The Darkness Before the Dawn - By Ryan Hughes Page 0,71

because of us, and I want to make sure he’s all right.”

She sat up to look at him. “Oh, you do. And how do you propose doing that? By mind-merging?”

He nodded. “Unless you can find him on your own. I tried it and couldn’t.”

She blinked a couple of times, then said, “So did I.”

He stepped into the library and said, “Then let’s put aside our troubles for a few minutes and try it together. He may need help.”

“Not likely,” Kayan said. After a moment she added, “But it’s possible.” She nodded. “All right, sit down and let’s try it. But if you—”

“I won’t.”

Jedra sat down beside her, his legs folded beneath him and his arms at his sides, and closed his eyes. He heard Kayan shift slightly beside him, then suddenly she was there with him. They still weren’t a single mind, but it was better than the last time. Kayan’s hostility had lost some of its edge, and his own sense of inadequacy had faded somewhat.

Let’s go, she said, and they moved out into the storm. Kitarak had taught them how to control their movement better than before; when they imagined themselves as a bird they didn’t have to imagine the limitations as well. They could have more eyes than usual, larger wingspan, longer talons—whatever they needed to see or reach what they wanted. As long as they could imagine something, they could have it, so long as one or the other of them had the power to make it happen.

This time, however, they became a two-headed dragon. Their long, snakelike necks coiled back in surprise, and the scaly wings beat frantically just to keep them airborne. Problem was, they didn’t beat in time. The dragon careened left and right through the sky while Jedra and Kayan fought for control.

Let me do it! Jedra said frantically as he tried to keep them from crashing into the rock house. He had no idea whether or not they could accidentally crush themselves, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way.

How come you have to control everything? Kayan demanded. Why can’t I do something for a change? The dragon’s wings flapped a couple of times under her control, propelling them up over the canyon rim.

All right, then, you do it, Jedra said, surrendering the wings to her. He concentrated on scanning the ground for signs of Kitarak, but there was no evidence of his psionic presence.

He must be blocking us, Jedra said. Let’s see if we can spot him visually. They flew the same search pattern Jedra had done alone, but finding a sandy yellow tohr-kreen in the rocky desert was nearly impossible even for two mind-merged psionicists. If they could truly merge, maybe, but not the way they were.

This is pointless, he said after they had covered the entire area for miles around. He obviously doesn’t want to be found, so we might as well leave him alone. He’ll contact us if he needs help.

You’re right, Kayan said.

With her words, the dragon’s long necks merged together for the lower half of their length. Their heads were still separate, but not as separate as they had been.

Did you do that? Kayan asked.

I think we did that, Jedra replied, and the neck fused another foot or so.

Kayan’s scaly, bone-ridged dragon head turned to examine Jedra’s. Jedra looked into her slitted yellow eyes, trying to guess what she was thinking, but he saw only his own reflection in their shiny depths.

The neck fused another few inches, drawing their heads even closer together.

What’s happening? Kayan asked. She forgot to flap their wings, and the dragon began to fall. Jedra reached out to flap them just as she did, and this time they kept their body airborne together.

Now their heads were only a foot or so apart. And now that they were this close, Jedra felt the lure of true convergence like a physical force drawing him even closer.

I think we’re going to merge whether we want to or not, Jedra said. Do you want to break the link first?

Kayan evidently felt the allure, too. Do you? she asked.

Not really, Jedra said, and then it was too late.

They became one. They felt power flowing through them again, felt their squabbles fade into obscurity. Neither of them cared about their previous argument; there was no “neither” to care. They were one being again, one mind.

The dragon swooped, banked, and rose on suddenly coordinated wings. They bellowed their mastery into the sky and heard it echo