The Rider's Pride - 15. Chapter 15

“Aren’t those firestone sacks on your dragon?” The Journeyman Smith asked with a half-fearful look. J’shon was standing in the entrance of the Mastersmith Hall, and Liliath was winging her way to the fireheights to wait for him to finish his business there.

“Yes, they are.” J’shon confirmed with a confident smile.

“Oh, uh, expecting trouble?” The short smith asked. He had short-cropped brown hair and was very stocky in build with massive, muscular arms. J’shon thought he was handsome, in a rugged sort of way and wondered idly if he was married. Not that it made much of a difference, J’shon was a dragonrider and he already had a weyrmate who kept him very, very happy.

“I ride in H’mal’s wing, from Igen.” J’shon answered as if that explained it all, and it did in a way. Crack dust had been spotted for several sevendays now as spring finally took hold after terrible storms rolled in following the Winter Solstice. In a way, Pern was lucky for the storms. They had destroyed Thread with cold and moisture before it could reach a height where dragonriders would have to sear it from the sky. The result, commonly known as Crack Dust had fallen on various parts of Pern, killing the last rumors that Thread was not going to fall.

With the old charts of expected Threadfall not working, Weyr, Hold, and Hall had fallen back on the old standby of standing watch. Watchtowers all faced East, and Sweepriders flew whenever weather was not so severe as to ground even the strongest of dragons. In each Weyr, a flight of three wings, the minimum number of dragons necessary to meet Threadfall was on alert, ready to mount their dragons and fly against Thread within minutes of an alert being sent.

When not on alert, riders were either resting or flying sweep patrols. As a member of H’mal’s wing, J’shon wasn’t assigned sweep patrols except in emergency, such as when a rider and/or dragon was injured. Instead, H’mal’s wing stood on alert for flying Thread, or were sent to convey a senior holder or craftmaster from one end of Pern to the other. There had been some grumblings about how difficult it was for even Lord Holders to get dragon transportation in this time, but the black specks of Crack Dust floating down on their holds ended all complaints.

Today was the first day in the past six sevendays that J’shon had been allowed outside the Weyr for business of his own. His first stop this morning had been to Whitestone Hold where he had visited his parents. J’shon had missed Larana’s birthing day, but had brought her a belated gift that she was all too happy to accept.

Whitestone, with the settling of the weather and spring well under way was bustling with activity. Most of the refugee holders his father had taken in had decided to stay, and the fields around Whitestone were furrowed, planted, and spouting green plants of all sorts. Herdbeasts and runners grazed on fallow land, and were carefully tended by Master Rinald and his Journeymen. At the nearby river, a stone pier was already going up, and his father’s second son, Karnen was establishing the clearing of the riverbank and a low hill as well as the construction of several stone buildings. If the riverbank hold thrived, it would be Karnen’s inheritance while Bevan took Whitestone.

That day was far off, at least another thirty turns at the earliest, J’shon fervently believed.

“Well, what can I do for you, dragonrider?” The man asked in a congenial tone and J’shon took a deep breath.

“I need to commission a set of bracelets.” J’shon said quickly, pulling a drawing made on a piece of hide out and handing it to the Journeyman who whistled softly.

“This will take some gemstones we don’t have here, rider.” The man said sadly. “A beautiful piece of work it would be to make as well. Is it for your… weyrmate?”

“Yes.” J’shon said without a blush even threatening to show on his cheeks. He was long past the point where people knowing such things bothered him. He was a green rider, and he was proud of who and what he was. “I have the gemstones here.”

“So you do.” The Journeyman said as he opened the small bag that J’shon handed him. Inside were several stones of various colors that he had procured on his other four stops from the morning. The sun was high overhead, past noon, and he knew he should get back to the air soon. Liliath had to hunt today before they returned to the weyr. She wanted wherry today, and that was getting hard to find in the wild. Br’mar had said he saw some on a run he made to Lemos the other day, so that was where they would start their hunt.

“I’d like it in two sevendays if it is at all possible.” J’shon said as he took out the bag of marks he’d gotten from his father. Dragonriders earned very little money since most of their time was taken up by duties or caring for their dragons. Fortunately his father had made it clear that J’shon should never hesitate to ask if he needed marks. This was the first time he’d asked since he’d Impressed, and he wasn’t too proud to take them. “I have good weavercraft and beastcraft marks here.”

“Put away your marks, dragonrider.” The Journeyman smith said with a snort. “The only payment we’ll take from a dragonrider is his performing his duties keeping Pern free of Thread. Now, your rider, his dragon is a brown?”

“A light brown.” J’shon said with a smile forming on his face. The smile was for B’rrel and Ojeth more than for the refusal of the Journeyman to take payment. The Masterminer himself had refused payment for the small stones that J’shon had asked for and offered payment. Crack Dust was falling, and that meant Thread was there. Only dragonriders could keep these men and their families alive, and even those who had once begrudged tithing to the Weyrs now offered their services to dragronriders without charge.

H’mal had been most strict in his directions to his riders to not abuse such generosity. The Pass was fifty long turns, but most of the riders alive today would live to see its end as long as Thread didn’t kill them. More importantly the holders and crafters would also still be alive, and they would remember dragonrider excess very sharply once the threat of Thread was gone again for another two hundred turns.

“Ah, very well dragonrider, we’ll have this done for you within a sevenday.” The Journeyman said with a happy smile. “Will that be soon enough?”

“Yes, plenty of time.” J’shon said with his own smile, putting away the bag of marks and wishing the Journeyman a pleasant day. Liliath landed in the courtyard and he mounted quickly before giving her the order to take off. Her leap took them high into the air, and her wings soon had them far above the Mastersmith Hall and the surrounding Hold.

He will like the bracelets. Liliath said softly as he prepared the image in his mind for the leap between.

You better not tell him or Ojeth! J’shon warned her and she laughed lightly, taking the direction from him and jumping between. It took them two hours of flying to find a flock of wild wherries that were not part of some holder’s stock. He could have landed at any of these holder’s places and asked for permission to hunt from his stock. No holder would refuse a dragonrider such privilege with Thread now falling, but J’shon preferred to use it only as a last result. H’mal was right, overusing such privileges during a Fall would turn opinion against them after the Pass was over, and it would also make the dragons and the riders lazy.

The wherry felled by your own hand always tastes sweeter than the one given to you on a platter. That was an old saying, but no less true for its antiquity.

Chew love. J’shon reminded her with a laugh after she’d felled the first beast. They both liked hunting together, with him on her back while she brought the fowl down and consumed it with quick bites. J’shon kept an eye on the rest of the fleeing flock, making sure that when she was done with the first they could find the next. Twice more they repeated the act of finding the flock and swooping in for the kill.

I chew better than you do. She mocked him when he reminded her to chew again on the third kill. Gorenth says to bring a wherry back with us. Willeth is in the Hatching Grounds with her newest clutch and could use a snack. She adds that a wherry would be very nice.

“Then we hunt again, love.” J’shon said with a chuckle. Liliath managed to bring down two wherries, not just one, and he dismounted this time to take some extra safety harness and strap them together. She picked the strap up with her forepaws and took off again as soon as he was secure in his seat.

They appeared over Igen and glided past the Weyr Rim with relative ease. It was windy, but not near as bad as it had been recently. J’shon waved at the watch rider while Liliath began telling Willeth that she was heading for the Hatching Grounds. Queens watching over their clutch of eggs were mighty twitchy and had been known to chase out any dragon who didn’t call first and receive her permission to enter.

Two! J’shon heard in his head and laughed as Liliath turned and took them out of the Hatching Grounds. He remembered how last time Zoeth was in the Hatching Grounds watching over her egg, a dragon didn’t dare return from a hunt without food. If Febrina hadn’t kept Zoeth in the air as much as she did, the senior queen of Igen would have long since been too fat to fly.

“Did you talk to mother?” K’mer asked after J’shon and Liliath had landed on the ledge of their weyr and he had dismounted. Sharth bugled a greeting from his ledge, two levels up and a level over from the weyr J’shon shared with B’rrel.

“I did talk to her.” J’shon said with a frown. That had not been exactly fun, but his mother had surprised him. “Now she wants to know when I’ll be sending a child to foster with her.”

“Oh that’s a good one!” K’mer laughed heartily and J’shon even had to chuckle. He just hadn’t had the heart to tell his mother that K’mer was a brown rider, so it could be expected for K’mer to father a child, as he had with the drudge Amosa. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem in the weyr. The child would be raised by the non-riders who supported the Weyr’s everyday operations, except Amosa had fallen out of favor with K’mer. According to his brother, she had become too clingy for him.

Their breakup had happened before they’d known she was pregnant, and she had fallen for a young trader that had visited the Weyr with a tithing train. Now she wanted to go off with the trader and didn’t want to take the child with her, but insisted at the same time that she didn’t want her child raised in the weyr. Amosa had even asked K’mer to take her between, which would effectively end the pregnancy. Ramina had just done it purposely last month to end a pregnancy that she didn’t want.

K’mer had come to J’shon with the problem. Like most riders raised outside the Weyr, they took a much less standoffish approach to ending a pregnancy without good cause. J’shon had come up with the idea of fostering the child with their mother and father, and Amosa had consented to that resolution, if their parents agreed.

“So mother will take the child?” K’mer asked hopefully.

“Yes she will.” J’shon said. “As soon as the child’s born, one of us can bring her up here and she’ll bring a milk-mother with her. There’s at least three women at the hold who’ll be giving birth around that time so it won’t be a problem. She’ll go back home by river boat since the babe will be too young to go between safely.”

“I’ll go tell Amosa!” K’mer said happily, giving J’shon a hug before heading out onto the ledge where Sharth landed a moment later. Liliath just sighed from where she sat on the edge, catching the warm sunlight.

I want a bath. She complained after Sharth had left, kicking up more dust.

“Give me a moment, love.” He said, entering the large room he now shared all the time with B’rrel. The room now had the full, comfortable rugs his mother had made, as well as the tapestries that had been a gift for ‘the new son-by-marriage’ as his mother called B’rrel. J’shon loved it because it showed the childhood home, Kapian Hold, in the middle of the plains. A bronze, brown and blue dragon could be seen gliding towards the hold, a representation of the day that J’shon had been Searched by the Igen Weyrleader and two other riders.

He grabbed a swimming clout, because it was far too warm to wear more than that, and the supplies he’d need for bathing Liliath, put them in a bag and mounted Liliath for the ride down to the lake. D’kov was there already, bathing his Aliarth, and greeted J’shon as he followed a happy and playful Liliath. She made a point of splashing the blue dragon before settling down and waiting for J’shon to start scrubbing her. I itch just where my right wing meets my body.

“I’ll get it, love.” J’shon said with fondness for his dark-green dragon. While he worked on getting her clean, he turned to D’kov and yelled out. “Anything new on sweep?”

“Nothing, but Benden reported more Crack Dust two days ago.” D’kov answered, and moved Aliarth closer so they wouldn’t have to shout.

Oh that’s it, right there, harder. Liliath directed him.

“So there’s a pattern showing.” J’shon said with elation.

“Thread’s supposed to fall every three days, not every two like it has been, even if the weather’s been killing it for us like it has.” D’kov said irritably. “

“Well, it’s probably falling somewhere today.” J’shon said with a sigh.

“If it does, we’ll know and this time we’ll fly it.” D’kov agreed. Privately J’shon hoped it wouldn’t fall today because it was mostly clear and already late afternoon. Any Threadfall that started now would have to be fought half in the dark and that was a frightening prospect.

Thread falls! Liliath shouted while rearing back on her haunches and nearly drowning J’shon as she spread her wings and bugled a challenge just like every other dragon in the weyr was doing. When he fought back to the surface of the lake, he could see her eyes whirling in a rapid flow of oranges and red. High Reaches rises to fight!

That was good. High Reaches Weyr was several hours behind them, and wouldn’t face fighting Thread in the dark for their first Fall.

Who goes? J’shon asked.

Goreth, all the queens except Willeth, the wingleaders and the Weyrlingmaster. Liliath answered even as several bronzes boomed out their deep challenges from their ledges in the Weyr. Willeth will not leave her clutch, even for Fall.

“That’s her prerogative, love.” J’shon said in a comforting tone. He knew she wanted to go and fight Thread. It was what dragons were made for doing, but High Reaches had only invited the leaders of the various weyrs to fly with them on this Threadfall. At least their leaders would have had experience when their time came. That made him feel less scared about their first time.

Now the itch is below the wing. She complained as she settled back in the water and J’shon laughed. She was a typical dragon, flowing from one topic to the other without any pause for the hilarity of what she was doing. Oh yes, my rider, you get those itches so wonderfully. The Alert Flight is forming up over High Reaches. They go between!

“You getting a running commentary?” J’shon asked D’kov who had that elsewhere look on his face.

“Yes, Willeth does her part by relaying the information from Zoeth.” D’kov said and J’shon nodded.

Willeth tells us all, and we tell you. Liliath said peremptorily. Now, my tail is particularly in need of your attention. They see the leading edge of thread! Dragons chew firestone, they make flame! Dragons rise, three whole wings in V-formation! Thread is falling in single strands, like drops of rain! The Weyrleader orders a phalanx formation! The queens engage! Lolath’s rider claims first strike with her flamethrower! A dragon is scored! He goes between, it is brown Okath, and he is okay! Dragons flame thread! High Reaches Second Flight arrives! Bronzes of all the Weyrs form a wing and engage with permission! They take mid-height, between First and Second Flights and the Queens flying low. Threads fall heavy and singly, making it hard to catch them all, but dragons flame and Thread dies! Not so hard, my rider, I do need my tail.

Sorry, dear, I’m just excited by your commentary. J’shon replied mentally and she let out a bugle of triumph. The Weyr was ringing with bugles as all the dragons followed the commentary of this Pass’s first battle with Thread.

Liliath kept up her commentary while J’shon continued to scrub her clean. His heart nearly stopped and he held his breath every time a dragon was scored. When a dragon or rider came into contact with Thread, they would go between to a ‘safe’ spot. The bitter cold of between would kill the Thread, and if they were not too injured, the pair would return to the fight. If the injury was severe, they’d land and be treated by the Weyr’s team of healers and assistants.

B’rrel returned from his sweep halfway through the fight by High Reaches against Thread, and with little more than a hug and a kiss, J’shon helped him bathe Ojeth while Liliath continued her commentary from the beach where she was drying off. After a bath and a meal, she should have been asleep already, but the excitement of the battle kept her awake. With Ojeth cleaned, they headed back up to their weyr where the riders oiled their dragons thoroughly. The commentary from the fight reminded them that soon their dragons would be fighting Thread as well.

No one in Igen complained that dinner was served late that night. The sun had set over the Weyr before the battle was done, and the tired Igen bronze and gold riders returned, smelling of sweat and firestone, but faces shining in victory.

High Reaches had suffered no losses, and no serious injuries. Twenty-one dragons had received some scoring from Thread, and eleven of those were serious enough that treatment was required. All but four would return to duty status within a sevenday. The others would all be back in their wings within two sevendays. None of the wingleaders or gold riders from other Weyrs had suffered any injuries and only two burrows had been reported. When Thread hit land, it burrowed and had to be burned out by ground crews armed with flamethrowers like those the queen riders used.

All in all, it had been a good Fall, and a good sign of things to come for the next fifty turns. That night, after dinner had been served, J’shon joined the Weyr Harper Warnel in singing the Duty Song. The song that taught the duties of Hold, Hall and Weyr was filled with special meaning that night after the first Fall of Thread for this Pass.

J’shon found he was filled with conflicting emotions as he played. There was excitement at finally flying to meet Thread in battle, there was the fear of what could happen, not only to him but to so many he cared about. B’rrel was at the top of that list, followed closely by K’mer as well as D’kov and S’flin. Then there was A’toly, and C’lier as well as all the others he had known through Weyrling Training. Rare was the injury to a queen, but even Ramina entered his thoughts as he worried over those who could be lost to Thread.

“You’re all tense.” B’rrel said later that night as they returned to their weyr and settled in to bed for the night. In the warm nights at Igen, they slept without encumbering clothes or hot furs.

“It’s just so real all of a sudden.” J’shon said lightly as B’rrel got him to lie on his stomach. Oil that smoothed a dragon’s skin worked just as well at smoothing human skin and relaxing human muscles, J’shon knew as B’rrel began to rub some into his back.

“It’s the day we’ve lived for.” B’rrel said with wonder.

“The day you’ve lived for.” J’shon corrected him before letting out a sigh as B’rrel’s skilled hands relaxed a very tight muscle. “I’m hold-bred remember?”

“I could never forget, my love.” B’rrel said with a chuckle. “If you’d been weyrbred we’d have been together as soon as we were out of Weyrling Training.”

“You never know.” J’shon joked. “I might have not cared about social taboos at all and let my brother catch me.”

“Now that’s just sick.” B’rrel joked, use to the teasing. J’shon had gotten into the habit of teasing B’rrel with K’mer’s affection for his brother. For some reason, B’rrel believed that K’mer was the only one who came close to rivaling him for J’shon’s affections.

“You say that now, but if you had any green rider brothers…” J’shon teased. B’rrel laughed. He was not nearly as close to his brothers as J’shon was to K’mer, or even his other brothers. Still, all of them had impressed bronze or brown dragons.

“I’d still have eyes only for one green rider.” B’rrel said and J’shon laughed.

“You talk about me being a big romantic!” He protested before moaning as B’rrel reached another tight spot. B’rrel really was great at this.

“Are you too relaxed now?” B’rrel breathed into his ear moments later and J’shon smiled, silently agreeing with B’rrel that his hold-bred attitudes really had caused him to waste valuable time they could have been doing stuff like this. His lips met the brown riders, and he stopped thinking for a while.

The next day dawned bright, clear, and hot over Igen. J’shon was up early, leaving a tired B’rrel still in bed while he grabbed a bowl of porridge and a mug of klah before setting out with the rest of H’mal’s wing. They collected the Lord Holders that looked to Igen, as well as many of the minor holders with influence over neighbor holds and took the men to the sections of High Reaches that had seen Thread reached the ground and begin burrowing. The men shuddered at the charred thread in the ground and made the trip back to their holds in somber moods. J’shon returned his father to his hold, and watched the man’s pale face as he dismounted. Liliath let him know they could stay for a few hours, and he followed his father inside.

“Father, here are the marks you gave me the other day.” J’shon said softly, handing the bag back over. His father waved it off.

“Keep them in case you need them in the future.” Kapian said with a sigh. “You know, I doubted leaving our hold in the plains many times in the last few months. Now, I know it was the right decision. Remember this lesson son. Never be too set in your beliefs that you cannot change them when the situation requires you to do so.”

“I’ve already taken it to heart, father.” J’shon said with a laugh as they sat down in the man’s office on the fourth floor of the hold. The open window shutters let them see men and women hard at work in one of the Hold’s fields.

“You mean you overcame the beliefs I mistakenly instilled in you about… being a green rider and… your relationship with B’rrel?” Kapian said in a weak tone and J’shon nodded. At one time he might have been surprised his father would raise the topic, but Kapian had already surprised him enough.

“Yes.” J’shon said softly. “I think I first fell for him while we were still weyrlings, and I know he fell for me then. I just refused to admit it was possible to… love each other beyond those moments when Liliath rose.”

“I am sorry about that, son.” Kapian said as he turned in his chair and looked out the window, not really facing J’shon. “I knew better, having been raised in Harper Hall, and having spent time in the Weyr with my father. Life in the Weyr is different than life in a hold, or in a craft hall. It has to be, in order for the Weyr to function. The Weyr must function to support the dragons and their riders. Anything else, social customs, taboos, must fall to the wayside. I let something I saw in the Weyr while I was there with father poison my mind and forget that.”

“You never turned your back on your duty to Weyr.” J’shon reminded him.

“No, but I looked down on rider and dragon because of what happened, and what happened really wasn’t wrong.” Kapian rambled. “Crivan and I have overcome that, in the last few months, and renewed our bond as father and son. That is a good thing, especially since it hurt him greatly when I shunned him, as much as it hurt me. I was an angry young man at the time.”

“He’s a good man.” J’shon said, referring to his grandfather.

“Sometimes a better man than me.” J’shon said softly. “Did you know he once held the position of being the MasterHarper?”

“No.” J’shon said with a raised eyebrow. The MasterHarper was the lead Harper on Pern, selected by all the Harpers holding the rank of Harper, just the way all the Master smiths chose their MasterSmith.”

“He was for three turns, and I was an apprentice, then a Journeyman.” Kapian said softly. “In the third turn, mother grew sick of a wasting illness and died. Father resigned as MasterHarper and took me with him to Fort Weyr where he assumed the post as Weyr Harper. He had an old friend there, a green rider named T’maren. Father and T’maren were close, and one day I had a weyrling give me a lift to T’maren’s weyr. I wanted to show father this little ditty I’d composed and I found them… well I found them comforting each other. I didn’t know at the time but T’maren’s weyrmate had died the turn before. I was shocked to say the least. I knew by that time what green riders did when their greens flew, but seeing my father, with another man, was more than I could take.

“I shunned him, resigned my rank as Journeyman and fled as far as I could go. In Keroon, I met your mother, and decided I would hold. Every time after that, if I saw a dragon I would think of seeing my father and the green rider and I would get upset. I guessed you boys sensed that in your own ways. In my young eyes, my father had betrayed his wife, and I didn’t understand how he could have done that, but the truth was that he was merely seeking comfort. T’maren went between a turn later, and there was no one to console my father at the double loss. He moved to Igen after that, hoping the heat there would kill him, but instead H’mal and Febrina slowly helped him remember that there was more to life than those we’ve lost. I’ll never be able to thank them for what they did for him, and what they’ve done for you.”

“You’ve made a good start of it, father.” J’shon said. “I know H’mal regularly seeks your opinion on things, and you’ve been steadfast in your support of the Weyr through the recent events.”

“Yes, and now Thread has come and we are at least safer here.” Kapian said looking out over the fields. “We must drill now to make sure our ground crews are ready. Just that one burrow destroyed nearly an entire field. How long did it take for the ground crews to get there?”

“Less than ten minutes.” J’shon said as he joined his father looking out over the fields. “The real danger for you is going to be if it hits beyond your immediate perimeter and manages to burrow before your crews can get there. Runners are scared of fire.”

“We’ll have ground crews with flamethrowers and an extra person to hold the runners while the others deal with the burrows.” Kapian said as he began to plan. J’shon stayed to discuss the plans with him, knowing he’d report back to H’mal exactly what preparations Kapian would be making now. That was why he’d been given permission to stay, not because he was Kapian’s son.

“I want you to know son, that we are proud of you and your brother.” Kapian said when they’d hashed out several ideas for ground crews. “You and K’mer belong in the Weyr, and I’m glad I wasn’t able to keep you with me at the hold. I even like your B’rrel. In many ways, you’ve done better than your brother did with that girl.”

“K’mer’s not…” J’shon began to defend his brother, but Kapian waved him off. “We’ll be glad to foster his child here. He’s managed to give us our first grandchild, even though he’s the fourth son. Shells, sometimes I wonder if your brothers will ever settle down! Still, Migello has a daughter of the right age for Bevan, and Migello is willing to talk about arranging a marriage with her and Bevan if I’m willing to accept only a small dowry. Bevan’s met her, and I think he’s interested.”

“Bevan’s still not sure how to talk to a woman without having to ask how many marks she wants first.” J’shon snorted and for a moment worried he’d said too much while his father opened and closed his mouth.

“You might be right.” Kapian managed to say before bursting into laughter, clapping J’shon on the back. They talked for a little longer before J’shon stopped in to see his mother on the way out. They chatted for a little longer, and then he was back on Liliath and on his way back to Igen Weyr. The wind had picked up again, but she adroitly maneuvered through the sky, dodging from draft to draft with an ease managed by few dragons.

His report to H’mal took less than ten minutes as there was a line of riders from their wing waiting to report as well. B’rrel was back in the weyr, and had an excited look on his face as they prepared to head down to the lake. It was a hot day, and the idea of spending the afternoon in cool waters while cleaning their dragons was very appealing.

“I’ve got good news.” B’rrel said softly as they stripped by the beach and put on their swimming clouts. J’shon had to take a deep breath and calm himself. B’rrel’s body was so appealing and seeing it like this was causing a reaction, but their dragons splashing into the water acted like a summons for the riders to follow.

“What is it?” J’shon asked as he began to scrub the grime of a long day flying off of Liliath. She was in fine shape, able to fly almost as long as a bigger blue now. Once she’d tired after more than four hours of flight, but seemed to handle longer days of flying with much more ease.

“You know how we never seem to get the same rest day?” B’rrel asked and J’shon nodded. It was the worst part of their being in different wings. K’mer and J’shon always seemed to manage to get the same rest days, but B’rrel being in a different wing rarely got the same day as them unless he traded with another rider. “Well, H’mal has asked for me to be transferred to his wing! He’s sending D’sel to replace me in the wing and my wingleader’s happy because he’s getting a more experienced rider!”

“That’s good news.” J’shon said and meant every word. Now at least he’d be flying with his love, and they’d have more time together than the time they shared with their dragons like now, or the time they shared while eating meals in the Lower Caverns.

It was a good night, and they were gracious enough to invite K’mer down to play dragon poker with them. Since he had ended his relationship with Amosa, K’mer’s weyr had been lonely for him. None of the other women in the Weyr expressed an interest in him, and while he didn’t have a problem sleeping with a green rider during a mating flight, he had no desire to do that at other times. He was comfortable with J’shon and B’rrel though, and with the prospect of having more time together, they didn’t begrudge him a few hours during the evening.

“Father really said all that?” K’mer laughed as J’shon relayed the story of his conversation earlier in the day.

“Yes.” J’shon said with a smile.

“You’re right about Bevan, though, and Karnen.” K’mer agreed. “Unless they’re paying her marks, they don’t really know how to treat women.”

“And you do?” B’rrel teased him and K’mer frowned before laughing.

“Maybe we should all have been green riders.” K’mer laughed after a long pause. “J’shon managed to catch you just fine.”

“For the record, Ojeth and I caught him!” B’rrel laughed along with the two of them.

“That’s what you think.” J’shon said when they’d settled down and that managed to set off both the brown riders into another laughing fit.

“It’s getting late.” K’mer said as they finished a hand, and he stood, clapping B’rrel on the back before going to give J’shon a hug. “Thanks for the night, brother, I needed it.”

“Anytime brother.” J’shon said, giving his brother a kiss on the cheek. K’mer smiled and turned to leave as his Sharth landed on the ledge.

“Just give me a call if you need anything.” K’mer called back. “I love you guys.”

“We love you to!” B’rrel called back with a laugh and K’mer waved farewell as soon as he was on Sharth. B’rrel turned to him with a leer and waggled his eyebrows. “Now that we ditched the brother, want to have some fun?”

“If you think you can seduce me that way, brown rider, you’re sadly mistaken.” J’shon said as their dragons watched them with eyes whirling blue and green with their good humor. They did like watching the little dances that J’shon and B’rrel did before mating. Liliath let Ojeth twine his neck with hers and settled against the larger brown even as J’shon wrapped his arms around B’rrel neck and the brown rider lifted him before carrying him into their room.

She settled against the brown, closing her eyes and drifting off into sleep, content with her life, and her rider.

*~*~*~*

Thread falls! The shout from Liliath rang in his mind and J’shon stiffened before grabbing his riding gear from where it sat on the couch in their weyr. B’rrel was grabbing his own gear and the two shared a brief look. It had been their rest day, and they’d spent all of it together in their weyr. Two days after the fall over High Reaches, Thread had fallen in a nasty clumping over Fort. Winds had been bad, as they were today, and Fort had suffered heavy injuries of nearly fifty dragons plus another six that had died.

H’mal had made the day after a rest day, except for sweep riders. The Igen Weyrleader was certain they would be hit two days after Fort and was using the time to make sure all of his riders and dragons were well-rested. The winds were high over all of Keroon and the desert had kicked up several dust storms already.

“It hasn’t even been a full day since Thread fell over Fort!” B’rrel nearly shouted in complaint and J’shon shrugged. There was an awful feeling in his gut, and he couldn’t shake it no matter how much he told himself they were ready. As he fixed and double-checked the riding straps and safety harnesses on Liliath, he turned a worried look to his weyrmate who was doing the same with his brown Ojeth.

“Thread falls when Thread falls.” J’shon said to himself and having made sure Liliath was secure, he moved to his weyrmate. B’rrel turned to face him with worried amber eyes and pale reddish hair being ruffled by the winds scurrying through the Weyr bowl. Their eyes met, and they showed each other their love before kissing gently. “I love you, B’rrel.”

“I love you too, and tonight we’ll celebrate our victory over Thread.” B’rrel said, calming down and smiling confidently at J’shon. “H’mal’s a better leader.”

“Yes, he is.” J’shon said, feeling the confidence seeping into him.

Thread falls, we must fly! Liliath said urgently, her eyes whirling devilishly red and orange. J’shon climbed up into his position behind her neck, hooked in his safety straps and patted her neck. Moving together, the green and brown dragons leaped off their ledge and pushed their way through the winds to where the weyrlings were busily hefting sacks of firestone to waiting riders. J’shon took his sacks with the ease of long practice tossing firestone sacks and hooked them into his riding straps. Even as she leapt into the air, Liliath was turning her head to take chunks of firestone, masticating them into a mash that she swallowed into her stomach. Four good-sized rocks and she was ready to flame Thread. High above the Weyr, where the winds still whipped them, H’mals wing was forming and Liliath moved into her position with careful precision, not fighting the winds the way the other dragons did, but moving from eddy to eddy and using them to achieve her desired destination.

Ojeth, like all the larger dragons pushed their way through the winds to their spots. H’mal’s was the first wing ready, and the Weyrleader signaled for them to prepare to go between. His Goreth sent them their visualizations, and once the other two wings of Igen First Flight were ready, the signal was given to go.

They appeared high over the plains of Upper Keroon, and in the distance was the silver-gray cloud-like formation that was Thread heading down towards them and the lush grass plains below them. J’shon took a deep breath when he looked back to see his father’s old hold far behind and below the formation of riders. Second Flight appeared behind them, and dragons leaked bits of flame as they began to bugle their challenges to the mindless enemy.

If anything, the wind was worse here than over the Weyr, and even Liliath was having trouble keeping her spot in formation. The Weyrleader studied the downpour of Thread, and J’shon felt a curse rising in his throat. This was not the steady stream of Thread like what had fallen over High Reaches. Thread clumped together and was being tossed by the wind. He could see clumps mashing against other clumps, doubling in size and then drifting up before falling rapidly with a downdraft.

V-formation in two levels. Liliath passed on the instructions even as J’shon read the Weyrleader’s hand signals. Maintain positions where possible, but blues and greens are to use maneuverability to guard the backs of bronze and brown riders. Watch for tangles being blown by wind.

Acknowledge for us, dear. J’shon told her with worry in his tone. The sun was already approaching the horizon, and would be long gone halfway through the fall, which he noticed was moving south/southwest. With the rest of his wing and flight, J’shon rode Liliath towards the gray scourge, trying to push down the fear he was feeling. Even as he watched, Ojeth had to veer ahead of them to avoid colliding with a brown that had been pushed backwards by a wind gust.

We will watch for them. Liliath assured him, and he noticed how S’flin and D’kov were also moving in the wing, watching the backs of larger bronze dragons, including the Weyrleader. Then he had no more time for thinking or worrying. As the leading edge of the fall reached their altitude, bronze Goreth let out a tremendous blast of fire, shriveling a large tangle of deadly thread before the wind whipped his fire apart. Liliath let out her battle cry again, and rose to sear a small patch with a precise burst of flame.

More firestone, I must make hotter flame! She demanded as she craned her neck and J’shon fed her another piece. He slipped deeper and deeper into his bond with her, almost as deep as they were when she rose to mate, and he could see through her eyes while she could see through his. As one, they moved together, through wind and fire to sear Thread before it could reach the surface of Pern.

Two hours into the fight, J’shon’s riding leathers were soaked with sweat and he worried his hands were going to freeze off. The sun was almost down, but he could still see the silver clumps of Thread as they rained down in unceasing fury. This fall was even thicker than that which had fallen over Fort. Liliath was sweat soaked as well, but she was less tired than several other greens that had already returned to the Weyr to rest. In the depths of his mind, he grieved for the eight dragons that had already gone between and never returned, but he was too focused on the dangers around him to give voice or thought to the grief over those losses. His last piece of firestone had just been masticated by Liliath, and after they seared another clump of thread before it could fall on Ojeth, who was busy going after an even larger clump, a bronze weyrling appeared above them.

Over a turn of training helped him catch the fresh sacks of firestone the weyrling tossed, and he released the empty bags which flapped behind them. The weyrling maneuvered to catch them and went back between before a clump of thread could hit them. J’shon fixed the new sacks just in time, securing them to Liliath’s harness even as she began to flip over on her back, searing the Thread from the sky. Wind leaked through holes in his riding jacket where bits of Thread had bit into it earlier. A quick trip back to Igen through between had killed them before they could hurt him, and they had rejoined the fight.

Ista is coming! Liliath called out and J’shon let relief sag his shoulders for a moment. Tradition was for each Weyr to meet Thread on its own, but H’mal knew better than to let Tradition be the death of his Weyr. Already their losses were too heavy, and when the fresh dragons from their sister Weyr appeared in the sky, he pumped an arm in welcome. Then he focused back on the battle as D’kov seared Thread before it could reach H’mal even as H’mal was searing another clump.

J’shon pushed away the idea that Thread was getting revenge on Pern for its disbelief in it coming. Even as he focused on clearing two more clumps with Liliath , he looked down and frowned at the sight. His home, the one he’d grown up in with his father, mother, and brothers, had been hit by a clump the Igen wings missed and was totally gone. What didn’t get consumed by Thread was burnt by flamethrowers from the riders of the two gold dragons flying the queens wing. They were escorted by older bronze, brown, and blue riders, all old men in their sixties whose dragons could not take the vicious winds of the higher altitudes.

We are to go to the Weyr and rest. Liliath told him a half-hour later, and as much as he wanted to protest leaving Fall before it was over, he gave her his consent to go between. As they glided in for a landing, the bellows of dragons in pain filled his ears. Liliath said they were to rest, but he could not with the sounds of nearly forty-three dragons in pain. Tora, whose Willeth had left the Hatching Grounds and clutch of eggs in order to calm wounded dragons, was working feverishly on S’lag’s brown Moeth. The brown dragon who had carried J’shon to the Weyr had taken a clump on the hindquarters and risked losing his hind leg if Tora could not save it. J’shon organized scattered weyrlings from the youngest group, whose dragons were too young to fly into an effective team delivering numbweed, redwort for sanitizing hands, and other needed medical supplies. The Weyrlingmaster had been sent to join the flight with the oldest of the weyrlings. They were the reserve flight, coming into the fight only when all other resources had been exhausted.

A blank spot in his mind told him Liliath had passed out, and so he worked through his exhaustion to keep the needed medicines flowing to those who needed it the most. Tora worked through the light of globes as night fell, repairing a ruptured vein in Moeth’s hind quarters. Twice more dragons went between from the injuries before those that worked on them could stop them. In the fight that was now approaching Whitestone Hold, four more dragons, three from Ista and one from Igen, went between from severe injuries.

As the last hour of expected fall approached, and dragons flamed over Whitestone, even the reinforcement Flight from Ista proved to not be enough.

We must go back and fight. Liliath said, waking from her doze.

Are you strong enough? J’shon asked her with concern. He was helping one of the Weyrleaders repair a scored wing of a blue dragon.

I am as strong as I need to be. She answered proudly, bringing tears to his eyes at her brave heart. When Thread falls in the sky, we must rise to meet it and sear it so others are safe!

“You, M’fen, hold this wing for the healer.” J’shon said to a young weyrling, little more than a boy at fourteen. He was tall though, and strong enough as he took the injured wing and held it up for the healer. J’shon found his scored jacket, helmet and gloves where he dropped them next to the spot where Liliath had landed. She’d fallen asleep right there, but was now on her feet and waiting for him anxiously. A drudge, who he barely noticed was Amosa, pushed a mug of warm klah in his hands along with a meat roll. Drudges were all over the place, doing the same to the dozen or so green and blue riders whose dragons had been resting. S’flin saluted him as he downed the meat roll and chased it with the entire mug of klah. It was warm enough to fill his stomach with warmth, but not so hot that it burned his mouth. Amosa was already gone or he’d have thanked her.

We go! Liliath warned him as she leaped into the windy night. She didn’t even wait for his visualization before taking them to the fight. Below him, firepits blazed around Whitestone, and the orange glare of flamethrowers could be seen around the ground as he fed Liliath more firestone. Soon enough she was flaming, just in time as they met up with their wing and rejoined the battle. J’shon was warmer, but more tired as the chill, windy air leached the warmth he’d regained.

Ista sends its second flight soon. Liliath assured him, but it was not here yet and she flamed a glowing silver clump of Thread from the sky. A blue rider was now guarding the back of Ojeth and so J’shon attached his dragon to guard his brother’s back. K’mer looked exhausted. It was rough work, staying in the proper position and helping a dragon even as it flamed Thread and fought heavy winds.

The next thing he knew, four more clumps of Thread were thrown their way by a gust of wind. Sharth, carrying his brother, let out a roar and a mighty blast of flame that consumed an entire clump, and most of the second. Liliath let out a long burst of flame that couldn’t quite match Sharth’s, but it did sear the first clump and a small part of the other clump. They had no choice but to go between to avoid it and Liliath shouted a warning to Sharth. They appeared over Igen and immediately jumped back to the fight, but it was already too late.

The smaller partially-seared clump had hit Sharth along the side of his muzzle. Before he could take him and K’mer to safety, the clump Liliath couldn’t destroy hit the brown dragon in the spot where his rider sat. J’shon reappeared in time to see the second clump hit, and a cry of pain tore from his throat as Sharth went between. He knew K’mer was gone, already devoured before Sharth had gone between, and a small voice in his mind wondered if his father had seen his son die because J’shon had failed him.

We did not fail, we did our best. Liliath’s voice screamed in his mind, her own grief showing, but she was flaming again and would soon need another piece of firestone. Numbly he held it out to her as she turned her neck, and he tried not to think of his brother. The fight was still furious, and they had to go between three more times before the last tangles of Thread fell. The ending was anti-climatic, with the Istan Weyrleader’s dragon flaming the last tangle of thread. By now they were across the river and in Istan territory. The fight had been fierce, and as H’mal’s dragon ordered them back to the Weyr, J’shon’s emotions were as numb as his cold hands.

“We made it.” B’rrel said later, when they had landed at their weyr. The place stank of firestone, from their clothes, from their dragons’ hides, and from the firestone mash both tired dragons had vomited before collapsing inside the weyr. Below them, dragons still cried out in pain as exhausted weyrfolk tended them. The bowl was brightly lit by bonfires and glows. Golden Zoeth was down there, with left mainsail shredded by thread, and it was only Willeth and Pinath struggling to keep her calm that kept her from going between because of the pain. Febrina had lost half her arm from that tangle of thread, and was already in her own weyr, knocked unconscious by Healer’s drugs.

“K’mer is gone.” J’shon said numbly. B’rrel’s arm around him only caused him pain, but he suffered it because he felt B’rrel needed that comfort.

“I know.” B’rrel said softly, turning J’shon’s face with a cold hand. J’shon saw the tears in his weyrmate’s eyes, and wondered why there were none on his own cheeks. K’mer had been his brother.

“I couldn’t save him.” J’shon said in a distant voice, and as B’rrel pulled him in for a hug, his grief finally found a voice.

How proud he had been, to be a dragonrider who fought Thread, but tonight he learned the awful truth, as did every other rider on Pern when they learned the details. Sixty-four dragons at Igen, and forty-three at Ista were wounded. Sixteen Igen dragons would never fly again, and another three at Ista were similarly injured. Twenty-two Igen dragons were dead with their riders, and Ista mourned another ten.

Later that night, as he lay in bed, surrounded by B’rrel’s exhausted arms, J’shon felt a new pride swelling in him. It was a mellower thing than what had been before, but it was also steadfast and rooted deeply in him. No matter what he’d tried to imagine, he knew he couldn’t have saved his brother. Liliath had flown well and true, as had Ojeth and Sharth, and so many others.

The old records said that Thread had nearly destroyed man after he came to Pern, and it remained a threat even today. But man had made the dragons to fight thread, and even as they licked their wounds and mourned their dead, J’shon knew the truth about dragons and their riders, and he took pride in the knowledge that when Thread fell from the sky, dragons and riders would rise, searing it from the sky. No matter how many of their loved ones died in the fight, it was the dragons and their riders who would keep Thread from devouring their beautiful planet, no matter the cost.

Even as he grieved, J’shon was proud to be a Dragonrider of Pern.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is the end of Rider's Pride. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did.