DragonStorm Ch. 06

'Barnath asks if it's safe for the Weyrleader to join us.'

'How should I know?' T'marek replied. 'He's the healer.' "Darian," he shouted, "G'dened wants to know if it's safe to join us."

"Probably," the avion yelled back. He noticed a great bronze head turning toward him.

'Shall I tell Barnath?'

'Go ahead, big guy. Thank you.'

Clarinath relayed the message to the Istan bronze, then eased to a landing. He lowered his neck to let his passengers slide off easily.

Darian and T'marek quickly carried the bronzerider into the weyr. Selana was waiting for them. She'd prepared the chamber well. Rows of medicinal herbs and other supplies and equipment covered the table and shelving. Several glasses, mugs and pitchers were already in evidence.

The bed had been freshly made, a pile of furs beside it. V'line was placed directly on the rush mattress. He smiled weakly while the journeyman deftly removed his riding clothes. "This is embarrassing. Not how I'd hoped to meet you again." His voice was low and weak.

"You be quiet," she smiled. "You're going to be fine. We'll take care of you. Now, get under these furs." She eased his tunic off then lay him on his back, slightly inclined.

Gently pushing him further into the bed, she pulled two of the heavy pelts across him. She lifted a quizzical eyebrow at his odd smile. "Something wrong?"

"Figures," he chuckled, fighting back a wracking cough. "I finally get you into bed and I'm too sick to do anything about it."

Selana slapped his hand lightly. "You're feeling better already. Behave yourself, bronzerider." She leaned over, kissing his cheek.

"How'd we do on the broad spectrums?" Darian asked, walking up beside her and grinning at V'line.

"We're fine. A bit short on antitussives. Plenty of tea. Imala said she'd lay in an extra supply of redfruit juice."

"Good. Nice job." He patted her shoulder.

Giving the rider's hand a squeeze Selana rose and walked to the far shelf. Darian followed. "Did you find the causative?" she asked.

"Zurbin is fairly sure its bacterial. I agree. If he is still contagious it's minimal. I think we'll go with a quarantine anyway. The fewer visitors he has the better he'll rest. Our climate's got to help. Reaches was brutal."

"So I hear. Do you think we'll need anything else?"

The masterhealer nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah. Keep some fellis on hand. He's got a lot of fluid in his lungs. If it gets much worse, we may want to tube him."

"I'll see to it. Do we need to monitor around the clock?"

"For the first few days. I want to be sure he's good and stable."

"I'll take the first turn. If you'll take the overnight, I can have a rotation ready by morning. Rubia volunteered to help. You okay with that?"

"You know her better than I do. What do you think?"

Selana shrugged. "Well, she's not at apprentice level yet, but she's interested and she's learning. I think she'll be okay."

"Then work her into the rotation. We aren't exactly up to our head knobs in healers around here. Elysina can probably help, too."

"Yes. She's learning fast. Gonna be a good healer someday, if she can find the time. Maybe we should suggest her to Masterhealer Oldive."

"What is it with the queenriders in this Weyr? Every one of you except Remara has some kind of healer training."

"Just seems to go with being queenriders. Several of the other Weyrs have the same situation. Maybe we're just more sensitive to injured riders."

"Could be. Makes a lot of sense, really. Well, keep an eye on him. I need to talk to G'dened." Leaving his wife, the avion walked to the weyr entrance. He'd heard the Weyrleader's entrance. By the time he finished answering the Istan's questions, V'line was sleeping soundly.

"Alright," G'dened allowed. "Keep me up to date. How's T'bor?"

"Looked healthy enough but he's really short-handed. With V'line here, he's down to six healthy wingleaders. He was wondering if you might be able to spare some riders, maybe a brown or bronze or two?"

"Hmmm. I'll give it some thought. We should be able to come up with something." The Weyrleader had started to leave when he turned back to the avion. He had an amused frown on his face. "Nice try, Darian."

"Huh?"

"I'm not transferring R'travil."

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

Remember long the tribute song

of heroes gone between.

Be brave, my love, and tremble not

to hear the dragons keen.

9th Pass -- Year 27 - April

(Southeast of Fort Hold, April 2nd)

Chaos reigned. Shouts, curses and screams sounded on all sides of the supply train. Clashing blades and whistling arrows added a lethal accompaniment to the chorus.

Sweep riders had spotted the raiders closing on the column. A timely warning allowed the travelers to defend themselves. If their preparedness surprised the attackers, there was no evidence of it. The assault continued. One of the young dragonriders, noting the number of raiders and the size of the supply train, had requested that healers be sent. He was unaware that the train carried medical supplies bound for the Healer Hall. Three journeymen and several apprentices were already on hand. However, most of them were currently engaged in a far different craft.

Annipur, senior journeyman healer with the train, knew he had his hands full. Although the attack was being met effectively, there were already a sizable number of injured, some of them serious. Flesh wounds, lacerations and fractures could be handled on the spot. He was going to need help with the more severe injuries.

He heard rather than saw the arrival of fighting dragons. Their bugling cries distracted many of the combatants. Anyone who looked closely would have seen two riders on each beast. The wing was bringing in armed holders from Ruatha River. It was the huge golden dragon that he saw first. He wasn't sure but he thought a second dragon was riding her back. Groans from an injured train attendant called him to more immediate duties.

Had the journeyman continued to watch he'd have seen a winged blur streaking towards him. The creature flashed above the train once, electing to land near the busily engaged healer. One dragon went into a circling pattern while the queen backwinged to the ground. Her rider dismounted immediately.

A passing shadow made the healer look up. His eyes widened at the vision of a winged man settling in front of him. The riding vest relaxed him slightly. Ista Weyr's emblem said the being was a friend, and only one man on Pern could wear the crest of a black dragon. This had to be Darian.

"Darian, Masterhealer, Ista Weyr," the new arrival confirmed. He stepped forward, gazing at the injured holder. The attending physician frowned, returning his attention to his patient.

"Annipur, journeyman, Healer Hall. Welcome, Masterhealer. We can use your help." He glanced to his side as the goldrider stepped up.

"Selana, journeyman, Ista Weyr," she informed him.

"And rider of queen Scylenth," he smiled. "Honored to meet you, Lady Selana."

Cutting a hissing path through the air, a stray arrow buried itself in the ground at the queenrider's feet.

Darian glared at it angrily. "That's too fardling close," he snapped. The avion sought out the circling black dragon. 'Astaroth. Code One. That's enough of this nonsense.'

'About time.'

The black's path altered, his glide becoming steeper. The mighty head turned from side to side as he surveyed the battle zone. Folding his wings, the Cygnan animal dove.

Selana watched open-mouthed. Her gasp caught Annipur's attention. Following her line of sight, he saw the plunging beast pull out of its plummet just above the ground. A blinding stream of flame erupted, splashing across the terrain like a blazing flood. A mix of screams and shouts answered the display.

Above the black, Darian saw another and then a third wing of dragons appear, each carrying a second rider. The tide of this battle was about to turn decisively. A derisive snicker escaped him. No direct intervention, huh? N'ton had a curious interpretation of that restriction.

"Better get Scylenth out of here," the avion warned his wife. "G'dened'll lay lizard eggs if he finds out you brought her into a battle zone."

"She's my queen," Selana protested. "I wouldn't put her in danger."

"What do you call this?" he frowned. "Annipur, do we need Selana here?"

The journeyman glanced carefully about. It was obvious he was going to need her badly, but he understood the inference in the masterhealer's tone. "I don't think so, masterhealer," he prevaricated. "There's a dozen healers in this train."

"Good enough. Take Scylenth and go home, Selana."

The journeyman stared at him, setting her jaw in a hard line. "I'm not leaving you here! You're going to need help. There are a lot of injured people here. I'm going to stay! "

Darian glared at her. "You're going to do what you're told, journeyman! Take your queen and go home, now!"

"Darian! You can't order me and Scylenth around like that." The queenrider's voice carried both indignation and hurt. She didn't understand why he would chase her away.

The Cygnan had no time to argue. His eyes narrowed, staring furiously at his mate. Their focus quickly shifted to the golden dragon. He sent a powerful order. 'Scylenth. Collect your wherry-brained rider and get her out of here. You are both in danger.'

'She is not wherry-brained,' the dragon answered. 'You are being unkind.'

'She is in danger here. Will you allow your rider to be hurt?'

'Of course not. I will take her back.' The queen sounded a firm bugle, pointedly extending her foreleg. Her rider looked over her shoulder at her in surprise.

'What are you doing, Scylenth?'

'We must leave. You are in danger here.'

'So is he. I can't leave him here alone. He needs our help.'

'He is not alone. There are many dragons here to help. Astaroth is here. We must leave. The Weyrleader will be very angry.'

The queenrider looked from her dragon to her husband. Her reluctance and indecision were obvious. She didn't want to put her queen in jeopardy, but neither did she wish to leave her husband in such a position. "Darian, I don't want to... "

'Scylenth!' he snapped. 'Get her out of here! Or do you want Astaroth to motivate you?'

The queen's impatient bellow told Selana it was time to leave. She bit her lower lip and walked to the gold. After a moment's hesitation she mounted the leg and jumped to the soft neck. Scylenth launched them, gaining only the minimum altitude required before taking them between.

"Did you bring any analgesics?" Annipur asked, staring after the departed queen. "I'm not sure which of the pack beasts has ours."

"Right here," the masterhealer indicated, unslinging a pack from his shoulder. He knelt in the rocky path, opening the satchel and finding the ground root.

The journeyman accepted it gratefully. "Stubborn, isn't she?" he noted.

"And proud, and worried," Darian added. He'd hated sending her away, but he didn't want her in a combat zone. Nor did he want to confront their Weyrleader over taking a queen into such a place. He was a lot more comfortable with the dragon safely back at Ista.

As the battle receded the healers set up a makeshift field hospital. Although equipment was limited, they had no lack of supplies. Casualties began to arrive, mostly sword and arrow wounds. Healers attached to the supply train returned, exchanging their weapons for more appropriate equipment. Darian soon found himself directing a staff of two journeymen and nine apprentices. Another journeyman lay among the patients.

He was examining a grisly knife wound when three dragons landed nearby. Although the Cygnan didn't rise from his work, he recognized the approaching voices. N'ton and K'trin he expected. Groghe and Jaxom were mildly surprising.

"... not going to stand for this foolishness anymore!" the First Holder was stating vehemently. Outrage flavored his words.

"We caught them flat. It may be quite some time before they try again."

"Could be," Jaxom agreed. "There weren't many that got away. This is a clever tactic. Too bad we can't rely on it."

"And why can't we?" Groghe demanded.

"We'll find it unusual to have this many dragons available," N'ton replied. "If there'd been Fall, exercises, any number of other things, we couldn't have pulled three wings together. Besides, this is as close to direct intervention as we can get without fighting."

"Humph!" the Fort Holder snorted. "Can't say I want the Weyr interfering in hold matters, but this wasn't interference. Couldn't have done this without your help. Saved a lot of lives and a lot of supplies. Good tactic. Very good."

K'trin allowed a sarcastic laugh. "I agree, Lord Groghe. Now, that - that's intervention!" He pointed upward. The foursome followed his finger, spotting the slowly circling black dragon.

N'ton groaned. "Yeah, that's intervention. I'm not so sure we want a repeat of that."

"You going to stop him?" Jaxom asked.

The Fort wingleader was frankly puzzled. He came to a halt, stopping the others. They turned to see a grim frown. "With respect, N'ton, why would you want to? That animal can take out an army with no risk to himself or any holders or dragonfolk. He's unstoppable."

"He's also uncontrollable," the Weyrleader replied. "I agree, K'trin. He's quite a fighter. What worries me is the chance he'll make a mistake. What do we do if he misjudges a raid and attacks the holders?"

"Don't know as it isn't worth the risk," Groghe sneezed. "Didn't Darian say they were trained in law enforcement? Seems to me they ought to be able to tell the difference. Made a mess out of these raiders."

"It's a moot point anyhow," Jaxom frowned. "Face it, N'ton. We couldn't stop him if we tried. I hope we never have to."

The Ruathan Lord looked to one of the carts in the train, seeing the masterhealer treating a young holder. He recognized the man as one of his own, from Ruatha River Hold. He walked over to them. "How's the arm, Turlon?"

"I'm fine, Lord Jaxom," the youngster grinned. "It looks worse than it is. Thank you for coming so fast. We sure taught them a lesson today."

"That we did," the Lord Holder smiled.

He watched Darian deftly tie a dressing into place over the wound. The masterhealer checked the bandaging, then addressed his patient.

"It's not that bad, but it's going to hurt. Once the numbweed wears off you'll know these sutures are here. You may want a little whitethorn for a day or two." He stood up, turning to meet the quartet. "Good afternoon, I think."

N'ton shrugged. "Why not? Could've been a lot worse. What brings you here, masterhealer?"

"Scylenth heard your sweeprider call for healers. She brought me and Astaroth."

He noticed the look of surprise and fear in the bronzerider's eyes.

"You didn't bring a queen into a combat zone, did you?"

"Of course not," the avion hissed. "She just brought us over. They're back at Ista." Darian watched relief color the Weyrleader's face, also noticing the dubious frown on both Jaxom and K'trin.

"I'll bet Selana just loved leaving you here," the Ruathan said.

"She wasn't real happy," he replied.

"Well, I'm glad you came," Groghe asserted. "Good to have good help. Need more of it. Do you want my Hold healers out here?"

Darian shook his head. "Thank you, Lord Groghe, but I don't think so. Your healers will have more than enough to do when these people start showing up at the Hold. We've got plenty of apprentices and journeymen here."

N'ton looked around, grimacing at the carnage. There were wounded and injured men everywhere. Every healer was fully occupied. Supplies and equipment were scattered about. "How many wounded do you have?" he asked.

"About forty, including the raiders they brought in. Six fatalities so far, all raiders."

"Arrows and swords?" K'trin inquired.

"Mostly," the Cygnan confirmed. "Except the fatalities. Four of the six are burns."

N'ton cursed under his breath.

Jaxom regarded the avion with a frown. "Not much for taking prisoners, is he?"

"Why should he be? They aren't."

"When he gets like that even Ruth is afraid of him."

"I'm sorry. He likes Ruth. He wouldn't want to frighten him."

"We need you to control him," the Fort leader said. "Even though he isn't Pernese, he is a dragon. We can't allow dragons to kill."

"No, dragons can't be allowed to kill," Darian repeated. "Only humans have that privilege."

N'ton looked up sharply. The retort stung him. He was surprised by the intensity in the masterhealer's face. "Don't take it personally. It wasn't meant that way. We just need to be careful about what any dragon does when we cross from Weyr to hold matters."

"It is personal, Weyrleader, for both of us."

N'ton frowned. The Cygnan was here to help. They needed and appreciated his efforts. He had no desire to create a confrontation. He just didn't understand the intensity of the alien's feelings. "I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to offend you."

"You didn't," Darian answered evenly. "N'ton, you had nothing to do with this. Astaroth considered Ledeth a friend. He doesn't make many. He holds all raiders responsible for his death."

"I can understand that," the bronzerider allowed, "but he can't just kill anyone who looks like a raider. Revenge is a dangerous thing."

"Astaroth is a dangerous animal. And he doesn't just kill anyone. Believe me, he's careful. He's not going to make the mistake you're so worried about."

"I hope not. I'd feel a lot better if you'd control him, though."

Darian laughed bitterly. He turned a grim smile on the Weyrleader. "I can't control him when he's in this mood. Besides, until I get the bastard who killed N'rad, there's a death sentence on every raider on this planet. If Astaroth doesn't carry it out, I will."

"Seems a strange attitude for a healer," Jaxom interjected quietly. Darian looked at him thoughtfully.

"Maybe. Then again, if we had fewer raiders, healers would have fewer patients."

A loud voice called from down the train. "Masterhealer! We need you here!"

Darian excused himself. He moved off at a trot, quickly answering the summons.

Two apprentices were working on a stocky man. Their patient's face was drawn, paled to a light blue gray. Foamy blood trickled from his mouth and dark blood bubbled from the man's jacket. They were struggling to cut the hide off him.

"Looks like the bolt got his lung," one of the healer's offered, acknowledging the avion's arrival. The shaft of a crossbow bolt extended from his jacket.

Listening to the gurgling breathing, the Cygnan nodded. "Could be. Get that jacket off and let's get a better look."

Pulling the hide away the young healers opened the man's shirt. Darian moved in, taking a quick look at the wound. Blood erupted around an arrow in the left side of the rib cage between the second and third ribs. A whistling sound around the shaft manifested itself.

"Punctured lung, no doubt," he confirmed. Standing up and backing away he instructed the apprentices. "Pressure bandages and a rib wrap. Leave the bolt. We can't do anything with this here." He faced the direction from which he had just come. "N'ton, K'trin, over here!"

The dragonriders came at a full run. Both looked down at the gasping man.

"We've got to take him to the Healer Hall. Could one of you go back and ask Oldive to set up a surgical theater. Also, tell Kimmel we may need that vascular pump."

"Okay," N'ton replied. "K'trin, head on back. I'll take care of Lord Groghe."

"Do you want me to come back for him," the brownrider asked.

"No," Darian replied. "Can't take him between. Astaroth will fly him straight."

"Any idea of who he is?" the Weyrleader wondered.

"One of the raiders," an apprentice responded.

The Fort riders watched Darian stiffen. His eyes closed, lip curling back to reveal the fangs. A low hiss issued between his teeth. N'ton saw the slender fingers close tightly on the masterhealer's belt.