Dragon’s Time: Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne; Todd J. Mccaffrey Mccaffrey

  Something was in her hand. Surprised, she slid out of the bed and moved toward the glow. It was a slip of paper. There was a note on it: Don’t let the greens chew firestone.

  “It’s my handwriting,” Fiona admitted later when they gathered for breakfast in the center pavilion that had become the camp’s version of the Kitchen Cavern. “But I haven’t written this.”

  “Yet,” Bekka said, examining the paper and passing it to Terin.

  “That must be very confusing,” Lin said as she reached for the paper.

  “Timing it has many dangers,” Fiona agreed with a frown. “So why don’t I want the greens to chew firestone?”

  “So they’ll make eggs,” Jassi guessed. She glanced out of the raised side of the pavilion to the field of eggs beyond. “Although why we’d need more than we have now …”

  “We need to start drills if they’re to fight,” T’mar said, frowning once more in the direction of the note, now in Inderra’s dainty fingers. He looked to Fiona. “What do we do?”

  “Have I been wrong before?” Fiona asked archly, then swatted at T’mar as she saw his eyes twinkle. “All right, I’ve been wrong, but I don’t think I’ve made it a point to send a note back in time about it.”

  “This is now two mysterious notes from the future,” Kindan said. “I’d be happier if we could get an explanation for at least one of them.”

  “We will,” Fiona said. She was not surprised when Terin, with a big grin, joined her in unison to say, “in time.”

  “I’ll be glad when we can get back to our own time and stay there,” weyrwoman Indeera declared. She glanced hastily to Fiona, her face going red. “No offense, Weyrwoman, it just seems so confusing and wearying.”

  “None taken,” Fiona said cheerfully. “For myself, I agree,” Fiona said. “I’ll be glad when we can bring our charges—and our new weyrlings—back to the Weyrs.”

  “So, we’ll drill without the greens,” T’mar said.

  “The young ones,” Fiona corrected. “The ones who already have chewed firestone should not be excluded.”

  “That’s not what the note says,” Lin objected. She was the most literal-minded of the five junior weyrwomen. That she was willing even to contradict Fiona was a great step forward in bringing the young woman out of her shell and into her role as Benden’s junior weyrwoman. Fiona was glad to see the changes in Lin’s demeanor, changes that she, Lorana, and Shaneese had secretly nursed, aided by the more ebullient Bekka and Terin.

  Just as Terin had F’jian for her Kurinth’s mating flight, so had each of the weyrwomen found themselves with their favorite candidates for their mating flights. Fiona was even more pleased with the outcome that paired Jassi with J’lian. He was no youngster, but after the devastating losses in the Istan leadership, he was the obvious future leader of Ista Weyr and his Neruth’s mating with Jassi’s Falth meant that, on her return to Ista, he would become the true Weyrleader, just as she would inherit the senior Weyrwoman role vacated by Dalia.

  Jassi and Fiona had formed a tight bond in their time together, and Fiona was almost more pleased with the way the forthright younger woman agreed with her thinking than she was with their success with demure Lin. Jassi’s quiet competence had allowed Fiona to slough off many of her own responsibilities without overburdening Terin or the other queen riders, and her easygoing nature had meant that she hadn’t seen it as a reduction in power when Fiona returned more and more into her own role as the twins grew older.

  Javissa was another of Fiona’s quiet triumphs. The woman was slightly older than Shaneese and there had been some friction between the two at first, but their similar backgrounds and natural kindness had rubbed that off, leaving two women who coordinated all housekeeping chores effortlessly while maintaining the control that only a headwoman could manage. Terin had been quite openly impressed with the pair of them and said so; Fiona had been secretly amused to note that both Jassi and Indeera had quietly tried to recruit the trader woman to come to their Weyrs when they all returned to their homes.

  Javissa was younger than Kindan, so Fiona had set other plans, being certain to point out various eggs to Javissa even as she was ostensibly pointing them out to Jeriz. There certainly were enough eggs to go around. Even with their planning, Fiona was nervous about the number of Candidates they’d be able to present and had the occasional nightmare of creeling hatchlings going between forever, unable to find their mates.

  “Fiona?” Terin prodded gently.

  “Oh, sorry,” Fiona said, recovering from her thoughts. Terin nodded her head at Lin as a reminder and Fiona smiled, first at her friend and then at the serious Benden weyrwoman. “No, if I’d meant that the older greens shouldn’t chew firestone, I would have said so.”

  “Perhaps we could convince the older riders to trade off with the younger ones so they’ll get a feel for flaming,” Kindan suggested.

  “And we weyrwomen can practice with the flamethrowers,” Fiona said. They’d borrowed a complete set from the wherhold. Zenor had asked no questions, handing them over with full loads of agenothree.

  “If you keep timing like this, you’ll be older than I am soon,” he’d warned when she’d made her quick visit.

  Fiona had laughed and kissed him on the cheek before departing. “We’ll see you soon!”

  Now was the first day Fiona had found it practical to drill the flying queens with the agenothree-equipped flamethrowers. She’d tackled Kindan for suggestions and the harper had reluctantly agreed to drill the queens only after Lorana had softened him to the notion. Traditionally, the senior queen rider conducted the drill, but Fiona decided it was more politic to inveigle the weyrlingmaster into the duty.

  “At least they’re not all like you,” Kindan had teased. “Some of them will actually listen to what I say instead of arguing all the time.”

  “I don’t argue all the time,” Fiona had said, pouting.

  Now, as T’mar organized the fighting dragons for aerial drill, Kindan arrayed the queen riders for ground drill. They had grown used to drilling together on the ground in the nearly three Turns since they’d come to the Eastern Weyr and now, with their queens full grown and clutched, they eagerly approached the challenge of the bulky apparatus with the firm hopes that one day soon, each Weyr would be able to field the customary queens’ wing.

  Fiona’s alternative had been an easy sell. “And until then,” she’d said, “we can form impromptu wings among the weyrs.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Lin had asked in confusion.

  “But not with the queens,” Jassi had corrected her. Lin’s face lit with excitement and they’d spent several minutes working out the proper protocol to use in the future. All were agreed that it was an excellent idea and wondered why they hadn’t thought of it sooner.

  “Because with only one queen in each weyr, it was too risky to try,” Fiona had told them, simply.

  They’d all learned how to load the flamethrowers, using water for practice until Kindan and Fiona were satisfied that they could progress to the live acid, and they’d practiced with that on the ground, as individuals and in groups, but today was the first time they would fly their queens together.

  “Who should lead?” Jassi asked, turning toward Fiona.

  “I think Lin should lead us first,” Fiona said. The shy brown-haired woman blushed and shook her head, but Fiona persisted. “You’ll have to do it one day. Now, with this company, is the best time to practice.”

  The others had weighed in and Lin and her Lith had taken the lead position.

  Lith was more secure in herself than her rider and Lin changed the moment she was with her queen, just as she’d changed from shy, demure youngster to passionate, heated, demanding lover during the mating flight when her Lith had been flown, surprisingly, by J’lian’s Neruth. Fiona had quickly quashed any notions that the queen’s eggs might go to Ista, and Jassi had agreed. It would be hard enough for Tullea to accept the deed, but impossible if it had result
ed in a loss for her Weyr.

  In the air, Fiona was glad to fly on the rear of the left wedge of the wing, with Jassi far across from her on the right. She waved and the other woman waved back before she turned to her left, carefully positioning her thrower so that its acid would fall out and to the left of the wing.

  While dragons flew up to flame Thread, queens flew down to catch the trailers that had been missed by the fighting dragons, so their natural target was something below them, not above.

  At Kindan’s request, they were flying low over treetops to the south of the camp, their agenothree strong enough to help cut a clearing between the camp and the trees so that they would increase the arable land they could use for crops.

  “You can never tell when you’ll need more,” Shaneese had said when they were planning the day’s work.

  “And it’s good practice,” Lorana had agreed.

  So Fiona was looking down and leftward when she first saw a streak of tawny cross the clearing, racing away from the falling agenothree—and toward the camp. She cried out a warning as she peeled off and down after the Mrreow, Talenth bugling with her.

  The Mrreow moved with astonishing speed and leaped over the poles that had been placed around the camp’s perimeter, its goal unwavering.

  Have Shaneese get the children! Fiona cried. She spotted another Mrreow and a third suddenly break cover heading toward the camp. Lorana, Mrreows are attacking!

  The other queens had recovered and, at Jassi’s urging, had reformed behind Fiona.

  Falth says: “Can we use the agenothree?” Talenth relayed.

  No, it might hurt someone, Fiona responded at once, adding a visual emphasis by raising her arms over her head and crossing them. At Fiona’s urging, Talenth dived for the nearest Mrreow and grabbed it even as the beast flailed and tried to wriggle out of the queen’s grasp.

  Bring it back to the forest, Fiona said.

  Why not to the rocks?

  Far in the forest, Fiona reiterated. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to kill the beasts, who were probably only hungry and acting from instinct. Even so, she kept the nozzle of her thrower pointed at the tawny hide as it struggled in Talenth’s claws. If it looked like it might hurt her queen, Fiona would have no difficulty in flaming it to cinders; sympathy was one thing, stupidity another.

  They flew swiftly and made it to the far side of the forest before Talenth dove and released the creature, which struggled for a moment to regain its feet and disappeared. Behind them as they climbed, Fiona heard another Mrreow and the third as Jassi and Lin dropped their catches.

  “What were they after?” T’mar wondered that evening as they took their dinner.

  “If they were after the children, they were dead,” Javissa declared, matching looks with Shaneese, who nodded in similar determination. Neither of the traders understood or condoned Fiona’s actions in releasing the beasts—both preferred Talenth’s suggestion of dropping them from far up onto the rocks of the distant promontory.

  “If they were after the eggs, they were dead, too,” Terin said.

  “I can imagine them going after the children,” Fiona said, “but they would have been addled to consider the eggs—they’re too big.” But even as she said it she wondered. She and everyone in the camp found the notion of eggs just lying out bare to all the elements very disturbing. Talenth and the other queens were similarly disturbed, but neither man nor dragon had a better suggestion of how to place eggs on the soil of their plain.

  “The sooner they hatch and we can return to the Weyrs, the happier I’ll be,” Fiona admitted.

  Fiona awoke instantly the next morning.

  “They’re hatching!” she cried, rousting Kindan, Lorana, and the others out of their shared bed. “Come on.”

  I’m coming, Talenth! Fiona called as she pulled on trousers under her tunic and slipped her feet into her boots. She raced over to T’mar’s quarters and rapped on his door.

  “We’re coming,” the Weyrleader’s voice responded. She ignored him and burst into the room, reaching for Kimar even as Shaneese hoisted Shanar to her side. Fiona reached out a hand for Tiona and the little toddler grabbed it and held on until they entered the hallway where she released it and raised both her arms imploringly to Kindan, who hoisted her up with the practice of a well-trained parent.

  “The eggs are hatching, come and see,” he told her, his eyes shining brightly in the dim ship’s hallway. Tiona slipped her arms around him and clung tightly.

  They raced up the ship’s passageways and down the stairs onto the camp.

  Bronzes gathered around the perimeter of the sands, and more dragons came to join them, their throats opened wide in the deep thrumming that anticipated the hatching.

  Go, go, go! Fiona cried to the queens in turn as they left with their assigned wings and returned with the prepared Candidates gathered at Crom Hold, up at Fire Hold in the north, and various trader camps around the continent. Wave after wave arrived as the sun rose in the morning until finally the sands were a mix of white-robed Candidates and mottled eggs.

  Outside the camp, ominously, a deep-throated Mrreow roared as if in challenge or perhaps calling together its companions. Fiona nodded in satisfaction as she heard Lorana dispatch a patrol to drive them off.

  And then the sun was in the sky, red and rosy. The air, still cool from the night, slowly grew thick with moisture. One by one, the bronzes stopped humming and the riders looked around, eyes wide with confusion.

  Suddenly, there was a shout and someone pointed toward an egg. It wobbled feebly, then cracked. A dragonet emerged, creeling in panic and hunger. Steadied by the older dragonriders, the knot of candidates mostly stood their ground although some fled in confusion.

  One, an older lad from the Smithhall by his knots, ran toward Fiona, which she thought odd.

  “Weyrwoman!” the lad cried when he was close enough. “Are there tunnel snakes here?”

  “Yes,” Fiona said, a sense of dread clutching at her even as she replied.

  “I think they’ve got the eggs,” the lad said, lowering his head respectfully.

  “We’ve been guarding them,” Fiona said, shaking her head adamantly.

  “For a feast like this,” he said, stretching his arms out to indicate the massive hatching sands, “they’d tunnel for months.”

  Fiona looked at the nearest clutch, one of the green’s, and noticed that none of the eggs were rocking. Here and there, further along, she saw one or two hatchlings but far, far fewer than she knew they should be seeing by now.

  She went to the nearest egg and rocked it. It was hard to get it to budge in the sand, but even as she felt it move she knew the smither was right—the egg was lifeless, empty, too light.

  Aghast, Fiona turned toward the other eggs near her but could not move.

  Fiona? she heard Lorana call worriedly.

  The eggs, Fiona said, suddenly finding her feet moving as she gained motion and speed with one destination firmly in mind.

  Talenth!

  Only a very few of Talenth’s eggs had hatched. Kindan saw her dart by and followed her. “Fiona, what is it?”

  “The tunnel snakes!” she cried. “They got the eggs!”

  “What do we do?” Bekka asked, turning hastily around. Scenes of destruction played all around them.

  “Get to the good eggs,” Fiona said. “Find them, get them Impressed, and get them away from here.”

  Bekka nodded and sprinted away, grabbing white-robed Candidates and dragonriders with her as she went, dropping groups here and there to stay on guard against tunnel snakes—and hope for an Impression.

  She was just about to swing back around when she heard the unmistakable sound of a shell cracking. She whirled toward the sound and saw a large egg. She turned around quickly, looking for Candidates to send to the hatchling and realized that she was alone.

  “No!” she cried, rushing toward the egg. “We can’t lose you! I won’t lose you!”

  I am Pin
orth, the small gold hatchling said as her head broke through her shell. You shall never lose me.

  “By the First Egg, yes!” Bekka shouted, her eyes blazing with pride, joy, and fierce protectiveness.

  Kindan stopped and turned, nearly dropping Tiona as he saw Bekka rush toward a hatchling and help her out of her egg. He had no time to rejoice, for a hatchling’s cry distracted him and he stopped, scanned the large sands and suddenly noticed how many eggs lay unhatched, motionless. He was just about to move on when the egg nearest him cracked.

  “Get it!” Fiona cried, circling back, desperate to salvage anything from this disaster for her queen and for all Pern. “Help it!”

  Kindan turned and passed Tiona off to her mother and then was all arms and feet, pounding and tearing through the thicker shell membrane to free the dragonet.

  Another sound broke through the morning and Mrreows raced onto the sands, attacking human, hatchling, and tunnel snake without regard.

  Talenth! Fiona cried, ordering her and all the queens aloft. Talenth stretched one claw and grabbed one of the tawny things, snaring it and then throwing it high in the sky where it was caught by a vengeful blue and thrown once more out of the camp to fall, crushed, among the rocks in the distance.

  “Kindan!” Fiona cried as she saw a Mrreow leap toward him—only to snag a tunnel snake that had erupted from the sands, snapping after Kindan and the hatchling both.

  Fiona had one fleeting instant to wonder if the Mrreow had gone for the tunnel snake or the man before she was equally transfixed by Kindan’s cry.

  “No, no, no!” he cried. “Not me, there are others!”

  Fiona moved toward him and bumped his shoulder, her eyes flaming even as her humor overtook her, “Why does everyone I know say that?”

  Kindan looked at her for a moment longer, and then sighed heavily, reaching the tiny creature in one swift movement and pulling it bodily out of its egg.