The Erroneous Eggs Chapter 12
"Good morning, class," F'nor called.
"Good morning, Fearless Leader!" they chorused.
"Stow the sarcasm," F'nor said shortly. "We may have to do some serious work today."
"Serious work?" H'cup echoed. "What are we going to do – jump to the Red Star?"
"No, I've already done that. There's nothing there worth seeing," their Weyrlingmaster told them. "Besides, we've got enough trouble close to home. Our little wing is on standby alert for Threadfall."
That silenced the group and wiped the smiles off their faces. Sinder finally said, "What does 'standby alert' mean?"
"It means," F'nor began, "that Thread has been falling in irregular clumps lately, and that kind of Threadfall is very hazardous to dragon and rider alike. It's as if the evil stuff somehow knows that it's never going to fall on Pern again, so it's trying to hurt us as badly as it can, while it still can. Benden has taken a lot of casualties lately; you may have noticed many injured dragons staying in their weyrs instead of flying." Several of the young riders nodded soberly.
"Anyway, the other Weyrs have also been taking casualties. Thread is going to fall over Keroon and Igen later this morning, and Igen Weyr has asked Benden to supply two wings and some queens to augment their numbers. If our wings take too many casualties today, then F'lar is going to call on us to join the fight and help finish the job."
They all took a few seconds to process this. Atrayou asked, "Can seven unconventional dragons do much against a Threadfall?"
"I think you can," F'nor reassured him. "For one thing, Toothleth's fireballs are a perfect weapon against clumps of Thread. He can blow them apart from a distance, and the dragons with short-ranged fire, like Falkorth and Puffth, can safely finish off anything that remains. For another thing, we aren't asking you to fight Thread all by yourselves. We'll probably be assigned to the lower edge of the formation, where the action isn't so heavy. You'll be above the queens' wing, but doing the same kind of work as the queens – stopping anything that the main force of dragons didn't catch.
"Committing weyrlings to Threadfall is usually a recipe for disaster. The main class of weyrlings is nowhere near ready for this. But you've been flying and testing your fires for months. I've persuaded F'lar that you're as ready as you'll ever be. I have no qualms about leading you into your first battle today. The only question is, will they need us?"
They looked across the Bowl. The Weyr was stirring itself and preparing for battle. Dragons with fully-dressed riders were landing and taking on sacks of firestone; drudges from the Lower Caverns were bringing meatrolls to the riders, who didn't have time to sit and eat breakfast today; women were preparing pots of numbweed and jugs of fellis juice, hoping that they would not be needed.
"Those weyrlings are giving us some dirty looks," Arigon noticed. The weyrlings in question were laboring to fill more firestone sacks, and glaring angrily at "the seven," who were standing around, not lifting a finger to help them.
"Let them look," F'nor told his charges. "They won't be risking their lives against Thread in a few hours. You probably will. Fighting dragons and their riders don't get firestone duty; we can't afford to have you tired and worn-out when you go into battle. There's too much at stake."
That was when most of "the seven" realized that, if they flew away to Igen today, some of them might not come back. It was a sobering thought.
Their dragons, on the other hand, were getting excited. The only reason dragons existed on Pern was to fight Thread. They all knew that, unless the fighting wings got very lucky, today was going to be their first chance to flame the hated stuff out of the sky. From little Spyroth to huge Temerairth, they could not sit still, but paced back and forth, testing their riding straps, and letting out quick puffs of flame. For any other dragon, wasting fire was a bad move. But these dragons (well, six of them) could produce their own flame at will. They were ready to use it, too. All they needed was the word "go."
They watched as Benden's fighting dragons launched themselves into the sky, formed up into wings, and vanished in quick succession. They were going into battle against Pern's great enemy! All of the conventional weyrlings heartily wished that they could join them. The unconventional weyrlings knew that it might soon be their turn to join them, and the honest ones among them would admit to having mixed feelings.
H'cup took his dragon aside. "They say your fire is going to be perfect for taking out clumps of Thread, Toothleth."
I am ready. Nothing can hold me back except… this. He looked H'cup from head to toe.
"You just gestured to all of me," he smiled, stroking his dragon's broad muzzle. "Don't worry; you know I'm ready, too. Just remember not to fly too fast! If you leave the others behind, they can't protect you against Thread that falls on us from above."
J'par spoke to his dragon quietly. "This is what we're here for, Puffth! We're really going to do it."
It will be easy for us. We will burn much Thread today.
"Don't get too confident, my friend. This isn't like playing along the Cherry Lane! A lot of good dragons and riders have gotten hurt lately. We'll have to be careful."
I will be careful. I do not want you to be hurt.
Arigon and Saphirath had a quiet conversation.
We are well-trained and skillful. If the others do their job, then we will do well in the sky today.
"I hope so, my dear friend."
Fighting Thread is my birthright.
"Then I guess it's my inheritance. I'm ready if you are."
I am ready.
Atrayou was a bit less nervous than the others.
"We'll be fighting Thread above my homeland. We're going to be lucky today, right?"
Of course! We are always lucky. That is what I do.
"Today, you'll have to burn some Thread, too."
Do not worry! Everything is going to be fine.
B'ilbo, on the other hand, was much more nervous than the others.
There is nothing to worry about, his dragon assured him. We will do our job, and then you will come home to your bed and your table, and I will come home to my shiny things.
"How can you think about your shiny things at a time like this?" B'ilbo said, and laughed nervously. Smaugth didn't think it was funny, and he let out a low growl.
"Never laugh at live dragons, B'ilbo, you fool!" the young rider told himself.
Spyroth and Temerairth would fly as a team, so the two of them and their riders clustered together. Sparks, the brown fire lizard, sat on Spyroth's back; he would probably switch to Sinder's shoulder when the action began.
"Are you ready, Spyroth?" she asked.
All fired up!
I am also ready, Temerairth added.
"I'm not worried about you," L'rance said. "I'm mostly worried about me."
"You'll do fine," Sinder encouraged him. "We'll all do fine."
"I wish I was as certain as you are," L'rance admitted.
She leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek. It startled him. She wanted to give him a more personal kiss, but the other riders were watching them.
"Canth is talking to Mnementh, and he's telling me how it's going down there," F'nor said. They all gathered around him, eager for news. He closed his eyes, focusing on the thoughts Canth sent him.
"The Igen wings are going in high, and Benden's wings are taking the middle," he began. "The leading edge is falling normally, but they can see a lot of clumps coming down in the distance. The queens' wing is falling behind – Nadira, speed them up! You're going to be busy today. The high wing has made contact. The #2 wing has made contact. #3 wing is in contact. F'lar's wing has made contact. R'gul, bring up your wing! We can't – oh, no, someone's dragon just went down. That's an Igen dragon; he's got a bad score on his wing. I hope he gets home all right. We shouldn't be losing dragons this early in the battle. B'irto, spread out the dragons more on your side; they're too close together. That's better. M'dar, watch out above you! That was too close. No, stay in position! Let that clump fall; the queens will get it." The weyrlings listened, fascinated, as the life-and-death struggle played out hundreds of miles away.
F'nor opened his eyes after about twenty minutes. "F'lar hasn't called for us," he told his charges, "but Lessa says they've taken too many injuries already. Strap in; we're going! We'll bring a few firestone sacks each to give to R'gul's wing; then we'll probably take our places below him. Is there anything we might have forgotten?"
"Do we have the rope?" Sinder asked.
"Yes, it's coiled on Canth's saddle," F'nor answered, "but I'm glad someone thought to check on that." The seven riders collected an assortment of sacks of firestone from the other weyrlings, who continued to favor "the seven" with dirty looks. Then F'nor called them together.
"There is one big problem with your dragons that we have not solved yet," he told them. "That is the fact that you can't jump between if you get some Thread on you. That quick jump is a lifesaving reflex that all other dragons have. Your dragons don't have it. That means that, if you get some Thread on you, nothing can stop it from consuming you alive. The same applies to your dragons." He let that thought sink in. B'ilbo visibly shivered.
"Your orders for today are, 'Take no chances.' Flame from maximum range; check what's coming down above you every few seconds; do everything you can to stay out of danger, even if that means letting Thread get past you. The queens and the ground crews can make it right if you miss a strand, but if you get that stuff on you…" He didn't finish.
"We get the message," L'rance said quietly.
"All right then, dragon riders!" F'nor suddenly roared. "I just got the official word from F'lar. He wants us on the firing line. It's time for us to do what all good dragon riders do!" He made the classic hand symbol to lift off, and the special training wing took flight together. They took their places in a line-ahead formation, with Canth on the point.
F'nor shouted, "Get ready to go between, and don't drop the rope!" He threw the coil to L'rance. L'rance took two turns around his gloved hand, then passed it over to Sinder, who did the same before throwing it to B'ilbo. In less than a minute, they were all ready. F'nor gave Canth the picture, and they flashed into the dark realm of between for a few moments.
They emerged above the Igen desert where the sand began to give way to scrubland. The other dragons were about half a mile ahead of them; they could also see Thread falling. They let go of the rope, F'nor started to coil it up as they headed for the dragons' formation... and they suddenly faced their first big problem. H'cup, at the end of the line, had taken three turns of the rope around his glove, and then added a simple knot, just to make sure he didn't release the rope while they were between. Now the knot pulled tight as Canth accelerated, and H'cup couldn't untie it.
He cried out in pain and in panic; his hand was being crushed, and he was being pulled in two directions at once. Toothleth surged ahead, which reduced the tension in the line but didn't loosen the jammed knot. The solution came from B'ilbo and Smaugth, who saw the problem and quickly circled back. One overhand slice from Stinger, and the rope parted. F'nor reeled in the rest of it, H'cup got his hand free, and Canth tartly reminded him via Toothleth that F'nor had strongly suggested not tying knots in the line.
F'nor reported to F'lar, who gave him the expected orders – deliver their firestone to R'gul's wing, then take position at the low end of the formation. R'gul and his riders were glad to get their hands on some more firestone. They asked no questions about who was delivering it; they probably assumed that the weyrlings were here to bring firestone and nothing more, like advanced weyrlings always did.
Canth bespoke his rider. G'narish wants to know what our unusual dragons are doing here. He did not call them unusual; I will not repeat what Gyarmath actually said to me.
"Tell him we're a wing of reinforcements from Benden, and we're here to fight Thread," F'nor snapped. "And if G'narish wants to call my friends 'monsters, runts, and freaks,' then he's about to get a lesson in how useful freaks can be!" He shifted to speaking out loud. "Riders, form up on me and spread out! Battle formation!" Canth passed the message to the others. They shifted into a long, shallow "V" formation. For the moment, there was no Thread near them. They scanned the skies alertly, ready to surge into action.
"Toothleth, there's a clump at one o'clock, high, just passing through R'gul's wing," F'nor called. "Can you hit that?"
The black dragon looked indignant. How can he question my abilities? I never miss! He opened his mouth and shot out a blue firebolt that flew straight and true to its target. The clump was nearly vaporized in the blast; only a few small tendrils floated clear.
"No, Toothleth, don't go after those fragments!" H'cup urged him. "The queens can get those easily." It took effort to keep his dragon in formation.
"Well done, Toothleth," F'nor told him via Canth. "Everyone, we're going to shift our formation ten dragonlengths to the left. The Threadfall looks like it's heavier there." The dragons slid sideways into their new position.
"Team, get ready!" he shouted. "Mnementh says there are several clumps headed our way, and some loose Thread as well." R'gul's dragons teamed up to eradicate one clump, but three others got past them.
The middle one is mine, Toothleth warned them just before he blasted it out of existence. The one on the left fell between Saphirath and Puffth. Both of them breathed out sheets of fire that wiped out that clump.
I have got the one on the right! called Spyroth. He jumped off Temerairth's back, adjusted his glide path, and passed just over the clump, igniting it with his fire.
"You didn't get it all!" Sinder thought to him. "Circle back and hit it again!" He did so, and finished what he started. He looked for Temerairth and found him just below and in front of him, in the perfect position for the little dragon to land. Spyroth touched down on the much bigger dragon's back, very pleased with himself.
"Good work, team," F'nor called. "Sinder, remind your dragon that flame works much better if it burns Thread from bottom to top, instead of from top to bottom. No more talk now – we're about to get very busy!" He broke off as Canth lit up a long strand of Thread. Then the big brown dragon jumped between to dodge another strand that was coming down too close. Smaugth was happy to incinerate that strand; it was nothing but black ash by the time Canth returned from between. Then F'nor became too busy to keep close track of the others in his wing. He had to trust that they would follow the training he'd given them.
Toothleth started off by obeying orders, keeping his distance from Thread and sniping at clumps from long range. But he was a dragon, with the fighting instincts of all dragons. When he saw a clump falling out of his range, he sped up and went after it, ignoring H'cup's entreaties to stay in formation. In his single-minded pursuit of that clump, he failed to look around, and put himself directly underneath a twisted strand of Thread. It was barely six feet above him when it suddenly vanished in a blast of flames. H'cup had to duck to avoid having his helmet seared.
Saphirath pulled up next to them, looking smug. You did not check what was coming down above you, she chided the black dragon.
I am busy taking out the most dangerous targets, Toothleth shot back. No one can do it but me.
The dangerous targets will take you out if you are not more careful, Saphirath said. So I will fly top cover for you. You take out the clumps, and I will keep both of us safe from loose strands.
Do you think you can keep up with me? Toothleth challenged her.
Are you going to hold me back? she retorted proudly. For the next half-hour, the black dragon and the blue dragon raced back and forth across the aerial battlefield at breakneck speed, Toothleth seeking out and blasting clump after clump of Thread while Saphirath stayed just behind and above him, occasionally taking out strands or small clumps that the black dragon had missed. They never thought twice about having to break off and chew more firestone, like a conventional dragon would have had to do. Truly, no other dragons could have done this except for them.
They got no Thread on them. J'par and Puffth weren't so lucky. The big green dragon had just obliterated most of a long strand, but a small part of it fell free and landed on J'par's elbow. He screamed, knowing what was about to happen. But, by extreme good luck, Falkorth was just accelerating past them. The white dragon turned his head back and loosed a pinpoint burst of his blue fire. The small piece of Thread was burned to ashes, along with much of the sleeve of J'par's leather jacket. He would have a bad burn on his arm, but that was much better than the alternative. Puffth wheeled and took his rider out of the battle, and passed word to Canth that J'par would need fellis and numbweed when he returned to Benden.
Smaugth had stayed in formation with Canth, and the two of them were taking out Thread whenever it came near them. Falkorth formed up with them after a few minutes. Spyroth would see some Thread in the distance, launch himself into the air, glide over and flame it, then return to Temerairth's back. Sinder sometimes called his attention to Thread that he hadn't noticed; it was handy for one dragon to be guided by two distinct sets of eyes. By design or by coincidence, the seven remaining dragons had formed into two pairs and a trio, and they were all fighting well.
Then they heard a dragon scream. An enormous tangle of Thread, nearly the size of a bronze dragon, was tumbling erratically, and it had brushed the wing of one of the green dragons in F'lar's wing. That dragon flashed between and returned home, leaving a gap in the formation. That gap happened to line up with a similar gap in R'gul's formation. The huge clump would fall through that double gap toward the ground, and there were no dragons nearby who were able to stop it. Toothleth was too far away, and the others didn't dare get close enough to flame it and risk it brushing against them as well. F'nor tried to warn the queens' wing, but it was an open question whether their flamethrowers could handle something that big. H'cup got Toothleth turned around, and the black dragon went into a whistling power dive. Would he get into firing range of that clump in time?
L'rance exclaimed, "Temerairth, break right! That clump is going to pass right in front of us!" But the dragon didn't turn aside. He slowed in the air, then hovered, and began breathing oddly, as though something was building up inside him. L'rance had the sensation of great power being held back. "Temerairth, what are you –"
And then Temerairth roared, with a roar like no one had ever heard before! L'rance and Sinder had to cover their ears. The force of the sound nearly knocked them backwards.
The huge clump in front of them was... obliterated. The deadly threat had somehow been reduced to a cloud of tiny pieces of Thread, and Canth and Smaugth made short work of those. All the other dragons were staring at L'rance's dragon.
"Temerairth, what did you do?" L'rance exclaimed.
"Temerairth, what was that?" F'nor asked a moment later.
I did not know I could do that, the huge dragon admitted. He sounded as surprised as everyone else. I was angry that the large clump might reach the ground, I was frustrated that I could not flame it, and I just roared at it. I did not know that would happen.
"That was quite a roar," F'nor agreed. "Was it the sound that did all that damage? Or was it the wind that you made?"
"If it was the wind," Sinder commented, "then it was a very fine wind indeed."
"Then that's what we'll call it – the Fine Wind," L'rance decided. "Can you do it again?"
"Maybe aim it at that medium-sized clump over there?" F'nor asked, pointing up and to their left.
I will try. Brace yourselves. The black dragon breathed in, let the breath roll back and forth inside himself for a few seconds, then let out a roar that, if anything, was even louder than the first one. The clump in question was torn to shreds by an invisible force from a hundred yards away.
I was going to get that one, Toothleth said, miffed. Saphirath scorched most of the drifting fragments as the two of them shot past.
L'rance proudly stroked his dragon's huge neck. "That's amazing! So what if you can't breathe fire? You've got the most powerful Thread-busting attack of them all!"
I have an important message from F'lar, Mnementh suddenly said to them. He wants Toothleth and Temerairth up above the topmost wing. He wants them to take out as many clumps as they can, from long range, where they're safe. The other dragons can finish flaming the ordinary Thread once the dangerous clumps have been flamed by those two special dragons.
"What does G'narish think of us flying over his dragons?" Sinder wanted to know.
"We don't care what G'narish thinks of us. We take our orders from F'lar," F'nor answered. "He thinks that protecting his dragons and riders is more important than appeasing the outdated ideas of an Oldtimer. I happen to agree with him."
I like having Saphirath covering me, Toothleth said. I fight better, knowing that she will ward off anything that gets too close. Can she fly top cover for me?
Yes, Mnementh answered after a moment, and Temerairth should also have a dragon flying top cover for him.
I will do that for my big friend! Spyroth burst out.
And so, for the first time since the Oldtimers came forward, the dragonriders of Pern changed the way they fought Thread. Two special black dragons made short work of the falling clumps with their long-ranged attacks. Temerairth would climb for a moment, then dip down as soon as Spyroth took off. The small purple dragon would glide in circles above the big black one, scorching any Thread that came near them, then land on his back and wait for his friend to regain height so he could do it again. Saphirath flew a criss-cross pattern just above and behind Toothleth, flaming any Thread that came near either of them. She got plenty of action and she seemed to relish the role. The rest of the fighting wings spread out and concentrated on the ordinary Threadfall. They took only one more casualty for the rest of the day. The threat of being hit by a clump was gone.
"I'll bet that all the other Weyrs will be wanting special black dragons now!" Sinder grinned.
"I'll take your bet," L'rance said grimly. "I think the other Weyrs are horrified that we have dragons who don't follow the traditions! There's no way you could be right."
"You're that sure?" she asked. "Do you want to make it a serious wager?"
"I'm that sure. Name the stakes," he said.
"Okay," Sinder decided. "If I'm right, then you have to spend the rest of your life with me!"
"Fair enough," L'rance nodded. "And if I'm right, then you have to spend the rest of your life with me!"
She looked confused for half a moment. Then she threw her arms around him and kissed him the way she had wanted to for months. He didn't resist.
Spyroth watched them, curious. Temerairth, I still do not understand human courtship. What should I say to them when they are doing that?
Smaugth sourly cut in, You should say, "Get a room." Temerairth was unable to see his rider and his rider's intended mate, because they were riding on the back of his neck. He seemed very pleased, though.
"All right, team!" F'nor called. "The Fall is almost over, and the conventional dragons can finish the job without us. Form up on Canth and get ready to receive the rope! We need to get home quickly so J'par can get some help for his burned arm." They quickly formed a line behind Canth and took the rope in turn, spaced more closely than usual because B'ilbo had cut about twenty feet of it off.
Just before he gave Canth the picture of Benden Weyr, F'nor looked back proudly at his seven weyrlings on their misfit dragons. "Canth, please tell them all, 'well done.'"
I already did.
