DragonForce Ch. 05

R'mart spoke up from his seat to Eastern's far left. "Do you really think a rock could have hit them hard enough to throw them nearly two miles? I mean, without killing both of them?"

The Masterhealer grimaced again, gazing first at Darian, then T'marek, and finally T'gellan. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. "No, I don't. And that presents a problem. You see, the impact apparently rendered T'marek unconscious, and Kelth has already forgotten almost everything. He still claims that somehow he brought them, but he doesn't remember how." The healer leaned forward, looking to the brownrider for confirmation. T'marek nodded.

"Master Briaret, would you continue?"

From the far left, the Masterherder stood up, bowing toward Oldive and then T'gellan. His cleared his throat and spoke in a surprisingly gruff tone for a rather small man. "Master Oldive and healer Selana explained their theories to me and allowed me to examine Kelth. I find it highly unlikely that any animal, even a full-grown dragon, could hit trees or ground at the kind of speed it would take to be thrown a mile or more without being killed instantly." He paused to take a gulp of the wine. "More likely, Kelth was injured but not incapacitated. I think he either glided or flew most of the distance to where they were found. The impact of being hit by the volcano probably only carried them out of the crater bowl."

"But, if Kelth was still awake," T'gellan interrupted, "why didn't he bring T'marek back to the Weyr?"

"Remember," Briaret responded, "that he was already injured. He was probably in a good deal of pain, and he'd been exposed to methane, possibly for quite a while. If he couldn't get a clear image of the Weyr, I don't think he'd try to go between, do you?"

Eastern shook his head while several other Weyrleaders mouthed their agreement. No dragon would attempt to go between unless he was certain of where he was going, particularly with his rider aboard.

"He certainly wouldn't have been capable of flying straight," Briaret noted. "My assumption is that he flew, or glided, as far as he could. Whether he attempted to land or just passed out, I don't know."

"All of this makes a certain amount of sense," K'van interjected, "but I don't see how it ties into Darian and his friends. Where do they come in?"

Briaret nodded vigorous agreement with the statement. He swallowed from the mug of klah before him. Placing it back on the table, he resumed. "Very astute, Lord K'van, and also important. Darian, refresh our memories, please. Did you actually 'find' Kelth and T'marek?"

The Cygnan smiled, beginning to understand where the discussion was leading. He turned glowing eyes on the Masterherder. "No, we didn't find them. We woke up virtually on top of them, like Kelth brought us to him!"

Briaret smiled back at him. "Exactly."

Silence fell over the council room. T'marek's mouth fell open so hard that he winced. Even T'gellan was taken off-guard by the assertion. The Benden Weyrleader's eyes narrowed, flashing at the speaker. He, like several of the others, did not like where the conversation was leading.

Fort protested. "A dragon can only take someone between if they're riding him. When Darian and Astaroth fight with Eastern, they ride Monarth to travel between."

"Agreed," Briaret allowed, "but those are normal circumstances. At least, normal on Pern. You must remember that at the time of all these strange occurrences, conditions were anything but normal. We're dealing with a badly injured dragon and an unconscious rider. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that Kelth was virtually panic-stricken. He'd have been aware that T'marek was hurt, and that he couldn't communicate with him. He'd also have been aware that he was unable to help. If I understand the relationship between dragons and riders, that would be a most distressing situation. Extreme circumstances sometimes bring about extreme solutions." The Masterherder resumed his seat.

"Alright," N'ton permitted, "I can accept that. But, why Darian and Astaroth? Why would Kelth have pulled someone, I guess that's what you'd call it, from another planet, when he could have brought any dragon and rider on Pern?" A chorus of supportive remarks followed the question. The dragonmen found it appalling that the brown would have brought help from off-world, with all of his Pernese fellows within easy reach.

"Selana," the Masterhealer asked, "you kept both Kelth and T'marek sedated and within sight of each other for a full seven-day. Why?"

Intimidated by such prestigious company, the young healer swallowed nervously. Reluctantly, she answered, "They couldn't hear each other. We were afraid Kelth might suicide if he couldn't see T'marek, so we kept them together."

"That's preposterous," G'narish snapped. Selana turned white, sinking back into her chair. The brownrider beside her reached out to grasp her hand protectively. He regarded the Igenite with an angry glare.

"Why is that, Igen?" the Eastern leader demanded.

"Everyone knows a dragon will go between if it can't hear its rider. Even if it could see him, it would have gone mad. He's already said it couldn't reach any of our dragons. That means he would have been completely isolated. I don't believe it!"

"He could hear Darian," the healer said in a trembling whisper.

The Igen Weyrleader stared at her. "He could what?"

"That is enough from you," the avion challenged. Darian came to his feet, fangs in attack position and wings extending. Loki screamed a violent challenge. Everyone in the room turned stunned eyes on the Cygnans, the Igenite in particular sinking backward.

"Darian, don't," T'gellan ordered. "I'll handle this, please!"

Slowly, the open wings folded. Even as the avion turned toward the Weyrleader, yet another Cygnan slid into position beside the healer. "Very well," Darian allowed, "but I would be very, very careful about speaking to her like that again." He turned directly toward the now intimidated Igen Weyrleader. His hands were poised just above his belt knives. "Insult Selana again, dragonman, and you'll answer to me. With belt knives, not a crossbow." He eased back to his chair, but Loki and Akira remained tensely and aggressively in position.

T'gellan looked at the alert guardians, noting that everyone else in the room was uncomfortably aware of them. He returned his attention to the business at hand. He had no opportunity to speak.

"She said he could hear Darian," Oldive interjected sternly. He waited for Igen's Weyrleader to turn toward him, then rose from his seat.

"I resent your tone, G'narish. The young woman has done well under trying circumstances. Your ignorance of such matters is no concern or hers or of mine. I understand your concerns, but I will brook no further intimidation or insinuation from you, directed to me or any of my healers. Selana deserves the respect due her rank as journeyman, and the work she's done with Darian is impressive on its own merit. If you'll show enough patience to wait until we've finished, you may find your questions answered." Glancing at the agitated animals, he added, "Looking at those two, I would advise you to heed Darian's warning."

The Masterhealer took a breath, then continued as though there had been no interruption. "Bear in mind that both dragon and rider had sustained significant head injuries. When we first examined Kelth, we were naturally concerned with the broken jaw, wing and leg. There were other cuts and bruises as well, though of a lesser nature. Selana," he paused, giving a respectful nod to the frightened healer, "noticed a series of unusual bruises on the dragon's neck. In the light of the other injuries, I chose to essentially ignore those bruises. In retrospect, I see that as a serious error on my part."

Oldive looked toward the chamber entrance as a clattering noise approached. Several kitchen workers carrying more wine and klah, with a platter of sweet rolls, proceeded to restock the conference table. Discussion ceased until they had completed their chores and left.

"You communicate with your dragons telepathically, correct?" the Masterhealer resumed. Unanimously, the riders nodded. Oldive followed with a rhetorical question. "Have you ever considered why your dragons can hear each other, but most of you can only hear the beast you impressed?" He gave them a chance to consider the issue, but not to attempt an answer. "Thoughts have a specific sound. They can only be heard by someone who can receive that specific sound. Most humans can only be heard by the dragon they impress. Dragon thoughts apparently have two different sounds, one intended for their rider only, and a second for other dragons. Since the actual sound of these thoughts is determined by the structure of the brain, it is reasonable to assume that an injury to the brain could alter that sound. This is where Kelth's neck bruises become important. Those bruises were from internal bleeding, not from an external impact. Any shock strong enough to break a dragon's jaw would also snap the head backward. I believe that snapping action caused damage at the junction of neck and skull, with resultant brain damage. Since T'marek and Kelth can now communicate normally, I believe the damage has repaired itself. However, at the time, it seems to have changed the sound of Kelth's thoughts and the thoughts he could hear. Therefore, instead of hearing his rider and our dragons, he was able to hear Darian."

The healer halted, sipping from his mug. His eyes narrowed as he considered yet another alternative. He looked up with a frown of consternation. "An interesting side of this is that, while Kelth and Darian could hear each other and Astaroth heard Kelth, at least once, Kelth couldn't hear Astaroth. I conclude from that information that the change in sound was tenuous and unstable."

"That makes sense," T'gellan noted. "When Monarth first heard Kelth say he was coming, he mentioned that the image wasn't clear. He knew it was Kelth, but it sounded different."

"Logical," Oldive agreed. "If Kelth were healing, his brain waves shifting back to their normal pattern, they would have been distorted for a while. There may even have been a short period when everyone involved could have heard him. That would be pure conjecture, though."

"This all sounds like pure conjecture," R'mart grumped.

"Got a better idea?" T'bor chided. Telgar gave another of his sonic snorts.

"Where is all this leading?" K'van asked. "I'm a little lost."

Oldive smiled at the refreshing admission that at least one dragonrider didn't know everything. He turned an approving regard on the young Weyrleader. "Darian," he began, diverting the inquiry to the Cygnan, "didn't you say that Astaroth heard something strange while you were on patrol?"

"Yes," the avion confirmed. "He said he'd heard something he didn't recognize. That's when we went back for Loki and Akira."

"So, there was a considerable amount of time between Astaroth's hearing the strange sound, or thought, and your being removed from Cygnus?"

"Several minutes, I think."

Oldive smiled again, nodding. "That fits. You see, when Kelth was first struck by the rock, it probably hit him in the jaw. That would have caused the fracture there, and the resulting whiplash would have caused the neck and brain injuries. I suspect he called for help at that time, but no one could hear him. He then flew or glided however far he could before crashing into the forest. At that point, knowing both he and his rider needed help, and that he couldn't go for it, he reached out to the only thoughts he could hear, and brought them to him."

"That would account for the delay," Darian agreed, "but I thought dragons had to be in contact with someone or something to take it between?"

"They do, under normal conditions. Again, these were not normal conditions."

"I don't understand," N'ton complained. "What you're leading up to is that Kelth somehow brought them between without going between himself. That doesn't make sense."

Oldive sighed, slowly returning to his seat. He picked up his mug and took a long drink from it. Resting his arms on the table, he asked, "Master Sebell, would you try to explain?"

Standing up, the harper cleared his throat. He emptied his mug, taking the time to refill it. "How many of you," he asked soberly, "have ever considered what between is, let alone how it works?"

"It's a way to travel," T'bor replied, "between places or times. That's all."

Sebell shook his head. "No, Lord T'bor, that isn't what I asked. We know what between is for, what it does, and why we use it. The question is, what is it, and how does it work?"

Momentary silence settled on the room, followed by a flurry of private conversations. The Masterharper was pleased to see the realization dawning on the riders' faces that they had no idea of what between was or how it worked.

"N'ton, where are you when Lioth takes you between?"

"Somewhere on Pern, I guess," Fort answered. "We're just between. I never gave it much thought."

"Perhaps you should," the harper chimed. "How would you know if you were on Pern or not? You can't see anything. You can't hear anything, other than your dragon and your own heart. And have you ever felt such penetrating cold anywhere on Pern, even in deepest winter at High Reaches?"

Puzzled expressions formed all around the circle. The riders were realizing that they knew very little about their favorite method of travel. The thought was unsettling.

"In point of fact, you are still on Pern," he enlightened them, "although not in any physical sense with which we are normally acquainted. Our world is built on three primary dimensions, those being height, width and depth. We consider time to be the fourth dimension. The first three are physically invalid unless all three are present. The fourth is valid by itself and has a dramatic effect on the others." The harper glanced about him, seeing thoughtful expressions on several listeners, uncertainty on a few others.

"All of our observations indicate that between is yet another dimension, maybe the fifth. Regardless, it is totally independent of the others, which is why you can travel between places or times. Somehow, a dragon is able to open a door into this other dimension, move through it, and then reenter normal time and space. We don't know how they do it, but that is what they do. And we think that is how Kelth brought Darian and company here."

"You still haven't answered my question," N'ton repeated.

"No, I suppose I haven't," Sebell conceded. He knew they were about to cross the precipice. Either the riders would understand and accept what they were about to learn, or they would consider the craftmasters victims of some form of collective insanity. He rubbed the palms of his hands together, trying to dry the perspiration on them.

"Kelth had been affected by methane gas, and he'd received a brain injury. He couldn't hear T'marek or any dragons. Worse yet, he couldn't think clearly, so he couldn't go between. His rider needed help, so he did the only thing he could. Somehow, probably because of his brain injury, he was able to reverse the process. He projected his mind to the source of the only thought pattern he could hear, opened the dimensional door at that end, and brought Astaroth and his companions back to him."

From outside the chamber, a chorus of brown dragons vented a powerful roar, answered immediately by hundreds more. Rider stared at rider, linked together by an instinctive comprehension. It didn't matter what they believed. Their dragons believed. Their dragons knew. Silence enshrouded the council chamber, as absolute and impenetrable as between itself. Even the recalcitrant Weyrleader from Igen knew. He knew.

A soft laugh erased the deathly calm. In a voice full of wonder, full of respect, full of ungrudging acceptance, Darian uttered the final realization, staring sightlessly at the table before him. "We didn't find him, he found us. Incredible. Absolutely incredible."

Again, there was momentary silence, broken by a high-pitched, nervous voice. "I'm afraid that's not all of it, sir. That may not even be the worst of it."

As though shaken from a deep sleep, the riders returned to the ongoing discussion. Darian turned concerned eyes on Starmaster Wansor, who had just risen from his chair. Making timid bows in all directions, the smith tried to explain. "You see, we, I mean I, I, oh dear... you were asleep for quite some time after you got here, weren't you?"

The avion nodded.

"Oh dear, I see, yes, oh my... "

Fandarel reached up to steady his fellow smith, who started at the touch. The burly man's understanding voice calmed him. "Go on, Wansor, we're all listening. Tell them what you know."

The Starmaster swallowed, then took a gulp from his wine goblet. "You see, Master Darian, I wasn't at all sure of my findings until the Masterhealer mentioned how long you had slept. If indeed you were brought here between, then your exhaustion was probably a result of that. Do you remember how long you were in the cold and darkness?"

"No, I don't," came the curious response. "Is it important?"

"Oh, very important, very important indeed," Wansor exclaimed, wringing his hands. "Would you say it was longer than eight seconds?"

"I really don't know," he admitted, "I don't have any way of judging."

"Yes, you do," T'gellan informed him. "Think about our jumps between with Monarth. Those are all standard. Was your first experience longer than those?"

"Yes," Darian confirmed, "much longer. Those are just a nuisance. That first seemed like it would never end. I blacked out before it was over."

"Oh my, oh my," Wansor fidgeted, "I do believe I am right. Oh, dear. You see, Master Darian, jumps between places only take eight seconds. Between any places. Even Canth's jump to the Red Star, if I may be so bold, Weyrleader?"

The Starmaster stopped, looking to F'lar for permission to continue. The Benden leader nodded. "In retrospect, even Canth's jump only took eight seconds, although it seemed longer when they made the return trip injured. But, you see, it's your sleeping so long that gave me the answer to the final problem. Oh dear, oh dear."

F'lar's brow wrinkled, his eyes drawn to near slits. A cold dread was building in him as he followed the master's reasoning.

"You see, that long sleeping experience has only been recorded once in our history, that I'm aware of."

The Igen Weyrleader turned to face his Benden counterpart. "Lessa!"

F'lar nodded, his mouth in a grim line. The answers were in front of them, but he was no longer certain he wanted to hear them. "How long?" he asked.

"What do you mean, how long?" Darian interrupted. His voice revealed his growing concern. The glint in his eyes was unsettled. "What are you people talking about?"

"Oh my," Wansor stammered, looking back and forth between Benden and the Cygnan.

"That's fine, Starmaster," the Masterhealer comforted his friend, "I'll finish." The little smith sat down gratefully, nearly draining his goblet in a large gulp.

"Thought processes," the healer explained to his spellbound audience, "are instantaneous. That's why your dragon can have you between almost before you've finished the thought, or before you've felt the first sting of a Threadscore. However, thought waves are not. To the best of our knowledge, thought waves travel at approximately the speed of light, maybe a bit faster, maybe a bit slower, but not much."

"So?" Darian demanded in exasperation.

Oldive grimaced, drawing his lips into a tight line. With a resigned sigh, he finished the briefing. "We believe Kelth tried to communicate with you and failed. That's when Astaroth heard whatever he heard. Such an effort would have been nearly instantaneous. The second time, Kelth projected a dimensional door to the origin of the thought waves he was receiving, drawing the four of you between. The problem, Darian, is that Cygnus IV was two hundred and eight light years from Pern when AIVAS was programmed. "By Wansor's computations, Cygnus is still at least one hundred ninety light years away, probably more. Astaroth's thoughts, or yours, whichever Kelth picked up, had to cross that distance to get here."