Dragon Rigger

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  He knew now that she had survived her death, and not only that, but had, astonishingly, toppled the vast empire of power that belonged to Tar-skel. Hodakai was glad of that, really he was. But just now in the silence and emptiness of this warren, he was finding it a little hard to enjoy the victory.

  Sprites! he sighed. Won't even you come out to keep me company? Where are you all? But there was no answer, no taunt, no teasing, from the hidden corners of the cavern. It seemed that even the sprites had gone away. Perhaps they too had fled to the Dream Mountain, as the ifflings had. As Jael had. As the dragons all probably wanted to do.

  For a while there, he had felt useful. It wasn't that he had done much—he'd just shouted some helpful encouragement through the underrealm to the Dark Vale—but it was a lot more than he had ever dared to do before. And maybe it really had helped in the battle.

  Kan-Kon, he thought wistfully, peering out of his silent jar into the cold silence of the cavern, I think you would have been proud of me at the end. I hope that fellow Ar makes it back to tell you about it.

  Truthfully, there didn't seem much else to do, think, or say. There was just the silence. He had thought briefly of his rigger fantasies; but whatever escape they might offer now seemed empty and meaningless against the memory of what he had just been through. He supposed he could try to reach out again through the underrealm, but it was all changed now, all stirred up like a lake after a storm, and he didn't have the skill to see through it.

  He huddled, and waited—but for what, he didn't know.

  When it came, he was so absorbed in the silence that he didn't really even notice at first. It was a voice, calling softly. But from where? Outside the cavern, that was for sure. Perhaps it was drifting up through the crack in the floor that marked where the rift had gaped, before the shaking of the realm had closed it again. It seemed to be calling his name.

  Hello? he whispered, his voice quavering. He was half afraid that he was talking to himself.

  Hodakai? Can you hear me?

  Yes, he whispered, even more softly. Was that the voice of—?

  There you are! said Jael, her voice growing stronger. Suddenly her kuutekka appeared in the underrealm beside his spirit jar. It was just her face—but how good it was to see a human face! I've been trying to find you! she said. I wanted to see if you're all right.

  Hodakai laughed convulsively, with churning emotions. See if I'M all right! YOU'RE the one we killed, don't you remember!

  Jael laughed with him, but she seemed to have noticed the melancholy tone underlying his answer. I remember, all right. Hodakai, a lot has happened since then. I don't know how much you were able to see or hear . . .

  Well, I . . . I saw some. I felt it happen, in the end. I know you won. Congratulations.

  Don't just congratulate me, Hodakai. I understand you were helping out at the end, too. And you helped me get to where I am now.

  Er—yes, Hodakai said, And you are, I assume—

  Her voice seemed full of music as she said, In the Dream Mountain, Hodakai, the Dream Mountain. And the joy in her voice sent a spike of sadness through him, sharpening his loneliness—until she added, I've been trying to think if there's some way I might be able to help you, Hodakai. Some way to bring you here.

  Hawwww! said a parrot, its tiny head visible in the pupil of her eye. Yessss!

  If you'd like to come, I mean . . .

  Hodakai seemed to go blind and deaf as her words echoed like gongs in his mind; and she had to call out to him again, before he finally was able to stammer, Yes . . . I . . . I think I might like that. Since you ask. If it's not too much trouble. But only if it's not too much trouble—!

  And when she went on to explain that he might have to wait a little while before she could work out a way to do it, he hardly heard, hardly cared. He could wait as long as she wanted him to. He could wait very nearly forever, as long as he knew that he was not forgotten, as long as his time in this lonely cavern was at last coming to an end.

  * * *

  The ship's bridge was terribly silent, as Ar rose at last from his rigger-station. Even Ed was gone, sleeping in the data-memory until he returned, or perhaps holopresent in the ship's commons. Ar had never in his life felt such physical exhaustion; he had no idea how long he had been in the net, but it was many times longer than his longest previous stint. He could scarcely focus his eyes, and every muscle and joint in his Clendornan body seemed on the verge of spasm. But he was alive, freed at last from the net by the collapse of Jael's section.

  Never in his life had he felt such grief, and such joy. He stood for a few moments beside the second rigger-station, gazing down at the still form that had been his crewmate and friend. No, he reminded himself sternly, that body was not my friend. My friend is alive still, alive . . . out there . . . But he could not complete the thought. Instead, he broke down at last, kneeling and raising his face to the ceiling, crying out his grief with open, shuddering gasps of pain. The ceiling sparkled with scintillations of grief-light from the backs of his eyes. He remained in that posture until the explosions of light in his eyes faded, and his cries gave out, and then he was silent for a time in the gloom of the bridge, mourning the sight of his friend who had given her life for the dragons.

  At last he rose and opened Jael's rigger-station. There was, he thought, an expression of peace on her face. Slipping his arms under her, he lifted her from the station and bore her at last from the bridge. She would complete her journey in a stasis box, cold and silent, until he could bring her to a final resting place. Which ought to be . . .

  He had no idea, he realized. He would have to ask her when he saw her.

  Ar went to the galley and ate, not even noticing the taste of his food. Reluctantly, he went to his quarters and lay down to rest. But he knew he could not sleep, not thinking about Jael. Besides, he needed to perform a thorough check on the ship's systems, without much more delay. And in truth, he wanted to return to the net as soon as possible. Windrush was looking after their safety on the outside, but it would not do to be away too long.

  The dragons would soon be flying to the Dream Mountain, and he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

  * * *

  The process of healing had already begun, Windrush noted as he gazed over the land from the air. Even here, in this devastated land that had been the stronghold of the Enemy, the effects of Tar-skel's sorceries were fading. Trees and lumenis had returned to view, and the dragons had wasted no time in feeding on the latter. It was the first lumenis feeding in a long time that was full of joy and not desperation. Quite a number of drahls and other altered beings had been found, struggling to adjust to the crippled bodies that were left when Tar-skel's spells of distortion had fallen away. They were being gathered together, their fate to be determined in due time.

  In one respect, the land had been sharply altered by the final battle, and as Windrush flew over it, flanked by his brothers and bearing the ghostly rigger-ship on his back, he thought that the change looked permanent. The rift in the underrealm through which Tar-skel had disappeared was mirrored in the outer world, a long dark chasm that was somehow impossible to look into with a probing eye. It deflected the gaze somehow, or drew it away to a confused nothingness.

  Windrush felt, looking down upon it and perceiving only blackness and depth, that it was not a simple physical abyss like the drop-off of the Amethyst Cliffs, staggering though that drop was. This seemed more like an opening from this realm to some other, to some lightless place that might be another universe, or might be something else altogether. He wondered if Tar-skel lived, still, somewhere beyond that empty darkness. Windrush shivered at the thought, and hoped that the answer was no.

  Maybe someone, someday, would explore the depths of that rift to assure them that Tar-skel was gone forever. But he didn't think it would be dragons. That was not a dragon place. It smelled alien, cold and distant.

  He had ordered a guard along the length of the rift, and thought that they would
be wise to keep it guarded forever, or for as long as the race of dragons lived, anyway. Who knew what might come up through this opening in the weave of their realm, one day? He had an unsettling feeling that the dragons might never again be quite so isolated in their own realm as they once had been.

  He kept these thoughts to himself, for now. The others had enough to think about already. As they flew on toward the Mountain, leaving the rift behind, he felt his heart lightening. At that moment, Ar and Ed rematerialized on his shoulders. You were not gone long, he said to Ar, noting that the parrot was asleep on Ar's shoulder. Are you sure you would not like to rest a little more, while you can? Were you not very tired?

  The tall rigger's eyes glinted with purple light. Perhaps I will, after we've reached the Dream Mountain, Windrush. Perhaps I'll be able to rest then. Just now I don't think I can. I don't want to miss a thing. And I—His voice broke sharply, and he seemed unable to finish his thought.

  You long to speak with Jael again? Windrush murmured.

  The rigger nodded.

  Yes, said the dragon. Yes, he whispered again, to himself. And he found himself flying just a little faster, without meaning to, just a little higher and faster toward the vast, translucent peak that was steadily growing before them.

  * * *

  In the continuing musical presence of the draconae, Jael found a kind of silence, a solitude of peace among those who bore so much knowledge and so much passion. She wasn't sure yet what she thought of life in the Dream Mountain; it would take a long time to explore it fully. She hoped that the weavings of power that gave her life here would give her the time to do so.

  With the final fulfillment of the Words, the tone of the draconae's music had changed—had become not just joyous and uplifting, but filled with a fury of creative energy. The Forge of Dreams had been opened to the realm once more, by Lavafire and the others. But now, instead of being tightly woven into protective magic, the light and power were being spun out into the realm, restoring and healing the land. Somewhere within that forge, the ifflings were finding renewal, and were preparing to create another generation of iffling-children, ifflings who would know a freedom of the realm that had almost been forgotten by the present generation. And within the slopes of the Mountain, dragon eggs once held frozen by the Enemy's sorcery, neither living nor dead, were again pulsing and glowing with life.

  A flight of draconi was en route to the Mountain now, led by Windrush. Many of the draconae were clustered on the outer slopes, eagerly awaiting their arrival. How long had it been since they had flown freely together, fearlessly in communion, flying the skies, powerful dragons soaring and glassy draconae blazing in the sun? It seemed an age ago. Many of the draconae had not flown in so long, they were reluctant to venture far at all from the slopes of the Mountain, though Starchime had expressed her hope that that feeling would change, once the draconi had joined them.

  Jael was eager for the arrival of the dragons. But more than anything else, she awaited the arrival of Ar.

  (Rawwk! And Ed!)

  (And Ed,) she mused, jostling the parrot affectionately in her thoughts. (Yes, indeed. It's going to be hard to say good-bye to them, in the end—when they go, and we stay.)

  (Gwarrrkk. Ed knows. They'll come back, though—awwwwk, yes?)

  Will they? Jael thought. She hoped so, certainly, but there was no way to know. There was also no point in worrying now about the future. They had not even said good-bye yet. There would be time enough for those worries later.

  A chiming voice caught her attention, from the outside of the Mountain. Dragons! Draconi! Crossing the plain!

  And soon someone else called, Welcome Windrush! Welcome Windrush and the draconi!

  The cry was echoed, until it rang over and over throughout the Mountain. But Jael had her own cry as she formed her kuutekka in the underrealm fires. Ar, are you there? Ed? Windrush—?

  Rawwwwk—!

  Come quickly!

  Epilogue: New Beginnings

  The activity in the Mountain seemed unceasing, was unceasing. It was not just the draconae flying out across the realm with their new freedom, or the draconi flying with them, asking them endless questions, courting them, renewing relationships long forgotten. It was also the ifflings appearing at intervals from the dreamfires, each time looking brighter and more numerous. And it was the long talks with Ar, his spaceship parked on the outer slopes, Jael speaking through the underrealm to his shimmering presence.

  And it was the dragon eggs, glowing back to life in the inner slopes of the Mountain—the next generation of dragons!—bathed on one side by the radiance of the sun shining through the glass slopes of the Mountain, and on the other by the warmth of the Mountain itself, flowing out from the Forge of Dreams. It seemed that there were always glass-winged draconae fluttering over them now, sheltering and nurturing them—and even a few curious draconi, spending an unusual amount of time watching and listening to the unborn dragons.

  Nor had they forgotten the egg in the Grotto Garden—which, like much of the lumenis, had been imprisoned by Tar-skel, but not destroyed. Sheltered against the long darkness by Treegrower, that solitary egg had survived. And so had the aging dracona, refusing to admit of any possibility of flight to the Final Dream Mountain until she saw that egg hatched. At first, the talk had been of bringing them both to the Dream Mountain; but the egg was fragile and thin-shelled, and the draconae had decided to weave their spells of growing, and to release the power of the Mountain directly to the Grotto Garden itself.

  Who would that young dragonling be? Jael wondered—that lone dragon-to-be, protected against the Enemy for so long, and cherished by a dying dracona to be raised in a new day? She was as eager as any of the draconae to meet the dragon when it hatched.

  So much was happening in the realm, and in the Mountain, that time had almost ceased to have meaning for her. To Jael, it was not so much that time was flying by, as that it was standing still. She wasn't sure, really, what time meant, in this existence, so different from anything she had known before. She wondered if this was a taste of what it felt like to live in the soulfires of the Final Dream Mountain. Would she have a chance to speak again with Highwing, when she had passed through that last door? More than once, she had thought that she had heard his voice whispering to her, in the near silence of secluded moments in the Mountain. Was it real? Almost anything seemed possible in the dreamfires, in that strange and marvelous singularity that lay at the heart of the Mountain.

  She had already asked Lavafire if the singularity could be focused somehow, to help Ar and Ed and the damaged spaceship Seneca find safe passage out of the realm to a starport in the static realm. It was an idea that fascinated the draconae, and they were working on it.

  But it was an idea that saddened her, as well. It was a reminder that Ar and his Ed would soon have to leave. To Jael, it seemed as if they had just arrived, but they had been here on the Mountain now for many shipdays of their time. They could not linger here forever; they still had a mission contract to fulfill, and news to take back to Kan-Kon, and in truth she thought it was hard on Ar to see her here as a . . . living ghost, probably, from his perspective. The friend he had known, as he'd known her, was gone. No longer could they relax in the ship's commons, around the stondai tree, with Ed flitting about. He could talk to her only through the net, and then only to her kuutekka-presence, because that was all she had now. She knew he didn't find it easy.

  One way or another, we will return, Ar assured her, for at least the twentieth time, stretching out his hands from the ghostly prow of the ship. It was parked in the outer world, but he and Ed had their heads stuck into the underrealm, as though peering underwater, to speak with her. But who can say how long it will take—or what that will turn out to be in your time? We do have to earn a living. And I'm not sure how many clients will want us to be passing this way.

  Awwwwwwk-k-k. Safe now! crowed Ed, Jael's Ed, fluttering out from her kuutekka. Mountain realm safe!

&
nbsp; Ar chuckled. Maybe so. But I can't help noticing that every time we come this way, we end up limping back home to the repair docks.

  Ed cackled. Good for business—hawwww!

  Jael smiled, knowing that there was no real answer to Ar's concerns. Maybe you can persuade Kan-Kon to visit. Starchime tells me that they're almost ready to bring Hodakai here—as soon as they tighten the transport spell just a little more. They're being very careful.

  More careful than FullSky was when he brought you here, it sounds like, said Ar.

  Jael nodded. Of course, the situation was different now; they could take all the time they needed. And the truth was that even the draconae were astonished at some of the things that FullSky had managed to do, all while a prisoner in Tar-skel's dungeon. Is Windrush going to help you fly out, when the time comes?