I have died.
I am not dead.
Nor am I alive.
Is this the life that lies beyond life?
There was a murmuring presence around her, and she thought she heard a voice answer, No, you are not going to the Final Dream Mountain, not yet. But before she could even wonder what that meant, she felt threads of power coming out of nowhere to gather around her—and she felt a surge, then a whistling, dizzying movement, spinning her like a whirlwind in the net. But she was not in the net; she was not anywhere; she felt no awareness of body, or sight or sound, or smell or taste or touch.
And yet . . .
She felt herself riding a fantastic, invisible thread of power through a sky that had no height or depth or substance. There was a booming presence of life around her, but distant; and closer to her was another presence, and something about it spoke the word dragon in her heart.
We are almost there, whispered the voice she had heard before. And there we shall be gathered in, and perhaps you can find again the life you have lost . . .
And then the voice, once more, was lost on the wind.
But she knew now that it had been a dragon voice—not Windrush, but perhaps someone close to him. It all felt exceedingly odd to her, and again she said, I have died, haven't I? Is this where dragons go when they die?
There was no answer, but only that rushing sensation that was neither sound-sense nor touch-sense, but something deeper within her. And then she felt everything slowing, and regathering . . . and she suddenly felt an astounding sense of safety and enclosure. And then the voice said, You have died, and yet not died. There is little time to explain. We need you more urgently now than ever.
And another, more melodious, voice said, Welcome, Jael, to the Dream Mountain.
* * *
Her sense of sight came slowly back to her, though she had no idea how. She found she could only gaze in amazement and wonder. This was the Dream Mountain, of which Windrush had spoken so long ago? It was like a great cathedral of translucent glass . . . and in its center, a darkness, within which burned a fire like a hot forge. The fire was enclosed by powerfully woven threads of underrealm magic, which she could see but not comprehend. The fire, the magic, and the darkness were all contained within the Mountain, the outlines of which were sketched by a vast shadow-presence of stone.
It took her a little while to realize that she was inhabiting several layers of the Flux at once. She was inside a mountain, but in the underrealm; and in this place there was a sharp boundary point in the continuum, and that boundary was something extraordinary to behold.
There is much to make clear, sang a low voice which she at once knew was a female dragon.
But we cannot take the time, or the Forge of Dreams may fall to the Enemy, cried another.
The voices were a distraction. She was fascinated by that ghostly fire in the center; it created in her a strange and irrational mix of fear and wonderment. The fire, she perceived, did not exist just in one particular layer of the Flux; it penetrated through the layers, and within its woven enclosure, it seemed to warp and twist the space that immediately surrounded it. It gave off tremendous energy, which was somehow being channeled by the draconae's weaving of magic here in the Dream Mountain.
It was, she realized, a space-time singularity. At the heart of the Dream Mountain. The Forge of Dreams.
Even as she considered the name of the singularity-fire, she realized that she was connected to it now; it was the powers of the dreamfire that gave her life.
Her thoughts and memories were expanding into the darkness like little puffs of air into a vacuum. She saw memories gleaming around her like raindrops in the sun: memories of her father, helping her and cursing her; of her mother, trying and failing to shield her from the darkly mercurial person her father had become; of friends in rigger-school who could never quite gain her trust; of Mogurn, who enslaved her; of Highwing, who freed her; of Ar, who befriended her; of Ed . . .
In this strange realm of energy and darkness, surrounded by voices that were trying to gain her attention, she wept silently for all those people who had been a part of her life. Especially, she wept for Ar, and for Ed.
It was Ed's voice that brought her back, away from those glittering memories: (Hawwww, Jayyyl . . . very, scrawww, interes-s-s-s-ting place here, awwwwk? How do you lik-k-ke being f-f-f-freee like a bird-d-d, hawwww?)
(Ed?) she whispered in astonishment. And then she remembered, Ed had joined himself to her in her passage to . . . death, or whatever this was, if not death. How did she like being free? She remembered a memory of Ed's she had witnessed once, when she had "rescued" him from a recreational cyberbank: the parrot's own recollection of being captured, his memories and personality being siphoned out of his physical body. Now she understood what a terrible shock it must have been to him.
(Hawwww, yes . . .)
But Ed was not the only one speaking. The draconae were becoming more insistent.
You have come, and the realm is trembling.
But it may yet fall.
Help us, Jael, friend, of Highwing . . .With a great rush, the urgency of the struggle closed back in upon her, and she was aware now not just of voices, but of the quick, shimmering movements of glassy beings within this mountain. What she saw were the ghostly presences of the draconae in the underrealm. They were singing desperately, Will you trust us, friend of Highwing?
And at last she managed to answer, I trust any friend of Highwing. Is he . . . here among you?
She felt a surge of energy, as though by speaking she had somehow loosed a reservoir of powers. His spirit lives in the Final Dream Mountain, sighed one of the voices. But not precisely among us, though we have often felt his presence.
Jael tried not to show her disappointment. Are you his friends? I am . . . Jael, friend of Highwing.
The answer was a rippling choir of voices.
Lavafire, friend of Highwing—
Cooltouch, friend of Highwing—
Gentlesong, friend of Highwing—
Starchime, friend of Highwing—
Strongthought, friend of Highwing—
Starfire, friend of Highwing—
Deeprock, friend of Highwing—
The names streamed by in a torrent, more than she could count. With each one she glimpsed the sparkling presence of a dracona, and felt the surge of a fiery soul. Finally she heard a different voice, the one that had come with her from the Cavern of Spirits. I am FullSky, brother of Windrush, it whispered, speaking with difficulty. Highwing was my father. And she felt something different about that one, not just that he was a male, one of the draconi, but that he was present here in a more tenuous and perilous fashion. She recognized great pain and weariness in him, and glimpsed the sacrifice of strength that he had made to bring her here. And even now, he was laboring, crafting a final spell for her.
That realization made her tremble. But she knew that, whatever it was he was preparing, it was something she could not refuse.
Then, my friends, she whispered, tell me what it is you want me to do.
Chapter 40: Window in the Battle
In the smoke and confusion of battle, Windrush dropped away from a trio of drahls that were pursuing him—or seemed to be. The Enemy's sorcery was endlessly confusing, not just to him, but to all of the dragons. The air was full of smoke and mirrors; everything was twisted and doubled and tripled, and nothing was as it seemed. Drahls and Tar-skel dragons had attacked in great numbers. But sometimes they were where they seemed to be, and sometimes they weren't. Many true dragons had already fallen, defeated as much by confusion as by the invincibility of the foe.
The dragon flights were in disarray, and Windrush could smell the discouragement in the air. The leaders shouted orders and encouragement, but their words were lost in the tumult. The dragons were losing confidence, and the illusion spells cast by the Enemy were growing stronger.
Windrush blew angry fire as he dove, and a cluster of drahls belo
w him scattered in alarm. But above him, four others were still bearing down. Windrush veered and climbed sharply, then fell sideways into another dive. That seemed to shake the drahls; but he was even deeper now in the abyss of smoke, and it felt as if he would never climb out. Help us! he cried silently to the emptiness of the world, to the father who was gone, to the rigger who had not gotten through.
An instant later, he felt a violent shudder like a wind shear pass through the air, and he thought he heard a voice cry out to him. He nearly succumbed to a sudden dizziness and an unaccountable grief welling up out of his heart. He felt certain that a great power had just passed through the underrealm. The air was still shaking. But far from feeling like a Tar-skel sorcery, it felt like a sorcery coming unwoven.
He felt a great rush of wind, and the smoke that had coiled everywhere, enclosing the world, was suddenly torn away like a great curtain, revealing the land below. Windrush pulled up with a startled gasp; he was very low in the Dark Vale, speeding perilously close to dark pinnacles of stone and sharp-edged rock walls. The air overhead was filled with the swarming figures of dragons and drahls, vapor and flames, cries and screams. For the first time since the battle had begun, he could see his enemies clearly. And there were many of them, but not so many as he had thought.
He climbed to rejoin the fight; but even as he did so, he found himself distracted. Whatever had just happened, he knew that someone or something had touched him in that moment, touched his heart as it fled through the underrealm. But what—or who? Keeping a wary eye on the fight, he focused back on the sensation. What he had felt was a whisper of death, the passing of someone to the Final Dream Mountain.
Farsight? he thought, with a sudden dread. But no, no dragon's death would have shaken the underrealm so. But whose death would?
Jael! he whispered silently to the air. Jael, no!
He had heard the fleeting cry, but not recognized it. And now it was gone, and so was the presence that had touched him. He felt a new and burning emptiness in his soul. As surely as he rode the winds of battle in the Dark Vale, he knew that Jael had just died. And if Jael was gone, so was any hope for the realm.
He drew a breath and thundered his rage and anguish into the air: "NOOOOOOOO—!" So loud was his cry that a group of drahls scattered, and several dragons veered in mid-maneuver. "NOOOOOOO!" he cried again. "JAE-E-E-L-L-L-L!"
His cry echoed back from the floor of the Dark Vale, reverberating from one wall to the other. It seemed to still the battle for a moment. Windrush realized, too late, that it had been a cry of despair, and that it had been heard by all of the other dragons. He knew he should bellow something, some encouragement, to keep his brothers from losing heart, but he found no words of hope in him as he climbed to rejoin the battle.
A shriek rose in the air from the drahls—a sound of triumph, as if they too had sensed the passing of Jael. But it was a confused and wavering call, as if they were a little unsure of their triumph. Nevertheless, they wheeled in the air and attacked with renewed fury.
Windrush fought alongside his companions, but his fighting spirit was gone. He glanced down into the shadows of the vale, wondering if Jael had died in that grim place; and he wondered where down there the real Enemy, Tar-skel, was hiding. It hardly mattered now. This battle was the last for dragonkind.
Angry and sullen, he lashed out against a Tar-skel dragon, raking it spinning through the air. But his vigor gave out quickly. A blast of freezing drahl fire caught the top of his left wing, and he swooped dizzyingly and knocked the drahl from the sky even as he reeled from the pain. At the same time, he saw two of his brothers, set upon by traitor-dragons, tumble out of the air and vanish. The true-dragon force was dwindling. Windrush veered and swooped, weeping inwardly at the approaching end of his kind.
He was roused from his misery by an angry outcry: "STONEBINDER! YOU LYING TRAITOR!" Startled, Windrush banked and flew toward the source of the shout. He saw SearSky ahead, circling in a tight dueling orbit with the dragon who had betrayed them all, before their failed attack on the east camp. Even from a distance, Windrush could see the fury in SearSky's eyes, and the fear in Stonebinder's. "I hope you're ready to die, you betrayer of friends!" SearSky snarled.
Stonebinder squawked unsteadily, fire hissing from his mouth, "You're already beaten, SearSky! Can't you see it? It's hopeless!"
The two circled, glaring at each other.
Windrush saw two drahls dropping toward the black warrior's back. "SearSky! Drahls behind!" he shouted, increasing his speed.
SearSky turned sharply, raking Stonebinder with flame; then he pitched up and over to meet the drahls. One was fast, and caught him with freezing flame on the right wing. SearSky faltered for an instant, then burned the other drahl from the sky. The first was almost back upon him, when Hailfar swept down past it, knocking it away with an angry shout.
Stonebinder emerged from SearSky's flame and saw the diversion that the drahls had given him. Before any other dragon could intervene, Stonebinder shot past SearSky and clawed him, once, before fleeing. That was Stonebinder's final mistake. SearSky roared in pursuit, with Windrush finally pulling up to flank him.
The cries of other dragons filled the air as they plunged through the tumult of the battle. "STONEBINDER—TRAITOR!" "KILL HIM, SEARSKY!" "FOR THE LUMENS!" No one got in the way as SearSky caught the traitor's wingtip, spun him in the air, and seized him with both hind and foreclaws. They began falling, together. SearSky bellowed his rage into Stonebinder's face, then blasted him with the full force of his fire. Stonebinder writhed helplessly as they fell through the air. Then he turned to glass in SearSky's grip and vanished. SearSky broke out of the fall, favoring his right wing, but rumbling in satisfaction.
"Well done, SearSky!" Windrush called, then turned, sweeping the area, in momentary respite from the battle. In that instant, he felt something new in his undersense. What now? he whispered, dizzy with exhaustion.
Come see . . . she lives . . . he thought he heard.
What? he cried silently, afraid that he was going mad.
Jael lives . . . a voice called, from very far away.
Windrush felt hope and rage burn together in his heart. Who was this, calling to him in the heat of battle?
The voice struggled to be heard. It is FullSky! There is no time to lose! Let me show you, in the underrealm!
Stunned, Windrush broke farther from the battle, seeking a place of relative quiet. There was a fractured pinnacle rising up below him. He spiraled down and landed, aware of the risk he was taking. But he had no choice. Farsight! he hissed in his undervoice, not wanting to draw attention to himself. I am landing to seek FullSky in the underrealm. Guard me if you can!
Without waiting for an answer, he closed his eyes and sank into the underweb of the world.
* * *
He passed at once into a window of silence. He felt FullSky's presence, invisibly accompanying him. My brother! he thought, but had no time for more. He was drawn instantly down a fine-stranded connection, and his kuutekka materialized in a place he had visited once before—flying fast and low over verdant lowlands, toward a sunset over the sea. And high over the sea, floating on a cloud, was the Dream Mountain, a white fire blazing within its glass vastness.
I have already seen this, he rumbled impatiently, wondering why it mattered now.
We haven't much time! See what has happened! Speak with her!
Stunned, Windrush flew higher in the underrealm, trying to reach the floating Mountain. Speak with—?
With Jael! Look! She has struck a magnificent blow! FullSky cried, and his voice sounded as if he were nearing the last of his strength. Look in the Mountain, Windrush!
He peered, straining to see. Though he was still far from the Mountain, he could just make out the figure of one who seemed to move through the Mountain like rippling light. He was suddenly weak with joy. JAEL! he cried, his voice tearing. Can you hear me? Is she alive, FullSky?
FullSky's voice sighed like a fadin
g wind. She has died—and yet she lives! In the Dream Mountain, Windrush! She is WITH us . . . she has given her life . . . and struck a great blow against the sorcery!
Windrush struggled to comprehend. Struck a blow—by dying?
Look at the Enemy's web, FullSky whispered.
Behind the Mountain, Windrush saw the web of power glowing against the sky. It had grown stronger than ever—but it also had loose strands fluttering, in the beginning of what looked like a tear in the web. And the light that glowed from it was flickering with a slight unsteadiness. How was this possible?
Don't let this be in vain. FullSky's voice was fading. She needs your help!
Windrush gazed at Jael, and cried out in his heart to her. He thought he could sense her answering the cry; but she seemed terribly, terribly intent upon something.
Dragon Rigger Page 42