Dragons of Everest

by D. H. Dunn

  “No, not that. Why must I take down the barrier?”

  “My sister appears mad,” the Thread said. “She was never reasonable, but I fear the effects of all this time conscious and trapped inside here have caused her to lose her grip on sanity. Once free, I should be able to stabilize her by entering her mind, but it could take time. During that time, Tanira will need to protect me.”

  Tanira reached to the crystal gem on her shoulder, triggering the Hero’s Armor to spring to life, the energy field encompassing her like a second skin.

  “Additionally,” the Thread continued. “We also need to make sure my sister Dragon kills you, brave Reylor. Thus it behooves you to be closest to the barrier when it comes down.”

  That Reylor would die once the Voice was released seemed certain to Tanira. The Voice was a whirling vortex of claws and teeth, anything near her would likely be torn to ribbons.

  “Yes, I-I must be slain by both Dragons,” Reylor said, his voice shaking as he looked up at the Dragon.

  “An excellent point,” the Thread said. His arm shot towards the man, long claws raking through Reylor’s chest.

  Tanira jumped back, stunned by the sudden action. There had been death before, her own hand had cut down friend, foe and stranger. Yet this was unsettling on a different plane, Reylor’s shocked eyes looked back at her, like an animal being led to slaughter.

  “A mortal wound,” the Thread said, looking at Reylor. “But not immediate. I suggest you begin.”

  Reylor was down on his knees, blood quickly turning his cloak into a wet, red mess. Her stomach roiled against her control, nausea running through her.

  Tanira put her hand out, and Reylor grabbed it weakly. She pulled him to his feet.

  “The Line will remember you,” she said, looking in his eyes. “I will remember you and I will make sure your brothers are avenged.”

  He looked back at her, his eyes wide and white, as white as his skin had turned. They were filled with pain, fear and something else. Doubt? His lips trembled as he replied.

  “My death,” he said. “Make it mean … something.”

  She nodded, Reylor’s visage blurring with her tears, distorting his face until it could have been any of them.

  The guards at Upala’s library. The Rakhum who defended Kater’s fortress.

  Val.

  No more, she vowed herself as her fists trembled with rage. Not one more. This is the last good man to fall in the name of the Line.

  Reylor turned and raised the sword over his head, the barrier only a few steps away. Tanira braced herself for the beast to come charging out. A graveled voice came from behind her, the voice of an old man.

  She turned, the Thread turning with her. He was framed in silhouette by the light at the end of the hallway, his back was hunched, and he was aged, but his identity was still unmistakable.

  Fear shot through her like a thunderbolt.

  “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” Kater said.

  When Drew had first reported to his ship, it had been in drydock. Seeing the USS Machias completely removed from the water and lifted up inside a gigantic platform had been the most awe-inspiring sight of his life to that point. He and his buddies had even walked directly under the ship, the idea that thousands of tons of steel was over their heads created a mixture of wonder and fear inside him.

  The hallway inside the Vault of Terminus was like that.

  It was at least a hundred feet wide and thirty feet high. He knew why it needed to be so vast, yet the idea that a creature the size of this passage could even exist was hard to accept. The Dragon that had attacked them on the bridge had seemed incredible, yet it would be dwarfed by Terminus.

  The lighting in the passage itself was poor, greenish light coming from a large room far down at the other end of the passage. To Drew it looked like it might be half a mile inside the mountain. Drew and Upala walked together, with Lhamu and the Speaker right behind them. None of them had spoken since entering the Vault, each of them lost in their own sense of wonder.

  “This is big,” Lhamu said, the cavernous depths of the hallway swallowing up her voice immediately.

  Drew laughed, it sounded so much like something Nima would say, it was almost like having her here.

  They slowly made their way down the hallway, the uneventful stone walls giving way to a large open space. Drew’s eyes immediately went to the center of the circular room, shocked to see the Dragon’s massive torso slumped there.

  His mind struggled to process the sudden shift in his expectations. He was relieved not to find a titanic Dragon waiting there ready to attack them, yet he did not expect to find Terminus seemingly dismembered.

  There was only the torso. Lit from all around the room by large, glowing, blue crystals embedded in the walls. The deep-red form of the Dragon’s body lay on its side, taking up more than half the room, reminding Drew of several whales stacked on top of each other. There were circular wounds on the beast’s body, where each of four legs had been removed. He could see two smaller holes near the center of a back covered in dark, black spines, ending in a long, curled tail. There was no sign of a neck, just another huge open wound where the neck should be.

  “So, no head? No wings? What the hell am I looking at here?” Drew had been prepared to see a lot of things inside the Vault, but this was not one of them. Isn’t it supposed to be alive?

  “This is Terminus,” Upala said. “I . . . I guess. Seemingly with his wings and other extremities removed. This is not what I expected, though the notes I saw from Orami or Feram on Terminus were scant.”

  “Look!” Lhamu said, pointing at the ceiling above the Dragon. Drew followed the direction of her finger and gasped.

  Drew could see shapes in the shadows of the high ceilings of the round chamber, but could not make out any details.

  The room took on a reddish glow, mixing with the green light of the crystals as Upala pushed a small amount of fire from her hands, lightening the dark above them.

  “By the Hero!” she gasped as her fire revealed four objects suspended from the ceiling and bundled in chains, each of them struggling against the restraints, as if magnetically pulled toward Terminus. Four bundles, one for each leg.

  Looking further toward the top of the dome above them, Drew spotted the two wings of the beast, also enchained and straining to reach their body just as the limbs were.

  “So, is it dead?” Drew asked. It had to be dead, it was a massive, but lifeless lump of flesh in front of them. Each of its feet and wings swung in their chains above him, as Drew supposed they had been doing for centuries.

  “Neither dead nor alive,” the Speaker said. “Greatest of all Sessgrenimath’s creations, I suspect possessing healing of a kind similar to the Manad Vhan. Apparently, what your Hero could not kill, he separated.”

  “It is a strong theory,” Upala said with a nod. “Perhaps Kater would know more. I certainly suggest we do not allow those components of Terminus to reach the body. Certainly, that will be Tanira’s goal.”

  “Yeah, that’s a safe bet.” Drew looked around the large chamber. There were three other dark hallways connected to the circular room just as the entry one was, though they were smaller in size. ”So I see wings and legs, but no head. Let’s spread out and check these other rooms.”

  Drew moved toward the hallway directly to the right of the center, while Upala headed for the left. Lhamu and the Speaker walked by him bound for the passage directly opposite the entry.

  The passage was narrower both in width and height but was still very large, Drew guessed more than twice his own height. It was dimly lit by the occasional, small, green crystal embedded in the wall at regular intervals. He could see an opening about fifty feet in, a dark space in front of him. As he came closer he could see it was a small room, with the same blue chains bound around a massive, dark shadow.

  “I found the head!” Upala’s distant call came from across the hall where Drew guessed she stood in a small
chamber similar to his own.

  Drew looked at the chained-up monstrosity before him. It strained against the magical bonds holding it to the ceiling. The links were vibrating with tension as it floated several feet off the floor, pulled toward the torso as if it were magnetized.

  The snout alone was far larger than he was, the whole of the beast’s skull looked bigger than his father’s 48 Buick Super as it loomed over him.

  “If you found the head, then what the hell am I looking at?”

  Kater launched a crimson wall of force ahead of him, knocking Tanira and Reylor off their feet before they had a chance to react. Landing on her back, she let out a cry of pain as the hard stone of the passage floor pushed the crystal below her shoulder farther inside her, leaving her prone and gasping for breath.

  She watched the Thread launch itself at Kater while behind the barrier the Voice screamed again.

  “You face a true Manad Vhan now!” Kater cried, casting a new shield over his head to deflect the Thread’s claws, then sending fire from his hands directly into the beast’s eyes. The Dragon let out a deafening roar that left Tanira’s ears ringing.

  She rolled to her side, taking the pressure off the crystal and bringing some relief. Reylor was still on the ground, sword of the Hero in one hand as he dragged himself toward the barrier with the other, a trail of blood behind him.

  “No!” she shouted, her voice sounding muffled under the ringing in her ears. Determined to fulfill his role, Reylor was about to bring down the barrier.

  Panic built up inside her. She could not handle the Voice in addition to Kater.

  Rolling onto her stomach she brought herself onto one knee. Her back continued to pulse with pain, but she ignored it along with the chaos of the battle between Kater and the Thread right behind her. With a groan, she pulled herself into a standing position.

  Only to have a heavy weight slam her from the side, Tanira falling flat on her back, a fresh wave of pain erupting from her wound. Two hands clamped down on her wrists, struggling to keep her from activating the armor. Frustration ran through her as her vision cleared and she saw her assailant’s face.

  Even if Tanira could not hear her over the sounds of combat, she could see in Nima’s face what the woman was saying, even while struggling to hold her down.

  Pleading with her to end this, to let her plan go. As if that was an option. As if that would honor the deaths of all those behind her.

  Her frustration began to shift to anger.

  I killed her friend, our friend. Why is she not angry? It was foolish, it was stupid. You fight those who hurt you!

  Tanira tilted her head upward, closing her eyes as she mashed her forehead into Nima’s. The woman faltered enough for Tanira to get her knee into Nima’s stomach. With a heavy shove, she threw her to the side and started climbing back to her feet.

  Beyond her, the Thread drove against Kater, the old man extinguishing his flame to add strength his shield. The Thread battered against the crimson force but was being pushed back, his wings compressing against the wall.

  The Voice let out a new scream as Tanira got to her feet, turning just in time to see Reylor’s hobbling form reach the barrier. Somehow the man had forced himself upright, holding the Hero’s sword aloft with one hand while the other was wrapped around his stomach, holding his insides together long enough to reach his goal.

  She cried out to him, seeing his mouth form the words ‘for the Line’ as he brought the sword down into the barrier.

  The shimmering field fell and the Voice launched itself forward in a blur. Reylor was nearly disintegrated as the Dragon burst right through him, the man vanishing in a crimson cloud of blood.

  The Hero’s sword dropped to the stone floor, the Voice surging right past Tanira, headed for the Thread like it had been shot from a cannon. From the pile of flesh that was Reylor just an eye blink before, two thin, white wisps appeared, like pure-white smoke they danced in the air for a moment, then flew toward Tanira and vanished inside her pack.

  The pack that contained the Helm.

  As her hands fumbled forward, the chaos in the hallway continued, a maelstrom of violent fire and blood. The Voice tore into the Thread, gouging fresh wounds into the lavender Dragon’s scales. Kater had been knocked back, and struggled to his feet. Nima was rising as well, trying to brace against the wall of the hallway to get standing again.

  Tanira tore the pack open and pulled the Helm out. It pulsed in her hands, the crystal in its center glowing a brilliant white. She turned toward the assembled group, Nima rushing toward her again. Kater stood, pointing at her. The two Dragons continued to fight as if no one else existed.

  She pulled the Helm over her head and time stopped.

  Everyone in the hallway was frozen in place, Tanira found even she could not move. She could see the faint trickle of fire from Kater’s hands, like red and yellow threads attached to his fingers. A white veil formed in front of her eyes, as if she were entering a cloud. The images in front of her faded away, Nima’s expression of sorrow and worry the last to vanish from view.

  In their place, she could see a distant mountain. Rising from the white mist, it was made of clear crystal, its many facets and sides reflecting back Tanira’s face in a hundred different angles. The formation of the mountain was immediately familiar to her, this was Ish Rav Partha, and yet it was also her mind.

  She thought of the Thread, and one of the crystalline faces of the mountain shifted, moving from white to lavender as an image of the Thread’s wounded face formed. She found she could read the image as if it were a scroll or parchment, in that moment she knew all that the Thread cared for and all it knew.

  She felt the Thread’s worry for its race, overriding all with a desire to protect Dragon kind, to create more. Its anger against Sessgrenimath and the Manad Vhan, as well as itself for failing. It was easy to take those worries and weave them within her own desires. She would help the Thread, and the Thread would help her.

  Suggestions were woven into commands, bringing the Thread under her control with a minimum of strain.

  Another face of the mountain shifted to gold, the image becoming the Voice. Tanira was momentarily engulfed in its anger and madness, its rage against everyone and everything.

  Yet rage could be controlled as well. She listened to it as it screamed for blood. She offered it a chance for the violence it craved, and she felt its will kneel to her desires.

  Keeping her promises to the Voice while still weaving the Thread was more of a struggle, competing thoughts entering the helm and mixing with her consciousness.

  Yet her years of training proved the equal of both, as it had once mastered a young girl and bent her to its Line, so too it now gave her the strength she needed.

  Each Dragon was like its own unique crystal to her, and with the Line’s help she could bear two.

  Finally, she addressed the Weight, a third facet of the crystalline mountain shifting brown with the terrified beast’s face upon it. It was damaged, but in a different way than the others. Its fear was crushing, a heavy terror built by centuries of worry and untold tortures, memories hidden deeper in the beast than even she could burrow.

  She took the fear from the Weight, bore it upon her back in exchange for its obedience. She promised it safety under her care, protection from those who would harm it.

  She could feel her pulse pounding, her heart racing. It was beating too fast, her lungs struggled to pull in enough air. As she wove the Thread, listened to the Voice, and bore the Weight, the strain added up. The damage to herself was significant, she could feel her body trembling with the strain.

  In an eye blink, she was back in the hallway. Time was slow, but moving. Nima charged at her, concern etched all over her foolish face. The Dragons were now motionless, Kater slamming his fire into them, embers licking off their scales as their hair singed and their eyes dried.

  They cried to her as one in pain and fear, the ferocity of Kater’s attack seemed without limit, a
rage built up across thousands of years from whatever pain had birthed him.

  He was as he had claimed, a true Manad Vhan and clearly had studied how to attack the Dragons far better than the other she had faced.

  Both the Thread and the Voice were injured, and her own wounds and injuries were crying out. The demands of the Helm ate into her mind, she could feel the device twisting into her, the metal feeling like it was pressing against her skull.

  They needed to get out, get out of here and regroup. The next step in the plan would take some time to prepare.

  With a thought she pulled the Voice toward her. The beast’s golden form twisted away from Kater and its brother, angling toward Tanira and dipping its head low. Tanira launched herself to its back, noting the Voice’s scales were slick with blood.

  Ducking under a fresh attack from Kater, she launched the Voice forward with a thrust of its wings, willing the Thread to follow along as best as its injured body could. As they cleared the hallway and reached the outside ledge, she tasted the sweet chill of the air, the freedom of the winds in her hair.

  She brought the Weight’s prodigious form into the sky, the four of them leaving the Vault of the Voice behind as she turned them west, away from Ish Rav Partha.

  It was not time for Terminus. Not yet.

  Her pulse pounded in her eyes, her mind was being squeezed like a fruit in the Helm’s grip, but she grit her teeth and kept her mind on the plan. She would guard the Line, honor the Line and trust the Line. Until the End.

  21

  “All right let’s run through it again.”

  Drew paced the width of the opening into the Vault of Terminus. To his right lay the snowy exterior of Ish Rav Partha, with the Umbuk Valley beyond. To his immediate left were Upala, Lhamu, and the Speaker, each in their assigned positions and each looking at him with varying states of exhaustion.

  Beyond them was the chamber containing the torso of Terminus. Normally he’d be worried about how tired everyone looked, not to mention if Nima was safe. He could feel that mode coming on, the shutting down of his fears as he had learned to do in the Pacific. This was war, and it was time to prepare for the enemy. Above him, the various components of the great Dragon struggled against their magical chains, waiting to be reformed and whole.