Dragonstorm

Ista Weyr

(Next day, October 1st)

The Weyrleader turned the mug in his hands, watching the vapors dance above the rim. He'd hoped a good rest and an early meal would improve his outlook. They hadn't. He was still irritated. Even his mate had stayed aloof last night, alarmed by the tension he felt.

There was too much happening to deal with this kind of nonsense. He had several injured dragons and riders, too many rowdy weyrlings and another clutch rapidly approaching hatching. That thought cheered him somewhat. Caylith had laid a fine brood, thirty-seven strong. No queen egg, but he hadn't wanted one. Odds were that at least two of the hatchlings would be bronzes. He still hoped the Cygnan would try to impress one.

The confrontation at the gather was profoundly disturbing. Dragonmen didn't fight among themselves unless the provocation was extreme. He couldn't believe one of his wingleaders had insulted another Weyr. To have nearly twenty riders, including four Weyrleaders, arrayed against each other was frightening. Worse yet, the cause was trivial. Mating flights, especially anticipated mating flights, were cause for celebration and joy, not fighting. More and more he was wishing Scylenth was someone else's problem.

'The wingleader is here.'

'About time.'

R'travil walked into the weyr, his engaging if irritating smile firmly in place. The man was good, but his arrogance was increasingly annoying. It was also becoming dangerous. "You wanted to see me?"

"Sit down, R'travil. Klah?"

The wingleader nodded.

G'dened went to the cupboard, pulling a mug from the shelf. He poured the klah and handed it to the rider. "I'm thoroughly disgusted with your actions last night. That's why I called you here. This has got to stop."

The bronzerider sipped at his klah then returned it to the table. His smile disappeared, replaced by an annoyed expression. "I didn't do anything wrong. You can't even talk to Selana without that featherbrain getting hot."

"You don't talk to Selana. You harass her. I've seen enough of your act to know the difference. What are you trying to prove?"

R'travil snickered, lifting his mug again. He took a long drink then answered. "When Scylenth rises, I won't have anything to prove. Quarelth will do the proving."

"You and Quarelth have to be alive to prove anything. You damned near got yourself killed last night. If Darian had thrown that second knife your game would have been over. If you want to commit suicide, go ahead. But I need Quarelth. Use your head, if there's anything in it.

"It's entirely possible that Quarelth will fly Scylenth, when Scylenth rises. Until then leave Selana alone. She's emotional enough without your help. It's not going to be much of a flight if Selana is so upset it affects Scylenth or if her control is so weak her queen gorges."

"Selana's here and I'm interested. Why should I leave her alone? I'm going to have her after the flight. I don't feel like waiting that long."

"Look, everyone in this Weyr knows Quarelth is the best bet to fly Scylenth. Selana and Darian both know it. It isn't helping to flaunt it. Ease off. Give Selana a chance to understand and accept what's going to happen. She's craftbred, not Weyrbred. She's afraid of our lifestyle and afraid of dragonmen, particularly bronzeriders. After the mating flight she'll have a different perspective. Right now, leave her to Darian. We'll all benefit if only because Scylenth will be more stable."

R'travil chuckled, drawing on his klah. His grin was open and friendly, his humor genuine. "Weyrleader, I don't want to cause trouble. I just don't like that featherhead's way of contending that he owns a queenrider. Bronze's fly queens, not blacks. What harm can it cause if I help Selana appreciate bronzeriders before the mating flight? Might give her something to look forward to."

G'dened's jaw tightened. He clenched his teeth to prevent the sharp response he felt forming. This little idiot was going to push the matter until it gave. "Get this straight," he ordered. "Selana was Darian's wife before she was a queenrider. Once Scylenth rises, Selana belongs to whoever's dragon catches the queen. Until then, leave her alone. I don't care what you think about their marriage. It's important to them and that makes it important to me. I will not tolerate your immaturity or any further interference with my junior queen. You got that?"

"You sound like that off-worlder is more valuable than me and Quarelth."

"He is. Use your head for a change. We have nine wings and fifteen bronzes. We only have one Masterhealer. Besides, he's not the question, Scylenth is. You ought to know that a queen is more valuable than any bronzerider, including you or me."

R'travil bristled. He was about to speak when he saw the flashing in his Weyrleader's eyes. He checked himself.

"You're a good wingleader, an excellent Thread-fighter. I know I can rely on you and your wing. But you're just not worth the trouble. Your display last night is a good example. If you want to fight Darian that's your business. He'll have you for lunch but maybe you'd learn something. Your judgment is what bothers me. You have every right to dislike Darian if you want to but keep it inside the Weyr. If you want to die that badly just take Quarelth and go between. You won't hurt anyone else."

"Darian insulted Quarelth. I don't take that from anyone."

"I realize that, and I agree with you. I wouldn't accept an insult to Barnath. But think, man! You'd insulted him, upset his wife and made an open spectacle of all three of you in the middle of a major gather. Why? Darian can't stop the mating flight. It's going to happen. Astaroth doesn't have any interest in Scylenth and I'll likely hold Barnath out. If Quarelth flies, you're probably going to take her. Show a little patience. It'll save us all a lot of problems and you'll still get what you want."

"Why should I wait? The flight's a long way off. I'm interested in Selana now."

"You're not going to get her now. Until Scylenth rises she's Darian's wife. She doesn't want you around and he isn't going to let you get near her. As far as the mating flight, you've got to be there to win it. You might not be, if you keep antagonizing Darian and pulling other riders and other Weyrs into confrontations."

"And you sided with them," the wingleader snapped.

"I don't think you're stupid enough to duel your own Weyrleader. If I'd drawn it would have kept the matter within the Weyr. I'd have put you in the infirmary. Darian or K'trin would have killed you."

"That's a dangerous assumption, Weyrleader. Don't be so sure I wouldn't have taken you."

G'dened locked eyes with the youthful bronzerider. His patience was nearing its end. "You're welcome to try, smart ass."

R'travil glared at him. He didn't want to fight a man with a major reach advantage. It was obvious the Weyrleader wasn't going to back down, nor was he going to be bluffed. The wingleader flashed his sneering grin. "It's not worth it. I don't want the Weyr and I'd rather fly for you than B'dor."

G'dened wasn't mollified. He'd become tired of the abrasive rider and his disruptive habits. R'travil's machinations were as bothersome as a good scoring. "I'm giving you a warning, wingleader. You've made some dangerous enemies. Darian hates you. He'd love an excuse to cut you into stew meat. You've also got Quarelth to think about. Keep in mind that Astaroth isn't Pernese. He wouldn't hesitate to flame your bronze."

"No dragonman would attack another rider's dragon!"

"No Pernese dragonman would! Darian is Cygnan! He doesn't play by our rules. You'd better wake up before you crack your own shell. Believe me, Darian is devious enough and vicious enough to have Astaroth kill Quarelth and leave you alive. Beyond that, Cosira is furious with you. You don't want Caylith getting involved in this."

R'travil shuddered. He'd never given much thought to his being hurt or to what Quarelth would certainly do if he got himself killed. He didn't think about it because he didn't believe it possible. Living without his bronze, though, was unthinkable. The sneering smile evaporated. Angering Caylith was another problem he hadn't considered.

For the first time he could recall, the Weyrleader saw uncertainty on the rider's face. "I can't order this," he admitted, "but I strongly suggest you hold Quarelth out of Scylenth's first flight. Once they've been through it, Darian and Selana won't react as violently if Quarelth flies her. If you take her first time up, I have no idea of what he might do."

R'travil glared back defiantly. "No. Quarelth takes her first time." The flashing in his eyes was violent, almost irrational. G'dened shook his head.

"I suppose I knew better. Alright, suit yourself. You can do whatever you want when Scylenth rises. Until then stay away from Selana." He gazed meaningfully into the wingleader's contorted face.

"Remember this, R'travil," he added. "I have fifteen bronzes here and four bronze weyrlings. T'bor only has nine. Cross me again and you're going to be flying with High Reaches. If that doesn't make you happy, K'trin needs a junior wingsecond."

The young bronzerider's lip curled angrily. He was ready to unleash a savage reply. One look at G'dened told him that would be exceedingly unwise. "You don't expect me to believe you'd transfer me over something like this."

"You're not leaving me much choice. I'd rather transfer you than have you dueling another rider or my masterhealer. I'm not about to let you distract my junior queen with her first mating flight coming up."

"I'm not about to upset a queen. I'm a bronzerider."

"Then start acting like one. You have a greater responsibility than yourself and Quarelth. You're responsible to this Weyr and to Pern as a whole. We need dragons. Scylenth can provide a lot of them. Quarelth may even sire them for her. Regardless, the size and health of her clutch depends on how well her rider controls her before the flight. Give Scylenth a chance to have a good clutch. Leave Selana alone."

"Quarelth is the fastest bronze here. He's going to fly Scylenth. It doesn't matter if I leave Selana alone or not. They're good dragons. They'll make a good clutch. Besides, once Sel gets to know me she'll be fine. Might even make for a better flight."

G'dened sighed disgustedly. It was obvious the young wingleader wasn't going to be swayed by reason. "R'travil, I'm ordering you to stay away from Selana. When Scylenth rises you'll have the same chance at her as the rest of us. But I'll tell you this. If you keep acting the way you've been, if you put your arrogance and self-interest ahead of what's best for Ista and for Pern, you're not worthy of Quarelth. He deserves better than you. If you try to force yourself on Selana, I'll have you arrested and charged with forcible rape. You got that?"

The dark rider stared furiously at his Weyrleader. He stood up, reaching for his belt knife.

"Touch that blade and I'll shove it up your ass." G'dened rose, facing the smaller man. His voice was cold and hard. "I've had enough of you for quite a while. I don't want to hear anything from you or about you until I ask for it. Understand? Now, get out of here."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Beast and rider, soar aloft,

hide your fears between.

Visions dark within your minds,

by eyes remain unseen.

9th Pass -- Year 27 - March

(Ista Weyr, March 11th)

Selana had surprised him. Seeing Kelth on the ledge with Scylenth had roused his curiosity. He enjoyed the dragon's enthusiastic greeting. They still enjoyed a closer relationship than unimpressed dragon and rider had any right to. What the others didn't know...

The children were scrambling around the weyr. The junior queen's quarters weren't large to begin with. With the table and benches taking up a sizable portion of the living chamber, the rest was bedlam. Four exuberant children in a restricted area created quite a scene. An alarmed stalker cowered behind the queenrider's legs.

Pleased by the unexpected company and a chance to play with his children, Darian hadn't realized anything unusual was going on. He was too busy tossing the laughing Seradan to notice the meal Selana and Tryliri were arranging. Delighted that his son no longer shrank from him, the Cygnan paid little attention to his surroundings. He wasn't even annoyed when Markil christened his leg. Returning after changing into dry trousers, the avion finally became aware that this wasn't a routine visit.

T'marek was filling wineglasses. With his sharp vision and acute sense of smell, the vintage was unmistakable.

"Benden white?"

"Yup. Only the best when we bring the wine. Gotta do something to add some class to this dump."

"Alright, Tim," Tryliri grinned, "none of that. Be nice today."

"That is nice, for him," Darian snapped. He glanced at the food piled on the table. Much more and the poor thing would collapse. "This table isn't big enough for all this," he observed.

"It will do," Selana insisted. "We're all eating together today and we're not going to the lower caverns." Her tone announced that the debate was over. She helped Tryliri arrange the three older children at a portable bench. Only Markil would eat at the large table, seated on his mother's lap.

Darian moved to the seat that the brownrider indicated, a huge platter in front of him. The others waited until he had seated himself then took their places. The avion's eyes narrowed at the deference. Reacting to the enticing aroma of the meal, he licked the tips of his fangs. Roast wherry was his favorite Pernese dish.

The plate before him was piled with lightly roasted wherry breast, a variety of greens and a serving of tubers. Placed across it all was a large wherry leg, still raw. He surveyed the meat then looked up. "What is all this?" he asked.

Selana peered back innocently while their guests exchanged amused glances. "We wanted to do something special for you, so we asked Imala for some roast wherry. Don't you like it?"

"Of course, I like it. But, what's the occasion? Why the fuss?"

"No special reason," she assured him. "If you don't want it, Loki will take it."

Darian grimaced, glancing at the leg. "Not likely," he responded.

T'marek chuckled, grinning at his friend. Ignoring the knife and fork, he reached into his plate, picking up a roasted leg in his fingers.

Tryliri covered her eyes. "Oh, Tim, where are your manners?"

He stared at her, tearing a strip of meat away in his teeth. "What manners? I'm hungry."

A nasty snicker came from Darian. He picked up the raw leg, sinking his fangs into it with enthusiasm. Both men shared an amused glance.

"And I thought Kelth was bad," the blonde groaned. She started feeding her younger boy.

Selana and Tryliri picked up a lively conversation ranging from the still growing queen to the four children and everything between. Their mates concentrated on the meal, all but inhaling the succulent roast. Darian ate about half of his wherry leg, reluctantly giving the remainder to the pitiful looking stalker. Loki promptly disappeared under the table.

Scents of an Istan spring mingled with the aromas of the food. The pleasant breeze coming from the weyr mouth carried the last reminders of winter, cooling but not chilling the diners. Summer wouldn't be long in arriving.

It had been a bitter winter. G'dened said it was the worst Ista had seen in turns. They'd even had a measurable snowfall in the northern mountains. That was unheard of. The northern Weyrs had been much harder hit. No one complained, though. The icy months were a much-needed respite. Many of the northern Falls had crystallized, landing as harmless powder. 'Crack dust, black dust' - was that how that song went?

Even the more southerly Weyrs had enjoyed lighter Falls. Only Southern and Eastern, in their continent's summer, faced normal Thread patterns. The rest of Pern had taken a welcome opportunity to recover from a costly summer and fall. Dragons and riders had the chance to rest and recover, healing fully. Benden and High Reaches in particular used the time to return to full strength. It might have been uncomfortable, but it had been a good winter. For that matter it would likely continue to be so at Reaches, Benden and Telgar.

Ista had also benefited. Lighter Falls allowed riders graduating the weyrling wing to join the fighting wings at a relaxed pace. The rate of weyrling injuries fell to less than half. One scoring, though, had badly affected the Cygnan.

The Weyrleader procrastinated for several months but by early winter gave in to Cosira's requests and Selana's demands, allowing the young queen to take her place with the wing. They adopted the diamond formation. Valkryth's brilliance in the slot saved many a potential scoring but she couldn't be everywhere.

Scylenth proved as fast and aggressive as they hoped and as brash as they feared. Her recklessness manifested itself in a matter of days. The Masterhealer remembered it well. It had been hard dressing that score. He couldn't see it clearly. His patient hadn't been squirming, as he initially suspected, nor were the edges of the wound fluid. Once he realized the problem was the moisture in his own eyes, it was easier to deal with.

The rider's courage in the face of the painful scoring had increased his discomfort. It became more difficult to work when she became aware of the cause of his distress. The tenderness in her smile, the love in her eyes, disarmed him completely. He was utterly unprepared for her reaction. Selana still carried the scar above her eye. Darian still remembered the night they had shared afterwards.

For a few short days the avion thought he'd succeeded in taking Scylenth out of the fighting wing. He wasn't sure if Selana shared his disappointment at discovering she wasn't pregnant, but he doubted it. She enjoyed flying too much.

Scylenth needed less care now, but she still monopolized her rider's time. When Selana wasn't feeding, bathing or oiling the queen, they were off together, flying errands for the Healer Hall or just joy riding.

Adding the young queen brought about another interesting development. With Selana in a fighting wing, traveling to and from Falls, Darian immediately changed dragons, riding behind his wife on Scylenth. Astaroth continued to ride with Valkryth. The Cygnan couldn't help noticing Elysina's delight with the situation. He wondered what was hatching in that devious mind. He had an ominous but strangely exciting feeling that he knew precisely what she was planning.

Scylenth's bugle from the ledge brought him out of his daydream. He heard the rustle of dragons moving, the trumpeting answer to the queen's greeting, then the sound of claws on rock. He looked across the table to Selana.

"Caylith and Barnath," she announced, rising. There wasn't time for her to meet the visitors on the ledge. The Weyrleaders came directly into the weyr. Cosira waved hello, moving to embrace Selana.

"Thanks for inviting us, Sel. Sorry we're late."

"That's okay," the healer smiled. "We're just finishing dinner but you're in time for dessert."

Darian rose with T'marek to greet the Weyrleader. G'dened wore a cheerful smile as he accepted a seat at the table. Now the avion was really curious. What did Cosira mean, 'inviting us'? What was Selana up to? "Sel, what in the blazes is going on here?"

The bronzerider glanced at him with a frown. "Can't I visit my own masterhealer and Weyrhealer, not to mention my junior queenrider? It's not my fault you let this lunatic in here. You don't think I'd have come if I'd known he was here?"

"That's an insult, Weyrleader," T'marek grumped. "I don't think I appreciate it."

"Probably not, but you deserve it."

Tryliri giggled, busily working at clearing the plates.