To Save Two

A/N
What would it take to keep two Pern dragons alive who otherwise would not have survived? Surprisingly little; the pieces to that puzzle are already there in "Dragonquest." But the complications that follow, while they aren't as bad as a rider losing her dragon, are certainly not easy to deal with. This is a retelling of the end of chapter XII. The story is rated K-plus; the language is all K.

o

Wirenth has risen! Canth's thought struck F'nor like a badly-thrown sack of firestone. Brekke's queen dragon was beginning her first mating flight! For weeks, he had been weighing the pluses and minuses of breaking all the rules by sending Canth to join that flight. He knew that his huge brown dragon had as good a chance of catching a gold as most bronzes did, and he desperately wanted to spare Brekke the emotional trauma of having to couple with the rider of whichever bronze managed to catch her dragon in mid-air. On the other hand, it was against all tradition for a brown to even try to catch a queen. He was sure to be condemned by nearly every dragon rider on Pern if he attempted it. He hadn't decided what he would do... until the moment arrived and he had to decide, now. Almost without thought, he decided. Tradition be hanged.

He lost precious minutes getting Brekke's little bronze Berd settled. What was that fire lizard doing here, anyway? By the time they burst out of between over High Reaches Weyr, the queen and all the bronzes had flown. But where? They could have gone anywhere by now. Somehow, Berd knew where the dragons had gone; the time that F'nor had spent calming his partner's little fire lizard was worth it now. F'nor slid off his dragon's back and ran for Brekke's weyr as Canth sprang upward to join the mating chase.

The huge brown dragon spotted the bronzes just as another dragon arrived. Prideth also rises! he shouted to his rider. This was wrong, terribly wrong. Two queens who met while in the heat of passion would forget their passion and try their best to kill each other. Someone had to do something! Canth was still too far away to take any action, and the two queens were already maneuvering to strike each other out of the sky.

But Wirenth had a huge advantage in the fight that was about to begin. Under Brekke's firm command, she had only blooded her kills, so she was light and unencumbered for a long, fast mating flight. Prideth had not been restrained in that way by her rider, who was distracted by... ahem... other things. She had gorged herself on Meron of Nabol's best breeding stock before she took flight; now her belly was full and visibly bulging. The younger dragon could fly faster, turn tighter, and express her rage more eloquently. And she knew it.

Wirenth dove, talons extended for a mortal blow. Prideth slipped out from under the attack and tried to rake Wirenth with her own claws, but the younger dragon dodged the strike, just barely. As Wirenth whipped past, Prideth snapped her tail at the other dragon's head. Wirenth screamed; suddenly she couldn't see clearly out of one eye.

She swooped and turned her speed into a fast climb, trying to regain height before her rival dropped on her from above. Prideth tried to match the move, but her full belly kept her from changing directions quickly. Wirenth shot past her enemy, then allowed gravity to slow her down, then pull her downward in a dive that ended with her claws embedded in Prideth's back. All around her, the bronzes screamed in confusion, while more queens appeared out of between, trying to separate the two combatants.

They were falling. The tops of the mountains were getting close. Wirenth reluctantly pulled free and let her enemy escape. In moments, the other queens formed the bronzes into two groups and encircled the warring queens, tried to keep them away from each other. For a few seconds, they succeeded. Then Wirenth dropped straight down, heedless of how close the ground was, and tried again to close on her foe.

The other dragons cannot keep them apart, Canth cried piteously to F'nor as he tried to enter the fray. Wirenth and Prideth will kill each other.

"We need a way to make them want to stop fighting!" F'nor shouted out loud. His voice could not carry that far, of course, but his thoughts did.

They will fight as long as the mating urge is upon them, the brown answered. F'nor was beginning to answer when Canth had the same idea. This was not why he had joined this mating flight! But if it saved the life of a queen dragon... or two queen dragons... then somehow it was worth it.

He had been trying to close the range to Wirenth, to protect her, to keep her from falling. Brekke's dragon was about to lock onto Prideth's tail and pull her out of the encircling ring of bronze and gold dragons. He had only seconds to act. I'm sorry, Wirenth, he thought, knowing that the dragon of his rider's lover was not listening. He dove into the middle of the other ring of dragons; Prideth was too belly-heavy to dodge him; and he wrapped her up in his wings, siezed her with his legs, and...

The other dragons didn't move for several seconds, shocked at this sudden turn of events. Even Wirenth held back, unwilling to attack her enemy if it also meant harming Canth. In a matter of moments, she regained her composure. But the urge to strike, to slash, to kill was draining away from her. She watched Canth and Prideth fall together for a few seconds, breaking away from each other only to avoid hitting the mountains. She didn't feel rage at Prideth's presence now. She felt only contempt.

You thought you could take my dragons away from me? she trumpeted in triumph. Ha! All you could catch was a brown. You wasted your flight on a brown! You are not worth my anger. You are not worthy to call yourself my rival, you ... you brown-lover! These bronzes are all for me to toy with! They are mine! She blew a final note of defiance at those bronzes, then spun and gained height. She was too low; she needed some altitude and some airspeed if she meant to have any fun with these dragons. The bronzes were still stunned by the unexpected battle and its sudden resolution. They were slow to take up the chase.

For the next hour, she taunted and tormented those bronzes, who did their best to catch her, without success. She trilled and trumpeted her superiority over them; she dove and climbed, she circled and sprinted in straight lines, she forced them to veer off to avoid collisions, then swerved to keep them from trapping her. She exulted in her power, and in the untrammeled freedom that let her soar wherever she pleased. One after another, the bronzes failed and gave up in exhaustion, until only two were left, still trying vainly to overtake her.

Two? Where had Orth gone? She hadn't seen him drop out of the race. Where...? A few seconds later, she got her answer as Orth literally blindsided her. The crafty dragon had gained height and hidden in the clouds instead of mindlessly spending his energy on chasing her. Then, when the moment was ripe, he dived on the side of her unseeing eye and caught her easily. This wasn't how she had meant for this race to end. But her mating passion overflowed as they fell together.

Now, two queen dragons were satisfied and unwilling to fight. The battle was over. Now, the Weyr had to sort out what had happened.

o

Brekke woke slowly. A man lay next to her, snoring softly. What had happened? Who...? How...? She remembered her dragon's flight; then she remembered T'bor, and cringed away from her bedmate... but it wasn't him. It was F'nor. What was he doing here? She had been oblivious to her surroundings during the flight. Now she clung to him desperately, trying to remember how she had gotten here, and how he had gotten here, and why Wirenth seemed out of sorts.

We flew well, you and I, the dragon thought to her. Prideth tried to ruin it for us, but Canth caught her and... took care of her. He is a good dragon.

"What's wrong, Wirenth? You're in pain."

My eye is injured. The healer says I may regain the use of it in a day or two. Or it may not recover.

"Prideth did that to you?"

I did much worse to her. She is ashamed because a brown dragon caught her. And all the humans are angry at her rider. I feel bad for her.

Brekke marveled at how quickly dragons could forget the impact of recent events. "What will happen if your eye doesn't heal?"

I will be unable to fight Thread if my depth perception is impaired. I can still command other dragons, I can still lay eggs, and I can still be your true friend.

"I will always be your friend." Brekke said that last part out loud.

"I like the sound of that," F'nor murmured. He rolled over and wrapped one arm around her.

"F'nor... how did you get here?" she asked, still very confused. "What happened?"

"We came to join your dragon's mating flight. We wound up taking out your rival so your flight could go on. T'bor and Orth caught Wirenth. But as soon as he was done... doing his duty, I chased him out of your weyr. You belong to me, Brekke, no matter who flies your dragon."

"I don't understand," she said plaintively. "I thought I had to stay with the rider whose dragon caught my dragon."

"You can stay with any rider you please," F'nor smiled. "We both know Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen who can barely stand to be in the same room with each other. Still, they serve their Weyrs, and they spend the rest of their time with the ones who please them. There are things that you have to do out of duty, and there are things that you can choose to do because you want to. I'm not sure how the 'duty' part is going to play out. The whole situation here has become very confused, Brekke. The Weyrleaders are going to meet this afternoon to talk it over. You and I will have to be there as well, because we're a major part of the problems they need to solve."

"Can we spend a little time alone together before we have to face them?" she begged.

"I like the sound of that, too," he smiled, and kissed her gently.

o

The meeting took place in High Reaches' main conference room. The six Weyrleaders were there (Southern was not invited), as were F'nor, Brekke, and Kylara. The atmosphere was one of strained uncertainty.

D'ram took charge. "Everyone here knows what happened this morning... although some of us are having trouble believing it. What happened here today was in defiance of all tradition and all common sense. It was sheer luck that we didn't lose a queen dragon... or two of them. Our main concern today has to be to preserve order and solve the questions of leadership, not to make accusations or to assign guilt. Above all, we must ensure that High Reaches Weyr remains fully functional and ready to fight Thread, unimpaired."

"Why would my Weyr be impaired?" Kylara challenged him.

"You've got two injured queens," D'ram lectured her, "most of your bronze riders are in a mild state of shock from watching their queens fight, and it's not at all certain who your Weyrleader is. To put it bluntly, High Reaches Weyr is a demoralized mess."

"Mostly thanks to you, Kylara!" T'bor added acidly. "What were you thinking, abusing your dragon like that? It's a shame that Wirenth's face got scarred instead of yours!"

"This isn't the time or the place for that, T'bor," F'lar cut in. "D'ram is right; we have to focus on restoring order to High Reaches. But part of that restoration will involve deciding what to do with you, Kylara. Your neglect of your dragon borders on the criminal, and your failure to control Prideth was the direct cause of everything that went wrong today."

"You can't talk to me that way, Benden," she growled dangerously. "I am a blood sister to the Lord Holder of Telgar Hold, and I am Weyrwoman in this Weyr."

"That is by no means certain," R'mart cut in. "The first thing we have to settle is the fact that a brown dragon joined a queen's mating flight. That's going to affect Kylara, Brekke, and probably others of us as well."

"My wingsecond did nothing wrong," F'lar said defensively. "In fact, if he hadn't been there -"

"He broke every tradition we ever knew!" R'mart retorted. "We have these traditions for a reason, and it's not so you can line them up and break them at will!"

F'lar kept his voice even. "What, exactly, is the tradition?"

"What do you mean?" D'ram asked.

"The tradition about brown dragons and queens' mating flights," F'lar went on. "How is it worded? Does it say 'brown dragons cannot mate with queens,' or does it say, 'brown dragons do not mate with queens?' "

"What difference does it make?" G'narish demanded.

"If it says they cannot, then that's an absolute prohibition that F'nor should have obeyed," F'lar explained. "If it says they do not, then that's just saying that they are unable to do so. Canth just proved that one of them is able, so the tradition makes no sense and it wasn't wrong for F'nor to ignore it. The choice of words does matter. Which is it?"

The Oldtimer Weyrleaders looked at one another. At last, D'ram spoke up. "I have heard it taught both ways. I'm not sure which is the correct way. But I am sure of one thing: a brown dragon rider cannot become the leader of a Weyr, no matter whose dragon he catches."

F'nor was baffled. "Who said anything about me becoming a Weyrleader?"

"Tradition again," F'lar said. "Your dragon caught Prideth, the senior queen of High Reaches, when she rose to mate. According to tradition, that would make you the Weyrleader, and Kylara is your Weyrwoman."

F'lar had never seen his brother turn that pale before.

"A brown rider leading a Weyr? That is totally unacceptable!" R'mart thundered.

"Agreed," D'ram nodded. "This is no reflection on F'nor, just an acknowledgement of the facts. The bronze dragons will never take orders from a brown, which means their riders will not take orders from a brown rider. This is one tradition that must not be set aside, no matter how Benden feels about it."

All eyes were on F'lar. Would he try to flout this tradition as well? At last, he slowly nodded. "I have to agree, a brown rider cannot serve as a Weyrleader, no matter how worthy he might be, because the bronzes will not obey his dragon."

Kylara let out the breath she'd been holding. "So, if he's not the Weyrleader, then I'm not stuck being his Weyrwoman? I can live with that. Your smug Benden attitudes rub me the wrong way."

F'lar turned on her easily. "Speaking of attitudes, Kylara, there is a question you need to answer. This entire mess could have been avoided if you had treated your dragon the way we taught you when you lived in Benden Weyr, instead of doing whatever you please. That has to change. Will you follow the lead of Benden, the way the rest of Pern has pledged to do?"

She casually flipped her hair back over one shoulder. "I have a mind of my own. I have a bloodline and I have a gold dragon. I'll follow Benden when Igen freezes over!"

Benden's Weyrleader nodded. "I expected as much. On the day that Lord Asgenar married Lady Famira, it was decreed that any riders who would not follow Benden's lead must relocate to the Southern Weyr. That now includes you. Kylara, you are firmly invited to go south and join the other dragonriders who are unwilling to do their duty or meet their responsibilities."

"You can't do that to me!" she began to protest, but D'ram cut her off.

"Benden is correct. You have done some good work as Weyrwoman, but if you will not follow with the rest of us, then you have no place here. Your blood relation will not protect you from the punishment you've earned. I assure you, you will find others in Southern Weyr with better bloodlines than yours."

"How long can I think this over?" she asked.

"There is nothing to think over," D'ram said coldly. "Pern needs unified leadership as long as Thread continues to fall. A rebellious Weyrwoman cannot be allowed to work against that leadership. You will go to Southern as soon as your dragon is fit to fly between."

"What about Weyr autonomy?" she demanded. "Who authorized you to depose another Weyr's Weyrwoman? That's a matter for High Reaches to decide."

"Not at all," F'lar corrected her. "The matter is already decided; you admitted it yourself. Your dragon flew a brown, and we've agreed that a brown rider can't be a Weyrleader. So if F'nor is not a Weyrleader, then you, whose dragon flew his dragon, cannot be Weyrwoman. That's simple logic."

After a moment, G'dened nodded. "He's right. The two go together."

"That's outrageous!" she sputtered.

"No, it's tradition," F'nor retorted dryly.

"Well... what will become of me in Southern?" she asked. "Can I become Weyrwoman there?"

"Prideth won't even be close to being the senior queen there," D'ram explained patiently. "The other queens there are aging; within a few years, your dragon may be the only queen who rises to mate. When that happens, you could be Weyrwoman. But that will not happen for a while."

"I'm sure you'll be very popular there," F'lar added with a completely straight face, "but it will not be because of your leadership potential." R'mart and P'zar both smirked at that.

Kylara tried to think of some other protest to offer, but nothing came to mind. At last, she sullenly nodded her head. Southern wasn't the worst place in the world to be exiled. She would get her vengeance against these so-called leaders on some other day.

"Now that that has been settled," D'ram went on, "the next question involves you, F'nor. Your dragon flew Kylara's dragon, which makes the two of you weyrmates. Do you intend to follow her to the Southern Weyr?"

"No," F'nor said without a moment's hesitation. "I have no interest in following her anywhere."

"What's the matter?" she scoffed, though she inwardly stung at the rejection. "Don't you think you can handle me?"

F'nor looked her straight in the eye. "Your dragon is too easy to catch, and so are you. I prefer a challenge." Brekke gasped. F'nor saw a warning in F'lar's eye, but it was too late to back away now.

"A challenge?" Kylara repeated. "Do you mean that boy-girl-creature who sits in your shadow?"

"No, I mean High Reaches' new Weyrwoman," F'nor answered easily. "She is twice the Weyrwoman you ever were, and she's twice the woman you'll ever be."

"How would you -" Kylara began, her eyes flashing angrily.

"Enough of this!" D'ram cut her off. "Kylara, your part in this meeting is finished. Attend to your dragon. Tiroth informs me that the skin around her wounds requires oil."

"I am perfectly capable of hearing from my own dragon!" Kylara snapped.

"I wonder about that," D'ram mused. "In any case, you are dismissed. You may go now." When she didn't move, the other Weyrleaders glared at her. A heavy silence filled the room.

"I said, you may go," D'ram growled.

At last, she stood up. "I will leave when I am ready, and I'm ready now." She shook out her hair and stalked out of the room, putting some extra sway in her hips in case anyone was watching her.

D'ram didn't spare her a second glance. "Now we need to discuss the leadership of High Reaches. We've agreed that the brown rider who flew the senior queen is disqualified from becoming Weyrleader. T'bor, you are next in line for the title; you held it until today, and your dragon flew the most senior queen who still remains at the Weyr. My first question has to be, do you wish to follow your former weyrmate to Southern?"

T'bor thought it over for several seconds. At last, he sighed, "No, I will not follow her, though it tears me inside. She is flying into a dead-end canyon. I don't want to go there, and I don't want Orth to suffer from decisions like the ones she made today. I will stay at High Reaches."

D'ram considered that. "In that case, it seems to me that T'bor should remain the acknowledged Weyrleader of High Reaches, and Brekke will become Weyrwoman there. Does anyone object?"

"Her queen isn't senior," R'mart objected.

"She is now," F'lar answered. "Also, she's the one whose dragon was flown by the Weyrleader's dragon."

"But it's the queen dragon who determines the succession, not the bronze!" R'mart protested. "You're doing it backwards, Benden."

"If we dealt with this question in a strictly traditional way," D'ram cut in, "then High Reaches would have no Weyrleader and no Weyrwoman until the next time their senior queen rises. We cannot leave one of our Weyrs leaderless for a year or more. There are times when tradition has to be set aside for the greater good."

"You're starting to sound like F'lar," R'mart muttered.

"I've been called worse," Ista's Weyrleader shot back. "In any case, I believe our business here is done. Congratulations on keeping your position, T'bor. Brekke, congratulations on your new position. We understand that you'll have to care for your injured dragon, and you may not be able to take on your full responsibility until Wirenth is recovered. F'lar, thank you for being reasonable. Some of us were afraid that you'd champion your half-brother as High Reaches' new Weyrleader, so you'd have control over two Weyrs. I've heard about your Lord Fax; none of us want another one like him, taking over everything in sight. Does anyone else have any questions?"

"Yes," P'zar of Fort said. "We've never had a brown mate with a gold before. Will such a pairing produce any bronze eggs?"

"It's the dam who lays the eggs, not the sire," D'ram decided. "I see no reason why Prideth's next clutch would be any different from any other clutch."

"Except," F'lar cut in, "that it may be a small clutch, because the mating part of their flight was cut short by their need to avoid hitting the ground."

"True," D'ram said, and R'mart nodded. "It would have been a short flight for Prideth anyway, because her rider let her eat her fill before she flew. Still, I'm sure the number of eggs will work out well." F'lar and F'nor glanced at each other. They both knew what D'ram was unwilling to say out loud - that a small clutch from a Benden queen would be the equal of a full-sized clutch from any of the Oldtimer queens.

"Are there any other questions or problems?" D'ram finished. "Good. I think the rest of us can go."

"Not quite," F'lar said quickly. "There's one more question that needs answering, and that involves you, F'nor. Your home and your position are in Benden, but your weyrmate is bound to High Reaches. How do you intend to work that out?"

Brekke turned to F'nor. "How are we going to work that out? Will you move to High Reaches?"

"I'm not sure I should," F'nor said hesitantly.

F'lar scowled. "I'm not willing to give up my best wingsecond in the middle of a Pass."

"That would be unwise," D'ram agreed. "F'nor, you must remain at Benden, for the good of the Weyr and the good of Pern."

"That would be my duty," F'nor nodded slowly.

Brekke was trying not to cry. "It's not enough that I have to... to be T'bor's Weyrwoman? I can't have you at all, F'nor? Is there no time or place for us anywhere?"

F'nor's face suddenly lit up. "A time or place!" He turned to F'lar. "When Lessa went back to the Eighth Pass, did she notice any of the stress that goes with being in two times at once?"

"She never mentioned it," F'lar said thoughtfully. "Are you thinking that, the further away you get from your own time, the less you feel the negative effects?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking," F'nor said excitedly. He turned back to Brekke. "You'll be the Weyrwoman here, and I'll be F'lar's wingsecond at Benden. We'll both do our duty, and no one will complain. But every few days, we'll ride our dragons back between times, to a time and a place that's all our own. We can spend days there if we want to!"

"Then we'll return to our own time, and it will be like we never even left," she finished, with a small smile. "But where and when will we go?"

"We'll have to look around and find that perfect place and time," F'nor said. "Maybe someplace on the southern continent, in a time before Thread was falling. It might take us a few trips before we find it. But our place and our time is out there. We'll find it. And all the Thread that ever fell won't keep me away!" He lifted her face to his and almost kissed her. Then they suddenly realized that they were sharing an intensely personal moment in the middle of a Weyrleaders' meeting. But when they looked up, no one was there except F'lar. The others had made a discreet exit.

"I'm glad that the two of you will get a happy ending," he half-smiled. "Just don't get too exhausted from time-stress while you're searching for your private getaway place. I need my riders to be strong and alert when Thread falls." He turned on his heel and left them alone.

Brekke was having trouble making sense of it all. Everything was happening so fast! "Are we really going to get a happy ending, like he said?"

"Our endings aren't written yet," he began. "But we're off to a better start than I thought we'd get. When Prideth rose in the middle of Wirenth's flight... I thought I might lose you."

"But... what about T'bor?" she asked. When Orth had caught Wirenth, her Weyrleader hadn't treated her a bit like F'nor did.

"If Orth catches Wirenth again, then I guess you'll have to do your duty," F'nor said slowly. "But he won't find it so easy to catch her next time. Next time, Canth won't get sidetracked by someone else's queen!"

"Well, you can count me as being in rebellion against the Weyrleaders in one area," she said softly. "I am very glad that you and Canth broke tradition by joining Wirenth's flight this time. I know Canth really wanted to catch Wirenth, but..."

"But my brown still caught a queen in a mating flight," F'nor smiled. "I told you he could do it!"

There is nothing I would not do for my rider, Canth thought to them both. Or for the one my rider loves.

THE END

o

A/N
I have a penchant for trying to save the lives of dragons who would otherwise die; I've done so repeatedly in fanfics for fandoms like HTTYD, Temeraire, and The Hobbit. This time, I saved two of them in one story.

When I was writing this story in my head, I originally planned a fairy-tale happy ending where Canth caught Wirenth. But the more I thought about it, the more trite and predictable that seemed. I'm sure a lot of you have thought about Canth and Wirenth together, even if you didn't write it down, and I want to tell stories that no one else has told before. So I considered having Wirenth pull away from Canth and fly straight into Orth, who was coming up behind her. That would be a little bit different. But then the idea of Canth catching the other mating queen hit me, and it really hit me - it actually left me speechless for a few seconds. That's when I knew what my story would be about.

The other breakthrough moment came as I was re-reading Dragonquest, and found the part where it says that Prideth was among Meron's prize breeding stock while Meron and Kylara were still... ahem... indisposed. That meant that Prideth would have obeyed her instincts and filled her belly without her rider's intervention. I read how nimble Prideth was in the air when she was fighting Wirenth, and honestly, I think that was wrong. A dragon with a full belly shouldn't be that agile. That was my justification for altering the sequence of events.

I like F'nor and Canth. I think they're the most underrated dragon/rider pair on Pern. So, in this story, I gave Canth both the first word and the last word. Not bad, for a brown.