DragonStorm Ch. 07

Ista Weyr

(Next day, April 3rd)

Thread fell. Dragon after dragon, wing upon wing, Ista Weyr rose to meet it. Battle was joined over the plains of Nerat. Skilled and experienced, the island fighters seared the deadly parasite, clearing the Pernese skies. Two hundred and eight strong they fought. Magnificent bronzes, steady browns, dependable blues, dynamic greens, regal golds and a single black. Darting, twisting, diving, soaring, the rainbow of translucent wings painted the churning heavens. Everywhere, the red and orange of erupting flame and the acrid black smoke of charred Thread highlighted the aerial riot.

Perhaps he was becoming a dragonman after all. Eighteen hours of surgery had exhausted him. Less than three hours after falling asleep, he was awakened by the call to wing positions. Cosira didn't want him to fight. She said he needed rest. The thought of the queens flying without him revolted the avion. He wasn't about to expose them to additional danger if he could lift his sprayer.

Most of the Fall was routine. But four hours into the fight, the effects of a tiring morning and inexperience conspired to bring about near disaster. The young queen responded too slowly to the turn, sliding outside the protective umbrella of her wingmates. Watching from above, the slot rider charged immediately, followed closely by the avion. Now, back at the Weyr, he was tired, angry and in pain.

Darian dressed the throat score carefully. Although it was routine enough, another moment and the burrowing spore would have reached the trachea. Only the dragon's quickness in darting between had saved her rider's life. As it was, she would only carry a small scar. He heard the worried thoughts of the rider's dragon.

'She'll be alright,' he reassured the golden beast. 'You did a wonderful job protecting her. You're next.'

The healer walked out to the infirmary ledge. The same clump of Thread that had injured Elysina had damaged Valkryth's left wing. It was more singed than scored, but he coated it liberally with numbweed. As the gold crooned her relief, the slight rider watched with equal concern. Noticing the tears filming her eyes, Darian took her hand, pulling her beside him. "She's fine, little one. It's not that bad a score. Yours is a lot worse."

Tracing the line of the extensor, the masterhealer decided not to cover the wound. He stepped back from the dragon, sinking to a crouching position. A wave of nausea swept over him. One knee dipped into the sand. The world seemed to sway momentarily before he recovered his equilibrium. The fire in his shoulder and arm demanded attention.

He felt gentle hands unfastening his damaged vest, hissing as the hide pulled away from his shoulder. Shrugging out of the garment, he grimaced at the angry welt stretching across the top of his shoulder and arm. Once again, he'd been lucky. The queen had been right there, reappearing at his side and then taking them all smartly between. The burrowing Thread froze instantly and cracked off, harmless dust.

Soothing numbness spread across the damaged tissue. He watched tiny fingers trace the line of the wound, leaving a trail of creamy white paste. The queenrider looked at him, worry etched in the line of her mouth. "Feel any better?" she asked.

"Of course. You're going to make a good apprentice." He stood up as she prepared to apply a second coating. "That isn't necessary. This is the least of the three scorings. See if you can help some of the others."

The queenrider nodded, picking up the bowl of salve. She started to leave, looking back when he caught her hand.

"I'll want to look at that throat again this evening," he announced. His fingers squeezed hers gently.

She gave him a slight smile. "You know where to find me."

Injuries were not numerous, and all were minor. His and Elysina's were the worst scores. The Weyr had fared well. Moving among the remaining wounded in the Weyr bed and dressing the scores, Darian found himself working harder to control his temper than to treat his patients. He soon had no patients left.

'You alright?' a strong thought inquired.

'Yeah. It wasn't bad. You?'

'Thread can't hurt me. Doesn't penetrate the scales.'

The Cygnan snorted. 'Got a few to spare?'

'The way you flew today, all of mine wouldn't be enough.'

'Yeah, well, I had plenty of help. Where is that flaming idiot?'

'In the weyr. She's upset and frightened. I'm surprised.'

Darian looked up at the rim of the Weyrbowl, meeting Astaroth's steady gaze. He couldn't tell if the black was annoyed or amused. 'What could possibly surprise you?'

'Your mate. She must be getting smarter. She actually thinks you might be angry.'

'Score one for her. In about a minute, she's gonna know.'

'Temper, temper. Mustn't forget you're married to the idiot.'

'Stuff it, loudmouth. I don't need to be reminded.'

Spreading his wings, the avion launched. He gritted his teeth as the pumping wings pulled at the shoulder score. The tear in the anterior stabilizer didn't feel much better. Flying wasn't going to be much fun for the next week or two. Still, the wings and shoulders worked, even if they resented the effort. He decided to glide the rest of the way to the weyr ledge.

Scylenth was on her couch, eyes glowing a dull orange. She crooned hopefully at the avion, receiving an irritated glare as he strode toward the inner weyr. He heard the queen warn her rider.

Selana was sitting at the table when he walked in. She caught the censure in his eyes, swallowing as he moved toward her.

"What were you doing out there, Sel?" he demanded. "Why did you break formation?"

"There was a clump to our left. We thought it was ours. We didn't think the wing was going to break right." She shrank from his gaze, her voice that of a frightened child.

"You're flaming right you didn't think. You're not out there to think. You're to hold position. You unhinged the entire wing. Destroyed its integrity. What do you think you're doing, joy riding?"

"We were only out of position for a second," she whimpered.

"Only a second," he repeated. "Do you have any idea of what that second could have cost? You almost killed me, yourself, Elysina and two queens. Quite a price for a second, isn't it?"

"I didn't know," she said weakly. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't mean to, but that doesn't make this score feel better. If Valkryth hadn't been right there, I'd be dead."

"I didn't know," she pleaded.

"Sel, you've been flying long enough to know better. Cosira is a perfectionist on formation flying. I know damned well she taught you better than that. I wouldn't have expected that stunt from a weyrling."

'You are being cruel,' Scylenth objected. 'You've upset her. Leave her alone.'

Darian spun on the queen. He could see her rapidly whirling red eyes staring back. 'Be quiet, Scylenth! You're as responsible as she is. You knew not to break formation. I know you're both new to this, but you know better. You follow Caylith, not stray clumps of Thread.'

The queen responded with a sorrowful whimper, drawing a variety of confused responses from other beasts across the Weyr.

"Don't yell at my dragon," Selana cried.

"I'm not yelling at her, Selana," he retorted. "Somebody has to talk some sense into both of you before you get yourselves or somebody else killed. You're lucky Cosira isn't down here right now. She'd turn you into wher-feed!"

"I'm sorry," the queenrider insisted. "We didn't mean to cause any problems. We're trying to do a good job."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Sel." the avion replied. "Elysina and Valkryth are wearing numbweed because of that fool move. Elysina was nearly killed. That strand of Thread had her by the throat. That's three times since the two of you started flying. That's three too many. You've got to get it together."

Selana was starting to cry. She stared up at the avion, biting her lip. "Is Valkryth going to be alright?"

Darian stared at her, an odd expression in his eyes. He felt a knot in his stomach, a lump at the base of his throat. His wife was worried about Valkryth. She hadn't even asked about Elysina.

"She'll be alright. So will El. You were lucky. I guess we all were."

'Be careful. The queen is upset. The bronzes are all edgy.'

'She asks about Valkryth. She doesn't give a damn about Elysina or me. I don't know what to do.'

'Leave her, at least for a while. Elysina will take you.'

Darian sighed. That possibility had crossed his mind. Still, he didn't like hearing it. Coming from the big black, the proposal was a bit of a shock. 'What are you suggesting?'

'She's totally caught up in Scylenth. All she thinks about right now is dragons, especially queens. She's not even aware that you're there. You'd be happier with Elysina than you are here. I'll fly Valkryth. I want nothing to do with this queen. Why do you stay?'

'She's my wife.'

'She hasn't been much of a wife to you lately. She doesn't even know that you were scored. Doesn't say much for her, does it? The Weyr would be better off if you left her.'

'Maybe. But where does that leave Selana?'

'With V'line. Who cares? Darian, it's not your problem anymore, at least not right now.'

Darian's eyes narrowed. He took a deep breath. An intense cold gripped him. He stared at the distraught rider. Her body convulsed with sobs, but there was no sound. Tears streamed across her cheeks, falling from the point of her chin to her folded hands. She stared sightlessly at the weyr wall.

Scylenth's accusation, his harsh words and Astaroth's conclusion all rebounded on him. He began to regret having spoken so sharply. Perhaps the queen was right. Maybe he had been cruel. A look at Selana stated emphatically that he'd been neither kind nor understanding. The weeping girl had an air of utter defeat about her. But still, she hadn't even asked about him, didn't seem to even be aware he'd been injured. It wasn't hard to conclude that she really didn't care anymore. He felt dazed as he eased to the bench, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

Selana dropped her head to his chest. Her sobs became audible now; soft, endless, painfully despairing. Darian rocked her against him, folding his wings forward. He noticed a subtle difference as the weeping continued. There was a hardness to her body, a coldness of feeling. Her hands remained folded in her lap.

He waited until she quieted, then gently wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Lifting her chin with his fingers, he gazed uncertainly into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sel. You didn't deserve that."

Selana looked at him. He saw the confusion in her face, but what wedged itself in his mind and in the pit of his stomach was the anger in her eyes, the hard set of her jaw, and the coldness of her breath as she released a shuddering sigh. The queenrider turned away.

Rising from the table, she crossed to the recessed cupboard. A pitcher of klah sat on the counter. As the avion stood up, she turned her back. "Go away, Darian. I want to be alone."

The Cygnan sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead. He regarded the woman remorsefully. "Sel, I'm sorry. Please, I need to be with you. Don't make me go."

"I don't care. I need some time. I want to be with Scylenth."

Darian pursed his lips, swallowing the sickening sensation again climbing through his throat. He took a deep breath. "Alright, Sel, if you want me to. How long?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "Just go away."

He closed his eyes. Slowly, the avion walked into the sleeping chamber. When he returned, his crossbow was slung over one shoulder, the quiver of bolts over the other. He gave her a final, longing, frightened glance. "I'll be around if you need me."

She watched him leave, her lower lip quivering, but made no move to stop him. Her eyes turned downward, looking at the stone floor.

Scylenth looked at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. He touched her nose before leaving the weyr, this time hearing a worried warble. Leaping into the air, he detected the sound of his wife's renewed crying. There was no comfort in seeing Caylith and Barnath descending toward the ledge. He ignored G'dened's summoning wave.

The Weyrleader watched as his masterhealer soared up and out of the Weyr. Darian must have been deep in thought to miss his signal. Those avion eyes saw everything. They were as sharp as Barnath's. He had a very bad feeling.

The riders dismounted the moment their dragons landed. Caylith followed them into the queen's weyr, her mate taking up a guarding position on the ledge. The senior queen touched noses with Scylenth, sounding an encouraging croon in response to the young queen's plaintive chirp. G'dened and Cosira continued to the inner weyr.

It didn't take much to piece together what had happened. Selana poured mugs of klah, taking them to the table. Subconsciously, she moved to the farthest point from where she and her mate had been sitting moments before.

Cosira shared a concerned glance with her weyrmate. Scylenth's whirling red eyes and the lifeless tone of the rider's face said something had gone seriously awry. Rather than impose on the stunned junior rider, the Weyrwoman called to Caylith.

'What does Scylenth tell you?'

'The winged one was angry. He was upset about the Fall and Scylenth's error. He was angry that he and the other queenrider were scored.'

'He took it out on Selana?'

'Yes, and on Scylenth.'

Cosira sipped at her mug, observing Selana carefully. The healer said nothing, sitting motionless at the end of the bench, staring.

'Anything else?'

'Scylenth says her rider is confused. She told the winged one to leave. Scylenth doesn't understand.'

Cosira gritted her teeth. 'Darian didn't leave on his own?'

'No. The rider made him leave.'

'Thank you, dearest. That helps.'

She lowered her cup to the table, staring at Selana until the younger woman became aware of being watched. When she finally turned to face the Weyrwoman, Cosira spoke. "He must have been pretty upset."

Selana nodded. She sipped at her mug, glancing absently between Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. She said nothing.

"What was he so upset about?" Cosira prodded.

"The Threadfall. He was angry because I broke formation."

"He was right," G'dened stated. "Breaking formation is dangerous."

The Weyrwoman shot him a warning glance. She would do the talking. G'dened nodded. "Alright, you made a mistake. That's what he's so upset about?"

"No. Valkryth was scored. He said we all could have been killed." Her voice was flat, empty of tone, devoid of feeling. She continued to stare sightlessly.

The Weyrwoman nodded. "You could have been. We all could be, every Fall."

"He said you'd be angry with me."

Cosira glanced at her mate, then back to Selana. "I'm not happy with you, but I'm not angry. You'll learn."

"We're trying to do a good job."

"You did a good job. Scylenth is an excellent pivot, and she gets better every Fall. You just have to remember not to be over-aggressive. Stay within yourself and stay in formation. That clump was Valkryth's, not Scylenth's."

Selana nodded. The weyr became quiet again. Cosira received a message from Caylith.

'Scylenth says the rider is very confused. She can't make sense of her thoughts. She's worried about the winged one. She wants to be with him, but her thoughts aren't clear.'

"Did Darian threaten you?" the Weyrwoman asked.

The junior rider stared at her. "No. He would never threaten me."

"Then why did you make him leave?"

"He yelled at Scylenth. Nobody yells at Scylenth. Not even Darian."

G'dened watched with alarm as the girl's eyes filled again. She'd been crying when they walked in. Her face was covered with red blotches, tear tracks pronounced across the cheeks. He could see her throat working as she tried to talk without choking.

Cosira watched the younger woman try to sniff back her anguish, struggling to control her sobs and gasping for breath. The Weyrwoman circled the table, taking Selana's hands in her own. "Sel. He's hurt and he's angry. You know he has a bad temper."

"He's been angry before," Selana said miserably. "He never said anything like that. He meant it. He doesn't like Scylenth. He was angry at her."

Caylith spoke to her rider. 'That doesn't make sense. Scylenth says the winged one talked to her. He was stern but he wasn't angry. She doesn't understand why her rider made him leave. She doesn't understand why her rider is so upset.'

Cosira ran a hand above the crying girl's eyes, pulling the disorderly hair back. She talked softly, soothingly. "Didn't you say you made him leave?"

"Yes."

"Well then," she smiled, "all you have to do is ask him to come back. Or tell him. Don't you want him back?"

Selana sighed through her tears. "Yes. I mean no. I mean, oh, I don't know. It doesn't matter. He took his bow and his bolts. I don't think he's coming back."

"He was that angry?"

The girl nodded. "I've never seen him so upset with me. He was angry with Scylenth, too." She dropped her voice even lower, barely whispering. "Scylenth is a good queen. She fights well. We didn't mean to do anything wrong. We're trying. It's just that I'm new." As she continued to speak, her voice got louder. "It was my fault. Scylenth is a good queen. She is! I made the mistake, not her. He shouldn't be blaming Scylenth. It wasn't her fault!"

'And you are a good rider. We made a mistake, that's all. We won't do it again. Don't let it upset you. We'll do better. We're learning. You'll see.'

Cosira smiled, easing an arm around her newest wingrider. "You and Scylenth are excellent Thread fighters. Don't you worry about that."

G'dened interrupted. "Sel, didn't you say that you asked about Valkryth?"

The queenrider nodded.

"Did you ask about Elysina?"

She paused to think, her eyes narrowing. "I don't think so."

"What about Darian? Did you ask about him?"

"No. Why? Was he hurt?"

G'dened turned a disgusted frown on his mate. "Sira, you better snap her out of her fantasy world. We don't need Darian going thready on us."

He turned his regard back to the younger woman. "Selana, I know you're concentrating on Scylenth. You're taking excellent care of her. But you're taking it too far. Your husband was seriously scored, and you didn't even know it. I'd say he has good reason to be upset with you. You're my junior queenrider. I like you and I need you. I'm proud of the job you're doing. But I'm very disappointed in you. Wake up before you get one or more of us killed."

The Weyrleader stood up, catching his mate's eyes. She cocked her head inquisitively. "Stay with her. I'm going to Fort."

G'dened moved to the ledge, stopping in the outer weyr to salute both queens. He noted the change in color of the young gold's eyes, now spinning slowly in a light green. Caylith rumbled a greeting. A sharp chirp came from the firelizard perched on Scylenth's head knob.

As he reached the ledge, Barnath offered his leg. Rather than step up, G'dened gave it a sturdy thump, stepping around the bronze to gaze out over the Weyrbowl. He scanned the rim, looking for any sign of a black dragon. There was none. A passing thought made him look to his left. His eyebrow lifted when he saw the queen sunning on her ledge.

'You're surprised to see Valkryth?'

'A bit.'

'It's her weyr. Where else would she be?'

'I'm surprised Astaroth isn't there.'

'They spend a lot of time together,' the bronze confirmed. 'Valkryth is fond of the black.'

'I've noticed that. Elysina seems rather fond of Darian, too.'

'The little rider likes everyone.'

G'dened snickered. 'You've got a point, my friend.' He turned from the ledge, jumping astride the smooth neck. 'Let's go.'

The pair watched another bronze gliding toward them, preparing to land on the ledge. 'It's Clarinath. He says he'll guard the weyr while we're gone.'