Dragon Rigger (33 page)

The image of the rigger flickered and shifted and stretched into motion, the ship floating over her. He began leading the way again. It was not that much farther, he thought. Not much farther at all to the Pool of Visions, and to the trap that awaited.

As FullSky had hoped, it was the Watcher's strength that became its undoing—transforming itself into a living darkness, a thing that swallowed hope and turned it to despair. But its darkness could not stand against a dragon transformed into light. In the moment of the Watcher's death, FullSky felt a tremendous release. His body might remain crippled and chained by the Enemy, but his spirit, his kuutekka, was freed from the oppression of the Watcher's power.

The weaving he had prepared in secret came together now, threads of the underweb whirling and tightening. His heart leaped for joy, as the physical pain of his body was bound out of the weaving of his kuutekka. He couldn't abandon his body altogether, but he could stretch out from it. He rose from the floor of the cavern, his senses yearning to reach out into the pathways of the underrealm beyond.

He crossed over the chasm of spirits to where Windrush, stunned, was struggling to understand what he had done. FullSky touched his brother's kuutekka, and Windrush's thoughts reached out to him in bewilderment and joy. Could FullSky escape and join the others? he wanted to know.

FullSky wished he could answer yes—but that was impossible. His role in the struggle lay elsewhere. There was much he might yet do, but only if he moved quickly, before the Enemy knew that he was free. He was skilled at crafting spells in the underrealm, but his power was no match for the Enemy's, if that one came after him directly. And if his body were destroyed? He had no idea how long he could survive then. Perhaps not at all.

Windrush, I do not know if you will see me again. But I will be fighting alongside you. We will be together again in the Final Dream Mountain.

FullSky—!

Realizing how hopelessly slow words would be, and how fleeting their safety here, FullSky probed directly into his brother's thoughts. He saw there the hope for Jael's appearance; and he saw also the bitter disappointment of the dragons' failed attack, and the frightening destruction of the lumenis. And he saw Windrush's futile efforts to find the Dream Mountain.

He would give Windrush such hope as he could—in images that he knew might not reach Windrush's awareness at once, but would surface in their own time. He showed his brother the blow he had just struck against Tar-skel's web of power—freeing many spirits along with FullSky, and thereby breaking one small strand in the Enemy's web. It would perhaps set the Enemy back only a little, but every hope was precious. Even small setbacks could delay the completion of the web.
Windrush
,
you are not alone,
he sang softly.
I'm
sorry
to
have put you at risk—but believe me, you are not alone. And now you must flee!

He pulled back from his brother's kuutekka.
Flee
now! Flee before you are found here!

Windrush gazed at him in amazement. FullSky blinked once, and departed back across the chasm of spirits. He peered back as Windrush turned away, up the pathway though which he had come. FullSky tugged at the weave that had kept that pathway open. There was a shifting of the underweb, and the path vanished as though it had never existed. Another similar opening appeared in its place, leading to another part of the realm altogether. If the Enemy came searching, FullSky hoped that that detour might, for a little while, lead him astray.

In the chasm, the spirits of the captured dead were swarming out of their imprisonment, perhaps in flight to the Final Dream Mountain, perhaps elsewhere. They were making a considerable disturbance in the underrealm. This was good, FullSky thought. The distraction might give him the cover he needed.

Passing out of that place, he hurried back to his anchor point and the beginning of his own journey.

* * *

FullSky did not leave the Enemy's lair at once. He wanted to learn what he could of the Enemy's activities nearby, and this might be his only chance.

He was floating in the dungeons of the Dark Vale. In the outer world, he knew it was a blasted landscape, filled with craters and honeycombed with spaces into which captives were crowded, half embedded in stone. Here in the underrealm it was a place of brooding powers, throbbing with glowering light. There were few shadows in which to hide. He would have to move about like a luminous ghost in a place that reeked of poisonous fires. Fortunately, the Enemy and his servants were preoccupied with their own sorceries, and they probably never imagined that a spirit of the opposition might be moving freely through the underweb of their dungeon. If they sensed his movement, he hoped they would dismiss him as one of the harmless dead, freed from the chasm.

In this level of the underrealm, the dungeons were a vast, open network of caverns and cells, separated by slender pillars and archways and glowing, fragmentary walls of melted-looking stone. The captives floated like trapped, luminous fire-beings, anchored in their bodies. Most had no evident awareness in the underrealm, though a few seemed to peer dully at FullSky as he floated past. Some of the captives were dragons caught in battle; others were dragons who had voluntarily joined with Tar-skel, only to learn too late that their standing in his realm was not what they had hoped. Many were not dragons at all, but shadow-cats and sprites and slope-climbers, and other beings that he did not recognize.

Guardian spirits moved among them like drifting lanterns—brighter, but often no steadier, than those they guarded. These guardians were witless and slow, compared to the slain Watcher, but still quite capable of sounding an alarm. FullSky moved with care, keeping his radiant presence close to the glowing walls. Since he could hardly float into the underrealm presence of the Nail himself and ask what was happening, he wanted to see if he could decipher anything of the Enemy's plans from the spells that were woven here.

It was risky. The Enemy would soon realize that a part of his web had come unraveled, that some of the strength stolen from captive spirits was gone. And in time, FullSky's kuutekka would be noticed. But he didn't intend to remain long.

Drifting along the walls, he memorized the shapes of the threads and lines and seams of the sorceries that held this place together. He had no specific idea what he might do with the information, but any knowledge was potentially useful. Indeed, if he learned enough, he might eventually find a way to free some of his fellow captives. But he dared not try that now. It was the Enemy's larger spells that he wanted to decipher. Most of all, he wanted to pursue threads he had glimpsed before—threads that might, however indirectly, connect to the Dream Mountain.

Still, he could not resist an urge to skim close to the nearest captives, wondering if he might recognize anyone. He did not—at first, anyway. But wherever he could do so without attracting attention, he brushed the thoughts of the captives and offered a silent whisper of defiance and hope against the pain.

He had nearly reached the end of the caverns when he caught the first undersense of something, or someone, familiar. It took him a few moments to locate it, on the extreme far end of this last cell: a flickering spirit that somehow seemed to shine with greater stubbornness than most. It must, he thought, be a dragon recently captured—someone still hoping against all odds for escape.

FullSky drifted across the bottom of the cell toward it. Several outerrealm guardians, likely drahls, were clustered around the captive; but they displayed little or no awareness in the underweb. Perhaps he could move just close enough to probe the captive with a tendril of thought. It was indeed a dragon, he realized. He gently touched it—and almost cried out with surprise.
WingTouch!

He fought to maintain his equilibrium. WingTouch back in the Enemy's grip? Both WingTouch and Farsight had been freed by the breaking of the Black Peak sorcery. How had WingTouch been recaptured? Hovering perilously close to the guardians, FullSky struggled to think. Had his brother been seduced back? There were no threads of entanglement or deceit around him. WingTouch was throbbing with pain and anger. He had been captured, then—captured fighting. FullSky touched his brother's throbbing mind and felt it shudder with confusion. WingTouch felt his presence, but didn't yet know who he was. WingTouch had indeed been taken in battle, but the Enemy was trying now to persuade him to become a traitor. That was the source of the dragon's anger, and of much of his pain. He burned, even now, with defiance.

That, at least, was good. Very good.

But did he dare identify himself to WingTouch? It might bring him hope. But it could also be dangerous, if WingTouch were closely questioned by the Enemy. FullSky moved cautiously about his brother's presence. WingTouch had little skill in undersensing. How strong a contact would it take? He dared not make too large a disturbance. He approached closely enough to feel a growing turbulence in WingTouch's thoughts.

The anger was intense.

The pain was terrifying.

He could not leave his brother without speaking, no matter the risk. He called, softly,
WingTouch.

The dragon's mind jerked, startled.

FullSky watched for any reaction on the part of guardians, and remained ready to flee.

Who is it?
WingTouch peered around helplessly in the outerrealm, but kept his cry of pain to himself.

FullSky drew closer still and whispered,
Do
not
speak aloud. It is FullSky. I am here with you.

A tide of rage and anguish exploded from WingTouch's mind.
FullSky! I do not believe that you are a traitor!
he hissed, barely containing his words.
But
if I learn that you are, I will kill you myself!

FullSky was stunned. Why would WingTouch think him a traitor? He drew back to watch for ripples in the underweb. When there was no sign of awareness by the guardians, he slipped back in, probing WingTouch's memories. In a few moments, he found the Enemy's false accusations. He answered:
The
Enemy
is lying. Never doubt that.

He gave WingTouch an image: a dragon bound in stone, its head held high, fire flaring from its throat. He meant it as a symbol of his own adamance against the foe, but also as an encouragement to WingTouch, fellow prisoner of Tar-skel. His brother stirred uneasily at the image.

I
cannot
help you now—but I will try later, if I can find a way,
FullSky whispered.

WingTouch struggled in his bonds, with a startling ferocity. FullSky, like most of the others, had been broken and crippled physically soon after his capture. But as he probed in WingTouch's thoughts, he guessed that the Enemy was saving him, apparently hoping to seduce him back, or to intimidate him into betraying the rest of dragonkind. But why was the Enemy bothering? Could it be that Tar-skel was more insecure about his victory than he would have had others believe? Was Tar-skel afraid of the ancient prophecy, even now?

In WingTouch's heart, FullSky saw a strong defiance—but also something else, something that had not existed in his brother's heart before, but was just beginning to take root; a tiny grain of despair.

It was hardly surprising. FullSky remembered how long it had taken him to grow out of his own despair in captivity. But time now was short. His brother might not have the luxury of growing out of his despair. WingTouch knew the state of the dragon companies, and much of the thought of their leader. The Enemy would not permit him to remain defiantly silent for long.

Still, the Enemy's insecurity was cause for hope. And FullSky had to convey that hope to WingTouch—to extinguish that grain of despair before it could grow larger.

The enemy is lying,
he whispered.
His
victory
is not yet assured. There is still hope—always hope!

His words drifted into WingTouch's mind, but if they were having any effect, he could not tell. The guardians suddenly moved closer, flickering with a more intensive attention. He was forced to pull away at last, leaving his brother behind.

He would return later, if he could. Perhaps he could find a way to help his brother; but in the meantime, he could only trust that the seeds of hope he had planted would grow—that WingTouch would survive, somehow, intact.

The underweb trembled with the approach of more drahls. Perhaps they were coming to torment WingTouch, or to question him. FullSky longed to stay with his brother. But there was nothing he could do with so many of the Enemy's servants about. And the most important thing now was to survive, himself, and to learn all that he could.

To learn, if possible, of the Dream Mountain.

It was time to move on.

He floated regretfully away. But it was not long before he glimpsed, through an opening in the glowering cavern, the very thing he had been looking for. It was a meandering thread, apparently vanishing into the mists of the underrealm. But just above it, a presence shone through the mist, like a diffuse beam of light. It was not an actual image, but he was sure that he recognized it. He had glimpsed it before, from the dungeon—but now he saw, for the first time, the faint pathway that might lead there. That thread, he was sure, led to the sorcery that kept the secret of the Dream Mountain.

He hesitated only an instant; he had been lingering here long enough already. Gathering himself, FullSky caught that path and fled from the cavern like a spark into the night.

Windrush awoke to the sight of several sweepers scurrying away from the latest of their creations—a tiny sculpture at the edge of his hearth. He squinted as the little creatures vanished into the hidden crevices of the cavern. Muttering to himself, he studied their handiwork. Made entirely from his own fallen scales, it featured a small, conical, mountain-like shape raised above a flat, horizontal surface by a slender arm fashioned from pinched dragon scales. The flat surface was dull and rough, the color of dead, faded scales; but the object shaped like a peak had been polished to a bright silver.