater numbers and strength, as though he had a limitless army of drahls to expend in the killing of dragons. Still, the fury of battle did not keep Windrush's heart from leaping when he heard Jael's voice in his underthoughts. Come to the Black Peak! Join me there, with all the dragons you can bring!

  He was astonished and overjoyed—and dismayed, as well. How could he take dragons from the battle now, to fly all the way to the Black Peak? The air was shaking with currents that threatened to knock all of them out of the sky. He himself was weary and wounded, though he'd been fighting as though he were neither.

  But he dared not fail her. Whatever else he lost today, he must not fail Jael, when she needed him.

  He blew a crackling flame and called out: "WINDRUSH FLIGHT! WINDRUSH FLIGHT! TO THE BLACK PEAK! FARSIGHT, TAKE COMMAND HERE!" He circled tightly and watched as those in his wing, the alarmingly few left who could answer him, broke from the battle to join him. "TO THE BLACK PEAK, TO JOIN JAEL!" he cried.

  Somewhere, he heard Farsight's call of acknowledgment, taking over leadership of the main battle group. Then he broke away and flew northward and eastward, out over the desolate plains of the Enemy's realm.

  He flew as though consumed by madness—with Jael's voice echoing in his thoughts. The warriors of his wing, confused and uncertain, had nevertheless fallen in behind him. Together, battle weary and yet putting aside their need for rest, they flew. They flew as though time and distance had no meaning. They crossed back over the desolation of the Enemy's realm, and flew northward to the end of the Black Mountain range and the tallest of all the mountains, the Black Peak.

  The red glare of the peak drew them on. Windrush half expected to find another battle raging, or an army of drahls waiting to assail them. Instead, he found the place deserted, as though all of the Enemy's forces had been drawn to the Dark Vale. Nonetheless, it was a brooding and frightening place, perhaps even more frightening in its emptiness—an enormous mountain shrouded in thunderclouds, with the blood-red light of another world's sun glaring out through its upper slopes. It was a vast and terrible tower riddled on the inside with old and sorcerous caverns of the Enemy. Here his father had been imprisoned through treachery and betrayal, and sentenced to exile. And here Jael had challenged the Enemy and won, and brought Highwing back; and the smoldering wound in the mountain's side remained as a testament to that victory.

  Remember that victory, he whispered through the haze of fatigue. It is certain that the Enemy remembers. And that thought gave him renewed strength. And for a moment, he thought he felt his father's spirit touching and supporting him, even here, even now.

  But to do what? With his flight of dragons, he soared around the grim peak, searching for signs of either Jael or Tar-skel. He smelled the Enemy's presence, and there was a strong and troubling turbulence in the air. Jael? he whispered, trying to find some sign with his undersenses. Jael, are you here? He heard no answer, and wondered, had he imagined her call? Had he been deceived by the Enemy, at last? Had he brought his brothers here for nothing?

  Finally he called out to the others, "You must guard me once more, while I search the underrealm! Whatever happens, my life is yours!" Overhead, the sky flashed and shook. But Windrush ignored that and found a place to land, high on the slopes of the peak. And with only a glance back at his circling companions, he sank into the shadowy world of the underrealm.

  * * *

  It was no easy stretch to the Black Peak for Jael. The underrealm was a place of shifting and treacherous winds. But FullSky had given her skills and shown her the path well enough, and Ed murmured and encouraged her the whole way.

  What she found was a gaping wound in the underrealm, surrounded by a frayed fabric of sorcery. She knew what the place looked like in the outer world: the image of the towering black mountain, its summit erupting with the light of a red sun, was emblazoned in her memory. In the underrealm, though, it was a net of spun sorcery torn and half patched, with the light of the distant sun leaking through like a sunbeam slanting into a dusty attic.

  It looked like a good place to make a stand, she thought.

  At that instant, she felt two new forces burst into the underrealm around her. One was the Enemy's power, exploding through the torn web like electricity through a splintered cable, sparks shooting off to form tendrils of new sorcery. Tar-skel knew she was here. The other was Windrush, his presence a shadow whispering through the gloom.

  Windrush! she cried. Join with me and show me how to be a dragon! Join with me now!

  From the dragon she heard a gasp of astonishment and joy, and then the shadow-ghost of the dragon's presence turned and swooped to approach her. Jael! he cried. Jael, is it really you? He seemed to grow stronger and more solid as he drew close, searching for her.

  Yes, Windrush! Jael found the strength to make her kuutekka more visible, flying toward his, until at last she materialized, astride the dragon's neck. Her heart leaped as she felt Windrush become solid in this strange place, or at least as solid as if he were a partner in the rigger-net. Windrush—yes! she cried, hugging his neck fiercely. I'm here—and I need your help! As she spoke, the underrealm was flashing like the heart of a thunderstorm.

  Jael! Windrush blew a great flame of greeting. My help is yours! But what can we do? The Enemy is strong here!

  Not as strong as we can be! she shouted, realizing how foolish that sounded, her small voice defiant in the storm. She was only a human rigger, and he was only a dragon. But she felt the strength of the draconae moving within her, as they flew among the strands of the Enemy's webbing, and she cried out: I am a rigger! WE are riggers!

  (Hawwww—yes! Graggon riggers!) cried Ed.

  Yes! she thought. Who could better take hold of the Flux and shape it than a rigger? A dragon rigger. She must become more than a rigger, and Windrush more than a dragon. And Ed had shown her the way—Ed, who was more than parrot and more than rigger. I am Jael, friend of Highwing, friend of Windrush! she whispered, and she hiked her kuutekka-self up over Windrush's shoulder and peered into his spirit-eyes. She peered through those glowing facets and sank spinning into the depths of his eyes, of his soul.

  She shuddered with the power and joy of the union, and her mind overflowed with dragon hopes and griefs and questions, and she was almost swept away on the stream of the dragon's innermost thoughts. But she forced herself to hold aloft the image she wanted, sharing it with Windrush—an image of riggers transforming the underrealm together, transforming themselves—and she felt the underrealm tremble as she merged with her friend's kuutekka and became one body with him, dragon rigger.

  (Hawww, yes! Graggon!)

  (Yes, Ed! Dragon!) They were dragon, three joined as one. She felt her wings beat the air with dragon strength, astonishing strength, even through the terrible fatigue. She clenched her talons, sharp and hard and strong. And she felt Windrush marveling, as she marveled, at the union—and she felt an almost overpowering desire to soar and wheel and plunge through the air for the pure joy of dragon flight. It seemed impossible that such joy could be interrupted by the darkness of a war.

  But the shuddering power of the Enemy quaked around her, an angry power, and she knew there was no time for rejoicing. (See the webbing!) she murmured to her other selves, and even as she spoke, they banked and turned toward the fiery, arcing web of the Enemy. (That is the source of the storm, and the illusions.) And she reached out their claws and hurtled straight for the place where it was torn.

  Hawwwwwwwwwwwww! screeched the parrot.

  FOR THE REALM! thundered Windrush in amazement, flying with all of his strength.

  For all the friends of Highwing! whispered Jael.

  They struck the web and it exploded with lightning and fire, hurling them back with stunning force. The concussion from the blast echoed from the Black Peak like hideous laughter. But heedless of the laughter, heedless of the pain, they t
urned and dove again—and it was like attacking a high-voltage wire, but this time, through the billowing sparks and fire, they caught the webbing in their dragon claws. And they didn't let go, but tore at the web and dove and tore and dove, Jael and Windrush and Ed screaming with determination.

  And through the madness of fire and electricity and earthquake, the web began to stretch, to give, to tear. But they needed more strength; they needed more help. And Jael knew where it had to come from.

  Deeplife, Waterflow, Starchime! she cried back through the underrealm. DRACONAE, HELP US!

  Chapter 43

  The Words Made Real

  FROM THE Dream Mountain, whiskers of strength flashed this way and that, as the draconae strove to help the One in whom all hope rested. From the heart of the mountain, Lavafire and all the others poured as much light into the One's kuutekka as it could stand. Without the strength of the dreamfire coursing into that one's being, she could not have lasted even this long. And yet it was not enough.

  Starchime sent out a sunburst of thought in the opposite direction. Riggers! If you can hear us, we need you! Jael needs you!

  * * *

  Ed, it's no good! We can't control it! The current is too strong! Ar's cry came out as a gasp in the midst of his labors. No matter how they tried to steer or skate the ship away from the singularity, it kept turning and tumbling, pulled by forces Ar could not see clearly enough to understand or counter. The singularity blazed diamond-white before them, drawing them inward along its throbbing currents.

  What, rawk, that? gasped the parrot.