Dragon Rigger

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  There was a vague sense of mountains around her, and beneath her, and above her, and nowhere to go, nothing and no one to save her. . . .

  Chapter 38: Death and Freedom

  The life-monitor alarms clamored in the net.

  Ar watched Jarvorus strike—felt Jael's passing, like a flame through his heart. He screamed, NOOO! But it was too late. In his effort to free her, he had only opened the way to her death.

  As the binding spell dissolved, she began to grow transparent in the net. Ar cried out, helpless to stop what was happening. She wavered and vanished from the net. For an instant, she seemed to take form again on the outside, adrift in the Flux; then she flickered like a ghost, and was gone. Jael . . . Jael . . . Jael . . . ! When he finally managed to stop shouting her name, not just aloud, but in his mind, he knew that it was over. Had he heard her crying out to him at the end? He wasn't sure.

  An internal indicator flared red in the net, warning of critical life-signs in rigger-station number two. Auto-resuscitation had switched on, but was cycling without effect. Ar cursed the alarm and shut it off. He couldn't get out of the net to go to her physical aid, even if he knew of anything he could do that the auto-unit couldn't. He was helpless.

  He had no chance to think about it further. The tensions in the net were shifting drastically. Jael's side of the net fluttered and closed down, like a bubble collapsing. Ar's side expanded abruptly into the space; he gasped with the sudden power rushing into the net, and realized that he had been frozen in various vectors of movement, like a wrestler caught in mid-struggle, a dozen muscles pulling in different directions. With the sudden release of power, the ship began spinning and tumbling, and he had to act frantically to neutralize his control inputs and damp down the movements.

  He had control of the ship again, at least—however damaged the net. The interference between his station and Jael's was now gone, along with Jael herself. He recognized the cause of his new freedom, and shuddered with grief, which rocked the ship yet again. He knew he had to control his thoughts, and discover what forces were acting upon the ship, and understand them.

  He stretched his hands into the Flux and felt the air shaking violently. It was not just his internal struggle, then; the whole cavern was shaking, and Hodakai had contracted in his jar to a tiny, dark shadow. Ar could no longer see the false-iffling. Ed, are you with me? Hodakai? Jarvorus? WHAT'S HAPPENING?

  It was all he could do to keep the ship from careening sideways into the cavern walls. There seemed to be an earthquake shaking the mountain, and he had no idea how to protect himself and the ship. He didn't know how to get out of the cavern, and anyway, he was loath to leave the place where Jael had vanished. How could he be sure she was gone for good? How could he know she was . . . dead?

  Enough! he snapped aloud. You have a ship to bring in—control your thoughts! And his voice caught, because what did he care about bringing in the ship, if it meant leaving his friend behind?

  STOP—THINKING—! he shouted to himself, until his voice echoed from the walls of the cavern.

  Against the din, he at last heard a small voice calling out to him: Ar! Ar, friend of Jael! The realm trembles! The One has come, and given her life! The sorcery has been shaken! Can you feel it?

  Who was that? Jarvorus? Ar scanned the area and finally saw the false-iffling, crouching low in its animal form. Its eyes were wild with fear and excitement.

  Is this what you intended? Ar shouted.

  It has begun! cried the false-iffling. She has torn the sorcery! Even the Nail of Strength cannot undo it now. But the danger is not passed!

  Flee! cried another voice, quaking with fright. Warn the people! Go home! It was Hodakai, dashing violently from one side of his containment to the other. Take word! Take warning! Go!

  Ar stared at him. Take warning? To whom? How? But there was no waiting for an answer, because at that moment a tremendous crack appeared in the cavern walls, forward and back, and through the floor. My sacred word, Ar whispered. The cavern was splitting open like an eggshell, and through the opening he could see only a roiling darkness. Hodakai, do you know what's happening—?

  But he had no chance to finish, because he and his ship were suddenly falling. . . .

  * * *

  Hodakai watched in astonishment as the rigger-ship, a distorted silvery shadow with the ghostly shape of a Clendornan at its prow, tumbled through the crevasse that gaped open in his cavern. It vanished, twinkling, into the abyss. The realm was shaking and he feared for his own survival, oh yes—but somehow the thing that hurt the worst was watching the only rigger-ship that he had seen in half a lifetime vanish from sight. Where was it falling to? Back to the static realm? Or to somewhere else in the Flux? It hardly mattered. Ar and the ship were gone.

  And so was Jael. He had seen her spirit gather and vanish like smoke, and whether her role was done now, he couldn't guess, but one thing he knew, and that was that Rent was going to be angry. Oh yes, he would be angry. And for once, Hodakai felt no ambivalence about it. He was thrilled—and terrified, yes, but ecstatic that they had subverted the Enemy's plan. Yes, the Enemy. His enemy. There was no going back on that now.

  He wished that Windrush would come, so that he could tell the dragon what he had done. But of course that was impossible. The dragons were battling for their lives at this very moment, and the fact that he and Jael and the others had just double-crossed Tar-skel here didn't mean that the dragons were going to prevail. They were all still very much in danger.

  Jarvorus! he called across the shaking cavern, across the abyss, looking for the false-iffling. Jarvorus, what do you see? Have we struck a good blow? Is she—?

  And there his voice failed him, because he could not bring himself to say the words, to ask, is she dead?

  The false-iffling didn't answer, anyway.

  Turning restlessly, Hodakai probed a short way into the underrealm, looking for any sign of Jael. The only thing he could really do was to reach out to Rent, and to crow about what they'd done here. But though he was exultant, he was not that exultant. He would keep his triumph to himself just a little longer.

  And anyway, things were shaking terribly down in the underrealm: the familiar channels and pathways were buried or swept away by earthquake, wind and storm, and fire. He pulled out, gasping, and clung to his existence in the spirit jar, in the cavern. It was like clinging to the surface of an avalanche; the spell that kept him alive here was holding, but for how much longer?

  Jarvorus, talk to me! he cried, searching the cavern with his gaze.

  But Jarvorus seemed to have vanished.

  * * *

  The warrior-spirit huddled in a pocket of the underrealm, stunned by the cataclysm that they seemed to have unleashed. Were the Words so powerful? He knew, of course, that they were something that caused his former masters both tremendous hope and tremendous fear. But were they so deeply woven into the sorcery that they could cause all this to happen?

  Jarvorus knew that he had tampered with powers greater than he could ever understand. Rent would be here soon, was almost certainly on his way here at this instant; and if Jarvorus was lucky, if he was very lucky, his death would be quick. He was not sorry, he did not think that he was sorry, but he was very, very frightened. The sprite-warriors that he commanded had all fled in terror. He wasn't sure why he stayed himself, except that he had nowhere to go. This cavern was the closest thing he had to a home—here, where he had shared in Jael's momentous death. And here he would live or die in consequence of that act.

  These forces shaking the cavern were, he perceived, only echoes of far greater powers that were cascading through the distant reaches of the underrealm. He hoped he would be able to detect Rent coming, in the confusion.

  Not that it mattered in the end. He had done what he had been born to do, and that was what mattered.

  * * *

  As Seneca tumbled through the violently shifting currents in the Flux, Ar fought to regain control. Was he alone now? Wa
s Ed gone, too? He couldn't see where he was going, and had no outside references; but it felt as though something was pulling the ship onward, something that was disturbing the whole fabric of the Flux here. More of Tar-skel's sorcery?

  Even as he fought back spatial disorientation, his mind was wheeling through useless lines of thought. Hodakai had urged him to go warn the home universe. What was he supposed to do? Return to Cargeeling and announce that the universe was in peril from a terrible, invisible evil somewhere in the Flux?

  Please, he whispered to the darkness, this cannot be real, cannot be happening. Jael, speak to me! Ed! But he had sensed Ed diving into Jael's consciousness, just before she had died. Could he have survived?

  He felt the answer before he heard it, a nudge at the front of the net, a snapping of wings. Ed! he gasped. He tried to bring light into the net, just a faint instrument-glow of light, so as not to dazzle himself against the darkness outside.

  The parrot was flying to and fro, almost drunkenly. He was trying to orient himself, trying to find up and down. His green feathers gleamed in the light Ar had created. Ed, Ar whispered. I thought I flet you go over to Jael! I thought you went with her!

  The rasp of the parrot's voice was a balm to his spirit. Rrrrawk. Did go. Did. Ed wheeled and flew straight into Ar's gaze. He could feel the parrot's thoughts collide with his, then spin away, trying to help him wrestle the ship back under control. Ed split. Hawwwwk—went both ways! Ed dizzy. What happening, Arrr? What-t-t-t?

  Ar took a sharp breath. Ed had split? But of course, he was a cyberparrot, all pattern and artificial intelligence. Of course he could duplicate himself.

  Fly, Ar—awwwk! What happening?

  I don't know, Ar murmured. Jael's gone, Ed—gone! We killed her, Jarvorus killed her. He tried to find purchase in the currents with a set of short, stubby wings. There was something ahead . . . something drawing them closer . . . something that made him fearful.

  Hawwwwk-k! Gone yes! Ed squawked, joining him in the effort. Maybe not killed! Maybe not! Scrawwww!

  Ed, it won't help to deny it. Ar saw something ahead now, a dull reddish glow in the far distance. He was regaining control over the ship, at least enough to ride through the shuddering changes in the flow; and that glowing thing, whatever it was, gave him a reference to fix upon. Jael, where are you? he cried, deep in his heart, amazed that a Clendornan could so hurt for a human. Where have you gone? Did you find Windrush before you died? Did we kill you for anything good?

  Don't know she died, Ed insisted, chopping his beak in Ar's direction.

  Ed, there's just no way—look at the monitors in the rigger-stations. His voice caught as he looked himself. Life-signs in her station have ceased, he whispered. And he realized that he had just pronounced the evidence against any remaining hope he might have had.

  Aawwrrrrr, Ed growled, gargling. Does Ed live? DOES HE? Ed taken from his body! And Ed WENT with Jayyyl! Flapping his wings angrily, Ed shot back to the front of the net and stretched it as far as it would go, scanning ahead toward the red thing that was drawing them on.

  Ar stared dumbly at the parrot. Ed lived in the net with him, through cyberchip technology, though his body was long since gone. Could Jael have somehow survived? And Ed had sent his memories and personality with Jael. Ar wondered if Ed was so angry right now because he wasn't with her—this half of him wasn't with her. Ed, do you really think she . . . could have survived, somehow?

  Hawwwww, don't . . . KNOWWWW! Ed wailed, flapping from side to side ahead of him.

  Then hope, Ed! Ar thought silently. And help me hope.

  The thing ahead of them was beginning to loom like an object of substantial mass and size. It appeared that this was the object that was drawing them forward. It was a sullen red thing, surrounded by a spiraling veil of gas and dust.

  Sacred word, Ed—is that a black hole ahead of us? Ar whispered in shock, realizing that he should have recognized the danger long ago.

  Rawk-k-k? Hawww? Ed asked, casting a frightened glance back at him.

  Ed clearly did not know what a black hole was, and Ar didn't have time to explain. If that's what it was, he needed to act at once, or they would be following Jael in death a lot sooner than he'd thought. There was a very strong current carrying them, and up to now, he had not tried to steer out of it. He was completely lost, navigationally, and wasn't even sure that they were in a charted layer of the Flux. But a quick check of the instruments revealed that, indeed, the object out there was distorting space on a cosmic scale. It was a singularity of some sort, and though he couldn't be sure that it was a normal-space black hole, the readings indicated that they were fast approaching the epicenter of a cataclysmic disturbance.

  Ed, shear off! If we fall into that thing ahead, we'll be crushed! Ar made a fast judgment as to which direction offered them the best hope of veering free—and kicking the ship over sharply on its stubby wings, he began a slow crawl across the main current.

  The parrot saw what he was doing, and bent his wings to help him. It was like crossing a turbulent sea on a raft, fighting their way across a water roiling with cross-chop. Ar tried, for the sake of clarity, to remake the image that way; but either the net was too badly damaged or Ar was too exhausted from his uninterrupted time in the net, because his efforts were futile. The current was dark and invisible, and they had to fight ceaselessly to keep the ship from tumbling out of control.

  Ar realized, as he stared at the glowing thing, just how weary he was. But he could not let up, he could not even pause to mourn his lost friend and shipmate, he could only fight to cross the increasingly powerful currents, fight to save his ship. And not just that, he realized with a flash of horror. Once they escaped this—if they escaped it—they needed to discover if this terrible thing was the beginning of Tar-skel's breakthrough into the static realm, into Ar's own universe.

  With a glance at Ed, laboring in his small way to help steer the ship, Ar realized that he had to keep hoping, had to do whatever he could to ensure that Jael had not given her life in vain.

  The singularity before them glowed ever brighter as they drew closer to it. Gradually its light, scattering through the gas and dust around them, began to illuminate the actual currents—and Ar began to hope, for the first time, that he might indeed be able to fly his way out.

  Chapter 39: To the Dream Mountain

  It was the most difficult challenge of his life. As FullSky stretched farther and farther into the underrealm, following the speeding iffling, he felt that at any moment he would stretch past the limit, and his kuutekka would part from his body forever, and this was where he would die. The underrealm here seemed a hollow void; but he felt the chaos of battle in the Dark Vale booming like a distant drum. He knew that time was growing short.

  Somehow he did not reach the limit of his strength. As the small, fiery iffling vanished into a nest of underrealm spells deep within a mountain, FullSky felt a sudden renewal of his energy, and he knew that somehow the draconae were lending him strength through the underrealm connection. He plunged into the mountain, and found himself peering with astonishment at a place he recognized—Hodakai's cavern.

  Floating in the cavern near the spirit jar was a strange gathering of beings: the iffling, a false-iffling, and several unfamiliar creatures existing within a gleaming vessel that he imagined to be a rigger-ship. He realized at once that one of them, caught in a web of sorcery, was Jael. The iffling streaked back to him, whispering, Hurry, dragon—if you can do anything to help!

  It took FullSky a long heartbeat to understand what was happening. And by then, Jael was dying. Suddenly FullSky knew that a staggering betrayal had just occurred—not against the riggers, but against the Enemy. The cavern had begun to shake, and many of the spells woven around it were unraveling.

  But Jael was dying. Had he come only to watch her pass to the Final Dream Mountain?

  HELP HER! screamed the iffling, its voice a torn whistle of wind.

  It took FullSky a fraction o
f an instant, which was almost longer than he had, to come to his senses and begin crafting a weaving through the threads of the underrealm. It was his fastest and most perilous weaving yet; he cast it breathlessly around the dying spirit of the rigger. Her kuutekka was already expanding, stretching, thinning, searching in desperation for that which she could not see or find . . .

  Not yet, Jael! FullSky whispered, pouring his remaining strength into the spell. I will not let you go to the Final Dream Mountain. Not yet. We need you too much here . . . !

  * * *

  The tides of space and time seemed to sway her this way and that in the fuzzy strangeness that was death. She knew she was no longer a part of the world, that she was caught up and carried by forces beyond her reckoning; but the strangest thing, as she came to be aware of it, was that she was aware of anything at all.