Dragons in the Stars

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  No longer a bag of bones, he was growing in mass and size. His shape was returning, becoming a dragon shape again, a dragon struggling to spread his wings. Highwing! she shouted, her heart breaking with hope and fear. He was struggling, in agony. And the net that supported him was beginning to tear.

  Jael, let him go, Ar urged, and his voice, though calm, reverberated in the center of her consciousness, a command that she could not ignore. Now, Jael—or we'll lose the net for good.

  Yes . . . she whispered. She forced herself to open her arms and release the dragon.

  He fell away from them, and before she could do anything more, Ar had already drawn in the net, cutting the drain on the ship's power. She knew he'd done the right thing—they'd nearly lost the flux-pile, and that would have been the end for them—but she could not keep from crying out as she saw Highwing dropping through the air. She shouted to him, and dimly sensed his awareness.

  Jael . . . the voice barely whispered over the wind. For an instant it sounded like her father's voice. But it wasn't; it was Highwing's.

  Below them now, she saw mountains, and they were descending fast from a great height, through a sky wracked by crosswinds. There was one enormous peak that might have been the Black Peak, and she wondered whether the dragons were still there, and scarcely knew whether to hope yes or no. Then she heard Ed crying, Graggons near! and Fly, Highwing—CAW!—must fly!

  But Highwing was falling, not flying. He was struggling to open his wings against the rushing air. One wing opened a little, then the other, and then he was tumbling out of control. His strength was gone. He was falling, almost certainly, to his death. Jael warped their net into a delta-winged glider, and they dived to follow the dragon as he fell. Highwing, please pull out of it! she pleaded, and knew it was futile, crying for what could not be.

  Graggon!

  The movement was so fast, she scarcely saw the dragon flash up and around them and around Highwing. And she heard the voice before she focused on the form. You have the power to bring him back! Windrush shouted, his voice so full of astonishment that his wonder echoed across the mountains.

  Windrush, can you help—?

  But her words were unnecessary, because Windrush was already beneath his father. She shuddered as the two dragons came together in midair, fearing for an instant that she would watch them both die; but Windrush's strength was sufficient. He caught Highwing on his back, roaring under the sudden, tremendous weight. He couldn't stop the descent, but he slowed it. Highwing, agonizingly, succeeded at last in stretching his wings enough to help support himself. Something of his old glory was at last visible in his form. Windrush-sh-sh, he sighed, his voice quaking as he spoke the other dragon's name.

  Jael flew closer.

  You can fly . . . proudly . . . your last . . . flight . . . Windrush said, his words labored.

  Yes. And Highwing's nostrils smoked, though the smoke was carried away in an instant by the wind. As Jael approached, her heart stopping because of what she had just heard, Highwing's eyes turned to focus on her. They descended together, the dragon's gaze flickering with a remnant of its old fire. And for an instant, she felt Highwing's presence in her thoughts.

  Jael . . .

  Highwing, can you make it? Can you fly? she whispered.

  She heard something like laughter, but it was so full of pain and sorrow and joy and inexpressible dragon feelings that she could not really have called it laughter. And she heard, Little Jael . . . once more only . . . will I fly . . . and his words ended with a sound that reminded her of chimes ringing across an expanse of water. In that instant, her mind filled with memories of their first moments together, and she knew that she was seeing what he was remembering. Her mind filled, as well, with other images of the dragon realm: Skytouch dying, friends gone and sons departed, imprisonment and terror, and blazing alien heat; and images of triumph and the promise of victory and vindication. And she knew, too, what he saw in her mind: memories of her father, and acceptance and forgiveness. And she heard the dragon's voice again, saying, You have . . . saved me . . . saved us both . . . so that I may . . . pass from this life with dignity . . . little Jael. And again she heard the laughter that was not laughter, and she felt something change in the way that the dragons were flying.

  Look, Ar murmured in wonderment.

  Highwing was spreading his wings over Windrush's. She could feel the effort, the terrible pain that it was costing him. The dragon's wings caught the wind smartly as they stretched out, shining silver and iridescent in the sun. A jet of fire blossomed from his throat, and he lifted away from Windrush's back. For an instant, Jael feared that he would tumble again; but he drew his strength from somewhere, and though he swayed perilously, he fought his way into a climb. As Jael strained desperately to follow, he turned his head, and his eyes glowed and joined with hers, and he called, his voice clear even through the final pain: Well met and farewell . . . Windrush . . . riggers . . . Jael! His breath flared and smoked, and he thundered, Call, "FRIEND OF HIGHWING!" . . . and I will hear you . . . And before he could complete his words, he began to change, to become transparent.

  The sunlight caught him, dazzling, and for an instant he was a dragon of living crystal glass. Living light. Then he was no more.

  Farewell, Highwing . . . Jael whispered, choking. She wept helplessly for a moment, before she caught her breath and bellowed raggedly to the empty wind: FRIEND OF HIGHWING! And from the wind she thought she heard laughter, chimelike, full of sorrow and joy. Or perhaps she only wished to hear it, his laughter echoing on the wind.

  And then they were falling, the net fraying around them. And Ar fought for control, but she could do nothing to help him; her heart was too heavy with grief.

  Chapter 28: A Final Parting

  WINDRUSH CAUGHT them far more easily than he had caught his father. Jael gasped and clung to his neck. They huddled atop the dragon, Jael pressing her forehead to his rippling scales as she wept. For a long time, she was aware of nothing that was happening, except her grief. Highwing . . . oh, Highwing . . . !

  She heard a quiet voice in the back of her mind, saying, You have done well against the darkness, O Friend of Highwing. At first she tried to ignore it; she was confused not only by the words, but by the voice. It did not seem to be Windrush's, or Ar's. It said again, You have done well against the darkness . . . .

  She opened her eyes, brushing away her tears. For an instant, she thought she saw a creature glimmering in the air just off Windrush's left shoulder. Perhaps it was her imagination, but what she saw was the iffling, floating half in and half out of this realm. What do you mean? she whispered. I've accomplished nothing. Even saying it, her pain seemed to grow.

  But you have, rigger Jael, answered the quiet voice in her mind. More than you know.

  She tried to focus her gaze on the iffling, still not sure if it was there. And now it wasn't; perhaps it had just been a strange reflection from the sun. Ar, she croaked, did you just see something? Or hear a voice?

  But it was the dragon and not Ar who answered. Indeed you have done well, he said, echoing the iffling's words. And not just for my father. Look ahead! And with a jet of smoke, he pointed.

  The dragon seemed to be indicating the great peak ahead of them—the Black Peak. Something about the mountain was changing, though she couldn't tell at once what it was. A swarm of dragons was fleeing the area, as though frightened. Frightened? By what? Peering past Windrush's great head, Jael saw that the left side of the summit was shrouded in a strange, silvery mist. It remained so for only a few seconds, as the mountain went through a startling metamorphosis: a portion of the peak seemed to dissolve in the mist, to turn glassy and clear. And within the glass there appeared a sullen red light, like the coals of a tremendous fire; pulsing and flickering. Jael looked away, not believing her eyes; but when she looked back, there was still a piece of the mountain missing, and in its place was . . . fire. Fire? In the heart of the mountain? Windrush, what's happening?

&n
bsp; To her astonishment, the dragon laughed for joy.

  Why are you laughing? she cried.

  A change in the spell-weaving, Jael! A change in the underrealm! You have done what the rest of us feared to do! He beat the air, winging toward the peak. You saved my father's life—and far more than that!

  What do you mean? What are you talking about? We failed! We were too late! As she leaned forward to shout at the dragon, the wind stung her eyes, drawing fresh tears. The sensation was welcome; it numbed the pain within.

  No, Jael, you didn't fail at all! The dragon's voice resounded with both joy and sorrow. Highwing passed in this world—his spirit has passed into the world. You saved him from the final exile. I don't know how you were able, or how you knew. But he is safe from Tar-skel now, and his strength will become ours. The wind seemed to roar through his words. Look at the Black Peak! It is plain for all to see: you have broken the sorcery that held this mountain!

  Jael drew back, no less confused than before. She looked to Ar for help, but he had his eyes shut, as though he could not bear to listen. Finally she realized that he was busy trying to draw together the threads of their rigger-net, which she had nearly destroyed. Jael peered back at the mountain, trying to think clearly through her grief. Most of the other dragons had scattered. The mountain looked now as though a great glass lens near its summit were focusing the rays of a blazing red sun, as though a star had come to life in the peak itself. What was happening to the powers of this world? Don't go too close, she wanted to beg Windrush, but the words froze in her throat.

  A terrible spell was woven here, the dragon said, as though in answer to her thoughts. By Tar-skel, and by dragons who were once called my brothers, before they became his followers. His voice rang with anger. Where you see that fire is surely where they imprisoned Highwing—where they gathered their power to twist open the seams of the world, and to hurl him out of the realm. It would have been a terrifying display of power—and they wanted you here to witness it! They wanted to bray at you in their triumph. But they underestimated you! They were too proud, too sure, too eager to show their strength.

  Jael shuddered, and yet could not help marveling. The mountain continued to metamorphose as they soared toward it, until it looked like a window into another universe, a window ablaze with the fire of an alien sun, where a dragon had been sent to die. Is that fire the remains of their magic? It looks like the sun in our realm, where we found Highwing.

  Windrush glanced back at her in surprise. Is that true? Perhaps it is the same. You brought him back before the underrealm could be twisted closed again to seal his exile. Perhaps, indeed, a window remains open! Windrush rumbled approvingly. Those who labored in that cruel effort must be very angry now. Suddenly he thundered: LET THIS PEAK REMAIN AS A TESTAMENT TO THE CONCEIT OF TAR-SKEL! LET HIS DEFEAT HERE TODAY—!

  A crackling flame shot past them, cutting off his exclamation. Jael felt the hot blast on her left cheek, and turned to see a large, black dragon hurtling downward toward Windrush's left flank. DIE WITH YOUR RIGGER FRIENDS, WINDRUSH! it bellowed. Flashing low across them, it nearly collided with Windrush, flattening Jael and her friends to the dragon's back. Clutching Windrush's scaly hide, Jael raised her head again. A second dragon loomed on the right, raking them with fire as it too crossed over them.

  Apparently their victory had been short-lived.

  The two dragons banked into fast orbits around Windrush, snarling in a tongue Jael could not understand. Windrush answered their challenge with a blast of fire, and a roar that seemed to shake the earth and echo back from the mountains. The two dragons veered away, but only for a few seconds. Jael scanned the air to see if others were coming. Windrush might be able to stand off two, but if there were more . . .

  Hrrraaawwww! Show them! Ed screamed.

  Ed, shut up! she snapped. Ar, do we have any power left in the net?

  Ar opened his eyes, his lips pressed in a straight line. Not much, I'm afraid.

  Windrush, what can we do?

  Hawww! Show them! Show them!

  Jael made a furious grab for the bird—then realized that perhaps Ed was smarter than they were. She gestured to Ar, and together they allowed the starship to billow out behind them, making it as large and imposing as possible. The two dragons, startled, retreated angrily to a more respectful distance. But Jael doubted that they would stay away long. What next? she murmured.

  The dragon answered, We must not let them—

  He was interrupted by another blast.

  Two new dragons streaked in out of the smoke-filled air. Jael and Ar flattened themselves. The dragons shot past, over their heads, and raked the first two attackers with withering fire. Pivoting in the air, seemingly on their wingtips, they came back around for another pass. A dragon voice filled the air: LEAVE WINDRUSH AND THE RIGGERS TO US! THEY ARE OURS! The first pair of dragons wheeled around, beating their wings angrily, but the new pair were far more determined. They laced the air with acrid fire, until Jael began to choke, clinging to Windrush. The original two finally veered away, snarling, and fled downrange to the left, hugging close to the lower mountain slopes.

  Windrush climbed energetically, but the new pair of dragons crisscrossed beneath him until they rose on either side, fuming smoke and fire. They thundered out words Jael could not understand. Who is this? Jael whispered, fearing that they had traded bad enemies for worse.

  Windrush answered this new challenge with a roar and a tremendous flame, and the others replied in kind. Back and forth they bellowed, fire crackling. Jael clung to Windrush's back. Ed crouched close to her breast, his head in constant motion, peering at one dragon, then another.

  Suddenly Windrush cried joyously, WELCOME BACK, BROTHERS! BROTHERS AGAIN! And he sent a triumphant tongue of fire into the air.

  Jael's breath went out in a gasp.

  Rrawwwwwk! Ed shouted.

  The two dragons dropped into tight formation on either side of Windrush. Their eyes glowed wonderingly as they studied the riggers and their spaceship. One of them spoke, before Jael could ask Windrush for an explanation. We felt his passing, the left-hand dragon murmured, and his voice seemed filled with sorrow, but also with a breath of gladness. And in that moment, we glimpsed . . . his triumph . . . and our own terrible foolishness.

  When you broke the spell of exile, you released us from a sorcery, as well, said the other dragon, and Jael thought she heard shame in his voice. Something changed around us, or maybe inside us. It was as though we had been blinded before, and suddenly we saw—only a glimpse, but it was enough—how we had been fooled by the power of Tar-skel, by our own arrogance in wanting to share his power. The dragon's voice grew softer. We are free now—you freed us—to make another choice. We have much to be sorry for. We have wronged our father, and Windrush, and you. We wish . . . to make right what we have done.

  We felt many breaking free as we did, said the dragon on the left. But many others are still in service to the Enemy. Among them, I fear, is our fourth brother. If he still lives at all.

  Jael was stunned, unable to answer.

  Windrush nodded somberly at that last statement. The confrontation has only begun. He angled his head to glance back at the riggers. But at least I no longer stand alone among dragons. Riggers—my brothers! WingTouch and Farsight, sons of Highwing. My brothers once more!

  The two dragons looked across at Jael, and she thought they seemed nervous. She wondered why, and then realized that they were waiting for something. Honored to meet you, she said, nodding to each in turn. I am Jael. And my companions—

  Ed! squawked the parrot, before she could gesture.

  She looked at Ar. His eyes were dim with tiredness, and his lips were thin and straight. Nevertheless, he nodded gravely. Honored, he said. I am Ar.

  The two dragons expelled steam from their nostrils and muttered wonderingly. Honored, they replied. WingTouch, said one. Farsight, said the other.

  Jael nodded and sat back with a sigh. As the three drago
ns flew in a slow curve around the fiery mountain, she leaned to peer at the landscape below. Was it her imagination, or was there more color in the land than there had been before? It no longer seemed the same stark desolation of black and grey, and it didn't seem to her that the difference was entirely due to the glass-encapsulated glow of the red sun. She spoke to Windrush, and he dipped lower for a better view. The ground slipped silently beneath them. She glimpsed a scattering of green buds, and a few pink and lavender blossoms. The scent of the blossoms rose to her nostrils. Life is returning here, Windrush said approvingly.

  It was Ar who voiced surprise. So soon?

  I suspect it never really was gone, Windrush said. It was suppressed by the spell-making, by the twisting of the underweb of our world. I guess in time it truly would have died.

  Will this happen all over the realm? Jael asked.

  Windrush rumbled. Would that it were so, but how can we know? We have gained one victory against the powers of Tar-skel. But I doubt he will concede the realm so easily. There will be other battles, perhaps many others. But you have won us a beginning, a new hope at last. He beat his wings harder, as though stirred by the thought of struggles to come. I am determined, as my brothers now are determined—and the spirit of my father is strong with us. There will be others, as well. As the iffling said, we have a great deal to do. And yet now, perhaps, we will find . . . a way to the Dream Mountain, wherever it has gone, and seek the counsel and the strength of the draconae.