Dragons of Everest

by D. H. Dunn

  She was unable to gain an upper hand against Kater, but she was managing to keep him busy while still keeping the Voice and the Thread alive.

  Another step and Nima was within the reach of her weapon. She raised the Hero’s blade above her head.

  A part of Tanira, some tiny fragment of herself, lost in a damp cave her father had sent her into, prayed that Nima would drop the heart. Just drop the heart. Please. Don’t force me to do this.

  Yet Nima would not release it. There was no point in asking her to. They were locked in place, her trust in the Line had brought her to this point and left her with no room for any other decision.

  She began to bring the sword down when she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. On instinct, she whirled to her left, her arm and sword in motion as she turned. The girl was there, the Caenolan; she was reaching for Tanira, trying to stop her from hurting Nima.

  Tanira froze the blade, stopping within a hand’s width of the girl’s neck. A memory flashed into her mind.

  She had been here before, on another mountain. In another world, she had cut down another innocent.

  A young man who had looked similar to this girl, down to the big, dark eyes with the glowing crystal between them. Someone who was only trying to protect his friend. Her friend.

  She whirled the Voice around Kater’s fire, trying to hit him from behind.

  She had laid his neck open without a thought, spilled his life and his future on the snow in the name of the Line. Like so many before him. Person after person, each of whom had done nothing to her but get in the way of what she had been taught to do. What she had been taught she must do.

  Upala was starting to rouse, adding her strength to the Manad Vhan man’s shield. She sent the Worm into the barrier.

  What must she do? Once Terminus was reformed would she use it as she used all her weapons? To kill in the name of an idea, to kill those she had been told to hate? And what if others opposed her? Would she kill them all too? Was that all she did?

  Kater pushed back, trying to wrestle free of the Voice’s attack and reach her. She raised the Thread, the injured creature limping back into battle.

  She had been hanging from a precipice when Nima came along, her life granted to her by a stranger who said she helped because it was the right thing to do. Who helped her, knowing nothing about her, unaware she was the End of the Line.

  With one swing of the sword, she could kill this girl and then Nima, restore Terminus. Use it to wipe out the Manad Vhan. That was the plan. Hundreds of more throats cut, thousands. And when it was done, when there were no more throats . . . what then?

  The Worm faltered, the pair pushing their shield back against it.

  Tanira’s insides clenched. What is restored?

  The Voice flailed out of control as Kater’s fire drove it down.

  What will be gained?

  The Thread collapsed onto the stone floor of the chamber, unable to press on through the pain.

  What is my one life for?

  “What have I done?” Tanira dropped the Hero’s sword, the hilt clattering to the ground. She released the Dragons as she dropped to her knees, looking up at Nima. The woman strained to hold on to the pulsing heart of Terminus.

  “I-I am so sorry.” Something was happening in the other room, but Tanira could not focus on it. She lost track of the Dragons, of the Manad Vhan, even of the Caenolan. All she could see was Nima, the one person who had been kind to her without reason, and the person she had taken so much from.

  “It is . . . it is all right,” Nima said, the strain in her voice clear. Her arms shook, but she maintained her grip on the heart. “We can talk about it. Maybe you can help me understand-”

  Tanira was knocked off her feet, crashing into Nima as the Voice suddenly streaked into the room. Tanira saw the heart of Terminus suspended in the air for an eye blink as Nima lost her grip on it, then it blurred out of view as it streaked toward its destination.

  “No!” Tanira shouted, twisting and trying to regain her footing. She felt a pulse of power, a fresh wave of invisible energy that tore through her and ripped the strength out of her.

  From within the central chamber she saw a growing explosion of ebony mist, a smoke that consumed the light as it filled every inch of the Vault.

  Left in complete darkness, Tanira could hear the labored breathing of the Dragon, Nima and the Caenolan behind her. All as frozen as she was. A voice came through the black, a sound that seemed to be part of the shadows themselves, deep with power and malevolence, speaking a single word that echoed like thunder throughout the Vault, the very stone vibrating.

  “Reborn.”

  24

  As the rumbling of the voice of Terminus gave way to a silence even more frightening, Nima found she had to focus just to start breathing again.

  She peered through the black mist that had filled the hallway, Tanira kneeling on one side of her and Lhamu on the other. The substance felt like wet smoke, it stuck to her and made her feel sweaty and weak. Weaker than she already felt.

  The voice that had come out of the smoke could only belong to Terminus. Nima wished she knew more about the Dragons, but she could hear the fear and worry when Terminus was mentioned, even by Kater. She didn’t need to see through the dark vapors to know that danger was there, she wanted to know what else was hidden by the darkness. Who had survived.

  She cast a quick look at Tanira. The woman stared straight into the darkness, the helm cradled in her hands. She sobbed slightly, yet she looked angry. Nima supposed she was angry with herself. There was so much she wanted to say to Tanira, she was angry too. Of course, this wasn’t the time.

  From inside the mists swirling through the central chamber there were new sounds. A huge, deep vibration that sounded like an avalanche was coming, which Nima came to guess was simply Terminus breathing. There were other sounds, claws on stone. She didn’t think the claws belonged to Terminus, they sounded smaller.

  She glanced behind her, remembering the golden, thin Dragon that had collided with her and caused her to drop the heart.

  If only I could have held on to it!

  The back of the passageway was now empty, the golden Dragon had crawled out as soon as Terminus had awakened.

  “Can you sense anyone?” she whispered to Lhamu.

  She wasn’t sure if Lhamu could, but the girl closed her eyes. Nima reflexively threw her hands over Lhamu’s crystal just before it blazed with increased intensity. Just because they couldn’t see through the mist didn’t mean Terminus could not.

  “The Speaker,” Lhamu said. “He is hurt, he cannot move. He can see Drew and Upala. He thinks they are alive, but they are not moving. All the Dragons are in the center with . . . that thing. They are kneeling to it, he says.”

  “The Yeti sees this?” Tanira asked.

  Nima nodded, Tanira rubbing her back with her hand and wincing. Nima wondered what had happened to Kater, guessing he might have run down to join Drew, Upala, and the Speaker.

  Even lost in the shadows, Terminus had a presence Nima could sense. It reminded her of Sessgrenimath, yet this was angrier and more menacing. Sessgrenimath had seemed vast, but only threatening in a vague sense, like a storm on the horizon.

  The threat of Terminus was as clear as the dark vapors all around her.

  “Why free this thing?” Nima whispered to Tanira, incredulous. “You had the other Dragons, weren’t they enough?”

  “It was the plan of the Line,” Tanira replied back, her tone dripping with regret. “In case I lost control, or, I suspect, if I lost my nerve. The others, they do not hate the way he does. Terminus will destroy the Manad Vhan, revenge against them is all he cares about.”

  “But without your control, he won’t care who else he kills,” Nima whispered, glaring at Tanira.

  “Look.” Lhamu pointed. “I see something.”

  Nima could see nothing for a moment, but Lhamu had already proven her Caenolan eyes were sharper. Then she made out d
arker shapes forming inside the mist, the vapors transitioning from black to a deeper gray. A huge, dark shape dominated the center of the room, vast wings unfurling to form a second ceiling.

  As more detail emerged she could see Terminus’s massive back, a wall of dark crimson scale and muscle that faced them. His long, thick tail curled up and coiled by the entry to the hallway they huddled in.

  There were many large shapes gathered around the great Dragon, the beast a mountain surrounded by lesser peaks. She could see the four smaller Dragons with their heads bowed to the floor as well as many large pieces of rubble, destruction caused by the shockwave of Terminus reforming.

  “Subjects.”

  She could feel the Dragon’s voice in her bones, it made her head ache. She ducked even lower, Lhamu doing the same. She could see Tanira gripping the Helm, her hands shaking.

  “Sire.” A new voice, higher and more conflicted. “I speak for the others. We are here to serve your will, your bidding.”

  “The Thread,” Tanira whispered, a mixture of anger and respect in her voice.

  Terminus let out a grunt, the force of which sent dust and small pebbles falling from the ceiling.

  “My bidding? I know your heart, Thread. Your only care is your quest to expand us, to add to the clutch. I tolerate you because you are useful. You tolerate me because you cannot achieve your goals if you are dead.”

  Nima froze. Terminus’s back was to them, but if he turned, if he saw Lhamu’s crystal. They would be trapped, with five Dragons coming at them. Her heart pounded, as if she were on a teetering ice pillar in the Khumbu Icefall. There would be one moment, one second where movement might save her, but this was not it.

  “We understand each other, sire,” the Thread’s voice came back, echoing through them. Nima guessed the Thread was the Dragon Tanira had spent the most time with, the one that had attacked Drew and charged at Lhamu. It was surprising to hear it so humble. Terminus clearly didn’t like it.

  There was a shudder than ran through the stone, Nima just barely able to see the huge front leg of the great Dragon pull one of the lesser ones forward. This one was brown, and wider than the others. She thought she could hear it whimper, it was clearly trembling.

  “Weakness, however, I do not need to tolerate. I hear your yammering, Weight. Your fear sickens me and there is no need to tolerate it further.”

  “Sire.” The Thread’s voice again. “Perhaps if you would-”

  There was a sudden sound unlike any Nima had ever heard, a wet ripping sound. Whatever Dragon Terminus had grabbed, it was torn in two.

  Nima watched in horror as one half of the beast dropped onto the floor not far from the entrance to their hallway. Lhamu scampered back at the impact, fluid and entrails flying out of the corpse in every direction.

  “Voice, Worm, Thread.”

  The voice of Terminus rattled in Nima’s teeth. The fear inside her was growing, yet there was nowhere to go. Nothing they could do. “You three will be sufficient. Once the regional populace has been cleansed, we can restore the others. Those who are worthy.”

  “Sire, there are others in this place. Rakhum, Manad Vhan. Here in the Vault, one of them helped free you. I suggest we-”

  “You suggest, Thread? Do you wish to join the Weight? You think I have slept so long I have forgotten it was you, Thread, who allowed Orami and Feram to put us in this place? To dismember and imprison me? Do you think my memory so short?”

  Lhamu stirred next to Nima, her hands coming to grip around Nima’s arms.

  “I know you have not forgotten, sire. Yet there are one or two Manad Vhan here who might-”

  Terminus’s response was sudden and so filled with anger Nima nearly jumped.

  “I care not for one or two. I crave dozens under my feet, hundreds in my throats, the remains of thousands upon my claws. We will rain ourselves down upon those outside the mountain and then. . . when there is nothing but the crows left alive, we will go to the City of Sands and remind the Manad Vhan who made them. Who they dared to rise-”

  The Dragon stopped, one of its heads turning around, looking left and right. Nima pushed Lhamu down onto the floor and into the shadows, falling with her and lying flat upon the stone.

  “What is that itch in my mind?” Terminus growled. “I know your touch, Thread, it is not your insidious weaving. This is smaller, cruder.” The head that was not speaking continued to twist on its long neck, now angling more toward the hallway in which they hid.

  “Lhamu stop,” Nima whispered in a panic. “Whatever you are doing, stop. He can sense you.”

  “I’m trying,” Lhamu cried softly. “He’s so big, so hungry for death. It’s like he’s pulling me to him. I can see his mind, he wants to kill… everyone. Manad Vhan. Rakhum. Yeti. Even the other Dragons.”

  “I cannot allow this,” Tanira said suddenly, her voice deep even in her whisper. She stood, holding the Helm out in front of her. “This is my doing, the Line’s doing. I must correct this, somehow.”

  Nima grabbed her arm, trying to pull Tanira back down.

  “Tanira no, you can’t!” She might be angry with the woman, but this would be suicide. Tanira couldn’t possibly control that thing with Kater’s helm, it was too huge, too powerful. “It’ll kill you. You’ll die.”

  Tanira wrenched her arm away from Nima, holding the Helm over her head. She looked down at her, Nima seeing the eyes of the woman she had run laughing through the forest with.

  “I have been dead most of my life, Nima.” She pulled the Helm over her eyes. “Thank you for the few days I was alive. . . and had a friend.”

  The crystal on the center of the Helm blazed to life at Tanira’s command, the twin heads of Terminus turning toward it. Too late, Nima lunged for Tanira, her hand flailing for her cloak but grasping only air.

  The woman was already beyond her reach, walking into a room filled with Dragons as if anything but death waited for her.

  Both heads of Terminus had turned to face Tanira.

  Her heart pounding with fear, she could see the beast’s malevolence through the narrow, metal slits in Kater’s Helm. In a moment he would speak, he would send the Voice or himself after her. In that moment all the evil she had set into motion would forever slip from her grasp, untold deaths to add to her legacy.

  She would not give the Dragons that chance.

  Reaching out to them through the Helm, she could feel the world slowing. She watched the beasts turning and moving as if underwater, their movement coming to a complete halt as she stood in between the beats of time’s heart, taking her last opportunity.

  The cool rush of the air inside the Vault blew gently against her face. If she failed, she would never see the movement of leaves within a tree, never feel the wind against her skin again. Never see the sky or feel joy.

  As it had before, the mountain of crystal formed in her mind, the many sides and faces of Ish Rav Partha pushing up against a starless night. She saw the Dragons in the facets, turning her attention to them in turn.

  The Thread was nearly willing for her control again, placing her will upon it was more of a joining, a weaving of their interests. Only his terror of Terminus held it back, she soothed it despite her own fear. The fate of her control was better, and he acquiesced with minimal complaint.

  Gold and whirling, the Voice filled many crystalline slopes of the mountain with its yellow chaos. Its terror of Terminus was barely in check, Tanira offering it the freedom of her control. Freedom to attack without consequence, the offer of an open chamber, waiting to be filled with its cries of violence.

  The pink and white flesh that filled the south side of the mountain called to her, the Worm fearful of the light she represented. She sensed its attraction to the safety of Terminus’ shadow. It wailed for the protection the lord of Dragons offered it.

  She brought a stern edge to her attention as she focused on the Worm, fashioning iron bars of her will that channeled the Dragon’s soft terror into patterns and mazes of her d
esign, leaving it no option other than the ones she provided.

  Finally, she attempted to focus upon Terminus, the mere action bringing waves of nausea to her stomach as her mind’s eye blurred and shifted.

  She was aware of her body’s surroundings for a moment, having walked into the circular chamber. The remains of the Weight were on the ground just a few steps away. The Thread and Voice stared at the floor, frozen and unmoving. The twin necks of Terminus twisted as the great body turned to face her, the two heads coming low until they were level with her own.

  Four pairs of eyes, each as large as her head, stared into her. The mountain’s form swam and shifted, expanding as new complexities grew into its sides, expanding like weeds.

  Terminus confronted her with a new mountain of crystal, five times as vast as the one she had seen before. It was far more intricate, a version of Ish Rav Partha with thousands of fractures and faces, each of them reflecting the great dark Dragon back at her.

  She felt something internal fracture along with the mountain, something inside her was breaking from the strain of trying to comprehend the vast array of malevolence cascading in her mind’s eye.

  Thoughts were becoming harder to process, the mountain taking on a sharper appearance, each edge of every crystal denying her access and calling for her blood.

  She needed to center. Tanira brought her finger to the top of the helm, aware of the cool metal as it made contact with her flesh.

  She needed not the vow of the Line, but a new vow.

  “I guard this world.”

  Her voice resonated in her mind against the mountain of crystal with Terminus’s dark energy rippling within it. It was affected; Terminus cared nothing for guarding, but its thirst for vengeance could be construed as protection, at least of Terminus himself. It was a way in, but the Dragon’s resistance was like a tsunami against her.

  “I. . . I honor those I have wronged.”

  She thought of the deaths she had caused, hoping to use her crimes like an avalanche, send them down the mountain against Terminus and bury his resistance in her guilt.