DragonStorm Ch. 01

"Then what do you suggest?" M'tarl asked, leaning forward. The Telgar Weyrleader was deeply interested, since the pattern of raiding would put the next incursions within his area of responsibility.

"I think we could put out sweep riders. It would be excellent practice for the weyrlings and newer wingriders. They could use the time to familiarize themselves with their areas and strengthen their knowledge of reference points."

"I strongly suggest," T'gellan interjected, "that you send riders out in twos. Don't let them fly alone."

"Why do you say that?" Telgar requested.

"It serves two purposes. First, there's safety in numbers. Second, if the riders see something, one can shadow while the other reports the sighting to the nearest holder."

G'dened allowed himself a chuckle. "Sounds like you have some experience."

Eastern nodded. "I do. We've been flying sweeps since Cove."

N'ton cleared his throat, drawing the council's regard. "The raid at Paradise River apparently made Southern too hot for this latest group of renegades, if they are the same group. Between Lord Jayge's and Lord Toric's people, the raids have been stopped. The latest, at Ista and Big Bay, make me think the raiders are traveling by boat. Most likely, they'll show up next in either Igen or Telgar territory. Outside chance of Fort or Benden country. At any rate, I plan to start flying sweeps tomorrow. Who else is going to?"

A few nervous coughs were heard. Again, the dragonmen looked at each other. It seemed yet another tradition was about to die. If dragonriders started flying defensive patrols or intervening directly in behalf of the holds, the customary autonomy between the holders and weyrfolk would become further blurred. Although Eastern had said he was already taking such action, the northern Weyrleaders were reluctant.

"My friends," T'gellan said quietly, "I understand your concerns. This isn't a minor action we're discussing. No matter what you decide, please don't let yourselves or your riders be taken off-guard. It happened to me once. It won't happen again."

Silence filled the chamber, broken only by the nervous shifting of bodies in chairs and the shuffling of boots on the chamber floor. The first answer came from an unexpected direction.

"Okay, N'ton. Igen starts sweeps tomorrow," G'narish stated. Ista and Telgar quickly followed suit.

N'ton turned a curious gaze on Benden, who sat quietly. F'lar looked up, locking eyes with his Fortian counterpart. He nodded.

"Count us in," added T'bor. The High Reaches leader was not one for long discussions. Action was more suited to his temperament. Problems with raiders had long rankled him.

That left only Southern. K'van swallowed as he felt the gaze of his fellow bronzeriders lock on him. "Southern started sweeps the day after Paradise River," he explained.

N'ton shook his head. "I should have known," he muttered. "Very well then. That about takes care of it. Does anyone have anything they want to add?"

There were a few mumbles of denial, but mostly a sober quiet. The Fort leader rose. "Then, thank you for coming. I wish you safe flying."

Igen and High Reaches left quickly. M'tarl pulled F'lar to one side, asking questions about Benden Weyr's patrol patterns during the period just before the Pass had begun. Fort, Ista and Southern gathered around a dejected Eastern Weyrleader.

"How's Trelka?" N'ton asked.

"Better," T'gellan replied, staring at his folded hands. "She's still blaming herself, though."

G'dened cursed under his breath. Fort and Southern looked up as he shook his head angrily. "Shells, man," the Istan complained, "that wasn't her fault. Everyone on Pern would have wanted to defend Cove."

"I know," Eastern agreed, "but I can't make her see it. Mirrim's just as upset. More than a month." His words trailed off, eyes losing their focus. Conversation abated momentarily.

K'van stepped aside to make room for Benden and Telgar. F'lar walked to his Eastern counterpart, taking the chair next to him. The motion brought T'gellan's attention back to the present.

"Has she taken a new weyrmate?" the Bendenite asked.

T'gellan swallowed. "Yes," he answered, biting his lip. "I forced the issue. I can't afford to have my senior queen dragging around. I need her alert and effective."

F'lar reached out, taking his junior by the shoulder. The tragedy had strengthened their relationship, already stronger than any bond except that between Benden and Fort. F'lar knew the meaning of loss, the bitterness of hindsight. He felt deeply and poignantly his friend's bereavement.

"Who did you choose?" N'ton asked.

A frown crossed T'gellan's face. He looked at his riding boots, avoiding the gaze fixed on him by his comrades. If nothing else, the situation was allowing him to cement his Weyr's future. "M'kel," he sighed.

F'lar nodded. He knew the young bronzerider's reputation. A gutsy, effective fighter with a penchant for getting the job done with a minimum of casualties. Despite his age, M'kel was an excellent choice for a future Weyrleader. Further, his dragon, Zarth, was the offspring of Mnementh and Ramoth. He was second in size and speed only to Mnementh. "Is there any particular significance to that choice?" he prodded.

T'gellan grinned ruefully. "Of course. Trelka likes M'kel, Regalth likes Zarth. Besides, I'm not sure Monarth can outfly him the next time she rises." An irate bugle from the weyrledge got a good laugh from the remaining bronzeriders.

"I don't think Monarth liked that," K'van grinned.

"Sorry, big guy," the Easterner smiled, "but it's true. Maybe we're both getting old."

"Now, just a minute!" F'lar grumped. "If you're old, I'm ancient!"

"Relax, F'lar," G'dened grinned, "After all, I'm four hundred and thirty-seven!"

The slightly strained laughter died quickly. K'van reached across the table to grip T'gellan's arm, then excused himself. M'tarl followed. As they disappeared down the tunnel, the Eastern leader addressed the three remaining bronzeriders. "I picked S'sil as my new wingsecond. He's young, but dependable. I trust him."

"Has Regalth upset the other dragons?" N'ton inquired.

T'gellan shook his head. "She did for a while, but that was because Trelka was so disturbed. M'kel's done a nice job of getting Trelka's mind back together. Between him, Zarth and Monarth, Regalth is coming around. Besides, Trelka has Natrel to think about."

The Eastern Weyrleader glanced up, concern over another of his former wingseconds tinting his thoughts. He remembered the close relationship N'rad had enjoyed with another brownrider, now assigned to Ista. "How's T'marek doing?"

"He's alright," G'dened reassured him. "He took it hard. He's still pretty angry at me."

F'lar arched an eyebrow. The reference to animosity between a Weyrleader and a wingsecond concerned him. "If I might ask," he queried, "why is that?"

"I denied his request to transfer back to Eastern."

Benden furrowed his brow. A request for transfer was an unusual occurrence, particularly back to a Weyr a rider had been previously assigned to. Under the circumstances, knowing T'marek's attachment to the young wingsecond and his tendency toward precipitous action, it seemed a wise decision. "It strikes me as the proper choice. He'll be better off for it."

"It was the proper choice," T'gellan affirmed. "I had enough to do without having to ride herd on T'marek and Kelth. My wingriders were ready to tear the continent apart."

The aftermath had been a difficult time for Eastern. Trelka's anguish deeply affected Regalth, who passed her distress to the other dragons. Mirrim and Path had been alternately despondent and furious, all but uncontrollable in either case. Only the training and discipline of his wingleaders, especially M'kel, T'sarl and C'nol, had prevented a debacle.

"Your people didn't really flame the attackers, did they?" Ista asked. The rumors that had spread after the incident had grown wilder with time. Today's meeting was the first chance to hear an account firsthand. N'ton shot him a look of near contempt. Eastern's Weyrleader found the question less distasteful.

"No," he responded, "of course not. But it was close."

"I wasn't aware of that," F'lar admitted. "What happened?"

"Everything went wrong from the start. Mirrim said her firelizards got the first report of trouble, their normal confused images, but more intense. When she identified Cove, I sent a dragon to take a look. When he reported back, Path relayed the message to Mirrim. Before I could do anything, she took off. Trelka followed her."

He paused, drawing a deep breath. The thin line of his lips and the strain in his voice made his discomfort acutely readable. "It took a minute to get the wings together. M'kel, T'sarl and V'nil were right behind me. But N'rad charged after Regalth. He didn't wait for the rest of the Weyr. As soon as we were formed, I took my wing between. By the time we got there, Ledeth was already diving at some of the raiders. Most of them just scattered, but at least one got a shot off." He stopped again, staring at the table. When he continued, his voice was little more than a whisper. "One was enough."

F'lar sighed, grimacing as his eyes met N'ton's. The Fort leader shook his head, biting at his lip. G'dened, too, felt the knot in his stomach. The death of riders and dragons was an unpleasant reality, felt most keenly by the Weyrleaders. No matter how often it happened, they never numbed to the pain. "Then what?"

"There wasn't enough time to tell the Weyr what was happening. One of the weyrlings must have decided that normal instructions just hadn't been given out in the confusion. I guess with all the dragons charging off, he thought there was an unexpected Threadfall. Next thing I knew, two or three weyrlings showed up with firestone sacks."

"Didn't you have time to stop them?" N'ton inquired.

"I should have, but I didn't. When N'rad went down, my wingriders went thready. I had all I could do to keep them from attacking outright. As best I remember, S'sil was the only rider trying to help." He thought about that, shaking his head. "No, that's not fair. There had to be others."

"Who gave the order to chew firestone?"

"I don't know. Maybe nobody. I remember seeing Regalth and Path hovering together. That's when I realized Path was chewing. As soon as the others saw it, they were all at it. By that time, all the wingleaders were available and no one actually attacked anybody."

G'dened smiled grimly. "That must have been quite a sight," he said. Knowing the typical holder's fear of dragons, the image of the huge beasts chewing firestone must have been blood curdling. "I suppose it was effective?"

"Oh yeah," T'gellan allowed. "The raiders took off like startled wherries. But they'd had plenty enough time. The hold was heavily damaged, one of the harpers was dead, and several of the hold helpers injured." The Weyrleader ended his review, sinking back in his seat. He stared sightlessly at the far wall, lost in his thoughts. Silence filled the chamber.

F'lar watched his former wingleader closely. He could see the distress in the man, but that was normal under such conditions. What concerned him was the inference that he wasn't interested in Regalth's next mating flight. Having assigned Zarth's rider as Trelka's weyrmate was more disturbing. The conclusion was obvious. "Are you planning to step down as Weyrleader?" he asked softly.

"No," T'gellan mumbled. Minutes passed as his comrades waited. Their silent support was all they could offer. Without warning, he shot to his feet, his fist crashing down on the table. "For the first time in eight turns," he shouted, "I wasn't in control, and I got my wingsecond killed!" The bronzerider spun from the table, stalking toward the chamber entrance. From outside, Monarth's outraged bellow was deafening.

F'lar leapt to his feet, followed by N'ton. The Benden Weyrleader's voice rang out harshly. "T'gellan, stop!"

Conditioned by many turns of training at Benden, the Easterner froze. By the time he remembered that F'lar was no longer his Weyrleader, the anger had left him. His shoulders sagged. Reluctantly, he turned to face the others. His eyes locked on the Bendenite's sympathetic but uncompromising stare.

"Sit down," F'lar ordered. As the Easterner complied, he walked toward him. A strong hand extended, placing a firm grip on T'gellan's shoulder. The older rider slowly dropped into a crouch beside him.

"None of us," he said quietly, "is in control every time. We all encounter situations that are beyond us, and we all have riders who act before they think. I have D'pol, N'ton has K'trin, G'dened has T'marek. More to the point, I have Lessa, G'dened has Elysina, and you have Mirrim. The only difference between you and me is that, so far, I've been lucky. I haven't had to deal with having a rider act without thinking during a situation I couldn't control. That's what happened to you and N'rad. It doesn't make you a weak Weyrleader. To the contrary, it's a credit to you and Eastern that your people have the intensity and initiative to act under such circumstances." He paused, looking to ensure the younger man was listening. "What's more, if it hadn't been you, it would have been me."

T'gellan looked up sharply. He didn't get the opportunity to pursue the subject. A feminine voice from the entrance demanded to know if everyone was alright. All four Weyrleaders turned to find a tall brunette looking at them. She slid her gaze across the room, finally stopping at N'ton.

"We're fine, Deena," he assured her. "But we could use some more wine. Would you get some, please?"

Fort's senior queenrider, N'ton's Weyrwoman, pursed her lips, trying to gauge the situation. Without speaking further, she moved to the service shaft.

Attention returned to Benden. More than the others, T'gellan wanted to know the meaning behind his senior's cryptic comment. "What do you mean, it would have been you?"

"Brekke's firelizards picked up the trouble at Cove, probably about the same time as Mirrim's," he explained. "She already had her flying gear on and was calling for F'nor and Canth when she picked up Regalth's and Path's calls. If Trelka and Mirrim hadn't reacted, Brekke would have gone to Cove on Canth. I would have been in exactly the same situation had it been F'nor or Brekke who took that arrow."

T'gellan stared at him, trying to digest the information. He'd wondered why Mnementh, Ramoth and Canth had arrived so quickly at Cove. Not that he resented their appearance. Lessa and Brekke had been vital in calming the distraught queenrider. Ramoth's presence had kept Regalth in check. Nothing, he recalled painfully, could help Ledeth. The moment N'rad had died, fingers locked on his Weyrleader's jacket, the brown had disappeared. Not, though, before ensuring that his queen was safe.

"Circumstances and a crossbow killed N'rad," F'lar comforted him, "not your lack of control. I couldn't have done any better."

T'gellan searched the Bendenite's piercing amber eyes. The regret in F'lar's expression made it clear the words were in earnest. Slowly, T'gellan's arm eased up, his hand gripping F'lar's wrist. He exhaled in a protracted sigh, nodding his understanding. "I still think it could have been prevented," he mumbled.

"You always will," F'lar agreed. "I know."

The Fort Weyrleader stood erect, just in time to accept a flask of wine from the returning Weyrwoman. She had already laid a tray of glasses on the table. "Thank you, Deena. We can use this."

N'ton smiled at his weyrmate as she looked at him. In response to her unspoken question, he indicated a seat. Fort's Weyrwoman sat down quietly. The bronzerider poured the wine, serving Deena and his fellows. F'lar and G'dened took seats next to the Eastern Weyrleader.

"I hear Darian showed up a while ago," N'ton inquired.

The Istan nodded. "Yeah, about a seven-day ago. Still don't know where he was or what he was up to. He's not talking."

T'gellan's harsh laugh drew their attention. He met G'dened's questioning gaze with a sadistic smile. "I can give you good odds."

G'dened's eyes narrowed. "How's that?"

"I had at least three sightings by sweep riders who swore they'd seen both Darian and Astaroth. But nobody could get close enough to make a definite identification. I even asked Lord Jaxom to bring Ruth down. Ruth said he could hear Astaroth, but the black wouldn't answer."

"What makes you so certain it was Astaroth?" N'ton asked.

T'gellan peered at him fixedly then averted his eyes. He inhaled deeply, releasing his breath in a low whistle. "About a seven-day after Cove, we started getting strange reports from the minor holds along the main route between Cove and Paradise River. That was about the time my riders started reporting sightings of Astaroth. The raiding stopped at about the same time.

"At first, we thought maybe our intervention had scared them off. Then, bodies started turning up here and there. I saw two of them. They were so badly burned it was hard to tell they were human." He paused for a moment, taking a sip from his glass. "I thought it was just coincidental, until one of the holder's gave me a really disturbing report. Seems he was taking a supply train between holds. Said he saw a dragon flying overhead. They thought it was one of ours or Southern's, so they waved. Problem was, there wasn't any rider. There was a smaller dragon with him. At least, they thought it was a dragon. He said the two started diving at them. They didn't know what to make of it. The first time they knew something was wrong was when the two flew right over them. The big dragon was black, the smaller one wasn't a dragon. He said it looked like a man with wings."

F'lar released a disgusted sigh. He looked across the table at the Istan, who was grinding his teeth in exasperation. Both men knew the descriptions were too accurate to be coincidence. The mystery of where the avion and his teammate had gone was solved.

"They flew right over the train," T'gellan continued. "Next thing they knew, the dragon starts flaming the tree line next to the road. They thought he'd gone crazy until they saw a couple of men come running out of the brush burning. Seems the dragon and his friend ambushed an ambush. We checked the area as soon as I heard about it. Found three more bodies in the trees. One of them had a nice hole in his chest. Looked like a small arrow. Probably a crossbow. No bolt, though."

"Shards!" N'ton hissed. "That's direct intervention by a Weyr. And not even in its own territory."

T'gellan nodded. He took another drink before continuing. "We got stories like that for about a seven-day. Saw some pretty gruesome things. If this really is Darian's handiwork, I'm worried."

G'dened pulled his lips into a tight line. His eyes flashed angrily. A long draw at the wineglass calmed him slightly.

"The worst we saw," the Eastern Weyrleader continued, "or think we saw, came the day after a Fall. We found two lengths of rope tied around a large rock. There were gloves and boots there, a metal belt buckle, a sword and a belt knife."

The Istan swallowed, color draining from his face. "That's incredible. The man's a masterhealer. I can't believe he'd do such a thing."

"Has to be Darian," N'ton said coldly. "That used to be an accepted form of execution, but I don't think there's a person on Pern who would do it now."

The quartet sat silently, mulling the ramifications of such an event. To call the incident disturbing was a gross understatement. For several minutes, the only sound was the clink of glasses against the table.

"How many people know about this?" F'lar finally asked.

"The five of us and K'van, plus the actual witnesses. But most of them don't understand or don't believe what they saw."