Dragon Rigger (26 page)

"That," Windrush said, "is what worries me—more, even, than the actual treachery. It is the effect of this rage and suspicion on all of us. No good can come of the innocent being accused with the guilty!"

Farsight's clear eyes focused upon his. "What do you propose?"

Windrush drew a long breath. "To demand a private union of garkkon-rakh with every leader. Every leader in turn—and then with every follower. I must see for myself who is truly garkkondoh, and who is a betrayer of dragons. It is the only way."

Farsight's eyes glowed with astonishment. "Every dragon? Windrush, you cannot demand such a thing!"

"What choice do I have?"

Farsight blew a cloud of steam. "They will never agree! Their trust is already shaken. To propose such a thing—it has never been done! Not union with
every
dragon!"

"It has been done in ages past," Windrush snapped. "It can be done again." He said it with greater assurance than he felt. All he really knew of past ages was fragments of draconae stories remembered from his days as a fledgling. But he knew this: there had been a time once when dragons had far more readily shared their innermost thoughts with each other, especially in time of need.

Farsight spoke in a low sigh, turning his head from side to side, as though afraid that someone might be overhearing. "Ages past? This is another time, Windrush! I do not know even close companions among us who bind in union except under the most extreme circumstances."

"What could be more extreme than this?" Windrush asked. "If our brothers cannot agree, then I doubt we will find the traitor—and if we cannot eliminate this poison from our midst, then I doubt that the realm can be saved." Windrush drew a deep breath of mountain air. His resolve had become clear in his mind, even as he'd spoken of it with Farsight.

Farsight's eyes glowed and he breathed sparks. "Very well. But for you to examine each and every dragon? Not even you could endure that much, my brother. Why not call upon a group of us to do this? What of Winterfall, and Longtouch, and Stronghold? They are well trusted." Farsight hesitated, blinking soberly. "To be honest, Windrush, I think there are many who would choose—if they must submit to this—to be judged by one of them, rather than by you. This is a most awkward time in your leadership. There is no point in denying the truth."

Windrush glared, but realized that Farsight was right. "If the four of you are willing—very well. But I will join with each of you before you begin. There must be no suspicion. There will be no dragon who is not tested by another—including me."

Farsight blew a flame of approval. "Perhaps, then, you should begin with me—and move on to the others."

Windrush peered around at the scattered and demoralized company of dragons. "Yes. We should do it in the presence of the others." He drew a deep breath and bellowed into the air: "ALL LEADERS, GATHER IN THE VALE OF DECISION! GATHER NOW!"

His cry echoed throughout the camp. Other members of the dragon company began to stir again—some looking eager, some sullen, some puzzled and angry. Windrush nodded to Farsight, and together they took once more to the air, leading the way to the Vale of Decision.

* * *

After murmuring privately with the dragons that Farsight had named, Windrush addressed the company from the command stone. "Dragons, you all know that the Enemy learned of our plans before we took to the air last night. You all
suspect
that we have been betrayed by one of our own. Well, it is true. A traitor was overheard, in the night, conspiring with a drahl!" A loud murmur rose; he called for silence. "BUT—we do not know the identity of the traitor. I propose to undertake now to find the one, who could be among us right here in this vale."

Another mutter went up, and several names were rasped out by bitter voices. "
Enough!
" Windrush cried angrily. "There will be judgment! But by the realm, it will be a fair judgment. I will not have brother turn against brother. If any of you has
evidence
against another, he may speak now. If you have no evidence, be silent!"

He paused for a minute to see if any dragon would come forward. Few of the assembled would even meet his gaze. It was impossible to guess whether there might be a dragon out there attempting to conceal his guilt. "Very well, then—this is my command! There must be a test of
each
one of us,
by someone else known to be true. We must each submit to a union of
garkkon-rakh to garkkon-rakh
!" There was an immediate rumble of protest, and he raised his voice to the volume of a battle command. "THERE WILL BE NO ONE EXCEPTED! I will be tested first of all! Each of you will be tested! And each in your companies, and every dragon still out on patrol will be tested!
Garkkon-rakh to garkkon-rakh!
"

The rumbling grew louder. He shot a crackling flame skyward until he had their attention. "We will begin at once—with me! I will link with Farsight—in your presence—and after Farsight, Stronghold—and then Winterfall—and Longtouch. They will each test me—and I will test them. If we are found loyal, those four will examine all of you gathered here. None will be excused! I know you are weary—but we must,
and we will find the traitor
!"

An uncertain mutter of approval answered him. He expected no better than that. Many of them, he imagined, were too shocked by his command to know how to answer. But he knew—they all knew—that they would be here, gathered in this vale, for a long and grueling time to come. He hoped he could keep them from rebelling until they were done.

* * *

Windrush's gaze locked with his brother's. Farsight's clear, silvery-faceted eyes glimmered with a concealed inner fire. It was in that fire that he held his most closely guarded thoughts and memories; it was that fire which held, and would soon reveal, the dragon's soul. Windrush's gaze passed inward through the deepest facets of his brother's eyes; he felt his brother's gaze passing into
his
eyes. Even as brothers, he and Farsight had only joined this way once previously as grown dragons, and that was long ago, before their father's death. He felt a moment of profound hesitation, and then a shudder of release, as Farsight dropped the barriers surrounding his privacy and secret selfhood, like a veil falling away.

Flame blossomed around Windrush's vision, and his spirit, as Farsight's thoughts and memories bubbled up to join his . . .

His brother was even angrier about today's treachery than he was—and beneath the anger burned the memory, the infuriating memory of the voice of a dragon plotting treachery with a drahl.
(If only I could recognize it . . . if only I could
recognise
it
 . . .
!)
Farsight's inner mind murmured over and over. Windrush shared the churning memory and the frustration. He strained to identify that voice in his brother's memory, to recognize what Farsight could not. It was so tantalizing . . . and yet finally impossible. There were a dozen dragons whose voice it might have been.

Farsight felt
his
frustration, as well, and together they let go of the memory, as so many other images rushed up to displace it. There were memories of their father, Highwing, teaching them to fly and to duel; bright memories. And long-ago memories of their mother, Skytouch, of her chiming voice and her lenslike beauty, wings and body of glass, flying against the sun like a thousand jewels. It was she, in the beginning, who had taught them of the Words, and the histories that were the domain of the draconae and the puzzlement of the draconi. Once grown out of fledglinghood, they saw her rarely, living as she did in the Dream Mountain; but when she flew to them, she was like a living sunset. And then one horrifying day, Highwing came and told them of her brutal death: a singing jewel, knocked from the sky by young dragons who were already under the influence of the unseen, unrevealed Tar-skel. Highwing had destroyed those fledglings, then helplessly watched her die.

Skytouch's death changed their father. Though the brothers had seen it in different ways, they both knew of her words to him at the end, Words of the prophecy. Highwing believed that, like it or not, he had become a part of the enactment of those Words when the rigger Jael came into the realm, changing the course of dragon history.

Darker images welled up in the link then—images of Farsight's and WingTouch's time of blackness, of their seduction by the Enemy's claims and promises of power, and their desertion of their father when the dragons of the realm attacked him for befriending an outsider. It was a shameful and humiliating memory, but Farsight made no effort to conceal it. They both knew that it was down there, among the very darkest of the memories, that Windrush must especially search, to see if any loyalty to the Enemy lingered, to see if there was any chance that Farsight himself was culpable as a traitor.

And search Windrush did, without apologies. At the same time, Farsight was searching
his
memories—of his contact with FullSky, and of
his
times of weakness, when he had doubted his own leadership, and of a time earlier, when he too had been afraid to defend Highwing, until shamed into it by an outsider named Jael. There were failures enough to go around.

But in Farsight, though he found a deep shame for the past, Windrush found no trace of disloyalty since.

(You
musn't
doubt it, either of you.)

Windrush started. He thought he had heard a voice whisper those words, a voice that was neither of theirs, and yet was so familiar that it caught his attention at once—and Farsight's, as well.

(You
mustn't
give up.)

(Farsight?)
Windrush whispered.

(Windrush?)
whispered Farsight.

Their locked souls burned like lumenis.
(Highwing?)
Windrush did not mean to voice the question into the bonding, but of course there was no way not to. And he realized that Farsight had thought, and spoken, the same question at the same time.

There was no clear answer, but he thought he heard the voice again, growing fainter.
(Seek
out
the one who cries,
"
Friend of Highwing!
"
Without
her
,
you
are lost. . . .)
The final words were so faint that Windrush was scarcely certain he had not imagined them. So often before, he had thought that he had felt the silent, invisible presence of his father's spirit, perhaps reaching out from the heartfires of the Final Dream Mountain—but never had he heard his father's voice in words.

He gazed into the soul of Farsight, and knew that his brother, too, had recognized the presence of Highwing. And Farsight, too, was unsure what to think or say.

(I do not doubt you, Farsight,)
Windrush said at last.

(I do not doubt you, Windrush,)
answered his brother.

And they dissolved the link, and Windrush let a long, slow sigh escape from his throat. The fire between them flickered and went out, and he blinked and widened his gaze. Surrounded by the waiting dragons, his brother was staring back at him, with a tiny ray of new hope gleaming in his eyes.

* * *

When he entered into union with Stronghold, his thoughts were already ringing with deep memories, with hopes and regrets. Amber flame blossomed within Stronghold's eyes, and he felt the memory of his link with Farsight bubbling up at once. It could not be helped. Stronghold shared those memories with surprise and interest, and gave as well as he received.

There was so much to be seen, so much to learn. With astonishment, Stronghold discovered the depth of Windrush's memories of Jael—and of his recent contact with FullSky. From Stronghold, there were the memories of the practice of battle as a young dragon, and the lure of the duels, and the promises of dragons gathering to destroy any from the outside who would come to change their world. Stronghold, too, had been fooled by the unseen spirit of Tar-skel, ensnared by a promise of glory, trapped by a subtle sorcery from which he was freed by the victory at the Black Peak.

Windrush searched Stronghold's heart carefully—and he found there much discouragement and frustration, and indeed, more than a little dissatisfaction with Windrush's abilities as a leader. He examined that dissatisfaction closely, and with considerable discomfort. But Stronghold's trust in Windrush's character and garkkondoh remained steadfast, and whatever his concerns about means and strategies, he showed not a hint of disloyalty. Above all, he bore a burning desire for the defeat of the Enemy who had once enslaved him.

(I
do
not
doubt you, Stronghold.)

(Nor I you, Windrush.)

* * *

Spilling over with memories and reflections that he wished he could spend a season studying and understanding, Windrush opened his gaze to Winterfall's. Their memories fell together like a swirling snowstorm.

Winterfall had never trusted the Enemy, never been swayed or seduced, never wanted anything but to rid the realm of anything that echoed of the Nail of Strength. Winterfall was a cautious dragon, who loved to fly more than he loved to fight. Like Windrush, he had gone into hiding during the times of subtle treachery when Tar-skel's hidden influence had darkened the realm, twisting the behavior of dragons who did not even suspect that the Enemy of legend lived.

After the Black Peak, Winterfall had emerged to assert his strength—and had called vocally for Windrush's leadership in the struggle. Now, in his deepest soul, he harbored terrible doubts about whether the dragons could prevail. But he would rather die than betray those doubts—or his own people—to the Enemy.

* * *

Heady with exhaustion, Windrush joined with Longtouch—a dragon whose clarity of inner sight and whose focus of thought were so keen that Windrush felt his own inner maelstrom settling and calming in the other's presence. Windrush had never joined with Longtouch before, and he was amazed at the silent wisdom that he found. Longtouch had no idea who the traitor was, but his mind blazed in search of clues. Here, Windrush realized, was one in whom he should place far greater trust. When he ended the union, he felt as though he were leaving the presence of a dazzling fire.