DragonWarrior
By Absinthe
Disclaimers: This story is based in Anne McCaffrey's Dragonrider series. Hopefully she'll let me have my cake and eat it to, as I am not making any profit by this save my own personal enjoyment. Thank you, Ms. McCaffrey, for your wonderful writings! The characters will look suspiciously familiar to you, gosh, maybe this is an Uber Xena. And yeah, there's some lesbian romance in this story. Please enjoy, and thank you to the writers who are letting me borrow their stuff for a little romp.
Prologue for the uninitiated
For those of you who have never read any of Anne McCaffrey's "The Dragon Riders of Pern" novels, I recommend you read this quick crash course on Pern, the planet on which this story takes place. If you are familiar with Pern, skip to Chapter 1.
Pern is a distant planet that was colonized centuries prior to this story by humans. It looked like a nice place to live until one day this crap called thread started falling from the sky. Thread is a mychorrizoid life form that devours any organic material that it touches. It originates on a rogue planet called the Red Star that gets close enough to drop Thread on Pern every 250 or so odd years(or Turns as the Pernese call them).
So, in a real hurry, the colonists genetically engineered dragons from existing fauna. The dragons were mentally enhanced so that they could think coherently. At their hatching, the dragons select a nearby person as their life partners, and a telepathic bond is formed between dragon and the newly chosen rider. Only death can separate them. Usually, if one dies, the other part of the pair will suicide. The dragons "breathe" fire, which destroys the thread before it hits the ground and burrows. They must first, however, chew a phosphine bearing rock called firestone.
There are green, blue, brown, bronze and gold dragons. Golds are known as queens and are the only reproductive females. They do not chew firestone and thus do not breathe fire. The "Queen's Wing" of dragons, during threadfall, fight thread using flamethrowers which are wielded by the riders. The greens are sterile females and they do chew firestone. Bronzes are generally the only color large enough to capture a queen that is "in heat" during a mating flight. (The color distinctions are easy to remember: all the female colors start with G like girl, and all the male colors start with B like boy. Hey, I didn't come up with it...)
The planet's inhabited continent is divided into regions protected by the various weyrs, each weyr containing approximately 300 dragons. The primary holds are built into solid rock, as rock is impenetrable to thread. Holds send tithes of food and goods to their respective weyrs in return for their protection, and dragon riders search out likely youths as candidates for impression to a hatchling dragon from the holds. Every now and then, lord holders stage "gathers" which are essentially big parties where everybody gets drunk and dances and buys stuff.
There are craft halls: mining, weaving, harpering, etc etc. The harpers teach the children through songs, and entertain at gathers and weddings and whenever. They go through several steps in the hierarchy, first off they're apprentices, then Journeyman, then Masters, sometimes of specialities and they become a teacher of the apprentices at Harper hall. The Master harper is the head of the whole shebang, just like the Weyr leader and Weyr woman are the heads of their weyr. Ok. I think that about covers the absolute basics of the unusual aspects of Pernese society. They are an agrarian economy, so keep that in mind as well.
Part 1:
Her dark hair hung well past her shoulders, and the white tunic she wore made her olive skin stand out in dramatic relief. The sands of the hatching ground were hot under her thinly clad feet, but she paid little heed to any physical discomfort she might have felt. A rush of air ruffled her tunic as the bronze that had deposited her there winged off to find a perch and deliver his rider to a good seat. Her mind seemed to block out the noise of the crowd, even the echoing thrumming issuing from the throats of all of the immense dragons looking on. Her vision focused entirely on the faintly luminous, huge golden egg before her. Seven other young women of her age, all dressed in white tunics with their hair hanging loose, stood in a rough semi circle around the egg.
The dark haired girl cast one nervous look over at the larger cluster of eggs and the 90 or so young men that stood around it. Several of the smaller eggs were rocking wildly. There was a momentary lull in the bustle of the audience as a little blue dragonet broke free from his shell and tottered, squealing piteously, towards the boys. One of them stepped forward, and knelt by the hatchling, gently caressing the beast's damp head. The exulting look on his face revealed that impression had occurred even before the boy announced that the dragon's name was Linath.
At last, as more and more eggs hatched, the golden egg started to rock, and a tiny fracture appeared on its mottled surface. Several of the girls backed away a few steps as though in fear. The dark girl, who towered over her competitors by nearly a foot, stood her ground patiently. This was her second attempt at impressing a Queen. The first had been a failure, but L'mal had said that Yirenth was sure that she would impress.
The egg was moving violently now as the hatchling inside fought her way free. A brilliant golden head emerged, followed by an awkward body. The little queen flapped her damp wings, and stumbled forward on unsteady legs. For creatures that would grow to be so magnificent, the hatchlings were incredibly ugly. Creeling anxiously, the hatchling swiveled her head around, peering at the people surrounding her before tottering further, only stopping when her claws clutched at the white fabric of the dark girl's skirt. She bent over to help the dragon right herself. The creature was nearly waist high against her, but its head seemed improbably large for its body, and its large protuberant eyes blinked up adoringly at the girl.
I am Nerath. The voice sounded in the girl's head. I am hungry.
Tara smiled lovingly and helped Nerath make a slow progress across the sand towards the great arching entrance to the hatching grounds. Never before had Tara felt so loved, and never again would she be alone. Once the telepathic bond between dragon and rider was formed, nothing short of death could break it.
As most of the eggs had hatched, the pair were beset by well wishers until several bronze riders urged everyone out into the dining hall where there would be feasting, music from the Harpers and dancing well into the night. Newly impressed dragons and riders were led towards the Weyrling barracks, where under the watchful of the Weyrling Master and the older group of weyrlings who'd impressed at the last hatching nearly a turn previously, the new hatchlings were fed until they could barely move. Many had to be carried into the barracks they would share until they completed their training and were assigned individual chambers.
Khlara, the girl who'd succeeded in impressing the previous queen hatchling, led Tara and Nerath up to their weyr. As a queen rider, Tara would join the rest of the weyrlings for flight training, but Khlara and Ista's Weyr woman, Miriam, would teach her the many skills Tara would require to fill her new position as a junior queen rider, and possibly as a future Weyr woman. When at last they topped the stone stairs that led up to the queen's level, and Nerath was settled into her couch, Tara got a chance to just look around.
Nerath was dwarfed by the huge weyr, but soon enough she would grow into it. With one last loving look at her new partner, Tara turned to follow Khlara out of the weyr. At the top of the stairs, she looked out over the expansive weyr bowl. Ista was built in the crater of an extinct volcano whose eruption had blown away half of the cliff face on one side. Erosion had created a steep drop off on one end of the semicircular bowl to a black sand beach lapped at by calm tropical waters. An artificial waterfall ran over the edge from a fresh water pool. Part of the bowl was fenced in and housed a variety of herd beasts. Dragon fodder. Tara sucked in a breath of the humid air, leaden with the salt of the sea, and the spicy odor of dragons.
Khlara was already at the bottom of the steps.
"We're expected in the dining hall." She snapped. Tara shrugged and followed.
Their entry was heralded by a round of cheering and toasting. Tara was immediately surrounded by her family. They'd been flown in adragonback from Ruatha Hold for the Hatching.
"Tara!" Her father, called. Tueron was a master weaver at Ruatha, but had fostered Tara to a family in Ista Hold when she turned 10, to learn more diverse trades. Tueron's real ambition, however, had been to see her married to one of Lord Holder Joilin's many sons. Tara dazedly watched him approach with her mother. Both of them were grinning stupidly, and were trailed by her oldest brother, Lycus. While their annual visits had not been enough to keep her familiarity with her parents sharp, Lycus and she had always seemed cut from the same cloth, and were able to pick up where they left off even after a Turn of separation. Tara accepted her proud parents' embraces coolly, still amazed at the incredible change that had transpired. She was the rider of a queen dragon! No longer a fosterling to Myra and her husband, she was one of the protectors of Pern!
Lycus too, was escaping their parents' craft. He would walk the tables soon to become a journeyman harper. Their younger brother was the only one of Tueron's three children that had shown any interest in the weaver craft.
"I'll try to get assigned here when it happens." He informed her around a mouthful of roasted wherry meat. Tara just nodded, preoccupied with her own meal. After the stress of feeding the voracious Nerath for the first time, so afraid that she'd hurt the fragile dragonet, Tara had only realized how hungry she was when someone, she wasn't sure who, had placed a heaping plateful in front of her. She caught sight of some of the other new weyrlings with their families. They were just as spacy looking as she was. The evening was a blur to her, and she was greatly relieved when the Weyr leader T'mal came by to congratulate her, and sent her back to her new quarters with the admonition that tomorrow would be a difficult day. As though sensing the siblings' desire to be alone together, T'mal detained their parents.
"Can I see her?" Lycus asked, his light blue eyes shining. Tara nodded. Neither of her parents had shown much interest in Nerath beyond the status she conferred, and she was relieved to have someone to show off to.
"She's asleep, but I sincerely doubt that an earthquake would wake her now," she stifled a yawn.
"Maybe you should just go to bed..." Lycus touched her arm gently.
"You have to at least SEE this place. It's unbelievable." She led the way cautiously out past the main halls, and up the stairs. Hundreds of pairs of whirling, multifaceted dragon eyes watched their progress from all over the inner walls of the crater. Lycus nearly slipped when he noticed them. In the half light the eyes appeared to glow as the dragons surveyed their newest queen rider from the ledges outside of their weyrs. Made tiny by distance, many of the sets of eyes winked out as their owners fell asleep. Tara shook her head in amazement and then continued up the steps.
Lycus stood reverently at a safe distance from the sleeping queen dragonet.
"She's so small," he whispered.
"Yeah. They say she'll grow to full size by the end of the turn," Tara smiled, then took her brother by the elbow and dragged him into her spacious new quarters.
"Whooee," he appreciatively hissed, "This is a real improvement over the room you were sharing with Sylmar."
"Tell me about it," Tara grinned sleepily.
"You better go to bed. I need to go before they come looking for me," Lycus darted a glance over his shoulder, "Promise me you'll come see me when she learns to go Between?"
"Promise," Tara replied through another yawn. They embraced, and once he was gone, Tara slipped the white tunic over her head and flopped into the huge featherbed.
Pangs of hunger and anxious cries awoke her the next morning with the rising of the sun.
She was out of the bed and at Nerath's side before she even thought to dress.
I'm HUNGRY! the little queen announced.
"I know. I'm sorry. I have to put some clothes on and we'll go straight down, I promise!" Tara ran back into her chambers, finding the little carry all which contained all of her belongings. She dug out a tunic and a pair of breeches, struggling into them as she stumbled back into the weyr.
Tara carried the dragonet down the stairs, her great physical strength, born of months learning the smith trade, standing her in good stead. Judging by the scene unfolding on the bowl floor, she was not the only weyrling dealing with an impatient dragonet.
When all of the creatures had been stuffed to the bursting with pre-cut meat, the Weyrling Master directed them all to take up good stiff brushes and scrub the dragonets down in the man made lake, once done, the sleepy, itchy dragonets were carefully oiled down. They grew at a tremendous rate, and for the first turn, would require daily oiling to prevent their delicate hides from cracking.
I just want to sleep. Nerath protested as she reluctantly waded into the water. I itch
Tara laughed affectionately, "You don't know what you want you silly thing!"
I am sorry. The little gold pulled her head back, confused and chastised.
"No, no, no." Tara dropped to her knees in the water and wrapped her muscled arms around her partner. "I didn't' mean it like that. I'm sorry."
Reassured, Nerath yawned hugely, made a purling noise, and submitted to being bathed. The sleepy dragonets were returned to their beds, and the Weyrling Master lectured to the weyrlings, seated on the grass in a loose group.
"For the next few months, your dragons will be eating machines. Eat and sleep and grow. That's about all they'll do for now, but you guys, you guys are going to learn everything you never wanted to know about firestone." M'lan paused, "Leather working, hunting, flying, geography, flying formations, the Code we follow here at the Weyr, some of you will even learn a little about healing. This is going to be a hard year, I promise you that." The burly man laughed, "First thing we'll do, we're flying up to the mountains with Master miner Oldan. You'll be handling your first firestone today." He motioned for his pupils to stand up and follow him to the wing of senior dragons waiting to take the group out of the Weyr.
This time Tara knew not to join them. She took the stairs up to the Weyr woman's quarters. Khlara and Miriam were awaiting her arrival. Miriam stood up and held her arms open offering an embrace.
"Good morning Tara!" She said, her voice like warm honey. Tara hugged the Weyr woman awkwardly and took a step backwards. "How is Nerath doing?"
"She's sleeping." The dark girl shrugged.
"This phase won't last long," Miriam smiled reassuringly. Her graying hair hung in two thick braids well past her proud shoulders. Tara self consciously smoothed down her own unkempt tresses. Khlara smirked, eyes criticizing Tara's rough appearance, forgetting the hectic nature of her own first few days as a weyrling.
"Join us for breakfast?" Miriam asked, waving one of her deceptively dainty hands at the table, already set for three. "Do you have any questions?" She asked once they were all seated.
"When will the Weyr be up to full strength?"
Miriam raised her dark eyebrows in surprise. Weyrlings were usually much too absorbed in their new dragonets to be concerned with the rest of the world, though this strange, tanned girl waited for her response to an uncommon question with calmly perceptive blue eyes.
"What makes you think we're not?" Miriam returned over the rim of her steaming mug.
"I saw a lot of empty weyrs last night. I've heard that when this place is full, almost half of the dragons have quarters on the outside wall of the mountain." Tara shrugged, "I just want to know if we'll be up to full strength by First Fall."
Miriam set the mug down and regarded her new trainee fully.
"In the past, the Queens usually start laying huge clutches turns in advance of threadfall. We're getting a late start here. Ista has always been small, but we were down to one Queen for a while, and Orlanth is getting old. This may have been her last clutch. You two, Willenth and Nerath are extremely valuable to us now. We'd hate to have to ask one of the other Weyrs for dragons," Miriam sighed. "Right now though, these are not your problems. They will be, but for now, you have other duties. Ista Hold will be sending in a tithe tomorrow morning. I want you to help Khlara oversee the stowing of the new supplies." This last was directed at Tara. "Today, Khlara, I want you to take Marain out to gather fellis. Tara, we have much to discuss."
After breakfast, Khlara clattered out. Tara caught a flash of Willenth's golden wings as the young queen dragon took off.
"They say that you were a fosterling at Ista?" Miriam asked.
"Yes."
"Tell me what you've studied, everything, no matter how little attention you gave it." The Weyr woman grinned toothily.
"Well. My father is a master weaver. I didn't pay much attention to him, but I can embroider. I can hunt, and I can fight. I can't cook, but I learned a little about smithing. I can shoe runner beasts pretty well. I learned a lot about healing from Myra.." she shrugged, "I think that about covers it aside from the usual stuff."
"Have you had any experience dealing with animals?"
"Er...Some. I've ridden runners in a few races, and I did a little work with my foster father's herdbeasts."
"That's quite impressive for a woman so young. You said you studied healing. That's wonderful. We're going to need a dragonrider who can heal once threadfall begins."
That first Turn passed with amazing speed. Miriam took Tara in as a student, teaching her more about herbs and the healing of thread score. Both of the junior queen riders were also learning taught everything that they might be required to know should they become Weyr woman after Miriam. Tara's alacrity quickly brought her to pace with Khlara, and though her queen was younger, many of the weyr's riders ardently hoped that she would become the next Weyr woman. Rivalry between the two women was strong, but neither would do anything outright that might endanger either of the queen dragons. The Red Star loomed larger in the sky with every passing season, and fear of threadfall caused a gradual increase in the size and quality of the tithes coming in from the holds. Tara heard that her brother had walked the tables to become a journeyman Harper around the same time that she and Nerath went Between alone for the first time.
The rest of Nerath's clutch were also aloft that day, all the weyrlings having been previously trained in going Between with the Weyrling Master. The telepathic dragons had the capability of teleporting themselves and their riders to any location that the rider could visualize. Tara, gripping her fighting straps tightly in her sweaty fists, envisioned the peaks of Benden Weyr, sending Nerath the cue to go Between. The cold nothingness of Between hit her like a fist, and though the experience lasted only a few seconds, it seemed to drag out for much longer. She'd heard stories of weyrling pairs going Between and never returning, but when she felt the warmth of the afternoon sun at Benden, she laughed out loud. The wind tore the breath from her lips and flushed her skin.
With every new experience, her life grew more and more amazing. Their first flight together had left her utterly exhilarated. None who had never ridden their own dragon in flight could possibly comprehend the experience of not only being a passenger, but also experiencing the sensations that the dragon felt; of the wind rushing over the wings, of feeling nothing but the air below. Tara slapped the gleaming neck between her thighs.
"We did it. You're wonderful," Tara directed her thoughts to her dragon.
You're wonderful. I knew we could do it. Nerath smugly replied. Glancing around, Tara ticked off the numbers of weyrlings hanging in the air around her. All had made it. She waved to a green rider, L'on, who waved back. The Weyrling Master signaled them to return to Ista. Between was just as much of a shock as it always was. Once outside of that apparent vacuum, it was easy to forget the intensity of the emptiness.
Nerath back-winged to land on the ledge outside her weyr. Tara hopped down and started removing the fighting straps, running her hands over the leather, as she'd been taught, to check for wear. This was her second set, training for using a flame thrower had proven to be arduous, and the still growing girth of Nerath had not served to make things any easier on the leather harness designed to keep a rider in place even under the worst of circumstances. Although she was more than a turn younger than Willenth, Nerath was nearly as large as the other queen.
Tara, a hopeless tomboy from birth, had even learned the poise and manners that would be vital to her in her new, high profile position as a Queen rider. The beating of wings on the air outside alerted her to a visitor's arrival as Nerath said,
Tyolth comes.
Tara paced out to meet the bronze's rider, F'deron. Smoothing her face into a neutral expression, she greeted him calmly.
"Excellent flight today. I hear you didn't lose anyone." He smiled. He was dressed in loose linen as befit the tropical climate, and had given Tara no opportunity to change out of her hot riding leathers.
"Through no work of mine. Everyone worked hard to get this far." she shrugged, stripping off her jacket and leading him back into her chambers. F'deron was one of the senior bronze riders, one of the many that were courting the two new queen riders in the hopes that it would give them a jump start when the crucial mating flight occurred. Khlara seemed to bask in the attention, but Tara was fast becoming fed up with the men's constant jostling for her interest.
Tara pulled a pair of light pants out of her press and with no warning whatsoever, stripped off her sweaty clothes and exchanged them for more comfortable garb. F'deron froze mid sentence. Tara trapped his gaze with her flame blue eyes and a reproachful look.
"Do go on," she said.
"Well, I was just saying that my first time Between, we lost two pairs. A green and a brown."
"Dreadful," Tara replied, "I'm sorry F'deron, but I just really want to be alone right now." She hinted. Her uninvited suitor took it and reluctantly departed.
"Tell the rest of them to stay away would you dearest?" she requested of her dragon. The big queen bobbed her wedge shaped head in acknowledgment of the command. Tara reached up to scratch the long ridge that ran over the dragon's huge eye. First one set of lids, then a second, then the outer lids, slid closed in contentment. Her head was nearly as long as Tara was tall now. Tara could no longer imagine a life without her draconic partner.
Miriam comes. Shall I tell her to go away too?
"No. Better not."
"Tara!" the Weyr woman's footsteps rang on the bare stone.
"Good afternoon," Tara inclined her head slightly to her superior, then flashed the woman a brilliant smile.
"We have a new journeyman harper coming in. I want to you to help settle her in, then bring her to me," the Weyr woman liked to give Tara every opportunity to get word of her brother, "Are you ready for tomorrow?" the older woman rubbed Nerath's cheek affectionately.
"Ready as anyone I guess," T'mal had planned that tomorrow, the entire Weyr would fly drills in fighting formation. It would be Tara's first time flying with the queen's wing, even though it was only a drill. "When will I be ready to try a jump to Nerat to see Lycus?"
"Soon. I'm sorry he wasn't posted here," she paused, "Willenth will be rising to mate soon. Perhaps that will be the day you go."
"I'd like to stay," Tara wanted to watch the flight.
"It's best you leave. We try to get all of the fertile queens and their riders out of the Weyr during another queen's mating flight."
"Why?"
"It's too dangerous. Having a queen ready to rise nearby can trigger others to do so as well. The outcome would be disastrous."
"What could happen?"
"They aren't themselves at that time, they'll fight for the bronzes. It can cost many lives."
"That's not in any of the teaching songs..."
"We try not to advertise it... Especially between Passes when the holders start to forget what they owe us, we must present a completely benign facade to the world."
"I understand," Tara nodded.
"Good," Miriam gave the dragon a final pat, "R'jan is coming in with her now. Better hurry if you're going to beat them to the ground."
Tara nodded again, though secretly all she wanted to do was take Nerath down to the beach for a bath and a swim. Groaning inwardly at the thought of dealing with another awestruck visitor, Tara bounded down the stone steps to the bowl floor.
"Tara!" she heard a familiar voice shouting. It was another member of the newest generation of dragon riders. Blue rider T'lellan jogged across the trampled grass to meet her.
"Are you coming with us? M'lan is taking us hunting in an hour to celebrate!" he cheerily announced.
"I'm s'posed to settle a new harper in, but if I hurry..." Tara shrugged, she didn't want to miss this outing with the rest of the weyrlings, even Nerath's bath could wait for some more lessons on hunting with the dragons, "I'll try."
"Maybe we can convince M'lan to wait for you."
"That'd be great!" she clapped her friend on the shoulder. She preferred to spend her time with the riders of greens, browns, and blues, as those dragons would not be involved in the competitive mating flight. She knew that they were interested in her, and not in the power a relationship with her might convey once Nerath matured.
"There she is! I'll try to hurry!" Tara called over her shoulder when she noticed R'jan helping a fair skinned, blonde woman down from his brown's shoulder. The dragon gave the new harper an approving look before setting its sights on the herdbeasts milling about nervously in their corral.
Tara and the harper watched the brown take off, hover briefly over the frightened animals then neatly pluck a squealing beast up in one of his huge talloned paws. Tara noted with some contempt the horrified expression on the new spectator's face as the dragon landed on a ledge with its meal and snapped the animal's head off with his powerful jaws.
"Greetings harper!" Tara held up her right hand as she drew nearer the petite blonde. "I'm Queen rider Tara. Welcome to Ista Weyr."
"Uh. I'm Journeyman Merelan," she juggled her guitar case and bag awkwardly. Two larger containers lay at her feet. Sighing, Tara hefted first one, then the other onto her shoulders.
"Lady, no, I'll get those," the journeyman protested, anxious that such actions were below the dignity of a Queen rider.
"Don't be absurd Harper Merelan. I'm only a junior rider," Tara laughed, her blue eyes sparkling, but Merelan was already beginning to wilt in the intense heat of the tropical noon. "Follow me." Tara led the way down through the dining hall, past the huge hearths and the bustling people working to keep the weyr fed, down into the shadowy corridors and the cool stone caverns underground. Glowbaskets hanging on the walls kept everything well illuminated, and Tara did not fail to notice Merelan's relief at escaping the sun.
Finally Tara stopped outside of an open door and gestured for the harper to precede her into her new quarters. The rooms were decorated comfortably, if not lavishly. The front room was a classroom where Merelan would help the current harper in teaching the weyr's children. Tara set the bags down carefully, showed Merelan the rest of the rooms and then led her back into the corridor.
"The baths are down here. They're not heated, you wouldn't want them to be, not in this climate," Tara strode down into the rock chamber that housed a waist deep pool of clear, clean water for bathing. It was constantly circulated through a gravity driven plumbing system that kept the water free of dirt.
"There is always food available in the kitchens, but they serve real meals just after sunrise, at noon, and before sunset. They'll ring a bell to announce each one," Tara gave the harper a rundown on the basics, "If you need anything special let Gemma know, she's our head woman, she'll take care of you."
Merelan watched Tara's eyes suddenly go out of focus.
Mnenth says that they are preparing to leave! Nerath's voice was slightly anxious, Hurry?
"So you want to go too?" Tara silently teased her dragon.
"Are you all right?" Merelan was asking, her hand on Tara's shoulder.
"Yes, fine. My dragon wants me to hurry up."
"You better go then. I'll be fine. Thank you!" The harper apologetically replied.
"Soon enough. I'm sorry that Harper Fiemer wasn't here to greet you, he's meeting with the Master harper at Benden today I believe... In any case, Miriam wants to meet you before you unpack your things," the dragonrider once again gestured for her charge to precede her through the door. They took the stairs back up to the Queen's level. Merelan paused to stare openly at Orlanth who lay outside on the ledge, enjoying the baking sun. The gargantuan queen opened her eye to a slit to give the two intruders a quick once-over before she went back to sleep.
Miriam was in the meeting room in her quarters, seated next to her weyrmate T'mal, Khlara sat nearby, watching Lord Holders Joilin of Ista Hold, and Talamar of Igen Hold glare irritably at one another and at the Weyr leaders. Tara stopped in the doorway and held out a hand indicating that Merelan should wait there as well. Miriam spared them a nod of acknowledgment though her attention remained focused on the Lord Holders.
"We'll clear out the vegetation tomorrow," T'mal was saying, "But Lord Joilin, you're simply going to have to dismantle the wings you added onto the Hold. We can't vouch for the safety of the occupants during threadfall. I'm sorry, but there's no other way. They were fine when we weren't at risk, but now..." The Weyr leader held out his hands in a helpless shrug.
"As for you Lord Talamar, the dragons don't mind the aging herdbeasts, but we're not providing you with flame throwers. We don't have the resources. You'll have to see the Mastersmith yourself about that." Miriam informed the other Lord Holder. Tara noted the tension in the Weyr woman's shoulders. When at last the meeting ended, and the Lords were sent out to waiting dragons to be shuttled back to their respective holds, Tara took Merelan all the way into the room.
"Ah Tara, I'm glad you saw that. Our Lords have...er...limited respect... for us at the moment, it's better than it was, but once they see thread falling outside, they'll change their tunes." T'mal laughed, his warm brown eyes twinkling.
"T'mal, Miriam, this is Journeyman Merelan." Tara pushed the harper forward. Swallowing hard, the blonde nervously stepped forward.
"This is your first posting Journeyman?" Miriam asked, sliding a chair out, indicating that the woman should sit.
"Yes, Lady." Merelan primly settled herself. Miriam and T'mal glanced at each other, deciding in a split second to take their new harper under their mutual wings.
"Tara," T'mal noticed that she was edging towards the door, "Where are you trying to run off to?"
"Uh...M'lan is taking the weyrlings on a hunting excursion..."
"Sit down," the Weyr leader tersely replied, then returned his attention to his mate and the object of their attentions.
"Of course, you know that the teaching curriculum here will center more around weyr duties and such than elsewhere, but I was hoping," and the Weyr woman leaned forward conspiratorially, "that you could perhaps broaden the spectrum a little here. Fiemur has been here a long time, and he is slow to change. I want the children to learn more about history, and about the Holds outside of our protection. Perhaps, you could press the arts a little more..." Miriam sat up straight again.
"Yes Lady, I agree that basic education should be as broad as possible, but when you say the arts, well, we are already teaching them to sing, some to play instruments, do you mean that I should try to get them to draw? To learn to craft things? I'm a harper, my craft is singing and teaching, I don't know much beyond that..."
As the discussion wore on, Tara's attention drifted.
The others are gone. There was no mistaking the disappointment in Nerath's "voice." Tara sulked silently, though she appeared to be raptly attentive. The young queen rider watched with veiled irritation the animated conversation Miriam and Merelan were having about the virtues of fosterage. Finally, laughing, Miriam stood up, saying,
"Well, we all bid you welcome, harper."
"Thank you. I'll do my best," Merelan turned and left, making her way back to the still unfamiliar lower caverns to unpack the instruments that Fiemur had asked for.
Miriam and T'mal stood to leave as well.
"Thank you Tara," the Weyr woman said, "She's darling, I think she'll work out well, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"There was a reason I had you both stay, Tara, though I know you wanted to be elsewhere... As a leader here, you have to be prepared to deal with all kinds of people. From Lord Holders, to the weyr bred children, you have to know what kind of face to present to them. Now, both of you, go over the drill patterns for tomorrow again tonight," Miriam smiled fondly at both of the junior queen riders, and disappeared into her private quarters with T'mal.
Khlara simply smirked at Tara and tossed her long, sleek hair over her shoulder before she too left. Tara drummed her fingers on the table top once, decisively, before jumping to her feet and striding outside into the intense sunlight.
"Back to plan A," she informed her dragon, but Nerath saw through her cheery facade.
You are upset?
"No. Not really...just a little embarrassed I guess." she shrugged her shoulders in an unconsciously graceful gesture.
Why? The queen blinked slowly whirling, inquisitive eyes at her rider.
"Well...You know what happened."
Yes. You wanted to leave. T'mal told you to stay.
"Yes, but, he rebuffed me in front of that new harper."
Ah. I understand. the dragon gave her a knowing look before turning her huge golden head to look out at the ocean. We will go swimming then?
"Of course, plan A. Like I said," Tara grabbed a towel, a stiff-bristled brush, and vaulted to the dragon's back. Never sloppy on the take off, Nerath launched herself neatly off the ledge, spreading her pinions to catch them before they began to fall.
Cheered by the glide to the beach, Tara hopped down with enthusiasm and plowed into the deliciously cool water. Nerath waded past her rider and then dove under, her golden body gleaming under the clear liquid as she "flew" under the water. Tara laughed when the queen surfaced, creating waves large enough to dunk her. They floated about contentedly for a while until Tara started after the dragon with the brush, scrubbing her tough hide thoroughly. Nerath lolled happily, purling whenever Tara reached a particularly itchy spot.
"You're still growing aren't you? I think you're bigger today than you were yesterday morning," Tara said. Nerath did not respond. When she was done at last, the two left the water and curled up on the beach to dry in the sun. Tara nestled in her dragon's forearms and drifted off to sleep. The concerns of the day were distant; she felt loved and protected in a way that none who were not bonded to a dragon could even understand. Human love faded in the light of such a profound connection.
They both awoke when someone splashed into the water. Tara jumped, squinting in the slanting rays of the sun. Standing in the surf, with her back to them, was Merelan. Although she felt a fleeting stab of irritation at the intrusion, Tara did not fail to notice that the woman looked as lovely naked as she did in harper blue...at least from the back. Unfortunately, her fair skin simply begged to be sunburnt. Merelan turned briefly to wave at her first acquaintance in the Weyr. Tara waved back, her eyes roaming where they would. She felt a blaze of attraction that was older than she knew.
Tara shook her head absently, averting her gaze. Weyr folk were notoriously tolerant of sexuality, unusual or otherwise, but often those standards applied primarily to the riders of the greens and blues. Though sterile, greens still rose to mate, and since green riders were normally men, and the rider shared the drives of the dragon, attractions formed between green riders and blue, bronze, or brown riders. Women, however, did not ride bronzes.
Even if they did, Merelan was not weyr bred. Doubtless she had the same attitudes toward such practices as most other Pernese. Sighing, Tara stretched, then wrapped her arms around Nerath's neck, squeezing ferociously with the knowledge that she wasn't strong enough to do more than give the dragon a gentle hug.
She likes you.
"How do you know?" Tara relaxed into her warm spot again.
I know.
Tara knew from her tone that she would get no more information on the subject. She watched Merelan skillfully cut through the water. Her blonde head disappeared, then resurfaced elsewhere. The water sheeting off of her face seemed acheingly familiar to Tara. She studied the face carefully as Merelan waded through the small waves toward shore, but the feeling of recognition passed as quickly as it had come.
"Good afternoon Tara," the harper approached shyly. She had picked her clothes up off the sand and now held them in a bundle.
"H'lo. Glad to see you're settling right in. You better get out of the sun before you get burned," Tara gestured to Nerath's lengthening shadow.
"Oh. Thanks," Merelan shook out a towel and sat down uneasily at the edge of the dragon's shadow.
"She's not going to bite you." Tara laughed out loud, "Living in a weyr isn't going to be easy if you're uncomfortable around dragons."
"I know. They're just so big. I'm afraid to make them angry," Merelan shrugged, "At home and even at Harper Hall, the biggest things around were the herdbeasts...."
"Me too, but now I can't imagine anything else," Tara stroked Nerath's forearm lovingly, "And Nerath says she doesn't know why you're afraid of her."
Merelan was startled to realize that a pair of eyes the size of her head were peering at her in curiosity.
"She likes to have her eye ridges scratched..." Tara hinted. Merelan swallowed hard as Nerath bobbed her great head within arm's reach. Tentatively, she reached out and lightly touched the hard ridge that ran from the dragon's snout to the back of her head.
"She's so smooth!" Merelan exclaimed, having expected something much less pleasant to the touch. She forever ingratiated herself to the creature by giving her eye ridge a thorough scratching. Tara worked on the other side, and soon Nerath was lying quite gleefully in the sand, her muscles completely lax.
"They're like big cats aren't they?" the harper said.
"Well, not all of them. M'lan's Mnenth is as cranky as he is. Doesn't like to be touched, can't much stand people other than M'lan in his weyr," Tara shrugged, then to reassure the harper added, "Mind you, no dragon would ever harm a human, or another dragon except for in a few extremely rare circumstances."
"Like?"
"Well, if the dragon's rider is in trouble, they'll do nearly anything to protect him."
"So I guess I better stay on your good side, huh?"
Tara opened her mouth to tell her that she had nothing to fear when she realized that she was being teased. Her reply was cut off by the bugling of the watch dragon. The hunting party was returning.
"I can't believe it's that late already..." Tara said as she shaded her eyes to get a look at the returning wings of dragons. The weyrlings were flying in loose formation; many of the young dragons were sporting large wherries draped over their necks. Nerath lifted her wedge shaped head and trumpeted her greeting to the dragons flying overhead. They responded in kind, and some of the riders waved at them. The hunting party circled and landed to the excitement of the head woman who ordered the big hearths prepared. There would be a feast tonight.
Tyolth says that he caught two himself. Nerath bemusedly relayed to her rider.
"Insufferable showoff," Tara muttered.
"What's that?"
"One of the bronze riders . . . he's been particularly obnoxious since my arrival. I think he has aspirations to be Weyr leader."
"Oh. But isn't that other queen older?"
"Yeah. Nerath's catching up to her though, strangely enough," Tara rubbed the dragon's head knob with her big toe, "We'll see what happens I guess."
"Doesn't it bother you at all?"
"Does what bother me?"
"The thought that which dragon she chooses to mate with will decide your partner? Your weyrmate and co-leader and all that?"
"I think that she'll choose well. And if she doesn't . . . It's only sex, and it only has to happen when the mating flights go on. Besides, they say that the rapture of the combined sensations of the dragon's bodies and the human's is incomparable even to the feeling of flying on your own dragon," Tara said, conspiratorially.
"What's that like?"
"It's like you're you and you're the dragon too. You can feel the dragon there under you, but you can feel the wind under your wings and the air holding you up too," Tara laughed, "That wasn't a good way to put that at all. I'm sorry, I guess that's why you're the one wearing harper blue, eh?"
"No no, that was just fine. There aren't many people who'll speak so openly about such things. I'm sorry if I seem to pry," Merelan blushed, as if only then realizing what they'd been talking about.
"No, you're not prying at all, you're a part of the weyr now, and I have orders to show you the ropes," Tara elbowed the harper good naturedly, then stopped when she noticed that the tops of the harper's pale breasts and the tip of her nose were starting to redden.
"C'mon, let's go back up to the weyr, you're starting to burn," Tara threw the young woman her tunic, marveling silently at how relaxed she felt with the harper. It was nice, she had to admit, to have someone to talk to that wasn't involved in Weyr politics, even if there was little hope that they could ever move beyond friendship.
"Ooh," Merelan groaned, prodding the burned skin tentatively, "This is gonna be bad later isn't it? I haven't been out in the sun in so long. It's winter up at Fort Hold now you know."
"Yeah. So I hear," the queen rider laughed as they walked. Nerath roused herself and shook the sand from her huge wings. She walked behind the pair, her shadow falling just short of their feet.
Tara squinted and tried to take in the activity going on above the queen's wing. Although Ista was far from its full strength, the sight of dozens of V shaped formations of dragons crisscrossing the sky in seemingly dizzying patterns was breathtaking. They flew at various altitudes, crossing the sky at different speeds to keep the imaginary thread from getting through the net of dragon bodies and flame. Despite the lack of thread, this was essentially a dress rehearsal and flashes of fire were clearly visible as the dragons and riders practiced and the older and younger dragons worked to keep the fighting teams supplied with firestone. Everything went very smoothly. The stench of sulphur drifted through the air.
Tara, Miriam, and Khlara, along with a few borrowed queens and their riders made low altitude sweeps to catch anything the teams above might miss. Three wings separated from the usual pattern and swooped down to burn the courtyards and surrounding stone of Igen Hold free of green growth, as agreed.
They returned to the weyr triumphantly tired and reeking of sulphur. A feast had been prepared from the spoils of yesterday's hunt, and the tired riders hurried to bathe themselves and their dragons. Some of the children and teenagers from the lower caverns rushed out to the beach to lend a hand, carrying brushes and towels and bags of sweet sand for the riders to use.
When at last they made their way into the dining cavern, the food was set out and the riders attacked it ravenously. Tara sat with a few of the other members of her "generation" of dragon riders. They were a boisterous bunch, possibly the loudest people in the hall. They fell silent, however, at the approach of their new harper. Tara looked up from the argument she was having with T'rel and smiled welcomingly. She shoved the person nearest her down the bench to make room for Merelan. Apologizing to the displaced, but still cheerful rider, the harper took her seat hesitantly.
"Congratulations," Merelan said, "I hear everyone did well today."
"Mhmm," Tara earnestly replied, "It was amazing. I wish you could have seen it. How's it going with Ol' Fiemur?"
"He's . . . well intentioned . . ."
"Hidebound and stuffy you mean," someone a few seats down shouted.
"I swear these weyr bred monsters were raised by Holdless," Tara said jovially to Merelan, though her voice was raised for the other rider's benefit. T'lellan laughed and they exchanged sarcastic insults for a few moments before Tara returned earnestly to her conversation with the harper.
"Welcome to the lower tables," she said, glancing pointedly at the more dignified goings on at the head tables.
"Thanks. I think."
"Anyway, as you were saying?"
"Oh. Yes, well, he's not exactly being open to my input, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to do any of the things the Weyr woman said I should."
"Well, you have her authority behind you, I guess you could push harder."
"Yes, but I'm only a journeyman, a very new one at that."
They were interrupted again by one of T'rel's "inspirational speeches" about their performance today and all the courage it would take to defend the planet from Thread. His words affected Merelan far more than the riders, who had already settled on laughter and bravado as the best defense against fear of the mysterious enemy. When T'rel sat down again and people began to disperse, Tara took Merelan up to her quarters, concerned at the somewhat queasy look on the young harper's face.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah, fine."
"Sure you are." Tara shook her head and told the young woman to sit down.
"I used to do copying in the archives at Harper Hall," she haltingly began, "And there are ancient documents, with incredibly life-like illustrations of people with thread-score. When he started talking about Thread, I guess it just sank in that you guys are going to be up there with it someday, and that could happen to any of the people here." How can you live with the fear and the uncertainty? Merelan did not add.
"That's what today was all about," Tara replied after a long pause, "We have to learn to defend ourselves and the planet as best we can. I'm learning to heal thread caused injuries on both dragons and people. I've seen the pictures you're talking about, and you're right, they are scary. But as long as the dragon can get Between fast enough to kill the thread, it's probable that Miriam and I will be able to patch them up. That's not to say it's not going to hurt, and that the scarring won't be dreadful, but we're going to minimize casualties," the hard resolve in Tara's voice spoke volumes of her strength.
"I know," Merelan toyed with her hair nervously, "It still scares me."
"Hey now," Tara rubbed her friend's shoulder comfortingly, "That's the great thing about dragon riders, we look out for each other. It's as safe as it can be."
Merelan sniffled absently. It had been a long two days. She hadn't expected life at a weyr to be so different from life at the Halls and Holds. The amount of activity going on was exhausting, and she had a feeling that it would only intensify as the Red Star approached.
"You ok now?" Tara asked solicitously, though she was loathe to do so, she let the smaller woman rise to her feet. She felt cold with the loss of contact.
"I'm sorry for whining at you, I'm sure you didn't need to hear that," the harper apologized profusely, "Thank you though, for listening. Good night."
Tara woke up far too early. The Red Star winked angrily in the sky. Rukbat was still well below the horizon, and in the darkness, the reddish light of the eerily close Red Star made the dragonrider shudder. She sat up and confronted the enemy as it glowed softly, just visible through the weyr entrance. It was only a matter of a few more months until threadfall would begin.
Wearily, the queen rider padded across her chambers to Nerath's weyr. The big queen was dead to the world, the breath rushing in and out of her huge lungs with measured regularity. Standing near the sleeping dragon's head, Tara folded her arms and watched the baleful glow of the Red Star. A dozen different fears fluttered through her sleep hungry brain. The nutmeg and cinnamon scent of clean dragon comforted her, but did not make her any more capable of falling asleep.
She thought about the banquet, and sitting so close to Merelan; close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body. And then afterwards, the little harper had revealed an amazing power to empathize. She was new to the weyr, but even though the people here were near strangers to her, the thought of the danger that the riders would place themselves in had shaken her enough to cause her to break down when they were alone.
Tara hugged herself, wishing the arms that held her were not her own. What am I thinking? she wondered, What could I possibly have to offer her? She's a harper, shards, she's wonderful, she doesn't need me. But one thing that her conversation with Merelan had shown her was that as a dragon rider about to begin fighting thread, she couldn't put things off. There might not be a whole lot of tomorrows left for her. She resolved that before she went up for her first fighting flight, she would have a little heart to heart chat with the harper.
Resolutions made in the darkness of the night, with the warm presence of her dragon to reinforce her confidence were easier made than kept. Tara found herself making excuses to spend time with the new harper, and the rarity of their free time made the moments spent in each other's company all the more precious. But she was afraid.
An air of expectancy settled over the weyr-folk. One of the Queens would have to rise to mate soon if the weyr was to be up to full strength by first fall, and the old Queen was clearly out of the running. Miriam intensified the two young queen riders' training. She wanted them both to be prepared when the time came for one of them to succeed her, and she would finally be able to retire. She was, admittedly, almost glad to be passing the burden of responsibility on before the first fall. If only she could control which of the girls it would be.
In spite of her gruffness and rough and tumble, rustic ways, Tara was clearly the more compassionate of the two. The young woman had a kindly streak to her, and a devotion to the weyr that not even Miriam's Weyrmate seemed to share. Tara would grow into a fine leader.
Merelan led a string of youngsters out onto the floor of the weyr bowl. The lush grass that grew outside of the herdbeasts' enclosure was the perfect spot for a lesson on this breezy, delicious afternoon. She waved the children into a loose semicircle and settled down cross-legged. Her oldest student, Sera, nestled a drum in the crook of her legs and they began their lesson for the day. Merelan, after reprimanding them several times, realized that the entire group was behaving in a more agitated manner then they usually did.
"All right guys," she snatched one of the smallest girls into her lap and squeezed the child teasingly. The girl squealed in startled laughter.
"What's going on today? What's got you all so wound up?" the harper asked.
The group was silent for a brief moment before one boy finally piped up;
"Willenth is rising today," he said softly.
Tara got up late, only when she felt a slice of hot sunlight touch her face. She'd fallen asleep in Nerath's weyr, her head cradled in her arms, with the cool but hard stone floor as her only padding. She pushed her stiff body upright into a sitting position and glared reproachfully at her dragon.
"You could've woken me and sent me to bed at least!" she complained as she tied her hair into a loose knot. The queen was paying her rider little attention though. She was more interested in the people rushing past on the ledge outside.
"What is it?" Tara asked, alerted then to the strangeness of the day.
Willenth will fly today.
"So?"
She will fly to mate. the dragon gave her rider a reproachful look.
"Today?!" Tara was on her feet in an instant, dashing for her chambers. She wriggled out of her wrinkled tunic and jerked a fresh one on, "Where's Miriam? Can you tell her that we're going to Nerat?"
Slow down. Eat. Nerath scolded, though her gently whirling eyes were calm and shone with an affectionate glow.
"I can eat when we get there," Tara impatiently replied, tying the front of her shirt hurriedly.
Miriam wishes us a safe journey,Nerath said by way of a reply.
Tara nodded absently. In a few rushed moments she had the fighting straps on her dragon and her flying gear on. She hopped up the dragon's out stretched forearm and settled between two of Nerath's immense neck ridges. Nerath took a few hopping steps to the ledge and then launched herself neatly from its edge, pausing for less time than it took Tara to inhale before spreading her pinions and pushing them up into the air with one powerful downstroke. Tara lost herself briefly in the dual sensations until she felt Nerath's query as to their destination.
She visualized the harbor at Nerat and was almost instantaneously enveloped by the deadly cold of Between. In an instant they hovered over the cold sea of Nerat's harbor. As they spiraled lazily down towards the Hold's great courtyard, Tara could just hear the shouts of excitement at their arrival. By the time Nerath's feet touched the ground, the Lord Holder and his family had gathered to greet their prestigious guest formally.
Lord Betan looked somewhat constipated. Tara surmised that he was only halfheartedly trying to conceal his irritation at being interrupted by the arrival of a dragon. There was a collective gasp from the assembled holder as a skinny journeyman harper dashed boldly and perhaps arrogantly up to the gigantic golden dragon. Tara leaped down from her perch and laughingly wrapped him in a powerful embrace.
"Lycus!" she said happily, "I've missed you."
"How are you? Shards! Nerath! You're huge!" he swore, peering up at the golden behemoth.
The dragon peered down at him implacably, her gorgeous multifaceted eye whirling slowly.
"She says that you have grown as well," Tara mimicked the dragon's disuse of contractions.
"Well, welcome to Nerat hold, Lady . . ." Lord Betan grumpily broke in.
Tara set her slight brother back on his feet and turned to the Lord Holder.
"I am Queen Rider Tara of Nerath, how fare your holdings Lord?" Tara formally replied.
"Well, Lady. They are at your disposal," he gruffly finished off the ritualized greetings and turned to leave. His Lady blushed at his rudeness, but Tara smiled widely at her.
"My regards to you, Lady, I don't wish to disturb anyone, I just came to visit my brother," the Queen rider said affably and flung an arm over her sibling's shoulders.
"Wow," he muttered, raising one of his fine musician's hands to appreciatively squeeze Tara's bicep, "Guess they've really put you to work up there, huh? You look good."
"So do you. It has been a long time," Tara incredulously replied. The Lady Holder bowed slightly and then followed her husband, recognizing that her journeyman harper had no need of her diplomatic presence. She smiled a little to herself as she walked away, silently pondering the possibilities of this newly discovered connection to Ista Weyr.
"Yeah, it has. So what's going on? How'd you manage to get permission to come here?"
"There's a mating flight going on," Tara sighed, "Khlara is going to be the next Weyr woman. I only hope that the bronze that wins Willenth will have a rider with some sense in his head."
"I take it you don't like the other Queen rider?"
"Not particularly. Maybe it's rivalry, but there's something about her that I just don't trust," the dragon rider shrugged and swiftly changed the topic, "So, are you going to show me around or what?"
Part 2
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