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Chapter 31: A Final Regrouping

Upon their return from the Deep Caverns, Windrush watched the others in the camp fly their grief flight for those just fallen, venting their sorrow against the target wall. Windrush was weary, and had no energy to spare for futile anger. As for those who had fought in the Deep Caverns, he sent them off with such encouragement as he could, to a well-earned rest.

SearSky, to his surprise, offered encouragement to him. "Don't fret over the Deep Caverns, Windrush. So the Enemy has another useless acquisition. It is the lumenis we should worry about."

Windrush accepted the spirit of the black dragon's words, but he was under no illusions about the Deep Caverns. Their loss was a serious blow. And he was worried about the lumenis, too. The fact that none had been lost tonight was scant reassurance; a new attack could come at any time.

"In fact," SearSky added, "it is the young warriors I worry about most. Will they have the heart for fighting, at the end? It's not going to get easier, you know."

"I have to agree," said Farsight. "Many of them are becoming discouraged. I don't know how much longer they can keep the will to fight." Farsight's half-silvered eyes seemed to rotate in distress. "Even now, I don't know if they truly recognize the Enemy for what he is. They stand by us out of loyalty—but they may waver and fall away, if we don't act decisively."

Windrush nodded, reluctantly. "I fear we must begin to prepare for the decisive battle. We may have to strike the Enemy openly, at his heart, whatever the cost. There may be no other way."

"Now you're talking sense!" SearSky growled, his nostrils flaring with red fire. "Strike at the Enemy's heart! Enough of this nonsense about mystical answers! Leave that to the Enemy! What good will his sorcery do him if he's on his own walk to the Final Dream Mountain, eh?" SearSky shook his craggy head with barely contained battle lust, and turned to Stronghold, who was nodding nearby.

Windrush had no answer. He was continually amazed by SearSky's simplistic view of the world; and yet, at the moment, he wondered if SearSky might not be right. Perhaps they should just attack the Enemy, and when it was over, either the Enemy would be dead or the dragons would be.

"The young warriors fought bravely tonight," he muttered, thinking aloud. "Especially Rocktooth."

SearSky's eyes darkened as he turned back to Windrush. "They fought well enough for the Deep Caverns, maybe. But if we're to fly against the Dark Vale, they'll have to fight better. Smarter, faster, fiercer. And the sooner the better."

Windrush studied the warrior dragon for a moment. "In that case, perhaps you should train them, SearSky."

The black dragon's eyes flickered with suspicion. Behind him, Stronghold's amber eyes glowed with amusement.

Windrush cocked his head, nodding. "I watched you fight tonight—and no one in the realm fights better. You could teach the younger ones. Sharpen their skills, make them hunger for victory."

"There is no time for training!" SearSky spat. "The time has come to fight!"

"Indeed, you may be right. The time may be close—though there remain questions to which I need answers first. But—if you are right—then all the more important that you teach quickly, and well. Teach the young ones to fight as you fight."

"It is not their skill or their strength that I question," SearSky growled. "It is their will. Their courage."

"Then give them will. Give them courage. There is great need and little time. Best you start without delay." Windrush paused, raising his head. "Unless you need to rest first—"

Behind SearSky, Stronghold coughed. A wreath of smoke betrayed his amusement.

Windrush caught the black warrior-dragon's gaze again. He could see that SearSky had planned to rest, but was changing his mind. "Good. I'm counting on you." He turned to Farsight. "Assign your weakest patrols to train with SearSky when they are not flying. But be ready. We may set out with little warning."

"Where are you going?" SearSky protested as Windrush turned away.

"In search of answers," Windrush said without looking back.

 

* * *

 

Windrush knew, as he entered the underrealm in his cavern, that what he had said to SearSky was accurate, and yet incomplete. The dragons did need to fight with absolute ferocity when the time came. But unless he found some new hope, he knew that a face-to-face battle with the Enemy was almost certainly doomed to failure.

Where are you, Jael? he whispered to the darkness. Why have you not come to us?

And where were the ifflings? They had spent their strength trying to reach Jael. Were they gone now? Gone forever?

As he passed through the veil of the underrealm window, those questions were dispelled by the more immediate memory of what had happened in the Deep Caverns tonight. He felt his anger rising again as he broke into the demon-rigger's presence. HODAKAI! he shouted.

Ah—Windrush! the spirit answered, dancing nervously—too nervously, almost as if he had been expecting the dragon to appear.

Windrush glared at him. He had a feeling, suddenly, that he had interrupted another conversation—or at least, that Hodakai had very recently been talking to the enemy. He didn't sense the presence of anyone else here now; but there was, he thought, the lingering undersmell of a servant of the Enemy. Hodakai, you lied to me.

I did? the spirit squeaked.

You did, Windrush growled. You told me to expect the next attack on the lumenis.

The spirit writhed before his anger. Wasn't it? Did I get it wrong? There was a tittering quality to his voice that made Windrush certain that someone on the other side had succeeded in intimidating the rigger.

The attack was not on the lumenis. It was on the Deep Caverns—as I expect you know. Why did you lie, Hodakai? Is that what a rigger's word is worth? A lie? Windrush allowed his kuutekka to grow larger.

The rigger suddenly seemed to be gasping for breath. You have no hope! he rasped wildly. No hope at all! Give it up, Windrush! Give it up!

The dragon stared very hard at the spirit, until it twitched and grew still. It did not seem to be entirely in its right mind. What do you mean? Windrush asked, with a low threat in his voice.

Hodakai twitched again. I . . . mean . . . you can only fool someone for so long. So you gave me your name! And you—you think you can trick me with it, but I won't be tricked.

What are you talking about?

You lied to ME, Windrush! the rigger squawked. You brought another rigger here to be your slave—and you thought you could enslave me, too! Well, it won't work, Windrush! It won't work!

Windrush was so stunned, he hardly knew how to answer. Enslave? You fool—if I wanted to enslave you, I would not have given you my name, you drahl-baiting cavern sprite, you—! Windrush suddenly interrupted himself. What did you say? Did you say another rigger has entered the realm?

Hodakai laughed, his voice a desperate cackle. Did you think I could not see past your lies? Yes, your rigger is here. But you'll never see her. Rent and the ifflings are making sure of that! You're so arrogant! You think you can—

SILENCE! Windrush bellowed. He glared at the spirit. I'll say this once, Hodakai. I did not lie to you, and I have no intention of enslaving you, or anyone else. He glared so deeply at the spirit that, for an instant, he caught the other's gaze and glimpsed a thread of his thoughts—and an astonishing network of lies that overlay his thoughts, held in place by a spell of persuasion. It appeared to be a simple spell, one that would probably only work on one as confused as Hodakai. Many of the lies appeared to come from another rigger—a Tar-skel rigger!—named Rent. Windrush grunted, understanding at last. This wretched creature truly had no idea what to believe.

Windrush tugged at a thread of the persuasion spell, trying to loosen it. He couldn't tell if he had succeeded or not. You are misled by the lies of others, Windrush growled into the creature's thoughts. A rigger in league with Tar-skel! No wonder you're confused! And you believe that the ifflings are in league with the Enemy? Never!

Hodakai pulled back indignantly, trying to gain release from Windrush's gaze.

What do you know of this new rigger? Windrush asked. Where is she?

That brought a snarl from the spirit. Then as the iffling said, you do intend to—

She is a FRIEND! Windrush roared. A friend to the realm! Whoever told you differently was no iffling! It was the ifflings who brought her here! Do you understand? They risked everything to bring her to the realm!

Eh? The spirit seemed completely bewildered now. Windrush tried once more to loosen the spell, then released the spirit from his gaze. Hodakai gasped and shuddered. But it told me—

Who told you?

It said it was an iffling!

Windrush nearly exploded with frustration. It was not an iffling! Have you ever heard of ifflings siding with Tar-skel? Have you, rigger?

Well . . . no . . . The rigger flickered.

No—never! You have been listening to lies! Hodakai! Where is she? Where is the rigger?

Hodakai flared with uncertainty. Windrush couldn't tell if he was thinking for himself again or not. How would I know? he whispered plaintively.

You know she's here! What else do you know?

Well, I—yes, but—

Windrush rose enormous in the underrealm window. Hodakai, do not test me further! If you intend to stand against me, say so!

The rigger-spirit quailed. I—NO! I don't know! That is—

That sounded more like the old Hodakai. Windrush sighed wearily. Tell me what you know, he growled.

Hodakai was almost cowering. Very little! Really!

Tell me what you know.

Well, I—just that she's been captured.

Captured! Windrush tried to disguise his anguish. Tell me where!

How would I know? You tell me one thing, Rent tells me another! Rent said she was coming to enslave me.

Rent! Windrush cried. Whoever he is, he's a liar! Think about it! Think! Why would a rigger come here just to enslave you?

I—well—it's not that—I mean, Rent is a rigger too. Of course, he . . . I . . . Hodakai's voice choked off into inaudibility.

Windrush was so angry that he reflexively vented flame over the spirit jar—meaning it not so much for Hodakai as for this Rent, whoever he was. The flame-image passed harmlessly over Hodakai's kuutekka, but startled him nonetheless. Windrush asked tightly, Where is the rigger now? Where has she been captured?

Hodakai struggled to put words together. She arrived—somewhere in the south mountains—that's all I know. That's really—all I know!

Windrush stared at the spirit-flame. If that was true—if Jael had arrived in the southern mountains, if there was even the slightest chance that Hodakai was telling the truth—then he should send every dragon he could spare, to look for her. Except, how could he spare any? For an aimless search through the southern mountains?

Hodakai sniffed. So—you got it out of me. What you do with it is your problem. But you should also know . . .

Windrush waited.

You should know . . . Hodakai said slowly, but as though he were winding up to something. Suddenly he burst out, Your cause is hopeless! Hopeless! The Nail has everything he needs to complete his plan. The Words will be fulfilled, and you will never see your Dream Mountain again. Unless . . .

Unless what? Windrush growled.

Hodakai's flame quieted. Unless you surrender now.

Windrush stared at the spirit.

Hodakai spoke again, his voice like a chant: No hope. Unless you surrender. Unless you give it up.

The dragon hissed. Who told you to say that? Rent?

Hodakai became agitated, but didn't answer.

What else do you know that you're not saying?

I—The spirit-flame trembled violently in his jar. I've said too much already! I CAN'T STAND THIS ANY LONGER! I've told you what I was supposed to! Now, get out of here, dragon—before they come!

Windrush glared at the spirit, trying to understand what Hodakai was really saying. He didn't think anyone was coming; but someone, not Hodakai, had wanted him to hear the words he had just heard. Well—he'd heard them.

If they find you here, they'll kill me! Hodakai screeched, jittering madly in his jar. Go! GO!

Windrush nodded slowly. He would get nothing further from Hodakai now. He drew away; but before leaving the spirit's space, he rumbled, Don't deceive me again, Hodakai. If you hear word of that rigger, I expect you to tell me!

Without waiting for an answer, he departed. But his last impression was of a spirit who was sorely, sorely troubled.

 

* * *

 

Windrush stared at the last underrealm window, knowing that he must look there tonight. But suppose it led him to another battle in the underrealm! He was already so weary! Before he risked that, he desperately needed to rest.

Before he could even make his decision, he dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep. But at some point, probably before dawn, he awoke with a start. An iffling was floating before him, little more than a flicker of luminosity in the air.

Windrush blinked groggily. "I wondered if I would ever see you again," he murmured.

We have not forgotten you, Windrush, whispered the iffling. But our strength is failing. It is difficult.

"Do you have news of Jael?" Windrush heard his own voice strain into near inaudibility.

We know only that something . . . has gone wrong.

Windrush remembered with a shudder his conversation with Hodakai. "Has the Enemy captured her?"

The flame flickered. We are unsure. We have sensed treachery . . . a false-one.

"A false-iffling?" Windrush nodded slightly. "I have heard of it."

Then you know, perhaps, as much as we. The iffling seemed to have to struggle to remain visible. One child of ours . . . lives. We feel it. But we can do nothing to help it.

"Do you know where?" Windrush asked quickly.

To the south . . . we think. We cannot be sure. We can only . . . trust in our last . . . child. And in Jael herself.

The dragon's breath escaped in a rush. "What have you come to tell me, then? Is there anything I can do?"

Search, if you can. The iffling almost went dark, then brightened a little. And the last window. Do not forget it. Have not the sweepers been trying to tell you?

Windrush blinked, startled. The sweepers? He glanced and saw a new scale-sculpture perched on the hearth. It looked like . . . a misshapen tree, he thought. He had no idea what it meant. "I have not forgotten the window," he said at last. "I was about to try it. Do you think it will offer guidance to finding Jael?"

We cannot say. Perhaps not. We only believe . . . that FullSky meant this for you . . . for a purpose. The iffling faded, and for a moment Windrush thought it was gone. But it flickered back into visibility just for a moment, in the cavern gloom. Windrush, we must hope together.

And as if that last whisper had exhausted the iffling's strength, it vanished for good.

Windrush stared uncertainly at the spot where the iffling had been. Then, with a last, puzzled glance at the sweeper's sculpture, he closed his eyes and sank again into the underrealm.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps because it was the last thing he'd looked at in the outer world, the sculpture's presence was the first thing he saw in the underweb. It was very small; he wondered if these things had been here all along. It looked only a little different here, more shadowy and asymmetrical. One branch of its "tree" made him think of a pointing claw. When he followed the direction in which it was pointing, he was startled to see it aimed directly at the fourth and last window.

Amazed, he turned and entered the window.

He encountered, at once, a smell that made him think of the sea—the tang of salt. Then sunlight filled his eyes, and his kuutekka materialized on wing, high over hills and woods and lowlands. Without understanding why, he found himself flying fast, toward the sun, over a metallic band of river that wound through the lowlands, and on through wetlands, toward a sunset glow at the horizon. The tang of the sea grew stronger. What was it that was drawing him on? He whispered FullSky's name, but heard no answer. It seemed that he was alone here.

Ahead of him now was a vast gleaming expanse of water, a pool that stretched out as far as he could see, to the sunset. It was the sea. But there was . . . something more than that, too.

He wasn't sure why he felt that, until the shoreline passed beneath him. And then something materialized in midair, high above the sea . . . something massive and magnificent. He knew at once that it was the Dream Mountain, high in the air, floating on a wispy layer of cloud. It looked as though it were made of glass, and within it, a bright white fire burned. He ached to fly to it. But he already felt something deflecting him from it, even before he could draw closer. The spells of the Enemy, he thought.

Why had FullSky brought him here? To give him hope? It broke his heart to see the Dream Mountain, and to know that it was beyond reach. But something else was tugging at him, a feeling that there was something missing here. Not the Dream Mountain, but something else—a feeling that the window was not yet ready for him to see all that it had to show him.

FullSky? he whispered, but still there was no answer.

He banked and circled, uncertain what to do.

As he tried to decide, he realized that the sea and sky and mountain were dissolving around him. He felt the window gently closing, the underrealm darkening around him. The time was not yet right, it seemed to be saying. He felt a stab of disappointment that it had not helped him to find Jael—but also a hint of reassurance, as though the underrealm itself were saying, there will be more to come.

But what? he wondered wearily. And when?

Back in his cavern, he was about to emerge from the underweb altogether, when he heard his name. The voice sounded very distant, and urgent. Farsight? he called back. Was his brother trying to reach him from the main encampment?

Windrush . . . at once if you . . . come at once . . . ! Farsight's undervoice sounded like the hissing of water on sand, and faded like a retreating wave.

Windrush called out an answer, but he sensed that Farsight was already gone from the underweb. His brother had no stamina for underspeaking; he must have just managed to shout out across the distance. Sighing, Windrush opened his eyes to the gloom of his cavern. His interrupted rest would have to wait a little longer.

He tugged at the exit spells and launched himself into the dawn sky.

 

* * *

 

"There was no warning—just an eruption of turbulence and dense storm clouds," Farsight said, swinging his head one way and then another, his diamond eyes flashing angrily, as though by force of will he would see to the ends of the realm. All around them in the camp, dragons were muttering in bewilderment and fury. Three lumenis groves had been attacked—but by sorcery, rather than by drahls. The groves had simply vanished into the Enemy's storms, and with them the dragons who had been inside them maintaining the guardian spells. Of those posted outside the groves, Farsight said, "When it was over, they just couldn't find the groves anymore. It was as if they had never existed."

Windrush fumed in frustration. "Was there no sign of them? Have you sent others to look?"

"Of course. But no—even the land that the groves grew on has vanished, and the realm has closed up around the empty spaces. And Windrush—the Grotto Garden, too! Treegrower, the egg, Greystone—all gone!"

Windrush drew a painful breath. Those groves were vital to the realm's survival. And the Grotto Garden! The last egg outside the Dream Mountain! His heart burned with the loss. What better way for the Enemy to strike at the dragon soul? He thought he knew what had happened. The Enemy had seized the groves just as he had seized Dream Mountain, probably using the power that Windrush had observed him tapping in the Deep Caverns. Windrush had imagined that they would pay for that loss eventually. But so soon?As he peered around the encampment, he was beginning to realize that the time he had long feared was at last upon them. Too many lumenis groves were gone now. No longer could they continue to hold on, and hope. No longer could they search in vain for the Dream Mountain, or wait for Jael to appear—Words or no Words. He would send a patrol to search the south mountains, but the dragons could wait for Jael no longer. Too few groves remained to sustain them. They faced starvation and certain death if they did not fly against the Enemy.

"The time has come, hasn't it?" he murmured, gazing westward, toward the mountains and plains that lay between the held land and the Dark Vale. "We must gather our strength—and fight, this time to the end."

He sensed Farsight nodding, but he also heard another rasping breath, and he turned to see SearSky, eyes and nostrils glowing. "You've not given me much time for training," the black dragon rumbled. "Did I not say that we should worry about the lumenis, rather than your places of magic?"

Windrush vented smoke. "It is no accident, SearSky, that we lost these groves after we lost the Deep Caverns. The Enemy's power has grown with his victory there."

SearSky snorted. "Then let us destroy him while we still have the strength to fly! Or would you rather we wasted away?"

"I agree," Windrush said, cutting him off. "We need your help now, more than ever. We will all feed, upon whatever lumenis remains. We will need all of our strength. Those who have gone the longest without lumenis will feed first."

SearSky seemed surprised to hear Windrush agree with him. "When do we fly?"

"Upon my command."

"Do you think they will still follow you?"

"Let us hope so." Windrush glanced at Farsight, and back at SearSky. "When this battle is done, they may follow whomever they wish."

"If any are still alive."

"If any are still alive," Windrush agreed. His voice hardened. "Until then, we fly on my command! We will take this battle to the Enemy! SearSky, are you with me?"

SearSky growled flame into the sky. "Can you doubt it? Take the battle to the Enemy!"

"To the Enemy!" Farsight agreed, matching gazes with his brother.

"Then call the leaders," Windrush said. And he added silently, to himself, Let us hope we find Jael before we all take flight to the Final Dream Mountain.

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