Dragon Rigger (22 page)

It was not Windrush's plan to pass over the mountains in a single formation; rather, they would divide into three groups. One, led by Stronghold, would veer far to the left to the Hermitage Pass and approach the enemy camp from the south, on the Enemy's side of the ridge. Another, led by Farsight, would fly northward to the Pass of the Black Mountains, not far short of the Black Peak itself, where a glowering fire from the static realm still shone over the broken mountains. Farsight's group would come upon the enemy from the north. The main group, led by Windrush, would go straight west, over the summit of the Borderland Mountains.

That crossing lay ahead of them yet. They had just completed their flight over the ragged slopes of the Scarred Mount Ridge, site of many small conflicts between dragons and their foes, including the one that had claimed WingTouch. As that ridge receded behind them, they soared high over the dark plain of the Valley Between, flying west toward the Borderland Mountains. The Valley Between was not a place where dragons dwelled now, but it was far from deserted. Dragons of both sides patrolled here, and drahls were often spotted moving up and down the ridges in their missions of spying. Numerous shadow-cats made their homes here, too, as well as small flyers and sprites and lesser animals. Most of them had no role in the conflict, though a few did serve as sentinels for the dragons—and others, Windrush suspected, served as spies for the Enemy. If any of those spies witnessed the dragons passing, he hoped that their reports to the Enemy would not arrive before the dragons themselves.

In a happier time, lumenis groves and draconic gardens had speckled this broad valley. All were destroyed now, ravaged by the servants of Tar-skel, or by his sorcery. Passing over these dark lands that had once borne such fruit, Windrush felt an ancient anger rising from deep within, raging against the one who had done this to the land. He nurtured the anger; it would make him fight all the more fiercely. He sensed that the others, flanking him, felt the same rage as they flew over the Enemy's desolation.

The night was wearing long as their flight brought them over the foothills of the Borderland Mountains. Windrush spoke softly to the others, sending word back through the company that the north and south flanks were to split away now. "Quietly," he urged them. "Quietly!"

Glancing back, he saw the flanks separating, the glowing coals of myriad dragon eyes vanishing to the north and to the south. Behind him, the center group continued strong. Windrush faced into the west wind and picked up the pace of his wingbeats. It was time to start gaining altitude, to climb for the crossing over the most difficult mountain range in the realm.

* * *

The air felt strange this high. It had a different character, a different quality of presence, a different undersmell. Perhaps it was the mountains more than the altitude; perhaps it was the nearness of Tar-skel magic. Windrush knew that it was possible to fly higher—he had done so himself during the lumenis vision—but few dragons ever did, and even at this height, he had a sense of flying near the very edge of the realm. Exactly what might happen if he flew beyond the limits of the realm, he didn't know; but he thought it would not be good to try. Even now he felt a sense of separation between mind and body that reminded him of movement through the underrealm.

Ahead and below, the summits of the Borderland Mountains were dim, icy pyramids, rising up from the predawn mists as though to provide otherworldly perches for the dragons as they passed. Even to dragon eyes they were dark shapes, though the faint skyglow from a cloud-covered moon cast enough light to make their outlines visible. The dragons intended to stay as high above the peaks as their strength and skills could take them, not only to avoid the perilous downdrafts that could dash them onto the rocks, but also to remain inconspicuous to sentries.

Windrush felt excitement coursing through his body as he pumped the air, flanked by his fellows. It was not yet the energy of battle-fever; that would come soon. This was the rush of night-air-over-mountain, and it was one of the most powerful sensations that Windrush knew. Battle-fever was shallow compared to this. He trusted that the power would stay with him throughout the morning to come, giving him strength for the battle.

The sharp summits passed slowly beneath them. The sky was already growing lighter with a cold, eerie predawn light. It was a deceptive light, and it made the massive summits seem so perilously close that Windrush almost felt that he could reach down with a talon and touch the ice on their caps as they passed below. But he knew from the stillness of the air that they were much higher above the peaks than appearances suggested. He tried to use his undersense to seek out any enemy sentries, but he was flying too hard; it was impossible to focus deeply in the underweb while exerting himself so strenuously, and he dared not pause. He would just have to use his eyes, ears, and nose to detect the enemy. Soon they would be upon the foe and secrecy would no longer matter.

The mountains fell away into the darkness. They were over the ridge, well into the Enemy's territory. Attack or counterattack could come from any direction. Windrush whispered a command to his flanking leaders: begin descending under the cover of darkness.

The final leg of the flight passed with dizzying swiftness. Mist curled up from the ground as they dropped toward the valley of the enemy warriors. It grew difficult to distinguish mountain from vapor. Shadows among wisps of vapor looked like drahls, and more than once, the dragons quickened their wingbeats to catch an enemy who was not there. Excitement burned through the dragons like the fire of lumenis; Windrush could sense talons twitching and fires rising in the backs of dragons' throats. To his left, he could see SearSky's eyes glowing red with eagerness. To his right, the dusty-white Winterfall nodded in readiness. The minutes fled, like the mist beneath them.

Real dawn was breaking as they swept down into the hollow where the enemy encampment lay. A rosily glowing, cottony vapor half concealed the land. There was an eerie beauty in the dawn; how ironic that in moments this place would be a cauldron of battle. How many of them would not live to return? Windrush shook aside the thought. His scales rippled as he prepared to attack. He imagined that he was not alone, that the spirit of Highwing flew invisibly with him—and he thought, If you can see this, Highwing, we will fight to make you proud.

Emerging from the mist was the form of an amphitheater and the dark shadows of entrances to warrens. "Spread out to attack," Windrush rumbled. Any instant now, drahls and Tar-skel dragons would come boiling up to meet them. Windrush glanced each way. "
NOW!
" he thundered.

"NOW!" echoed the others.

Flanked by forty dragons, he dove with a roar into the encampment. Flame billowed from his throat, chasing away the mist. He scanned left, right, ahead, looking for the enemy warriors who would be rising to meet them. Flame danced hot in the back of his throat. "
COME FACE US!
" he bellowed, his voice one in a chorus of dragon challenges.

The answer came in a great uproar and billowing up of shadows from the ground—below and behind the dragons. "
Drahls!
" came the cry, repeated many times at once. The dragons wheeled and turned upon the enemy shadows, fire flashing from dragon after dragon. "
Die, drahls!
" SearSky boomed, stretching out his black claws to rake any drahls that evaded the flames.

Moments later, the shouting died away, replaced by silence—then rumbles of puzzlement. The shadow-drahls were evaporating like the mist, even before the dragon fire touched them. The dragons who dove after them were closing their claws upon thin air. A deafening peal of laughter reverberated in the valley like the sound of a thunderstorm. It was not a dragon laugh, but something unearthly, demonic.

The dragons rose again, peering about in confusion as they tried to pinpoint the source of the laughter. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. "
Press
the attack!
" Windrush cried, lifting his voice above the din. "
It
is
sorcery!
Do not
be deceived by the Enemy's sorcery!
"

Roaring in agreement, the dragons wheeled around to renew their assault. They raked the ground with fire, challenging the enemy warriors to appear.

Their own cries echoed back to them as they overflew the central amphitheater, belching fire. There was no answering cry, and the empty shadows of the warrens remained empty. No one emerged to meet the challenge, no one rose into the air to flee. The amphitheater, clearly visible now in the scattering mist, was deserted.

"
SearSky and center dragons, make another pass!
" Windrush shouted, trying desperately to keep his vanishing hope from infecting his voice. "
Winterfall and flanks, search the heights! Longtouch and
scouts
,
climb and search the skies! Call out what you find! All others silent!
" As his words echoed back through the air, a haunting quiet came over the valley. The beating of wings, and the occasional crackle of fire, were all that broke the stillness. As the dragons split up according to his directions, Windrush climbed for a better view. Had the camp been deserted all along? No—here and there, firepits used by the enemy warriors were still smoking.

As SearSky's wing of dragons flew slower and lower over the encampment, sending flames into the warrens, they were met again by shadows boiling up from the ground. The dragons attacked, and again found their targets vanishing before them into the air. New cries of demonic laughter pealed through the valley. The sound seemed to Windrush to echo from the hills and the warrens, to reverberate out of the underrealm itself. It was Tar-skel, laughing through his sorcery at the bewilderment of the dragons.

From the greater height, Windrush could see more clearly that these shadows were as empty as those which had fooled him back in Hodakai's cavern. His fellow dragons were being deceived by the same trickery of the Enemy. Furious, he scanned the slopes on either side of the valley, looking for further signs of a trap. It was clear that the Enemy had known they were coming. Were drahls waiting to fall upon them as soon as their company disintegrated into chaos? He dared not risk that. "
Keep your formations tight!
" he called down. "
Beware of treachery!
"

He had a feeling, though—a twisting of humiliation and rage deep in his gut—that the Enemy had already won this battle, had made fools of them by inviting them to attack an empty valley. Where were the Enemy's servants now? No doubt far out of reach, waiting for the dragons to abandon their effort. Windrush leveled off high above the ground, trying to use his undersenses. But there was too much commotion; he could not focus.

Reports were starting to echo back on the wind. "No enemy here!" "None on the north slopes!" "None on the south slopes!" "None in the warrens!"

Windrush cursed silently—cursed the air, and the Enemy and his tricks, and the spy who must have warned him that they were coming. What should he do now? Attempt to occupy the camp, to establish a foothold in the Enemy's territory? Some of the dragons might call for that; but it would be impossible to hold this place for long, so far from home. How many dragons would it cost them to try?

Windrush felt a stinging uncertainty. They had come to punish the enemy warriors, and had met only frustration and treachery. He had been a fool for pressing the attack after learning of the traitor in their midst.

"Who betrayed us?" someone shouted from below, his words echoing Windrush's thoughts. "What spy told them we were coming?"

The words were met with angry mutterings. For a moment, Windrush felt tempted to shout down that one of their number was a spy—and the sooner they found him the better. But he knew that an angry brawl among the dragons here would serve the Enemy's cause far better than their own. It would take careful and determined effort to locate the traitor, the real traitor.

"
Silence
in
the valley!
" he shouted at last. His command reverberated across the empty camp, stilling the grumbling. He called out for small parties to search the warrens, and for the rest to form a defensive circle about the camp. "If the Enemy returns, let him be met with our fury! Scouts, keep a watch on the sky. Search for any sign and search for our arriving flanks."

They had not long to wait for the latter. Before the scouts had even climbed back above the bordering slopes, Windrush felt the approach of new dragons. An instant later a cry from a scout signaled the arrival of Farsight's flank, from the north. Soon Stronghold's flank flew in from the south. The leaders gathered around Windrush, circling in midair.

Brusquely, the dragon asked for reports. Farsight's flank had noticed nothing unusual in their northern passage through the mountains. Stronghold's, however, had been interrupted at one point by a call from ToweringTree, at the rear, that he had seen something moving in the Valley Between—just a glimpse of one or more shadows in the air, shortly before they had reached the southern pass. But after a brief search had turned up nothing, Stronghold had ordered them to hurry on, so that they would arrive in time for the battle.

At Windrush's call, ToweringTree rose from the circling company and joined the leaders. "The shadows you saw, back in the Valley Between—which way were they moving?"

ToweringTree's eyes flickered worriedly. "To the east. That was why I asked Stronghold to wait. Windrush, if the drahls aren't here—"

"Then they might be attacking
our
land," Windrush said, voicing aloud the fear that they must all have been harboring. The enemy could have moved as stealthily as the dragons—perhaps more stealthily. The dragons had not left their land unprotected; but even so, a large part of their fighting strength was right here, circling uselessly in the air. A cacophony of laughter rang across the valley, jarring him from his thoughts. Was the Enemy listening to their words and thoughts even now? He felt a bone-chilling cold rising out of the underrealm. As the eyes of the dragon leaders flashed around him, he knew that they were all realizing the magnitude of their mistake. "We must return!" "Quickly!" "The defense cannot hold—" The murmurs rose around him.