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Dragonriders of Pern series was created by Ann McCaffrey in 1967 and spans 24+ books published by Ballantine Books, Atheneum Books, Bantam Books, and Del Rey Books. Any recognizable content in this story is from Ann McCaffrey, Todd McCaffrey, Gigi McCaffrey or their representatives or inheritors. <br> Original content provided by author of this FanFiction story without monetary compensation. <br>
Threadfall - 35. Thread Damaged
R’feem informed the Wing a few days later that an emergency meeting of all the Weyrleaders had confirmed the changes in Threadfall timings was a Pern wide situation, not just affecting Fort Weyr. It lasted for almost three months, taking them up to Turn’s End, before abruptly returning to the previous pattern. During that time, D’gar experienced many unusual variations in the way Thread fell and noted the way the Weyrleader and his Wingleaders dealt with each of them. He and M’rell also continued with their training. ‘Not the best conditions to learn under,’ N’rir said. ‘But if you can cope with this, you’ll cope with anything.’
It was a snowy winter again, meaning that many of the expected Falls fell as harmless black dust. D’gar wondered how much worse the cold would be in the northernmost Weyrs, then realised they’d probably not had to ride Fall much, if at all. Fort always had Southern Boll, where it was never cold enough to freeze Thread mid-air.
P’ton had settled in well and was now seeing Rialla regularly. Sh’than, the brown rider, formerly from ‘F’ Wing, was also enjoying himself. He kept saying how much better ‘C’ Wing was. ‘How much less stuffy,’ he said.
Turn’s End passed by. More names of friends and colleagues were read out. Rina, A’kindry and I’tol, who’d survived secondment at Telgar only to die two months later.
When the time to toast the departed weyrfolk came, D’gar turned to S’brin. ‘Let’s drink to the day when this is all over.’ People would still die through illness or accident, but the deaths in Fall outnumbered all others.
They made the traditional trip to the ice lake, frozen over as always during the winter months.
As the dragons played their sliding game, D’gar fed the fire with sticks and checked the klah kettle.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ S’brin said, squatting down next to him.
‘Not another game?’ S’brin had suggested earlier they could get two dragons sliding in synchronisation and have riders try to jump from one neck to the other. D’gar had pointed out it might lead to broken necks and was called ‘boring’ by Is’ish. No one tried it, though.
‘No. This lake. I’d like to try swimming in it once it melts.’
‘It’ll still be freezing.’ D’gar remembered that from the summer trips.
‘So? It’d be good for us.’
‘Us? If you want to freeze your balls off, fair enough. I’d like to keep mine. Actually, I wouldn’t mind you keeping yours as well.’
‘It’ll be fine. Remember Zalna telling us about the Benden weyrbrats swimming in their lake all Turn around? They don’t feel the cold any more. Anyway, we need to get into regular exercise again. I’m not as fit as I used to be and you’re a bit flabby yourself.’
‘Flabby! Thanks.’
‘Well, you know what I mean. Neither of us are in as good shape as when we were weyrlings.’
It was true. ‘All right. You want to start running together again? Maybe lifting some weights?’
S’brin’s face lit up. ‘Yeah. And someone told me swimming in cold water is good for you. So let’s try that, too.’
He sounded so enthusiastic about it, D’gar couldn’t say no. ‘If we have to, we’ll do it in the weyr lake first. Then at least we can get rescued more easily. But not until it’s a bit warmer.’
‘Fair enough.’
It had been a good day out. They were lucky enough to have a couple more sevendays of cold weather, with no viable Thread falling over Ruatha or northern Fort Hold. As promised, S’brin began running again. D’gar usually went with him, while J’rud slept in a while longer. Occasionally, Herebeth and Zemianth joined them, swooping and circling above the route and even indulging in some of the aerobatics they’d loved when they were young dragons. It wasn’t as precise now they’d both reached full growth and Herebeth was so much larger, but they seemed to enjoy it.
‘Think maybe Herebeth will chase her next time?’ S’brin asked, when they stopped for a breather after a couple of circuits of the lake.
‘That’s up to him. And whether she wants him to catch her.’
‘I’m fed up of her wanting nothing but bronzes. She might like the way they can fly her a long time, but some of the riders…’ he shook his head. ‘Don’t think I’ve really enjoyed a mating flight for a while.’
‘What about Toth and M’rell?’
‘He was fine. All those tips we taught him back when we were weyrlings paid off. Zemianth wasn’t displeased either. I think it’s just a habit she’s fallen into, thinking bronzes are better.’
‘I’ll talk to Herebeth. But you know he likes Zurinth. She and Zemianth always rise fairly close together.’
‘Maybe if Zemianth was nicer to him, it’d help?’ He sounded hopeful.
‘Maybe.’
‘Right, race you to the big rock. Then we can do some lifting.’
Towards the end of first month, it was noticeable the Wingleaders were meeting with T’ron much more frequently than they usually did to discuss Threadfall tactics. R’feem wouldn’t reveal what they were about, but the Weyr rumour mill produced its own theories. The most popular - and D’gar thought the most likely - was that one or more Wings were going to be disbanded and the riders re-distributed. As was also inevitable in the Weyr, bets began to be made on which Wings were most likely to disappear.
‘I reckon T’ron would like to get rid of Z’los, so “F” Wing’s got to be a likely candidate,’ M’ta offered at dinner one evening.
‘Yes, but “F” Wing’s almost fully manned at the moment. I reckon they’re more likely to disband one of those who are well under strength. So, “B” or “H”,’ N’dru countered.
J’rud shook his head. ‘They’ll do it alphabetically, so it’s got to be “H” and “I”.’
‘Or T’ron will just stick his belt knife into a list in random fashion,’ M’rell said.
R’feem said nothing, but D’gar noticed a slight smile of amusement as the speculation continued. Maybe he knew something? Whether he did or not, he seemed quietly confident he wasn’t going to lose his own Wing.
Once the thaw came and Thread began falling in earnest again, the ranks thinned out still more. The next lot of weyrlings were still a few months off being ready. Gemalth’s clutch, D’gar knew. Twenty-five eggs had hatched. Twenty-three pairs remained, one having disappeared between in training and another killed while on delivery duties. They’d help fill some of the gaps, as would Loranth’s sixteen later in the Turn.
They were a couple of sevendays into second month when T’ron stood and made the announcement everyone had both feared and waited for. ‘After much discussion and consultation with my Wingleaders, it saddens me to have to tell you one of our existing Wings will be disbanded after the next Fall. It’s likely more cuts will need to be made, possibly this Turn, definitely by the next. I want you all to know that my final decision in no way reflects on the ability of anyone in the Wing, nor their Wingleader and Wingseconds. Towards the end of every Pass, Weyrleaders have to make hard decisions when dragon numbers dwindle.’ He paused to look around the dining hall. ‘I’m sorry to tell you “I” Wing is going to be broken up and riders re-allocated to boost the numbers in our other Wings. This will, of course, require some changes to our normal formations, which I have also talked about with my Wingleaders. They will pass these on to you all, in turn.’
D’gar, like everyone, swivelled toward ‘I’ Wing’s table to see their reactions. Some of the riders had become emotional and were hugging each other while N’gol, the Wingleader, remained stony-faced. It would be a blow to them all; whether you were friends with them or not, your wingmates were like family.
‘Glad it’s not us,’ J’rud whispered. ‘Poor bastards.’
‘Wonder who we’ll get?’ S’brin surveyed them all. ‘Hopefully not T’mudra. R’chol would be all right, though.’
D’gar knew they were shortest on greens. R’feem would try to get as many of those as he could, although he didn’t know if the Wingleaders would be allowed to choose, or just have pairs given to them. He felt sorriest for N’gol. He was in his fifties and had been a Wingleader for a long time. It would be hard for him to come to terms with losing his position. Some of the other, younger Wingleaders might resent him.
He heard J’kil speaking, further down the table. ’N’gol and me were clutchmates. We joined the Wings at the same time. Real shame.’
It was odd to think that the very next Fall they rode, over the tip of Southern Boll, would be the last in which nine Wings filled the sky. It was quite an emotional moment when all the weyrfolk cheered as N’gol and his Wing ascended over the Bowl for the last time as a unit. But there was work to be done so no one had time to dwell on it for very long.
Back at the Weyr afterwards, ‘I’ Wing had a noisy party in the dining hall, drinking and singing almost as loudly as if someone had died. N’gol and his Wingseconds formally walked to the top table and handed in their knots. T’ron embraced them all and thanked them for many Turns of good service to the Weyr. He then went over to ‘I’ Wing’s table and joined them in the drinking and recounting of exploits.
Next morning, the Weyr was quiet as many riders nursed hangovers. S’brin and D’gar went running as usual.
On their way past, S’brin dipped his fingers in the lake. ‘It’s not too bad, now.’
D’gar tried the water temperature. It was no worse than washing with a bucket of cold water, he supposed, although there was a difference between immersing a hand and your whole body. ‘Maybe leave it a while, until the sun’s warmer.’ Getting out of cold water into chilly air wouldn’t be much fun. By the time it was warm enough, he might even have managed to talk S’brin out of the idea. Swimming was supposed to be enjoyable, after all.
I like swimming, too, Herebeth chimed in. Can we go to the beach again soon?
Don’t see why not.
R’feem wasn’t at breakfast. Evidently the Wingleaders had met early to portion out ‘I’ Wing’s pairs. N’rir and I’grast discussed the possible formations, depending on whether they ended up with as many greens as they really needed.
‘If we get three, that’d be good,’ I’grast said.
‘But they’ve only nine greens to go round, so if they’re going to be shared out equally we won’t get more than one. Two if we’re really lucky. Maybe the same number of blues…’
‘I’ Wing’s riders trailed in, looking ill in varying degrees. A short while later, the Wingleaders returned. R’feem looked pleased and tucked in to his scrambled eggs on toast with gusto.
‘Going to keep us guessing, boss?’ I’grast asked.
‘Of course. That’s half the fun. T’garrin!’ he called down the table.
T’garrin looked up expectantly.
‘Had all your bets in on our acquisitions?’
‘I reckon so.’ He glanced up and down the table. ‘Any last minute guesses, anyone?’
No one did. R’feem carried on eating. T’ron arrived at the top table. A low murmuring began.
T’ron had a mouthful of klah, then surveyed all the eager faces. ‘Right, let’s get on with it,’ he said, looking as if he might be suffering from a hangover, too. He picked up the slate he’d brought with him and began reading out names. No one was entirely surprised when he picked up N’gol for his own Wing, together with an experienced brown and blue.
R’chol went to ‘B’ Wing. ‘Pity,’ J’rud said. ‘Would have been nice to have one of our clutchmates back.’
‘“C” Wing,’ T’ron read. ‘E’gir, N’kal, T’mudra.’
‘Ow!’ J’rud rubbed his arm as S’brin punched him. ‘What was that for?’
‘For wishing we’d get a clutchmate back. Now we’re landed with him.’
The three riders - all greens - made their way across. I’grast grinned. ‘Well done, boss.’
D’gar realised they had almost perfect ratios now and the ideal number of greens to ensure no one had to stay up too long. Of course, it wouldn’t last. Someone would be injured soon enough.
The greens were made welcome further down the table. S’brin pulled J’rud to his feet. ‘Better go and introduce ourselves.’
D’gar sipped his klah, almost spilling it when I’grast nudged him. ‘Not going to say hello? Thought you might want to grab yourself another green while you’re about it.’
‘Two’s enough,’ D’gar joked. ‘Don’t want to wear myself out.’
Having experienced riders join the Wing was very different from taking in weyrlings. They all knew what they were about and only needed to become used to fighting with different dragons as partners. A couple of days after they’d joined and following the first Fall fought, T’mudra swam over to D’gar in the baths. ‘All that stuff when we were weyrlings is past, all right?’
‘You weren’t very nice to me at Telgar,’ D’gar pointed out.
‘That was before you sorted it all out for us. Just wanted you to know there’s no hard feelings.’
‘Well, thanks.’ D’gar wasn’t sure quite what to make of him. He didn’t think he’d ever really like T’mudra but people did change as they grew older.
S’brin appeared. ‘Was he trying to chat you up?’
‘No. Apologising, I think.’
‘Well, wonders will never cease.’
At the end of third month, S’brin decided to try a swim in the Weyr lake. J’rud and D’gar stood by with drying sheets. D’gar had also brought a covered jug of hot klah, wrapped in a fur sleeve.
‘Can’t persuade you to come in?’ S’brin asked as he stripped off. ‘You know, I heard about a man in one of the mountain Holds who swam in cold water every day of his life. He lived to be over a hundred Turns.’
‘Maybe next time.’ He watched S’brin walk down to the water’s edge.
‘Think he’ll do it?’ J’rud asked.
‘He’ll have to, if we’re both watching. For S’brin, losing face is worse than anything else.’
‘What if he drowns?’
‘Zemianth wouldn’t let that happen. Look, she’s watching.’ Sure enough, the green dragon had perched on one of the nearby rocks. As S’brin waded in deeper, she shivered delicately.
He took his time, gradually getting used to the water before finally sinking his shoulders beneath the surface and beginning to swim. D’gar noticed he wisely kept close to the shoreline, not really going out of his depth by much. Zemianth made little crooning noises, as if to encourage him.
Zemianth says he is cold, Herebeth commented. Why does he want to make himself cold?
He thinks it’s good for him. Anyway, you swim in the lake all Turn round.
Dragons have thicker hide than humans.
S’brin turned and began to swim back towards them. ‘Think he’s had enough,’ D’gar said.
‘I don’t know as I’d want to live to be a hundred if it meant doing that.’ J’rud began unfolding the drying sheet.
They met him at the edge of the water. His teeth were chattering but despite that he was smiling. ‘Did it. It wasn’t so b-bad.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ D’gar unwrapped the klah. ‘Sip this. It’ll warm you up again.’
‘You’ve got to do it next time. Get ourselves ready for the ice lake in summer. Hey, as we’re dragonriders and everyone knows we live longer anyway, maybe we’ll make it to two hundred Turns.’
‘Then we’d live to see Thread again. Not sure as I’d want that.’
‘Yeah. Once this Pass is over, we can take a well-earned break.’ J’rud rubbed S’brin’s back dry. ‘Although, for you, that probably means violent exercise and risky behaviour of some sort.’
D’gar thought often about the end of the Pass. He hoped to be able to start helping out in the archives again, having always enjoyed it prior to Impressing. Then there would be the Spring Games each Turn. Visits to other Weyrs, whenever they wanted. He could catch up with some of the friends he’d made on secondment…
‘Thinking again?’ S’brin said.
‘About the end of the Pass. Things we can all look forward to.’
‘They’ll have long Gathers again,’ J’rud said. ‘That last three or four days instead of just the one. Even folk who don’t have dragons will be able to travel without fear of Thread. It’s going to be amazing.’
‘All we have to do is get through these last few Turns.’ D’gar knew they had a good chance of doing so, now they were all experienced, yet anyone’s luck could run out and even experienced riders weren’t exempt from injury, or worse. During the recent shift in Thread patterns, incidents of both had increased. Without it, ‘I’ Wing might still exist.
‘Let’s drink to that,’ S’brin said, swallowing the last of the klah.
The following day, D’gar joined him in the lake, finding that the anticipation was far worse than doing it. He couldn’t say he enjoyed the swim, but afterwards, he definitely felt invigorated. J’rud was content to provide support at the lake’s edge.
Strangely enough, the more times he did it, the less he seemed to feel the cold, although that might have been the result of the weather warming up anyway. They made a couple of visits to the ice lake through the spring, but D’gar thought swimming while lumps of ice were still floating around would be too risky. After taking off his boots and paddling close to the shore, S’brin agreed. The dragons proved their own hardiness by diving in, regardless.
Exercise was doing him good. As well as building up more muscle, he found he didn’t feel so tired after Fall. J’rud even joined in occasionally. The three of them were getting along well. He was happy with his life. Looking back, later, it was one of those times when life flowed along nice and smoothly, like a placid river. Times like that never last.
The first disruption was J’rud and Zurinth getting scored towards the end of a gruelling Fall over Fort Hold. It was a day when there were quite a few injuries; mostly minor, to be sure. High winds tired out the greens and blues. The unpredictable gusts blew Thread this way and that.
‘It was only a stupid little strand,’ J’rud said, afterwards. ‘I thought it would blow straight past, then we were going to double back to get it. But instead…’
Thread had hit his left thigh and part of Zurinth’s flank. Both scores were deep, although J’rud seemed more worried about Zurinth than himself. The healers had told him he’d need to give the muscle a good chance to heal before doing anything strenuous. Zurinth complained flexing her wings made her flank hurt, so the dragon healers had advised ground rest for two sevendays at least, then some gentle, level flying.
‘No problem. D’gar or I can carry you around.’ S’brin sat on the edge of the infirmary bed. ‘We could even move down to Zurinth’s ground level weyr for the time being. Just in case you needed anything in the night.’ He grinned.
‘I’ll have to be careful about everything,’ J’rud said pointedly.
‘I’m sure we can find you a comfortable position.’
In the dining hall, quite a few asked after J’rud. He was a popular rider, mostly through being cheerful and having a joke for every occasion. Even T’mudra sent his regards.
Two Falls later, P’ton’s Charinth got his first score on his near hind leg and tail. He was mortified. ‘Why couldn’t it have been me?’ he said, even after they’d been cleaned and numbed and Charinth had assured him he was quite comfortable.
‘You always feel like that when your dragon’s hurt,’ D’gar told him. ‘But the good thing is he’ll heal faster than you would, so you’ll be back to work sooner.’
‘And in the mean time, you’ll be on ground duty with me, J’rud added.
‘Always comes in threes,’ M’rell said. ‘It’ll probably be me next. We’ve kept safe so far, so I reckon there must be a Thread up there with my name on it. Or Toth’s.’
Two more Falls went by, as did D’gar’s birthday. Agarra made him a cake and he had a party by the Weyr lake. Most of the Wing attended and some of their clutchmates from the barracks.
‘How can you have got to be twenty-one?’ Agarra said, hugging him. ‘Where did all the Turns go? I remember when you were no bigger than this one.’ Matagar kicked his legs as he smiled at her from his comfy basket.
D’gar thought he looked a bit like M’ta already, although babies changed a lot as they grew.
‘Can you take some of the bigger ones for a ride around the Bowl later? They’ve been going on about it.’
Herebeth was always popular with children. He stood in the shallows with a bevy of them around him, letting them slide down his tail into the warm water.
‘I could take a few of them up on Zemianth,’ S’brin offered.
Agarra frowned. ‘Maybe the older ones who can hang on better. She’s a bit quick for the little ones.’
S’brin grinned. ‘Yeah. They prefer a nice, slow, stolid brown.’
D’gar aimed a blow at him, not really intending to hit him. S’brin dodged and ran into the water, D’gar in hot pursuit. Herebeth watched them splashing around for a while.
Is my birthday the same as yours? he asked quizzically.
Once he had time to think again, he replied. You hatched in the depths of winter. Almost six months from now. You’ll be six Turns old next birthday.
I remember hatching. He sent D’gar a picture of the Sands and his own view of broken eggshells and a dark haired boy gazing at him as Impression occurred. It also tapped into the emotions he’d felt that day.
That’s it. Herebeth sometimes surprised him by what he remembered, although, like now, it often took some prompting.
We have been with each other ever since.
And always will be.
‘Once you stop being sloppy with Herebeth, let’s get some of these kids on board,’ S’brin said. ‘Right! Which of you want to ride a really fast dragon?’
The following day, they watched as Zurinth took advantage of the calm weather conditions to take a short flight from one of the ramps outside the infirmary.
‘She says it doesn’t hurt much,’ J’rud told them, gleefully. From an onlooker’s point of view, it was clear she was being careful, but seemed to be enjoying being in the air again. He called her back after four circuits and she landed reluctantly.
J’rud hugged her neck. ‘Yes, I know you wanted to do more, but you have to take it easy at first. Just like I do. Support duty again tomorrow.’
‘While we sweat over Southern Boll,’ S’brin added. ‘Pleasant in winter, evil in summer.’
‘At least we aren’t way down south.’ They would be fighting over the farmlands. The mild climate of Boll, even the northerly parts, made it one of the prime fruit and vegetable producing areas. Everyone always looked forward to tithes coming in from Boll.
‘Who’s on clean up duty?’
The loss of a Wing had meant everyone’s turn came around more frequently. ‘“B” Wing this time. It’ll be us next, over the hilly part of Ruatha.’
S’brin groaned. ‘Lucky you to be missing that one,’ he said to J’rud.
It was a late Fall, the sort D’gar hated. He tried to eat a decent breakfast, but ended up leaving most of it. Lunch was out of the question as his stomach made its usual protests. A sweet roll washed down with klah was all he could manage.
At the Wing meeting, R’feem looked serious. ‘Going to be tricky up there this afternoon, lads. Weather report shows intermittent storms over Boll. Torrential rain and thunder. Visibility variable. We’ll be spacing ourselves at two dragon lengths for safety and I’ll keep you informed as we go along.’
D’gar put on his oiled wherhide, feeling too hot almost at once. It wouldn’t matter for long. The sweat would soon get washed away by all that rain.
‘Fly well.’ J’rud gave the traditional greeting as they fed firestone to the dragons.
‘See you…’ S’brin started, then broke off before he completed the unlucky phrase.
J’rud gave them both a kiss before they mounted up, then R’feem signalled the Wing aloft. Fort Weyr’s afternoon sunshine gave way to stormy skies on the coastline of Boll. Towering thunderheads waited just inland, with flickers of lightning illuminating the sky.
Tickly air, Herebeth said happily.
It’s not funny. D’gar had heard of wherries struck by lightning and found dead on the ground after a storm. Today they would be fighting not just Thread, but the forces of nature. It was true he’d never heard of a dragon or rider being struck, but that was because generally most pairs had the sense not to fly during storms. Today they had no choice.
He threw a few extra pieces of firestone to Herebeth, then tightened the straps. Leading edge came in across the bay and they began to fight.
Concentrating on the task at hand, he didn’t really notice the approaching storm until they were suddenly flying through a heavy downpour. Clumps of drowned Thread fell wetly past. Could Thread be struck by lightning too, he wondered? As abruptly as they’d entered the rain zone, it was past and live Thread fell towards them again. The sky lit up with a bright flash, which would have made his hair stand on end if it hadn’t been tucked under the tight riding cap, followed by a malevolent growl of thunder. Herebeth made short work of the Thread, then as he picked out their next clump, he glanced quickly over to Zemianth, who was chasing down a spinning strand. Lightning flashed again. This time he saw its bolt of white fire flicker through the cloud, even heard a hiss like a drover’s whip streaking through the air. The acrid smell of burned Thread answered his own question as to whether it could also be struck.
Jalolth tells us to space out further. Three…
Herebeth never finished what he had been going to say. Another flash blinded D’gar briefly. He saw Herebeth’s left wing up at an odd angle, then felt searing pain through his own arm. He didn’t know if they’d been struck or hit by Thread, so instinct took over as he visualised his home Weyr and blessed, black between enfolded them.
They emerged high; much higher than normal. Herebeth’s left wing barely seemed to be functioning and his dragon’s mind radiated pain as he fought to keep height with just one working wing. D’gar hung on to the straps as they turned, then fell further, then turned again.
I cannot fly. Herebeth sounded slightly panicked. He never usually panicked.
Take it easy. Someone will be on support duty. They will see us. The air rushed past and the Bowl seemed to be coming up very fast. As they spun, it was almost impossible to see what was going on below, although he thought he glimpsed Luduth in the process of landing an injured green.
Herebeth tried using his wing and screamed in pain. D’gar saw the damage then; definitely Thread. Keep calm, he said. Not that he felt very calm right now. Would Luduth get to them in time? Even a couple of browns or bronzes would do.
If you jump, someone will catch you, Herebeth said, sounding more himself again, as if he’d figured it out. I am too big and going too fast.
Maybe they could jump between again and regain some height? But the world was spinning, making him dizzy. He wasn’t sure he could hold a good visual for long enough. Chunks of firestone began falling from the open bags as they slipped sideways. I’m staying with you, he said, shutting his eyes as the rim of the Bowl came closer. They were both going to die, he was certain. It was going to hurt a lot.
Do not worry. I will take us between before we hit the ground.
He felt such a strong feeling of love and protectiveness from Herebeth, nothing else mattered any more. They would go between together as so many had before them. His only regret was not being able to say goodbye…
Suddenly he saw a great golden back appear below them as Luduth arrived, her wings spread wide to absorb the shock of Herebeth landing and to scrub off their speed. Still the ground rushed up much faster than in any normal landing. He hoped Luduth didn’t hurt herself in attempting to save them.
She was experienced at aerial rescues and began to glide in a wide arc. D’gar had time to appreciate the power and strength of a gold dragon as she regained control of their descent, eventually taking them down to a soft, but wet landing in the lake. She then towed Herebeth ashore, while riders on support duty rushed over to assist.
‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’ He kept saying. ‘It’s my dragon who’s hurt.’
An older man climbed up with his belt knife unsheathed.
‘Don’t cut the straps.’ He’d only finished them a few months ago. They were barely worn. He fumbled to undo them, then realised his hands were numb and shaking.
The rider looked at him, shook his head and cut the leather carefully so as not to hurt Herebeth. He then lifted D’gar unceremoniously over his shoulder and got him down.
Herebeth looked around at him and whuffed softly. You are all right?
I’m fine. Not like you.
I will mend.
Now that he was down, he could see the Thread damage to the underside of the leading edge of Herebeth’s left wing. It had been a freak accident. Normally, wings were scored on top, from Thread falling on to them, but he remembered Herebeth raising his, just after that flash of lightning. It looked horrible; holes where there should be hide, blackened around the edges. Green ichor oozed from the elbow joint, which was clearly visible. All the protective hide had been eaten away.
They will bring numbweed, he said. It won’t hurt for much longer.
D’gar’s legs weren’t working too well, so he sat heavily on a nearby rock, waiting for the healers to arrive. Luduth paused by Herebeth on her way out of the water, nuzzling him gently. As he wasn’t even from one of her clutches, it was a touching gesture of care.
‘D’gar!’
He looked up to see J’rud hobbling towards him as fast as he could go on his crutches over the rough ground. Behind him came the dragon healers, with pots of numbweed.
J’rud reached him and pulled him into a hug. ‘I knew it was you. I saw you both falling. I didn’t think Luduth would get there in time.’ He was practically sobbing.
D’gar put himself in J’rud’s place; seeing someone you cared about plummeting toward the Bowl floor. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, yet again. It didn’t seem possible, but there really wasn’t a scratch on him. The pain he’d felt briefly must have been Herebeth’s. All of a sudden, memory began to return. Everything had happened so fast, he hadn’t had time to process it before. S’brin had been up there, fighting next to him in the line. S’brin would have seen it, too. He’d know they weren’t dead, but that was all. Still, he was a dragon rider. He’d have put it to the back of his mind and get on with the job.
‘You’re the rider?’ One of the healers asked.
D’gar nodded.
‘Let your dragon know we’re here to help him. We’ll get him numbed, then he’ll have to walk over to our treatment area so we can start repairing that wing.’
‘I’ll tell him.’ D’gar watched as the creamy numbweed ointment was liberally slathered over Herebeth’s injuries. He felt Herebeth begin to relax as the pain faded. Then he and J’rud walked slowly back, alongside the dragon.
‘Do you remember much about it?’ J’rud asked.
‘We were in the middle of a storm. The sky kept lighting up. It was right after - or maybe during one of them - I saw Herebeth lift up his wing. I thought we’d been struck, or something.’
We were not struck by lightning, Herebeth put in. Did you not see the Thread coming towards us?
D’gar hadn’t. No.
There was no time to flame, or to dodge. It would have hit you, so I put up my wing to stop it.
‘What’s he saying?’ J’rud asked.
D’gar wanted to hug his dragon again. Herebeth had done the only thing he could to protect his rider. If he’d been hit in the chest, or face… ‘He saved my life,’ he said to J’rud. ‘Blocked a load of Thread I hadn’t seen with his wing.’
‘Will we be needed here?’ Margatta asked the dragon healer.
‘Not as long as he keeps still.’ He turned to D’gar. ‘Think he will?’
‘It’s not hurting him now, so I don’t see why not.’
Margatta smiled at him. ‘Brave dragon.’
He supposed Luduth must have talked to Herebeth. ‘Yes, he is. Please thank Luduth for rescuing us so cleverly.’
‘She’s learned a few tricks these past Turns. We did that same manoeuvre with a bronze at Benden, so I knew she’d have no problem with your brown.’
While the healers began to clean up the injury, discussing the best ways to go about mending it, someone brought him a klah. He needed it. Although it was a warm afternoon, he’d started to feel cold. He took off the bulky wherhide and sat in the sun.
What do they do with my wing? I cannot feel it.
You aren’t supposed to feel it. It’s been numbed. I expect they’ll patch it up, like they did to Neyrenth, so your hide can grow back.
Herebeth kept turning his head to look at it, almost knocking the trestle away. D’gar had to keep reminding him to hold still. He wondered what was going on over Southern Boll; had the storms continued? Was everyone in the Wing all right. Dragons keened three times, as they always did in the Weyr when one of their own had died. A few injured pairs returned and Luduth’s assistance was needed for another rescue, although only to prevent a hard landing.
Once he felt slightly more steady, he went over to Herebeth, watching the mending process. At least if Herebeth could see it through his eyes he might be more reassured.
‘I won’t lie to you,’ said the healer, leaning down from the trestle. ‘This will be a tricky one. I’ve seen quite a few dragons with more wingsail gone, but the elbow joint’s damaged as well. We’re going to have to keep it constantly moist with ichor if it’s to heal with the same degree of strength and flexibility as before. The next few days will be the most critical.’
‘I’ll stay with him,’ D’gar said. ‘I’ll do whatever’s necessary.’
The conversation was interrupted by a green dragon skidding to a landing. For a moment, D’gar thought it was another one of the injured, then a moment later he was scooped off his feet by S’brin. ‘I saw you go between. You didn’t come back. Shells, but I was scared.’
‘I’m all right,’ he said, for what felt like the umpteenth time. ‘Herebeth’s wing’s hurt, though.’
S’brin glanced up to the trestle, to the healers working. ‘Shards! That looks bad.’
D’gar had to smile. S’brin never minced his words. ‘I’m just glad we got back down in one piece. Luduth’s to thank for that. We’re going to have to stay down here for a while. The healer was just telling me the joint will need frequent tending if it’s to heal properly.’
‘Well, J’rud’s already here anyway, so I might as well join you both. Then we can all take turns in looking after him. Don’t worry. We’ll get him fit to fly again.’
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Authors are responsible for properly crediting Original Content creator for their creative works.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Dragonriders of Pern series was created by Ann McCaffrey in 1967 and spans 24+ books published by Ballantine Books, Atheneum Books, Bantam Books, and Del Rey Books. Any recognizable content in this story is from Ann McCaffrey, Todd McCaffrey, Gigi McCaffrey or their representatives or inheritors. <br> Original content provided by author of this FanFiction story without monetary compensation. <br>
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