Jael. He felt certain that his actions were meant to involve her. But how? It did not seem that he could do anything more for Windrush. His last underrealm window for his brother had been a failed attempt to show how the Dream Mountain had been captured, and how it might be freed. But who had been missing from that picture? Jael. And she was beyond help now.
Except, perhaps, through the underrealm . . .
Bending his thought toward the draconae's underrealm window, FullSky probed delicately, quietly, toward the place where he thought the rigger had been taken. If he was to do anything for her at all, he would have to be watchful and shrewd indeed.
And he would have to be ready to give up to her the very last of his own strength. . . .
* * *
For WingTouch, in captivity, the pain was a constant, a sheet of fire within his body. He had learned, to some extent, to ignore it; but he could not do so altogether. The servants of the Enemy saw to that. At irregular intervals, they came and taunted him, or changed the binding spell in some new and devilish way. They did not have to increase the pain, only to alter it, to make it fresh and new as it blazed up his nerves.
His feet remained entombed in stone, and his inability to move or stretch was driving him mad. His legs were fearsomely cramped, and the immobility weighed terribly upon his spirit. Not content with that, the drahls had attacked his eyes with their freezing fire, so that he could see only dimly now; they had torn away at his scales, and pierced him with sharpened stones; they had starved him, and denied him a view of the sky and the sun.
In his heart, he tried to believe that the pain was meaningless, that the suffering was worthwhile if only he could remain adamant in his resistance to the Enemy. In truth, he probably would have succumbed to despair by now, if it had not been for the dreamlike memory of his brother's voice, speaking somehow into his mind, urging him to keep hope. The Enemy is lying, FullSky had said. I will help you if I can.
Maybe it was only a dream. But if a dream was all that he had to cling to, then that was what he would do.
Someone, or something, was walking toward him. He felt, and heard, the human's footsteps and voice before the creature came into his shadowy sight.
"I pity you, dragon," Rent said, his footsteps a clink of steel on stone as he approached. "You won't even see it happen, in the end. You'll just feel it—as the world closes in around you. As everyone you know dies."
"Away from me, demon!" WingTouch hissed, or tried to.
"There's nothing that can change it now," Rent continued, with feigned sympathy. "But it's a shame you won't even be able to watch those pitiful brothers of yours die." He laughed mockingly. "Or perhaps I could arrange for you to watch it—to feel it, as they suffer."
WingTouch trembled, from both weakness and rage. He longed to step out of this stone prison, to destroy this being, but that power was not his. There was no power that was his anymore. He knew it, and his captors knew it—and they knew how deeply it frustrated and infuriated him to have to stand here and listen to his tormentor, without hope of escape. But as he heard the wretched creature's words, he realized something—and he felt an abrupt, astonishing burst of joy. He barked laughter into the face of the monster Rent.
The human drew back, stuttering with anger. "You laugh at the deaths of your brothers?" he hissed.
No, WingTouch thought, shuddering with the physical pain caused by his own laughter. No, I don't laugh at their deaths. I laugh to hear that they are alive, that in all this time you have not been able to kill them! I laugh that, even now, they still fight you!
To Rent, he said nothing. The blush of hope passed quickly enough, and Rent seemed to sense that. The human danced before him, howling with mockery, "Laugh if you can, because soon you will laugh no more. There will be nothing more in your life to amuse you. Nothing!" He paused and stabbed a finger in WingTouch's direction, his eyes full of hatred. "And I guarantee you this: I will keep you alive long enough to suffer to the end. I'm going to leave you now—I'm going to walk away! But I will be back, WingTouch! I will be back to watch you suffer, as all of your brothers and all of the dragons die!"
Rent placed his hands on his midsection and bounced from foot to foot, and capered wildly, undoubtedly to remind WingTouch of his own immobility. As if he needed reminding. The pain in his legs was excruciating; and yet he dared not give in to it. If he lost his balance and fell sideways, it could break his legs—and that might kill him, or might just magnify the pain.
There is always hope, FullSky—or FullSky's spirit—had said. Was FullSky really still alive somewhere, somehow? Rent had not spoken of him lately, and Rent had been quite gleeful once in proclaiming FullSky a traitor. Was it possible that FullSky had escaped? Or was it all in his imagination?
WingTouch could answer none of his own questions. But the more Rent gloated, the more determined he was to resist to the end. He might despair inwardly, as the pain shimmered around him. But never would he let this demon know. This was his only remaining weapon: to not let this miserable human prevail.
There is always hope.
Thank you, FullSky, he thought as he laughed out loud at the departing human. And when he saw the human tighten in fury, he laughed again—heedless of the pain, the meaningless pain.
Chapter 35
Friend or Foe?
THE WARRIOR-SPIRIT had to wait an unusually long time for Rent to appear. It was unnerving to hover alone at the edge of Rent's underrealm abode, waiting to report to his master. Jarvorus was jittery, without quite knowing why. Perhaps it was because he didn't know precisely what instructions his master would have for him next. He knew that his capture of the rigger was a crucial milestone, and that he ought to be proud of it. He knew that much was at stake in what happened to Jael.
And in that, he was troubled. He was disturbed by what he had experienced with Jael and her companions, in the Cavern of Spirits. He found himself brooding about the way in which his master was going to lead Jael to her death—an important and significant event. He couldn't keep from dwelling upon it. Perhaps it was just as well that Rent wasn't here now, because Jarvorus had some thinking to do—and he knew that his feelings on the matter had changed, significantly. How was this possible?
It had started with a grudging respect for his adversary, and a trace of sympathy for what she must suffer. For all that, she was still the target, the enemy, the One. But now he had shared her thoughts and her feelings, now he knew what she had been through in this realm, what she had experienced, and done. The trouble was, Jarvorus knew now that he liked Jael far better than he liked his own master.
It might mean nothing in the end, and yet it was a staggering thought, one that charged him with fear. His master was brimming with power and cruelty, qualities that Jarvorus had once admired, and even emulated. But they were qualities that seemed absent in Jael, and he found now that he admired their absence more than their presence. He'd once thought that Jael wasn't strong, because she was not the master over others, like Rent. But that glimpse into her soul had shown him another sort of strength, and he was beginning to wonder if maybe Jael wasn't the stronger—strong enough to risk her life for someone else's. Jarvorus wondered if Rent would do that. He recalled her vision of the dragon Windrush risking his life to save Highwing, and he wondered if Rent would do that.
He recalled his own memory of the cavern sprite dying, saving several younger sprites, and he found himself wondering—what if he had been among those who had been saved?
He was aware, as he waited for his master, that none of this meant that anything would change. It was too late for that. Nevertheless, he could not help quivering with unease.
Rent's cavern, in the underrealm, was a glowing place of shimmering heat and pulsing energy. It was a place that spoke of power. Unlike Hodakai's spirit jar, this cave of the spirit was no prison, but rather a base from which Rent sallied forth in his work for the Ultimate Master. The powers that throbbed in this cave filled Jarvorus with a fear of R
ent—and an even greater awe of the power of the Ultimate Master, if the power of Rent, a lesser one, gave any measure.
He caught his own thought, and trembled at the possibility of Rent hearing himself referred to as less than anyone—even the Ultimate Master. Such thoughts would not be pleasing to Master Rent.
Jarvorus floated at the edge of the cave, trying to gather himself into a calmer state. It would not do to be found this way. He started suddenly, sensing movement in the underrealm. There was a flicker, then a sharp brightening of the glow in the walls. A shadowy black figure strode through the walls, and stood, hands on hips, glaring around the cave, radiating waves of indignation. Jarvorus drew himself into a smaller flame.
STATE YOUR BUSINESS! thundered the owner of the cave, pointing an angry finger at the warrior-spirit.
Jarvorus found himself trembling with fear—and a certain shock of recognition. Rent's form was human, just like Jael's. Had he seen this before? He guessed he had—but not so starkly. Never had he really stopped to think that, perhaps, Rent was a human, like Jael.
JARVORUS? SPEAK UP! Rent commanded. I can see it is you. Why do you hang there in silence?
I . . . have come to report on . . . the rigger Jael, Jarvorus stammered. Had he done anything to deserve his master's anger? He didn't think so.
Rent's human figure dissolved into a bright flame of light, far brighter than his cavern. The fire of his presence flew rapidly around the cave, circling along the wall, almost too fast for Jarvorus to follow. Report, then! And quickly! I have just come from dealing with dragons who were slow to obey! If you want gentler treatment, I had better not catch you resting! It was clear that he was furious about something. Jarvorus wondered what the dragons had done to make him so angry.
Jarvorus could not help hesitating, before delivering his report. I have taken the rigger . . . to the Cavern of Spirits. I have encased her in the spell-shroud. As you commanded.
Rent's fire slowed and drifted to the center of the cavern. Jarvorus felt himself the object of a penetrating gaze. He was starting to feel angry in turn. Rent had no right to be cruel to him; he had done exactly as ordered. Jarvorus kept his anger concealed, as best he could.
Rent spoke in a measured tone. Very well. Now, tell me: have they admitted defeat yet? Does the rigger know that she has reached her end? And what of Hodakai? Does he remain bound to our side?
Jarvorus hesitated again. A multitude of possible answers rose in his mind, and it took him a moment to choose among them. When he spoke, he was not aware of a conscious decision to lie to his master. Nevertheless, he did, saying, Yes. They have admitted defeat. They are ours.
Ours? hissed Rent. Ours?
Yes, Jarvorus whispered. They are ours.
Rent erupted like a volcano. OURS? he thundered. You presumptuous sprite! Do you know how I deal with servants who make presumptions? A flower of light erupted from somewhere, blazed into Jarvorus, and knocked him senseless.
It took him a few moments to realize that he was still alive. Jarvorus struggled back to full consciousness, struggled to regain his dignity. That blow had almost killed him. Ours? he thought. How could he have been so stupid? They are . . . yours! he whispered contritely. Yours. Yes. You need not worry about what they might do. They are quite secure.
There was another burst of light, but this one only flashed through him and made him tremble a little. Very good, Jarvorus, Rent crooned. You required a little reminder; that's all. Remember that it was I who gave you the breath of life. It would be a shame if you forgot. Rent's voice was soft, threatening.
Jarvorus made himself as small as he could. He wasn't sure why he had lied to Rent; it was a stupid and foolish thing to do. But now he had just heard Rent lie to him in return: "It was I who gave you the breath of life." But Rent had not given Jarvorus life. Jarvorus might have believed so, before some of those memories had returned. Rent had changed him from a sprite, but that was not the same as creating him. The master lying to his servant. Though Jarvorus didn't know what to do about it, he knew that he no longer trusted Rent. He preferred his prisoners to his master. And that was a perilous situation.
Did Rent still trust him? Had Rent ever really trusted him?
Is that all you have to report? the master asked, his voice still silkily threatening.
Jarvorus dimmed and brightened deferentially. Yes.
Then why do you remain? Tend to your prisoners!
Yes, master, Jarvorus whispered.
Good, Rent answered darkly. I will come soon to see this one in person, and deal with her myself. The end approaches, even now. A great battle is beginning. See that you keep her secure until I come. Now, begone with you!
Jarvorus dimmed and slipped back out of Rent's cave, leaving his master muttering to himself. Jarvorus did not pause to listen. But he was thinking furiously, and making a decision, as he sped back through the underrealm to his captives.
* * *
He found them quiet and gloomy in Hodakai's cavern. They seemed to understand instinctively just how close they were to the time when Jael must fall to her enemy. Jarvorus shared their mournfulness, observing from a distance. He delayed making contact while he considered how to proceed.
Jael was going to die anyway, and her death would be the final link in the Ultimate Master's plan, Tar-skel's web of sorcery. Jarvorus no longer found that plan such a beautiful thing as he had so recently believed it. Jael did not find it beautiful; she abhorred it. And Jael had never lied to him, or deceived him, unlike his master. And if he no longer believed in his masters, why should he believe in their plan? He preferred Jael's way. And he wished that he could do something about it. He wished that he could undo the spell in which he had captured her; he wished he could send her to her friend the dragon.
But Jarvorus did not have that power.
But there was one way in which he might free her. It would require Jael's agreement and cooperation, and perhaps that of her friends. And he would have to act quickly, before Rent came to stop him.
Rent, he knew, would be very angry—far angrier than he had been just now. If Jarvorus did what he was contemplating, Rent would surely kill him. That thought made him hesitate. But he remembered what Jael had done, which was the very thing that so made him want to take her side. She had shown herself willing to give her life. And he would be asking her to do it again.
Before he could reconsider again, Jarvorus ordered all of the warrior-sprites to retreat to the outside of the cavern, and to remain quiet, and not to interfere. Then he slipped through the seal of sorcery and into his captive's mind.
* * *
(There is one way you might yet have a chance,) he said, without preamble. A sense of urgency was upon him. He noted that the iffling was gone, which was just as well. He didn't need to contest for Jael's attention.
She burst back with indignation, (GET OUT OF MY MIND!) Her resentment boiled around him with fierce heat.
Perhaps he had been too abrupt, he realized, pulling away hastily. He studied Jael, her underrealm presence shimmering darkly. How could he do this? Finally, he allowed himself to become visible again in the cavern, in his animal form—so that all of them, including Hodakai and the other riggers, could see and hear him. He hoped this appearance would seem less threatening. He padded across the cavern floor to Jael, who was peering out of her cell of ice in lonely desperation. Her spaceship glimmered, half visible, behind her; and nearby, in the fractured rigger-net, Jarvorus could just make out the forms of the tall rigger, Ar, and the strange little green rigger that was called Ed.
He raised his head to meet Jael's eyes. I've changed my intentions, he murmured. I'm . . . on your side now. Ignoring her sputtering of disbelief and the outcries from all of them, he continued quickly, You must believe me. Time is very short.
Believe you? Jael answered. Never!
Jarvorus hissed and shook his head. You must! My master plans to kill you—and not just that, but to do it in the presence of the dragons. That wi
ll complete the prophecy—and the sorcery. But I think I can help you.
Help? She laughed bitterly. Are you going to save me?
I—I can't stop you from dying, Jael. But . . . if you would choose another time, and another way, I can help you do that. It would be better for you—and for your side!
Jael was unmoved. You want me to step into another of your traps!
Even as she made her sarcastic reply, Jarvorus was wondering when Rent would be coming. If he did not convince her and perform the deed before Rent came, he could do nothing. Instead of answering her sarcasm, he plunged ahead to explain.
You are the key, Jael—key to the Master's final victory. The dragons are to be kept from reuniting with the Dream Mountain and their draconae—and the despair of the dragons is his most powerful weapon. The one you call the Nail knows that the dragons' only hope is your appearance, as the One of the prophecy.
Jael whispered, Then, damn you, why don't you let me go to help them?
I wish I could! Jarvorus cried. But this spell is not my spell. I haven't the power to unlock it. The Words say that you must fall, and the Master has already planned how that will happen—in a great battle that is even now taking shape. A battle which the dragons cannot hope to win without you.
Jael stared at him in silence, and so did Hodakai and the other riggers. The small green rigger was making futile rasping sounds. They all seemed equally incredulous.
He continued nevertheless. When the dragons see you die in battle, they will lose all hope. They know the Words: "The One will fall as the battle is fought . . ."
And Jael whispered, finishing the words for him: "Upon her death is the ending wrought."
Dragon Space Page 66
