Dragon's Fire (28 page)

Fenner gestured to the Masterminer to answer.

Britell frowned. “It seems that more firestone is going to D’gan and his Weyr than to all the other Weyrs combined.”

“That doesn’t seem right,” Toldur said. “How did this happen?”

Britell gave the Lord Holder a sheepish look before he answered. “It appears that both Lord Holder Fenner and I were giving Telgar preferential treatment.”

“That would be enough for Telgar to get four times what the others receive,” Fenner said, “but we’ve also discovered that Weyrleader D’gan was appropriating firestone for his Weyr directly from the mine itself.”

“He was stealing?” Cristov asked in amazement.

“Not so much stealing as, perhaps, taking more than his fair due,” Lord Fenner said judiciously. “But we’ll sort that out now that we’ve discovered our error.”

“Perhaps Telgar will get a
little
more firestone than the other Weyrs,” Britell suggested.

“No,” Fenner said with a shake of his head. “I think that D’gan’s got enough firestone stockpiled now to last him until the Pass. Perhaps it’s time to be concerned with the other Weyrs, too.”

“High Reaches Weyr flies Thread over upper Crom,” Britell noted.

Lord Fenner smiled at the Masterminer. “Indeed they do,” he agreed. “But I think we’ve got to look to all Pern’s needs. Without enough training, any Weyr might fail to stop Thread.”

A young harper, an apprentice by his shoulder knots, came running up to the stand.

“Kindan?” Toldur shouted in surprise. “Is that you?”

Kindan nodded and gasped in a deep breath. “It is,” he said with a grin. “I’ve just arrived from the Harper Hall,” he explained. He nodded respectfully to Lord Fenner.

“My lord, my greetings,” he said, adding, “I have been asked to tell you that Weyrleader D’gan says that all the Weyrs are now present and could you have the drums sounded to start the Games?”

“Of course,” Fenner agreed. He turned to Cristov. “Seeing as this young harper’s all winded, Cristov, would you be so kind as to wave the Hold flag and start the Games?”

At the mention of Cristov’s name, Kindan gave Cristov a nod of recognition and a grin, waving while still panting for breath.

Cristov grabbed the staff from which the Hold flag was flying and waved it from side to side. As he did so, he saw that all eyes were on him. Lord Fenner had given him a signal honor. Perhaps he hadn’t been ordered here to be punished after all.

“Let the Games begin,” Lord Fenner shouted as Cristov waved the flag.

From the far hill, drums beat out a rapid tattoo. High above, dragons’ flames answered.

CHAPTER 3

H
IGH
R
EACHES
W
EYR

T
he early morning air was colder in the center of the Weyr Bowl than it had been in the Living Cavern, which was warmed by the hearth fires that had been stoked high to cook the breakfast that the dragonriders had eaten early in anticipation of the day’s events.

D’vin could see the gleaming eyes of dragons arrayed all around him. Behind him, Hurth craned his neck around to watch the proceedings.

“You’re as ready as we can make you,” B’ralar told him quietly. With a smile, D’vin acknowledged his Weyrleader’s hidden taunt. B’ralar was in the middle of his sixth decade, forty Turns of which he’d been a dragonrider. Of those forty Turns, he’d been Weyrleader for more than twenty, whereas D’vin had only been a wingleader for two Turns and had Impressed Hurth only five Turns ago.

“I wish we’d had more firestone to practice with,” the Weyrleader continued, “but with the wet weather, it’s been hard to keep hold of our stocks.” Dampness was a danger with firestone, which would explode on contact with water.

D’vin nodded but said nothing; he had already aired his concerns about their allocation of firestone in the Council Room with the other wingleaders. Here, in front of his riders and the rest of the Weyr, he would not.

“We’ll do our best,” D’vin said.

“I know you will,” B’ralar said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You and your Wing have earned the right.”

“Thank you.”

B’ralar shook his head. “I only set the standards;
you
exceeded them.” He mounted his dragon. “The queens have gathered. Now it’s time for the opening ceremonies,” he said. “I’ll have Kalanth tell Hurth when we’re ready for you.”

Kalanth kicked off from the Weyr Bowl and beat his wings strongly to climb out of the Bowl before going
between.

“You heard the Weyrleader,” D’vin called to his wing. “Mount up. We’ll gather by the Star Stones. The exercise will warm us up for the Games.”

D’linner and P’lel, the wing’s two youngest riders, cheered exuberantly, while the others looked on with the amusement of veterans.

The wing did not have long to wait at the Star Stones before the signal from the Weyrleader came.

Let’s go to Crom Hold,
D’vin told his dragon, barely able to control his excitement.

As one, thirty dragons and their riders winked out of existence over High Reaches Weyr and reappeared over Crom Hold.

“The first event is a single rider competition,” Lord Fenner explained to Cristov. “Each Weyr picks two riders to represent them. The queens throw the rope Thread down, simulating a normal fall, and the riders flame it.”

Cristov listened attentively. He knew that the rules for the Games were changed each Turn, and this event was new to him.

“How do they determine the winner?” Toldur asked.

“Each rider has one pass at the Threadfall, and the one who chars the most Thread without letting any Thread get past wins,” Fenner replied.

Fenner turned to Kindan. “Harper, can you wave the Fort Weyr flag?”

Kindan nodded and took the Fort Weyr flag, waved it high, and placed it in the center stand to indicate that Fort Weyr was to fly Thread.

“Look up, lad,” Masterminer Britell told Cristov in a kindly tone. “You’ll never see the like of this again, I’ll wager.”

Cristov needed no urging; he looked up first to the queens hovering high above and then toward the cluster of Fort Weyr riders.

Presently, one dragon—a blue—separated from the formation and flew low over the Lord Holder’s stand, waggling its wings in acknowledgment before pulling up higher to take station at the starting point. The blue breathed a burst of flame to signal its readiness.

A hush came over the field as all those at the Gather looked up in anticipation of the forthcoming “Threadfall.” Cristov, along with the entire crowd, gasped as the air beneath the high flying queens suddenly turned silver with squiggling rope Threads.

“Can they really get all that?” Toldur asked in astonishment.

“The queens are throwing more Thread than one dragon would fly in a real Threadfall,” Kindan informed them all. “My understanding is that the Weyrs always try for harder Falls than they expect.”

“A good precaution,” Britell said approvingly.

All the same, Cristov was awed at the speed at which the blue flew through the wide swath of falling Thread, flaming continuously and seemingly everywhere as it battled the Fall.

It seemed mere moments before all the Thread was gone. It took the crowd some time to register this fact, and then the air was filled with a great roar of cheering.

“That was magnificent,” Lord Fenner murmured.

“Fancy a wager?” Masterminer Britell asked, with a gleam in his eyes.

“I’d wager that D’gan is furious,” Fenner said drolly. “But, as a bounden Holder, I’d not bet against my Weyr.”

“It’s not your Weyr, just the best rider,” Masterminer Britell responded in cajoling tones.

Lord Fenner waved the correction aside. “I’ll bet that Telgar wins the Games.”

Britell grimaced. “I’d not bet against
that.
”

Kindan, meanwhile, had removed the Fort Weyr pennant and, with a look to the Lord Holder, had placed the Benden Weyr pennant in the starting position.

A large brown dragon descended over the stand, waggled his wings, and took station. Again, a blizzard of Thread was unleashed by the queens high above, and again Cristov and the crowd were amazed at the speed with which the brown dragon turned all of it into harmless ash.

“What if one of the ropes is still burning when it hits the ground?” Toldur asked.

“I’ve ground crews standing by to put it out,” Lord Fenner told him. “The same ground crews that would fight Thread burrows in a real Fall.”

“Burrows?” Cristov repeated, wondering how they’d be dealt with in the Games.

“Oh, we’re not testing the dragonriders on burrows,” Lord Fenner said with a chuckle.

“That’d be for the ground crews,” Britell agreed. “Is there a separate event?”

“No,” said Fenner. “But I might suggest it to the Conclave of Holders. Usually, though, each Lord Holder is responsible for the effectiveness of his ground crews.” He told Kindan, “We’re ready for High Reaches, now, lad.”

A blue dragon represented the northern high mountain Weyr first. It flew through the Threads faster than the other two dragons and drew a great cheer, which changed into a puzzled noise as more and more people noticed one uncharred Thread slithering to the ground.

“Oh, missed one!” Fenner exclaimed. “Well, there’s still the second candidate.”

“He’s disqualified?” Cristov asked, thinking that it was a shame, since the dragon had been fastest of the three.

“Indeed he is,” Fenner agreed.

“Speed’s not the point when it comes to Thread, lad,” the Lord Holder expounded. “Except, perhaps, for the speed with which the ground crews dispatch such a burrow.” He peered over to where the Thread had fallen and grunted when he saw a black flag being waved.

“Harper, put a black flag over High Reaches’s pennant,” Fenner said to Kindan. To the rest of the group, he explained, “The black flag shows that the rider was disqualified.”

Tell D’linner he did his best,
D’vin thought to Hurth.

He and Delth are both very disappointed,
Hurth responded after relaying D’vin’s message.

Well, there’s still P’lel and Telenth,
D’vin said. Beneath him, Hurth rumbled in agreement. Together the two watched Telgar’s first entrant, a green, dive through the next Threadfall. The green’s speed was greater than Delth’s but her accuracy was even worse.
Pity.

In the distance D’vin could see Telgar’s Weyrleader screaming at the hapless dragon and rider. D’vin schooled his expression, aware that several of his riders were gauging his reaction. He didn’t want to give either them or the Telgar Weyrleader a chance to disparage his behavior.

The next dragon, an Istan green, was ridden by one of the older riders, but neither rider nor dragon could be faulted for speed or accuracy.

And then it was time for Fort’s second entrant, a brown. D’vin was surprised at the choice of a brown—the larger dragons were usually better at endurance than speed—but the brown proved itself up to the Fall thrown down by the queen riders and advanced to the next round. Benden’s second entrant was a more conventional blue who performed quite creditably.

D’vin mused to himself that while the purpose of the All-Weyr Games was mostly to assure the Holders of the abilities of the Weyrs to fight the Threadfall that would come with the next Pass of the Red Star, it also allowed the five Weyrs to become comfortable with each other’s abilities.

Tell P’lel good flying,
D’vin said to Hurth as it came turn for High Reaches’s second entrant. D’vin saw P’lel wave at him before he and Telenth dove over the Lord Holder’s stand and rose up again to take their position.

D’vin could feel the tension in his wing as they waited for the queen’s wing to drop the Thread. In a moment he spotted it. The pattern, whether by design or the churning of the air from all the flaming before, was oddly clumped. It would be a hard fall for a bronze to fly, let alone a small green. Still, D’vin grinned as P’lel and Telenth dived toward the first clump and flamed it easily into blackened char. The pair continued their run, but it was becoming obvious to D’vin that they were both getting tired as they neared the end, with three clumps still to char. Suddenly Telenth disappeared, only to reappear, wheeling on a wingtip, just below the center of all three clumps. It was a wild tactic and one D’vin wasn’t sure he’d approve for a real Threadfall, but the green’s agility on wing and length of flame just managed to char all three clumps at once. Far below, D’vin could hear the crowd cheering more loudly than they’d ever cheered before.

Overcome with joy, P’lel and Telenth rolled quickly upside down and right side up again, to the renewed cheers of the crowd.