Dragonheart

much of Melanwy, particularly in the way she seemed so tired, so pained by living.

Wake Arella and Jaythen,  Fiona told Talenth. Tell them to come outside.

Fiona increased her pace, her hands outstretched to protect her from any walls she might not remember as she retraced her steps to the wherhold’s main entrance, taking a spare moment to marvel at how much she’d learned from her times hunting tunnel snakes.

The smaller moon provided a sliver of illumination that lit the small bowl outside the wherhold. Fiona had no trouble spotting the gold watch-wher as she ambled into the clearing.

“You need to say good-bye,” Fiona called out softly in the night. She heard a groan from the dark shadow beside Aleesk.

“I had hoped to go in peace,” Aleesa replied, turning around, her face now visible in the moonlight.

“First you must say good-bye to your daughter,” Fiona told her. She sensed Aleesa’s annoyance and added, “That’s one thing I still miss with my mother, that I never got to say good-bye.”

“You had only two Turns when the Plague took her!”

“Less, and yet I still wish it,” Fiona said.

A noise from behind her announced the arrival of Arella and Jaythen.

“Mother,” Arella said as soon as she identified Aleesk in the distance.

“It’s time for me to rest,” Aleesa said. “I wanted to try Nuella’s trick and go between  with my Aleesk.” She patted the gold watch-wher affectionately. Aleesk gave a quiet noise in agreement.

“But — ” Arella’s pleading voice broke off.

“It’s my time,” Aleesa said. “Mikal told me — that was my secret.” Fiona felt the old woman smiling toward her. “He said I’d be seen off by a Weyrwoman, with all honor.”

Fiona felt tears welling in her eyes as she clasped her hands together and bowed low to the old woman and her watch-wher.

“WherMaster, on behalf of all Pern, I honor you,” she said, her voice catching on the word “honor.”

“Arella,” Aleesa said, looking toward her daughter, “I’m sorry I was such a hard mother. You deserved better.”

Arella could make no reply, her eyes streaming with tears. She shook her head helplessly.

“Jaythen,” Aleesa went on, then shook her head in exasperation. “You are the most difficult, stubborn, angry excuse for a man I’ve ever known.” She paused long enough for him to react, before adding, “But I love you like you were part of my heart.” She continued sadly, “You should not be the leader of the wherhold but its hunter and protector.”

“I think I’d like that,” Jaythen admitted. “I’m not good with people.”

Arella snorted in agreement before turning back to Fiona. “Now, I’ve said my good-byes. It’s time for me to leave.”

Fiona rushed forward beyond Aleesa and knelt at Aleesk’s side, her hands cupped together. “Let me help you mount.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t have more time together,” Aleesa said as she accepted Fiona’s aid and climbed up on the back of her gold. “I’m sure our fights would have been legendary.”

Fiona stepped back as Arella and Jaythen strode up to stand beside Aleesk, Arella still crying wordlessly. Jaythen raised his hand in a stern salute.

“Fly well!” he called.

And in that moment, Aleesk leapt in the air, her wings beating once, twice, and then she was gone, between,  leaving only a bitterly cold wind behind in her place.

Arella wailed, burying her head in Jaythen’s chest.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Fiona’s promise rang in her ears as she watched Zirenth spiral upward and blink once more between.

“We’ll give you a fortnight,” Jaythen had told her. “After that, we’ll be gone. You’ll never find us.”

“You’ll go faster with dragon help,” Fiona had told him.

“Yes, we would,” Jaythen had admitted dubiously.

Now, as Fiona trudged up the gravel road toward Mine Natalon, the bulk of a well-insulated egg thumping hard against her shoulders in the backpack she wore, she found herself wrapped in doubt. How could she be so sure that the queen in this  gold egg was the one with which Nuella had bonded?

And why would Nuella want to leave this place, the mine of her father? And hadn’t Kindan said that she had a mate, Kindan’s childhood friend, Zenor? What would entice him to leave his home and family?

And why now?  Only she — Fiona — and the dragonriders at Igen had any need for urgency. Nuella had Turns.

Fiona swore angrily to herself as she continued to trudge up to the coal mine. Stubborn! Why must you be so stubborn?

She was so certain that she was on the right course, had found the path from the now  of this past to the then  of her future. But the only way she’d know for certain was if she knew  that the dragonriders at Igen had found their food, found their supplies, and had founded the wherhold — and that knowledge was in her  future, and so unknown.

What, Fiona wondered irritatedly to herself, was the use of being able to go between  times if you couldn’t be certain how the future came to be?

A smile crossed her lips as she realized how silly the notion was — and then the smile faded as she again tried to grapple with the complexities of traveling between  times.

One day at a time, she told herself, repeating one of Kindan’s favorite sayings.

The sound of barking alerted her to her nearness to the mine hold. A thrill of excitement, mingled with the tang of dread, coursed through her veins as she realized that she was committed now, that there was no going back.

She recalled what she’d seen of Nuella, Threadscored, insisting that she had  to lead the watch-whers in their night flight, and picked up her pace, anxious to meet the young girl who would become that brave, inspiring woman.

She was surprised to see many houses in the open, most of them in varying states of disrepair. Then she remembered: the Plague. Still, in two Turns, surely there would have been more recovery than this?

She looked upward, toward the mountains, and saw the flat face of a proper hold, carved into the mountainside. A faint wisp of smoke rose in the mid-morning air, her first sign that the place wasn’t totally abandoned.

A dog ran around her, its tail raised, barking happily.

“Hello,” Fiona said to it, trying to identify the breed. Her father had kept several varieties of dogs spread throughout Fort Hold : sheepdogs for the sheep, cattledogs for cattle, guard dogs, vermin hunters, fowl hunters, and pets.

This dog looked like it might be either a hunting dog or a guard dog. But something about it —

She was startled when the dog, circling around behind her, jumped on her back, knocking her over. Her start turned to fear as she heard its growl.

The sound of an arrow whizzing through the air ended in a sharp shriek from the dog.

“Run, girl!” someone shouted. “He’s injured — he’ll maul you for certain!”

Fiona needed no more urging. Scrabbling to her hands and knees, she staggered to her feet, the weight of the backpack with the queen egg packed in warm sand making her movements awkward.

Another arrow whizzed.

“Faster! Dump your pack!”

“I can’t!” Fiona cried in despair, her feet feeling leaden as she tried to pick up speed and set her course toward the stone stairs leading to the proper hold. She felt teeth bite into her calf and stumbled, nearly fell, then picked herself up again.

“I can’t shoot — I’ll hit you!” the archer shouted. “Drop the pack!”

“No!” Fiona shouted, unwilling to give up her mission even as she felt blood flowing down her leg and into her