DragonForce Ch. 06

The avion turned on the Weyrleader, irritation flashing in his eyes and an immediate hardness in the set of his jaw. "No, I can't." He knew it wasn't the answer the riders wanted, but it was the only one he was willing to give or that they would believe.

"I have to admit," N'ton interjected, "that K'trin gave him plenty of provocation." The Fort leader thought about his statement then grudgingly added, "I don't think I can blame him."

T'gellan regarded his fellow Weyrleader with mild surprise. He knew N'ton to be reflective and tolerant but this degree of objectivity was a bit unexpected. Beyond him he could see Lessa's glare of shocked disbelief. Mirrim's face was just as expressive but more difficult to read. "No, I don't suppose I can either," he allowed. "Sorry I brought it up."

Darian grimaced, stifling a yawn. He reached up to rub his eyes. "Masterherder," he inquired, "how soon can you get a subject animal here?"

"I'm not sure," Briaret replied, thinking of where he would get a runner beast for medical purposes.

"Will a herdbeast do?" T'gellan asked, glancing from Briaret to the two healers.

Darian looked at Oldive who lifted his eyebrows, frowning.

"Why not," the Masterhealer allowed. "It's the same basic physiology."

"Then you can have one right now," the Weyrleader told them. "We've got a pen full of them in the Weyr bowl."

"Tomorrow will do," the avion inserted quickly, yawning again. "We'll need enough light to see exactly what we're doing. We can start at dawn."

"Is it safe to wait that long?" N'ton asked nervously.

"All factors remaining the same," Oldive reassured him, "he'll be safe for two or three days. We still have another vial of anti-venin. That will hold us through tomorrow."

"If you don't mind," Darian requested, "I'd like to see Selana now."

At the far end of the room, the Benden wingsecond stood up, gaining everyone's attention. "She's in her quarters," he said. "I'll take you to her."

"She's asleep now, which is what she needs," Mirrim contradicted the brownrider. She gazed sternly at the Cygnan. "Which is also what you need, healer. You've much to do in the morning and you'll do it better with some rest. Selana will be here tomorrow."

T'gellan was staring at his mate. F'nor and F'lar watched with curiosity while Lessa wore a disapproving frown. Jaxom, too, seemed taken off guard.

"Very well, Lady Mirrim," Darian acquiesced. "I suppose a bit of sleep would help. Would you excuse me?"

The Weyrleader acknowledged his bow with a puzzled nod, still gazing at his mate. She was up to something, but he hadn't the faintest idea of what.

Darian knew something wasn't quite right. At the moment he was too tired to care. The greenrider was right about one thing. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. He left the council room and started for his weyr.

No sooner had the avion's footfalls faded than F'nor turned. There was no anger in his eyes but a burning curiosity. "Mirrim, Selana isn't asleep. She's been sitting on that bench staring for hours. We can't get her to move."

The young woman rose to her feet taking the wingsecond by the hand. In a slightly condescending tone she ordered, "Come with me, F'nor of Benden, and I'll show you a different kind of medicine." She smiled at him around her bruised cheek and stitched lip.

The pair walked from the chamber, followed by six pairs of inquisitive eyes. F'nor strode quickly beside the woman, his puzzlement deepening. "Just what are you up to?"

The greenrider turned a cherubic face up at her companion. Her voice was innocent enough but a devious light danced in her eyes. "Selana isn't hurt, she's just scared. Right now, she's worried and feeling sorry for herself and guilty about everything. I'm going to give her something else to think about."

F'nor said nothing, adopting a wait and see attitude. They reached the healer's rooms quickly, so he didn't have to wait long.

The quarters had been straightened, the curtains rehung. Little evidence remained of the afternoon's struggle. Even the blood stains had been scrubbed clean.

Selana was seated at the table, staring at the far wall. A small cloth was twisted in her hands and her eyes showed the radiating red lines of prolonged stress. She gave no reaction as the pair entered.

Mirrim sat down beside her, sliding a comforting arm around slumped shoulders. "Selana, it's late. You need to get some rest." Slowly, the distraught woman turned her head to look at her companion. Mirrim smiled, disguising her irritation with the unresponsive expression. "It's going to be alright. You'll feel much better tomorrow."

The female rider stood up, moving to a position behind the healer. Her fingers closed around the unresisting shoulders. Mirrim pulled, bringing Selana to her feet. She guided her around the bench and toward the bed.

"Get some sleep now," she purred. Easing her friend into a prone position, she pulled one of the light furs across her. Blank eyes stared back at the solicitous woman, but still there was little or no reaction. The bloodshot orbs closed.

"F'nor and I will stay for a while. You need to sleep. Darian is sleeping, too. Brekke will take care of him."

The healer stirred minutely. Her eyelids lifted slightly. "Darian?" she mumbled. "Brekke?" A moment later her eyes snapped wide. "Brekke!" she exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. In less than a second, she was on her feet and moving toward the chamber entrance. Incensed eyes burned into the brownrider as Selana shot past him. "Why can't you control that woman?" she cried furiously.

F'nor stared dumbfounded after the departing healer. He turned back to the greenrider with an incredulous regard. "Mirrim, Brekke's still at Benden!"

A devilish giggle bubbled from the woman. "I know that. You know that. She doesn't know that."

Selana charged through the Weyr tunnel, bursting in on the Cygnan. He was kneeling beside the pile of furs holding Loki when she demanded, "Alright, where is she? What are you doing with my cousin?"

Darian stood up, turning to face the healer. "Where is who?"

"You know very well who," Selana screamed. "I know Brekke is here. She's taking care of you. I know how she'll take care of you. If you need taking care of, I'll do it. Understand? Me!"

The avion stared at her. The woman had gone through a difficult day, but this hysteria was surprising. Even Astaroth's snort from the outer weyr failed to dissipate her fury.

"I know how pretty Brekke is, and I know what you dragonmen are like, all of you! You're not fooling me! I want her out of here, now!" The healer's face was flushed, her eyes watering.

"What are you talking about?" Darian asked again. "Who is Brekke?"

"You know who Brekke is! Everyone knows who Brekke is! Mirrim told me she was here with you! I want her out!"

The winged healer stood silently, gazing at the fuming girl. He thought about what she was saying, about what T'marek had recently told him. He reached up to scratch his eyebrow. His head tilted as he repeated, "Mirrim told you?"

"Yes, Mirrim told me," Selana snapped. "Mirrim told me everything I need to know. She said Brekke was taking care of you. I know you. I know all you dragonmen! If you need that kind of taking care of, I'll do it! Brekke belongs to F'nor. You leave her alone. You're mine, understand? I want her out of here! It's a good thing Mirrim warned me! Mirrim said..." The healer's tirade stopped abruptly, her eyes widening, an expression of shock and horror dawning on her. Locking eyes with the avion, she gasped, "Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes!" Darian chuckled. He continued to stare at her, a thoroughly amused smirk on his face.

"Oh, shells!" the Weyrhealer cried. She sat down hard on the table bench, staring sightlessly at the wall. "Oh, I've done it again. I've made a total fool of myself." The avion started laughing, unable to resist his companion's contrite dismay. She peered up at him uncertainly, her anger dissolved in embarrassment and remorse. "Please don't laugh at me, Darian," she pleaded. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

He walked to the table, sitting down beside her. His left arm slid around her shoulders, his right hand lifting her chin so that he could see into her eyes. The warmth of his affectionate smile eased her discomfort. A sheepish grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he told her.

Averting her eyes, she tried vainly to pull away from him. "I'm such an idiot," she complained weakly. Again, he laughed. She turned back to him, eyes flashing. Before she could mouth her retort, however, his finger was on her lips. She could see the merriment dancing in those fascinating vertical orbs.

"I love you, too, Selana," he reassured her. "And I'll always be here, whenever you want me, wherever you are." The shock on her features was predictable but he enjoyed it. Standing, he gently pulled her upright. The purpose of his slow back-peddling was obvious, but she didn't resist.

Reaching the bed, Darian eased Selana down. He looked deep into her eyes, a loving smile lighting his face. Tilting her head forward, he kissed her hair. His lips slid to her forehead, her eyes, then her lips. This time he didn't just hold her. She responded whole-heartedly as his passion overwhelmed them.

In the outer weyr, an irritated dragon roused himself. Astaroth moved to the ledge, launching himself into the night sky. In answer to Akira's question he snapped, 'He never listens to me.'

'What did you want him to do?' the snake inquired.

'He should've eaten her.'

Eastern Weyr

(Next day, January 3rd)

Oldive eased the syringe out of the rider's muscular flank. A contemplative frown darkened his face. Half of the fourth vial of anti-venin remained, but the masterhealer was beginning to doubt the wisdom of using it. "Darian, are you certain Akira delivered a lethal dose?"

Across the infirmary, three heads swiveled: one male, one female and one serpentine. Two wore expressions of surprise, the third a less recognizable look of irritation.

"He said he did," the avion replied, "but I'm a bit surprised by the slow onset of major respiratory complications. He should've been in real trouble by now."

'Maybe I should've hit him twice,' a sarcastic thought intruded.

Darian looked down, a disapproving frown on his face. Soundlessly he told the snake to save such comments. The dragonrider had been stopped. That was enough.

"Do you think it has something to do with the blood's specific gravity?"

The Masterhealer gazed thoughtfully at Selana, considering her question. Certainly, the difference in Cygnan and Pernese blood chemistry would affect the relative toxicity of the venom, but in which direction? "Explain yourself," he requested.

The Weyrhealer pointed at the syringe on the counter. She picked up a tablet with notes and inclined it for her colleagues to see. "The blood tests on Darian showed his blood has a higher specific gravity. If that's so, then venom developed as a defense or offense against Cygnan lifeforms would travel faster in a Pernese lymphatic system or blood stream. It would also be eliminated faster and absorbed less efficiently."

Oldive and the avion exchanged glances. The concept was not only logical, it was probable. According to experience, bites from the reptile were usually fatal in twelve to twenty-four hours. The brownrider had been bitten more than eighteen hours ago, and he seemed to be growing stronger.

"I wonder if the ionizing factions are less effective in boron-silicate fortified cells than calcium-sodium structures?" Darian postulated.

"Possible," the masterhealer conceded, "but it will take time to verify. The more immediate concern is making sure he recovers." He eased his patient onto his back, avoiding contact with the splinted limbs. K'trin opened his eyes and looked at the healer. There was no indication that he recognized anyone, but Oldive observed with great satisfaction the contraction of the man's pupils in the bright light coming through the outer infirmary opening. "Pupils are responsive," he reported. "Neurologic catatonia seems to be subsiding."

The avion reached for a small beaker. Amber fluid lay thickly in the base, less than half an inch deep. For their purposes, it was enough. "I'm going to the herd pens," Darian announced. "We need to develop this anti-venin anyhow. If it works, maybe we can use the same technique to work on an antidote to your tunnel snakes." He glanced at the Masterhealer, who indicated agreement.

Akira slid toward the tunnel entrance, his function completed. It was time to go hunting. Tunnel snakes sounded good.

The Cygnan watched his teammate glide away then turned to his female companion. "You coming, Sel?"

Selana nodded, stepping away from the equipment counter. As she turned, the Masterhealer noticed a small bandage on the left side of her throat, just above the collarbone.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he inquired.

The woman looked at him vacantly, then reached up to gently touch the covering. "Oh, this," she said evasively. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."

Oldive shrugged, turning back to his examination of the dragonman. The journeyman's ambiguous reply was normal, but he wondered why Darian was grinning.

The couple walked through the outer infirmary to the dragon entrance. As they reached the ledge, Selana realized the Cygnan's intentions and came to a halt. "I'll meet you down there," she said, reversing direction.

"No, you won't," came the immediate rebuttal. Darian scooped her into his arms and leapt into the air. She gasped as his wings snapped open, holding with startled strength to her airborne fellow.

"What are you doing?" she cried. "I can't fly!"

"I can," he chuckled. "This is quicker than walking." Gliding across the Weyr, he angled toward the herdbeast enclosure. The Masterherder could be seen with the animal he had separated from the main drove. A small woman was standing beside him. She appeared to be the only person in the Weyr to see the flying pair, waving as they approached. Darian backwinged to a soft landing beside the greenrider. He lowered the healer to her feet, smiling cheerfully at the other woman. "Morning, Mirrim."

The woman smiled cordially, raising an eyebrow in silent salutation to the Weyrhealer. As the avion moved directly to Briaret's side, she disclosed, "We waited for you last night, but you never came back. What happened?"

Selana blushed bright red, saying nothing. Her eyes flashed at her devious companion, but she had to restrain the impulse to giggle.

Darian and Briaret were already preparing the injection for the herdbeast. The left front hoof had been stained a dark blue, making identification simple. The masterherder cradled the trusting head while the needle sank into its hip. The serum entered quickly, and the hypodermic was removed. "Three days," the avion announced, "and we can draw some blood for testing."

Briaret looked up sharply, surprised by the timeframe. "Can we wait that long?" he asked. "I didn't think K'trin could last seventy-two hours."

"He's doing well. We think he'll recover."

The masterherder regarded the winged healer thoughtfully. Apparently, all three physicians had made a misjudgment, either about the snake's lethality or about the rider's resilience. In either case, why inoculate the poor herdbeast? "I'm pleased the rider is doing well, but, if you don't need more anti-venin, why are we doing this?"

Darian grimaced. The question was a legitimate one, and he didn't care for the answer he was going to have to give. "I can't promise this won't happen again. Akira doesn't bite often, but he will defend himself and anyone else he thinks is endangered. Not everyone here is as strong as K'trin."

Briaret laughed thinly. The response had the ring of bitter truth in it, from both ends of the spectrum. Snakes were not inclined to good behavior, and livestock was more at risk than humans. The serum would likely be useful. It would be even more helpful, he mused, if the troublesome brownrider had learned something. "Could this technique be used to develop a serum for tunnelsnake bites?"

Nodding affirmation, Darian stroked the passive animal's back. It rewarded him with a gentle lowing sound, turning its head to gaze at him. He moved his hand to the muzzle, giving the nose an affectionate pat.

"Will you have all the equipment you'll need to make your anti-venoms?" the Masterherder asked. His weathered hands physically redirected the herdbeast's head, pointing it back to the others. With a slap to the rump, the beast moved off.

"I think so. We really only need a centrifuge for most of the work. The machine Fandarel designed for the Masterhealer works on the same principle."

The two females had remained in the background, watching and listening but carrying on their own conversation. Actually, it was closer to an interrogation, with the healer making detailed inquiries about the rider's health. Several minutes passed before they realized the men were quietly grinning at them.

"Interesting pair, aren't they?" Darian smirked. Briaret chuckled lightly as he agreed.

Selana glanced up. "I'm only doing my job," she protested mildly. "Besides, look at you. A healer and masterherder seem a strange combination."

"Oh, I don't know," the Cygnan countered, "especially with you here."

Briaret and Mirrim aimed a curious look at him while Selana retorted, "What do you mean?"

"Well, he is an animal husbandry expert." A deep rumbling laugh escaped the herder. Selana flushed crimson, her mouth falling open. "By the way," Darian added, speaking to the greenrider. "Who is Brekke?"

The journeyman's eyes flashed furiously as Mirrim convulsed with laughter.