Dragon Rigger by Jeffrey A. Carver

this fire. The flames danced bright and warm, but they seemed only to replay the puzzles of the day. What had it all meant: the demon, the vision? Even an iffling's explanation would seem clear compared to today's bewildering events.
    He was scarcely aware that he was drifting in and out of sleep. It seemed as a dream to him when he first saw a small, silken-furred creature loping out of the cavern's shadows. The creature sat up on its hindquarters, peering up at him with huge, dark eyes. Windrush blinked, flexing his talons unconsciously as he tried to decide whether he was awake or asleep. "Iffling?"
    "Dragon," whispered the iffling.
    Windrush drew his thoughts together. "Did you hear me wish that you would come?"
    The iffling blinked its dark eyes and shivered, its silvery fur rippling down its back. "We felt a need."
    Windrush exhaled steam. "I hope you've come to explain the mysteries of the past day. Were they your doing?"
    The being cocked its head. "My doing? Dragon, you would give us powers that are not ours. What is it that you wish to know?"
    Windrush eyed the iffling. "You have to ask? I saw a vision tonight, a most disturbing vision. I hoped you would know where it came from. I also spoke with a demon who was once a rigger—and I wonder how I might gain its trust. Or should I? What can you tell me, iffling?"
    The creature did not answer at once. It cocked its head the other way, its eyes half closed as though it were listening to some distant voice. It began to sway from side to side. It seemed to have forgotten the dragon's presence.
    Suddenly it spoke, very softly. "I do not know all of the answers that you seek. But I can show you something. Follow me." It sprang toward the hearth and vanished into the air.
    Puzzled, Windrush searched with his eyes, then probed with his thoughts down into the underrealm. He felt the quiver of an unfamiliar spell and was startled to discover that the underrealm surrounding the cavern had changed dramatically. A glow filled the cavern, penetrating into corners that had long lain in darkness. Where his own guardian spell had tightly closed the underweb against intruders, he now saw a doorway out of his cavern, leading to a place of sunshine. Sitting in the doorway, silhouetted in the sunlight, was the kuutekka, or spirit-presence, of the iffling. Behind the iffling was a vast green meadow. What is this? Windrush whispered, amazed.
    The iffling's answer came soundlessly. It is our memory of the place where the Dream Mountain stood before the Enemy stole it away. I know your question—but we cannot tell you where the draconae have gone, or even if they have truly moved at all. The Enemy obscures our sight of that place, and makes the way impossible to find. But . . . there may be other ways to find it.
    Windrush muttered, If there were a way in the outer world, I would have found it by now! If you know some other way, I would be grateful if you told me! He narrowed his undersight, trying to see more clearly the meadow beyond the doorway. He thought he heard faint singing, draconae singing. It felt more like a memory than an actual sound.
    The iffling flickered in the sunlight. Dragon , I am sharing with you our own vision, our memory, as clearly as I can. Unfortunately this is not a doorway through which you can pass.
    Windrush scowled. If you can, why not I ?
    Dragon, my undersight is not your undersight. I walk where you cannot ; and where you go with strength and pride, I may go with great peril.
    The creature paused. You must find your own way. Not on wing, but in the underrealm. But take comfort in what I have come to say: You have more friends than you know.
    Windrush stared at the iffling, puzzled by its words. He recalled the lumenis vision, in which the realm had been lost to the Enemy. Who had created that vision? Was it a warning from the ifflings? A warning to act quickly?
    You say I must search the underrealm, he replied at last. I doubt that my skills are