Dragon Rigger Read online

  Chapter 4: Rent

  Hodakai laughed long and hard. He laughed until his laughter became hollow, his triumph cold and lifeless. He had humiliated the intruder with his trickery, but that dragon was the first real visitor he had had in a very long time. He hated dragons, to be sure. But that one seemed less arrogant than his captors, even if it had refused to free him. And now, it had fled to freedom while Hodakai remained trapped here in a demonic bath of light in the emptiness of the cavern. He knew perfectly well that the dragon had merely been caught off guard by a sophisticated illusion. If it returned bent on vengeance, there was little he could do to stop it.

  Still, he knew something that the dragon wanted to know. He had glimpsed the need in its mind. Dream Mountain. Hodakai didn't actually know the way to the place; but he knew how, or at least by whom, the way had been hidden. And that knowledge was his only possible weapon against the despised race of creatures who had imprisoned him.

  But the trouble with savoring any feeling of victory here was that the feeling never lasted. The passage of time in this spirit-prison was something beyond his comprehension. Moments of pleasure were like birds on wing, rare and fleeting; but the rest of his hours clung to him like a smoky pall, broken only by flights of fantasy, and memories of rigging. Never until his capture by the dragons had he believed in an eternal life, but he was living one now. He envied his shipmate, who had died in the duel with the dragons.

  Still, he was not totally alone here. He had company in the sprites that lived in the cavern, emerging from time to time to dance about and tease him. He didn't really understand them, or their purpose in the scheme of this world. They spoke intelligibly, but in other ways seemed more like pigeons in the rafters than meaningful companions. They seemed to have no real understanding of him, or of his pain. What did they know of the realm of the Flux, or the universe of humanity?

  Come to that, what did Hodakai know of humanity anymore? For all he knew, centuries had passed in his absence, sweeping away all that he had once been a part of. Not that it mattered; he could never return. He would forever regret his folly in venturing into the dragon realm in the first place, but regrets could not change what had happened.

  He blinked, and for a moment slipped back into memory . . . felt the streams of the galactic Flux moving past his fingers like golden rays of light as he piloted his ship in wondrous freedom . . .

  The image collapsed quickly. Mustn't get lost in that now, he muttered to himself. Too much to think about. Can't keep this to myself.

  He did have one other place to turn for conversation, one other person to share his thoughts with. It wasn't someone he trusted, exactly, but it was someone who at least understood him—understood what it was like to be torn from his body and exiled from his own universe. This someone knew the experience—and furthermore, claimed to have a way out, a way to something better.

  Hodakai wasn't so sure about that last part, but he did have a feeling that Rent might be interested in hearing of the dragon's visit. The trouble was that Rent was on the side of the drahls and the drahls' Master, and that made Hodakai most uneasy. He had no interest in becoming embroiled in this world's conflict. There were dragons on both sides, and things far worse than dragons, and Hodakai wanted no part of either side. But there was one certain enticement that Rent kept dangling before him . . .

  Without actually being aware of making a decision, Hodakai murmured the words of the spell that Rent had left in place, that twisted space and opened the connection to Rent's hideaway. Hodakai had no idea where, in space, the other rigger-spirit was; but with this spell-weaving, his thoughts passed easily through the vastness of the underrealm, tracing their way along the wispy strands that led to Rent's inner sanctum. Hodakai felt the guarding spells of the other's territory; he paused and gave a little hoot to let Rent know he was here.

  The guarding spells shifted and opened. Yes? Why, my dear friend Hodakai—is that your voice I hear? Let me look upon your face! cried the faraway spirit.

  Why not? Hodakai replied, with a flash of annoyance. If they were such good friends, why wouldn't Rent reveal his real and full name? Hodakai had revealed his name to Rent early on, and he'd wondered ever since whether in doing so he had given Rent some subtle and indefinable power over him.

  The only "face" he had to show was his dancing-shadow self. Rent, on the other hand, appeared in full body, a human figure walking through the aura of light that was the underrealm connection between them. Rent was a tall and iron-featured man. His expression was flinty and arrogant; he walked with a casual bluster and wore a smile that, far from being disarming, made Hodakai tighten his guard.

  It is always so good to see you, Hodakai! To what do I owe the rare privilege?

  Hodakai hesitated. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. I've been thinking, he said finally.

  Rent cocked his head. Dangerous habit. Are you calling to ask my permission?

  Hodakai twitched with anger. All right, so it was Rent who had taught him all that he knew of underrealm magic—and for that matter, most of what he knew about the realm, period, from the fate of his shipmate to the concealment of the dragons' Dream Mountain. But Rent had also withheld much, and it was clear that he would continue to do so until Hodakai accepted servanthood to him, and to the one whom Rent served.

  Hodakai decided to ignore Rent's jibe. I've been thinking about those flying serpents you call friends, he said finally.

  Oh? And what have you been thinking about them? I presume it is true dragons you are speaking of, yes? There was a pinch in the center of Rent's forehead, and it deepened as he spoke.

  Well . . . What Rent called "true" dragons were those loyal to Rent's Master—the one called Tar-skel, the "Nail of Strength." Hodakai, frankly, didn't know if there was much difference between the Tar-skel dragons and any others, except for their allegiance in the war. But he knew this: it had been Tar-skel dragons who had captured him.

  Hodakai, Hodakai! Rent chided, apparently reading his mind. Can you not be the master of your own outrage? How can you be counted in the coming victory if you cling to your petty grudges? Accept what has happened and move on!

  Hodakai didn't answer. This was Rent's way of asking what he never tired of asking, which was: when would Hodakai give up and declare his allegiance to Tar-skel, and of course, to Rent? Not that Tar-skel himself gave a flying finger at the moon, Hodakai was sure. Probably the Nail had never even heard of him.

  But Hodakai's hatred of the Nail's dragons ran deep in his soul. He couldn't understand why Rent didn't hate them equally. Rent too was a rigger who had fallen prey to dragons in the Flux. But unlike Hodakai, Rent had parlayed his captivity into power and influence, into both servanthood and mastery. The trouble was, whether Hodakai liked him or not, Rent was the only human he was likely ever to see again in his life.

  Are you planning to tell me what you've been thinking? Rent asked sharply. Or did you call just to announce to me that you had been thinking? Some of us do that every day, you know.

  Hodakai seethed at the sarcasm, but tried not to show it. I called, actually, to tell you of an interesting visitor I've just sent away.

  Rent's expression narrowed. Visitor? Why didn't you tell me that in the first place?

  I was trying to. Anyway, it was a dragon.

  One of your captors, coming to see if you had decided—

  No—not one of those. One of the others. One not . . . aligned with you.

  Rent's eyes shone with a fervor that made Hodakai nervous. Do tell! And to what did you owe this visit from the enemy?

  How would I know? I'd never seen him or heard of him before. And I sent him packing, if that's what you're driving at.

  I should hope so. But did you get any information out of him first? Every encounter with the enemy should be used to good purpose.

  Your enemy, you mean—not mine. Or no more than any other dragon.

  Hodakai, Hodakai—

  And I wish you'd s
top doing that.

  Doing what?

  I think you know. It was just one more way Rent had of pressuring him, by presuming that he and Hodakai had the same notion as to what constituted "the enemy." Hodakai wished now that he hadn't told Rent about the dragon.

  No, Hodakai. What is it you want from me?

  I want you to stop pushing me. I don't like it when you push me. I can make up my own mind.

  Rent stared at him silently. His eyes shone with a power that seemed to penetrate every facet of Hodakai's being. You're taking a very long time to decide where you stand, my friend.

  To that Hodakai had no answer, because it was true. When he replied, he chose his words carefully. I sent him away, telling him nothing that would help him. But I suspect that he will be back. He seemed very interested in me. Seemed to want to offer some kind of . . . dragon friendship. Hodakai stared at Rent, leaving his words hanging. It seemed just possible that, for the first time since he had become a captive in this land, he might actually have some bargaining power. Though he was hardly interested in any sort of friendship with the dragon, it might not hurt to have Rent believe that someone else was offering him enticements. And he had heard rumor of at least one other rigger who had formed such a friendship, so it was not a wholly empty threat.

  It was impossible to judge the success of his tactic. Rent smiled inscrutably. Tell me, Hodakai. Can this dragon, with its friendship, give you back your body? Can this dragon let you walk as a man? Rent's underrealm figure executed a little tap dance for Hodakai, to emphasize the point.

  Hodakai could not answer. In the end, it always came back to this. Rent, like Hodakai, had lost his physical body. But Rent, who not only served Tar-skel but also wielded his sorcery, now walked again as a man. Hodakai, Rent had promised, could do the same—if only he would swear allegiance to the Nail of Strength.

  If only.

  If only Tar-skel didn't give him such a bad case of . . . he didn't know what, exactly, but just the mention of the invisible sorcerer's name made Hodakai tremble. He couldn't say why. He just had a feeling that there was nothing good about this being, who was not a human or a dragon or anything else he had ever heard of.

  Still, he couldn't say that to Rent. I was only telling you what happened. I didn't say I was planning to throw in with the blasted dragon.

  But Rent persisted. He made a stabbing gesture with his finger. Can the false dragons let you walk as a man, Hodakai? Can they?

  Hodakai shook his head; the gesture appeared as a slight tremor in his shadow. No, he whispered.

  I can't hear you, Hodakai! Rent cupped a hand to his ear. Can they?

  No, he repeated, a little louder.

  No, Rent agreed. They can't.

  And you of course can, Hodakai thought glumly. Or could, if you wanted to. But your price is high. I wish I could end this conversation.

  The burden is light, Hodakai, and the pleasures are many. Think of that, before you do anything foolish.

  I wasn't planning to do anything at all, Hodakai muttered.

  I'm glad to hear that. I truly am. You will let me know if this dragon visits again?

  Hodakai nodded reluctantly.

  Splendid. Then I must be tending to other business. If there was nothing else—? Rent held his hands out in question.

  Hodakai made a slight bowing movement, not quite in supplication but acknowledging the dismissal. He hated himself for doing it.

  Then we shall speak later, Rent said and vanished, along with the window into his domain. Hodakai was left holding open the threads of a nonexistent connection in the underrealm.

  Hodakai let the nimbus of his own world close back around him. He was trembling with anger and frustration. It seemed that every conversation with Rent ended this way. Around him he heard the chittering sounds of the sprites. He didn't have it in him to engage in their banter, or even to tell them to shut up. He couldn't keep his thoughts off Rent's offer; and he wept, as his world shimmered with the dark crimson heat of his trapped emotion.

  Soon it was more than he could take. Thoughts of the Flux opened up before him and he drifted back into memories of Hodakai the rigger, fingers and hands stretching the net, crossing the gulfs between the stars, slipping the surly bonds of human space and time. . . .

  But in time he found himself, to his own surprise, coming out of the memory and thinking again of the dragon that had come to see him.

  Wishing that it would come again.

  Wishing to hear the voice of the dragon.

  Chapter 5: The Valley of Fallen Light

  "Dream mountain! That is Windrush's obsession—not mine!" hissed the black dragon SearSky. His back was turned as Windrush landed in the main encampment. "We should be going after the Enemy to destroy him! Forget the underrealm! Forget the Mountain! Win back the lumenis, that's what I say!" The powerful dragon snorted fire.

  At least a dozen pairs of glowing, faceted dragon eyes turned to follow Windrush as he strode to the center of the gathering, where the complaining dragon held forth. "SearSky! You wish to command us to victory—is that it?" Windrush asked. His mood was dark; he was still stinging from his encounter with the rigger-spirit.

  SearSky turned, flared his nostrils, and fixed Windrush with a red-eyed stare. "At least I would command us into battle, Windrush—not into some endless search for something that is gone, probably forever! Why don't we take the fight where it belongs? To the Enemy!"

  For a moment, Windrush said nothing, but he let the flame in the back of his throat produce a small flurry of sparks with each outgoing breath. "That is your wisdom, then?" he said at last.

  He was answered, not by SearSky, but by mutters from many of the others gathered around. There was a good deal of sympathy for SearSky's opinion here. And these were many of Windrush's best leaders.

  "I expect you heard about the defeat in the Valley Between last night?" SearSky said acidly.

  Windrush swung his head in alarm, looking for his younger brother, WingTouch. WingTouch had been the leader of that patrol. He found the grey-green dragon standing among the others. "Is this true?" he asked.

  WingTouch's eyes flickered the color of a sun-drenched sea, then darkened with sorrow. He flexed his wings restlessly. "We lost a lumenis grove and six dragons. I am sorry, Windrush. The Enemy's sorcery was stronger than ever."

  Windrush exhaled a cold breath. Another grove lost. How many more could they lose? The Enemy was destroying the grounds that fed the dragons' bodies, even as it destroyed their spirit by hiding the Dream Mountain, the very source of life and beauty in the realm. "I see," Windrush said.

  "Do you?" asked SearSky. "We are wasting time on this foolish search of yours, on your efforts to regain the past. Let us move on and win the future!"

  Windrush was weary beyond words, but as their leader he could not let this pass. "You believe," he said, "that we are clinging to a forgotten past? Have you forgotten what the Enemy has taken?" He shifted his gaze from one dragon to another, letting the fire in his eyes speak his anger.

  "Have you forgotten that without the Dream Mountain, this realm would not exist? That our gardens would be lifeless valleys? That lumenis would not grow? Have you forgotten that without the draconae, there will be no more dragons? Are you so blind that you have forgotten?"

  He was answered by a muttering near silence. He heard raspy breathing, and the movement of claws on stone. Then a sullen voice—Stonebinder's?—protested, "What of the dracona in the Grotto Garden? There is an egg there!"

  "One dracona, huddling in our protection!" Windrush roared. "An egg that will probably never hatch, away from the Mountain! Do you think that is our future?"

  SearSky, eyes glowing red, turned his craggy head. "That has ever been your argument, Windrush. But we have been following your way, and we are losing. The Enemy seems to create life well enough without the Dream Mountain. Perhaps it is not so vital as you think. Perhaps you should think about another way. Unless—you have come to tell us of some new v
ictory in your travels, eh?"

  Windrush thought of the humiliation he had suffered in the cavern earlier tonight. "No," he said softly. "No victory." He vented sparks, trying to dredge some encouragement from his thoughts. "No victory, but perhaps a hope. Perhaps one who knows something of value to us."

  He described to the others what he had found in the cavern, but he could see that most of them were only puzzled by it. What was wrong with them? he thought. Could they not see the potential value of the knowledge they might gain from the captive spirit? As he told how the episode had ended, he was answered with rumbles of disbelief. He hissed sparks of frustration.

  "Windrush! We thought you were the master of underrealm skills!" This was Stronghold, the tan dragon to his left. "If you can't see through the Enemy's deceptions, how do you propose for us to defeat them?"

  Windrush blinked slowly. He hoped that this was not turning into a challenge to his leadership; if it was, it could not come at a worse time. While they argued among themselves, the Enemy tightened his grip around their territory; and more importantly, around their hope and belief in themselves. This encampment stank of anger and hopelessness, and he had to answer it.