Sky Dragons Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  Xhinna thought about the other queen riders and pursed her lips in a small frown. “You’ll need—”

  “To win over your Jepara?” Fiona guessed, smiling once again as she took in Xhinna’s astonished look. Taking pity, she explained, “Well, it wasn’t hard to guess that that would be your next consideration.”

  “I don’t think there’ll be any problem in that,” K’dan said, nodding toward the distance. Xhinna turned to see Jepara making her way toward them, a tray in her hands. Xhinna smiled and waved at the queen rider, who smiled back and quickly joined them.

  “We were just talking about you,” Fiona said as Jepara sat. The gold rider nodded, unperturbed.

  “I’d heard about the other wings,” Jepara said, nodding toward Xhinna. “I gather we’re going to be given more duties?”

  “I’m going to form the queen’s wing,” Fiona said. “I’d like you to be my wingsecond.”

  “What about Jirana?”

  “She’ll be my other wingsecond, responsible for the green queens,” Fiona said, ignoring the look of distate that flashed across Jepara’s face. “But as your wing will have the larger dragons, I’m expecting you and the browns and bronzes—”

  “Bronzes?” Jepara interrupted, her voice filled with anticipation.

  “J’sarte and the others with dragons his age,” Fiona said. She raised a hand to forestall Jepara, adding, “They’ll have their normal duties, but in an emergency, I’m expecting you to incorporate them into any ‘catching’ we may have to perform.”

  “We’re also assigning some of the younger greens and blues—those old enough to fly for short periods—to your exercises,” K’dan added. “They’ll be attached to the various wings, so the bronzes will be able to direct them as you need.”

  “Need?”

  “Well, you’ve got to practice catching,” Fiona said. “So I figured we could have them stand in. It’d be good exercise for them, as well.”

  Jepara nodded, her expression thoughtful. Xhinna wanted to stay, but she’d finished her breakfast and she could feel the looks of R’ney, Danirry, and the rest of her wing on her. Rising, she nodded to Fiona and K’dan, and smiled at Jepara. “I must go.”

  “Fly safe,” K’dan said. Fiona echoed him, but Jepara merely waved dismissively, and Xhinna suppressed a chuckle, delighted by the ease with which Fiona had ensnared the difficult queen rider’s attention.

  “Catching wings,” Fiona murmured approvingly and then, with a cry that startled everyone she shouted, “Sky wings! Skyleader!”

  Xhinna raced out before Fiona could formally pin the appellation on her.

  Xhinna was glad she did not make assignments of the new wings until she’d met with their leaders. She had a quick talk with them, outlining their duties and the problems of high sky flight before inviting Avarra and Jerilli to join them for a more in-depth conversation.

  Reflecting on the numerous times she and Jirana had ridden in Search, she knew that the odds were more than even that any blue or green rider would be female. The older riders, in a distinct but revered minority, found the change both difficult and pleasing.

  “At least I don’t have to look at your old scarred face all the time!” was a common refrain among some of them. Several had been skeptical initially, believing that women wouldn’t be up to the rigors of riding a fighting dragon, but Xhinna had been at the forefront of dismantling that concern. Still, she found herself having to fight the fear that these new wingleaders and their wings had been assigned to her because they weren’t considered good enough to fight in “proper” wings.

  When she thought about it, though, she realized that if fighting Thread at the heights worked as well as it had the first time, it would be these six wings that would bear the brunt of fighting Thread for the foreseeable future—not the “proper” wings flying in the thicker, warmer air near the ground. So it would be up to Xhinna to be sure that these wings could meet the challenge.

  All the faces were familiar to her. They looked at her expectantly and almost with awe. She’d Searched them; she’d assured them as young girls and women that they could become dragonriders, that there was a hope for them far beyond the dank confines of their dying cotholds and fallow fields. She, Jirana, Taria, and a few others had been the ones to warn them for the first time about between, to bring them forward in time from the end of the Plague years to the lush Western Isle where they had begun new lives.

  Warmed by this realization, Xhinna smiled at them.

  “I don’t know what you’ve been told, but we’re here to save Pern,” she said, plunging into a recounting of the past several days leading up to the high-altitude battle with Thread.

  “So we find the Thread, fall with it until it streams, and burn it out of the sky?” Maleena, the Southriver wingleader, summarized when Xhinna had finished.

  “Precisely,” Xhinna said emphatically.

  “But—up that high, how do we breathe?” Kalee of Southern Weyr asked.

  “That is the problem and why we’re only flying blues and greens up high,” Xhinna said. “The blues and greens are the only ones small enough that the others can safely catch them if they run out of air.”

  “I’ve got two browns for wingseconds,” Torra of Western Weyr said. “They’re good flyers; I hate to lose them.”

  “You won’t,” Xhinna told her firmly. “One of my wingseconds flies a brown, too.”

  “So what does he do?”

  “Well, this last Threadfall he flew with us,” Xhinna admitted. “But now, we’ll have the browns form up with the queens and bronzes as catchers.”

  “Queens and bronzes?” someone asked, the exact moment someone else echoed, “Catchers?”

  “We’re going to start your wings the way we started the others,” Xhinna said as she told Tazith to send in Avarra and Jerilli. “We’ll start by training you on flying higher, then on flying up to the Dawn Sisters—”

  “When do we get to fight Thread?” Maleena asked. “We’d started firestone training, but—”

  “You won’t stop,” Xhinna told her. “In fact, we’ve accelerated it—” She paused as Avarra and Jerilli entered. “—and we’re working on new tactics.” She waved for the other two wingleaders to take seats and was pleased when they chose to sit supportively on either side of her. Xhinna introduced them briefly and then continued, “I was just saying how we’re going to accelerate our firestone training—”

  “I’ve got a plan here,” Avarra said, tapping a slate protruding from the carisak hanging off her shoulder. Xhinna started to say something, but the other interrupted, adding, “And before you ask, I worked it through with Danirry and R’ney already.”

  Xhinna nodded. “I was thinking that we could pair each new wing with one of the older wings—”

  “That’s inefficient,” Avarra said. “It makes more sense if you take your wing and train them.” She glanced to Jerilli, who nodded. “We can continue the space watch while you’re training them, and then we can start rotating their wings up through the space watch while training with the resting wings.”

  Xhinna raised an eyebrow and turned to Jerilli, who nodded.

  “Well,” Xhinna said a bit bemusedly, “it appears we’ve got everything all figured out!”

  “Not quite,” Avarra said. Xhinna turned to her. “Apparently Jepara and Jirana want to be involved in the altitude training.” She glanced at the other wingleader and rose to her feet, gesturing for Jerilli to precede her. “So, while we’re working ourselves to the bone, we’ll leave you to handle that little thing!”

  The three new wingleaders laughed at the dismayed expression on Xhinna’s face.

  In the end, it was not as much a “little thing” as Avarra had so blithely surmised, nor was it as big a thing as Xhinna had feared. Partly that was because R’ney and Danirry had already discussed the situation and had several solutions in mind, and partly because, for all her prickliness, Jepara was too eager to be doing something useful to be difficult for
long.

  Jirana was a different matter, and by the end of the day Xhinna found herself exasperated at the way the girl shadowed her throughout all the exercises.

  When they finally returned for the evening meal, Xhinna was ready to tear strips out of the youngster and bore down on her at the High Kitchen with just that intent.

  “Jirana,” she began sternly as she seated herself opposite the young queen rider—and then she stopped. The other five green queen riders were all at the same table, all chewing slowly and looking not just tired, but subdued. When she noticed that while they cast nervous glances toward her, they reserved their most worried looks for Jirana, she changed her tone and her words in a heartbeat. “What is it, little one?”

  “Nothing,” Jirana replied morosely. Xhinna made a derisive noise and the dark-haired, dark-eyed trader girl looked up at her, shaking her head. “Nothing you can change.”

  Instead of returning to her dinner, Jirana kept her eyes on Xhinna, tracing every line in her face, scrutinizing her as though trying to drink a permanent image through her eyes to store in her brain—an image to keep when the original was lost.

  Xhinna was stunned by the implications. She reached forward to touch Jirana’s hand, but the girl jerked it back as if stung—or touched by a cold spirit.

  Xhinna realized that she could think of nothing to say to someone who had seen her death somewhere in the future. She looked away, her lips going tight, then looked down at her plate. In the distance she heard some babies cry and thought of her Xelinan, and then of Taria, of Tarena, of Taralin, of all the babies that she wouldn’t—

  “No,” she said firmly, bringing her eyes back up to meet Jirana’s. The queen rider looked back at her in mild surprise. Commandingly, Xhinna said to her, “Finish your dinner.”

  Jirana’s eyes flashed for a moment, but she complied, eating quickly and silently.

  “Done?” Xhinna asked when Jirana put down her fork. The girl nodded and Xhinna rose. “Come on, then.”

  The other young queen riders looked at Jirana, afraid to offer support, desperate to help.

  “I’m going to talk to her alone,” Xhinna told them, trying to make her tone light. They didn’t seem very relieved at her words; Xhinna sighed and gestured for Jirana to follow her.

  Outside, she led the girl up to the tops of the broom trees. In the dead of winter, cold breezes blew that cut through the warmth of wher-hide jackets and scarves built to withstand the cold of between, but the air was fresh, brisk—alive.

  Xhinna found a spot that still had thick leaves and sat cross-legged. She beckoned Jirana to sit in front of her and the youngster complied, scooting her back against Xhinna’s chest tightly for both warmth and contact. Xhinna reached up and ran her splayed fingers through the girl’s fine, dark hair. Jirana leaned back contentedly.

  It had been a special thing that had grown up between them in the past couple of Turns: that Xhinna and Jirana would trade turns combing knots out of each other’s hair although, in truth, as Jirana had the longer hair it was more Xhinna who did the combing and Jirana who did the luxuriating. But for Xhinna it was like really having the little sister she’d always wished for—a relationship entirely different from the one she had with Taria. There was a strange comfort in it, the warmth of a shared ritual, a hidden joke, a chance to love and be loving in the way that only sisters could.

  “I’m going to die,” Xhinna said, leaning forward so that her soft words carried to Jirana’s ear.

  The girl jerked and then leaned back again as Xhinna continued stroking her hair.

  “Yes.” The word was whipped away by the evening winds, but not before Xhinna heard it.

  “You’re going to die,” Xhinna said, her lips close to Jirana’s left ear.

  “Someday,” Jirana agreed.

  “I’m not dead yet,” Xhinna said. Jirana jerked out of her hands and turned to stare at her. Xhinna smiled. “Don’t kill me ahead of time.”

  With a sob, Jirana turned around and thrust herself against Xhinna, wrapping her arms tightly around her and crying uncontrollably.

  “I wish it were me!” she said when she finally found enough air to speak.

  “And I wish it weren’t,” Xhinna replied firmly.

  Jirana’s brows came together in confusion.

  “I’d love to live to see you old. I’d love to see your children, your loves, to see your queen’s clutches,” Xhinna said. “But I’d much rather not see all that than have you miss it.”

  “I want you with me,” Jirana said. She bit her lip and beat against Xhinna’s chest feebly with her fists. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!”

  She collapsed against Xhinna again, muttering into her chest, “And it hurts so much.”

  “Would it hurt less if you could share it with someone?” Xhinna asked, cupping her arms around the young rider’s back and rocking slowly back and forth.

  “It’d just hurt them, too,” Jirana muttered despairingly.

  “If anything happens to me, you talk to Seban,” Xhinna said. Jirana looked up at her. “He’s been through so much—he’ll hear you. You can share with him.”

  “I’d much prefer to talk to you,” Jirana insisted.

  “And I, you,” Xhinna agreed. “And so, now, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

  “I could be wrong,” Jirana said in a small voice. “I hope I’m wrong.”

  Xhinna wasn’t sure how much credence to put in the young Seer’s hopes. Thus far, she’d been right about everything.

  In the end, Xhinna decided to take her own advice and said nothing about the incident to Taria or anyone else. From the looks of the five young green-queen riders, she guessed that they suspected something of what was up but did not know for certain.

  K’dan, however, approached her late the next day, looking troubled.

  “I’d like you to double the watch,” he told her without preamble. He explained that he and Fiona had been arguing over the frequency of the Falls. Given that no Thread had fallen on the Northern Continent until the dustfalls first seen at the start of the next Turn, there might be nothing to worry about. Then he added, “But …”

  “ ‘Better safe than sorry,’ ” Xhinna quoted, grinning at him and raising a hand in a salute. “As you wish, Weyrleader.”

  And so she’d reorganized the watch, so that her wing flew mid-morning over Benden and mid-evening over the Eastern Isle. Maleena, Kalee, and Torra were disappointed with the changes but Xhinna felt that they could easily be left in Jepara’s extremely capable hands.

  “By the end of this week, at the most, you’ll be ready to join us,” Xhinna had promised them. Only one of their riders had succumbed to the lack of air the way Mirressa had, and the blue and his rider had been quickly recovered by R’ney, Jepara, and the other queens—much to their satisfaction. The promise mollified them all, except for Torra, who seemed to have greater empathy than most and had noticed the worried way Jirana had been following Xhinna with her eyes.

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Torra had asked in a moment when she’d managed to get Xhinna out of earshot. “Jirana’s really worried about you.”

  “I know,” Xhinna had replied. “I’ll be careful. I’ve lots to live for.”

  Torra opened her mouth, but could find nothing more to say.

  Xhinna was just getting ready to return from her position in the evening sky over Benden Weyr when she spotted it—a dark smudge, spots …

  Thread! she cried. Tazith bellowed, turning his head toward her even as she loosened the opening of the nearest firestone sack. Feeding him chunks of firestone, she commanded him to fall upon the Thread, ordering the rest of her wing and the wings of Jerilli and Avarra to join her.

  They fell from the dark nothing of space through the freezing cold of the thin, unbreathable air until they were approaching the smudges of Thread and then—

  Tazith flamed. In an instant, flames erupted to her left and right and suddenly the sky w
as full of flaming dragons.

  Thread! Thread falls over Eastern!

  Who? Xhinna thought in surprise, and then her face crumpled into horror as she thought of the unguarded Eastern Isle, lush and—

  Tazith, go! she shouted. Rouse the Weyrs!

  In an instant they were between, and then Xhinna was in the air over the Eastern Isle, searching frantically for Thread. She found it, and Tazith started flaming unthinkingly. They dived, rose, dived again, always keeping to the highest heights, the great blue’s lungs laboring to heave in enough air to breathe, Xhinna gasping with him, unable to tell if it were her need or her sympathetic imitation of his need and—

  Maleena, Torra, to me! Xhinna called, adding, Tazith, tell Avarra to lead the Fall over Benden.

  I have, Tazith relayed as he turned to her for more firestone. Lurenth says that the Weyrs are flying over Eastern.

  Xhinna had a sudden memory of flashing light in the distance the day she had brought K’dan and the other weyrlings back in time from the Eastern Isle to Western—that had been today! The lights had been dragons flaming!

  She shook the thought from her mind as Tazith relayed Avarra’s answer to her, and she led her wing in the assault against the fresh-streaming Thread.

  She lost all track of time. Suddenly she and Tazith were hovering in the high, thin air, and Xhinna realized that she was shivering uncontrollably.

  Come down! A voice called to them and Xhinna found herself obeying, returning to the Sky Weyr. She smiled as she made out the shape of a little girl standing at the top of the Kitchen Hall’s broom tree: Jirana.

  “Drink this up, put this on,” Jirana said, peremptorily handing Xhinna a mug of hot klah and a blanket the moment the blue rider hit the top branches of the broom tree. “And when you’re done, I’ve warm mash for Tazith.” She waved a hand at the blue commandingly, shouting, “And you’re to eat it all, no excuses!”

  Tazith rumbled in reluctant compliance. Jirana, seeing that Xhinna was taking care of herself, hefted a steaming bucket and hauled it over to the blue’s muzzle. “Eat it all! You’re practically frozen!”