Dragongirl (2 page)

ONE

Heart, give voice to sing
Of life on dragon wings!

Fort Weyr, AL 508.2.2

It was still snowing, and cold. Fiona shivered, wishing she hadn’t outgrown her warm fur-lined leathers. Back in hot Igen, heavy clothing had been out of place, but here, at Fort Weyr, it was invaluable.

Her nose and lungs froze as she took another breath. Frantically, she pulled a portion of her thin scarf up to cover her nose; the air was easier to breathe that way, but her breath fogged her vision.

It had been an age for her since that time—only days ago here—when the strange gold rider had come:

“Get dressed,” the rider had said. “We must be quick. We can’t wake the others.”

Fiona had had only an instant to decide: a rash plunge into the unknown. Why had she taken it?

But she had; and for three Turns she’d been Weyrwoman of Igen Weyr, which had been abandoned until she and the other Fort dragonriders had gone back ten Turns in time to use it as a place to grow and heal … She’d learned to trade, learned to fly, and learned what it meant to be a Weyrwoman.

She had nearly seventeen Turns now, but here, back in her own time, they still thought her not yet fourteen. A part of her longed for that, longed to give the responsibility for decisions to others, to rest and relax and just focus on raising her queen.

Her queen. Beautiful Talenth had grown, had become a queen in all her glory, ready for her first mating flight, ready to add her hatchlings to the dragons of Pern.

When Fiona had realized that, had really understood, she had turned to T’mar. The bronze rider had been her mentor, her trainer, and the Weyrleader of the small group of injured and immature riders who had accompanied her back in time. He had been the one person who could help her take that next step in becoming a queen rider. There was a bond between them, she knew it. More than shared peril, more than shared times. He had a piece of her heart, freely given. But, she thought with a breath of the cold air, he didn’t have it all.

Kindan. He was also there, on her horizon. As a child, she had loved him, while he had loved her older sister, Koriana. During her time at Igen, in the past, she had met him again, but she’d been older, and he hadn’t recognized her. Now, as a grown woman, she had discovered that her feelings for him were no less than they’d been when she was a girl. Did she love him, she challenged herself, or did she just want to prove that she was as good as Koriana, whom he’d held in his arms as she died?

“Are you ready?” Terin asked, from her perch in front of Fiona.

“I’m ready,” Fiona said, moving her scarf away and glancing down to the Weyr Bowl below.

The older riders had already landed. T’mar was being embraced by Weyrleader K’lior, and there, to one side, stood dark-haired, quiet Xhinna.

“Oh, please, let’s land by Xhinna!” Terin said, as she spotted the weyrgirl. “Wait until she sees that I’m taller than her now!”

Three Turns. Three days. Xhinna had been her best friend before she’d left for Igen, but much had happened since, and Fiona realized that Xhinna had become a memory, nearly lost in all that time. Now Xhinna was only three days older, while Fiona had aged three Turns. Could they just pick up where they had left off? Or start anew?

Seeing Cisca, Fort’s Weyrwoman, walking toward her as she leaped down from Talenth aroused further apprehension. At Igen, Fiona had been a Weyrwoman among boys and injured riders. Could she now return to her junior role under Cisca? It would be safe, she knew. It would be easy, too. But the part of her that stored and cherished the images of her father and Kindan, both so strong and determined, urged her to do more. And then Fiona wondered: Were leaders always scared?

I
f it was any warmer down in the Weyr Bowl, Fiona couldn’t tell it from the cold stares she received. She couldn’t place the reaction at first, until she realized: They didn’t recognize her.

Terin’s hand slipped into hers and Fiona guessed that the younger girl was coming to the same realization. Terin waved her free hand at Xhinna. “Xhinna, it’s me!”

The weyrgirl turned in their direction, her blue eyes sad and careworn.

“She looks like she lost her best friend,” Terin said to Fiona.

“She has,” Cisca said, having gotten close enough to overhear. Fiona looked at her, surprised that she was nearly eye level with the Weyrwoman. “Three days ago the weyrlings and—”

Even Cisca didn’t know who she was. Fiona felt a lump in her throat. It was hard to speak. “Me, Weyrwoman.”

“The gold rider brought us,” Terin said, glancing up to Cisca and then quickly away, her eyes drifting back to Xhinna.

Cisca was staring intently at Fiona, studying her face. Then she let out a sob. “Fiona?” She grabbed Fiona and clutched her tightly, bruisingly, and Fiona felt guilty as the Weyrwoman’s hot tears rained down on her. “We thought—” She pushed away from Fiona, her face clouding as anger replaced relief.

“I brought them back, Cisca,” Fiona said hurriedly, waving an arm to the riders and dragons behind her, hoping to avoid the Weyrwoman’s wrath. “They’re ready to fight. All of them.”

Cisca looked beyond her to the riders and dragons in the Weyr Bowl. “The weyrlings?”

“Trained and ready,” Fiona said, letting justifiable pride creep into her voice. This much she had done. She had fought, she had succeeded, she had overcome her own fears and kept them hidden from all: She had
been
a Weyrwoman.

F
iona stirred slowly to wakefulness, feeling surprised at the warmth around her. She vaguely remembered crawling out of her bed with her blankets draped over her and curling up against Talenth, but now she felt another body lying against her, pressing her more tightly against her queen.

As tired as she’d been, she’d made her full report to Cisca and then had carefully explained to Terin that she needed to make amends with Xhinna and would it be all right if Terin found some other place to sleep that night?

Terin had been too quick to agree; Fiona suspected that her request had been used as an excuse by the strawberry-haired teen to seek out the handsome F’jian.

The other body shifted away quickly and Fiona groaned.

“I’m sorry,” a voice spoke as the other person jumped to her feet. It was Xhinna.

“Don’t be,” Fiona replied, turning to look up at her and gesturing invitingly for Xhinna to rejoin her. “I’m certain that I was freezing until you came.” She made a face. “I don’t know how I’ll adjust to this cold again.”

Only slightly relieved, Xhinna sat back down beside her. With an irritated sigh, Fiona pulled her close. “There,” she murmured, “warmer.”

Xhinna remained tense beside her. Fiona opened one eye and saw that the younger girl was eyeing her with a mixture of trepidation, assessment, and fear. Fiona opened both eyes, turned, drew Xhinna’s head toward hers and laid a sisterly kiss on the girl’s forehead.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t bring you with us,” Fiona murmured in her ear. She pulled back enough to stare Xhinna in the eyes. “I love you, you are a dear friend, and I missed you.”

“But you’re so old now!”

Fiona could feel the many levels on which Xhinna made the comment and nodded slightly.

“I am,” Fiona agreed with a twist of her lips. “Do you still want to be friends?”

Xhinna pursed her lips but said nothing, instead closing her eyes and leaning back against Fiona. A small sound escaped her lips, perhaps a sob, perhaps a sigh of contentment … or acceptance.

Melanwy, the aged ex-headwoman who had gone
between
forever with Weyrwoman Tannaz only a short time ago for Xhinna, and that same short time plus three whole Turns for Fiona’s time-jumping self, had scorned and loathed Xhinna because of the young girl’s nature. That same nature which had made certain that she would never Impress a queen dragon. But Fiona had accepted Xhinna for who she was—just as she had accepted blue rider F’dan for who he was. Everyone had a heart; just because different things set them beating didn’t mean that there wasn’t something for Fiona to love in all of them.

She knew that if she were to continue to be Xhinna’s friend, she had to make Xhinna comfortable in the knowledge that she would never be her lover but also make it clear that she would always accept Xhinna’s love. The two things were different, something Fiona grasped at a level beneath conscious thought even though, until very recently, she had never experienced the difference between loving and having a lover.

“Friends?” Fiona repeated when Xhinna made no reply.

“Promise me this,” Xhinna said. She waited for Fiona to nod before continuing, “Promise me that you’ll never leave me again.”

“I swear by the egg of Talenth that, if it’s in my power, I’ll never leave you again, Xhinna,” Fiona said, hugging her tightly. She whispered into her ear, “I missed you.”

“But
you
didn’t think
I
was dead,” Xhinna said, not entirely mollified.

“The gold rider—” Fiona began, but Xhinna cut her off.

“Wasn’t it you, from the future?”

Fiona pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know.” She saw Xhinna’s look and said, “Really, I don’t know. I could have been but …” She broke off, shaking her head. “The gold rider said you weren’t to come, and I knew that I had to go.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Fiona said, shaking her head, “I just did.” She paused a moment. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“The weyrlings are grown, the riders healed, we’ve got more fighting strength than we did three days ago,” Xhinna said then. “What you did was important.”

“Thanks.”

“Friends,” Xhinna said solemnly.

“Good,” Fiona replied, snuggling up against her. “I can’t stand sleeping alone.”

TWO

Short Fall
,
Watch all
.
Winds change
Dragon’s bane
.

Fort Weyr, AL 508.2.5

“It’s time,” Fiona said three days later, nudging Xhinna as she forced herself out of the bed and into the cold night air. She put on her slippers and pulled a warmer nightgown around her shoulders, allowed herself a moment’s memory of the hideously hot Igen summer nights, then squared her shoulders determinedly and set off to the necessary.

Xhinna joined her not long after Fiona had dressed in her riding gear, yawning widely.

“Why are you wearing that?”

“It’s warm,” Fiona said feelingly. Xhinna snorted and shook her head at the weyrwoman’s affectation. Feelingly, Fiona responded, “You try living in Igen for three Turns!”

Wisely, Xhinna said nothing, but her eyes danced mischievously as she waved the weyrwoman out with a promise to follow along shortly.

Fiona greeted Talenth cheerfully and her queen warbled a greeting in response. Out in the Weyr Bowl the dragonriders were already gathering, checking riding straps and firestone hooks carefully before patting their dragons and proceeding to the Kitchen Cavern for a last bit of warm food or
klah
.

Thread would fall today at Benden and over Keroon, south of Nuella’s wherhold. The sun would be rising as the Thread started to fall, so the watch-whers would not be able to help.

The sun rose three hours earlier over Keroon than over Fort Weyr, which was why Fiona and the rest had woken in the still of night.

She grabbed a spare mug and poured it full of
klah
, gulping the liquid as quickly as she could in spite of the heat.

“Good morning, weyrwoman,” Ellor, Fort Weyr’s headwoman greeted her.

Fiona nodded. “Everything ready?”

Ellor smiled. “We’ll be setting up the tables out in the Bowl as soon as it’s light.”

A cough, sickly and huge in the night air, reverberated around the Weyr, followed by another and another.

“We’ve eighteen for certain with the cough,” Cisca said as she entered the Bowl and spotted Fiona.

“Didn’t we have more?” Fiona asked in surprise. For three Turns back in time, Fiona had been able to forget about the sickness that had been killing the dragons. She hadn’t realized until now how much of a relief that had been for her.

“We did; they went
between
or died,” Cisca told her bleakly. “And more took their place.”

Without the dragons, Pern would be defenseless against Thread. With nothing to flame the Thread into char before it reached the surface, the live Thread would suck the life out of everything that grew, including humans. If the sickness couldn’t be cured soon, they would all die.

“I think we’ve got more,” Tintoval, the new Weyr Healer added as she entered the Kitchen and repeated Fiona’s action of grabbing a mug and filling it with steaming
klah
. She nodded to Fiona and Cisca in greeting, before continuing grimly, “I haven’t been able to identify them, nor have I heard anything more from Benden about a cure.”

“We’re set for firestone,” Fiona reported. She had directed a work party the day before in filling the sacks in preparation for the Fall. “They’ll fly out with three sacks each.”

Cisca nodded. “K’lior said that he’d detail a wing to bring more when needed.”

“I’ve got Terin and some of the younger weyrfolk assigned to help with the loading.”

“Good,” Cisca said. She turned to the Weyr Bowl, downed her
klah
, refilled the mug, and headed out. Fiona followed her.

The dark chill air absorbed most sounds and added an eeriness to the preparations.

Cisca found K’lior and passed the mug to him. He took it with a grateful look, downed it, and continued on his way, stopping to converse with one rider, patting another on the back, checking the harness of yet a third, passing up firestone sacks to a fourth.

Without prompting, Fiona followed suit, cheerfully greeting those she knew from Igen Weyr and politely encouraging those she knew only barely.

Even with the dragons of Igen, there were so few. F’jian led a wing of his own, J’gerd and J’keran flew as wingseconds in older wings.

H’nez flew with K’rall as his wingsecond. “I can always use an experienced hand, particularly with these young hotshots,” K’rall had declared when K’lior had made the announcement.

“Good luck, bronze rider,” Fiona called to H’nez as she passed quickly by. She might not like him, but she didn’t wish him ill; Pern needed all its riders.

H’nez was surprised by her kindness and returned with stiff awkwardness, “Thank you, weyrwoman.”

“Fly safe, old man!” Fiona called more cheerfully to K’rall when she spotted him.

“I will, weyrwoman, count on it!” K’rall’s bass voice boomed across the Bowl. No less loudly, he added, “I’ve been promising Seyorth a mating flight soon, and I wouldn’t want to let him down!”

Fiona blushed and chuckled at his impiety.

“Well, you’d best make sure he’s got his full strength,” she replied gamely, “because Talenth is going to outfly every bronze here!”

From her weyr, Talenth bugled loudly in agreement.

K’rall boomed another laugh. “Seyorth says that she can
try!”

With a final snort, Fiona waved and moved on to the next dragonrider.

She paused when she came to T’mar. Since their return, she hadn’t had much chance to speak with him. He was briefing his wing, and she waited while he was speaking. He didn’t get much further because his riders started nodding significantly in her direction, distracting him. Finally, with an irritated, “What?” he turned and saw her.

“Wingleader,” Fiona said, with a polite nod.

“Well, now at least I see what all the commotion is about,” T’mar said, his eyes twinkling. He nodded back to her. “Weyrwoman.”

“Good flying,” Fiona said, wishing they were alone and she could say more.

T’mar met her eyes frankly. “Thank you.”

She turned her attention to the rest of the wing. She knew only a few of them from Igen and greeted them warmly, was polite to the others, and left them as quickly as she could.

She had almost completed her rounds when she was grabbed from behind, lifted in the air and spun in a quick circle before being placed back on the ground with a yelp of surprise.

“Hah!” F’dan said to her as he spun her on her heels to face him. “You thought I was some lovestruck bronze, I’ll bet!”

“F’dan!” Fiona exclaimed, burying her head against his chest. He held her tightly for a moment, then released her. “Whose wing are you in?”

“I’m flying with the Weyrleader, of course!” F’dan boasted grandly.

“Well, be certain you keep an eye on him,” Fiona said. She glanced around for K’lior and his wing. “Is P’der flying with you?”

“Of course!” F’dan replied. He wagged a finger at her. “You’ve done your work too well, weyrwoman—you’ve got one hundred and twenty-two dragonriders flying against this Fall who are beholden to you.”

“I did my duty,” Fiona replied with a diffident shrug.

“And did it well,” P’der added as he approached, reaching out to touch Fiona on the shoulder affectionately.

“Well enough,” Fiona said feeling uncomfortable with the praise. She stepped back and gestured toward the dragons behind them. “And now you can do yours.”

“We certainly shall,” F’dan agreed emphatically. He leaned in closer to her as he added, “And someday soon, when there are enough queens again, we’ll have you flying with us, on the queens’ wing.”

Fiona’s face lit with a huge grin. “I’ll look forward to that!”

“F’dan, P’der, mount your dragons,” K’lior called as he strode briskly past them to his waiting Rineth.

“Fly well, Weyrleader!” Fiona called.

K’lior turned and waved at her in acknowledgment before climbing up Rineth’s foreleg and settling himself on his perch, tying himself tight against his riding straps and making one final check of his firestone sacks.

Fiona’s view of him was blocked as Cisca rushed up past her and called up to K’lior. “I expect you back in one piece, dragonrider!”

“I’ll do my best, Weyrwoman,” K’lior called back with a chuckle.

“You’d better,” Cisca replied, her voice shaking with feeling. Fiona moved forward and grabbed the hand Cisca had left trailing behind her. The Weyrwoman turned at this and smiled when she saw that it was Fiona before turning back and raising her free arm in farewell. Fiona drew alongside her and waved good-bye with her free hand as K’lior gave the signal and, wing by wing, one hundred and ninety-four dragons rose to take their positions near the Star Stones and then winked out,
between
.

“We left no watch dragon,” Fiona noted in surprise as she scanned the heights.

I’ll do it
, Talenth replied promptly. Fiona whirled in time to see her beautiful queen rush out of her lair, leap into the air, and climb gracefully with a few sweeps of her golden wings to land daintily beside the Star Stones, her gaze set intently on the distant horizon and the rising sun.

“Well, she seems eager enough!” Cisca chuckled. She turned to Fiona as she added, “I hope she rises soon. We need a mating flight.”

Fiona nodded mutely.

W
ith the dragons gone, Fiona met with Tintoval and helped her assemble the first-aid teams.

“You’ll keep an eye on me, won’t you?” Tintoval murmured when she found a moment where she and Fiona were alone.

“You’ll do fine,” Fiona assured her.

“At this point, though, you know more about healing dragons than I,” Tintoval reminded her. Her honesty compelled her to add, “And what you did with those severely injured riders—”

“That was nothing we hadn’t discussed beforehand!” Fiona protested.

“Discussing and treating are two different things,” Tintoval told her.

“There was no one else—”

“You did brilliantly,” Tintoval said. She grimaced in Cisca’s direction as she added, “I’m not quite sure you’ve heard that enough since your return.”

Fiona grinned. “Well, we’ve had other things to discuss,” she allowed, adding more seriously, “but Cisca is a good Weyrwoman and she does well.”

“Hmm,” Tintoval murmured thoughtfully. “You’d be the best judge of that.” She paused, then added, “With your three Turns in Igen, you’ve more experience than she.”

“I wouldn’t have managed without her example,” Fiona said.

“Perhaps.”

“Come on,” Fiona said, nudging the Weyr Healer. “We need to check on the others.”

K
’lior took in the situation the moment he and Rineth burst from
between
over Keroon.

Tell T’mar and K’rall that they are reserve and will provide firestone
, K’lior said.

They are returning to the Weyr to load more firestone
, Rineth reported at the same time as thirty-two dragons winked out
between
. K’lior nodded to himself in satisfaction.

They wouldn’t be fighting a full Fall, as it had started first over Benden and had proceeded south toward Keroon, so he felt that a full Flight of dragons would suffice—and assigning two small wings as reserve would allow him to dismiss his worries about getting extra firestone or not providing the Weyr with some final defense in case—

He spotted the pitifully few Istan riders as they appeared and waved, closing in on J’lantir.

—in case Fort Weyr suffered as badly as Ista. He turned to look over his shoulder, casually examining the formations behind him and more carefully eyeing the Threadfall.

We’ll fight as full wings
, K’lior told Rineth.
M’valer and M’kury will lead the other two. Have the wings re-form now
.

In a moment six understrength wings had re-formed into three full-strength wings.

K’lior was greeted by J’lantir, the acting Istan Weyrleader who had taken over after C’rion had gone
between
in their first Fall. He gladly accepted J’lantir’s offer to let him lead the Fall and quickly integrated the Istan wing with his own wings, arraying them on his left, with the other two Fort wings on his right.

Four wings abreast, they rose to fight Thread.

T
alenth’s challenge alerted Fiona, who glanced up from her position at the nearest aid table. Her eyes narrowed as she counted two wings of dragons circling in for a landing.

Zirenth and Seyorth
, Talenth reported.
They have been sent for firestone
.

Fiona raced over to the firestone shed, calling for her helpers as she went.

“We’ve got time,” T’mar’s voice in her ear surprised her as she was opening the shed doors. “They’ve got at least an hour before they’ll need more.”

“So we should have you back in half the time,” Fiona replied, pulling open the second door and gesturing for the young weyrfolk to head inside. “You’ve got three sacks already, how many more?”

“Five each,” T’mar said after a moment’s thought. “That way we’ll be able to fight a full Fall, if needed.”

“You think that K’lior might pull replacements directly from these wings?”

“It depends upon how the Fall goes,” T’mar replied. “He could just as easily put one wing into the fight and use the other to resupply.” He shrugged. “I think this will work either way.”

Fiona, who saw no flaw in this logic, flagged Terin and started her on the count. “Five each!”

All too quickly, Terin reached, “One-fifty, stop!” And the dragons rose into the air again, climbed up to the Star Stones, and, with Talenth’s cheerful salute, disappeared once more
between
to battle Thread.

As they disappeared, Fiona reached out and wrapped her arm around Terin’s shoulders. The young girl looked up at her for a moment then buried her head against Fiona’s chest.

K
’lior glanced around as the massed wings of Ista and Fort charged up to greet the downpouring Thread. They had arranged themselves just behind the Benden riders until M’tal’s signal for them to break off, and then with a roar, K’lior urged his men upward.