Jaxom could not bring himself to go to weyrling iB practice the next morning. Lytol and Brand were out * early, riding to a distant holding with the fosterlings so no one questioned his presence. When he left the Hold in the afternoon, he firmly directed Ruth to the lake and scrubbed and scrubbed his dragon until Ruth meekly asked what was the matter.
"I love you, Ruth. You are mine. I love you," Jaxom said, wanting with all his heart to be able to add, with his former blithe confidence, that he would do anything in the world for his friend. "I love you!" he repeated through gritted teeth and dove from Ruth's back as deeply as he could into the ice-cold waters of the lake.
Perhaps I am hungry, Ruth said as Jaxom fought the pressure of water and airlessness in his lungs.
That could certainly provide a diversion, Jaxom thought as he erupted to the surface, gasping for breath. "There's a hold in South Ruatha where there're wherries fattening."
That would do very nicely.
Jaxom dried himself quickly, shrugged into his clothes and boots, absently coiling the damp bath sheet over his shoulders as he mounted Ruth and directed him up and between to the Southern Holding. He realized his foolishness the moment the deathly chill of between compounded the dampness about his neck. He'd surely contract a distressingly uncomfort- able head cold from such stupidity.
Ruth hunted with his usual dispatch. Fire-lizards, local by their band colors, arrived, apparently invited by the white dragon to share the feast. Jaxom watched, freer to think while Ruth was totally in- volved with hunting and eating. Jaxom was not pleased with himself. He was thoroughly disgusted and revolted by the way he had used Corana. The fact that she seemed to have matched what he had to admit was a violent lust dismayed him. Their relation- ship, once innocent pleasure, had somehow been sullied. He wasn't at all certain that he cared to con- tinue as her lover, an attitude that posed another unpleasant burden of guilt. One point in his favor, he had helped her finish the hoeing his importunity had interrupted. That way she'd not be in trouble with Fidello for shorting her task. The young grain was important. But he ought not to have taken Corana like that. Doing so was inexcusable.
She liked it very much. Ruth's thought touched him so unexpectedly that Jaxom jerked straight. "How could you possibly know?" When you are with Corana, her emotions are also very strong and just like yours. So I can feel her, too. Only at that time. Otherwise I do not hear her. Ac- ceptance rather than regret colored Ruth's tone. Al- most as if he were relieved that the contact was limited.
Ruth was padding up from the field as he spoke, having disposed of two fat wherries without leaving much for the fire-lizards to pick over. Jaxom regarded his friend, the whirl of the jeweled eyes slowing as the red of hunger paled into dark violet and then the blue of contentment.
"Do you like what you hear? Our lovemaking?"
Jaxom asked, abruptly deciding to air his concern. Yes. You enjoy it so much. It is good for you. I like it to be good for you.
Jaxom jumped to his feet, consumed by frustration and guilt. "But don't you want it for yourself? Why are you always worried about me? Why didn't you go fly that green?"
Why does that worry you? Why should I fty the green?
"Because you're a dragon."
/ am a white dragon. Blues and browns, and oc- casionally a bronze, fly greens.
"You could have flown her. You could have flown her, Ruth!"
/ did not wish to. You are upset again. I have up- set you. Ruth extended his neck, his nose gently touching Jaxom's face in apology.
Jaxom threw his arms about Ruth's neck, burrow- ing his forehead against the smooth, spicy-smelling hide, concentrating on how very much he loved his
Ruth, his most unusual Ruth, the only white dragon on all Pern.
Yes, I am the only white dragon there has ever been on Pern, Ruth said encouragingly, moving his body so that he could gather Jaxom closer within the circle of his foreleg. / am the white dragon. You are my rider. We are together.
"Yes," Jaxom said, wearily admitting defeat, "we are together."
A chill shook Jaxom and he sneezed. Shells, if he was heard sneezing about the Hold, he'd be sub- jected to some of those noxious medicines Deelan foisted on everyone. He closed his jacket, folded the now dry bathing sheet about his neck and chest and, mounting Ruth, suggested that they get back to the Hold as fast as possible.
He escaped the dosing only because he kept out of Deelan's way by staying in his own quarters. He an- nounced that he was occupied in a task for Robin- ton and did not care to interrupt it for the evening meal. He hoped that his sneezing would abate by evening. Lytol would be sure to visit him, which re- minded Jaxom that if he didn't have something to show for his afternoon's occupation Lytol might be difficult. Actually, Jaxom had wanted to set down his observations about that beautiful cove, with the cone of the huge mountain center so neatly in its curve. Using the soft carbon stick that Master Bendarek had developed to use on his paper leaves, Jaxom became absorbed in the project. Much easier to work with these tools, he thought, than with sandtable. Errors, since his memory of the cove did not appear to be that precise, could be rubbed out with a blob of soft- wood tree sap as long as he was careful not to abrade the leaf's surface too much.
He had achieved a respectable map of D'ram's cove when a knock on the door broke his concentration. He sniffed mightily before calling permission to enter.
His voice didn't seem too affected by the congestion in his head.
Lytol entered, greeted Jaxom and approached the 21? worktable, eyes courteously averted from the con- tents.
"Ruth did eat today?" he asked, "because N'ton sent to remind you that Thread falls north and you could fly with the wing. Ruth will have sufficient time to digest, won't he?"
"He'll be just fine," Jaxom replied, aware of both an excitement and a sense of inevitability at the pros- pect of fighting Thread from Ruth's back.
"Have you then completed your training with the weyriings?"
So Lytol had noticed his morning's delinquency from the Weyr. Jaxom also heard the faint note of surprise in his guardian's voice.
"Well, you might say that I've learned about all I'd need to know since I'm not to fly regularly with a fighting wing. I've done this sketch of D'ram's cove. That's where we found him. Isn't it beautiful?" He offered the leaf to Lytol.
To Jaxom's satisfaction, Lytol's expression changed to one of surprised interest as he peered intently at the sketch and diagram.
"Your rendering of the mountain is accurate? It must surely be the largest volcano on Pern! You've ' got the perspective correct? How magnificent! And this area?" Lytol's hand washed across the space beyond the trees which Jaxom had carefully drawn in their variety and as accurately in position along the cove's edge as he could recall.
"Forest extends to low hills, but we stayed on the beach, of course—"
"Beautiful! One can appreciate why the Harper re- membered the place so clearly."
With a noticeable reluctance, Lytol replaced the leaf on Jaxom's table.
"The drawing is a poor image of the real place," he said to his guardian, letting his voice end on an up- ward note. It wasn't the first time Jaxom regretted Lytol's aversion to riding on dragonback for any but the most vital excursions.
Lytol favored Jaxom with a brief smile, shaking bis head. "It is good enough to guide a dragon, I'm sure. But do remember to tell me when you've the notion to return there."
With that Lytol bade him good evening, leaving Jaxom a trifle unsettled. Was Lytol giving him oblique permission to go back to the cove? Why? Critically, Jaxom examined the sketch, wondering if he really had drawn the trees correctly. It would be nice to go back there again. Say, after Threadfall, if flying didn't overtire Ruth...
/ would like to swim off firestone stench in the cove waters, Ruth said sleepily.
By tilting his chair back, Jaxom could see the white bulk of Ruth on his couch, head facing Jaxom's door, though both sets of the dragon's eyelids were closed.
>
/ would like that very much indeed.
"And maybe we could find out more about those men from the fire-lizards." Yes, thought Jaxom, re- lieved to have a definite objective, it would be very good. Neither F'lar nor Lessa had forbidden him to return to the cove. It was certainly far enough away from the Southern Hold to put him in no danger of compromising the Weyrleaders. Now if he could learn more about the men, he'd be doing Robinton a favor. He might even be able to find a clutch somewhere along that coastline. Maybe that's what Lytol had had in mind by giving him that oblique permission. Of course! Why hadn't Jaxom realized that before?
Threadfall was calculated to arrrive the next morn- ing at just past the ninth hour. Although Jaxom was not to ride out in his usual place with the flamethrower crews, he was nevertheless awakened early by a drudge who brought him a tray of klah and sweet- bread as well as a package of meatrolls for his lunch.
Jaxom was conscious of a stuffiness in his head, a tightness in his throat and a general sense of unfit- ness. Under his breath he cursed himself for that mo- ment's thoughtlessness that was going to make his first Threadfall mighty uncomfortable. What under the sun had possessed him to dive into a chill-watered lake, go between half-soaked, then cavort in lustful exercise on damp, just-turned earth? He sneezed sev- eral times as he dressed. That cleared his nose, but left his head aching. He put on his warmest underfur, heaviest tunic, pants and extra liners in his boots. He was sweltering when he and Ruth left their quarters. Holders were bustling about the courtyard, mounting runners, securing flamethrowers and equipment. The watchdragon and the hold fire-lizards were chewing firestone on the heights. Catching Lytol's eye where the Lord Warder stood on the top step of the Hold entrance, Jaxom gestured skyward, saw Lytol salute in reply before he continued giving orders for the day's emergency. Jaxom sneezed once more, an ex- halation that rocked him back on his heels.
Are you all right? Ruth's eyes whirled faster in concern.
"For a damn fool who's caught a cold, yes, I'm all right. Let's get going. I'm boiling inside these furs."
Ruth complied and Jaxom was more comfortable with wind cooling the sweat from his face. He had Ruth fly direct to the Weyr for they had plenty of time. He would never be foolish enough to go between again in a sweat. Maybe he'd better change to lighter flying gear once at the Fort. He'd be warm enough once they were fighting Thread. However, the Weyr was situated higher in the mountains than Ruatha Hold and he did not feel overheated once they landed.
Following instructions well drilled into him, Jaxom took Ruth to collect their firestone sack. Then he di- rected Ruth to take stones from the supply laid about the Bowl for that purpose. Ruth began to chew fire- stone, preparing his second stomach for flame. With a good start, he'd have a steady flame that could be easily replenished in flight by additional stone from the sack he carried. While Ruth was chewing, Jaxom got himself a large mug of steaming klah, hoping that would revive him. He felt miserable, his nose clogging repeatedly.
Fortunately the noise of so many dragons chewing stone masked his fits of sneezing. If this wasn't to be his very first time to fight Ruth, Jaxom might have hesitated about continuing. Then he convinced him- self that since the weyrlings would undoubtedly be flying in the wake of the other wings on the after-edge of Threadfall, he could probably keep from having to go between frequently, if at all, and so he would run little risk of aggravating the congestion. He didn't fancy sneezing just as Ruth had to duck between to avoid Thread.
N'ton and Lioth appeared on the Star Stones, Lioth bugling for silence as the Weyrleader raised his arm. Fort's four queens flanked the big bronze, larger than he but, in Jaxom's eyes, only enhancing his magni- ficence with their brilliance. Dragons on all weyr ledges listened to Lioth's silent orders and then the wings formed. Jaxom needlessly tested the fighting straps that held him securely to his ridge seat on Ruth's neck.
We are to ride with the queens' wing, Ruth told his rider.
"All of the weyrlings?" Jaxom asked, since he'd heard nothing from K'nebel about a change of posi- tion.
No, just us. Ruth sounded pleased but Jaxom wasn't at all sure of the honor.
His hesitation was noticed by the weyrlingmaster, who gave him a curt signal to take his assigned posi- tion. So Jaxom directed Ruth upward to the Star Stones. As Ruth landed neatly on the left-hand side of Selianth, the youngest Fort queen, Jaxom wondered if he looked as silly as he felt, dwarfed by the golden dragon.
Lioth bugled again and the Weyrleaders took off from the Star Stones, dropping far enough for wing room before rising on strongly beating wings to the sky. Ruth needed no room at all for takeoff and hov- ered briefly before taking his position beside Selianth. Prilla, her rider, waved an encouraging fist and then Ruth told Jaxom that Lioth was giving him the com- mand to go between to meet Threadfall.
When they emerged above the barren hills of northern Ruatha, Jaxom found himself responding to an exhilaration he had never before experienced on Ruth. The wings of the fighting dragons spread above and all around his lower level position in the queens' wing. The sky appeared to be full of dragons, all fac- ing east, the highest wing the first to contact the im- minent Fall of Thread.
Jaxom snuffled back the mucus, irritated thafhis condition was dampening this personal triumph:
Jaxom, Lord of Ruatha Hold, was actually going to fly his white dragon against Thread! Between his legs, he could feel Ruth's body rumbling with the stored gas and wondered if the feeling were in any way analogous to his own congested, heavy-headed state.
In a burst of speed, the uppermost wing moved forward and Jaxom had no further time for specula- tion as he, too, glimpsed the filming of the clear sky, that graying that heralded the advent of Thread.
Selianth wants me to stay above her at all times so her flamethrower won't singe me, Ruth said, his men- tal tone muffled as he retained fire-breath. He altered his position and now all the wings began to move.
The gray film visibly turned into the silver rain of Thread. Gouts of flame blossomed in the sky as the forward dragons seared their ancient mindless enemy into charred dust. Jaxom's excitement was tempered by the endless drills he had performed with the weyr- lings, and by the cold logic of caution. He and Ruth would not return Threadscored today!
The queens' wing nosed slightly earthward, to fly under the first wave of dragons, set to destroy what- ever shred might have eluded the first flames. They flew through patches of fine dust, the residue of crisped Thread. Wheeling sharply, the queens' wing tamed back and now Jaxom did spy a silver strand. Urging an all too willing Ruth upward, Jaxom heard his white dragon warn others off as the novice team encountered and demolished Thread in proper style.
Proudly, Jaxom wondered if anyone else noted the economy of Ruth's deadly flame: just enough, no more than was necessary. He stroked his friend's neck and felt Ruth's delight in the praise. Then they were told off on another tangent as the queens' wing headed for a heavier concentration of Thread, eluding an east- erly flying wing.
From that moment onward, throughout the Fall, Jaxom had no time for further thought. He became aware of the rhythm to the queens' wing pattern. Margatta on her golden Luduth seemed to have an uncanny instinct for those heavier patches that could escape even the closest flying wing. Each time the queens would be under the silver rain, destroying it. It became apparent to Jaxom that his position in the queens' wing was neither sinecure nor protective. The golden dragons could cover more territory in the air, but they were not as maneuverable. Ruth was. Ever maintaining his upper position, the little white dragon could flit from one side of the queens' V formation to the other, assisting wherever he was needed.
Abruptly, the Thread stopped falling. The upper reaches of the sky were clear of the graying mist. The highest wing began to circle down leisurely, to begin the final phase of the defense, the low-level sweep which assisted ground crews in locating any trace of viable Thread.
The exhilaration of combat drained from Jaxom and his physical disc
omfort began to manifest itself. His head felt twice its proper size, his eyes were un- accountably filled with grit and ached hotly. His chest felt tighter, his throat raw. The illness had a good hold on him now. He'd been a fool to fight Thread. To compound his miseries, he didn't even have any sense of personal achievement after four hours of bloody hard work. He was thoroughly depressed. He ear- nestly wished that he and Ruth could retire now but he had made such an issue of flying with the fighting wings that he must complete the exercise. Dutifully he continued on above the queens.
Anne McCaffrey - Pern06 White Dragon Page 23