Slowly, with many false starts and restarts, the dragonriders began to learn to become more flexible in their formations, to quickly regroup when a dragon became a casualty. And both the dragons and their riders grew more confident and adept.
When the dragonriders returned to the Weyr for a lunchtime break, M’tal felt cautiously confident that they would be ready for the next Threadfall.
“How far back do you think we should go?” Kindan asked, wheezing as some dust from the latest pile of Records flew into his face. “Some of these are disintegrating.”
“Shouldn’t we get them copied, then?” Lorana asked, carefully leafing through another pile of musty records.
“Spoken like someone who never spent days copying old Records,” Kindan responded. “Do you know how boring it is, day in, day out, copying musty old Records?”
Lorana allowed herself a slight smile. “I imagine there would be a lot to be learned,” she said.
Kindan shook his head. “No, not really,” he said. “Most of the Records are repetitious. There are only so many ways you can record crop yields and rainfall. Occasionally there’s a note of a wedding or a birth but-honestly-you’d think whoever wrote those Records was numb! Not a single joke, no songs, nothing but dull, dry facts, Record after Record.”
“Well, it’s dull, dry facts we’re after,” Lorana responded. “No joke or song is going to help us here.”
Kindan paused mid-search and looked up at Lorana. She looked back at him quizzically until he shook his head and gave her a dismissive hand gesture. “Nothing,” he told her. “I thought I remembered a song… but it was nothing.”
Lorana glanced over at the sandglass they’d brought up with them. “Ooops, our time’s up! Name another dragon,” she told him.
“Mmm, Ganth,” Kindan said. “T’mac’s brown. That’ll leave J’ken without a wingsecond.”
Lorana raised her eyebrows in appreciation of the choice. “Very well,” she said, and gave the order to Ganth. She smiled as the brown dragon thanked her and asked if he could take a swim in the lake.
I think that’s up to your rider, don’t you? she replied.
Lorana looked back down at her stack of Records and then threw her hands up in disgust. “You know, we’re going at this the wrong way,” she said.
“I’ve been saying that for hours,” Kindan agreed. He looked over at her. “What is your plan?”
“Well, I was thinking that anything that happened to the dragons recently, we’d remember,” she said. “So why work our way back through the Records? Why not start with the oldest Records and work forward?”
“The oldest Records!” Kindan groaned. “Queen rider, you certainly know how to darken a day.”
Lorana started to protest but Kindan raised a hand, silencing her.
“I didn’t say you weren’t right,” he told her. “I just dread the prospect.” He stood up and went back to the stacks of Records, searching. “You know, I’m going to have to move the newer stacks first.”
“I’ll order more klah, then,” Lorana suggested.
Kindan turned back to her with a grin. “Ah ha! This is just a plot to take a break.”
Lorana laughed and went to the shaft to order more food.
By the time they broke for the evening meal, Lorana’s good humor had frayed.
“Musty old, useless Records!” she swore.
Kindan gave her a shocked look.
“I’m sorry I ever suggested we start with the oldest ones,” she apologized, stifling a sneeze. “My nose is running and my eyes are watering with all this dust. The writing’s barely legible and I’ve probably missed something important because it’s buried in a mass of gibberish!”
“Maybe I can help.”
Lorana looked over to see Salina standing in the doorway.
“You should be feeding your dragon, anyway,” Salina said.
“After you’ve done that, you can feed yourself,” Kindan added. “You haven’t had anything since you took a break to help K’tan with that injured wing tip-if you call that a break.”
“But there’s so much to do!” Lorana protested, waving a hand toward the high stacks of unread Records.
Salina entered the room and sat at the table. Catching Lorana’s eyes, she jerked her head toward the door.
“I’ll do it while you do your other chores,” Salina said. “I’ve heard someone say that this is the Weyrwoman’s job, anyway.”
Kindan couldn’t bring himself to point out that the Weyrwoman being referred to was Tullea, not Salina.
“Ask Mikkala to send up some fresh glows, please,” Salina told Lorana as she was leaving. She looked over at Kindan. “Now, Harper, what should we be looking for?”
Two days later, with Threadfall due over lower Benden and Upper Nerat, M’tal grimaced. Three of the severely wounded dragons had gone between. And there were eight more feverish dragons. He would be leading only one hundred and ninety-six dragons-slightly more than two flights of dragons-against Thread over Nerat.
We will fight smarter this time, M’tal thought confidently.
He knew from the Records of the Second Pass that the Weyr had successfully fought Thread with less than one full flight-three wings of dragons. He also knew that the casualties in those Threadfalls had been much higher than when more of the Weyr’s strength was available.
Well, it can’t be helped, he told himself. Gaminth, give the order to go between to Nerat Tip.
With the lush green of lower Benden below them and clear skies above, M’tal surveyed the arrayed wings approvingly as they awaited the coming of Thread. He had three wings arranged as one flight flying high, with a second flight behind and lower. The sixteen spare dragons were arranged in a “short wing,” trailing behind the lower flight but ready to fill in any gaps either as individual dragons or as a full wing.
M’tal squinted, scanning the sky above him for signs of Thread. Wouldn’t it just be too much if Thread failed to fall? he mused sourly.
A dragon’s roar alerted him. There! Faintly, like a blur on the sky above, he saw it. As one, the dragons of Benden turned to their riders for firestone; as one the riders fed them the flame-bearing rock; and as one the dragons chewed the rock, digesting it deep in their second stomachs.
As one, the Weyr rose to flame Thread.
And then, behind him, dragons bugled a strange challenge. M’tal turned in surprise to find the source of their bafflement.
“What is she doing?” M’tal bellowed in outrage.
Far below and behind him, he spied the large wings of Benden’s only mature queen dragon.
Thread! Gaminth warned-but it was too late. A stream of fire seared across M’tal’s cheek and onto his chest before the nothing of between brought blessed relief from the agony of Threadscore.
M’tal clawed off the frozen Thread and then they were back in daylight again.
Gaminth, tell her to return to the Weyr! M’tal ordered.
Minith says that Tullea says it is her “duty” to be here at Threadfall, Gaminth informed him.
M’tal’s rage grew as he watched the flying formations behind him dissolve and grow unmanaged, with some bronzes striving to protect their queen.
Order the “short wing” to protect her, M’tal said. And have the rest of the wings re-form.
His orders had little effect on the chaos behind him. Grimly, M’tal wondered if it had been a wise idea to put his wing in the forefront. It had seemed a good choice to lead from the front, but he hadn’t counted on not being able to handle the confusion behind him-he hadn’t expected this sort of confusion!