Windrush scowled about him at the sight of the camp: the harsh cliffs with dark warrens in which warrior-dragons slept, the charred face of the target wall, the shreds of cloud drifting overhead. This was hardly a fit place for dragons to live; it looked more like something the Enemy would create. But for many who had joined in the war from the east and the south, or who had fled from the land taken by the Enemy, or whose caverns had been destroyed, this was home. And now even this place was threatened—by a traitor who could share the secrets of the defenses with an enemy who already held the advantage in the war. "He carries the spells that protect the lumenis," Windrush murmured, so low in his throat that Rockclaw could hardly have heard him.
Nevertheless, the old grey dragon nodded.
"Is that all?"
"So far. Farsight can tell you more, perhaps, when he returns."
"Returns?"
"He led a search party to the Scarred Ridge, in case Stonebinder hid instead of flying all the way to the Enemy. I have little hope of that, myself." Rockclaw stamped the ground and glared about the camp.
"And what of SearSky?" Windrush asked sharply.
Rockclaw peered at him with dusty eyes.
"Are we certain that SearSky did not create a distraction so that Stonebinder could flee? Was SearSky actually tested?"
Rockclaw's gaze sharpened. "I do not know, Windrush. But SearSky was among those who joined in the search."
Windrush grunted. It did not prove SearSky's innocence that he had flown with the searchers. He could as well have been trying to protect his friend, the traitor. But Windrush had no proof of that, either. He did not much like SearSky, but that didn't make the arrogant fool a traitor.
"Farsight called for another meeting tonight at dusk," Rockclaw added.
Windrush nodded and turned away.
"Where will you be?" Rockclaw called.
Windrush paused in thought. "I intend to visit some of the guardian holds. I'll be back for the gathering tonight." He was tempted to inform Rockclaw of the battle he had fought for the freedom of FullSky; he saw the hunger in the old dragon's eyes for any good news. But, he thought, Farsight ought to be present for the first telling of that. "I believe a new attack may be coming," he said finally. "But all is not dark. You must keep hope, Rockclaw. Be my ears and my eyes here. If there is news or rumor, bring it to me. Can I count on you?"
Rockclaw's eyes flared. "When have you doubted me?"
Windrush nodded. "Then good-bye for now." He spread his wings and flew into the air as one driven by silent need.
* * *
Windrush traveled far that day, dropping down to speak with dragons on the ground, even in the smallest encampments and groves. Twice he flew for a time with patrols that he met in the air. He flew southward along the Scarred Mount Ridge, to a patrol camp near the south border of the held land, and asked for news of Jael, or of drahls, or of any stirrings of the Enemy. There was no news, only dread; but he did what he could to provide encouragement to the dragons there.
If only he could linger a while longer in these places! He was aware of a profound sadness for what could be lost in this war; and at the same time, an unreasoning hope was growing within him, and an admiration for all of the dragons who remained ready to fight and perhaps die for the realm.
Flying on to the east, he wished that he could visit the whole of the realm today. It was impossible, of course. Some strongholds were too far away for one day's efforts. From a promontory at the edge of the Forest Mountains, he gazed south toward the Sawtoothed Ridge, just a jagged shadow on the horizon. It was deep in that desolation that he had found Hodakai alone in his prison. Windrush could not help thinking wistfully of the places of abandoned magic that lay that way—places once frequented by dragons, but now too remote to be guarded. In the Streams of Song, fast-moving brooks made music in the ground; and there, in times past, draconae had gathered to share song and history. And at the Pool of Visions, dragons in a previous age had joined garkkon-rakh to garkkon-rakh, drawing upon the soul-shaping power of the pool as they sought wisdom from one another. In the Moon Sea, to the south and west, the moons could at times be viewed passing beneath the realm. It troubled him to leave such places undefended, but what choice did they have?
There was one place of lost magic that the dragons did hold yet—the Deep Caverns, far to the northeast, at the extreme edge of the realm. There the currents of the underrealm had once run deep and strong, the strongest outside of the Dream Mountain itself. There, wielders of magic once created innumerable works of beauty. But the Deep Caverns' significance, too, lay in the past. Most thought that the power had gone out of the place; others believed that the dragons simply had lost the skill to use the power that was there.
But in Windrush's heart, the Deep Caverns held a place like that of his father's magical garden: a wistful memory of something that had been beautiful and precious. He'd insisted upon their defense; yet he could not defend them heavily, not with vital lumenis groves to guard, and so few dragons to guard them. He doubted that the Enemy would trouble himself with an attack there, unless maybe after all else was won. Nevertheless, he thought, the dragons guarding the caverns deserved encouragement as much as any. Perhaps tomorrow, he would visit there.
But this day was wearing on, and he had one more important stop before returning to the main encampment. He flew northeastward over the Forest Mountains, toward the Grotto Garden and the last known dragon egg.
* * *
The Grotto Garden was a deep, wedge-shaped vale, well hidden in the northern flanks of the Forest range. Banking inward, he was challenged by two guard dragons. Recognizing him at once, they escorted him to a landing near the upper ridge of the vale. "Windrush! I was beginning to doubt that I would ever set eyes upon you again!" cried Greystone, the leader of the guards, a dragon whose sea-green eyes always reminded Windrush of his brother WingTouch's. "Have you come with news, or with need?"
"I have come to see how you are holding out," Windrush answered. "And to look in upon Treegrower, if she will see me."
"Hah!" Greystone snorted. "Do you think she is so feeble she would turn away the leader of the draconi?"
Windrush blew a breath of steam. "I hope not. How is she? And how are you, my friend?"
Greystone arched his wings, then shrugged them downward. "How am I? Not as well as I used to be, when we flew for the joy of it and thought the lumenis would never end! But I guess I'm better off than most of you battling the Enemy head-on."
"You guess?" asked Windrush, with a fleeting wistfulness for the carefree days when he and Greystone had flown together with other fledglings to hear the teachings of the draconae. If they had known then what they knew now, how much more they would have valued those times! But Greystone, more than most, had taken the teachings to heart. He had never been much interested in fighting, though he believed passionately in guarding such beauty in the realm as he could.
"Well, it is awfully quiet here, Windrush. Not that I'm complaining!" Greystone led the way down into the garden, pointing his head one way and another, as though to ensure that Windrush would see how well the place was being preserved.
It was, indeed, a reassuring sight. Windrush stopped to peer at a cluster of bushes with purplish, upturned cups for leaves. The cups held a clear liquid which drew floating insects and several small, colorful flyers that hovered, sipping the nectar. The flyers reminded Windrush of Jael's rigger-friend Ed. He watched them thoughtfully, aching to know what had become of Ed, and Ar, and most of all, Jael. After a moment, he blinked and turned to follow Greystone.
Passing a swirling pool in a rock basin, and a row of lantern-trees, Greystone continued downward into the vale. He nudged a shadow-cat out of the way with a good-natured swing of his snout and continued down the path toward the carved-rock grotto at its bottom. Windrush paused a moment, as the shadow-cat peered out at him from beneath the low-hanging threads of a curtain-tree. The cat was practically invisible, but its eyes blinked alternat
ely like stars winking on and off. Windrush returned the creature's gaze, and for an instant, felt a linkage. The cat, too, felt the encroachment of darkness over the land, and Windrush sensed a plain and poignant desire in its simple heart for the dragons to make the darkness go away. We will try, he answered silently. We will try. The eyes brightened for an instant, then vanished under the tree.
Greystone swung his great head around to peer questioningly, and Windrush strode after him.
The grotto at the bottom of the vale was a graceful series of openings in water-carved stone. It held within its breadth a cluster of arching, cavelike spaces. The dracona Treegrower was resting inside the third of those spaces. Her glassy head was raised, gazing at the two draconi as they approached. "It seems to me you are always complaining," she said to Greystone in a softly chiming voice.
"Hah!" rumbled the dragon. "Are you eavesdropping on my conversations again?"
The dracona's golden eyes turned to Windrush. "Certainly not. I've no wish to die of boredom." She sighed deeply. "Windrush."
"Treegrower," he answered, bowing his head.
"You never come anymore."
Windrush felt a flash of regret, though he knew her remark was half teasing. "I'm sorry. I try, but—"
"Nonsense. Too busy fighting to worry about draconae and eggs. Do you come with news?"
Windrush studied the dracona, her eyes luminous gold, but dimmed with age, and cloudy. A few rays of the afternoon sun penetrated the cave to refract through her gem-like scales, but there was a dusty look to her. She looked older and weaker every time he saw her. If she were not the only living dracona outside the Dream Mountain, and therefore fiercely determined to survive, he was sure she would have given up and fled to the Final Dream Mountain ages ago.
But Treegrower was the caretaker of the last egg, laid not by her, but by the dying dracona Moonglass, shortly after the disappearance of the Dream Mountain. Moonglass had not lived, but Treegrower had—and she'd vowed that this egg would survive, despite the fact that it could only grow and hatch in the Dream Mountain. Were there other eggs in the Mountain? Perhaps—but no one outside the Mountain knew for sure.
"Not news, perhaps, but encouragement," Windrush said. His gaze dropped at last from Treegrower's eyes to the polished silver sphere she held protected between her front legs, a sphere about the size of her nose. So small—and so vital to all of the hopes of the realm! How long had she protected that egg, and how much longer could she do so? He tried to dispel doubt from his voice as he spoke. "I come with hope," he said at last. "I have felt my father's presence, more than once, from the Final Dream Mountain. And I have found hope in the underrealm. And . . . Jael . . . may be coming."
Treegrower studied him. "May be coming?" Her eyes blinked and shifted to peer longingly out of the cave. She was so weak now, Windrush realized with a pang, that she would find it hard even to leave the cave. "I labor within, to keep hope alive," she whispered, as though to herself. Under her breath, he heard her murmuring words, probably of prophecy. Her gaze shifted back to Windrush. "Hope in the underrealm, you say?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Can you tell me—?"
—before I die, hopeless? he seemed to hear, under her voice.
At that moment, he forgot his resolution to tell Farsight before anyone else. Cautioning both Greystone and Treegrower to silence, he told them of his battle in the underrealm, and of FullSky's freedom. "I don't know what it means, really," he said—and stopped trying to explain. His words suddenly seemed unimportant, because Treegrower's eyes had indeed come alight with hope, genuine hope. He glanced at Greystone, who seemed more guardedly encouraged.
"Thank you, Windrush," the dracona sighed, her voice chiming more clearly than it had since his arrival. She blinked her eyes and nodded slightly, and he sensed that it was time to let her rest.
"Be well, Treegrower," he said, taking his leave. Speaking to Greystone on his way out, he warned the guard-leader about the danger of Stonebinder's defection, then said, "Keep her well, my friend. Whatever else you do, keep Treegrower well to see the return of the Dream Mountain."
Greystone's sea-green eyes flickered, and he exhaled a flame in reply.
* * *
Windrush returned to the encampment late in the day and found that the search parties had come in without any news of Stonebinder. Apparently the traitor-dragon had fled to join his Master. Farsight was organizing the night's patrols, and it was a while before Windrush could speak privately with his brother. When he did, he questioned Farsight about the events of last night. His brother's silver-bright eyes darkened as he recounted the confusion of Stonebinder's escape. "Winterfall had linked only briefly with SearSky, but he believes that SearSky is loyal. I would like him to be more fully examined," Farsight said.
"How many others have not been tested?"
"Enough to keep us busy for tonight, at least." As Farsight slumped, head low, Windrush realized just how tired his brother was.
"I have some news that will brighten your eyes," Windrush said, and told Farsight of FullSky's release. "I think," Windrush added, "we should not speak openly of this. There may yet be traitorous ears among us, and it would not be well for the Enemy to know of FullSky's activity."
Farsight angled his head and nodded. "Bad enough that Stonebinder is undoubtedly betraying our spell-secrets. We must be more vigilant than ever." He glanced up, where numerous dragons were circling in the sky. "It is time, Windrush."
The dragons were gathering toward the Vale of Decision.
* * *
This meeting was the most rancorous yet. The air itself seemed aboil with anger at Stonebinder for fleeing—and at those known to be his friends, or even suspected of being his friends. Windrush called for the testing to continue, to learn if there was more than one traitor; and Farsight, risking open hostility, proposed that the renewed testing begin with those whose examinations were interrupted by Stonebinder's flight—namely, SearSky, Sharpclaw, and Thunderwall.
SearSky objected violently, claiming that he had been subjected to enough examination already. Not so, asserted Farsight. The testing had been interrupted, and it was crucial to confirm the loyalty of all dragons. SearSky refused, until Windrush rumbled, "No one flies with us who has not shown himself trustworthy, garkkon-rakh to garkkon-rakh. SearSky, I have never doubted your loyalty—but you make me wonder. What do you have to fear? Will you be tested?"
SearSky shot him an angry glance, red-flame eyes blazing out of a craggy black head. For an instant, Windrush feared that SearSky, too, would fly away—to be pursued and brought down by his fellows. Finally SearSky belched a flame into the air. "I will not have my loyalty doubted!" His voice crackled. "Do your worst to me—for what pleasure it will bring you!" He glared at Windrush. "Bring on your deputies—if you are afraid to test me yourself!"
"I have no such fear," Windrush answered coldly. "But I do have other tasks that call me. If you show yourself loyal to any of these—" and he nodded at Farsight, Winterfall, Stronghold, and Longtouch "—I will gladly fight at your side."
SearSky snorted, but protested no further.
Windrush drew Farsight away to speak privately. "Again I must leave you in charge. Warn the others to be alert for new attacks, and organize the patrols well. I will rejoin you tonight, if I can."
"Be swift, and be careful," Farsight said.
"You as well," Windrush replied.
* * *
The underrealm passage to Hodakai's prison seemed eerily quiet. It was not that Windrush expected the presence of any other being in the passage; but there was a stillness that was disturbing—as though a certain background murmur of life were missing. The dragon paused as he approached the rigger-spirit's presence.
The spirit was dancing about nervously. Windrush waited for Hodakai to settle down. Rigger-spirit, he said in greeting.
Dragon, answered Hodakai. Windrush, I presume? There was a sarcastic taunt to his voice.
Indeed. How are you, Hodakai?
The spirit pulsed, not answering his question. Have you come . . . for the reasons that we discussed earlier?
The dragon gazed at him, puzzled by the spirit's demeanor, but unable to discern the creature's thoughts or feelings. You have not had cause to change your mind, have you?
No—of course not.
That is good. Because I hope you can help us.
Of course, of course.
You seem nervous, Hodakai.
Well . . . I suppose I am. I'm taking a big risk, you know.
We all are, Windrush said. But I do appreciate the risk to you, as well. Do you have anything to pass on to me?
Hodakai was silent for a moment. What . . . exactly . . . did you want to know?
Windrush drew a slow breath. What are the Enemy's plans? I have reason to expect a new attack. Have you heard rumor? Have you heard where he plans to strike?
For an instant, Windrush wondered if he ought to have asked so directly. But the words were out—and they didn't seem to have taken the rigger-spirit by surprise.
Hodakai swayed in his jar for a moment, but when he spoke, his words seemed confident. Yes, Windrush—I have heard. He paused, as the dragon waited. There have been rumors, indeed. Rumors that one of your number has fled, and taken with him secrets to the safety of your—what do you call them?—lumenis groves. Places that you value highly, in any case. Hodakai paused again. If I were you, Windrush, I'd put everything I had into defending those groves.
The dragon gazed at the spirit's kuutekka. Do you know exactly where they're planning to attack? Or when?
Hodakai seemed to stare him right in the eye. I do not, dragon. Not exactly. But I would guard your most precious—what do you call it—the Valley of Light? The Nail, I think, would have great pleasure in taking that place from you.
A direct assault upon the dragons' main strength? The Enemy might well be feeling that confident, after his recent victory. Windrush growled inwardly. Tell me something else, Hodakai. What do you know of the Enemy's web of power?
Dragon Space Page 56
