Ista Weyr
(Next day, January 19th)
He wouldn't have gone along with it. Cosira, however, was insistent and she could be most persuasive, especially if she was angry. With all the other difficulties, the Weyrleader didn't need his mate's antagonism. He was starting to wonder if having a fourth queen was worth the trouble.
It took a few minutes to explain the situation. Lord Jaxom listened attentively. The Ruathan's expression made it hard to tell if he was sympathetic or just amused.
The unusual and sometimes frustrating experiences of raising his white dragon had left the Lord Holder with a cynical view of dragonmen and their idiosyncrasies. The Istan leader harbored little doubt as to where Jaxom's sympathies lay.
"Will you help us?"
Jaxom nodded. He regarded both Weyrleader and Weyrwoman with a guarded expression but turned a warm smile on Selana. "Of course. I feel a sort of kinship with Darian. After all, Ruth and Astaroth are alike in one way."
"Oh?"
"They're both unique."
The bronzerider frowned. Unique wasn't the word he'd have used. Comparing Astaroth and Ruth hadn't occurred to him. The thought of any Pernese dragon being similar to the irascible black was disturbing. "If you're ready, Lord Jaxom, let's get started."
"I'll come with you," Selana offered.
"You stay here, queenrider," G'dened snapped, "with your queen."
Cosira frowned at her weyrmate's tone. "That isn't necessary, G'dened. She's only concerned about Darian."
"Enough, Cosira," he replied sharply. "You've had your way in this matter. Now, you have duties to attend to."
The willowy blonde frowned, her eyes performing a credible impression of a thunderstorm. The flush in her cheeks was not embarrassment. "Come on, Sel. Let's find some fresh air. I'll see to you later, Weyrleader!"
G'dened watched the queenriders depart. He clenched his teeth, his mouth pulling into an angry scowl. There was just too much needing done to put up with this. He looked at the patiently waiting Lord Holder. Jaxom peered back. "Let's go," the Weyrleader repeated.
Caylith had gone to feed. The Istan bronze and Ruathan white were perched on opposite sides of the ledge when their riders stepped into the morning sunlight. G'dened quickly mounted Barnath. He watched while Jaxom stood beside the smaller dragon. Beast and rider were obviously in communication.
Jaxom patted his mount on the nose, then swung up into position between the first and second neck ridges. "Ruth says he can hear Astaroth. He'll take us to him."
Ruth passed the image he'd received from the Cygnan animal. The bronze bugled his understanding, then leapt into the sky. His diminutive guide followed. As soon as they cleared the Weyr rim, the white took them between.
The Weyrleader expected to find Darian on one of the western islands. They were close, cooler and less humid than Ista itself, and the avion would have plenty of solitude there. He wasn't prepared to find himself over the Igen peninsula. The rugged mountains and winter air were both a mental and physical shock. 'What in the shell is he doing here?' G'dened demanded.
'He didn't want to be found. The islands were too obvious.'
Stretching below them were the peninsular mountains, barren and forbidding. Running from the foothills to the coast on either side of the east-west range was a narrow band of desert, as lifeless as the peaks above. It was grim country for anyone to seek refuge in. From their current altitude, it would have been nearly impossible to find anything on the ground. Fortunately, searching wasn't required. Astaroth's violent bellow revealed their quarry's presence.
'Astaroth is angry,' Ruth told his rider. 'He says the winged one is very sick.' The dragon's thoughts immediately took on an alarmed tone. 'No, Barnath, don't land! He doesn't want you here!'
The warning came too late to prevent the bronze's gliding descent. Barnath looked over his shoulder, curious about his comrade's apprehension. Ruth's concern became clear in seconds. A swath of flame created a blazing barrier in the bronze's path. Barnath back-winged sharply, spinning on his left wing to gain altitude and reverse directions.
'Astaroth,' the white called, 'don't hurt my friend! He's here to help.'
'Keep him away,' the black answered. 'Darian is very ill. The bronzerider is at fault. I don't want him here.'
The bronze pulled alongside Ruth. G'dened's face was bright red. Furiously, he called, "Stay here. I'm going back for the healer." Barnath transferred them between.
The Ruathan sighed. This wasn't an auspicious start. The Weyrleader's displeasure with Selana wouldn't be helped by Astaroth's demonstration. He'd been around the black too many times to be shocked by the display. The condescending attention his own dragon often received increased the desire to sympathize with the Cygnan beast. Some of the Pernese riders could be aggravating in their indifference and imagined superiority. G'dened wasn't really one of these, but his attitude could be grating.
'Ruth, ask Astaroth if we can land.'
The white passed the request, identifying his rider. He added that Jaxom had gained a good deal of healing knowledge from his journeyman wife.
'Then land, my little friend. He needs you.'
Ruth dropped quickly, picking a sandy area in the outcropping of rocks. Not until they were on the ground could Darian be seen, curled in a tight ball under a low ledge. Astaroth was crouched defensively above him. 'He says you can come,' Ruth told his rider.
Jaxom dropped from his dragon's neck. He ran to the prone avion, crouching to fit under the ledge. Darian gave no indication of consciousness, his eyes closed, hands clenched tightly below his knees. The Cygnan's skin was cold and clammy. His pulse was fast and weak, breathing thin and labored. The Ruathan clenched his teeth. Carefully, he pulled Darian out into the sunlight. Jaxom stripped off his riding jacket and dropped it over the avion. 'Ruth,' he commanded, 'go back to Ruatha. We need Sharra.' There was a blast of cold air from behind, and the Lord Holder was alone with a black dragon and a patient.
The bandaged right hand caught his eye. A crust of blood mixed with streaks of dirt. Using a belt knife, the whiterider cut away the cloth. The hand beneath wasn't a pleasant sight. It looked like one or more sutures had torn free. Blood oozed from the partially open wound. Discoloration around the edges made him wonder if infection had already begun. Jaxom cleaned the area around the laceration as gently and thoroughly as he could. Without clean water and new dressings, he didn't see much chance of success.
A challenging roar took him unaware. The scream was so loud he recoiled physically, losing his balance and tumbling to his side. From the corner of his eye, he saw a bronze dragon circling high above. Jaxom rolled back to his knees, seeing Astaroth raised to his hind legs and tail, neck extended and eyes glowing menacingly. The black roared again, warning the waiting beast to keep its distance.
"Astaroth!" Jaxom shouted, "They've brought a healer! Let them land!"
