Dragon's Fire

by Anne McCaffrey

Pellar raised both hands, one with a single figure raised and the other with all fingers outstretched.

  “All of you, then,” Zist guessed. He shrugged. “Well, I won’t say I’m not relieved, but I can’t say when we’ll have a replacement.”

  “I stay until,” Pellar wrote.

  “That’s probably for the best,” Zist agreed. “Your Chitter can tell us when they move and where.” He waved aside Pellar’s rising reaction. “The dragonriders will need to know so that they can provide protection.”

  Pellar mulled on Zist’s words for a moment and then nodded.

  “Good lad,” Zist said, slapping him once more on the shoulder. This time he released his grip on Pellar and pushed him lightly away. “Now, go to Master Aleesa and get her to agree to the protection. Tell her that Natalon will provide the coal.”

  Pellar turned to leave, but then turned back and wrote, “D’vin bring you?”

  “When it’s time for the hatching?” Zist asked. Pellar nodded. Zist shook his head. “No, we’ll have to get a rider from a different Weyr, so that we don’t give away Aleesa’s location.”

  Pellar frowned for a moment before nodding slowly in agreement—the lands protected by a Weyr were vast, but not so large that a determined group couldn’t locate Aleesa and her watch-whers if they knew which Weyr protected them.

  “Telgar,” Pellar wrote as a suggestion, knowing that D’gan would never let the watch-whers back under his protection.

  Zist caught on to the implications immediately and snorted in laughter. “Great idea!”

  Pellar bowed slightly, waved, and turned back the way he’d come.

  He was so immersed in his thoughts that it seemed only moments before he was back on the plateau. He paused instinctively and scanned for any sign of others. When he was certain that he was alone, he thought of signaling Hurth but stopped, deciding first to visit the little grave.

  It was right where he remembered. The mound had shrunk a little as the snow had thawed into mud and the mud had settled, but it was still unmistakably a grave.

  They were no flowers. It looked forlorn and sad. Barren.

  Pellar decided that it would have been more pleasant with a blanket of snow. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined a small bundle of yellow flowers, the image being the only gift he could leave. He turned north and west and imagined the other mounds he’d seen in the snow following Tarik and Tenim; he closed his eyes again, imagining flowers on each of them and wondering once more which one was occupied by Halla, the girl with the flashing eyes and bark shoes.

  He felt a spasm of anger run through him as he remembered Tenim and their fight. Unconsciously his hand went up to his throat and massaged it.

  With a deep sigh, Pellar opened his eyes again. One day, he swore to himself. He knew he would meet Tenim again one day.

  He scanned the plateau once more and then walked carefully to where he’d last seen the great bronze dragon.

  Hurth, I’m ready.

  CHAPTER 5

  What’s that large and ugly thing?

  A watch-wher, who shuns daylight’s sting.

  Night’s its friend, its dark ally

  Only in the cold to fly.

  WHERHOLD,

  AL 493.10

  Pellar was careful to send Chitter on ahead to the camp before he approached. The fire-lizard returned immediately, eyes whirling with fear, and wrapped himself around Pellar’s neck, clutching tightly and painfully.

  I’m going in, Pellar thought to his frightened friend. Chitter gave a plaintive but resigned mewl in response.

  It was still daylight and so not at all hard for Pellar to spot Jaythen’s hiding place before Jaythen spotted him. He was sure that if he hadn’t he would never have avoided the arrow Jaythen sent whizzing his way. The arrow buried itself up to the shaft in the hard-packed dirt where Pellar had been walking.

  It will be hard to hide in blue, Pellar decided, abandoning any notion of using his woodcraft to elude Jaythen.

  Pellar broke into a run, zigzagging and moving in a wide arc to the far side of Jaythen. He dodged another arrow, and another. He was running blindly, without any plan, his only thought to get to Jaythen, to convince him somehow that he meant no harm.

  “Did you sell us out for finery?” Jaythen yelled as the fourth arrow missed. He threw his bow aside and pulled a long dirk from his belt. “How good do you think it’ll look when your blood’s on it?”

  Pellar dodged again, only to find himself gape-mouthed in unvoiced pain. He looked to his left and noticed an arrow sticking out of his left forearm. Someone else had shot him. He caught the sight of Arella rising up from her hiding place, eyes streaming with tears as she notched another arrow and aimed for his heart.

  “I trusted you,” she yelled at him as she shot at him.

  Aleesk! Pellar cried in his head as the arrow flew at him. Chitter launched himself—too late—toward the stone-tipped missile.

  Time slowed for Pellar and suddenly the arrow was stuck in the air, crawling toward him. Chitter was hovering in place, getting nearer to the arrow as slowly as the arrow was approaching Pellar, and Pellar could see that the arrow would hit him before his fire-lizard could intervene.

  But none of that mattered. What mattered was Aleesk, the gold watch-wher. For in that instant, Pellar felt himself a part of another in a way that he’d never felt before. He found himself in touch with Aleesk in a way he’d only imagined, even more than he’d felt with Hurth.

  And he only felt. He was feeling: pain in his arm, pain in his laboring lungs, fear in his heart, sadness, grief, anger, loss, defeat, and above all that a burning shame and anger that this need not be, that if only Pellar had done something different, if only, if only—

  Time moved again and the arrow whizzed toward him. Chitter’s cry of anguish filled the air and Pellar looked at his own death, a mere instant away.

  Then suddenly the air was full of gold, of noise, of movement, and of anger, of understanding, of contrition.

  Aleesk shielded Pellar with her body. The arrow struck her in the side, penetrated, and bounced out again. Aleesk bellowed, more in defiance than in pain, her head and eyes turning to Pellar, her mouth open, fangs bared.

  She cried out to Pellar, then closed her mouth and nuzzled him, crying again in supplication, sorrow, concern.

  I’m all right, Pellar told her. He found power he’d never known he’d had and stumbled over to her, grabbed her around the neck, and hugged her tightly. I’m all right.

  The air was rent by a loud, outraged bellow, and suddenly the sky above was dark as a fully grown bronze dragon burst into existence above them.

  I’m all right, Hurth, Pellar called to the dragon, fearing the wrath implied in the bronze’s huge red whirling eyes.

  Jaythen lurched for his bow and notched it, aiming at the dragon.

  No! Pellar cried in his head. Aleesk shrieked, and the sky darkened again as a bronze watch-wher emerged above them, its cries directed at Jaythen, its body shielding the dragon.

  “Jaythen, stop!” Aleesa’s shouted.

  Jaythen dropped his bow, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

  “We do not attack dragons,” Aleesa declared, moving forward stiffly toward Aleesk. “Aleesk has said so.”

  Jaythen looked at her in astonishment.

  “She spoke?”

  “She made me feel,” Aleesa said, holding her side at the same place as Arella’s arrow had hit the gold watch-wher.

  Aleesa looked over to Pellar, her eyes hard as flint.

  “You played your game well, little one,” she told him, her voice broken. She glanced up at the dragon hovering above her. “Now they will kill my Aleesk and there will be no more watch-whers, just as they wanted.” She shook her head, tears rolling unchecked down her cheek. “I trusted you, I truly trusted you.”

  A sound from behind caused them all to turn sharply. D’vin had jumped off his dragon. He landed in a ball and rolled, jumping up quickly, his hands outstretched.<
br />
  “You were right to trust him,” the dragonrider declared.

  Jaythen snorted derisively. “He’s even ensnared the watch-whers.”

  “Has he?” D’vin asked, turning to Aleesa. “What does your watch-wher tell you?”

  “Watch-whers don’t talk, dragonman,” Aleesa responded, raising her head and glaring at him. “They feel, and act.”

  “What did her actions tell you, then? What do her feelings tell you?”

  Aleesa frowned thoughtfully. She looked at the gold watch-wher in an abstracted way, communing with her.

  “Watch-whers are simple, uncomplicated beings,” she said after a moment. “She trusts him.” She glared at Pellar, hatred in every fiber of her being and then said to D’vin, “And he’s sold her to you.”

  “I trust you, Pellar,” a voice called from the distance. Arella trotted in from her hiding place. She patted Aleesk apologetically, then threw her bow down to the ground and looked at her mother. “I felt you, I felt you and—”

  “We are not your enemies,” D’vin declared, glancing from Arella to Aleesa and back. “Your watch-whers know this.” He glanced at Jaythen. “They know not to harm dragons.”

  “And how do dragons think of them?” Jaythen demanded angrily.

  They are our cousins, Hurth declared. Pellar looked up at the dragon and then noticed that Jaythen, Aleesa, and Arella were also staring up at the dragon, mouths open wide in surprise. They are our kin, as are the fire-lizards.

  “Cousins?” D’vin echoed. He looked over at Pellar. “Do the harpers know this?”

  Pellar shrugged.

  “Cousins?” Aleesa repeated, turning her gaze from the bronze watch-wher to the bronze dragon.

  And they do not like the light, Hurth added. You are to believe them. They are leaving now.

  Suddenly the watch-whers were gone.

  They are very nimble, Hurth remarked in a surprised tone. They are in their weyr; they like the dark.

  Into the silence that followed this last draconic announcement, D’vin spoke. “I am D’vin, rider of bronze Hurth, wingleader at High Reaches. I have been sent by Weyrleader B’ralar to offer the protection and aid of High Reaches Weyr.”

  “Dragonrider,” Arella said, bowing low, “on behalf of our watch-whers and the last of the golds on Pern, I accept your offer.”

  “I am sorry for our behavior,” Aleesa said, shaking herself out of her shock.

  “She’s the last gold?” D’vin asked, turning to the watch-wher with a horrified look on his face. He turned back to Arella. “And you shot at her?”

  Arella flushed and gestured angrily at Pellar. “I shot at him,” she declared, “to protect her.”

  Pellar strode over to the two, waved his hands for attention, grabbed their hands and pulled them together, forcing them to shake.

  Hurth, Pellar thought to the dragon hovering still above them, tell them to stop bickering, and that I’m about to faint.

  Pellar says that you are to stop bickering and that he is going faint, Hurth dutifully reported just as Pellar crumpled to the ground.

  “So, when will you be ready to continue?” Arella asked Pellar as his eyes fluttered open.

  Pellar gave her a look of outrage and Arella laughed. “I thought that’s what you’d do.”

  Pellar closed his eyes again and felt for Chitter.

  He is sleeping here with me, Hurth reported. Pellar got the impression of a small brown fire-lizard curled on the forearm of a large bronze dragon. I am glad you are well. He was quite upset. D’vin says that we can go whenever you wish. Aleesa says that the hatching will come any day now.

  “Are you able to stand?” Arella asked. It was then that Pellar realized that she was lying next to him, her body’s heat warming him. Arella guessed his thoughts from his expression and smiled wryly at him. “Don’t go getting any ideas, Harper Pellar. There’s no mating flight for months yet. I am here because it was my arrow in your arm, and I owe you.”

  Arella’s eyes were bright as they looked deep into his. He reached over and stroked her cheek. She leaned into it and then drew back again, all business. “Are you ready to earn your keep?”

  Pellar nodded and rolled over, trying to rise and finding himself terribly weak. His left arm was sore and stiff, and his mouth opened vainly to cry in pain.

  Arella’s strong arms grabbed at him, steadied him, and lifted him up.

  “You’re as weak as a hatchling,” she told him, helping him up to a stool.

  Pellar looked around for his slate. When he didn’t find it, he spread out his hands imploringly to Arella, then brought them together frantically, one flat like a slate, the other fisted like someone holding chalk.

  “Your slate’s broken. You’ll have to talk through the dragon,” Arella informed him.

  Hurth? Pellar thought to the dragon.

  Tell me what you want and I will tell her, the dragon responded. D’vin is ready to help if you need.

  Pellar glanced quickly down at his naked body, blushed, and decided that he would wait before taking the dragonrider up on his offer.

  Arella bustled about him efficiently, throwing undergarments at him and helping him with them only when his attempts failed piteously. Trousers and his bloodstained tunic went on next, then Arella pushed him back onto the stool and gently slid socks onto his feet. She tugged his boots on carefully, keeping her eyes on his face for any signs of pain, but Pellar only winced twice as her movements jostled his arm.

  “I would have killed you for betraying the watch-whers to their deaths,” Arella told him softly. “You understand? Wouldn’t you do the same if someone tried to kill Chitter?” She turned her head toward the watch-whers’ quarters. “And she’s the last of her kind.”

  Pellar stared at her for a long while before nodding slowly. Tears rolled down Arella’s cheeks and she grabbed his right hand tightly. Pellar clenched back, and pulled her toward him. Surprised, Arella looked up from her kneeling position and crawled forward until her torso was cradled between his legs. Pellar pulled her hand back more, drawing her head toward him, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Arella let out a sob and dropped her head against his shoulder.

  “Besides,” she sobbed against his chest, “you left me. I loved you and you left me.”

  Pellar let go of her hand and wrapped his free hand around her back, hugging her tight against him. He patted her soothingly. He knew he loved her, too, and he tightened his arm, but even as he did so he closed his eyes and saw a small mound with a thin bundle of yellow flowers.

  Tears rolled down his face, dropped onto Arella’s cheeks, mingled with her tears, and rolled with them onto his stained blue tunic.

  With Hurth’s wings, D’vin’s assistance, and Arella’s support, Pellar managed to find candidates for all the twelve other eggs that Aleesa said Aleesk had clutched.

  “She’ll outlive me,” Aleesa had confessed to Arella when they were ready to leave. “And then what happens? Will you bond with the last watch-wher on Pern or let her go between, the last of her kind with no queen to follow?”

  Arella pursed her lips tightly and shook her head indecisively.

  Aleesa decided not to press the issue and turned her attention to Pellar. She gave him a piercing look, like the first look she’d ever given him but weaker, a pale imitation of the one mere months before. For the first time Pellar realized how frail the thin Whermaster was and how tired she was of her old body, how worn out and sore she felt.

  “Make sure you get some joint-ail medicine, Harper,” she told him firmly, as though guessing his thoughts. “I don’t move like I used to.”

  Pellar nodded and then surprised himself, leaning forward and hugging her with his good arm. Awkwardly Aleesa patted him back and then pushed him away, spreading her gaze between him and Arella.

  “Go now, or it’ll be too late.”

  They returned three days later. Hurth bellowed a warning that Chitter repeated in quieter counterpoint. From within the watch-w
hers’ cavern came an echoing response.

  “You’ve reason to be proud, you know,” Arella murmured in Pellar’s ear as they spiraled down toward the ground. She was perched behind him, while D’vin was in front. She reached forward and squeezed his thigh for emphasis. Pellar nodded and covered her hand with his.

  “Some of them are already here,” D’vin noted as they circled down for their landing. Above him, a dragon bugled; he peered back over his shoulder. “Those are Benden colors. The Weyrleader!”

  Hurth suddenly lurched sideways, clearing a path for the great bronze dragon bearing Benden’s Weyrleader. As the bronze descended, Pellar caught a glimpse of three passengers: Natalon with his eyes scrunched firmly tight, Zist, and Kindan. The youngest son of Camp Natalon’s last watch-wher handler looked a little green with fear, but his eyes were wide with excitement.

  “I need to get down,” Arella muttered from behind. “I need to help Mother.”

  As if in response, Hurth tucked into a steep dive, backwinging only a dagger’s length above the ground and landing firmly. Arella was in motion immediately, nimbly scrambling down the dragon’s front leg. She patted him absently before darting into the crowd gathered in the hollow.

  D’vin turned in his seat and said, “Pellar, I think it might be a good idea to keep you out of sight. As long as those down there don’t know that you’re here, they won’t know if you know the location of the watch-wher’s lair.”

  Pellar nodded. He and Arella had bargained well for the watch-wher’s eggs, and the Whermaster and the rest of the camp would find their lives easier for Turns to come, but news of their riches would certainly spread to the Shunned, who would have the double incentive of those goods and the watch-wher eggs that could be traded for more.

  “I, on the other hand,” D’vin continued, “have to mingle amongst our guests. They don’t know where this camp is, all having come a-dragonback, but Zist is hoping they’ll draw the obvious conclusion.”

  Pellar quirked an eyebrow at the bronze rider. D’vin smiled and waved a finger at him. “You’re a harper—surely you’ve noticed the only Weyr not represented here?”