Legends II

  Thaniel’s jaw dropped.

  “He only does that when there’s dragons about,” he said to himself. “Maybe Rusty’s just beyond it, and the kindest thing would be to put the old fellow down. Can’t have him screaming like that every night!” Shaking his head, he turned away from the runnerbeast and walked back into his hold.

  And so Rusty’s wild behavior continued, night after night, until the fifth evening after Moreta had vanished intobetween . That night, Thaniel was watching at the right time. To his utter amazement, the full moon illuminated the ethereal forms of a dragon and rider.

  Hollering louder than Rusty, Thaniel dropped his club, turned, and fled back to his hold, where he slammed the door quickly behind him.

  Five days earlier . . .

  Moreta felt the better for the klah the old holder had given her. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, though she must have, as her stomach didn’t feel all that empty. But she was so tired, and even the longest Fall had never seemed so endless and draining. Just this one last jumpbetween and then Holth could rest, too, for the old queen had been valiant. As she sprang from the ground on this last leg of their day’s journeying, Moreta began her litany against her fear ofbetween . “Black, blacker, blackest . . .”

  Never hadbetween felt so cold to her, even with the warmth of klah seeping into her veins. Hugging herself with her arms to ward off the chill, she closed her eyes against the unrelenting blackness ofbetween . Then she opened them again, as, out of the corner of her eye, her brain registered something different about her surroundings, something unexpected.

  Is that a light?She turned toward it, shaking her head, waiting for the darkness to greet her eyes once again. Instead, a grayness lay before her, imperceptibly blending with the black ofbetween . Somehow, she did not feel so cold anymore. She felt an overwhelming desire to move away from the grayness and suddenly realized that Holth was motionless. Surely more than the usual eight seconds had passed. She had nearly finished the verse of her litany and they were still—immovably—between . . .

  Holth?she cried.What has happened? We are not back at Fort Weyr!

  We arebetween.I did not “see” where we should go, replied Holth in a querulous tone, bugling in distress.

  Panic welled in Moreta’s chest and she tried to think back to what she had said to Holth as the tired old dragon had lurched off the ground. She shook her head.

  I had to have visualized Fort Weyr for you, Holth!she protested, forcing her time-wearied mind to recall exactly what she had said.I’ve been a rider too long to make such a weyrling mistake.

  We are both tired,Holth replied blandly.We went between,as you said. That is all we did.

  Why didn’t you ask me where?Moreta demanded sharply, wondering how a dragon so experienced could have forgotten something so basic.

  You have been telling me where to go, and at what time to get there, all day. You always gave me the directions. Specific directions, according to the sun. This time you only told me to gobetween. Despair crept into the dragon’s mental tone.

  Frantically quelling her own mounting panic, Moreta recalled that she had indeed only told weary old Holth to gobetween , assuming that the dragon had also heard her say that this was the last time she’d have to jump. Meaning, of course, for them to jumpbetween to “home,” Fort Weyr, where they could both rest after the arduous day; home to Leri and home to Orlith and her eggs. She hugged herself tightly and looked longingly behind her, as if she were looking at her past. A past she could not change.Move, Holth! Maybe we can find our way back. Holth uttered a disbelieving noise and made no move with either wing or leg.

  I cannot go anywhere.There was just the slightest emphasis on “go.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t ‘go’?” Moreta cried out loud.

  Not yet, and not with you,was Holth’s cryptic reply.

  We must go home. They are expecting us. Leri will be worried about you, and Orlith will be frantic.

  I know,the dragon replied.I cannot reach them, she added after a brief pause.

  Frightened, Moreta pushed her thoughts out for the comforting touch of Orlith, ever present at the back of her mind and often stronger when they were separated. For the first time, it was not there, and Moreta gasped. This couldn’t be happening! She thought as, unbidden, tears flowed down her cheeks. Overwhelming grief consumed her.

  ORLITH!she cried.

  Just then, she saw something moving, gray against grayer, but shaped like a dragon with its rider on its withers.

  “Hallo there!” a male voice called. And he waved an arm at her. Moreta momentarily froze and then desperately wiped at her wet face. This was an impossible nightmare, and now she was hearing things as well as seeing—inbetween ! “Wait for me!” the man called out.

  Stunned, Moreta numbly waited while an unusually small, brown dragon halted neatly just a nose away from Holth. The old dragon put her nose forward and made the expected courtesy touch with a newcomer. Then Holth backed up with far more energy than she had previously shown.

  Duluth?the gold dragon asked, surprised.

  “What’s happening? Who are you? Why can I hear and see you?” Moreta cried. The panic was rising in her again. The old queen backed up a further step.

  “I’m Marco Galliano,” the young rider said in a measured, calming tone. Or at least Moreta thought he was young. He had to be a new rider, for she didn’t know of a brown dragon named Duluth.

  “Don’t worry, I can help you. Are you cold? You’re both shivering.”

  “Not from the cold,” Moreta said, trying to control the panic in her voice, but what else would one feel, stuck inbetween ?

  “Look, I know you’re new to all this, up here in the fold. Duluth and I do the rounds every day to look for strays.”

  “Do rounds? Look for strays?” Moreta echoed, incredulous. She felt as if the grayness was closing in around her and clutched at her riding harness, fearful that she was losing consciousness. If she fell off Holth now, she’d be falling intobetween . A whimper, unbidden, surged up her throat.

  “C’mon, I’ll take you where it’s warm.”

  His dragon turned.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” she yelled.

  Just follow me. It’s easy,said the dragon.

  “I don’t know why it works,” Marco said casually, “but I can always get back to Paradise.”

  Duluth took off on a good run and in a moment was so competently airborne that Moreta quickly urged Holth to follow. Holth took off at speed, as if she, like Moreta, wanted to get anywhere but here, no matter where that might be. Moreta’s vision blurred again as panic continued to exert its grip on her. She felt totally disoriented.

  They flew straight for what seemed a long time, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, Marco and Duluth suddenly dropped, flattened out, and dived down through the dark floor ofbetween . A hole appeared to engulf them, and Moreta urged Holth to follow.

  They broke out over a very blue sea, facing a spit of white sand and tall frond-waving trees along a shore. The sound of the water washing onto the shore rushed into Moreta’s ears. Duluth landed on the beach, followed by Holth, who, sighing mightily as she instinctively kept her wings open to absorb the heat all dragons enjoyed, dug her feet down into the warm sand. The hot sun slapped Moreta in the face and she gasped with relief.

  We’re safe! We can go home now, Holth!she cried with relief. Holth didn’t answer her. Quickly, Moreta tried to get her bearings, but the heat, combined with the complete exhaustion she felt, was too much to bear. She began to slide off Holth’s neck, but fell halfway down, landing on all fours on the hot sands.

  “Look, you’re both awfully tired now. Your dragon has the right idea. C’mon,” Marco said, lifting her to her feet with great ease. Moreta wanted to correct him, tell him that Holth was not her dragon, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. He put a hand gently under her elbow and started to propel her toward the shade. The heat was enervating, and she unconsciously opene
d her heavy flying jacket. Mute from shock and fatigue she followed Marco’s lead, looking over her shoulder to be sure that Holth was comfortable in the sand. The old queen snorted once, wriggled her shoulders, let her tail fall down on the sand, and exhaled noisily into a snore.

  “Here, sit down for a while; you’ll feel better if you have a little rest.” Marco swept away some dry fronds from the tough grass that grew under the shading trees.

  His hand changed position and practically forced her to the ground. She had no strength left. When he took her jacket from her limp hand and made a pillow of it on the grass, she lay down. Closing her eyes, Moreta hoped that when she opened them, she’d be back in her own Weyr and that this was all a terrible dream.

  The strange young rider murmured a gentle reassurance she didn’t hear as she fell almost instantly into a deep sleep.

  When Moreta roused, suddenly alert to the noise Holth made while changing position in the sand, Marco was still there. He placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke to her with all the calm assurance of a man five times his age. Strangely, the panic she had felt before she slept did not rise in her again. A calmness now pervaded her senses.

  “It wasn’t a dream, much as you would like it to have been. This is real. You wentbetween and didn’t come out. But I found you,” he said reassuringly.

  Marco gestured for her to sit up and lean against a tree trunk. She noticed for the first time that he was clad in odd flying gear; but concern for Holth had her eyes swiveling to the dragon, who was resettling herself on the sand.

  “She’s fine,” Marco said. “I think she needs to get the other side warm, too. This is the first she’s moved since she lay down, except to snore. Which she does loudly, as you must know.”

  Marco was an attractive young man—though nowhere near as handsome as Alessan, she thought to herself. But she put thoughts of her lover away. This frightening situation was hard enough to comprehend without being tortured by thoughts of being lost to him.

  “Where are we, Marco?” she asked imploringly. “And, if we didn’t make it out ofbetween , then what is all of this?” She gestured to the beach and the water lapping gently at the shore.

  “Holth says your name is Moreta and that you’re the Fort Weyrwoman,” he said calmly, looking at her with respect. “Duluth is impressed.”

  “Which Weyr did you say you were from?”

  “I didn’t, because Duluth and I were never in a Weyr. You don’t know your dragonrider history?” He looked disappointed.

  Moreta, startled to be so accused, glared at him. “Of course I do.”

  “Then who,” he asked very quietly, “were the first riders?”

  She was aware that her jaw dropped as she stared up at him. She knew who the first riders were and . . . she tried to grasp the concept.

  “You and Duluth . . . ,” she said, dragging the facts from memory, “were the first pair to gobetween , to avoid a collision with an air sled at Paradise River Stake . . .” She paused, glancing around.

  “Of course, the mechanics of goingbetween safely were learned later,” Marco went on. “Duluth and I just acted out of instinct.”

  “And you’ve been in—between—ever since?” Moreta asked, a large knot clenched deep in her gut.

  “More or less. It took me a while to realize that I could return to Paradise River whenever I wanted to. Of course, by the time I figured that out and got back here, everyone in Jim Tillek’s armada had moved on. I flew east in the direction I knew they were headed, but a fierce storm blew up and damned near knocked me off Duluth’s back, so I quit following. Duluth had strained a ligament in his right pinion. Fortunately I had enough numbweed left to ease the injury. By the time we could follow on, we figured they’d been hit pretty badly by the storm, too. There were even some pieces of wrecked ships among the debris washed ashore. No bodies—we looked. So we came back to Paradise and made it our headquarters. There are some buildings back there. At first I stored the things that washed up on the beach there, just in case anyone came back looking for them. No one ever did. And then, I sort of found others caught the same way.”

  “Others? Where are they?”

  “Probably hunting. The dragons still like to hunt, you know. It’s instinctive. But once they’ve made the kill, they don’t even bother to blood it. There were a lot of fine cattle that had to be let loose for the Second Crossing. Not enough room for any but the prime breeding stock on the boats going to the new settlement. They’ve multiplied, and the cats—”

  “Cats?” Moreta exclaimed nervously.

  “Yes, cats. The big felines that Ted Tubberman bred and let loose down here.”

  “Oh! But they’re the creatures that brought us the plague. Don’t let any of them come near you!”

  Marco laughed, and the knot of tension gripping Moreta’s innards gently dissolved. “Not ruddy likely, Moreta. For one thing, they’re usually scared of dragons; and two: We have no weapons”—he opened his hands wide—“so we keep our distance. How could they spread a plague?”

  Moreta said, “Believe me, they can. I don’t know how many people have died. But Healers managed to develop a vaccine.”

  “How did cats get to the north?” Marco wondered.

  Moreta clicked her tongue. “Some seamen who’d been shipwrecked on the coast found the animal and brought it back, thinking they’d make a mark or two displaying it at Gathers. Before we traced the disease back to the cat, too many people had been infected.”

  “Don’t your people know about quarantines?” Marco asked, taken aback.

  “Of course we do, but the plague spread too fast. At first no one knew what had started it. We get contagious diseases now and then, but they’re usually just seasonal and only affect a small number of folk. This plague affected almost everyone.”

  “Riders and dragons died, too?”

  “Yes,” she replied sadly. “How did you know that?”

  “I saw quite a few of them,” he said, grimacing. “Far more than would have been accounted for in a heavy Threadfall.”

  “But if you saw them inbetween , then you must have seen where they went!” Moreta felt a rush of hope.

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know where they went. I haven’t been there yet.” A curious expression touched his face as he talked. Duluth warbled gently to his rider.

  Moreta stared at him, having figured out that he and the first riders had all been about nineteen or twenty Turns at the time they Impressed those first dragons. Why, he must be more than fifteen hundred Turns old! That is, if he really existed at all! She wanted to reach out and touch him.

  “I still don’t understand . . .” Her voice quavered with uncertainty and she felt fresh tears behind her eyes.

  “How I could be hereand between ?” He shook his head. “I don’t understand either, but demonstrably I am.Cogito, ergo sum. ”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “That’s a very old Earth language, called Latin. It translates as ‘I think, therefore I am.’ ”

  “Oh.”

  “A double big oh, Moreta. What year—I mean, Turn—is this?”

  Moreta stared at him for a moment even as she said the words. “Fifteen hundred and forty-three. We’re nearly through the Sixth Pass.”

  He nodded, staring at some far distant spot on the horizon. A gentle sigh passed his lips.

  “Buthow have you survived?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ve decided that time must be different inbetween . Which supports my notion that it’s another dimension or level, or something.”

  “Aren’t you—” Moreta stopped, reluctant to hurt this gentle young man with her prying. “—lonely?” she asked.

  “I have Duluth.” He looked toward his dragon, lounging next to Holth on the sand. As he made mental contact with his life partner, Moreta saw his eyes shining with the bond that all dragonriders knew. It made her long even more for Orlith.

  Duluth rumbled with affection for his rider, and Holth stir
red briefly as she lay in the warm sands.

  “What happened to you and Holth?”

  “Bad luck, bad imaging. Ours, I can candidly say, was due to fatigue and too many time changes.”

  “Time changes?”

  Moreta took a deep breath, composing herself before she began her story. As she recounted the events of the last few days, the pervading calmness that had overcome her faded. With the conclusion of her tale, her emotions welled up.

  “All I said to her was ‘we only have to take one last jumpbetween , Holth, that’s all.’ And then we were stuck until you found us.” Moreta broke down in tears at her failure to give a clear picture of where she and Holth should have gone. Through sobs she cried, “I never said goodbye to Orlith.”

  “This is where I help,” Marco said gently, as he shifted his position so he could put an arm around her shoulders. He rocked her slightly until she was calm again. “You delivered parcels to forty different places in the space of an afternoon?” He couldn’t help sounding incredulous. “But taking off and landing take up a lot of time.”

  “Well, we made each hour work for two, or maybe three. Dragons can gobetween time, too, you see.”

  “Dragons can gobetween time?” Marco asked, astonished.

  “Well, as you can see, it can be very dangerous and totally disorient the rider. I’ve done it before, and even gone to the future, but only because the necessities of fighting this plague made that unavoidable. But we were short of riders. Since I was the most familiar with Keroon plains and holds, I offered to make the circuit. I used the position of the sun to guide me, but in order to get the medicine to everyone today, as promised, I had to backtrack. We were both exhausted by the time we made the last delivery.”

  He touched her shoulder, studying her face with such a look of understanding that she blinked in surprise.