Dragons in the Stars Page 9

  And going back to the hall, determined to get an assignment . . . and meeting Mogurn, who had offered her the job—and the pallisp.

  * * *

  She started out of a brooding daze, in the near-darkness of her cabin. One small light was glowing at its lowest setting. Obviously, sleep was impossible. She could not forget the pallisp, or the cruel way in which Mogurn had torn it from her. But the pallisp was the only thing that could soothe away these anxieties and fears. It was her only release.

  Except, of course, for the net.

  Sitting up, she thought about that for a long time. She could go to the net now, of course. That was the one place where she could shape her feelings and play them out in images and render them harmless. Letting dark feelings loose there could be perilous, but was it any less perilous to keep them corked inside herself until they exploded? Mogurn had already warned her once; he would be furious if she went to the net again while he was under his bliss-wire. But if she didn't do something, she would go crazy.

  She sat for a very long time, weighing the consequences. The longer she thought, the faster her heart beat, the more it cried out with need. Damn it, you have to do something! She could not have the pallisp. There was only one other way out of this.

  You are the rigger. You have the power and the need.

  Swallowing, she rose from her bunk. And she stood there, swaying, trying to find some resolve that would keep her from returning to the net . . . that would allow her to sleep, or if not to sleep, then at least to bear the pain and the need.

  She didn't find the resolve. She found only the need.

  Chapter 9: Highwing

  SHE CREPT onto the bridge and slipped silently into the rigger-cell. The neural contacts touched her neck. Her senses, electrified, sprang into the net.

  Her imagination at once sparked a new image: the ship was a balloon-borne gondola in a nighttime sky, riding the winds downrange of a long line of mountain peaks. Jael let the breeze soothe her. After a time, she changed altitude, seeking higher crosswinds that would take her closer to the mountains. She wasn't sure why she was doing it. Revenge against Mogurn for the way he had treated her? Or was it that she was already being punished, and what more could happen to her? Or was it that she really was taking charge, and this simply felt like the right direction to fly? She didn't know. The gondola swayed as she passed through an air stream moving the wrong way; then she found another that carried her in the direction she wanted.

  She set her sights upon the approaching range. A single full, creamy moon sank slowly toward jagged black peaks, jutting like sullen teeth against the horizon. Backlit by the moon, a blunt-nosed mass of clouds was moving out of the mountains toward her. She liked the effect: the gloom of night and eerily lighted clouds that looked like moving glaciers. Or like bold angry pincers that could reach out to shred her balloon . . .

  The balloon disintegrated abruptly. She caught at the air with her hands. For a moment, she and the starship tumbled earthward, her arms flailing and grasping; then she overcame her panic and deliberately remade the image. The ghostly net shimmered and became a varnished wooden glider, whispering in the wind as it sliced downward through the air. She was perched astride its fuselage, and she tugged and pulled at the airfoils until it leveled out in flight. And she thought: Take care! Dangerous thoughts could smash the ship into splinters as well as any physical force, and the pieces would be left to drift forever in the currents of this strange reality, the Flux.

  The wind soothed her face, and gradually soothed her mind and her spirit as well. She let her feelings swirl ahead of her in the sky, in the emptiness between her and the clouds far ahead. Her feelings would not hurt her out there. Let them dissipate in the cool emptiness.

  Time passed and she drew steadily closer to the mountain range.

  * * *

  The dragons stormed out of the clouds in random formation, like gulls out of a rain squall.

  Jael stared out into the moonlit night in astonishment. Dragons! Dreadful winged shapes, they wheeled before the distant clouds. Sparks of red flame flickered about them. Jael could scarcely believe the sight before her. Dragons couldn't be real! They were something from fairy tales and primal dreams, from racial fears and magical desires . . . from lies fabricated by boastful or delirious riggers. But . . . there were dragons in the sky right now. And several of them were flying toward her.

  Jael searched her thoughts, wondering if she might have provoked this image from her own imagination. She felt nothing, not even the slightest tingle of recognition. Was it possible that the dragons actually were real . . . living creatures, living in the Flux? She controlled the glider with tight movements and watched them come.

  The dragons grew in the moonlight. They certainly appeared real enough: rugged, fierce-looking creatures, breathing fire into the air like the dragons of folklore. Most of them banked away to soar and circle far off her wingtips. She felt a moment of relief. But three of the creatures closed to intercept her, circling into a tight orbit around her glider. They maneuvered quickly, banking and veering, their movements hard to follow.

  One swooped close, startling her, but giving her a good glimpse of its features. It was solid all right, its scales like polished pewter gleaming in the moonlight, but with subtle colors rippling beneath the surface. The creature's head was rough hewn, as though of living stone. Its nostrils flared coal red as it craned its neck toward her; its eyes shone with ghostly green light. Its wings were broad and serrated, beating the air powerfully. As it circled around behind her, another dragon swept directly across her path, alarmingly close; then all three drew off to a more comfortable distance.

  She held her course, thinking frantically. What was one supposed to do when met by dragons? Storytellers in the spacebars spoke of dueling. Could it be that those tales were not just boastful nonsense? These dragons looked real, and fierce, and eager for battle!

  This one is mine, she imagined she heard a voice say.

  She shivered, wishing she had flown another way.

  Are you afraid? she heard, and this time she knew she really had heard it.

  She glanced around, frightened, thinking that perhaps Mogurn was on the bridge, taunting her in punishment for her disobedience. But the voice, though it murmured in her head, was not Mogurn's.

  You are afraid, said the voice. Shall we be kind, and kill you quickly?

  It was one of the dragons speaking! She was terrified and astounded. She glanced over her left shoulder and discovered one of them flying close alongside, just a little behind her. Its gleaming eyes and smoldering nostrils were as clear as marker lights. What do you want? she asked, her voice trembling.

  The dragon exhaled a plume of flame, startling her. It edged closer, its eyes flickering like green lanterns. She banked to the right, thinking, This can't be happening! The dragon drew even closer as she veered, following her movements with ease. Its eyes glowed brightly, emerald green. The turbulence from its wings buffeted her, and she had to fight to control the glider. What are you doing? she cried in protest. Leave me alone!

  The dragon puffed a cloud of sparks. Does that mean you don't want me to kill you straightaway? It dropped back . . . and then, with a powerful series of wingstrokes, flew up in a tight loop around her, peering closely at her as it banked and dived. Moments later, it was once more flanking her left side. Do you prefer to die in battle?

  No! Jael cried. I want you to leave me alone! Who are you, and why are you doing this? What do you want from me? She hunched low on the glider, drawing the net in close around the edges.

  Child! called the dragon. What a strange one! Do they send child-spirits to duel with us? Such questions! You want to know who I am, and—

  I am not a child!

  The dragon's harsh laughter filled the air.

  And you haven't answered me! she added fearfully.

  Nor shall I, said the dragon. But so many questions not to answer, all at once! Do you think you're the first outsider
to come here, spoiling for a fight?

  Jael gaped at the creature. Then it's true, about the dueling! And you dragons . . . are real!

  The dragon made a noise that might have been a sigh or a snarl. Of course! Now duel, rigger! With deft wingstrokes, it climbed high above her; then, dropping one wing, it dived. It bore down upon her in the moonlight, its massive shape growing large, larger—

  Jael screamed.

  The dragon thundered as it dropped past, raking her with fire. Jael's skin sizzled, and flames crackled along the wings of her glider. Gasping, she changed the image: a sudden flurry of snow cooled her and quenched the flood of energy in the net. She changed the glider from wood to a fireproof alloy.

  The dragon approached from the side, flapping its wings slowly. It eyed her with a glowing eye. Not badly done, for a demon, it conceded. It banked away and put distance between them.

  Jael stared after the dragon, dumbfounded. Before she could gather her thoughts to reply, it turned again and streaked toward her in another attack.

  Jael froze, helpless. She tried to make herself small, to protect her flanks. The dragon grew with terrifying speed. STOP IT! she screamed.

  The dragon broke off its attack, veering away in surprise. And you wonder what I'm doing? it murmured. It circled back, warily. There is something different about you, rigger. What is it? In the distant moonlit clouds, the dragon's fellows looked like small dots, wheeling and maneuvering in the air. The dragon glanced at the others, with what looked like uncertainty. If you didn't want to duel, why did you come here?

  Struggling to keep her glider steady, Jael was dizzy with confusion, with fear and anxiety. Well, I . . . don't know. But I wasn't expecting anyone to try to kill me!

  The dragon banked closer. And just what did you expect?

  I don't know, she admitted, and wondered why, indeed, she had come into this mountain range. She thought, but didn't say, that she hadn't really been expecting dragons or any other living thing to be here.

  The dragon snorted, then spoke in an almost conciliatory tone. You don't know what you expected, but you didn't expect to duel. What, then? Do you want to talk? Do you want to just fly along and chat lightheartedly? We could do that, I suppose. I could promise not to kill you.

  Jael drew a breath. Can I believe that?

  Why not?

  She eyed the dragon, unable to tell whether it was mocking her or not. Can we really just talk? No dueling?

  The dragon tipped its head and winked its luminous eye. Jael nodded uneasily. She didn't know what to make of this creature, but she knew she didn't want to fight it. She decided to change her image again: the glider disappeared and she became a winged pony, beating into the wind. Very nice, said the dragon, drawing in close alongside her.

  She didn't answer. The night was changing, the clouds closing in. She could no longer see the other dragons. A moonbeam broke through the clouds to show a jagged mountain slope, very near, with mist swirling around it. Jael had not realized that they were so close to the mountains. Do you know where we're going? she asked.

  Yes, said the dragon with a crafty chuckle. Suddenly it sideslipped over her and seized her with its great talons. Jael's breath went out with a gasp. The dragon bent its head down to peer at her between its forelegs. Its jaws gaped, and its hot breath rushed over her. Jael struggled, terrified. She squirmed and twisted and managed to roll forward in the dragon's grip just enough to kick up with her hind pony legs. Her hooves caught the dragon squarely in the stomach and it wheezed, releasing her. Jael tumbled in midair, beating frantically with her wings but losing altitude. She was dropping headfirst through the mists. She glimpsed terrifying sawtoothed slopes rushing upward to meet her. Frantically she transformed herself into a hawk, warped her wings sharply, and pulled herself out of the dive. She climbed again toward a safe altitude, looking around in vain for the dragon.

  Well done, it said, right behind her.

  Panicked, she looped up and into inverted flight and twisted back down behind the dragon. You liar! she shouted. You promised and you lied!

  The dragon glanced back over its shoulder. Well, I didn't exactly promise—

  You as good as promised! Is that a dragon's kind of honor?

  Well—the dragon said hesitantly—where demons are concerned—

  You mean you all lie? she screamed.

  Only when dueling riggers! the dragon snapped—and what it did next, she could hardly believe. One moment it was in front of her, and the next it was above her, and then behind; and it curled its wing around her like a net and scooped her toward the mountain. Jael trembled and fluttered, a frightened bird, as they plummeted through the darkness. Abruptly the dragon lurched to a landing on a black outcropping of rock. Holding her loosely, it craned its neck to sniff at her with huge smoldering nostrils, to peer at her with its enormous glowing eyes.

  Jael fought to control her fear and rage. Shaking, she puffed up her hawk feathers and stared back up at the creature. You lied, and now you intend to kill me! Is that it?

  The dragon cocked its monstrous head slowly. I didn't actually lie, you know. I tricked. One is expected to do that with demon-spirits. Didn't they tell you that when they sent you here?

  No one sent me! Jael snapped. I just came! And not to duel! And I'm not a demon! Why do you keep calling me that? She choked in the dragon's breath; the air around her was suffocating, trapped by the creature's great wing. Would you mind letting me breathe?

  Hissing, the dragon opened its wing. You certainly are different from any rigger I've ever heard of. Not that I've personally met any before, mind you. Until now, I wasn't even sure that your kind really existed. Perhaps you had better show yourself as you really are.

  The world remained wreathed in fog, but the cool night air revived her somewhat. All right. Concentrating, she transformed herself back into the image of Jael LeBrae, human woman, in the nexus of a ghostly neural-sensory net. Haloing the net was a shimmering ethereal spaceship.

  Impressive, said the dragon. Is that all you, or are you riding some sort of magical beast? What do you call it? A spaceship?

  She made the spaceship disappear, wondering how many like it the dragons in these mountains had destroyed. She stood on the outcropping of rock, lonely and frightened and cold. My name is Jael LeBrae, she said.

  She felt a shudder, as though an earthquake were shaking the rock at her feet. The dragon's eyes opened wide. It gazed at her in astonishment, then reared its head back and roared in dismay. Its cry was deafening, reverberating through the mountains and the mist. I did not ask your name! it bellowed. Why have you given me your name! It blew a searing gout of fire up into the night, and scratched at the rock, its talons grating horribly against the stone.

  What's the matter? Jael cried, covering her ears. Have you gone mad?

  What's the matter? the dragon thundered. What's the matter? What are you? You're no demon! Demons don't give names! They never give names! Don't you know anything, rigger?

  Of course I'm not a demon! Why did you think I was? What kind of insanity is this? The ground continued to tremble at her feet. What was going on here?

  The dragon was clearly disturbed by the vibration, too. It tipped its craggy head this way and that, then angled a troubled gaze at her. Rigger, this is strange. Most strange, indeed. It muttered to itself for a moment, as though weighing contradictory thoughts. It is almost as if you were—but no. It shook its head. I'm sure that is impossible. Impossible! Angrily, as though frustrated, it vented flame and sparks from its nostrils.

  What are you talking about? Jael demanded.

  Never mind, the dragon snarled. It snorted out another blast of flame. Tell me, rigger—don't you know the power of names? You act so innocent! Names are everything! I cannot kill you for a demon, knowing your name. You are—and he growled a guttural word—garkkondoh—and fumed, a person! You are real! Its throat rumbled like a volcano threatening to explode.

  Of course I'm real! Jael shouted. You're
not making any sense at all! What do you mean, names are everything?

  The dragon shook its head unhappily. Finally it settled down enough to speak, its voice quiet in her mind. Perhaps that was an exaggeration. Nothing is everything. But—and it fixed her with its glowing, glowering gaze, before continuing grudgingly—I perceive, I am afraid, that there is more to you than meets the eye. I had not expected such an action from a dem—from a rigger. It glared in thought for a long moment, then sighed rumblingly, shaking its head. Perhaps, though . . . I should have. It would seem that I am obliged now by honor—it sighed again—or perhaps by more than honor—to give you my name in return. And then I will no longer be able to trick you, or to duel without—and he made another guttural sound—hakka, cause.

  Jael ground her teeth. What are you talking about? Never mind! I don't even want to know your name!