Dragons of Everest

by D. H. Dunn

  The Speaker stepped closer to Lhamu and Upala, Drew stepping back out of the way of the big creature.

  “It may be time consuming, but it is not complex,” the Speaker said. “It is a simple matter of matching the tint and intensity of the crystals powering the Hero’s armor. There are many combinations, but knowing that they are blue reduces the variables.”

  Lhamu bit her lip as she looked up at the large form of the Yeti.

  “If I can help, I want to help,” she said with a smile. She looked back at Drew, who grinned in a way Upala suspected was his best impression of Nima. She had to admit the wide grin made him look even more charming.

  “I’m sure you can do it,” he said giving her an odd hand expression where he made a fist with one thumb sticking out. Upala was sure Lhamu had no idea what it meant either.

  Lhamu walked up to the door, the huge, red structure making her seem even more tiny. She looked back at the Speaker, putting her hand out toward him.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked.

  The Yeti lumbered forward, his massive paw encircling the girl’s hand in his own. “I cannot say, Foretold. I can say I will be with you.”

  Upala walked forward with Drew at her side, both taking a position on Lhamu’s left. She put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

  “We will all be with you, Lhamu,” Upala said.

  All their hopes rested on this strange person from another world. She laughed to herself. It was not the first time that had happened, maybe that was as it should be.

  She reminded herself that even if the girl succeeded, Terminus waited for them on the other side. The beast was in an unknown state, but even subdued, it would be dangerous.

  But that was on the other side. For now, there was a red wall of metal between Upala and her next problem.

  “I’m ready,” Lhamu said. “Let’s start.”

  Tanira’s face vibrated against the stone and rock under her cheek, the waves of force emanating from the Dragon shaking her like a leaf caught in the wind.

  From the moment the doors parted and Tanira saw the giant form of the second Dragon standing there where no Dragon was supposed to be, it was clear several things were wrong.

  It was not the Voice. She had been drilled on the appearance of the Voice from birth, this beast had none of the bright, golden scales or soft-feathered wings she had been taught to look for. The Voice was long and thin, resembling the Thread in body type. This Dragon was a dull brown with a wide, flat body and a short, stubby neck to match its wings. It was larger than the Thread, and appeared to be more muscular as well.

  It emanated a crushing wave of power around it, a field Tanira could not see, but could definitely feel. It was as if an invisible hand pushed her down, slowly but consistently applying pressure to her, making her knees and back ache the closer she was to the beast. This could only be the Weight.

  There was also something clearly wrong with it.

  She studied the creature as best she could while her bones felt like they would shake apart. Its eyes darted about, back and forth between them. It shuffled its short, squat legs, its breath coming in labored bursts.

  It was terrified.

  “Brother,” it said again. Its deep voice seemed to amplify the vibrations further, Tanira’s skull shaking with each word. “It has been so long. So long.” The Dragon’s voice seemed to be male, though it was hard to hear clearly as it had covered itself with its torn, leathery brown wings.

  “Weight,” the Thread said, his tone shocked. “I do not understand. You are-“

  “You are not supposed to be here,” Tanira said, forcing each word out. The Weight pulled its head even farther inside the cave of wings it had made for itself.

  “My. . . companion is correct, Brother,” the Thread said, the agitation in his voice growing. “You are supposed to be on Ish Ochyu, where I watched Orami leave you. I can no longer enter your mind, it is closed to me. What has happened to you, what has been done?”

  “She came,” the Weight’s voice came from behind his wings. “She came and brought me here. Long ago. Not Manad Vhan, not Rakhum, but like them. Small, small. Small and sharp. Then I was here, with her. It was long ago, then I was here. With her.”

  “With who, Brother?” the Thread asked.

  There was a scream that broke through the air, a sound coming from deep within the mountain. It was edged and piercing, the sound of it was painful. It was filled with power and anger, the scream of a Dragon. The Weight shuddered at the sound, a new crushing wave of force dropping all of them to the ground, flattening the Thread as well.

  “No, with her. I have been with her for so long. The Voice, the Voice brother. She is awake, she has been awake. Trapped and awake. She cannot get out of where Orami put her. Put her in asleep but she is awake. Awake and angry!”

  Tanira could feel her face pushing into the cold stone of the hallway as the force pulsing down upon her increased. The crystal lodged inside her back moved painfully, edging deeper inside her.

  “Brother, please!” The Thread’s voice sounded muffled as it spoke through clenched teeth. “Your gifts, control them! Control them or . . . or I will leave you. Here, with the Voice!”

  “I am trying. It is hard, it is hard.” The Weight sounded frantic in its response.

  Just as she began to worry she would no longer be able to push air into her lungs, Tanira felt a slow releasing of the pressure from above her. For a moment, there was no sound save their labored breathing and the shuddering of the great Dragon curled up behind the Thread, the silence of the mountains nearly deafening.

  Then the scream came again, tortured with rage from inside the depths of the Vault. Tanira waited for the pressure to return, but the Weight remained steady. As she pushed herself back to her feet, she saw the Thread over by his brother, one clawed talon on top of the Weight’s head, stroking its neck gently.

  “It will be all right, Brother,” the Thread said. “I will take care of things. I will take care of you.”

  She walked carefully over to the Thread, making a point not to look the Weight in the eye and doing her best to remain unthreatening. Reylor stayed in his seated position inside the hallway, shoulders flinching as the Voice screamed again.

  “We have to go in there,” Tanira said. “We can figure out the mystery of why your brother is here another time. The Voice should be dormant, yet it clearly is not. Will you be able to-”

  “Let us speak inside the passage,” the Thread said, yellow eyes narrowing at Tanira. “I would leave my brother here to rest. Here where it is safe.” He turned back to the shuddering mass of brown scales that was the Weight. “You will be safe here Brother, you have my word.”

  Tanira saw a small nod from the Weight, feeling a brief pulse of heavy pressure upon her again before it cleared away. With the Thread’s massive talons pounding into the snow alongside her, the two walked into the long, wide stone hallway, where Reylor sat watching them.

  Once inside the hallway, her eyes began to adjust to the darkened light and she could see the source of the screaming. Just as with the Thread, the long passage led to a larger chamber, the entrance to this one blocked by the same crimson shield she had seen before. A shield that would drop at the first touch of the Hero’s sword.

  Slamming against the barrier with a violent intensity that rendered it nearly a blur, Tanira had her first view of the Voice. There were flashes of gold wings and long, spidery arms crashing into the crimson energy, each impact an explosion of orange. The Voice let out another scream, the stone of the hallway trembling with its power.

  “That looks like a problem,” Reylor said, standing beside Tanira, his face as white as the snow outside.

  “It is not our only issue,” the Thread’s voice came from above them, the Dragon craning his long neck to look at the Voice. “There will be little time to discuss matters once my sister is free. Therefore, it is time for you Reylor. Tell Tanira what you know of the Helm.”

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nbsp; Tanira looked up at the Thread in shock. The Dragon knows about the Helm?

  “You. . . you know?” Tanira stammered. She suddenly felt exposed, unsafe. She rubbed the left side of her neck, keeping her fingers close to the crystal on her shoulder which would trigger the armor. Her right hand drifted to the Hero’s sword hilt.

  “I know of the Helm, I know your intentions,” the beast twisted his neck to stare into her eyes, even as the Voice let loose another scream. “Tiny Rakhum, I know everything.”

  Tanira tried to work through where she had gone wrong, how the Thread could discover her secret. Her training, all her life to keep this one plan from this one being. The daily exercises, the disciplines.

  How had she failed?

  The Thread reached out with one arm, pinning Reylor against the wall with his talons. The man shuddered with fear, but made no effort to move, frozen like a statue.

  “Do not trouble yourself, End of the Line. Your mind was true and impenetrable. This one’s however. . . was not. He may not have known all you know, but he knew enough for me to deduce the rest. You intend to use that creation of the Manad Vhan to control me, to control all of us.”

  “If. . .” Tanira blushed as her voice broke. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She still had control here, the Thread had not gotten the knowledge of the machine out of her, and he had not killed them. There had to be a reason for that.

  “If you knew this, why help me? If you know what waits for you inside that chamber, why go in?”

  The Thread’s neck twisted again, looking out of the hallway and into the mountain air.

  “My brother is out there. We are not all the same, you know. Some are like the Voice, filled with rage and anger that have no target. Others are like the Weight, afraid of death and tired of war. We want different outcomes. The outcome I seek is the one you have possession of, little Rakhum. The machine, the means with which to defy our creator, to breed. To preserve our kind, after a fashion.”

  One claw came down, lightly brushing against the satchel tied to Tanira’s hip with the Helm inside.

  “Should you power that device, you will open your mind to me. You cannot control me otherwise. When you are inside my mind, I will also be inside yours. I am the Thread, and that is my gift. I will find the location of the machine. I have seen your heart Tanira, End of the Line. You will not control us forever. Your life is but an eye-blink, and my time will come.”

  The Thread released Reylor, who slumped to the ground. The Dragon then turned and walked toward the energy shield that held back the Voice, his long, lavender tail swishing behind him.

  “Now I suggest Reylor explain his role in all this to you, so that we may proceed before those who pursue you can interrupt us. My sister here is likely to be difficult to deal with.”

  The Voice slammed into the barrier again, her shrieks echoing throughout the hallway.

  Tanira’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she fought to bring her thoughts into line. The plan was still achievable. The Line could still be seen to its end, she just needed to trust it.

  She looked at Reylor, the raised bumps of the triangle scar on the man’s forehead catching the shadows. Reylor looked back at her and nodded. Finally, it was time.

  “My role in this is to provide power to the Helm,” he said. “I am to be sacrificed to the Dragons. You have to let them kill me.”

  20

  Drew looked over his shoulder again as he stood in the snow, the magnificent view of the valley in front of him of no interest. What was important was behind him, where Lhamu and the Yeti stared up at the massive red door. Every few moments he would see the many crystals sticking out of the Yeti’s back sync up in one color or another, and then the one crystal on Lhamu’s head would match that hue. They would then all watch the door, and the door would not open.

  This process had repeated itself for hours. Almost immediately Upala had gone to sit by the end of the small cliff the door had been built in front of, but Drew had moved away from the Yeti and Lhamu slowly, reluctantly concluding there was nothing he could do to help.

  Now, as he sat next to Upala, he was reduced to glancing over his shoulder and sighing.

  “Looking back at them is not going to make this happen faster,” she said with a teasing tone, her gaze still out over the valley.

  Below, Drew could see the tiny buildings that made up Rogek Shad and Nalam Wast, looking the same as they had the first time he had seen them. As if nothing had changed.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” Drew said. He knew she could sense his frustration, and that made it only more frustrating.

  Upala laughed, a kind sound that mixed with the light wind blowing around them.

  “Drew Adley, left in a situation where he cannot help. I suppose that would be torture for you.”

  He chuckled, looking back over his shoulder again.

  “Very funny,” he said, giving her a playful poke in the arm. “It’s just really hard to sit here and do nothing. Nima and Kater are out there, and I have no idea if they are all right. Lhamu and the Speaker; nothing I can do to help there either. It reminds me of being back in the Navy, often we’d sit at general quarters for hours, just waiting. I’m not good at it.”

  “If it makes you feel better, Drew, I think there will be plenty of things for you to help with here, assuming this all works out.” She slid a bit closer to him, the proximity making his anxiety lessen a bit.

  “Let’s go with that assumption,” he said with a smile. He put his arm around her, finding that she could be half an inch closer still. It was a good half an inch. “What do you see me helping with? Rogek Shad and Nalam Wast?”

  She let out a short breath, the cloud in front of her lasting for only a second.

  “There will certainly be things to do there, but I think I have done enough to the Rakhum. Merin, Trillip and the people of those two cities, they should find their own answers, those will be more true.”

  Drew nodded, it was not the answer he had expected, but it seemed completely correct. After all those centuries, likely the last thing the Rakhum needed was more Manad Vhan interference, even if it was well intentioned.

  “That seems completely reasonable. Kater is not likely to see it that way though.”

  “You are not wrong to think that. I am trying to look at our future realistically, Drew. When this is over, either the Dragons are defeated, or my brother will be dead. If Kater does not survive, it is unlikely we will either. If we all live, Kater will need to find his own path.” She gave his hand an extra squeeze. “You and I will insure that path does not include the Rakhum.”

  “Agreed,” Drew said. Upala looked at Kater differently than Drew did, he had to remind himself he was still her brother. Yet he was pleased she was not blind to his crimes, or his unchecked potential. “For the purpose of keeping our conversation cheerful, let’s assume everything here works out for the best, even Kater. If we were left with no problems to solve, what is it you’d like to do?”

  Upala stretched her legs out in front of her, releasing his hand and leaning back as she gazed out off the mountain.

  “For my whole life, it has been about one thing. Sirapothi, a place I could run to, a place I could be safe. Now I have been there, and I know that not only was that safety a lie, but I was wrong to seek it. Wrong at least, to seek it at the expense of others.”

  Her hand took Drew’s again and she stood, pulling him to his feet. His side ached with the movement, but her closeness made it worthwhile.

  “Drew, something happened to me all those years, as I studied the lore of the Hero,” she said, the musical notes of her voice gaining an excited tone. “Even as I looked for a way out, I came to love the study itself. The exploring, the learning. I regret none of that, it is a love to me as strong as any. If you would accompany me, I would like to chase a more worthwhile goal. One that would lead us both beyond those mountains in front of us, beyond the reach of anyone in this valley.”
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  Drew waited, unwilling to interrupt her even as his thoughts wrestled with the notion. Am I really never going home again?

  “I would like to see the City of Sands,” she said. “I want to find out more about who I am.” Her hand squeezed his tight. “Who we are.”

  Drew smiled. To see more of this world did sound like an amazing adventure. Even with all the dangers they had encountered, the idea of embarking on such a journey with Upala set his heart racing. He took her face into his hands gently, kissing her as the wind whipped around them.

  “Upala, I would-”

  “We did it!” Lhamu came bounding over through the snow, Upala blushing and ending the kiss. They both turned toward the smiling Caenolan girl, the massive red door slowly opening behind her.

  The Vault of Terminus waited for them, leaving Drew’s dreams of the future to wait in its shadow.

  Tanira activated the Hero’s Sword with a quick touch of the crystal embedded in its hilt. Crimson energy ran up the blade, cracking and casting its own shadows on the wall. She watched Reylor’s eyes as he stared at the weapon, his shaking hand reaching for the hilt.

  “Why must I do this, again?” he asked.

  Tanira frowned back at Reylor. Now he’s having a change of heart? She had been astonished by the Reylor’s willingness to sacrifice himself in such a brutal manner for the Line, but had believed in his conviction. They no longer had the time.

  The Thread shifted from one front talon to the other behind her, his impatience palpable. On the other side of the energy field, the Voice slammed into the wall repeatedly, the demonic shrieks of its cries echoing painfully inside Tanira’s ears.

  “Reylor, we have both committed to the Line.” She felt a momentary flash of anger and surprise at the man. It was one thing to do what she was doing, to put herself in harm’s way as a soldier hoping to free her people. Yet Reylor was just a herd animal, volunteering to be butchered.

  He shook his head, then took the weapon from her. He held it unsteadily.