Sky Dragons Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  The Mrreow had flung itself in the air with a menacing growl, and as Xhinna turned, thrusting out her knife to protect herself, she felt a second tunnel snake’s claws rip into her scalp just before the Mrreow’s paw connected with it and flung it far.

  But it was too late for the Mrreow. Xhinna’s knife and her intincts moved faster than her brain, and in the startled moment she had to recognize that the Mrreow had attacked the tunnel snake and not her, its momentum and hers drove the sharp dirk hard into its chest.

  “No!” Xhinna cried, too late. She and the Mrreow continued in motion, and as they fell, Xhinna’s weight drove the point of the dirk home. “No, no, no!”

  The Mrreow hit the ground, Xhinna on top of it, her dirk beneath her. And then she spotted its collar. It was Razz.

  “Bekka!” Xhinna cried. “Oh, no, no, no!” The tawny beast had been trying to save her, attacking the tunnel snake she hadn’t seen. “Bekka!”

  Blood gushed around the hilt of her dirk, flooding over her, pumping out with the force that only an artery produced.

  “Bekka!” Xhinna shouted. She put her hand around the blade, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but it did no good. With a grunt, she pulled her dirk out with her hand still wedged around it, the blade nicking her flesh as it came free. Heedlessly, she threw the knife to one side, moving her bleeding hand to cover the deep wound that pounded out more and more blood. “Bekka!”

  The blond healer appeared in the corner of her vision, just beyond the Mrreow’s head. She took one look at Xhinna, at the blood—and Xhinna knew, even before Bekka shook her head.

  “No!” Xhinna cried, pushing her hand harder against the wound. The bleeding was slowing, couldn’t Bekka see that? It was all right, it was—she looked up at Bekka once more, then caught the Mrreow’s eyes as they dimmed, their life ebbing.

  And in that instant, Xhinna felt a feeble warmth from Razz’s lungs, as though the dying beast were breathing her life to her, giving her a gift, trying to lick her one more time with her rasping tongue.

  “Xhinna,” a voice spoke beside her, faint beneath her own unceasing cries. “Xhinna, she’s dead.”

  “No!” Xhinna cried. “No, she can’t be!” Her tears were flowing freely, her sight was blurry, and she pulled roughly away from the hand that reached for her arm. “No, she was trying to save me,” she cried. “It was a mistake, I couldn’t stop and—and—Bekka! Do something!”

  “She’s dead, Xhinna,” Bekka told her, swimming into view. The blond woman was crying, too, crying for her friend, crying for the Mrreow that had saved her. The Mrreow that Xhinna had—

  “No!” Xhinna shouted, refusing the truth. She felt another hand come around her waist from the far side and heard R’ney’s voice near her ear.

  “Come away, Xhinna, come away now,” the brown rider begged her. Xhinna squirmed, her elbow digging into his chest, and he fell back with a grunt that made Xhinna feel even more guilty, but—

  “NO, you have to help her!” Xhinna cried, heedless of the blood streaming from her own head wound. “She’s got to live! It was a mistake, I didn’t mean it! She’s got to live.”

  “She’s gone, Xhinna,” a soft voice beside her said. Taria.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Xhinna said, turning a pleading look at the green rider. “I couldn’t stop.” She shook her head, tears flying. “I couldn’t stop.”

  “I know,” Taria said soothingly. “I saw. You didn’t see, you just reacted.”

  “We’ve got to help her,” Xhinna said, turning from Taria back to Bekka and then to R’ney, who stood nursing the side he had fallen on. “We’ve got to save her.”

  “We can’t, Xhinna,” Bekka said, stepping closer. She held a hand over the tawny beast’s eyes and slowly lowered the lids. “She’s gone, there’s nothing we can do for her.”

  “Give me a bandage,” Xhinna ordered the healer.

  Bekka’s eyes widened. “There’s no point, Xhinna.”

  “Get—me—a—bandage!” Xhinna roared. In the distance, dragons bellowed in support. She felt a moment’s awe at that: She hadn’t known they would do that for her.

  Tremulously, Bekka pulled a bandage from her carisak and passed it to Xhinna.

  “And another,” Xhinna said, as she bunched the first one and stuffed it quickly under her hand into the wound gaping below.

  “It won’t help—her heart’s been torn,” Bekka said as she passed another bandage over.

  “I need something bigger—it’s got to go around her,” Xhinna said, ignoring the healer’s words. She heard a dirk being drawn and a sharp tearing sound beside her. She turned and saw Taria ripping her shirt to shreds. “Cut mine, too.”

  Taria obeyed, passing Xhinna the bits she’d quickly knotted together from the wreck of her shirt. Xhinna held still for Taria to cut her shirt away; quickly she knotted the new strips to the end of the other shirt.

  “I’ll help,” R’ney said, moving into her field of view and holding out his hand for the end Xhinna was trying to wrap around the large beast.

  Bekka took the strip from him and continued it around the beast’s back, cinching it up in line with the wound, then passed it to Taria, who passed the last bit back to Xhinna. They repeated the process with the strips of Xhinna’s shirt so that the wrappings went around the dead Mrreow’s chest twice.

  After that, Xhinna stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking at the still form in front of her. “I didn’t know.” She glanced at Taria and her tears came again. “I was wrong—I should have listened to you.”

  Behind her, Tazith started scooping out the soft sand, digging a deep hole.

  “We’ll put her there,” Xhinna offered, glancing at the green rider. “If you don’t mind.”

  “No,” Taria said softly, “that’s perfect.”

  Xhinna nodded, then turned to Bekka. “Jirana?”

  “She’s resting,” Bekka said. “She’s got a nasty cut that will need stitches, but she’ll be fine.”

  “Stay with her,” Xhinna ordered. She sent out a call for X’lerin and the rest of the fighting wing, asking them to send half their strength here and set the rest on perimeter patrol. She moved around to stand behind the Mrreow’s head. She reached down, laced her fingers together under it, and began to lift with her knees.

  R’ney moved to the Mrreow’s tail, but he couldn’t reach around. Taria joined him on the far side. They couldn’t budge it. A rush of noise flowed around them and suddenly there were more riders, each finding a place around the Mrreow’s sides and lifting: X’lerin, W’vin, J’keran, Colfet, K’dan—what was he doing here?

  “I killed her when she was trying to save me,” Xhinna said from her position at the Mrreow’s tawny head. “I want to bury her here by the sands she fought to protect.”

  The others nodded and heaved the body off the ground. They moved slowly, in silence, and gently placed the Mrreow in the hollow Tazith had dug.

  “I’m sorry,” Xhinna said, half to the dead Mrreow, half to Taria. “I should have listened.”

  She reached down and took a handful of sand and sprinkled it over the body. R’ney joined her from the other side, then Taria, X’lerin, W’vin, J’keran, Colfet, and K’dan.

  They stepped away as Tazith gently pushed the rest of the sand over the dead creature.

  When the hollow was full, Taria stepped up to her and said, “What are your orders, Wingleader?”

  “Xhinna!” It was Bekka hurrying over to them. She was alone.

  “Where’s Jirana?” Xhinna asked.

  “You’d better come,” Bekka said, her eyes suddenly shiny with tears.

  “What?” Xhinna demanded.

  “She said for me to tell you she was okay,” Bekka said, her face crumpling. She gestured hurriedly. “You’d better come.”

  Xhinna reached out and grabbed Taria, tugging her behind her. As they moved, she noticed that Taria’s belly was huge, that otherwise the green rider was gaunt, hollow-eyed with terror and exhaustion.
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br />   “You look awful,” Xhinna said over her shoulder as they moved.

  “You’re all green with tunnel snake,” Taria said. She sniffed and made a retching sound. “And the smell!”

  Jirana was lying on the ground, her eyes closed. Javissa and J’riz were beside her, the green rider’s eyes flowing with tears while his mother just stroked her daughter’s hair quietly.

  “The Mrreow sliced her open,” Bekka said as Xhinna knelt beside the girl, reaching forward with one hand to stroke Jirana’s upright palm.

  The girl opened her eyes and tilted her head toward her. “Laspanth?”

  “She’s fine,” Xhinna lied, gently stroking Jirana’s hand. “You’ll be fine.”

  “It hurts,” Jirana moaned. “I knew it would hurt—that’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

  “But—”

  “Ask the queens,” Jirana said, closing her eyes with a grimace. Xhinna leaned forward, impelled by some inexplicable feeling to catch the words Jirana only breathed: “Trust.”

  “She’s young,” Xhinna said, looking to Javissa and then Bekka. “She’s strong.”

  Bekka shook her head. “Xhinna, she’s not this strong,” the healer told her quietly. “If she moves when I try to stitch her up, I’ll tear her guts open.”

  “Fellis,” Xhinna said, aware that others were gathering near.

  “Not good enough for this,” Bekka said. “And she’s in such bad shape, I’m afraid that she might slip too deeply into sleep.”

  “We can’t just give up,” Xhinna said. She looked at Javissa, but the trader would not meet her gaze, still stroking her daughter’s hair. “I’m not giving up,” Xhinna declared. She looked at Bekka. “We are not giving up.”

  “No,” Bekka agreed. “Of course not.”

  “R’ney,” Xhinna called over her shoulder, “take charge here, clean this up, bring the eggs to our sands.”

  She bent down and gently put her hand under Jirana’s head.

  “We can’t move her,” Bekka said.

  “We have to,” Xhinna replied, sliding a hand under the girl’s back and gently lifting her up. Jirana gave a whimper and Xhinna carefully adjusted her position so that the child was cradled in her arms.

  “Guide me,” Xhinna said to J’riz. The green rider nodded and slowly led her out of the cave. He climbed up Tazith and helped her raise the stricken girl. Bekka clambered up behind her.

  “We’re going to the sands,” Xhinna told her even as she urged Tazith to climb—gently—into the sky.

  “You’ve got your kit?” she asked Bekka.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ve got the needles and sutures?”

  “Yes, Xhinna,” Bekka replied testily. “But this is hard work and it’s still dark.”

  Tazith, Xhinna said, picturing an image in her mind, and then they were between. She felt Bekka’s astonishment and worry. The cold of between could do horrible things to an open wound. They came out above the beach, where Pinorth bugled in surprise. The sun was high above, and the sands were warm with the noon heat.

  “Enough light now?” Xhinna called as Tazith began a gentle spiral to a soft landing on the sands.

  “If the cold of between didn’t kill her,” Bekka said, jumping down and reaching up to receive the stricken girl.

  Xhinna and J’riz did all they could to get her down gently, without stretching open the three long gashes in her abdomen. Weyrfolk rushed to help, including V’lex and X’lerin, who grabbed her, carefully keeping her level, and gently lowered her to a canvas spread over the ground, arrayed with tools.

  Taria approached them with a much-relieved Javissa, saying, “Tazith told me what you did, so we came here early and got everything ready.”

  Bekka glanced at the supplies all neatly laid out and said to Xhinna, “It might work.”

  As they laid her on the ground Jirana stirred and murmured something. Xhinna leaned in close but only caught the tail end: “… anth.”

  Xhinna glanced up. They were in the center of the sands, far from the egg the trader girl had claimed as her queen.

  “She’s okay,” Xhinna said, but the girl whimpered, her face puckering in pain.

  “If she moves like that, Xhinna, I don’t think anyone could close the wounds,” Bekka said, looking up from where she knelt beside the girl.

  “Don’t do anything yet,” Xhinna said. Bekka raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Xhinna shook her head, raising a hand as she raced to Jirana’s egg.

  Trust me, the girl had said. Ask the queens.

  Tazith, send the queen dragonets here, hurry!

  They come, the blue replied even as Xhinna felt him leap skyward and arc lazily overhead. Can you help the little one?

  Xhinna had no reply.

  “Xhinna, what is it?” Jepara asked as she approached with her Sarurth.

  “Jirana’s dying,” Xhinna told her, and at the words, her eyes welled with tears. “We’ve got to help her.”

  “How?” Meeya asked as she and Calith came nearby.

  “Bekka,” Xhinna said, clutching the gold rider, “you can talk to the dragons, can’t you?”

  Bekka nodded, her forehead creased in puzzlement. Xhinna grabbed the healer’s hand and placed it on the egg.

  Trust me, the little girl had said.

  “Everyone, gather around, hands on the egg,” Xhinna said. “Jepara, talk to her.”

  “Talk to her?” Jepara repeated in surprise, and then, enlightened, she placed her other hand on the shell and closed her eyes.

  “We need to ask Laspanth to help Jirana,” Xhinna said, closing her eyes and placing her hands on the egg, the smallest finger of her right hand brushing the smallest finger of Meeya’s left. Another finger brushed her left hand: Jepara.

  Laspanth, Xhinna thought. Help Jirana. Take her pain, give it to us, keep her still so that she can get better.

  Beside her, Xhinna heard Jepara gasp in surprise.

  “Now!” Xhinna shouted, relaying the same thought to Tazith. She brought her full focus on the moment, on the egg, on the queens, on the small girl who had asked her to trust her and—

  It was as though she’d never truly seen before, as if she’d never truly breathed before, felt before. The world of her senses was totally new to her, beyond description, and then—

  Pain! She gasped, she went rigid, she didn’t twitch or move a muscle, she just felt pain—roaring, furious pain—and with it, terror: She was dying. She rode down the terror, calmed it, soothed it, held the pain, examined it, compared it to other pains, the pain of her shoulder, the pain of childbirth to come, of Threadscore, of—

  “Xhinna!” a voice cried. “Xhinna, it’s done.”

  Xhinna opened her eyes and was surprised to find herself on the warm sandy ground where she’d collapsed next to the egg.

  “Laspanth?” Xhinna whispered as she recognized that the voice belonged to Jepara.

  “She’s fine,” Jepara said. “Bekka is done with Jirana. We should go see her.”

  Some twitch, some feeling just at the edge of her mind, tugged at Xhinna and she shook her head. “Bring the egg—Tazith, carry it.”

  “I’ve done the best I could,” Bekka told Xhinna wearily. She nodded toward Jirana’s cloth-covered stomach. “She didn’t move a muscle, didn’t make a sound.”

  Xhinna felt a painful twinge in her own belly and, wincing, lifted her tunic to stare down at herself.

  “Xhinna, what’s wrong with your stomach?” Bekka asked, peering at the reddened skin.

  Xhinna didn’t answer her, turning instead to the dark-haired queen rider beside her. “Jepara, how’s your stomach?”

  Wordlessly, the queen rider lifted her tunic to reveal three parallel red welts, matching Xhinna’s.

  “We took the pain, didn’t we?” Jepara asked then, smiling at Xhinna. “It had to go somewhere.”

  “What about the others?” Xhinna glanced over her shoulder at the figure that trailed them silently. “Taria, lift your tunic.”
/>   Surprised, the green rider lifted her tunic above her distended belly. There were three welts across it.

  Xhinna looked at her and remembered a hand going to her shoulder even as the dark-eyed woman said, “I had to help.”

  Xhinna lowered her tunic, moved over to Taria, and bent down to gently kiss each of the three welts. She turned her head and pressed her ear to Taria’s belly and listened for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise as she made out the sounds of the life moving within. Then she rose, gently pulling Taria’s tunic back over her belly, her hands going to the green rider’s as she stood.

  “I should have come for you earlier.”

  “I thought we could manage on our own,” Taria said. “I knew what you were doing.”

  “You did?”

  “Not at first,” Taria admitted. “At first I was too confused, too dazed by J’keran’s attention and that awful drink—”

  “We’ve got better,” Xhinna offered shyly.

  “Not until the baby comes,” Bekka growled tersely from beside the sleeping Jirana.

  “I’m sorry about Razz,” Xhinna told her friend.

  “I know,” Taria said. “I’m sorry we didn’t find an answer.”

  Bekka shushed them as she noticed Jirana stirring. Xhinna turned to the girl, saw the pain on her face, and knelt down at her side, opposite Bekka.

  “Jirana, it’s all right, you were right,” Xhinna said. “I spoke with Laspanth; I trust you.”

  Ask the queens, Xhinna heard clearly.

  “Ask the queens what, sweetie?” Xhinna asked, tenderly stroking the girl’s dark hair.

  For help, Jirana said.

  “We did that,” Xhinna assured her. “We did that and they helped you. You need to rest now, get better. You want to be healthy when Laspanth hatches, don’t you?”

  The girl sighed and Xhinna felt her slipping into a deeper sleep.

  “I’ll stay here,” Bekka said, gesturing to Jirana. “You go away—you’re disturbing her.”

  Xhinna nodded and, with one last brush of Jirana’s soft hair, rose. She was surprised when she felt a hand slip into hers: Taria.

  FIFTEEN