Harper's Crux
based on The Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffrey
Author's Notes: I do not own The Dragonriders of Pern in part or in whole. It is the property of Anne McCaffrey. I am grateful for the chance to enter into such an amazing universe, whether by reading or writing!
I welcome any reviews, comments, constructive criticism or questions about my work. As always, please keep it civil and respectful, and I will act in kind.
All characters (human and draconic) appearing in this story are original. I hope you enjoy it!
"I've never seen one of our Harpers carry so little, Amara," the man following behind me remarked as we came out onto the covered stone porch. I chuckled as I carefully set my instrument pouch on the woven chair beside the doorway.
"I've never needed much to get by," I replied, smiling when I noticed a little boy trotting out from the kitchen within. I knelt on the wind-cooled cobblestones and caught the giggling lad in my arms. "Especially when I have little fellows like you to keep me company all day!"
The boy stopped his playing long enough to dig a hand into the small pouch at his hip. He produced a very small, hide-wrapped object and shoved it at me without a word. "Thank you," I said, unrolling it. Beneath the soft tan hide was a pendant shaped as a dragon. Its great wings were unfurled, meticulously hammered from local metal and polished to a beautiful shine. I grinned. "This is magnificent, Sholto!"
"I helped my father make it," Sholto answered proudly, rubbing his nose.
"Of that, I have no doubt," I said, ruffling his loose sorrel hair. There had seldom been a night when I had not seen Ronden explaining some aspect of metal-working to his son, and the boy seemed quite taken by the idea. The first thing I had seen Sholto complete all by himself was a bracelet of thin steel with simple geometric designs. In the end, it was rather plain, but there was a homely beauty about it that I found charming. Sholto would be a fine metalworker someday.
"Do you have to go, Harper Amara?" he asked when I twisted about to store the pendant in my belt pouch.
"I'm afraid I do," I answered, rising. Sholto had a grip on my arm. I couldn't do anything but smile apologetically down at him.
"Will you visit us again?" Sholto emphasized his query by tugging on my sleeve.
"That, I can guarantee," I answered confidently.
"Good! When you come back, I'll have my own pipe to play, and it might be metal, too." With that, Sholto ran back into the house and disappeared.
Ronden shook his head. "You'll be missed here, you know."
"I'm sorry I can't stay longer," I said. "Thank you for the pendant, Ronden. That in itself merits at least one more visit." The holder nodded.
A slight breeze brushed across my face, and I breathed it in deeply. The sky above the sheer cliffs of Notch Hold was exceptionally clear and blue, as always. It was autumn, which was made more obvious by the coloring of the stone faces. The angle of the sun at this time of year turned the various bands of rock into a spectrum of reds, pinks, dull greens and grayed blues mixed with delicate violets. This was the last time that I was to see the colorful Notch Hold cliffs for a while. I had been called back to the Harper Hall for reassignment. I was hoping for a longer posting, for since I had walked the tables a little over a turn ago, I had been posted no less than five times, all at minor holdings.
"For now," I commented, my neck still craned skyward, "Notch Hold will have the status as one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen."
"I know it," said Ronden. "It's also one of the safest, as far as weather. Hopefully, it'll prove the same against Thread." I glanced back down at the holder. "The beginning of the Fourth Pass is nigh." I nodded solemn agreement.
At that very moment, a great, sonorous bugle split the air somewhere above the cliffs. Ronden and I looked above, watching the diving descent of a dauntless green dragon as the trumpeting reflected off the cliff walls. Just as it seemed the dragon would plummet to the floor of the notch, it pulled up into a level glide above a stand of skybrooms. Ronden's two black canines came scampering fearfully into the house as the dragon approached, trying to figure out whether it was best to growl or whine.
The dragon backwinged, sweeping clouds of grit into the air as she settled to the ground. Unwittingly, I grinned as I watched her pull her almost emerald-hued wings to her back. Glittering yellow-green eyes scanned the holding as her rider unfastened his fighting straps and slid from his mounts' back.
"K'leck, Seerth's rider, from Fort Weyr," said a very young dragonman when he reached the porch. He slapped dusty gloves against his leg and then looked at me. "Journeyman Harper Amara, I'm to convey you to the Harper Hall," he announced more formally than necessary, inclining his head.
"Thank you, K'leck. I'm ready." I took up my instruments and pack. It was a bit difficult to do with a riding helmet under one arm, but I managed. I turned to Ronden one last time. "Thank you for your hospitality, Holder Ronden. I hope to see you again."
"Harpers are always welcome at Notch Hold," he replied, smiling. With a departing nod, I followed K'leck toward the green dragon.
K'leck couldn't have been less than two Turns my junior. I supposed that he was not long out of the weyrling barracks. Still, I trusted him, as I trusted all dragonriders. And I knew I could definitely trust Seerth.
The dragon watched us intently as we approached. K'leck requested my bags, and while he was occupied with them, I stepped around and looked up at Seerth. Green dragons were smallest, but it still felt as if she towered over me. "So this is Seerth," I commented.
"None other," K'leck grinned, giving a final tug to a securing strap. I heard a smug grumble from his dragon.
I held out a hand toward Seerth's shoulder. "May I?"
"Of course," the green rider replied. "She loves a good rub above the eye." As if on cue, Seerth lowered her head. I reached up to the place K'leck had spoken of, and the dragon's eyes almost immediately turned brilliantly blue.
"Thank you for taking me, Seerth," I said. I felt slightly silly, saying this to a giant eye, but I couldn't really help it. The eye blinked.
A Harper needs only to ask.
I blinked in surprise. "K'leck, I think Seerth just spoke to me." He was in the process of putting on his riding helmet and gloves, and I followed suit. The rider nodded.
"Seerth likes talking to her passengers," he said. Suddenly, his expression changed. "Seerth, behave yourself!" I turned around and found myself face to nose with the green. Some of my jacket bulged forward as she sniffed. I found this both perplexing and amusing. Apparently, so did Seerth.
I won't hurt the Harper by sniffing. She knows that.
"Well, we have to leave anyway," said K'leck, smirking. "Can you get on, Harper?"
"I've done it a few times before," I replied. K'leck was already up. Seerth proferred a forearm, which I used as a step. From there, I reached up, grabbed K'leck's outstretched arm, and pulled myself up until I was seated behind him. The green rider handed back two fighting straps, which I clipped onto my own belt. Just as I had settled myself, a cry of, "Are you ready?" reached my ears.
"Ready!" I shouted back. Seerth unfurled her wings and leapt into the air.
The jolt of takeoff caused me to crack my chin against K'leck's shoulder, but it was quickly forgotten. I kept a firm grip on the young riders' belt despite the fighting straps, for I had the strong impression that it would be absolutely horrifying to spill from a dragon's back, straps or not. Presently, the rapidly passing cliffs of Notch Hold vanished, and upon the back of Seerth the green dragon, I was high above the Great Western Mountains. As we glided along on a southerly course, I could see all along the vast, jagged spine of peaks and pinnacles. One of them, somewhere far along the range, was Fort Weyr. It was K'leck's home, and right above my own.
Abruptly, instantaneously, none of it was there - gone, as if it had all been an illusion. It was replaced by darkness so thick that it could have been sliced with a knife. There was total absence of sense, nothing to see, hear, smell or touch. My hands had not left K'leck's belt, and Seerth was still under me, but I could feel neither of these things. If I tried to speak, my voice was snatched from where it began in my throat. Most of all, there was cold. Cold that burned and froze all at once; cold that ate at any bare skin like icy flames. And there was the total lack of tangibility that could drive some to insanity . . .
Then between was gone, and Seerth was circling lazily over the heights of Fort Hold and the Harper Hall. I shivered off the chill and deeply inhaled the warmer air of this much more southern region of the continent. It was such a relief that between lasted no more than a few breaths. I was also glad to have overcome the initial fear-consumption that often accompanied travel through the void. I commonly referred to this method of travel a "convenient inconvenience" due to its' shared traits of speed and terror.
I leaned forward to get K'leck's attention and pointed down to the courtyard of the Harper Hall. I was a bit anxious to receive my new posting. The light from the edge of the waning sun against the upper cliffs caught my eye. Perhaps I could make it to my post by dragon before sundown if I was informed of it now. But then I had to remind myself not to get overzealous. Even if I loved what I did, I had to rest at some point.
Mid-thought, I was jarred by our landing. I automatically separated myself from the fighting straps, threw my legs over Seerth's right side, and slid the fair distance to the ground. I heard K'leck laugh as he unattached himself. "That's pretty good for 'a few times.'"
I smirked, tugged off my helmet and tucked it under my arm as the dragonman dismounted. Seerth crouched a bit and allowed her rider to remove the baggage attached to her straps. I noticed the pouch bearing my instruments and fervently hoped that between had not damaged the wood on any of them. K'leck handed them to me, and I expressed my gratitude. "Will you be the one to convey me tomorrow?" I asked, reaching up to rub Seerth's eye ridges once more.
"Most likely," he replied, leaning against the strong shoulder of his mount. I thanked Seerth again and told her that I hoped to see her tomorrow.
You will see us tomorrow, the green replied, a curiously insistent quality to her mental tone.
"All right, I will see you tomorrow then. Good day, K'leck!" With that, I walked off toward the Journeyman's apartments. I stopped only to observe the departure of dragon and rider.
As I wandered up the stairs that led to the dormitories above the chorus hall, I wondered who to ask about which rooms were vacant. Surely someone else had taken my old room by now. I couldn't dwell on it long, however. At that instant, when I reached the top of the stairs, I was met by the sight of a gangly young man with a mischievous countenance coming at the stairwell in headlong fashion. He happened to look up just in time to notice me. He grabbed the railing and stopped so suddenly that his foot slipped off the first step, landing him firmly on his rear beside me. "Sorry," I heard a familiar voice say as he looked up. He smiled as he recognized me. "Hello, Amara."
"For the love of little dragons, Skep, what did you do this time? You're a Journeyman and you're still tearing around like a child. Most everyone's carrying instruments around here, you know, and I'm sure no one would appreciate you breaking theirs." Chastened, Skep flushed to the ears, but I grinned back at him. "Hello anyway." I grabbed him by his bony wrist and helped him to his feet. "Know of a room I can borrow for tonight?"
"I've got your old one, but you can use it," he replied as he waved a hand down the hall. Then he chuckled. "I usually don't allow anyone to call me Skep anymore."
"Sorry, Skeperen."
"Everyone except you, that is," he said, a saccharine expression on his face. I gave him a playful shove, and we started down the hall.
"When did you walk the tables?" I asked as we entered my old quarters. Despite what I had expected, Skep had kept the room in remarkably good order.
"Just three sevendays ago," he replied loftily. "And I'm not getting posted. I'm an assistant here."
I was sure he would eventually, but didn't say so. "Congratulations, Skep." I deposited my bags on the bed and sighed gustily. "Now I'd better go talk to Masterharper Riordan."
The Masterharper was in the Archroom, examining one of the older Journeymen's compositions. "If I know your eagerness, Amara," he said, "you'll want to be off once I tell you where you're going."
I shook my head. "The day is spent, sir. If you send me east, it'll be well into night by now."
Master Riordan recoiled in mock surprise, and his expression had me stifling a laugh. "Well then," he continued, "there is a newer hold -" I nearly bit my lip. A new hold usually meant small post and short-lived post. "-in Lemos, specifically the valley between the Central and Northern Barrier Ranges. It's wooded, right along the upper Igen River. The holders call it Far Cry. Telgar Weyr is right above; Lemos Hold is below."
I nodded in acquiescence. "I have one request. I want Journeyman Skeperen to accompany me."
"Skeperen?" Master Riordan rubbed his chin. "If that's what you want, you'll have to wait a sevenday for him to get there."
"Why?"
"He has a run to Peyton Hold in South Boll to make. I'm sure he'd love to join you."
Skep, however, was decidedly opposed. "You did that on purpose," he fumed. "You're just jealous that I get to stay in one spot and you don't."
"No, I just think it'll be a good experience for you, that's all." Skep folded his arms and glared at me. "You'll have plenty of room to run around out there in the woods. Maybe you'll go headlong into a tree. That'd teach you." Skep remained in the same spot, trying to retain his expression of displeasure until it was time for the evening meal.
The next morning, I had three pouches to take with me. One had my instruments - my gitar and my tenor and alto pipes. None of them, I was relieved to discover, had been cheapened by between. They would have to endure it again, however. My other two pouches contained clothing and writing materials. My dragon pendant, the gift from Sholto and Ronden, remained close by in my belt pouch. Before I left, Skep bestowed upon me a curious item: a narrow strip of leather that tied about the shin and held an arrangement of five throwing blades. "What for?" I questioned.
"There're some treacherous kinds of people out in the woods," he said in a storyteller's tone. Then he leaned closer to me and whispered, "You do know how to use those things, don't you?"
"You taught me," I replied, pulling one of the blades from the leather and examining it. Then I took off my right boot, tied the strip to my leg, and put the boot back on. The blades were perfectly concealed. I clapped my friend on the shoulder. "See you soon, Skep."
I was happy to see K'leck and Seerth already in the courtyard when I came out. K'leck looked somewhat exhausted, and when I looked at him questioningly, he simply said, "Training." I nodded in understanding and handed him one pouch while I tended to the others.
Thread is returning soon. That is why we are training, Seerth informed me, her eyes a somewhat agitated chartreuse color.
"And you don't know exactly when?" I asked K'leck. He shook his head, and I snorted. "While fools like me go riding out across the plains to get to various minor holds."
"We're training so that fools like you can still safely get to those places, Harper," K'leck said with a smile as I jammed my helmet on.
"And we are indeed grateful to all of the Weyrs, green rider," I told him as I pulled myself up onto Seerth's back.
"I've been told to take you to Telgar Weyr, where you're supposed to get a runnerbeast and ride out to wherever it is you're going," the rider told me as he handed back the fighting straps.
"Far Cry Hold," I said. K'leck stopped and twisted about to look at me.
"Far Cry? Really?" I nodded, and he returned to attaching his own straps. "The holder there is the uncle of my friend, D'ron. I think I've been there once."
"Interesting," I commented. Then I leaned forward a trifle. "Not to be any trouble, but why couldn't I be taken directly to Far Cry?"
"Well," K'leck explained, adjusting the length of one of his straps, "for one thing, it's so wooded there that it would be next to impossible to get even Seerth to land there. For another, Far Cry is so new that weyrlings haven't been able to study it for a betweening image yet."
"Ah, I see." I tugged at my gloves to be sure they were on enough to keep the cold out. "Well, it isn't that far from Telgar Weyr. I've never minded a scenic runner ride."
Scenic it would be. When we burst out of between above Telgar Weyr, I looked down into the valley a little way beyond and saw nothing but skybrooms. There was a watch rider stationed beside the Star Stones. Seerth and the watch dragon traded bugles, and we were soon on the ground. K'leck and I dismounted, and after handing me my belongings, he removed the straps from Seerth's neck entirely and sent her off to sun herself. He said that he would be staying for a visit. "Would you please tell me the Weyrleader's names so I can ask permission for a runner?" I asked, spying the Weyrleader's quarters across the Bowl.
"Um . . ." K'leck proceeded to scratch his pate. "Telgar doesn't really have official Weyrleaders at the moment. There's a clutch on the Hatching Sands right now with a queen egg. I suppose whoever Impresses the queen will be Weyrwoman when she's old enough. The former Weyrleader passed on about four sevendays ago, and the senior queen rider is very aged, so she ceded leadership to the Wingleaders . . . I guess the person to go to right now would be H'van, Silorith's rider."
"Whom you've found," said a man's dark tenor from my right. A tall bronze rider approached. He had black hair, piercing green eyes that seemed to be able to see through mountains, and a nearly overwhelming presence. If Telgar did not have a Weyrleader, then this H'van was the closest they had to one. I suddenly found it very hard to look him in the face. That had been my reaction when I first met Masterharper Riordan. I had a hard time being confident in front of authority figures I did not know. But the more I looked down, the more foolish I felt, so I forced myself to meet H'van's eyes again. "Hello, K'leck," said the bronze rider, who then looked at me. "I see we have a Harper in our midst. You are welcome at Telgar Weyr, Journeyman . . ."
"Er, my duty to you, Wingleader H'van," I said more quickly than necessary, "and it should be Amara, Journeyman Amara. I've come to ask for the use of a runnerbeast."
H'van swept his hand toward a fenced off area beside the Weyr lake. "The runners are watering now. Introduce yourself to our Herder, Ethigan, and you will most likely have your choice of our best." K'leck excused himself. As I watched his retreat, H'van suddenly held out his hand to me. "May I take one of those for you?"
I hastily slung one of the pouches over my shoulder. "Thank you, Wingleader, but no. I have to get a runner and leave straight away." I was suddenly aware of a great noise around me. H'van and I looked about as we found that there were dozens of dragons bugling throughout the Weyr. "What's going on?" I asked. My head felt very warm all of a sudden. A long-ignored part of my mind stirred, and I stubbornly stilled it. Oh, no you don't . . .
"I don't know," answered H'van, a puzzled expression evident in the set of his face. Then he turned back to me. "Let me carry something; I insist. Just follow me."
By midday, I was well out of the Central Range, approaching the vicinity of Far Cry on the back of a nut-brown runner named Gab. He had been very gentle and cooperative with me, although he lived up to his name by making some sort of noise every minute or so. I watered him at the ford in the Igen River just before we crossed, which meant that Far Cry wasn't more than a few minutes away, by my estimation. I was right.
The recently erected stone building that constituted the hold was dead silent. "Hello the Hold!" I shouted through cupped hands as I approached. There was no answer. The silence that ensued was rather eerie, and as I maneuvered Gab around the side of the hold, I noticed a line of unoccupied stone runner stalls. Dismounting, I led Gab over to them. I noticed that two stalls had had inhabitants, and recently, at that. A third appeared entirely untouched, so I led Gab into that one. I speculated that the holders were out hunting or fishing and would return soon.
A noise from behind the Hold startled me. I dropped the pouch I'd just removed from my runner and whirled about, my hand going to the hilt of my belt knife. "Hello?" I called, cautiously stepping out from the stall. The noise came again, followed by shuffling in the dirt. Then a growl and some whining accompanied it. Canines? If they were loose, surely they would have detected my presence by now and come to investigate. I pressed myself against the wall of the building and mindfully peered around the corner.
Through the slits in the wooden gate of a stone-fenced area, I spotted two large brown canines with pointed ears. I stepped around the corner and sidled along the wall toward the pen. They had seen me, but they didn't growl. In fact, as I poked my head over the gate to look at them, they whined, gazing at me with pleading eyes and wagging their tails. I noticed a few rather disconcerting things about their situation. First of all, they were tied to two thick metal spikes in the ground with ropes about their necks that were obviously too short and much too tight. Secondly, one of them had an eye that was completely swollen shut, and the large lump that accompanied it supported my suspicion that the animal had been beaten. The other canine had a limp and what looked like a very poorly healed tear in its ear.
I was disgusted. Who in their right mind would keep an animal simply for the purpose of beating it? Carefully, I leaned over the gate and extended my hand to the closest canine - the one with the limp. It wagged its tail and shoved a warm, wet nose into my palm, which prompted me to scratch its head. "Poor things," I muttered. "Where are your owners?"
Suddenly, the canine growled and proceeded to curl up as close to the wall of the Hold as it could. I snatched my arm back and looked toward the stalls. Two people on mottled brown runners were coming - a man and a woman. I jogged toward them, accidentally startling one of the runners, who whinnied and threw its head a bit. "Hello there!" I called. "Are you the holders of Far Cry?"
The man, a burly and mean-looking fellow, scowled down at me. "Keep your 'hello there,' woman!" he growled. I took a bewildered step back. "Trespassers here aren't treated very well, so I suggest you leave with that warning. And get your bloody runner out my stalls!"
I was at a loss for words. Never had I received a welcome such as this, and welcome it wasn't! Thankfully, the woman got off her beast that very moment and spoke up. "Hold your tongue, Morist! That's no trespasser! She's a Harper, she is. We were promised one, remember?"
Morist was off his runner, staring straight at me, and his eyes did not soften as the woman spoke. They were full of contempt and suspicion, and I could not figure out why. Nevertheless, he straightened from the malicious crouching stance he had assumed. "A Harper girl, eh?" he said finally. The woman came up and prodded his arm. He looked between her and me and grunted. "Ah, very well then. What's your name, Harper?"
"Journeyman Amara," I replied carefully. Morist nodded and pulled his mount into the first stall. The woman came over to me.
"Forgive me husband, if ye will, Harper," she said. "He's suspecting of everyone come by here. My name is Danna, by the way, and long as I'm around, ye be welcome here at . . . Far Cry Hold." I wondered at her apparent forgetfulness of the name of her own property. She nodded. "Come with me, then. Ye'll be havin' your own room. I'll show ye about." She went over to Gab and rather forcibly removed my remaining bags from him. Thankfully, she gave the instrument pouch to me.
As I observed her, I felt an increasing need for caution. She seemed nice enough, but there was suspicion in her eyes as well. She also appeared to be somewhat fearful, but of what, I could not say. I trailed her to the front of the building.
The dinner hour came about. Danna pulled a pot of stew from the hearth in the kitchen and handed bowls of it to Morist and me. I took particular care to sit at the opposite end of the table from the man. As I ate, I pretended not to notice the shifty stare he regarded me with most of the time. Danna was generally silent, concentrating on her meal more than anything else. My attempts at small conversation were met with short, snappish answers that were meant to persuade me into silence.
Afterward, I went in to the small room that had been allotted me and took out my gitar. It was ridiculous, trying to find things by the light of the single, dimming glowbasket I'd been given. There was a reed mattress and a pillow on the floor for me to sleep on, and the two furs given to me were quite old. There was a small, square metal chest for me to put my clothes in. That was the extent of my sleeping quarters. However, I did not complain, for I was busy figuring out what gave the troubled taint to the atmosphere.
When I returned to the main room with my gitar tuned, Danna and Morist were sitting together on a bench before the hearth. "Shall I play for you, my holders?" I asked brightly, keeping my distance.
Morist grunted. "Play, Harper. Play 'til we be sleeping."
I did. I played a wordless ballad, fitting for a still night. It was old, dating back to Landing times. As I did with all of the music I played, I became so caught up in it that I closed my eyes, hearing the different aspects of each note, each chord, and the stories that each phrase told.
When the last note faded from the strings beneath my fingers, I looked up and found Danna and Morist asleep on the bench. Not in the least bit surprised, I went back to my quarters, put my instrument away, and fell asleep myself.
Thus it went for three days more. On the fourth night of my rather unusual stay, the dinner hour was plagued by a series of strange noises that only I appeared to notice. They were scrapings at first, rather subtle, then growing a bit louder. They stopped for a while, but returned a short time later as thumps that seemed to emanate from one corner of the kitchen. Finally, I chose to comment. "Forgive me, Danna, but have you developed a problem with tunnel snakes in your cellar recently?"
For a moment, Danna and Morist simply looked at each other. "Well . . ." Danna began finally.
Morist picked at a crevice in the table with his knife and cast a subtle glare in my direction. "Just the canines," he grumbled. "But yes, we've had a few snakes."
"Ah," I answered. Later that evening, I informed Danna that I was not feeling well and would be going to bed early. I did go back to my room, which now had a complete lack of illumination, but not for long. A few moments after they assumed I'd gone to sleep, I crept out into the hall and crouched beside the wall that was directly behind the bench where they normally spent their evenings.
The first to speak was Danna. "She must suspect somethin', otherwise she wouldn't be askin'."
"I don't know," Morist growled, "though I know those Harpers can figure things out pretty quick."
"Well, what'll we do if she finds out?" Danna whispered. She sounded on the verge of panic. I narrowed my eyes. There were crimes afoot here.
"Day after tomorrow, we'll figure somethin' out to do with her and the others," Morist replied after shushing his wife.
"But why not tomorrow?" Danna whined. "I can't stand keepin' up this bloody farce!"
"Tomorrow we go to Lemos to trade," Morist reminded her. "We can think what to do on the way."
"But we'll be gone too long!" Danna complained. "The Harper girl will have us figured and helped them escape by the time we get back!"
Morist growled. "I s'pose you're right. Tomorrow then. We'll tie their hands an' feet and throw 'em in the river. But we'll have to do away with that one first."
I had heard enough. I sneaked back to my room, the whole situation making my skin crawl. Morist and Danna were not the holders of Far Cry. The real holders were being held captive in their own cellar, which explained the noises. And I presented the usurpers with a problem. I didn't intend to remain their problem for much longer. I would be gone, and so would the rightful holders.
"I do believe I'd like to become acquainted with your canines," I said the next afternoon.
"I don't see why," Morist grunted, "but go. Do what you like with the stupid beasts."
Casually, I wandered around to the back of the Hold. I did stop to give the canines a scratch, but I was also looking for something. If there was any indication of an outside entrance to the cellar, which was underground, my plan would work. If there wasn't, I would have to rethink things. I wanted to free the holders and send them off to a hospitable place before creating my own absence. If the other two runners were easily accessible, hiding might be unnecessary. I couldn't find anything along the back wall.
Yet to be seen by me was the north wall, for the building faced east. It was there that I did find the outside entrance. It was wooden - rather foolish, I observed, considering the coming danger of Thread. To complete the idiocy, it was simply tied shut by the handles with a length of old rope. One slip of my belt knife would remedy that easily. I would have to wait until nightfall to make everything work.
Clouds provided a darkness that was nearly too good to be true. What was better, it rained. Hard. Any sound that would betray my leaving and release of the holders would be drowned out by the storm. The only problem was visibility, and perhaps getting a foot caught in a sinkhole. I waited until well after Morist and Danna had fallen asleep before quietly taking up my possessions, donning a coarsely-woven weather cloak, and slipping out into the water-logged night.
Gab pawed impatiently at the soggy hay beneath him as I tied my bags to the saddle. Always keeping an attentive ear open as the rain steadily lightened, I entered the other two stalls and tacked up the other runners with reins and blankets alone - all that was required for a quick escape south to Lemos. I rounded the back of the house to the north wall, knelt beside the cellar doors, slid my knife under the rope and cut. Slowly, I pulled one door open, minding squeaky hinges. Once it was completely open, I stepped down into the darkness. From somewhere in the back of the cellar, I heard breathing. "Don't fear," I whispered. "My name is Journeyman Harper Amara. I'm getting you out of here."
"By the stars above," I heard a woman breathe. Footsteps approached, and I could barely make out the outline of a man, who grasped my hand.
"We owe you our lives, Harper," he whispered.
"Your names, please," I requested. "I will have to report all this to the Masterharper."
"Ristan, and my wife, Verena." The shadow of a woman appeared at his side. "We've been held down there for nearly two sevendays."
"Follow!" I whispered. Unfortunately, the rain had stopped altogether, which further heightened the need for caution. I was not careful enough, however. When I rounded the south wall on the path back to the stalls, I stopped dead in my tracks when the bulky form of Morist appeared before me. I heard Ristan straighten.
"So," Morist rasped, "you thought you'd be clever. Not clever enough."
"Morist!" Ristan stepped up beside me. "It's time for this to end! You knew perfectly well you'd be welcome to live at Far Cry as my brother and Master Tanner-"
"But not as Lord Holder!" the bigger man bellowed. "I'm eldest; I should've been confirmed; I'm holder by right!"
"Not according to the other holders and craftmasters," Ristan countered. "Father named me his successor. The law makes it legal, and that is something you can not get around."
"Enough!" roared Morist, clamping his hands over his ears as if he could fight off the truth by not hearing it. That was when I noticed something in his hand. The clouds parted, and the light of both full moons flooded the wooded landscape. It was a terrible betrayal that nothing could have stopped. The glint of cold, sharp metal shone from Morist's closed fist.
"Afraid of my words, are you, Morist?" Ristan was the picture of defiance. "Of course you'd be. You wonder why it was that I was named instead of you? It was because you never listened to the lessons of how to manage a hold. You never learned. You're all ambition and greed, but no skill!"
"Shut up!" Morist lunged at Ristan, his blade aimed directly at his brother's shoulder. As Ristan ducked away, I stepped in, shoved Morist's arm up and away, and immediately found myself struggling as he bore down.
"Stupid, Harper! Very stupid!" The blade angled toward me. I could not give!
Ristan made a move toward us. "No!" I shouted at him, trying to keep my knees from buckling as I strained against Morist's arm. "Get out of here! Go to Lemos!" Suddenly, I heard something whistle through the air above my head. The next instant, Morist let out an agonized cry, and he spun away from me. I saw the end of a throwing blade protruding from between his fingers as he held his left shoulder.
"There!" Verena shrieked. Hoofbeats came up behind us, and another Harper on runnerback rode into view. Danna also came around the side of the Hold at that moment and screamed when she saw her wounded husband.
"Skep!" I cried, throwing aside the cumbersome weather cloak. "Go with Ristan and Verena to Lemos! I can take care of things here."
Skep waved in acknowledgement, a second blade readied in his other hand. I was certainly glad I hadn't been the one throwing. My aim wasn't as good as his.
Now Danna confronted me. "You idiot Harper!" she screeched. "That was our last chance t' manage on our own! Now we'll be holdless!"
"You wouldn't be if you'd only gone by law," I reasoned.
"Not only that," she continued, not listening, "your friend hurt me husband. But since he's not here now, ye'll be the one to pay!"
Danna suddenly had a belt knife in her grip. She came at me, and I sidestepped away as I drew my own weapon. She slashed, and I easily knocked the maneuver away. Then Morist was back with his own blade, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side. He made one wild swing, and I took a few steps back. Another slash, and two more steps back. His third slash caught my right forearm between my wrist and elbow, but not badly. On his fourth attempt, I slammed his blow away and ran for the woods, finally admitting some fear. Morist was far stronger than me and full of bloodlust. Danna I could handle, but he would tire me out at some point.
I checked behind me once and found them pounding after me, not far behind. I wished I had not been so hasty in sending Skep away. The nearest Hold was too far to run to. However, I realized with a surge of hope that the Weyr wasn't. I was running straight for it. Telgar Weyr would be my haven, if I could go uncaught.
Abruptly, the trees disappeared. A sheer wall of rock reflected the moonlight full upon me. There was nowhere to hide unless I backtracked into the woods, which was unacceptable. I could hear Morist and Danna crashing toward me through the brush. They would surely see me if I went back. Desperate and out of ideas, I ran to the rock wall, screwed my eyes shut, and did something I had sworn never to do again.
As a very young apprentice, I had discovered within myself the ability to speak to dragons. People could hear dragons if they were spoken to. I, on the other hand, could talk to and hear any of them. I had done it a few times, but out of complete dedication to the Harper Hall, I had forsaken the ability. I knew I would be Searched if the dragonriders found out what I could do. I didn't care about any of that in my present situation. I searched deep inside my mind for a voice long forgotten, unearthed it, and cried out with all my might, wishing for K'leck, H'van, anyone to be there. Seerth! Silorith! Help me, please!
The noise from the woods stopped. Opening my eyes, I found Morist and Danna at the edge of the trees. "Like a watch-wher trapped in a glow-lit den," Morist laughed. "Let's put it out of its misery, shall we?" He advanced on me slowly.
I pressed myself up against the wall, searching vainly for some route of escape. My boot hit the rock, and I felt a foreign pressure on my calf. Skep's throwing knives! I dug my hand into my boot, pulled one out and took aim. The blade mirrored the moonlight as it flew, ever closer to its target . . . and missed Morist's ear by a finger-width. He looked where it stuck into the rain-softened ground. "Good try, Harper," he grated, "but not good enough. Perhaps I can do better." Morist pinched the blade between his fingers, cocked his arm back . . . and froze in terror as two dragon bugles - a baritone and an alto - reverberated through the valley.
I collapsed against the cold rock in relief as I looked up to see green and bronze dragon wings glistening in the light of the twin moons. Glowing red eyes marked their purpose as they came closer to the clearing. Danna screamed, while Morist dropped his knife and bolted. Silorith made an awkward landing in the small clearing, while Seerth flew south toward Far Cry to head the pair off.
A Harper has called a dragon? a deep, puzzled voice in my mind queried.
Yes, I answered. Tell your rider I'm sorry to have called you away, but I was in trouble. I didn't know what else to do.
You don't have to apologize, said Silorith, but you can tell him what you will yourself.
Suddenly H'van stood before me, breathing hard from running. "Harper! There you are!" he huffed. "Your arm doesn't look very good." I looked down and saw a dark blotch spreading over my sleeve. I rolled it up and wrapped the wound with a rag the bronze rider produced. "Speaking to dragons isn't standard training at the Harper Hall, is it?" He smiled at my consternation. Fearing I was in trouble for my actions, I adopted a totally repentant expression, which quickly became relieved in light of H'van's smile. "Now, Journeyman Amara, I have a choice for you to make. You're still young enough for this. You can either go back to the Harper Hall, or you can come to the Weyr and be a candidate for the new queen. Your gift would be invaluable to all dragonfolk."
My initial thought was to say no. I thought I'd be leaving my music and teaching behind. But Silorith betrayed my misgivings to his rider, who assured me otherwise. "Remember when you first came to the Weyr and the dragons started making a ruckus for no apparent reason?" I nodded. "They were calling for you, Amara! Silorith told me so. They know what you can do, what sort of a dragonrider you'd make." I stared at H'van incredulously. "Be a Harper for the dragons," he said almost insistently. "A Weyrharper - a dragonrider and a Harper all at once!"
"I can do that?" H'van nodded, grinning.
Silorith had an announcement at that moment. K'leck and Seerth have captured the man and woman!
I laughed out loud, more out of relief that the whole affair was over than out of victory. I looked about, at H'van, at Silorith, the mountains behind me, the moons, and back to H'van as I considered it all. He was still awaiting my answer. "Well, since you put it that way, I accept," I said finally. With a nod and an offered hand, H'van helped me up onto Silorith's back.
And so it was. Ristan and Verena were back at Far Cry within a sevenday, repairing the damage Morist and Danna had done. The usurpers were placed on trial and banished from all Holds and Weyrs - holdless, as Danna had so plainly put it. Upon telling Masterharper Riordan that I had been Searched, I left the Harper Hall with his blessing. Journeyman Skeperen was posted to Far Cry after deciding that he liked traveling more than staying in one spot.
I stood on the Telgar Weyr Hatching Sands two sevendays after the incident. And it was I - likely the most unwitting person there that day - who walked away to the weyrling barracks, forever bonded with the little queen dragon who was eternally part of me, heart to heart, mind to mind, and life to life. She would someday be one of the largest dragons in all of Pern, and she and I would be part of a fighting Weyr in the Fourth Pass of the Red Star. I was to be a Weyrharper, a Weyrwoman, and I was Amara, Belmeth's rider, of Telgar Weyr.