Dragon Rigger (28 page)

Windrush drew himself back into his own lair, pausing at the underrealm window. Nothing seemed to be pursuing. Had he escaped without revealing his presence? Could he trust Hodakai to keep the visit to himself?

There were no guarantees, none at all.

Windrush secured the opening to the best of his ability. He sighed, trying to make sense of what he had learned. The Enemy did not yet control Dream Mountain. He knew he should rejoice—but his mind was too full of cares, and too tired. Perhaps he ought to get some sleep.

Unless an iffling showed up in the next few moments to distract him, that was what he was going to do. The moments passed, and no one, iffling or otherwise, came visiting. Very well, then. He closed his eyes—and he listened, as time stretched around him, to his own heartbeat. It seemed only to grow louder with each passing moment, and the cares dancing in his thoughts more urgent.

Her awareness wavered about her like a holo going out of focus, its dimensional integrity flickering and holding for a fraction of a second, then disintegrating again. Jael was struggling to return to consciousness. But her efforts seemed disconnected from reality, somehow, divorced from her own mind. She felt herself gently rocked by aftershocks, distant gongs and pings, echoing through whatever . . . awareness . . . or reality . . . surrounded her. They were, she knew in some dim recess of her mind, aftershocks of the force that had hurled them to . . . wherever she was now. She felt the shock waves, but was separated from them . . . and from her companions. There was a boundary layer . . .

She felt that she was clawing her way upward through an endless sea, holding her breath, praying that she could reach the surface before her lungs burst. The surface shimmered out of reach, but she kept swimming toward it, trying to cry out, but unable to make a sound. She wanted to weep, not knowing where in this ocean she was, or if she was alone, or if she was even really alive. She was aware of pain, but it too was separated from her.

She heard someone calling her name, calling . . .

And then it all began to slip away. The voice faded. She felt herself sinking back into unawareness, into the quiet tidepool of the unconscious from which she had risen.

* * *

Jarvorus' recovery from the shock of passage came slowly. The stunned feeling of bewilderment was gradually fading. Whatever that enormous thing was that had hurled the human vessel across several layers of space and time, it had done so with an astounding force. Despite Jarvorus' abilities to skate across space-time boundaries, he was nonetheless amazed to find himself unharmed, and still securely ensconced near the vessel's power source.

As he regained his faculties, the warrior looked around for the others. The iffling was still there. It looked as though it too had been stunned, but was now awakening. He thought briefly of attacking, but he himself was hardly prepared for a fight just now. In any case, he felt a curious reluctance. He recalled his earlier feeling that there was something about this creature that he liked . . . that he wanted to understand. As long as the iffling did not interfere with his mission to lead the One where she was supposed to go, its continued life would not be a problem.

The human and her shipmate were glowing with life, as well, but not moving. They appeared not to be conscious. There was also that strange, cold light that flickered and rasped, the thing that seemed in a way almost alive, but not quite like any of the others. It was making odd hacking concussions now, which conveyed no meaning to Jarvorus.

Jarvorus turned his attention to the real question, which was, where were they?

He peered past the shimmering layers of energy that protected the vessel from the surrounding medium, and was startled to see a landscape full of sharp craggy rises and deep dips, and a multicolored sky. The ship was lodged against the side of one of those crags. Strong winds outside were making the ship shudder. There was something about the sight . . . something in the air that made him ache strangely, that made
him
shudder as well, that had nothing to do with the force of the wind. There was a sharp, challenging smell in the air that seemed to urge him to leave this vessel, to fly free. He felt, for a moment, almost as if he remembered this place. An image rose unbidden in his thoughts of an enclosed place of rock, a cavern—life winking in the crevices, most
un
warriorlike beings chattering and singing. The image puzzled him.

Was this home? He scarcely remembered his life prior to his time as a warrior. Had they arrived back in the realm of his origin, the realm he had been remade and reborn to protect? Jarvorus studied the landscape with wonderment, pausing only for an instant to glance in the direction of the iffling. It was glimmering with energy, apparently taking stock of its own situation. Was it reacting in the same way he was? Did it have memories of a past life here? He couldn't tell.

He knew that his mission was the opposite of the iffling's, and that troubled him. They had been together for so long, even as adversaries, that he could not help thinking of the iffling—and even Jael herself—almost as comrades of a sort. They had all just been through a great trauma together. He knew he should not be thinking such thoughts, but it was difficult not to.

In any case, his concern now was not with the iffling. He had other needs, and he was bursting with desire to explore this strangely wondrous and familiar world. And yet . . . he must consider his mission. If the riggers awakened, he had to be ready. Except that he was a little unclear about what he was
supposed
to do next. Even if they were in the home realm, he had no idea
where
in the realm he was, or for that matter, where exactly he was supposed to lead the riggers. Had he somehow forgotten—or was it a missing part of his instructions? He needed to discover his next course of action.

He was suddenly aware of an almost overwhelming urge to explore beneath the surface of the observable world. Perhaps this was no coincidence; perhaps that was where he would find his answers. If he could keep just a corner of his attention upon the iffling and the human, he could let the rest of his senses sink down into the body of this land, to search out the land beneath the land.

Even as he thought it, he felt it happening, as though it were something he was born to do. A whole new world opened up to him. It was not a world of open space like the wind and the rocks, but rather a vast, gloomy network of threads and passageways that seemed to lead in all directions. As he peered down one, then another, he glimpsed distant lights of life, winking in caverns. He trembled with a sudden desire to reach out, to discover who those lights belonged to. One of them was different from the others, more distant but far stronger, and now it seemed to pulse and beckon almost irresistibly.

Perhaps, without losing his present position, he could just reach out to it . . . make contact . . .

* * *

Jarvorus was startled to find himself suddenly, wholly, in the presence of that light. He had not meant to
jump,
only to reach—but it was as if the light had opened the pathway completely, and swept him in an instant into its presence. He felt a stab of panic. Would he be able to find his way back?

Welcome
,
my helper-warrior!
cried the light, driving away his alarm.
I
thought
I
felt
your return to the realm!

Jarvorus quivered with amazement and uncertainty. He felt that he ought to know this being, but he could not quite grasp the memory.

The light coalesced into an almost solid shape that, strangely, reminded Jarvorus somehow of the human rigger. In no way would he have mistaken it for Jael, but he could not help wondering if there was some sort of similarity between them. The light spoke again.
Do
you remember who
I
am?

Jarvorus struggled.
I
think
I . . .
Are
you the one who . . . ?

Made you? Yes. Indeed, I am pleased that you remember,
said the being.
I
am the one who created you, made you over.
With
, it added quickly,
the
wisdom and power of the
Nail
of Strength.

You
sent
me on my
mission
, Jarvorus ventured.

I
oversaw
your
creation
from
the
simple
being
that
I
found floating uselessly in a cavern, and I gave you your mission, and prepared you for your journey.
You
called me Master Rent, before you were born into that other world.

Fragments of memory drifted up into Jarvorus' awed mind. He recalled awakening in the other realm. And before that . . . he found vague memories of life in a cavern, with others of his kind, a gentler and less perilous life. Sometime in between, he'd experienced a time of terrifying transformation, when he'd been changed somehow, and imbued with specific knowledge and instruction and abilities, which had awakened in him upon his rebirth as a warrior. And that must have been when he'd learned of the Nail, and the treachery of the dragons. And now he was again in the presence of his creator and master!

What report do you have for me, brave warrior?
asked Master Rent, studying him closely.
How
have you and the other warriors fared? Do the others guard the
human
rigger
now
,
while you report?

Jarvorus was suddenly overwhelmed by shame and fear.
Master
Rent
, he confessed,
I
am the only survivor of the warriors. The others . . . fell to the ifflings.

To the ifflings!

Only one iffling now remains,
Jarvorus whispered.
The human rigger
is
 . . .
in
the realm, but not conscious.

The figure of light and shadow approached him, its voice deepening and becoming hypnotic.
Show
me what has happened, Jarvorus.

The warrior felt an electric touch between them. His memories from the other realm stirred in him, rising and flowing out to the one who made him. He did not speak, nor did he need to.

I
see,
Rent said, after a few moments.

The warrior-elemental could not tell if his master was pleased or displeased.
Should
I
have
done
something
differently?
he asked timidly.

Rent seemed to consider.
I might wish that you had not let the iffling live. But even that could have its uses. I perceive that you struggled bravely, and you kept the
mission
paramount
in your
thoughts
.
No
,
it seems you did well, warrior. But—your work is not yet over.
The voice became harder.
Much
remains for you to do.

I am ready to serve,
Jarvorus murmured, though a part of him wanted to cry out that he was tired, and surely he'd done enough already.

He sensed a great pulsing activity within the figure of Master Rent. He sensed that the master was thinking, and perhaps speaking to others, even as he was present here with Jarvorus. Was he planning the next assignment? Jarvorus felt a nervous anticipation—and a growing urgency to return to the vessel carrying the rigger Jael. The iffling was still there, and she should not be left unwatched for long.

You
are going to lead the rigger Jael to a place where she may not wish to go,
Rent said suddenly.
I
will give you everything you need to do that. But I have
something
else for you to do first.

Dare I leave the rigger alone any longer?
Jarvorus asked weakly.

Do not question my orders!
Rent snapped.
I will send others to guard the rigger—and when you return to her, you may command them. But first I require you to perform an errand elsewhere. I wish you to take the form of an iffling when you do so. Can you manage? You seem to have had ample opportunity to observe the ifflings.

Take the form of an iffling? That would be easy enough, as long as only the outward form mattered. Jarvorus bowed in acknowledgment. As he did so, his master flared momentarily, and he felt the sudden, electric touch of Rent delivering words into his mind—a message to be delivered, along with a tiny spell of persuasion. He felt implicitly the instruction that the content of that message was none of his business.
Shall
I
bring
the rigger Jael to you afterward?
he asked, meaning to acknowledge the instruction.

Rent darkened with anger.
You
will
not!
You
will
do
precisely as I say! Is that understood?

Jarvorus bowed again.

Now
then,
snapped Rent,
I
will
explain what you are to do with the rigger. Pay attention! You will take her to a place I have selected, safe from the dragons. There she will be bound, so that her sorcery
cannot . . .
interfere . . . with our work. Until the time comes
—Rent paused. There was a certain breathless urgency in his instruction, which surprised Jarvorus.

Forgive me,
Jarvorus said.
But
surely
you're not afraid that the rigger could hurt us.

Rent's image flared, darkened, flared again.
What are you implying, warrior?

Nothing,
Master—nothing!
Forgive
me!

A bolt of lightning flashed through Jarvorus, stunning him more than hurting him.
Forgive
you?
growled Rent.
In time
,
I
may. But
now
,
curb your insolence, or I shall return you to the life of a powerless sprite from
which
you came.