(Hawwww
—
yes! Graggon riggers!)
cried Ed.
Yes! she thought. Who could better take hold of the Flux and shape it than a rigger? A dragon rigger. She must become more than a rigger, and Windrush more than a dragon. And Ed had shown her the way—Ed, who was more than parrot and more than rigger.
I am Jael, friend of Highwing,
friend of Windrush!
she whispered, and she hiked her kuutekka-self up over Windrush's shoulder and peered into his spirit-eyes. She peered through those glowing facets and sank spinning into the depths of his eyes, of his soul.
She shuddered with the power and joy of the union, and her mind overflowed with dragon hopes and griefs and questions, and she was almost swept away on the stream of the dragon's innermost thoughts. But she forced herself to hold aloft the image she wanted, sharing it with Windrush—an image of riggers transforming the underrealm together, transforming themselves—and she felt the underrealm tremble as she merged with her friend's kuutekka and became one body with him, dragon rigger.
(Hawww, yes! Graggon!)
(Yes, Ed! Dragon!)
They were dragon, three joined as one. She felt her wings beat the air with dragon strength, astonishing strength, even through the terrible fatigue. She clenched her talons, sharp and hard and strong. And she felt Windrush marveling, as she marveled, at the union—and she felt an almost overpowering desire to soar and wheel and plunge through the air for the pure joy of dragon flight. It seemed impossible that such joy could be interrupted by the darkness of a war.
But the shuddering power of the Enemy quaked around her, an angry power, and she knew there was no time for rejoicing. (
See the webbing!
) she murmured to her other selves, and even as she spoke, they banked and turned toward the fiery, arcing web of the Enemy.
(That is the source of the storm, and the illusions.)
And she reached out their claws and hurtled straight for the place where it
was torn.
Hawwwwwwwwwwwww!
screeched the parrot.
FOR THE REALM! thundered Windrush in amazement, flying with all of his strength.
For
all the friends of
Highwing!
whispered Jael.
They struck the web and it exploded with lightning and fire, hurling them back with stunning force. The concussion from the blast echoed from the Black Peak like hideous laughter. But heedless of the laughter, heedless of the pain, they turned and dove again—and it was like attacking a high-voltage wire, but this time, through the billowing sparks and fire, they caught the webbing in their dragon claws. And they didn't let go, but tore at the web and dove and tore and dove, Jael and Windrush and Ed screaming with determination.
And through the madness of fire and electricity and earthquake, the web began to stretch, to give, to tear. But they needed more strength; they needed more help. And Jael knew where it had to come from.
Deeplife, Waterflow, Starchime!
she cried back through the underrealm.
DRACONAE,
HELP US!
From the Dream Mountain, whiskers of strength flashed this way and that, as the draconae strove to help the One in whom all hope rested. From the heart of the mountain, Lavafire and all the others poured as much light into the One's kuutekka as it could stand. Without the strength of the dreamfire coursing into that one's being, she could not have lasted even this long. And yet it was not enough.
Starchime sent out a sunburst of thought in the opposite direction.
Riggers!
If you can hear us, we need you! Jael needs you!
* * *
Ed, it's no good! We can't control it! The current is too strong!
Ar's cry came out as a gasp in the midst of his labors. No matter how they tried to steer or skate the ship away from the singularity, it kept turning and tumbling, pulled by forces Ar could not see clearly enough to understand or counter. The singularity blazed diamond-white before them, drawing them inward along its throbbing currents.
What, rawk, that?
gasped the parrot.
What's
what
—? And then Ar saw it: a tiny thread of fire twisting out across the Flux, toward them. He instinctively looked for a way to evade it; then he realized that it seemed to be seeking them, and instead of evading, he braced for its arrival.
It grew, brightened, and flashed into the net. Ar trembled as he felt a connection open suddenly—and a thought touched his, and it was an alien touch.
Who
—? he whispered.
Graggon!
croaked Ed, suddenly fluttering from side to side.
What graggon
here, hawww?
I
don't know,
Ar whispered. He shivered as he recalled the connection he had once shared with Windrush, when they'd met for the first time and the dragon had searched his thoughts. But this was different. There was something lyrical and musical and . . . female . . . about this one.
The alien touch slowly shaped itself into words.
We need you . . . Jael needs you . . .
In utter astonishment, Ar felt the connection altering, expanding, telescoping outward in a way that he could sense but not comprehend. And then he felt a new presence touch him, and this one was different; it was a raging dragon crying out in battle.
Windrush?
Ar whispered, stunned.
Ar
,
help me . . . !
cried a voice that was torn by
pain and need—and it took him a heartbeat, two heartbeats, to believe who was calling to him.
JAEL
!
he screamed.
Jayyyylllllll!
Over the parrot's cry, and the echoing cry of a second parrot, and the thunder of a dragon's rage, he realized that he was touching not just one being, but three. But it was Jael, most of all, who cried out to him, and her cry was laden with desperation and hope.
Jael! Jael, what can I
do
? he cried out, heedless now of the starship's headlong fall toward the singularity.
In answer, he did not so much hear her voice as feel her thought, and her need. Ed shrieked in surprise—and he realized that an image had appeared in the net—far ahead of them, in the very heart of the singularity. A tiny window had opened there, and within it he saw the figure of a dragon—and he knew that it was not just Windrush, but Jael and Ed, as well. A terrible fire flashed around the dragon, and he struggled to make out what it was. The dragon was tearing at a blazing web, stretching it and trying to destroy it, and the web was flashing back with killing fire.
Help me, Ar! Help me, Ed!
Jael gasped.
What . . . how?
Come through from the other side . . . come
through
the Dream
Mountain!
Break a path, Ar, break a path!
Hawww, yes! Break a path!
shrieked one Ed.
Break a path!
shrieked the other.
Ar stared in fear and awe at the singularity.
Is THAT the Dream
Mountain
?
YES
,
Ar
—
come!
cried Jael, her voice thinning.
With a clap of thunder, the window closed. Ar sensed that the Enemy had done that, and that he had only moments to react before the ship itself would be under attack. An explosive wave flashed out from the singularity. Frightened, Ar shrank the net. Hold tight,
Ed!
The shock wave hit the ship like a hammer, shaking the net with terrible power. But it held.
Ed—straight in! With everything
we've got!
Ar bellowed in fury.
Hawwww! Straight through, straight through!
screamed the parrot, rocketing to the front of the net and helping Ar stretch them out like a long, shiny needle plunging straight for the blazing singularity that was the Dream Mountain.
Another wave hit them, but Ar was no longer afraid of that, and they flashed through it with only a single hard
thump
, and the fire of the singularity grew and brightened and blossomed before them. And if he had taken the time to think about it, he might have been terrified; but he felt a tremendous and unreasoning hope burning in his veins now, as they approached the singularity that by all rights ought to destroy them.
Damn the torpedoes, hawwwwwwwwwwwww!
shouted Ed.
And Ar changed their shape from a needle to a forcefield scalpel as the singularity exploded around them.
* * *
It was Lavafire who first understood, but even then it took a choir of draconae voices to persuade her to take the terrible risk. The Forge of Dreams was secured in a weaving of protection that even the Enemy could not break through—or if he did, all of that power would be released in a conflagration that would destroy the realm with the Dream Mountain itself.
But with all of their foresight, they had never imagined the One doing something like
this
. With Jael attacking the web at the Black Peak, and Ar diving headlong through the underrealm in a terrifying plunge that would take him straight through the dream forge, they had no choice if Jael was to succeed, if Ar was to survive.
Loose
the bonds—!
Open the fires—!
Let
him not die for our fear—!
Our last hope—!
—
came the cascade of voices, and with that affirmation, Lavafire and the others bent all of their thought to undoing everything they had just done.
The weaving came loose, was stripped away . . .
And the heart of the Dream Mountain lay open to all who had the power to reach it.
* * *
The darkness coiled with outrage at the forces rising against it—far more than it had expected. But it did not for an instant consider drawing back. Though its web was under attack, it still had the dragons in a state of disarray. As long as the Mountain of Fire was kept from their sight, they could never regain their full measure of strength.
The Nail's attention was divided now. Part was focused on the Vale of Darkness, maintaining the sorcery, where the last of the dragon strength battled a foe that was half illusion. The Nail's servants were fewer now than before. He didn't mind the deaths of the drahls and Tar-skel dragons, but the loss of numbers hampered the illusion-sorcery that kept the dragons afraid. Another part of his attention was on the Black Peak, where the rigger-spirit had somehow bound itself to a dragon, and where its attack against the web was more troublesome than expected. Still, with the power from the Deep Caverns, the web could withstand the attack there.
And now the draconae had brought forth another irritation, calling the fleeing riggers in their rigger-ship toward the Mountain of Fire. It wasn't clear why they wanted the riggers, but as the Nail peered through the underrealm at the imprisoned Mountain, he laughed with sudden, pure, naked delight as he saw the foolish draconae make their fatal mistake.
* The time has come! Time for the promised ending! *
The keepers of the Mountain had opened their defenses, and the time had come to claim control of that place, as the Words had promised. No longer was there any reason to hold his power in reserve. The flame and the darkness coiled, and the Nail of Strength laughed with infinite satisfaction as he prepared his final blow.
The Nail drew together
all
of his power—from the Deep Caverns, from the vale, from his own inner reservoirs—and funneled it into the grand weaving. It was a torrent of power, a tidal wave, a tsunami—all of it directed toward seizing the Mountain of Fire. And once it had those fires of creation, it would flower outward without pause—leaving this realm a cinder perhaps, but flowering outward, with unstoppable force, into the universes beyond.
* * *
Jael, plunging through the web with all of the strength of a dragon-spirit, was blasted back by a stupendous arc of lightning. She felt Ed and Windrush both shuddering and gasping from the blow.
(What was that?)
she whispered.
(What has Tar-skel done?)
The web crackled, and waves of energy flashed from somewhere behind her, across the web, toward the Dream Mountain. She saw the peril that she had created: the draconae had opened the heart of the Dream Mountain for Ar to pass through . . . and opened it to the Enemy, as well. In a terrible, sudden insight, she realized that if the Enemy succeeded, he could have his victory and move on, though the realm would lie in smoking ruins behind him.
HE MUST NOT!
she screamed, her voice the voice of Windrush and Ed and Jael, and she hurled herself again at the web, and again and again, each time clawing harder at the binding force that held it together, each time knowing that she could not break through it alone.
HELP US!
she screamed into the tumult of the underrealm.
HELP US
—
ANYONE
—
PLEASE
—
!
* * *
In the Cavern of Spirits, the underrealm rang like a tremendous bell gonging in the depths of an infinite sea. Hodakai listened, wondering, wishing he could see what was happening. All of the ordinary paths of vision were obscured. At one point, he'd felt a sharp twinge, and thought of Rent, and wondered why he'd thought of death at the same time. He was dizzy with everything that had happened; but he felt bereft now, and alone. Even the cavern sprites seemed to have left him.
Jarvorus!
he cried into the gloom of the cavern where the rift yawned.
Why have you left me alone here?
To his astonishment, he heard an answering whisper:
I've not left you, Hodakai.
The false-iffling slipped like a flame out of a fold in the underrealm and murmured,
He is
gone now, isn't he? I think he has died.
Hodakai danced with relief at having someone here for company.
Who has died? Rent? Maybe so! But who cares? Jarvorus, isn't there something we can DO?
At that moment, the ringing in the underrealm changed suddenly. There was a strange kind of silence, and then a voice echoed distantly out of the rift.
Rigger
,
we need you! Jael needs you!