Something ponderous was giving way in the web. Before he could begin to understand it, there was a tremendous shaking convulsion in the Flux, as though the bottom had just dropped out of a vast ocean. The web was disintegrating before them. It was dumping an incredible fountain of power into a yawning emptiness, an even deeper layer in the Flux.
Eeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiii! Ar screamed to Ed, to Jael if she could hear, to the universe. He didn't even know why; it was a scream that just erupted, an exhilaration out of nowhere, an explosion of such joy that he almost didn't see what was ahead of them in their path—until Ed's frantic cry, Look-k-k! Hawwwwwwww! Look-k-k! made him squint ahead through the exploding light.
It was the distant, silvery shape of a dragon, raking open the web in a plume of fire as it hurtled toward them.
* * *
* Impossible! It cannot be happening! *
The error was too great, too profound. He could not have made such an error! Somehow it had all turned wrong, wrong, in his stroke of triumph. His final blast of power was destroying the very structure that it was supposed to be completing.
This was not how it was supposed to happen!
In the Dark Vale, the prisoners' bonds were falling away. His own servants were weakening, his hold on them slipping; some of them were blinking through newly opened eyes, turning and freeing the very ones they'd been holding prisoner!
This was not how it was supposed to end . . .
The Mountain of Fire was slipping out of his grasp, and all of the power in his sorcery was pouring into a great emptiness, streaming away, dissipating into nothingness . . .
* NO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O—! *
He was losing it all . . . but he would not lose without taking the Damned One with him!
* * *
At first, all she could see was the explosion racing before them, the web spilling its power with tremendous, jarring bursts of energy. But it was not just the web they were tearing; the web was interwoven with the fabric of the underrealm itself, and it was impossible to tear one without the other. A bottomless blackness was yawning open beneath them, and it was into that abyss that the lightning-fire of the web was emptying.
(My God, where is it going, where is all that power going?) she breathed.
From Windrush she sensed amazement and bewilderment. (Out of the realm,) the dragon whispered. (Out of the realm. Jael! Look!)
(Hawwww!)
Above the abyss, a curious tableau was forming, as though focused through a very strange lens. Ahead, the Dream Mountain was emerging from a mist, radiant in its translucence, a diamond-white fire burning in its center, with a shining speck streaking out of it. Something made Jael glance behind her at the Black Peak. The wound in the Flux there was closing, the glowering sun vanishing. Between the two mountains, illuminated in a strange dawnlike light, was a vision of a blasted valley that could only have been the Dark Vale. Above it, Jael saw tiny tongues of dragon fire and heard shouts of hope and joy. And farther beyond, across a distant plain that seemed to lie in another realm altogether, she glimpsed marching toward the Dream Mountain a tiny parade of flickering flames, which looked as though the slightest breeze might extinguish them. (Ifflings,) she whispered.
But in the heart of the Dark Vale, something was happening that made her clench with fear. Something was spiraling open in the fabric of the underrealm, a window opening, and through it she glimpsed darkness and flames. This was not the nothingness of the abyss below, but a writhing, coiling darkness filled with a living malevolence. She felt a moment of stark revulsion as she glimpsed that thing; but the darkness and flame were flattening and twisting, and coiling out into the web . . . coiling out into the rift and the nothingness beyond.
She began to feel a rising wave of relief. In a moment, it would be gone, forever. She raised her sights to the Dream Mountain.
(JAEL!)
The dragon's voice shocked Jael alert with terror. (What—?)
(Uurrrrrrrruk-k-k-k—)
Above the rift, the flaming darkness had suddenly turned and snaked out a whip of light-devouring fire. It was streaking through the underrealm, coiling toward Jael. She could not speak or act. She could only watch, frozen, as it sped toward her, curling out in a great arc to ensnare her, and Windrush, and Ed.
If she was paralyzed, the dragon within her was not. They banked and dove, fleeing.
* You cannot flee. *
The voice thundered deafeningly, soundlessly, in her heart.
* You are mine. The One is damned. The One shall die. *
Windrush sped through the underrealm, but the whip of dark fire was faster, and it arched up and around and behind them and spiraled with dizzying speed, spinning a coil of itself around them, a coil of darkness that blocked off the rest of the underrealm. (Windrush?) she whispered. (Turn, Windrush, we must turn!)
They swept in a frantic turn—and Jael screamed.
An enormous face filled the darkness before them, and it was the face of Mogurn, and the face of her father, and the face of a young terrified rigger who had no hope in the world, no hope at all. No! she whispered to the face. That's all in my past! It's all over! The captain who had terrorized her was dead, her father was dead, she herself was dead.
The mouth of Mogurn opened, and through rotting teeth he boomed out a laughter of triumph. His hand reached toward her, with his cursed pallisp to enslave her.
YOU CAN'T! she screamed. I broke it! It's gone!
The coil of dark fire was tightening around her like a noose, and at the other end of it, she could see it still streaming into the abyss, and she could feel it pulling her toward the abyss now. She raked her talons at the face of Mogurn, and she blew flame at him, but that just made him laugh all the harder; and her father sneered with disgust at his weakling daughter.
(Jaylll, awwwk-k-k—) she heard, but it was a distant, plaintive cry, and it couldn't help her.
(Jael, remember who you are,) she heard, and it was a soft voice, dragon she thought, but she couldn't quite tell anymore who was who. (Jael, remember!) insisted the voice. (Believe and remember!) Who was that, Highwing? But Highwing was dead. Tar-skel had killed him, as he was about to kill her. She couldn't quite think anymore.
(You must believe—!) urged the fading voice. There were a host of voices clamoring around her, and within her, and she could understand none of them now. She was icy cold, with fear.
The snake of devouring fire was tightening around her neck now, and it was pulling her faster toward the abyss, down, downward toward blackness . . . there was no way to escape from it now.
And then something made it jerk suddenly . . . and loosen just a little . . .
Jael, we're here! We see it! IT CAN'T HURT YOU IF YOU DON'T LET IT! A voice was reverberating through the darkness. You're a rigger, Jael—remember! You're a rigger!
The coil lurched as it lashed angrily at the offending source of the voice. A spaceship, silver and ghostly, flashed through the flame, flashed across in front of her. Jayyyyylll—hawwwww! screamed a voice from the ship.
The distraction was enough to give her a moment to remember. She was a rigger. She had defeated Mogurn, she had forgiven her father, she had grown out of that weakling, and she had helped to defeat Tar-skel. (Believe,) she heard again, and that time it was a chiming dracona voice. She glimpsed the distant light of the Dream Mountain, and felt the power of the Mountain flowing through her, and remembered that that was where she lived now, and the power of the Mountain was greater than the power of a defeated enemy.
She shifted her gaze to the whipping dark flame, the devouring flame that had flailed ineffectually at the spaceship and was now turning back for a final strike at her. She remembered that she was unafraid, remembered that she had already defeated it.
No! she said to it. She said it coldly and clearly. But she was not cold on the inside anymore, she was burning bright and hot with dreamfire, and with dragon blood, and the fearless anger of a parrot, and most of all with the certainty that sh
e was Jael and she lived in the dreamfire, and that fire was forever denied this dark one.
No! she said, and she punctuated the word with a short blast of dragon flame. She raised her head and gazed back at the coil of darkness, and she knew that she had defeated a creature like this once before, but as dragon, not woman; and she felt her dragon eyes blazing with the light of the dreamfires, blazing bright, brighter, her entire dragon body blazing with light.
The snake of darkness rose against the light—and fell back from it with a wail. The underrealm was visible again, and Jael saw now that the web of sorcery was in tatters, and the last of the flaming darkness was streaming out of the window of the Dark Vale into the rift of emptiness. A voice groaned from the darkness, unutterably deep and angry. It spoke no words she could understand, but it shook the underrealm with its hatred. Jael shuddered at the voice, but Windrush kept them flying, blazing, streaking like a beam of light toward the Dream Mountain. The voice suddenly cut off into silence, and the last of the flame of darkness vanished into the rift in the underrealm, and the silence of its parting shook the realm and the underrealm with a tremendous, soundless, shattering earthquake.
The concussion reverberated for a long time. As it slowly subsided, the window in the Dark Vale faded, leaving only the valley in which it had appeared. The last remaining shreds of the web fell like feathery ashes into the abyss of emptiness.
Something was flying toward Jael and Windrush and Ed.
Ar! she cried. Ar, you came! You made it through! And after a moment, she added tearfully, And you saved me, you saved my life!
The answering cry was just as triumphant: Jael, I can't believe you're alive, you're alive!
In the curious ringing space of the underrealm, before the Dream Mountain, they spun into a dizzying orbit around one another, the dragon and the spaceship; and then with a shriek, two parrot shapes flickered out into space, one from the dragon and one from the spaceship, and they danced in space around one another, not quite able to join and not willing to be parted.
Chapter 44
Riggers in the Realm
BEFORE THE two Eds, or Jael and Ar, could say another word, they were stunned into silence by what was happening around them.
The underrealm space was shimmering and changing colors, first reddening, then shirting up through the spectrum: orange, yellow, green, blue, violet—and finally turning clear. The cloud upon which the Dream Mountain was floating slowly dissolved, and the Mountain emerged, now rising solidly from the ground, some distance beyond the Dark Vale. The fire in its heart seemed brighter, steadier, and the voices of the draconae could be heard ringing out like distant chimes. Jael's center was still with the draconae, of course; but her presence was stretched halfway across the underrealm and back, and she could hear their choir of joy from both sides of her being.
Do you hear them, Ar? Do you hear the draconae? she whispered.
Cawww—graggons!
Yes, Jael—it's beautiful!
Graggons, glizzards, all around Ed, awwwwk!
I'm with the draconae, Ar. I'm a part of them—or they're a part of me—and the Mountain—
The spaceship floated closer, Ar's ghostly wedge-headed countenance just visible on its prow. His eyes glittered purple. I thought you were with Windrush, Jael. For a moment, I thought I saw you on his back. Now, I can't quite tell.
I am with Windrush, Ar. My kuutekka is joined with his—from the Dream Mountain. It's hard to explain.
But Jael, I thought—
Ar's words were interrupted as great shafts of light burst out of the Mountain and fanned slowly over the landscape of the underrealm, illuminating places that had been lost in shadow. The Dark Vale was caught in a prolonged light, and it seemed to flicker, until it began to shine as though with its own inner source. Dragon flames were still visible there, but they seemed to be flames of jubilation, not battle. Though she could not quite discern what was happening, Jael sensed that the struggle in that place was ending. She could make out the movements of hundreds of tiny shapes, rising from the floor of the vale. Ar, the prisoners are rising from the Dark Vale! Look!
Ar was staring in wonder. Did he understand that this was a different view from what they'd been accustomed to, that this was the world of the underrealm? What did it look like on the outside? Jael wondered, and wished that she could see.
She was about to ask Windrush, when another sight caught her eye, out beyond the Dark Vale: the procession of tiny flames that she had glimpsed before, bobbing across a distant plain like hand torches borne by invisible marchers. Her breath escaped—or was it Windrush's? The dragon's voice rumbled, almost reverently: It is the ifflings, returning to the Dream Mountain!
Returning home? she whispered.
Returning home, answered the dragon.
And that, Ar said slowly, is where we shall have to be bound before much longer. We are tired, and our ship is damaged. Jael is there no way that you can return to the ship—to us? Even as he said it, his tone made clear that he knew the answer.
My friend Ar, she sighed—and with an effort, she separated her kuutekka from its direct union with Windrush's, parting with a shudder—and made herself visible again on the dragon's back. I have no life in that realm anymore, Ar. I've passed through that door. I don't even know how long I can live on like this in the Dream Mountain. Do you know, Windrush?
Jael, rumbled the dragon, I am astonished and overjoyed to have you here at all! It is truly rakhandroh! Who knows what the power of the draconae can do? It is beyond my knowledge. But Jael, I too must return to the outer world! I must see it with my own eyes! And I hear the call of those who guard me! I must return!
Jael felt a rush of sadness. She reached back in thought to the draconae, wondering if it was possible for her to accompany the dragon into the outer world. She heard murmurs of regret, and knew that this was beyond the power of the draconae; she could be with Windrush in the underrealm, and only there. Windrush, she said softly, I must leave you when you go. But you may find me in the Dream Mountain, and I will be calling your name in the underrealm.
The dragon answered, I wish you could remain with me, Jael. But look for me soon, in the Dream Mountain! He bobbed his great, ghostly head at Ar. Perhaps you can steer your ship up through the underrealm with me, and join us in flight to the Dark Vale, to see our victory?
Ar hesitated. We will try, he said. But we have suffered damage. I don't know how well we can manage.
Then let us fly back through the underrealm, and I will lead you and help, as in the past, said Windrush. He turned in a great sweep. One Ed scrambled to rejoin Jael, and the other fluttered back to the prow of the ship; and Windrush, with Jael still on his back, sent his kuutekka fleeing back toward the Black Peak, where his dragon companions were calling for his return. Jael glanced backward and saw the silver starship trailing behind, trying to keep up.
The Black Peak was dark and silent now. The shadows of Windrush's flight of dragons were clustered there, waiting. Jael—farewell for now! Windrush cried softly. Ar—follow me, if you can!
Jael, will I see you again? called Ar.
Fly to the Dream Mountain. I will be waiting, Jael answered. Let Windrush bring you. Come soon—! Her words were interrupted by a series of squawks as the two parrots spun around one another a last time, then separated.
Awwwk—Ed!
Ed—rawwwwk!
G'bye—!
G'bye—!
And Jael's Ed soared back into her eyes and landed fluttering among her thoughts, while the other Ed circled Ar in the ship's net. Everything shrank then, and her friends vanished, and Jael felt her kuutekka moving with dizzying speed back through the underrealm. In an eyeblink she felt the reassuring presence of the Dream Mountain surrounding her again; and her thoughts were filled with the chiming choir of the draconae, sharing with her the joy of victory.
* * *
Windrush emerged, lightheaded, from the underrealm to find his fellow dragons clustered on
the slope around him, rumbling with questions. "It is astonishing!" he cried, blinking and twisting his head about.
"Windrush, what happened?"
"Tell us!"
"We felt the air shaking—"
"The Enemy has fallen!" Windrush cried. "Tar-skel has fallen!"
"Windrush, are you all right? WHAT HAPPENED?"
It took him a few moments to catch his breath and look around to see that the other dragons and he were alone here. The Black Peak was dark and silent; the glowing window from Tar-skel's old sorcery was gone. "My brothers," he began. "It is not easy to say—"
"Windrush! What is that?" cried Fleetwing, to his left.
Windrush turned his head. A silver spaceship was shimmering into view in the air, and he blew a tongue of flame in greeting. "Welcome, Ar—and Ed—friends of Jael, of Windrush, and Highwing!" he called. To the bewildered dragons, he explained, "They came to help us defeat the Enemy—in the underrealm, with Jael! Riggers, if you would, come ride on my back."
Windrush launched himself from the mountain slope. The other dragons murmured with amazement as the spaceship approached Windrush, then disappeared, as a humanlike rigger and a parrot materialized upon the dragon's shoulders.
"Awwwk! Again we ride!" squawked the parrot.
"Indeed," said Windrush. "And now, my friends, let us return to the Dark Vale and join the others! I must see with my own eyes what has happened! Quickly, now—quickly as the wind, let us fly!"
And as they gathered and sped from the Black Peak toward the Dark Vale, Windrush blew joyous tongues of flame and realized that he hardly felt weary at all.
* * *
"Rakhandroh!" the dragon whispered, over and over, as they approached the Dark Vale. It was not just the sight of the vale itself that was astonishing—the air filled with shouting, triumphant dragons, and the floor below swarming with dragons, flyers, and shadow-cats who were staggering up from craters, caverns, and crevices, blinking at their newfound freedom. Looming over that sight was something even more astonishing, more rakhandroh, rising above the horizon far beyond the vale: it was a great, shimmering glass mountain, freed at last from the sorcery that had kept it hidden. The Dream Mountain!
Dragon Space Page 74
