Dragonsong (dragon riders of pern) Page 8

  And Menolly didn’t come empty-handed as a guest! She swung the heavy sack of spiderclaws around to her back. Grabbing handfuls of the grasses on the lip of the cliff, she began to let herself slowly down. Her feet fumbled for support; she found one toehold and dug half that foot in, the other foot prodding for another place.

  She slithered badly once, but a rock protrusion caught her in the crotch before she’d slipped far. She laid her face against the cliff, gulping to get back her breath and courage. She could feel the thrumming through the stone, and oddly, that gave her heart.

  There was something intensely exciting and stimulating about that sound.

  Sheer luck guided her foot to the queen’s ledge. She’d risked only a few glances beneath her—the aspect was almost enough to make her lose her balance completely. She was trembling so much with her exertions that she had to rest then. Definitely the humming came from the queen’s cavern.

  She could get her head into the original opening. No more. She began to tear at the sides with her bare hands until she thought of her belt knife. The blade loosened a whole section all at once, showering her with sand and bits of rock. She had to clean her eyes and mouth of grit before she could continue. Then she realized that she’d gotten to sheer rock.

  She could get herself into the shelter only up to her shoulders. No matter how she turned and twisted, there was an outcropping that she could not pass. Once again she wished she were as small as a girl ought to be. Sella would have had no trouble crawling through that hole. Resolutely, Menolly began to chip at the rock with her knife, the blows jarring her hand to the shoulder, and making no impression at all on the rock.

  She wondered frantically how long it had taken her to get down the cliff. How long did she have before Thread would be raining down on her unprotected body?

  Body? She might not get past the bobble in the wall with her shoulders…but…She reversed her position, and feet, legs, hips, all right up to the shoulders passed into the safety of solid rock. Her head was covered, but only just, by the cliff overhang.

  Did Thread see where it was going when it fell? Would it notice her, crowded into this hole as it flashed by? Then she saw the thong of the carry-sack where she’d looped it over the ledge to keep it handy but out of her way. If Thread got into the spiderclaws.

  She pulled herself far enough out of the hole to cast an eye above. No silver yet! No sound but the steadily increasing thrumming. That wouldn’t have anything to do with Thread, would it?

  The carry-sack thong had bitten into the ledge and she had a job freeing it, having to yank rather hard. The next thing she knew the sack came free, the force of her pull threw her backwards, cracking her head on the roof of her tunnel, and then the surface beneath her buttocks started to slide, out and down. Menolly clawed her way into the tunnel, as the ledge slowly de tached itself from the face of the cliff and tumbled down onto the beach.

  Menolly scrambled back quickly, afraid more of the entrance would go, and suddenly she was in a cave, wide, high, deep, clutching the carry-sack and staring at the greatly widened mouth.

  The thrumming was behind her and, startled at what she could only consider to be an additional threat, she whirled.

  Fire lizards were perched around the walls, clinging to rock spur and ledge. Every eye glinted at the mound of eggs in the sandy center of the cave. The thrumming came from the throats of all the little fire lizards, and they were far too intent on what was happening to the eggs to give any heed to her abrupt appearance.

  Just as Menolly realized that she was witnessing a Hatching, the first egg began to rock and cracks appeared in its shell.

  It rocked itself off the mound of the clutch and, in hitting the ground, split. From the two parts emerged a tiny creature, not much bigger than Menolly’s hand, glistening brown and creeling with hunger, swaying its head back and forth and tottering forward a few awkward steps. The transparent brown wings unfolded, flapping weakly to dry, and the creature’s balance improved. The creel turned to a hiss of displeasure, and the little brown peered about defensively.

  The other fire lizards crooned, encouraging it to some action. With a tiny shriek of anger, the little brown launched itself towards the cave opening, passing so close to Menolly she could have touched it.

  The brown fire lizard lurched off the eroded lip of the cave, pumping its wings frantically to achieve flight. Menolly gasped as the creature dropped, and then sighed with relief as it came into sight briefly, airborne, and flew off, across the sea.

  More creeling brought her attention back to the clutch. Other fire lizards had begun to hatch in that brief period, each one shaking its wings and then, encouraged by the weyrmates, flopping and weaving towards the cave mouth, defiantly independent and hungry.

  Several greens and blues, a little bronze and two more browns hatched and passed Menolly. And then, as she watched a little blue launch itself, Menolly screamed. No sooner had the blue emerged from the safety of the cliff than she saw the thin, writhing silver of Thread descending. In a moment, the blue was covered with the deadly filaments. It uttered one hideous shriek and disappeared. Dead? Or between? Certainly badly scored.

  Two more little fire lizards passed Menolly, and she reacted now. “No! No! You can’t! You’ll be killed.” She flung herself across their path.

  The angry fire lizards pecked at her unprotected face and while she covered herself, made their escape. She cried aloud when she heard their screams.

  “Don’t let them go!” She pleaded with the watching fire lizards. “You’re older. You know about Thread. Tell them to stop!” She half-crawled, half-ran to the rock where the golden queen was perched.

  “Tell them not to go! There’s Thread out there! They’re being killed!”

  The queen looked at her, the many-faceted eyes whirling violently. The queen chuckled and chirped at her, and then crooned as yet another fledgling spread its wings and began to totter towards sure death.

  “Please, little queen! Do something! Stop them!”

  The thrill of being the witness to a Hatching of fire lizards gave way to horror. Dragons had to be protected because they protected Pern. In Menolly’s fear and confusion, the little fire lizards were linked to their giant counterparts.

  She turned to the other lizards now, begging them to do something. At least until the Threadfall was over. Desperately she plunged back to the cave mouth and tried to turn the little fire lizards back with her hands, blocking their progress with her body. She was overwhelmed with pangs of hunger, belly-knotting, gut-twisting hunger. It took her only a moment to realize that the driving force in these fire lizards was that sort of hunger: that was what was sending them senselessly forth. They had to eat. She remembered that dragons had to eat, too, when they first Hatched, fed by the boys they Impressed.

  Menolly wildly grabbed for her carry-sack. With one hand she snatched a fire lizard back from the entrance, and with the other, a spiderclaw from the sack. The little bronze screeched once and then bit the spider-claw behind the eye, neatly killing it. Wings beating, the bronze lifted itself free of Menolly’s grasp and with more strength than Menolly would have thought the newborn creature could possess flew its prey to a corner and began tearing it apart.

  Menolly reached out randomly now and, with some surprise, found herself holding the one queen in the clutch. She snagged two spiderclaws from the sack in her other hand, and deposited them and the queen in another corner. Finally realizing she couldn’t handfeed the whole clutch, she upended the sack, spilling the shellfish out.

  Newly hatched fire lizards swarmed over and after the spiderclaws. Menolly caught two more lizards before they could reach the cave mouth and put them squarely in the center of their first meal. She was busy trying to make sure that each new fire lizard had a shellfish when she felt something pricking her shoulder. Surprised, she looked up to find the little bronze clinging to her tunic. His round eyes were whirling and he was still hungry. She gave him an unclaimed spiderclaw and
put him back in his corner. She tossed the little queen another and snared several other spiderclaws for her “specials.”

  Not many more of the newly-hatched got out, not with a source of food so nearby. She’d had a fair haul in the sack, but it didn’t take long for the hungry fire lizards to devour every last morsel. The poor things were still sounding starved as they creeled about, tipping over claws and body shells, trying to find any scraps overlooked. But they stayed in the cave and now the older fire lizards joined them, nuzzling or stroking, making affectionate noises.

  Utterly exhausted, Menolly leaned back against the wall, watching their antics. At least they’d not all died. She glanced apprehensively at the entrance and saw no more writhing lengths of Thread falling past. She peered further. There wasn’t even a trace of the menacing gray fog on the horizon. Threadfall must be over.

  And not a moment too soon. Now she was experiencing hunger thoughts from all the fire lizards. Rather overpoweringly, in fact. Because she realized how hungry she herself was.

  The little queen, the old queen, began to hover in the cave, squeaking an imperious command to her followers. Then she darted out and the old clutch began to follow her. The fledglings, moving awkwardly, made their virgin flight, and within moments, the cave was empty of all but Menolly, her torn sack, and a pile of empty spiderclaw and fire lizard shells.

  With their exit, some of Menolly’s hunger eased and she remembered the bread she’d tucked in her pocket. Feeling a bit guilty at this belated discovery, she gratefully ate every crumb.

  Then she made herself a hollow in the sand, pulled the torn carry-sack over her shoulders, and went to sleep.

  Chapter 6

  Lord of the Hold, your charge is sure

  In thick walls, metal doors, and no verdure.

  Threadfall was well past, the flamethrower crews safely back in Half-Circle Hold before anyone missed Menolly. Sella did because she didn’t want to have to tend Old Uncle. He had had another seizure, and someone had to stay by his bedside.

  “That’s about all she’s good for now anyway,” Sella told Mavi and then hastily demurred at her mother’s stern look. “Well, all she does is drag about, cradling that hand of hers as if it were precious. She gets off all the real work…” Sella let out a heavy sigh.

  “We’ve enough trouble this morning what with someone leaving the Hold doors unfastened and Thread falling…” Mavi shuddered at the thought of that brace of horrors; the mere notion of Thread cascading down, able to wriggle within the Hold, turned her stomach. “Go find Menolly and see that she knows what to do in case the old man has another fit.”

  It took Sella the better part of an hour to realize that Menolly was neither in the Hold nor among those baiting longlines. She hadn’t been among the flamethrower crews. In fact, no one could remember having seen or spoken to her all day.

  “She couldn’t have been out hunting greens like she usually does,” said an old auntie thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “Threadfall was on directly we’d our morning klah. Didn’t see her in the kitchen then, either. And she’s usually so good about helping, one-handed and all that she is, poor dear.”

  At first Sella was just annoyed. So like Menolly to be absent when needed. Mavi was a good deal too lenient with the child. Well, if she’d not been in the Hold in the morning, she’d been caught out in the Thread. And that served her right.

  Then Sella wasn’t so sure. She began to feel the first vestige of fright. If Menolly had been out during Threadfall, surely there’d be…something…left that Thread couldn’t eat.

  Gulping back nausea at that thought, she sought out her brother, Alemi, who was in charge of the flame throwers.

  “Alemi, you didn’t see anything…unusual…when you were ground checking?”

  “What do you mean by ‘unusual’?”

  “You know, traces…”

  “Of what? I’ve no time now for riddles, Sella.”

  “I mean, if someone were caught out during Threadfall, how would you know?”

  “Whatever are you tacking around?”

  “Menolly’s nowhere in the Hold, or the Dock, or anywhere. She wasn’t on any of the teams…”

  Alemi frowned. “No, she wasn’t, but I thought Mavi needed her in the Hold for something.”

  “…There! And none of the aunties remember seeing her this morning. And the Hold doors were unbarred!”

  “You think Menolly left the Hold early?” Alemi realized that a strong, tall girl like Menolly could very easily have managed the door bars.

  “You know how she’s been since she hurt her hand: creeping away every chance she gets.”

  Alemi did know, for he was fond of his gawky sister, and he particularly missed her singing. He didn’t share Yanus’s reservations about Menolly’s ability. And he didn’t honestly agree with Yanus’s decision to keep knowledge of it from the Harper, especially now that there was a Harper in the Hold to keep her in line.

  “Well?” Sella’s prompting irritated him out of his thoughts.

  “I saw nothing unusual.”

  “Would there be something? If Thread did get her?”

  Alemi gave Sella a long hard look. She sounded as if she’d be glad if Menolly did get Threaded.

  “There’d be nothing left if she’d been caught by Thread. But no Thread got through the Benden wings.”

  With that he turned on his heel and left his sister, mouth agape. His reassurance was curiously no consolation to Sella. However, since Menolly was so obviously missing, Sella could take some pleasure in informing Mavi of this fact, adding her theory that Menolly had committed the enormous crime of leaving the Hold doors unbarred.

  “Menolly?” Mavi was handing out sea salt and spiceroot to the head cook when Sella imparted her news. “Menolly?”

  “Yes, Menolly. She’s gone. Not been seen, and she’s the one left the Hold doors unbarred. With Thread falling!”

  “Thread wasn’t falling when Yanus discovered the doors open.” Mavi corrected Sella mechanically. She shuddered at the thought of anyone, even a recalcitrant daughter, caught out in the silvery rain of Thread.

  “Alemi said no Thread got through the dragons, but how can he be sure?”

  Mavi said nothing as she locked up the condiment press and spun the rollers. “I’ll inform Yanus. And I’ll have a word with Alemi, too. You’d better take care of Old Uncle.”

  “Me?”

  “Not that that’s real work, but it is suited to your temperament and ability.”

  Yanus was silent for a long moment when he heard of Menolly’s disappearance. He didn’t like untoward things happening, such as the Hold doors being left unbarred. He’d worried about that all during the Fall and the fishing after the Fall. It wasn’t good for a Sea Holder to have his mind diverted from the task at hand. He felt some relief that the mystery had been solved, and a keen annoyance and anxiety about the girl. Foolish thing for her to have done—leave the Hold that early. She’d been sulking ever since that beating. Mavi hadn’t kept her busy enough to make her forget the nonsense of tuning.

  “I’ve heard that there’re plenty of caves in the cliffs along the coast,” Elgion said. “The girl probably took shelter in one.”

  “She probably did,” said Mavi briskly, grateful to the Harper for such a sensible suggestion. “Menolly knows the coast very well. She must know every crevice by now.”

  “She’ll be back then,” Yanus said. “Give her time to get over the fright of being out during Threadfall. She’ll be back.” Yanus found relief in this theory and turned to less distressing business.

  “It is spring,” said Mavi, more to herself than to the others. Only the Harper caught the anxious note in her voice.

  Two days later Menolly had not returned, and the entire Sea Hold was alerted to her disappearance. No one remembered seeing her on the day of Threadfall. No one had seen her since. Children sent out for berries or spiderclaws had encountered no trace of her, nor had she been in any of the caves they knew.


  “Not much point in sending out a search,” said one of the shipmasters, mindful that there was more surety of catching fish than finding any trace of a foolish girl. Particularly one with a crippled hand. “Either she’s safe and doesn’t choose to come back, or…”

  “She could be hurt…Threadscored, a broken leg or arm…” said Alemi, “unable to make her way back.”

  “Shouldn’t’ve been out anyway without letting someone know where she’d gone.” The shipmaster’s eyes moved towards Mavi, who did not catch this implied negligence on her part.

  “She was used to going out for greens first thing in the morning,” Alemi said. If no one else would defend Menolly, he would speak up.

  “Did she carry a belt knife? Or a metal buckle?” asked Elgion. “Thread doesn’t touch metal.”

  “Aye. We’d find that much of her,” said Yanus.

  “If Thread got her,” said the shipmaster darkly. He rather favored the notion that she’d fallen into a crevice or over the edge of the bluff, in terror at finding herself out during Threadfall. “Her body’d wash up around the Dragon Stones. Current throws up a lot of sea trash down that way.”

  Mavi caught her breath in a sound very like a sob.

  “I don’t know the girl,” Elgion said quickly, seeing Mavi’s distress. “But if she did, as you say, stay out a good deal of the time, she’d know the land too well to go over the edge of a cliff.”

  “Threadfall’s enough to rattle anyone’s wits…” said the shipmaster.

  “Menolly is not stupid,” said Alemi with such feeling that everyone looked at him in surprise. “And she knew her Teaching well enough to know what to do if she were caught out.”

  “Right enough, Alemi,” said Yanus sharply and rose to his feet. “If she were able and of a mind to return, she’d have done so. Everyone who is abroad is to keep a sharp eye for any trace of her. That includes sea as well as land. As Sea Holder, I cannot in conscience do more than that, under the circumstances. And the tide is making. To the boats now.”