Do it! she shouted. Don't waste time talking!
She felt a shudder and knew that Ar had activated the maneuvering drive. Focusing from within the net, she located the asteroid, almost lost in the glare of the sun. She brought to bear all of the computer-imaging powers she had available . . .
And she saw something knobby on the asteroid's surface. As they closed on it, the asteroid swelled in her view: a gnarled, airless rock, burning up in the glare and heat of the sun. Closer . . . larger . . .
Do you see it, Jael? We've got to make our identification and get out!
She strained, and saw that the object on the asteroid was . . . moving. Or was it her imagination?
Closer . . .
As the image grew, the knob began to look like something flapping in a breeze, an old bag, or a wounded animal struggling pathetically. It looked like nothing resembling a dragon, certainly not Highwing. And yet . . . she felt a tickling at the edge of her thoughts, the presence of something or someone familiar.
Highwing! she whispered in agony.
Jael, you don't know it's Highwing! she heard Ar protesting; or perhaps it was her own inner voice, trying to keep her from doing something insane. But she felt no doubt, she knew that her friend was out there, burning up in the sun. She had no idea what physical manifestation a dragon from the Flux would have in normal-space, in the "static realm," but she knew she had to get to him fast. Ar, get us closer!
Jael, we can't help him! We can't land, and we can't go outside for him in this!
She could imagine his consternation as she asked the impossible. But she didn't care about that; she didn't care about possible or impossible. If you won't do it, I will! But even as she spoke, she realized that Ar was already trying to do what she'd asked. The asteroid was looming very close now, but its rotation was carrying the thing on its surface from sight. Can you match its rotation, just for a minute? Can you get me close, Ar? Get me close, and I can reach him!
Her friend was doing just that, and better than she could have done it, even as he protested, You can't reach anything, Jael! Don't you understand? But they were close enough now for a clear image, even in the terrible blood-glare of the sun. Ar was bringing them around in a loop to catch up with the rock's motion, and what they saw struggling at the edge of their view, foundering on the surface of that asteroid, was clearly a living being . . .
A dying being.
Dying. Even here, even now, the dragon's spell was at work. She remembered her father dying, a broken man . . . and knew that she could no longer hate him. Pity him, yes, but not hate him.
Highwing was dying . . .
My sacred word, Ar whispered, in disbelief.
Though the creature in the image was little more than a pathetic bag of bones, it nevertheless had a head, and something like wings crumpled at its sides; and it had eyes full of pain, eyes that peered vacantly, searching the sky as though it knew something was close but couldn't quite see it. Here, Highwing! she cried softly.
The creature moved its head suddenly, as though it had heard her. And she could have sworn that she heard its voice in her own head, groaning, You can do nothing . . . don't die for nothing! And she felt its pain, in a tremendous wave that surged through the net, shaking her. Ed flapped violently, in terror.
Her father had once loved her, had made it possible for her to be here. Would it all be for nothing? Yes, if she could not save Highwing, if she could not give even that in return. . . .
She drew a breath, struggling not to cry out—and suddenly shouted, I need to be just a little closer, Ar!
No, Jael . . . we can't . . . the screens are overloaded! We've got to drop back into the Flux—NOW! Do it, Jael!
No more than a hundred or a thousand meters from her, the creature that was Highwing sank helplessly back as the asteroid's rotation brought him back into the full hellish daylight of that swollen sun. The voice that reached her was weak, whispering: No, Jael—
Ar, get in here and HELP ME! she screamed. Ed, help me!
Whatever they answered, she didn't hear. She only knew what she had to do. She stretched the net to its limit, drawing on all of the reserve power—and it wasn't enough. The instant she sensed Ar entering the net, she seized the normal-space controls and contorted space with the maneuvering drive, dropping the ship toward the asteroid's surface—dropping in a suicidal dive toward the rock, toward Highwing.
Tears burned her eyes as she thought, Not for nothing! It will not be for nothing!
Jael, no! Ar shouted, as he saw what she was doing.
Be ready to take us down! she commanded, her voice cold and furious. When I say to.
Ed must have sensed her immediate intention, because he streaked to the forward end of the net, stretching it . . . and Jael's arms lengthened and reached out for Highwing . . . and the burning rock rose, slanting and rotating, to collide with them . . .
Highwing! she cried. She felt the net brush over him, over the rock; and she molded the net to include the dragon but not the rock, and she screamed: NOW, AR—NOW!
Ar's strength in the net joined hers, and over the groaning protest of the flux-pile, they reached into the Flux and pulled the ship down . . .
The asteroid loomed like a massive wall, and they were careening toward it—
—and it shimmered and became transparent—
—and the fearful blazing sun became transparent—
—and both were gone, and the clouds of the Flux materialized in their place.
The net nearly disintegrated from the effort of containing Highwing within it, but somehow it held. As the universe around them changed, as they sank deeper into the ocean of the Flux, passing through layers of change, the creature they were holding began to change, as well.
No longer a bag of bones, he was growing in mass and size. His shape was returning, becoming a dragon shape again, a dragon struggling to spread his wings. Highwing! she shouted, her heart breaking with hope and fear. He was struggling, in agony. And the net that supported him was beginning to tear.
Jael, let him go, Ar urged, and his voice, though calm, reverberated in the center of her consciousness, a command that she could not ignore. Now, Jael—or we'll lose the net for good.
Yes . . . she whispered. She forced herself to open her arms and release the dragon.
He fell away from them, and before she could do anything more, Ar had already drawn in the net, cutting the drain on the ship's power. She knew he'd done the right thing—they'd nearly lost the flux-pile, and that would have been the end for them—but she could not keep from crying out as she saw Highwing dropping through the air. She shouted to him, and dimly sensed his awareness.
Jael . . . the voice barely whispered over the wind. For an instant it sounded like her father's voice. But it wasn't; it was Highwing's.
Below them now, she saw mountains, and they were descending fast from a great height, through a sky wracked by crosswinds. There was one enormous peak that might have been the Black Peak, and she wondered whether the dragons were still there, and scarcely knew whether to hope yes or no. Then she heard Ed crying, Graggons near! and Fly, Highwing—CAW!—must fly!
But Highwing was falling, not flying. He was struggling to open his wings against the rushing air. One wing opened a little, then the other, and then he was tumbling out of control. His strength was gone. He was falling, almost certainly, to his death. Jael warped their net into a delta-winged glider, and they dived to follow the dragon as he fell. Highwing, please pull out of it! she pleaded, and knew it was futile, crying for what could not be.
Graggon!
The movement was so fast, she scarcely saw the dragon flash up and around them and around Highwing. And she heard the voice before she focused on the form. You have the power to bring him back! Windrush shouted, his voice so full of astonishment that his wonder echoed across the mountains.
Windrush, can you help—?
But her words were unnecessary, because Windrush was already beneath
his father. She shuddered as the two dragons came together in midair, fearing for an instant that she would watch them both die; but Windrush's strength was sufficient. He caught Highwing on his back, roaring under the sudden, tremendous weight. He couldn't stop the descent, but he slowed it. Highwing, agonizingly, succeeded at last in stretching his wings enough to help support himself. Something of his old glory was at last visible in his form. Windrush-sh-sh, he sighed, his voice quaking as he spoke the other dragon's name.
Jael flew closer.
You can fly . . . proudly . . . your last . . . flight . . . Windrush said, his words labored.
Yes. And Highwing's nostrils smoked, though the smoke was carried away in an instant by the wind. As Jael approached, her heart stopping because of what she had just heard, Highwing's eyes turned to focus on her. They descended together, the dragon's gaze flickering with a remnant of its old fire. And for an instant, she felt Highwing's presence in her thoughts.
Jael . . .
Highwing, can you make it? Can you fly? she whispered.
She heard something like laughter, but it was so full of pain and sorrow and joy and inexpressible dragon feelings that she could not really have called it laughter. And she heard, Little Jael . . . once more only . . . will I fly . . . and his words ended with a sound that reminded her of chimes ringing across an expanse of water. In that instant, her mind filled with memories of their first moments together, and she knew that she was seeing what he was remembering. Her mind filled, as well, with other images of the dragon realm: Skytouch dying, friends gone and sons departed, imprisonment and terror, and blazing alien heat; and images of triumph and the promise of victory and vindication. And she knew, too, what he saw in her mind: memories of her father, and acceptance and forgiveness. And she heard the dragon's voice again, saying, You have . . . saved me . . . saved us both . . . so that I may . . . pass from this life with dignity . . . little Jael. And again she heard the laughter that was not laughter, and she felt something change in the way that the dragons were flying.
Look, Ar murmured in wonderment.
Highwing was spreading his wings over Windrush's. She could feel the effort, the terrible pain that it was costing him. The dragon's wings caught the wind smartly as they stretched out, shining silver and iridescent in the sun. A jet of fire blossomed from his throat, and he lifted away from Windrush's back. For an instant, Jael feared that he would tumble again; but he drew his strength from somewhere, and though he swayed perilously, he fought his way into a climb. As Jael strained desperately to follow, he turned his head, and his eyes glowed and joined with hers, and he called, his voice clear even through the final pain: Well met and farewell . . . Windrush . . . riggers . . . Jael! His breath flared and smoked, and he thundered, Call, "FRIEND OF HIGHWING!" . . . and I will hear you . . . And before he could complete his words, he began to change, to become transparent.
The sunlight caught him, dazzling, and for an instant he was a dragon of living crystal glass. Living light. Then he was no more.
Farewell, Highwing . . . Jael whispered, choking. She wept helplessly for a moment, before she caught her breath and bellowed raggedly to the empty wind: FRIEND OF HIGHWING! And from the wind she thought she heard laughter, chimelike, full of sorrow and joy. Or perhaps she only wished to hear it, his laughter echoing on the wind.
And then they were falling, the net fraying around them. And Ar fought for control, but she could do nothing to help him; her heart was too heavy with grief.
Chapter 28
A Final Parting
WINDRUSH CAUGHT them far more easily than he had caught his father. Jael gasped and clung to his neck. They huddled atop the dragon, Jael pressing her forehead to his rippling scales as she wept. For a long time, she was aware of nothing that was happening, except her grief. Highwing . . . oh, Highwing . . . !
She heard a quiet voice in the back of her mind, saying, You have done well against the darkness, O Friend of Highwing. At first she tried to ignore it; she was confused not only by the words, but by the voice. It did not seem to be Windrush's, or Ar's. It said again, You have done well against the darkness. . . .
She opened her eyes, brushing away her tears. For an instant, she thought she saw a creature glimmering in the air just off Windrush's left shoulder. Perhaps it was her imagination, but what she saw was the iffling, floating half in and half out of this realm. What do you mean? she whispered. I've accomplished nothing. Even saying it, her pain seemed to grow.
But you have, rigger Jael, answered the quiet voice in her mind. More than you know.
She tried to focus her gaze on the iffling, still not sure if it was there. And now it wasn't; perhaps it had just been a strange reflection from the sun. Ar, she croaked, did you just see something? Or hear a voice?
But it was the dragon and not Ar who answered. Indeed you have done well, he said, echoing the iffling's words. And not just for my father. Look ahead! And with a jet of smoke, he pointed.
The dragon seemed to be indicating the great peak ahead of them—the Black Peak. Something about the mountain was changing, though she couldn't tell at once what it was. A swarm of dragons was fleeing the area, as though frightened. Frightened? By what? Peering past Windrush's great head, Jael saw that the left side of the summit was shrouded in a strange, silvery mist. It remained so for only a few seconds, as the mountain went through a startling metamorphosis: a portion of the peak seemed to dissolve in the mist, to turn glassy and clear. And within the glass there appeared a sullen red light, like the coals of a tremendous fire; pulsing and flickering. Jael looked away, not believing her eyes; but when she looked back, there was still a piece of the mountain missing, and in its place was . . . fire. Fire? In the heart of the mountain? Windrush, what's happening?
To her astonishment, the dragon laughed for joy.
Why are you laughing? she cried.
A change in the spell-weaving, Jael! A change in the underrealm! You have done what the rest of us feared to do! He beat the air, winging toward the peak. You saved my father's life—and far more than that!
What do you mean? What are you talking about? We failed! We were too late! As she leaned forward to shout at the dragon, the wind stung her eyes, drawing fresh tears. The sensation was welcome; it numbed the pain within.
No, Jael, you didn't fail at all! The dragon's voice resounded with both joy and sorrow. Highwing passed in this world—his spirit has passed into the world. You saved him from the final exile. I don't know how you were able, or how you knew. But he is safe from Tar-skel now, and his strength will become ours. The wind seemed to roar through his words. Look at the Black Peak! It is plain for all to see: you have broken the sorcery that held this mountain!
Jael drew back, no less confused than before. She looked to Ar for help, but he had his eyes shut, as though he could not bear to listen. Finally she realized that he was busy trying to draw together the threads of their rigger-net, which she had nearly destroyed. Jael peered back at the mountain, trying to think clearly through her grief. Most of the other dragons had scattered. The mountain looked now as though a great glass lens near its summit were focusing the rays of a blazing red sun, as though a star had come to life in the peak itself. What was happening to the powers of this world? Don't go too close, she wanted to beg Windrush, but the words froze in her throat.
A terrible spell was woven here, the dragon said, as though in answer to her thoughts. By Tar-skel, and by dragons who were once called my brothers, before they became his followers. His voice rang with anger. Where you see that fire is surely where they imprisoned Highwing—where they gathered their power to twist open the seams of the world, and to hurl him out of the realm. It would have been a terrifying display of power—and they wanted you here to witness it! They wanted to bray at you in their triumph. But they underestimated you! They were too proud, too sure, too eager to show their strength.
Jael shuddered, and yet could not help marveling. The mountain continued to metamorphose as they soa
red toward it, until it looked like a window into another universe, a window ablaze with the fire of an alien sun, where a dragon had been sent to die. Is that fire the remains of their magic? It looks like the sun in our realm, where we found Highwing.
Windrush glanced back at her in surprise. Is that true? Perhaps it is the same. You brought him back before the underrealm could be twisted closed again to seal his exile. Perhaps, indeed, a window remains open! Windrush rumbled approvingly. Those who labored in that cruel effort must be very angry now. Suddenly he thundered: LET THIS PEAK REMAIN AS A TESTAMENT TO THE CONCEIT OF TAR-SKEL! LET HIS DEFEAT HERE TODAY—!
A crackling flame shot past them, cutting off his exclamation. Jael felt the hot blast on her left cheek, and turned to see a large, black dragon hurtling downward toward Windrush's left flank. DIE WITH YOUR RIGGER FRIENDS, WINDRUSH! it bellowed. Flashing low across them, it nearly collided with Windrush, flattening Jael and her friends to the dragon's back. Clutching Windrush's scaly hide, Jael raised her head again. A second dragon loomed on the right, raking them with fire as it too crossed over them.
Apparently their victory had been short-lived.
The two dragons banked into fast orbits around Windrush, snarling in a tongue Jael could not understand. Windrush answered their challenge with a blast of fire, and a roar that seemed to shake the earth and echo back from the mountains. The two dragons veered away, but only for a few seconds. Jael scanned the air to see if others were coming. Windrush might be able to stand off two, but if there were more . . .
Hrrraaawwww! Show them! Ed screamed.
Ed, shut up! she snapped. Ar, do we have any power left in the net?
Ar opened his eyes, his lips pressed in a straight line. Not much, I'm afraid.
Windrush, what can we do?
Hawww! Show them! Show them!
Jael made a furious grab for the bird—then realized that perhaps Ed was smarter than they were. She gestured to Ar, and together they allowed the starship to billow out behind them, making it as large and imposing as possible. The two dragons, startled, retreated angrily to a more respectful distance. But Jael doubted that they would stay away long. What next? she murmured.
Dragon Space Page 29
