P’tero and M’leng asked permission of V’last, their wing leader to take their dragons hunting.
“Remember what K’vin told you about the sport creatures down here,” V’last said, serving the same warning to the other riders wishing to hunt their dragons.
P’tero and M’leng nodded obediently but, as soon as they left the clearing where their wing had landed on the Malay River, they laughed at the very notion that any creature could be dangerous to their dragons.
“It’s really hot here,” M’leng said, glancing back at the river.
“We’ll be hotter after we’ve hunted the dragons,” said P’tero.
“But once that’s done, we really don’t have to do another thing until dinner.”
“So let’s not come back here until just before,” M’leng suggested, laughing recklessly. “Or we’ll end up having to hunt or fish or gather.”
“There’re enough weyrfolk with us to do all that - and enjoy,” P’tero said, rather condescendingly. “Let’s get out of here.” He made a running jump and neatly vaulted onto Ormonth’s blue back. M’leng simultaneously boarded green Sith.
“What shall we go after?” M’leng asked.
“Whatever we see first,” P’tero replied and pumped his arm to send them both aloft. M’leng preferred him to be leader.
They didn’t have far to go to see grazing herds of runner beasts, smaller than the ones they were accustomed to seeing in the Holds. But when they also saw other dragons in the sky, gliding in to hunt, P’tero signaled M’leng to fly on in a south-westerly direction. They hadn’t gone very far before both found it necessary to strip off their flying jackets, and then their shirts which were winter weight anyhow. P’tero admired M’leng’s compact body. The green rider was small boned which had always delighted P’tero, with a surprisingly strong and agile wiry frame. He was also winter-white, right to his collar. He looked so funny, as if he had two different skins.
Then the blue rider became fascinated with the tropical terrain around them, subtly different from the north’s warmer Holds. Nerat was rain forests and vast tracks of almost impenetrable jungle except along the western side, whereas Ista was sharp hills and deep valleys, also densely vegetated.
But here a vast grassland, similar in some respects to the plains of Keroon, spread out in all directions, dotted by up thrusts of bare yellow rock, occasional copses of angular trees with fronds spilling from the crests, and large, wide branched trees like islands. The dragons’ flight over some of these caused flocks of wherries and other avian forms to debouch in frantic escape. Can I eat them? Ormonth enquired of his rider, speeding up in case he was allowed to give chase.
What? Those tough mouthfuls? P’tero asked scornfully.
Then he cupped his hands and shouted at M’leng: “Ormonth’s hungry enough to eat wherries!”
“Sith wanted to, as well. We’d better feed them,” M’leng yelled back. “Over there!” and he pointed to one of the rock piles. One of the spreading trees had grown right up against the pile, shading the long incline to the top.
P’tero thought the formation looked like the prow of a ship, with midships plunging into the sea of ground. And the tree a muchly misplaced mast.
M’leng nodded vigorously in approval and pumped his arm, nudging Sith into a wide curve so that they came up to the prow to land. A fine breeze blew against them from the south, cooling the perspiration on their bare torsos.
Immediately they landed, the two young men stripped off their heavy flight pants and boots. They had to put their socks back on, for the rock was far too hot for bare feet.
M’leng, who had good distance vision, covered his eyes with one hand, peering to the west where a long dark line seemed to be moving.
“Oh, good, herd beasts.” He hauled Sith’s head round and then pushed it in the right direction. “See? You can eat those. Much better than wherries. Off you go, now!” And he gave Sith a thump of dismissal.
“Follow Sith, Ormonth,” and P’tero shoved the blue’s head to the right. Hunt with her and you can’t get into any trouble that way.
“We’ll watch from here.” Ormonth shifted weight from one diagonal to the other, his whirling eyes with a trace of anxious yellow.
“What’s the matter with you?” P’tero demanded, wanting both dragons to be away so that he and M’leng could have some real privacy.
And if the pair were busy enough hunting and eating, they’d pay no attention at all to what their riders were doing.
Smell something!
“M’leng, does Sith smell anything?” P’tero was annoyed, but you didn’t ignore your dragon.
“Different smells down here, that’s all.” M’leng shrugged, his eager expression indicating that he wanted the dragons away as much as P’tero did.
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” P’tero assured Ormonth and slapped him peremptorily to be on his way.
The two launched upwards at the same moment and P’tero watched with some pride in the blue’s elegant flight attitude as he made height before he would glide down towards his prey.
M’leng slipped in under P’tero’s arm.
“Oooh, your hide is hot. We’d best be careful not to burn in this sun.”
“We’ll be all right if we move a lot.”
“And we will, won’t we?” They enjoyed each other’s company so much that neither was aware when the breeze altered to the west. It still cooled their bare bodies, drying the sweat they had generated. They weren’t even aware of much until two things happened at the same instant: Ormonth’s angry scream reverberated in P’tero’s skull, and he was rammed down hard against M’leng so that he cracked his chin on the rock as sharp things tore into his buttocks.
ORMONTH he shrieked mentally and vocally.
M’leng was limp under P’tero as he writhed in agony from whatever was attacking him.
“HELP ME!” he howled, struggling to turn and see that was trying to eat him!
A dark shadow, and the air pressure above him seemed compressed: a most hideous roar sent a carrion stink and hot breath across his bare back! The talons were ripped from his flesh, causing him to shriek again. Something heavy and furry was being hauled across his tortured legs and away! He caught a glimpse of green hide and then blue…
And then something large and tawny that seemed to come from nowhere. A blue tail curled protectingly around him. Above his head he heard Ormonth roaring, which turned to shrieks of pain and anger, but mostly anger. He was mentally assailed by vivid images and emotions of revenge that were totally alien to a dragon mind.
As waves of almost unendurable agony gripped him, he realized that Ormonth and Sith were rending whatever had attacked him into shreds; showering blood and gobbets of hot flesh all over him. Then he realized that he was lying on top of M’leng, who was suddenly being pulled away. To his horrified eyes, he saw a great brown paw, dirty big yellow claws unsheathing and curling into his weyrmate’s back, blood welling up. Despite the pain in his legs and back, he lurched across M’leng and beat at the paw, struggling to lift the claws out of his lover’s body.
More noise, more draconic roars, and suddenly there was space above him, letting in fresh air and the sight of other dragons. Two were attacking the tawny lean creatures that were swarming up the rock out-thrust. The dragons hauled them backwards by their tails or hind quarters while the creatures writhed and roared and spat defiance, turning to attack the dragons. One had curled itself around a brown’s forearm, slashing out at a dragon face.