Mawgrim
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The Odeon was closing down. It had been a landmark on the High Street for all twenty-six years of Ray’s life and had stood there for as long as anyone could remember. It was a part of the town and a part of his history. Admittedly, it was looking its age these days. The once pristine frontage was stained with pigeon droppings, the entrance flooring was more cracked than whole. The poster frames had been defaced too many times and were covered in smears composed of spit, vomit, or whatever it
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With just a few days to go before their cinema closes down, Ray and John try to recover some of its former glory.
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Herebeth nudged him, both mentally and physically. Ondiath’s rider wonders when you will be returning. He’d lost track of time, he realised. They hadn’t even got as far as the sleeping chamber, just gone for each other where they’d been standing, amid a couple of bemused dragons. And still the insistent pressure of Prideth’s lust proved that she’d not yet been caught. H’rek leaned against the wall, his eyes shut. D’gar rearranged his clothing and used Rioth’s shoulder to help support himself
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Wait and see. Next chapter will be up on Thursday!
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He was running into the infirmary, trying to get through all the people crowding around the entrance. Pushing them aside. There were angry protests as he elbowed them out of the way, but he ignored them. There was no time to waste. Suddenly he slipped, losing his balance. He fell heavily to the floor, realising as he did that it was slick with blood. He struggled to get back to his feet, but kept falling. A lake of blood now lapped all around him. Pale hands reached up from the ground, dragg
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- 40
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‘Best get that face seen to, lad.’ R’feem paused on his way around as the riders dismounted and unclipped firestone sacks from fighting straps. ‘Oh.’ He pulled off a glove and felt along his left cheek. It did sting a bit, now that he had time to think about it. ‘And don’t go rubbing char into it. Not if you want to keep your good looks. We’ll meet in two hours, once everyone’s had a chance for a bath and to get into dry clothes.’ You are scored? Apparently. Not badly though.
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‘Can tell you’re back with us again today.’ J’rud tucked into his own breakfast as D’gar stared at the bowl of porridge in front of him. The weather this morning was no better than it had proved to be the previous afternoon; worse, in fact, as far as Threadfall was concerned. Heavy rain would be an ally; a sufficient quantity of water drowned Thread before it got to the ground. Instead, they had drizzle, interspersed with brief downpours from the ragged grey cloud that licked around the edges of
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- 42
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She was Brekke, Wirenth's rider. There are a lot of issues between Lessa and Kylara in canon. Lessa has good reason to believe that Kylara has slept with F'lar (and would probably like to do so again). Also, Kylara doesn’t want children but falls pregnant easily whereas Lessa almost dies giving birth to Felessan and can't have any more children.
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It was in Dragonquest that they found out the beneficial effects of the grubs. They eat Thread that gets to ground and help the plants to repair themselves if the leaves get scored.
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Moving in to the new weyr had gone very smoothly, not least because most of the Wing were keen to see it for themselves once rumour had got around of D’gar’s good fortune. With thirty or so people inside, it seemed far less roomy, although several of them had decided to try out the bathing pool which freed up space in the main living area. ‘More wine, anyone?’ H’rek was carrying a skin around and topping up everyone’s cups. G’reden and T’rai carried more food over from the service shaft.
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It's an unfortunate consequence of Impression that you can’t break the bond once it’s made.
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He's got it coming to him, but as he's the sort of man who doesn't consider the consequences of his actions, eventually it will all catch up with him.
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It had been an easy Fall; not too many injuries and no fatalities. D’gar joined the rest of his Wing for the evening meal, sitting in the Wingsecond’s place to R’feem’s left. ‘Pity you missed that one,’ J’rud said, leaning across. ‘Nice and short. Good weather. No one hurt.’ He meant in their Wing, of course. D’gar had dropped his bloodstained clothes off at the laundry on the way in. Despite spending a fair amount of time in the bathing pool, it still felt like some of the blood
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Afternoon Fall was always worse; all that waiting around beforehand. D’gar preferred when it started in the morning, but unfortunately Thread wasn’t so obliging. Today he was more nervous than usual. He was still grounded, but H’rek would be fighting with the Queens Wing. He’d not slept very well the previous night, partly because it was difficult to get comfortable from his injuries and partly through worry. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Kylara drawing the names (and barely pausi
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- 45
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Possibly. I originally intended this as a single short story, but if inspiration strikes I may write some more about Mark.
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From a distance, all weddings look much the same. Brides, glimpsed through the rear window of a passing limousine; an impression of brilliance in the shadowed interior. Church bells on a Saturday afternoon. Confetti blowing across the pavement like fallen petals. Gaudy dresses and big hats grouped on the village green, moving to and fro to the summons of the photographer. In the albums and the finished videos all brides look happy. It’s only when you follow the whole process throughout the d
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Mark is a wedding videographer, expert at making every couples happy day look wonderful. But he's not yet ready to admit his own relationship is falling apart.
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Very hot and also very well written, but I think Hayden's just using Seth.
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The rest of the day passed slowly, as time always does when there is nothing to distract your attention. D'gar tried looking at the records, but it wasn’t made any easier by having to spread the hides out across the bed and he found that leaning forward for too long made him feel oddly queasy. Ah well. They would just have to wait until he was allowed back to his weyr. H’rek called in later for a brief visit, bringing his clothes. After that, he felt well enough to get out of bed and wal
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Unfortunately, even in canon, some of the bronze riders aren’t always the greatest examples - take R'gul for example, totally convinced that the best thing for the Weyr is to hide away and ignore all the signs Thread is going to fall. Or T'ron, trying to knife F'lar at that wedding.
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That was part of the idea that inspired me to write this - what happened between the end of Dragonflight and the beginning of Dragonquest to sour the relationship between Benden and the other five Weyrs? As they say, 'the past is another country; they do things differently there'. Must have been really hard for all those folk to adapt to the new age and some of them just can’t deal with it.
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After R’feem and H’rek had left him, D’gar managed to sleep for a while. When he woke again, his stomach was telling him it must be near lunchtime. The numbweed was still doing its work, so he didn’t feel too bad at all. In fact, if they’d only left him some clothes, he’d have been up and about. He sat up and looked around the infirmary cavern. There were two other occupied beds near to his. The man to his right was sleeping, but over on the opposite side, another rider, of a similar
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Great comments. Good to have an antagonist everyone hates! If only it was that simple. All of the High Reaches riders were sent to Benden because their Weyrleader wanted rid of them for various reasons. Benden don't want any of them as part of their own wings - they're glad of the help until they can breed enough dragons to be self sufficient again, but aren’t really interested in integrating them with the rest of the Weyr. If F'drun had hurt a Benden rider, there might be a bit more concern, but as it is, they've left it up to R'feem as Wingleader to deal with the problem. He's assuming that the shame of being demoted will pull F'drun into line and will also prevent him bullying anyone again.
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D’gar woke up in the same bed as H’rek again, the only difference being that this time they were in H’rek’s weyr rather than his own. All of the young riders had overindulged the previous evening. It had been slightly unfair on them that some of his own wingmates had encouraged it and they had several more Turns hard drinking experience behind them. They’d proceeded to drink the youngsters under the table. D’gar had been careful and had made two cups of wine last him the entire evening.
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Beautifully written. Spooky and atmospheric. I could almost believe I was a fly on the wall in that bar, watching it all unfold in front of my eyes.
