"TELGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!"
Blue hide flared into existence as wherfire, as hot as any dragon's raked the bronze's back. Fulsa, his beautiful, fearless mate screamed the Hold's name again, the Watch's battle cry, hurling a heavy harpoon at the monstrous bronze. Startled, the bronze hopped between, only to re-emerge in the air a hundred leagues up, to deal with the fire spewing blue. Namul sped to the fallen harper. Wings rustled, and he looked up to see his green staring at him, her eyes white with fear, as she dipped her shoulder to him. Namul grabbed the harper, one hand bitten clean off, and tossed him unconscious, across Namusk's back like a sack of tubers. Grabbing ahold of the green's harness he thought hard of Hold Healer's medical garden, in a little courtyard next to his cot. Namusk took them between.
B'ton leaned against Wubath as the Masterharper raced across the courtyard of HarperHall. Lady Minket's bronze fire lizard had materialized before dinner, bearing a frantic message in the Lord Holder's hand. B'ton, grateful for an excuse to be out of the oppressively sad atmosphere, took the task. Degal puffed up to the pair, handing his heavy rucksack off to the bronzerider as he climbed aboard Wubath.
"You got a message too?" B'ton asked curiously, noting that the Masterharper was wearing a clean change of clothes.
"Healer Neldar was kind enough to warn me." Degal said with a sardonic smile, holding out his hand for his rucksack. "Scared our soprano half out of her skin when the green flit appeared directly in front of her like that, if the note she hit was any indication." He chuckled, and settled the rucksack over his shoulder.
"Oh no," B'ton could easily imagine the scene, particularly given the soprano's reputation for being something of a drama queen. He mounted Wubath, who, pulling the incident from the Masterharper's mind rumbled aloud, leaping skyward.
"How's Lithvu?" Namul asked Neldar, as the healer checked the assorted road rashes the wherhandler had incurred. The injured Harper had been flown to HealerHall.
"He's lost a lot of blood, in addition to that hand of his. Healer Rueward is a master of phlebotomy however, so he should live to give his account." Neldar replied factually, then noticed Namul's strickened expression. "It's not your fault. When harpers are bent on risking their own hides all the wise can do is get out of their way." He informed the handler tersely.
"He's right, Lithvu acted the idiot. " Fulsa agreed, holding Namul's free hand in her own, a little possessively, before frowning at him. "But I should like to know why you ignored Scout's warning."
"Because we thought it was a feral wher." Namul replied and winced as Neldar applied the stinging redwort to another abraded area. "If Scout had seen Redell, I'd have knocked Lithvu over the head myself." He shuddered, "there is no way I would willingly go anywhere near him without a Flight of dragons at my back. What I'd like to know is how he managed to get back, and how he got ahold of a wher egg."
"That makes two of us, then." Lord Kestle grumbled, entering the little clinic. The wherhandlers hurriedly stood, and remained standing as the elderly Lord Holder was followed by the Masterharper and the Weyrleader.
"Sit, sit, you've more than earned it." Degal said, and with a nod at the healer commandeered his desk, pulling out a heavy leather tome and several sheets of new vellum.
"Are you certain it was Redell of Ruatha, who was found guilty of murdering his father and Lord Holder Uncle?" Kestle asked, having seated himself in the only other chair in the room. Namul, sitting on the triage table nodded.
"It was more than a decade ago, I admit, but Namusk and I were hired to ensure that none of his followers tried to break him out during the trial. I saw him watch us every night." He shivered. "He didn't have any dragon kin then, but now he has two queens and the largest bronze wher that Pern has ever seen. Exiling him isn't going to work this time."
"Didn't work last time." Fulsa muttered softly.
"No, it didn't," Sharp eared Degal agreed with a grimace. "That, we'll have to look into. But for now, tell me everything, from when you left to rather startling return."
Namul nodded and took a deep breath before launching into his tale with the dispassion of a trained Watchman. Kestle and Degal listened equally unmoved, but B'ton grew increasingly fascinated as the wherhandler described the encounter, particularly the part where Telgarsk flamed and Namusk took the men between.
"Can I presume that if your watchwhers have all the same draconic abilities, then so too does Redell's beast?" B'ton asked when Namul finished. The wherhandlers and Kestle visibly shuddered.
"Theoretically, yes." Fulsa replied thoughtfully, "although I very much doubt he's trained his bronze in the fine art of firestoning, or going between."
"I disagree." Namul countered with a shake of his head. "Our whers figured out on their own how to go between on their own, it's an inherent trait in all dragonkind. Whether Redell had learned the trick of projecting where he wants to go or is relying on his fire lizards as intermediaries is the real question."
"Well, that flew entirely over my head." Degal remarked, putting his quill down. "Care to explain what you mean to this thick headed violin maker?"
"Going between is as simple for fire lizards as breathing is for you or me." B'ton spoke up. "Lizards don't get lost. Dragons can, and have died as a result, because we riders didn't give them a clear enough picture of where to go between to." The wherhandlers nodded. "It is possible for a one dragon to mentally give another dragon the image of the place that they're going to, we call that using an intermediary. Dragons can get directions from fire lizards and watchwhers, but I'm thinking that the whers might have an easier time of it, getting their directions from fire lizards, than our dragons do." Again the wherhandlers nodded.
"Meaning Redell might be relying on his golds for directions rather than providing them to his wher himself?" Degal was not a stupid man, and recognized the implications in these degrees of difference.
"Betweening is terribly dangerous to the uninitiated." Namul added. "I had the good fortune of being able to ask a Weyrlingmaster about the process, and then have him teach Namusk and myself how to. Fulsa had figured out the theory on it before we met, but she hadn't tried directing Telgarsk's jumps before I taught her how." He grimaced. "Most wherhandlers don't know how to direct a jump, other than to ask their whers to go someplace they've been before, like we would a fire lizard. Which, given how dangerous it is, that's probably a good thing."
Degal rubbed his chin, thinking that information over. "Then for now, we can hope Redell stays in fairly predictable areas." He sighed, and picked up his quill again.
Please let me know if you find any grammatical or spelling errors.
I'm going to end up getting a little more esoteric as this fic continues, and at some point, probably in the follow up fic, Wherleader, I'm going to abandon all pretense of canon and adopt terminology from McCaffery's Pegasus and Talent series. I apologize if that bothers the purists out there.