Dedicated to all the lovers of Dragonriders of Pern.
As always, I own nothing.
Chapter One: Before the Storm
I couldn't sleep. Lightning coursed through my veins. It was the same nervous energy that had sped up my heart, made my breathing erratic, and made my hands shake at some points during the fall of deadly silver Thread. Thread itself, was nothing new to me. The deadly parasite of Pern had been falling from the pulsing Red Star since I was five Turns of age. I had grown up knowing how deadly a single spore could be.
Yes, I knew the dangers of Thread, to hold, beast, crop, and man alike. I had never seen the damage that Thread caused first hand however. It was far different, so far removed in Ruatha Hold from the Weyrs. No one ever thinks of what fighting Thread does to dragons, the brave creatures who fly into danger, breathing fire as they go. No one thinks of how Thread can pierce hide of dragons just as easily as it pierces the flesh of a man. I believed the dragons and their riders invincible until today's fall.
Candidates for Hatching are put to work anywhere they can be of use until the Hatching itself, for there are never enough hands to do the unending work around the Weyr. Today was no different, especially with the wings out and fighting. My eldest brother, Radames, was apprenticed to Healer Hall before the Search had brought him to Benden, and he offered his services to help the riders. My other two brothers, Jareth and Hunter, were filling firestone sacks as fast as they possibly could for the riders who would need them. I had lost track of Kumel, Hunter's new friend, among the chaos.
I stood among the chaos, trying to keep my head from spinning. I took a deep breath, ready to answer the next call for an extra set of hands. Any way that I could help would be useful to the Weyr as a whole, and there were no unimportant jobs.
Someone grabbed my arm, fingers digging into flesh as they dragged me along after them. I stumbled to keep up, glancing from the woman with the grip on my arm, to the destination ahead. A gasp of sympathy escaped my lips and I quickened my pace. A brown dragon at the far side of the weyr bowl, his left wing held at an awkward angle. Whimpers became audible as we drew closer.
"Oh you poor thing," I murmured softly. I laid my hand on his neck soothingly. "Don't worry, we'll fix your wing right up."
"What's your name?" I glanced over to see a man standing at the head of the brown. He tied back his hair, meeting my eyes for a moment before his eyes strayed to the wing and its wound. I glanced at the wound as well, the primary mainsail torn, as if someone had taken a knife and slashed at the wing in earnest and was bleeding with ichor.
OoOoO
"I'll fix you right up," I told the runnerbeast, head cradled in my lap, his leg held at an awkward angle away from his body. I had seen it fall as I was gathering greens for my father, and I was determined to save it. It was no more then a year old; its dark coat gleamed in the sun. It was one of the best of the herd; someone had told father that when I wasn't meant to be listening. I was sure they'd praise me for saving it.
"Melody?" I glanced up, surprised to hear my father calling for me so soon after I had been sent out on my errand. I hesitated a moment, wanting to be able to present the runner healed, without any help from someone else in the Hold.
"Melody! Answer me this instant!" my father's voice came again, harsher then before. I lowered the runner's head gently to the ground, scrambling to my feet as quickly as I could. I didn't want to be in trouble, and there was a chance that I would only hurt the runner more if I tried to heal it.
"I'm here, father!" I watched the horizon anxiously, bouncing as I waited. It took several minutes for someone to appear, and I bounced from foot to foot in anticipation. My father and the herdsman came over the hill. I knew it was the herdsman, he was much taller then my father was, and built wider too.
Father came and picked me up, resting me on his hip. I giggled and wrapped my arms around his neck, taking in a deep breath. He smelled like herbs, and it was one of my favorite smells in the world. To me, it was home.
The herdsman moved directly for the runner, accessing the damaged leg. I watched in fascination, hoping that I had done something right and had saved the valuable beast.
"Any luck?" my father asked. The herdsman shook his head.
"He's gone, there's nothing we can do." I frowned, trying to follow their conversation. Where had the runner gone? What couldn't they do?
"I was going to fix him, father. He's all right, his leg just needs to be fixed…" I trailed off as my father gave me a stern look.
"Melody, you should have come for us as soon as you saw this happen. This beast is suffering, and you've prolonged that suffering. No, it's true. We're lucky one of Gerarden's apprentices saw too. Come on now, this not something a young girl should watch."
"But Father, why?" Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, and I resisted the urge to burry my face in his neck. I was seven Turns, I was too old for that childlike behavior now, Jareth had said so this morning.
"Melody, do you want to leave that animal in pain?" I shook my head, curls flying back and forth until I could hardly see. "Good. Then you must understand that in some cases, there is no other way. I'm sorry, it's true." He turned away from the herdsman with a nod and we started heading back to the Hold.
I didn't bother to wipe my tears away. I had wanted to save the animal, and I couldn't. That much had been made perfectly clear. Without realizing, I had prolonged the runner's suffering, something I couldn't abide. I made a promise to myself, that I would never let another creature suffer, if I had the power to stop it, ever again.
OoOoO
"Melody, sir. I prefer Mel though."
"Mel, then. I need you to go and bring me back several buckets of numbweed, oil, and redwort. Can you do that?" I nodded, giving the brown another pat before stepping away from him.
I took off across the bowl, my gaze fixed on the Lower Caverns. The medicine that the healer had asked for must be there. It was impossible to believe that in a Weyr this size, they would be out of the supplies asked for. And the dragonhealer wouldn't have sent me to fetch them if he knew that there was none. I forced myself to take another deep breath of air into my lungs. I would not panic. Panicking wouldn't do anyone any good, least of all that poor dragon.
The Lower Caverns was right in front of me now, and I could see the women and children of the Weyr bustling back and forth, far more used to this and calmer then I believed myself to be. I sped up, hoping to grab what I needed from one of them and return without delay.
I stumbled, the length of my skirt catching around my ankles. Shards, I thought savagely, grabbing fistfuls of fabric to keep the skirt from tripping me again. What I wouldn't give to wear the riding leathers the riders wear.
"Excuse me?" I entered the caverns, trying to catch the attention of one of the women about.
"Yes? What can I do for you, child?" I looked up at the woman who had stopped in front of me. She was clothed with a beautiful deep red dress, the sleeves of which were pushed up to her elbows and a wherrie-hide vest. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back and she smiled at me. "Take a few deep breathes, it won't do anyone any good if you're too excited to speak properly." She gave me a stern look until I took a few deep breathes of air. "Better. Now, tell me what you need."
"Redwort, oil, and numbweed. One of the dragons was hurt, and the healer asked for it." I twisted the fabric of my skirt between my fingers, trying by sheer will to slow the rapid beating of my heart. The woman looked out past the cavern walls.
"Oh yes, I see. Alright you wait right here, I'll get it for you." She disappeared into the caverns. I took another deep breath, forcing myself to stand still. I had never done much in a Fall before, safely tucked behind stone walls of the Hold, whenever Thread fell. My father treated any wounds our ground crew received, but I had never helped him. I wondered if he ever felt this. This nervous energy coursing through his body, wanting so desperately to help, because there must be something to do, and yet unsure of just what that something must be.
I doubted it. Father always knew what to do, how to handle the situation, he was never unsure in anything he did. From advice to discipline, he was unshakeable. There may have been one time that was not the case, but father never spoke of it.
When we were born, and when consequently our mother died. When the midwives couldn't save her, and there was nothing he could do. He never spoke her name, resisted any attempts to remarry, and whenever we asked about her, he dismissed us all together. Yes, I decided. Yes, father has felt this way once before. It made me feel better, knowing that even my father, a man so unwavering as my father, had felt this way and could overcome it. If he could then so could I.
"Here we are." I jumped as the woman set down several buckets before me. The pale yellow liquid was almost paste like in its appearance, and extremely helpful to human and dragon alike, despite its poignant smell when being boiled.
"Thank you," I murmured, bending down to pick up the buckets. I couldn't risk mixing the different liquids, and there was no way for me to carry them all at once. I would have to make several trips to bring everything out to the dragonhealer. I made a face, my mind whirling as I tried to figure out what he would need first.
"Don't you dare try to move all those buckets at once." I glanced up, startled at the stern tone in the woman's voice. "You'll hurt yourself and then where will that dragon be? You can make more then one trip if you have to. And, to make sure you don't do something foolish, I'll send my daughter to help you."
"Oh, but . . ." she turned a glare on me and I bit my lip.
"Cat!" at the call, one of the girls looked up from the roast. With a motion of her hand, Cat moved over to us quickly, her face lit up in what seemed to be excitement. I hid a frown. What was there to be so excited about? "You help this girl bring these buckets to the dragonhealer. It might take you a couple of trips. Then come right back, we need someone minding tonight's dinner. Your father and the other dragonriders will be starving by the time they drag themselves in here." The girl nodded, not bothering to hide an impish smile.
"Yes, mother." She reached down and grabbed a bucket of numbweed in each hand. "Ready?" I grabbed a bucket of redwort and oil, figuring a balance of all of them would be best.
"Yes, I'm ready." I turned, heading back out into the sun and the Weyr bowl, my eyes fixed on the dragon ahead of me.
"What's your name?" the girl, Cat, asked, slowing down to match my pace. She was taller then me, her legs longer. I couldn't help but smile in gratitude, there had been no way I could keep up with her. "My name's Cat. I have a full name, but I don't really like it. So it's Cat, unless I'm in trouble." She looked at me expectantly.
"Um, Mel. My full name is Melody, but I do prefer Mel."
"Mel it is then. You were searched for the Queen? You must have been, since girls can't be candidates for the fighting dragons." I nodded when she paused, my smile widening. I had grown up around my brothers, so I was used to not having a lot of female companionship, but I had to admit that it was nice, having another girl to talk to.
"Is there really that much trouble for you to get into around here?" She nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "More than enough. Thank you for getting me away from the roast by the way. I'd prefer filling firestone to cooking, but I didn't have much of a choice today. I'm hoping I can sneak away after we deliver all of the supplies and help out over there anyway."
I grinned, giggling at the thought of Cat helping fill the heavy sacks of firestone, the same as two of my brothers were. Maybe that would teach Jareth about teasing girls for being weak.
"There you are. Well hurry up, we need to get started. Cat, you're helping now too? Of course, anything for you to get away from dinner preparations. Help then you will girl. Go get me the rest of these supplies, and hurry up."
"Do you think . . . Do you think I could watch, sir? I'd like to learn everything I can about dragonhealing." I twisted a strand of hair between my fingers worriedly, my eyes fixed on the healer already examining the wound.
"You'll do more then watch, girl, you'll be helping. You can begin by helping me with the surgery," the dragonhealer gestured to a place for us to set down the buckets as he spoke. I nodded, setting down the buckets. Cat did the same, nudging me as we stood.
"I'll see you at dinner then. Save me a spot with the other candidates would you?" She winked before turning away, heading back towards the Lower Caverns for the rest of the buckets.
"First things first, you'll need to tie back that hair of yours," he tossed me a leather cord as he spoke, and I tied back the mess of curls. "Scrub your hands good in the redwort before you coat them in the oil. We'll be working with the numbweed a bit today, and you won't do any good if you can't feel your hands anymore. I've already asked D'rek for permission to work on Stramoth, and you should too. You always will, before working on anyone's life partner."
I scrubbed my hands until they smarted in the redwort, trying to ignore how the liquid gave my hands a red tinge, almost like sunburn. I coated them in oil next, and turned to look for the dragonrider mentioned. He stood at the head of Stramoth, murmuring encouragement. I stepped forward hesitantly.
"D'rek? Do I have the permission to assist the dragonhealer in his work on Stramoth?" The rider turned to look at me, his dark eyes radiating the pain of his dragon. I bit my lip hard, forcing tears back. He swept a hand through his light brown hair, nodding absently.
"Yes, you may."
I turned back to the work at hand, watching as the woman who had dragged me forward before and another set up a table right by the wing. Packages of needlethorn and wherry-guts were brought to the healer, who nodded.
"Mel, let's get started." I moved to his side, smiling slightly at the woman who had brought me to help.
"Do you need anything else, Fregaron?" she asked, twisting her hands in anxious worry. He gave her a look.
"Yes, you out of my way." She gave him a look before hurrying on to the next task. He stepped onto the table and I clambered up after him. "Now, we'll set your wing to right, Stramoth, don't you worry."
And I truly believed that we would fix his wing, so that he could fly against Thread, his eternal enemy, again.
