Dragonheart

by Todd J. McCaffrey

  “Our Weyrwoman has volunteered to man the Star Stones for the next month,” T’mar told the collected group gravely. “That will enable the rest of us to continue our training.” He paused. “We are done for today. Go about your duties.”

  As the riders dissolved into smaller groups, none passed near Fiona, none looked at her, none spoke to her or acknowledged her existence in any way.

  Talenth, I’m sorry! Fiona called to her dragon.

  You are the Weyrwoman, Talenth responded in a tone of confusion. You are my rider. You can do nothing wrong.

  This time I did, Fiona admitted miserably. I am the Werywoman. I neglected my duty to the Weyr; my duty to set the example.

  When the others were out of earshot, T’mar approached her. “There’s always one idiot,” he repeated. “I knew it would be you.”

  “That’s why you sent me last,” Fiona guessed, her heart falling deeper into her chest.

  T’mar nodded curtly, his eyes boring into hers as they welled with tears, and then he glanced away and strode off briskly without another word.

  If T’mar’s treatment was bad, Terin’s outburst that evening was even worse.

  “What if you hadn’t come back?” the young headwoman demanded. “How would I survive? How would I live?”

  Nothing Fiona could say would console the girl, who stormed out of her weyr and slept elsewhere that night.

  As Fiona curled up tightly in her cold bed and tried to find some warmth, she reviewed the day, castigating herself for her foolishness, for her selfishness, for her stupidity in thinking that she could fool T’mar. Sleep overwhelmed her at last.

  The next month passed slowly for Fiona. She apologized the very next day to every rider in the Weyr, twice to T’mar, and three times to Terin. Azeez and Mother Karina eyed her pityingly, but she said nothing to them, taking her punishment as it was meant.

  However wrong she’d been, she was the Weyrwoman, and she refused to allow her shame to keep her from her duties. In fact, she redoubled her efforts in response.

  She duly took the hot and bothersome duty of watch dragon at the Star Stones, convinced that she was probably the only Weyrwoman ever so condemned.

  As the rest of the weyrlings drilled in recognition points, Fiona found herself continually worried about their return, continually standing as an example of what not to do. She wore her best garb as a tribute to their efforts and, wordlessly at first, then verbally, expressed her praise and growing confidence as the weyrlings came and returned again and again from their journeys between until she wondered how she could ever have thought the journey dangerous.

  In the last sevenday of her punishment, Fiona found herself actually looking forward to the duty, finding it a time where she could spend hours in thought and moments in short communication with returning riders. Her thoughts were occupied by considering the stores for the Weyr, the trade with the outlying holds, and the functioning of the Weyr.

  Terin had returned to sleeping in the queen’s weyr on the third day of Fiona’s punishment, her complaint of, “It’s too cold with the others!” fooling neither of them. Now she took to climbing the long flights of stairs up to the Star Stones to bring Fiona food and snacks and, occasionally, to share in the watch, often perched in front of Fiona on Talenth’s neck.

  Fiona turned as she heard Terin’s approach and wondered idly how she was going to handle the younger girl’s imminent womanhood. Fiona had noticed how Terin had started eyeing the older weyrlings and had teased her gently about it, adding her own cogent observations to ease Terin’s embarrassment but she was worried that, being the only eligible partner for most of the riders at the Weyr, Terin might find herself overwhelmed with offers or worse—frightened by the intensity of emotion if one of the older greens took to the skies in a mating flight.

  It was something that concerned Fiona about herself, too. Neither Talenth nor the greens of her clutch were old enough yet to rise, but those of J’keran’s older dragons might rise again at any moment. How would Terin react when the emotions of a mating flight combined with her growing emotions as a woman? How would Fiona?

  And, Fiona admitted with a deep sigh, how would she react to Talenth rising? She wasn’t ready for it, she admitted to herself, and it scared her.

  Terin bounded into view and Fiona shook her worries out of her head, producing a grateful smile and leaning down from her perch to help the younger girl climb up.

  “They’re doing in and outs,” Fiona told her, meaning that the weyrlings were now practicing jumping rapidly between the Weyr and all the other recognition points.

  “They’ll be exhausted tonight,” Terin replied, pulling a roll out of her carisak and passing it back to Fiona.

  “And hungry before that,” Fiona agreed.

  “I’ve got the young ones tending the meal,” Terin said. “Stew, so there’s little chance they’ll burn it.”

  “That’s good!” Fiona agreed.

  “What are the traders going to do when we leave?” Terin asked.

  “They’ll manage,” Fiona replied, unconcerned. To ease Terin’s worried look, she added, “They’ve managed before, haven’t they?”

  Terin shrugged in agreement. “What about us?”

  Fiona raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

  “What are we going to do when we get back?” Terin expanded. “I mean, I know everyone calls me headwoman—”

  “And with good reason,” Fiona cut across her firmly, surprised to hear the younger girl bring up that old worry.

  “But when I get back, I’ll just be another weyrgirl,” Terin said. She frowned as she added, “And what about Xhinna?”

  “I don’t know,” Fiona replied slowly. She hated to admit to herself that she’d forgotten about Xhinna in the course of the crowded last two Turns. Musingly, she said, “You’ll be as old as she is when we return.”

  “It’ll only be three days for her.”

  “For everyone,” Fiona agreed, bringing up the image that she’d already started rehearsing of Fort Weyr with the sun and the moons in exactly the right position. For all that she regretted her rash jump between times to visit Nuella, she was glad to know that she could trust her imaging and certain that she could, even now, without further practice, easily jump forward once more in time back to Fort Weyr.

  Fiona thought back to Terin’s remark. How would Cisca view Fiona when they returned? Talenth would be ready to mate; Fiona would have had all these Turns of experience running a Weyr—could she ever be happy again following someone else’s orders? Or did she, now that she’d tasted it, see herself only as senior Weyrwoman?

  “There’ll be a place for you,” Fiona said realizing that her brooding silence was only making Terin more anxious. “And I guarantee, when Talenth clutches, I’ll have you on the Hatching Grounds.”

  “What about Xhinna?”

  “Her, too,” Fiona said. “You both deserve it.”

  “But she’ll never Impress a queen!”

  “No, probably not,” Fiona said with a thoughtful shake of her head. “But even K’lior and Cisca feel that she could Impress a green or maybe even a blue.”

  “A blue?” Terin repeated in surprise.

  “No one will know until we try,” Fiona replied with a shrug.

  A flurry of dragons came through, landing at the end of their exercise. Soon everyone had returned, dragons were dispersing back to the weyrling barracks, and only Zirenth remained with T’mar, who sat eyeing the events from his lofty position atop his dragon.

  Fiona was surprised when Zirenth launched himself again and flew up toward the Star Stones. She waved cheerfully at the wingleader, but instead of waving back, he brought Zirenth in for a landing beside Talenth.

  T’mar dismounted and climbed up Talenth’s foreleg, one arm holding onto the riding straps to support him.

  “Have you noticed anything odd about Sarinth?” T’mar asked her meaningfully.

  Sarinth was V’lex’s green.

  “She seemed
eager to please today,” Fiona replied, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And . . . maybe a bit more distracted than usual.”

  “She’s going to rise, isn’t she?” Terin asked, her eyes wide.

  “It’s possible,” T’mar said with a deep sigh.

  “I’ve seen three mating flights,” Terin boasted, her eyes shining. “They were fun!”

  “You’re getting older,” Fiona reminded her.

  “I’m more concerned about the traders,” T’mar replied, “particularly the children.”

  “Didn’t they have fire-lizards before?” Fiona asked rhetorically. T’mar’s expression remained grim, so Fiona added diplomatically, “I don’t see any reason why we can’t talk with them tonight.”

  T’mar looked only partly relieved. “Have you . . . ?”

  Fiona smiled at his awkward discomfort and shook her head sadly. “Fire was too young to rise, but there were plenty of firelizards at the Harper Hall.” She glanced into his eyes and, in that moment, quashed her fears. “I think I’ll manage.”

  “Good,” T’mar replied, lips pursed tightly. “Good.” He paused a moment before saying, “You’ve done well here with the weyrlings.”

  “It’s been fun,” Fiona agreed. “I’ve learned a lot.”

  “I thought you might,” T’mar said with a sly grin. Fiona glanced at him sharply, then roared with laughter.

  “There’s . . . always . . . one!” she choked out between gales of laughter, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

  T’mar went bright red, then hung his head for a moment before raising it to meet Fiona’s eyes, nodding in honest admission.

  Terin glanced back and forth between the two of them mystified over the exchange until Fiona explained, “T’mar was speaking from experience when he said there’s always one idiot who thinks he is special.”

  “You were the idiot?” Terin asked T’mar in surprise.

  T’mar nodded guiltily, recovering enough to say to Fiona, “Did you learn your lesson as well as I did?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good,” T’mar replied. “Then tomorrow—if we aren’t interrupted—you may join us.”

  Early the next morning the air was punctuated by a raucous cry, startling Fiona, Terin, and Talenth awake.

  Sarinth is blooding her kills, Talenth reported, her tone a mixture of confusion and excitement.

  Fiona felt the same excitement as she glanced toward Terin, who returned her look with a grin. “This is going to be fun!”

  “We should go help,” Fiona replied. Talenth, stay here.

  Talenth agreed reluctantly as Fiona and Terin dressed hastily, trotted out of the weyr, and jumped over the ledge into the Bowl below, where they made their way toward the cluster of riders loosely gathered around the feed pens at the lake’s edge.

  “Don’t let her gorge!” a rider called encouragingly to V’lex, who looked confused and overwhelmed by his dragon’s passion.

  “I can’t—she’s—” V’lex replied miserably, his hands held out beseechingly, his chest heaving rapidly.

  Fiona parted the crowd, dragging Terin behind her. “Grab his other hand,” Fiona told her as she reached for V’lex’s left hand, pivoting around to stand in his sight.

  “V’lex,” she said, “look at me.”

  V’lex forced his eyes to focus on her.

  “You can do this,” she told him encouragingly. “Breathe, V’lex.” She took a deep breath herself in illustration. “That’s it! Now focus on Sarinth. She must only blood her kills—she can’t gorge.”

  “She’s fighting me!” V’lex wailed. Fiona caught the fear in his voice, the sense of amazement that his normally so agreeable green had turned into an uncontrollable, red-eyed, voracious, vicious beast.

  “Reach out, V’lex, reach out with me,” Fiona said, feeding her power through him. Faintly she felt an echo from Terin.

  V’lex stiffened as the jolt of power coursed into him and, in the distance, Sarinth bugled in surprise and irritation. Fiona was only vaguely aware of the encouraging noises around her, that Sarinth had given up her first kill to pounce on a second and, after a brief fight, reluctantly only drank the blood of this kill, too. She pounced on a third, dispatching it with one sudden blow to the neck, fastened her jaws on its throat and sucked eagerly, her skin glistening.

  Around her blues and browns made encouraging noises, their riders splitting their attention between the green dragon and her rider.

  With a taunting cry, Sarinth leapt skyward, instantly chased by a flock of eager blues and browns.

  “She mustn’t go between.” The rough male voice barely made itself heard over the eager noises of the dragons. It was T’mar.

  Some instinct had Fiona reach out toward Terin and drag the younger girl to her side, leaving V’lex exposed to the growing attentions of the other riders even as she herself continued to pour her power into the green rider.

  And then—in an instant—Fiona felt a backlash flow into her, and suddenly she had an image from high in the sky, looking down on the Weyr and the puny blues and overmuscled browns as she soared over them, taunting them with cries as she climbed higher and higher in the cool morning air, the sun rising over the horizon in tribute to her prowess.

  “Fiona!” a voice, harsh with emotion, burst over her. “Fiona, you must see to the traders!”

  Fiona felt herself being brusquely shoved, pushed out of the warm huddle of bodies pressing around V’lex, felt Terin’s grasp tighten in panic on her hand and then—she was out of the throng, looking back longingly.

  T’mar’s head appeared amongst the others as he called, “Go, see to the children!”

  And then the instant of connection, of soaring emotions Fiona had only dimly felt before, seeped away from her and she was herself, back on the ground, a loud group of dragonriders behind her, Terin gasping wide-eyed for breath still clinging tightly, painfully to her hand, and—in the distance—a knot of young traders, looking more alarmed and frightened than excited over the behavior of the dragonriders.

  “Did you see the green dragon jump into the sky?” Fiona asked the knot of youngsters as she closed upon them.

  Some nodded, others shrank back behind their elders. Fiona took a deep, steadying breath and continued, “She’s on her mating flight, and she jumped into the sky daring the boy dragons to see if they could catch her.”

  She smiled, adding, “She’s only thinking about how high she can fly, how much better she is than them, and—”

  Suddenly an overwhelming emotion, a sense of elation and climax flowed into Fiona and she was temporarily speechless. Beside her she heard Terin gasp and some of the older trader children also cried out while the youngsters all pointed skyward, crying, “Look, they’re falling!”

  Fiona, with her back to the scene, shook her head. “They’re just playing. The brown caught the green and it’s part of their mating game.”

  “Will they make more dragons?” a little boy piped up.

  “Greens don’t lay eggs,” a girl corrected him, her eyes locked on the spectacle above them.

  “Firestone makes them sterile,” Fiona agreed absently, willing herself back under control, feeling her skin tingle as another wave of emotion rolled over her. She took another deep, calming breath, felt Terin’s fingers cling desperately to hers and drew the younger girl to her in a tight hug.

  “Sometimes it’s nice to hug a friend, just because you feel like it,” Fiona said over Terin’s shoulder to the youngsters. Some nodded solemnly, seeking out friends and hugging them with all the innocence of children. Encouraged, Fiona directed them into a larger hug, more children joining in until she, Terin, and all the trader children were one giant hug.

  There was one sudden, final, joyful shout from the distant dragonriders, one final thrill pouring through the knot of children, and then Talenth said, Winurth flew her.

  * * *

  Afterward, Fiona and Terin herded the trader children through a quick bath in the Weyrwoman’
s quarters, by which time the older traders were ready to look after them. Once Fiona had returned the last of their charges, she turned to Terin. “Let’s take a moment in the bath ourselves.”

  “Do you want to go first?” Terin asked.

  Fiona shook her head. “Just this once, we’ll share the tub.”

  As Terin’s eyes widened, Fiona added hastily, “We’ll be needed soon—we won’t have much time.”

  They were quickly in and out of the tub, spending more time drying and combing hair than bathing. Fiona insisted on Terin going first and, as the younger girl sat with her eyes closed as she luxuriated in having her hair parted, combed, and braided, Fiona remarked, “You did well.”

  “I was scared,” Terin confessed, lowering her head so that Fiona could finish braiding. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted at the moment—I felt so overwhelmed, not myself.” She paused thoughtfully, then declared, “I want to be myself, not someone dragonflamed.”

  Her words echoed in Fiona’s mind long after.

  Tell T’mar we’re coming, Fiona told Talenth, signaling to Terin to stop drying her hair.

  “We’ve got to get going,” she said aloud as she rose from the chair and started for the entrance to Talenth’s weyr. “With a mating flight there are two very happy riders and . . .” She gestured with an open hand.

  “They’ll all need breakfast,” Terin agreed, striding quickly to catch up to her.

  They found T’mar at the entrance to the Kitchen Cavern.

  “I’ll start the klah,” Terin said, rushing past.

  “No rush,” T’mar called after her. “We’ll take this as a rest day.” Fiona cocked an eyebrow upward and grinned impishly.

  “And how did you enjoy your first mating flight as Weyrwoman?” T’mar asked.

  Fiona started to recount Terin’s trenchant observation to him but thought better of it, changing her expression to one of mild amusement.

  “Has Sarinth chewed firestone?” Terin called from her place by the hearth.