Chapter 21
Collision with Destiny
Destiny's path, unseen by man,
Sometimes glimpsed when close at hand.
But when you face your destiny true,
The courage within will see you through.
HATCHING DAY. For the ordinary citizens of Pern, it was a day filled with breathless wonder, heartfelt hope, and countless dreams. For those who lived in the Weyrs, it served as a time to reflect on a lifelong commitment … and to reaffirm the part they played in the survival of the planet and its people. Hatching Days offered a chance to celebrate, to dream, and to reflect upon life and to give thanks to those who fought, and sometimes died, to preserve it … the Dragonriders of Pern.
As dawn broke over Benden, the skies shone crystal clear, the warmth from Rukbat's light slowly chasing the night's chill away. Mist rising from the weyr lake danced on a gentle breeze, and as a final measure of this day's good fortune, Thread would not fall anywhere that it could do harm.
An excellent day for a Hatching, I noted with satisfaction.
All around me, the weyr was abuzz with activity, people scurrying hither and yon on various errands. Tantalizing aromas adrift on the morning air were proof that many had been up well before dawn preparing the enormous quantities of food that would be needed to feed all those attending the day's festivities. I inhaled deeply, savoring the potpourri of scents.
Today should be a most interesting experience, I mused.
My thoughts drifted back to the previous evening, and I smiled as I recalled Ryeena's impassioned description of a typical Hatching Day.
"It's absolutely the most wonderful experience of your life!" she enthusiastically recounted, Bolter's excited trills adding emphasis. "So many emotions running through you all at once!"
"First, the dragons begin humming; that's how you'll know the Hatching has started," she explained, pacing back and forth. "The eggs will begin to rock, and as they do, the humming becomes more intense. You can feel it right down to your bones!"
"Then, all at once, the humming stops!" she said, abruptly halting her pacing. "There isn't a sound as if everyone is holding their breaths, waiting … Then the first egg breaks open and the hatchling emerges. It's considered a good omen if the first to hatch is a bronze, especially if he knows exactly which boy he wants and heads straight for him."
"I see," I remarked, nodding sagely.
There was still much about dragons and their riders that I didn't understand, but I wasn't about to spoil things for Ryeena who accepted them as matter-of-factly as she did breathing.
"Soon you don't have enough eyes to keep track of all the activity as the eggs begin splitting open and the hatchlings choose their riders," she told me. "Some people have actually fallen over, dizzy from trying to watch too much!"
Ryeena giggled, silently wondering who among tomorrow's guests would be the first to topple.
"Then, all at once, it's over," she sighed, a hint of sadness in her voice. "The eggs have all hatched and the dragons paired off with their new riders. Congratulations for the lucky ones, heartbreak and condolences for those left standing."
"Sounds like you've been to quite a few of these," I commented, smiling at her infectious enthusiasm.
"Well, actually," Ryeena haltingly replied, eyes averted as she shuffled her feet, "this'll be my first time." Seeing the look of surprise on my face, she blurted out, "Oh, but that's exactly how everyone has described it to me! I'm sorry, John."
I burst out laughing, Goldie chirruping her confusion from astride my shoulder.
"You're excited, aren't you?" I inquired, wiping laugh tears from my eyes.
"Yes!" Ryeena replied, smiling.
"And maybe a little nervous?" I probed, noting how she was gently worrying her fingers.
"Benden Weyr," she sighed, hands clutched to her chest as she gazed out across the massive weyr bowl. "To be invited to any Hatching is a great honor. But never, not even in my wildest imaginings, did I ever believe I'd be invited to one here!" Her expression turning serious, she asked, "Did the Masters make the right decision, John, choosing us to represent them at such an auspicious occasion?"
"If they didn't think we were capable, they wouldn't have sent us," I said, giving Ryeena a reassuring hug. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. We'll both be fine."
"I hope so, John," she sighed, smiling up at me as her arm swept wide to encompass the weyr. "It's just so much!"
Since arriving on Pern, I'd heard many a tale about Hatching days. All of them mirrored Ryeena's, though not so energetically or so lavishly.
As my contemplations returned to the present, I reached up to give Goldie's neck ridge a scratch.
"Today should prove if all those stories are true, eh, pet?"
Her answer was a plaintive creel as she nuzzled my cheek, my stomach rumbling in concert with her hunger.
"Alright, I'll hurry," I chuckled, patting her tiny head.
With a last backward glance at the mists dancing on the weyr lake, I returned to my temporary quarters to get ready.
My Gather finery hadn't taken the trip to Benden at all well. By the time I'd finally unpacked my carry sack, they were in a terribly disheveled state. But, as it turned out, Ryeena and I needn't have bothered packing. The moment we arrived at Benden, each of us was presented with exquisite silk tunics in a shimmering Harper blue, dragon healer emblems woven into the fabric. To these were added leather jerkins dyed a rich Harper blue, beautifully overstitched with an interweaving pattern of dragons and the healer's symbol.
"From Darla and Laneth," we were told, "to show their appreciation."
Tears came anew to my eyes as I donned the exquisite garments. They were beautiful! Checking myself one final time in the mirror, I headed off to collect Ryeena, Goldie firmly ensconced upon my shoulder. We caught up with my young friend halfway to her own quarters.
"You look beautiful, Ryeena!" I commented, admiring her own tunic and jerkin.
"Thanks, John," she replied, smiling brightly. "So do you!"
"You are too kind, dear lady," I replied, bowing deeply which made her giggle. "Now, we'd best get something to eat. I've a feeling we won't have time to later."
Ryeena and I smiled. Jerritt, our Harper Hall friend, would be among those put to the eggs. We were both hoping and praying that he would find his heart's desire waiting for him on the hot sands of the Hatching Ground.
"Come on," I finally said, taking Ryeena's hand. "Something smells delicious!"
Finding the kitchen cavern was simplicity itself. The delightful aromas adrift on the breeze led us straight to it. Inside, the place was alive with the scents and sounds of cooking industry, Ryeena and I slipping in quietly so as not to disturb anyone from their labors. Cereal was slowly cooking over one of the smaller hearths, and it was while we were searching about for something to spoon it into that we were approached by a tall, white-haired woman who manifested a quiet air of authority.
"You must be John and Ryeena," she said in greeting. "Welcome, Masterhealer, apprentice. I'm Manora, headwoman of Benden Weyr."
"We don't wish to be a bother, Lady Manora," I said, glancing about. "If you could just show us where the bowls and spoons are, we can serve ourselves."
"Nonsense!" she protested, taking each of us by the elbow and leading us over to a table. "You are here as emissaries of the Harper Hall and will be accorded the respect due you. And please, it's just Manora."
"Manora, really, it's no bother. We …"
"Sit!"
We did.
"Felena!" Manora called out, waving to a woman across the cavern. "Some cereal and drink for our two friends. And plenty of sweetening. They're nothing but skin and bones!"
"Manora, could we please get something for our two fire lizards?" Ryeena shyly inquired.
"Are they here?" the Benden headwoman asked, glancing about.
"Outside," I assured her, thumbing toward the entrance. "We didn't want to cause a fuss with them flitting about."
"That's very kind, John," Manora said with a smile, "but unnecessary. Many of our riders have fire lizards of their own, and we've grown quite accustomed to their… behavior."
On cue, Goldie and Bolter popped out of between, circling Manora a few times before coming to rest on her shoulders.
"Yours?" she asked, stroking their neck ridges.
"The brown is Bolter," Ryeena explained, pointing to each, "and Goldie is John's queen."
"I'll see what I can find for them," Manora said, easing our two small friends over to our shoulders just as Felena and another woman arrived carrying bowls of cereal and juice for us to drink. "Now, eat."
Then, in a swirl of dress, she was gone.
"Wow!" Ryeena quietly exclaimed.
"Yeah!" I agreed.
We ate our fill, stuffed with an endless supply of cereal and juice. Manora brought Goldie and Bolter each a generous helping of fresh meat. They thanked her profusely before settling down to eat.
As Ryeena and I were finishing our meal, we spotted a parade of Weyr children streaming out of the kitchen cavern, each heavily laden with a huge bowl overflowing with freshly chopped meat.
"For the new hatchlings," a dragonrider remarked as he and a female companion approached.
A tiny gasp escaping her, Ryeena slid around behind me, clinging to my arm as she peered past my shoulder, Bolter chittering nervously from his perch.
"What's the matter?" I wondered, glancing back at the dragonrider and his companion. "Ryeena, what is it?"
"That's F'nor," she whispered, "and Brekke!"
"F'nor? Brown Canth's rider?" I inquired.
The weyrman nodded. The scars he bore would always tell the tale of his incredible journey between to the Red Star. Just as the loss of her young queen still left a haunting afterglow in Brekke's sparkling eyes.
"It's an honor to meet both of you," I said, rising to shake the dragonrider's hand. "Your reputations precede you."
"You've quite a reputation yourself, Masterhealer," Brekke commented as we shook hands, "journeying here from the Ancients' home world, 'Keymon's Song', your blaster, being able to speak to dragons. But it's your healing skills that fascinate me. Wherever did you learn them?"
"The Star Service Academy," I replied. "Field surgical techniques are standard training for any first contact team. I'm glad they've proven useful here on Pern."
"Useful?!" F'nor exclaimed, grinning broadly as he clapped me on the back. "Ista's weyr healer, F'reth, can't stop talking about it! Every dragonrider I've spoken to was sure Laneth would lose that wing. And what you did for Darla's leg is incredible!"
"John, do you think we'll have a chance to hear that lovely song of yours?" Brekke asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
"'Keymon's Song'?" I wondered aloud, glancing over at Ryeena. "I don't understand. Surely you must have heard it by now."
Goldie shared my bewilderment, chirping her surprise from my shoulder.
"We have," F'nor explained, "but, strangely, no one seems able to reproduce the dream-like qualities you seem to inspire."
"Will you sing it for us?" Brekke pleaded, her hand resting on my arm.
"Chirp!" Goldie answered, nodding to her before looking at me.
"After that, how could I refuse?" I laughed, smiling at my tiny friend's audacity. "I would be honored to, Lady Brekke."
"Please, just Brekke," she begged, smiling at such formality.
"Would you care to join us?" Ryeena inquired, gesturing at the food on the table.
"Thank you, no," F'nor graciously declined. "Actually, F'lar and Lessa sent us to find you. They're waiting out in the Weyr bowl." Seeing the apprehension on Ryeena's face, he added, "Not to worry. This being your first Hatching, they just wanted to show you around."
"Then we'd best not keep them waiting," I said, helping Ryeena to her feet.
Thanking F'nor and Brekke, we paused briefly to express our gratitude to Felena and Manora for the breakfast then hurried out to the Weyr bowl. F'lar and Lessa were waiting for us by the lower entrances to the Hatching Ground.
"Glad you two could make it, John, Ryeena …" the Weyrleader said, greeting us warmly. "You'd have been sorely missed, otherwise."
"We are deeply honored to be here, Weyrleader," Ryeena replied, bowing gracefully.
"Masterharper Sebell, Masterhealer Oldive, and the entire Harper Hall send you their best wishes on this happy occasion," I added.
"We're very pleased with the four candidates they sent," F'lar commented, "especially your young friend, Jerritt."
"We were certain you would be, Weyrleader," I replied, Ryeena's smile matching my own.
"Still," F'lar remarked, giving us a conspiratorial wink, "we were hoping there might be one or two more."
"Sure you two won't reconsider?" Lessa asked, linking arms with Ryeena and me. "There's still time to change your minds."
Ryeena's gaze briefly met mine before she turned to Lessa, saying, "It was you who first told us the best dragon healer is one who is dragonless, Weyrwoman. You wouldn't want us to go back on that, would you?"
Lessa regarded my young friend for a long moment, a warm smile on her face. "No, child, I wouldn't," she finally declared, hugging Ryeena tightly.
"In any case, Weyrwoman, it is the hatchlings who will have the final say this day," I commented as Goldie nuzzled my cheek. "No telling who they will honor as their chosen lifemates."
"Well said, Masterhealer," F'lar declared, thumping my shoulder. "More than once the hatchlings have bonded with someone not on the sands. Today … who knows?"
The two Benden leaders exchanged knowing smiles while Ryeena and I exchanged nervous glances. Then, a truly heretical thought crossed my mind.
"Weyrwoman, I'm curious," I began, carefully choosing my words. "Has anyone ever… refused a hatchling's choice?"
"Refused?!" Lessa spluttered, her face writ with disbelief.
"I meant no disrespect," I apologized, hands up in supplication. "Old habits, you see. As a member of a first contact team, we were trained to constantly anticipate all possibilities." After a pause, I met Lessa's gaze squarely. "Has anyone ever refused?"
"Not since the first egg was shelled, Masterhealer," F'lar replied. "But, enough of such talk. A Hatching is a happy occasion, a celebration of life!"
"Would you like to see the eggs up close?" Lessa offered, gesturing for us to precede her into the Ground.
"Ramoth won't mind?" Ryeena nervously inquired, peering through the opening.
"Not at all," Benden's Weyrwoman assured us, leading the way. "In fact, she's been looking forward to seeing you again, my dear."
"Me?!" Ryeena stammered, stopping so abruptly I nearly plowed into her.
"Uh huh," Lessa replied, smiling warmly as she escorted my young friend into the Hatching Ground. "She misses your gentle hands!"
Try as she might, Ryeena couldn't hide the blush that filled her cheeks.
The Hatching Ground was positively enormous, far larger than I had imagined. And the sands were as hot as we'd been told, the intense heat penetrating the heavy soles of the boots I'd had the forethought to wear. But the sight of my first dragon egg stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Spirits of my ancestors!" I gasped, my voice reduced to an awed whisper.
They were enormous! Even lying on their sides, the shells were nearly chest high to me, some higher. I'm not sure what I expected, but this …
"They're so beautiful!" crooned Ryeena, entranced by one of the two queen eggs.
Curiously, I found myself drawn to its slightly larger twin. The mottled patterns of the shell were hypnotic, drawing my eyes back to it no matter how often I looked away.
"Magnificent!" I sighed, gently caressing its shimmering iridescent surface.
Abruptly, I snatched my hand behind my back, a strangled cry escaping my lips. What had I been thinking?! Aghast at my transgression, I felt the blood drain from my face as I turned to the two Benden leaders.
"Chirrup?" Goldie inquired, puzzled by my behavior. 'What's wrong?' she seemed to ask.
"Weyrwoman, Weyrleader, I … that was inexcusable," I stammered, eyes downcast. "I don't know what came over me… I had no right to touch…"
Lessa merely chuckled as she took my trembling hand.
"It's alright, John," she assured me.
"But… only candidates for the Hatching are permitted to touch the eggs!" I croaked, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat that threatened to choke me.
With a reassuring smile, Lessa explained, "If Ramoth had objected, the whole Weyr would've known!"
You may touch it if you wish, her dragon quietly hummed, craning her neck over the egg to look directly at me.
Gulping nervously, I placed my trembling hand back on the egg. The glistening shell was firm and nicely warm, soothing to the touch.
"There. You see?" Lessa said, smiling as she came to stand beside me.
A very audible sigh escaped me. Only then did I realize I'd been holding my breath. Goldie added her own assurances, trilling softly as she nuzzled my cheek.
"By my ancestors," I muttered, managing a weak smile. "I thought for sure I'd be scorched."
Ramoth knows you would not hurt our daughter, rumbled Mnementh from his perch high above the Sands. She likes you. So do I.
Speechless, F'lar, Lessa, and I stared at the great bronze.
Suddenly, and with surprising speed, the very egg that I had touched pitched violently, rocking up onto its end before teetering in my direction. Goldie took wing, shrieking in alarm, while I barely had time to brace my arms against the shell, the weight of the enormous egg driving me to my knees.
"I could… use… a hand here!" I grunted.
Do not interfere! rumbled Ramoth, her massive head looming over the egg.
"Ramoth, don't be such a wherry!" Lessa chided her dragon, startled by her lifemate's sudden belligerence. "John'll be crushed!"
"Ramoth, please!" I entreated her, my arms trembling under the weight of the massive egg.
"We've got to help him," said F'lar as he moved forward.
NO! roared Mnementh, the force of his telepathic mandate sending F'lar and Lessa reeling.
Such a display would've frightened even the bravest of souls. Terrified beyond reason, Goldie and Bolter vanished between, leaving Ryeena staring in frightened bewilderment as she struggled to support the stunned Benden leaders.
"Ramoth, Mnementh, please!" I beseeched them.
You will not let her be hurt, John, Ramoth rumbled, unmoved by my cry. You will save her.
She was right, of course. I wasn't about to let the egg come to harm. But why was she acting like this? And Mnementh! It made no sense!
Grunting and straining, I finally managed to regain my feet. Then, in a supreme effort, I nudged the massive egg back onto the nest. But the effort cost me dearly. I collapsed to my hands and knees, muscles quivering from the effort not to sprawl in the sands, my chest heaving like a smith's bellows as I sucked in great lungfuls of air to recharge my oxygen starved body.
"John?" It was Lessa's voice, her hand lightly touching my shoulder.
"You two okay?" I asked, noting how both Benden leaders were cradling their heads.
"Stars above, man, forget us!" F'lar responded, waving my concern aside. "What about you? Are you alright?"
"I think so," I told him, levering myself into a sitting position, my back against the egg. "Why, Weyrwoman? Why didn't they want you helping?"
"I wish I knew," was Lessa's angry response as she looked up at Ramoth and Mnementh, "but you can bet I'll find out!"
Ramoth merely sniffed. Mnementh slowly settled himself back on his rocky perch.
"Are you sure you're alright, John?" Ryeena asked, kneeling beside me.
I nodded, and with her help, managed to get to my feet. Goldie was beside me instantly, trilling forlornly for having abandoned me.
"No apologies, love," I told her as she backwinged to my shoulder. "I very nearly followed you between myself!"
In the next instant, holders and weyrfolk alike were pouring into the Hatching Ground.
"Shells, F'lar, what's going on?" F'nor anxiously inquired, a steadying hand on his half-brother's shoulder.
"Wish I knew," F'lar replied, smiling weakly. "Damnedest thing I ever saw!"
Brekke's face was pale and her hands were trembling as she stood beside her weyrmate. Clearly she, too, had been affected by Mnementh's edict. Noting my scrutiny, she smiled slightly, gently shaking her head to indicate she was alright.
"We'd best reassure this crowd, Weyrleader," I whispered, "lest this incident spoil the Hatching."
"Agreed," Lessa commented, taking F'lar's arm.
We never got the chance to act. All concerns were instantly swept aside as the eggs began to gently wobble; the dragons, on cue, beginning their soft but insistent humming.
With F'nor and Brekke assisting, F'lar and Lessa moved off through the crowds, reassuring everyone and urging them to take a seat for the grand event.
Things seemed to be returning to normal, yet I was still troubled. Why had Ramoth refused to help me with the egg? And why had she and Mnementh not wanted anyone else interfering? As Lessa's dragon watched over the gently swaying eggs, a possibility presented itself.
By prolonging my contact with the egg, was she somehow hoping to sensitize the hatchling within to my presence?
Ramoth's attention was fixed on her clutch, but the one multi-faceted eye facing me had a curiously wicked twinkle to it, and I could almost swear she was smiling and chuckling to herself.
Was she trying to set me up as a lifemate for the queen?
Drawn by the drone of the gathered dragons, people were pouring into the Hatching Ground, hurrying to find the best seats they could.
"Come on, John, hurry!" Ryeena urged, pulling me toward the tiers as the dragons' hum grew louder.
"Yes, alright," I said, a final backwards glance at Ramoth before I followed my friend up the steps.
Soon, other dragons began to arrive, winging through the upper entrance to the Ground, each bearing a white-robed candidate. Ryeena and I leaped to our feet, cheering and waving as Jerritt appeared astride a massive bronze – a portent of his coming fortunes?
Each dragon alighted briefly on the sands, discharging its passenger before soaring upward to a perch above and around the Hatching Ground. How so many dragons could fill such a confined space and not collide with each other was a wonder to behold.
With Ramoth looking on, the boys quickly formed a loose semi-circle around the massive clutch, the girls gathering to one side to await their own chances with the two queen eggs.
The dragons' hum grew louder, more insistent, rising in proportion to the size of the crowd, the eggs rocking faster with each increase. And just when it seemed the tiers couldn't hold another body, the humming stopped, sending a collective gasp rippling through the crowd as every eye fixed on the wobbling clutch of eggs!
Faintly, a cracking sound could be heard, excited fingers pointing to the fissures that were beginning to appear in one of the eggs. Another, then a third began showing cracks, setting off anxious whisperings, each person betting on which egg would open first. With a final resounding crack, the middle of the three split neatly in two, releasing its occupant.
"A bronze!" sighed the crowd, enthralled by the hatchling as it stumbled free of its shell.
Ryeena slipped her arm through mine, a hopeful, anxious look on her face. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking … or praying. But the little bronze turned and wobbled unerringly toward one of the suntanned lads from Southern Hold. Heaving a disappointed sigh, Ryeena leaned against my arm, a single tear running down her cheek.
"It's still a good omen," I told her, lifting her chin so she'd look at me, "and this is only the first to hatch."
"It should have been Jerritt's!" she argued. "Why didn't it choose him?"
"There are still plenty of hatchlings," I assured her, a pair of healthy browns emerging from the other two eggs. "Jerritt still has a chance."
From the set of her jaw and the determined gleam in her eyes, it was clear that Ryeena would not be happy with anything less than a bronze for Jerritt.
And then, the eggs began to hatch in rapid succession, and I was the one who nearly fell over, dizzy from trying to watch too much.
The semi-circle of boys shifted first one way then another as the hatchlings emerged, cheers of delight rising from the crowds as each Impression was made. Several of the eggs split open simultaneously, spilling out a bronze, two blues, and a green.
"John, look!" Ryeena cried, pointing excitedly. "Another bronze! And it's right in front of him! Oh, I hope he gets it!"
Shaking my head, I sighed, "It doesn't want him."
Without so much as a sideways glance, the little bronze walked past Jerritt, butting into the legs of a small boy behind him.
"How did you know?" Ryeena wondered, her expression puzzled.
"Look!" I said, pointing. "The green's turned his way."
"Shells, no!" Ryeena cursed. "Jerritt deserves better!"
"Ryeena!" I hissed, nervously glancing about.
"Well, he does!" she whispered, abashed at her temerity.
"Watch," I said, nodding to the Hatching Grounds.
The little green stood before Jerritt, peering up into his face. Ryeena seized my arm, a silent plea that this not be the one. As I covered her hand with mine, the little green turned and moved on down the row to one of the miner lads from Nerat.
"Thank the Stars!" Ryeena sighed. "I was so worried."
"I don't think Jerritt will mind in the least what color his dragon is," I told her. "He'd be happy with any of them!"
Not counting the queen eggs Ramoth was carefully watching over, the remaining unhatched eggs had been reduced to just two.
"Oh, John, he's just got to get one of these!" Ryeena hoped.
I smiled, squeezing her hand gently. I, too, was praying that one of these remaining eggs would be the answer to Jerritt's most fervent hopes and dreams.
"We'll know soon enough," I said as the eggs began to rock and sway, their occupants struggling to break free.
In quick succession, first one then the other cracked open and out came a blue and …
"A bronze!" Ryeena crooned with delight.
And what a bronze! By far the most handsome to hatch, the mottled patterns of its hide ranged from a brilliant golden hue to a warm, deep bronze.
"He's beautiful!" I sighed, my voice reduced to an awed whisper.
Surveying the remaining candidates, the little bronze started to wobble off towards the far end of the line.
"No!" Ryeena wailed.
Incredibly, the hatchling stopped mid-stride as if hearing Ryeena's cry. Then it turned, glancing back the way it had come.
"Yes!" I whispered, silently urging the little bronze on.
The hatchling stopped. Dazed and disbelieving, Jerritt backed up a step, frantically glancing about. The little bronze was looking straight at him, creeling longingly as it slowly tried to close the distance between them. Envy on most faces, disappointment on a few, the other candidates gently nudged our Harper friend forward.
Her arm twined tightly in mine, Ryeena and I watched, entranced and delighted, as Jerritt knelt before the bronze, throwing his arms about its neck, hugging it tightly in the excess of his own happiness.
"His name is Pelenth!" he cried, eyes brimming with tears of unabashed delight.
"YEE HAH!" I bellowed, leaping to my feet. "Way to go, J'ritt! Alla fenz, zu ch'nev!" Well done, my friend!
"John!?" Ryeena spluttered, staring as I waved my arms excitedly over my head, my thumbs up in a sign of encouragement.
Boundless joy beaming from his face, J'ritt turned and waved, beckoning us to join him.
"Come on!" I said, taking Ryeena's hand.
As the remaining blue slowly made his way through the other candidates, we hurried down the steps to join our young Harper friend.
"You did it, J'ritt, you did it!" I declared, grasping his arm firmly, grinning broadly. "Congratulations!"
"We're so very happy for you, Jerr …" Ryeena began, then corrected herself. "I mean, J'ritt!"
"Am I dreaming?" he wept, clutching his new lifemate to him.
Of course not, the little dragon replied, lovingly nuzzling the newest bronze rider.
"You look so happy, J'ritt," said Ryeena, her own tears of joy running down her face.
"Oh, I am, Ryeena, I am!" he replied, a warm embrace for Pelenth. "And it's all thanks to you, John."
I shook my head. "Wasn't me. Thank the Dragonriders!"
"But if you hadn't spoken to them on my behalf …"
"Never got the chance."
"Wha… what?!"
J'ritt stared at me, eyes popping, his mouth hanging open.
"He's right, J'ritt," Ryeena added.
"You've no idea how my heart sang when Ryeena and I returned with our riding furs and found they'd already picked you as a candidate," I said.
"But, if you didn't," J'ritt stammered, "then how …"
"You did it on your own," I told him, smiling; a firm hand on his shoulder. "The Masters must have seen something in you when they brought you to the Harper Hall."
"That's right!" Ryeena agreed. "And the Search dragons must have thought you had the potential or you wouldn't have been chosen as a Hatching candidate."
"Pelenth obviously found something in you he liked," I said, scratching the bronze's eye ridges. "He'd've never looked to you, otherwise."
Darn right! J'ritt's lifemate declared.
"And let's not forget that you were among the first in memory to be taken on Search from the Harper Hall," Ryeena commented. "And, look at you! The only one to Impress a bronze!"
"Not bad for the foster son of a small cot holder from Keroon, eh?" I asked, winking at him. "I think Lady Moreta would have been proud."
J'ritt was beside himself, stunned by his good fortune.
"I … I just can't believe this is all happening," he finally managed to say. "And it's all thanks to you two."
"Us?" Ryeena wondered.
"Yes," J'ritt replied. "You two were the only ones who thought I had a chance of Impressing a dragon. Because of you, I found the courage to try."
"The courage was always there, J'ritt," I said, giving his shoulder a gentle clout. Winking, I added, "It just needed, shall we say… a little encouragement?"
"Thanks, John," he said, smiling as Pelenth nuzzled his arm. "You, too, Ryeena."
"We're so proud of you, J'ritt," Ryeena beamed, hugging her friend. "The Masters will be thrilled when they hear. And it'll sure put those boys in their places but good!"
"I wish you could have seen it, J'ritt," I said, giving him a conspiratorial wink. "When that green came over to you, I thought Ryeena was going to leap to the sands to stop it!"
Ryeena gasped, her face a mask of horrified disbelief as she stared at me.
"Is that true?" J'ritt wondered, turning to her.
"J'ritt, I …," Ryeena stammered, eyes averted in painful embarrassment.
"But why?" he begged, turning to me.
"You're her friend, J'ritt," I explained, giving Ryeena's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Nothing less than a bronze would do."
Gently, J'ritt took Ryeena's trembling hands in his. Kissing them, he said, "Thank you."
A shy smile played across her face as she looked up.
"John!"
Ryeena's warning hiss came just as something butted into my leg. Turning, I met the gaze of the remaining hatchling – the little blue.
Ryeena and J'ritt both gasped, one frightened, the other excited. For a long moment, the little blue stared at me, but …
Not right, he trilled forlornly, looking away.
"Courage, little friend," I said, kneeling beside him. "Perhaps I can help. Wait."
Closing my eyes, I placed my hand on the little blue's neck ridge.
"John, what are you…" Ryeena started to say, but my hand raised in warning silenced her.
Time suspended itself. The entire Hatching Ground fell silent, everyone holding their collective breaths, waiting …
"There!" I finally said, opening my eyes and pointing to the far end of the Hatching Grounds. "Try the lad at the front of the tier."
The little blue gave me a questioning glance before trundling off in the direction I had indicated. As he got closer to the tier, his cries transformed from worried keening to exultant trills.
In the tier, the lad I'd pointed to turned away, an unbidden tear sliding down his cheek. This place held only painful memories for him. Why had he come? He'd been Searched before, several times in fact. Oh, how he had wanted to be a dragonrider! The glories of Impression had filled every waking moment as he dared hope that one of the awkward little hatchlings would choose him. Sadly, each time, he'd been left standing on the sands, bitter disappointment his only consolation. Several Turns had passed, and the Dragonriders had not returned. Had he unknowingly offended them somehow? Shame and grief overwhelmed the lad. His chest felt constricted, making it hard to breathe, even as he fought to control the tears that welled up in his eyes. Why, of all places, had he come here?
Please, don't cry.
Feeling a gentle hand touch his arm, the lad looked up. His mother was also weeping. His father was sitting beside her, brow furrowed with concern. They had been so proud each time he'd been Searched. And when he'd been left standing on the sands, they had comforted him, sharing his pain. They understood.
Pain? Are you hurt?
A second ticked by, and then the lad's jaw fell open in thunderstruck astonishment! Neither parent had uttered a sound, and yet, someone had just spoken to him, their words as clear as crystal! But, if not them, who…
Hope flared suddenly, snatching the lad's breath away. Trembling, he slowly turned toward the sands, his parents looking on, hopelessly confused. His heart raced, his breathing ragged. This was impossible! He hadn't been Searched! Memories of past disappointments boiled to the surface. The lad turned away, unwilling to face that pain again.
Don't be afraid.
Out of the corner of his eye, the lad could see the blue, but it was the star voyager from Earth he stared at. Flanked by his young friends and the latest bronze hatchling, the Masterhealer was smiling and waving for him to stand. He had sent the hatchling this way. How could he have known?
There was a scrabbling sound punctuated by his parents' collective gasps. As the lad was turning to see what was wrong, something gently nudged his leg. The lad jumped, scrambling back a row as his gaze met the blue's.
Don't you like me? it asked, sounding hurt.
Frantically, the lad glanced about. A nightmare, that was it. He was dreaming! Not until the Weyrleader himself eased him to his feet did all the pain of the past finally yield to breathtaking wonder.
With a smile and a nod, F'lar turned the lad toward the steps.
Haltingly, the lad descended to where the little blue waited. Slowly, reverently, he knelt before the hatchling, ever so gently taking its wobbling head in his hands. Sobbing, he proclaimed, "His name is Azureth!"
In the tier, his parents hugged each other, weeping openly, beaming with pride at their son, a dragonrider at long last!
As the lad slowly led his new lifemate out to the Bowl, F'lar's gaze found mine across the intervening sands.
My rider wants to speak to you later, Masterhealer, Mnementh rumbled, about what just happened.
Nodding my understanding, I turned back to my young friends.
"How?" J'ritt stuttered, the first to find his voice. "How did you know who the blue would pick?"
"He's been doing it ever since the first egg cracked," Ryeena sighed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "But he won't say how!"
"I promise I'll explain it to you one day, J'ritt," I told him. "Right now, you'd best see to Pelenth. He looks awfully hungry to me."
J'ritt gasped, the look of elation on his face slowly replaced by one of surprise as the true depth of Impression finally dawned on him.
"He is hungry!" J'ritt exclaimed, appalled at his thoughtlessness. "I can actually feel it!"
"Then why not take him out to the Bowl and get him fed?" I suggested, smiling as I thumped him on the shoulder. "We can talk later."
"C'mon, Pelenth, let's get you something to eat!" J'ritt told his lifemate, chattering reassuringly as he led the way out to the Weyr Bowl. "Yes, I know you're hungry. There's food right out here."
As Ryeena and I returned to our seats, a senior wing-second came out to lead the remaining boys from the Hatching Ground. A tear slid down my cheek as I watched the kaleidoscopic mix of emotions on their young faces. Some were angry. A few, comforted by friends, wept openly. But it was plain that all were bitterly disappointed.
As happy as I felt for J'ritt, I was just as sad for those left standing. Though they didn't know it, I felt a kinship with these unchosen. I, too, was dragonless. The difference was mine had been a conscious decision, driven by my sense of honor and my commitment to being a dragon healer. Their young lives, their world, revolved solely around being Dragonriders. They didn't possess the maturity yet to see beyond that single existence to other possibilities.
"Are you alright?" Ryeena asked, noting the sadness on my face.
"I hope they'll be patient with themselves, Ryeena," I sighed, wiping away the tear as I continued up the steps. "It may seem like the end of the world to them, but it isn't, and there'll be other chances."
"And other choices," Ryeena added, taking my arm as she smiled up at me.
"Any regrets?" I asked as we watched the girls gather around the first of the gently rocking queen eggs.
"No," she replied as we were seated once more. "I'm where I choose to be, and I couldn't be happier!"
A tear slid down my cheek as I kissed her forehead. But as I continued to watch, Ryeena's expression suddenly hardened.
"Well?" she demanded.
"Well, what?" I wondered, turning back to the rocking queen egg where cracks were beginning to show.
"Ooooh, you!" she growled, punching my shoulder, frustrated with my evasiveness.
"The egg, Ryeena!" I cried, pointing excitedly.
My young friend turned back just as it split open, the little queen spilling out onto the warm sands. Tears fell as a beaming smile lit Ryeena's face.
"Oh, John," she sighed, my heart melting at the distant look in her eyes, "she's so beautiful!"
"You could join them," I whispered, my hand resting lightly on her arm.
"I know, John," she whispered back, smiling as she gave my hand a grateful squeeze. "I know."
Slowly, the hatchling made her way down the line of girls, searching for that elusive spark that identified her lifemate. All around us, people were making spirited wagers, betting on their own favorites to Impress the little queen. But hope turned to consternation as the hatchling reached the end of the line without making a choice.
Lifemate, where are you? the little queen wailed, Ramoth and the other dragons softly crooning encouragement.
"What's wrong?" Ryeena asked, feeling my hand tense on her arm.
"Her lifemate isn't among them," I replied, my eyes never leaving the little queen. "She's frightened, Ryeena."
On the sands, the hatchling pushed her way through the candidates, making for the tiers.
"Isn't there anything they can do for her?" Ryeena wondered, glancing about at the gathered dragonriders.
"I don't think so," I replied.
From their nervous manner and anxious faces, it was clear the dragonriders were powerless to act.
As I was scanning the crowd, my gaze met those of the Benden Weyrleaders. Uncertainty was writ on their faces, a silent plea in their eyes.
I nodded.
Once again, the words of my psionics instructor came to me as I gently reached my mind out to the little queen, quietly probing, sensing her aura.
"John, what is it?" Ryeena asked. "What are you doing?"
"Do you remember that day T'rell challenged me to find his dragon?" I asked.
Ryeena nodded, even as the little queen cried piteously, wandering the sands in search of her rider.
"It's something one of my old instructors tried to teach me," I explained.
"She wants someone not on the Hatching Ground!" a voice cried out, sending excited murmurs rippling through the tiers.
"Certain species in the galaxy are linked psychically with others of their kind," I continued. "My teacher tried to show me how to identify the joined pair by sampling the aura of one and matching it to the other. I used something like that to find Rogath."
"You're searching for her lifemate!" Ryeena exclaimed, pointing to the aimlessly wandering hatchling. "Just like you did for the little blue!"
"Yes."
On the sands below, the little queen stumbled, overbalanced by her still untried wings. Several of the girls rushed over, easing the hatchling back to her feet. But she ignored their efforts, pushing through their ranks as she headed straight for the tiers.
"She's coming this way!" Ryeena exclaimed. "John, they've got to stop her. She'll never manage those steps!"
The little queen seemed undaunted. Wings out for balance, she started climbing, one scrabbling foot tentatively following the other. For a time, she did well… until a hind leg slipped. Wings flailing, she fell heavily, pinning one wing beneath her.
Lifemate, help me! the hatchling wailed, the gathered dragons answering in kind.
"She's trying to reach her lifemate, Ryeena," I explained. "There's a kindred aura somewhere nearby. It's very close. I …"
Suddenly, fire lizard keening exploded right over our heads. Bolter and Goldie swirled about Ryeena, their cries of delight echoing across the sands. My breath caught, and I turned to my young friend, my face betraying what I couldn't say.
"Me?!" she gasped.
"Ryeena, I …"
"No, she can't want me! NO!"
Panic-stricken, rising as if to flee, Ryeena stared with round, frightened eyes as the hatchling struggled with the obstacle of the steps, people on either side scrambling out of the way, fearing the lurching struggles of the little queen.
"Ryeena, please, go to her!" I insisted, pointing down the stairs. "She'll cripple herself if she tries to climb any further!"
"But, John, we're to be dragon healers!" Ryeena sobbed, slowly backing away, overwhelming desire and paralyzing uncertainty playing across her frightened features. "We're not supposed to have dragons!"
Ryeena stiffened, a tiny gasp escaping her as she stared past me. Turning, I spotted the Weyrleaders coming our way through the crowd.
"Ryeena, listen to me," I said, grasping her shoulders.
"John, what am I going to do?" she whimpered, tears streaming down her face.
"Never forget who you are, Ryeena, who we are," I said, touching my healer's pin. "We are dragon healers, sworn to the health and welfare of dragonkind. Nothing, not even Impression, can change that. Please, Ryeena, go to her … before she hurts herself any further!"
Bolter and Goldie added their own appeals, calling out encouragement as they flitted back and forth between us and the little queen.
But Ryeena was paralyzed by the storm of emotions raging inside her, sobbing forlornly as the little queen struggled to reach her.
Taking Ryeena's trembling hands in mine, I squeezed them tightly, praying all the while that my young friend could somehow draw the courage and strength she would need from that contact.
"I'll come with you to assist," I quietly told her, "but we must hurry."
"John, no!" Ryeena croaked, trying to pull away.
Turning so she wouldn't see the tears in my eyes, I shouldered my way through the crowd, my fellow dragon healer in tow.
On the steps below, some of the Benden riders were trying to right the little hatchling, but she refused their aid, hissing and snapping at them, flailing her one untrapped wing about. Determined to reach her lifemate, the little queen struggled once more to rise.
"NO!"
In a single heartbeat, Ryeena pushed past me, leaping down the stairs just as the hatchling stumbled and fell yet again. My young friend barely reached the little queen in time, catching its fragile head and cushioning it from a painful rap against the stone. The deed done, Ryeena collapsed on the steps, racked by sobbing, the hatchling's head cradled in her lap.
Lifemate! the little queen jubilantly trilled, relaxing from her struggles.
"Don't call me that," Ryeena sobbed, turning away.
But that's who you are! the hatchling insisted.
"No, I'm a dragon healer. I swore an oath. How can I accept you?"
Because, lifemate … the little queen softly hummed as she nuzzled Ryeena's tearful face, with all your heart, you want me as much as I want you.
I gasped. That's what Ryeena had said back at the Harper Hall!
Gently, my young friend gathered the hatchling into her arms, hugging it tenderly before taking the little queen's head once more in her hands. "Her name is Sylene!"
Goldie and Bolter caroled their elation, filling the air above us with a dizzying display of acrobatics. I'd heard many a tale about the glories of Impression, but I was completely unprepared for the innocent wonder that shone from Ryeena's face. I looked away, embarrassed, and, unexpectedly, envious!
"Ryeena, make sure she knows we're just trying to help," I quietly spoke, gesturing to the nearby dragonriders.
Relieved to have found her lifemate at last, Sylene offered no further resistance. With some effort, two of the dragonriders and I managed to lift the little queen high enough that a third rider was able to free the trapped wing. That done, we gently set the hatchling back on her feet and carefully folded the delicate wings into place. Circling above, Bolter and Goldie chattered away, greeting the new hatchling in their own fashion.
"How is she, Ryeena?" Lessa inquired, F'lar beside her, the two having finally reached us through the crowds. "Will she be alright?"
"She's had some scrapes and bruises," my young friend replied, "but I don't think anything's broken."
"Then, why not take her out to the Weyr bowl and get her fed?" F'lar suggested. "The Weyrlingmaster can get you what you'll need to treat her wounds."
Ryeena looked up then into the faces of the two Benden leaders, rivulets of tears streaming down her face, her eyes apprehensive and sorrowful.
"Weyrwoman… I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… I wasn't trying to…"
Ryeena looked at me then, her face and eyes puffy from weeping. I turned away, unable to face her.
BETRAYER! my conscience screamed.
Ryeena clutched the little queen to her, Sylene crooning softly to her new lifemate, Bolter hopping anxiously from one shoulder to the other.
"Dear, sweet child, don't be sad," Lessa said, her gentle but firm hand lifting Ryeena's chin. "You couldn't have known. No one since the days of the First Egg has ever been able to understand why a dragon prefers one rider over another."
As Lessa gently wiped the tears from Ryeena's face, Goldie quietly alighted on my shoulder, twining her tail about my neck as she nuzzled my cheek.
"The dragon's never wrong, my dear," Lessa said. "Be happy. But more than that, be honored! Out of everyone here, you were the only one she found worthy enough!"
The best of them all! Sylene hummed, nuzzling Ryeena's tear-soaked face.
Sniffling back a tear, Ryeena looked down, gazing with renewed tenderness into Sylene's loving eyes.
"Now, why don't you go get her something to eat?" Lessa suggested, pointing to the exit. "After such a struggle to reach you, she's bound to be hungry."
"Yes, Weyrwoman, of course," Ryeena replied, getting to her feet.
Carefully, several bronze riders hovering protectively around the pair, Ryeena led her dragon back down the stairs, across the sands, and out of the Hatching Ground.
"John," Lessa beckoned, her hand on my arm.
Tears were streaming down my face as I turned to her.
"How will she ever forgive me for this?" I croaked, wringing my hands, my stomach roiling with self-loathing. "Spirits of my ancestors, I betrayed her!"
"You did what you had to do, John," F'lar quietly told me.
"Weyrwoman, if there'd been any other way," I stammered, trying unsuccessfully to stanch the flow of tears. "I'd have taken her place if I had thought it was possible."
"You? Impress a queen?" Lessa spluttered, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Torn between laughing and crying, what came out of me was a curious mix of both.
"That would really have caused a stir, wouldn't it?" I finally managed to say, a little relieved.
"John, do you have any idea why Ryeena was so reluctant to Impress?" F'lar inquired.
"Yes, Weyrleader, I do," I replied. "Being a dragon healer meant a great deal to Ryeena, more than she'd admit, even to herself. And she took her oath of dedication very seriously. I'm convinced she'd have done anything, even refuse Impression, rather than break that oath."
Lessa's worried gaze met mine, but we were given no further time for speculation as excited cries drew our attention back to the Hatching Ground. The remaining queen egg was pitching violently as the hatchling within struggled to free itself.
"A good flight, my love," said F'lar, his gentle embrace drawing Lessa closer, "to have produced two queen eggs in one clutch."
The girl candidates gathered around the wildly swaying egg, anxiously awaiting another chance at Impression, each fervently hoping that they would be the one chosen.
"A good omen for the dragonriders, too, Weyrmate," Lessa replied, smiling.
With a sound like a small thunderclap, the egg burst open, fragments spraying the nearest candidates, gasps of disbelief rising from all around the Hatching Ground.
Shrieking her defiance, the little hatchling emerged from the shattered remains, wings spread, head held high as she hissed at the nearby candidates, forcing them to take an involuntarily step backward.
"Oh ho, a strong one!" crowed F'lar, swinging Lessa around in his fierce embrace. "I wonder if anyone will be able to fly her when she's grown!"
"Ramoth, she's beautiful!" crooned Lessa. "Don't you think so, John?"
"Magnificent!" I heard myself sigh.
Chuckling softly, Lessa reached over to pat my arm. A sheepish grin was the best I could manage as I recalled how mere moments ago I had described her egg in the very same fashion.
Out on the Hatching Ground, a few of the less timid girls stepped forward, but the little queen hissed and snapped at them, sending them squealing in retreat.
Goldie snorted at such antics, chittering as if to say, You'd make a better rider than any of them.
Would I? I wondered.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I became aware of a growing attraction to the little queen. It was an odd sensation, unlike any I'd ever known, and yet, familiar somehow, as if from…
A DREAM!
Eyes threatening to burst from their sockets, I staggered backwards, gasping for breath.
"Chirp?" Goldie inquired, nuzzling my cheek. What's wrong?
High above the Hatching Ground, Mnementh rumbled in amusement. Across the sands, Ramoth was watching, the twinkle in her multifaceted eyes more wicked than ever. My heart pounded beneath my ribs, the blood roaring in my ears as a single, almost inaudible word escaped my lips.
"No!"
With a graceful flick of her pinions, the hatchling settled her wings to her back before coming forward. To their credit, the girls stood their ground, but it was clear even the bravest among them had been unnerved by the little queen's ferocity.
Lifemate? the hatchling wondered, peering up into the first hopeful face.
Behind them, F'lar and Lessa heard the frightened squeal of a fire lizard followed by anxious cries from the tiers. Turning, they spotted me staggering away across the sands, Goldie circling above, chittering frantically.
"What…" F'lar began, but Lessa could only shake her head in wonder.
Not right, the little queen sadly trilled, moving on to the next candidate.
Lessa took off at a run as I rocked unsteadily, one hand cradling my head, the other held out for balance. She reached my side just as I stumbled and fell awkwardly to the sands. Goldie landed in front of me, her eyes a feverishly whirling yellow as she looked up at the Benden Weyrwoman.
"John, what is it?" Lessa asked, a gentle hand on my arm, Goldie chirruping uneasily as she nuzzled my cheek.
Behind them, the little queen cried unhappily, butting one girl out of the way before moving on to the next, peering up into each hopeful face, searching desperately for her rider. In between her cries, faint mumbling drifted up to Lessa's ears.
"Must try… no! Too strong… got to… turn… mustn't be!"
Disappointed with the candidates, the little queen made for the tiers, ignoring the girls' efforts to attract her attention and keep her well out into the Ground.
"What is it?" F'lar inquired, coming up beside his mate.
"I have no idea," Lessa replied. "He doesn't seem to hear us." Then, more urgently, she asked, "John, what's wrong? What mustn't be?"
"The others… wait," the Benden Weyrleaders heard. "Please… can't. Choose another… not me…"
Just then, the hatchling turned.
Lifemate?
Two syllables … one word … exploding in my mind with the force of a star gone nova!
"NO!" I howled, collapsing to the sands.
Goldie took flight, her keening shriek octaves above mine. The mournful sound reverberated across the Hatching Ground, stunning everyone into silence.
"Shards of my dragon's egg!" Lessa exclaimed, glancing up at her weyrmate as she put an arm across my violently trembling shoulders. "Whatever could be wrong with him?"
"Choose another?" F'lar absently repeated. "By the Egg of Faranth! Lessa, move back!"
"But…" she protested as he lifted her to her feet.
"Please, just do it!" F'lar begged her. Then, turning, he called out, "Everyone, move away! Give her room! Stand clear!"
Hearing the stentorian voice of the Weyrleader, the candidates on the Hatching Ground instantly obeyed, backing to the very edges of the sands.
No further obstacles barring her way, the little queen slowly, unerringly, made her way across the intervening sands. Lessa gasped, seizing F'lar's arm, uneasy murmurs rising from the assembled crowd as they, too, realized where the hatchling was heading.
"As I thought," F'lar surmised as the little queen nudged my trembling shoulders, Goldie trilling excitedly as she circled above. "She's chosen John."
"But… but that's impossible!" Lessa spluttered, stunned by this bizarre twist of events. "No man has ever Impressed a queen before!"
F'lar could only shake his head, his expression one of amused resignation.
Lifemate?
"Please, go away!" I sobbed, eyes closed, head turned aside. "This isn't right! I can't!"
But why? the hatchling wondered, her tone hurt and plaintive. Don't you like me?
"You're a queen dragon," I wept. "You should have a female rider, not me. Please, I beg you, choose another."
You are the one I choose, lifemate! she answered, lovingly nuzzling my lowered head. I will have no other.
"But, I can't!" I wailed, sobbing miserably as I tried to burrow into the sand.
Hearing my anguished cry, Ryeena had returned to the Hatching Ground, Bolter astride her shoulder, Sylene tottering along beside.
"John!"
Sounding a challenging bugle, Bolter took flight, Ryeena in close pursuit. Sylene gave a startled squawk as she suddenly found herself abandoned, her lifemate dashing across the hot sands. Halfway there, Ramoth's massive head stopped Ryeena, blocking her flight. Bolter continued on, unimpeded.
"Ramoth, let me through, please!" she implored. "I've got to help him!"
No, Lessa's dragon rumbled, her tone urging caution but not threatening.
"Stay there, Ryeena!" F'lar called out.
"But…"
"No buts, young lady," he ordered in a voice that brooked no contradiction. "Stay put!"
It will be alright, little one, hummed Ramoth reassuringly. You'll see.
Sylene nudged her leg then, eyes radiating love and concern, and Ryeena dropped to one knee to embrace her new friend.
"John?"
Lessa's gentle hand barely touched my shoulder, but I jerked away as if electrified. Scrambling blindly away, I slammed into the tier, my escape blocked.
"Weyrwoman, forgive me, please!" I beseeched her, not daring to look up, my arms raised in front of me for protection. "I tried to stop her, to get her to choose another… but I failed!"
Lessa's hand found my shoulder again, her touch gentle, reassuring.
"I felt it as soon as she broke shell," I sobbed, each breath a painful struggle. "I couldn't block the link! I tried everything I'd been taught, everything I could think of. But it was too strong, shattering my defenses as if they didn't exist! Help me, please!"
One hand under my chin, the other against my temple, Lessa forced my head up. "John, look at me."
I shook my head, unable to speak.
"Look at me!" she insisted.
Sniffling, I slowly opened my eyes. Clever Lessa. She was using her one hand to shield my eyes from the hatchling. I gawked, astonished, for there was Goldie perched atop Lessa's shoulder, peering intently at me, her eyes whirling blue and purple with love and devotion.
"Well, Masterhealer, you wanted to learn all there was to know about dragons," she teased, an amused smile on her face. "Now's your chance."
At once terrified and confused, I managed a weak smile, my cheeks flushing a shocking crimson with embarrassment. "Weyrwoman, I…"
"No more tears, John," she said, smiling. "This should be a happy time for you!"
"Lessa, this is a queen hatchling! She should have a female rider, not me! I… I can't!"
"We appreciate what you're trying to do, John," F'lar spoke, placing his reassuring hand on my other shoulder. "There are many here, I'm sure, who would gladly take your place."
Squawking defiance, Bolter daringly lighted on F'lar's extended arm, glancing first at the Weyrleader then me.
"This little fellow, though, might have something to say about it," he added with a chuckle.
Bolter snorted, his whirling eyes taking on the angry shade of red.
"The dragon's never wrong, John. She wants you, no one else."
"Your lifemate is waiting, John," Lessa told me. "Don't be afraid."
When the time is right, Mnementh rumbled from above, you will know what to do.
It is time to come home, Ramoth added, eyeing me from across the sands. Come home to us!
The words from my dream! Confused and afraid, I stared at first one then the other of Benden's Weyrleaders. "I…"
"Well, if he doesn't want her, I do!"
Whirling at the sound of the strange voice, we found a woman had come down from the tiers. Before anyone could stop her, she grabbed the hatchling's head between her hands, staring intently into its eyes as she tried to force Impression.
But the little queen shook free of her grasp, growling menacingly, her eyes burning red as she backed up a step or two.
You dare?! the hatchling hissed, gathering herself into a crouch.
"NO!" I screamed, launching myself across the intervening sands just as the little queen sprang at the hapless woman.
For an instant, there was a confusion of bodies as the three of us collided. The impact sent the woman thudding off to one side, otherwise unhurt.
Not so the hatchling and I. Blind with rage, her jaw snapped shut around my arm before she even realized it. Our two bodies entangled, we crashed to the sands, the hatchling coming down on top of me, the tiers echoing with an audible crack as several of my ribs broke.
LIFEMATE! the little queen howled, slowly backing off of my still form, her anger transforming to despair. NO!
Every single dragon picked up the cry, the Hatching Ground reverberating with the gut-wrenching sound. I would have cried out, too, but the crushing impact had robbed me of breath, the pain of my injuries blurring my vision as I swam along the edge of consciousness.
"John!" screamed Ryeena as she pushed past Ramoth.
Nearby, the little queen's anguished wail filled the air as she minced about, occasionally nudging my still form.
"Damn fool woman!" F'lar roared, yanking the stranger to her feet. "Do you have any idea what you've done?!"
Fury sparked from his eyes, Mnementh rumbling menacingly in concert with his rider as Ryeena skidded to her knees beside me.
"John?" Ryeena worriedly called out, gently shaking my shoulders.
A faint moan was all I could manage. Blood poured from the wound in my arm, pooling in the warm sand. Frantically, Ryeena began tearing strips from her brand new tunic in an effort to make a bandage.
"Here, Ryeena, use this," Manora said, pressing a clean, folded cloth over the wound. "It'll help control the bleeding."
"Thank you!" my young friend gratefully replied, binding the cloth into place with the strips torn from her tunic.
"But … but he didn't want her!" stammered the mystery woman. "You all saw it! He didn't!"
"Then you're a fool thrice over for not seeing how she wanted only him!" Lessa stormed, her knuckles white about the hilt of her belt knife.
Pulling back my tunic, Manora hissed at the blue-and-purplish markings already appearing beneath. Ryeena looked, too, and gasped.
"Manora?" she worriedly inquired, looking for assurances from the Weyr headwoman.
"This needs to be tended to right away," the Weyr headwoman commented, "but we'll need to get him off these hot sands and out of the Hatching Ground. T'gellan! F'nor!"
Two dragonriders came running over.
"Carry him to the living cavern," she instructed them. "We'll clear off one of the tables to work on. He's broken a couple of ribs, so be gentle with him!"
"Understood, Manora," F'nor assured her as he and T'gellan carefully began carrying me out of the Hatching Ground.
"Felena, grab a couple sleeping furs to cover the table," Manora instructed her companion. "We'll try to make him as comfortable as we can."
"On my way!" Felena called out, running on ahead.
"His dragon!" Ryeena cried, seizing Manora's arm.
"Easy, child," the Weyr headwoman said, pointing to the entrance. "It's alright. Look."
They could see the little queen timidly following us out, creeling mournfully all the while.
"She'll follow now that they've Impressed."
"That's just the problem, Manora," G'dened of Ista Weyr spoke as he approached. "They haven't."
"What?!"
"This woman," the Istan rider continued, indicating the one locked in F'lar's merciless grasp, "interrupted before Impression could be made. Her arrogance may have just cost Pern a queen dragon and her rider."
The implication was clear, hanging in the still air like an impending Threadfall.
"I'll do everything I can, Weyrleader," Manora said, casting the mystery woman a withering glance before she hurried out of the Hatching Ground.
"Fardling numbwitted wherry hen!" Ryeena shrieked, everyone backing out of her way as she stormed up to the woman. "You're lucky to be alive!"
Gulping, the woman backed a step away from this bristling young fury even as Bolter, his talons unsheathed, hissed and glared balefully at her from behind his mistress.
"That attack was meant for your pretty throat!" Ryeena roared. "If John hadn't sensed what the hatchling was going to do, you'd be dead now!"
Ramoth and Mnementh joined Ryeena on the sands, looming menacingly behind her, their eyes whirling bright red, an ominous rumble emanating from their throats. The woman quailed and would have collapsed to the sand but for F'lar's bruising grip on her arm.
Mnementh stopped suddenly, gave a puzzled grunt, then rumbled sullenly as he spoke to his rider. F'lar released the woman.
"John bespoke Mnementh to ask me to spare you," grumbled F'lar, his anger diminished only slightly. "You're free to go."
"WHAT?!" Lessa exploded, her face livid with rage. "After what she's done?!"
The strange woman stiffened, her face a mask of disbelief. "He… he can speak to dragons?!"
"You didn't know that, did you?" Lessa replied, her fury barely contained.
The woman frantically shook her head, admitting ignorance of the fact.
"John can speak to any dragon," Lessa informed her. "And with his touch, he can share their pain. Small wonder that the hatchling chose him instead of you!"
Ramoth's rider looked ready to disembowel the woman on the spot, but Ramoth's warning rumble stopped her, Lessa's eyes unfocusing momentarily as they conversed.
"Yes… he's right, Ramoth," she muttered sullenly. "No good will come to the Weyrs if she's harmed in any way."
Sylene let out a startled squawk, turning puzzled eyes to Ryeena. As Lessa had done, Ryeena's eyes unfocused a moment, then she fixed the woman with a knowing gaze.
"Yes… " she said, nodding.
Lessa, having heard Sylene's message, nodded agreement.
"What is it, Ryeena?" F'lar asked.
"John said there's no need for us to punish her," she spoke, stepping up to the woman. "She'll have more than enough to deal with when the people where she lives learn what happened here today."
Ryeena's words rocked the woman back on her heels. She turned deathly white, trembling with fear.
"Go," F'lar ordered, pointing out of the Hatching Ground, "and pray your own people are as quick to forgive you."
Fearing for her life, the woman slowly backed away. When no one moved to stop her, she bolted from the Hatching Ground, her wailing sobs slowly fading in the distance.
"John!" Ryeena exclaimed. "I'd better go see how he is!"
"He's in good hands, Ryeena," F'lar assured her, a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Your first concern right now, young lady, is to Sylene. Get her out to the Bowl where you can feed her. Then take her over to the weyrling barracks where you can put your healing skills to dressing those scrapes."
"Yes, Weyrleader," she acknowledged, nodding. "Come on, Sylene. Yes, I know you're hungry. We're going to get food now. It's right out here."
Ryeena led her dragon out to the Bowl, Bolter winging along overhead, chirruping his own excited greeting to the little queen.
"Weyrleader …"
F'lar and Lessa turned to the new voice… their son, F'lessan, rider of bronze Golanth.
"With your permission, sir," he said, "I'll fetch Master Oldive from the Healer Hall."
"On your way, then, lad," F'lar told him, clapping his son on the back.
"Yessir!"
With a whistle from his rider, Golanth glided down to the sands. F'lessan was astride the neck ridges before the dust could settle, and the two took wing, soaring out the upper entrance of the Hatching Ground.
"We'd best see how he's doing," Lessa said, pulling her weyrmate along as the rest of the assembled guests began to file out.