Dragon Space

by Jeffrey A. Carver

Jael didn't answer, but something made her turn her head and look into those enormous eyes. The intensity of his gaze caused her to shiver. He seemed to be thinking deeply about something. Without friend, will come one, he murmured to himself. Giving her name, will come one. Ah, Skytouch! He shook his great head in dismay. Jael, he said finally, and his voice became so soft that it was almost inaudible. You present me with a dilemma. What I am about to suggest is . . . not done . . . in this realm. And yet, it seems required by honor, by my obligation not to abuse what you have given me—in your name, and your . . . garkkondoh . . . real self.

  She squinted in puzzlement. What do you mean?

  The dragon cleared his throat, noisily and at length. Perhaps it would be better if you came with me for a little while. It might be that I can help you. Almost wistfully, he continued, A dragon helping a rigger. Imagine! Let us hope that I am right.

  She shook her head. I don't understand you.

  The dragon's eyes glinted. Then she thought she heard something like a rumble of laughter, or perhaps a darker kind of sound, very soft, very deep in the earth. As the sound died away, Highwing said, It appears that I am your servant and friend now, Jael—and you mine, if you will. It has been made our duty to help each other if we can. So the Words would seem to say. And so, you really should—must!—come with me.

  But I don't see why, she persisted. How can you ask me to trust you?

  The dragon answered softly. Because you have come to me. And because I seem to be all you have at the moment.

  Jael stared at him, wide-eyed with amazement. But for no reason she could understand, she felt her suspicions fading. A host of fears streamed through her mind: about Mogurn, and the pallisp, and the safety of her ship. And then they seemed to drain away. For some reason, a part of her wanted to go with this dragon—where, she didn't know. Never mind that he had tried to kill her. She squinted at his huge steady eyes, set within that great knobbed and finely scaled head. Strange as it seemed, she felt no threat. Certainly the dragon had nothing to fear from her, and if he meant to harm her, there was no need for him to resort to trickery. I suppose, she said, you're going to promise not to hurt me. And you'll expect me to believe that.

  The dragon looked at her thoughtfully. No one can promise not to hurt another—can one, Jael?

  Jael half closed her eyes, feeling a pain well up inside her. She tried to shut it away, but couldn't.

  A moment later Highwing added softly, as though to himself, There may be great hurt, before it is all over. But perhaps that need not concern us now.

  She scarcely heard him, thinking suddenly of her ship and her flight. Never in her rigging experience had she heard of anything like this. But what were her choices, really? She was in a dragon place now, and subject to attack on sight. It seemed better to be with a dragon who, perhaps, intended no harm to her. What exactly, she said finally, did you have in mind?

  The dragon blinked, dimming his eyes momentarily, like a ship's signal lights at sea. Climb onto my back. He turned around carefully on the crag and crouched low.

  After a long hesitation, Jael climbed up and perched astride the base of his neck, just in front of his wing joints. She took a deep breath and clutched his neck.

  Hold tight, he said, and sprang into the night air.

  Chapter 10

  A Dragon's Truth

  THE WIND whispered in her ears, sighed through her hair. She clung, dizzy with confusion, with relief and fear and uncertainty. The power in the dragon's wings was unnerving at first, but after a time the stroking movements began to feel soothing. Instinctively, she stroked his silken-hard scales.

  That feels good, right behind the ears, Highwing remarked, as he flew.

  Abruptly she stopped. Too bad, she muttered.

  Highwing chuckled and banked so that she could see the landscape below. They were flying very low over the mountain terrain, dark ravines and jutting rock rushing by, only dimly visible in the scattered moonlight. Highwing suddenly banked the other way and dropped into a plummeting dive. Jael clung breathlessly. Beneath them, a valley stretched open, all shadow and glimmering moonlight. She peered past Highwing's head, straining to pick out detail. Where are we going? she shouted. The dragon belched a flame in answer.

  A moment later, he slowed his descent. They were approaching what looked like a wide, billowing, diaphanous curtain hung across the air, a sparkling veil of mist. Highwing glided directly into it. Jael felt the cool touch of the mist on her face and smelled a sharp tang in the air. With a dizzying rush, she felt a strange internal sensation, as though time and dimension were twisting around and through her—almost as though they were passing from one level of the Flux into another. That seemed unlikely; but something was happening, and it felt like something peculiar to this place, this realm, this region of the Flux; it was something peculiar to the dragon and his powers.

  Even as the mist billowed around her, she caught glimpses of dark stone walls sliding by, almost enclosing her and the dragon. She had no idea how far they had flown, or in what direction, and she was losing track of time, as well. Suddenly the mist vanished and they were flying free again, under a gorgeously clear, starry sky. A mountain slope still sprawled beneath them, and they glided down over it, toward a place that shone golden in the night like a half-concealed valley.

  I must be dreaming this, she thought. I must be creating the image. And yet, she knew she was not.

  Highwing followed a descending trail of glitter strewn in the air. The sparkling trail descended into an open forest—a most peculiar place, with soft lights hanging in the boughs of the trees. And the trees! They were like nothing she had ever seen before: some had graceful, upward-arching branches and cup-shaped leaves; others had long trailing violet strands that reminded her of terran weeping willows; still others had round silver leaves and small glowing spheres that might have been fruit, or perhaps actual lanterns. There was a remarkable profusion of flowering bushes, with extravagant and luminous blossoms.

  It is real, Highwing remarked, perhaps reading her thoughts as he angled low under a glimmering archway that spanned an opening in the trees. Gossamer strands crisscrossed over their heads as they glided through a long pavilion lined by shadowy trees. The dragon barely fluttered his wings; they floated as effortlessly as spirits in the night. This is a special place for me, he murmured. It is a place of power, and a place of memories. No outsider has ever seen it before. Do you like it?

  It's beautiful, Jael whispered. She gazed about in fascination as they emerged from the arching pavilion. Off to the left, she spied a small waterfall spilling into a starlit pool. Several odd-looking creatures with spindly legs stood at the pool's edge, drinking from the water. A sudden waver in the air caught her attention, a quivering light. The creature again—what was it?—the iffling? No. It was another dragon, but it was shimmering and transparent, as though it were only half there. Moonlight seemed to gleam off its scales, though there was no moon in the sky now. Its eyes flickered orange and seemed to focus on them. Jael thought she heard it speak, its voice a muffled grumble in the air. She could not understand any words, but she heard an unmistakable dissatisfaction or anger in its tone, and for some reason it made her shiver.

  Highwing's throat began to rumble in answer. She could not understand what he was saying, either; it was like the sound of a distant thunderstorm. But the two voices intersected and seemed to shake the air, and she sensed that some power was being played out between the two dragons—a dangerous power, she thought, a contest of wills. And then the night air grew still, and she blinked, and the other dragon was gone. There was nothing at all to indicate that it had ever been there, except a buzzing dizziness in her thoughts. She drew a breath. What was that?

  Hm? Highwing inquired.

  What was . . . that dragon?

  Nothing. A mere disturbance in the underrealm. It was nothing.

  What do you mean, nothing? You and that dragon sounded—

  We were having a minor
disagreement, is all. The dragon tossed his head like a horse. It was nothing. He was silent for a moment. Then: Jael, take a good look at this place I have brought you to.

  Jael shook her head and focused on the garden and the pool.

  This is no mere garden. This is a place where we will begin to learn more of each other.

  It is very beautiful, she said softly. But what does it have to do with me? And I want to know, what did you and that other dragon say to each other?

  Highwing did not answer for a moment. He hovered, motionless and silent, then suddenly craned his neck to peer back over his shoulder with an enormous, faceted green eye. Little one—such endless questions! I wish I could remember your name. What was it?

  Jael! she said stiffly. Then she saw the fire glittering in his eye and realized that he was teasing her. She flushed with embarrassment.

  Little Jael, the dragon said.

  Quit calling me little!

  The dragon shivered, his scales rippling under her. But you are—physically, at least. Don't you know that if we are to share a friendship, we must be truthful with each other?

  She bristled, before snapping, We won't have any friendship if you keep calling me that!

  Highwing cocked his massive head in amusement. You say that now, large Jael. But you would not duel, as a demon-spirit should. You convinced me that you are no demon. You gave me your name—and commanded my honor. The twinkle was gone from his eye now. And so we have come here, to this place where I might weave together certain powers, where we might learn more of the truth of each other.

  Jael hiked herself up to look the dragon squarely in one eye. Hah! she was going to say, but her gaze locked with the dragon's, and the word never came out.

  Suddenly she knew what he meant by power. She had looked into the dragon's glowing eyes once before, but this was . . . different. His gaze seemed infinitely deep now; it drew her inward, enveloping her. She felt herself falling deeper, deeper, into the luminous abyss of his inner eye, toward a cool faceted fire that burned within that emerald lantern. She fell through one of the dazzling facets and into a stream of upwelling light. It seemed a warming light; and she sank into it as though falling weightless down a twisting spiral pathway, toward the inner fires, and into the light of the dragon's very essence, its consciousness . . . its soul. And she found a mind peering back at her in wonder and curiosity.

  Dimly, she recalled something like this in the dreamlink. Then she had been afraid, but now she felt no fear. This being was different from anyone she had ever encountered before, more powerful and curious by far. But beneath the layers of curiosity she glimpsed a deep sorrow, an unexpected kindness, and an interest that was without malice, though overlaid with caution. She caught reflected images of herself and realized that the other was peering deep into her own thoughts, probing her memories and her fears, probing her very being. For an instant, she wanted to resist. But no . . . this was a gentle probing, and she found herself wanting to be open . . .

  A host of memories rose up like silvery bubbles, floating free into the light. She was aware of her feelings drifting by as though they were something separate from herself. She saw herself rigging with schoolmates, and later with Mogurn. She saw herself walking in a meadow with her mother, identifying flowers. It must have been long ago, because they seemed happy. It was before her mother had left her husband, taking Jael with her. It was before her mother had died, in the autumn of Jael's eleventh year. It was before Jael had gone back to live with her father. She saw Dap coming to see her at the rigger school, he the senior, she the novice. That was in happier times, too, sharing hopes and tales. Once, she saw her father actually being tender with her mother, and then she saw him raging, slapping her brutally. She knew he wasn't even angry with her, but with his failing business. The memories came faster . . . the dreamlink, and the pallisp . . . and the rush of bubbles was too fast and too shiny for her to follow, and it made her dizzy to try . . . and a part of her was crying now . . . and that made it all blur. . . .

  There were other memories as well, but they weren't all hers. She saw dragons quarreling and contesting for power, and dragon honor darkened by jealousy and distrust. She saw weavings of spells in a place called the underrealm, spells of crafting that created garden-places like this one; and she glimpsed other powers at work, threatening to ruin them. She heard a name that sounded like Tar-skel, a strange name, murmured fearfully in private moments and dismissed in others, and she shivered at the sound of it, feeling unaccountably afraid. She saw someone named Skytouch, a fragile-looking dragon, nearly transparent, with glassy scales and wings, in a place called Dream Mountain. Words she could not quite catch echoed around that memory, and she knew only that they were laden with both uncertainty and expectation, with ancient hopes and fears. A terrible hurt seemed to well up with the memory—an absence, and a deep and bitter longing.

  She drew away from the pain with a cry, and the sound resonated down the pathway into the light and reverberated back in a sympathetic chord of dragonly surprise. She felt a great fear and a need being closed off, hidden. The pathway between the minds flickered, and parted. Astonished, Jael pulled free of the dragon's gaze and sat back blinking.

  What had just happened?

  She wasn't sure. But though her head was ringing like a muffled bell in the aftereffects of the broken linking, one fact echoed with remarkable clarity. She had hardly been aware of it during the linking. But this dragon counted himself as her friend and companion. He truly did.

  She wasn't sure why. Was it because they had exchanged names and stopped their dueling? That was part of it, but not all. He had looked deep into her, into her soul; and though he had not understood everything he saw there, he seemed to have understood enough. He counted her as a friend. And he was violating dragon tradition to do so. Because he had somehow, on some level she could not understand, expected her.

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember what she had seen. For she had looked into his memories as he had into hers, and she had witnessed something—barely a glimpse, really—of the world that Highwing inhabited. Dragon honor . . .

  All was not well with dragon honor or with this realm. And Highwing thought it no coincidence that she was here now. But he did not want to speak to her of it, or to frighten her.

  But what did any of that have to do with her? Was he, perhaps, mistaking her for someone else? She was supposed to be flying between the stars; that fact had almost escaped her. She stretched her senses back through the rigger-net, testing; she felt the ship, and the flux-pile energizing the net, holding her here in the reality of the Flux. And it was a reality. Should she pull clear now, try to remove herself from danger, if she could? She thought of the pallisp and its blissful release. Should she face Mogurn and explain her folly, suffer his wrath in hopes of forgiveness and a chance to try again . . . in hopes of the pallisp, to warm and fill her heart? Later, she could return and try to modify the image. But to what purpose? This realm seemed unlike other regions of the Flux; it was what it was, and did not seem to care for her attempts to change it. Besides, Mogurn was very angry with her. He would never give her the pallisp now.

  And what of Highwing—this dragon who had made her his friend? He suffered his own pain, it seemed. Her heart was pounding, remembering. She opened her eyes again and looked at the dragon. His neck was still craned, and he was gazing at her silently with his huge glowing eyes. It seemed that no time at all had passed while she'd been lost in thought. Who—? she began, then shook her head. What—? She paused. The dragon's nostrils smoked inquiringly; he averted his head a little to avoid blowing smoke into her face. She sighed. Highwing, she asked, one image coming suddenly into focus, who is Skytouch?

  The dragon's eyes closed. He did not answer.

  I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. But I saw . . . her? And the iffling, the iffling spoke of her. So I wondered . . .

  Highwing's breath whistled out in a high-pitched sigh. Jael trembled. Finally he answere
d, in a whisper so low she could barely hear, Skytouch was my mate.

  Was . . . ? Jael felt, suddenly, a very large lump in her throat.

  She is gone, Highwing murmured. Gone from this realm. Gone from this life, to the Final Dream Mountain. I miss her . . . the touch of her thought. His eyes blinked open, then closed to slits. It was with her help that I created this place . . . this garden. I have not been here often . . . since . . .

  I'm sorry, Jael whispered. She swallowed and sat silent on the dragon's shoulders, unconsciously stroking the dragon's scales. He sighed softly. After a time, she cleared her throat. Well—she murmured haltingly, what was it that you had in mind for . . . us, then?

  The dragon's eyes opened wide, and she sensed a change in his mood. He turned his head to face forward again, and with a wing thrust sent them gliding forward again, and upward, away from the magical pool. He flew with gentle down-strokes of his wings. Perhaps, diminutive one, he murmured, I can help you with some things. Then we will see, perhaps, what is to become of us. From this garden, I can reach out with certain powers, and to certain other places. If you are willing to come with me . . .

  Jael tightened her grip on his neck.

  From the forest-garden, they flew up through a barren landscape, a mountain slope with broken, angled rock faces, glistening here and there with ice. It seemed a lifeless place, but in its starkness it was as beautiful as the vale they had just left behind. As they flew, Jael's mind filled with questions—about the other dragon, about what it was that Highwing expected of her and why that troubled him so, about Skytouch, and the iffling, and about what Highwing was planning to do now. But she could not seem to voice any of those questions. Perhaps it was something in High-wing's mood, conveying a reluctance to talk. She rode in silence, mulling the questions in the privacy of her own thoughts.

  Suddenly Highwing's massive head lifted. Look!

  Above them a series of faceted, angular cliff faces gleamed faintly in the night, towering over the dragon and human with an almost glacial presence. Here and there among the broken facets of rock she glimpsed dim openings. An intuition told her that in those alcoves something lurked—dragon powers, dragon magic. She shivered and clung to Highwing in wondering apprehension.