Chap. 340 The Bronze’s Appeal

Chap. 340 The Bronze’s Appeal

He had just finished oiling Raventh when a bronze fire lizard appeared from between.

Siskin rose to intercept him. The bronze screeched-it was the only word befitting the sound. He arrowed for Raventh. Siskin, chattering, attempted to head off the bronze. The bronze evaded him and swooped down to land atop Raventh’s head. He weeked, loudly, at K’ndar.

Siskin dive bombed the bronze, upset that the other fire lizard was perching atop HIS Raventh.

The bronze hissed at him, but somehow it didn’t sound aggressive. There was a desperate sound to it.

What is going on with this bronze? Who does he look to?

Wait, he’s pushing several images at me at once. I have to listen.

He raised his arm. “To me, little bronze, what is wrong?”

The bronze took wing. He approached K’ndar’s arm, then backed off, chattering. K’ndar got the distinct impression the bronze was attempting to lead him…where?

He looks to the trader. He sends images of the trader lying on the ground.

Lizard?

Yes. There is something wrong with the trader. His eyes are closed.

Shock rocked his heart. Is he dead? Damn, why didn’t Lizard have a datalink!

Did he send the bronze?

No. The bronze came on his own! He shows images of men attacking the trader.

His heart started racing. Lizard! Okay. Um. Let me think.

The bronze fluttered, continuing to chitter. Siskin began to wicker, having picked up the bronze’s images.

Tell him we will go to help. Tell him to stay with us and push where Lizard is.

He pulled out his datalink and pinged Raylan, his boss.

“Sir, I’ve got my friend’s fire lizard here, he’s telling me something has happened to him. He’s the man you bought Donal from.”

“Oh, no. Fire Lizard Man, right?”

“Yes. Raventh says the fire lizard is sending images of him on the ground, his eyes closed. I’m going to go see what’s happened.”

“Where is he?”

“I have no idea. He’s a trader, he goes all over Pern.”

“How will you find him? Follow the fire lizard?”

“He’ll push to Raventh, but I know the distinctive crest Lizard has on his caravan. Either way, I’ll find him.”

“K’ndar, take a basic aid kit, just in case.”

“Um,” K’ndar mumbled.

“Raylan! Is that K’ndar? What’s going on?” he heard Francie shout in the background.

“Yes, it’s K’ndar, he says the man we bought Donal from, his fire lizard is here, showing the man is down!”

“No!” She rushed to Raylan’s side.

“K’ndar, you have a basic aid kit, don’t you?” he repeated.

Grimacing, Francie shook her hands and her head in an emphatic No. To his bewilderment, she snatched the datalink from his hands.

“Um, somewhere in my quarters,” K’ndar said, wondering how to explain his embarrassment, “but, Raylan,”

“K’ndar, I’m coming to help,” Francie said, holding up a hand to forestall Raylan’s questions. “Do you have coordinates? A dragonstone?”

Relieved, K’ndar said, “Oh, thank you, Francie, thank you. I don’t have coordinates, but Lizard’s bronze is showing Raventh where he is. I’ll have Raventh push them to Motanith.”

I’ve already done so. The bronze is talking to her, too.

“Maybe you should take Marl?” Raylan suggested Landing’s Healer, then reconsidered. “Oh, wait. If Lizard’s in Southern Hold, we already know Lord Toric has banished healers and harpers as well as dragonriders, he might just send his armed goons after you,” Raylan said. He did NOT say that Toric was an egotistical and tyrannical arse. One didn’t say such things out loud.

“Marl may not be available,” Francie said, “and I’m not afraid of any knuckle dragging moron Toric might send my way. K’ndar. Where’s B’rost?”

“I don’t know that either but, oh, wait. My data link is calling. I don’t know how to answer two calls at once,” K’ndar said, always stymied by the electronic wizardry.

“Answer it, K’ndar. I’m about to go harness Motanith. I’ll meet you in the dragon meadow. Call B’rost, he’s the only dragonriding healer I know of.” Francie signed off.

Raylan retrieved his now mute datalink, his puzzled expression hoping Francie had an excuse for such unusual rudeness. “What was that about, Francie?” he said, a bit miffed.

She put a hand on his cheek to apologize. “Honey, K’ndar was always a courageous, unstinting thread fighter. He’s honest and forthright, he’s an excellent biologist and is extremely intelligent. But, remember when we transferred to Kahrain? I was assigned as mentor to Sinala, one of the green riders in K’ndar’s Weyrling class.

K’ndar flunked Basic Aid, hon.Twice. He had to be retrained. C’val was his mentor, he said he tried so hard but K’ndar just couldn’t grasp what needs to be done in order. I think he was passed on his third try solely because B’rant saw he was doing his best but just couldn’t grasp it.”

“Oh. That’s sad. But, you know, no one can get everything. There’s always going to be people who just can’t grasp things. Like me and knitting, I just can’t do it right.”

Francie laughed. “You make the best kilometer long, three centimeter wide scarves in the world. Besides, at the time we had plenty of healers. Could he fight thread? He could. And did. Still, it embarassed him. You know how kids are, he was teased, especially by F’mart. “

“Kahrain’s Weyrleader?”

“Not then, of course not! F’mart was in the same class. He taunted K’ndar relentlessly. What am I saying, he bullied everybody, except for the gold riders. They handed him his head.”

She nodded. “I’m going to go with K’ndar, I’m sure I can do something to help Lizard. I owe him one.”

“Need me to go?” Raylan said.

“No, my love. I might need to carry Lizard, or something, and while Motanith insists she can carry the world, she’s just a green.”

What do you mean, ‘just’? I can do anything the males can do Motanith protested.

Francie laughed.

————————————————————————————————–

K’ndar answered his clamoring datalink as he headed to his quarters to get his harness and pack.

“K’ndar! B’rost here! Do you need help? Healer help?”

B’rost. The most exasperating, flighty, risk taking dragonrider on Pern. He drives me crazy at times but when the shit hits the fan, he’s the man I want at my side.

“I do,” he said, his voice betraying his relief and desperation.”How did you think to call me right now? My trader friend’s been hurt.”

I called Rath when you mentioned a healer Raventh said.

So many thoughts were racing in his head. Raventh taking the initiative!

Thank you. That was smart. I have to talk to B’rost.

“Raventh called Rath and said you need Healer help. Where is the casualty?”

“I don’t know. One of his fire lizards came here, looking for Raventh, showing images of Lizard down on the ground.”

“Is he alive?”

“I don’t know! I’m, I’m um, B’rost, this is all going too fast. I’m going to find him and help him, Francie’s coming with me.”

The dragon bay door of the quarters next to his opened with a screech.

Motanith waddled out, snorting in excitement, Francie trotting alongside and throwing her harness over the green’s back as they moved. Raylan was behind, stuffing gear into the backpack already settled on Francie’s back. Her three fire lizards erupted from the bay, darting for the anxious bronze, chittering.

“K’ndar! I’m going to meet you there. I’m headed for Rath right now with my medipack. The minute you find him, have Raventh push the coordinates,” B’rost said.

“B’rost, are you sure? You’re probably busy. I think Francie and I can manage.”

“K’ndar, shut up. You need me. Remember, you killed me in Weyrlingschool. You’re the best biologist I’ve ever known, but you can’t apply so much as a bandage without buggering it up,” B’rost teased, trying to ease the anxiety he heard in K’ndar’s voice.

K’ndar heard a guffaw in the background. His jaw dropped at B’rost’s uncharacteristic brusqueness-and canard.

“I didn’t kill you. You died.”

“You set my leg like a champ, but K’ndar, you let me bleed out. Keep your hands off him. Send Rath the coordinates. I’m coming, with help.”

“Who?”

“See you there, brown,” B’rost said, signing off.

He gulped, out of relief and embarrassment, as he stuffed his datalink into a pouch on his belt. Yes. He’s right. I did ‘kill’ him in Basic Aid class. He shrugged one arm into one strap of his backpack, his harness dragging along the floor of the bay in the other.

Raventh was waiting next to the dragon bay door. Siskin chittered at the bronze fire lizard swirling overhead. It sounded like reassurance.

Francie was darting around her green dragon, making last minute adjustments to her harness.

The pack securely on his back, he threw the harness over his dragon with sure, practiced moves. The buckles swung under Raventh’s belly into his hands.

His mind flooded with memories as his heart began to race. It’d been always thus, when dragonriders rise to a situation.

Thread.

This was how we trained to fight it, doing five things at once, K’ndar thought, this is what it was like, this ordered chaos, when every wing was preparing to launch. I remember the watch dragon calling the alarm, the drums pounding, the riders running for their dragons as the dragons landed to be harnessed.

I remember the stench of numbweed as the weyrfolk-somehow it was always the women doing the processing-preparing vats of the anaesthetic for the inevitable wounds that would return from the fight. I remember loading heavy bags of firestone on Raventh, tossing them to the veteran dragonriders in midair. I remember diving down to snatch up more from children waiting on the ground.

I remember D’nis, my weyrleader, calling out the wind direction, the speed of the fall, how high it was.

D’mitran would be there, checking to see if my goggles fit, if I had enough firestone for the first flaming, if I’d harnessed correctly, even after I graduated. I still wonder how he found the time to check every rider in his wing and still have time to check his own gear. And I remember the fear. I remember stuffing into a tight little corner of my brain, and Raventh saying it’s okay, don’t worry.

I remember, too. It was exciting.

The days and months spent training, training, and training made the small tasks automatic, without panic, without even having to think. It left one’s mind clear and open for orders. Actions came without having to plan or consult. One just-did.

How I hated the drills, mind numbing in their repetition, until one day, the first day we actually flew against Thread, all I had to do was listen to my leaders and fly my dragon, everything else came without thinking. What a thrill it was, even as scared as I was, to be a part of that incredible team. We all worked as parts of one amazing machine.

I remember diving at the fall, Raventh flaming the thread as the greens and blues darted ahead of them.

You always nailed thread, every time. I think we got maybe ten scores total in all that time, and those were unavoidable.

I didn’t want to be scored. And I had good teachers, Careth and my sire, Corvuth. They were in all our minds.

He unconsciously touched the small scar on his jawline, where an errant spore had managed to evade Raventh’s flames.

This time it’s the same drill, but without the fear. It’s missing, the frisson of terror in my spine, the cold stone in my stomach. I was always afraid, when I’d hear and see the hissing black rain. It even had a stink, one I’ll never forget. I was so afraid of being eaten alive by Thread, maybe blinded, or worst of all, losing Raventh.

He shivered. I remember Cinda, a dragonrider who inadvertently inhaled thread spores.

Just the idea of the agony she must have suffered before she died made his knees weak. He remembered how the weyr’s grief was compounded by her dragon’s suicide, unable to live without her rider. The only consolation they’d all had was that hers had been a quick death.

It’d been her first fight against thread after our class’s graduation.

He pushed that memory into the little corner of his mind where he relegated fear.

It had always been waiting for him upon return to the weyr, waiting for him to review the events of the fight.

This time it’s different. Thread is gone.

I am so very glad I had that training, every boring moment of it. It’s here in my muscles, for ever. It’s here in my brain, orchestrating without supervision. It’s the most valuable thing I have.

More valuable than me?

He laughed.

That was very clever of you, to call Rath before I even thought to do so.

You and Francie said Healer. B’rost is a Healer.

Yes. But most dragons don’t take the initiative. Like you did. Like you do.

He mounted. He settled his backpack into a good position. Raventh checked the wind, his hindquarters quivering in anticipation of launching. Siskin landed behind his head. After a moment’s hesitation, the bronze landed behind Siskin.

“Ready!” he called.

Motanith’s tail was quivering, too. Francie’s trio of fire lizards were lined up on the green’s neck. Lizard’s bronze pushed images into the dragon’s minds. K’ndar watched as Raylan climbed up Motanith’s bent knee to kiss Francie.

Just like I used to, Raylan thought, when she’d fly off to fight Thread, leaving me ground bound and helpless to do anything but watch-and worry.

“Like the old days, what, my love?” she said, cherishing the man she loved more than her own life.

“But not so deadly,” Raylan said, “At least, not for you. Find him, Francie.”

“We will. I love you.”

They launched.