DragonForce Ch. 04

"But your wings are functional," N'rad stated, "so you aren't a human. The human genes can't be totally dominant."

"True," Darian agreed, smiling at the wingsecond and the Weyrwoman. "It seems that when a human male mates with an avion female, the offspring are essentially human. If there are wings, they're vestigial. When an avion male mates with a human female, the hatchlings are basically avions with some human characteristics superimposed."

"Then why," the Masterharper again asked, "do you consider your people doomed?"

"Because no matter how many generations of true avion matings follow an avion-human mix, we never seem to be able to restore any of the lost characteristics. We can compensate for some of the losses by strengthening other physical abilities, but we never recover them." He stopped speaking, releasing a heavy sigh. The subject seemed to be depressing him. "We've tried to educate both races about the problem and restrict the interbreeding, with some success. Still, mating is more instinctive with us, and when an avion falls in love with a human the restriction doesn't mean much."

"Once any avion line deteriorates to the point of losing its ability to fly," he summarized glumly, "it might as well be considered human. An avion without flight is an outcast, usually by both races. Societal outcasts have little chance of survival on Cygnus. Flightless outcasts have none." He turned his eyes downward, lifting a mug of klah and staring despondently into it.

The Masterharper and Eastern Weyrleader shared a concerned regard, sensing the isolation and bitterness in their guest. A small hand reached up to gently stroke his cheek. He inclined his head slightly, turning into the contact.

"Are your females egg-layers or live-bearers?" Oldive asked quietly.

Darian looked up blankly for a moment, then allowed a tired smile. "We're live bearers. The term hatchling is just a throwback. I really don't know if the ancient avions or any of our ancestors were egg-layers. I suppose it's possible." He turned his gaze to Selana, who looked back at him questioningly for a moment, then gave him a playful slap.

At the other side of the group of diners, the Benden leader tapped his Eastern counterpart. T'gellan pivoted in his seat. He found both F'lar and Lessa watching the Cygnan with deep curiosity. Following a long moment, the Benden Weyrleader spoke. "What do you plan to do now?"

"About what?" T'gellan inquired.

F'lar pursed his lips, a frown on his face. His eyes moved across the table to the alien, who was still involved with the Masterharper. The afternoon's display by the black dragon had been impressive, but it had also troubled him. "Darian and his dragon seem to be frustrated," F'lar began. "How do you plan to keep them involved? I don't think we have much hope of getting them back to wherever they came from."

T'gellan nodded his agreement. There were few options to choose from. "I'm going to ask them if they want to fight as independent members of this Weyr, at least while we're a wing down. They did a good job yesterday. I think they can handle it."

F'lar took a long draw on his mug then reached out to refill it. Such a plan might work. At the very least it would keep the Cygnans busy. There was enough Thread for all eight Weyrs at full strength. One more dragon and rider wouldn't tip the scales. On the other hand, the thought of the aggressive black flying anywhere he chose on Pern was not a comforting one. "That may work," Benden conceded, "but what if Astaroth decides he's hungry after a Fall? How do you plan to contain him?"

"I don't know," T'gellan confessed. "He's not a problem here since most of the surrounding country is wild. He can hunt just about anywhere he wants to."

"True enough. But what if he wants to hunt somewhere you don't want him to?"

The Eastern leader grimaced, a sardonic laugh escaping him. Looking directly into his counterpart's eyes, he revealed, "I don't think we could stop him if we wanted to."

"That is," F'lar admitted, "my appraisal of the situation." He lifted the mug of klah to his lips.

"For what it's worth," T'gellan added, "I think it less likely he'll get out of hand if we keep him busy. We can watch him a lot closer if he's fighting with us than sitting around the Weyr while we're globe-hopping. He seems to prefer wild game to herdbeasts, so that will probably protect domestic animals."

Benden grunted, ladling a spoonful of stew into his mouth. Beside him, Lessa voiced her concern. "That dragon worries me. I don't think even Darian can control him."

F'lar lifted an eyebrow, regarding his weyrmate. She could tell from his expression that he knew she had more to say.

"What really bothers me," she expounded, "is how our dragons react to him. Ramoth was absolutely delighted with his little demonstration."

"I've noticed that, too," T'gellan seconded. "Monarth is fascinated by Astaroth. He likes and respects him. But," he paused for emphasis, "I don't think he trusts him."

'Not in the least,' came the draconic confirmation.

F'lar swallowed his stew. Taking another gulp of klah, he nodded toward the avion. "Ask him. I'd like to hear his answer."

The Weyrleaders turned toward the Cygnan, who was still involved with the Masterharper. It took only a moment for the avion to sense he was being watched. His head snapped in the direction of the observers, his glare relaxing as he saw his host and the Benden leaders.

"You know we were highly impressed by you and Astaroth yesterday, don't you?" T'gellan asked. Darian nodded. The silence following his non-answer was rather awkward. The Weyrleader struggled for a suitable way to continue. "Look, Darian, we all know you want to go home, wherever home is. We just don't know how to help you." Again, he paused, and again the Cygnan simply nodded. "Well," the Weyrleader sighed, "at least I can offer you something to do. Would you and Astaroth be willing to join Eastern Weyr as a part of our fighting strength?"

The avion's head lifted. A gleam entered his eyes, and a quick smile crossed his face. His shoulders lifted and the wings flexed slightly. "I can't speak for Astaroth, although I'll ask him. As for me, I'd be honored to fight beside you and your dragon."

Selana squeezed his arm, beaming at him as he sent a silent query to his winged alter-ego. Even as the Weyrleader voiced appreciation of the partial reply, Darian had the black's answer. "Make that two of us," he grinned.

N'rad voiced a boisterous approval, reaching out to take the avion by the forearm. Darian returned the greeting firmly.

"Congratulations," Sebell smiled, "and welcome to Pern, dragonman!"

T'gellan looked at the Benden Weyrleader, suppressing his own feeling of satisfaction. F'lar wore his usual neutral expression, taking in all that happened and reacting to nothing. Whatever thoughts were hiding behind those golden eyes, they remained mute. Beside him, Lessa's disconcerting half-smile added to the Easterner's concern.

Small talk became the order of the day again, with individual conversations enveloping the Weyrleaders, Fandarel and Oldive, and the others. Only a short time elapsed before Darian rose from his seat. "With your permission, Weyrleader," he bowed to T'gellan, "I'd like to look in on Kelth and T'marek before the evening is out."

"By all means," T'gellan allowed.

The avion pivoted slightly, bowing deeply again. "Lord F'lar, Lady Lessa, a pleasant evening to you." The Benden leaders smiled amiably in return.

The Cygnan bade farewell to the others and turned to leave. Before he could reach the chamber entrance, a voice called after him. "Darian, wait. I'll go with you."

He didn't stop but he slowed his step, allowing Selana and Loki to overtake him. They walked silently.

The healer could see her companion turning within himself, a brooding sense of melancholy surrounding him. Not a word was said as they traversed the distance from council chamber to infirmary. Just before entering she reached out for his hand, stopping him. "What's wrong, Darian?" she said softly.

He stared at her as if looking through her to the rock wall beyond. The stalker stood on its hind legs, reaching with forepaws to near shoulder height, worried eyes speaking their voiceless concern. Darian's hand came up to scratch the tufted ears, and Loki dropped back to the floor. "I'm beginning to realize," he said, "that we may not be going home. However we got here, there's no guarantee it can be reversed." He averted his eyes, staring at the ground beneath his feet.

Selana stood quietly, not letting go of his hand. A gnawing sensation pulled at her stomach and she felt a strange tightness in her throat. She'd never seen the Cygnan this depressed. Almost apologetically, she asked, "Is that really all that bad?"

Darian raised his eyes to her face. The tenderness in her expression brought a thin smile to his lips. In a low voice, hinting at resigned humor but devoid of conviction, he admitted, "No, little one, I suppose it isn't."

She looked into that cryptic smile, not knowing if he was agreeing with or teasing her. His tone of voice left her confused and frustrated, unable to gauge his reaction. Despite his self-assurance, the easy confidence and professional skills he displayed, there was a strange vulnerability in him. She found the weakness fascinating and strangely alluring. With no reasonable action left to her, the healer followed her instincts. She stepped in close to the Cygnan, giving him a warm, affectionate hug.

Darian closed his arms around her, drawing the slender body against his. He sensed an odd warmth suffusing his entire being. His arms tightened, pulling her closer. He heard Loki's indulgent rumble. He pulled back slightly, looking down to catch her eyes. "Selana," he asked quietly, "may I taste you?"

The healer gazed back, her eyes narrowed. She tilted her head, confused by the question. A long moment passed before she replied. "I don't know. Will it hurt much?"

"Shouldn't hurt at all," he replied.

She responded with an uncertain sigh. "Alright, go ahead. But please be careful."

The avion chuckled, pulling the woman back into a tight embrace. Her eyes widened as she saw his lips open, the tops of the fangs becoming visible. She had only a moment to worry as his lips closed gently on hers.

Selana didn't see his wings fold forward and down, enveloping her. Her entire world condensed to two strong arms wrapped around her and tingling, warm lips pressed against her own. For a long moment he held her there, then pulled back. She gazed up into that same smile, but the glint in his eyes was subtly different. The avion released her hand and strode into the infirmary.

T'marek looked up as the Cygnan entered the dragon chamber. Kelth crooned a greeting, uttering a second as Selana followed. Darian walked to the brown, while the female moved to the rider.

"How are you feeling tonight?" she asked brightly.

"Bedder," the brownrider replied, watching the avion examine the forward edge of the injured wing. "Whad's he doim?" he asked the girl.

"I don't know," Selana admitted. "Let's ask him."

She looked up at the Cygnan, nodding acknowledgement of Kelth's curious gaze. There was no time to ask the question, however, as Darian turned to her.

"Tomorrow," he began, "or as soon as possible, let's get to work on this mainsail."

The wingsecond watched her indicate agreement before he spoke to the avion. "I wammed do thag you fow hewping uth befowe you weave."

Darian glared at the brownrider. His irritation quickly changed to an understanding chagrin. The rider and his dragon couldn't possibly understand the Cygnan's predicament. "Leave?" he repeated, "Where are we going?"

"Weaw, weaevah you came fwom."

The avion grinned down at T'marek. "We might do that, if we could figure out how we got here in the first place. But you're welcome, anyway."

The rider stared up at the healer, wide-eyed. With utter surprise ringing in his voice, he inquired, "You dom mow how you god heaw?"

Before the avion could answer, a confused dragon responded, 'I brought them.'

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Outside Eastern Weyr

(Late Night/Early Morning, August 19th / 20th)

"I don't know," he admitted. "The sky looks completely different here. We do a lot of night flying, and I don't recognize any of these stars."

The Cygnan stared into the early morning skies, pointing out a meteor tracing its blazing path across the heavens. Although the stars here were unfamiliar, they were every bit as beautiful as his memories of home, dotting the ebony firmament with a million twinkling spots of fire. The night air was brisk, with just enough sting to keep him alert to the world around him. His avion-sharp hearing recognized the calls of several flying creatures, though he couldn't rightly call them birds. There was also the snorting and grumbling of the herd beasts in the pens below and behind them.

Intermingled fragrances teased his nostrils. The late winter chill carried a heavy taste of evergreens, almost covering the gentle odor of grasses just below the tree line. He reveled in the myriad scents, losing himself in their perfume. At the moment, none was more intoxicating than the bouquet of soft hair and warm flesh beside him. He was finding the healer's presence increasingly uncomfortable.

"Do you have two moons?" she asked, gazing at the soft yellow light of the closer orb and the distant speck of the second. On this cloudless night, they combined to bathe the outer slope of the Weyr in an eerie golden glow.

"No, only one. And certainly nothing like that red star." His eyes registered on the eastern horizon, watching the crimson ball throb with its sinister luster. He saw the young woman shudder as her gaze fell on the evil planet.

"I'm sorry you're so lonely, Darian. It must be terrible being so far from home." She turned her full attention on him, satisfied that the lack of light would not allow him to see her curious regard. Those strange, elliptical eyes fascinated her, giving him an evil but irresistibly vulnerable appearance. He'd told them he was nearing twenty-five, but her instincts said that was an exaggeration. In the faint illumination of the twin moons, he looked young, strangely gentle, and intensely alluring. She remembered the intimidating fangs hidden beneath the tempting lips. With a shudder, the healer maintained the distance between them.

"Like you said, it's not that bad. We didn't have much going for us anyhow. Being a law enforcement team on Cygnus is like a delayed death sentence." He sighed quietly, lying back against the boulder behind him. Even allowing for Thread, Pern was safer than Cygnus. They were lost, confused and alone, but they were alive. Well, not quite alone. He looked down at the young woman, wondering if it was a trick of the moonlight, or if she was truly as lovely as she looked. He decided it had better be the former. The growing attraction he felt for her was unnerving. His night vision had clearly detected her admiring regard. He found it both amusing and flattering. He wondered if his fondness for the healer was mutual.

"Did you leave any one behind?" Selana asked. She turned away from him, not really sure she wanted an answer. Deep inside, her stomach danced uneasily, her ears burned. Despite the unreasoning fear, she needed to know.

His answer was a sardonic laugh. Absently, he picked up a pebble and tossed it, listening to the echoes as it bounced down the slope. The staccato clicks died away slowly. "No," he finally said, "not that I know of. I was told my mother died when I was born. My father didn't want anything to do with a hybrid, so he abandoned me. I grew up wild."

"All by yourself? Didn't anyone take care of you while you were a baby?"

Darian shook his head grimly. If he read her correctly, Pernese infants must be as helpless as the furless human whelps he had grown to despise on Cygnus. It struck him as strange that such incredibly vulnerable creatures could grow into equally destructive adults. Of course, wild avions weren't a lot better, just less organized. "We don't need a lot of care," he told her. "Avion hatchlings are self-sufficient in less than three months. As long as we avoid dentists."

The healer chuckled. She could imagine what a toothache in one of those fangs would be like. Considering their size and positioning, it would be difficult for the avion to eat at all. If it were bad enough, she supposed, the creature might face starvation.

A fresh gust of wind moaned through the timber below, surging across the Weyr crest with an unpleasant sharpness. Selana shuddered, pulling her knees against her and wrapping her arms tightly about them. A wisp of vapor floated from her lips, the condensed breath wafting away in a ghostly pattern. Despite the invigorating chill, she couldn't resist a protracted yawn.

The Cygnan moved silently closer. His arm slid around her shoulders, easing her against him. She started slightly as his wing folded forward, deflecting the freshening breeze. Any desire to flee melted in the warmth of his chest and arm. A gentle sigh sounded as she burrowed into his embrace, indulging herself in the sense of comfort and security. Her eyes closed contentedly.

Darian listened to the sloughing of the wind, the distant crash of the cataract running down the eastern slope, the rhythmic breathing of the healer. He knew she was cold, even though his nearly useless fur was sufficient to protect him in the mild Pernese weather. The shimmering starlight sparkled off his wings, dimly revealing the surrounding outcropping of rock.

How long they sat there, silently watching the sky, he wasn't sure. It finally occurred to him that one moon had set and the other was low on the horizon. They needed to go back inside and get some rest. "Selana," he said quietly, "we need to head back."

There was no response from the girl, only her gentle breathing and the steady thump of her heart against his ribs. He released a long sigh, inclining his head slightly to kiss her hair. The enveloping wing and arm tightened, drawing her into his protective embrace. He caressed the top of her head with his cheek. Although he needed some rest of his own, he was unwilling to disturb the innocent girl's repose. "Sleep well, little one," he whispered. "I'm not going to eat you."

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Eastern Weyr

(Next day, August 20th)

Darian was laughing hard. Weyrleader and wingsecond watched, unsure of what to expect. The avion got himself under control, gasping a question. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Totally," T'gellan assured him, looking up at the annoyed black sitting in the sand. Astaroth's eyes were fixed on his teammate. If it was possible, the dragon was frowning.

"Oh, Astaroth is going to love this," the Cygnan chuckled.

T'gellan and N'rad exchanged glances while the information was relayed to the black. They watched the head pivot to face them, continuing to its left, lifting to where the flashing eyes could see Monarth on the ledge of his Weyr. Slowly, the neck reversed directions, bringing the imposing gaze back to the Cygnan.

Darian listened and then laughed again. "He says why not? It beats staying here."

Both riders smiled, nodding their agreement to the black. T'gellan was beginning to wonder what he'd gotten himself into. N'rad had little doubt.

"How do you suggest we do this?" Darian asked, still grinning.

"Probably best after we're airborne," the Weyrleader replied. Considering that Astaroth was perfectly capable of flying, it was pointless to ask Monarth to carry him from the ground. He looked above him to see the huge bronze already gliding in for a landing. Overhead, eight wings of dragons hovered, waiting for their Weyrleader to join them. "We better get going."