DragonForce Ch. 05

The distraught avion hadn't gone far. Just outside the main entrance to the building, they found him sitting on a large boulder. Another shock awaited them. Perched on Darian's shoulder, crooning pitifully, was a bronze firelizard. The avion's finger was rubbing the eye ridge absent-mindedly. He seemed unaware of the tiny dragonet. The four men watched for a few minutes before T'gellan spoke.

"Are you alright?"

The question broke Darian's lethargy. He looked up. Instantly, the little bronze was gone. The Cygnan's head spun to his right, the eyes wide. "What was that?"

F'nor gazed down at him, forehead wrinkled with concern. "That was a firelizard," the brownrider answered. "Did you even know it was there?"

Darian looked back through unfocused eyes. The question was meaningless to him. "What?" he replied in a near whisper.

"The firelizard," F'nor repeated. "Did you know he was there?"

"What firelizard?"

The Benden wingsecond glanced at his fellow brownrider, a worried shadow in his eyes. Simultaneously, all three men called for their dragons. The bronze was less than a hundred yards away, but both Canth and Ledeth arrived as quickly.

"What's wrong with him?" N'rad asked his Weyrleader.

"I don't know," T'gellan replied, a concerned frown on his face. He looked at the Masterharper.

"He may be in shock," Sebell said. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."

The bronzerider shook his head. For one of the few times, he disagreed with the Masterharper. "No, Master Sebell. Sooner or later, we would have had to show him. I don't think it makes any difference."

T'gellan knelt, waving his hand in front of the crystalline eyes. He saw no reaction. "N'rad, get back to the Weyr. Take the Masterharper. Warn Selana and Betrella to be ready when we get there. F'nor, help me get him on Monarth."

Weyrleader and wingsecond lifted the Cygnan to his feet. He looked at them blankly, his body limp. They virtually dragged him toward the bronze. Long before they could lift him onto the lowered neck, Ledeth had blinked between.

T'gellan tied the avion into Monarth's fighting straps then jumped up behind him on the broad neck. He looked down from his perch to the anxious brownrider. "Would you go back to Benden? Tell F'lar and Lessa what happened. If they want to come, I'll be glad to have them. You, too. Bring Brekke if she wants to come."

"On my way," the wingsecond answered. He had barely moved ten feet when Monarth launched himself. Before they cleared the treetops, T'gellan told the bronze, "Take us home."

The cold of between brought Darian out of his trance. They erupted into deep twilight, the last rays of a setting sun golden on the western horizon. Monarth departed from his usual circling approach, instead taking a fast glide directly toward the lower cavern mouth. Below them, a sizeable group of people waited, including four riders with a litter. Among the knot of men, two women were visible, faces turned upward.

The bronze hadn't settled when they broke toward him at a run. Darian turned on the Weyrleader with an uncomprehending stare. "What's this all about?" he asked.

"You feel better?" T'gellan returned.

"I'm fine," he retorted, noticing that the bronzerider's arms were locked around his waist in a tight grip. "Let me down."

"Stay where you are," the Easterner commanded. "We'll get you down in a minute."

N'rad, M'kel and R'kar were waiting when T'gellan lifted the Cygnan clear of Monarth's neck. He spread his wings, easing his descent to the sand and taking his weight off the riders supporting him. He had just touched the Weyr floor when Selana burst through the circle, reaching out to take his arm. She said nothing but deftly turned him toward the litter just in front of them. The realization that the stretcher was for him got a strong reaction from the avion. He pushed everyone, Selena included, away from him. His wings spread open and he emitted an angry hiss. "By the Fires," he demanded, "what is this?"

The Weyrleader jumped from his dragon's foreleg, stepping forward. His stern expression more than matched Darian's anger. The two locked eyes in an uncompromising confrontation.

Watching the stand-off, the Masterharper discreetly bade the others to leave. He had N'rad and R'kar wait at the cavern entrance while he asked Betrella to prepare wine and klah for the council room. The weyrfolk followed the instructions without hesitation.

Gradually, Darian became aware that he and the Weyrleader were alone, excepting the bronze dragon. As his anger subsided, he saw T'gellan's expression soften. He also realized that he was being watched.

'You need help?'

The question brought a humorless smile to his lips. Even this far from home, he wasn't alone. "No," he answered aloud, "I'm alright."

T'gellan was startled by the statement. His head turned, his gaze resting on the flaming red eyes watching from the Weyr ledge. A chill ran through him.

"Don't worry," Darian assured him. "He isn't going to attack. Neither am I."

The bronzerider turned back, seeing the more accustomed smile on the Cygnan's face. He began to relax.

"Now," the avion insisted, "what was that all about?"

"I think you were in shock," T'gellan explained. "You just disappeared from the records room. When we found you, you wouldn't speak or move. We didn't know what to expect when we got you back, so we wanted to be ready. No one meant to insult you."

Darian mulled over the statement. He didn't like the possibility that he hadn't been in control of himself but he couldn't remember much after seeing the pictures in that book. His one vivid recollection was the bitter cold of another trip between. "Well, I'm sorry if I caused a problem."

The Weyrleader nodded. He reached out to grasp the winged one's shoulder. "No problem, friend, so long as you're alright."

Darian nodded, still a bit fuzzy. He shivered, once more feeling that numbing chill deep in his bones. He fastened the collar on his vest. The act was not unnoticed.

"Are you hungry?"

Another memory snapped into place. That strange bird-like animal he'd had for lunch. It hadn't been overly large, but he was still full. He wasn't hungry, just cold and thirsty. "No. I had a good lunch. I am rather dry, though."

"Good," T'gellan smiled. "There's plenty of hot klah inside. Let's go warm up."

Sebell watched the two men move toward the cave entrance. He nodded to R'kar, who moved off.

The healer gazed up at him uncertainly. "He doesn't want me around, Master Sebell," she declared. "What do you want me to do?"

"Why do you say that? I thought he was rather fond of you."

Selana's lips curled into a pout. She shrugged. "I don't know. He's been so strange, like he doesn't trust me or he's afraid of me. I feel like I'm intruding anytime I'm near him, even when we're working together. I just don't think he likes me."

The harper smiled down at her. He couldn't quite judge her emotions, but it was clear that a great deal more than a sense of rejection was bothering her. Nonetheless, it might be wise to keep her available. "Stay with us, Selana. We may need you." He squeezed her hand, evoking a self-conscious smile. She nodded agreement.

Klah had been poured and a platter of meatrolls and breads set out when the riders filed into the council room. No particular order was observed, T'gellan and Darian slipping into the first chairs they reached. N'rad and R'kar joined them, Betrella and Selana staying close at hand. At a wave from the Weyrleader, they took seats. The last person to place himself was the Masterharper, quietly occupying the perch to the avion's left.

Darian downed a cup of the thick beverage. The Weyrleader candidly disclosed his recent discomfort at finding himself the less than cordial object of Astaroth's attention. Conversation centered around the black's role in the law enforcement team and lack of tolerance for aggressive behavior. Everyone chuckled at the irony of the irascible dragon being offended by similar behavior in other species.

A discussion of dragon habits and both the obvious and subtle differences in the black and his Pernese fellows ensued. As the evening wore on, it became ever more apparent that the beasts might be kindred spirits in goal and intent, but not in nature and methodology.

After yet another mug of klah had been drained, the Masterharper momentarily changed the subject. "Lord T'gellan, would it be possible to get some wine, please?"

The bronzerider nodded. He glanced toward Betrella, who dutifully rose and left the chamber. "I believe, Master Sebell, that you know what arrives here before I do. Reminds me of Master Robinton."

"Neither fog, fall nor fire," boomed the rich baritone, mimicking his revered predecessor, "shall stay me in the pursuit of Benden Wine!"

Hearty laughter echoed across the room. Darian found himself smiling at the harper's good humor. Within minutes, the clinking of glass signaled the arrival of the wine. "Ah," the Masterharper declared, "the nectar of dreams, sweet as the morning mist, kissed by a dragon's tears!"

T'gellan watched a hand from behind the chairs place a goblet in front of Sebell. The fingers were strong and weathered, and the wrist extended from a wher-hide riding jacket. "A pleasure to serve you," a cheerful, masculine voice avowed.

Sebell pivoted in his seat, finding the Benden Weyrleader poised behind him. To either side of the dragonman, Lessa, F'nor and Brekke smiled at him. "Good evening, Benden," the Masterharper smiled, offering a respectful bow of his head. "Darian was just regaling us with stories about the mating habits of Cygnan dragons."

Darian waited for the Benden couples to take seats before continuing his narrative. He observed with interest that Brekke did not sit with her weyrmate, opting instead to circle the table and sit with her fellow weyrhealer.

"They really don't have any," he reflected. "Females only clutch about once every seventy-five years, and there are usually more males than females, so they don't get many opportunities."

"Every seventy-five turns!" N'rad exclaimed. "It's a wonder they aren't extinct by now. You must not have very many of them."

"We have enough. The females lay five to ten eggs at a time. Usually, they all hatch. So there are plenty enough dragons to go around."

R'kar had an amused grin on his face and a devious glint in his eyes. He nudged N'rad and asked quietly, "Could you imagine T'marek going seventy-five turns without a female?"

The brownrider erupted into laughter. R'kar was turning bright red as well. Curious eyes fixed on the two riders. Their Weyrleader glared at them, displeased by the lack of restraint on the part of two of his senior dragonmen.

He looked at Darian questioningly. "What's that all about?"

"Not sure," the Cygnan responded, staring at the guffawing pair. "Something about T'marek."

"Oh, shells!" Thinking about the last few seconds of conversation, the bronzerider began to chuckle himself. He noticed that Lessa, who seemed able to hear anything spoken on Pern, was grinning, her cheeks flushed.

The wingsecond coughed a bit, gasping for air then looked sheepishly at his Weyrleader. "Sorry, T'gellan," he managed.

Eastern shook his head, lips pursed in a show of disapproval he really didn't feel. After all, the observation was valid. When rider and dragon finally healed, he should consider some appropriate permanent assignment. Like making topographical drawings of the ocean. T'gellan looked at F'lar. Amiably, he asked, "Can Benden use a couple of extra wing-seconds?"

"No, thank you!" came the firm reply. The Benden leader's amber eyes twinkled as he added an afterthought. "Unless, of course, you want one of my meddling brownriders in exchange." Both T'gellan and Lessa joined the bronzerider in a hearty laugh. F'nor responded with an appropriate expletive.

"I am curious," Sebell interrupted, "as to why Astaroth didn't take part in the mating flight. Don't Pernese queens interest him?"

"I don't think they do," Darian observed. "As best I remember, he's only mated once or twice in his life."

'Three times,' he was immediately corrected.

"Three times. At any rate, he doesn't seem to have much of any sex drive."

'Who needs it? Females are unmanageable.'

Darian bit his lip to keep from laughing then relayed the message. T'gellan and F'lar exchanged glances, neither daring to show their reaction. Unfortunately, the Masterharper intervened on the side of the dragon.

"How astute," he commented, "and he's not even Pernese."

T'gellan and R'kar started laughing. F'lar was about to join them when a withering glare stopped him. "I didn't do anything," he protested.

"You were thinking it," the Weyrwoman accused.

Betrella gave a loud 'humph'. Her disapproving regard locked firmly on the Cygnan. "Your dragon," she scolded, "has a serious lack of manners!"

Darian gave her an open and ingratiating smile. "On that, dear lady, we are in total agreement."

The admission defused the Headwoman's ire. Muttering something about all dragonmen being the same no matter where they came from, she circled the table freshening wine goblets. Over the next hours, several flasks of the magic elixir disappeared.

T'gellan watched with quiet satisfaction as the Masterharper carefully plied the avion with the burgundy spirits. A few others were having more than their share as well. He might have been irritated under normal conditions, but this was as good a time as any to let his people unwind.

"How far did it say that planet was?" R'kar inquired.

"Two hundred and eight point something or other light years," Darian answered, lifting his glass in salute.

F'nor toasted him. "Like I said, just next door!"

R'kar and N'rad guffawed as the Benden Weyrleaders gave their wingsecond a startled look. Lessa glanced meaningfully at her mate, wondering if the brownrider had passed his limit. He seemed to be having an excessively good time.

Darian brought his empty glass back to the table and announced, "I think I'll just walk back." He stared at his feet, adding, "As soon as I can walk again."

"Might as well," R'kar agreed. "Sure can't fly."

"Sure can't swim," Sebell added, refilling his glass and the Cygnan's. They drained the goblets.

"That's for sure," Darian agreed, offering his glass for charging.

"Why not?" N'rad demanded.

The Masterharper was about to explain the lack of air and water in space when the avion gave a simpler answer.

"Never learned."

The Eastern wingsecond slipped out of his chair, giggling. R'kar looked down with a surprised frown then decided the sight wasn't all that unusual. Shrugging, he emptied his glass and reached for the flask. "Well," he said brightly, "at least today's trip proves you aren't Pernese." He lifted his partially refilled glass to the Cygnan.

Darian swayed slightly in his chair, frowning. His eyes tried to focus on the wingleader but didn't quite make it. "Maybe so," he replied, "but it looks like I are now!"

The Easterners started to laugh, but their Benden counterparts didn't find the comments quite so humorous. "There's nothing wrong with being Pernese," Lessa said sharply.

"`specially if you're from Pern!" Sebell agreed. The Masterharper began to sing, a rather bawdy tune about Pern and dragons and dragonriders. F'nor and R'kar joined in immediately. The trio was soon reinforced by a shaky fourth voice from under the table. The Benden Weyrwoman scowled her disapproval at her mate, who was grinning unabashedly.

Darian listened for a verse and a chorus then opened his mouth. What came out was not a voice, but a beautiful trilling whistle. Badly off key, but beautiful.

T'gellan lifted an eyebrow, regarding Sebell with a dubious grimace as the concert went on. The ditty ended with a raucous cheer and another round of wine.

"Well sung, harper," F'lar allowed, drawing an incredulous laugh from Lessa. Her dark eyes flashed a mixture of irritation and amusement.

"Only the best for Benden!" Sebell decreed. He was about to offer a toast when he was interrupted.

A clear tenor tone filled the chamber, warbling a chilling minor key with unknown lyrics. The eerie song reached within them, touching their hearts and souls with an unspeakable longing and melancholy. Crystalline skies, azure waters, sweet-smelling winds and a distant home forever lost came to life in the heart-rending melody.

Sebell turned awe-struck eyes on the avion. The emotional magnitude of the ballad was overwhelming. The brilliant minor key and tonal clarity were incredible.

The solo ended on a haunting, discordant note. No one spoke. Even their breathing was still, as though the slightest sound might shatter some delicate balance.

Translucent blue eyes turned a cloudy grey, the head inclined, the wings drooped. In a defeated voice, the Cygnan confessed his deepest fear. "We're never going home again, are we?"

T'gellan sat quietly, searching for words that would comfort his friend. He could think of none. The task seemed hopeless. A firm hand on his shoulder urged him slightly to his right. He turned to see the creased brow and worried frown of the Benden Weyrleader. F'lar glanced toward the avion, then back at the bronzerider, silently asking permission to speak. T'gellan nodded.

"You got here, so there has to be a way back. If we can find it, we'll get you home."

There was no reaction. Darian stared at his intertwined fingers. He gave no indication he had heard the Weyrleader. After a long minute and a resigned sigh, he shook his head. "I doubt it, F'lar. You still don't know how we got here."

A shuddering sob sounded from across the table. The Weyrleaders sought out the source. Slumped back in her seat, they found the healer trying to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. She struggled to her feet, about to move for the chamber entrance.

The Weyrleader's stern tone stopped her. "What's wrong, Selana?"

The young woman didn't answer. She stared at her feet, her body shuddering.

T'gellan repeated his question. "Selana, what is wrong?"

Swallowing the huge lump in her throat, she managed a strangled whisper. "I'm sorry, Darian. I'm so sorry."

"About what?" the avion asked bitterly.

A wracking sob convulsed her. She turned to face the Cygnan, unable to disguise the desperation and fear in her eyes. Fighting to control her voice, she revealed, "We do know."

Everyone in the room stared at her. An oppressive silence resulted. For a long moment, the only motion was the slow curling of Darian's upper lip. When it stopped moving, his fangs were fully exposed.

T'gellan saw the Cygnan tensing. It took only an instant to realize what was happening, but that was an instant too long. With a hideous shriek, Darian launched himself at the healer. Selana screamed and jumped backwards.

His left arm swept down in a vicious raking motion, accented by the snap of his closing jaws. Fortunately, the inebriated avion had mistimed his strike, crashing to the cavern floor at the healer's feet. Before he could turn, the Weyrleader landed on top of him.

Darian lifted hard, throwing the bronzerider off his back. He turned resolutely on the terrified woman, to be bowled over by an airborne feline. Loki screamed a warning as he catapulted at his teamleader. The cat's head impacted squarely on the avion's shoulder, driving him back to the floor and sending both tumbling.

T'gellan reached for the incensed alien, pulling his hand back just in time to avoid the slashing fangs. As he recoiled, yet another body hurtled past, slamming into Darian with a bone jarring crunch. F'lar forced the fanged fury backward, trying to pin him to the ground. He quickly lost his grip as two slender, muscular arms drove his up. The resounding cuff that followed drove the Benden Weyrleader across the table and into the advancing Eastern wingleader. Both men slammed into the wall.