He looked up and saw that the wherries had boldly circled down and were just above him, talons poised to grab. He waved his knife, the blade sparkling and glinting in the sun, frightening the wherries into wider, higher circles.
Wild wherries were dangerous, and he and the hatchling were unprotected on the open beach. He gathered her carefully into the crook of his arm, grabbed the line from which the fishhead still depended and started to run to-ward the jungle.
She shrieked in protest as he broke into a full run just as the wherry leader made its first pass. He sliced upward with his knife, but the wherry was clever and, adding its
piercing scream to the fire lizard’s, veered away from him. Holding the struggling queen against his chest, Piemur hunched his shoulders and concentrated on reaching the forest as fast as he could. He’d always prided himself on his speed: right now that ability had to save two lives.
He saw the shadow of another wherry dive at them and swerved to the left, grinning with satisfaction at its shrill call of anger when it was balked of its prey.
The queen’s talons might not be dry but they scrabbled painfully against his bare chest as she struggled to grab the fishhead that dangled enticingly from the line in his hand. Piemur ducked right as he avoided a third wherry’s dive, and the queen missed her lunge for the fishhead.
The fourth attack occurred so quickly that Piemur couldn’t duck in time and felt a sharp pain as the wherry’s talons scraped across his shoulders. Twisting upward, he slashed out with his knife, tripping as he did so and instinctively rolling to the right to protect his precious bur-den. He saw the wherries trying to veer fast enough to come at him on the ground, shrilling out that their prey had fallen and was at their mercy.
The little queen was now aware of their peril and slipping from his grasp, jumped to his shoulder, spreading her wings and screaming defiance at the attackers. She was so valiant, the little darling, so small in comparison to the wherries that her courage gave Piemur the impetus he needed. He scrambled to his feet, felt her cling to his hair, her tail tightly wound about his neck, continuing her stream of defiant cries as if by her fury she could repel their attackers.
Piemur ran then, pumping his legs as fast as he could, his lungs straining for breath to sustain the speed. He ran, expecting momentarily to feel the wherry talons rending his flesh. But abruptly their cries turned from triumph to fear. Piemur launched himself into the thick bushes, grabbing at his queen to keep her secure. Safe under the wide leaves and among the thick stalks, he turned to see what had frightened their pursuers. The wherries were flying away as fast as they could flap their wings, and he had to crane his neck eastward until he saw a flight of fire lizards arrowing in pursuit of the wherries. Just as he drew back
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under the concealing bush, he saw five dragons gliding above the sea.
His queen gave another cry, softer now, in protest that the fishhead still dangled beyond her reach. Afraid that somehow the dragons might hear her, he gave her the head, which she contentedly tore and consumed while Piemur watched the dragons circling the spot where she had lain enshelled. Without waiting to see if the dragons landed, Piemur pushed his way deeper into the jungle, trying to remember if Menolly had ever said anything about fire lizards tracing newly batched ones.
But fire lizards only knew what they’d seen, and he’d been undercover by the time the winged rescuers had reached the lagoon area. The wherries’ shrieks would have masked any sound she’d made, and as Piemur plunged past thorn trees and undergrowth, her cries became softer. Weariness overcame the last vestiges of her shelling hunger.
Piemur was more aware of her contentedness than his rasping breath as he continued to put as much distance between him and the kgoon, and possible discovery, while light remained to guide him in the murky jungle.