Dragons in the Stars

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  She blinked the thought away, determinedly shaking her head. Ar had asked her a question. What would they do when they reached the Black Peak? She had no idea. She knew only that she had to be there. If there was any way to save Highwing's life . . . but what could she possibly hope to accomplish against dragons massed and bent upon murder? And what about Tar-skel? Now that she knew its name, did that mean that she was tied to it forever, always to be its foe? She shivered, and felt a tremor pass through Windrush's massive body.

  The mountains changed slowly as they flowed past. The peaks were becoming bolder, more pronounced against the sky, black against grey. The frail light of dawn only hinted at the sunrise that was surely to come. In the air, Jael noticed tiny flecks of light drifting toward them, like windborne sparks in the night. Windrush veered slightly to intercept them. They flashed and twinkled for an instant, as he snapped them out of the air with his great jaws. His wing-strokes seemed to grow stronger, as though he had gained sustenance from the sparks. Lumenis wind-dust, he remarked, but didn't explain further.

  Jael didn't ask; she had more urgent things on her mind.

  There, Windrush said a few minutes later, indicating a dark, massive peak directly ahead. There you will soon see dragons . . . more than you can imagine. And you will see one dragon worth more than all of the others together. Sparks from his exhalation flew back past his head, past Jael and Ar.

  The sunrise came quickly, a sudden blaze of maroon and gold from the range off to their right. In the glory of the new day, Jael suddenly descried what Windrush had promised: dragons—dozens, or perhaps hundreds, of them—a vast ring of dragons circling the summit of the peak ahead. She recognized it from the images Windrush had shared with her: the Black Peak, highest peak in the realm. It loomed, a great and terrible turret against the sky. The dragons were still far away; they looked more like a thick flock of blackbirds. If only they were mere birds! Somewhere among them should be the one dragon who mattered to Jael. Somewhere among them should be Highwing.

  She realized that she was having trouble breathing, and she forced herself to take slow, deliberate breaths, and to relax slightly the grip of her whitened knuckles on Windrush's knobs. She glanced at Ar, and saw in his eyes a sober acceptance of what was to come. If—she began, and stopped. If we don't . . . Her voice hurt; she swallowed and shook her head. What was there to say that he didn't already know? Ar smiled, his lips a forced crinkle pattern, and he peered straight ahead, not meeting her eyes. She thought she heard him humming. She nodded and focused on calming herself, trying to gather her strength.

  She felt a wave of dizziness and, just for an instant, felt thoughts that were not her own. It was a familiar touch, but it was gone already, and she cried out silently, trying in vain to recapture it. But it had triggered something else in her mind. Another memory rose up hauntingly, infuriatingly, into her thoughts. Not now! she cried silently. Please not now! It was her father again, scowling, signing the permissions that would send her to rigger school. She wanted to scream her plea—Not now!—but she was helpless to speak as the memory flushed through her. Whatever else her father had done, he had allowed her to become a rigger, had left her the money that let her finish the training that took her to the stars, that kept her alive and brought her here. That was what Highwing had seen, and had tried to show her, so long ago.

  She felt that distant other's presence again now, but only for an instant, a tickle in her awareness. She recognized the touch of Highwing's magic—still at work, even in the face of his impending death.

  Then she saw him. Her breath went out in a frightened gasp.

  He was a distant, still tiny figure, perched on the very summit of that black mountain. The other dragons were circling around him like buzzards. Jael could not have said how she recognized Highwing from such a distance, or how she knew precisely what the other dragons were doing—that they were executioners awaiting their moment of triumph. But those facts were as stark in her mind as the newborn daylight, and as hurtful as a searing sun. They're going to throw him down! she whispered, scarcely able to voice the words.

  No, Windrush answered. Far worse than that. And his wings beat with even greater urgency, carrying them ever more swiftly toward the peak. Butchers! Devils! he cried out in anguish.

  Jael struggled to draw breath into her lungs, but she felt as though a giant fist were crushing her chest. Gasping, she fought to speak. Closer, Windrush! Closer! Faster!

  The dragon did not answer, but his wings furiously drummed the air. Jael squinted through tears, trying to focus on the peak. Highwing! she thought. Damn them all—I'm here, Highwing!

  They soared so fast and high that the peak mushroomed in size before them. The dragons circling the peak were now just ahead of them, and to the sides. But Jael scarcely noticed; she saw only the lone dragon atop the peak, turning his head to and fro, flapping his wings wide, but not flying. The air around the peak shimmered as though with heat, and it reverberated with the sound of chanting, and that was when she realized, when she felt with a shivering certainty, that more than just a multitude of dragons opposed Highwing. There was a powerful sorcery at work, altering the very nature of the Flux, and it was that power which held him prisoner. She heard a thin Rrrrrr . . . graggons . . . and realized that Ed was smelling the executioners. He was hunched as low as he could get in front of her, and was trembling with fear.

  Highwing's head was turned away from them now. She urged Windrush onward. Closer. Suddenly, a hot, reeking blast rocked them, and two black dragons swooped in from either side, nearly colliding with Windrush. DO YOU WISH TO JOIN HIM, BROTHER? they bellowed, in voices that seemed to erupt from the bowels of the earth. WATCH, RIGGER-DEMONS! WATCH! AND YOU TOO MAY JOIN HIM! The chanting swelled in the air, in a terrifying tongue that tore incomprehensibly at her ears and her mind and her heart.

  Clinging to Windrush as he veered from the other dragons, she drew a desperate lungful of air, and the cry exploded from her, full of rage: FRIEND OF HIGHWING! I AM JAEL, FRIEND OF HIGHWING! HIGHWING, I AM HERE! And she froze, thrilled and terrified by her own words.

  For an instant, all motion in the sky seemed to cease. She saw Highwing turn his head, and across the emptiness of space between them she glimpsed the fire in his emerald eyes, and she felt his mind brush against hers one more time. Windrush, turn back to him! she pleaded, and the dragon wheeled around and arrowed toward his father. AWAY FROM ME, BROTHERS! Windrush bellowed. And Jael cried, HIGHWING!

  The chant rose louder and faster, and the air was dark with dragons swarming, and alight with dragon-fire. And through the fire and smoke, she saw Highwing spread his wings wide and full, and leap from the mountain peak. Yes! she cried silently. You can escape!

  But Highwing banked and flew straight toward her, straight into the swarm of his captors. A thundering outcry arose. The air was torn apart like a curtain, and there was a dazzling flash where Highwing had been, and through the din she heard the cry: You came, Jael! You came! But when the light faded, Highwing was gone. A chorus of triumph from the executioners was cut short by a tremendous concussion, which lifted Windrush and his passengers and hurled them back from the peak.

  Highwing! Jael screamed.

  But he was gone. Only the other dragons remained, and they were already turning to attack their new foes.

  Windrush, where did they send him? she cried, her voice cracking with grief.

  For a prolonged breath, she heard nothing but the sound of rushing air, and then the dragon saying, To the static realm . . . to die alone, separated from this world forever . . . in a voice so dulled by grief and despair that his words seemed to make no sense at all. Jael rose high on the dragon's shoulder and leaned forward over his forehead ridges to gaze into the corner of his left eye. As she linked for just an instant with the dragon's mind, the image came clear in her own . . . to the static realm . . .

  And she knew what realm that was, a realm that dragons feared as deeply as any human feared the fires of H
ades . . .

  And in the space of one breath, with no time at all to think about it, she drew all of her strength around her, drew Ar and Ed close, and let the full gleaming shape of her starship billow out behind her. Ignoring the screams of rage from the other dragons, and Windrush crying to her to wait, she leaped away from Windrush's shoulders with a shout of farewell. And she hooked her fingers into the stuff of the Flux, and heedless of the babble of voices around her, clawed a rent in the continuum and wrenched the ship upward, spiraling upward, out of the Flux.

  Chapter 27: The Static Realm

  THEY EMERGED nearly inside a billowing red sun. The star loomed enormous before them, filling half the sky with its crimson photosphere. Seemingly dark granules and spots swam across its massive face, livid in the sensory-net image. The star poured out a ferocious radiation that was already threatening to overwhelm Seneca's shielding.

  Jael, what are you doing? Ar shouted. Get us out of here! He was already retuning the flux-pile, preparing to take them back into the Flux.

  Ar, no! He's here somewhere! They threw him out of the Flux, into our space!

  Ar was stunned silent for a moment. Jael, it's too late! There's nothing we can do for him!

  Jael worked frantically to engage the ship's normal-space controls through the net. We don't know it's too late! Ar, help me! We've got to scan for him! As she spoke, she turned on all of the normal-space sensors, setting them to search for anything solid.

  Yawww! Ed took wing in the net. Find him! Find him!

  Yes—help us! Jael was fumbling with the controls. It was awkward, piloting the ship in normal-space from within the rigger-net. Ar—can you pull out of the net and handle the ship from the bridge?

  The Clendornan's face loomed large before her. All right, Jael—but I'm not giving you much time. We can't last long this close to a star, and I'm not going to kill us trying!

  Just do it! He must be close. We left the Flux almost together.

  Ar's face vanished, and a moment later, she felt the normal-space controls slipping out of her grasp. She waited, nearly frantic, as the sudden silence seemed to stretch forever. She found herself shaking with fear, and under the terrible strain she felt something shake loose from her subconscious mind. Space itself seemed to quiver as a face rose up and floated before her, in her mind, exactly as Mogurn had appeared in the Flux after she'd killed him. She panted, struggling not to scream. It was her father's face, and she recognized the memory at once. It was her father in his final, tormented year, babbling, "Master your demons, Jael, master your demons!" He had never made peace with his own failures, yet still he haunted her with his failed advice. And yet . . . without him, she realized, she would not even be here . . .

  The face disappeared as Ar's voice reverberated into the net: Incredible, Jael—there's a small asteroid nearby. Its orbit is taking it into the sun's photosphere.

  Her heart jumped. Is there anything on it?

  Checking now. The imaging is very difficult . . .

  Jael's heart pounded as she waited for his report. Then she heard: There is something on it. I can't tell what. We'd have to shift our orbit inward to approach, and we don't have much maneuverability.

  Do it! she shouted. Don't waste time talking!

  She felt a shudder and knew that Ar had activated the maneuvering drive. Focusing from within the net, she located the asteroid, almost lost in the glare of the sun. She brought to bear all of the computer-imaging powers she had available . . .

  And she saw something knobby on the asteroid's surface. As they closed on it, the asteroid swelled in her view: a gnarled, airless rock, burning up in the glare and heat of the sun. Closer . . . larger . . .

  Do you see it, Jael? We've got to make our identification and get out!

  She strained, and saw that the object on the asteroid was . . . moving. Or was it her imagination?

  Closer . . .

  As the image grew, the knob began to look like something flapping in a breeze, an old bag, or a wounded animal struggling pathetically. It looked like nothing resembling a dragon, certainly not Highwing. And yet . . . she felt a tickling at the edge of her thoughts, the presence of something or someone familiar.

  Highwing! she whispered in agony.

  Jael, you don't know it's Highwing! she heard Ar protesting; or perhaps it was her own inner voice, trying to keep her from doing something insane. But she felt no doubt, she knew that her friend was out there, burning up in the sun. She had no idea what physical manifestation a dragon from the Flux would have in normal-space, in the "static realm," but she knew she had to get to him fast. Ar, get us closer!

  Jael, we can't help him! We can't land, and we can't go outside for him in this!

  She could imagine his consternation as she asked the impossible. But she didn't care about that; she didn't care about possible or impossible. If you won't do it, I will! But even as she spoke, she realized that Ar was already trying to do what she'd asked. The asteroid was looming very close now, but its rotation was carrying the thing on its surface from sight. Can you match its rotation, just for a minute? Can you get me close, Ar? Get me close, and I can reach him!

  Her friend was doing just that, and better than she could have done it, even as he protested, You can't reach anything, Jael! Don't you understand? But they were close enough now for a clear image, even in the terrible blood-glare of the sun. Ar was bringing them around in a loop to catch up with the rock's motion, and what they saw struggling at the edge of their view, foundering on the surface of that asteroid, was clearly a living being . . .

  A dying being.

  Dying. Even here, even now, the dragon's spell was at work. She remembered her father dying, a broken man . . . and knew that she could no longer hate him. Pity him, yes, but not hate him.

  Highwing was dying . . .

  My sacred word, Ar whispered, in disbelief.

  Though the creature in the image was little more than a pathetic bag of bones, it nevertheless had a head, and something like wings crumpled at its sides; and it had eyes full of pain, eyes that peered vacantly, searching the sky as though it knew something was close but couldn't quite see it. Here, Highwing! she cried softly.

  The creature moved its head suddenly, as though it had heard her. And she could have sworn that she heard its voice in her own head, groaning, You can do nothing . . . don't die for nothing! And she felt its pain, in a tremendous wave that surged through the net, shaking her. Ed flapped violently, in terror.

  Her father had once loved her, had made it possible for her to be here. Would it all be for nothing? Yes, if she could not save Highwing, if she could not give even that in return . . . .

  She drew a breath, struggling not to cry out—and suddenly shouted, I need to be just a little closer, Ar!

  No, Jael . . . we can't . . . the screens are overloaded! We've got to drop back into the Flux—NOW! Do it, Jael!

  No more than a hundred or a thousand meters from her, the creature that was Highwing sank helplessly back as the asteroid's rotation brought him back into the full hellish daylight of that swollen sun. The voice that reached her was weak, whispering: No, Jael—

  Ar, get in here and HELP ME! she screamed. Ed, help me!

  Whatever they answered, she didn't hear. She only knew what she had to do. She stretched the net to its limit, drawing on all of the reserve power—and it wasn't enough. The instant she sensed Ar entering the net, she seized the normal-space controls and contorted space with the maneuvering drive, dropping the ship toward the asteroid's surface—dropping in a suicidal dive toward the rock, toward Highwing.

  Tears burned her eyes as she thought, Not for nothing! It will not be for nothing!

  Jael, no! Ar shouted, as he saw what she was doing.

  Be ready to take us down! she commanded, her voice cold and furious. When I say to.

  Ed must have sensed her immediate intention, because he streaked to the forward end of the net, stretching it . . . and Jael's arms lengthened and reac
hed out for Highwing . . . and the burning rock rose, slanting and rotating, to collide with them . . .

  Highwing! she cried. She felt the net brush over him, over the rock; and she molded the net to include the dragon but not the rock, and she screamed: NOW, AR—NOW!

  Ar's strength in the net joined hers, and over the groaning protest of the flux-pile, they reached into the Flux and pulled the ship down . . .

  The asteroid loomed like a massive wall, and they were careening toward it—

  —and it shimmered and became transparent—

  —and the fearful blazing sun became transparent—

  —and both were gone, and the clouds of the Flux materialized in their place.

  The net nearly disintegrated from the effort of containing Highwing within it, but somehow it held. As the universe around them changed, as they sank deeper into the ocean of the Flux, passing through layers of change, the creature they were holding began to change, as well.