DragonStorm Ch. 01

"Well," the Bendenite observed, "even if it was Darian, I don't see how we could prove it. Even if we can prove it, what do we do about it?"

G'dened snorted, a bitter frown stretching across his face. "Oh, it was Darian, alright. I'm sure of that. He came back with a bad tear in his arm. Said he hurt himself falling. I've seen him fly. He couldn't fall if he tried. Selana treated the arm. She says it's a knife wound."

T'gellan drained his glass, reaching for the wineskin and pouring another serving. He freshened the other goblets. "What he did was vicious, maybe even brutal, but I can't blame him. And I sure wouldn't do anything to him, even if I could prove it was him. He only did what every rider at Eastern would like to do. Darian, T'marek and N'rad were all but inseparable while he was at Eastern. Please go easy on him."

"I understand," F'lar allowed, "but that's precisely why we can't let these things happen. We have to stay above such things, no matter how hard it is. Otherwise, we're going to get so involved in personal revenge and Hold politics that we aren't going to give proper attention to what we're really here for. I know I'm the one who said we can't be isolationists, and we can't. But we have to remember that fighting Thread is our job, not fighting criminals. We can help the holders, but we can't afford direct intervention."

"The reality," N'ton suggested, "is we didn't intervene. I'm surprised this hasn't happened before. Five turns on Pern isn't going to make Darian Pernese. He still thinks like a Cygnan. I'm sure he's handing out what he considers to be justice."

"Probably," F'lar agreed. "On the Southern continent, he can get away with it. If he does something like this in Igen or Nerat, though, we're not going to be able to contain the Lords' reaction. They'll consider him a dragonman, regardless of where he came from. We've got to convince him to do things our way. There's too much chance of a serious mistake doing things his way."

"At any rate," T'gellan reminded them, "the raiding on the Southern Continent has stopped. I know we can't be certain, but I'll wager my next queen egg that Darian and Astaroth had a lot to do with it."

N'ton chuckled grimly. "Could be. What I'm concerned about is that Cove isn't the only small hold that's incapable of defending itself. Nor is there any guarantee that raiders won't attack the same place twice."

"Our sweep riders should be able to help the small holds, if only by giving them some warning. As for Cove, I don't think there's going to be any more trouble there." F'lar looked at the Eastern Weyrleader, a slightly apologetic glint in his eyes. "Since the attack, I've had a rider assigned there on a full-time basis. With firestone."

T'gellan smiled, sipping at his glass. "No direct intervention, eh?" he teased. "Well, Robinton always defended Benden. It's only appropriate that Benden defend his memory. Who's the lucky rider this seven-day?"

"Tr'lon."

Eastern nodded then informed the others, "We provide a relief when Benden flies Fall. That way, Benden doesn't fly short, and the hold stays protected at all times."

F'lar smiled. He turned to his Istan counterpart. "Speaking of the egg T'gellan wanted to wager, when do you think Valkryth's eggs are going to hatch? I hear there's a queen egg, too?"

G'dened smiled broadly. "Yeah, there is a queen egg. I was kind of surprised. That'll give us four. Probably be another month before they hatch."

"If you need any promising candidates, let me know," Benden chuckled. "I've got a few troublemakers I'd like to get rid of." He drained his glass, returning it to the table. The bronzerider rose to leave.

"Thanks, but I've got enough problems." G'dened mirrored F'lar's actions before adding, "Matter of fact, I'm going to talk with one of my problems as soon as I get back. Thanks for the wine, N'ton, Deena."

Everyone turned their attention to T'gellan, reluctant to depart until their Eastern friend was in better spirits. He rose with a somber smile. "I'm alright. Like F'lar said, we all have problems. I'll handle Eastern's."

The four men walked to the outer ledge. One bronze dragon was already there, and two more were backwinging to landings. G'dened spoke to T'gellan as Monarth lowered his leg. "You'll be at the hatching, won't you?" As soon as the Easterner nodded, he added, "Be sure to bring Mirrim."

"Count on it," T'gellan grinned. Immediately, Monarth launched himself, making room for Barnath.

G'dened jumped to his bronze's neck. Tightening the fighting straps, he silently told the dragon to take him home. The Istan raised his hand in salute to his host, tensing as he felt the chest and leg muscles in his beast tighten. Barnath took them clear of the ledge, climbed swiftly above the Weyr rim then went smartly between.

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

The late afternoon sun hadn't reached the horizon when Barnath appeared high above Ista. He answered the watch dragon's bugle, gliding toward the Weyr bowl. No order had been given, but he angled directly for the ledge of the Cygnan's weyr. Astaroth's roar was part greeting, part challenge, but the black made room for the big bronze to land. G'dened dismounted and walked into the inner weyr.

High pitched giggles and lower laughs met the Weyrleader's ears. He turned the corner into the main living chamber, finding the avion gleefully tickling his daughter.

Mareka was bright red with the exertion of squirming and laughing. Her wings were fully extended, fanning rapidly as she tried to avoid her father's fingers. The little girl spotted the bronzerider. Stifling another giggle, she waved to him. "Hi, Dend!" she called.

Darian, flat on his back on the weyr floor, rolled his head backward to see his visitor. "Afternoon, Weyrleader!" he echoed.

"Hi, Mareka, Masterhealer. How is everyone?"

"Fine. How's Barnath?"

G'dened grinned at the formality, one the avion never failed to observe. He seemed to know every dragon on Pern, whether he knew the rider or not. "Fine. He's outside with Astaroth. Where's Selana?"

"With Tryliri and Talmir. She has Rad with her." Darian reached out quickly, digging his fingertips into his daughter's side. She giggled happily, trying to turn away from him.

"T'gellan asked me to say hello and thank you for your help."

Darian grinned, still concentrating on his daughter. "He's more than welcome," he replied. Only when he heard the Weyrleader's long sigh did the avion think about his answer. He rolled to his elbows, looking up at the bronzerider. G'dened had paled slightly, the humor gone from his features. He moved to the table, sitting heavily on one of the benches.

Darian cursed under his breath, closing his eyes. Coming to his feet, the Cygnan gazed at his child. "Riki," he asked, "would you go play with Astaroth for a while?"

The little girl's eyes lit up. "Fish!" she chortled, jumping into the air. Her wings carried her quickly and quietly out of the weyr.

Darian walked to the table, sitting on the bench opposite his visitor. His lips were pursed in a deep frown. "How long have you known?"

"Let's say I suspected as soon as I saw that," the Weyrleader advised, pointing at the livid scar stretching down the avion's left arm. "Today's meeting made it pretty obvious. Your methods weren't very discreet."

Darian smiled sourly. He'd known he would be found out eventually. He was a bit surprised it had taken so long. "I suppose everyone is angry?"

"They aren't happy. Dragonmen don't interfere in hold affairs. But, like T'gellan said, you didn't do anything every dragonrider at Eastern, and probably a few other Weyrs, didn't want to do."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble for you or T'gellan. N'rad was a good friend. I don't have many of those." Darian stopped for a moment, trying to drive the young brownrider's face from his mind. It wasn't working. "Until I met N'rad and T'marek, I hadn't had any."

"We all lose friends, Darian. This Pass is only half over. We're all going to lose more. Someday, it may be us. That's just the way it is. We understand how you feel."

The Cygnan snorted, anger flashing across his visage. "If you knew how I felt, you'd have been down there with me."

"Quite a few of Eastern's and Southern's riders were. Or didn't you take the time to notice?"

The retort brought Darian up short. He had noticed unusual dragon activity while he'd been hunting the renegades, but a connection hadn't occurred to him. He'd been too intense in his pursuit to think anyone else might have similar intentions.

"We're going to help the holders from now on, but not the way you did. We can't afford to get involved in direct combat."

"Why not?"

"Because we're Thread fighters, not an army. You were trained for that kind of thing. We weren't. How many more N'rads and Ledeths are you willing to sacrifice to get your revenge?"

The question hit the Cygnan like a physical blow. He stared at G'dened, but there was no anger left in him. The wave of confusion that swept over him brought an irritated squawk from the sleeping chamber. A small bronze streak flew into the room, lighting on his shoulder. Unaware of his actions, the avion reached up to scratch the eye ridge. The firelizard started a contented crooning.

"I'm sorry, Darian," the Weyrleader repeated. "Nothing I say or do will bring him back. But we do understand how you feel. We miss him, too. Maybe, in our own way, more than you do. But we can't get caught up in it. We still have a job to do. So do you."

Darian nodded. Even after nearly six turns, he didn't understand these people. Perhaps he never would. But he knew what laws were. It appeared he'd broken several over the past month. He began to wonder just how much trouble he had caused, and how much trouble he was in. "I suppose you agreed on some kind of action against us?"

G'dened nodded soberly. "That was left to me."

"And?"

"I've just taken it. I can't blame you for what you did, only how you did it. Had you inadvertently injured any innocent people we'd be up to our headknobs in trouble. We were lucky. However, I want your promise that you and Astaroth aren't going to impose any more of your personal justice here."

Darian shook his head. "I can't," he said, "and I won't. But I will do this. If we should have any further encounters, I'll inform you immediately. You won't have to find out second-hand."

The Weyrleader frowned. "Well," he conceded, "I really didn't expect anything better than that. I need you in my fighting strength, not out hunting. Will you at least be available during Fall?"

The avion grimaced. "No, you don't. How many casualties did you have during the time we were gone? No, don't answer. I already know. None. All I do is carry an agenothree sprayer. Astaroth flies freelance. You people survived for two thousand turns before we got here. You'll survive now, with or without us."

"We all have good spells," G'dened answered. There was an angry note in his voice. "During that same time, Fort lost a rider and Telgar lost two. There were a lot of injuries. Our turn will come around again. If having the two of you in the air means one rider or one dragon doesn't get scored, I want you there. I won't accept anything else. Is that clear?"

The men locked eyes. Small bronze wings extended in response to the tension between them. An irritated hiss sounded at Darian's ear. "Take it easy, Lucy," he told the firelizard. "Everything's fine." The avion sighed, nodding at his Weyrleader. "Alright, we'll be there. But I can't guarantee that other duties, legitimate duties, won't take me away."

"I know. That's why I came here in the first place."

"Oh?"

"The Masterhealer told me about that research job you two are working on. He asked that I assign you a dragon and rider for transport to and from Landing."

Darian shuddered. He hated flying between. However, an eight-second chill was far more practical than a flight of several thousand miles. Even at Astaroth's speed, that was time-consuming. Hopefully, the project could be completed in a minimum number of trips. "Who's the lucky rider?" he asked.

G'dened stood up, laughing. Turning to leave, he looked back over his shoulder. "Who else?"