Dragon’s Time: Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne; Todd J. Mccaffrey Mccaffrey

  “I agree,” Betrony said. “Seban.”

  The journeymen were quicker to get to the ex-dragonrider, who rose with aplomb and a grateful nod. To Seban’s surprise, they took him on a longer walk, insisting upon circling the Masters’ table before bringing him to sit with them, opposite his daughter.

  “This is the first time in our history that a father and daughter have walked the tables on the same night,” Verilan declared in a carrying voice. He raised his glass high.

  “I give you Journeyman Bekka, Journeyman Seban!”

  “Bekka, Seban!” the room roared back, feet stamping on the hard floor as all rose in toast.

  T’mar never knew what hit him until it was over. One instant he was watching over his shoulder to clear the threat of further Thread behind, the next instant he and Zirenth were reeling in the sky, thrown down by the blast of a dragon and rider coming from between just above them.

  As T’mar craned his neck up to swear at the brazen rider, he saw the scintillating flashes of light as Thread landed, gorged, and grew on the form above him. Before he could even cry in alarm, rider and dragon, seared beyond hope, were gone.

  They saved my life, T’mar thought.

  Ladirth is no more, Zirenth told him.

  T’mar had no chance to recover before the air in front of him erupted with dragons. Above them he caught sight of smaller beasts: watch-whers. It was dark enough for them to fly. High Reaches had taken over the Fall.

  D’vin’s compliments and they have the Fall, Zirenth told him.

  My compliments to High Reaches and good flying, T’mar said, completing the handoff. Wearily, he turned to scan for the remaining Telgar and Benden dragons. Zirenth, tell them to go back to the Weyr. Have H’nez lead.

  Zirenth relayed the order and H’nez’s acceptance. Let’s go, T’mar said wearily, giving his bronze the image and willing him between.

  Bekka was just overcoming her shock when the room went silent once more. She glanced at the Masters’ table and saw that Zist had risen, alone.

  “What is it?” Bekka whispered to Kindan.

  “Wait,” the harper replied.

  “F’jian?” Terin cried as a dragon streaked in from the night and landed near the aid station. “Is that you?”

  Fiona felt the tension ratchet higher; she moved closer to Terin and felt Jeila do the same.

  The figure of a rider emerged from the darkness.

  “T’mar!” Fiona exclaimed, giving him a welcoming grin.

  T’mar ignored her, moving toward Terin. In an eerie reenactment, he went to one knee before Terin.

  “Terin,” he began softly, his voice full of sorrow.

  “No!” Terin said, shaking her head. “No! He promised! He swore! No, it can’t be so!”

  Fiona raced to her side and embraced her. The younger woman collapsed into her arms, sobbing. Fiona pulled her head tight against her, stroking it with her hand while Terin bawled into her chest. She looked over Terin’s head to T’mar.

  “There was a clump,” T’mar said. “He came out right into it, he pushed me aside.” He drew in a long, shaky breath. “He saved my life.”

  Terin turned in Fiona’s arms to face T’mar. “But he promised me! He swore on Ladirth that he would be here when I need him.”

  She looked widely around and called desolately into the night air: “I need you now! F’jian, I need you now!”

  She turned once more in Fiona’s arms. “He broke his vow, he’s not here. He’ll never be here.”

  “Shh, shh,” Fiona said soothingly. Her eyes sought out Jeila’s and the older weyrwoman joined her.

  “Let me take her,” Jeila said to Fiona, leading Terin into her arms.

  “I’ll help,” Jeriz’s voice called from the night.

  “Go with them,” Fiona agreed, waving in thanks to Jeila. “I can handle things here.”

  “We lost two,” T’mar said when they were out of earshot.

  “Who?” Fiona asked, bracing herself.

  “Z’mos, one of C’tov’s,” T’mar said. “His Linuth was engulfed at the same time as F’jian, probably by the same freak fall.”

  “Winds are tricky at that time of night,” Fiona said, trying to ease his pain. T’mar nodded. “And the injured?”

  “Three badly, two less so,” T’mar said. He glanced across the Bowl toward the queen’s ledge. “H’nez was one.”

  A bugle from above announced the return of the rest of the Telgar riders.

  “Three mauled, two wounded,” Fiona called to Birentir and the weyrfolk as the dragons started to land. “Birentir, you take one of the mauled dragons, I’ll take the other.”

  As Fiona raced toward the dragon landing shakily near her, she heard Birentir say jokingly, “Bet it’s nicer at the Hall!”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure!” Fiona said and then was lost to all banter as she took in, by glow-light, the damage to Winurth’s left wing.

  “Get him some fellis and get me some numbweed,” Fiona called out heedless of who obeyed her orders, only intent on the injuries and the need to calm J’gerd, who looked ready to collapse at the loss of his friend and the pain to his dragon. “I’ll need a number three kit over here!”

  “On the way, Weyrwoman!” a voice called back in acknowledgment. The first-aid kit was thrust into her hands, needle end first, suture set trailing over her shoulder just as she and Bekka had instructed. She held up her other hand and had a small pin thrust in it with which she quickly pinned the tatters of Winurth’s wing, reaching back for another and another until the damage was pinned up and she could sew stitches into the damaged membrane.

  “Another kit!” Fiona called as she reached the end of the first string, wiped an ichor-soaked hand on her trousers and moved toward the near section of the long tear. It would be many months before Winurth healed.

  Sixty-seven. As of this moment, all Telgar Weyr had was scant more than two wings of fighting dragons. Another four would return to the fight in two days’ time.

  Fiona thrust the thought brutally from her mind and forced herself to focus on the injury even as she tuned out J’gerd’s worried imprecations.

  Finally, she was done. She stood up, stretched her aching back, cracked her aching knuckles, and moved over to J’gerd.

  “He’ll recover,” Fiona told the brown rider calmly, reaching out to touch him gently on the shoulder. “The damage is heavy, but he’ll fly again.”

  J’gerd looked at her, his head shaking slowly, his eyes distant. He said nothing.

  Fiona was still groping for some way to bring the man out of his pain and worry when she heard a shout from the queen’s ledge. She turned even as she saw a small form pitch forward, arms wind-milling for balance and failing, falling forward off the ledge and onto the ground below.

  “H’nez!” Jeila cried as she fell.

  Fiona raced across the open ground even as she screamed in her mind, Talenth, we need Bekka now!

  “As is fitting with our new custom,” Zist intoned slowly, “we must apply it not just to healers but to harpers as well—”

  “No!” Bekka’s shout cut across everything as she bolted to her feet.

  “Jeila!”

  Kindan and Seban were on her heels and the three were out of the dining hall and in the Harper Hall’s courtyard before anyone could react.

  Zist managed to make his way through the throng and far enough into the courtyard to yell, “What is it?”

  “Jeila’s fallen!” Kindan yelled back. “The baby!”

  Even before Fiona reached the fallen form of her friend, she heard Talenth’s bellow as the queen appeared just above the ground and skidded to a halt just in front of the queens’ ledge.

  Bekka and Kindan tumbled off just as Fiona stopped in front of Jeila’s umoving form. From above, Jeriz called out, “She just ran off!”

  “Don’t move her!” Bekka shouted as she rushed up beside Fiona. “Father, get a stretcher!”

  “Get some glows!” Fiona shouted, her v
oice echoing around the Weyr.

  “I’ve got some here,” Jeriz said, handing down a basket from above.

  “Don’t get too close to the edge,” Fiona warned, looking up at the sound of stones landing nearby. She knelt down, moving to one side to let Bekka and Seban in to examine the fallen weyrwoman.

  “How is she?” Fiona asked, just before her eyes fell to Jeila’s crotch. “Is that blood?”

  “Out of the way, out of the way!” H’nez bellowed, accompanied by the sounds of bodies being pushed away.

  “Kindan, stop him,” Fiona ordered. The harper rose quickly and turned to block the wild-eyed bronze rider.

  “Wait man, let them help her,” Kindan said, physically blocking and then grappling the tall, wiry rider. H’nez tried to plow through him, but T’mar had arrived and added his weight.

  “You can’t help her, let them do their work,” T’mar urged.

  “But she’s just a girl!” H’nez cried, waving a hand toward Bekka.

  “She’s a journeyman!” Fiona called back, standing up and moving to confront H’nez. “And she knows about this, she’s Jeila’s best hope.”

  Some of the wildness went out of H’nez’s eyes.

  “I wouldn’t let anyone but the best treat her, H’nez,” Fiona told him softly. She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes bright with tears, and turned back again, “And she’s the best.”

  “Journeyman?” H’nez repeated blankly.

  “Just tonight,” Fiona assured him, reaching a hand to his arm soothingly. “You need to get back to Ginirth, he needs you, too.”

  “You’ll do everything?” H’nez repeated, his voice pleading.

  “Everything in my power,” Fiona swore.

  H’nez nodded and allowed T’mar and Kindan to lead him back to his dragon.

  With a sigh, Fiona turned back to the group around the fallen weyrwoman.

  “How is she?” Fiona asked as she came to squat next to Bekka.

  “I think she lost the baby.”

  Dawn shows them

  Man brought them

  Never varying

  Always querying

  Dawn Sisters

  In the sky.

  The sun rose steadily, in the sky. Keeping pace with it, a trio of lights glowed, always in track with the dawn. The Dawn Sisters.

  They traveled alone, brilliant orbs of the morning sky. For five hundred Turns and more they had lit the morning sky of Pern. Alone.

  A flicker of movement appeared beside them, so small that no one on the planet below would have noticed. But, for the first time in hundreds of Turns, the Dawn Sisters had company.

  Lorana looked silently at the three huge shapes floating near her. Only one was close enough to see clearly and it hung almost above her, brilliant and blinding.

  Her breath grew cold and it became harder to breathe.

  Come on, Minith, back.

  And, presently, the Dawn Sisters were alone once more.

  Back from the cold of between, Lorana took several deep breaths, favoring the warm air near Igen while she plotted her next move.

  That was fun, Minith told her. Are we going again?

  Are you ready?

  Soon, Minith said. Lorana laughed at the queen’s honesty. As her understanding of Minith grew, Lorana began to wonder more and more about Tullea, past, present, and future. The queen was comfortable with her and not overly worried about being away from her rider—that had to say something good about Tullea. And then there was B’nik. The Benden Weyrleader was a fundamentally good man and devoted to Tullea. Prickly, difficult, stubborn, opinionated, vengeful—yes, those were all parts of Tullea. But kind, loyal, loving, and honest were also in her character.

  I’m ready, Minith announced. Lorana chuckled and climbed back onto the queen’s neck, shelving her consideration of the queen’s rider for a later time.

  Very well, Lorana thought, forming the image of the coordinates in her mind. Let’s go.

  This time they arrived not in the glare of the large ship but in its shadow. Lorana had learned from the previous two jumps that they would have minutes before the air turned too cold and thin to breathe. On the first jump, she’d brought Minith as high into the sky as she could imagine, looked at the bright lights of the Dawn Sisters and had re-imagined the image as closer and brighter to get even nearer to them. With the view from their second jump, she was now able to bring them this close.

  In the great ships’ shadows, Lorana could look down on Pern below her without being blinded by the reflected glare of the Dawn Sisters. She took a quick look up at the ship closest to her and saw that it was named Yokohama. The name tripped off the tongue easily.

  Below her, in crystal clarity, lay Pern. She could make out the eastern coastline, bathed in the light of morning, and, farther westward, the dim shadow-shrouded middle of the continent with Telgar and Igen. She tried to pick out the Weyrs but couldn’t: The distance was too great and clouds added some confusion to her view.

  The snowy wastes of the north reflected the sun brightly, nearly blindingly, and Lorana looked away from them quickly, blinking to clear her eyes.

  It’s time, she said, as she felt the first chill in the air around her.

  Back once more on Pern, Lorana found herself looking at everything with new eyes. She had never truly realized how beautiful her planet was, how amazing that it could hold life, that it held all of them protected from the harsh chill of space.

  She realized that, following the Dawn Sisters, it would take a full day to see all of Pern. No, she thought to herself, not a full day—just parts of one. The sun lit a full third of the planet—say, a quarter if allowing for the confusion of the shadows of sunset and sunrise. If she timed it right, it would take her only four more jumps to see all of the planet.

  I’m tired, Minith confessed. Can we rest?

  We’ve got all the time we need, Lorana assured her, climbing down and leaning against the queen’s belly. We should go carefully, we’re going far higher than is safe.

  I could feel it, Minith agreed. The cold coming in and the air getting bad. After a moment she added with a tone of surprise, I think I can hold the air longer, keep the cold out.

  You hold the air? Lorana repeated in surprise.

  It comes with us, Minith said. When we go between, we bring it and it comes with us when we come out of between.

  And you could hold it? Lorana asked. Something nagged at her, something more than just the beauty of their homeworld, something more than just the peril of their time. She shook her head and the moment passed. Holding air, Lorana thought as she closed her eyes with a deep sigh. Something to do with holding air.

  I could, Minith agreed sleepily.

  They awoke when the sun had set and it turned cold.

  Ready? Lorana asked Minith as the queen roused herself.

  Cold, the queen told her. I’ll need to eat after.

  We’ve missed a meal, Lorana agreed and she climbed up and strapped herself in firmly. Can you hold the air this time? I’ll try.

  Minith cupped air, leaped upward, and, with Lorana’s sure guidance, went between between one downbeat of her wings and the next.

  The Dawn Sisters were above them once more, the great Yokohama nearest. Below them, Benden and the east coast were dark, dim. The west of the continent was now bathed in sunlight from the edges of Telgar all the way to Tillek Tip. Lorana picked up the spot where she knew Tillek Hold lay, but could make out no sign, except perhaps splotches that marked different fields outlying the hold. She looked down the length of the coast, toward Southern Boll, shimmering on the horizon, nearly out of sight.

  It was so beautiful she felt her heart ache with joy and love for her planet.

  No one has seen this in five hundred Turns! she thought to Minith in awe. And it’s beautiful.

  I’m holding the air, Minith said excitedly. Can you feel it?

  I can, Lorana said approvingly, not the least perturbed that the queen deemed the vista spread
ing beneath them less noteworthy than her own very remarkable feat. It was clear that somehow Minith had brought even more air with them or was holding it better than before. Well done, Minith.

  Lorana took another long look down, sighing at the beauty beneath her. She had seen all the northern continent, her home. Aside from the snowy wastes, she could see no place that was not already fully occupied where it might be possible to raise weyrlings to maturity.

  Besides, there’s the food, Lorana thought to herself, realizing how her stomach was grumbling.

  Come on, Minith, let’s eat, Lorana said, imagining the perfect place for the queen to hunt. It would require going back in time some more—to a time when the game she wanted would be plentiful—but Lorana could easily imagine it and they would make it in one slightly longer jump between.

  Eagerly the queen agreed and they winked out, leaving the Dawn Sisters once more in sole possession of their vantage point over Pern.

  Lorana allowed herself a pleased smile as Minith bugled in pleasure as she sighted her prey. The queen leaped and pounced, tearing down one of the large, unwary, herdbeasts that had grazed for Turns unmolested in the canyons and plateaus near the abandoned Igen Weyr.

  Game was plentiful here, far more so than she’d been led to believe from Fiona’s tales of Igen Weyr—the settling of which was some months still in the future of this time. Perhaps, it was just that Fiona, daughter of a Lord Holder, wasn’t as well-versed in managing herdbeasts as Lorana, daughter of a herdmaster.

  She felt Minith’s delight as she gorged on the hot blood of the fresh kill, felt her tearing into the warm flesh and savagely ripped meat from the carcass as she slaked her hunger.

  Lorana’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that the queen dragon wasn’t the only one who needed food. She’d drunk her plenty from the nearby stream that fed the Igen river, but, thirst quenched, her hunger redoubled.

  I could get you a beast, Minith offered with a flash of joy mixed with pride as she imagined herself hunting and tearing down another one of the large herdbeasts.