Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 43. The Hunt is On

The greenery surrounding the two lakes had long since given way to more barren terrain. Volcanic ash from an eruption had spread over a wide area. From the air, everything appeared dry and dead. Mounds of reddish coloured sand were chaotically strewn with larger, jagged boulders. Slabs tilted at every angle, as if hurled carelessly by gigantic forces. A landscape of tortured rock showed where lava had once flowed, then solidified. Above it, a heat haze distorted the air. As they flew further south, it became clear they had entered an area where those same volcanic forces were still active. Wisps of smoke rose up from craters in the ground, with a smell reminiscent of rotting eggs.

I do not like this place, Herebeth said, having to correct his course yet again due to the thermals above the badlands. How much further must we fly?

I’m not sure. We are searching for Folath, Riylonth and Ryth. They are out here somewhere. As all the others did, he scanned the horizon for the sight of three bronze dragons. They wouldn’t stop somewhere like this, that’s for sure.

I can ask Folath where they are.

No, don’t do that. We don’t want him to know we are coming. It’s a surprise. D’gar took a drink of water from his flask, glad that he’d brought it. Glad too that he’d worn wherhide. Although the sun was warm, the air around them felt chilly. He realised they were probably at a higher altitude than the Benden peaks by now, although the ascent had been gradual. Up ahead, the cone of a volcano rose higher than the surrounding terrain. If it had been extinct, it would make a superb Weyr, but the smoke that issued from the top and from multiple vents around the sides showed that was far from being the case. Maybe it was the mountain that had created all of this desolation?

There were splashes of colour on the slopes and plateau below; a virulent yellow clustered around several lakes of a brighter green than any dragon’s hide. The foul smell became stronger.

Ramoth has found them, Herebeth said. We follow her course. He banked slightly to the right, D’gar straining his eyes. Of course, dragons had much better eyesight than humans; it was how they managed to spot Thread even when flying through cloud. He didn’t see the dragons until they were far closer.

They’d stopped on a ridge high above the green lakes, near to the top of the mountain. The three dragons rested on a wider shelf and their riders were small specks further along the rim of the crater. D’gar wasn’t sure why they’d chosen to stop in such a place, except that the views were spectacular. It made him appreciate the vastness of Pern and certainly of this southern continent. Including their first jump between, he reckoned they must have flown almost the distance from the Weavercrafthall in Boll to Fort Hold. Even if a large part of it was as uninhabitable as this, that still left a lot of land where people could live.

F’lar signalled that they were to land. As they descended, the dragons looked up in surprise. F’drun would definitely know he had company now, as Ryth would tell him of their approach. Even if he didn’t recognise the bronze and brown dragons, Ramoth’s golden hide would be unmistakable. She was a deeper gold than Prideth and more than a tail length larger.

After they’d dismounted, F’lar beckoned them closer. ‘Remember what we agreed. Lessa and I will take the lead. Everyone else, be ready for my signal.’

Herebeth’s eyes whirled red as he saw Ryth. The bronze dragon spread his wings in threatening fashion and hissed. Those two would never be anything less than uneasy with each other.

Calm down, D’gar said. We’re not here for a fight, just a peaceful visit.

I do not like that dragon or his rider.

Herebeth’s mood transmitted across. D’gar felt almost as edgy as his dragon as he walked alongside F’nor, being careful of his footing on the rough terrain. From the air, it had looked a fairly smooth path, on the ground it was anything but. To his left, the mountainside fell away to the distant lakes. To the right, the view was obscured by steam and smoke, although the rising heat indicated they must be close to one of the many vents. He wondered how safe they were; how much warning a volcano gave before it erupted? The Teaching Ballads all said that the beginning of a Pass could be predicted by the increase in volcanic activity and earthquakes. Seas boil, mountains move, he quoted to himself. Perhaps this area had only sprung back into life as the Red Star drew closer to Pern?

F’drun and his companions had evidently seen them. They began to make their way back towards the party, F’drun raising a hand in cautious greeting. S’fyn and K’din walked either side of him. D’gar wondered what must be going through S’fyn’s mind and whether he should ask Herebeth to reassure Folath. But the machinations of humans were too complex to explain via dragons, so it was probably best to say nothing, as it would be bound to end up in worse confusion.

‘Here we go,’ F’nor said quietly as they drew still closer.

‘Good morning,’ F’lar said, casually, as if he were out for a stroll around the Weyr Bowl. ‘What a spectacular place you’ve discovered here.’

’T’bor was trying to tell us all about it, but I just had to see for myself.’ Lessa gushed with enthusiasm. ‘Have you discovered yet how far it extends.’

‘Not yet, Weyrwoman,’ F’drun said. ‘We’d just stopped to let the dragons rest for a while before flying further south.’ He spotted D’gar behind T’bor and narrowed his eyes slightly. D’gar tried not to look at S’fyn. He didn’t want to inadvertently give anything away. Herebeth’s irritation at being close to Ryth grated on his nerves, uncomfortable as a fragment of grit in your boot. His hand itched to be near his belt knife, but he willed himself to stay as outwardly calm as Lessa and F’lar.

‘What’s he doing with you?’ F’drun asked, suspicion in his voice, gesturing toward D’gar.

Lessa replied smoothly. ‘You mean D’gar? He’s our newly appointed Weyrlingmaster at Benden. We all flew south this morning to visit the Hatching Grounds, then T’bor told us of the lands you’d found. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss.’

F’drun looked to relax slightly at that. Lessa had played her part well, so far. ‘Amazing views,’ she went on, turning to take in the panorama. ‘And to think we’re probably the first people to set foot here, as well.’

Beside him, he felt F’nor shift, like a feline waiting to pounce. At almost the same time, Herebeth said, Mnementh says now.

Everything happened very fast. Lessa stepped aside. F’drun’s eyes widened as he saw the men lunge toward him. He reacted swiftly, grabbing the youngster to his left, while drawing his belt knife with his right hand. Before F’lar or T’bor could reach him, he had the knife held at S’fyn’s throat. ‘Keep back. All of you.’

‘What?’ K’din seemed stunned at the speed it had all changed.

‘Shut up,’ F’drun said to him. ‘Get them out of the way so I can pass.’

K’din seemed uncertain of whether to obey. Even though he’d been drawn in by F’drun’s plotting, it was one thing to talk about deposing a Weyrleader, quite another when it became hard reality.

‘Don’t be a fool,’ T’bor said, still in a half crouch. ‘We know what you’ve been up to, but it has to end here.’

‘If you don’t get back, then it’ll end with this lad’s blood over these rocks.’ F’drun sounded determined. ‘Ask D’gar. He knows I’ll do it.’

D’gar heard dragons scuffle in the background, but daren’t look around. He heard one yelp. At the same moment S’fyn flinched and he guessed Ryth had attacked Folath.

‘Let him go,’ Lessa said. ‘Don’t make things any worse for yourself.’

‘And then go tamely back with you to Benden? Is that what you want?’ F’drun moved his position slightly so that he could see everyone. He had the advantage of also being able to see his dragon.

What’s Ryth doing? D’gar asked Herebeth.

He has Folath by the neck. Ramoth is trying to make him release his hold, but he resists. Folath hurts.

S’fyn’s eyes were closed as he felt the pain broadcast by his dragon at the same time as he was being threatened by F’drun’s knife.

‘You won’t get away,’ Lessa said in a reasonable tone. ‘Ryth can’t outfly Ramoth.’

D’gar saw desperation flash in F’drun’s eyes. If anything happened to S’fyn, he’d never forgive himself. ‘Let the lad go,’ he said, thinking fast. He had an idea. It might work, or it might not but it was the best chance he could give S’fyn.

F’drun smiled nastily. ‘And why should I do that?’

‘He’s not done you any harm. He’s an innocent party in all this. Let him go.’ He stepped forward. ‘Take me instead, if you want a hostage.’

He saw Lessa’s expression, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. He’d only get one chance and he had to make the most of it.

‘Drop your belt knife, then,’ F’drun said. ‘Nice and slowly.’

‘D’gar…’ Lessa warned.

‘This isn’t Benden business,’ he said. ‘This is between us.’

What are you doing? Herebeth shrieked in his mind. The man is dangerous.

I know. He felt totally calm now, as calm as those times when he’d deliberately courted death during Threadfall, after S’brin died. This is all my fault and it’s up to me to put it right. Tell Rioth I’m sorry. Tell her to tell H’rek I love him. The knife slipped from his fingers, clattering against the rocks as it fell.

F’drun smiled, then shoved S’fyn away violently, toward F’lar and T’bor. They had to jump aside from him as he fell, skidding down the incline. F’nor reached out to grasp his arm before he went any further, hauling him back from the edge. D’gar registered all of this in a split second before launching himself at F’drun while he was still off balance, bringing him down. Dragons screamed. He saw the flash of a knife blade as it caught the sun and braced himself for pain. But F’drun missed, the point skidding off one of the rocks. They rolled over. D’gar felt the stones digging into his back even through thick wherhide, then they both went over the top of the escarpment, down into the smoke.

F’drun tried to stab him again. ‘You bastard,’ he grunted. They fell further, loose pebbles landsliding around them, faster and faster. At some point, F’drun lost hold of the knife. His fist caught D’gar on the side of his face. His cheek scraped against the ground. All around, foul smelling smoke whirled, the heat becoming more intense by the moment. D’gar dug his boot heels into the ground, trying to slow himself. F’drun kicked at his legs and tried to hit him a second time. D’gar managed to turn aside and heard F’drun swear as his fist crunched against rock. They rolled over until he was dizzy with it, rocks pummelling his breath away. All of a sudden, he felt empty space behind his shoulders and turned to look down.

His upper body was suspended over a precipice, F’drun on top of him. The smoke thinned, giving a dizzying glimpse of a long drop below. Up above, he saw bright blue sky for a brief moment before it was obscured again.

F’drun pushed him closer to the edge. ‘You are going to die,’ he hissed.

‘Not without you.’ D’gar didn’t know if the ground was solid enough to achieve what he wanted, but he had to try. The wrestling moves he’d practised back at Fort, with S’brin, were almost second nature. And F’drun, although taller, probably didn’t weight much more than S’brin had done. He counted in his head. One, two, three, then used his legs to propel them both over the brink. For a few moments, F’drun clung on to him. He saw the utter disbelief in the bronze rider’s eyes as he realised what D’gar had done, then he fell away into the void.

D’gar felt the world spinning around him. He had time to wonder if the impact would hurt much before it killed him. He hoped it was quick, anyway. Then something large and dark loomed above him and he felt it seize hold of his shoulders, ripping the wherhide, but holding on as tight as life.

I have you, Herebeth said. Never do that again. His wings spread out, slowing their descent, before beating strongly to take them back up through the smoke, to the ridge. Gently, he set D’gar down. He sat before he fell, his legs feeling strangely wobbly. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, uncaring of the foul-smelling air.

How did you find me?

I saw your visual. Herebeth sent him the image of blue sky and the rocky edge. I knew where you had been so I made sure I was where you would be.

He still wasn’t sure exactly how Herebeth had done it but was just grateful that he had. It was so good to be alive.

Boots crunched on rock as the others ran to join him. Lessa got there first. ‘Are you mad?’ she cried.

‘Yes, probably.’ He felt battered, as if, well, as if he’d just rolled down half of a mountain. It was amazing he’d not broken anything. He quickly checked his arms and legs, just to see if they were in one piece. Yes, everything seemed to be in the right place.

S’fyn got there next and threw his arms around D’gar. ‘You saved me!’

‘No, F’nor did that.’ As Herebeth moved aside, he saw the other dragons. Golden Ramoth, the mid-brown of Canth, the gleaming bronze of Mnementh, Orth, Riylonth. Folath, with a deep gash on his neck, oozing green ichor… ‘Where’s Ryth?’

‘He’s gone,’ Lessa said. ‘He went between.’ Her voice was sad. The loss of a dragon was never a cause to celebrate, however bad his rider had been.

D’gar shut his eyes briefly. F’drun was dead, then. The threat that had been hanging over him - over so many - was gone.

The rest arrived. F’lar looked at him and shook his head. ‘You have the luck of a Bitran,’ he said.

‘No, I have the best dragon on Pern.’ He looked up at Herebeth. ‘I couldn’t half do with a strong cup of klah right now.’

It took a few tries to get back on Herebeth where he should be, between the neck ridges. Everything was starting to hurt now, but Folath was probably worse off. There was a short discussion between T’bor and F’lar about whether he should be allowed to fly between with such a deep wound. They decided that he probably wouldn’t have the strength to fly straight all the way back to the Weyr and he couldn’t be left where he was. S’fyn wrapped his flying jacket around the wound and Lessa bound it in place with a scarf she had, to protect him as best they could against the freezing cold of between.

They arrived back at Southern Weyr in bright sunlight. D’gar had lost track of time somewhere, but figured it must be around midday. As he carefully slid down, leaning against Herebeth’s shoulder for support, he heard a familiar voice.

‘You stupid, sharding fool! I was worried sick…’ H’rek grabbed him. ‘If you didn’t already look like you’d done five rounds with a Gather boxing champion, I’d clobber you myself.’

‘How did you get here? How did you know?’

‘Rioth was going crazy. Herebeth sent her some garbled message. She thought you were going to die!’

‘She must have got it wrong. You know how dragons are.’ Keep still, he said to Herebeth, or I might fall down.

I only told Rioth what you told me to say, Herebeth protested.

I know. But that’s between us. All right?

‘I thought you said you wanted klah.’ T’bor wove his way through the dragons. ‘Come on. Up to the Weyrhall with you. Can you walk?’

‘I reckon so.’ The sand felt even heavier than usual, grabbing at his feet. He had to lean on H’rek and T’bor to make it all the way, sinking down gratefully on the nearest seat once inside.

‘Do me a favour,’ he said to H’rek. ‘Take Herebeth’s straps off. He wanted a swim while we were here.’

‘In a moment. Can you at least tell me what’s been going on?’

‘It’s a long story…’ He didn’t even know where to start; couldn’t really recall how much he’d told H’rek anyway. Then, as he searched for the words, Kylara pushed her way through the small crowd that had gathered at the entrance to the Weyrhall.

‘Where is he?’ she shrieked. ’Where’s F’drun?’ She spotted D’gar and strode toward him, her face a mask of despair and fury.

He didn’t have the strength to try and avoid her, but H’rek stood, blocking her way. ‘Calm down, Weyrwoman,’ he said respectfully but firmly. ‘D’gar’s in no fit state right now to answer your questions.’

Kylara struck out at him, but he grabbed her arm before the blow landed and held her off until T’bor got there and restrained her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘What have you done to him?’ she sobbed in anger.

D’gar struggled to his feet. ‘I’m afraid he’s dead,’ he stated simply.

As soon as the other weyrfolk heard his words, a low hum of conversation began. The Weyr gossip mill would soon be up to speed.

‘You killed him,’ she gasped. ‘Murderer! I’ll make sure you pay for this…’

‘You’ll do no such thing.’ Lessa stepped forward. ‘F’drun brought destruction on himself by his actions. My only regret is that Ryth had to die, too. Now, do as H’rek said. Calm down and try not to make too much of an exhibition of yourself.’

Kylara seemed to crumple in on herself. She clung to T’bor as if he was the only thing keeping her upright. ‘You are a cold woman, Lessa. Do you even have feelings? I loved him.’

D’gar saw the bleak expression on T’bor’s face and once again, felt desperately sad that he’d fallen for someone like Kylara. ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ he said, not entirely sure if he meant it for T’bor or for his Weyrwoman.

Kylara slowly looked around at the assembled weyrfolk. ‘What are you all staring at,’ she said, recovering some of her poise. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’ She pushed T’bor away. ‘I shall be with Prideth, if anyone cares. At least she’ll always be there for me.’ The crowd parted as she left.

F’nor handed D’gar a cup of klah. ‘This is what you wanted, isn’t it?’ He turned to H’rek. ‘Can you imagine, he’s just rolled down half a mountain, fallen off the edge and got rescued by his dragon mid-air and the first thing he asks for is a cup of klah.’

D’gar sat again, still not entirely sure if he could carry on standing. It was shock, he knew, having experienced the effects a few times before in his life.

‘You should probably see a healer,’ Lessa said. ‘Either here, or back at Benden.’

‘I’ll be fine. Nothing’s broken.’ He took a sip of the klah, thankful he was alive to be able to taste it. He patted the seat next to him, encouraging H’rek to sit down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But I did mean what I told Herebeth to tell you. I love you, H’rek.’

H’rek gently stroked the side of his face that wasn’t too badly injured, then leaned in for a kiss. ‘I love you, too,’ he said, softly.