They emerged from the mountain, gulping in the fresh air, then began a slow, zigzagging flight. They searched the sky in all directions; there were no dragons visible, or anything else living. A smoky red sun was going down behind a line of mountains to their left. They had emerged, apparently, deep within the range. Which way should they go? Toward the sun? That might take them out of the range, Jael thought, out of the dragon realm altogether. She wasn't sure. She hesitated, thinking of Highwing. Peering to the right, she saw nothing in particular, but felt something, a small familiar twinge. She turned that way, on a heading that would take them even deeper into the mountains. Ar followed silently.
* * *
I wish I knew what was happening here, Jael muttered, as they sailed slowly through an evening gathering into night, guided only by starlight and by intuition. I wish I knew what was wrong.
Ar's voice betrayed his tension. One thing I know is that we don't belong in this place. It's not our territory, Jael. And what about our ship? We're responsible for the vessel, you know.
She nodded, but had no answer. She knew that Ar's fear was intensified by his newly shaken assumptions about reality. At least that was what she told herself. Maybe she was endangering her crewmates and ship by proceeding on this heading, but she didn't know that for sure, and she didn't want to think about it. Her concern now was for Highwing. She felt certain that he must be in some terrible danger, that nothing else would have kept him from coming to her. She refused to consider the possibility that he might be dead. And if he was alive, she was determined to find him.
But how? She was afraid to call out again. Something about this place felt fundamentally wrong; she could not tell exactly what, but something in her heart, some intuition told her that this place had somehow been twisted and made wrong. It was not just the behavior of the dragons. She felt it in the air, in the darkness, even in the starlight reflecting off the mountains, and in the clouds scooting overhead; something was not right here. Ed seemed to sense it as well; he seemed quiet but skittish, as though he were expecting sudden disaster. She remembered the dragon magic that Highwing had once shared with her. Now, she thought she sensed another magic, similar in its power maybe, but dark and brooding, a power that did not approve of her presence here. She felt that they were being watched as they flew through these night-shrouded mountains, and she did not like her feeling of what might be watching them.
Highwing would know what to make of it, if he were here. If he could hear her call. Highwing, she whispered, almost silently. Friend of Highwing. And she swallowed, afraid that even that soft murmur would attract the wrong sort of attention.
A massive peak loomed off to the left. Ahead and to starboard, a ridge of peaks seemed to stretch out forever. Ar was humming softly as he steered, wielding the tiller of a sailing ship at sea—a sea of air—riding what breeze there was, as Jael smelled and evaluated the air. Ed was perched beside her, turning his head alertly. Smell something, Ed?
The parrot made a guttural sound, then said distinctly but softly, Lizards. Graggons. Nearby.
Jael felt a chill of fear . . . and hope. Do you know . . . can you sense . . . whether they are friendly or not?
Hraww. Nope. The parrot lifted his beak. Smell them. Close.
Jael sensed Ar taking a deep breath, then settling back. He was no longer humming. He was afraid, she knew—terribly afraid of what she was getting them into. Nevertheless, he was willing to follow. Whatever she did now . . . she was responsible for his life and Ed's, as well as her own. She drew a breath and said, raising her voice just above a whisper, I am Jael, friend of Highwing. Who knows where is Highwing?
The night answered with utter silence.
The dragons came in silence, as well. Ed make a choking sound, and an instant later, Jael saw starlight reflected in the eyes of a great winged serpent as it swept across their bow, shaking them violently. Jael helped Ar to steady the ship, and as she did so, she heard a voice like thunder, calling, DI-I-I-I-I-E-E-E . . . LIKE HIM-M-M . . .
She could not see their foe, or foes, in the night. But she heard a scream of rage—and she and Ar, terrified, drew the net in tight—as a blast of fire lifted them and hurled them downwind. Ar, hold on! I AM A FRIEND OF HIGHWING! she bellowed, knowing that it was stupid and futile.
A dragon shot past, its wingtip catching them and flipping them into a dive, its own body illuminated by a glow of dragon fire. AWAY, BROTHER! Jael heard, as another dragon thundered past, raking the first with flame. She and Ar struggled to pull out of the dive, cursing the sluggishness of the damaged net; and only after they were level again did it register in her mind that she had seen one dragon attacking another!
She turned to look. A pair of gleaming dragon eyes was bearing down on them from above and behind. What do you want? she screamed, ashamed of the fear in her voice, but unable to keep it out.
There was no answer; there was only a dark, reeking wing blotting out the night and enveloping them, with a control so total that there was no hope of escape. Then a voice roared, I CLAIM THESE RIGGERS AS MINE! And in reply, there were loud blasts of fury; but Jael, barely able to see beyond the dragon's wing, thought that she sensed the other creatures veering away, leaving them uncontested to their captor.
She and Ar struggled to free themselves. She felt a flash of hope as the wing opened and the night air washed over them, but the hope vanished again as the dragon caught them with its powerful talons. Jael grunted as the net absorbed the force, and she felt a woolly darkness growing around her as the dragon did something to the space surrounding her.
As she lost sight of the mountains and the night, she heard a dragon's throaty voice murmur, Why do you call out to my father, you foolish riggers?
Chapter 25: Windrush
THEY FLEW on in silence for a time, until Jael recovered her senses. What did you say? Are you . . . is Highwing your father? She felt Ar close to her and Ed trembling nervously under her arm, and the air rushing past, but she could not see where they were going. She was trying hard not to be afraid.
The dragon's voice answered throatily, That depends, I would say.
Depends? On what? she whispered.
On who and what you really are, rigger-demon. I am not so eager to give even my father's name without knowing—
Jael interrupted the dragon, her voice almost failing. I am Jael, friend of Highwing!
The air trembled suddenly, and the curious darkness that had enveloped them fell away. Once more the mountains were visible in the night, beyond the great set of claws that imprisoned them high in the air. Overhead, the dragon's wings beat steadily. The dragon bent its head down to angle a look at them with one green eye. I see. It raised its head again and snorted sparks into the air. Then, Jael, it rumbled softly, I am Windrush, Son of Highwing, and I am grieved and honored to meet you. I shall allow you to see where we are bound.
Windrush! Jael cried, recognizing a part of Highwing's own name.
Quiet! Do not shout my name, or my father's name, again! Nor, if you are wise, your own name.
Jael drew a breath and asked softly. Why? What is happening? Where is your father?
In answer, she heard a soft murmur that was almost like a chuckle, but it seemed to carry no amusement, only sadness. Finally the dragon answered. In time, rigger. In due time, we may speak of that. But first we must reach a place of safety.
We can fly, Jael said.
No. I will bear you. It is safer that way. And I sense, rigger, that you are hampered. Your strength is not all that it might be. The dragon beat his wings harder, gaining altitude. Rest and conserve yourself, and later we will talk about what will become of us. He was silent again for a moment, before adding, And perhaps, in time, I will learn the names of your companions, as well. But until then—
My name is Ar, the Clendornan interrupted, in a low voice. And this is our parrot—
Rawk! Ed! My name Ed!
The dragon peered back down in surprise, losing some altitude as
he craned his neck. His eyes glowed briefly. So, he said finally, working to regain the lost altitude. You are indeed a strange and impulsive breed, you riggers. So quickly you decide. So quickly. Do you not know that the giving of your name can open you to your enemies as well as to your friends? He flew in silence for a few moments. I suppose I must follow in my father's error. I can Windrush. Honored and grieved. I had hoped—frankly—that you would not return to this realm, rigger-called-Jael. Why are you here?
We arrived by accident, as a matter of fact, Ar answered.
Accident! the dragon exclaimed, snorting sparks. It must have been some accident to bring you here at such a time as this. Some accident, indeed!
Why? Jael asked softly. What danger is your father in? Everything seems different to me here. What is happening?
The dragon's wings beat the air, making a sound like a sail flapping in a changing breeze. These are dark times, riggers, he said, after a pause. You come here at great peril to yourselves.
I can see that. But I had thought, as Highwing's friend, that I would receive a better welcome.
The dragon snorted. Did you now? I trust that you have come to understand otherwise. Jael swallowed and nodded. Still, the dragon sighed, I must recognize your friendship with my father.
We, too, recognize her commitment to Highwing, Ar said. His voice trembled only a little as he addressed the dragon.
I see. Admirable of you. I know of Jael's vow—but not of yours, however. I think for now I must blind you to our course. Perhaps all will be made clear later.
Before any of them could reply, an airborne darkness curled in like streaming ink and surrounded Ar and Ed. And Jael, discomfited, was left alone with the dragon—alone, except for the faint rustling of the parrot's wings in the region of darkness.
* * *
The aerie was high in the mountains, well hidden within a labyrinth of ridges and outcroppings. Jael had stayed in the net with Windrush, rather than withdrawing into the ship where she might speak to her rigger companions. She had thought it best to watch the route that Windrush was flying, in the event that she had to retrace it without the dragon's help. However, she'd long since lost track of the twists and turns.
They did not speak again until the dragon came to a landing. Wings flapping vigorously, he first released Jael and the inky cloud containing her friends onto a narrow outcropping. Then he himself alighted, gripping the rock with his talons. The dragon was enormous, perched beside Jael. Can you continue on foot? he asked, peering down at her. Will your ship—is that what you call it?—allow that? His gaze shifted to the ghostly shadow of the ship that trailed behind her, only dimly perceptible in the night.
Jael nodded and made the ship disappear. What about Ar and Ed?
The dragon made a tsking sound as he peered at the cliff face above them. Smoke issued from his nostrils, and a rumble from his throat. Jael started. There was now a large opening in the rock wall, where before there had been none. The night air shimmered, and Ar stood beside her while Ed fluttered in the air. The parrot made a grab for her shoulder. Glizzard! he scolded. Graggon tricks! Yaww!
Dragon, Jael corrected gently. Hush, now, Ed. We're entering the dragon's lair, and you must be respectful of his ways. And of his magic. She turned to Windrush, who issued a thin stream of smoke into the cave, as though to usher them in. Jael drew an uneasy breath and walked into the side of the mountain.
The stone passageway that she had somehow been expecting wasn't there. Instead, they stepped directly into a mammoth cavern, which was dimly illumined by the glow of burning embers. Drawn instinctively toward the fire, they approached a stone hearth at the end of the cavern, followed by the hissing dragon. Their footsteps echoed hollowly. Jael stood before the hearth, marveling at the firelight that seemed to issue from a silently burning bush. She tipped her head back, peering upward. The shifting fireglow was so dim, and the cavern vault so high, that the ceiling was impossible to see clearly. Ar, beside her, gazed around with eyes that sparkled purplish red. She touched his arm, wanting to say something encouraging, but not sure just what. She let her hand drop and turned to Windrush.
The dragon, more in the manner of an enormous dog than of a serpent, had curled up to make himself comfortable on the floor of the cavern. He gazed at them with eyes that, like Ar's, caught the glow of the hearth; but the dragon's eyes were far larger and more luminous, a deep emerald green like Highwing's. Jael approached the dragon to speak, but found herself captivated by something that seemed to dance within those eyes. There was an entrancing play of light within them, a cool, faceted fire that was more than just light. It occurred to her how much like Highwing's eyes they were—powerful and spellbinding. She had intended to ask again what had happened to Highwing, but it was too late to speak now, too late to stop whatever Windrush was doing to her with his eyes. You fool, she thought. You should have expected it.
The dragon's gaze was a bottomless well. She was already submerged in it, sinking deeper into the faceted fire, losing her awareness of self, drawn into the abyss of light by a consciousness that was reaching out to touch hers. And now it was drawing her into itself, as irresistibly as another dragon had, once before. And now it was studying her, observing what it was she wanted so deeply, why she was here, and showing her why that could not be, could never be . . . .
* * *
When Jael jerked herself back to a confused awareness, she stepped back involuntarily on the cold stone floor and stared at the dragon in disbelief. Her mind was full of images she did not understand: visions of a dark enchantment across the land; of a great mountain that could not be found, and of the shimmering crystalline beings who lived in it; visions of warfare and strife among dragons; and of one particular dragon persecuted above all, one dragon held prisoner by an angry army of his own kind. She had not been shown that dragon's face, but a tight knot in her chest suggested who it was.
She shuddered, twisting away from the luminous eyes, from the smoldering nostrils. You did not know of these things, Windrush hissed, sounding surprised.
Oh, Highwing! Jael whispered to herself. And to Windrush, How could I have known? She turned to Ar, who was watching their exchange in bewilderment. She wanted to explain, but her thoughts were churning, so confused that she didn't know what to say. Finally she turned back to the dragon. Is all this—all that you've shown me—and her voice stumbled, because there was so much that she didn't understand—is all this true? Has it really happened?
The dragon's voice rumbled, not just with sorrow, but with anger. Do you think I create such images in my imagination? I am no rigger to create demon visions! His nostrils steamed as he turned his gaze away. Forgive me. I should not have used that word, "demon." I have known of you, rigger Jael! His gaze turned back, and it was full of fire. I have known, of you! My father made known to me his friendship with you. And I have wondered ever since whether to hate you for my father's suffering!
But why? she cried. Why has he suffered because of me? She could still see the image that Windrush had put into her mind moments ago: an image of a lone dragon imprisoned by sorcery in a chamber of stone, imprisoned with no appeal, no mercy, no hope of escape. The image tore at her heart.
Ahh! Windrush sighed despairingly. Did he tell you nothing of what he was doing? Nothing of the price he was paying? Nothing of the prophecy?
What? Jael whispered. And she remembered that, yes, Highwing had seemed troubled once or twice. He'd spoken of a prophecy; he'd told her that he was doing something . . . not done, whatever that meant. His words had been disturbing to her, but she had been preoccupied and had not understood, and then had forgotten . . . as she had forgotten his warning, too late remembered, to beware of other dragons. She remembered Highwing's brief quarrel with another dragon in his garden; and she remembered a creature called "iffling," whose words concerning Jael had seemed to trouble Highwing, as well.
Windrush's gaze had flashed to Ar, who was gesturing for someone to explain. Would you know, t
oo? Would you see?
Ar's breath whistled out. I would.
Then, the dragon cautioned, if you would see, you must be prepared to show me the nature of your own soul, in return. You must allow me to judge your heart. Windrush paused. I, too, am now doing what is forbidden. His eyes flashed deep sparks of fire. But my father discovered a truth in this matter that I cannot ignore. If you say that you recognize Jael's commitment—
Look, and judge, Ar said impatiently.
Windrush fell silent. Ar stepped forward to meet the dragon's eyes, and at once stiffened into a trance. Jael, bursting with questions, could only watch. After a hundred agonizingly long heartbeats, she saw Ar break his gaze from Windrush's. He seemed deeply troubled as he turned away. He didn't speak, but sat near the hearth, pondering.
Tell me, please, Jael begged the dragon. What has happened to your father? Is he alive?
Dragons in the Stars Page 27
