Dragonsblood

In Dragon's Kin, bestselling author Anne McCaffrey did the unthinkable: for the first time ever, she invited another writer to join her in the skies of her most famous fictional creation. That writer was her son, Todd McCaffrey. Together, they penned a triumphant new chapter in the annals of the extraordinarily popular Dragonriders of Pern. Now, for the first time, Todd McCaffrey flies alone. And Dragonsblood is proof that the future of Pern is in good hands. After all, dragons are in his blood...

Never in the dramatic history of Pern has there been a more dire emergency than that which faces the young dragonrider Lorana. A mysterious fatal illness is striking dragons. The epidemic is spreading like wildfire...and the next deadly cycle of Threadfall is only days away. Somehow, Lorana must find a cure before the dragons — including her own beloved Arith — succumb to the sickness, leaving Pern undefended.

The lyrics of an all-but-forgotten song seem to point toward an answer from nearly five hundred years in the past, when Kitti Ping and her daughter Wind Blossom bred the first dragons from their smaller cousins, the fire-lizards. No doubt the first colonists possessed the advanced technology to find the cure for which Lorana seeks, but over the centuries, that knowledge has been lost.

Or has it?

For in the distant past, an aged Wind Blossom worries that the germs that affect the fire-lizards may one day turn on larger prey — and unleash a plague that will destroy the dragons, Pern's only defenders against Thread. But as her people struggle to survive, Wind Blossom has neither the time nor the resources to expend on a future that may never arrive — until suddenly she uncovers evidence that her worst fears will come true.

Now two brave women, separated by hundreds of years but joined by bonds transcending time, will become unknowing allies in a desperate race against sickness and Threadfall, with nothing less than the survival of all life on Pern at stake.

"The torch has been passed and burns more brightly than ever in this latest chapter of the venerable Pern saga....Even the most nepotism-wary will concur and eagerly look forward to the next installment." Publishers Weekly (Starred Review)

"McCaffrey convincingly spins a dramatic, thoroughly captivating tale, steeped in the lore and well-drawn characterizations of the people and the dragons for which the Pern novels are prized. Fans old and new will be delighted by his continuance of a beloved saga." Booklist

"Compelling characters, both human and dragon, and a tightly woven plot make this tale of courage, sacrifice, and love a priority purchase for sf and YA collections. Highly recommended." Library Journal

"Series fans were not all that delighted with the joint effort Dragon's Kin (2003), which had inconsistencies with earlier installments, but the saga can probably coast on its affectionate readership." Kirkus Reviews

The dragons of Pern are dying...and the only person who can save them has been dead for over four hundred Turns. Hope for the grieving dragonriders lies in the lyrics of a heartrending ballad — lyrics that hint of a long-forgotten knowledge and age-old rooms hidden somewhere in Benden Weyr. Only one thing seems crystal clear: that to save the dragons of Pern, one young woman must make the ultimate sacrifice...

ONE

Red Star at night:

Firestone, dig,

Harness, rig,

Dragons take flight.

Fort Weyr, at the end of the Second Interval, After Landing (AL) 507

Four men stood in a knot around the Star Stones of Fort Weyr. The sun was just above the horizon, casting the harsh shadows of early dawn at winters end. Each man wore the prestigious shoulder knots of Weyrleader. Their warm wher-hide jackets proclaimed them the leaders of Benden, Fort, Telgar, and Ista Weyrs.

Klior, Forts Weyrleader, was host and the youngest present. He was also the newest Weyrleader, having gained his position less than a Turn before.

He glanced back to the Star Stonesto the Eye Rock, which bracketed the Finger Rock, which itself was lit by the baleful Red Star. Thread was coming. Soon.

The air was made more chilly by the steady breeze blowing across the plateau where Forts Star Stones were placed. Klior suppressed a shiver. “Fort is still wing light. Weve only had the one clutch”

“Theres time yet, Klior,” Crion, Istas Weyrleader, judged. He pointed at the Red Star and the Eye Rock. “Thread wont fall until after the last frost.”

“Theres no doubt, then, that Thread is coming,” Klior said, wishing the other Weyrleaders would disagree with him.

For over two hundred Turns, the planet of Pern had been free of the threat of Thread falling from the sky.

Now that peace would end.

The Red Stars return would bring the Thread that would try, once more, to devour all life on Pern.

For the next fifty Turns, the dragons would rise to the skies, flame Thread into lifeless char, or, failing, watch in horror as it burrowed into the rich soil of Pern to destroy all organic material with mindless voracity.

“Telgars ready, Klior,” Dgan declared. He turned back from the Star Stones and the dawning light to gaze at the others, who were obscured by the sharp shadows of the early morning light. His words were firmly emphasized by the distant rumbling of his bronze, Kaloth. “My wings are at full strength and Ive two clutches on the Hatching Grounds”

One of the other Weyrleaders cleared his throat loudly, but Dgans fierce glare could not pierce the shadows to identify the culprit.

“Yes, we were lucky,” he continued in answer to the unknown heckler, “but the fact remains that Telgar will be wing heavy when Thread falls. And our holders have tithed fully so weve no lack of equipment or firestone.”

Klior shifted uneasily, for he had been frank in relaying his difficulties in getting Forts full tithe. “But you dont agree to pooling resources?” he asked again.

He had called this meeting of the Weyrleaders to propose just that. As none of them had ever fought Thread, Klior felt that his notion of “fly together, learn together” had merit, and would promote communication among the Weyrs. He was shocked when Dvin of High Reaches had refused the invitation and was even further shocked by Dgans attitude. Telgars Weyrleader was Igen-bred, after all. Klior had hoped that Dgans experience would have made him more amenable to working together, not less.

Dgan favored the wiry Fort Weyrleader with a superior look. “If youre still wing light when Thread falls, Klior, Im sure I could spare some of my own.”

“Ill bet theyre all bronzes,” a voice muttered dryly. It came from the direction of the Benden and Istan Weyrleaders.

The implication that Dgan might want to reduce the competition for Telgars next mating flight was obvious. Not that Dgans Kaloth had to fly all Telgars queen dragons to remain Weyrleaderjust the senior queen.

Dgan stiffened angrily at the remark, turned to Klior, and said, “Ive a Weyr to attend, Fort. I must return.”

“Let me call someone to guide your way, Dgan,” Klior offered pleasantly, worried about slippery walkways under unfamiliar feet.

The offer annoyed Dgan, who snapped, “I can find my own dragon well enough, Fort.”

Klior jogged after Dgan, still hoping to soothe the others foul mood.

“Crion, you know hes got a thin skin. Why do you insist on pricking it?” Mtal asked the Istan Weyrleader in exasperation.

Crion chuckled at the Benden Weyrleaders remark. “Oh, you know, Mtal, hes not all that badwhen he stops taking himself so seriously. I feel its my duty as an older, more experienced Weyrleader, to spill the wind from his sails when he takes on airs like that.”

“Dgan is the sort to swear his Egg cracked the wrong way,” Mtal agreed.

Crion snorted a laugh. “I suspect that Dgan will be a lot more acceptable after his first dose of numbweed. And Klior will steady up after his first Threadfall.”

Mtal pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Im not so sure about Dgan.”

Crion shrugged. “Ive been worried ever since it was decided to abandon Igen Weyr and incorporate those dragonriders into Telgar.”

“It made sense at the time,” Mtal said, “what with the drought in Igen, the death of their last queen, and the good harvests at Telgar.”

Crion raised a hand to ward off further discussion. “All true. But Dgan himself worries me. He drills his riders hard. Telgar Weyr has never lost the Games since he became Weyrleaderbut will all that be worth anything when Thread comes?”

Mtal nodded emphatically. “If theres one thing I could never imagine, it would be Dgan shirking his duty. We dragonriders know what to expect when Thread comes.” He waved a hand at the Star Stones. “And we know it will come soon.”

“I hear your queen laid a large clutch last week,” Crion said, changing the topic. “Congratulations.”

Mtal laughed. “Are you going to make me an offer like our esteemed Telgar?”

“No, actually, I was going to offer a trade,” Crion said.

Mtal motioned for him to continue.

“Two queen eggs, by all accounts,” Crion said. “That would make four queens all told.”

“No, one of the eggs is a bronze,” Mtal said. “Wed hopes at first, but Breth nudged it back with the others.” The queen dragons always pushed their queen eggs into a special spot on the Hatching Grounds, which they carefully guarded.

“All the same . . .”

“Are you looking for new blood, Crion?”

“Its the job of every Weyrleader to see to the strength of the Weyr,” Crion agreed. “Actually, I was thinking that to honor a new queen requires a good selection of candidates. Im sure youll want to Search for a proper Weyrwoman.”

Mtal burst out laughing. “Its Jtrel, isnt it? You want to pawn that old scoundrel off on us!”

“Actually, yes,” Crion agreed with a laugh of his own. “But hes not a scoundrel. And its no lie that his blue has an eye for good riders, especially the women.”

“Which is odd, considering his own preferences,” Mtal remarked.

“Well, you know blues,” Crion agreed diffidently. As blue dragons mated with green dragons, and both were ridden by male riders, the riders themselves tended to be the sort who could accommodate the dragons amorous arrangements.

“And you want to get him away from Ista so he can forget about Knad,” Mtal surmised. Knad and Jtrel had been partners for over twenty Turns.

“Knad went quickly,” Crion agreed, “it was a blessing. He was very old, you know.”

Less than a dozen Turns older than you, Mtal thought to himself dryly. Somberly he also realized: And only fifteen Turns older than me.

Aloud, he said, “So you want Jtrel distracted by new duties?”

Crion nodded. “It would be easier for us at Ista, too. Thread is coming. Its going to be hard on the old-timers.”

There was an uneasy silence. Mtal shook himself. “Ill have to talk it over with Salina and the Wingleaders.”

“Of course,” Crion replied. “Theres no hurry.”

Curious, Mtal asked, “Where is Jtrel now?”

Crion shrugged. “I dont know. He and his blue took off after the ceremony for Knad.” He frowned. “He had that look in his eyes, the one he usually gets just before Ista finds itself with a whole bunch of the biggest fresh fruit youve ever seen.”

“He hasnt been going to the Southern Continent, has he?” Mtal asked with a frown of his own. Dragonriders were discouraged from venturing to the Southern Continent with all its unknown dangers.

“Ive made it a point never to ask,” Crion answered dryly. “You really have to try the fruit.”

Lorana sat on her knees, ignoring the hot sun beating down on her, all her attention concentrated on the tiny creature in front of her. Sketching swiftly, Lorana used her free hand alternately to keep the little thing from moving away and to keep her sketchbook from sliding off her lap. She ignored the beads of sweat rolling down her face until one threatened to drop in her eye, at which point she broke from her task long enough to wipe it away hastily.

The creature, which she dubbed a “scatid,” took that moment to burrow quickly into the dry sand. Lorana examined her sketch and frowned, trying to decide if she needed more detailsthe scatid was smaller than the tip of her thumb, and its six limbs had never stopped moving.

Grenn, the littler of Loranas two fire-lizards, cocked his head at the retreating insect and then looked back at Lorana with an inquiring chirp.

“Of course it ran away,” she said with a laugh in her voice. “Youre ten times its size.”

The fire-lizard pawed at the hole, looked up at Lorana, and chirped again.

“Ill know it if I see it again,” Lorana replied, pushing herself up from her knees and stretching to relieve her cramped muscles. She stowed her sketchbook in her carisak and slid her sun hat back on her headshed slipped it onto her back when its shade had interfered with her view of the scatid. She added thoughtfully, “Unless you want it?”

With a squawk, Grenn jumped back awkwardly from the hole. Lorana laughed again. “Id say that was a ‘no. ”

Behind her, golden Garth squeaked an agreement.

“Youve both been fed, so I know youre not hungry,” Lorana said, half to herself. She peered down at the burrow and then at the irrepressible brown fire-lizard. “Would you eat it?”

Grenn examined the burrow for a moment, then dropped down on it and pawed at the hole, widening it. When the scatid was again uncovered, Grenn peered at it until the scatids diggers snapped at himwhereupon the fire-lizard gave a startled squawk and sprang away.

“You would eat it, then,” Lorana decided. “Youre just not hungry enough.” She glanced thoughtfully at the sun overhead. “Or youre too hot to eat anything.”

Grenn chirped in agreement. Lorana nodded, saying, “Jtrel will be here soon enough.”

The little fire-lizards, distant cousins to the huge fire-breathing dragons of Pern, trilled happily at the thought of seeing their large friend again.

“In the meantime, we can walk toward the beach againthere should be a breeze,” Lorana told them.

The fire-lizards chorused happy assent and disappeared, leaving Lorana to traipse along after them on foot. She heard Garth formulating some plan as the little queen and her consort went between. Deciding that the two fire-lizards were not getting into too much trouble, Lorana stopped concentrating on them and focused her attention on the path she was following.

Her clothing was not meant to cope with the hot Igen sun, but Lorana had done the best she could with it, loosening her tunic and rolling up her sleeves and trouser legs. Her outfit would be perfect once onboard the ship, and was almost warm enough for the cold between.

Halfway to the beach, she sensed a sudden exultation from Garth and felt the two fire-lizards go between. In no time at all, they reappeared high above her, chirped a warning, and dropped what they had been holding between them. Lorana held out her hands and caught a good-sized roundfruit. She laughed and waved at them. “Thank you!”

The fruit was delicious and moist, easing her dry throat. Energized, she picked up her pace to the shore.

Grenn swooped low over her and let out a querying squawk, curving back around toward her, eyes whirling hopefully.

“No,” Lorana said, “you may not perch on my shoulder. You need to stretch that wing now that its healed. Besides, between the carisak and our gear, Im carrying enough, thank you.”

Grenn gave her a half-sad, half-wheedling chirp and beat his wings strongly to regain his lost altitude. High above him, Garth gave him an I-told-you-so scolding.

As he climbed sunward, Lorana noted that in his antics there was no residual sign at all of the broken left wing that had nearly cost his lifeand had completely changed hers. With a frown Lorana forced the memory away and continued on to the beach.

From the Hardcover edition.

Todd McCaffrey was born in the United States, but he spent his teenage years in Ireland, where his mother moved in 1970. After a stint in the U.S. Army, he followed his love of computers to build a career as a computer engineer. His true love is writing, though. Having grown up with the Dragonriders of Pern, he is bursting with ideas for new stories of that world, its people, and its dragons.