The White Dragon (Dragonriders of Pern 3)

“With all the worlds in the heavens to choose from,” Brekke began, breaking the thoughtful silence that followed Piemur’s conclusion, “had they no better place to come to than Pern?”

“If you’d seen as much of it as I have lately,” Piemur said, his spirit undaunted for any appreciable length of time, “you’d know that Pern’s not all that bad a world . . . if you ignore the danger of Thread!”

“Some of us never can,” F’lar replied in a wry tone.

Menolly gave Piemur a sharp jab in the ribs, but F’lar only laughed when Piemur suddenly realized the tactlessness of his remark.

“This is a most amazing development,” Robinton said, his eyes sweeping the night sky as if more mysteries were to be revealed. “To see the very vehicles that brought our ancestors to this world.”

“A good topic for some quiet reflections, eh, Master Robinton?” Oldive asked, with a sly grin on his face and an emphasis on the quiet.

The Harper made an impatient dismissal of that suggestion.

“Well, sir, you could hardly go there,” the Healer said.

“I cannot,” Master Robinton agreed. Then startling everyone, he suddenly thrust his right arm in the direction of the Three Sisters. “Zair, the round objects in the sky? Can you go there?”

Jaxom held his breath, felt the rigidity of Menolly’s body beside him and knew she wasn’t breathing either. He heard Brekke’s sharp, quickly muffled cry. Everyone watched Zair.

The little bronze stretched his head toward Robinton’s lips and made a soft quizzical noise in his throat.

“Zair? The Dawn Sisters?” Robinton repeated his words. “Would you go there?”

Now Zair cocked his head at his friend, clearly not understanding what was asked of him.

“Zair? The Red Star?”

The effect of that question was instantaneous. Zair vanished with a squawk of angry fear, and the fire-lizards nestling by Ruth woke and followed his lead.

“That does seem to answer both questions,” F’lar said.

“What does Ruth say?” Menolly whispered in Jaxom’s ear.

“About the Dawn Sisters? Or Zair?”

“Either.”

“He’s been asleep,” Jaxom replied after consulting his dragon.

“He would be!”

“So? What did Beauty image before she winked out?”

“Nothing!”

Despite an evening of earnest debate and discussion, the humans solved nothing either. Robinton and Wansor would probably have kept the conversation up all night if Master Oldive hadn’t slipped something into Robinton’s wine. No one had actually seen him, but one moment Master Robinton was arguing forcefully with Wansor, the next he had wilted at the table. No sooner was his head down than he began to snore.

“He cannot neglect his health for talking’s sake,” Master Oldive remarked, signaling to the dragonriders to help him carry the Harper to his bed.

That effectively ended the evening. The dragonriders returned to their Weyrs, Oldive and Fandarel to their respective Halls. Wansor remained. A full wing of dragons could not have dragged him from Cove Hold.

It had been tactfully decided not to broadcast the true nature of the Dawn Sisters, at least until such time as Wansor and other interested starcrafters had had a chance to study the phenomenon and reach some conclusion that would not alarm people. There’d been enough shocks of late, F’lar commented. Some might construe those harmless objects to be a danger, much as the Red Star was.

“Danger?” Fandarel had exclaimed. “Were there any danger from those things, we should have known it many Turns past.”

To that, F’lar agreed readily enough but, with everyone conditioned to believe that disaster fell from sky-borne things, it was better to be discreet.

F’lar did agree to send anyone who could be spared from Benden to help search. It was, the Weyrleader felt, more important than ever to discover just what this land contained.

As Jaxom pushed his legs into his sleeping blanket, he tried not to be annoyed with the thought of another invasion in Cove Hold, just when he thought he and Sharra would be left alone for a while.

Had she been avoiding him? Or was it simply that circumstances had intervened? Such as Piemur’s premature arrival in Cove Hold? The worry over Master Robinton, the need to explore which left them too tired to do more than crawl into their furs, the arrival of half of Pern to complete the Hold for the Harper, then his arrival, and now this! No, Sharra had not been avoiding him. She seemed . . . there. Her beautiful rich laugh, a tone below Menolly’s, her face often hidden by the strands of dark hair which kept escaping thong and clip . . .

He wished, intensely, that Cove Hold would not be overrun again—a wish that did him little good since he had no control over what was going to happen here. He was Lord of Ruatha, not of the Cove. If the place belonged to anyone, it was Master Robinton’s and Menolly’s by virtue of their being storm-swept into it.

Jaxom sighed, his conscience nagging at him. Master Oldive had rated him fully recovered from the effects of fire-head. So he could go between. He and Ruth could return to Ruatha Hold. He ought to return to Ruatha Hold. But he didn’t want to—and not just because of Sharra.

It wasn’t as if he were needed in Ruatha. Lytol would manage the Hold as he’d always done. Ruth was not required to fight Thread either at Ruatha or at Fort Weyr. Benden had been lenient but F’lar had made it plain that the white dragon and the young Lord of Ruatha were not to be at risk.

There had been no prohibition, had there, Jaxom suddenly realized, to his exploring. In fact no one had suggested that he ought to return to Ruatha now.

Jaxom took some comfort in that thought, if he took none at all in the knowledge that tomorrow F’lar would be sending in riders—riders whose dragons could fly considerably faster and farther than his Ruth, riders who’d be able to reach the mountain before him. Riders who might just discover those traces which Robinton hoped existed somewhere in the interior of the Southern Continent. Riders who might also see in Sharra the beauty and gentle warmth of spirit that attracted Jaxom.

He tried, turning on the rushes yet again, to find a comfortable position, to find sleep. Maybe Robinton’s plan for himself, Sharra, Menolly and Piemur would not undergo revision. As Piemur constantly reminded them all, dragons were great for flying over, but you still had to traverse the ground on foot to really know it. F’lar and Robinton might well want the dragonriders to spread out, cover as much territory as possible, and let the original explorers continue on to the mountain.

Jaxom then admitted to himself that he wanted to be first to the mountain! That serenely symmetrical cone had drawn him, sick and fevered, back to the Cove, had dominated his waking hours and intruded with nightmarish drama into his dreams. He wanted to be first to reach it, irrational as the notion might be.

Somewhere in the middle of these reflections, he did fall asleep. Again those overlapping scenes figured in his dreams: again the mountain erupted, one whole side shattering and spewing pulsingly red-orange flaming rocks and hot flows of molten lava down its side. Again Jaxom was both frightened refugee and dispassionate observer. Then the red wall began bearing down on him, so close to his heels that he could feel its hot breath on his feet . . .

He woke! The rising sun was slanting through the trees to caress his right foot which protruded from a rent in the light blanket. Rising sun!

Jaxom felt for Ruth. His dragon was still asleep in the clearing for the old shelter where a sandy wallow had been made to accommodate him.

Jaxom glanced across to Piemur, who slept in a neat ball, both hands resting under his right cheek. Slipping out of his bed, Jaxom noiselessly opened the door and, carrying his sandals, tiptoed out through the kitchen. Ruth stirred briefly, dislodging a fire-lizard or two from his back, as Jaxom passed him. Jaxom paused, struck by some puzzle. He stared at Ruth, then at the fire-lizards. None of those nestled against his friend were banded. He must ask Ruth when he woke if the Sout

hern fire-lizards always slept with him. If they did, those dreams could be fire-lizard dreams—old memories triggered by the presence of men! That mountain! No, from this side a perfect cone appeared to the naked eye, unblemished by eruptive damage!

As soon as he reached the beach, Jaxom glanced up to see if he could sight the Dawn Sisters. But it was, unfortunately, already too late to catch their morning appearance.

The two viewers, Wansor’s carefully covered with wherhide against morning dew and Idarolan’s in its leather case, were still mounted on their frames. Grinning at the futility of his action, Jaxom nonetheless couldn’t resist uncovering Wansor’s viewer and peering skyward. He recovered the instrument carefully and stood looking southeast, toward the mountain.

In his dream the cone had blown out. And there were two sides to that mountain. Suddenly decisive, he removed the Seaman’s viewer from its case. Though he might get more definition from Wansor’s, he wouldn’t presume to alter that careful focus. Besides, Idarolan’s was strong enough for what he needed. Not that it could show the damage that Jaxom had half-hoped to see. Thoughtfully he lowered the instrument. He could go between now. Further, he was under Master Robinton’s orders to explore the Southlands. More important, he wanted to be first to that mountain!

He laughed. This venture was scarcely as dangerous as the return of the egg. He and Ruth could go between and return before anyone in Cove Hold was aware of their intention. He took the viewer from its mounting. He’d need this with him. Once he and Ruth were airborne, he’d have to get a good long look at the mountain to find a point to which Ruth could move safely between.

He pivoted on his heel and lurched backward in surprise. Piemur, Sharra and Menolly were standing in a row, watching him.

“Do tell, Lord Jaxom, what you saw in the Seaman’s viewer? A mountain, perhaps?” Piemur asked, showing all his teeth in that smug grin.

On Menolly’s shoulder, Beauty chirped.

“Did he see enough?” Menolly asked Piemur, ignoring Jaxom.

“I’d say he had!”

“He wouldn’t have planned to go without us, would he?” Sharra asked.

They regarded him with mocking expressions.

“Ruth can’t carry four.”

None of you are fat. I could manage, Ruth said.

Sharra laughed, covered her mouth to silence the sound and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“I’ll bet anything Ruth just said he could!” she told the other two.

“I’ll bet you’re right.” Menolly didn’t take her eyes from Jaxom’s face. “I think it really is best if you have some help on this venture.” She drawled the last two words significantly.

“This venture?” Piemur echoed the words, alert as ever to nuances of speech.

Jaxom clenched his teeth, glaring at her. “You’re sure you could carry four?” he asked Ruth.

The dragon emerged on the beach, his eyes glowing with excitement.

I have had to fly straight for many days now. That has made me very strong. None of you are heavy. The distance is not great. We are going to see the mountain?

“Ruth is obviously willing,” Menolly said, “but if we don’t make a move soon . . .” She gestured toward Cove Hold. “C’mon, Sharra, we’ll get the flying gear.”

“I’ll have to rig flying straps for four.”

“Then do it.” Menolly and Sharra raced off down the sand.

Hunting ropes were handiest and Jaxom and Piemur had them in position when the girls returned with jackets and helmets. Jaxom hefted the Seaman’s viewer and mentally promised that they’d be back so quickly that the man wouldn’t have had time to notice its disappearance.

Ruth did have to strain to get himself off the beach, but once airborne, he assured Jaxom that he was flying easily. He veered southeast as Jaxom focused on the distant peak. Even at this altitude, he could discern no damage to the cone. He lowered the viewer fractionally until, clear and detailed, there was a distinctive ridge in the foreground of the mountain.

Jaxom asked Ruth if he visualized the objective. Ruth assured him he could. And took them between before Jaxom could have second thoughts on this venture. Abruptly, they were above the ridge, gasping. Breathless because of the incredible shock of cold between after months of baking in tropical suns, and because of the spectacular panorama before them.

As Piemur had once said, distance was deceptive. The mountain rose on the shoulders of a high plateau already thousands of dragonlengths above the sea. Far below them a broad sparkling inlet cut high cliffs: grassy on the mountain’s side, densely forested on theirs. To the south, a towering range of mountains, snow-capped and misty in the distance, lay as a barrier east and west.

The mountain, still a good distance from them, dominated the scene.

“Look.” Sharra suddenly pointed to their left, seaward. “More volcanoes. Some are smoking!”

Studding the open sea, a long chain of peak tops bent northeast, some with substantial islands at their feet, others mere cones poking from the water.

“A loan of the viewer, Jaxom?” Piemur took the instrument and peered. “Yes,” he replied casually after a long look, “a couple of them are active. Far out though. No danger.” Then he swung the viewer toward the barrier range, slowly shaking his head after a moment. “It could be the same barrier range I saw in the west.” He sounded dubious. “Take months to get there! And cold!” He turned the viewer in a short arc. “Useful thing, this. That water goes deep inland. Idarolan could likely sail up if he has a mind to.” He handed the viewer back to Jaxom and stared ahead at the mountain.

“That is the most beautiful sight,” Sharra said on a long sigh.

“Must be the other side that blew out,” Jaxom said, more to himself than to the others.

“The other side?” Sharra and Menolly spoke at once. And Jaxom could feel Piemur stiffening behind him.

“Did you dream, too, last night?” Jaxom asked.

“What on earth did you think had awakened us in time to hear you creeping out?” Menolly asked, a bit sharply.

“Well, let’s go see the other,” Piemur said as if he were merely suggesting a swim.

“Why not?” Sharra replied with the same carelessness.

I would like to see the place of my dreaming, Ruth said and, without any warning, he dropped from the ridge height.

Jaxom heard Menolly and Sharra exclaim in surprise and he was glad that he’d rigged flying straps for them. Ruth expressed apologies which Jaxom had no time to relay as the white dragon swooped into a current of warm air that bore them up and over the broad inlet. When his flying had leveled, Jaxom used the viewer and found a distinctive rock formation on the northern shoulder. He gave Ruth the visualization.

They were between: they were hovering above the rock formation and the mountain seemed to bend frighteningly toward them for the space of several breaths. Ruth recovered his flying speed and veered farther north, beating strongly in a wide arc toward the eastern face of the mountain.

Momentarily they were all blinded by the full brilliance of the rising sun which had been occluded by the mountain’s bulk. Ruth shifted to a southerly heading. Before them lay the most incredible sweep of land that Jaxom had ever seen—far broader, and deeper than Telgar’s flatlands, or the desert of Igen. His eyes were drawn quickly from that spectacular vista to the mountain.

The view was suddenly all too familiar to Jaxom, the product of so many uneasy nights and unfocused dreams. The eastern lip of the mountain was gone! The gaping mouth seemed to snarl, its left-hand corner pulled down. Jaxom’s eyes followed that line and he saw, crouching on the southeastern flank, three more volcano mouths, like malevolent offspring of the larger. The lava flowed down, south, toward the rolling plains.

Ruth continued to glide instinctively away from the mountain, toward the kinder valley.

As much as Jaxom had admired and feasted his eyes on the northern aspect of that volcano, now he turned from the malevolent teeth of th

e blown side, the side of his nightmares.

Jaxom all but anticipated Ruth’s words: This place I know. They say this is where their men were!

Out of the sun, fairs of fire-lizards dove and veered out of Ruth’s flightline. Beauty, Meer, Talla and Farli, who had ridden their friends’ shoulders to this incredible place, took off to join the newcomers.

“Look, Jaxom! Look down!” Piemur yelled in his ear while tugging at his shoulder and pointing frantically to a spot below Ruth’s left foreleg. The early sun threw the outlines in bold relief. Regular outlines, mounds, and then straight lines dissecting, forming curious squares where no such regular formations should be.

“That’s what Master Robinton is looking for!” He grinned back over his shoulder at Piemur, who had turned to attract the girls’ attention to the ground.

Then Jaxom gasped, pressuring Ruth with his legs to turn northeast. He felt Piemur clutch at his shoulders as the Harper, too, saw what he’d seen. Where the haze from the distant smoking volcanoes in the sea was joined by a gray haze from the skies—Thread!

“Thread!”

Thread! Before Jaxom could direct him, Ruth had taken them smartly between. In the next instant they were hovering above the Cove, its beaches accommodating the bulks of five dragons. Master Idarolan’s fishermen were scurrying from shore to ship, placing slates on a frame rigged to protect the wooden decks from Threadfall!

Canth asks where have we been? I must chew firestone immediately. The fire-lizards are to help protect the ship. Everyone is annoyed with us. Why?

Jaxom asked Ruth to land them near the firestone pile on the beach and to start chewing.

“I’ve got to find Stupid!” Piemur dropped to the sand and was off in a run toward the forest.

“Give me Master Idarolan’s viewer,” Menolly said to Jaxom. “I got a look at his face and though I don’t say it’s his viewer he’s angry about . . .”

“I’ll brave the storm in Cove Hold,” Sharra told Jaxom, grinning at him and gripping his arm in reassurance. “Don’t look so depressed! I know I wouldn’t have missed this morning’s jaunt. Not even if I get scolded by Lessa.”