Anne Mccaffrey_ Dragonriders of Pern 20 Read online

  Kindan awoke on his sixth day at the wherhold to the smell of fresh klah. He looked up to see Mikal holding a mug nearby.

  “Bathe and then join us,” the old ex-dragonrider instructed him.

  After a quick—and welcome—bath, Kindan dressed carefully, aware of the parts of his body that were still sore. Outside the wherhold he found Master Aleesa, Jaythen, and Mikal waiting for him. Arella hovered nearby.

  “What sort of fighter is Vaxoram?” Aleesa asked as he approached.

  “Answer her now,” Mikal barked.

  “Don’t think!” Jaythen yelled.

  “He likes to overwhelm,” Kindan shot back.

  Mikal nodded. “Good, then what must you do?”

  Kindan started to think, but Jaythen barked at him, “Answer!”

  “Talk!” Aleesa added.

  “Overwhelm!” Kindan shouted in frustration.

  “Good,” Mikal said. He smiled at Kindan. “You spoke from your gut, which is the best judge of a fighter’s character. Why?”

  This time they gave him the time to think through his response. “Because fighters fight from their gut,” he said at last.

  Mikal nodded.

  “So this morning we will practice overwhelming,” Mikal told him. “The three of us will try to overwhelm you.”

  Kindan swallowed hard. Three? How could he fight three at once?

  “Not with swords, just with glances,” Mikal told him. “You must make us look away, all three.”

  “How do I do that?” Kindan asked despairingly. “You’re all older than I am. And bigger.”

  “So is your opponent,” Mikal replied. “He will be expecting to see you afraid, to see you glance away from him, to see you admit your defeat before he ever raises his blade.”

  “If you keep your eyes on his, meet his willpower, then he will be afraid,” Jaythen added.

  “It is the test of wills that decides the fight,” Aleesa said.

  “You must make us back down,” Mikal said. “Use your mind, your willpower.”

  “When you get it, when you use your willpower, we’ll feel it and back down,” Jaythen added.

  “Arella will help,” Mikal added, nodding toward the younger wherhandler. “She’ll be your coach, shouting encouragement from behind you.” He paused a moment. Then: “Ready? Begin!”

  Arella put her hands soothingly on Kindan’s shoulders and told him, “You can do it, Kindan. You can do it.”

  Mikal darted toward Kindan, his brows furrowed, an angry look on his face. Beside him, Aleesa and Jaythen also rushed forward, their gazes intent, focused, angry.

  “Go on, Kindan, you can do it,” Arella’s voice sounded in his ear, but he didn’t notice it, didn’t feel her hands. Instead, he locked eyes with Aleesa, then looked away, frightened by the expression on the tough old woman’s face. He glanced to Jaythen and saw the fighter’s strength and raw power. He turned his gaze almost imploringly to Mikal, but he knew the old dragonrider had far too much strength for him.

  He almost broke down, almost backed away, but then he thought of Nonala and Kelsa.

  “You can do it, Kindan,” Arella’s voice sounded in his ear, her hands kneading his shoulders encouragingly.

  I will not lose, he swore to himself. He raised his eyes to Jaythen and locked onto him. Jaythen’s age and fierceness melted out of Kindan’s sight. He felt his own heart leap, his breath coming in slow deep lungfuls, and he remembered his bond with Kisk, his watch-wher. If he could manage her, he could manage this man. His eyes widened, not in fear but in release of power. And then—Jaythen blinked, looked away.

  “Go on, Kindan, you can do it!”

  Kindan immediately changed his focus to Mikal. He locked eyes on him. I will win, he thought to himself. Again he felt the strength within himself, the support and power of Kelsa and Nonala, and he realized that no matter how old, how skilled Mikal was, he would never win against Kindan because Kindan was supported by so many friends. Mikal’s eyes widened, then broke off.

  “One more, Kindan, and she’s just an old hag!” Arella shouted behind him.

  When Kindan turned his attention to Aleesa, she had already lost.

  “Such power!” she exclaimed, glancing to Mikal. “Did you expect this?”

  “Yes,” Mikal responded. “He wants to win.” He smiled at Kindan. “Now, we’re going to up the stakes. We’re going to shout at you, try to defeat you with our voices. You have to shout back and defeat us with yours. If you can defeat the three of us, you’ll have no trouble overpowering Vaxoram.”

  “And you won’t have me to help this time,” Arella added, taking a step away from him.

  Kindan nodded and beckoned for them to begin.

  It was much harder this time, with the roar of three voices coming at him, but he never doubted the outcome for an instant. First Mikal, then Aleesa, then Jaythen were all subdued, dropping their eyes from Kindan’s stare. Kindan’s throat was raw and hoarse, but he was exhilarated, feeling he could fly without even a dragon. He had done it!

  “Now it is time to rest and reflect,” Mikal told him, his own voice raspy from overuse. “Don’t say another word today. Make certain that you have everything you need without using your voice.”

  Kindan nodded. Suddenly Aleesa, Jaythen, and Mikal rushed forward and sandwiched him in a giant hug. When they finally broke up, Aleesa leaned down and hugged him to her. “I am glad you had a watch-wher: you are worthy.”

  Kindan nodded in thanks, his eyes bright with tears. At the side, Arella stood, smiling at him.

  “You fight well,” Jaythen said, hugging him in a tight bear hug that reminded Kindan of his dead father, Danil. “You will win.”

  Mikal hugged him last. “Remember that you have friends here now. You earned them.”

  Tears rolled down Kindan’s cheeks. He stood for a long moment while the others departed. After a while, realizing that he was alone, Kindan sat down on the grass.

  His glance dropped to the soil beside him. He saw the blades of grass, the dark, rich soil, small rocks on the surface and finer grains of dirt. He drew a deep, full breath and exhaled slowly. One pebble caught his eye and he reached for it. It was smooth, rounded, and black. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, savoring the sense of the smooth and cool stone.

  Stone. Kindan remembered his earlier conversations with Mikal about stones, rocks, and crystals. He recalled that Mikal had decided to stay in the wherhold because he liked the stones and crystals to be found in the area. Kindan knew that crystals had healing powers, and could also be used for meditation, to focus thoughts. Perhaps if he could find the right crystal, he could use its steadying influence in his fight with Vaxoram.

  Kindan stood up resolutely. The best place to look for crystals would be in Aleesk’s cave; he recalled that from his foray Turns earlier to get his green watch-wher egg. He wondered if watch-whers found crystals as soothing as some humans did. He walked back to the wherhold’s entrance and searched inside for a glowbasket. He took one small glow-covered rock and headed toward Aleesk’s cave.

  It was daytime, so he knew the watch-wher would be sleeping. He walked in as quietly as he could, so as not to disturb her slumber. Holding the dim glow close, he turned to the nearest wall and ran his hands slowly over it.

  He felt it before he saw it—a small stone half-buried in the wall. It came out of the wall easily and he held it in his hand. It felt special, full of power. Satisfied, he went out of the room, returned the glow to its basket, and left the wherhold, heading toward the nearby stream.

  In the stream he bathed his find and carefully chipped out a small piece of quartz crystal from the main mass. It was just big enough to hold, but it seemed to vibrate with power as he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. This will be me, he thought to himself, small and powerful.

  Intrigued now, Kindan scanned the streambed and the banks looking for any other rock or pebble that called to him. He was not surprised to find a nice sliver of yellow citr
ine, which he cleaned and pocketed. He had learned from Mikal during one of the ex-dragonrider’s days at the Harper Hall that citrine helped to keep one cheerful and manifest goals, just as white quartz was good at manifesting power and concentrating intentions. Armed with these, Kindan felt he could not lose.

  He walked slowly back to the camp, pausing to touch the bark of a tree, check for the sign of animals, inhale deeply of the scents on the air, feeling more at peace and focused than he had since he’d first arrived at the Harper Hall over a Turn before.

  He could do this. He could meet Vaxoram and win. But his good feelings faded as he realized one thing: He could not blind the older apprentice to win, any more than he could kill him. It wasn’t that Kindan didn’t believe he had the ability now, nor that he wasn’t willing to do either deed if there was no other way—it was that he realized that winning by those means would be a hollow victory, would leave Vaxoram so utterly defeated that the older boy would have no chance to redeem his honor.

  Kindan had to find another way.

  He spent the rest of the day in an uneasy, thoughtful silence.

  He returned to the wherhold that evening and was grateful to be offered his meal in silence. Even the youngsters were quiet, their chattering voices stilled. Kindan felt guilty about that for a moment, then caught the eyes of one of the smaller girls and saw that she was regarding him solemnly, sharing his silence in a kind and compassionate way. He smiled at her and she smiled back, her eyes shining brightly. Then, as though that were too loud, she schooled her expression to be serious and brought a finger to her lips. Kindan nodded. He held her eyes for a long while. She looked away first, toward her mother, and Kindan found himself following her gaze, to her mother’s eyes. He continued, wordlessly expressing his gratitude to every member of the small hold. When the meal was complete, Arella led him once more to the massage table and, in silence, massaged his muscles until he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  “Kindan,” Mikal’s soft voice roused him slowly into consciousness.

  Kindan opened his eyes.

  “This is the seventh day,” Mikal said, his tone neutral.

  “I’m ready.”

  “You only think you are,” Mikal told him. “You have one more thing to do.”

  Kindan sat up and looked at the ex-dragonrider expectantly.

  “You must discover ten things to live for,” Mikal told him quietly. Kindan opened his mouth, but Mikal silenced him with an upraised hand. “First, we will eat.”

  It seemed that the whole of the wherhold had gathered for breakfast. The children, including the solemn girl of the previous night, were bright-eyed and loud in the way of all children. The adults were also animated, and even sometimes coarse in their language. They laughed frequently; Kindan found himself smiling a lot.

  When they finished, Mikal led him off to their practice area and indicated that Kindan should sit.

  “Well, what have you discovered so far?” Mikal asked.

  “To live for?” Kindan repeated, partly to buy time. Mikal nodded. “I want to live for my fire-lizard egg.”

  Mikal nodded and held up a finger.

  “I want to live for Nonala and Kelsa,” Kindan said.

  “What does that mean?” Mikal asked.

  “I want to protect them,” Kindan replied.

  “Why?” Mikal pressed.

  This is getting harder, Kindan thought as he grappled with the question.

  “Because they’re my friends,” he said out loud.

  “You could get other friends—that doesn’t sound like a reason,” Mikal replied dismissively. “Find another.”

  “Because I love them!” Kindan blurted out, surprised at his words and the heat of his reaction. All his half-formed dreams of kissing Kelsa, of dancing through the night with her, maybe even of partnering with her, vanished as he absorbed that. He loved them both, equally, and neither of them as a mate. Kelsa and Nonala were special to him because he knew they loved and trusted him; he would do nothing to alter that—he loved them too much.

  Mikal stared at him for a long, tense moment, then nodded and held up two more fingers. “What else?”

  “For M’tal,” Kindan said.

  “The Weyrleader?” Mikal repeated. “You want to live for the Weyrleader?”

  Kindan frowned. “No, I want to go to Benden, become the Weyr harper.”

  Mikal held up a fourth finger.

  And now Kindan faltered, groping for a fifth reason. What if he couldn’t find five reasons to live? What did that say about his life, he wondered.

  “I want to live for my father and my brothers,” he said after a moment. “To honor their memory.”

  Mikal held up his fifth finger and waved the other clenched fist in the air. Kindan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I want to live for you,” he said. “I want to live so that you’ll know that your training helped and that you are needed and—” He faltered, nibbling his lip for a moment before he added, “—loved.”

  Mikal’s eyes glistened as he held up the first finger on his left hand.

  “I want to live for all that I can learn,” Kindan said. Another finger. “For all that I can give.” Another finger. “For all that I have yet to see.” Another finger—he was up to nine. “I want to live for me and what I can offer.”

  Mikal put up his hands, fingers spread wide. “Now, do you know what you have discovered?” the old man asked slowly.

  Kindan nodded slowly. “I’ve discovered my strength.”

  “How many reasons does Vaxoram have to live?”

  Kindan shook his head. “Maybe one.”

  “That’s right,” Mikal agreed. “You have at least nine more reasons to live than he does.” He stood up slowly, stretching, and gestured for Kindan to lead the way back to the wherhold. “Are you ready to fight now?”

  “Yes,” Kindan replied.

  “And do you know what you’ll do?”

  “I’ll win.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Fight only in direst need

  Not for lust or petty greed

  Honor those that do give birth

  Respect them well for their full worth.

  HARPER HALL

  It was only as Kindan felt the last of the cold of between seep out of his bones as the great bronze dragon, Gaminth, spiraled on down to the landing meadow outside the Harper Hall that he finally realized how he could win the upcoming fight on his own terms. A fierce smile animated his lips and remained there all the way back through the archway and into the courtyard of the Harper Hall.

  “Are you ready, Kindan?” Master Murenny asked as he approached.

  “Could I have some time to practice?” Kindan asked. The courtyard was full of harpers except for the large center expanse that was reserved for the upcoming duel. He saw no sign of Vaxoram but he wasn’t looking for him. Winning was no longer an issue in Kindan’s mind. All he wanted was to win without bloodshed.

  “How long do you need?”

  “Ten minutes will be enough,” Kindan replied. “And can I get some green tomatoes? Maybe half a dozen?”

  “I’ll see if Selora can provide them,” Murenny replied, his eyes dancing in anticipation. Selora was happy to provide eight green tomatoes.

  “What are you going to do?” Kelsa asked as she brought him the tomatoes.

  “Practice,” Kindan replied enigmatically. He stepped into the vacant center of the courtyard, beckoning for Kelsa to follow him. “Throw up one of the tomatoes whenever you’re ready.”

  “Toward you?”

  “No, just close enough to lunge at,” Kindan replied, grabbing his blade in his left hand.

  “Kindan, you’re not left-handed,” Kelsa said in surprise.

  Kindan smiled and nodded, flicking his blade at her encouragingly. Kelsa swallowed hard, grabbed one tomato, and threw it up into the air. Kindan lunged, flicking his wrist as he did so, and the tomato landed, unharmed on the ground. Kelsa’s eyes grew wider
, nervously. Kindan gestured for her to try again. Again she threw, again Kindan flicked and again the tomato reached the ground whole.

  “Excellent,” Kindan said over the growing hubbub of surprised apprentices. He knew that to them it looked as though he had missed twice, but he didn’t care. He had seen what he wanted with the tomatoes: on each he had left a thin scar. Now it was time for Vaxoram to be scared.

  “Throw up two at once, please,” Kindan said, loud enough to carry over the murmurings. The noise fell immediately. Kelsa pleaded with her eyes, but Kindan merely nodded to her. She threw two tomatoes into the air, unable to control their arcs, and they separated. Kindan lunged twice and both tomatoes fell to the ground—neatly cut in half. Around him the crowd gasped.

  “And again,” Kindan instructed Kelsa. She looked at him with unmasked surprise and grabbed two more tomatoes. Kindan lunged twice more and severed both tomatoes before they hit the ground.

  “One more time,” Kindan said, his voice carrying clearly in the silent courtyard.

  Eagerly Kelsa threw the tomatoes in the air, their courses diverging far more energetically, but it didn’t matter: Kindan lunged toward one, recovered, twisted, and lunged toward the second before it hit the ground. Both were severed.

  “I’m done my practice, Masterharper Murenny,” Kindan called loudly. He pivoted on one foot to view the whole courtyard, seeking out Vaxoram. He spotted him and stopped, gesturing with his other hand for Kelsa to rejoin the crowd.

  “Good luck,” she called softly to him.

  “Vaxoram!” Kindan shouted loudly, his voice echoing off the walls of the Harper Hall. Vaxoram looked up at him, his blade held loosely at his side. “Do you yield?”

  “Hah!” Vaxoram shouted back, tromping into the center of the courtyard.

  Masterharper Murenny and Master Detallor strode after him.