Dragon Rigger

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  (You must believe—!) urged the fading voice. There were a host of voices clamoring around her, and within her, and she could understand none of them now. She was icy cold, with fear.

  The snake of devouring fire was tightening around her neck now, and it was pulling her faster toward the abyss, down, downward toward blackness . . . there was no way to escape from it now.

  And then something made it jerk suddenly . . . and loosen just a little . . .

  Jael, we're here! We see it! IT CAN'T HURT YOU IF YOU DON'T LET IT! A voice was reverberating through the darkness. You're a rigger, Jael—remember! You're a rigger!

  The coil lurched as it lashed angrily at the offending source of the voice. A spaceship, silver and ghostly, flashed through the flame, flashed across in front of her. Jayyyyylll—hawwwww! screamed a voice from the ship.

  The distraction was enough to give her a moment to remember. She was a rigger. She had defeated Mogurn, she had forgiven her father, she had grown out of that weakling, and she had helped to defeat Tar-skel. (Believe,) she heard again, and that time it was a chiming dracona voice. She glimpsed the distant light of the Dream Mountain, and felt the power of the Mountain flowing through her, and remembered that that was where she lived now, and the power of the Mountain was greater than the power of a defeated enemy.

  She shifted her gaze to the whipping dark flame, the devouring flame that had flailed ineffectually at the spaceship and was now turning back for a final strike at her. She remembered that she was unafraid, remembered that she had already defeated it.

  No! she said to it. She said it coldly and clearly. But she was not cold on the inside anymore, she was burning bright and hot with dreamfire, and with dragon blood, and the fearless anger of a parrot, and most of all with the certainty that she was Jael and she lived in the dreamfire, and that fire was forever denied this dark one.

  No! she said, and she punctuated the word with a short blast of dragon flame. She raised her head and gazed back at the coil of darkness, and she knew that she had defeated a creature like this once before, but as dragon, not woman; and she felt her dragon eyes blazing with the light of the dreamfires, blazing bright, brighter, her entire dragon body blazing with light.

  The snake of darkness rose against the light—and fell back from it with a wail. The underrealm was visible again, and Jael saw now that the web of sorcery was in tatters, and the last of the flaming darkness was streaming out of the window of the Dark Vale into the rift of emptiness. A voice groaned from the darkness, unutterably deep and angry. It spoke no words she could understand, but it shook the underrealm with its hatred. Jael shuddered at the voice, but Windrush kept them flying, blazing, streaking like a beam of light toward the Dream Mountain. The voice suddenly cut off into silence, and the last of the flame of darkness vanished into the rift in the underrealm, and the silence of its parting shook the realm and the underrealm with a tremendous, soundless, shattering earthquake.

  The concussion reverberated for a long time. As it slowly subsided, the window in the Dark Vale faded, leaving only the valley in which it had appeared. The last remaining shreds of the web fell like feathery ashes into the abyss of emptiness.

  Something was flying toward Jael and Windrush and Ed.

  Ar! she cried. Ar, you came! You made it through! And after a moment, she added tearfully, And you saved me, you saved my life!

  The answering cry was just as triumphant: Jael, I can't believe you're alive, you're alive!

  In the curious ringing space of the underrealm, before the Dream Mountain, they spun into a dizzying orbit around one another, the dragon and the spaceship; and then with a shriek, two parrot shapes flickered out into space, one from the dragon and one from the spaceship, and they danced in space around one another, not quite able to join and not willing to be parted.

  Chapter 44: Riggers in the Realm

  Before the two Eds, or Jael and Ar, could say another word, they were stunned into silence by what was happening around them.

  The underrealm space was shimmering and changing colors, first reddening, then shirting up through the spectrum: orange, yellow, green, blue, violet—and finally turning clear. The cloud upon which the Dream Mountain was floating slowly dissolved, and the Mountain emerged, now rising solidly from the ground, some distance beyond the Dark Vale. The fire in its heart seemed brighter, steadier, and the voices of the draconae could be heard ringing out like distant chimes. Jael's center was still with the draconae, of course; but her presence was stretched halfway across the underrealm and back, and she could hear their choir of joy from both sides of her being.

  Do you hear them, Ar? Do you hear the draconae? she whispered.

  Cawww—graggons!

  Yes, Jael—it's beautiful!

  Graggons, glizzards, all around Ed, awwwwk!

  I'm with the draconae, Ar. I'm a part of them—or they're a part of me—and the Mountain—

  The spaceship floated closer, Ar's ghostly wedge-headed countenance just visible on its prow. His eyes glittered purple. I thought you were with Windrush, Jael. For a moment, I thought I saw you on his back. Now, I can't quite tell.

  I am with Windrush, Ar. My kuutekka is joined with his—from the Dream Mountain. It's hard to explain.

  But Jael, I thought—

  Ar's words were interrupted as great shafts of light burst out of the Mountain and fanned slowly over the landscape of the underrealm, illuminating places that had been lost in shadow. The Dark Vale was caught in a prolonged light, and it seemed to flicker, until it began to shine as though with its own inner source. Dragon flames were still visible there, but they seemed to be flames of jubilation, not battle. Though she could not quite discern what was happening, Jael sensed that the struggle in that place was ending. She could make out the movements of hundreds of tiny shapes, rising from the floor of the vale. Ar, the prisoners are rising from the Dark Vale! Look!

  Ar was staring in wonder. Did he understand that this was a different view from what they'd been accustomed to, that this was the world of the underrealm? What did it look like on the outside? Jael wondered, and wished that she could see.

  She was about to ask Windrush, when another sight caught her eye, out beyond the Dark Vale: the procession of tiny flames that she had glimpsed before, bobbing across a distant plain like hand torches borne by invisible marchers. Her breath escaped—or was it Windrush's? The dragon's voice rumbled, almost reverently: It is the ifflings, returning to the Dream Mountain!

  Returning home? she whispered.

  Returning home, answered the dragon.

  And that, Ar said slowly, is where we shall have to be bound before much longer. We are tired, and our ship is damaged. Jael is there no way that you can return to the ship—to us? Even as he said it, his tone made clear that he knew the answer.

  My friend Ar, she sighed—and with an effort, she separated her kuutekka from its direct union with Windrush's, parting with a shudder—and made herself visible again on the dragon's back. I have no life in that realm anymore, Ar. I've passed through that door. I don't even know how long I can live on like this in the Dream Mountain. Do you know, Windrush?

  Jael, rumbled the dragon, I am astonished and overjoyed to have you here at all! It is truly rakhandroh! Who knows what the power of the draconae can do? It is beyond my knowledge. But Jael, I too must return to the outer world! I must see it with my own eyes! And I hear the call of those who guard me! I must return!

  Jael felt a rush of sadness. She reached back in thought to the draconae, wondering if it was possible for her to accompany the dragon into the outer world. She heard murmurs of regret, and knew that this was beyond the power of the draconae; she could be with Windrush in the underrealm, and only there. Windrush, she said softly, I must leave you when you go. But you may find me in the Dream Mountain, and I will be calling your name in the underrealm.

  The dragon answered, I wish you could remain with me, Jael. But look for me soon, in the Dream Mountain! He bobbed his great, gh
ostly head at Ar. Perhaps you can steer your ship up through the underrealm with me, and join us in flight to the Dark Vale, to see our victory?

  Ar hesitated. We will try, he said. But we have suffered damage. I don't know how well we can manage.

  Then let us fly back through the underrealm, and I will lead you and help, as in the past, said Windrush. He turned in a great sweep. One Ed scrambled to rejoin Jael, and the other fluttered back to the prow of the ship; and Windrush, with Jael still on his back, sent his kuutekka fleeing back toward the Black Peak, where his dragon companions were calling for his return. Jael glanced backward and saw the silver starship trailing behind, trying to keep up.

  The Black Peak was dark and silent now. The shadows of Windrush's flight of dragons were clustered there, waiting. Jael—farewell for now! Windrush cried softly. Ar—follow me, if you can!

  Jael, will I see you again? called Ar.

  Fly to the Dream Mountain. I will be waiting, Jael answered. Let Windrush bring you. Come soon—! Her words were interrupted by a series of squawks as the two parrots spun around one another a last time, then separated.

  Awwwk—Ed!

  Ed—rawwwwk!

  G'bye—!

  G'bye—!

  And Jael's Ed soared back into her eyes and landed fluttering among her thoughts, while the other Ed circled Ar in the ship's net. Everything shrank then, and her friends vanished, and Jael felt her kuutekka moving with dizzying speed back through the underrealm. In an eyeblink she felt the reassuring presence of the Dream Mountain surrounding her again; and her thoughts were filled with the chiming choir of the draconae, sharing with her the joy of victory.

  * * *

  Windrush emerged, lightheaded, from the underrealm to find his fellow dragons clustered on the slope around him, rumbling with questions. "It is astonishing!" he cried, blinking and twisting his head about.

  "Windrush, what happened?"

  "Tell us!"

  "We felt the air shaking—"

  "The Enemy has fallen!" Windrush cried. "Tar-skel has fallen!"

  "Windrush, are you all right? WHAT HAPPENED?"

  It took him a few moments to catch his breath and look around to see that the other dragons and he were alone here. The Black Peak was dark and silent; the glowing window from Tar-skel's old sorcery was gone. "My brothers," he began. "It is not easy to say—"

  "Windrush! What is that?" cried Fleetwing, to his left.

  Windrush turned his head. A silver spaceship was shimmering into view in the air, and he blew a tongue of flame in greeting. "Welcome, Ar—and Ed—friends of Jael, of Windrush, and Highwing!" he called. To the bewildered dragons, he explained, "They came to help us defeat the Enemy—in the underrealm, with Jael! Riggers, if you would, come ride on my back."

  Windrush launched himself from the mountain slope. The other dragons murmured with amazement as the spaceship approached Windrush, then disappeared, as a humanlike rigger and a parrot materialized upon the dragon's shoulders.

  "Awwwk! Again we ride!" squawked the parrot.

  "Indeed," said Windrush. "And now, my friends, let us return to the Dark Vale and join the others! I must see with my own eyes what has happened! Quickly, now—quickly as the wind, let us fly!"

  And as they gathered and sped from the Black Peak toward the Dark Vale, Windrush blew joyous tongues of flame and realized that he hardly felt weary at all.

  * * *

  "Rakhandroh!" the dragon whispered, over and over, as they approached the Dark Vale. It was not just the sight of the vale itself that was astonishing—the air filled with shouting, triumphant dragons, and the floor below swarming with dragons, flyers, and shadow-cats who were staggering up from craters, caverns, and crevices, blinking at their newfound freedom. Looming over that sight was something even more astonishing, more rakhandroh, rising above the horizon far beyond the vale: it was a great, shimmering glass mountain, freed at last from the sorcery that had kept it hidden. The Dream Mountain!

  All of the dragons wheeling in the air were drawn to the sight, gazing at it with great curiosity and desire.

  Windrush bellowed out his joy. He called out to his leaders to report. He was answered instead by shouted questions: "Windrush, what happened?" "What did you do?" "The sorceries have vanished!" "How did you bring back the Dream Mountain?"

  "I? I did nothing!" Windrush rumbled, laughing. He tried to explain, but his words came out in a hopeless jumble, and made no sense even to him. "Just say this!" he cried at last. "Tar-skel has fallen! He is gone from the realm! The riggers Jael and Ar and Ed and the ifflings and FullSky and all of you helped to defeat him!"

  "Windrush!" cried a familiar voice. Farsight was climbing from below to greet him, and another dragon was limping behind him. "Don't forget WingTouch!"

  "WingTouch!" cried Windrush in amazement, spiraling down to join the two in a dance of joy. "You're alive, WingTouch, you're still with us!"

  "Indeed, thanks to FullSky," answered his youngest brother. "May he live long in the Final Dream Mountain! I had the privilege of destroying his killer."

  "FullSky!" sighed Windrush at the reminder of who was not among them, at the reminder that many brave dragons had fallen here today, and one of them was their brother who had done so much to bring them this victory. "May all our dragon brothers live long in the Final Dream Mountain," he said finally. And for a moment, he felt an urge to fly a flight of grief for those they had lost. But now was not the time; they could grieve later.

  Farsight and WingTouch greeted Ar and Ed on Windrush's back; then the dragons exchanged reports. "After you were gone, there was a great upheaval that shook both the sky and the earth," Farsight said. "When it passed, I felt that a great power had gone out of the realm. The sky and the earth became quiet. The drahls lost all spirit for battle. They began to take their own lives, or to surrender, or to flee. The prisons fell open. And the Dream Mountain—reappearing, like a ghost, out of the air! Truly rakhandroh! And there have already been reports of lumenis groves sighted out beyond the vale!"

  "Indeed," said Windrush, and on his shoulder the small, noisy parrot-rigger hooted and cawed in loud approval. "When we have restored some order here—and perhaps when we have fed—some of us must fly on to the Dream Mountain. There the spirit of Jael awaits us."

  Those words sent ripples of excitement through the dragons flying nearby. "To the Dream Mountain," they whispered and rumbled. And slowly the rumble grew to a chant that filled the air. "To the Dream Mountain! To the Dream Mountain . . . !"

  Chapter 45: The Realm Returns

  For the ifflings, it was a return to their source of being. Born of the dreamfire, they at last saw a true path out of their exile, a true path home. The Mountain beckoned, calling them in across the gulf that had divided them.

  One iffling-child accompanied them, the one who might have been the last. And one other came with them: a strange one, a changeling sprite, who had once been their foe and now insisted upon being their friend. They accepted that one with a kind of weary puzzlement, as they made the long march home across the underrealm.

  —Draconae!—

  —We glimpse you!—

  —Open your hearth!—

  —Give us your fire!—

  Visions of strength, of new iffling-children, of freedom to wander the realm, to visit the draconi, to grow and blossom . . . the visions loomed before them like mirages on a desert, but mirages that now could grow into reality. The vision gave hope, and in that hope they found the strength to move forward across the bleak plain where at last their underrealm met that of the dragons.

  A chasm broke the plain, a black rift in the underrealm where the power of the Enemy had fallen, and had streamed away out of the realm. When the ifflings reached that place, they floated across it as though riding on a warm updraft of air. At first it seemed as though the air currents would snuff them out like so many dying candle-flames; but across the emptiness a beacon flared and then paused, its beam touching them and strengthening thei
r fires. It was the touch of the draconae-tended dreamfire, and it drew them onward in a rippling coruscation, across the chasm and the plain, in a great cascade of light flashing in circlets over them, pulling them, drawing them in.

  And then the Mountain was around them, and the chiming voices of the draconae greeted them, and the regenerative fire of the Forge of Dreams in which they had been born blazed forth with a white heat that filled them, and consumed them in a welcoming embrace . . .

  —And in this place—

  —All things begin—

  —Anew—

  * * *

  In the gloom and the emptiness, after the reverberations had passed and the distant cries had faded to a background mutter in the underrealm, Hodakai drew himself down into a small, silent bundle in the Cavern of Spirits. He felt lonelier than he had felt in a long, long time. He missed Jarvorus. He missed Ar and Ed. He missed Windrush, and even, in a way, he missed Rent. Most of all, he missed Jael.