Dragonheart

Nuella drew breath to argue, but Zenor placed a restraining finger on her lips. “You’ve got children, Nuella. What would they do if anything happened to you?”

“They would survive,” Nuella answered softly, pushing herself against Zenor and nuzzling in tightly. “They have the best father on all Pern — ”

“So it’s my duty to ensure that they keep their mother, too,” Zenor finished.

“If anything happened to Nuellask and I wasn’t there — ”

“It would hurt terribly, I know,” Zenor said. And Nuella had to admit that he did  know. Not only had he helped her through the torment of losing her first watch-wher, Nuelsk, but he had also survived the wrenching loss of his own two fire-lizards.

“But you would survive,” Zenor concluded. And this, Nuella knew bitterly, was also true. The bond between watch-wher and whermate was strong, but it was nowhere near as deep as that between a rider and her dragon.

“I have  to go, Zenor,” Nuella said at last, pushing herself away from him more reluctantly than her brusqueness showed. “It’s my duty.”

“She’s right,” a small voice piped up from behind Zenor. “ ‘Dragonriders must fly when Thread is in the sky.’ ”

Zenor glanced over his shoulder to smile at Nalla, their eldest.

“Mummy hasn’t got a dragon,” little Zelar corrected.

“It’s the same thing,” Nalla protested.

“You two were supposed to be in bed,” Zenor said with a sigh. He turned, still holding Nuella’s hand. “But as you’re not, you can give your mother a kiss good-bye. She’ll return it when she comes back.”

Nuella’s hand tightened thankfully on Zenor’s. The two youngsters needed no further urging and rushed to their mother. Nuella bent over to receive their hugs and kisses.

“Now off to bed with you,” Zenor said, making shooing motions. “I’m surprised Silstra let you stay up this late.”

“She doesn’t know,” Nalla returned as she was leaving. “She was watching the baby.”

“Well, Sula, then.”

“She  was making bread,” Zelar said, rolling his eyes.

After they had left, Zenor helped Nuella into the saddle he and Terregar had constructed specially for her. He strapped her in tight.

“No flying upside down this time,” he chided her.

“It musses up my hair,” Nuella responded, not — Zenor noted — necessarily ceding to his request.

“Bring her back,” Zenor said to Nuellask. “She and I have more babies to make.”

“Gladly!” Nuella responded with a laugh. “I want six, at least.”

“Excellent,” Zenor agreed, his eyes dancing.

“And Nuellask wants a few more clutches herself, I’m sure.”

“Which is a good thing,” Zenor said, “as it seems that your babies start with hers.”

Nuella smiled and said nothing. Zenor gave her hand one last tight clasp and then released her, stepping well back from the watch-wher.

“Fly safe,” he called fervently.

The gold watch-wher gave a loud cry, alerting all the other watch-whers in the compound, then sprang up into the air on her hind legs and disappeared between.

The night was silent, the air was still. Zenor shivered at the sudden cold.

The night air of Fort Weyr was torn by a cry Cisca had never heard before, but she reacted before she could think.

“Melirth!” she shouted as her eyes caught sight of the plummeting object. The great queen was airborne before any other dragon in the Weyr could respond, and swiftly brought herself up under the stricken flier.

Cisca grabbed a pot of numbweed automatically and raced across the Bowl. “K’lior!”

Alerted by her previous call, K’lior had already started toward her along with the rest of his wing’s riders.

At the last possible moment, Melirth moved to let the injured flier tumble gently to the ground. Two cries of pain, one female, one draconic, filled the night air.

“It’s Boll! You’ve got to come!” Nuella cried out as she heard the voices approaching. “The Thread is still alive! The air’s too hot; the watch-whers are getting slaughtered.”

Rineth!  K’lior’s call was all that was needed.

Cisca clenched her jaw tightly as she caught sight of Nuella’s back, Thread-scored to the bone from right shoulder to left pelvis. The score continued on the left side of the gold watch-wher.

Get the healer here,  Cisca told her dragon, oblivious to the sounds of the dragonriders forming up. She took a dab of numbweed and gently smeared it down the length of Nuella’s burn.

Nuella hissed first in pain, then relief. “Please, how bad is Nuellask? She says she isn’t hurt much but . . .”

“You took most of the score yourself,” K’lior announced as he joined his mate. Tintoval and Fiona rushed up, with Xhinna following slightly behind them.

“Always the rider, never the dragon,” Cisca added in a mixture of exasperation and admiration.

“We have to go back,” Nuella said, trying to find the buckles that strapped her to her watch-wher.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Cisca pronounced. “Except maybe to bed.”

“We’ll take it from here, Nuella,” K’lior reassured her.

“No!” Nuella said. “You can’t see the Thread, your dragons can’t see the Thread, it’s too dark. Only the watch-whers can see the Thread, and they scattered when we got hurt.

“We’ve got to go back, to rally them and get them to point out the Thread for your dragons,” she finished, struggling feebly.

Cisca and K’lior exchanged looks.

“Your watch-wher is not hurt too badly,” K’lior said consideringly. “She could guide us.”

“No, you’ll need me, too,” Nuella said. “Nuellask needs me to help her get the watch-whers under control.”

Cisca made up her mind and reached for the buckles of Nuella’s saddle. “If that’s the case, there’s no time to lose,” she said. “You’ll fly with me.”

She turned to K’lior. “Go on, we’ll be along presently.”

“But the queens shouldn’t fly!” K’lior protested as Melirth moved closer to her rider.

“This  one is,” Cisca declared, unbuckling the last of Nuella’s straps and helping the WherMaster out of her saddle. She turned to Fiona, her eyes flashing in the night air and the younger Weyrwoman nodded in reluctant acceptance of the unspoken request — that if anything should happen to Cisca or Melirth, Fiona would continue on regardless.

“You’ll be all right,” Fiona declared staunchly, adding, “Talenth and I will guard the Weyr while you’re away.”

Cisca grabbed Fiona in a quick, grateful hug before releasing her and turning back to Nuella.

“You’ll ride behind me,” she said, as she guided Nuella toward Melirth.

“That’s fine,” Nuella told her, trying not to wince as the torn leather of her flying gear rubbed against her wound. “With your eyes, I won’t have to worry about Thread.”

K’lior and the dragonriders of Fort Weyr arrived over Southern Boll Hold in darkness. K’lior ordered the Weyr to hold in place, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He had just started to make out the watch-whers in their desperate fight against Thread when Melirth burst from between.

Cisca wants to know what are you waiting for?  Rineth relayed, getting Cisca’s impatient tone down pat.

We can’t see,  K’lior responded.

Cisca says that the watch-whers will see for us,  Rineth said, sounding confused. Nuella suggests assigning a half-wing to each watch-wher.

Precious moments were lost as the plan was implemented. The first watch-wher bolted between  when it found itself guidon for over half a dozen flaming dragons, but it