DragonStorm Ch. 04

Ista Weyr

(Next day, January 19th)

He wouldn't have gone along with it. Cosira, however, was insistent and she could be most persuasive, especially if she was angry. With all the other difficulties, the Weyrleader didn't need his mate's antagonism. He was starting to wonder if having a fourth queen was worth the trouble.

It took a few minutes to explain the situation. Lord Jaxom listened attentively. The Ruathan's expression made it hard to tell if he was sympathetic or just amused.

The unusual and sometimes frustrating experiences of raising his white dragon had left the Lord Holder with a cynical view of dragonmen and their idiosyncrasies. The Istan leader harbored little doubt as to where Jaxom's sympathies lay.

"Will you help us?"

Jaxom nodded. He regarded both Weyrleader and Weyrwoman with a guarded expression but turned a warm smile on Selana. "Of course. I feel a sort of kinship with Darian. After all, Ruth and Astaroth are alike in one way."

"Oh?"

"They're both unique."

The bronzerider frowned. Unique wasn't the word he'd have used. Comparing Astaroth and Ruth hadn't occurred to him. The thought of any Pernese dragon being similar to the irascible black was disturbing. "If you're ready, Lord Jaxom, let's get started."

"I'll come with you," Selana offered.

"You stay here, queenrider," G'dened snapped, "with your queen."

Cosira frowned at her weyrmate's tone. "That isn't necessary, G'dened. She's only concerned about Darian."

"Enough, Cosira," he replied sharply. "You've had your way in this matter. Now, you have duties to attend to."

The willowy blonde frowned, her eyes performing a credible impression of a thunderstorm. The flush in her cheeks was not embarrassment. "Come on, Sel. Let's find some fresh air. I'll see to you later, Weyrleader!"

G'dened watched the queenriders depart. He clenched his teeth, his mouth pulling into an angry scowl. There was just too much needing done to put up with this. He looked at the patiently waiting Lord Holder. Jaxom peered back. "Let's go," the Weyrleader repeated.

Caylith had gone to feed. The Istan bronze and Ruathan white were perched on opposite sides of the ledge when their riders stepped into the morning sunlight. G'dened quickly mounted Barnath. He watched while Jaxom stood beside the smaller dragon. Beast and rider were obviously in communication.

Jaxom patted his mount on the nose, then swung up into position between the first and second neck ridges. "Ruth says he can hear Astaroth. He'll take us to him."

Ruth passed the image he'd received from the Cygnan animal. The bronze bugled his understanding, then leapt into the sky. His diminutive guide followed. As soon as they cleared the Weyr rim, the white took them between.

The Weyrleader expected to find Darian on one of the western islands. They were close, cooler and less humid than Ista itself, and the avion would have plenty of solitude there. He wasn't prepared to find himself over the Igen peninsula. The rugged mountains and winter air were both a mental and physical shock. 'What in the shell is he doing here?' G'dened demanded.

'He didn't want to be found. The islands were too obvious.'

Stretching below them were the peninsular mountains, barren and forbidding. Running from the foothills to the coast on either side of the east-west range was a narrow band of desert, as lifeless as the peaks above. It was grim country for anyone to seek refuge in. From their current altitude, it would have been nearly impossible to find anything on the ground. Fortunately, searching wasn't required. Astaroth's violent bellow revealed their quarry's presence.

'Astaroth is angry,' Ruth told his rider. 'He says the winged one is very sick.' The dragon's thoughts immediately took on an alarmed tone. 'No, Barnath, don't land! He doesn't want you here!'

The warning came too late to prevent the bronze's gliding descent. Barnath looked over his shoulder, curious about his comrade's apprehension. Ruth's concern became clear in seconds. A swath of flame created a blazing barrier in the bronze's path. Barnath back-winged sharply, spinning on his left wing to gain altitude and reverse directions.

'Astaroth,' the white called, 'don't hurt my friend! He's here to help.'

'Keep him away,' the black answered. 'Darian is very ill. The bronzerider is at fault. I don't want him here.'

The bronze pulled alongside Ruth. G'dened's face was bright red. Furiously, he called, "Stay here. I'm going back for the healer." Barnath transferred them between.

The Ruathan sighed. This wasn't an auspicious start. The Weyrleader's displeasure with Selana wouldn't be helped by Astaroth's demonstration. He'd been around the black too many times to be shocked by the display. The condescending attention his own dragon often received increased the desire to sympathize with the Cygnan beast. Some of the Pernese riders could be aggravating in their indifference and imagined superiority. G'dened wasn't really one of these, but his attitude could be grating.

'Ruth, ask Astaroth if we can land.'

The white passed the request, identifying his rider. He added that Jaxom had gained a good deal of healing knowledge from his journeyman wife.

'Then land, my little friend. He needs you.'

Ruth dropped quickly, picking a sandy area in the outcropping of rocks. Not until they were on the ground could Darian be seen, curled in a tight ball under a low ledge. Astaroth was crouched defensively above him. 'He says you can come,' Ruth told his rider.

Jaxom dropped from his dragon's neck. He ran to the prone avion, crouching to fit under the ledge. Darian gave no indication of consciousness, his eyes closed, hands clenched tightly below his knees. The Cygnan's skin was cold and clammy. His pulse was fast and weak, breathing thin and labored. The Ruathan clenched his teeth. Carefully, he pulled Darian out into the sunlight. Jaxom stripped off his riding jacket and dropped it over the avion. 'Ruth,' he commanded, 'go back to Ruatha. We need Sharra.' There was a blast of cold air from behind, and the Lord Holder was alone with a black dragon and a patient.

The bandaged right hand caught his eye. A crust of blood mixed with streaks of dirt. Using a belt knife, the whiterider cut away the cloth. The hand beneath wasn't a pleasant sight. It looked like one or more sutures had torn free. Blood oozed from the partially open wound. Discoloration around the edges made him wonder if infection had already begun. Jaxom cleaned the area around the laceration as gently and thoroughly as he could. Without clean water and new dressings, he didn't see much chance of success.

A challenging roar took him unaware. The scream was so loud he recoiled physically, losing his balance and tumbling to his side. From the corner of his eye, he saw a bronze dragon circling high above. Jaxom rolled back to his knees, seeing Astaroth raised to his hind legs and tail, neck extended and eyes glowing menacingly. The black roared again, warning the waiting beast to keep its distance.

"Astaroth!" Jaxom shouted, "They've brought a healer! Let them land!"

The black head swung downward. The Lord Holder swallowed nervously as the Cygnan beast observed him coldly. He noticed with relief that the broad wings were folding. Astaroth eased back to all four feet. 'Alright. Wave them in.'

Quickly, Jaxom jumped up. He signaled for the bronze to land, continuing to wave until the animal assumed a long glide. The Ruathan turned back to his patient, dropping to one knee. "Thank you," he said. He was reaching for the avion's wrist when his mind grabbed at him. Wide-eyed, he looked up at the black. "Did you just speak to me?"

'Of course not. You're imagining things.' The black turned his attention to the approaching dragon and riders.

Barnath landed well away from the clearing. His passengers jumped down, then started to climb the slope leading to Jaxom and Darian. The Lord Holder could see the tightness of the bronzerider long before he arrived. He was both surprised and relieved to see the healer arrive.

"What do you think," she asked, kneeling beside Jaxom. He smiled at her, placing the avion's hand in hers.

"He's cold and clammy, breathing's bad, pulse weak and rapid. Might be shock. His right hand looks like he reinjured it. Could be infected."

The Weyrhealer felt the pulse in the wrist. Reaching for the avion's face, she pulled his eyes open, peering into the pupils. "You're right. He's in shock. Let's see the hand." She took the fingers in hers, turning the hand first one way and then the other. Carefully, she laid it on the avion's chest. "Right again," she smiled at Jaxom. "Sharra's turning you into an apprentice healer. Hand me that pouch."

As the Lord Holder complied with the request, a second dragon burst into view. This time, Astaroth's roar was a greeting, not a threat. Jaxom was pleased by the white's reappearance, but mildly surprised. 'How'd you get back so fast?' he asked.

'You need her now,' Ruth answered. 'We timed it.'

'Ruth, you know you shouldn't do that. But thank you.' The Ruathan stepped quickly aside as Sharra rushed up to join them. He walked past the alert black, giving Astaroth a pat on the muzzle. "He'll be alright," he said. The black's response was a low growl.

Ruth crooned happily at the scratching of his eye ridge. It lasted for only a short time. 'I'm sorry, Ruth, but I'd better talk to G'dened. He doesn't look happy.'

'He's angry and frightened. Not for himself, for Barnath.'

'How does Barnath feel?'

'Confused. He wanted to help. He doesn't understand.'

'Well, let's see if we can help. You talk to Barnath. I'll talk to G'dened.'

'He's a good man. I like him. Why is he sad?'

Jaxom gave his dragon a pat. 'I don't know. He has a lot of problems right now.'

The Weyrleader glared at the whiterider's approach. "Why did you bring Sharra?"

"He's sicker than I could handle. I knew you were going for a healer, but I felt better knowing Sharra was coming. You're not offended, are you?"

"Of course not. I'll accept help, good help, from anyone."

Jaxom grunted acceptance and appreciation of the compliment to his wife. He looked back to see both healers bent over the injured avion. The black dragon watched them closely. He noticed the apprehension in the Weyrleader. "He's no threat to them," the Lord Holder reassured him. "He knows they're trying to help."

"So was Barnath."

"He knows that, now. Astaroth was only being defensive. Once Ruth told him why Barnath was here, everything was alright."

G'dened snorted. "Lord Jaxom, where that animal is involved, nothing is ever alright."

The Ruathan sighed. If G'dened felt that strongly, it might be time to get Astaroth out of Ista. In that case, where did they go? Back to Eastern? Maybe to Fort? That would work well, putting the masterhealer close to the crafthall. But what about Selana? Would the Weyrleader be willing to transfer his fourth queen? Ista was one of only two Weyrs with that many, Benden having five. "Would you be willing to let Darian and Astaroth transfer again?"

The bronzerider returned a sour grimace. "Darian and Astaroth can leave anytime they want. Selana and Scylenth stay."

"Somehow," Jaxom replied, "I don't think that's going to work."

"Well, if you come up with something that will, let me know. I'd like to hear something useful for a change."

They saw the Weyrhealer turn toward them, waving for their assistance. Both men started forward. G'dened took only a few steps, then stopped to look at the waiting black.

"Come on," Jaxom urged, "he isn't going to stop us."

Darian's eyes were open when they arrived. So wide open, in fact, that he couldn't see anything but a bright blur. He felt two sets of hands ease him to a sitting position. A drinking tube was pressed to his lips. The cool water felt good in his constricted throat. Swimming images started to focus, but only slightly. He could see shoulder length brown hair, barely see the glitter of green eyes. The beautiful face was very familiar but not quite right. "Selana?" he asked wearily.

"Sorry," a soft voice answered. "She's back at the Weyr. We'll have you to her shortly."

Sharra chuckled at her fellow healer, shaking her head. "He is out of it, isn't he?"

"We've got to get him back," came the answer. "He's going to need a lot of sleep."

The female healer started to stand up, only to be pulled back by a strong hand. Even weakened by shock, the avion's strength was unusual.

"Selana," he repeated, pulling her toward him, "don't leave me here." He forced his eyes to focus on the face above his. The image sharpened slightly.

"I'm not going to leave you. We're going back to Ista."

"Don't leave me, Sel."

He heard a slight cough from one of the men behind him, another low chuckle from the second woman. That soft, lovely voice came to his ears again. Pulling her hand away, she told him, "Darian, I'm not Selana. I'm Brekke. We're taking you home."

At the sound of her name, the avion pulled his hand back. "Brekke?" He tried to focus his eyes, again to no avail. Instinctively, his thoughts reached out in a different direction. 'Astaroth, what's happening?'

'Relax,' the black replied. 'They're taking care of you. And shut up. You're making a bigger fool of yourself than usual.'

'Oh.' Darian closed his eyes. If Astaroth said he was alright, maybe he could sleep a bit. He was tired.

G'dened looked down as the crystalline eyes slipped shut. He shook his head disgustedly. What a ridiculous way to waste a morning. "We're not going to have to fly him straight, are we?"

"No," Brekke replied, "we can take him between. That would be better, anyway. The sooner he's warm and asleep, the better he'll be. We need to get a lot of fluid in him, and quickly."

The Weyrleader frowned. "Then let's get him there." His eyes opened in surprise as his dragon spoke to him. 'We need to back off a bit. Astaroth is getting angry.'

"Sounds like a personal problem," the Weyrleader replied aloud.

'Yes,' his bronze agreed. 'Our personal problem. I don't want to have to deal with the black. Take it easy with Darian. Caylith is angry at both of us. If you keep this up, you're not going to be Weyrleader much longer.'

Jaxon intervened, interrupting the conversation. "Can Barnath carry you, Brekke and Sharra? I think he's small enough for Ruth to take him and me."

Ruth's head swung toward the Ruathan, nodding in the affirmative. 'I can carry him,' he reassured his rider.

"Yeah, he can carry them." G'dened replied. "At least that's something useful. You trust me with Sharra?"

The Lord Holder laughed. "No more than F'nor trusts you with Brekke. But," he appended, "I trust Sharra. Just like F'nor trusts Brekke. Let's get going."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ista Weyr

(Same day)

Cosira was pleased with her queen. Caylith had taken time from her own meal to kill a small herdbeast and bring it back to the younger queen. Scylenth was still too clumsy to be effective at hunting. In another month or two she'd be totally self-sufficient. For the moment, however, it was easier and safer to provide her meals.

Not that Caylith needed to trouble herself. There were any number of bronzes willing to be of service to Scylenth. There were an equal number of bronzeriders willing to service Selana. That troubled the Weyrwoman. Her newest queenrider wasn't a good personality match for a gold. Selana was a competent healer, a close friend, and Cosira was deeply fond of her. But the woman was craftbred, and her desperate attachment to and love for the volatile alien promised nothing but trouble.

Cosira had spent more time with Selana than with any other queenrider. She'd explained repeatedly, gently but firmly, that Scylenth would rise in fourteen to twenty months. Despite the healer's terror of the prospect, there was almost nothing that could be done to keep a bronze from flying the queen and, consequently, a bronzerider from mating with Selana. Initially, the senior rider had worried that Selana's mental anguish would inhibit the new queen's growth. Just the opposite seemed to be happening. Scylenth was growing faster than had been expected. Cosira hoped that didn't mean she would mature sexually sooner than normal. Time was the only ally the Weyrwoman had.

The small buck had just disappeared when two fat wherries were dropped in front of the ravenous dragonet. Scylenth pounced on the ungainly birds without looking at her benefactor. The older queen slipped out of the way, gliding to a landing scant yards away. She watched approvingly as her daughter gorged on the meal.

"She does have an appetite," Elysina noted, joining the other queenriders. She placed a hand on Selana's shoulder, smiling at the healer. The women enjoyed a cordial relationship, based on Scylenth having hatched from Valkryth's clutch. Elysina found the new rider a bit reserved for a queen, but likable.

Cosira appreciated the bond between the pair. It was good for Selana to share in the special sorority of goldriders. She was going to need that support. The Weyrwoman couldn't resist the irony of the thought. Elysina was completely agreeable to helping Selana seek a solution to her problem. Her motivation was probably less than altruistic. The fewer bronzes interested in Scylenth, the more interested in Valkryth. Needless to say, the more bronzeriders interested in Elysina. Cosira wondered just how Selana would react when she found the striking twenty-turn-old already had more than her eye on Darian.

"She's going to be a beauty," a fourth voice remarked. "Just like her rider. Looking forward to her first flight, Selana?"

The healer flinched. She didn't turn, not wanting to see what she knew was there. Dark-haired, slender and wiry, the wingleader was everything her husband disliked in a bronzerider and everything she feared. He was brash, aggressive, flawlessly capable and uncomfortably attractive. He possessed the subtlety and discretion of a man unaccustomed to a position of power and authority; none. "Go away, R'travil," she said quietly.

"Ah, Selana," he chuckled, "such a cold reception for someone so devoted to you." The other queenriders watched him leer at the agitated healer. "Just think of it. When Scylenth finally rises, you'll find out what it's like to be with a real man."

Elysina turned on him. "Really, R'travil?" she asked acidly. "Quarelth isn't going to chase her?"

The bronzerider smiled, brushing off the insult. "I'm curious," he revealed, "to see how her birdman reacts when she learns to fly without him."

Cosira heard the stifled sob from Selana. She made no effort to keep her from leaving. When the bronzerider moved to follow her, the Weyrwoman stepped pointedly in front of him. "Elysina, would you leave us for a moment?"

The dark-haired rider made eye contact with her leader. Nodding her understanding, she gave a proper bow and strode quickly away.

Cosira addressed the rider. "Get your claws out of Selana, R'travil, and keep them out."

Feigning indignant surprise, the bronzerider raised his eyebrow. "Why? I didn't do anything wrong. Or are you saving her for G'dened?"

Cosira's eyes flashed angrily. The level of her voice dropped, compensated for by its intensity. "Now you listen, you thready little tunnel-snake. That girl is touchy enough without your help. When Scylenth rises, you and Quarelth will have the same chance at her as every other bronze in the Weyr, including Barnath, if G'dened so chooses. Until then, stay away from Selana. Stay well away."

"And if I don't?"

"Quarelth might just become a green instead of a bronze."

R'travil glared at her, shocked and angered by the threat. "You can't do that," he retorted.

"No, I can't," Cosira agreed. "But Caylith can. And she will, if I tell her to. I might also remind you that Darian is a masterhealer, and a superb fighter. Somehow, I enjoy the thought of you as a green. I don't think it would bother him, either."