Dragonheart

by Todd J. McCaffrey

  “Sometimes when we practice we don’t fill the firestone sacks full,” K’lior explained kindly. “But as we’ve a Fall coming and we’re flying wing-light, we need all the experience we can get.”

  “Full load, it is,” J’keran replied, sounding somewhat gleeful.

  K’lior looked back at Fiona. “Is there anything else, Weyrwoman?”

  “No, thank you, Weyrleader,” Fiona replied formally, remembering at the last moment to bow rather than curtsy. Weyrwomen, as Xhinna was constantly reminding her, need not curtsy to anyone.

  “Good Fall, Weyrleader!” J’gerd and J’keran called in unison as K’lior departed.

  “We need to get ready, too, don’t we?” Fiona asked, turning back to the older riders. “Won’t they need firestone to take with them?”

  “Of course, Weyrwoman,” J’gerd replied, trying not to sound as if that weren’t obvious. “J’keran, go and send the others to the barracks.” He turned back to Fiona. “Do you have the key?”

  “Key?” Fiona repeated blankly. It turned out that the firestone was kept in a locked room, a leftover precaution from the days not so many Turns before when firestone had been dangerously explosive—mere contact with water would set the “old” firestone burning.

  The newer firestone, as Fiona knew from her time with Kindan, Kelsa, and the other harpers, had been discovered by C’tov of High Reaches Weyr and was, as far as any could tell, the real firestone that had been first discovered in ancient times when it was used by fire-lizards.

  Fiona spun around looking for Ellor. She quickly spotted her.

  “Here’s yours,” Ellor said, handing a simple key and length of chain over to Fiona. “Mind you don’t lose it.”

  “Mine?” Fiona repeated in surprise.

  “Certainly,” Ellor said with a raised eyebrow. “You’re a Weyrwoman: this is your Weyr.”

  With a nod, Fiona placed the chain over her neck and the key against her chest, pretending that she completely understood Ellor’s meaning. She was certain that she was missing some deep importance in the headwoman’s words, but she didn’t have the time to think on it more. J’gerd and J’keran were right behind her.

  “Let’s go,” J’keran urged, all pretense now dropped. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “Especially not for H’nez,” J’gerd agreed with a grimace.

  Fiona said nothing but quickened her pace, breaking into a trot as she exited into the Weyr Bowl. She was about to slow down, uncertain of her direction, when J’keran sped past her. “This way!”

  A knot of weyrlings were gathered outside the first-level door that housed the Weyr’s supply of firestone.

  “You’ll need someone to count,” a voice beside her chimed up unexpectedly. Fiona turned to see Xhinna, who gave her a reassuring smile and said, “You’ve got to keep a tally of all the firestone leaving the room.”

  “Could you do it?” Fiona asked. Xhinna’s expression dimmed slightly, letting Fiona guess that her friend wanted a more challenging role. She leaned in closer. “What do you want to do?”

  “I’d like to fill the sacks,” Xhinna told her.

  “That’s hard work,” a deeper voice spoke up. Xhinna and Fiona turned to see J’keran standing close by. “Usually we have the younger ones switch off.”

  “We’ve what—twelve weyrlings to fly firestone?” Fiona asked out loud.

  “Eleven,” someone else called out. “V’lex was injured in the last Fall.”

  “Thirty-three weyrlings to bag—”

  “Thirty-four,” Xhinna put in stoutly.

  “You’re not a weyrling!” one of the younger boys complained. “You’re a girl!”

  “I’m a girl,” Fiona said warningly.

  “Were you addled in your Shell, D’lanor? She’s offering to help!” another weyrling put in, eyeing Xhinna with a combination of surprise and awe.

  “And what will happen when you’re all in fighting wings?” Fiona asked.

  “Well, there’ll be more weyrlings,” J’keran suggested cautiously.

  “Not unless Melirth rises soon!” J’gerd replied derisively.

  “Why should we worry about that?” D’lanor wondered.

  “You shouldn’t,” Fiona said. I should, she added to herself. “So, who should we set to counting?”

  “Why not get V’lex?” someone suggested.

  “Are you witless? V’lex can barely stand,” J’keran rounded on the hapless weyrling.

  “I can do it,” Fiona suggested.

  “Not a good idea, Weyrwoman,” J’gerd said at once. “You’ll need to be everywhere, keeping an eye on everything.”

  “And your dragon,” J’keran added, glancing around in search of Talenth.

  “You’ll need her to coordinate with us,” J’gerd explained. “When we’re at the rendezvous.”

  “I could do it,” a new voice piped up. “I’m good at counting.”

  Fiona discovered that the voice belonged to a young girl, younger than Xhinna. She had close-cropped strawberry-blond hair and vivid green eyes.

  “Terin!” Xhinna exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing here? Does Ellor know?”

  “I asked,” Terin replied stubbornly. “She said, ‘Just as long as you don’t get underfoot.’ ”

  “Another girl,” a weyrling in the distance murmured disapprovingly.

  Fiona’s doubts vanished with those words and the look on Terin’s face.

  “Very well, you can be our counter,” she said. J’gerd gave her a doubtful look, then handed a slate to the young girl.

  “Make a mark for every bag filled,” he told her.

  “I know,” Terin replied testily. “My father is a bronze rider.”

  “No, he’s not,” a voice whispered loud enough to be heard by all.

  “Enough!” Fiona bellowed, causing Terin to shrink visibly and the weyrlings to back away in surprise. “We’ve work to do, and we need to do it now.” She turned to the younger werylings. “You know what to do. Get moving.”

  “They’re going to need a full sack for every flying dragon,” J’gerd told her. “And then we’ll need twice that for the weyrlings.”

  “That’s one hundred and sixty-four sacks to start,” Fiona translated, “and . . .”

  “Three hundred and twenty-eight for the weyrlings,” Terin supplied from beside her. Catching the looks of surprise around her, she added, “I said I was good with numbers.” She paused and looked at the weyrlings. “With Xhinna, that’s just under five sacks each to start and another . . . not quite ten for the weyrlings.”

  “With that number, the werylings will be carrying close to thirty bags each, won’t they?” Fiona asked, looking to J’gerd for agreement. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, then nodded. “That’s too much weight, isn’t it?”

  “Each sack weighs—” Terin dodged past the first of the young weyrlings carrying two full sacks of firestone. “We should get out of the way.”

  “One sack at a time!” J’keran shouted at the weyrling.

  Terin quickly made two marks on her slate and continued, “Each sack weighs two stone. So thirty sacks would be—” She paused to mark off another filled sack leaving the storeroom. “—sixty stone.”

  “Too much,” Fiona said. Talenth, tell Rineth that the weyrlings can only provide half the firestone at a time.

  Rineth has told K’lior, Talenth responded immediately.

  “You’ll carry half the load,” Fiona told J’gerd and J’keran, “and come back for the rest.”

  The two riders nodded, and quickly exchanged looks of relief. H’nez wants to know when his wing will have its firestone, Talenth relayed to her.

  Ask Rineth in what order K’lior wants the wings provisioned, Fiona responded.

  H’nez first, Talenth replied, her voice sounding slightly amused.

  “Be sure to get the firestone to H’nez’s wing first,” Fiona called to the weyrlings as they rushed past.

  “It’d be quicker if the younger one
s just did the bagging and the older ones distributed,” Terin said, her tone reminding Fiona somewhat of Xhinna.

  “Excellent suggestion, Terin,” Fiona replied, gesturing to J’gerd to implement it.

  “Are you hoping to be Weyrwoman yourself, then?” J’gerd asked the young girl teasingly before hoisting a firestone sack and trotting off toward H’nez’s waiting wing.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Fiona said to Terin. “He’s just annoyed that he didn’t think of it himself.” The younger girl’s expression brightened.

  Fiona could feel the tension from the dragons out in the Weyr Bowl and didn’t need to see H’nez’s irritated gestures to realize that the dragonriders expected their supplies to be delivered more quickly. She sighed and resolved to start earlier before the Fall when it really came. But “drills are how people learn,” as her father often said. She smiled to herself at the thought of how surprised her father would be to see her in her current position. Lord Bemin had always been appalled when Fiona had taken it upon herself to order the Hold guard and other holders about—yet now she was ordering dragonriders!

  Fiona stood at the entrance of the firestone room until Terin’s count reached thirty sacks and then decided to follow the last sack to see how things were with the dragonriders.

  Her eyes first went to H’nez’s depleted wing. The older weyrling carrying the last load was struggling to bring it to the waiting blue rider at a trot, but the distance from the firestone room was such that it took several minutes to get there.

  “Who’s next?” Fiona murmured aloud to herself, determined to order the next wing to move closer to the firestone. Irritably, she realized that she didn’t know. Probably M’valer and K’rall, H’nez’s favorite wingleaders, Fiona decided with a grimace. Fiona guessed that K’lior was giving the prickly flightleader the opportunity to be first into the drill.

  Talenth, have M’valer bring his wing here, she told her dragon. They’ll get their firestone that much quicker.

  A mild bugle in the distance alerted Fiona that her queen had relayed the message and that M’valer was surprised at it.

  They come, Talenth replied a moment later. Linth was surprised that I told him.

  “Upsetting the bronze riders, I see,” a woman’s voice said. Fiona whirled and was surprised to find Cisca looking down at her, an expression of approval on her face.

  “This is quicker,” Fiona said, gesturing to the wing of dragons that had arrived in front of the firestone room.

  “I know,” Cisca agreed in an easy, amused tone. “But having your new queen—‘not months out of her shell’—order grizzled veterans around is something new to them.”

  “I suppose it must be,” Fiona agreed reluctantly. “But they seemed so upset at not getting their firestone quicker—”

  “Don’t apologize,” Cisca interrupted, holding up a hand. “You’re doing your duty as a Weyrwoman.”

  “Was this another test?” Fiona asked, her feelings mixed between relief that she’d passed and annoyance that she’d been tested again.

  “Every day is a test,” Cisca replied soberly. “But we’ll never learn new ways of doing things if we insist on telling everyone what they should be doing.”

  “Well, I think we should keep a full load of firestone bagged and ready at all times,” Fiona remarked.

  “A good idea,” Cisca agreed, “and usually we do. I suspect that with T’mar’s injuries, the issue was conveniently forgotten by the weyrlings.”

  “I can’t say as I’d blame them,” Fiona said. “They must have been exhausted bagging and flying the firestone and then, on top of it, helping with the injured.”

  “Sixty-two,” Terin called loudly from the doorway. M’valer’s wing had flown off and was replaced with K’rall’s.

  Cisca turned to the sound of the younger girl’s voice and then looked back at Fiona, her eyes dancing. “Acquiring more outcasts?”

  “She can count,” Fiona replied with a shrug. “She says her father was a rider.”

  Cisca made a face. “She came to us from a small hold that was doing poorly,” she said. “And yes, they made the claim but couldn’t identify the parent.”

  “And they let her go?” Fiona asked, surprised.

  “It was six Turns ago, during that harsh winter, and that hold couldn’t feed itself,” Cisca explained. Before Fiona could ask the question, the Weyrwoman continued, “Yes, it was one of your father’s minor holds.”

  “It must have been Retallek,” Fiona decided. “Father was going to replace the holder there as soon as the weather turned good enough to ride.”

  Cisca raised an eyebrow, urging Fiona to go on.

  “There were none left alive when he got there,” Fiona told her grimly.

  “So she was lucky,” Cisca murmured quietly.

  “Yes,” Fiona agreed with a deep sigh. She shook herself and said to the Weyrwoman, “I think I’ll go inside and see if I can help.”

  Cisca acknowledged this with a wave and strode off.

  Inside the firestone room, the air was getting dusty as the weyrlings heaped firestone into open sacks. She spotted Xhinna and waved to her, but the weyrgirl was too busy, wiping sweat out of her eyes and stooping to shovel another load of firestone into her bag.

  “Water,” Fiona murmured to herself. We must get them water. And why wasn’t there more air coming in?

  She started back to the entrance and pushed the double doors fully open, then looked around for someone to get water.

  Talenth, she called, could you ask Ellor to send someone with water for the weyrlings? They’ll be parched.

  Ellor has sent the water, Talenth told a moment later.

  Thank you, Fiona replied, sending a mental caress toward her dragon.

  “One hundred,” Terin said beside her as another weyrling passed by.

  “Thank you.” Fiona looked up and saw Tajen lifting a sack of firestone up to his perch behind T’mar on Zirenth.

  “I’ve brought some water,” a young boy piped up suddenly from behind Fiona. She turned and had to lower her gaze to meet the eyes of the towheaded youngster in front of her.

  “Can you go inside and make sure that everyone gets a drink?” The boy’s eyes grew big and round as he realized he was talking to a Weyrwoman, but he shook his head slowly.

  “Why not?” Fiona asked in surprise.

  “Firestone explodes when water touches it,” the boy replied in a half-whisper.

  “Old firestone,” Terin chimed in abruptly. “This is new firestone.” She shook her head at him, looking superior, although Fiona doubted she was more than two Turns his elder.

  “Go on,” Fiona said, gently shoving the child to the door. “You’ll be fine. Just make sure that everyone gets a drink; tell them it’s my orders.”

  “Yes, Weyrwoman,” the boy replied, his shoulders suddenly straighter as he realized that he would be giving the Weyrwoman’s orders.

  Fiona, who had been raised as a Lord Holder’s daughter, had only a fleeting moment of surprise at how easily everyone followed her orders before she returned her attention the task at hand.

  “One hundred and ten,” Terin called out a short time later.

  Fiona insisted on carrying the last sack herself and cheerfully handed it up to a blue rider, who gawked at her in surprise before tying the sack to his riding harness.

  “Good flying!” she called up to him.

  “Thank you, Weyrwoman,” the rider returned, and then he was rising into the air, following the last wing as it took station above the Star Stones, then blinked between to the skies above Ruatha Hold.

  “Everyone, take a break,” Fiona called. “But stay on your feet. Ten minutes.”

  She had sent the weyrboy back to the kitchens for some snacks and set him the task of ensuring that everyone had a chance to eat while they were resting. She went into the firestone room and rousted out Xhinna and the weyrlings, urging, “Get some fresh air!”

  To Terin, she said, “Good job.”
The youngster glowed.

  “What do you think of firestone, now?” Fiona asked Xhinna when she had a chance to catch her alone.

  “It’s not so bad,” Xhinna replied with a look of stout determination.

  When the break was over, the younger weyrlings and Xhinna started back to bagging firestone while the older weyrlings put their harnesses on their dragons in preparation for hauling the firestone.

  At last the last sack was loaded onto the dragons, and J’gerd waved to Fiona from his perch on brown Winurth, then called to the other weyrlings, “Test straps!”

  The weryling dragons flexed their hindquarters and leapt into the air, their wings beating frantically as they lifted their loads. Just off the ground, they hovered.

  Winurth asks if you can see any loose straps, Talenth told her. Fiona got a feeling of motion from her queen, and turned to see Talenth hurrying out on to her ledge to see all the commotion firsthand. As the young gold caught sight of the straining dragons, she added wistfully, When can I do that?

  When the other weyrlings of your clutch can, Fiona replied sending a wave of commiseration along with the thought. She turned back to the weyrlings and assessed their situation. Tell Winurth that I see nothing wrong from here.

  J’gerd waved down at her and made a pumping motion to the flying weyrlings. They rose higher. J’gerd dropped his arm suddenly and the weyrlings swooped, stopping abruptly, straining their lines.

  Winurth says that everyone reports ready, Talenth relayed in a tone of curiosity. What are they ready for?

  What, indeed? Fiona wondered. Suddenly she understood.

  Talenth, tell Rineth that the weyrlings are ready, Fiona said, realizing that J’gerd could have just as easily had his own dragon relay the information to the Weyrleader.

  K’lior says that they should meet high at the north Ruathan border, Talenth responded a moment later, relaying the message very carefully.

  Good, Fiona responded. Please tell Winurth.

  A moment later, J’gerd made another arm motion. In response, the weyrlings rose higher, gathered at the Star Stones, and then disappeared between.

  Did they get there? Fiona asked a moment later.

  Rineth says they are in a good formation, Talenth replied.